(puts on black heart-shaped sunglasses, pops a lollipop into my mouth)
Let’s go ghost hugging.
(puts on black heart-shaped sunglasses, pops a lollipop into my mouth)
Let’s go ghost hugging.
1. Give every dish a fantastical name. It makes cooking and eating more fun, right now I am making Midnight Swamp Hag Chili.
2. Add more garlic.
With appreciation to Bethan Miller on Facebook for pointing out the anniversary.
The SD universe is wonky. Ghosts are not real, they wear masks. But sometimes they are real? It depends which franchise you’re at.
Magic is real. Maybe?
Plots make no sense. End villains are frequently characters never mentioned. Details are omitted like mad, and inconsistencies between sects of the universe – hell in individual episodes – are so rampant they are an art style of themselves.
On full moon Friday 13. That is some incredible planning and/or wonderful levels of coincidence.
I want to lay my head on autumn’s leaves and tell the trees how much they mean to me, I want to nap in the company of dryads and faeries, to mumble softly when twilight crests and it is time for us to greet the ghosts and vampires.
“Humans do not now, nor have they ever, nor will they ever exist in the Netherworld. All characters, named or not, are non-human without exception.”
Working on the story archive. It is mindless, boring, important admin work which is helping put my rambling brain in order.
It feels good to be recalibrating the mental and physical machines.
Brain before: Only post art you love and are deeply proud of. Everything must be perfect. PERFECT.
Brain now: Love everything you create. Post things. Maybe for the algorithm demanding content constantly, maybe because you just love to draw. Whatevs. Have fun with form & color.
Ring the bells and awaken the dead, it is October!
Shout the magic and dance in the moonlight, it is October!
Cry forth with your blackened voice and summon to your heart the darkness, it is October!
October! October! At long dreadful last! It is October!
I want October to wrap their ghostly and wicked and skeletal arms around me and let me breathe deep that wonderful pumpkin smell and be told Things Will Be Okay.
I want the ghosts to say my name softly as I say their name as we prepare tea and find comfort in cursed company.
Every tea a potion of warmth, every hug a spell of protection, every wind a howling ghost, and every ghost a friend and more.

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