#and also spoken words are not my thing

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[peaches2217]

To anyone who saw my freakout earlier (which I didn’t mean to post on main anyway I’m so sorry): I’m sorry. I am what the kids call Going Through It. I got dealt a massive emotional blow in the middle of an already difficult time, and it’s gonna take some time to recover from. Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do about a situation but accept the hurt and let time do the rest. It’s infuriating and leaves you feeling hopeless and desperate for some sort of alternative resolution, but that’s not always realistic; sometimes the slow and painful way is the only way. I’m still having trouble accepting that because I want the pain and sadness to go away… but at the end of the day, I don’t have much of a choice but to live with it. Let it completely overtake and overwhelm me or just fucking live with it.

That pain and I are gonna be roommates for the foreseeable future. But having identified it and explored it to its depths, maybe that’ll help me in moving on as well. Whatever happens, I’ve got support, I’ve got love, and even if it hurts for a while, I’ll live.

[apocalypticdemon]

so i'm finally reading through the terror scripts and i think this was designed to cause me physical pain.

crozier was supposed to be drinking to schubert..... god

[ovkl]

Being healthier in every sense and happier in spite of living with my abuser after years of charged enablement by people that could not admit to being ill equipped to the point of leaving me to my sole devices/suggestions/help when I was attempting and self harming almost daily due to being exhausted with my mental health that I had been one-sidedly expressing for months, only offering/suggesting their financial aid and considering it a job well done versus an obvious small part of the core issue, is certainly a tragicomedy and pretty on brand for the fact every single person involved consists of high functions with married, well-off families who can and will do anything for them on a dime.

I grieved our friendships significantly less after finding that they believe being (rightfully) angry with my actions manifests open doors to spit up horrifically ableist vomit and randomly call me a groomer, after 5 YEARS of not commenting on it, for offering a safe home/guardianship to someone I'd been close friends with since we were both kids. Talking about me like I'm Michael fucking Myers the way I am "actually evil". I have been open and forward with the consequences otherwise, and have solely stressed accountability where it's due, which they evidently do not enjoy and have resorted to essentially ignoring it every time I have spoken of it at all, even prior to putting my foot down about the aforementioned upon speaking with people I have known longer and/or have had similar experiences. I'm done talking about it though. How are we on a Thursday.

[triglycercule]

guys i havent written since may (for killer's birthday) but stupid silly swapinverse has been on my mind for a little bit and i threw together this silly (he has a panic attack and throws up) little short draft 4 swapinverse horror!!

-

“hah… ah… oh god… no, no, nonono…”

he ran. sprinted through the forest like a frightened deer, his demeanor that of prey, although his previous actions aligned more of a predator. panting and shaking, his mind cycled through countless variations of how to react to what just happened, what he just did.

how should he react? how could he react? it was impossible to tell for him in the panicked state. and as the trees in snowdin slowly began to surround him (but weren't they always doing that?), paranoia couldn't run anymore. he was surrounded, he was blocked off, he couldn't escape. not from horrortale, not from snowdin, not from the dusty graveyard he had just left it, and not from the blood smeared across his mouth.

“no, i- what did, what did i do? paps, snowdin, even-undick, no, it-”

paranoia’s incoherent rambles brought his hands to wander across his face, tugging at the massive hole in his skull spanning majority of the left side of his head. picking at the chipped bone didn't help, it never did, but a nervous habit was unbreakable, and he was more than nervous in this moment. in fact, quite terrified. everything was terrifying. he was terrifying. and as the slightest hint of red blood touched his sleeve, the once red, now magenta eye quickly locked onto it, and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

“fuck- oh god, no, aliza-!”

falling to his knees, a disgustingly gorey mess of red, pink, and black spilled from his mouth. sounds of retching and hurling were all that filled the empty forest, and paranoia couldn't bear to look down and see the mess he’d made. the mess he’s caused. wasted food, he would've said. but that statement normally only applied to others. he never imagined using it on himself. choking on his spit and certainly not his blood, tears fell from his eye, joining the vomit and blood seeping into the snow. strange. paranoia didn't think he had enough magic to even shed tears anymore. just for the bare necessities. he managed to surprise even himself, after all this time.

but could it be could be considered surprise, or rather terror? he fit up to his name, certainly horrified at his own actions. forcing out as much of the grossness he could that he’d just consumed, paranoia couldn't help but look down at what he’d done.

red. a lot of red. too much red. he’d never been queasy before, never. he had to adapt to it, being the one to hunt down humans that ran or sneak up on those when times got desperate. there was no time or need to be queasy at what he even considered his job before. a duty he had to do.

but now, there was too much red. far too much red. and he didn't know why, although he totally knew, but paranoia couldn't stomach it. he just threw his guts out (shouldn't they be aliza’s guts, or no?), and here he was, wanting to throw up until his SOUL shattered. his SOUL cycled through those strange 4 shapes, unsure of which to settle on. he couldn't blame it. paranoia himself was unsure of what was even going on anymore. he wanted to run, but was frozen. he wanted to scream, but didn't know who at.

everything was contradicting. everything was going on, and not enough was given for paranoia to understand how to deal with it. and with a muttered curse, he flopped on his side onto the somehow dry snow, losing consciousness in the haze of fear now intermingled with his SOUL.

-

ik theres probably grammar mistakes i wrote this on my phone,,,, but like idk. had idea for a little moment in paranoia's lore and i sure as hell didn't wanna draw it so i wrote it as an easier media! god this is so much easier compared to drawing idk why i dont do this more often (because youre lazy silly!) anyways swapinverse silly i love swapinverse. i've only thrown up like never so i dont know if this works. also never had a panic attack (i think) and AGAIN i dont know if this is accurate but whatever i dont write to be good i write for expressing my ideas. like everything i do

[wolpatinga]

[blackvahana]

Oh god. Rip to getting sleep properly tonight.

Memory of Grey's of getting locked (locking himself) in the Library itself for.... Uh. A very very very long time, probably bent time, I don't think he went missing per se for the time he was in there but he fucking came out the other side changed, that's for sure. Locking yourself in your own creation... body... extension... second (third? Fourth? Etc?) brain...

I'm nothing if not -

I was going to say, I don't know, tenacious, dedicated, willing to put myself through my experimentation to put my money where my mouth is but I am nothing but tomorrow, tomorrow, then I

[enypneon]

the way v can refuse hands when he needs them most and he literally locks the door for one last attempt at persuasion is the moment his suave mask falls even if only for a second ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

like when you first meet him and he starts to read the chessmen of mars? is such a subtle yet upfront way to say “you're a little bitch”

you're a chess piece and there's nothing you can do now you have been absorbed by this game MY game

AND LET'S NOT forget when he tells v they earned their silver slippers, comparing them to dorothy and when asked about what role he takes he claims to be the narrator, who is third-person omniscient, which means he thinks he is and probably is all-knowing, even of things he "shouldn't"/isn't expected to be aware of.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

i actually envy the persona i have created online because this is what you have come to know me as. poetic and charming and comely. and yet i am none of these things in reality. (see! in the real world i would never say "in reality"!!) i sound such an idiot when i talk. i wish i used my verbosity so much more instead of being awkward and bumbling and senselessly stupid.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

save me local historical attraction

local historical attraction save me

[an-asuryampasya]

thinking about recipes that taste different in every home, differing with each hand that makes it. how there can be so many different foods all sharing the same name, even within a single culture.

except not in a wow-cultural-variations-are-beautiful-way, but more along the lines of how they can inspire pure, distilled disappointment (or rage) in ways few other things in life can.

the dish stays the same, the ingredients stay the same, the cooking method stays the same - so you hear of [dish] and are briefly filled with hope and longing. bonus points if you're living away from home and you haven't had a chance to eat said dish for months or years. and!! here it is!! you've diligently avoided eating said dish at random restaurants over here because you just know (usually from prior experience) that they'll absolutely ruin it, so you're better off abstaining. or maybe it's the kind of dish that ISN'T available at restaurants, and your only hope is plotting and making friends with the right people that have family visiting in the vague hope that they're the kind to delight in plonking food into hands of "these students living all alone and so far from home :(" (nvm the fact that you saw said friend having the TIME of her life all this time because she's finally in a city with better food outlets than her hometown) (yes, I am aware that this is getting suspiciously specific at this point, shush)

so anyway, the food. it paid off! you put in the legwork and suffered through the appropriate number of awkward conversations with friends' parents who REALLY don't know you as well as they like to pretend they do, gave the right number of fake totally-not-awkward smiles, and now!! they're INSISTENT you join them for lunch because they brought [dish] from back home! and fuck, it's been literal MONTHS since you've had this last, AND they're from broadly the same culture as you so really, surely you can trust them to mean it when they call what they've brought [dish]. your eyes gleam and you agree, because oh man it's been so long and you just know it's going to be so good and the anTICIPATION is-

and then you take one bite and question your life's choices and experience a moment of unadulterated bafflement and abject loss because this was the first time you've had [dish] outside of your home and you didn't realise people used the same name for ATROCITIES like the kind you're attempting to eat now. it looks wrong, smells wrong, and tastes dreadfully wrong. this isn't [dish]. this isn't just a disappointment after all the build-up and hope you had. this is an insult. this is an embodiment of the sheer disrespect they have for the dish.

you realise then that ah, turns out disappointment actually DOES have a very distinct taste, and you just got acquainted with it. you wonder how they managed to ruin it so spectacularly. how!!! why???? literally WHAT lengths did they have to go to in order to manage to make [dish] taste so alien???

anyway, that feeling. few emotions I've experienced in life were as potent as that welling up of abject horror and sorrow as I tasted the first long awaited morsel of a beloved dish made in a different style (an objectively WRONG style /lh)

[ghosts-of-love]

🥹🫠

[loplainlointhemorning]

I shared my lunch w some homeless guys last week bc they asked for cash but I didn’t have anything so I offered part of my food and they were super nice and we just chatted and I drank my coffee & hung out & I’ll admit i was proud bc everybody is really cruel to the homeless population here & just ignores them and it’s like. hard to feel like anything u do makes a fucking difference ever. so just having a couple of people have a marginally better day bc I was there was really nice actually. and my dad & grandma are acting like I literally saved someone from a witch’s curse they’re like blown away

[fragmentedblade]

The way Luocha's conversation and confrontation with Jing Yuan was established in terms of a xiangqi match (or whatever it's called ingame in the English translation; "starchess", I think?) was great, especially with how Jing Yuan congratulates his last move.

How Luocha's course of action is laid is also very typical of xiangqi strategies for what I've been reading, especially when it comes to the use of the general piece. Jing Yuan has to abide to the law, can't move, and is forced to let Luocha get away with what he wants to do.

[the-acid-pear]

um i need someone to help me with something but its a bit of a secret mission so dm me if you're willing......................

edit: plan cancelled i found out the truth.