#it's pretty bad the rest of the time

[roebeanstalk]

reblog to politely ask people to educate themselves on rejection sensitive dysphoria and to keep it in mind when they talk to people

[mumblesplash]

furious that there is ONE hand-drawn frame of wolfwood, and it’s the best his character design looks in the entire show, and it’s right after meryl hit him with a truck

[kagoutiss]

oot zelda doodle i liked :’-)))

[mymarifae]

sooooooo when i jokingly said to myself "haha did ruan mei play aeonic necromancy on tingyun's remains or something" i wasn't expecting that to literally be the case what the fuck

[gingermintpepper]

I do, in fact, enjoy drawing different variations of this moment. Mostly I just wanted to doodle some wrathful Apollo (and practice doodling more of Hyacinth's curls since I usually dodge colouring them LOL) Bonus doodle under the cut <3

:D

[statementlou]

hello :) could you maybe explain a little bit how dan wootton blackmailed louis?

ugh sorry for taking a while to get to this. The problem is I feel like the only two ways to answer this are by spending a week and a half of full time labor sifting through old posts and evidence to get every detail right and lay out an airtight case, or to halfass something very serious, and so I felt a little stuck. So since I can't seem to find a good halfway point, apologies but here is the half assed version, if you want to get into it more I invite you to do your own deep dive or talk to other people, but here's how I remember things. Louis has almost never on video explicitly said things about Larry not being real and/or anything negative about fans and their theories (mostly the opposite), up until the last couple years when he obviously decided to make a major change he didn't talk about Freddie much at all let alone saying he was his kid, honestly not that much about Eleanor even; except for in two major interviews with Dan Wootton, each of which lined up with a serious traumatic Tomlinson family event that they managed to keep out of the tabloids until the very end (Jay's illness and Fizzy's struggles with substance abuse). After the fact of those events a lot of small things that didn't make sense at the time came together to look very much like Louis traded those interviews (and those answers) for having his family's private matters kept private. Story trading of this kind is a publicly known real thing that happens, and there were various clues that suggested he was being leaned on about those stories to lend legitimacy to the idea that it was something that happened in these cases. Given what we know about Dan Wootton and how he operates even before the recent flood of information and even more now, I think it's more than likely that he has been holding the threat of outing Louis (as he has done to many other public figures) over his head for over a decade, and has used his family's tragic struggles to get Louis to dance like a fucking puppet for him and I will REJOICE at his downfall when it comes whether it is now or 20 years from now... because someday it will, he has made too many enemies to stay above it forever

[hugs-and-stabbies]

ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!

yup 👍 still trucking on! Been having to step back from art a bit. At least stuff that I would post! I'm still working on stuff behind the scenes though :) I appreciate you checking in!! ♥ I actually have some more dead plate stuff to post rn!

[tj-crochets]

I would like to both thank and blame tumblr for the phrase "turn slow tigers into fast tigers with this one neat trick!" Like, I am grateful for it as a mnemonic that stuck that reminds me to go punch the punching bag* when I get too stressed out and can't function well from acute stress, but also I can no longer refer to it any other way because when I get that stressed I have trouble with words Which means today I was putting on my wrap gloves and my brother was looking at me like "what are you doing?" and all I could say was "turning slow tigers into fast tigers" *I think the original post was about taking a short run or tensing all your muscles and then releasing them? But my response to stress is very much not flight lol

[cerise-on-top]

This is a vent piece. My psychosis got far worse again today, and my anxiety has been peaking each day for the past two weeks now. Pretty sure no one's going to read this, but I don't care. I wrote this with Price in mind, but this could be about anyone.

TW: graphic metaphors of violence, reader is psychotic and going through an episode, I think

What a beautiful day it was. The sun, at its zenith, brought a pleasant temperature with it. Any creature, capable of feeling both pleasure and warmth, would yearn for a nap underneath its rays. The sky, such a radiant blue, glorious in its pulchritude, made for the ideal day to go outside. Wherever one were to look, a human and its companions were close by, smiling at each other, cracking jokes. Some were enjoying lovely meals, others were indulging in sports. But many agreed, such a day had to be lived. Stormy clouds would come soon enough as they were, bringing an end to this reign of cheer. However, such thoughts couldn’t have been further away from the masses.

So, why were you stuck at home, bearing the curse of a headache no one had ever understood? This echo of a pain, it had only ever brought you suffering. Gripping your hair in your hands, you fought a war with yourself to not bash your head against the wall. The urge, ever so strong, was taking a hold of you, but you dared not let it win, for the consequences were dire enough to scare you into dominance over your mental illness. It was an unbearable pain, unlike anything you could ever have experienced normally. And yet, you’ve been living like this for the past few years now. It brought you to your knees as your breathing was uneven. Sharp breaths, deep breaths, were you even breathing at all? Even the voice in your head was concerned, trying to soothe you. Why wouldn’t the pain go away? Why couldn’t you have been normal?

Promises of aid in your darkest times came to mind, but the fear of burdening your loved ones broke each and every one of them. You wanted to swing your head violently around, making sure to break your skull, the splinters in your brain drowning out the pain that currently was. You couldn’t make it through this alone, but you had to. You were scared, alone, but you were a warrior, fighting for survival. If anyone ever knew how much agony you were in, they’d point and laugh at you. Your breathing sped up as you lowered your head to the floor. The cold wood did nothing to alleviate the torture you went through. You wanted to bite away at your own skin, gnawing at your bones so the physical pain would overshadow the mental one. You clutched your head, horrid images of flesh and bone crossing your mind. What did you do? And why did you deserve this? Picking at your skin, cutting away the flesh to reveal what’s inside, tearing open your body. You didn’t want this.

But somehow, a hand was placed on your back. As warm as the sun, as meaningful as the first nice day after a storm. You didn’t dare to look up. You’ve messed up. Someone saw you in your vulnerable state, here to take no mercy on you, who suffered through the layers of hell in this ordinary world. The hand burned through your skin, ridiculing you, but you craved it.

“Love, what’s wrong? Please look at me.”

You were shaking, your stomach churning as you tasted iron in your mouth. You were not long for this world, but you had to endure.

“It hurts so bad. I’m sorry.”

The hand on your back started to move, frantically so as it attempted to soothe you. The warmth spread, but your pain has been noted by someone else. You couldn’t move. But still, as humiliating as being perceived was, you focused on the hand.

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

The voice in your head made it all up. It was so loud, almost drowning out any other sound. You needed him to speak. He needed to continue, he needed to distract you.

“I’m sorry.”

Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to another source of warmth. His heart was beating, he was breathing, he was a beacon of comfort.

A body you loved, so close to you. His scent was almost overwhelming, but it was proof he was alive. You were alive, you believed, taking it in.

“Please, continue talking. I don’t care about what.”

And so, he betrayed your one request, staying silent. Perhaps it was your fault, perhaps it showed a weakness within him that only you could bring forth. And yet, his mere presence brought to light a strength you forgot about within yourself. As you no longer held onto your head as though it was torn at the seams, you instead sought him out. Finding solace within a gentle embrace, you took a deep breath as you buried your face in his shoulder. He was a soldier, one much better fitted for the cruelty this world brought about. He only knew how to kill, his only home was within the damned souls he sent to hell. But within his gentle grasp, you focused solely on him. Begging for comfort, like a child starved of its parent’s attention.

The knife of unreality twisted in your guts, slitting your throat, leaving you unable to speak. You were dependent on him in that moment. It was him, who needed to stitch you back together, make sure you could regard yourself as anything but a human failure. If you could even consider yourself a human in the first place.

But he was oh so meticulous in taking each bloody piece, infusing it with new life before merging it into an empty hull of a body. And as he’d build his own poisoned paradise, he inhaled the fumes and saw a glimpse of a future he still desired. What you had always seen as his certain demise, he saw a dream more pleasant than the heavens themself. Exhaling into your seemingly lifeless body, he shared his very essence with you. Even when you unwillingly knock on death’s door, he would still protect you from the grief of losing yourself, tearing you away from the pain of the unknown.

The sun, at its zenith, had nothing to say to you. It gave you an environment to live in, but no reason to stay in it. Only this one man, broken from war, found it within himself to show you the joy of being. His pieces had been scattered, but he still shared what little was left of him with you, building a secure fort around your being.

And from within the view of a safe home, you could even gaze at the stars, relishing in the cold. You had a different kind of warmth to return to.

[seiwas]

been really busy lately! sorry if i haven’t been that active 🥲 i hope everyone has a good week though!! wishing only lovely things for all of you 🥺 will probs be more active in the weekend 🫶

[coconut530]

WHAHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTT!?!

[vigilskeep]

i just wanted a simple name for him and i was like halfway through the origin before i realised that rory and rica’s names are way too cutesy similar. too late now

[berryblu-soda]

reminder! go outside and talk to people at least once a week, prefferably more, isolation is how The Rot gets you <3

[hella1975]

'fucking brunch' 'FUCK brunch' i love this show

[alicentflorent]

FTWDs final season could have been so much better if it was revealed that Troy was running padre and controlling madison (as revenge) this whole time. He knew enough about nick and Alicia to make madison think padre knew who and where they were this whole time. And here are some other reasons how this storyline would make sense and be more interesting:

- Troy has a military background so him taking over and running a military base makes more sense than two teenagers building it up by themselves because all the adults died.

- taking and training up children to be solidiers also would make a little sense because of his own fucked up upbringing and the idea he has of the type of people who were made for this world. He would have probably had the same idea as shrike, that the kids stood a better chance at padre than with their “weak” parents. The mother of his child dying for being a good person and not getting to raise their daughter (who would not be named after his abuser) could have also played into this idea of the kids being separated from their good parents.

- shrikes radiation cure experiments: Troy ran walker bite experiments before, just to see how people would turn. So it would also make sense if the work we see shrike doing was something he approved of or an idea he himself came up with. As for shrike, it would make sense that she turned out this way if she’d spent years being mentored by someone like troy otto instead of becoming evil and stealing children just because her dad died.

- the scene where madison smashes the glass to expose “padre” would have been such a good and shocking reveal if it was Troy. Imagine Madison finding out that Troy is not only alive but had been the one running this the whole time!

There’s also a lot of other things I would have done differently for the other characters too and I would have liked Madison to have a little villain era and do some really fucked up shit as she tries to take down Troy and padre. How dark would Madison go? Would she survive with her humanity still intact?

I know I’m just talking into the void here because no one care about this shitshow but I just hate it when shows have a plot that could have been good, maybe even great but then completely miss the mark and fans come with better theories and ideas with minimal effort and thought.

[hivepixels]

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