#been drawing a lot of sad things lately and nothing else really so here is a compilation of my newest character

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[justwosoimagines]

Silent Sidelines

Pairing: Kelley O'hara x F!Reader, Natasha Romanoff (Mother) x F!Reader (Daughter), Wanda x Natasha, Carol (brief) x F!Reader, Tony Stark (Father) x F!Reader (Daughter) Warnings: trauma, age gap (F!Reader is in her early 20's and her lovers in their late 20's and early 30's), angst. Wordcount: 3231. A/N: So, I'm trying to ease back into writing and this is my first try, my idea is to be a two or three chapter fic with something I thought of some years ago. Let me know what you think. Fic mastelist

Life is not as easy as it once was for me, but that doesn't mean I don’t enjoy what I have now.

To most people, you could say I’m living a dream — and actually, that’s true. I’m living the dream that a lot of little girls have while growing up in the US after the '99 Women’s World Cup. I’m a promising soccer star for the National Team, even though I’m still college-aged, and I have a gorgeous girlfriend who supports me and stands by my side every step of the way.

So why do I feel so... lost?

I don’t even know if lost is the right word to describe what I’m feeling, you know? I have a 3.8 GPA at Stanford University. I’m their top striker. I’m also a striker for the USWNT. By any measure, I have what people would call the perfect life.

The only problem is: I don’t really have it.

I’m living day by day, constantly waiting for the moment when everyone will find out that I’m a fraud. I’m terrified of losing everything I’ve built here — my future, my love, my life in California.

“I love watching the sunset with you,” Kelley O’Hara, my girlfriend, says, looking into my eyes. I smile and rest my head on her shoulder.

It’s the kind of moment that doesn’t need a reply.

Watching the sunset with her, while the waves break gently on the shore, is pure peace. I glance at her — she’s smiling softly, eyes nearly closed. I breathe in her scent, and in an instant, I’m wrapped in a bubble of love.

Meeting Kelley was one of the best things that happened to me last year. I met her on my first day at USWNT camp, and she was… something else. She brought peace into my chaos. When I’m with her and she cracks a joke, it’s like nothing else matters. She makes me feel safe.

Kelley has been my anchor since day one. I love how full of herself she is — in the best way. She’s confident. She knows her power and how to use it. She’s smart and kind. Sweet and attentive. She’s everything I ever dreamed of.

She hands me a cup of cinnamon coffee, and I breathe it in. That comforting smell means everything to me.

Coffee became our thing. We learned how to use different machines and savor different blends together. It was our silent “I love you.” Every time we brewed a cup, it felt like home.

“You’re so quiet today,” she says, drawing circles on my arm with her fingers.

“I’m thinking about ghosts from my past.”

Her breath catches. It’s rare for me to bring up my past — and I know it makes her a little sad. Not in a needy or obsessive way, but because she genuinely cares. She’s patient. She waits.

“This next camp… in New York… I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to go. It’s been years since I left, and I don’t know if I’m ready to be back.”

“I know it can be hard to return to a place you once called home. I don’t think it’ll be easy, but I’ll be with you through it all.”

“Thanks, Kell.”

I wish I could tell her why I’m so afraid to go back to New York.

I wish I could explain why I don’t want to see my parents again — or the people they call family.

But I can’t.

I can’t tell her anything because it’s classified. That was my deal with Nick Fury. He promised to erase my existence if I never talked about my past.

And at the time, that felt like a pretty good deal for a broken young adult desperate to cut ties with the only life she’d ever known.

(…)

“You know, I’ve always loved New York,” Alex Morgan tells me. She found me on the hotel rooftop, staring out at the city lights. “I love how it’s so similar to California — full of possibilities and dreams — and yet so different at the same time.”

“Do you want to live here someday?”

“No, I don’t think it’s the kind of city where you settle down and build a family. My plan is to live with Serv in Florida. We’re building our home there, near a lake in Fort Lauderdale.”

She smiles, lost in thought, her eyes full of tenderness — the kind that makes me long to have something like that with Kelley someday.

“But you grew up here, right? What was it like?” Alex asks.

“Oh.” Her question pulls me back to a time when I still believed in a better world — a world where everything was possible, where anything could be made real. “It was... a lot.”

“A lot?” She leans on the parapet, giving me space but still waiting for more.

“Yeah. I mean… my parents — they were, they are — something else. They worked 24/7. Always fighting some internal or external battle. Sometimes, they were so consumed by fear that they forgot how to actually be parents. I grew up hearing all the things I wasn’t allowed to do... while watching them do those very same things.”

I stop looking at her and glance toward the street below. A mural catches my eye — street art of Black Widow and Iron Man painted on a nearby wall — and I let out a soft scoff.

“Sometimes, when everything got to be too much, I’d run away and go there.” I point toward the mural. "In my early teens, it was my place. A place to feel and create — to pour myself into art.”

“Wow. You don’t talk about your parents much,” she says, eyes still on the mural. “Are they coming to the game next week?”

“No. And yeah... I don’t really talk about them.”

I don’t answer the second part of her question because, truthfully, I don’t think they even know I’m in the city.

We haven’t spoken since the day I left — while they were off on yet another “work” trip I wasn’t allowed to go on.

The rooftop door swings open, and I smell her perfume before I see her. I smile.

“There you two are,” Kelley says, wrapping her arms around me. “The girls are waiting for us. Team bonding time.”

“Well, let’s go then,” Alex says, shooting me a look before walking ahead.

Kelley laces her fingers with mine and leans closer. “Everything okay?”

I just nod.

(…)

“So today we’re doing media day,” you hear your coach say, standing in front of the team.

The girls cheer — they love media day. You, on the other hand, are already thinking of ways to get out of it. But before your brain can come up with a good excuse, the coach keeps talking:

“This time, we’re doing things a little differently. As you probably know, the Avengers aren’t exactly enjoying the best public image right now, so they asked if we could help them out with some PR.”

And just like that, your stomach drops.

They know.

They know you’re in New York.

They know you’re with USWNT.

And now, after all these years, you’re going to have to face them again.

Because there’s no way out of media day if it involves the Avengers — not with the Federation watching.

“Oh my God!” Sonnett screams. “We’re meeting Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?! How’s this gonna work, coach?”

“Great question, Emily. So, they’ve got a soccer field at the compound — well, technically the Tower. They’ve invited us over to do a tour, play some soccer, show off some tricks... we’ll also be doing interviews.”

“WE’RE GOING TO THE AVENGERS TOWER!” Mal Pugh screams this time.

You let your head drop onto the table with a groan. Nobody thinks anything of it — you always get grumpy on media day.

“Alright girls,” the coach continues. “Wrap up coffee in ten minutes max, we’re heading out in thirty.”

You glance at Kelley. There’s sorrow in your eyes, and though she doesn’t fully understand it, she doesn’t ask questions either. She knows something’s wrong — and she trusts you’ll talk when you’re ready.

Just before you leave the dining area, you lean into her and whisper,

“I’m sorry for today.”

And she squeezes your hand.

(…)

On the bus ride to the Tower — your old home — the girls are hysterical, talking loudly about who will get to interview who. Emily is already making plans to join the Avengers. Even Becky jokes that she wants to try lifting Thor’s hammer.

You sit in silence, your eyes occasionally drifting to the window, to the road you’ve taken countless times — driving, running, flying. You know the way like the back of your hand, and yet, you feel like a stranger to it.

Kelley sits beside you and wraps you in her arms.

“What did you mean when you said you’re sorry, baby?”

“I don’t want you to find out with the others,” you say quietly. “I already know them. I lived there for a long time… before moving to California.”

“What?” Her surprise is clear.

“I’m sorry I never told you. It’s just… that part of my life is something I’ve tried to forget.”

“So… were you some kind of Avenger?” she asks playfully, a small smile forming as she tries to lift the weight from your chest. “Did you go on missions? Have a superpower or something?”

She laughs and tickles you, and you can’t help but laugh too.

“Stop it, Kel!”

You take a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just… if something goes wrong, or if they act like they used to — the way I remember — I don’t want you to be surprised along with everyone else. I don’t want you to feel like I betrayed you.”

“Y/n,” she says, cupping your cheek, her voice steady. “Even if you hadn’t told me a single thing, I still wouldn’t feel betrayed. I love you, no matter what. And if any of them make you uncomfortable — powers or not — I’ll kick their asses.”

Her voice is calm but fierce. She means it.

Your eyes shine with unshed tears, but instead of crying, you lean in and kiss her softly.

“I love you too, Kel.”

(…)

Arriving at the tower, you were met by none other than Pepper Potts at the entrance, flanked by two men and one woman in black suits. You found it funny that she was acting like a public relations officer now. The media staff from the team were the first to get off the bus, setting up cameras to record everyone’s arrival.

“You okay?” Kelley asked you before either of you had the chance to stand up and leave the bus.

“I’ll be okay, Kel. Try to enjoy this���I think you’ll like it,” you replied, preparing to step into your old home.

Everyone gathered in front of Pepper while you stayed back, trying to go unnoticed by the people you once knew. Behind Pepper stood Maria Hill, Deputy Director of SHIELD—and your mentor for a few years.

“Welcome to Avengers Tower, girls. Today we’ve prepared some fun activities for you, including a tour of the tower, a little soccer match, and a Q&A session with the Avengers. I’m Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, and as you all know, since Stark Industries is one of the primary funders of the tower, I’ll be guiding you through the tour alongside some of the Avengers.”

After Pepper explained the day’s schedule, everyone was led to the security area to be granted access to the tower. With a group of almost forty people, you managed to avoid drawing attention to yourself—although Maria Hill was glancing at you more often than you’d have liked.

Kelley stayed by your side as much as possible, like a bodyguard, and Alex, sensing something was off, joined you as well—mirroring her best friend. You were grateful for them. It looked good for the media, as if you were interacting with your teammates, and it helped your sanity too—so you didn’t have to speak to any of the Avengers or SHIELD staff.

“Now we’re entering the perimeter of the tower. From here on, we have triple surveillance to guarantee the safety of our weapons, technology, and personnel,” Pepper said with her usual polished tone. You knew she was downplaying things. The team didn’t, so they were understandably in awe of everything around them.

“Pepper, how many floors does the tower have?” Alyssa Naeher asked, curiosity in her voice.

“93 floors in the main tower,” Pepper answered. The girls all looked a bit shocked. “So, to really start our tour, we’ll be separating you into four groups so you can enjoy it more and ask questions. Anyone want to help me divide the groups?”

“Yes,” the coach said, stepping up. “Alright girls, the staff will be split into two groups, and the captains and keepers will go with them. As for the rest, the ten names I call will be in one group, and the others in a second group, okay? Kelley, Alex, Y/N, Emily, Lindsey, Mal, Christen, Tobin, Sam, and Rose—you’re one group.”

“Okay, let’s head to the conference room. Each group will start their tour from there with a guide,” Pepper said, beginning to walk into the building for real now. That made you catch your breath—because you knew a very gossipy, nosy AI was already watching.

(…)

You were overwhelmed, to say the least. On the walk to the conference room, you saw too much. For the girls, it was just a lot of new information and some crazy tech. But for you, it was your past life. The paintings on the walls, the tech you helped develop at some point, the corridors you used to wander when you felt pressured, when you felt trapped.

Kelley noticed you were starting to freak out—over-breathing, scanning every wall. She also noticed how your posture had shifted, more rigid, like that of a soldier. Very similar to the woman standing next to Pepper, whose identity they didn’t yet know. Being back in what you once called home was messing with you, and Kelley could feel it.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom or get out of here? I can say you’ve got a headache or something,” she whispered into your ear, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as you walked.

“It’s just a lot, Kel. I just need a minute to breathe,” you told her, catching Hill watching the interaction with interest. She quirked an eyebrow when she saw you notice.

“WOW,” Alex said as you entered the conference room.

The place looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—a futuristic hall filled with holograms, screens, and every kind of tech imaginable. A group of people stood around a table, chatting over some maps. You recognized them instantly. The people you once called family. The same people who shattered the person you once were.

The Avengers stopped talking as soon as the team entered the room. With a simple motion of his fingers, Tony made the maps disappear. Standing there were Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Thor, and Carol Danvers—the world’s most famous heroes, standing right in front of you all.

“Guys, meet the Avengers,” Pepper said, stepping forward to break the silence.

“I think they broke,” you heard Maria whisper to Natasha, who chuckled softly.

The girls were clearly trying not to scream, and you could see it. So could the Avengers. Being Tony, he decided to break the tension and steal the spotlight.

“Welcome to Avengers Tower. I hope Pepper’s treated you well. As you may know, I’m Tony Stark—or Iron Man, if you prefer.” And just like that, he called his suit and began suiting up right in front of everyone.

You rolled your eyes at him showing off.

“OMG!” Sonnett said, flabbergasted. “I wanna be just like him! Tony, can I try a suit?”

“Of course not, Emily,” Becky replied, amused.

“Yes, kid, unfortunately I can’t let any of you try one. After all, they’re weapons—dangerous ones. But I can let you try to lift Thor’s hammer before we start the tour,” Tony offered, and the girls went wild. Thor looked a bit uneasy about it but eventually called Mjolnir over.

“Okay, ladies, who’s trying first?” Thor asked, while the Avengers watched the chaos unfold, clearly amused.

“Me,” Alex said. She walked to the center of the room, where the hammer sat on a table, and tried to lift it. It didn’t move. Pinoe laughed and tried next—with the same result.

“Come on, I know I can lift it,” Becky said, but she couldn’t budge it either. After several minutes of laughing and failed attempts, the only one who hadn’t tried was you.

You weren’t going to. You tried to stay quiet. But Mal saw you, nudged Rose, who told Sam, who told Emily—and Emily never backed down from a challenge.

“Your turn, Y/N. I know you’re stronger than us, but can you lift it?” she said.

“Uh...” You lowered your eyes, trying to stay invisible to certain heroes. “I don’t think I’ll manage it either.”

“Now, now, Lady Y/N—you must try,” Thor said, and your heart clenched. You missed him. Thor wasn’t always around when you were growing up, caught up in Asgardian duties, but he was one of your anchors when you were drowning.

“I don’t know...” you said again, trying to deflect.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” The girls started chanting your name. Before it could escalate further, you stood up—finally peeling yourself away from the chair you’d nearly melted into. Kelley squeezed your hand as if to say, You’re okay. I’m here.

You knew things would get even weirder after this.

You walked to the front and stopped in front of Thor. Looking into his eyes, you tried to show how much you missed him. He pulled you into a hug, and the girls screamed—he hadn’t hugged anyone else. A tear threatened to fall, but you wiped it away on his shirt.

You spotted Carol—the only other Avenger you still trusted. She smirked, silently challenging you to lift the hammer. You knew she’d come close once. Steve tensed slightly; he knew you, and he feared what you were capable of.

You looked at the girls, then the Avengers. You placed your hand on the hammer, steadying it—and then, as if it weighed nothing, you lifted it. Effortlessly.

You grinned, flashing a victorious smile at Carol and Thor before walking over to Kelley with Mjolnir in hand.

“See, baby? I think I’m the new Asgardian Queen, huh?” you said playfully.

The other Avengers were visibly unsettled. The girls couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Kelley laughed with you.

“Only if I can be by your side, my queen,” she replied, giving you a quick kiss. The two of you took a selfie, Mjolnir included.

Thor approached you, pride glowing in his expression. He didn’t say much — he knew better. He simply said it was a rare thing and that you were worthy. You smiled but couldn’t bring yourself to look at Natasha or Tony — your so-called parents — who now looked completely out of place.

[nomlioart]

this post is so out of the blue, but we need to talk about something-

Hi! uhh long time no see I know- 😭 but I've been really busy lately and before that I went through a tough time again (as usual, nothing out of the ordinary), so I apologize for my inactivity here.

But this is not the main reason I want to talk about, otherwise I wouldn't be making this post. It's about some.. recent incidents that have been going on lately, and trust me, a pretty large group of people from the PT community know what I mean, I found out about it recently myself...

So this is about a certain person whom I want to leave anonymous (for her safety). I'm aware she has ADHD and autism. Usually she would dm several people (mostly minors from what I know) and the main part of those conversations were her venting, slandering herself and frequent mentioning of wanting to hurt herself, which is why many of these people often felt discomfort by it.

And I was one of those people. Don't get me wrong, I've known her for over a year and I really liked her company, she has always been there for me in difficult situations and I appreciate her for that, she has helped me many times but... There were moments when I felt strong discomfort and as the conversations with her continued it was getting worse.. So she often talked about werepep, which is not a bad thing actually, I always listened because I am interested in other people's interests so yeah. Also she often showed her fanfics and I must admit that the way she wrote them was quite good.

BUT the beginning came when she wanted me to draw werepep stuff for her, at first I agreed because I don't see anything wrong with it but later she increasingly insisted that I draw such things more often, it was hard for me to refuse because I didn't want to hurt her in any way and she had a tendency to get quite negatively depressed. There was also a moment when she wanted me to make a comic about werepep, but I was so swamped with school and my other problems that I couldn't finish it, also because I had no more motivation for it. I told her that I probably wouldn't be able to finish the comic and I apologized to her for that, and it seemed to me that she took it well at first. But later she started mentioning this comic again, something like 'it's sad there's no one to do the comic for me' and honestly it sounded a bit to me like she was upset at me for not doing it.

She also used to vent to me about people not wanting to talk to her or being angry that she vented to others in dms. For example, there was a situation where she sent me screenshots of how a mod from one server confronted her because she was dming people much younger than her, venting to them (it was the first time i found out she was 30 btw-). Of course at first it worried me for quite obvious reasons but she assured me that nothing sexual had happened, of course I believe her, she would never do something like that.

And maybe it's just me but I felt like she was... stalking me a lot-. Cause every time I appeared active, she did the same after literally a few seconds and immediately dms me smth-. Or she often commented on my avatar changes on discord but as I say, maybe i'm just paranoid. 😭

And from our conversations it would probably be mainly that what I wanted to say, if I remembered something I would edit the post or reblog smth to it.

But there is something else I found out a few days ago.

So in short, I found out from 3 people that she was dming them about me, mostly because she was worried about me because I was in a serious condition at that time, however, to one of these people she sent them screenshots of our conversations on an ongoing basis, mainly those with very personal topics, namely my personal life at home or my difficult home situation. I was shown these screenshots but I don't really want to show them here, I hope you will believe me without showing them. And I understand that she cares about me and I really appreciate it, but sending our conversations to others especially my personal life is seriously wrong. Especially to people I don't even know and they don't know me, and in this way these people are also hurt because it's hard to react to such messages and you can get confused and uncomfortable. When I found out about it I was hoping that I had imagined it... Now, I don't tell a large group of people about my personal problems, only trusted mutuals or my friends, and I took her into account that I could trust her with this...

So to sum it all up, she's NOT a bad person, she just has serious mental health issues that she should consult a professional about immediately, because friends can't always be there for you, yes, they can try to help you somehow but it's worth remembering that they themselves are not specialists, especially people much younger than you... ://

And if the person I'm talking about ever sees this post, I want you to know that I don't hate you, but quite the opposite. I wish you the best, and it would be best if you took a break from the internet for a while and got help from experienced people, you need it, you deserve to experience peace and know that I want to support you in this, but in my opinion you need a really long break to organize all your thoughts, I am learning the same thing and I wish the same to you.

[bl00dboundbaby]

Summertime Sadness - A Tate and Violet fic

Warnings:

Angst, toxic relationship (duh), smoking, suicide, the normal stuff for them lol.

WC: 2.5k

Synopsis: Months after the events of MH, Violet is lonely and feels like she's suffocating, and theres only one person who can dull the ache in her chest.

A/N: First fic on this account!! :) I know no one writes for them but someone does now lol. Requests are open!!

(I will properly edit this tmw, I'm too tired rn.) Please don't mind any spelling mistakes, I am dyslexic.

It’s widely accepted that people who take their own life will suffer in Hell for the remainder of their afterlife.

Violet Harmon had come to realize that maybe there was truth in that, but that Hell is not fiery pits or repenting for your Sins till your throat is dry and bleeding.

Hell is living the same day over and over again, Hell is watching your parents slowly lose themselves, Hell is having to pretend you don’t hear the cries and pleads of your ex-boyfriend.

–

It had been eight months since Violet had spoken to Tate, not that time really mattered anymore, now that she was dead.

She heard him though, almost nightly, he would be in the basement, crying or screaming. She cursed the house's old vents which let her hear everything. Some nights, it just sounded like the pipes crying, or at least, she pretended that’s what it was.

The worst nights were the ones when she could feel him near her, outside her door, waiting. Completely silent but she knew he was there. Maybe it was something he was doing on purpose, but it unsettled her that she could precisely feel him in the house, no matter where he was, she knew.

Most of Violet's days were parallel to when she was alive, spent in her room listening to music, drawing, re-reading the books on her shelves, always alone.

It had been okay for the first few months, her parents had pretended to care about her, and about each other. In a lot of ways it felt like they were cosplaying as the perfect family, that quickly faded and back to their sense of normalcy they went.

Violet liked being left alone, at least that’s what she told herself, people annoyed her most of the time. It’s not like she had many choices of whom to spend her time with anyway.

There was only one person in the house who wasn’t completely and utterly annoying to Violet, and that boy stood outside her door.

The floor creaked outside her room, taking her attention away from the over-read book in her hands. She knew it was Tate. No one else checked on her anymore.

Sometimes she would play out different scenarios in her head about what would happen if she opened the door, or if he came into her room.

Did she even want him around? No, is what she’d say if anyone ever asked her. Truthfully the sick and weak part of her brain, the part that was just so tired of being lonely, wanted him. So bad.

A sickly ache sat in her chest since the day he first left her alone, no matter what she did, the ache grew and sat heavier. There was one person who could ease that ache away, it was him. It would always be him, and there was no worse fate.

Somewhere in the passing of time, that ache became too much for her to handle, she knew that at one point or another, he made her better.

That didn’t matter now, who made who better, in this house nothing like that mattered. They would all fall into deluded states, her parents had been slipping lately. It was only a matter of time before she lost her grip on reality.

—-

A bird, a beautiful bird, sat on the porch steps next to Violet.

For midsummer in LA, it was cold outside, which felt incredible against her skin. The comforting breeze also served as a harsh reminder that no matter how long she stayed here, she would never see the leaves slowly change colour like they did in the town she grew up in.

So much life she’d never get to live, so many things she’d never see. She could blame the house, her parents, even Tate, but it was her fault, no one forced her to take those pills.

Her hair blew in the wind slightly, she was thankful for her layers. Amidst the silence she shared with the bird, she felt him. He was watching her, this was previously their spot, she liked coming out here, it was the farthest she could get from the house.

Sometimes it made that ache gnaw at her chest more than usual, if she sat with that feeling too long she could recall every detail about their time together, sitting on the porch was like torture sometimes, but Violet didn’t mind. Anything that made her feel something was welcomed.

Maybe it was a good reminder that even in death she still was herself, feelings and all.

Maybe that’s why she never began to slip, like her parents.

Or, maybe, just maybe, the house had something against her and her punishment was eternal misery.

The feathered companion flew away, into the world once again.

Tate took a step forward, closer to Violet. He wouldn’t do anything, he had begged and pleaded with her far too many times to still be naive enough to assume she would grant him a response.

‘’A robin. Are those still your favorite?’’ Her soft lips moved, her body didn’t. She stared into the night sky.

Tate’s whole world felt like it came back into place when he heard her voice, so many things he wanted to tell her came crashing into his mind.

‘’Yeah.’’ Another step forward.

Silence weaved its way around them again, if they closed their eyes they could pretend this was just another night spent together, hanging out like normal teenagers do.

Violet spoke up again, her voice tighter. ‘’My parents are slipping. They don’t realize time is even passing, they’re just…there.’’ She picked at her nail polish, Tate could see enough of her to realize what she was doing, a nervous habit she had. Admittedly it was one of her better habits.

‘’Yeah.’’ With his whole body tense, he sat beside her. They weren’t close enough to touch, but that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he was here, and she wasn’t moving away.

‘’At least they don’t fight with me anymore, they don’t even notice me now.’’ Her tone was laced with a bittersweet angst.

‘’Yeah.’’

‘’Can you stop fucking say that?’’

‘’Sorry.’’

The tension felt like it was moments away from snapping, mixed emotions ran through both of their chests.

Words strung together in her head, but before she could speak them he beat her to it.

‘’I shouldn’t be here.’’ His voice was whisper-like, as if he spoke too loud the silence of the night would steal his words.

‘’No, you shouldn’t.’’

Violet waited, waited for something she wasn’t sure of. Was he going to leave? Try and apologize again? She couldn’t stomach more of his victim act.

‘’Wanna smoke and bitch about something?’’ She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her cardigan, a lighter following suit. Tate’s shoulders relaxed slightly, her words seemed genuine. His head swam with questions, but he’d take this, he’d take anything she gave him.

‘’uh, yeah, what?’’ He took a cigarette from the pack, careful not to brush his hand against hers.

‘’You spend everyday in the basement, I’m sure you’ve heard things. Tell me a story, Tate.’’ The way his name fell off her tongue made his chest heavy, filled with desire for what they could’ve had.

She turned to look at him, her eyes so sullen it was a jarring change to the anger he had come familiar with seeing.

All she wished of him was to talk, and suddenly he couldn’t even do that. Nothing of interest had happened, or well, he hadn’t listened to it, he had been a bit preoccupied with sulking. She was the only interesting part of the house anymore.

He took a minute to think, trying to come up with something at least semi interesting to get her to stay.

‘’You remember those gay guys? Yeah..’’He trailed off into a speel about some stupid argument they had gotten into, and it was at that moment Violet's aching went away.

As the night progressed she silently moved towards him, eventually she lent her head on his shoulder. It really was just like before. It felt so nice to play pretend every once in a while.

—

After the sun came up, Violet wordlessly walked inside and went back to ignoring him.

Last night should’ve been enough to soothe the ache in her chest, even for a while.

But like anything used to dull pain, she wanted more.

She felt worse, the more she thought about the night, and how he makes her feel, like maybe, being stuck here isn’t as bad as it once sounded.

She spent the day listening to cd’s and staring out her window, thinking. She was doing so much of that recently, she missed when Tate was the reason she didn’t have to think, she could just feel. He had made her feel everything, and she craved any sense of normalcy, even if that came with feelings of downcast.

No matter how long she spent looking through her window, she knew Tate would never come and check on her, in fear of upsetting her, she imagined. He hadn’t come to her door, not up the stairs or anything. He had locked himself in the basement, then again she wasn’t any better, alone in her room.

—

It was early morning, that type of morning that's foggy and gray when the yelling started.

Violet hadn’t heard that yelling in months, the type that only people who’ve known each other for years can do, the deep cutting and rough shouts. Her parents were fighting, for just a second in her groggy state she felt normal. Funny how a screaming match between two grown adults can do that.

Soon she adjusted to being awake again and tip-toed over to her bedroom door, trying to hear what they were throwing a tantrum about. As soon as she heard her own name, her throat went dry.

‘’You’re the reason Ben, the reason she’s dead! The reason we’re all stuck here for fucking ever.’’

‘’You’re blaming me for our daughter killing herself? That's a new low. Violet would’ve killed herself no matter what we did, she was broken and sad. That’s our fault Vivien. Believe it or not, you and your great parenting are included in that.’’

She was broken and sad, is that all they thought about her? She was just some dumb sad kid with no reason to live?

Was she that unimportant that her own parents couldn’t see past her gloom?

The yelling went on, this time she forced herself to walk away from the door and sat on her floor. Was this really how she’d have to spend forever? Alone and watching her parents go from brainless to arguing. In retrospect she supposed it wasn’t that different from her life when she was alive.

Before she even felt them spring to the surface, tears raced down her face.

Violet felt like she was suffocating.

Maybe she was just a broken and sad girl, forever stuck in this place with no one to talk to.

As the tears poured in such a way that seemed as if they'd never stop, a knock sounded on the door. Soft and patient. She didn’t wipe away the tears, she didn’t try and pretend she was okay, she knew who it was, and he would never believe her.

‘’Come in.’’ Her voice wavered slightly.

Tate quickly opened the door and immediately went down to the floor, grabbing her hands away from her face and holding them. He didn’t think about any of it, their past, the fights, how angry she had been with him. None of that mattered when she was upset and he could fix it if she would just let him. He could make her better, if only a little. She made him better so many times, it was his turn.

‘’Oh, Violet.’’ A sob spilled from her chest at his words, she wanted, so badly, to be disgusted by him. She waited for that feeling of pure disdain to take over her body and mind, but there was nothing. She just wanted him to hold her, hold all her broken parts like he had done so many times before. She tilted her head forward, pressing their foreheads together in embrace. The small movement, the touch she had — it was all that mattered to Tate.

‘’I’m so scared.’’ Her lips trembled as she spoke, her body shook. It was something she had never admitted aloud before. She noticed Tate’s breath on her face, the soft and familiar smell of his sweater, and the way his skin felt on hers. The ache tightened, and her throat followed.

Turning his head up, Tate placed a small kiss on top of her head in response. There was no verbal answer he could’ve given that would’ve fixed any of what she was feeling, he knew that first hand. Being stuck in this Hell House was scary, but she had made it easier for him, he only hoped he could make it easier for her, too.

‘’What do you want from me, Vi?’’ He had asked as if it was a simple question, like she could explain exactly what she wanted, like it was even possible. At his soft words she cried harder. She’d never have what she truly wanted, not in this house, not with him.

‘’Hold me.’’ Violet’s voice was desperate, lingering on pathetic with the way she looked at him, trying to hold on to any emotions she felt.

He did so without a second thought, just like she knew he would.

Tate was holding a broken girl and trying so desperately to fix her, stitch her back up, he found a sick satisfaction in it. After all this time, she still came back to him. She would always come back to him. He now knew that for sure.

For how long they would be trapped in this shit hole, this cycle would repeat.

He would inevitably say something to piss her off, she would banish him, he would spiral and self-destruct, she would realize she didn’t want to be alone, and being with anyone is better than being completely isolated.

Rinse and repeat.

Maybe they were doomed, or maybe they were better off than most ghosts left in the walls and forgotten to time, because at least Tate and Violet liked each other, even if that was only sometimes.

[evilmagician430]

i want to draw P.I.E. in the mid/late 2000s so bad just like as a friend group of lame ass teenagers/young adults... they would make such a good fashion doll lineup here's my thoughts so far

warning long as fuuuck

emo (more than usual) ghost just beginning his transition, not on hormones yet but doing everything else he can to appear manly

scene/raver toast big enjoyer of the night life and being tacky and sloppy drunk makeouts with his gf at da clubbbb he's in what feels like the prime of his life and doing lots of drugs tbh actually really sad but he's not sober long enough to think about it usually.

when him and Mary get married things get worse because he tries to clean up his style a bit but is still very much addicted to substances and also the tension between them grows because she kinda knows he'll never love her like he loves his childhood best friend and i don't blame her for that that's honestly a tragic situation to be in for both of them. after she dies toast kind of takes that as a sign to clean up his act and leave his past lifestyle behind so it never happens again. he is very ashamed of this point of his life but one can't deny his drip is impeccable and the music was bumpinnnn

speaking of Mary i've been thinking about her more lately and i know some people would make her out to be a jealous evil wench in the way of the awesome yaoi (stupid and obviously misogynistic) and now more people portray her as this glamorous woman who was free of sin and did nothing wrong (no shade to people who do this also im exaggerating in both examples anyways lol. but i think this end of the spectrum is also boring and can be misogynistic as well even though definitely intended the opposite way)

i think my interpretation of Mary is somewhere inbetween these 2 because i really wanna try and make her more interesting. im not better than anybody else but i want to try and innovate if that makes sense. not that nobody else has written her as a nuanced character im sure it's been done and I love 2 see it. also at the end of the day it's not really serious it's not about who's the best at playing toys it's just whatever we personally see in these characters and want to convey

anyways i think mary was sort of homophobic but only towards her husband and his best friend because she was always jealous of ghost. like i said before i don't blame her i dont think this makes her a bad person hell she probably isn't even actually homophobic i just said that because it sounded like a funny way to start the paragraph. i think she has this deep seated sorrow within her that never gets to be resolved because she died so young and now im realizing maybe my mary isn't that deep cause most of what i think about when considering her is still just her impact on the men in her life 💔💔 IM SORRY WOMEN it's nigh impossible to rewrite her in a way where she doesn't just serve as a catalyst for change in her husband's life and angst and not much more. or maybe it's not even that hard and this is just a skill issue on my part. im gonna try and do more research on what we know about her from canon even though from what i remember that's not much to begin with and she mostly exists in fanon... but i'll try i'll try better for women everywhere

speaking of women i need to do some research of Katrina i want her to be part of this too. and the other 2 johnnies as well. maybe gavin can be part of the doll line as well even though gavin and johnny toast don't even meet until adulthood i think? once again i must do my research. for now i ramble meaninglessly and hit post

thanks 4 reading

[devilbreaker]

@fractempyreal said "you are fortunate in your love"

almost instantly the face in his dreams appears in his mind, even if it has been years ago, it’s the same as who is avoiding his eye contact right now (and he doesn’t blame him so really he doesn’t chase it), there was sadness in those eyes but a fondness that feels familiar yet so very foreign with the man in front of him. he tenses a little, tends to do that a lot these days since he’s been around, a presence intimidating but really he just wishes it wasn’t. he can’t help it ! there’s a lot of things that he wishes

that he was here, the normal life he could’ve had, normal parents, he doesn’t wish to be human though. he’s made his peace with who he is a while ago and this is something he can’t take away. but then if he had this normal life he speaks of he would not have met the people that made his life even a tiny bit easier. he had found himself wondering many times what his father was like, what his mother was like before the family that welcomed him the way they did. 

and really… maybe it could’ve been worse things.

“i wish you felt it too.” he finally answers, what else could he say really, thank you ? oh it’s nothing ? it almost blurts out as soon as he thinks of it. “not too late for that.” a small smile draws on his face, that’s when he looks at him again. and it’s almost like the face in his dreams is in front of him again. just… less pain. or something like that.

[blackjack-15]

the way nat is treated is sooo sad and predictable. she doesn't always (present day) handle things well, but...with an upbringing like this? and good on her for pouring the liquor down the drain and bringing paper towels

"oh you're gonna make sprite?" "yeah, i'm gonna make sprite" that's carmy in a nutshell. push on a wall, it becomes a bridge.

"holding everything in and then letting it out inappropriately" you've reduced the bear to its most basic components!

he made sprite! something from nearly nothing, that's carmy. and no one even thanks him to his face. he didn't have to do it, he was doing 6 other things at once, and he still made sprite for someone who was having a hard time

also richie's ex wife reminds me strongly of mrs. berzatto. just saying.

"why isn't someone listening to me?" "i'm listening" "WHY IS NO ONE LISTENING TO ME" and this is mrs berzatto at a 4/5? we're gonna see her at a 6+ before long

i hate to armchair-diagnose, but there's pretty obviously a personality disorder present here in the Matriarch of the Berzatto clan. histrionic personality disorder is my immediate thought, but could be something else.

"no one's f//kin with you why would you think that?" gee i wonder.

"we ran into the love of your life" "i don't have a love of my life" 1) they're 100% talking about claire 2) carmy baby. you're so right you don't yet.

wow i hate mikey/richie right now. but! this adds a whole new dimension to carmy re: claire! because claire is tied to mikey, to what mikey 'wanted' for carmy, and that makes this whole thing come full circle, doesn't it?

"what did you do. what did you do." maybe christmas in copenhagen would have been a good idea.

carmy's absolute distaste for this whole 'conversation' (the glasses came off? the body is banging? really guys? you're being disgusting) is beautiful. carmy's got many, many vices and makes a lot of mistakes, but this is Not something he puts up with

"i don't understand why you would do this. why are you like this" oh carmy honey.

"i'm not in love with her, that's what i'm saying, where did you guys get that?"

THERE IT IS.

there's the reason for showing how carmy reacts when someone wants something from him, why the awful phone conversation with claire has her making him go from not wanting to give his number to saying "i want you to have my number". we have to see how carmy goes from saying no -- the truth -- to saying yes -- a lie -- after pressure is put on him. because this is where it starts.

claire represents what others want for carmy. normalcy, a chance -- his "only" chance -- to be with someone deemed societally Valuable. to not be an "other", to fit in, to have something "Good" that everyone thinks is good. carmy/claire is nauseating, but it's supposed to be. people spend so much time on screen telling us how Good claire is, when the show itself doesn't back it up. she's a figure of myth, a representation of the expectations others set on carmy and that he bows to, not a character. full stop.

and wow this is legitimately hard to watch. carmy attempts to set boundary, boundary is ignored. rinse, repeat.

they think carmy's in love with her -- this is a man in his, what, late 20s at this point? -- because he used to draw her in high school? the tenuous is getting more tenuous my Gosh.

"carm. this is a good thing." oh and no it really really isn't.

okay nice moment here for richie. does he think carmy is weird? yeah. does he still kinda brag about his sprite-making abilities? yeah

okay, ex wife is the worst. the boy makes you sprite b/c you don't feel good and there's none in the house and you ask why they'd 'punish' a nice girl like claire by hooking carmy up with her?

richie is adorable with his daughter and despite everything going wrong in his life (both his fault and not) is a really good dad ("do you think that she'll like us?" is such a soft question). i am really, really glad he's divorced. i want him to find happiness -- i don't know what that would look like for him just yet, but.

"we just have to not be like our parents" the other distillation of the bear!

richie trying to get a better job for his kid is really sweet. mikey telling the bill murray story in the background? hilarious

we're further breaking down the Mythos of Mikey -- he's introduced as a perfect, tragic figure, and we've spent a season and a half showing his foibles...which are Many.

[yuseirra]

Songs are a very powerful medium to convey feelings, aren't they...I feel I might not have been able to draw as much as I did if Fatal didn't exist, that song is so powerful

Hikaru really misses Ai. He could give everything he has if he can just feel her again, but even that isn't enough no matter how he tries. That HUGE, lump of a longing just screams throughout the song, it's so desperate. Did he deserve that happening to him? Did he ask for it? I don't think that would be the case, I just don't see it being that way, it's like... He doesn't know what to do about that loss and he's stuck with that pain but refusing to let go of it because letting it go would be giving up that hope of ever seeing his love again... So I went, wow, he must really love her a lot for it to be this intense...; he cares about her more than anything else in the whole world, that's what the song's saying.

If Ai does love him back(which is what really was the case) then this feeling he has can be pretty significant. It's mutual and it holds way more meaning because they did want each other. This guy... Literally grew insane because he really couldn't bear her gone like that. Don't know how terrible he's become but, I really hope he had no part in Ai's death because god. They SAID he was once noble, a noble guy doesn't kill their gf, if I'm the writer I don't make that choice and if I did, I wouldn't describe them as noble...

How can you love someone that much..; it's pretty incredible the extent he loves her but tbh it's nothing so new because I do go for ships like that every single time. The character's just crafted in a way that makes him believe Ai is worth everything his life and more, and I do think Ai deserves a guy like that, someone to feel that way about her. It's that kind of story

Although it'd be really painful to lose someone like that, I still think it's a wonderful thing to have found someone you treasure more than your own life.. The outcome turned out to be (probably) really messed up and tragic but, it's... Still really fateful to have found someone you find that endearing, isn't it? Lately I keep finding a lot of work that deals with the theme of loss, there is loss because you loved something. The more dear it is, the more harder it would be to let go, and would you really have to let go? Is letting go "right"? Can anyone else really tell you you have to let go? It's something you have to come into terms within yourself, right? It makes me think. At least, your feelings are your own. The method of grieving.. Yeah, that I may not be able to agree with;(thank goodness it's fiction) but I feel the pain is something both very personal and yet so universal. Inevitable when you come to love something... It's sad it's inevitable. I might come to resonate with something like it even more as I go on living my life but I actually wish that day would never come XD.. That'd mean I'd have to be the first one to die out of all my loved ones, but I don't want that either, it's hard! I guess the only thing I can do is to love things while they're here with me. Yeah... That's the kind of thing I feel when I see these sorts of relationships in a medium.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

AO3 WRAPPED NUMBER 29 but i want u to give me ur top 3. or top 5 if u have a lot

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

MAC MY FRIEND MAC GHOSTIEZONE!!! my top fav passages i've written this year.... this is gonna take a while to answer i have so so many to choose from omg.... i'm gonna put this under a cut bc it is going 2 be Long (also i am going 2 tag u because idk if u have seen it yet and i v much want u to see the dstuck passage i'm posting it's got wilbur in it :3 @stuck-in-the-ghost-zone )

3: this one is from my ctubbo oneshot titled Harlequin that i wrote on impulse in early september. mac idk if u have read it but u should i think u would like it :3 the style of it is v experimental in a lot of places but i had SOOOOO MUCH FUN writing it and it's kinda angsty but the ending is sweet and i reread it and was like ;-; this fic was very much me projecting onto ctubbo OK HERE'S A QUICK PASSAGE :3

Tommy is your brother, you think, but not in the way he and Wilbur are brothers. They’re brothers in general, two different souls who experienced such different walks of life and stick together regardless, who follow each other to the ends of the earth no matter how wrong or bad one of them thinks the other is.

You and Tommy are more like... kindred spirits. Brothers in war, allies in politics, victims of abuse who pull each other up by your boot straps and lean on each other so you can keep going side by side.

It’s never just Tommy, or just Tubbo. It’s always Tommy and Tubbo.

Like one name.

TommyandTubbo. TubboandTommy. T+T.

Brothers in experience. Partners in life. Two sides of the same coin. Inseparable.

But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You’re part of the same coin, but people look at you and see two heads, one on each side, no tails. Nothing at all to differentiate the two.

You could draw horns on one side and a white streak on the other, but at the end of the day they always see two copies.

When people run into you, they ask “Where’s Tommy?” “Do you know where Tommy’s been lately?” “What’s Tommy up to?”

You can’t always answer that.

For as much as you’re inseparable, sometimes you’re both alone for a bit. You always come back around like two magnets drawn to each other until something or someone yank you apart again.

You don’t like being a copy.

You don’t even know if Tommy realizes that’s what you are.

Tommy and Tubbo.

The main character and his sidekick.

He called you the main character once, during the Disc Confrontation, and himself the sidekick, and hearing that

it

actually made you

relieved.

Even if everyone else sees you as a second quieter Tommy, he doesn’t.

That counts for something.

2: MY VASHWOOD FIC Just As Beautiful As The Day I Lost You MY BELOVED <3 ughhhh writing this was so sad i genuinely cried doing it. the moment wolfwood remembers vash is what gets me. ik you've read it already but here's that one little passage here for u just for funzies <3 NOW CRY!!!!!!

The video stops.

Vash snaps his gaze to Rosewood. He’s trembling like a wet cat, hand poised over the spacebar. His breath hitches once, twice. He turns to Vash, slowly, just as tears begin to spill down his cheeks.

“What the hell, Needle Noggin,” he whispers. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

Uncertainty is the only thing Vash can respond with. He steps closer, hand hovering over Rosewood’s shoulder. “I... don’t...”

Rosewood pushes the chair back, wooden legs scraping across the floor, doubles over, and buries his face in his hands. Vash takes that as a signal to do something, so he rests his hand on Rosewood’s back. After the comfort Rosewood gave him last night, it’s the least he can do, really.

Rosewood chokes back a sob. “I shouldn’t know these people,” he says, voice thick with tears. “How... do I know them? How do I know you?”

Vash’s heart leaps into his throat. He kneels in front of the chair so he’s level with Rosewood. “Do... Do you...”

Rosewood looks up, an angry furrow in his brow, even he wipes tears from his eyes. The expression is so incredibly Wolfwood that Vash doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“This past week has been fucking torture, Spikey. You—I saw you leave church last Sunday, and I didn’t even see any of this,” he gestures to Vash in general, the spikey hair, the glasses, the scars, “but you just—you stuck in my head and I couldn’t explain why. I... I still can’t.” He gives a wet laugh. “Humanoid Typhoon my ass. You’re more like a parasite.”

A lump forms in Vash’s throat, alongside something so bright and hopeful he feels dizzy with it. Hands shaking, unsteady like they’ve never been before, he reaches out, fingers brushing over Rosewood’s jaw. He wipes away a stray tear, stubble sharp beneath his thumb.

Rosewood sniffles, shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Needle Noggin. I can’t take it when you smile like that.”

Vash swallows. As quiet as can be, barely any breath behind his voice, he says

“Wolfwood?”

A sob rips itself from the throat of the man in front of him. Vash catches him as he lunges from his chair and into Vash’s arms, heaving cries pressed into his shirt. Vash holds him tight, hands clenched in his jacket. The black poncho remains on Vash’s lap, pressed between them. A stray tear soaks into the fabric. It takes Vash a moment to realize it fell from his own face.

He's never been so uncertain in his life.

But whatever this is, whatever he’s awakened in the priest in his arms, whether it’s real or a delusion, he wants to keep it.

He tucks his face into the crook between a neck and a shoulder, and he cries.

1: i think my fav thing i've written this year would be the tntduo chapter of dstuck that i sent you a while ago BUT since u have already read that and it's wayyyy too long to put in one post i am going to choose a different dstuck thing. most of the passages i wanna put here would involve MAJOR SPOILERS but i have one chatlog between wilbur and one of the cherubs i'm putting in there to kind of sort of replace cdream (i don't like ccdrm but his character is Important so i basically split him in two as a cherub and changed his name). honestly it was kind of a hard decision to change his name bc he's such an iconic villain but i think i did ok with still capturing his Evilness and his shitty asshole vibes ANYWAY this is one of my fav parts of this chapter i love writing chatlogs <3 tw for ummm some brief suicidal ideation bc it's cwilbur that's how it goes

hi wilbur! IO: Ah fuck, what do you want? can’t i just say hi and see how you’re doing? IO: I mean, I can’t stop you, I guess. you’re getting closer and closer to entering this game. isn’t that exciting? IO: Sure. you don’t sound excited. :( IO: What do you mean? This is the picture of excitement. IO: Look at me, I’m jumping up and down with joy at the prospect. liar. IO: Fuck you. hey, now don’t be rude! we’re friends, aren’t we wilbur? IO: We were, yeah. IO: When I was like, twelve. IO: But you started bad mouthing my bro and the rebellion and being all shitty and manipulative, and I literally tried to kms whben I was fourteen because of the shit you’ve said so like IO: No I wouldn’t say we;re friends. but we’re past that! i’ve changed, wilbur. IO: Yeah yeah so you keep fucking saying. if we’re not friends, why do you keep responding? IO: Because you’ll keep fucking bothering me until I do it's just because i want to talk to you. is that really so wrong? IO: Yeah IO: I know the shit that you did to my bro and I don’t fucking much appreciate it that was ages ago! come on, wilbur. you’ll get me out of here, won’t you? IO: If I could kill you I would. man, tough crowd. i think you’ll come around eventually. and even when i do get out of here without your help, your bro is the first one i’ll go for. i’m sure you know this, because it happened in your past. and then i’ll go for the little one. your pen pal. :) he is your bro, after all, and yeah, maybe the older one will slip through my fingers, but your pen pal? he's still young. your bro will get away from me when we’re both older, but your pen pal won’t defeat me while he’s just a kid, and i’m a GOD. :)

The chatlog closes on its own.

He used to be nice, but you think it’s just because he wanted to be your friend. Or, at least, pretend to be your friend. He filled you in on a lot of information about your future and the game, about your upcoming journey as a Bard of Heart, how destructive the class is, how you’re fated to destroy everything you’ve ever held dear and harm the people you love, the nuances of your aspect, the role you’re meant to play in this game.

He called you a supernova in the making, a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, a personified Chernobyl in your own right. It sounded kind of cool at the time, but it placed this heavy weight on your shoulders, this expectation for destruction.

You’re pretty sure he lied about most of the stuff he’s told you, but you can never be sure. You’re set on relying on Phil’s foresight to tell you your role now, although he doesn’t have all the answers. Still, it’s better than running in blind with your only guidance being the ravings of a madman from the distant future. He used to be so kind, it was hard not to believe him.

He wasn’t so kind when you had a sword at your own chest.

[katzirra]

I sure do be feeling a lot of bad things about my relationship with art these days lmfao, and I really don't know how to fix them and overcome them anymore.

It's like... there's such conflict about like... if you complain about the nature of social media people either are like YEAH!! or there's this weird thing I'm seeing now where people are getting mad at people bringing up the importance of reblogs as like attention seeking begging and shit like?? LIKES ARE NICE, I LOVE LIKES but like reblogs are how people actually SEE your stuff?

A like is like ah nice, scrolls past, a reblog is like MAN I WANNA LOOK AT THIS LATER or like it MEANT something to someone. But people act like that's so wrong artists are bummed out over engagement with shit lmao?? We're just selfish little hogs or something.

Or there's like this long standing thing about artists being bothered they don't know what to draw to get that engagement and people are like "DRAW FOR YOURSELF!!" like bitch, I been doing that because tumblr and twitter fucking drove that nail in lobotomy style - and it's making me sad because I feel like the more I like a piece, the SADDER I am when no one else engages with it or it's like 25 people??

Felix use to get alarming notes at times, now it's like feh, nothing? So, I tried drawing for fandoms I was passionate in - which got me a lot of people I care for, but also a lot of needless drama I hated and didn't ask for and that caused a LOT OF ISSUES when I even TRIED to stay out of it LMAO good LORD.

Even doing the Xig blog lately, I've been like okay I'm gonna stick with it because a WEIRD AMOUNT OF PEOPLE engaged with that poll I posted and I was like okay, that's a substantial amount of people who want that content, and even on the blog itself THAT poll was like OH. OKAY?? Because honestly, I feel like I'm on a weird blocklist or something or people don't like my art in the fandom so it's a weird place to be for me :))!! But I know people send me really sweet messages sometimes or sometimes I get amazingly sweet tag comments or people REALLY like an answer to something and it tickles their brain and that makes me happy but like??

I spend hours on that shit and it barely hits 100 unless it's a meme post usually and I dunno, I feel selfish all the time for being bummed about that. I'll spend days on some of them and be like SO PROUD and then just - the low engagement I'm like man, am I wasting my time? AM I STUPID? AM I TOO OLD TO BE HERE NOW, TRYING TO MAKE SOMEONE HAPPY? IS MY ART BAD? IS IT?? DO I JUST SUCK??? AM I NOT SELF AWARE??

It's weird how I see so many times people like my style or whatever, and like I know people still stick around for it, and I see so many artists post such GRAB BAGS of fandoms and stay strong in engagement and I just always feel like I'm doing something wrong or bad lmao?? Not supposed to talk about your feelings anymore, but also supposed to be engaging and personal on this here hellsite lmao??

I've been doodling shit at work and just feel tired all the time because I don't even want to finish anything anymore. I thumbnail mini comics that are like 5-10 pages of things that I think would be nice to do, I thumbnail out the backgrounds, thumbnail out bigger samples of poses and stuff and feel a little excited about how nice I could make it, and I just... know the energy put into it wouldn't be worth it because it'll be something I finish and am excited to post and no one will care.

Okay not no one, but like who is really gonna put fucking hours and hours of work into something that's gonna fall flat on it's face. I do that enough already! I over the last few years have posted so much stuff I was actually proud of and just felt....stupid for being happy and no one engaging with it. And then feeling more stupid and GUILTY because I'm upset about it?? LMAO LIKE WHAT KIND OF EMOTIONAL GARBAGE IS THAT?? And I'm barely online these days too beyond randomly scrolling shit to see what my friends that I barely feel relevant to talk to are doing in their lives nfjgkh I've lost all personalableness... that's not a word but we keep goin' lmao

It's like boy howdy, this kinda like ennui gets met with the whole ooooh two cakes and ohhhh but it'll be someone's favorite and blah blah - PBBT PBBTTT PBTTTT I GET IT!! But like, I'm sorry, I need more validation that I'm not wasting my fucking time. Because that's kind of all I feel these days is that I'm just wasting my time... which is sad. But ya'know some asshole will also be like "so stop" like thanks, thanks kiddo. That's the kind of shit I need I guess. Just stop. Just give up!

It's like, keep struggling, or just stop. Both options kinda fucking blow. But I've also tried to just stop caring about numbers and engagement - but I've noticed all my friends have slowly stopped posting art too. Busy and tired.

I wanna be excited to post art again, man. I miss when I'd post Marvel shit and actually have hilarious engagement and made friends and had fun conversations.

I miss when I'd post a Xig post and I'd see a tag and end up having a conversation in someone's ask box back and forth because I made some little easter egg or HC they were really into and were curious about more.

I dunno :)) bitching for no reason I guess. Shuts up and draws my stupid little pictures.

I feel like the only reason I keep doing art anymore is because I'm grasping some thread of hoping social media flops over again an engagement booms again LMAO - and also like, I have 3 patrons that ya'know. I'M FUCKING TRYING TO KEEP DESPERATELY LMAO.... Patreon pays for my fucking vet bills at this point and I'm obnoxiously thankful for those people but just fuck idk.

I'm doing everything wrong anymore it feels like but whatever!!

Maybe I just don't try hard enough lmao. Just not meant to be an online artist anymore. After 20 years, I'm still fighting this hard for mild engagement? What kind of fuck up, am I lmao holy shit.

[b0nelessdoodles]

Art Summary 2023

shoutout to the one month were i drew fanart and then everything else was just dnd content again lmao (also shoutout to me being late to posting this haaaaa)

2023 wasn't the best year for me personally. between money problems and job searching, health issues, mental health issues, unintentional discomfort at my new job, and the overall issues of the world it just hasn't been great and I felt it heavily in my creativity. I never really had any creative highs this year outside of artfight (and even then i felt like i didn't do well) which only fed into some of the issues I was having.

But looking back I am really happy with most of what I made! Sure I didn't draw much but hey I think I popped off when I did!

So here is to 2024! Already off to a good start in the art department and even if I slow down at least I've had fun so far!

(i was gonna put me gushing about things in tags but its a lot so i'm doing a read more this post is already so damn long lmao i'm sorry)

okay i'm here to gush about two pieces at a time and their contents cause then make me happy to look at so lets get started on that with march and september 'cause hey! look at the relationship development of my little goblin guy!

march was when kk (tic's best friend and now boyfriend) first appeared to the rest of the party outside of just tic talking about him. literally the entire party could see that kk was in love with tic and was just like "oh buddy sorry about that" 'cause tic was a dumbass and romance was just never something he thought about until meeting the party. then we flash forward to september where the two confessed to each other after what really felt like the end of tic's story arc. at least it felt that way to me 'cause he reached his goal of killing groll and becoming the king of goblins but i know he still has shit to do I'M LOOKING AT YOU TRAVELLER AND RIP! but yeah that was the whole reason he left and it was done. he did it! but it almost cost him kk and the two ended up having a really important talk about it. kk chewed tic out and spilled his guts and i still think about it a lot holy shit it was so good omfg but it was in that moment that it clicked for tic. that if he had actually lost kk he had no idea what he would do, that he felt like his whole life would fall apart without him. and just man it was good wholesome content. congrats to the goblins for being the first canon relationship! (even tho they were not the first confession that one goes to rhami!)

now that that block of the text is out of the way we get to more depressing ones, those being january and october with my guy, dr. cecil wilfree.

its just.... man. what do i even say about him. january was probably the last moment before his life went into a full downward spiral, eventually leading into his demise. that piece isn't even anything major but rather something like a reminder going "hey, remember when wilfree had two normal eyes? good times!" and just man (-insert that image of a horse standing on the beach-) compare that to where he's at in october and knowing what happened in those 10 months? january he still had trust and hope, he believed that he was going to get back home and help river out with his plague, maybe even get aster home if she'd let them, maybe find a way to cure himself and help casey. but by the end there was no hope and he found out that he had been used, was nothing more than a tool for someone who he trusted, despite knowing that he really shouldn't have. river was dead and it was his fault (at least in his mind it was), he had failed to protect aster and traumatized both her and willow, and he could do nothing to save an entire population from being wiped off the face of the map. and he caved under the guilt. he gave up. its sad to see him alive and pissy in january and then look at december and see a shell of the same man, no more thoughts in that head as his mind got disconnected from his body and self.

and then for extra sads we've got december which was his birth month, so i drew something from a time before the campaign. back when he was alive and well, no soul curse and unknowing of the horrors yet to come, and receiving a gift from someone whose life he could soon destroy due to his own hubris.

anyway! pay no mind to may! i didn't draw a damn thing that whole month!

[ct-hardcase]

2023 art summary, coming in fashionably late. Director's commentary under the cut:

January: I feel proud of this one, but also feel kind of sad that over the course of a whole year, that January is the artistic highlight. I had a few free days at the beginning of the year where I was alone, and got this wild drive to draw something that I very rarely, if ever, get anymore, especially for a piece that includes a background. Pessimism aside though, I'm really happy with how this came out, barring some aspects of Kanan's facial anatomy I could improve on and Ahsoka's hand (I gave up here, don't look too closely). I've had the scene in my mind for a while, and I'm glad I could finally take it on artistically.

February: Yes, technically this was published in March. As far as I can find, this is possibly the only thing I drew in February, sketches included. I published it on twitter and tumblr in Feburary, fully intending to leave it at the flats, but decided to render a bit on 03/01. On account of my literally having nothing else for the month, I let it slide. I'm also happy to have finished a piece for Seventh/Fifth, and it received pretty decent reception considering it's a bit of a rarepair.

March: I didn't do much, but I did draw Trilla, Eighth, and Reva; and the dynamic has been shamelessly influenced by To Gain The Harbor on Ao3, which has occupied my head rent-free this year.

April: I actually drew two things this month, but I chose Voe, since I always have to have my annual Voe in these, and I'm really happy with how I drew her, here. It's also unpictured due to the formatting constraints, but this one also contained one of my best Kylos. 

May: Work started getting very busy here (and never really stopped), so this is where ~sketch season~ starts. I noticed that I sketched a lot of sitting and kneeling this year, which is a bit of a flex, since I've historically had trouble with that (and am still not perfect, but getting there).

June: Credits to Senshistock for the pose here, but I decided to focus back in on anatomy, which was honestly driven by my beginning to consistently exercise for the first time since college—I got a lot more in tune with the practical aspects of how my own and other bodies could move, and though a lot of my poses are static, I find that it's a pretty big influence on my art this year.

July: It's at this time that my love for Reva also turned a corner—I objectively loved her as a character from the beginning, but around this time or June is when she rocketed herself to my third-favorite (hehe) inquisitor. She really grips me as a character, and she featured pretty prominently in my art this year.

August: Was busy touching grass this month, so didn't do a ton of drawing, but did a quick sketch of a village babushka.

September: I decided to color a drawing of Samantha Trapp and Kilner from We Fix Space Junk, which has carried me through many a hard day, and while the drawing feels just a little off, I think I at least somewhat maintained my ability to color something in.

October: I decided to treat myself and buy some fancy pens, and decided on the Sarasa pens on a whim. While they haven't been the cure-all to my art block, they are so much fun to draw in, and about half my sketches from October-present have been with these. Also, Rey!

November: Reva brainrot feat. The Grand Inquisitor. A friend and I were talking over an AU where the Grand Inquisitor (as a Jedi) takes Reva on as his Padawan, and I had to draw it.

December: I sketched a fair bit this month, but decided to go with Eighth.

[linagram]

if the prisoners got put into subunit type groups of 3-4 (sorta like in Love Live! if you're familiar) who would be put together? What sort of aesthetics would they have and what kind of songs would they sing?

SORRY FOR SUCH A LATE REPLY ANON i got really excited bc i actually was thinking about something like an idol au with my prisoners and i also was a huge love live fan (still like it, just haven't really been keeping up with it) and i wanted to draw something with that concept, but. some things got in the way 😔

anyway, here are the (sub)units! >:D

yep, the high schoolers are in the same unit here! i thought that maybe their aesthetic would be something like. a high school rock band :'D?? i imagine their songs being really fun and energetic most of the time, but having really sad lyrics sometimes, like when you listen closely, you'll go ".. hey, wait a minute, is this song actually about feeling extremely lonely and feeling like nobody cares about you".

riku would be the leader of the group, even though akio is the one who always likes to be in charge. (or at least that's what akio says. it's hard to say who actually was in charge when he was dating arata) come on, he's the popular boy, he's loved by everyone, who else would it be?

riku would also have the same role he had in his canon band: he would be the vocalist and the guitarist.

honestly, i think keyboard would fit both akio and aimi, but if i had to choose, i think akio would be the keyboardist. aimi can be the drummer! i know that this sounds surprising, but this girl has a lot of energy and she also wouldn't want to stand out much, she'd rather let akio and riku take the spotlight, so she'd be fine with that role.

yes, if you remember one detail of arata's design, you can see that akio is matching with him. i can see akio and arata breaking up in this au and akio getting a crush on riku (just like in canon, mostly bc he simply reminds him of arata), but still wearing stuff like matching accessories to remember his ex.

and yes, he'd also get at least one of his ears pierced to match with riku too. DUDE JUST CHOOSE ONE OF THEM. OR DATE BOTH OF THEM. IDK MAKE YOUR CHOICE ALREADY 😭😭

I FORGOT RIKU'S MAKEUP JUST PRETEND IT'S THERE.

aimi is wearing a black shirt instead of white just like akio and riku for no particular reason, i just thought she looks better in it. there are other ways to interpret it though.

arata knows about akio being in this band and he has actually listened to some of their songs. he doesn't really care about him anymore though. akio has already served his purpose.

THESE GUYS WERE THE FIRST UNIT I'VE CAME UP WITH LIKE I KNEW I HAVE TO PUT THEM IN ONE GROUP. do not separate them (please separate them they are so codependent even though their relationship brings them nothing but pain P L E A S E)

what can i say. they're the fanservice gang. they exist to make people simp for them and that's it. their songs are either very cool and fun and they sound like something from giga and/or reol or they sound like something from. uh. i don't know. a kpop dominant bf playlist (it makes sense in my head. it does).

i don't think they'd actually have a leader, but if they had to choose, it would most likely be eiko simply because she's the most "normal" one of them and she knows how to act in public and how to make people fall in love with her and find her attractive without being weird or creepy. she's also the one who comes up with excuses and explanations whenever someone catches kei or shun doing something. something that can potentially ruin their reputation.

all of them are vocalists and someone else writes music for them (imagine if it was ruka). shun is mostly there for the quiet parts or rapping parts, meanwhile kei and eiko are the ones who do most of the singing. kei is very well-known for his vocal range because he can easily go from a very high-pitched voice to a very deep one in a few seconds.

both kei and eiko are good at dancing, however shun still has to learn a lot and it can be hard for him to memorize the choreography.

I CAN STILL IMAGINE HIM BEING THE MOST POPULAR ONE. like there'd be so many yt compilations of him doing silly things and people would go "HE'S SUCH A FAILGIRL I LOVE HIM".

kei tries so hard to keep up his "alpha male" image that their agency has came up with but his fans keep insisting that he's actually this group's babygirl. he doesn't know what to do with this information.

eiko does not like most of her male fans and would rather not interact with them at all, but hey, she still enjoys the attention.

LISTEN. this unit kinda looks like i just put all the prisoners that i couldn't find a unit for together and you're right, but also.. i've been thinking about these characters' parallels a lot.

anyway, naomi, yurika, asahi and reina would actually be in an idol group! yay! hm? what is an 11-12 y/o boy doing with a 30 y/o woman and girls who are in their early twenties? uh. he's there for an emotional support in case they want to squish someone's cheeks, i guess.

i think naomi would be their leader as the oldest one and the one who, again, is the most "normal" one (at least on the outside), but i can imagine all of them being very popular for different reasons? like i can imagine a lot of people simping for naomi or just genuinely loving her singing, people thinking asahi is cute and very talented for his age and yurika and reina fans finding them relatable and funny.

i think naomi would have the best vocals in the group, meanwhile reina would be more of a rapper or just have the parts that require someone to sing in a more quick manner. yurika and asahi would have very soft and cute vocals which are perfect for idol songs.

yes, some of the details on their outfits are the same color as their second image color.

asahi would most likely be a nepo baby who got into this group only because of his adoptive parents.

"does naomi still want to kill asahi" yes.

similar to eiko, yurika does NOT like her male simps, but whenever she sees a cute girl holding a lightstick that is her image color. that's it, she's blushing, she's giggling, she's kicking her feet. it doesn't matter to her if she's performing rn.

reina would be the one with the biggest number of funny youtube compilations, i just know it.

[emma-radfemcanu]

It's been a while since a 'Stefanos has upset me' post so here we are! I'm just rambling so it's in a 'Read More' tag

I was worried about him ranking wise because he was defending SO MUCH on clay, like nearly a third of his points were from Monte Carlo alone... and he lost in the QF there last week, to the eventual champion so nothing to be ashamed of, even though it was on paper a very winnable match which is frustrating

But he hasn't looked right for a couple of weeks, and sure enough he retired in the QF in Barcelona today with a back issue :( he was defending finalist points so that's even more of a hit to his ranking- he's now down to no. 18, his lowest since August 2018... and we still have more to go! He's almost definitely going to be outside the top 20 after clay

He's had a lot of injury trouble on and off, but there's been other things going on. He's talked a bit about how much he was struggling mentally last year and just in a terrible headspace, and he does seem happier in himself now which is good. It just feels so unfair that him and Matteo have had so many issues physically, meanwhile you would never know that domestic abuser Zverev had a nearly career ending ankle injury a couple of years back

I can't see Stef making a comeback to the top 10 after this tbh. I've been a bit in denial but the last few months have been truly terrible, Dubai was a high point but not much else. The only good thing is that at least he is defending very little after this so has nowhere to go but up, except a lower ranking means tougher draws (or at least meeting top players earlier) and so it's going to be really hard to get back up there

He's never winning that slam, I'm trying (and failing) to make my peace with it even though it's probably the thing I want most in the whole world. Like if I ever meet a genie, it's the first wish I'm making, or it's my equivalent to when someone asks 'would you do XYZ if someone gave you a million pounds?'

But I just can't help looking at the Stef of just a couple of years ago, or the him who broke through back in 2019, and thinking 'what a waste' So much well deserved hype, so much promise, and he just never got there. Objectively he has had an incredible career, but 100% he is going down as a 'what could have been?' and it makes me feel desperately sad

If he had freed himself from his horrible toxic family (let's call it what it is, borderline emotionally abusive) and got a proper coach sooner it might have been a very different story. He's free now, and rumour has it he's making some more changes soon, it's definitely better late than never. But if only. He's been let down so badly both professionally and personally- god knows how Apostolos sleeps at night knowing what he's done to his own child

Maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic. If he gets himself together it's not impossible he has a Dimitrov/Wawrinka esque late 20s renaissance. But he isn't getting any younger, he's had so much injury trouble already, and I just can't see it happening sadly

[grayoil]

Mexican cartel claymation videos and Tim Firth

I’ve been thinking a lot about violence lately and how we depict it. How far is too far? Is the depiction of hyper violence in visual arts romanticization or just an acknowledgment of what is already all around us? Is there a point, does there have to be one? Most of the time violence is totally avoidable, yet we are surrou-nded by it. If art is just a reflection of society and we already live in a world filled with meaningless blood, death and gore is it unfair to dismiss this art as being pointless?

What if you recreated the brutalization and death of a person? 

I was watching the video YouTube‘s Unwatched Horrors [Vol.2] and it introduced me to the channel Tim Firth. Most of their videos get 40 or a few hundred views. Through claymation, they re-create videos of fights, gore, Mexican cartel videos and videos in Ukrainian using the same audio. But they also make their own short films-ish. They have a playlist called Hand Sketch Animation, I don’t really know how to describe it so if you’re curious go watch it.

I think there most popular video is Mexican Chainsaw Video, re-creating an infamous video that want around the Internet of the cartel killing and torturing two men. This strangely enough, is a genre in its own right. Not all of these claymations are recreating real videos, though they often use real audio of shootings. Cicada Cult Studios is another channel that depicts gang warfare and shootings. Unlike Tim Frith they don’t seem to re-create real life events but that does not make the subject matter of these animations any less real.  

In the video titled Warfare Shooting Gun Fight Stop Motion Claymation one commenter writes “ dang dude this is art…. No glory no happy endings, no one wins... just sadness, suffering, and death.” Despite the real intentions of the creator, whatever they may be and you or my personal feelings, these animations speak to a truth that people connect with. 

After I watched a fair amount of Tim Firth’s videos and watched their YouTube shorts, I was left wondering why? What is the commentary? Is this just for pure fun, a morbid fascination? Yes Why recreate this through stock motion? I don’t think I’ll ever get an answer, but it left me thinking.

If nothing else go watch the Hand Sketch Animation videos. It could be me being delusional, but I do think there’s genuine social commentary in this playlist and even if there isn’t and its all just totally meaningless crude drawings, I don’t care because I connected with them.

One things for certain and it’s that I’m probably an idiot for overthinking all this. Here’s a film review of Wolfs

[multi-dudes]

some things I've found out this week

journaling has been my lifeblood. there's a specific alter/fragment (🌼) who has been going absolutely ham, writing a lot and having a lot of worries and fears to say. and I've come to find we'll come back to the writings later and someone else will write something back. or in the case of 🍊, he's able to pop in quickly between writings and I'm assuming the two of them communicate best that way. I've noticed handwriting does change and some alters struggle to even physically write. I do too but I always chalked it up to my wrist deformity, but it seems like 🌼 can do for a long time without any pain, when she feels more pain usually than almost any of us that I know of. or maybe that was a good couple of days. idk

aforementioned fragment has actually written most of the posts here, but we both thought we were more of each other. and oftentimes it's hard to seperate who's who and I'm sure there are either fragments of me in me with the shit I've been through thr past few years but I guess we'll see about that. I think she is developing a different identity now but we both feel too linked to seperate cleanly. but we act very different now that we can pinpoint what it feels like.

she also holds most of our memories and masking. when she gives out at the end of the workday I sometimes feel straight up catatonic. I've always done that but now that I know someone else is holding the fort and basically collapsing when we get home is both crazy and sad. it makes several parts of this brain feel like they want to step in and do something. even though I only know like three or four now

three of us have drawn ourselves at different times of the day and they look completely different which is personally tripping me out not even gonna lie. we all focus on different methods, different importance, and the art styles are subtly different just like handwriting. like 🌼 draws like I did as a kid but with some more of my current skills level. same with 🍊, the type of art style I did when I think he formed, and the same things I struggled with then rather than now. it's not foreign but it's not the same.

it also explains my current art struggles a whole fucking lot. got a whole bunch of people in me with conflicting interests that I don't agree with so half of "me" comes out unsatisfied no matter what

🍊 is best at self care but doesn't always front and that's okay. generally has the track record of least executive dysfunction but is debuffed with so much autism and so little masking that he generally only comes out when physically we're alone, and is the easiest to realize is switching

🌼 comes out for almost everything even remotely stressful and is almost omnipresent. whenever we have a headache it's usually her I think

💋 seems cool but only comes out in very specific circumstances. but acts really different. also drew herself

there are no alters that represent anything familial so far, to me

I/we have been having so much dissociation lately. I've given up on hobbies for a bit and I feel no motivation to do anything. I'm still taking my Adderall just because it helps me get out the door and focus at work and honestly sometimes helps the dissociation be less drastic. but there have been several days this week where we just have to sit for hours doing literally nothing, even if we want to do a very specific thing. and also feeling like nobody and nothing at all. just totally shut down. and I am the host and I've barley been present for a fat minute but I also feel like everyone else all at once. I'm used to that feeling though

🍊 claimed a plushie as his own to represent him in the physical world. am thinking of doing the same because that's so fun