#HELLO WERE BACK
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if this is a sin, a punishment (a.d.)
Pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader
Summary: three years, three encounters. Moving on is a fickle thing, and why is it always worse the second time around? (part 1)
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: smoking, drinking, language, greek mythology references, some german slander lol, almost cheating?, art doesn't give a fuck lol, so much pining, hella angst (i swear the next part will be happy i swear!)
Notes: im back! work has taken up my brain capacity, and while im very grateful to write for a living now, i was unable to write for fun lol. but we're back, and i hope we'll have a good time reading. Big up to @ysuftmikey and @tommysparker for being awesome and hearing out my incoherent rambles about this story. But anyway, please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!
**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**
Paris, June 2012.
As the new face of Dior, your appearance on the front row of their runway show is paramount. You’re not just there because you have to, you’re there because you love it. It’s equally important that you are well-versed in the thoughts behind next season’s trends of the fashion house. The fashion show is as much a celebration of craftsmanship as it is a coveted social event, and you’re oh so happy to be a part of it.
Or so you said in your Vogue cover story.
In reality, you’re getting decked out and posing for pictures and scrutinizing the details of every look that comes out because it’s a job. Sitting next to some buff dude in a manbun that barely gives you enough space for yourself.
His broad shoulder bumps against yours, effectively snapping you out of your reverie. “Oh, sorry.”
You’re about to murmur a politely dismissive remark, but it all fades away when you see his face, profile-first. It’s been almost a full year since you last saw that silhouette. There’s no way of forgetting it, even underneath the dramatic lights of the runway, not even if you tried.
“It’s you,” you breathe out, all wide-eyed and slack-jawed like an idiot in front of him.
He hears you before he sees you, really sees you, and his heart nearly stops. Of course! You’re right under his nose, and he didn’t see you. And how he yearned to see you since that night in London. How he wanted to lay it all out on the line, pour his heart out, but instead what comes out is…
“It’s me.”
The whole world starts again, pretty people milling back around as you blink. Warmth returns to your face, as you finally regain some sense. “Art!”
He murmurs your name as he hugs you, and he never wants to let go. He wants you to fucking come home with him because home doesn’t make sense until you’re here.
“Wow…” he flashes that signature crooked smile as he marvels at you—not stare, marvel. “What are the odds, huh?”
“I know!” You fight the flight of the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s impossible. “You grew your hair out, huh?”
“Yeah, just… trying something new.” His hand reaches up to the back of his neck sheepishly.
The blond mop no longer frames his face like Apollo incarnate. You can actually see his face better now with his hair pulled back. The depth of his eyes, and the soft parenthesis of his smile. But at the same time, his facial features look… a little heavier now. A little older. More mysterious.
But of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with, “Well, you look great.”
Art lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He’s rocked this look for a while now, but he wants—no, needs— you to like it.
“I heard you won the French Open, by the way. Congratulations.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, much like the last time you saw him, but neither of you address it. Not outwardly, anyway.
(If his heart flutters, he hopes you won’t notice.)
“Ah well, it’s… yeah. Thanks!” He can’t help but light up. He wonders if Wimbledon has hooked you into tennis, or maybe, just maybe, you were keeping up with him…? “What have you been up to?”
“I’ve just been in the studio a lot. Recording, mixing, mastering the new album… boring shit.”
Art shakes his head. He doesn’t believe anything you do is boring. “When’s that coming out?”
“November. And if all goes well, we’re gonna tour it next summer.”
“Holy shit.”
“You know what they say. The devil works hard…”
But this unstoppable force of nature in front of him works harder. It has been almost a year since you last saw him. Eleven months and some 20-odd days since you shared that cigarette on that balcony. Since you broke his heart. And he still looks at you like a goddamn miracle. It disarms the fuck out of you.
“Hey, listen—”
“There you are!” a tall, leggy blonde cuts him off mid-sentence with a kiss to Art’s cheek, rambling in German as she takes the empty seat on his other side.
Fuck.
Art replies back to her in German, a little more hushed, but your head is already reeling. You don’t know what to make of this feeling in your gut—it squeezes you from the side, and twists you all the way to your throat. Like wringing the air out of you.
Art smiles almost apologetically at you, his hand falling on the woman’s knee. “Yeah, this is… Tatiana, my girlfriend.”
You exchange pleasantries and shake hands. Maybe. It’s all a blur and you’re fighting tooth and nail to stay present in this conversation.
You manage a smile, pushing through the ache of trying to sound courteous. Friendly. Normal. “I was just telling Art that I’m going on tour this summer. You guys should definitely come to a show.” Emphasis on ‘you guys’.
Art opens his mouth, but Tatiana goes ahead and answers for him. Her glossy lips pull up into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t even bother hiding it. “Hm, we’ll see. Art is very busy with his own tour, you see.”
“Of course. For sure.” You nod at Tatiana, getting the message. Your gaze barely grazes Art, even though you want nothing more than to reacquaint yourself with his features.
Art watches you turn away, fixing your gaze towards the runway, and his heart aches. The way his hand rests on Tatiana feels cold—he might as well be resting his hand on a railing.
He keeps his gaze straight ahead at the models coming and going the entire show. And if he accidentally catches a glimpse of your profile, or your manicured hand when he looks down on his lap, he’ll take what he can get. God knows he doesn’t get to ask for anything for more.
*****
The Dior afterparty is held in some French chalet, and after making the rounds with Tatiana, Art feels himself disengaging from the group conversation altogether. He mutters out an excuse to get a breather and wanders up the winding staircase. There are still people along the hallway, chatting and drinking by old-ass paintings and bust statues and tall vases.
Art takes a gamble and opens a door, simply eager for some peace and quiet. The knob gives and the room is dark, save for a large bay window on the other side, the moon shining bright… and the girl sitting there.
“Hey, room’s taken!” You flick the ash off of your cigarette out the window, ready to fend for your occupation. But then you catch a glimpse of his face in the light, and you relax. “Oh. It’s you.”
Art feels his face flush. He really should back the fuck off and leave, but his feet only bring him closer and closer to you into the room. “Sorry, I was just trying to find someplace quiet. I didn’t realize…” he cuts himself off when he sees the cigarette between your fingers, and he chuckles.
“What? You know I smoke.”
“A woman of taste, huh?” His eyes flicker to the pack propped on the windowsill in amusement and he wonders if you smoked Marlboro Green because of him (You do.)
You grab the pack and slide a cigarette out for his easy access, but he doesn’t take it. Not right away. Shit, was this a bad idea? Does he not smoke anymore? “Come on, your secret’s safe with me.”
Art takes another look at the cigarette, then at the door. He raises his forefinger in wait, going over to shut the door closed and then rushing over to you with a mischievous smirk at the cigarette. He looks like a kid, giddily settling in for a forbidden vice.
This time, you’re the one leaning over to light his cigarette. His hair falls over the other side of his face, and you watch him tuck the loose strand behind his ear. His eyelashes resting on his skin as he takes that delightful first drag. He can feel the nicotine hitting him straight to his head, and that’s how he wants to consume you.
You settle back in your seat against the wall, the smoking hand hanging out the window, and Art does the same. He sees your legs folded over to the side, almost touching him, and he has half the mind to pull them over his lap.
“It’s been a minute, huh, Art?” You take another drag, trying to calm your nerves down a little.
“Yeah, it really has.” He throws away his smile up at the moon, amused at how familiar this is. “Why are you hiding out here?”
”My shoes are killing me.” You absently massage your ankle with your free hand, throwing a sideways glance at your pair of So Kate’s on the floor. “And my social battery’s shot down.”
”That’s not very Dionysian of you.”
It makes you smile. He still remembers (though, in his defense, the whole encounter last year was pretty hard to forget). “I beg to differ.” You lift up a bottle of Moët that you stole downstairs.
Art’s smile widens as he makes a grabby hand at the champagne. You happily hand it to him, fingers barely grazing against him. He takes a swig and thinks, let me just steal your kiss from the lip of the bottle. It tastes better than the five other glasses he had back at the party.
“So how have you been?”
An easy question for a loaded answer. Art shrugs. “Ah well, you know. Still training, still competing…”
“You still pushing that rock uphill, huh?” You can’t fight the knowing grin on your face.
Art groans with a haze of smoke in his wake, leaning back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m all about that Sisyphean grind.”
“Shut the fuck up!” The words fly out of your mouth, and it makes him laugh. And you can’t help but laugh with him. “You just won the French Open. Isn’t that like a—what do you call it, a… Grand Slam right there?”
He raises his eyebrows at you, impressed at your improved tennis knowledge. Maybe Wimbledon did hook you in. “Yeah, well… I still need to win the US Open. It’s the only one that counts, right?”
It’s absolutely ridiculous, Art knows that, but until then… There's no rest for the wicked like him. And you see right through him. It’s almost like looking in the mirror sometimes.
You roll your eyes, and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. “What are you, pressed for time? Relax. You’ll get there.”
“Fair point.” Art nods, hiding his flush in another swig of champagne. “In that case, things are pretty good. Training is good, I’m winning matches, hoping to win more…” he pauses, tucking a loose strand of gold waves behind his ear, “Tatiana and I are doing… well.”
He sounds almost regretful when he says it. But then again, you’ve gotten pretty good at gaslighting yourself into thinking it’s all in your head.
“That’s good,” you settle with a neutrally encouraging response. “She seems nice.”
This time, Art gives you the look. And he always looks so smug when he does it too—the little head tilt, the crooked smirk he’s sporting like he’s excited to get the rare leg up from you. It’s adorable.
So you relent, taking the champagne and chasing it with a huff of smoke.
“I’m sorry about Tatiana this afternoon, by the way. Didn’t realize she would be so…” he grimaces as he struggles to find the right word. Domineering? Territorial? Just outright bitchy?
“Nah, it’s fine. I just chalked it up to her… German predisposition, that’s all,” you deadpan, tapping the ash of your cigarette out the window.
“You’re horrible.” Art grins. He loves it.
There’s that smile you’ve been missing. “Besides, I didn’t know you speak the language.”
“I can get by. My coach is German, my best friend speaks German… I’ve been picking up more from Tatiana, but it’s mostly just… angry.”
His words make you frown. That doesn’t sound like a very happy relationship, if your girlfriend keeps shouting angry shit at you in her native language. Art is perfectly aware that you’re catching on.
And again, it feels like the two of you are operating on two levels of communications. The first one is whatever is spouted out of your mouths, and the second through these wordless looks that say so much more. With every exchange, there’s always a choice; to stay on the surface, or dive in.
Maybe it’s the sparkling liquid courage, or the white haze you share in this little nook, but your next response is neither a safe bet nor a daring risk.
“Do you guys fuck in German? Because that can’t be sexy.”
He cracks up, caught completely off-guard by your question. Leave it to you to always keep him on his toes. “No! God no. Absolutely not. That would be terrible.”
“I can imagine! Like, what would you even say?” You sit up to put on your worst voice possible, but making it breathy and porny, “Ja… ja… ooh, scheisse… oh, ich komme!”
Art bursts out laughing. A true laugh that comes from the belly. The kind that makes his face open up. “What in the Hitler was that?!” He keels over in absolute stitches.
“I mean, I don’t know!”
The two of you laugh longer than it’s funny, like you’re both relieved from this charade of civil acquaintanceship and finally free to be who you truly are.
Which, in this case, means immature goddamn giggly children.
Art relishes in this warmth. He has missed this so much, that he nearly forgot he never had this with you in the first place. His face softens. “What about you?”
“Oh, I don’t talk dirty in German. It’s unpatriotic.”
“Fuck off.” He can’t fight the giggles that’s taking over him, not when you’re already laughing at your own joke. His mind nearly gets sidetracked with the thought of you in bed. Would you keep making these witty one-liners while talking dirty? Or would you be completely pliant if he kisses you all over ehile balls deep into you— focus up, Art! “I meant… How’s the boyfriend?”
You smile wryly. It was your fault to joke about Tatiana, and now you got what’s coming back at you. You take a swig at the champagne, trying to play it off casually. “Didn’t work out.”
Oh. It’s sad news, really. But why is his heart perking up, knowing there’s no more guy on the phone on her end this time? “That’s a shame. Are you alright?”
“Well, I’m real fresh out the slammer, so… not really. But…” you shrug easily. “I’ll live.”
Art’s face softens. Sometimes the moments of vulnerability seeps through the cracks of your dry humor, and he gets to see the real you. The storm that’s brewing between your ribs. Head against the windowpane, most of your lipstick either on your cigarette filter or champagne bottle. A picture perfect of secret melancholia.
“You wanna know the weird thing is?” You inhale the cigarette, and exhale the fumes through your nose, eyes still fixed on the darkness outside, the bitterness is just pouring out. “I can always see how it ends.”
“What do you mean?”
The sensations run through your veins faster than your brain can muster up words. The butterflies of initial attraction back then—the elation, anticipation… and that funny feeling, that ache in the gut that paints the picture. The fight or the cold war that ends it all. And how are you supposed to come back from that, knowing what you know?
“I can always predict the end… right at the beginning.” You put out your cigarette and tosses it out, the faux nonchalance rising again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am Cassandra.”
Art’s heart aches at that. It doesn’t feel right to be good this time. He almost wants to take it back, renounce Cassandra and he’ll give up Sisyphus so the two of you can be something else. Something different.
Something together.
Art puts out his cigarette as he studies your face. The pensive frown, the look of surprise… he loves that about you and everything in between. “I missed you,” he quietly admits.
And there it is. The air is knocked out of you, and it’s just churning in your chest cavity. “I know,” you whisper back.
He leans in and touches your arm tentatively, and you don’t pull away. You can’t even if you tried. He traces the outline of your hair, his long fingers finding home on the side of your neck. His thumb traces your cheek, so carefully that he fears you would disappear into thin air. He needs you. Needs to know that he’s not hallucinating this.
This moment. This feeling.
You.
You take his wrist, but you’re not sure whether it’s to pull him away or keep him there. “But we shouldn’t.”
“I know,” he echoes, although the way he fully leans into you is a whole other story. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”
“We shouldn’t.” You want to say it’s just him, you want to say that you’re stronger. Better than that. But the truth is, you gravitate towards him as much as he does to you, and now you’re just sitting there, both inching closer to each other until your foreheads are pressed together. “We can’t.”
He can’t find it in himself to lie anymore. He can no longer bring himself to care about the girlfriend he had, or whatever reason you’re thinking of right now. Valid, he’s sure, but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. “I know we can’t. But we want to, don’t we?”
“I’m not a homewrecker, Art.”
Art lets out a quiet huff. His thumb is still tracing along your jawline as if trying to commit your features to memory. He shakes his head softly. “If anyone’s a homewrecker, it’s me. It’s definitely me.”
“Art…”
“Yes?” You can wreck his whole existence, and he would thank you wholeheartedly. What bliss to be ruined in the hands of you.
To his surprise, you pull him into a hug—and to be honest, you’re kind of beside yourself too. It makes him pause, but as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he surrenders.
Your arms wrap around his shoulders, with one hand caressing his long hair. You won’t give in, not to your desire. Not tonight. But for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it’s like to be in his arms. What it’s like to be his.
Each breath he takes hurts because you steal every single one of it, but he swallows it down. His arms encircle your waist, and he braves through the pain because this is his only chance to pretend. Art burrows himself into your neck and makes a home there. You gladly let him in.
For the longest time, you just… stay there.
“I never want to leave…” there’s such pain in his tone. Such sorrow. Defeat.
“Me neither…” It chokes you from the inside out. But he won’t be the one to end it, so you’ll have to take one for the team. “But we have to.”
He knows that, but his heart shatters anyway. You kiss him on the forehead, lingering as if it would tell him what you wanted to say. All the what-ifs and could-have-beens. It’s all a tangled mess in your throat, impossible to get out.
You feel a droplet where your hand cups his face the same time Art feels a single tear slide from his forehead down his nose. It’s comforting and disconcerting at times. .
For a fleeting moment, Art nearly hopes this is the moment you change your mind. Say ‘fuck it’ and stay.
But you pull away, and all hope is lost. It leaves with your laughter that echoed in this room just moments ago.
You take a deep breath, and with a gentle swipe of his tears and tenderly fixing his tousled hair, you do the right thing. “I’ll see you around, Art.”
Art barely manages a nod, staring at the intersection between the wall and the windowpane, as you gather your shoes and your purse and pads out towards the door.
Thunk.
He turns and sees you leaning your head against the doorknob. Your shoulders are shaking in silent sobs, and he wants to chase after you so bad. But before he can move, you turn the doorknob and disappear out of sight. Leaving him worse off than he ever thought after holding you.
#HELLO WERE BACK#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson fic#mike faist#challengers fic#challengers imagine#mike faist imagine#art donaldson x popstar!reader#ava writes
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Rick Grimes in The Ones Who Live 1x01 - Years
"…𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯…𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴."
#the dog tags stay on#like im gonna go pick 'em back off that walker who's coming to help me#Rick Grimes#The Ones Who Live#towl spoilers#*#rg#hello my darling#my beloved snarls returned!#PILOT RICK? where do i enlist#paramilitary rick is A+++++#the trash goblin wants what it wants so#the dumpster is warm#there were so many profile shots#The Nose™ appreciated truly#who wants to play wheel of fortune#D _ D D Y#i love arm#black tshirt you're not the brown one but i still love u#EYE CRINKLES#that bottom lip is still illegal#it's an A they're just gonna kill it it's too powerful
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#lets be honest these were the vibes#the amazing digital circus#pomni#tadc pomni#Oh this show has brought me back from the grave#hello again tumblr
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Prompt 115
“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire.
They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him.
“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.”
The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone.
Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”
“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.”
Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???”
#dcxdp#dpxdc#league of assassins#Are Danny and Ras married? Who knows#They did raise their kids together#Well technically Dan & Ellie got de-aged but still#They met during time shenanigans for Danny#Trained together for a bit and became a tiny bit of rivals#Ras missing his platonic or romantic partner: If I adopt-steal these teens/children I can pspspspsps them back#Jordan looking down at Talia: Hello demon child#Talia: Brother Damian isn't talking to me anymore and I don't know what to do T-T#Ellie: Would he like more siblings?? That made us feel better???#Talia: Of course I can make clones to send to him he shall surely call me back then!#Dusan: Sister I don't think that is what they were saying-#Talia: I have things to do out of my way Ghost!#Tim is so tired and has no clue what's going on#Jordan: Whelp I'm going to help you out because I'm always one to take Mom's side against pops#Tim: What#Jordan: Let's go bother the primordial being of Time he happens to find us amusing anyway#Tim: W h a t#deadly decisions
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Charles' thing is that he wants to feel alive and that's part of the reason why he decided to never move on to the afterlife right? Meanwhile Edwin thinks Charles will move on and that he'll be alone again because 'he isn't good with people'.
But then when the Night Nurse shows up a second time Charles is ready to go wherever -including Hell- as long as Edwin shouldn't have to go back there, meanwhile Edwin refuses that they be split up, and both are okay with being sent together to the Lost and Found Department to be sorted out later as long as they're together-
#does this make sense#like#charles -> stay on earth#then charles is like -> fuck earth edwin n°1#edwin -> stay out of hell and wander alone ig#then edwin -> stay with charles#although you can argue that charles wanted to stick around the one dude that was nice to him since the start but like#idk how to explain it#he'd rather argue for edwin's case than argue to stay on earth#edwin not going back to hell is his main goal in the discussion#meanwhile edwin's goal is that they stay together + that he doesn't go back to hell#i do wonder what it would've looked like if they'd gone to the lost and found department#do they try to escape it#does charles find out where he was headed#anyways another day of being very normal about this show#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#edwin payne#paynland#payneland#i know that charles' whole motivation isn't just that he wishes he were still alive and that he wish he hadn't had his life stolen from him#but my thoughts are not coherent enough for any type of deep character analysis essay and i would probably mischaracterize him horribly#wonder what was edwin's plan when he came out of hell cuz he went back to his highschool so was he just doing a bit of visiting#“oh hello place where i died”
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peaceful property - coming august 28th
#peaceful property#taynew#tay tawan#new thitipoom#jan ployshompoo#mook worranit#forcebook#gmmtv#thai drama#PLEASE#this is the most chaotic thing ive ever seen#we're getting another unhinged wednesday show!!!!!#im so ready#also forcebook hello??? lmao#this is giving me so many 2016/17 gmmtv vibes#so many dramas were like this back then#i love it 🥺#also i very much appreciate tay going back to his shin look 🥺
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some sketches of Lorenzo de Medici and Galeazzo Maria Sforza :)
⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / tip jar!
#early days probably. in their 20s? altho the first one is definitely more like. teenagers.#anyway. hello. I’m back from visiting family in the ICU. I connected dots about Galeazzo and Lorenzo so thank you#to everyone who helped with that!#at long last. a conclusion was reached. I’m also going to bed now.#drawing tag#italian renaissance tag#the last 3 were ideas for more serious drawings tbh. the hand one is going to have blood on it for sex and violence reasons. ofc#the snake thing was a clown car connect the dots moment because I was looking up something about tristano and went#‘what the fuck’ when I saw the image of the coat of arms on Wikipedia. like. yeah okay that’s thematically on point for#this family. but WHY#lorenzo de medici#galeazzo maria sforza
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i finished it, was kicked out of the game, and then spent the next 10 minutes drawing this. i will now go take a shower, most likely cry, and then go through the emotional turmoil of convincing myself to reset so i can do a geno run. i hate it here :D
#undertale yellow#uty#my art#<- ifg#spoilers under these tags beware. although it is mostly just me being very very sad#that entire thing was heart wrenching. anyways#CEROBAS FIGHT??? HELLO???#i had to exit out of it the first time (i got to the last phase) to get better items but i came back and won pretty quickly#but THE CUTSCENES?!?!?#JFC NO WONDER THIS WOMANS SO MESSED UP. HER HUSBAND PRACTICALLY DIED IN HER ARMS AND THE LAST THING HE LEFT HER WITH- HIS DYING WISH- COULD#ONLY BE FULFILLED BY PUTTING THEIR ONLY CHILD IN DEATHS WAY. AND THEN WHEN SHE TOOK THAT RISK THE WORST THING HAPPENED AND SHE NOW HAS TO#LIVE WITH THE GUILT OF BEING THE ONE TO. MOST LIKELY. KILL HER ONE AND ONLY DAUGHTER#ALL THE WHILE SHE WAS PUSHING AWAY HER CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND AND CONVINCING HERSELF THAT SHE WAS IN THE RIGHT TO SACRIFICE CLOVER WHO HAD#BEEN ONLY KIND MERCIFUL AND JUST THIS WHOLE TIME. EVEN TO THOSE WHO WERE TRYING TO KILL THEM. FUCK.#AAND WHEN CLOVER HUGGED HER I DOUBLED OVER IRL BC *THATS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED TO DO IN THAT MOMENT* I HATE IT (read: love it) HERE#n dont even get me STARTED on after that. when clover started moving on their own and the gd white screen came up and we got flashbacks of#everyone's words. thats when the tears rlly started coming bc it clicked for me. 'oh. this is it. isn't it?' and IT WAS#WHEN THEY GAVE THEIR FUCKIGN HAT AND GUN AWAY TO MARTLET AND STARLO WELL THATS WHEN I REALLY STARTED CRYING#AAND THE GROUP HUGG#I WAS SOBBING WHENEVER I HAD TO WATCH THEM CRAWL UP AGAINST THE WALL AND DIE AND HAVE FLOWEYS WORDS PLAY OVERHEAD#AND THE FUCKOGN#THE F U C K I N G#AFTEWRCREDITS SCENE WHERE WE GOT THE 'You heard someone calling for help. You answered.' I GOT CHILLS SO BAD#to think that all the other souls have stories just as expansive and emotional as clover n frisks. how fucked up is that. in a good way tho#and finally the last scene where we got all 4 of our main friends sending us off in waterfall and we see clovers items end up in the dump#just waiting to be found by bratty and catty. fucken hell man this was a masterpiece#anyways time to reset and obliterate everyone and never emotionally recover from that ever!! really is feeling like 2016-17 again w the way#this game has me sobbing my eyes out and feeling the guilt of knowing that i dont HAVE to kill them all but im too curious not to#oh well. at least i have the balls to do it this time around instead of letting a youtuber do it for me ig
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Party of one (divided into four)
#Fourfold Soul#Thing#QUIT#Ruth#Jolis#Finally I can offer some character names!#digital art#I have been hard at work in the character design mines for nearly two months.#I feel like a parent watching my child waddle off to kindergarten....ah...only yesterday you were a wee little mspaint sketch.#The title of 'Fourfold Soul' comes from the 'party' for this RPG being comprised of parts of yourself!#They all have a delightful array of personalities; and by delightful I do mean 'They are personal demons for a reason'.#It's a story about fighting alongside (and against) 'difficult' aspects of yourself.#This is also a story about redemption and reflection. Many other things too - but that is for another time.#(The clown pictured here is indeed the ignored clown from the last comic. Say hello to Jolis!)#If I had more time I would have added more animation and frames...next time...#I'm slowly getting back into my animation practice and experimentation. I will get more powerful! I promise!#Thank you all so much for all the love and support you have shown this project so far!#I was terribly nervous about posting the previous comic...the kindness it was met with meant a lot B'*)
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I love chosen one characters and I love characters that are overpowered as all shit. I love characters with one-of-a-kind powers and I love characters who seem like they’re Just Some Guy until they do something that should be impossible and you’re struck with the realization that. oh. I don’t think this character is human. I love characters so strong they’re basically untouchable and I love characters who are slowly crumpling under the weight of being the only person who can keep the world safe but can never show it and I love characters who spend years hiding who they truly are until circumstances force them to reveal themselves and now they can never go back to who they were before. I love characters who don’t even know exactly how much they’re capable of and aren’t sure they want to find out. How powerful can you become before you stop being a person?
#character tropes#huehjuehshsd i can’t stop thinking about these types of tropes lately i just loved overpowered characters. so much!!!#people complain about the chosen one trope but that’s my SHIT!!!!!#people who don’t like that trope need to consider the inherent tragedy of being a normal person living your life when suddenly. it’s#revealed you were never normal you never had any choice This is what you have to do and you can never go back like HELLO??#the scholomance#cuz i’m thinkni about el#chosen ones
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anyway the stizzy energy is going crazy. Izzy is devoting significant time to Stede, calling him Captain, admitting he loves Ed to Stede and trusting him not to make fun or be cruel about it, giving Stede advice, fighting on his behalf and as part of his crew, making sex jokes to and about him - while Stede is completely comfortable with Izzy to the point of once again being undressed in front of him and snarking at him in a playful way and actually taking his advice. this shit is insane
#stizzy#they were the LEAST interesting part of steddyhands to me as an Ed girlie but now I’m paying attention.#hello?????? WHAT IS THIS BOYS#it’s not even mean snark anymore it’s bitchy but he leaves space for Izzy to bitch back. they’re making their way to friends#but they already trust each other. what the hell lol#ofmd#our flag means death#stede bonnet#izzy hands
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you're just gonna. leave. the traumatized child who just watched his dad die. alone.
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*slams open door* here have some more silly little contributions
blue eye samurai + text posts pt 3/?
#hello it is i. back with more.#were you hungry for more??? no??? too bad have some shit#blue eye samurai#bes#akemi blue eye samurai#ringo blue eye samurai#abijah fowler#master eiji#taigen blue eye samurai#mizu blue eye samurai#akemi#mizu#taigen#mine#bes textposts.me
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dean and cas kiss. have you considered this today?
#they were calling to me#hello im alive and back are we all still here?#online destiel girlie once again i suppose#do we still speak this way?#bec speaks#destiel
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undertale au jumpscare
#hello guys i want to post it because it looks pretty but please don't ask#like half of my middle school art assignments were of flowerfell frisk haha#i was so obsessed with that au#oh and that one with the chains and stuff#i've been rediscovering my undertale amvs from back then at the same time my brother plays undertale for the first time#it's been.... weirdly comforting#also don't ask me why there are bubbles they just looked pretty to me so i put them in there#anyway#sandwichart#fanart#undertale#flowerfell#frisk undertale
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Moon 36
Moon 35 | Moon 36 bonus
#chasingmoon#clangen#chasinglore#dewcff#cranecff#mintcff#epicff#mothcff#CAN EVERYTHING STOP HAPPENING AT ONCE no#SO hello epilogue goodbye quiver#guys i did not wanna kill her the game fuckin killed her!!!#and with both moth and crane fighting rogues at the border#crane sharpening her claws#moth in a bad mood#and THEN BOTH OF THEM RUNNING INTO A LONER ON PATROL THAT THEY CHASE OFF?? AND THEN QUIVER DYING??#they fucking killed quiver the little nut cases#when i tell you that these kits were not raised right THEY WERE NOT RAISES RIGHT#the timing is so bad you all have no idea its so bad im loosing it#anyway can we stop inviting cats to the clan we already had mint why is epi here too#(i say as if he doesn't delight me)#this wasn't evern everythign that happened that moon but its as much as i have the damn energy to draw#(maybe a binus page later with the cute shit dew and mint did while training idk)#anywayss um everyone is questioning soots leadership and going behind his back :/
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