Reblog To Explode Him

“Joe, I am thinking about death,” Cleo declares, hanging from the teeth of her snake cavern.

“…okay,” Joe says, slowly. He’s still looking through her chests for spare birch for some reason. She’s letting him. She really, really doesn’t need birch.

“Well, I mean, I thought you should know,” she says.

“I don’t mean to put you out by not bein’ suitably dramatic, but you think about death a lot,” Joe says reasonably.

“What? You’re good to talk about it to, what with you also being dead.”

“Am I truly?” Joe says. “I may be a ghost, and also transparent until each sunrise, but does that make me dead when I still speak? When I still dream, and change the people around me, and act?” He picks up a skeleton head from the chest and frowns. “Cleo, did you mean to lose this?”

“See, that’s what I mean—no, give it.” She holds out her hand, and Joe hands over the skull.

“Oh, good. Because if I held this too long talkin’ about mortality, someone might think it’s a bit too on the nose.”

Cleo snorts. “Alas, poor Cleo. I knew her, Joe.”

They’re both companionably silent for a bit.

“Any reason?” Joe says, after seemingly giving up on finding the birch he’d been looking for.

“For the skull? Joe, did you hit your head?”

“No, for talkin’ about death again, and why I don’t think we are.”

“Oh,” Cleo says. “Grian’s doing that game of his again, and I’m playing.”

“Oh! Good luck, have fun, as the kids and gamers say.”

“Thanks Joe. Appreciated.”

“No problem!” He turns to her and beams and she laughs.

“And you basically answered it anyway. What I’d give for everyone else to see it the way you do. We do, I guess. Death, I mean.”

“One day, they will!” Joe says brightly.

“Oh, that was ominous. I’m jealous.”

“With a little luck and also, ideally, some birch logs, you can be exactly as ominous as I am. Just three easy payments of I need those logs so badly Cleo why did you give me false hope—”

Cleo laughs.

do u guys listen to music in languages that aren’t your first language . and if so what languages

Actually no Jimmy and Tango calling each other partners and Tango rushing down the mines to check on Jimmy and Tango jumping off the roof and Jimmy saying ow as we see not only Tango but Jimmy getting hurt. Jimmy coming back and going “And you said you couldn’t build!” to this little place Tango put together. Jimmy coming back with goods and them both going out back and forth to check and get chickens. They meet in death and they melt for each other so quickly. Jimmy comes back with cows and they’re cheering. They share a single bed. They make a animal farm. They communicate sweetly. They’re poor ranchers.

I'd like to see your stress design, if you wanna! :]

i care she so much <3

(commission info) (tell me which hermit to design next)

i love pitting classically trained magic users against self-taught magic users in sci-fi/fantasy but it shouldn’t be snobbish disdain for them it should be terror

the instant euphoria of being talked abt with he/him pronouns hasnt faded in my six years of using them. idk what trans person needs to hear that

"oh sorry, i guess i was infodumping again" - sad, shy, apologetic

"you sly dog, you got me monologuing" - cool, strong, confident

transportation