#as long as i get enough of the words

[salty-software-engineer]

Am I bad at the languages I'm learning or do I just have intensive auditory processing issues.

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Maybe we never had a chance.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bloobydabloob]

Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.

Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.

But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.

The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.

It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.

Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.

I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.

I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Aftermath.

It was an unfortunate truth of reality that heroes were oftentimes a reactive force. They could only respond to what they knew about.

So whenever the heroes uncovered an illegal lab, it typically had a history. Experiments that had been performed there already. Horrors no one in their right mind would want to bear witness to.

But someone had to go through all those records left behind. To risk the worst of humanity’s crimes in search of any potential clues. Often, they found little that was useful. Maybe some closure for the families of the missing, at most. But sometimes, sometimes they did find things. Their work could save lives.

That didn’t change the fact that few in their departments lasted long, and even fewer could ever sleep soundly.

The man took a deep breath and attempted to steel himself. He knew it wouldn’t help.

He clicked on the file anyway.

GIW Research Logs, Project HLFA, subject DP-01, Experiment #0001.

[corpsentry]

briefly

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[choccy-milky]

guys im getting cloras hairclip commissioned and was just sent pics AND IT LOOKS SO GOOOOOOD!!!! 😭😭😭crying pissing shitting throwing up

I FEEL LIKE THE LEONARDO DICAPRIO POINTING AT THE TV MEME.... LIKE HEY!! THATS THE THING!! ITS REAL!!! ill never actually wear it myself but i love collecting cool and sentimental trinkets AAA (thank you to Joinhas on etsy!!) now i just need to buy these official harry potter plushies and my seb and clora merch will be complete

i wanna buy these and swap their scarves💖🥹 (this is what having dogshit selection of official merch does to a person LMFAO....sometimes u just gotta make your own...😔🙏) (due to request, here's clora's hairclip ref, in case anyone else is thinking about commissioning one!)

[deoidesign]

I met the me who made different choices

[s0fter-sin]

pt.3 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here and pt.2 here!

cw mild horror, fear

johnny opens his eyes

or- he thinks he does

it’s completely black, not a speck of light to be found anywhere; certainly not the lantern he’s started keeping on by his bed or the moonlight that should be coming through the curtains

he remembers falling asleep on the couch; he was exhausted after ripping out the fresh carpet from the sitting room, the pristine thing at odds with the smoke stained walls. it didn’t match any of the carpets or rugs in the rest of the house, too modern compared the vintage fittings and, new or not, that bothered him so it had to go

he just hadn’t been expecting the giant brown stain embedded in the hardwood underneath

he was turning over the pros and cons of buying a floor sander if he ever stopped foot off the property again, promising himself he was only resting his eyes for a moment, and before he knew it, he was out

now he doesn’t even know if he’s awake

“ghost?” johnny whispers. his voice echoes strangely; muted like he’s an in enclosed but long space and bouncing off things he can’t even hope to see

he has no idea where he is. he’s not in the basement, not with how dark it is; even the little cloudy window would be a wellspring of light compared to this. it smells damp too; musty with stillness, like not much air gets to it

johnny sets a hand in the soft dirt beneath him and sits up, some kind of cloth falling off his shoulders. he reaches out with shaking hands, searching for any kind of balance - a wall, furniture, something - and slowly gets to his feet

“ghost, you here?”

his fingers meet nothing but open air and he almost tips over. he has no equilibrium, nothing grounding him; the dark so all-consuming, he might as well have not moved at all

air dances over his cheek and he gasps and spins around when a large hand latches around his wrist and johnny hisses as he’s tugged blindly forward

“ghost?” he asks and the hand tightens

he doesn’t know what to do with the relief trying to warm his belly

“hey, slow- slow down, i can’t see,” he gasps, stumbling over the uneven ground. the whole thing bowed and curved, gravel flicking out into the depths with every step like it was carved out by hand and never smoothed out

johnny swallows hard and clutches at ghost’s arm with his other hand

“ghost, can… can we go back upstairs?” he whispers, futilely pulling at his sleeve. something old and animal in him claws at the inside of his skull, baying and screaming that he not raise his voice; to not break this unnatural still darkness too harshly. “please?”

ghost just leads him deeper into the void

until he suddenly stops and johnny covers his mouth to mute the beginnings of the scream ripping from his throat when he runs into his back. he digs his fingers into his cheek, forcing a slow breath through his nose

“…you want to show me something?” he guesses and flinches as the air in front of him rushes like ghost’s moving very quickly. something scratches, like rock on rock, and he flinches as he takes his other wrist and cups his hands around something big

ghost’s hands fall away and johnny reflexively clutches the thing to his chest

“don’t leave,” he begs. “please don’t leave me down here.”

silence

he runs his dry tongue over his lips. “ghost?”

those same hands close around his biceps and johnny all but melts into the body-warmth at his back. ghost smooths down his arms, covering his hands with his, and pulls the thing away from his chest to eye-level

like he expects johnny to be able to see it

the way he can

johnny frowns, rubbing over the thing with his thumb. it’s heavier than he expected from the sound it made along the ground; smoother than the rocks he’s seen around the property and the gravel he kicked around down here

ghost’s chin drops on his shoulder and he jumps, pausing as he rolls into his neck and he can clearly feel the wide grin on his face

he blinks and something makes him press back into him, to try and see him with his body. there’s a cleft in his top lip he’s never noticed before and he’s practically shaking, rocking against his back like he’s trying to urge him to go quicker

johnny spins the rock around in his hands, trying to feel what it is, what would make ghost so - almost childishly - excited. his fingers catch on a crater, shallow and smooth like it’s been carved away. he drags his fingers down and feels another, around the same size. his frown deepens and his fingers slow as he finds another hole, this one going straight into the rock

ghost shifts behind him, his grin widening against his skin and something in johnny curdles, his hair standing on end

it feels like he’s not breathing, the dark so complete it’s stealing the air from his very lungs as he works his fingers down the rock; stuttering when the texture suddenly changes. he hits a fissure, then another, another; curls his fingers underneath and feels it flatten out. strangely familiar grooves run along it before it changes and becomes thinner, becomes sharp-

johnny screams

johnny screams and drops the human skull ghost placed in his hands

he throws himself away from ghost and runs blindly into an earth wall. he scratches at the uneven surface, screams still ripping from his throat and feels wet heat on his fingers as his nails scrape and break. his voice cracks, almost shrieking when ghost’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist and pull him back into his chest

“let me out!” johnny screams, fighting his arms, trying to run but run where it’s too dark- “please, let me out, let me out, please!”

ghost’s body curls over his, effortlessly holding him in place as he wrenches in his grip and wails and /screams/. he presses his face into the side of his head and johnny strains to get away, to stop touching him, to run-

and falters when he feels the contours of his face

ghost isn’t smiling anymore

“please,” johnny sobs brokenly, his legs going out from under him. but ghost tightens his grip and doesn’t let him fall. “let me out… please, i wanna get out. please, please…”

he keeps begging, mindless and panicked and almost screams again when ghost tugs him back a step, his fingers digging into his clothes. he doesn’t want to touch the skull again, he doesn’t want ghost to leave him, he doesn’t want to be lost in the dark-

ghost’s giant hands grip under his thighs, pulling him up and he slings his legs around his waist, burying his face in his throat as he sobs

his weight tilts and johnny flinches as his back suddenly touches dirt, arching up into ghost’s body to get away from it- he doesn’t want to be underground anymore, he doesn’t want to be buried anymore-

ghost wraps an arm under his back, holding him tight to his body, and johnny shrinks even more at the scrape of dirt and brick against the outside of their shoulders as he crawls them through some kind of hole

his weight shifts again, falling into the cradle of ghost’s hips, and he sobs at the feeling of going up

the arm crawling them forward presses against his armpit and johnny cringes at the screech of metal on concrete as ghost shoves something out of the way, involuntarily peeking out behind him

and gasps in pure relief at the moonlight streaming through the basement window; the dim yet powerful light making his eyes ache after so long in such total darkness

he can’t bear to look away from it, even as his eyes twitch and squint, still clinging to ghost as he crawls them across the basement to the stairs. he gets to his feet, not even stumbling with johnny’s added weight, and he strains to keep looking out the window as he climbs up. only when they reach the top step does he wrench his eyes away, desperately searching for the nearest window

and ghost seems to know it; angling him to look out the dining room into the backyard as he carries him to the couch he fell asleep on

johnny keeps his fingers tangled in his hood as he sets him down, holding him close. he doesn’t even try to pull back and he feels him drop to kneel between his legs, compressing himself down the way a man of his size shouldn’t be able to

his breath stutters on an inhale and johnny forces himself to drag his eyes away from the light, to take his first real look at the source of all his terror; the ghost in his walls…

and he’s just a man

his hair has been hacked at, patches ripped out and uneven, too fine to dread but matted together all the same. thinner patches struggle to grow through shiny scar tissue; some blunt and wide, others looking like burns. but beneath the caked in dirt and years of grease… it might be blonde

his hoodie and jeans sit tight and loose in turn like they were bought for the build of a very different man, hiding dirty skin so pale he didn’t even know it was possible, almost /translucent/; veins bright and bulging beneath his skin like he’s never seen sunlight

and with the size and complexity of the cavern under the basement… maybe he hasn’t

but it’s his face johnny gets caught on

his light lashes do nothing to hide the fine scars dug around his eyes, like he scratched at them with his fingernails and after only his short time in the dark, he can guess why he did it. his pupils look permanently dilated, forcing away the deep brown of his irises; unblinking, desperate to take in as much light as possible. more scars cut through his skin, so old and light they almost blend in, difficult to see through the dirt staining his skin

but none of it, the scars, the filth, the uncanny wrongness…

none of it hides how beautiful he is

ghost slowly reaches up and johnny freezes as he brings his thumb to his cheek, wiping through the sticky tear tracks on his skin. it makes his sleeve fall back and his heart seizes at the thick, ragged band of scarring ringing his wrist

he swallows heavily as ghost brings it back to his mouth, sucking his tears from his skin. it splits the cleft in his upper lip wider, splaying over his thumb. ghost doesn’t look away and johnny’s heart beats loud in his ears as he reaches for his hand, tangling his fingers through his own, and lifts it to his mouth

his hand shakes as he gently runs his thumb over his bottom lip, catching on his chapped skin and the smaller scars splitting it, but ghost stops his hand; moving his thumb up to his top lip

the cleft matches up to a thick scar running up his cheek, just skirting his nose and almost meeting his eye and johnny’s violently reminded of the body’s worth of blood stained into the floor of the sitting room

“the sk-…” he falters, a shudder creeping up his spine as he remembers the feel of it in his hands. “the person downstairs; did they do this to you?”

ghost cocks his head and johnny’s thumb slips into his mouth, caressing his inner lip

“did… did they put you down there? in the dark?” he tries again

he sucks at his thumb, a gentle self-soothing pressure

“the couple who used to live here…” johnny breathes, slow with realisation. the couple who lived here for thirty years. the couple the realtor refused to tell him anything about…

“they were your parents.”

but she never said anything about a child

“your parents put you down there,” he repeats and feels sick with grief for a boy he’ll never know. “was… was it your mother?”

ghost rears up on his knees, crawling above him and caging him in against the couch and johnny gasps as he lets out an animalistic snarl in his face, spittle flying onto his cheek

“sorry, i’m sorry, it wasn’t her- it wasn’t her, i know she didn’t do it,” johnny rushes out, flattening himself against the couch and tries to pull his hand away when he presses into it even harder, his thumb pressed to his eye tooth

ghost pants, teeth still bared in a deranged snarl. his mouth twitches, lips slowly falling to cover his teeth. his tongue runs over his lips, gathering the spit from them and tickling the edges of his thumb

“y-your father…?” he tries and his breath catches as he nods

johnny slowly copies him, still pressed back into the couch

ghost’s eyes flicker up at him like he’s checking his reaction and keeps lapping at his thumb, long almost apologetic passes of his tongue as he works down to his palm. he leans in and johnny’s breath stutters as he laves his tongue up his cheek, cleaning up the spit. ghost lets out a low groan, nibbling along his cheekbone and goosebumps prickle his skin

he sinks back down, mouthing a trail down his throat and he shivers as he bites at his collar, tugging it away with his teeth to expose his collarbone

“ghost…” johnny sighs and he pauses

ghost noses at his sternum and sits back on his heels, nuzzling his forehead into his belly as he pulls something from the front pocket of his hoodie

something heavy tumbles out with it but he ignores it in favour of the bundle of cloth ghost pushes into his hands, wrapping his arms around his hips and sinking his chin into his thigh. johnny’s heart sinks as he gently unfolds it, careful of the unthreading edges and torn holes and has to bite his lip hard

it’s a ragged patchwork blanket; hardly big enough to cover a child. and hand embroidered onto it, in faded and dirtied gold thread is a single word

“simon,” he reads, tracing the once-loved letters

simon perks up in his lap, making a gurgling almost purr in the back of his throat; the closest thing to speech he’s heard from him in the month he’s lived here

“your name is simon,” johnny breathes

he thought he considered everything about how he ended up a prisoner in his own house; a serial killer toying with his food, a stalker he never noticed, a random psychopath chomping at the bit for his next victim and johnny was just unlucky enough to draw his attention

but if this is the only thing simon has left, his only proof of before… he’s been down there, left alone in the rotting dark, for decades

since he was a child

“i’m so sorry, simon,” johnny whispers thickly

but simon just frowns

like he’s never heard an apology in his life

johnny presses his eyes shut for a moment, just for a moment; to let himself feel the pain and the fear and the grief, then refolds the blanket just as tenderly as he opened it. he presses it into simon’s chest and his heart catches at the way he hugs it tight, dropping his chin to nuzzle into the fabric

he flinches as he takes his hand in his, jerking back, but johnny keeps hold of him; gently tangling their fingers together and rises to his feet

“come on,” he beckons, walking backwards towards the stairs

simon’s grip tightens around his blanket. but he follows him, up the stairs johnny sprinted down the morning after he first saw him, across the landing with the vents he counted and dreaded walking past, into his bedroom

where it all began

johnny pushes the door wider and riley pops his head up from his dog bed, tensing and about to jump up when he sees simon behind him

“back to sleep, riley-boy,” he soothes and riley droops and burrows straight back under his blanket, nosing it up over his face until only his ears stick out

he smiles and turns back to simon- but it drops when he sees how he’s frozen in the doorway; quick, wide eyes darting around the room. around the master bedroom, clutching his blanket to his chest like he’s afraid of it being stolen

“it’s okay, simon,” johnny promises, rounding him and takes his other hand in his. “he’s not here anymore; you can come in.”

he slowly steps backwards and with the gentlest tug on his hands, simon follows

but lets out an almost involuntary sounding hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting away from the automatic lantern set up on his bedside table

johnny looks between them, at the warm light that’s been his beacon for the last few weeks, and the man he needed that safety from

he holds his breath

and flicks off the lantern

chills immediately creep up his spine; the encroaching shadows smothering him like waves and it’s only simon’s hand in his, the gleam of moonlight catching his eyes, that keeps him above water

johnny squeezes his hand and brings him to the bed, silently coaxing him under the covers. he’s stiff, holding himself so rigid it almost looks painful, and he leaves the covers around his waist, not wanting to make him feel restricted when he’s already so visually unsure

“just like you did for me,” he murmurs, remembering the scrap cloth of a blanket he woke under

simon’s most prized possession

his only possession

simon cocks his head, that same primitive yet studious look in his eyes as he watches him climb in next to him and tug the covers up to his shoulder. he looks at it then the side over his waist, and pulls it up until it covers him up to the neck

johnny can’t help the smile tugging at his lips and sinks deeper into the bed, the blanket riding up higher

until they match

“we’re safe here, simon,” he promises

simon’s wide brown eyes stare back at him and it’s all to easy to lose himself in them

💀🧼

when johnny wakes up, simon is gone; only a dirt-stained imprint of him left on the sheet and pillowcase

and his phone sitting innocently on the side table, beside the lit lantern

[bread-wizards]

The Crown Keeper and Fearne&Orym reunion is going to be very interesting because you have Fearne, who hesitated to take the shard because of the impact seeing dark!Fearne had on her, possibly seeing Opal again.. like this. She gets a front row seat to one of her very good friends heading down that path of corruption that she herself was scared of.

Then you have the Crown Keepers just seeing the toll these last few months have had on Orym and Fearne. I wonder if there would be any guilt from Dorian, knowing he left and came back to such a drastic change.

That Orym did get the answers he was looking for and he is crumbling under the weight of them. That Fearne has had to experience so much more loss and anger in these last few months than she had in over 100 years and she still doesn't know what to do with some of these feelings.

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

Reminder all items are shipped from Poland - for details on shipping times check out FAQ or send me a private message!

 mmezzy.bigcartel.com

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

[its-no-biggie]

okay you know what. ive been thinking about the time between chuuya shooting dazai and dazai revealing himself to fyodor. and ive decided that we were ROBBED. cause like. dazai comes out with a splint on his leg and his shoulder wound *not* bleeding through his shirt. and like, chuuya was RIGHT THERE. he followed right behind dazai when dazai confronted fyodor. so surely. SURELY chuuya helped patch up dazais injuries. at the very least he got the splint for him. and holyyyyy shit does that have potential. like

chuuya visibly dropping the ruse and asking in a panic if dazai is okay. dazai sits up and makes fun of him for being worried and then whines dramatically about the wound in his shoulder. chuuyas like "youre such a pain, i shouldve killed you right then and there" and then settles down next to him to help fix him up.

chuuya is talking while he bandages dazais shoulder (definitely not to distract dazai from the pain. definitely not because he likes talking to dazai. definitely not because hes dealing with a lot of strong emotions and doesnt want to think about any of it. hes doing it to annoy dazai, obviously). probably complaining about having to pretend to be a vampire and how annoying it was, and then dazai makes fun of him for like. his vampire teeth or something, so chuuya scowls and aggressively tightens the bandage to get him to stop laughing (it only partially works, because dazai does stop laughing to yell at him to ease up, but hes still got that glint in his eye. asshole).

chuuya asking if dazai can walk (but not like "omg are you okay???" more like "if you ask me to carry you ill shoot you again") and dazai makes a comment about how he WOULD but SOMEONE was too rough when stopping the elevator and chuuya yells that its not as easy as it looks and maybe next time he'll just let the elevator crash. he still asks him what he needs to do for it though. bonus points if he like. rips a hole in the wall to make the splint. you know he fucking would

they both know they should be hurrying- even without the fyodor thing, they should want to be done with this and get away from each other as quickly as possible, since they /hate each other so much/. but its their first quiet moment in a while (well. not really quiet because theyre literally always bickering. but quiet because neither of them are fighting or dying) and, while they would never admit it, theyre savouring the time together. and if either of them notices how unhurried the other person is, they dont bring it up.

do you get me???? i wanna see them argue like children i wanna see the comforting familiarity of being alone together i wanna see a hint of affection buried under no less than 20 layers of repression GIVE ME THE SOUKOKU CONTENT YOU COWARDS. sigh...... *opens ao3*

[mycological-mariner]

First day of Pride and I just want to shine a light on all the trans people who are unable to transition, especially those who aren’t fresh faced university grads. Those who don’t live in a supportive or even just accepting home or community. Those who aren’t well off, those who aren’t good at or popular enough to crowd fund. Those who can’t afford transitioning. Those who can’t even transition socially or need to stay in the closet for your safety. Those who rely on benefits or unforgiving jobs to just pay the bills. Having to hear day in and day out you’re just GNC, that your pre-transition body is “ugly” and the ways you can express your gender are “cringe.” Every trans person who’s been told they aren’t “trying hard enough”. Those trans people who won’t even get to imagine transitioning for years.

I see you. I love you. You’re so undervalued and under appreciated in a world where being a white, well off 20 year old on HRT and getting surgery is more common to see than people who work full time and just don’t have that privilege. It sucks, so much. But you are loved and you are seen.

Happy Pride Month to trans people who aren’t where they want to be. The world is better with you in it. We all need each other.