Oh look! It's a trashcan!

He looks like magical girl don't you think

For my beautiful server I'm forging right now... What if I started posting like a weird depressed goddes

Had a drawing session in whiteboard on @goldetrash 's discord!! :D we started drawing utmv stuff.... somehow we drew a fuck ton of cookie run shit, funniest call i had the honor to be part of in a while kqndnsjs

Also!! Small doodle i made based on the song "crazy fucking robot body" (which may or may not have inspired me to think of a design for a possible Fell!Zip variant)

. . . . . ☆ . . . . .

[Candle belongs to @/goldetrash

Patience is a key

og pic:

“If she’s got the temperament for it, she should try her luck inland,” they advise. “No point her starting a temple here if she’d find her people elsewhere, with a little searching.”

At first, your parents are reluctant to send you away. Though you’re well-behaved and diligent in your chores, you’re a sickly child with no God to worship. And besides, you’ve always been the dreamy type–inclined to lose track of time watching the path of rain droplets chasing down the window, or the fronds of an anemone as it sways in a rock pool.

Instead, they send you to the temple of the Storm to learn all you’ll need for your own God. You are happy there, for a time: making up beds and serving food to the castaways who pass through, keeping vigil at the lighthouse, burning incense and praying with the loyal widows and orphans of the drowned.

One such widow, an old, old lady, touches the mark on your forehead. “I recognise those letters. We wrote this way in the town where I grew up, way off past the mountains.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “What does it say!?”

She squints, eyes engulfed by wrinkles and hidden behind smudged glass. “A… Ar… Oh, I can’t remember how to speak it. I left before I learnt my letters properly. There was a war, you know. But I remember,” she says, mistily, “the most beautiful pink and white flowers used to grow, on the borders of the wheat fields…”

You try to ask more questions, but remembering the war distresses her, and so you speak of other things. When she’s drifted off to sleep, you get to your feet, go home and tell your parents: you are leaving in search of your God.