Void Hour

Turns out I am more gay then I thought I was. 🚹

[voidhour]

T'kaze Tia;

A rooty-toot-gun-n-shooty miqo'te. A fantastic cook and a dumb man.

[stumblynn]

Sorry to come back with a downer I’ve just… been going through some feels lately. Some old habits popping back up.

[everythingfox]

“This is Lola. She likes cheese.”

(via)

[upclassydndname]

M I N D L E S S   L U S T

[voidhour]

@arcanefall

[bace-jeleren]

Somebody go and hang this picture in The Louvre where it belongs

[bace-jeleren]

Consider

[dragongirlteeth]

Elf tiddy

[bace-jeleren]

C O N S I D E R

[heartsalchemy]

This post, brought to you by Chandra.

[bace-jeleren]

Chandra Vision™

[thursday]

do you ever look back at a friendship with someone from the internet and think to yourself, “i’m so glad that i decided to befriend them because they make me so happy”

[yokelfelonking]

@voidhour

[voidhour]

Yes I would be very sad without you! I'm so happy to have you in my life <3

[memesforthebored]

Too true sometimes

~Julien

[the-skeleton-king-98]

[trials-of-becoming]

maybe if I was thinner, youd hear me

[deepthoughtsvibes-deactivated20]

Why am I like this. I didn‘t choose to be like this. I wish I was different. I hate myself. And I can‘t blame anyone because it‘s no one‘s fault but mine.

(-deepthoughtsvibes)

[yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou]

[elijahthemouse]

Invisible

Making journal comics helps me process how I’m feeling. While I hope you don’t relate to this, if you do, at least we can feel invisible together.

My pronouns are they/them and he/him.

[everythingfox]

Adorable murder weapon

[lesbianlinkle-moved]

Real dnd fans open the books and look at the cool pictures and dont read a word of it they just learn the rules through osmosis and having people who can read gently correct you on the rules

[everythingfox]

big wobble

[commander-titania]

this continues for 3 more years

[sportsandlaughs]

[glumshoe]

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” he asked. “All your predictions have come true!”

The seer scowled at him. “No, I’m not happy,” she said sourly. “I’m a doom prophet. I predict the end of the world. Now that it’s actually here, anyone can do my job.” She took a long drag on her clove cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the ribbon of white smoke curl towards the ceiling. “See that? Toxic chemicals released into the atmosphere. Big whoop.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “So. You’re out of a job.”

“Life’s a bitch,” she chuckled darkly. “And then you die. How’s that for prophecy, eh?”

[glumshoe]

“You know what’s fucked up?” she said, slinging her arm across his shoulders like an old friend. She smelled like potpourri and burnt rice.

“Everything?” he guessed.

She cackled, sharp and dry as old leaves, and pinched his cheek. “Knock that off,” she said. “You’re too young to be a cynic. Show some respect for your elders and earn your bitter outlook like the rest of us.”

“Aren’t ‘my elders’ the ones who got us into this mess?” he asked in mock innocence, jerking his face away and ducking out from under her arm. “I mean, a toxic wasteland is not much of an inheritance.”

The old woman peered at him from the corner of her eye, mouth twitching as though it could not decide between a smile or a frown. “You kids get older every year, don’t you?” She hummed to herself and crossed the room to the minifridge in the corner. “Beer?”

“No thanks,” he said quickly. “I’m not old enough.”

“If you’re old enough to die in the apocalypse, you’re old enough to drink.” She glanced up at him and winked. “Smart, though. I wouldn’t accept a drink from a creepy old witch, either.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” he lied.

She popped the cap off a bottle with her teeth and took a swig. “Oh, well, don’t you have a silver tongue.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and closed the minifridge with a kick. “I’m not old, either. I’m only fifty.”

“But you are a witch?”

She opened her arms wide and gestured around the apartment, at the bundles of dried herbs dangling from the ceiling, at the old kettle bubbling quietly on a hotplate. It didn’t look especially mystical, but it wasn’t going to make it to the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. “Of course I’m a witch. Who isn’t, these days?” She dropped her arms with a sigh and took another drink. “I wasn’t always. I used to be a scientist, did you know? It’s funny. You can publish thirty peer-reviewed papers on how bioaccumulation of rodenticides in birds of prey is causing mass die-off of raptors, but do they listen? Do they ban the agricultural use of Rodex K? No! They call you an alarmist with an agenda and cite ‘opposing viewpoints’ from shitbag lobbyists. But if you ditch the lab coat and start waving incense around and warn people about birds falling from the sky, suddenly your wisdom is indisputable.” She slammed her beer on the counter and wagged a bony finger at him. “Remember that. Be as cryptic as possible if you want to be taken seriously.”

“You give interesting advice,” he said mildly.

“Yeah? There’s more where that came from. Floss. Drink water. Don’t sit on the toilet for too long.” She cupped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Hemorrhoids.”

[glumshoe]

“I told you to ‘pull over’, not send me through the damn windshield,” grumbled Cassandra, gingerly extracting herself from her seat belt and clambering out of the car. “Whoever taught you to drive should be taken out back and shot.”

“That was you,” he said flatly. “This morning.”

She slammed her door and walked around to the driver’s side window, slapping her hand on the roof of the car and peering in at him. “Well! Hurry up and get out. I’m going to teach you something else now,” she said. “Let’s hope you’re better at divination than driving. Ever tried reading entrails?”

“Entrails?” he echoed. She must have seen the trepidation in his expression, because she waved her hand in a cutting motion and snorted dismissively.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t have to kill anything.”

She led him across the road and back about a hundred yards, towards whatever had caught her eye. It was a dead sea bird, he realized–a seagull, maybe, or a cormorant. It was still intact, but its milky, shrunken eyes and ragged feathers suggested it had been dead for several days. He looked up at the seer uncertainly. 

She broke off a long, slender stick and came to stand beside him. “In the old days, they used to sacrifice animals,” she said, prodding gently at the dead bird’s feathers, turning it over so that its mud-caked underside was exposed. “The ancient Etruscans would divine the future from the entrails of livestock and poultry. They believed they could predict the weather from the shape of a dead goose’s liver. You’re not squeamish, are you?”

He hesitated, and then shook his head, wondering exactly which choices in life had led to him standing over roadkill with a strange woman and a stolen car. He was in too deep now to turn back.

“Open it up,” she ordered, pressing the stick into his hand. “Tell me what you see.”

He steeled himself with a deep breath and pierced the dead bird’s breast. He had expected blood and wet brown flesh, but there was surprisingly little meat on the carcass. The skin parted easily, splitting down the middle to reveal the bird’s stomach. He yelped and jumped back, dropping the stick. “What is all that?!”

Cassandra did not flinch. “Look closely,” she said. He shot her a furious glare, but did as he was told.

“Bottle caps!” he exclaimed. He lifted the stick again, pushing them aside. There were tangles of electric blue and yellow, rings of orange and red and chunks of mint green plastic. “It’s all garbage,” he said, caught somewhere between disgust and fascination. “There’s so much of it…”

She sighed, sadly, and crouched beside him with a crackle of aging joints. “All too common nowadays,” she said. “It’s amazing the sort of things you get used to. I used to do autopsies when I worked for the state ornithology lab…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Fucked up shit. What do you suppose it means?”

 “Bad?” he suggested.

“Why, you’re a natural,” she said wryly. 

They crouched there in silence for a long moment, staring at the carcass and thinking their own thoughts. Eventually she rose, using the top of his head to pull herself to her feet with a groan.

“If there’s one thing an augur and an ecologist have in common,” she said, “It’s the right to say, ‘I damn well told you so’. Come on. Ever tried edibles?”