#without cope there is no hope

[moplayspoke]

Day 46 of Fourth Wing / Iron Flame hangover

I opened Powerless today. Writing pulled me in immediately until about the 2nd page in where my eyes just glazed over and my thoughts trickled back to Xaden-fucking-Riorson.

I stopped and immediately opened my graphic audio part 1 of Fourth Wing.

There is no escape. There is only cope.

[gunsatthaphan]

in other news Kid-Nap was confirmed as a BL and now the obnoxious ON stans are protesting on the streets I-- 💀

[kyouka-supremacy]

So no sskk?

[katiekatdragon27]

More Flatland stuffff~~~

[Cursive transcript: I'm so sorry this is so sudden, but I had to keep my Chosen safe!]

So, uh, the 4th dimension, am I right?????

So, on my last post, people were more interested in A. Tesseract than I thought. I did not expect her to stir so much interest, but here you go lol.

More under the cut lol / lots of notes:

Some basic information on 4th dimensional beings:

They refer to themselves as "hypersolids" and "polytopes". Only Tesseracts prefer a different name than just "hyper(insert shape here)". When talking to other dimensional beings, they call themselves "Spacelanders".

They usually keep their eyes closed, and they do not emote much.

Their bodies naturally morph as they talk. They are also partially transparent, so you can see their inside movements. Not organs or anything, but the next emotions or actions they are going to express. Sort of like key frames or a fade in effect.

They call "Spacelanders" "Heightlanders".

Their civilization is located in space. They are able to breathe through little pockets of air on their rings that recharge when they enter the atmosphere of other plants. (This is why they are spotted relatively frequently)

Buildings are constantly moving spirals. They also fly everywhere, so they require a lot of energy to maintain their health. Luckily, any stars nearby tend to charge them up just fine.

Also, everyone goes by they/them along with another pronoun if they choose. Gender constructs be damned (or certain groups are fighting for that).

There will be more once I think of it, but that's what I have in the world-building department right now.

Some basic information on Angelica "A." Tesseract (she/they):

She tends to say "I'm sorry" after anything they might think could have been of inconvenience or offensive.

They are relatively soft-spoken, but they are incredibly smart compared to her peers.

Her quiet nature causes others to disrespect and step all over her.

She overthinks LITERALLY EVERYTHING. You could tell her something that is even the slightest bit vague and they have the chance of spiraling.

She KNOWS there are more than four dimensions, but they are struggling to prove it with science.

They are much more emotional compared to other hypersolids. They tend to cry easily.

She chose A. Sphere because of his confidence and drive to get his points across. They admire him for that.

Some basic information on A. Sphere in this:

He's much less snarky. His whole vision of the world was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and he's stuck in another world completely unknown to him. He's going though it currently.

He's still blunt about everything. If you suck, he'll tell you. If you are cool, it'll take a little longer, but he'll tell you.

He got his eye busted after the attack on Messiah Inc. When getting removed from "Heightland", his eye got caught in the blow last minute and it got damaged. He can still open it slightly, but he can't see out of it.

He was relatively indifferent to seeing his body transparent. He was more worried about his eye injury over anything else.

At first, he did not like A. Tesseract (cuz kidnapping), but he learns to appreciate the gesture and does his best to help her out.

[Cursive transcript: For now, I'm afraid so... sorry. / I'm so sorry. If I was just a but faster, I could have saved your eye.]

Yeah, their friendship starts out really rough.

A. Sphere adjusted to the environment very poorly at first. He was very standoffish and snappy, but it then soured to just sorta feeling sad all the time. He gets better eventually the more he learns about the world, but it takes a lot of effort out of A. Tesseract to get him there.

I mean, he expected to die, lost his eye, everyone in "Heightland" hates him now, he lost his business and research, and he fails to take the blame for anything for a while. I would also be super pissed and sad.

A. Tesseract was not any better. She feels an incredible amount of guilt for not stepping in in time to prevent A. Sphere's eye damage, and she constantly apologies to him for everything. This sucks for A. Sphere since he finds it super annoying.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: You weren't supposed to bring them HERE! / A. Tesseract: I'm sorry, I had to save him- / N. H.Sphere: I should fire you-!]

N. H.Sphere is a mega grouch. He is A. Tesseract's boss who treats her terribly. Discrediting her work, ignoring their research, and just not valuing her opinion cuz women, he is not fun to talk to or just be around in general. No one knows how HR lets him stay in charge, but some theorize that he pays them off or something.

Despite all of the traumatic crap A. Sphere has gone though in this story, he still does not stand for disrespect from anyone. When he learns that A. Tesseract is constantly being pushed around by her bitchy boss, he decides to defend her.

This solidifies their friendship and later science partnership when the story ends. This also makes N. H.Sphere more resentful towards both A. Tesseract an A. Sphere. This leads to A. Tesseract actually getting fired from her job. Thanks A. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: Why are you so scared? He's fine! / A. Tesseract: It's my un-medicated anxiety!!]

One of the downsides of being in the 4th dimension and living in space is that the gravitational pull is super sporadic with no real patterns. Some areas have super powerful gravity while others have zero. 4th dimension beings have learned to adjust perfectly fine.

The pressure changes and general lack of oxygen negatively impact A. Sphere's body, however, so to help him be okay, he sits in those vacuum boxes that allow for added pressure to be put on him to help even his breathing. He usually isn't put in unless he is fading in and out of consciousness, since he hates the confined space. It freaks out A. Tesseract every time it happens.

Her boss thinks she's stupid for worrying so much and using company tech. A. Tesseract worries more for A. Sphere than keeping her job, so she ignores N. H. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: Care to see him again?]

Outside of the partial angst and stuff, this dimension is the reason why A. Sphere shows up in A. Square's hallucination.

During A. Square's trauma-induced hallucination, he shows up in the 4th dimension briefly with the Monarch of Pointland. A. Sphere and A. Tesseract take notice, and she offers him the ability to talk to A. Square one last time for closure reasons.

In this version, this scene would be longer, with A. Sphere possibly apologizing for denying the existence of the 4th dimension and not being able to assist A. Square in the way he wanted to. It's more wholesome and conclusive than transactional like in the movie. The other stuff is there too, but having more sentimental moments would be so cool.

----------

I am very sorry how messy these particular doodles are, I was drawing all these super late at night during my shift, so I was not paying much attention to the flow of the images. When the inspo hits, you don't really realize how incohesive they are until you start photographing the images to post lol

Thank you once again for reading this whole thing, and have a wonderful day :)

[rebouks]

Courtney discussed quitting her job with Oscar since he clearly can't handle everything at home by himself and get his work done at the same time. He wasn't sure it was the greatest idea right now but she's convinced it's for the best and impulsively called her boss whilst making dinner. It's fiiiine, she'll be able to keep on top of the kids and the house, which leaves him to focus on getting better and eventually making some money again...

Oscar: I just don't th-... Courtney: Shut up and eat my shitty spaget-.. and you better get used to it too. Oscar: Okay...

[indestructiblelittlefuckers]

@vocesofmd (cont)

It was perhaps the first time in his life that Ed didn't feel anything at all (or wasn't that how he felt in days like these, always as if it was for the first time. some days, when he got like that, he didn't want to do anything that but stare at nothing. others, he wanted to see the world burn, just like now). It was easier that way. Not caring who died, or who lived. Just the end goal. Destroy the Navy. Not just Ricky, he wasn't enough, he knew that. Every goddamn man that represented a threat to piracy. They had all heard stories of Blackbeard, even when he was the Kraken. But they had never seen him like this.

He wondered why the crew joined him. They could see who he was, what he was about to do. Maybe they wanted revenge as much as he did, maybe they wanted to stand for something for the first time in their fucking lives. Did they regret it? Did they want to leave, to plan another mutiny? Honestly, he didn't give a fuck. There were people in his crew, that were loyal to him, seeing the world as Blackbeard did. Even if the old crew didn't see it his way, they wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

Stede was the only one that made Ed pause sometimes, made him Ed again. And god, sometimes he fucking hated him for it. The past was in the past and there he was, giving Ed glimpses of what once was. Of a completely different life. One that he had retired, opened an Inn, never killed again. One that... he was in it.

At first they fought a lot, Ed snapping at him, throwing things next to him. Stede holding his tongue at first until he didn't. Now they barely talked to each other. Maybe Stede didn't stay for Ed at all, not anymore. Maybe he stayed for his crew, for the life he wanted to lead. Maybe he wanted to make Ricky pay for what he did.

They hadn't been on land for months. Ed had only stayed a week at the cottage and then one day, he just left. Now, he was back at Nassau, to get supplies, to find new people that would join him — one bad thing about not caring who died at a raid, was that these people had to be replaced later. And Jim, weirdly not that angry at him as others were, had suggested that Blackbeard should recruit them. Who could say no to him?

As he was headed to a tavern that were supposed to be some fans of his work, Ed saw... him. He froze. Blinked to make the vision go away. It wasn't in his head. It was him. No, not him. Just someone that looked like him.

Ed followed him, wanting to kill that man for daring to look like him. He knocked the door — the polite man that he was — but when the other man did not open it right away, Ed shrugged and knocked it down. He pointed a gun at the man that... no, not the one thought he was, he kept telling himself.  

❝Alright, mate. 'gonna give ya a chance to save yourself. ❞ Poor guy, not knowing why he was even threatened by Blackbeard. Did he even know he was Blackbeard? He had the black paint around his eyes, the leathers, new scars on his bare arm, one across his collarbone.  But that fucker looked so much like the one that he wasn't supposed to, he even had one leg. If he was going for the look, he was certainly committed, Blackbeard had to give him that. ❝Tell me who the fuck are ya and why I shouldn't kill ya right now.❞

[landwriter]

Dirty Work | Corinthian/Hob | 1.6K | T fake marriage, true love, gardening, domestic curtainfic with an unsolicited side of angst, retired!corinthian, the corinthian loves rural england because he’s the hottest piece of ass for miles, hob loves rural england because the corinthian is safe with him there (and also the stars are lovely at night)

for Domaystic Drabbles, Day 5: Learning Something New

---

“What-” asked Hob. He paused, took a sensibly calming breath, and found himself feeling not much more calm for it. Onward, then. “-the fuck are you doing?”

The Corinthian smiled winningly up at him from under the brim of Hob’s favourite tilly hat.

“The fuck does it look like?” he drawled.

“Gardening.” Having a nervous breakdown, he thought, loudly and uncharitably. It was early. Not these-days early. Fourteenth century early. Lauds early. The robins weren’t even out yet. The sky was still a deep and restive blue. He was irritable. Owing less to the hour, and more to waking up to a cold, husbandless bed, to an instinctive panic crawling up his throat that saw him search through an empty house with increasing dread, before he finally looked out the back window and saw a nightmare. Turn of speech, of course.

It looked like a giant vole had been through. A giant, ruthlessly handsome vole, who remained at the scene of the crime wearing nothing but silk pyjama bottoms, now stained with vegetal viscera. The damage was extensive. And apparently not quite complete. He was still extracting a stubborn bit of Reynoutria japonica. The Corinthian grunted, muscles jumping in his arms, prised the cane loose, and then rocked back on his heels with a little huff of satisfaction. He paused to wipe invisible sweat off his face with the back of his hand, in a move, Hob was cooly certain, designed to attractively smear a bit of dirt across his forehead. The Corinthian abhorred a mess. Unless he’d made it himself. He caught the expression on Hob’s face and preened.

Hob made himself scowl again. On principle, if nothing else. “You’ve dug up most of the flowers, too.”

“Seen better.”

“It’s half four. You can see nowt and fuckall.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice was perfectly casual, which meant it had been a truly awful night. I’m sorry, Hob wanted to say. It’s not fair. It was just supposed to be. But that’s not the sort of thing the Corinthian wanted to hear from him. Not a thing he could bear hearing, really.

“Should’ve woken me,” he said, in lieu of what he couldn’t, and walked over and took his mouth in a hungry kiss to say the rest of it properly. The Corinthian softened into him, making pleased sounds and sliding a hand under his shirt, but Hob could still feel it, all the coiled-tight misery. It practically twanged through the air. Sometimes, he thought it was nothing less than cruelty, what Dream had done to him and named a mercy. But he wouldn’t say that either. They didn’t talk about it. Not like that. “Jesus. You’re like a puppy,” he said, laughing, when the Corinthian finally let them pause to catch their breath. “Can’t be left alone or you’ll get bored and chew up all my socks.”

The Corinthian blinked at him, pupils blown wide in the morning dim. It was still a weird sight. Wrong. “They were shitty socks, Robbie.”

Hob snorted and turned around to take inventory of his garden. The spreading clump of invasive knotweed he’d really been meaning to get around to at the weekend (so he said every Monday) had been surgically obliterated and lay in a tidy pile. The overgrown nettle and bramble was gone. It had gotten a little wild, sure. But Hob had thought it pretty, in a tangled sort of way. And the entire bed of begonias he’d inherited with the cottage was uprooted. He’d never liked those, at least.

“They were passable socks,” he decided, and left it at that. “You’re getting me new ones.”

“The best,” agreed the Corinthian. “We’re starting over. Making something better.”

“As pretty as you?” Hob asked, just to watch him squirm a bit.

“You’re disgusting,” said the Corinthian.

“Wrong answer,” said Hob, singsong. “Nothing could be as pretty as you.”

“You’re messed up in the head, Hob, you know that?”

“’Course I do. It’s why you married me.”

“Pretty sure it was for the sex.”

Hob grinned. “Come inside, then, Mr. Gadling. The garden can wait.”

They weren’t married, of course. They were just strange and scandalous enough for the village already, without living in sin. More and more often, Hob found himself forgetting it had started as a joke. That when the Corinthian said ‘my life partner’ he was winking at Hob. But he said mine in other ways, ways he trusted and knew better, and so Hob didn’t mind much at all. Not that he’d mind it being real, either. He wouldn’t. He wanted to cling to the Corinthian. Keep him safe. And maybe it was old-fashioned of him, but being his husband, swearing an oath to cherish and protect, it would mean he could.

They went inside, and left the garden as it was, turned up and nearly unrecognizable. Like an open wound. All the dangerous and unsightly parts torn out. Scoured clean. Hob tried not think about how it felt so familiar. He was pretty sure the Corinthian already had. Had, in fact, done it exactly because of that. Because he’d wanted to know what Dream had felt, doing it to him.

---

Hob stood in his garden. “What the fuck,” he said again. In three months, it had been transformed. There was a new riot of colour and texture, brought only to heel with perfectly sculpted boxwoods and a cobbled path that undulated through the garden in a way, Hob felt confident, that was actually mathematically significant. The perfumed air fairly buzzed with insect life. In his periphery, a group of swallows darted through an immaculately pruned apple tree he hadn’t known he had, and then skimmed low over the bergamot, calling out to one another. It wasn’t a tame garden. It was the sort you wanted to watch all day, breath caught in your throat.

“It’s a start,” said the Corinthian mildly.

“It’s the bloody grand finale, is what it is.”

“Just did a bit of pruning and bought a few bedding plants. Nothing special. Was hoping you’d like it.”

Hob looked sidelong at him. The Corinthian wore a small, modest smile. He made a noise of disgust. “Cut that out.”

“Aw,” said the Corinthian. He thought it was terribly funny to pretend to be English and see how long before Hob noticed and begged him to stop. He didn’t do an accent. He just wore it. It made Hob want to crawl out of his skin, which in turn made the Corinthian mercilessly hone his impression. Dark mirror of humanity, indeed. Old habits die hard. Hob was sure he didn’t sound like that. Most of the time.

“You’ve done this before,” said Hob, staring accusingly at splendour of it all.

“Nah,” said the Corinthian, looking so proudly out on his work that Hob knew he was telling the truth. “Didn’t know jack about gardening. But I’ve learned,” he said, and meant so much more than gardening. He turned, grinning at Hob in his perfect garden with his perfect teeth. Except, Hob noticed, one of his incisors snagged a little on his bottom lip. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, another beating step further into smote devotion. The Corinthian looked back at the garden. “Good thing the fucker made me so damn curious, huh?”

He was fucked.

---

“It’s dirty work,” his supposed husband was loudly saying, despite being perfectly clean and unblemished. “But somebody’s got to do it.”

Hob rolled his eyes from where he was hanging the washing in their own garden, then looked into the neighbour’s anyways.

“Bless you, Ian,” said Mildred, beaming up at him. She bustled inside and reappeared with a fresh lemon loaf. The Corinthian grinned at Hob across the fence as Mrs. Martin hugged him goodbye. As if it would make him jealous. She was eighty-four. Far too young for either of them.

Five minutes later, Hob was viciously stabbing a slice of lemon loaf. “This has gotten out of hand. You’re being a do-gooder.”

The Corinthian pulled a hurt face. “It would’ve spread back to our garden.”

“I can’t believe she felt up your biceps. Like you’re a choice cut of meat.”

He smirked in a way that said I am, aren’t I? “You threatened by her, Hob?”

“No,” said Hob, and then chewed. “Fuck. Maybe a little. This is incredible.”

---

In October, the garden was named a runner-up in Kent Life magazine’s Amateur Garden of the Year, 1990. Mrs. Martin patted Hob’s husband consolingly on the shoulder and announced the Appledore Ladies Baking Club was unsubscribing in solidarity. All twelve of them.

The entire village, Hob slowly realized, had become besotted with the Corinthian. He was a Yank, but he was their Yank now. He’d endeared himself by sharing his dahlia tubers, lending out his wickedly-sharp secateurs, and most of all, smilingly dismissing any praise about his prodigious gardening abilities by saying, in his syrupy drawl, “I guess I just like pretty things.” Then he’d wink and say, “That’s why I married Hob, you know.” And whoever he was talking to would smile in spite of themselves, and tell Hob he was very lucky indeed.

He was. He’d just never felt guilty for his luck before.

That night, Hob murmured it into the back of his neck, soft and human-warm. “I think I hate him for it. Still. Even now. I didn’t know I even could.”

It was the first time he’d said it aloud. It felt like scurvy. Like a mended bone breaking again, in the silence of the little bedroom. But in his arms, the Corinthian only snorted.

“Of course you can. It’s the most normal thing about you.” Hob smiled into his nape. The Corinthian rolled over, and traced a hand across Hob’s sternum, landing, as he always did, on one particular puckered scar between his ribs. “You know what’s fucked?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, I think I don’t.”

[smallblueandloud]

i keep feeling like. there's something parallel between rose and yaz's endings. maybe parallel isn't the right word -- but i keep wanting to draw comparisons, i think because they're two characters who really defined specific doctors and for whom it's basically confirmed the doctor returned their (romantic) feelings

(they're not the ONLY ones who fit this description, but i'm in no way qualified to talk about clara or even river, so bear with me)

it just feels. i don't know. rose never leaves on purpose. she is separated from the doctor, forcibly, every single time. the doctor sends her home, or she gets stuck in an alternate universe, or the doctor leaves her in the same alternate universe. every single time, she fights to get back to the doctor. the writers had to create a perfect happy ending for her (half-human version of her doctor who'll age along with her, in the alternate universe where her father is alive) because otherwise she wouldn't stop fighting to get back to the doctor, and the show can't have that. the show needs to move on. we need rose to fade into the past.

i haven't seen all of yaz's episodes, but her arc seems very similar from the limited amount i've seen. she keeps fighting to get back to the doctor. she's in love with the doctor, and the doctor basically confirms returning her feelings, albeit in a very stilted, hesitant, doctor-y way (compare "imagine that happening to someone you--" with "and if i was going to, believe me, it would be with you").

but when yasmin's doctor regenerates... yaz is just expected to. step away, go back to living her life, never see the doctor again. kinda like the abandonment that most companions have ever experienced -- getting dropped off once and then goodbye forever! -- except with more of the onus on her. the show has to move on from rose's era, so she gets dumped on a beach. the show has to move on from yasmin's era, so yaz has to accept that the doctor is going off to die alone. she has to make her peace with that information.

i don't know. i think yaz's ending is trying to go hand-in-hand with graham and ryan's purposeful exit -- it seems like the chibnall era tried really hard to have Not Terrible endings for companions. which is very admirable! but honestly? yasmin's ending feels crueler than most, including rose's. yaz was in love with the doctor. the doctor reciprocated those feelings. they should've gotten their equivalent of s2-era 10rose! she should've gotten a chance to stay with the doctor through their regeneration, the way other love interests have been able to (s/o to river and clara!).

i know this is because of the limitations of the show. bad ratings meant chibnall left after only one regeneration, and new incarnations of the show rarely bring in characters from other eras.

but i'm still very sad for yaz :( like yes, she wasn't just dumped on the curb without warning. but she was still expected to say goodbye to someone she loved, knowing that person was dying, and not say a word of protest. if the previous history of the show is any indication, she's never going to see the doctor again. she doesn't get a half-human version of the doctor to live out her days with, and she's not "allowed" to fight to get back to the doctor, either, due to the way the show's structured (but also the way the doctor talked about them saying goodbye). she has to live the rest of her life knowing that the doctor is out there, perfectly capable of visiting, and the only reason they won't visit is because yaz is from a specific time of their life that they've moved on from.

i know she has the companion support group. and i know she'll move on! she's yaz. she's strong and self-actualized. she'll be okay, eventually. but she has to be okay, you know? she has to learn to live without the doctor. rose never had to do that.

it just makes me sad :(

[skynecraft]

sooo nervous about getting the MRI tomorrow :(

[ditzydollsdiary]

also, following on from my last post, if your daughter was like that i highly doubt she'd even want you, a daughter who literally doesn't talk to anyone other than you and is reliant on you for most things however?? that's more likely

[oso-mirm]

I wish we could see more of Skylor. More specifically, I want to see what drives her.

At the end of season 4, she gives up being a ninja and a spy and says she just wants to run a normal noddle shop. But every time we've see her after that, she is itching for a fight. In season 6, she helps Jay fight Nadakhan. In season 7, she was about to offer to help before Kai and Nya stormed off. In season 9, she helps the rebel group and even tries to fight Garmadon with his own destructive power. In the elemental powers book after Crystalized, she is so eager to join Kai on an adventure to help him find his fire.

It seems like she wants a life of adventure and helping people, but she stopping herself. There could be so may different reasons for this, like she doesn't want to take back what she said. As if she is sticking with the noodle shop as a way to punish herself, or just trying to redeem her family's name.

Or maybe, she does like going on adventures, but she doesn't want to put her life at risk like the ninja do. It would really cement that Skylor is traumatized from being raised in a cult and being treated as a tool be her father.

There are so many different ways to interpret Skylor. I just wish we had a more concrete canon personality from the show. I love seeing what people think of Skylor, and I love her badass personality. She can do anything and everything, but that makes her hard to write. I just wish she was more a character, someone with a little more depth.

There's nothing wrong with someone saying one thing, and then later down the line, changing their mind. I think that would be really interesting actually. I want to see more of Skylor </3

[vegaseatsass]

Just rewatched DFF ep 9 and I really do think this show is so beautifully meticulously artistically written, with themes and layers and so much thoughtful care. I trust wherever it leads, even if it doesn't lead to the places I want most in my heart (PerthNon vs. PheeTan revenge teams at crosshairs, culminating in a heartfelt brotherly reunion, lol if playfully grudging at how much they fucked up each other's plans despite having the same goals, and a Non who has moved on with someone who has life experiences similar enough to his to actually understand him, listen to him, and trust him. But most importantly A HEARTFELT BROTHERLY REUNION). It's just always fun to watch a show where you can expect to be surprised, you can expect to be angry at the characters, you can expect to not get what you want, and you can still expect to appreciate the writing and enjoy the experience. Love to let the story seduce me you see

[i-dont-know-i-just-like-dragons]

hatsune miku never did anything wrong I'll be posting about her now

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

typically whenever put into a fight or flight situation my brain chooses “fight”. want an example?? ok!!

when i got the notification saying “dan and phil finally tell the truth” i was filled with terror. so instead of not watching it (flight), my fear turned instantly into uncontrollable rage. i started SCREAMING at the video the following: “NO THEY FUCKING DONT!! YOU ARENT TELLING US SHIT!! I DONT WANNA KNOW!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHIT UP!! FUCK YOU!!” while clicking on the video and sitting through the advert. got through the video a shaking mess. need to do some breathing exercises.

glad to know that the video was what all joint content has been since they came out: oversharing about their shared s*x life without giving specifics of their relationship. like yes kings leave me in the dark. don’t tell me shit. i don’t wanna know <3

so that’s the story of how my psychological response to the video was to throw hands with dan and phil through my phone because i am sane and healthy and normal

[coyotebrained]

You have to think things will get better, otherwise what is the point!!! You have to hold out hope that things will get better and then maybe one day things will feel safe and be cool and everything will be fine (at least as fine as it can be)

[strawberrisoulmate]

These are all pretty old, but still some of my favorites 🍓❤🌸

Also here's a silly little bonus~