#sobss

[cannimochi]

aUHHHHHHH someone called them huntingdog or avidheardt i love those names for them zo much AmUHH someone else mentioned waiting for someone to draw them hodling hands so i stayed up to finish this kinda based on my sketch of it

[4rr10nn]

back with my usual artstyle

[ac3-th3-mult1f4nd0m-l0s3r]

MEAN TO ME

[trial-n-harerror]

MY FAVOURITE GUY TO SEE IN THE TRIALS!!!1 MY GOAT

[w1tched]

"I had a long awaited reunion," except it wasn't just that. It was so much more but how can Boothill convey that without the metal of his body feeling heavier than usual and his throat constricting as though it's getting hard to breathe despite the fact he doesn't need the oxygen in the same way anymore.

How can Boothill explain how he'd nearly crumbled the second his eyes opened in that dream? How his every sense was bombarded with memories that lay tucked away in a carefully guarded part of his mind?

He'd taken a breath, once, twice, thrice, as if he couldn't believe it was the smell of grass and hay and the farm that was filling his lungs and not ash, grief and death. He felt hands, warm and rough, on his shoulders and back. He feels for once because there's no black metal encasing his body but hot red blood, flesh and sinew.

His eyes took in the faces of his siblings and his ears registered their voices as they asked him why the hell he's zoning out. Where has he been? IPC? What IPC? Has he been reading those Wild West Weeklies again? He's gonna be late for the weekly dinner at the farmhouse! Last one there's a rotten egg and has to do the dishes after!

Nick grinded his knuckles against the snowy white locks of hair. Graey fussed over him, saying he's too skinny, asking if he's been eating right. His older brother said something about how he looked so weak, a gust of wind would knock him over. His picky younger siblings sneak their food onto his plate, knowing he'll eat them without complaint.

He felt the cats slinking between their legs while they ate. His older sister feeds the dogs her leftovers. Nick brings out the malt juice. Graey says they're gonna have a friendly lil' horseshoe toss after they finish off the peach cobbler.

The stars shone outside the window in familiar constellations. The moon was the one he'd grown up gazing upon. His daughter was by his legs, tiny fists tugging on his shirt and trying her damndest to say "dada" and get his attention.

Deep down, it was all wrong. The dream would've been perfect but it couldn't capture the gruffness of Nick's voice. It couldn't capture the taste of Graey's cooking. The accents were just barely clipped, not quite right. The freckles were in the wrong place. The tooth gap wasn't quite right.

A small part of him had protested but Boothill had turned a blind eye. Just this once, for the last time, he wanted to pretend everything had been a bad dream and this was his reality. Not screams of anguish but laughter and crude jokes.

Boothill had closed his eyes and drowned in the dream, dreading when he'd be pulled back to the shore.

But he can't quite convey that. So he says, "I had a long awaited reunion" instead.

[glowingwaves]

IM SHOCK RN

MY FRIEND

WERE ON CALL RN

AND HE JUST SAID “Have you seen that tiktok?” AND THEN SAID HOW WHAT IF EURYLOCHUS OPENED THE BAG BUT SINCE THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO ITHICA WHAT IF PENELOPE AND TELE WERE AT THE DOCKS AND WATCHED THEM GET BLOWN AWAY AND WHEN ODY HEARD PENELOPES VOICE IT WAS ACTUALLY PENELOPE

SOBS.

[karkatshell]

trying a new artstyle! (blasts u with johndave beam)

i’m just gonna ignore the fact that it’s like currently 3am as of posting this

[cleradin-prince]

do you think will and mike would've watched dead poets society when it came out