#the number of asks is...so much

[bruhstation]

*Breaks into your house to stare wistfully out the window* Do you ever think that CTHenry is, at least by some perceptions, a corpse being kept alive by gold dust and the whimsy of a goddess whose motives are unknown? I do. *Puffs on bubble pipe* Anyway. I'm still holding out hope for a happy ending for our Miserable Train Gays. Iram gentlemen. Have a good day 💗

out of sight, out of mind

[laurrelise]

i think something interesting about a domestic life post-apocalypse-prevention for five is that he would most likely struggle to cope with the day-to-day in the same way a lot of newly released prisoners do.

in the sense that going to a store and seeing a huge aisle with 9,000 different deodorant brands can be extremely overwhelming for people adjusting to having options at all, i 100% see him getting silently overwhelmed but not really knowing what to do about it. he’s never really had that kind of choice for himself either.

growing up, everything was hand-picked and given to or done for him. in the apocalypse, there was obviously never a choice to begin with. you find something, you take it and make as much use of it as possible. in the commission, i have to assume he was very limited on the things he owned, because there was no reason to be material (if the commission even allowed for it) when the whole thing was a temporary situation he could use to fix his math.

so imagine a physically thirteen five, fresh out of hotel oblivion and finally having found somewhere to stay, going to a store alone to get toothpaste and shampoo and bread and socks. the essentials. and being silently shocked at the sheer amount of options.

also, five is very bad at not over-analyzing everything. everything has a purpose and a motive and a rule of life in his head. i imagine that deciding on something as simple as which coffee maker will be most efficient could feel like life or death to someone who’s never had an option before.

[dustykneed]

I am sad to say I often miss your art when I'm scrolling but when I DO see it, I proceed to scroll through your blog for an hour until I catch up. I love your art so much. I want to eat it 💖💖💖💖💖

oh gosh, that's so sweet of you to say 🥺 side note, i love your url hehe (so much so that the mental image inspired a short silly comic! hope you enjoy <33)

[memen18-m5r3]

hello surviving centricide fandom...I bring you some wacky food

(i'm also animating a small portion of Centricide 3.5 but since I can't tell how much more time it's gonna take I'll show you some sneak peeks! :3)

((since I'm a certified yapper, I added some additional info + translations to all the images descriptions! not sure if it qualifies as ID so feel free to add upon it if necessary))

[littlecrittereli]

for the reqs, how about drawing your fav chris creature suit(s)? ^_^

Okay so, my favorite Chris power suit is actually the gazelle, but I've already drawn that a few times, and I just need to express my undying love for THE INDRI POWER SUIT

I GET SO MUCH CUTENESS AGGRESSION FROM IT,

JUST LOOK AT HIM UGHHOUUHGHGH HES SO!!!!! SHAPED!!!!! I've seen so many people saying it looks weird BUT HES JUST SO GOOFY I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! HIS BIG OL EYES I CANNTTT AHHH

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[post-punk-revival]

Which song is your #6 or #14 or whatever isn't interesting to me; I wanna hear where in your list the first song from each of your top 5 artists shows up. Or the last one

[distinctlywhumpthing]

It's Never Too Late for Christmas

Alright, look. This might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written. It's barely 1000 words so don't anyone come for me saying I've gone soft. Probably takes place a few weeks after First Night Home. Due credit to @deluxewhump's Wishbone for getting me thinking of the smell of Home. Wow, see what I did there: Full circle.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

“Merry Christmas!” Leo says, immediately wanting to dial it back. He holds out the repurposed brown grocery bag between them. 

Aiden looks down, one arm crossing over his torso. “But...mmm’it’s not…” 

Definitely too much enthusiasm. 

Leo lowers the bag. “Right, yeah. I just thought—well, we only missed it by a few weeks…you know back when we met. I mean… It seemed like…” 

Why had this seemed like a good idea again? 

“It’s nothing big,” he tries but Aiden won’t look at him. Like Aiden’s the one who misstepped instead of vice versa. The kid grips his own arm like it’s a lifeline, fingertips digging into his flesh. Never mind that he’s wearing just a t-shirt in late February. Even with the heat a few degrees warmer than he used to keep it, Leo has to bite his tongue to not ask if he wants a sweatshirt. He tries to limit his questions to the ten thousand a day he can’t avoid. 

“I didn’t even wrap it really,” Leo rushes to say. “It’s never too late for Christmas. ‘Honour it in your heart and try to keep it all the year’, you know—” God, stop talking. “‘Live in the Past, the Present, and the Future’—”

Well, at least he got the kid’s attention. Albeit paired with a confused and I’m-embarrassed-for-you grimace. 

“Please, just take it. Put me out of my misery.” 

Aiden takes a half step back but he does. 

Because Leo told him to. Fuck, this was a terrible idea.  

He holds the bag from the bottom with both hands, as gingerly as if something might be alive in there. His eyes flash up to Leo’s before he reaches inside. He opens his mouth once, twice, like he’s trying to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he looks to Leo for permission again. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” he says absently, still stuck on what Aiden stopped himself from saying. 

The way the kid reaches into the bag with all the gusto of sticking his hand into a live fire hollows Leo’s chest. Once his fingers meet fabric instead of whatever horrors he’s expecting, Aiden pulls the bundle out with a little more conviction. 

Leo relieves him of the bag, fingers unconsciously creasing it back up along all the seams, as he watches Aiden unfold the jacket. For the past few weeks, he’s lent Aiden his Carhartt and carried rather than worn an embarrassingly retro ski parka. 

“I—” He looks at Leo, something between disbelief and awe in his face. 

“Try it on—I mean, you can try it on if you want to,” he revises. 

He threads a skinny arm through the first sleeve. 

Leo reaches around to hold the jacket so he can reach the other. “It’s the same size as mine…so you can wear more layers while it’s cold.” 

Aiden fingers the ends of the sleeves. “Thank…you...” 

“The color suits you,” Leo blurts, caught off guard by the shy smile Aiden’s trying to hide while inspecting the coat. A total one-eighty he hopes isn’t just Aiden placating him. 

–––

“Aiden? Are you ready?” Leo calls up the stairs as he heads to the door to get his shoes on. “We need to leave in two minutes if we’re going to—” 

He’s already there. 

Standing by the door with the Converse pulled on, the laces tucked inside, and wearing Leo’s jacket. He bites his lips together as he pulls the zipper up, slow enough for Leo to stop him. When he reaches the top without interruption, he lets his gaze slide over to the new navy jacket, still hanging from its hook, and back to Leo. 

He lets out the laugh he’s been holding in and pulls on the coat. “I knew there was a reason I got this in my size.” 

“Color…mmm’s-s-suits…you,” Aiden says, tucking his chin into the soft collar of the old brown jacket, hiding what Leo is sure is a grin. 

Leo scoops him into a hug. “You’ve been plotting this from the beginning, haven’t you?” He swings them side to side a little, the gentlest roughhousing. Aiden shakes his head against Leo’s chest, he’s laughing now but trying to hide it. “This is absolutely not going to work when I buy you workboots. We are not the same size.” 

Aiden’s reply is muffled so Leo pulls back just far enough for him to lift his head. “Layers,” he repeats, barely able to get it out before he’s shaking with laughter again, pressing his face into Leo’s shoulder.  

“You’re incorrigible.” Before he can overthink it, he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. He smells like home. His home. H— 

Leo backpedals against the possessiveness before he even completes the thought. 

But the part of him that spent countless nights wondering if he’d wake up to an empty house finds it profoundly comforting. The evidence that on the basest, organic level Aiden belongs to this home. Has been engrained in its rhythms and smells. The fabric softener from the sheets he tangles up every night, the lavender shower gel he picked out himself, toothpaste from brushing his teeth after the breakfast they cooked together. 

And not least of all, Leo himself. Wrapped up in his arms and wearing his old jacket. 

Home. 

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[canisalbus]

lmao i remember when i sent an ask asking about machete and vasco’s first kiss and now we have all these science experiments trying to figure out how they actually Do That and if they even can. nature is cruel and homophobic 😔

The power of team effort.

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[peliginspeaks]

Thinking about Fallen London as a backdrop for the theme of the horror of the inevitable today. I know it's The Classic Cosmic Horror Thing, but it's really woven through all aspects of Neathy life even as the PC is written powerful and capable: the constant backdrop of breath-holding for the Sixth City, the Masters and the Bazaar as a force higher on the Chain with a plan that cares not who it tramples, a ton of the Destinies aside from the LotN ones, literally anything to do with the Dawn Machine, the Flukes...the thing that changes you irrevocably could be around any corner, could drop at any second. Everything else, every other story told, is either dealing with that or written in its shadow. Sometimes the game lets you deal with it by fighting back, with the message that even though you can't hold a candle to all of it, you can change some of it and that's enough reason to try. Sometimes, the game lets you deal with it by getting drunk off your ass with a dozen rats and stealing a painting or something of the sort. Both are honestly such valid ways of dealing with The Cosmic Horror Of It All, as is just rolling out of bed every day and complaining about the weather, and the spread of each that the game's writing has is I think what's made it stick so hard as one of my favourite pieces of horror media despite only about 20% of it reading like horror.

[buwheal]

Damn, Spam, did the cake taste that bad? - bad joke. Sorry you're havin' a rough day. We're here if you need to talk, or if you just need a distraction.

[sundayinthcpark]

actual life goal is forcing spirkers to acknowledge bones at all

[lemongogo]

viktor prev 🤖

[moonshynecybin]

same age au marc showing up to a race in vale's merch when hes out w his arm injury....

scream ignoring that if marc showed up in a yamaha zip up in 2005 the HRC pr guy would probably fly tackle him fucked up arm or not (lets assume its not yamaha branded, its just vale's own merch. still.), i think vale would conceptually LOVEEE that shit, but also maybe love it in a way that feels. guilty lol. REALLY guilty. truly like marc doing classic wag stuff dressed head to toe in his merch his name his number (everyone in his inner circle having a 46 tattoo but vale DOESNT... bc 46 is HIM... a lot there ego wise lol) cheering him on excising all the ego clash and insecurity and injury anxiety right tf out of their relationship for one beautiful weeked (he doesnt have to worry about killing marc/marc killing him on track hashtag blessed) BUT marc is also injured miserable beautiful and crucially not racing. like everything vale wants in theory, but marc is so obviously unhappy about it at the same time AND vale isnt even having as much fun on the track which as we all know rankles him down to his bones.... so i think its a bit of a monkey's paw for vale and DEEPLY unsettles him in ways he cannot quite bring himself to articulate and ways marc absolutely does not pick up on whatsoever

[rewormer]

typical proportions of a Czinoi worm, with a slender, smaller frame, and a rather angular face and eyespots