#oouuuugh

[kibbkib]

I'm back on my dumbass Benny kick. Here's some old art I never posted here

[somerandomcheller]

Oh BOY!! Maxwell is on the BRAIN!!! I'm chewing him up like a Varg would Wes

[bopperclowning]

im so normal about secret life but i need to make fanart in order to post fanart augh why is the world this way

[actualstardust]

haunted by these damn gays.

[encantresse]

Hers is a face that he recognized more intensely by the taut stretch of misery across it. When they had seen each other last, Raven couldn't pretend that circumstances hadn't been dire, and there was a part of him that had hoped that it might have been the worst the girl needed to see.

Stupid of him. That wasn't what officers academies did.

A muscle worked in his jaw as he watched her begin to flounder, the droop of her on the fringes of the crowd, cradled in a delicate blanket of gossamer sadness.

"Here." He extended the water to her without preamble, though his tone wasn't harsh, no ringing sharpness against the dank stone of the cavern they were in. He would wait, patiently, for her to take it, to drink her fill, his back blocking her from any eyes she might not have wanted on her in that moment, a silent sentinel for her grief.

A flick of his eyes in assessment, and he couldn't help the sigh that left him, that dragged his gaze out and away, not quite seeking his own kind, but not resisting the urge either before he allowed their gazes to lock, firm and intense.

"We're safe here for the moment. It might be a long moment, or a short one. Just enough for those of us who wish to fight to regain our footing. It might not be a comfort, but we'll find those that did this. One way or another."

dorothea does not expect to be singled out in a crowd like this, when she is but one soot-faced survivor of many. she does not deserve to be anyhow, considering the state of her allies — burned, battered, bruised. most left to hobble, others yet to wake.

he catches her at an unfortunate moment. the mask slips when she thinks no one is watching. it's been a while, she thinks forlornly, since she's blended in like this, harkening back to a time before the birth of the diva. a young girl who used to sit on the outskirts, silently nursing old and new wounds alike. unseen and unheard, more a ghost than anything else.

she hasn't heard the fall of his footsteps. the sound of his voice is what lifts her head, and dorothea stares blankly. it takes a minute for her to place a name to the face, and longer still to realize what it is he tries to do. and when it finally dawns on her, there is the faintest swipe of embarrassment. as sweet as the gesture is, it's also unfamiliar. unlike the attention she is so used to — the over-the-top declarations, the shallowness of it all.

thirst has not occurred to her. there is little her body seems to register right now, but for the sake of politeness, she accepts the waterskin, if only to feign consideration before offering it back. "i had some not too long ago. thank you."

they lock eyes until dorothea pulls her gaze away to stare at a distant torch in the distance. willing herself to steel, though her face betrays and crumples at what he says next.

raven is right — it is not a comfort, but a death sentence.

a never-ending cycle of fighting. so much fighting. one striking the other until there are none left to keep the wheel turning. the earth soaked in blood, the heavens raining it down.

[suncast-moth]

So glad the bitch left, but now I gotta make sure I actually eat today-

Considering that her presence, makes me fucking AVOID food altogether- just for the sake of not being near her. 🫠