#i can write pretty good for my level

[cuntastic-mrs-cunt]

guuyyyssuhhhh i really hate my german class (i love my german class)

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[fuckinart]

(they'll never understand) How could I ever understand? No, I don't have to understand. I don't wanna understand. So I will never understand. (we could have everything)

[deoidesign]

just to inquire, what’s your favorite thing you sell in your shop?

i love your comic!

Oh thank you!

And my favorite thing... That's hard to answer haha

I like selling prints because I get to use my nice printer (which I love to do) and I especially love selling custom panel prints, because then I get to see people's favorite panels from my comic, which is double nice...

The most fun items to pack are the merch bundles which are themed with my books, I LOVE coming up with packaging design like this so much...

But my favorite design has gotta be one of these... Probably the patch, there.

It's really hard for me to pick!

I actually genuinely just am really passionate about product design and merch themeing, it's not only extremely fun for me but it also just really engages my brain. I love coming up with items that fit a theme, and there's no theme I love more than my own comics haha

So there's not much I could enjoy more! That's why I chose to do a merch club on patreon, it lets me get out my merch-y feelings but without overloading my storefront... Plus it's just really fun for me! I get to experiment, make little packages, and enjoy making new things.

Thank you for asking!

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[fictionadventurer]

I love setting fantasy around and after WWI. It's such a good combination. WWI was a loss-of-innocence on a societal level. There had been this assumption that technology and progress could solve all our problems and make us better people, and then WWI comes and shows us horribly and violently that it does not, and then in the aftermath we have to deal with what this means for us as a society and as people.

Throwing magic into that is a perfect thematic fit, because magic and technology are basically the same thing--people trying to impose their will upon nature. It can do good things or terrible things, but the issue is not necessarily the technology or the magic itself, but the hearts of the people using it, the cost to bring it about, the drain on resources and the effect on the environment and people. In the aftermath of a major conflict, we have to take a long hard look at ourselves and the choices we've made and will continue to make. Are the benefits worth the cost? What is the true nature of man--can we ever trust ourselves again? Have we progressed to a better stage of humanity or reverted back to beasts? There is just so much to explore there. The WWI connection has been built into the genre ever since Tolkien, and it continues to be relevant to our modern world.

[arosnowflake]

I have lost 'don't be pedantic' fight once again, so: it annoys me when people straight up state fakiru is canon, because that's a gross oversimplification. There is certainly romantic subtext between Fakir and Ahiru, but unlike Rue and Mytho, they never textually get together, so how 'canon' it is depends on how you define 'canon' to begin with. Furthermore, it's also really easy to interpret the romantic subtext as platonic. This is because Princess Tutu, for the most part, distinguishes very little between romantic and platonic love. In this show the boundary between the romantic and the platonic is fluid. The exact nature of Fakir and Ahiru's relationship and feelings for each other is up to interpretation, and intentionally so. So talking about fakiru as if it's unambiguously canon without acknowledging the inherent ambiguity simplifies the show and is not an accurate representation of their relationship. Also it annoys me personally.

[prettyboykatsuki]

i have deep desire to write for demon slayer (and by write for it im specifically talking about zenitsu currently.) but the story is so deeply impacted by it's setting that its gonna take at least two weeks of research to do it any justice so the plans r Delayed

[tovaicas]

my real favourite character is Nidhogg, I’m only obsessed with Estinien bc he’s a hangers-on /jokes

[cecenyss]

My parents are angry. They lose their temper quickly and get ahold of it just as fast. They’re not violent—not towards people, anyway.

Quick bouts of rage come and go so fast it gives me whiplash. My mom will grit her teeth in an angry burst and apologize in the same breath. My dad slams cabinets and swears like a sailor and then turns and says “sweetie?” like nothing is wrong within seconds.

But the apology is said like a chore, the endearment sounds like a threat. I know that they’re not, because I know my parents. I know their mannerisms, I’ve memorized their moods. I can read them as easily as myself.

Those kinds of things are characteristics displayed in abused characters, and I wonder what it says about me that I know my life is good but I still show them. I know they’re not perfect, because nobody is; sometimes I despair over what they could have done better and how much more I’d love myself if they had. But despite that, they don’t hurt me. There’s no malice, and they don’t even realize when I’m in pain.

And yet I fear them. Fear doesn’t come from violence. I know that. But they’re not manipulative, they’re not unloving, they’re not malicious. They love me, and they tell me. Not just when they want something, just when they see me. We’re very big on physical affection, and we talk freely. I roll my eyes and tell them to shut up and they laugh.

And yet I fear them.

My dad snaps and swears loudly about how my mother is a pain. He never threatens me. I don’t think he even processes that he’s saying this to his teenage daughter; he’s venting. And there’s nothing wrong with that that I can think of. Expressing your emotions freely is healthy. But I say thank you more than I would, I don’t talk as much, I don’t crack as many jokes. I stay quiet and talk when I need to. I do what I’m told. I’m scared. I don’t know if I’m scared of hurting him or of him hurting me.

My mom ignores me when she’s doing something, and when I repeat a clarifying question she tells me I need to leave her alone so she can do it. But other times she’s focusing and I leave her alone and she asks if I’m going to help her or not, or if I’m going to just stand there? Sure, the situations are different, but I don’t know what makes one something I should help with or ignore. And if I try to ask, like sometimes do, she says I’m being silly and I should know. I stay quiet and do nothing so I’m not just goofing off; I sit there and watch her in case she tries to ask me something, and I try not to tense. I’m scared.

I don’t know if this is normal or bad. I never had chores; is that neglect or lenience? I don’t know how to clean or do laundry or cook; is that a failure on their part or on mine? Sometimes I’m asked questions in school about where I live and I know my address but I know it like something I’ve memorized, not the actual meanings of the letters and numbers of the streets and where they are and what’s next to them. Is that because I was never taught or because I never paid attention?

Parents aren’t meant to just hold their child through every single life experience. I know that. Sometimes kids are just lazy and it’s their own fault for not trying. But I don’t know which it is. I don’t know if I’m in the wrong or they are. Am I just playing the victim or should they have done better? I know that in the past few years I’ve rejected all attempts by them to do anything, because of depression. Am I responsible for what I’ve missed out on because of it? Am I meant to fix it now? I’m better, but not healed. I still need help, but I’m at an age where I’m meant to be independent. But I can’t. I just can’t.

I love my parents, but I resent them. Am I wrong for resenting them? Do I have nothing to complain about? Am I just being dramatic? I haven’t spoken with them about any of this because I’m scared; is it my own fault I haven’t tried to confront them? When things don’t improve should I blame myself for not pursuing change?

It feels like my mother holds my hand through everything I do. Is that my fault for not being more independent? Is it hers for being too indulgent? Is it both of ours? How does it get fixed if neither of us are going to change? I’m too scared to take any independence because it feels like there’s too much and I feel like I’m constantly on the brink of collapsing, but she’s too complacent.

She’s always complacent. I ask her for things and she promises them so I stop asking and then it never happens and I complain and she says that I stopped asking but she promised but never does it. She doesn’t do anything. Nothing ever changes. My father barely knows what goes on in my personal life.

But they are good parents. They don’t do anything wrong. But I’ve just said things they do wrong. But they mean well, so how can I blame them? I say nothing, so aren’t I just complacent? But I’m scared. Am I allowed to be scared? To do nothing because of fear?

A lot of my friends have actual serious parental issues. Several of them have dead parents. How can I complain about my problems when they have so many actual, active problems? I have a hard enough time opening up about actual problems I deal with that are serious but this one is so mundane and might not even be a problem at all. I can ignore it if I don’t think about it but when I do think about it I want to cry because I hate it so so much.

I started this wanting to make a point about how anger doesn’t have to be violent to hurt someone, but now I’m just venting.

Whenever I take on a new responsibility or activity or anything, it takes over everything. I stress about it all the time, I double think how I do it and what I’m supposed to do and excuses I have for why I did it this specific way if someone asks and how I’m going to explain every single little action and it’s so exhausting. How can I expect myself to deal with the processes my mom does for me when I’m barely holding on with the things I do now? I double think everything. I think I’m doing better but I feel like I’m inching forward.

I don’t bring up suspicions about having autism with my psychiatrist because I’m scared of being wrong or being right or how my parents or cousins or aunts or anybody will react if it’s true or if it’s not true and they found out I thought it was and every single possible change is so exhausting to even think about.

I tell my mom I want to go home while we’re sitting on the couch in the apartment that they’ve lived in since before I was born. I am home, but I don’t feel like it. I never do. I want to be safe, I want to stop thinking, I want to not stress, but it’s so ingrained in how I live and act that I don’t even notice it until I hyper focus on my life and what happens so much it hurts.

She tells me she hates it when I say that. We are home. I can only tell her I want to go home when we aren’t there because that’s the only time she’ll comfort me. “I hate when you say that. We are home. What do you even mean? Stop saying that. It’s annoying. I hate it. I hate it.”

She knows I’m depressed and I have anxiety. I have meds now, and it helps. But sometimes I relapse and I fall into this pit of pain and depression and I can’t tell her, I can’t, because I know that she thinks that I’m better now, I’m good, I can deal with it, because the problem is the chemicals in my mind and the meds help with that. But it’s not just that. I hate my life, I hate everything, I hate myself, I hate her. But I love her. That would hurt her. She would cry. I hate it when my mother cries.

I’m sitting in a rental car crying because I’m depressed and my father is right in front of me. He hasn’t noticed and I doubt he will. When we pick up my mother she might notice my dried tears, and I’ll tell her it’s a sad fanfiction. She’ll believe me. They both will.

I want to go home.

[truethes]

immediately heart warmed over kaveh's explanation of a home and the sheer recognition he has on what makes something a home to him. like, the traveller literally asks him if he wants the teapot / that he'd be one to make better living space out of it, to which he can only remind them that it wouldn't be the same case for him as it is for them.

kaveh's not dreamed of living in a place like the one's he's built for ages, not even when he created the palace of alcazarzaray for dori, even though it was his crowning achievement, because in the end kaveh's always found himself alone. while it stung to sell his childhood home, and still stings to see it when he passes, kaveh has long recognised that it is no longer his home and, once he had moved out and hadn't found another place to live, between staying out on building sites of places he was building,

kavehs home for a good year or so remained lambads. lambad himself probably took kaveh under his wing, but also the people there were the reason kaveh found it so easy to come back again and again as a familiar sort of comfort - to the level in which he finds himself consistently letting go of his burdens and woes. ( it's, ironically, the place he also conducts a lot of his business at now, because he knows the people there look out for him as much as he looks out for them. they'd never let him leave the premises without someone they knew was safe. )

after moving in with alhaitham, part of kaveh always insists that it's not his home ( mainly out of the fear that one day, alhaitham will get tired and kick him out despite everything he insists otherwise ) but it's long past the point where kaveh views the house as one. both his internal dialogue and personal handwritten letters have him slipping up on this fact, but it's not something he's truly ready to let go easily. whatever happens between the two of them, kaveh has embodied a lot of his touch into this home, but at the same time manages to ensure alhaithams touch shines through, too. and while they bicker, fight, and aggravate one another to no degree, it's clear that the moments like that make it a home, too.

home never had to be perfect for kaveh because he's convinced himself that he wouldn't deserve such a feat. but he still manages to contradict himself by giving something beautiful here, too.

ps: also the way he has his hands on his hips when explaining himself as if ready to really defends his views to the way they drop the moment he expresses his sympathy to the traveller for their situation (aka clearly missing his family too.) + the way he even puts his hand on his heart when they ask if they can commission him once it's all over and he promises to do it for free ... kaveh ur heart is too pure. too kind.

[fnafawoundleftbleedingau]

Gonna be a while before I think I'll be drawing much beyond some planned doodles I said I'd do to a couple close friends, but... I'm curious, what FNaF AU drawings types from me sound more interesting..?

A random poll yes, but I'm curious, and ngl, I think I'm approaching one of those not so great "Spells" where I'm losing confidence in the things I'm well, supposed to be doing for fun. ^^;

[imminent-danger-came]

I feel insane for thinking Nim//ona wasn't that good asdfasfd

[an-asuryampasya]

thinking about recipes that taste different in every home, differing with each hand that makes it. how there can be so many different foods all sharing the same name, even within a single culture.

except not in a wow-cultural-variations-are-beautiful-way, but more along the lines of how they can inspire pure, distilled disappointment (or rage) in ways few other things in life can.

the dish stays the same, the ingredients stay the same, the cooking method stays the same - so you hear of [dish] and are briefly filled with hope and longing. bonus points if you're living away from home and you haven't had a chance to eat said dish for months or years. and!! here it is!! you've diligently avoided eating said dish at random restaurants over here because you just know (usually from prior experience) that they'll absolutely ruin it, so you're better off abstaining. or maybe it's the kind of dish that ISN'T available at restaurants, and your only hope is plotting and making friends with the right people that have family visiting in the vague hope that they're the kind to delight in plonking food into hands of "these students living all alone and so far from home :(" (nvm the fact that you saw said friend having the TIME of her life all this time because she's finally in a city with better food outlets than her hometown) (yes, I am aware that this is getting suspiciously specific at this point, shush)

so anyway, the food. it paid off! you put in the legwork and suffered through the appropriate number of awkward conversations with friends' parents who REALLY don't know you as well as they like to pretend they do, gave the right number of fake totally-not-awkward smiles, and now!! they're INSISTENT you join them for lunch because they brought [dish] from back home! and fuck, it's been literal MONTHS since you've had this last, AND they're from broadly the same culture as you so really, surely you can trust them to mean it when they call what they've brought [dish]. your eyes gleam and you agree, because oh man it's been so long and you just know it's going to be so good and the anTICIPATION is-

and then you take one bite and question your life's choices and experience a moment of unadulterated bafflement and abject loss because this was the first time you've had [dish] outside of your home and you didn't realise people used the same name for ATROCITIES like the kind you're attempting to eat now. it looks wrong, smells wrong, and tastes dreadfully wrong. this isn't [dish]. this isn't just a disappointment after all the build-up and hope you had. this is an insult. this is an embodiment of the sheer disrespect they have for the dish.

you realise then that ah, turns out disappointment actually DOES have a very distinct taste, and you just got acquainted with it. you wonder how they managed to ruin it so spectacularly. how!!! why???? literally WHAT lengths did they have to go to in order to manage to make [dish] taste so alien???

anyway, that feeling. few emotions I've experienced in life were as potent as that welling up of abject horror and sorrow as I tasted the first long awaited morsel of a beloved dish made in a different style (an objectively WRONG style /lh)

[cannibalismyuri]

(song added by me)