We Are Team Solar Midnight

having pet stick bugs is fun because every so often i will hear the distinct sound of several stick bug falling and ill go to check on them and find them all in a pile on the ground of their enclosure and i have to figure out if theyve just decided that its floor time now or if they kept mistaking each other for actual sticks again and bundled together the ceiling until gravity got the best of them.

transfem cloud gets help from barret

ooc meme time, enjoy the one vex-meme I actually put effort into

transcript below readmore

—READMORE BYPASSED—

What does it mean to be a [TECHNOPHILE] pilot?

To look into the darkness between the stars-

to find a thread-

to call out to the horror and invite it in

Did you find it? Did it find you?

Is there a difference? Does it matter?

It will rewrite reality for you because you gave it reality

There is a bond here-

in every form-

in every degree of benevolence.

The acceptance of something so alien to you that it stretches every HUMAN definition of life.

and despite the void between your hearts,

there is LOVE.

as promised, Shadow wears a cutesy dress: the comic :3

(Don't pay too much attention to the dialogue or story here, this comic was just an excuse to draw Shadow in a dress LOL)

up next is. uhhh... what did Sonic do now? who knows!

Bitches will find a fictional man attractive and then immediately imagine him in situations where he is losing alarming amounts of blood

stop calling me "my fragile little flower" or "my beautiful delicate pet" im literally going for a glass cannon build. i can one shot most adults

Mech handler hearing the new pilot instinctively talk about her mech in first person, as if it were "herself," and looking at her with a mix of sorrow and excitement because oh, this one has the talent. The handler has seen this kind of pilot only a few times before, and knows commanding her will be the highest, heaviest honor. Only by becoming one with their mech can a pilot reach the height of their skills, and it comes so naturally to her. She's going to be magnificent, dancing across the battlefield to a song of clashing blades and cannon fire, a presence that graces friend and foe alike by lifting them from the grit and making them, if only for a moment, part of something sublime. And she will never stop, never retire, never refuse a mission, never again know lasting peace, because her art is war and this performance only ends when the dancer is dead.

Big tits aren't enough anymore I need cat ears