#bc she is me fr!
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hinamie · 2 months ago
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post-graduation trip airport looks
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mollyrolls · 3 months ago
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i hope everyone who was hating on eggy reads this and feels bad!
DRUNK WALK HOME
intermission (cont.): names
masterlist
"mom, i'm tired" -class of 2013 by mitski
cw: suicidal ideation, isolation, parental neglect (u can skip this one if u want)
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She doesn't remember a lot from her childhood.
She remembers the night that her father left. She was pressing her ear up against the cold wood of her bedroom door, listening as muffled screams made their way to her. His voice was raw and rough. She held her breath but her eyes still watered. It smelled like cigarettes and a lavender candle. Her window was opened, and she wore Princess Peach pajamas. She remembers the sound of a door slamming, and of her mother wailing.
She remembers sitting alone at the kitchen counter, eating cold leftovers alone in the dark, her feet dangling above the kitchen floor. She remembers getting locked out of her house once and sitting on the cold ground for hours, too tired to cry. She remembers a lot of strange men coming in and out, staying and leaving.
Not their names, though. She could never remember their names. She just called them all 'dad.' It was all the same to her, anyways.
She remembers going hungry in the mornings and finding holes in her coat pockets. She remembers stealing snacks from convenience stores and she remembers how much it hurt when the store attendant caught her and gripped at her wrist. She remembers being good at school because it was the only thing for her to do. She remembers fighting with her friends a lot. She remembers being angry all the time. She doesn't remember ever knowing why.
She remembers on the night of her middle school graduation, she was supposed to die.
It was dark, and she stood at that bridge for hours, staring out beyond it, eyes blurring the ground and the sky, like she was waiting for some kind of sign. She kept checking her phone but no one ever texted her. No one ever called. She sat there until two in the morning, unbothered, untouched.
She remembers feeling disappointed, because there on that bridge, she realized that she didn’t even really want to do it. She just wanted to see if there would be someone to stop her. And there wasn’t.
She remembers that. She remembers going home because it was starting to get cold, and she was too afraid of feeling pain. She went home, and at two-thirty-seven in the morning, she poured herself her first drink.
She remembers that.
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taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @crownj1min @frvppe @mollyrolls @karasyuu @ciderscape @phoenix-eclipses @s1ckntw1st3d @cnnmairoll @soobin1437 @worldgyu @snail-squasher @dragonictears @ferntv @reignsaway @Lisoozi @staygoldsquatchling02 @gsyche @yuminako @spicana @hermaeusmorax @shoyostar @whorefornoodles @hqsimprevival2024 @atsumuenthusiast @lemonocityyy @itsdragonius @robinphobia @aboveasphodel @savemebrazilhinata @lllaw @dreamingofyeo @milesmoralesluvs @miliondollagirl @kitnootkat @soulfullystarry @bows4life
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lungthief · 2 days ago
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sometimes u just gotta remind yourself that while ace attorney is about law and justice and stuff it is also about a bunch of young adults living in [CALIFORNIA]
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soranker · 4 months ago
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98 lovemail doodles >_<
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cosmosnout · 10 months ago
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The real reason Oda had to get rid of her was not for plot convenience, but bc she would have kicked everyone’s ass. (Source: trust me bro)
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theoldkyokodied · 2 years ago
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One wedding and three funerals
Background paintings under the cut
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#tomgreg#succession#tom wambsgans#greg hirsch#shiv roy#roman roy#kendall roy#yeah no im not tagging everyone thats too much#this is me going 'how much implications themes and symbolism can i fit in one painting'#yes i gave rose shivs haircolor. if we ever find out how she looks like and its not like this im just gonna pass away i guess#but yeah i hope yall connect the dots#i put waaay too much thought and work into this. i was googling pictures of all the actors as kids just for reference (sigh)#honestly kinda wanted to make tom and greg link pinkies as like. a pinkie promise. but that was too hard to draw in this angle#at least not without obstructing the view of the ring which is important to see so ya#my fave is actually the tomshiv wedding pic i went off with that. i love them... they should have run away to become sheep farmers fr fr#anyway im so glad im done with this UGH!! finally i can draw smth else without being like oh noooo i need to finish this#i see a lot of you wondering why there is no portrait of logan but one of ewan#it's bc the placement of the painting represent their standing. logans portray would not hang next to the stairs#his present portrait hangs at the end of it. all the way up at the top. alone and withering away#basically the picture you see underneath ewan to the right? its where toms parents would be. the right side of the wall is tom and gregs#and the left one is the roy siblings theirs. since they grew up rich rich. and tom and greg didn't#but ya thats why ewan hangs here and logan does not :)
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kiiingsnake · 9 months ago
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my favorite (very hard to draw) girl
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choccy-milky · 4 months ago
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congrats on baby #2!🥰👍 part 2 to this post bc seb is a smug ass bitch when it comes to getting clora pregnant. and ty @rednite-dork for sending me the original pic ages ago LMFAO... i knew as soon as i saw it that i had to redraw it eventually 👼
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idolomantises · 2 months ago
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Sometimes I get messages about certain dialogue in my comics about how a character is being passive aggressive when I'm just writing them as straight forward and blunt.
idk, as an autistic person who's dealt with genuine harassment several times (including a few months ago) because his straight forward and blunt demeanor was misinterpreted as being "rude", "ungrateful" and "bitchy", its just kind of interesting seeing people interpret dialogue in a more hostile way.
it's not a complaint, i prefer those fictional interpretations over terminally online twitter users who need to be coddled over everything but it is kind of fascinating seeing how people interpret certain dialogue.
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petalsonthemoonligh · 6 months ago
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Katniss after Peeta’s hijacking: He’s gone. Whatever was between us is gone. We’re over.
Also Katniss whenever HijackPeeta! hits on another girl: back the FUCK UP, blue eyes. You’re still my man, you can’t have eyes for another girl.
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tasty-ribz · 5 months ago
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Last drawing before my holiday trip
enjooooy
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hinamie · 3 months ago
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u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j
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he's with his 2 best friends
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unpersoniverse · 2 months ago
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Skén:nen sá:sewh
as promised, here's Precious boy™ getting kissed by Precious wife™ because he deserves all the love in the world :cc
translation: Get home safe
#nobody translate the file name#nah but home girl is the strongest soldier let me tell you#imagine date/being married to an assassin fr I would loose my mind#I'm such a sucker for the friends to lovers trope ok hear me out#Girlie is an ally to the assassin's and that's how she meets Connor and they become friends because Ratonhnhaké:ton deserves more friends o#she is VERY smart knows how to stand her ground but also very sweet and funny he respects and admires her a lot and so does she#she's from another displaced kanien'kehá:ka clan they bond really close sooner than later the feeling just blooms everyone's knows but THEM#until prob the recruits and the people in the homestead get tired of these oblivious fools in love and plot to finally get them together#I headcanon Connor didn't settle down completely until they were expecting their first child like they both panicked when they realized#I mean they're already married and stuff but still our girl is all over the place bcs she's scared of something happening to him or the bby#and connor acts cool and leveled on the outside but he's just a whirpool of emotions on the inside as well it's really funny to watch#they probably broke down in tears from both laughter and fear but they are amazing parents we are certain of it :')#I want their dinamic to be like that mainly because Connor deserves some light and laugh in his life after all the things he went through#connor i'm in love with your wife#ratonhnhaké:ton#connor kenway#connor's mistery wife#ac 3#assassin's creed#oc#the way you can tell I almost never draw men just from this sketch 💀#my art
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artist-rat · 7 months ago
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realised i haven't really posted a proper pic of my durge. so here's Tavis/Noon :} she fluctuates between being a menace of macabre whimsy and a menace with hubris burning like a thousand suns
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candyje11yfish · 8 days ago
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slight redesign. love her🩻🩸
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lovesickeros · 1 year ago
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☆ even the gods bleed
{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k
What was justice?
Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.
She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.
How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?
She does not know.
Perhaps she may never know.
What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.
It is a mockery of it.
She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.
The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.
Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.
For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.
Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.
She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner �� the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.
She understands, now.
She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.
Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.
Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.
But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..
..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.
Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.
Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.
The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.
Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.
What does she have left to lose?
She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.
Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.
Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.
Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.
Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.
..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.
Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.
Probably.
Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.
Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.
Then again, neither was treason.
Well, first time for everything, right?
It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.
..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.
She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.
But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.
..How was she going to prove it?
An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.
And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!
After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.
The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.
She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.
"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.
She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.
"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.
"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"
She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.
"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"
Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.
To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.
Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.
She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.
The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.
"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."
She does not hesitate to agree.
"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"
He doesn't deign to respond.
It only makes her fume more.
Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.
"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.
She suddenly felt out of place.
..What was she supposed to be doing?
As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..
"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."
Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.
Neuvillette, for his part..
Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.
He cannot hear the rain, anymore.
..It must have stopped.
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