#Doom's art journal

[crazy-thing-called-rock]

Stressed and overworked.. Do you think Fiddleford ever cried in his sleep? Do you think Ford noticed?

The relationship between these two depressed ass scientists are killing me!! I just can’t stop drawing them 😭😭

[blogalahezy]

ALL KAPS PLZ

[nordicbananas]

alexis I blame you for this (pt. 2)

[brickwall1yrics]

Bad Decisions - Bastille

[theviridianbunny]

SCAPBOOKING - MARCH 2023

A collection of scans from my current scrapbook. Just a bunch of doodles, stickers and things that make me happy/ inspire me <;3

notes/credits to follow under the cut:

venus (character on the first image with the eyebrow piercing - right side, to the left of viridian... she belongs to my beloved mutual @heywoodvirgin ... I'd like to think Venus and Viridian are both himbo enthusiasts... seeing as they both love a certian man >:3 )

on the second image... The tiefling with the green hair and toothy grin is my dear warlock, Rowan Hawkmore. My main dnd oc from when I was at uni. she was drawn by my friend wonderful Marvin back in 2020? (i think?) (his work can be found here ) . The big beefy hobgoblin below her is my beloved Grayson. Rowan's husband and war cheif of his tribe. He was draw by my talented friend kath (her work can be found here )

The art of Viridian on the third image (right side- around halfway down) is by my wonderful mutual @vrovij (PLEASE GO GIVE HER LOTS OF LOVE- SHE IS SUCH A SOURCE OF INSPO TO ME!) The pink piece of Jackie and Viridian was a commission from Marvin (the same guy who drew rowan!)

comic panels are from Leslie Hung (snotgirl) becky cloonan (the true lives of the fabulous killjoys) - theres also art from a modern (?) doom patrol comic (cant remember the artist).. few other artists i cant remember /// rip ... manga art from the studio CLAMP and art by youka nitta

scans will maybe be better on the next batch of pages... i hope so... the library's scanner was tricky to learn to use ;-;

very glad to be making traditional art again after the longest time... soft reminder to myself that the joy returns when it's ready <;3

[bitter-orchid]

messy journal entry after a messy day; engine of hell is getting me through a lot right now

༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓

[doomrichards]

Happy New Year!!

Featuring Marvel’s Wastelanders podcast Dr. Victor von Doom and Dr. Reed Richards <3

Here’s to a year of doomreed and more in the next!

[divno]

Backward we traveled to reclaim the day

Before we fell, like Icarus, undone

-Doom of the Exiles by Sylvia Plath

[wrathwritten]

Excerpt from a journal entry, 2022

[bakedtarot]

a cat named Doom is always peachy. she's not normally this still so bonus picture of her posing. the flowers go back to a table she can't reach because no, she cannot be trusted.

[bongreaper]

Rehearsal 9/18/22

We have rehearsal at Dean’s for our show in Des Moines Iowa. We were playing with a band called Animals on LSD. Rehearsal went well, we got high, and took some video. I think we might have run through a song called Dead Still Love, but it’s to sad bad mellow to play live.

Lets hit the road!! Our first trip out of state as a band.

[kethabali]

i literally ran out of tags from ranting on my previous post so let me just continue here lmAOO

[simplestudentplanning]

100 Things To Do Instead Of Doom-Scrolling Through Social Media

Read a book.

Write in a journal.

Learn to cook a new recipe.

Practice a musical instrument.

Start a DIY project.

Draw or paint.

Learn a new language.

Do a puzzle.

Exercise or do yoga.

Listen to a podcast.

Watch a documentary.

Play a board game.

Try a new workout routine.

Meditate.

Start a garden.

Plan a future trip.

Volunteer online.

Write a letter to a friend or family member.

Learn to knit or crochet.

Take online courses.

Practice photography.

Organize your closet.

Play video games.

Learn a magic trick.

Write a short story.

Create a vision board.

Make a playlist of your favorite songs.

Try a new hairstyle.

Experiment with makeup.

Learn to juggle.

Play a card game.

Do a home workout challenge.

Explore virtual museums or art galleries.

Do a digital detox day.

Learn calligraphy.

Rearrange your furniture.

Create a scrapbook.

Learn to play chess.

Write and perform a song.

Practice mindfulness.

Learn origami.

Plan a themed dinner night.

Do a home spa day.

Learn to code.

Play a musical instrument.

Build a blanket fort.

Take online dance lessons.

Research and try a new type of tea.

Learn about astronomy and stargaze.

Try a new board game.

Create a podcast.

Learn to solve a Rubik's Cube.

Start a blog.

Make homemade candles.

Research your family tree.

Practice a new type of art (e.g., watercolor, sculpture).

Learn to speed-read.

Write a poem.

Make a list of personal goals.

Learn to play a new card game.

Create a budget.

Build a puzzle or Lego set.

Learn to identify constellations.

Try a new fitness class online.

Make homemade pizza.

Experiment with DIY face masks.

Learn about a historical event.

Create a bucket list.

Learn to tie different knots.

Try a new type of workout (e.g., Pilates, kickboxing).

Create digital art.

Plan a themed movie marathon.

Learn to juggle.

Explore a new genre of music.

Write a letter to your future self.

Take up a new hobby (e.g., birdwatching, geocaching).

Research and try a new type of cuisine.

Make homemade ice cream.

Practice deep breathing exercises.

Create a photo album.

Try a new type of dance.

Write and perform a short play.

Learn to play a new board game.

Take a virtual tour of a historical site.

Make a time capsule.

Learn about different types of architecture.

Plan a virtual game night with friends.

Write and illustrate a children's book.

Try a new form of exercise (e.g., HIIT, Zumba).

Learn about different types of plants.

Create a DIY home decor project.

Plan a themed picnic at home.

Research and try a new type of dessert.

Practice positive affirmations.

Try a new type of puzzle (e.g., crosswords, Sudoku).

Learn about different types of birds.

Experiment with DIY skincare products.

Take up a new form of art (e.g., pottery, glassblowing).

Create a list of things you're grateful for.

Learn about a new culture.

[foolishxprincipalitee]

What is hyperfixation like?

So, I didn’t care about Sherlock Holmes at all until about six weeks ago.

I watched BBC Sherlock as my gateway drug, then read a bunch of fic, started listening to the podcast Sherlock & Co, bought a copy of the new queer anthology When the Rose Speaks Its Name, started watching the Jeremy Brett series, and now I’m reading Bending the Willow: Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes while simultaneously cycling through BBC Sherlock - AO3 - Sherlock & Co - When the Rose Speaks Its Name - Jeremy Brett - misc. Sherlockian googlings on a daily basis.

I can feel dopamine coursing through my veins every second that I get to interact with Sherlock Holmes related media, which is a considerable amount of time. I draw fanart at work and scribble gay little thoughts in my journal. There is not an atom within me that isn’t vibrating for Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes byproducts.

And yet nobody in my real life wants to talk about it with me, no matter how hard I try. I tried reaching out to my brother who has always been an ACD Holmes fan and he literally hasn’t replied to me in a month. He’s got kids. All I’ve got is a new Sherlock Holmes hyperfixation.

I posted some of my new art on Instagram and received a very weak response even though I was really excited about it and still think it’s some of my better work. I deactivated my account because I was so sad.

The isolation impacts me negatively. It pushes me further and further away from “real life” and into escapismland, because that’s where all the dopamine lives. I find myself on Tumblr or making edits on TikTok where no one really knows me or cares about me but people who care about the same media I do might respond.

It would mean everything to me for someone to care both about me as a human and about my interests, especially in the first few months of a hyperfixation when I literally cannot shut the fuck up about it.

But instead I am doomed to this lonely life of soaring highs, swinging from media fixation to media fixation, telling strangers on the internet that I am desperately in love with fictional characters, and crash-and-burn lows that most people don’t even understand.

I am a 30-year-old woman technically diagnosed with both bipolar and autism spectrum disorder. I am a weird gay aunt who will never have a longterm partner or children or possibly even close friends. I am actually a really nice and cool and hot person.

And I am only in love with Sherlock Holmes.

For now.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey! Sorry if this is weird or something you have answered before.

I’m a teenage girl, and I tend masterbate at least once a day, but I had accidentally fallen down a rabbit hole of porn addiction and that kinda stuff.

Now I’m really worried that my frequency in which I masterbate is bad for me. I haven’t felt and adverse affects in my personal life (still hanging with friends, still getting good grades etc) and masterbation has actually seem to have a positive effect on my mental health (the first time I used me rose toy the mental fog that had been covering my brain first months cleared lol)

Still, is this a dopamine hit that’s bad like doom scrolling? Or am I freaking out over nothing

Thanks

hi anon,

I'm really glad you took the time to send this ask in! I've noticed a lot of folks younger than me are VERY worried about porn addiction or otherwise being too sexual lately, and I'm very happy to be able to help alleviate those fears.

I would recommend starting with the answers to both of these previous asks, which I hope will provide some comfort. if nothing else, please read this concluding paragraph from the latter:

is it possible to become overly reliant on sexual stimulation as a form of self-soothing? sure, of course. it’s possible to become overly reliant on anything; absolutely any positive behavior can become detrimental if it’s performed to extremity. again, read that ask I linked! but pivoting from a breakdown to jacking off isn’t a bad idea. it can help you calm down, can be a great transition into a nap or sleep, and pops off a little burst of dopamine and oxytocin that’s probably very badly needed if you’re on the verge of a breakdown. of course it’s ideal to have other healthy outlets for when you’re feeling bad - making art or doing something else with your hands, doing some enjoyable physical activity, talking with friends or family, keeping a journal - but as one part of a larger diet of support and coping mechanism, horny behavior is great, normal, and very healthy.

masturbating regularly, even once a day, is completely fine. it doesn't sound as if it's disrupting anything of importance in your life, which says to me that it's a nonissue, and it's a nice little treat for you. and if masturbating daily is wrong, then rest assured that you and I will be in horny jail together 🫡

it always bums me out when I see people, especially teenagers, voicing suspicion about sexuality specifically because of the feel-good reactions that sexual pleasure can trigger in your brain. you can get the same feeling by taking a walk, petting your cat, spending time with a friend, or getting a tattoo, but none of those are treated with the same kind of suspicion. it speaks to a deep fear and distrust of sexuality, which is completely normal and natural, that I fear will not serve anyone well in the long run, so it's a pleasure to help unravel that a little. I hope this has been helpful to read!

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 29 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You dare not put it down on the big tablet on your easel where John will see, but you can’t stop yourself from drawing it out in your smaller sketchbook-journal that is easier to squirrel away under clutter, putting down marks like you mean to exorcise her from your memory. You draw her like a ghost in her field of happy white flowers, and write in the margins in your looping script, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make him forgive you. You want me to save him but I don’t know how. I don’t fucking know how.

Maybe she’ll actually hear your plea and do something useful about it, like haunt John’s dreams instead of yours.

Maybe you’re losing your damn mind. 

You find that either way, you’re not brave enough to mention her to your captor again.

She becomes an obsession, and you keep drawing her in your little sketchbook. You’ve only ever seen one picture of her. It was in the den, but has since disappeared. Still, you feel you know the lines of her face, the brightness of her eyes. You go back to your old fixation with the ladies of Mucha, sketching her out as the Lady of the Daisies with flowing auburn hair surrounded by her stylized flowers and flowing lines.

You strive to cover your true fixation by putting down anything as quickly as you can on the easel, knowing your captor will be by for inspection. You draw sunflowers, your favorite summer bloom, something fun but you can do with your eyes closed with colorful, juicy strokes of oil pastels. You hope to keep John off the scent of the book that holds your heartfelt neuroses that you bury under piles of all your new art supplies and anything else you can find.

It was stupid, of course, to think you could really hide anything from him.

One day you find him in the chair with his legs crossed, perusing your sketch journal with one of those magnificent thunderheads of a frown.

You are certain you are fucked, when he asks, “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Trembling as you imagine what he’s going to do to you for this infraction, you answer truthfully, “No.”

He closes the book with a snap, crossing the floor to stand before you, his powerful body moving deceptively slow, the way a tiger appears slothful in the jungle.

You know he can snap you up with one bite.

You cannot stop shaking, as he peers down that straight nose at you, pinning you with black eyes that somehow burn. He does not touch you, but God. He sees everything. You just know that he sees everything, and you find you are terrified of how he’ll react.  

“Have you been snooping through my things?”

“No.” The irony of him holding your sketch diary is not lost on you, but wisely you hold your tongue.

“How did you know what she looked like?”

“You had a picture out of her, ages ago.” At least, it felt like a like a lifetime ago.

“How did you know about the daisies?”

Now you know he’s going to flip his shit. It sounds fucking absurd, even to you. Your voice can barely rasp past what feels like dried twigs in your throat to whisper, “I saw them in a dream.”

You expect him to scoff and call you a liar. But he just searches your face, his eyes a little too wild for your liking. Here we go. He’d been damn near stable the past few days, but surely this will set him off.

You close your eyes, unable to watch the unfolding of your doom. This is it. He’s going to lock you up forever. You’ll never see the light of day again. The trembling in your frame kicks up to ten, and you hug yourself just to have something to hold on to.

When his next question comes, he could push you over with a feather.

“What does she say?”

You shake your head, realizing your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Nothing. She just…offers me the flower.” Going for broke you add, “She looks so sad.”

It is the sound of tearing paper that opens your eyes; with horror you find John making confetti of your art nouveau sketch that took hours to do. However, any protest dies on your lips—if destroying the drawing appeases him, maybe he won’t take it out on you.

Without another word, just a hard look, he stalks from the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps fade down the hall do you let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your knees quivering like leaves in a storm.

However, you are not foolish enough to believe you’re in the clear just yet.

-Later, there is no dinner. You find the kitchen cold and empty. Not sure what to make of this, you graze in the fridge, before returning to your bedroom. Not sure where John has gotten off to, you shower, then go to bed, finding yourself lying awake in the dark without him beside you, almost itchy without his steady presence in the evening at your side.

Part of it might be that you fear something is brewing, and you can’t stand the waiting…but part of it might simply be that you miss him, as fucked up as that is.

In the end, against your better judgement, you go looking.

You search the house, until the only room that is left is the garage. Silently you open the door, slipping through without a sound. You too are learning how to move quiet as a wraith. The smell of rubber and oil assaults your nostrils. Classic rock is playing low on the radio. In the far bay, the hood of the Mustang is open, and John is bent over inside, wrenching on something and muttering to himself. There is a partially empty bottle of Blanton’s Bourbon on the workbench behind him, and an empty glass.

Unable to stop yourself from committing what perhaps might prove to be suicide, you creep to the other side of the Land Rover, using it as cover as you eavesdrop on this man grumbling to the ghost of his deceased wife.  

“What do you want from me? I loved you. I loved you with every fucking fiber of my being, but you left me. I died with you the day you left me, and she is the only thing that makes me feel alive again. I need her, and she never would have come to me on her own. She never would have stayed. She never would have stayed.”

He says this to himself over and over, and it wrenches your heart, because you know it isn’t true.

You think you manage to creep back out again without him noticing, Led Zeppelin on the radio disguising the sound of the door.

When at last he comes to bed and wraps you in his arms, holding you too hard for comfort, you feign sleep, smelling the bourbon fumes on his breath. You can’t help but tense, wondering if he will forget his promise this deep in his cups.

But he just sighs into your hair, crushing you as he pulls you even closer, and you don’t know why it breaks your heart all over again.