#is this post-worthy idk

[jackfitzkennedy]

my attempt at drawing on new windows laptop for the first time

[gomzdrawfr]

I really like this one particular look

i know it's a very highschool basketball skateboard dude kind of vibe but yeah

[imclou]

My problem is that i have to work but they're the only thing i can think about

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

But not green.

You know the song Mr. Jones? Yeah.

[froggkidd]

Fight club Shelly and Vee magma drawing !!! 😛 ( Fight club au by @sappy-friend !! Check their art out they're super duper cool >< )

[bethiewhimsy]

i think the saddest part about the husk shaking from fear because of alastor scene is that he never seemed afraid of him until now. he felt comfortable enough to talk to him, to offer advice and even to bite back when alastor started picking on him. there’s scenes in which they tease each other. husk knows a lot about alastor that nobody else (not even the audience) knows, whether he was purposefully trusted with this information or not, neither seem threatened by it. before that, husk simply seemed regretful to be indebted to him, like alastor was just a burden to bear. i think that’s why his reaction to alastor in that scene was so intense. alastor had perhaps never treated him so harshly before. and that scared the shit out of him. and probably felt akin to some sort of betrayal or something. like being reminded of the awful truth (that alastor OWNS him, that he COULD kill him, that he’d be happy to)

[edenfire]

🎶🌸Ask me why my heart's inside my throat//

I've never been in love, I've been alone//

Feel like I've been living life asleep//

Love so strong it makes me feel so weak🌸🎶

shuake is still on my mind, so I finished up this little doodle🥺💘🌸 the lineart and flats were on my phone, and the background and shading were on my computer🌟✨️

god for them to get to the point of being publicly physically affectionate,,,, I die,,,,

[kwoojii]

[emsprovisions]

The Substitute

I couldn't get this cozy idea out of my head and I wouldn't even have this little story if not for @ironheartwriter and I cooking it up last night. So Lana, this one's for you 💕

Carlos hates shifts that run opposite of TK’s. He hates shifts that run late into the night and keep him away from his husband even more. 

Carlos knows TK hates sleeping alone, that even when he tries to fall asleep, he doesn’t sleep well until Carlos can crawl into bed beside him. Carlos understands it. He’s always all too aware of when his husband is absent from their bed. He’ll reach for TK across the mattress in his sleep and wake up when his hands don’t register with anything. He’ll remember TK’s on a 24 hour shift if he’s not home, or he’ll get up and drag him back to bed if he’s having a late night snack.

Tonight though, Carlos is expecting the routine welcome he normally gets when he comes home in the middle of the night. TK blinking as he sits up from the blanket cocoon he made as he tried to wait up on the couch, or TK’s sleepy voice calling for him from their room, or even the sight of TK alert at the island barstool, eating leftovers and scrolling through his phone. 

Carlos is greeted by none of these things. 

In fact, the loft is silent and–save for the kitchen light–dark. 

Huh, Carlos thinks, because it’s strange for TK to not leave most of the lights on for Carlos. He sees TK’s set of keys in the bowl when he drops his own set in, and he knows he saw TK’s car when Carlos parked his own beside it. 

Carlos quietly toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, setting his things down behind the couch before creeping towards the open doors of their bedroom. 

There’s a large and dark lump on his side of the bed. Frankly, the lump is too large to be TK alone. Carlos quirks a brow at the sight, his mouth drawing into a pinched line. He knows the path to the closet even in the dark, and flips on the switch, letting a soft light spill out into the bedroom and cast over the sleeping face of TK and his companion. 

And whatever annoyance Carlos momentarily feels gives way to complete awe at the sight of TK actually peacefully sleeping while snuggled up with their dog, an Australian Shepherd named Lizzie. 

They adopted her about a month ago, after Carlos took TK on a date to the Humane Society with the promise of “we don’t have to find the one today.” He was wrong of course, which he probably should have known, given his husband’s love of strays. But one look at the good-mannered and sweet-natured Australian Shepherd in the kennel, with her bright blue eyes, and her brown and white fluffy coat, and they were both goners. 

Lizzie has been a great addition to their home. She’s curious when she spots Lou II through the glass of his enclosure, nose sniffing as he scuttles up to the front to inspect her too. She goes to the firehouse with TK on most of his shifts and gets her fill of socialization by being doted on by the 126. And although there is a very strict vacuuming routine to keep the shedding at bay now, Carlos would not trade the happiness she provides them with for the world. Carlos has fulfilled his wish of having a pet to pet, and TK has fulfilled his wish of wanting a dog since he was a kid. 

She’s also definitely way more protective of TK. He often finds her laying on top of him or near him if he’s not beside TK himself. This is probably why he finds her curled up against TK’s chest in bed now. Carlos had set a firm rule that he doesn’t want Lizzie sleeping in their bed, but honestly, if her presence can soothe TK enough that he can actually fall asleep without Carlos, he’s more than okay with dropping that rule. Plus the sight of them really is the cutest thing Carlos has ever seen, and he’s very tempted to pull out his phone and take a picture if he knew it wouldn’t set off the flash.

Carlos quickly strips out of his jeans and button up, trading them for sleep shorts and a t-shirt before heading for the bathroom to brush his teeth. He rushes through the routine, in a hurry to go climb into his warm bed and hold his husband, so he can take over his duties from the dog. 

Carlos sits down beside TK’s hip, reaching forward to brush his fingers through TK’s hair. Lizzie lifts her sleepy head and regards Carlos with a lick to his arm and a yawn, before tucking back in. 

“TK,” Carlos whispers, continuing to brush TK’s hair back. “Baby.”

TK stirs. Carlos hates waking him but he needs TK to shift over so he can crawl in behind him. 

“Baby, I need you to move over so I can get in bed.”

TK’s eyes blink open and he catches sight of Carlos leaning over him. His face immediately breaks into a big smile.

“There you are,” Carlos fondly murmurs, hand running down to cup TK’s cheek.

“Hi baby,” TK whispers back, his voice thick and sleepy. “Sorry Lizzie’s in the bed. I was lonely.”

“I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m glad she helped you sleep.” He leans down to press a kiss to TK’s forehead, and before he can pull away, TK wraps his arm around Carlos’s waist to keep him tugged close for a kiss. Carlos has an awkward arm braced over the other side of Lizzie so he doesn't topple all of his weight on top of TK, and he laughs as TK holds him in place. “You have to let me get in bed, babe.” 

“I’ve got you where I want you,” TK says back, his voice muffled where he’s buried his face against Carlos’s neck. 

“Babe, come on,” Carlos laughs. 

At this point, there is too much noise and too much movement on the mattress for Lizzie to stay comfortable where she’s laying against TK. With a targeted huff, she stands up and moves towards the foot of the bed, throwing a glare back at her dads as she completes a few circles and rolls herself into a tight ball, nose tucked aggressively under her tail.

They both begin to laugh harder at the sight of their annoyed dog and then TK does finally shift over, closer to his own side of the bed, to allow Carlos some space to move in beside him. He rolls into Carlos’s arms, nose tucked in against his chest, all warm, soft, and heavy from sleep, and Carlos can’t help the kiss he presses into TK’s hair.

“Lizzie’s good, but she’s not a Carlos substitute,” TK sighs happily, nuzzling his face against Carlos’s neck. 

“I’m glad I’ve not been replaced, then,” Carlos chuckles.

TK looks up at him with a smile in the dark, before pulling him down for a goodnight kiss. 

“Never.”

[nordidia]

Would you by any chance have a raph playlist? 👀

BOY, DO I

i have. too many actually

but i can give you my oldest one, i started it in 2020 and its not necessarily every song's lyrics being raphcore, its just what i put on when drawing him in non-emotional content! i think the songs are kind of his vibes, if only the beat of the song. some are a bit emotional though, sorry theyre a bit scattered in there!

alot of the vibes i was going for was "being the driver on a roadtrip and everyone else is asleep so you lower the radio to not disturb them, the sun is low and theres a fresh summer breeze"

here it is!

i also have um cough. a list i listen to while drawing emotional raph content. this one im more picky with, the songs' lyrics remind me of him and what he struggles with. so i compiled it into a list for when i need my brain to focus on his psyche while drawing anything. if you want to know what i listen to while drawing jojo specials for example,

here you go,,! sorry,/gen

[yamham154]

❤️‍🔥

[ninyard]

i am a BIG supporter of create what you want for your own joy, so absolutely do what you would like to do for the trial!! no one should be pressuring you to do it a specific way unless that’s how you Want to do it.

but if you were asking about what we’d like… personally i would love to see the whole trial as much as possible (i really don’t want you to overwhelm yourself) especially for higgin’s and nicky’s parts!! i like when we see more than just Big Main Parts, especially bc you flesh it out so well <3 sometimes it’s even more hard hitting when it’s Not from the people we expect, you know?

also, thank you for making the socmed aus!! they make me giggle and kick my feet every time, and also wail in agony and clutch at my chest… you have the range <3

GOD i wrote a whole long ass response to this and i didn't realise until too late that my phone was going to die </3 and it died </3

But it was something along the lines of I'm really glad that the general consensus seems to be to do all five days of the trial, or however many days it ends up being, from start to finish. For me personally it'd feel unfinished if I skipped parts just to get to the ~interesting~ parts, and I think if I'm going to make something like this then I want to show it all.

It's not this deep, but I guess it's like... It's fucked up. People are making memes about a murder trial involving rape and other things that are just not funny at all. And skipping parts just to get to "GOD NEIL IS SO CHAOTIC ON THE STAND" or whatever feels,,, insensitive? Unjust?? I don't know

but people are also doing that shit in real life. About real people, real trials, with real victims and real perpetrators. Sensationalising trials just because it's a celebrity on the stand, or it's an "interesting" murder trial or whatever. People are making memes and jokes about them. And people are making their own minds up about the verdict because of it. I want to show people who think Aaron's guilty because of something the cop who arrested him said. I want to show people who think Andrew is an unreliable witness because of something Higgins says, somebody who thinks Aaron isn't guilty because a forensics team mentioned something about the crime scene that they don't think sounds right. I want to make this from the outsider view on the publics reaction to a trial, and specifically people who almost idolise Aaron, or Kevin, or Neil, or Andrew. People who don't see them as human, but as celebrities, as people who are supposed to be perfect. People who see a trial like this and think, "it's okay for me to make jokes about this, or to post about this, because they're just famous people. They're not like real people to me."

People are at home becoming twitter lawyers and making up their minds based on what they read or see online, and it almost separates the reality of the situation from the "characters" that people create out of defendants and victims. You see people hopping on bandwagons or hate trains or whatever when it comes to these kind of public trials. People making clips of something "funny" a lawyer or witness said for the sake of content. People making temporary celebrities out of the judge and jury and legal representation. For what? For likes?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to show the different sides of how people actually react to trials like this without becoming insensitive to the fact that trials like this,,, do actually happen. But by making a fan tweet a joke about murder, I'm making that, I'm thinking of the words that go into the tweet. So it's tough. And again I know it's not that deep, but that's kind of... most of the reason why I've been putting it off? Because it's hard. It's hard not to feel like it sensationalises those kinds of things. It's hard not to feel like "God, am I just making fun of this situation here?" while also being reminded that yeah, maybe, but people actually react like that.

So is it worth the tumblr post to make memes and tweets out of something that happens irl, and affects real people? Is it insensitive, or is it just fandom stuff that isn't perceived in an insensitive way at all, because it is just that, a fandom post?

[artfartt]

I did it…I finally did it

[esaari]

honk

[frosted-woods]

dig up my huge box of alcohol markers that i haven't used in 3 years or so. turns out i don't hate them as much as i thought i did but still i had to deal with half of them being on the verge of death so colors are a bit inprovised. also look it's viktor say hi.

btw this the 25 pixel reference i was using here i think i downloaded it from a post some time ago for all that it is i think i won against it.

[rosenbergamot]

Something about a bottle of vodka that (almost) jogs your memory

“Scar…” Grian’s exasperated voice rings through monopoly mountain. He quickly peeks down into the first level. His friend is holding the bottle of vodka he had managed to find ages ago. “Where on earth did you find this. How on earth did you find this. What even are you doing with this.” 

None of his ‘questions’ are actually questions; his inflection does not go up, as Grian is not actually curious as to where he got the alcohol, rather he is tired of his shenanigans and trying desperately not to lose his mind. Scar kicks his feet and giggles, his hair leaking over and dangling in the air. 

“Why, I got it from the village, of course! Before I burnt down that house— you remember the one, don’t you, Grian? It seems those pesky villagers knew how to distill alcohol. Have you ever seen that before, Grian? Distilling alcohol? In a village? It’s madness!” 

Grian’s beady little eyes glare up at him from the ground floor. “Scar, I don’t think either of us have seen villagers before we got here. There’s not much we’ve seen.” 

Of course they have. They’ve had to. It was only natural— he knows it in his heart. But they can’t remember this fact. When Scar tries to hold onto the memory, it floats away from him. Things he should know dissolve between his fingers. Things he shouldn’t know linger on the back of his neck. 

He picks up his cane and walks downstairs. The slats of the window are tiny but if one squints and tilts their head in the right direction, then they can see the entire desert and forest sprawled out in front of them. The sands sometimes hold their footprints until the wind blows them away, covers the paths they’ve taken. They’re still working on building up a cactus wall as defense. 

The sandstone awards them a bit of coolness in the day. At night it becomes unbearable, as they both flock upstairs to try and conserve as much heat as possible. There’s always a careful distance they keep from each other in the day, but during the night it becomes impossible to do so. When Grian grumbles and pushes his nest towards Scar’s sleeping bag, curls up right next to him and nudges at his arms until they open and he can be enveloped by him, that’s when Scar truly feels like he’s back to being a person again. 

If they could mend the self inflicted rift that exists in the daytime… well, maybe Scar wouldn’t feel so prone to drinking. As it stands, though, Grian’s found his bottle of alcohol and he is not looking impressed.

“Say, have you ever had a drink before?” He asks as he peels the bottle out of Grian’s hand. He smells like the sun. He’s been out all day. 

Grian scoffs, his pretty features twisting a bit as he obviously thinks about it. “Of course I have! I-- well, I haven’t had one here, but I can only imagine I have before. In another life.”

In another life. If only they got to have that. Another life seems like an intangible dream. 

He hums thoughtfully. He’s only had a few drinks from this bottle. Just enough to stave off the gnawing anxiety and bloodlust that grows underneath his skin everyday. 

He starts to toss the bottle from hand to hand, watching the way the liquid inside jostles. “The taste was at least a little bit familiar to me when I tried some. I’ve definitely had it before! No clue when. I wonder what I liked to drink before I got here? That guy… the other me. I wonder what he was like.” 

He laughs but it doesn’t have much humour. 

And Grian’s eyes look softer when he finally peels his stare away from the droplets racing down the bottle. “Yeah, it would seem that bits of our past bled through into this life. Like, I can’t resist pressing a button or flicking a lever no matter how dangerous it may be. Other me must’ve been a right moron, don’t know how I lived to be… here.” A hum. “And redstone makes me… sad. As if I’ve lost something close to me. Something really important." His face falls. “I don’t get it.” 

Normally Grian only gets like this when the sun falls. Normally he’s guarded, witty, sharp; and Scar is much the same, each of them trying so desperately to preserve what little bits of dignity they have left here. Prideful people. Pride is such a sin, he can see it now. 

He sits down, stares at the swirling shapes of the sandstone on the wall. “Sometimes I can feel my brain try to remember my memories. Things important to me. People important to me. But it’s like there’s a… a block.” 

A strange warble comes from Grian. He makes those sounds sometimes-- bird sounds, that is, which makes a lot of sense given that he is a hybrid, but they only happen in specific circumstances. They’re different each time, from chirps to melodies to whistles to clicks. It happens when he’s bored, when he snuggles up next to Scar at night, when he accidentally hurts himself, when Pizza is being extra cute.

This sound is sad. It rings in his chest. 

“I’ve tried to ignore it.” Is what he admits after a few minutes. “I, um… grabbing this gave me one of those feelings like you described. It was as if I’d done this before. Not just with anyone. With you...” His voice gets real quiet at the end. 

Scar fights to keep his voice even as he responds. “Do… do you think we knew each other before?” Before we got thrown into hell. 

For Scar, the answer to that question is obvious: yes. He felt it as soon as he saw all of them. He felt something deep in his chest when he saw Grian, flashes of memories trying to bubble up to the surface but unable to. When Bdubs first spoke to him, he felt an immediate instinct to comment on his height-- which would have been very rude of him! They’d just met, after all!

Except they hadn’t. They’d known each other before. An election. A moon. A home. What even is he trying to remember? 

“I…” Another sound worms its way out of Grian. It’s more desperate, uncomfortable. He laughs it off awkwardly. “Can I try a sip of that alcohol? I think I suddenly need it.”

For the first time since they began talking, Scar really looks at Grian. His face is tight with stress, eyes shiny, nose flaring. His feathers are all fanned out, his ears twitching. In another life, Scar thinks maybe he also had wings. He can feel an absence on his back, like something has been missing all along, a vital piece of him.

Grian’s wings don’t work. None of the avians have actual working wings that can sustain them for a long period above the ground; they can all flutter, sure, but it’s as if their bodies aren’t made for it anymore despite them having these traits. 

He tries to make his smile as gentle as possible as he passes him the bottle. “Of course, of course! Would be downright cruel of me to make you handle this while sober!” He aims for a humorous tone, but the situation is so fucked up and strange that it falls flat. His smile is pulling painfully at the edges. 

Grian unscrews the bottle, smells it. He makes a face. He looks at him.

“I recommend not smelling it.” 

He rolls his eyes, then takes a swig of it. The face immediately turns to disgust. He swallows it, gagging, coughing, pounding his fist onto the table. It looks just like he did when he tried for the first time. It makes him start to laugh. 

“Scar!” He wails. “It tastes horrible!” 

“It does.” He swipes it from Grian, steeling himself before taking a sip. He only flinches a little bit this time. He looks to see if it impressed Grian, but the avian is flapping his hands, eyes screwed shut. Dangit. “It’s not supposed to taste nice, Grian! Because then you would drink all of it and it would be horrible. It’s the alcohol’s defense mechanism, y’see? It makes itself so bitter when you first take a sip that you run away immediately! That way you don’t drink it all right up and end up gettin’ yourself killed! But it doesn’t work on me.” 

For better or for worse.

Peeling his face off the table, Grian turns to glare at him. “Well, it could stand to taste a little less like… that. Maybe then it would hurt less people.” 

“I guess.” He studies the way the bottle glints in the diminishing daylight. “So… are you gonna have anymore?”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Of course I am. Pass it here.”