#i understand its for health

[dizzybizz]

"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"

[loverofpiggies]

Something Wonderful Volume 1 is now available on my Etsy shop!

The fixed books have finally arrived, so it is now on sale! Only $20 for the first 3 chapters, 120 pages of the story!

[nordidia]

having a very rough night so raph doodles needed to be made

when in need, mash two interests together

[violottie]

🇵🇸 please watch and remember this 🇵🇸

"PERSPECTIVE: In a world where some can close their eyes to suffering, others are forced to endure it without respite. Let’s remember our privilege to switch off, and consider the lives that can’t.”

by meeks_animates, 14/Apr/2024:

[maria-ruta]

I'm having a bad mood today

Would you draw my blorbo for me please?

[skunkes]

[moonlit-dreamers]

i need yall to understand just how badly i want solar and eclipse to get into a physical fight

but none of it is actually serious or harmful and its just them aggressively rolling around and (depending on the day) throwing petty insults at each other

like this is how i imagine theyd fight

theyre just lil guys. they just fight each other sometimes. just get a bit silly sometimes

also thank @basilbots for reminding me how insane i am over this. also thank them for saying that the lil head waggle of that one cat is like their rays spinning/flaring

[lovesickeros]

☆ from gold, i am undone

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k

You weren't meant to be here.

You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.

You are changed, and you are whole.

But you are so unbearably broken.

A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.

Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.

All you see is a monster.

Something new, something old.

A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.

But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.

You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.

But you know it will not satisfy you.

Nothing does anymore.

You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.

And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.

There is nothing left but absolute authority.

You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?

Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.

Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.

You welcome it.

It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.

Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.

You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.

For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?

Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?

Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?

Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.

For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.

[amyranoor]

The bravest thing I ever did,

was rebuilding. When I did not even want, to live.

-John Polo

[silicon-puppy-pudding]

Danny totally kills the Joker

I have a very specific Eldritch!Danny in my head that, even though I've tried drawing before, I can't really get out of my head if you get what I mean

And as a dead on main shipper and a lover of angst I have him do shit that causes problems

Like kill the Joker in a blind rage after an Arkham break out

So it's like this, after a breakout that obviously requires all hands on deck, everyone is eventually re-cuffed and put back in their cells (including the Joker).

Red Hood and Phantom are doing some clean up in the Narrows and it's hard on them. Seeing some kids whose parents died cuz of the clown nearly broke Hood.

Phantom, now well known as Hood's right hand, picks up some of the burden. Helping more then he normally does with some displaced kids and families cuz he can feel Hood breaking down.

It hurts..

After the night/day/whatever is over, they head back home to their appartment and Jason just breaks. Danny's been helping with the pit rage so without all the extra anger crowding him it just sort of crumbles into pain and hurt.

Danny can't stand it

He can't stand to see Jason like this

Jason was his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his partner in crime. He had always been there for Danny when he had panic attacks and couldn't breathe cuz he saw some guy walking down the street in a white suit. Was always telling him it was going to be okay. Had told him things were gonna be alright. And now the roles had switched. Danny comforted Jason for who knows how long. Held him tight till he calmed down and was able to fall asleep. Once Danny was sure Jason would be okay he slipped out of the appartment...

Phantom would not stand for this.

Phantom flew over to Arkham with the intent to "have a little chat" with the Joker. Just ruf him up a bit. Scare him shitless so he'd rethink ever braking out again.

He didn't mean to bash the guys skull in.

He didn't even realize he'd been beating a flattened pound of meat and skull till Batman showed up and pulled him from his mind.

He looked over to where he'd heard his name and saw Batman and Nightwing standing by the door of the cell. Both were wrapped in bandages, some obviously stained in blood from the damage they endured during the breakout.

Dick covered his mouth and stared in horror at the sight of Danny, who he'd been lovingly calling his future brother-in-law for the past 2 months, covered in the Jokers blood. He looked like a staticky, distorted shadow. Three(3) sets of arm all ending with white clawed hands; one pair around the Jokers barely intact neck, another clutching the inmate uniforms chest, the last frozen mid punch. Bruce, having just the slightest ecto-connection from the pit, fought off the screaming in his chest to run and leave the King be.

Bruce slowly approached Phantom. Phantom on the other hand, slowly realized what he'd just done and was starting to panic.

He'd just killed a man

Sure he fucking deserved it but he just....let himself go. Let himself indulge in his rage, be consumed by it. And now the Batman was here to stop him. Would he send him back to the Realms? Would he lock him up, away from anyone he could hurt? Away from Jason?

Phantom flinches when Bruce touches his shoulder. And continues to try and back away when Bruce calls for someone to get a hold of Jason on the coms. What's he doing? Isn't he going to be thrown into a cell? He's dangerous! He could do this again if he wasn't dealt with! Why is Bruce calling for Jason? Does he want to show him the monster he let into his life? Does he want Jason to be the one to do it?

Bruce is talking.

Not Batman, but Bruce, is saying something to him, his name.

Not Phantom

"Danny? Danny!?"

Phantom disappears and isn't seen for two(2) days

Nightwing is the one to find him. In some warehouse, slamming his head into a support beam, yelling at himself that he can't become Dan.

I don't know how to continue this. It was supposed to have a nice hurt/comfort ending but I'm not a fic writer and I don't know how to do that. So feel free to use this as a prompt or something 👻👉🏾👈🏾

Edit: figured I'd add one of the Danny doodles I did a while back cuz it fits. I already posted it a while ago but it feels appropriate here too.

[kindaasrikal]

How tf did this fanfic actually reach 5k words already on chapter one and its not even half way completed.

The things i do for morro 😭

[wispscribbles]

hi i just discovered your beautiful art so i obviously needed to scroll down your whole blog to catch up on everything you posted haha

i just wanted to say that i got way too emotional after reading that post of yours regarding mw3 and your mental health… on one hand i’m so sorry that you felt that way, but on the other i feel it with my whole heart

ghoap content especially for me helped me these past few months with my mental health in ways i would never have expected, it was my solace and inspiration, i started working out too and got back into drawing, got a lot better at it as well!

but unfortunately i get way too fixated on fictional stuff and there comes a time that my brain switches up and connects the things i liked and comforted me with things that make me extremely uncomfortable and stressed out, especially if i fall down a fandom rabbit hole that i would never have searched up, beacuse i know myself, i know my limits and triggers but i feel like i’m not a part of the fandom if i don’t like and interact with every single headcanon, art and ship

these past days i was really down because of that, and the things i read (why did i do that???) and now when i think of ghoap i think of that stuff and im scared that i alienated myself from the one thing that made me happy

but discovering your art and with that your post reminded me that im not alone in these feelings, even if it’s not the same exactly, and i wanted to thank you, for sharing your thoughts that time i guess haha <33

((sorry for rambling))

Long reply under 'keep reading' !! CW: talk of triggers and MCD

Always feel free to ramble my way!!! How nice you could find some comfort in my art and ghoap stuff. Especially in my mw3 post. I've been considering deleting it a few times, but hearing it maybe helped to read in some way makes me happy I left it up.

I get where you're coming from - I very much use these fictional characters as a safe space, but ppl view them very differently. There's room for it all, "don't like, don't interact" is very much a policy I agree with. It's important to mute words and be aware of your own triggers as you browse stuff in this fandom, because there's such a wide variety of stuff out there. You do NOT have to interact and agree with every thought people have on this ship, that's impossible and super stressful. There's plenty of stuff and headcanons I don't vibe with. There are no 'requirements' that you have to meet in order to enjoy fiction.

It's part of why I enjoy ghoap - that their dynamic resonates and has sparked so much creativity and outlets for so many - but it also means there's gonna be a lot of stuff u don't necessarily agree with or feel comfortable with. For example, a lot of folks use the MCD in mw3 as a way to explore grief, which I think is really cool, but on a bad day that could potentially get my brain in a bad headspace, so I only check out that art and those fics when I feel okay. There's also a bunch of stuff I'd never want to interact with, and that’s fine !!

I'm personally quite vanilla and a sucker for exploring the softer, more domestic aspects of these characters. It's what brings me joy. I know there are parts of this fandom who don’t vibe with what I make at all, and would call it untrue to the characters. Some creators enjoy exploring the more violent or toxic sides to the source material. That's just how it is, we all need different things from fiction. As long as we're capable of chilling in our respective sandboxes, then all's good.

But if you're like me, and enjoy the softer things, then definitely be aware and careful while exploring this ship and fandom. I've seen takes on these characters that are so far removed from how I view them, that they're basically the complete opposite, and it can leave a very bad taste, especially if you're the type to hinge your safe space on fiction.

Just... be mindful of yourself and your potential triggers, be respectful and don't interact with things that make you uncomfortable to the point of feeling unsafe. Shape your own online experience to your best ability.

Hope you're doing okay and still find joy in ghoap <3

[puppyeared]

man

[chirpychipslive]

talking about these two in classic rock circles is such a fun ableism litmus test

[kitchen-faerie]

Split personalities in movies: I'm the more articulated version of you! And I'm the evil one!

Real DID: (Alter) had some struggles but they're doing great now! They were never evil, just had so much repressed feelings because of trauma. Now they're able to express themselves in a healthy outlet.

It's still a bit chaotic sometimes, but we're working toward everyone being safe and happy!

[separatist-apologist]

I genuinly want to know what made her think like "the people gonna love this" when writing that baby killing plot 💀💀

I think she said it was wish fulfillment on her end. Her pregnancy was so difficult that she wished someone had kept the worst of it from her so she could just enjoy herself. And I can appreciate that so much- with my last baby there was a very real risk the placenta was going to detach and kill us both. I remember sitting in a doctors office listening to this and they were like, you need to be on ACTUAL bed rest, would you consider doing this in the hospital?

And I said no, swore (like a liar) that I'd do it at home, and then just kind of walked around with this fear of dying for the next six months. It was impossible to really enjoy the pregnancy, even when she was coming, because there was all this risk associated with it. I was doing weekly appointments for three straight months so they could look at my placenta, and once she was born, the placenta fell apart in pieces like it really did hold on for dear life right until the end which I appreciated.

So I empathize with SJM so deeply on that front. I wish that for me, too. I think the problem is that in a world that attempts to force childbearing on us, ESPECIALLY when its currently so dangerous in the US (the only perspective I can speak on) (and even more dangerous depending on your race/ethnicity and socioeconomic status), it reads like a nightmare straight out of a red state Senators wettest dream.

And one of my frustrations with SJM as an author is how she really doesn't examine what she's writing. So for her this is cathartic- Feyre is protected by Rhys the way she wishes she could have been, without considering that like...in the current climate where reproductive rights are being eroded and criminalized, this is a real fear a lot of people have- vital information being kept from them because all that matters is the baby even at the expense of the person carrying it.

I don't think it was her intention for it to come across that way. I think she wanted us to view Rhys as someone who loved Feyre so much he would do anything to save them both. But instead he comes across as someone willing to risk her life without even informing her of the danger so she can make an informed choice, and she only learns the truth in a heart wrenching moment between Feyre and Nesta that is so polarizing that people often blame NESTA for Feyre finding out the way she did.

So like- I understand her thought process...but having also read it, I just. Its not good.