#the regret

[add1ctedt0you]

Underappreciated how much worse is for jc that he couldn't kill wwx

[bolobutch]

Very normal (extended, partially dead) family ever, ft. Dead ghost Jake tackling an alligator god to prove a point in shitpost

Bonus:

[tommyboweinabowtie]

"I'm Spencer Agnew and the one time I smoked weed I decided to make Sword AF season 2 audio only"

[theblogof-rassilon]

There were more founders than just you.

Ha! There's the other one, sure, but he's so obscure no one even remembers his name. And there was... Omega...

[thequeendomhq]

THE REGRET ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. UTP SPECIES. Werewolf FACTION. UTP OCCUPATION. Gladiator

Your mistakes were your own; it was not your intention to burden the people around you, but they were still forced to carry the weight of all that you had done. Bloodstained hands and the faces of those who’d once known you fell, had this beast always been lurking inside of you? Had it always been waiting to scream your name? Your crimes saw you put in chains, your sentence overturned as the owner of a ludi looked down upon you and grinned - they’d make a fighter of you yet. You’d earn glory upon the sands, coin for those you’d hurt, and someday the freedom to walk free of your sins. The crowds roared as the chimera broke beneath your jaw, the wolves howled across the peripherals of the dream, and every night as you lay down to close your eyes you knew that there was some distant part of you that was dying. A wolf that had come into their own within a cage, five long years and your freedom came with a stack of victories that overshadowed your defeats. Still, you stayed, because there was no going back for you now and what were you if not just a simple killer? A murderer with a fancy title. Eterna knew your name, they whispered about you as you passed them in the streets. Wolf of the ring, where will you go now?

CONNECTS

THE FORWARD: turned by them.

NOTES

N/A

this skeleton is currently taken.

[chronologiical]

look i’ve been obsessed with a certain forest ranger

[noxtivagus]

i'm sorry

[foldingfittedsheets]

Back in 2017 I signed up for one of the Cards Against Humanity sillies and did their Cards Against Humanity Saves America. Basically they were like fuck Tr*mp and his border wall and used the funds from the campaign to buy land and to make all 150,000 contributors part owners of said land across the US/Mexico border.

It was fun and silly and I got a little certificate.

Today I got an email that Elon Musk illegally annexed that land for SpaceX and that CAH are suing him over it. So possibly I’ll get like $100 if they manage to win a lawsuit and stick it to Musk. It’s like even more bang for my original buck.

[zaragovica]

ah yes my favourite divorced half-foot dad

[the-shifting-long]

@ anybody who's started getting interested in slay the princess after watching Markiplier play it: trust me. trust me on this. stop watching his playthrough. don't even think about his playthrough. ideally wait for the pristine cut to be released (completely free expansion to the game.) but if you're impatient it's complete as-is. go play it yourself. as blind as possible. trust me. TRUST ME. the game is SO MUCH BETTER when you're the one behind the wheel, making all the choices, and you don't know what will happen when you make them.

it's a very, very, very good game, if you can't afford it the devs are perfectly fine with piracy, there are two of them, they have plenty of the money they need to support their future projects, you can always buy the game later or official slay the princess merch to support them financially, i'm telling you this for your own good, trust me, you want to play it yourself and you want to avoid Markiplier's playthroughs until you do.

[mag200]

astonishing how good it can feel to get some chores done sometimes. you’ll be sitting there like damn i am some type of horrid little smeagol like creature who should be crushed to death. but then you do some laundry and you’re like wrow. im actually gods most fuckable soldier.

[nataliescatorccio]

"I could be really brash and really loud and really dressed however I wanted to and almost made [Chappell] on purpose a drag version of myself so I can be whatever I want. It allows me to feel really safe exploring those aspects of myself. I’d never be able to do that if I took myself super seriously with pop. I think that the project has allowed me to be a part of the queer community in a deeper way because I'm not observing from the outside anymore. I feel like I'm in it. I am the queer community–it's allowed me to just feel queer, feel like a queer person and feel freedom in that."

[miseria-fortes-viros]

yoooo guys these wings my dad made look INSANE i can’t wait to try them tomorrow

[julnites]

Red riding hood comic collab with the wonderful @yeehawpim (go check out their blog for loads of great comics!) 🌷 See the layouts he did here!

[cuprat]

I should've practiced drawing Clockwork before starting a comic w/ him

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. Julian Delyth AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25 & June, 30th 2999 AC GENDER & PRONOUNS. Cismale & He/Him NATIONALITY. Lysaran SPECIES. Werewolf FACTION. N/A OCCUPATION. Gladiator FACE CLAIM. Leo Woodall

biography

( tw: death, blood, violence )

A scouring sun and the oaky fragrance pulled from towering olive trees greet a baby born with an unkempt head of flaxen hair. He’s the youngest of four and his cries echo the loudest; most of the year the farmland of Eastreach is a temperate welcome, balmy breezes and a gentle touch of sun, but Julian is gifted to this world on the extension of a strange heatwave and his cries filter through the quiet settlement his parents have worked in all their lives. Hestia’s Cove is this opulent jewel that surrounds their laborious life, but pawns and cogs never live up to the idea that there is something else within this world for them, too scared of oppressors and failure, diligent worker bees who know each intricate piece of the olive trees from branches and stalks to the ripe olives that dot the foliage. 

His childhood could be glanced upon with the thought of absence; little money, hours of more work than genuine play, flushed skin nearly beet red from working under the potency of the brilliant sun. Julian would argue there was never anything missing, there’s an abundance of love, a unity of family, knees stamped with dirt and palms calloused but always a smile that combated the brilliance of the sun up ahead. Laughter was found spliced between strenuous harvests, leniencies occasionally offered as they sat around eating freshly caught fish and baked breads stuffed with olives and toasted with crafted oils. They never obtained much of the share, the majority was for the decadent oils and wines which House Veridian was known to profit from in the world. An older, wiser, Julian might have looked upon these times without the failsafe of rose-colored glasses, but he’d never take what was bestowed upon him for granted. There was strength found in laborious hours, a working family who bonded over ensuring they’d make the best of their circumstances, and Julian never went to bed without the moon cast overhead, belly full and a balmy breeze drifting him to sleep. 

There was nothing glamorous about such life, but Julian grew up adventurous and purposeful; he could craft hours of mindless fun razing through the sprawling grape fields, or hanging from the lanky branches of the olive trees when deadlines for harvest didn’t loom. Nothing could squash or sully the imaginative nature of a child but he would inevitably grift into a firmer schedule as an adolescent mind could be molded to the workforce of each farmer in the settlements. Anyone rich enough to settle into Hestia’s Cove could not be caught within the sprawling inlands of the olive trees, nor the settlements dotted around them. Julian never wondered about what could have been, there was contentment in his life, perhaps even a glimmer of pride in their efforts and his mind only wandered to the opulence of the Cove when the sun fell in the sky  and the city flashed like a shimmering pearl in the belly of an unsightly oyster. 

Julian’s life was a rudimentary existence at best, something that emulated the cushy idea of small living, and he’d yet to be greeted with the cruelty of the world. It was generational to man these fields and manufacture the oils and wines, and Julian became comfortable in the quotidian churning of life until violence leapt upon them under a small tryst of plundering greed. Boxing shipments and carting them down to the ports was a standard procedure, something done hundreds of times even in Julian’s short lifespan. He’d gone often with his father, helped adhere each label to each manufactured bottle of olive oil and torch each fermented crate of wine. In a society built on their poverty and the adamant glean of their oppression, something as simple as bottling and labeling was greeted with a strange twist of pride. 

Under the heavy trading between Ankhuria and Sinaria many would presume it foolish to go in opposition against the Merchant’s Guilds sailing companies but a pirate was never known to find resolution in sitting by idly when most tended to vie for riches beyond comprehension. If Sinaria’s coastline was littered with bones and dilapidated ships then a pirate would drift to the source to hit them where it would hurt. A raid at the Lysaran coastline, with Julian and his father caught in the midst; pirates weren’t rumored to be smart -a common misconception- but they were certainly crafty and through the habitual practice Julian and his father practiced, it was there the pirates thought best to make their move. 

Known better to attack ships and raid them directly on the sea, surprise often bargained as a pirate’s greatest element, something which wrought a frenzy on the coastline of Eastreach. Meticulously produced oils, wines that had aged for years, some older than Julian himself, were destroyed at the port but the House of Veridian was not without their own fight. Julian and his father, other farmers who had come to produce their share, were struck in the midst of a battle produced by spoils and greed. Raids always had their victims; mostly the rich and their tarnished supplies, but Julian’s efforts to save what they’d produced under laborious hours in the fields, in the house, proved to be met with resistance. In the midst of gunfire and sword fights, however, a different beast loomed on the horizon. Julian was sure to have imagined it, the snarling hulk of wet fur that carried the miasma of salinity, the searing bite as a gaping maw crushed around his thigh and tore through Eastreach’s forces. If the Veridian house was displeased at the pirates that had destroyed their fares and managed to slip away into the Azure Sea, then the House was equally displeased to note how many workers were encumbered by injuries sustained in the raid. 

Deadlines were shot back, deals and trades with Sinaria currently fumbled, but the Merchant’s Guild could cover the losses for now; it was simply up to the workers within the settlements to work even harder, dedicate every second of their waking hour to make up for the wages lost. Julian’s family had to make up for the boy’s loss, where he writhed in bed taken by fever and disorientation, grueling hours stretched to days without pause. Sinarian’s were not known for their kindness and a debt was to be directly paid; any who came short towards it would be met with cruel levies inflicted further upon their homes. A month passed and his hope for delusion at the beast that had lunged upon him, turned into a wretched reality. A wolf with no recognition for the family that raised him or the home that had sheltered him, Julian rose with the illuminated damnation of the full moon. A predator, a beast, he tore through the settlement until blood coated the soil of the olive groves, until the generational pieces of his family within Eastreach was destroyed. 

Fellow workers were felled, fellow friends and family fallen to the predatory nature he inhabited, Julian’s instincts allowed him to evade capture within the ancient olive groves, but as the lunar cycle ended a beast shifted back unto a boy and the truth of his violence was inflicted upon him. Death would have likely been a kindness to him, but Lady Veridian looked upon the gruesome sight he’d created of the sprawling path of groves and grape vines, curled her lip at the number of workers culled by his newly forged tether to the moon, and wished for an even punishment. When she looked upon each life Julian had taken, the Veridian House and the Merchant’s Guild simply saw statistics looming; a crucial loss of money, minds who’d known the quotidian churn of the fields and manufacturing of their supplies gone in the blink of an eye. A shell of Julian’s former self, a ludi looked upon him and such massacre and grinned; there was a fighter to be molded to brilliance, a criminal which could, in turn, be cheered for when it came to the violence he could inflict. 

Imprisonment but with a purpose? - Julian could not figure what to make of his new fate, but jaws would soon crack under his newfound strength, blood would be further spilled, and crowds would cheer for the creature he’d become. Wares earned in each victory were given the House Veridian, to the crown, and Julian was only left with the hollow reminder that this was what it had meant to become. Violence incarnate, a ferocious beast with a taste for blood, and dozens he’d claimed victory over as he rose within the ranks of the gladiator ring. Five years could be considered a blessing in the likes of the crime he’d committed, but the years went on slowly, chipping away at each remnant piece of the boy who plucked grapes and olives from trees, separated pits, and ground flesh into oils and wines. 

Freedom could be bought but it never sated the lonely feeling that had resided in the broken pieces of him; a golden child, a conqueror, he stayed within the ring long after he’d been granted freedom for there was nowhere else for a wolf like him to go. 

personality

+ Courageous, Reliable, Honorable – Conformist, Clumsy, Thoughtless

played by gia. cst. she/her.