signatorysea
SignatorySea
they/them*here for chaos i guess
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you either surf, or you die
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@omfgreylo Show how to print, fold, and make holes for #fanficbookbinding
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"Cooking is an art, baking is a science. Candy making is sorcery. It's black magic. I'm six failed attempts at fudge in, candy is a cruel joke that sugar plays on god"
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The stigma of self-inserts is so harmful to the creative process. Relax. Admit it. Everything you make is derivative of yourself, always, no exceptions. You can turn the mirror into tinier and tinier shards or you can make it as big as you want to reflect as much as you want. At the end of the day it's always going to show you inside of it. Pretending otherwise is stupid.
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if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing
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This list includes doctors in the United States, Australia, Canada, and Europe!
Even if you're not the target demographic, please share for any of your friends who may be.
And if you or someone you know would like to be added to the list, there's a place for that!
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@themysterioust this is why Tofu is banned from the kitchen
life becomes so beautiful when you start cooking rice in liquids other than water
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A faerie introduces himself. Then, holding out a hand, asks, “And your name, please?”
And, like a fool, you give it to him.
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New D&D comic! Featuring Daddy Lazarus
My D&D comics on tapas
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Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.
I’m curious!
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the distinction between board games and TTRPGs only exists in your heart baby
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I started a band with friends called 999 Megabytes
Still haven’t gotten a gig though
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If Bad Boys sounds like a name made by kids on the playground, and Cleo’s team is just playing house, and Impulse giving Bdubs a clock feels like a kindergarten marriage…is this ENTIRE season just a big playground game of pretend at recess?? Did Jimmy push Tango off the tire tower and immediately apologize because he felt bad?? Is Bdubs’ boogey kill the equivalent of someone telling him he’s the bad guy, and him pointing at Skizz and going “BANG! You’re dead!” because like - that would make so much fckn sense honestly.
It’s recess, boys, and they’re pulling out EVERY game in the playground handbook
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y’know I’ve been having thoughts about mumbo not being in limited life so…….
“No. Absolutely not.”
Mumbo splutters, “W-What? Why not?!”
Grian stares at him, expression very serious. He crosses his arms. “Because, Mumbo,” is all he says.
A frown threatens to pull on Mumbo’s lips, as he already feels the corners of his mouth twitching. He stares down at his boyfriend with a bit of incredulousness. This was not the answer he expected upon asking Grian if he could join the next life game. Last Life had been quite fun, even if it was a bit overwhelming and terrifying all at once. He had liked it. It was nice to let loose. And Grian seemed plenty happy he was there! So, “Why?” he repeats himself. “Is it — was I bad at the game? Oh goodness, I didn’t ruin it for the others, did I?”
He sees something in Grian’s eyes crack, and the avian is pulling his gaze away. “It’s nothing like that. I’d even say you were great, Mumbo.”
“So then why can’t I join this next one?” Mumbo asks, beginning to feel just a bit frustrated. “Just give me a straight answer, Gri. That’s all I want.”
Grian looks up at him, and Mumbo attempts to plead with him with his eyes. He watches the very moment Grian’s resolve breaks, seeing it in the way his shoulders sag as he uncrosses his arms.
“The life games are different from Hermitcraft,” Grian says, and Mumbo blinks.
“Well — yes. I know what I’m signing up for, Grian,” he replies, though not rudely. He doesn’t see the issue here. “I was in Last Life, remember?”
Grian frowns in return, “That’s the point.” The way Grian says it makes it seem like that one sentence holds the answer to Mumbo’s question. He says it like it’s obvious, which it very much isn’t to Mumbo.
He resists the urge to groan. “Grian, mate, I really don’t see the issue here,” he reaches for Grian’s hands, taking them in his hands.
The way Grian looks at him breaks Mumbo, just a little bit. Because Grian looks at him with a bit of desperation, with this pleading gleam in his eyes. You’re going to make me say it? Is what his state communicates to Mumbo. He squeezes his hands in comfort. Encouragement. And, “Whatever the reason is, you can tell me, dove. I’m not going to be upset.”
Grian opens his mouth, hesitating before finally giving in. “I never wanted you to see me. In one of those games,” he admits.
“What?” Mumbo asks, looking at him.
“We all become a little different in those games. A little more violent, bloodthirsty. The moment someone turns red, everything changes,” Grian continues, looking down at their hands. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of… taking your final life being one of them. So I — Mumbo I can’t let you join another game.”
Oh… Mumbo stares at Grian with a bit of surprise, as well as pain. “But Scar,” he points out, because he is a complete and utter spoon.
Pain flashes across Grian’s face, and his grip on Mumbo’s hands tighten just a bit. “Scar is… he’s different,” he mutters. “I don’t want him there either, but he’s been a part of these games since the start. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop him.” He brings one of Mumbo’s hands up to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against his fingers. “I’m sorry, Mumbo, but please… I can’t have you both there.”
And Mumbo begins to understand. He knows these games can weigh heavily on the others, Grian especially. He remembers how he was when they all came back from Third Life. How Grian and Scar were. He doesn’t think either of them ever fully recovered from it.
Mumbo remembers pleading with Grian to join Last Life, wanting to understand what it was that they experienced. What was it that affected his boyfriends so thoroughly that caused them not to talk for weeks?
He had quickly understood.
“Oh, Grian,” Mumbo murmurs it very softly, moving to hold his face in his hands. “Grian, love, it’s okay. I understand.” He offers Grian a comforting smile. Grian, who had previously been tense in his hold, seems to relax at that. He sags in Mumbo’s grasp, and Mumbo can’t help his soft chuckles. He moves to kiss his nose, “Thank you for telling me,” he says, because he is grateful for the answer. “Nothing you do in those games will ever make me stop loving you, alright?”
Grian’s face breaks out in warmth, and he inhales quietly. He moves to embrace Mumbo, holding him tight. “Thank you,” he mumbles, “I love you too.”
Mumbo makes a mental note to be prepared with lots of blankets and snacks for when Grian and Scar come back from this next game.
He gives Grian a little squeeze, as well as a kiss to his hair. I’m here.
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*guy stumbles out of torture labyrinth, covered in dirt and blood, clothes torn, on the verge of passing out with a thousand yard stare* maybe... Maybe I will buy myself a yummy treat. As a reward
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