#I LITERALLY HATE MYSELF

[dipperscavern]

about to go to bed, but this post got me thinking… cregan x reader w strange interests.,… walk with me here

people have always been a bit… unaccepting, when it comes to you and the things you like. they’ll enjoy your personality well enough, laugh with you at feasts, treat you courteously at gatherings, but decide they don’t enjoy your company the moment you show a different part of yourself.

one that takes a special interest in poisonous plants, knows how to prepare a body after death, collects bones and feathers, charts astrology… and your pets are usually quite successful in labeling you as completely mad.

you understand to some extent. different is strange, and people reject the things they don’t understand. such is the games of highborns (a rather cruel dance, really.) but you found you couldn’t find it within yourself to try and change. after all, comparison is the thief of joy, as your beloved old maester would say.

you were alright with solidarity, if being alone meant being yourself — but the old gods have always been said to have a sense of humor.

it seems cregan stark is not so off put by such oddities. quite the opposite, in fact.

your pet spider doesn’t repulse him, like it does the others. while he would’ve been most content to allow you the sole responsibility of spider-handling, it didn’t take much convincing on your part. only a simple statement of reassurance, a small smile, a warmth of your cheeks at his interest, and cregan finds himself sat on the bed as you retrieve your eight-legged friend.

whatever doubts he harbors instantly vanish as you sit across from him, un-cupping your hands to reveal a much bigger spider than he previously thought. tarantula, he’s heard the maesters say (with horror.)

while one holds the maesters’ worst nightmare, your other hand reaches for his. he takes note of your warmth, the softness of your hands in comparison to his own. people usually don’t touch him without permission, and, perhaps strangely, he wishes you to never hesitate when doing so.

he uncurls his palm for you, and before you transfer the creature, you softly ask for him to “please don’t scare him.” — and cregan’s heart skips a beat, because he knows at that very moment, he would heed your every request. anything you ask of him, it is yours.

perhaps this revelation would produce a greater affect on lord stark if he wasn’t so encapsulated with staying still while your creature begins to crawl from your palm to his own.

its great work to not tense himself or pull away when it happens, but you watch him so intensely, waiting to pull your creature to safety at any indicator. so he stills. you ground him, even if unaware.

once your creature is fully in his palm, it seems comfortable. sitting itself, abdomen flush to cregan’s palm to encompass the warmth he offers. you sit like that in silence for a moment, cregan observing it’s markings, and you waiting for the warden of the north’s assessment of you and your creature.

after some time, cregan speaks, tone different from the usual one of lord stark.

“Does he have a name?”

you can’t help but smile at his words, and he can’t help the way your expression makes one of his own tug at his lips. “Bones.”

“Bones?” he repeats, face relaxing in his surprise. his words don’t contain any malice, only a question in its tone.

you nod tentatively, as if awaiting judgement. “When found in the kitchens, a cook tried killing him with a chicken bone.”

his gaze momentarily flickers to the spider as he nods his head, a sort of understanding passing between the wolf and the arachnid. something else is there, too. a fondness for you unfurling in his chest — how you can find beauty in such things; things deemed unwanted by most people.

cregan’s gaze finds you again, and you look at the spider in his hands with such reverence it makes his lips part in silent adoration.

you’ve captured him, he thinks. he’s damned.

[tiny-pretty-jae]

Do you ever get happy bc you're losing weight and for 1 second you're like yay Im getting skinni and then you see your reflection and it's like nope you're still fat and gross 😭

[leimoredifame]

sorry i’ve not been active!!

a few updates:

currently weighing in at a solid…. 152lbs! which i’m super surprised at btw cause i’ve been forced to eat semi okay recently so progress?!??

im gonna continue to post regularly now and hopefully shed some more weight cause i’m still a fat fuck

[mothwingedmyths]

The immortal slugpups mod is a scam

[theharddeck]

not to be such a bitch on main (and tossing this in my queue so it's not subtweeting) but california people do not say 'cali'. you can be from the valley, you can be from the bay area, you can be from socal, but you are not from cali

[marcy-apollo-rising]

genuinely being able to look back on my life in a place of healing has made me realise what a horrible person I was, and am. recognition is the first step, right?

[lostghoulie]

yk you’re fucked when u have a weight log spanning back to 2018. rip

[super-nova5045]

jayvik nation i fear delusion is key right now…NEVER forget the biblical references at hand okay…judas was MISGUIDED and CONFUSED and jesus KNEW and WANTED JUDAS TO BETRAY HIM in the GARDEN of gethsemane…so he could DIE and come back STRONGER…ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST

[aerequets]

(part 1)

(short comic) (you can otherwise search 'spy x pta' on my profile)

MY GOODNESS. it's been a hot minute since i posted the first part and i guess i just couldn't SHUT UP because this is FOURTEEN PAGES LONG. FOURTEEN. you can even see some pages where the linework is slightly different because i drew it like 6-ish weeks ago, that's how long this has been cooking. drawing in general has been hard lately because of time constraints, BUT i am so happy i finished this. this is like my fav project even tho it isnt as popular, but who cares!!!!! POPULAR IN MY HEART

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] A tender moment.

[Animation timelapse here!]

[AUDIO USED:] Chet Baker - Almost Blue Sound Effects edited by me!

[j3ssicat-gr4nde]

Though all my dreams are nightmares, why are they so much more comforting than real life?

[gigizetz]

Antinous sketches

I will redesign him a bit for Wisdom saga because his old design looked too much like Kaeya from genshin impact. Still keeping the eyepatch though, that's my favorite part of his design.

For his design I was mostly aiming for this intimidating, vain, kind of brute hunter aesthetic. I'm not really used to drawing manly men so he'll be quite the challenge to animate.

[teaboot]

Me: I appreciate that you keep bringing me tupperware leftovers but you really really shouldn't, you're going to lose a lot of containers

My brother, handing me the 10 thousandth container of leftovers: Oh yeah I forgot to ask when are you bringing those back

Me: You don't want them back.

My brother: What did you do

Me: Better question: what did I NOT do

Him: ...

Me:

Him: Oh my god

Me: Yeah

Him: You haven't been WASHING THEM?

Me: Bruh I'll be honest I haven't even been eating most of them

Him: Oh my god

Him: I have been bringing you lunch since-

Me: Halloween

Him: OH MY GOD

Me: Yeah

Him: It's been- we JUST bought those containers

Me: I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU TO STOP

Him: WHAT THE HELL

Me: I HAVE TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES TO STOP

Him: IF I DONT FEED YOU, YOU DONT EAT

Me: I AM AN ADULT I PACK FOOD

Him: WHAT FOOD

Me: I DONT KNOW, FUCKING. SPAGHETTI

Him: IN WHAT? IN WHAT? YOU DONT WASH YOUR FUCKING TUPPERWARE

Me: I DON'T *BUY* TUPPERWARE CAUSE I KNOW I WONT WASH IT

Him: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CARRY THE SPAGHETTI IN

Me: Bags

Him: What

Me: Ziplock fucking bags

Him: YOU'RE EATING SPAGETTI OUT OF BAGS

Me: IT'S LESS WASTEFUL

Him: HOW is it less wasteful? HOW?? You're throwing out a plastic bag every single day!

Me: It's better than throwing out tupperware!

Him: TUPPERWARE IS REUSABLE

Me: NOT IF YOU DONT WASH IT

Him: WHY THE FUCK NOT

Me: I DONT DO DISHES

Him: THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU DONT DO DISHES.

Me: I hate doing dishes. You KNOW I hate doing dishes. I have ALWAYS HATED DOING DISHES you KNOW this

Him: WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN EATING OFF OF

Me: PLASTIC BAGS

Him:

Him: You're a fucking trash monster

Me: You wore the same pair of Shrek pants every day for two years

Him: When will you let that go

Me: I will never let it go

Me:

Me: ...thank you for the lasagna

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 9!! it's been too long i'm sorry

(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)

[cowboylikeyouu]

i need to travel to a future where there‘s thousands of 200k angsty hurt/comfort poolverine slow burns on ao3, i am physically unable to read another honda pwp fic