#and i don't know what im going to do
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I kinda feel like I'm falling apart
#woke up to get shouted at over dishes#and now im kinda having a crisis#i guess this is left overs from the other night#idk what im going to do#this last month or so ive been in a constant state of overwhelm#it feels like so much is happening always#and i can't relax#towards the beginning of last month i was having financial issues with school#i decided to work extra hours at work to pay for it#i eventually got those bills paid#but now im being expected to maintain that schedule on top of my schoolwork#every time i try to redo my schedule to where i get a fucking day off from school and work#i get fucking guilt tripped into just doing the same thing#which leaves me with very little energy to work with for my schoolwork#im barely scrapping by with my two classes#im terrified to find out what this next semester is gonna be#i have 5 classes in the fall#i may have to see if i can afford to quit my job to focus on school#otherwise it feels like i might just fucking die#i dont think my mom realizes the strain this shit puts on me on a daily basis#or maybe she does#and she just doesn't give a shit#idk#im pissed and im fucking scared#i dont know what im doing#and i don't know what im going to do#all i know is that im gonna have to start cutting things out of my schedule#otherwise it feels like this is going to kill me#personal#rant
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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.
good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.
sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.
so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.
one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.
#warm up#writeblr#actually this is because again i don't go here#i don't read/write fanfic but i have nothing but respect for my troops#but i also have never played minecraft. im sorry. please ask me any question about pokemon tho i love that shit#anyway#out of some banal and thoughtless curiosity i watched the minecraft movie trailer#and again i know nothing about minecraft. i am aware im in an endangered population#but im watching this going: this is so fucking.... BAD#there is NO LOVE in it!#like if someone who has NO history in minecraft watches that and is like - ohhh this is soulless#WHO IS THE AUDIENCE????#ppl who love minecraft are gonna hate it!!!#at some point it's the ''mean girls musical movie'' problem --#some people will always hate the premise of what you're doing and some people will love it#make it for the ppl who love it#and usually that somewhat convinces the haters to like. chill enough to TRY it . bc it IS good#but when you try to make it for the haters..... nobody likes it. it doesn't have passion. energy. footwork#which is a small way of saying a big thing: if you love something. fucking make it and assume someone will love it too.#i love u . be brave . be bold. be in boston and come to my reading#where i wrote a really weird fucked up little book.#love u love u love u etc
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i'm ready to try
#This drawing is kind of personal to me#I recently graduated (CUM LAUDE WOOOO!!!!) and its like. not to get depressing#but when i was younger i was never sure whether i would make it to this point#When i was going through what i consider to still be like. the worst time of my entire life#This fictional character was there for me and she was something for me to latch onto and cope with#eGem helped me a lot with being able to process my emotions at the time but also helped me to reflect on myself#which i think is a big reason as to why I'm really happy with where i am with myself right now#I'm going off to uni next school year to study astronomy!!! which!!!#Im also doing because of eGem!!! She ignited this kind of childlike wonder for space for me#I love doing math and physics and whilst Im still a bit scared because. honestly i don't know whether this is what i want to do with my lif#I think i'll be okay either way#either way i wanted to draw egem again even if i haven't done so in a while because its like#i think i wouldnt be who i am without her. i think i'd be a lot worse off#so like. thank you empires smp thank you geminitay thank you egem This drawing is me expressing my gratitude#AND THANK YOU AUTISM!#empires smp#empires smp s1#empiresblr#esmp#geminitay#art#fanart#alice.art#mcyt#mcytblr#song is andromeda by weyes blood... obv.. you guys know me by now :oP
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okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.
yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything
((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))
and then they fucked nasty the end
#my art#my writing#who fuckin sent this. fuck you. come off anon so i can kick your ass. (the thoughts this ask sparked consumed almost 3 days of my life)#i dont know what this even is#i just work here#disclaimer i don't come from a particularly religious background so like.#most of my knowledge of christianity comes from when my mom sent me to vbs for cheap babysitting in middle school or absorbed via osmosis#so i have no idea what im talking about except for when i do! hope this helps#i love how i say that like i expect biblical scholars to tear apart my ultrakill gay fanfiction#if you are a biblical scholar and you want to tear apart my ultrakill gay fanfiction please know i am not going to read the bible for this#ultrakill#v1 ultrakill#gabriel ultrakill#gabv1el#blood#love tagging ultrakill stuff with blood. hmm yes the floor here is made out of floor
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haven't drawn in too long, so. dick & tim marker scribbles
#dc comics#batman#dick grayson#tim drake#someone tell me what they're doing here bc i don't know#batman fanart#nightwing#robin#please be a sign im going to start drawing again please be a s
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when kaeya was a kid his most exacerbated reaction to getting hurt was a very pointed "ow" and one tear at most. meanwhile when diluc got hurt he would wail and sob and sniffle around all day afterwards. and yknow what i think that their essence hasn't changed now that they're adults. kaeya who says "this doesn't.. look good.." when he dies in game and diluc who says "my flame.....has been..extinguished....." like okay. we still know who's the most dramatic out of the two
#do not ask me where im going with this im going nowhere they just won't leave my head. ever#and also i don't know if those quotes are correct i didn't check this is from memory.#i wouldn't know what they say when they die since im so good at this game (blatant lie)#kaeyaposting#diluc#i should have a funnier tag for diluc but alas
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THE WAY THAT THEY INVENTED ROMANCE WITH THIS SONG???? HELLO?????
#'i don't know why you waste your time on me' 'baby; all i got is time!' OH MY *GOD*#WHY IS THAT THE MOST ROMANTIC THING THATS EVER HAPPENED#im screaming and crying knowing no one else will ever have what they do#like i am so serious ive never REALLY cried at this show before but this song got me so bad#theyre so fucking cute. im going to lay on the floor and be overwhelmed by yearning#mine#fave#<- yes im tagging my own posts w this#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#fizzarolli#asmodeus#fizzmodeus#helluva boss fizzarolli#fizzarolli helluva boss#asmodeus helluva boss#helluva boss asmodeus#e: mammon's magnificent musical mid-season special
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NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???
#personal#i am emotional yes#over the years ive had this blog I've made a few posts abt being femme#nd whether they're serious or jokey..... inevitably someone in the tags goes “ohhh yeah bc pink”#or in the case of what inspired this post: someone going “what about the pink ones” on my praying mantis post#and im just.#sick of it. im sick of femme being equated to pink and frilly girlie behaviors.#im sick of femme being equated to skirts and heels. to makeup. to skincare. to pristine nails exactly almond shaped.#im sick of ppl acting like All femmes aspire to this shit. im sick of femms being reduced to this shit.#and i love pink! i love pink! my phone theme is quite literally just black and pink all over.#im just. so tired of any expression of Femme identity being shoehorned into being a Specific type of femininity#especially as someone who DOES get dysphoric wearing skirts. wearing dresses. embodying the femme aesthetic yall are so set on making#if u guys wanna rb this i truly dont care#i just needed to scream#and this is one small thing#but the 2nd largest category of anon hate i have gotten since making this blog is str8 up homophobia from other “queer” folks#saying i cant be femme bc of how i present. calling me slurs (and using them as such) bc they cant understand femme as anything but that#my wife and i have our users in our personal discord server set as 2 different things of anon hate ive gotten#i have had OTHER FEMMES tell me i am not femme. femmes who Know im femme who still call me butch. femmes who ive corrected and been blocked#-by bc of it. the number 1 largest demographic of queerfolk who have me blocked rn is TME femmes who embody pink also#and i dont think its a coincidence at all. (and i know this bc i go to try and follow these ppl bc they get rbed on my dash & i cant)#and ik their blogs arent deleted bc some of them don't block my wife (tall. white. butch) and it cant be politics cause her and i rb#a lot of the same political shit (fuck. i think she rbs More than i do even. this is genuinely mainly a nsft blog)#and usually i don't say anything but im having a bad day so i get to be angry about this and if anyone fucking tries me i will block u#idc if we've been mutuals 4ever. im judt so tired of feeling like i am not Enough as a femme bc i dont embody this shit#im sick of this lameass lip service to he/him gnc femmes etc when the thin white 50s housewife femme is still what is preferred and loved#im sick of this lamesss lip service when y'all feel entitled to theorizing on other femmes genders bc u cant conceptualize a femme who does#wanna be hypetfeminine. im sick of it. im sick of it. im sick of it.#celebrity bun
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gasmask that like
filters out negativity in the air?
I like to imagine Dream is very fragile from being in stone so even when just being in an au with a lot of negativity damages him
I don't know what I'm doing lolol
Positivity gasmask
#dream sans#utmv#undertale aus#sans au#sans aus#dreamtale#you guys have no idea how much i love this guy#actually you probably do#nvm lmao#I don't know what's going on in my head#its blank#im having ..#block#dream block#my art#glue doodles
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It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.
Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.
I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi
RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3
the smell of you
warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.
wc: 2.2k+
come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3
“Eddie?”
The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall.
“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?”
Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold.
You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him.
Something unspoken. Something homely.
“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.”
When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion.
He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire.
“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”
“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?”
“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?”
You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room.
Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use.
The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him.
“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?”
“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.”
It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him.
When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm.
“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.”
“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch.
“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently.
He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back.
One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home.
“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”
“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-”
“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.”
You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”
“Good.”
He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair.
“Eddie!”
If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient.
And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him.
Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I’m your idiot.”
The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you.
“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.”
“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?”
Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”
“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?”
“The kind that gets off on annoying me.”
His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”
You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum.
You never grow tired of it. You never will.
“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always.
And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.”
“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-”
You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him.
He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.”
“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”
“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”
“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”
Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside.
He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.
You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly.
You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days.
Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso.
“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle.
He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.”
“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off.
You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep.
I love you.
I adore you.
I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.
And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you.
The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?”
To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat.
“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”
#ghost's stories#summertime sweetness#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#peep me making fun of myself in there about the way i constantly like to write him doing the whole mock stabbing himself thing#i just want to find me an eddie munson to be so comfortable with that afternoons like this would be a regular thing ya know#give me a man who likes my stink#a man who offers to order us matching tempurpedic coffins#i don't think that's how you spell that word if i'm being completely honest#it's canon in my head the two of you would go 'coffin shopping' just cause you both wanna know what it's like to lay in one#also in my process of brainstorming and writing this i realized i really do not understand the concept of being weird because#halfway through writing this#i questioned if it was even weird/weird enough?#this doesn't feel weird to me this just feels like the normal progression of getting comfortable in a relationship#it was this or eddie being unbothered by sounds of indigestion or however you spell it#ANYWAYS im rambling my bad <3#i hope i made you proud rhi!! <3
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Hello, don't mind me, I just need to vent for a second.
First off, I just wanna say, as an aroace person on the ace-spectrum, feel free to ship Alastor all you want. Ship him with anyone. Have fun with it. Sex repulsed. Non-sex repulsed. Grey-ace. Demisexual. Pure unadulterated smut. Whatever, have at it. I love that shit.
Just please do it without infantilizing ace-aro people.
The amount of art, fics, and takes I've come across that's so patronizing to Alastor and his sexuality. Thing's like Alastor venting to Rosie about his feelings for a character with the caption "Alastor feeling love for the first time." Or Alastor wanting to have sex with a character and having feelings about that, and someone commenting "That's called a boner, sweetheart. That means you like them 🤭"
Like??? Like do ya'll not see how patronizing that sounds? Being ace-aro doesn't mean you don't know your own body. It doesn't mean you don't understand the functions of your body.
It doesn't mean you've never experienced intense emotions. It doesn't mean you've never experienced love before.
And, look, I know these are meant to be jokes. I know. People are joking. I laughed at the first few I came across, too. It's not meant to be harmful or condescending; no one means it that way. But there's been so much with such...bad takes recently, and I don't know about any other ace-spec people (I don't speak for all ace-specs. Hell, there are probably other ace-spec's who don't mind, enjoy it, or are making content like it themselves. I just speak for myself) but GOD it's getting uncomfortable.
Alastor is in his late 30's-early 40's in human years. That is the established age range we have for him. Do you really think that he'd go that long without ever experiencing "love?" He went through puberty just like everyone else, do you think he doesn't understand his own body???
Being asexual, or sex-repulsed, or touch-repulsed doesn't mean you automatically don't explore these parts of yourself. It doesn't mean he's never, once in his life, touched his own dick, or pussy, or whatever genitalia you're giving him. He can still very well be a "virgin" (which in and of itself is a social construct) while also knowing his body and confidently handling any "sexual needs" he has.
Do you really think he doesn't know what a boner is? That in all the years he's been alive and dead (on Earth and in Hell), he wouldn't have experienced these things once? (And you know what? Maybe he hasn't! Perhaps there are ace's out there like that! But you're telling me he doesn't KNOW what that is??? Really???)
Ah, no, it's all because he just hasn't found the right person yet, right? It's not until Lucifer/Angel Dust/Vox, whoever found him, and they gave him these feelings, and oh no, poor Bambi is feeling twitterpated and horny for the first time, isn't that romantic!
Honestly, not really. It just sounds like the same, stupid shit ace-aro people hear from family, friends, and acquaintances about their sexuality. You know, the tried and true: "Oh, you just haven't found the right person yet. You'll want all that eventually, you'll see😊"
Do you not see how frustrating that is?
Look, I am all down for Alastor exploring parts of himself. I want him to navigate different relationships, feel them out, figure out what kind of relationship he wants and what he's okay and not okay with doing. But there are ways to do that without treating him like a little UwU silly baby boy who doesn't know his own body, or his own emotions, or his own relationships with other characters. Like he needs someone to teach him about himself.
How about instead, he finds someone he feels comfortable exploring these elements with? Instead of them "teaching" him how to fuck, or masturbate, or whatever the hell you want to call it, they're giving him the room and safe-space to explore it at his own pace??!!
It comes across as someone who isn't on the ace-spectrum "teaching" an ace-spec character about their own sexuality which puts such a gross taste in my mouth. Or, at least, that's how it comes across to me.
And the thing is, I know people aren't going to stop. I know they're going to keep infantilizing Alastor and his aro-ace identity, and I wasn't originally going to make this post, because you can't control what people do in fandom.
So this is mostly just a post to say: HEY! Hello! Ace-aro person here! I hope you all are having fun and I love that you're exploring Alastor's asexual/aromantic identity! Especially those who may not be in the ace-spectrum themselves, as you're learning about us and our experiences! That's awesome! Can we just do that while also treating Alastor like the adult he is? Can we do that without being infantilizing and patronizing about his sexual identity? Please?"
That's all I really wanted to say. I just needed to get this off my chest instead of letting it fester. This isn't an attack on anyone, this is just the perspective of an Alastor multi-shipper who loves exploring his relationships with other characters (sexually and non-sexually) and deep-diving into the dynamics of the show.
Thanks for reading.
#there are so many different ace-aro's with so many different experiences#im sure they all don't share they same feelings as me#but while I wasnt originally going to post anything cuz i don't want to rock the boat#i came to the realization that HEY! Im ace-aro too! I can't control what people do but I can offer a different perspective#honestly I know the best I can do is block and move on#I just wanted to put this out there#im tired of Alastor being infantalized#I'm tired of asexuality and aromansticm getting infantilized#its grating on me more and more#siigh#thanks for reading anyway#asexual#asexuality#aromantism#aromantic#aroace#acespec#asexual alastor#asexuel#aromanticism#arospec#allastoredeer thoughts#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#the radio demon
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yeah im normal. im very normal. so normal. shadow prime amirite guys
i like this one the most so close up (ironically, this is the color palette i was the most scared to deal with bc i don't usually use greens)
#sonic#shadow the hedgehog#sonic the hedgehog#sth#sonic prime#he's such a bastard and for what#smug bitch. he's literally 3 feet tall. im going to push him off the ark again#i think i like. i had a whole plan on how to do the bottom rectangle/i literally drew it first. but.#i think if i lineart something seriously. i lose the ability to color it the way i was planning. or something#visualized it completely and then just like it evaporated i don't know where the fuck the thought went it's gone???#so now i think that coloring fucking sucks ass actually but i don't want to work on it any longer bc im like shaking my brain#and ic an't find the original THOUGHTS i HAD where did it GO i was COOKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways. hi#fanart#draw
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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the way jolyne breaks so much convention as a jojo protagonist from not being introduced as an inherent badass and having to earn the right to be called that over the course of the story to her life being over from the moment that story begins while still not painting the events of it as a soul-crushing tragedy but rather a journey through which she reconciles and finds new meaning and purpose to herself as a person. i love jojo stone ocean i wish women were real
#soda offers you a can#never over my jolyne brainworms im afraid it's terminal#she is just. phenomenal in the context of jojo anyway. within the constraints of the medium that is a weekly shonen manga#while i do wonder what stone ocean could've been if executed in a more long-form way like the parts after it have been#and while the overall story would've benefited from the more generous pacing those parts have#it still grabs you in ways i don't think any other part does#then again i am judging manga against anime bc i read part6 and watched parts 1-4#(and read half of part5 i know i need to go back to it in some fashion at some point)#jjba
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so there's been versions of horror that don't talk. versions of dust that don't say a word. but what about killer man. what if he didn't speak???
i need this man to do the most outrageous crazy and unhinged things while saying not a single word. i need killer sans to stand in corners and not say anything while observing other people (just like how some people depicts horror/dust,,,,) with the most expressionless face ever. the guy cannot feel i want his face to show that. he will murder he will steal he will bother every living being around him while not saying a goddamn thing. ACTUALLY i want his face not to move at ALL!!! this killer's face looks like the 😐 emoji but it has tears. idk maybe it's because if he opens his mouth he'll start leaking dt and he wont even be able to talk so its not worth it. or maybe a certain red eyed child or oily king ordered him never to speak unless they tell him to and now killer just doesn't speak. he doesn't even learn sign language or body language or does any physical cues (voluntarily) because that's considering "speaking". idk just ideas but i like the idea of the guy that does arguably the craziest shit to just. not speak. or have any sort of body language ever. he stands and walks like a robot only sort of personality that shines through is in fights. but even if killer doesn't talk and have any sort of physical presence people will still be able to tell what hes like based on his actions
anyways maybe i just need ALL of the mtt not to speak. yeah that seems cool. none of them speak they just silently beat each other up (killer is dead silent dust is violently signing and horror is making several indescribable noises. this is the most intense fight they will ever have)
#killer sans#dust sans#horror sans#im SORRY okay i refrained from using the word nonverbal because i reslly don't know anything about it#i didnt do my research on selective mutism or going nonverbal so ibREALLY tried not to say those words#incase this hc is just plain wrong or incredibly disrespectful. but i don't think so????#anyways i just think its a cool idea and the all non verbal fight i described in the end id HILARIOUS#i would pay to see that. mtt fight but they don't talk#can someone make a murder mute trio. a mute time trio. murder time mute PLEASE someone do mtt but none of thrm speak#i think (when theyre not fighting) a mute mtt would be so peaceful and chill#they have to rely SOLELY on nonverbal communication and that strengthens your bond way more than talking does#like they each have to learn each other's tells and what theyre saying without speaking. ultimate bonding exp#EXP? like like like (says dust. he need more LV)#i'm back i think. idk lets see if i can keep this streak going#bad sanses#bad sans gang#nightmare's gang#murder time trio#its not a hc because i personally dont hc killer (or any of the mtt as mute)#SO THIS IS A!#tricule rant
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hear me out on scag x split guys. they both start with "s" it's practically canon.
#labyposting#yes i know split x bive but guys we have other women for the both of them. let's explore!!!#don't bully me on my wheelchair drawing skills i have both never drawn one and also attempted a mashup for it so. no real accurate refs#i also couldn't think of how to attach the claw prosthetic to scag's arm so we got tha arm warmerrrrrrrrrrrrr.#probs will change it at some point cus i don't like it. sigh. more references and studies.#not enough time for that now though i must create lesbians#futch4butch my beloved...#they would be so awesome together guys do you have any idea. DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW??!???!?!??!#someone ask me about them i want to think about their relationship more but im stuggling with ideas. of what to think.#somebody else ship this with me also. i need a friend in these lonely and trying times#cleft lip gamer electric wheelchair butch nonbinary lesbian IT worker and shop owner scag for the win#oh my gooddddd someone PLEAASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#my newest freshest brainrot born straight out of my mind. i'm not going to stop thinking about this.#i want what they have.#ok now i will actually put tags#soz guys i got a little carried away#labyart#my art#regretevator#regretevator roblox#roblox regretevator#regretevator fanart#regretevator art#roblox#roblox art#roblox fanart#fanart#regretevator split#split regretevator#split
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