#I actually think I’m pretty proud of this

[nyancrimew]

I’m sorry but how can you be so proud of yourself for taking this moment to write an essay that boils down to “Don’t bother engaging in collective action, you should just do what makes you feel good with your friends :)”

Like, there is no world in which going to a concert advances a cause more than participating in a union or political party. How can you be so detached from historical and material reality? Nobody who advocates for political organization is saying “also stop spending time with your friends and interfacing with your community.”

Have fun limiting your “organizing” to shallow little playtime in nice cozy Switzerland while the rest of us try to address injustices and atrocities through collective action. I hope you decide to join us, eventually.

the essay does not actually boil down to this, at least this definitely isn't the point of it. this would be a very fair critique if that actually were what im trying to say but it just straight up isn't.

my essay focuses on how just saying to "get organized" or "join xy org" doesn't really help most people actually find their space in a movement, it's about how building friendships both within and outside the movement is important for setting foot in it and how people's morale tends to be forgotten in some political orgs (which i find sad) which leads to burnout and orgs that fall apart.

i think my essay makes it pretty clear that collective action is the goal but focuses on what's also important in the here and now, leaving people helpless and hopeless helps no movement.

i do a lot of things in radical spaces that i don't publicly talk about online, to just assume i have no actual involvement in any on the ground stuff just because you misread my essay and disagree with it is frankly insulting. you are free to disagree with me, i don't think anyone will ever fully agree on theory anyways, but at least try to be honest in your engagement with what i wrote.

[onlygenxhere]

A conversation between me, @innytoes, @missjoolee, @floating-in-the-blue, and @jatp-spinsb about that grindr post that went around a while ago about needing a screwdriver and not a hookup has led to a Juke version of that prompt. (I didn't think there was one) I'm not sure what to call it.

It was a lazy Saturday morning and Julie was cooking herself some bacon and eggs scrolling through the dating app Flynn had talked her into installing last night after her third glass of wine.

When the talk had turned to how long it had been since she’d been laid her best friend had insisted this new app was the way to break her dry spell. It was marketed as a dating app but was more popular for being the hetero version of grinder. On the plus side the men couldn’t message the women till they messaged them first. It was sexist as hell but when it came to a possible hookup Julie appreciated it.

She sighed as she swiped left on a guy that listed sky diving as one of his favorite hobbies. “Hell to the no.” She muttered under her breath.

She’d actually forgotten all about the app until her do not disturb turned off at nine and her phone started pinging that there were a few matches within the default radius of two miles.

She paused on a pretty cute guy that seemed to be a little too fond of his admittedly nice arms when the smell of her bacon burning finally pulled her attention back to her breakfast that was about to be ruined.

“Shit!” She dropped her phone on the table and only halfway noticed Dahlia, her cat, jumping up as she moved to save her bacon from ruin.

“Dahlia down!” She scolded over her shoulder as she turned the stove off and pulled the bacon out, laying it on a paper towel.

The cat ignored her of course, continuing to sniff at her phone, as she went about making herself a sandwich with her eggs and bacon.

She took a bite and moaned happily as she sat back down, pushing Dahlia’s nose away from her still open screen and froze.

Apparently the cat had sent the guy with the arms a message and he had replied.

Several times….

Me Ooo kiiiop

Luke Oh thank god Hi Hey I’m not actually looking for a date or hook up right this moment Not that your picture isn’t gorgeous But my bathroom sink is currently overflowing and what I really need is a flat head screwdriver I’m not sure if I have enough towels to keep my apartment from flooding. Hello?

Well shit. If his apartment was anything like hers there wasn’t a universal cut off so he’d have to wait for maintenance to get there and, again, if it was like hers, he could be anywhere from a few minutes to a few days showing up.

She checked his location and saw he was literally on the next block over and sighed. Guess she was going to get her good deed out of the way for the day.

Me Be there in five

She wolfed down her sandwich as she pulled out her little tool kit her tia had gifted her when she moved in, grabbed an armful of towels and her keys and was out the door in record time jogging down the block in her bare feet.

She was headed up the steps of Mr. arms, sorry, Luke’s building when her phone pinged twice.

Luke You’re a life saver Apartment 3C

“Of course you live on the third floor.” She grumbled as she started to climb. Realizing halfway up she didn’t have a bra on. At least her tank wasn’t white.

She banged at 3C’s door with her elbow three times as she tried to catch her breath before it was jerked open and she nearly fell in.

Her first thought was maybe he had a right to be proud of those arms because his profile picture hadn’t done them justice.

He also hadn’t been soaking wet in that picture.

Floppy brown hair curling around his forehead and dripping down his face, pajama pants hanging low on narrow hips and a sleeveless t-shirt plastered to an equally impressive torso.

“Oh thank god!” He grabbed the towels and the toolbox out of her hands and rushed down the hall. “Come on in!”

She took a steadying breath as she stepped inside the apartment. It looked much like her own with only a small sofa, books and a decent sized tv in the small living room. But where she had her piano by her balcony door, he had an amp and guitar.

Julie shook her head and moved down the hall to the bathroom curious how bad the situation was.

She tried not to laugh as she peaked around the corner. There were wet towels everywhere and a literal spray of water coming out from under one of the faucets. Luke was on the floor with her screwdriver turning something she couldn’t see.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be working because the deluge of water started to slow and then stop.

He sat up with a sigh, pushing his wet hair off his face and smiled at her. “All better.”

She felt a throb between her legs and her nipples tighten. Fuck, that smile should come with a warning label.

“Glad I could help.” She smiled back at him as she casually crossed her arms over her chest.

He stood up, that smile never wavering and placed her screwdriver back in the little tool kit. He clicked it closed and passed it to her. “Can I buy you breakfast or something?” He seemed to finally be looking at her, probably noticing her lack of shoes, her flannel shorts and her tank top that she definitely had a bra on under. “Or can I make you breakfast?”

She shrugged. “Do you have a dryer?”

“What?” He laughed.

She waved at the mountain of wet towels all over the floor.

“Ah, no.” He sighed. “I’ll have to take them to the laundromat later.”

She bit her lip. This was probably a bad idea, or a really really good one. “I have a dryer.”

“Yeah?” He took a step toward her, his eyes twinkling in interest. “I already owe you for the screwdriver and now you’re offering the use of your dryer too. I’m gonna have to take you to dinner or something.”

She could swear his eyes dropped to her lips as she licked them. “Or something.”

He took another step toward her, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

She let her arms drop to her sides as he slid a hand around her waist ever so slowly, giving her all the time in the world to back up or say something.

Talking was not on her mind right now. All she could think about was that wet torso pressing against her thin tank top as he pulled her tight against his chest, and how she owed Dahlia a saucer of milk for her accidental text.

“Hi.” He breathed across her lips. “I’m Luke.”

“Julie.” She whispered as he closed the distance between them.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

rating the volo voice lines from pokemon masters ex as i hear them for the first time

“I’m Volo of the Ginkgo Guild, the go-to choice for your mercantile needs.” 

Sounds like he’s practicing his merchant persona in front of a mirror. Very pleased with his own performance. Might break out into song about it. 8/10

“Allow me to present this to you.” 

Spot-on cadence of Chris Traeger from Parks and Recreation. 4/10

“Here’s a special treat for you!” 

Creepy. Feels like he’s going to hand me a bomb. 2/10

“Oh! It’s looking lively around here.” 

Sounds like he thinks he’s too cool for the party you’ve both walked into and wants to know that you hate it too. 7/10

“What a joy to be alive!” 

Said with the paradoxical determination and resignation of someone who values his own life too highly to end it, but hates that life so fucking bad. 10/10

“Oh! My heart is racing with excitement!” 

Sounds like he just made himself think of something he actually cares about in order to generate enthusiasm about your thing. Also, overdoing it on the “oh,” there. 7/10

“If we use this well, the world will open up.” 

Whatever you say, beautiful. What are we talking about? 8/10 

“I like you better and better!” 

He’s telling the truth, but he likes me for reasons way less innocent and simple than my continued business. Regardless, the praise is appreciated. 10/10 

“Fancy running into you again!” 

Two possibilities: he very intentionally arranged this meeting and is pretending to be surprised, or he was surprised by the meeting and is pretending to be chill about it. 8/10 

“Maybe we’ll get to know each other better now!” 

Sounds like he’s about to ask for my social security number, and if I’m into men, and if I’m into giving men my social security number. 6/10

“Of course. I’d be glad to help.” 

He’s foaming at the mouth to involve himself in whatever protagonist shit I’m up to right now. 9/10

“I can see a whole new world!” 

According to Bulbapedia, he says this “upon reaching max level.” Is that like a relationship level? Does that mean I’m his world? Knowing his motivations in PLA, this could easily have a double meaning—getting close to me, and therefore Arceus, allows him to create a new world. This concerns me less because of the world erasure thing, and more because it might mean he doesn’t actually care about me. 1/10 

“Let the battle begin!” 

Doing a pretty good job sounding normal with this one. 3/10 

“That’s it! Go right ahead!” 

According to Bulbapedia he’s saying this to Togepi, which is very sweet. Also explains why it doesn’t sound fake as hell. 10/10 

“Here you are!” 

He says this to Togepi when he gives her an item in battle, I’m assuming a potion? Which is, again, extremely sweet. 10/10 

“Pay me later!” 

He says this while “using Trainer move,” which I assume is like his signature flourish during battle. The reference to his merchant persona is clever and he sounds like he’s very proud of it. I’m amused by the implication that I’m supposed to pay him for something, though. Is he helping me or battling me? Both? What are we, Volo? 4/10

“Delightful!” 

Accompanies the “nice” emote. I’m not going to complain. 5/10

“Careful now!” 

Accompanies the “watch out” emote. He sounds concerned, but like, in a “please don’t inconvenience me with your pain” way. I wish he truly cared, but maybe if I lie to myself, I can believe that he does. 3/10 

“I’m filled with curiosity!” 

Said with the exact cadence of Grunkle Stan talking to idiot tourists at the Mystery Shack. Ostensibly laughing at himself, but actually laughing at the people who are stupid enough to believe him. 9/10

“Pokemon battles are always good fun!” 

He only says this when he wins, which means they’re not always good fun. Makes perfect sense for the character and I like the delivery. 8/10 

“Too powerful…” 

He says, actively fantasizing about eventually proving himself more powerful. 10/10 

“BEHOLD! DESTINY! LEGENDS! UNDONE!” 

Bulbapedia identifies these words as things he yells during “unity attack/theme skill.” I have no idea what that means. It sounds to me like he’s accidentally taken a double dose of his ADHD stimulant medication and is just saying whatever the fuck comes to mind. 6/10 

“Allow me!” 

Said while “switching in.” Assuming he’s helping me, this is rather nice to hear. I’m more than happy to set this strange contemptuous man on my battle opponent. 9/10 

“Oh dear, that’s too bad.” 

Said while “recalling fainted Pokemon.” Option 1: He’s recalling his Togepi and trying very hard to sound brave about it. 10/10. Option 2: He’s taunting me about my fainted Pokemon with a sickly-sweet condescending tone. Also 10/10. 

“Good morning! Are you heading out today?” 

I appreciate the casual greeting and barely-contained rabid interest in my protagonist activities. 8/10 

“In that case, potions are a must.” 

Thoughtful and dedicated to his quotas. It does feel like he’s five seconds from calling me “milady,” though. Wait, in PLA I think he actually does that. It might be “madam.” He’s so embarrassing. 7/10 

“The weather outsider is lovely today.” 

Sounds like he’s about to take his lunch break so we can enjoy it together. 8/10 

“So, how about it? Care to go on an outing with me?” 

Already beat him to it. He’s trying so hard to sound chill, but I think if I said no it would ruin his day. Also, what’s with “outing?” Just say “date.” The game knows you’re saying “date.” This is a dating sim. 10/10

“Please, don’t overexert yourself too late at night. I don’t want to lose one of my loyal customers!” 

First, that’s what she said. 6/10. Second, he’s negging me again. 9/10. Third, he has other loyal customers?! 0/10

“Ah!”

Sounds like the peanut butter baby from that 2016 viral video. 4/10

“Rrrrrrr…” 

Nintendog. 7/10

*Sighs deeply* 

Agreed. 9/10

“Yes.” 

Me when I say “yes.” 5/10 

*Increasingly loud fake bouts of laughter* 

This man is going to end up on the news. 10/10

*Evil chuckle, tapering off into deranged humming* 

This man is going to end up at the Tony Awards. 10/10 

*Bitchy throat clear that turns into a laugh* 

This is how he laughs at the PLA protagonist after he insults their “curious getup.” 10/10

“Outstanding!” 

He’s high, tipsy, and/or sleep deprived, and someone just suggested getting takeout. 6/10 

“As expected…” 

Apropos of nothing, but he does like to feel smart. 7/10 

“CONGRAAAAAAATULATIONS!!!” 

This is perfect. This is a perfect voice line. The voice actor understands the comedy of Volo’s character perfectly. Divine madness aside, he is a merchant NPC almost obsessively invested in the protagonist’s adventures—but unlike many such cases, the narrative both understands and demonstrates how fucking weird and off-putting that is. 1000000/10 

“I wish you great fortune.” 

Reminds me of the PLA line, “Supporting you now is actually an investment in my own fortunes.” The voice actor nails the double meaning. 7/10 

“HOOOOW DARE????!!!!” 

I can’t find an explanation for this line. I think it’s just random. He’s so fucking weird. Did he read that in a book? Is he in a bad play? 10/10 

*Whimpering* 

Took a quick break to walk around my apartment and poorly make the bed. No further comment. ?/10

*Relieved sigh* 

It’s a relieved sigh. 

*Literal actual moaning* 

???????????????????

*Various other noises* 

The people in the comments of this video were not exaggerating. Holy shit. 

“Have some mercy!” 

WHAT IS THIS GAME RATED??????

*Deep sigh* “Now then…” 

I have no words. I don’t know. Why does this exist in the way it exists. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

I feel like I just witnessed something that I did not ask to witness. Does the Ginkgo Guild have a HR department? 

“My apologies.” 

That is not helping his case. 

“Leave it to me!” 

Good voice line. Great performance. He would say that. We’re back on track, love it. 5/10 

“No thank yewwwwww…” 

Bitch. 8/10 

“Please!”

“Indeed…” 

“That is quite something!” 

All very normal. 5/10 

“You’re too kind.” 

This is the weirdest line delivery yet. He sounds unhinged. Something happened around the 1:19 point of this video that neither of us can pretend didn’t happen. ???/10 

“Until next time.” 

Spoken like a charming male musical theater lead who just did a little song and dance about his life philosophy. 9/10 

“Come on, now.” 

Getting weird again. There is nothing I could possibly possess that would necessitate that amount of beleaguered desperation. 6/10

“Let’s get our blood pumping!” 

Not on the first date—sorry, outing. ?/10 

“The mysteries of the past… oH-hO! How they tICKle my curiosity!” 

Sure. Why not. 5/10 

“Investigating the odd and novel is key to any good merchant’s success.” 

This is delivered pretty much how I would imagine in the game! Also just such a fun line for him—he says this as if it makes all the sense in the world, but it literally doesn’t? It’s a total non-sequitor. Investigating the odd and novel have nothing to do with being a successful merchant, and later in the game he even admits to ditching work to do his research. I’ve always appreciated that part of his characterization—the way he knows that he’s bullshitting everyone and getting away with it, and is simultaneously so smug about his clever ruse and so miserable to be alone in his truth. 10/10

“A HISTORIC MOMENT!” 

Deeply bizarre final line for a deeply bizarre character. I hope he says this about mundane shit like dropping a cup of coffee or getting an email. 10/10.

[kit-walk3r]

Let the Bad Spirits Go Free (Tate Langdon)

Blood holds all the bad spirits. Maybe Tate should try and let those spirits go free.

Warning: heavy trigger warning for self harm and blood, mentions of canon gun violence

Note: I was rewatching Murder House and Tate’s dialogue about bad spirits in the blood made me think that perhaps Tate’s past self harm was linked to that so I sort of came up with this. Please read with caution

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

- - -

Tate was only ten the first time he did it. He didn’t remember why he did it. He just remembered one day finding the blades in the bathroom cabinet when looking for something. They probably belonged to whoever his mother’s fling at the time was. He found them and, for some reason, used them. Tate didn’t understand why. Maybe it was because he missed his dad. Maybe it was because he missed the nice blonde lady who saved him from the monster. Maybe it was because his mom didn’t seem to love him.

He only did it the once, finding himself quite sensitive to the pain. He cried after he did it. When his mother surprisingly noticed the new cut on his arm Tate lied and said the neighbour's cat scratched him. None of their neighbours even had a cat, but Constance did not question it, and instead just gave him a band aid.

Tate never thought about it again until a few years later. Fourteen, perhaps. Or maybe it was fifteen. He liked to read, and he was reading a book on Indians when he came across a certain passage about bad spirits. According to the book a person’s blood held bad spirits, and to let those spirits free the Indians would cut themselves in ceremonies. That stuck with Tate. He often found himself thinking back to it. It sounded smart to him, it made sense.

Of course, it wasn’t long after that when the bad thoughts started plaguing Tate. It started with dreams, dreams that would wake him up, anxious and sweating, at three in the morning. In the dream he could see himself in the school hallway, dressed head to toe in black, with everyone staring at him as he walked by. He ignored all of their gazes, marching through the school as if he were on a strict mission. He reached a classroom and let himself in, all of his classmates looking up as he made his entrance. The teacher scowled at him. “Can I help you?” She asked. Then suddenly, Tate had a gun in his hand and openfired.

Then he woke up.

All he could see in his head was the blood splatter, his teacher and classmates dropping to the floor. The sounds of their cries. The begging.

Tate placed his hands over his ears as if that would be able to drown out the voices in his head. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the burn of tears trying to escape. He couldn’t make it stop. The screams, the blood, the bodies. He couldn’t stop hearing it, couldn’t stop seeing it.

Bad spirits.

Tate’s eyes unclenched and opened as he remembered what he had read in the library a couple of months ago. His hands uncovered his ears.

Bad spirits. Cut. Set free.

Perhaps that’s what this was. Bad spirits. Maybe his blood was infected with bad spirits. Maybe he just needed to set them free.

Tate switched on his bedside lamp and turned to rummage through the set of drawers that resided next to his bed. He looked for something he could use to set the spirits free, something, anything, that would be sharp enough to save him. He couldn’t find anything, and let out a frustrated sigh. He needed to get rid of these bad spirits.

Suddenly he remembered: razor blades. Not long ago Constance had come home with a variety of things to help Tate ‘ease into manhood’, now that he was starting high school. Amongst her gift package was a pack of razor blades.

Tate shot out of bed and headed to the bathroom where he was sure he left the package. He tiptoed across the hallway, careful not to wake Addie since he knew she was a light sleeper. Once inside he gently closed the bathroom door and locked it for extra security before opening the cabinet above the sink. Bingo. Sure enough on the top shelf sat a little cardboard box. Tate grabbed it and rummaged through the box, looking for his coveted item. There they were, tucked away at the bottom. After taking them out the box was placed back in the cabinet and the door was shut.

On the cabinet hung a mirror, and Tate took a deep look at himself. His hair was damp from sweat and was stuck to his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed from crying. There were dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

Bad spirits.

Tate looked away from his haunted reflection and moved his attention to the small packet he now held in his hands. Without hesitation he tore open the packet and pulled out one of the blades before gently balancing the rest on the sink. He rolled up the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, barely taking note of the pale line that already occupied his wrist.

Maybe this will cleanse me, Tate thought as he stared at the blade. Maybe this will set my bad spirits free.

Taking a deep breath, Tate ran the blade across his wrist. He winced at the sting, but was mesmerised by the stark contrast of red against his pale skin. He watched as blood trickled down his arm and dripped onto the white porcelain of the sink, letting out a sigh of relief. His bad spirits were gone. He cleaned up his wrist, put the open packet back in the box, wiped away any excess blood and went back to bed as if nothing had happened.

He was surprisingly rather chipper the next morning. He joked with Addie at the breakfast table and even offered his mother a sort of smile. He was better now. All the bad spirits were gone.

Until he had the same dream again a couple of nights later.

Tate woke up with a jolt and a gasp, the same images from the previous night flashing through his mind, only more intense. The cries were getting louder, the blood getting thicker. He covered his ears and cried, just like last time.

His eyes caught sight of the cut across his wrist and with no hesitation he was heading towards the bathroom, same process as last time: lock the door, get the blade out of the cabinet and decorate his skin with another red line. He cleaned up and went back to his room, only this time he took the packet with him and tucked it away in his underwear drawer.

He had the dream again a week later. After a couple of nights nightmare free Tate was convinced that it had worked, that he had freed the bad spirits from his blood and that he was clean. But no, it happened again and Tate once again took a blade to his wrist, only this time in the comfort of his own bedroom.

The bad thoughts were getting louder. The dream wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times Tate hurt himself, and he was starting to get the intrusive thoughts during the day as well as in his sleep.

He got into an argument with his mother one day. It wasn’t unusual for Tate to get angry at Constance but this time it felt like more than anger. It was a Saturday afternoon and Tate was sat with Beau, rolling his red ball to him whilst he read a book. It was a comfortable silence, with the occasional laugh from Beau, until Constance shouted for Tate to come downstairs.

Tate hadn’t washed the dishes from breakfast. “I asked you to do one thing, Tate,” Constance scolded. “One! Wash the damn dishes. Is that really that hard?”

Tate just shrugged.

“I don’t ask much from you, Tate,” Constance continued. “But it would be nice if you could just listen and help around here once in a while instead of being holed up in your damn room.”

“I was with Beau,” Tate argued.

“Beau, Beau, Beau,” Constance ranted. “Stop using your brother as an excuse for not doing as you’re damn well told.”

Tate’s fists clenched at his sides as his mother continued to scold him for simply forgetting to do the dishes. His gaze was hard and jaw locked as he watched her wave her arms around. He couldn’t even hear what she was saying now, her voice drawn out into a dull ringing sound. Anger surged through him.

Do it, a voice echoed in his head suddenly.

Tate turned and ran up the stairs to his room without a second thought. He could faintly hear Constance call out after him but he ignored her as he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell down onto the floor, back resting against it, as he began to cry.

Do what? Tate didn’t want to know. Subconsciously he had a perfect idea of what the voice wanted him to do but he desperately tried to suppress it. The scariest thing? The voice Tate heard in his head was his own.

Tate struggled to calm down, his breathing erratic. His hands gripped and tugged his dirty blonde hair as he tried to clear his mind from any negative thoughts.

Bad spirits bad spirits bad spirits.

Tate was up and rummaging through his underwear drawer for his safety packet. Within seconds he held one of the blades in his hand and, like clockwork, brought it against his skin. He’d grown accustomed to the pain now, and didn’t even flinch as he opened up another wound.

“Please, please, please,” he muttered as he watched the blood begin to trickle down his arm, desperate for the bad thoughts to go away. Whatever his thoughts wanted him to do they wanted him to do it to his mother and that was terrifying. Yes, he and his mother had a very rocky relationship, but to want to hurt her in a way that was making him feel this fearful? Tate just wanted the bad spirits to go away.

Obviously they didn’t, if bad spirits even existed. Things only got worse.

- - -

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

Tate liked it, but it didn’t work.

•———•

This was pretty dark and heavy, I do apologise. Thank you for reading though!

[fairyofshampgyu]

he’s literally so beautiful and handsome

[emily-mooon]

Nancy Wheeler the shoujo manga protagonist you are what with your love triangle and everything about you my pookie <3

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

Get real

I was in an art block for a really long time, but I suddenly got the urge to try Blender out one day. I tried to recreate Toothpaste in 3D and I think it turned out pretty alright for a first attempt!!

Some more pics:

I wanna do some stuff with this model in the future, but for now this was a fun little experiment!

[cynopoe]

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one.

/not ship art/

[shy-sapphic-ace]

Guys should I write a Dracula musical. Should I???

[whereismyhat5678]

I believe today was a good day <:]

I drove a car! (I learned the basic stuff, and we practiced in a parking lot.) I learned how to park, how to steer it, and the basic things to know when using a car >:] I’m so proud of myself!

[bleue-flora]

‘Techno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Dream. Stop it!… That’s not cool, bro. Why you gotta take out all your frustration on my fancy teacups? I know you’re just mad that you don’t have a house, but bro we can go build you one. We can—we can even make it out of something better than dirt, alright?”’

Ta da! I made some art for the collaborative work, Crow’s Nest, we essentially wrote in a month, which is by far, my most diverse in content and longest fic. Thought it needed some like cool title art, since it’s basically the length of a book lol. (See below for symbolism and stuff)

- it’s kind of a combination of some main elements and themes from the fic: Steve (clearly the main character lol XD), tea, the broken teacups, Techno’s house… the stained floor

- the green tea cup represents Dream and well his broken state after prison, while the pink tinted glue represents Techno helping Dream heal and putting him back together.

- and obviously, a crow for the title and poem the chapters are named after.

- and despite my efforts, Tumblr has kinda ruined my quality, so here’s a zoomed in picture of the tea tag I made, which has the title of the fic and our names on it. :)

[sea-jello]

Day 21/October 21: Day of the Departed || Reminisce (??)

GRAHH ITS STILL THE 21ST SOMEWHERE i’m apparently using morrotober to try new things this one’s a new lineart brush that i’m sorta warming up to and the POSE and the BACKGROUND and the LIGHTING i’m surprised i finished this at all tbh. and also new morro design

bg lineart and sword vs neither plus the green ghost fog thing i do basically if you zoom in really really close the lines aren’t smooth on the lineless bgs but icba the pedestal can be chipped or something. i kinda like without the sword and fog cause it gives him a more isolated feel yk (that was my original idea lmao)

this one’s my attempt at funky mannequin hands

[thealienarchivist]

my cover design for book two of @hella1975 ‘s incredible fic The Art Of Burning. Just now realizing it makes it look like Zuko is in his villain arc but what can you do. The boy deserves it after the shit he’s been through

[bread-of-death]

He’s just a pretty little guy 🥺

[zoominsainz]

I removed that weird orangy filter the mclaren editors decided looked good and made lando have normal color skin again, here it is in case anyone wants it😘

[foldingfittedsheets]

It’s my birthday on Thursday and I always hate years that I’m forced to work/school instead of being the specialist little bean. This year on the day I have game lab on campus then an hour break to drive home before animal sculpting class.

On my way home today I thought about getting food but I’ve blown through most of my little treat money, and the last bit I can use to get myself a birthday bacon sandwich. I can at least do a tiny thing to make the day feel special, even if it’s just lunch.