#<- always forget to tag that LOL

[onefey]

wilfre (normal and shadow?)

anon i regret to inform you that these are all characters i have drawn before. in fact i think these may be some of the characters i've drawn the most of

...just for u though i did some doodles

[castledevil]

MATT MURDOCK / DAREDEVIL

Daredevil: Born Again (2025) 01x07 "Art for Art's Sake"

[gludgenbell]

Hi I'm still alive btw have some disciple ver. bingyuan

found little binghe in the woodshed with a ruined hand :(

[loolilyumm]

Side Order WIP!

[cometshift]

[ID: art of subspace from phighting as a child, walking hand in hand with a tall figure who is meant to represent blackrock's leader. they are both silhouetted in black against a white, snowy background. subspace looks happy.]

and i held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me

[coldturkeybabe]

jellie ur looking a bit different !

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[saltpepperbeard]

wanted to re-visit my latest set and do the thing where you halve all the adjustment layers to really get a good look at the coloring/sharpening something something look at 🎵where we areee look are where we staaarted🎵

[francy-sketches]

smacksmacksmacksmacksmack

[monsterbisexual]

[anris-resurrection]

Lmao is Bill actively possessing me? I have never felt such a need to draw lol

[bean-winchester]

Oh my god. I never could have seen this episode coming, they’ve taken my breath away. Thank you to the Severance team for not making the reintegration episode practical— catching innie and outie mark up on each other’s lives. Reintegration has always been about wholeness, about accepting and embodying all parts of life. To have your wife still with you you have to accept that you lost her—because losing her is a fact of your relationship and you have to take all or none of it. Mark put his heart back in his chest this episode, the awful and the beautiful.

And Gemma. To be severed is to be dead, that’s so clear. The part that remembers the torture and the part that can’t are equally dead. The part that remembers your husband and the part that can’t are equally dead. You cannot escape Hell until you are whole.

And I hope it’s not dramatic to say they’ve tied personal grief and the ravages of capitalism together gorgeously. The person working in the sweat shop and the person wearing the tshirt who willfully forgets where it was made may as well be one person, who does not know how to grieve and move forward, and so has severed themself, tearing their heart out of their chest. We are all dead. We have to become whole. We have to reintegrate. We have to reintegrate. We have to reintegrate.

[rainee-chu]

My dumb nullstat comics because I think they’re so funny

[jils-things]

my mains in ranked matches C:

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

fuck it you guys get to see this too cause i think it looks cool and i need validation

radio page cause i can’t stick with a design for them for the life of me (fucked around too much and made their hair curly now) (to be fair i like it so much better this way)

[sadhorsegirl]

as someone of read-the-wicked-book-when-i-was-too-young-and-only-remembered-the-weird-sex-parts experience, it's been really interesting to reflect on certain reputations the book has taken on in the fandom in the decades since the musicals release. for a long time it felt like it was just kind of the accepted narrative that elphaba went insane bc fiyero died, and for more recent readers ive seen discussion of whether the books politics are leftist enough; both of which i think are oversimplifications.

sure, elphaba doesn't really complete any radical action successfully but isn't that the crux of her mental break down? she is someone living in a rapidly changing fascist society who has total clarity of moral vision for the ways in which disenfranchised classes are being hurt by the system who cannot for the life of her figure out a way to actually change said system on her own. and fiyero's death is a part of that without a doubt but i don't think its the only contributing factor in her own death. she is thwarted at an approaching cosmic level (shout out to any yackle heads in the building) at every turn: her intellectual questioning coincides with doctor dillamond's murder, her first attempt at a more democratic approach by negotiating with the wizard are a complete flop and she loses one of her most important allies in the process, her turn to more extreme methods are a bust when she can't bring herself to potentially harm children which domino effects into fiyero's death, she abandons kiamo ko at a critical moment and returns to find sarima and her family have been captured, literally all of her familiars save the monkeys get killed trying to stop dorothy, etc etc. and throughout the book we run into countless people who's positioning to what's happening politically is basically "if i don't look at it it's not there and can't hurt me," even if they are otherwise relatively kind and well-meaning people

if anything, i think the book is arguing that inaction (or faulty action) in times of great political peril whether by choice, acquiescence, or circumstance is ultimately completely poisonous to the self and others. and as an american (sorry) living through uncertain political times i think a story about someone who goes insane because they watch the news and understand what is going on and what is coming is going to be horrible but feel helpless to stop it is um VERY topical........