#moth answers a thing

[hotmothsummer]

🖊 for roadkillcommunion!

WAH!!! THANK YOU?? ♥️♥️

@roadkillcommunion is my aesthetic/vibes dump blog for the story which I am titling Jackalope Bone Records (for now). The blurb for it is as follows:

The Jackalope Bone Records is a story about trying to remember what you've forgotten, running from what remembers you, and the monsters that lurk between the shadows of both. Set in the isolate, neverending rural landscapes of the Western United States, Charlie and Jay find that the things they try to run from only inch closer with the more distance they put between it. In their quest to find ghosts and walking corpses, they quickly find that true horror is manmade, and often sits in the space between your heart and your ribs.

(Inspired by stories like Welcome to Night Vale, Over the Garden Wall, The Magnus Archives, Marble Hornets, and 17776.)

Charlie Vance is doing her best to run from the things that haunt her. She is stubborn, headstrong, and would make a killer final girl in a slasher movie. She likes strawberries, cute things, and fun-patterned skirts. She’s also kind of a bitch to be around because she’s working thru her own stuff, and it leads to a lot of nonsense arguments and festering feelings between her and Jay. She would kill to keep herself alive.

Art credit: @starstickerx

J (Jay) is trying to recover his past, and figure out why he lost his memory in the first place. He’s jumpy, anxious, and would make a red thread conspiracy board to the tune of touch tone telephone. He likes puzzles, prefers tea over coffee, and that big jacket that he’s always wearing. Even though he’s so nervous, he has a drive that makes him just as stubborn as Charlie, and while he is more apprehensive about certain things than she is, when it comes to the right thing, they find themselves on the same page.

While their disagreements are frequent and many, they don’t tend to last. They push each other, but they make each other better for it.

Art credit: @meltwithclarity

[14dayswithyou]

ren should paint his nails navy! -- helloo! sorry if this was something i missed, so we know what Jae's job(s) are, as well at the rest of the casts' based on their character sheets. But what are Moth and Leon's? 💙💙💙 thank you!

⌞♥⌝ I like to think Moth is unemployed but does art commissions for a living ^^ As for Leon, he works at a petrol station most days, as well as a waiter at one of those beachfront restaurants/surf lifesaver clubs!

[trashcreatyre]

Heya, I think you mentioned character playlists on a couple posts, would ya be willing to share some of thoseee ?

(Fellow mephiles fan here, Hiiiiiii)

Oh toootally. I used to have a post that had most of them linked but I haven't updated it in a while soooo..... let me make it this one instead >:)

Mephiles

Elise

Silver

Sonic

Shadow

Rouge

Metal

Amy

Infinite

And then I do have a bunch of other sonic playlists, like mostly aus and ships sooo I'm gonna add em because I like sharing :3

Post 06

Knights

Ghost

Bugs/ mephillmina or whatever they're called, haven't decided (more au than ship but they've got some songs in there)

Mephinite

Mephiblis

Merlise

My ocs lol

Literally just an 06 playlist :3

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LOOK AT HER

okay i know this is a Foul Legacy blog but listen. if anyone wants to ask me questions about Arlecchino and my OC Marine i will be so happy to answer (they are MARRIED and i WILL answer in character if wanted because i'm that obsessed)

[thetomorrowshow]

you will return to the hospital bed

febuwhump day 8: bleeding out

fandom: life series smp

part of my series six billion moths flying toward it, which begins in a war-ravaged world that grian manages to escape from, bringing the evo members with him to their own world, where they have infinite respawns and peace.

cw: mild gore, violence, war

~

Jimmy isn’t the best soldier.

“Left! Left!”

He isn’t the best marksman, yeah, but he also isn’t very agile, but he’s also Deaf and can never really tell who’s giving out instructions and what for (at this point, he’s really just cannon fodder, which is . . . not a nice thought).

Is the general yelling at him or someone else?

There’s really no way to know, but Jimmy just hopes he’s following orders and crawls left, his hands scraping against exposed tree roots and little chunks of dirt and rock. He’s just in time—a shell lands close to where he just was, blowing apart the ground with an earth-rattling explosion.

Whoever is behind Jimmy shoves him to the ground to get over him, Jimmy’s chin knocking against the dirt, a knee digging into his kidney. He bites back whatever he wants to yell at the soldier; the first rule of war is no in-fighting while you’re in an active battle.

He hates the trenches. Maybe one of these days, he’ll finally contract trench fever and he’ll be able to get out of all this.

Grian promised to get him out, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen. He’s been here for—what, two years? Too long. There isn’t a clean escape route; he’s either going to have to get injured or sick or he’s going to have to die.

He should probably poke his head up and take a shot anywhere he can, just to do something. They’re all hiding in their own trenches, though, waiting for him to do just that. He sure isn’t going to be the first person to check if they can take a quick shot. That’s how you die in this business.

He hates this. He hates how commonplace it’s become to just be shot at, yet how scared he is to this day every time he marches out.

He’s been here all day, choking on gunsmoke and trying to see through teary eyes, a miserable existence when any day could be his last.

“We’re gonna die,” someone cries out—Jimmy can’t tell who or from where, especially with all the explosions and gunshots going on, but he just ignores it and keeps crawling through the dirt, the hot sun pounding down on his shoulders.

He tries, at least, but before he can go far, someone grabs his leg by the ankle and pulls.

Jimmy spins around—it’s another soldier, of course, a man probably close to his age or younger, and he looks terrified. His face is almost green under the dirt and soot, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears and sweat streaking down his cheeks.

“We’re gonna die,” he says. “I—I can’t—I’m just a kid, dude, I gotta get out of here!”

Jimmy knows that feeling. The shock, the overwhelming fear, the sense of displacement. It’s never quite left him, and to this day he feels all jittery and awful and scared in every battle that he gets sent out to fight in, but he doesn’t know how to tell the kid that he’ll be okay when there isn’t any guarantee that he will be.

Jimmy’s seen people die. Friends, bunkmates, shot as they crouched right beside him and were just slightly less lucky than he. There’s a good chance that this kid—

There’s so much yelling, he can’t even think, but he can’t distinguish any of the voices or anything and—

BLAM!

Jimmy has a moment of blinding white—

Of red—

Of looking down at himself and thinking, oh, that’s way too much blood to be healthy.

Of looking down at himself and realizing that most of his body was missing.

That he simply does not have legs, and he can see into his stomach, and one of his arms is mostly blown off, part of the bone of his upper arm sticking out of dirty, bloody flesh.

Beside him, where his arm should be, is the head of that kid, his eyelids still fluttering.

Jimmy has another moment, where he breathes and it feels wrong, where he’s hit by blinding pain and disgust and horror all at once, where he feels his heart try to leap out of his chest, where he tries to scream but blood just gurgles out of a hole in his throat.

He’s—there’s so much blood—he didn’t—

Everyone always says that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. All Jimmy sees, though, is the house he grew up in.

His home there, the evening growing late, children playing in the front yard to catch moths in jars as they flock toward the porchlight, his mother poking her head through the curtains to make sure they’re safe.

He’s floating away, like a balloon released, watching the scene grow smaller and smaller below him.

Then it all fades away into a near-silent high-pitched squeal, and nausea washed over all the pain and Jimmy’s vision goes grainy then blinks out completely.

He falls into darkness, and he doesn’t return.

-

The darkness is calm. Quiet, with little specks of light scattered throughout.

Jimmy wasn’t brought up believing in an afterlife, and he kind of thought that when he died, he wouldn’t have any sort of consciousness. His code would split up and tie itself back into the universe, and that would be that.

This . . . this doesn’t feel like that.

Why is he here? Not, like, physically (he isn’t sure he’s anywhere physically), but he’s definitely somewhere to some extent, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

He doesn’t like it, he decides a moment later, as the darkness begins to weigh heavily on him. How does it feel like that, like it’s absolutely suffocating him, like he can’t breathe, when he doesn’t have a body to react to any sort of pressure?

Then it weighs down more, and more, and it hurts—

It hurts his legs, so badly that he wants to scream, building up and up and up—and his arm, and his stomach, and his chest, and head, and hands, and throat—

There’s a sound, then, something that’s like the high-pitched whine of his death, echoing through his ears and it hurts just as badly as everything else, like his hearing aids are malfunctioning worse than they ever have.

There are voices beyond it. People are talking past the pain, past the noise, and Jimmy strains to breathe and manages it.

He’s breathing?

His eyelids feel way too heavy. He can’t open them, he can’t see a thing, he can’t do anything.

It hurts. Every part of him is in agony, and he gasps for breath again and again and eventually realizes that the awful whine in his ears is coming from his own throat.

What’s happening? He—he died, didn’t he, didn’t he die?

He blew up, his body was a collection of bits, chunks of flesh scattered across the trench, and he can only remember that and smell the blood and dirt and gunpowder and he shouldn’t be alive—

He pushes.

He pushes to open his eyes, even though it’s the most difficult thing that he’s ever done, and his vision is flooded with too-bright light and he immediately closes them again.

A voice says something.

His skin hurts, the actual skin of his chest—and then there’s something cold on his pec and Jimmy jolts, which just sends another wave of pain across his whole body.

He opens his eyes again—easier, this time—and squints against the brightness, trying to focus on the dark shape hovering over him.

It’s a person, who is touching him, and Jimmy blinks and blinks until he gets some kind of focus through the blurriness.

He can see their lips, at least, which helps him to understand what they’re saying.

“There we go, you’re all right. You’re back.”

Jimmy can’t speak. He tries, swallows, but words won’t come out in any intelligible form.

Some strange rasp comes out of his mouth, and the person—a doctor?—nods.

“Lungs sound good,” they say, moving off his chest. “Do you remember what happened?”

Jimmy shakes his head, a slight side-to-side movement.

Well, he kind of does. He remembers dying. He remembers being dead.

“You’ve been respawned,” the doctor says slowly. “Someone high-up must think you’re worth it. “

They clap him on the shoulder, a flood of agony surging out from the contact, and stand, turning away to fiddle with a blanket draped over Jimmy’s legs (his legs?). “You should . . . get back in the fight soon. Take a day to rest here . . . sure that everything went well.”

Respawn. A forgone conclusion; nobody ever got respawned. Not unless they were the best of the best, and Jimmy certainly wasn’t that. He can aim a gun and pull the trigger, but—

He’s . . . he’s Deaf. Why would they want him?

He died.

He knows why he got respawned.

He also knows he shouldn’t have been.

There are so many better people, so many skilled soldiers and tacticians and able-bodied people who have died—like the kid in the trench with him, who got hit by the same shell.

It shouldn’t have been him. It shouldn’t have been him, not when it’s millions of dollars just for one respawn. He’s already damaged, he isn’t good at anything, he was so completely dead and he just wants to lie down and let the darkness take him again.

He was dead.

It isn’t right to be back. It doesn’t feel right; it feels like he’s been dragged unwilling from his grave, all his pieces forced back together and shoved into a uniform. He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have been brought back.

It probably should have been anyone else.

But Jimmy’s back, now, and he has to stop hurting and get back to the fight.

He doesn’t have another choice.

[darlingmissmoth]

Hello, Dungeons and Daddies fandom, today I bring you a doodle of Hero (from an upcoming chapter of my fic)

Tomorrow? Who knows

[jennrypan]

I think Plagg physically can't tell Adrien the truth because Gabriel wielded Monarch at some point, and he doesn't know about the sentimonster stuff.

Yeaah, I know cuz of the goofy "black bubbles nonsense " he can't say Gabriel's name fr and I figured he didn't but it makes more sense if Plagg at least TRIED to tell him (about the Gabriel thing, unfortunately ig no one's gonna tell him hes a sentimonster)

Also I'd attempt to figure out a way around that 'cant say a holders name' thing cuz this show can't be consistent on its lore anyways 💀

[moonchild-in-blue]

pink and yellow moth be upon ye (eudaemonia argus)

pink and yellow moth i love you 🥺🩷💛🦋

Look at the wings!! Who is that diva!! They're so nicely translucent - I can see so many hues of pink and blue and lilac and orange and and and-

Thank you for being my moth dealer 🥹

[inkedmoth]

me: right I need to work on developing this culture, lets write down a few questions and things to focus on

me: hmm yes this is a good starting point

[hotmothsummer]

3:A song that reminds you of summertime

HI FELIX!!! WAVES AT YOU! This one is EASY i got this one in the bag there's a whole playlist like this but perhaps the summeriest is Summerland by half alive!!! easy way out but what can i say

[underhanded-lamb]

Hi! I LOVE your artstyle and your Sun x Moon content!

Wanted to ask... What Pokémon do Sun and Moon have?

Searching "Pokemon Trainer Sun"...downloading Galarian Records...

no recorded battle footage of "Trainer Moon"...system error

hehe thank you for your kind words and interest in my little scribbles!

You can also peek at Sun's and Moon's Paldea teams (made with Showdown Teambuilder) if you want...👀

[astorichan]

…void lore?

I AM GLAD YOU ASKED

No, the thing is just that I'm a huge fan of Void lore. I began my fanfic journey extensively worldbuilding Void in the HK universe. Dreams is entirely a field for me to work in all of my Void lore. (Your earlier tag gave me the inspo to draft the dialogue for the Void chapter BTW, thank you sm) Dreams was created as a Void lore playground. I give the Void a big role to play in every fic. I add Void lore to everything I write, almost. I scream at the mention of other people's Void lore. Void mention was nearly enough to drag me back into playing WoW again. I'm the Void lore guy.

Void lore Void lore Void lore Void lore---

(/lh)

[a-narcissists-warren]

*All missing anons have been drawn back to life!*

...

[marblemothh]

missed lunch, huh? bet you’re looking forward to dinner. don’t, uh, have any

oh! don’t worry anon, I won’t ~

I did tease myself a bit though. my stomach was getting a little too quiet :3c

[scribble-dee-vee]

Happy WBW!

In your opinion what is the scariest non-human (monster, demon, ghost, alien, robot, etc.) that you have come up with?

Thanks for the ask! It's now Thursday but shhhhhh

Oh MAN I love this question! There's a death goddess in Fox Hollow, one of my unfinished novellas, who I think is pretty scary. She's called the Queen of Moths. She shepherds souls into the light. She's one of those "quiet and peaceful" archetypes of Death, but she LOOKS really awful. She appears as the drowned corpse of a teenage girl, wrapped in holly thorns and cobwebs, with torn moth wings and antennae. There are some even freakier details about her, but I'll spare them here because A.) spoilers and B.) upsetting content that I don't feel like tagging extensively rn.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Alcides moths....... her range......

(a few different subspecies here, but all the same fam. they're sooooooooo pretty, from iNaturalist)

Oh WOW. It reminds of tie dye? if that makes sense? Like the ink bleeding into each other in circles 🥹

Alcides Moth, you would've loved to be the name and face of a psychedelic rock band from the 60s..... the merch..... the fits.....