#everything is so daunting

[mmmatchasims]

Midnight: But this is our last chance to be together! After this we're all leaving... Who knows where we'll all end up.

Hibiscus: I mean, never say never, right? We'll have breaks and holidays and stuff to come home.

[stusbunker]

I really want to write, I do. It's just not coming. And I don't know if it's because how MUCH the last month+ has been irl or how MUCH is going to happen in the next few chapters, but, ugh! It's not coming out.

[gentlespriting]

consolidated all the upcoming assignments this morning...there's so much to do :')

submitted 1/4 of my assignments !! 🙌 🙌

hot pot for one (hdl soup packet that my mum bought) 🍲

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

Something I do find really sweet is that when Sneeg got nirvana people called him a god because he did receive godly powers but Sneeg immediately offered to help others achieve it too with his knowledge and machines. Then Bad got nirvana and now he too is helping and encouraging people to join him and Sneeg.

Nirvana used to be this distant and impossible thing that no one but a rare few ever dared to try and reach and Sneeg was the only one to really try but now it feels so achievable. Most of the active members have expressed interest and have been sharing techniques and encouraging each other. No one wants to be a god alone, they want all their friends there with them.

[kitcat992]

Identity Within: Part I︱Chapter 16, Every Flame Leaves Ash (PREVIEW)

There was something about web-swinging that always made him feel better.

“…arker!” the voice screamed — loud, distant, familiar. “Sta…wi…me!”

The feel of the wind rushing through his lungs, the air howling past his ears; a moment, a breath in a heartbeat suspended within time itself where he could feel completely weightless.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it felt like he was flying.

“I sai…sta…me!” “…puls….crash…!” “Pe..!”

The web snapped taut behind him, flinging him forward; a slingshot loosened from the tallest skyscraper in the city.

No strings, no chains, no weight.

Just him, and the golden sprawl of Manhattan dazzling below, each high-rise structure brushing up against his waist as he twisted his body midair, spinning through the yawning spaces between each building.

His pulsed thumped high in his throat, each beat a spark against his ribs.

He didn’t fight it.

“Squez…aline…stag…ock….!” “..ony!…eed…to…!” “PET—

—ER!”

Pressure suddenly grabbed at his cheeks.

“—Peter!” One hand forcibly clenched at his jaw, shaking his face with urgency, all while the other pried his eyelid wide open. “Stay with me, Peter! I said stay with me!”

A ringing cut through his ear, sharp, blaring. The lights burned into his retinas. All as the grip on his face tightened, fingernails clawing beneath his cheekbone with a thumb digging painfully into the underside of his chin.

Silence shattered as voices crashed in all at once.

“Squeeze that saline, he’s in stage four shock—!”

“Pulse crashing, BP now forty and dropping—!”

“Tony, you need to get out of the wa—!”

“—get every ounce of phenylephrine and epinephrine pumped into—“

“Peter! C’mon, kid!” Tony’s face, blurry and distorted at every angle, hovered over him with a voice that tore straight out of his throat — yet barely got into Peter’s ears, the words digging through a cotton-wrapped fog that swaddled his mind. “You’ve survived too much to die on us now! C’MON!”

Every syllable struck him like a slap, yanking him up from the darkness with the blunt force of panic.

Then—

“Stay with me, Peter!” A hand sharply slapped at his face. “HEY!” Again. And Again. “I said stay with me! Peter! PE—

—TER!”

He surrendered to the pull of gravity.

…Thwip! …Thwip! …Thwip!

A streak of motion flew by him, the buildings blurring into one, the colors morphing into a tie-dyed rainbow. Each swing tilted the world a little more than before, each strand of webbing stretching before he let it go; flipping and spinning in the air until his wrist shot out another anchor to the sky above.

Momentum cradled him, unpredictable and precise; a pendulum of red and blue set loose.

The free fall down to the streets below sent a surge of adrenaline through his very core, dropping his stomach to the toes of his feet, plunging him through the the city that rose straight up to meet him — windows flashing like strobe lights and horns screaming from the veins of traffic.

Web-swinging always did make him feel better.

It was a moment where he always felt the most alive.

…Thwip! …t’wip! …t’w… ….

“..ambu…bag…reath…!”

There was no more web.

“Cap…wheels…’ast…ough!”

No more tether.

“Ta…him! TAKE—

—HIM!”

The hallway tilted.

Lights above flickered past in staccato bursts, stabbing through the haze coating his eyes.

“Use the ambu bag, help his breaths—!”

“—squeeze those fluids!”

“Cap, the wheels aren’t moving fast enough!” Tony’s voice cracked from above, raw and breathless — one of many people on each opposing side of the gurney, caught in a flash of motion as Peter’s head lolled to the side; his gaze unfocused and drifting. “Take him! TAKE HIM!”

A large shape, a sharp glisten of blue and red, a brick wall stepping in — there was motion, so fast, so jarring, that his body rocked with it. His limbs didn’t belong to him anymore. They bounced, dragged, hung weightless.

Boots hammered against the floor.

White walls flashed past.

The thunder pounded beneath him — too heavy, too fast — echoing through his chest. Something else was moving him, carrying him, dragging him forward.

The air wasn’t free anymore, wasn’t calming. It suddenly felt thick, like syrup — bright and golden and brightbrightbright.

The heat of the orange glow battering against his face came from one side as his head rolled with each rapid footstep moving him.

And then, suddenly —

Silence.

No more air.

No more sound.

Just a thick, velvet black, swallowing everything — sight, breath, thought.

Peter heard himself exhale. A breath too thin to catch.

He fell until there was nothing left for him to fall into.

He never remembered landing.

“…’ead man.”

A sound tugged at the edge of nothing.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

“……he’s…dead…”

It cracked, rumbled — the distant scrape of someone’s voice dragging him up by the collar of his own coherency; his eyelids far too heavy to lift past the anchors that weighed them down.

Wait, that didn’t make any sense.

Who was dead?

Did he die?

Again?

And if he was dead, how was he able to web-swing?

Was he still web-swinging?

“I’m goin…ill him.”

“No…ou’re no…”

Voices sounded, floated, some far out of reach, some close enough that he could taste them.

They tasted like smoke — ashy, burnt.

His throat tasted like fire.

That wasn’t a feeling that came from web-swinging.

“—arton, if you…’on’t thin…or one second—” “You don’t …et to make…kind of…cision. It goe…rough Steve.”

A beeping monitor pulsed in the background, too slow. Too uneven. Every pause between beeps hung in the air.

The weight on his chest refused to lift. Something pressed against his face — a mask? It hissed every time he inhaled, sinking deep into the hallow space within his core, cooling the inflamed tissue inside his lungs.

He could feel his ribs trying to rise, but they barely budged under the weight of invisible hands.

His own body felt too heavy to function in.

“..ich, Romanoff. Gues…at? Rogers…out. I’m…’n charge.”

The sound lanced into the fog, cutting through the haze in his mind, slowly wrapping around his drifting consciousness.

“Tony—”

Another voice broke through, tighter, steel-wrapped.

It was the last thing Peter heard, before he heard nothing at all.

“—telling you…I’m

—going to kill Osborn.”

[akiretv]

cant stop singing sans and papyrus animatic i left very unfinished more than a year ago

my style has changed A LOT and im still without a proper animation program but this thing calls me like the goblin mask, should i try to finish it sometime?

[paperglader]

PRE-CAMPAIGN IMODNA CONTENT CONFIRMED IN OCTOBER I PRAYED FOR TIMES LIKE THIS

[corybiit]

Cregan cradling their first child, singing softly to the babe as midwives swarm around the room, tending to Jace.

He has fallen into slumber, they tell him. It is not likely his husband will wake up.

Memories of similar words wrap around his neck and tug at his heart. Arra had gone just the same, years before.

Cregan could see her eyes in Jace's, mixed with the eyes of his brother as he died as well. Death so common to him now, it felt like an unwanted relative. Did it have to visit so often? Did it have to take so much?

"Eyron," Jace said, softly and so, so tired. "Promise me," he whispered but fell quiet before he could continue, hand going limp on his own. Cregan was beyond words at his husband's paling face. He kissed him softly on the forehead.

His prince was burning still.

He took his son from the wet nurse. He was big, like his brother was when he was born, and warm against his chest. Cregan brushed the little wisps of brown hair aside. Eyron had good lungs if his cries meant anything, but he quieted down as Cregan held him.

"It's fine, it's all fine, stop crying now," he whispered only for his child to hear. "Your father needs rest now, you need to quiet." He ran one big finger against the babe's nose. Letting a lullaby he used to sing to Rickon pass throguh his lips softly.

It was about a knight, going home to his spouse, and reuniting with his love. Cregan's voice didn't falter once as he held his second son. Jace's first.

Even when they shared the same coloring in their features, The Wolf of the North swore, Eyron had Jacaerys' eyes.

[cass-idy]

cw // recent ii discourse with justin

---

although nothing has been proven yet, this has just prompted me to take a step back from ii as a whole .. this has been one of my favorite shows for years now, but i find this to be a good resting point to put my fixation with it aside and possibly try to find something new .. i feel it's been a great few years though, cheers

just tired of the drama and — slightly unrelated — ii really hasn't been pulling my interest like it used to when i first got into it .. big yikes moment. i thought mid-season 2 was peak af!!!! (still do)

besides that, i may or may not be able to resist making fan related things myself (like simple fanart of charactrrs or fanfics in my spare time) while also not consuming any official or fan related content at the same time 😭

i hope whatever justin did wasn't too bad but we can only anxiously wait until any valid and true evidence comes out about what happened. seeing their iconic pfp turn into a simple, solid blue color was a bit surreal for lack of a better word. i hate that this is happening all over again tbhh

if they're bad, they're bad. if it's all a nothing burger, oh well. i wish this fandom well and hope this situation is handled with respect, whatever comes out of it next. please don't spread false lies about anything or anyone and always double check your sources before making a claim and putting out evidence. hope you all have a wonderful day, and I hope to see this fandom again soon in a great state. <3

[ineed-to-sleep]

I'm still working on this btw. Chipping away at it one little panel at a time 🥲

[hergrandplan]

.

[patriamrealm]

Okay I know you said Paulina and Lain weren't affected by the Frenzy....but what would if they were affected by it?

Ooh so good question, also Palina was affected by it but we'll get into it later.

Lian would have been a decent bit easier to handle him having Kleavor aspects would have been new, and while talented that does not change that he wouldn't have the experience nor built upon strength to hold up to the power of the other wardens. Not to say it would be easy but unlike the others he'd actually be able to be contained in one area.

Palina on the other hand, she does become frenzied at the same time the New lord Arcanine did. In that case Iscan was forced to face her to keep her busy while Akari took on Acanine. She wasn't frenzied for long but the exhaustion from months of dealing with the others frenzy combined with a nasty battle left her quite drained and wounded.

[dyke-dyke-goose]

For what it’s worth on the hrt issue, I waited till I moved out, and also only did it for a bit. I’m glad I didn’t broach the subject while I still lived with family, even though it kind of was something I was debating at the time (for insurance purposes as much as anything, as I moved provinces when I moved out. but that’s a separate issue). But I’m completely happy I did that, and though I don’t know too much of your family situation, the hesitation to tell them at all is a clear enough indicator that waiting to move out might be better, especially with all the mood effects etc. that happen at first too. Again tho just sharing my experience it case it can help in any way.

In terms of “not taking it forever”, I had the same mindset regarding that as well, and actually ended up taking it longer than I had originally wanted to. This was somewhat out of pure habit (there was a lot of other stuff going on in my life and I wasn’t really thinking about myself or what I was doing I just kinda got up and moved through my day) and also, in my case, because it made my periods less painful. But when I eventually woke up and looked around again and considered myself, I realised my voice had gotten too deep, that it was noticeable and that I couldn’t passingly imitate a prototypical female voice anymore. Which then caused problems with my family, which is what I had wanted to avoid in the first place.

So I guess the takeaway from that is… don’t be an idiot like me I guess lol and just pay really close attention to any effects of e hormone changes. Stuff like your face changing shape etc. too is subtle over time, but to a family member who hadn’t seen you in a while, it would be a jarring change.

That’s all pretty obvious I guess but. Idk that was my experience. Hope this wasn’t annoyingly long and rambly, feel free to ignore if it is :}

thank you for sharing your experience!

[bowenoke]

i'm sure i am not the only one who is very concerned about the ~4 hours between when the midjourney change was made, and I knew to go opt out of it, so; glaze does not need to be on all your works to be effective. in the same way that one artist glazing all their works will ruin a broad, multi-artist dataset, glazing your works moving forward will ruin any dataset trained on you. if out of 100 comics I've posted, 10 are glazed, a dataset trained on all of my comics will not be able to make anything similar to my style. anyways. go download glaze.

[the2ndsanctuary]

It was said by a mutual of mine before as well that there's certain lack of engagement with Shadow Milk's character outside of his situationship with Pure Vanilla, and even the dynamic is being what it seems verrrrry flanderized . aND I think if you really want to angst Shadow Milk its like. YOU CAN do that and i dont know if anyone is doing it right cuz im too scared to look. but like

u have to understand that if there' anything shadow milk feels remorseful, or regretful about, is that he doesn't. its too early i think to say for sure where his character is going, but i think it is safe to say he does not regret anything, does not feel bad about anything he's done or going to do, and probably has never felt bad about it at all.

what makes his character so compelling as a villain AND a personality, is how unabashedly shamelessly sadistic and despicable he is. he thrives in others suffering. there's a chance he spent all his divine self in solitude, aware of everything everywhere all the time. because to know is to constantly find yourself in isolation when people dont want to face the truth. and what he's doing is twisting it the way he wants, lying to the point of willing it into reality.

and how can you angst it? its his lonely realization of the truth he's hiding from, that will never make him able to connect with anyone. its knowing that your beliefs in something greater, something innocent, were false, and you will be destined to be the only one to Know. his perfect world is of lies and hatred, because he's so full of it himself, where suffering and bliss is one as are truths and lies. he's a deeply sad individual and not in a sympathetic, understandable way (unlike burning spice who shows active signs of remorse and suicide ideation as he's struggling with his failures). his conclusion makes him feel comfortable in inflicting and subjecting people to unspeakable psychological pain.

i cant tell you what to do if you want to feel sympathy for shadow milk, but i really think there are far more complex and interesting things you could do with his own failures. he thinks the only way to null his own hatred for the cruel reality is to make others suffer, to make it where he's constantly comfortable and entertained. he thinks if he tries hard enough and torments people enough, it will make, ultimately, a better world of chaos and, I THINK, a world where knowing the truth will equal to nothing.

thats where his entire conflict with pure vanilla is coming from. he THINKS he knows everything, and he THINKS that in seeing pure vanilla so naively believing in truth to be something that prevails, he can make a show of the ultimate proof that all of pure vanilla's beliefs are rubbish, by breaking him. by turning pure vanilla Into him. by isolating him and making him suffer the way shadow milk did, in everpresent and everaware solitude.

tldr he's lonely for the fact that he's an all knowing entity and thus is hateful towards the world and people so he inflicts it upon others in a manner of manipulation and constructing the narrative the way he wants it to be for personal entertainment and comfort. and he loves it. he uses pure vanilla to prove his point. you shouldnt feel bad for him and in fact you should be beating him with sticks every day every minute every second and his angst is nothing but selfish spiral he has no desire to get out of because he enjoys it and uses to justify his actions.

[aqueenvictorious]

every attempt I make at Organizing collapses on itself. There's too much stuff, but I can't just can it all. I know there's things I want to save, but that means sorting, which means organizing, and then it collapses again, because I don't know where to put anything, what to label anything. It's just this daunting and ever-growing pile sitting ominously beside me.

I do not like this! I do not like being like this! I want to be organized! I want to be able to find my stories and ideas and notes and everything. Argh.