#just so tired and empty

[marciaillust]

meadow, summer, gentle breeze

[paper-cities]

[sunnymainecoonx]

I don't think I ever published these so ig.....

There's a last one but err warning for gore and blood(mostly just ripping an arm off)

[bixels]

I'm not getting into The Giving Tree discourse...

[timethehobo]

Head empty, doodle another zev.

[lavender-rroses]

read a fic where gillion made destiny’s blade out of water and i wanted to draw it

+some pretzels bc i love her

[teleportationmagic]

The thing about Jayce and Mel is that like. She does not view him as an investment. That is just certifiably false. You have to skip over all her scenes to believe that.

In the beginning she does! She absolutely does! She conceives of their relationship as a business one - where she makes profit off his inventions, and he profits from her business and political acumen, both monetarily and powerwise. And overall, she believes she's fulfilled her half of the bargain.

It's only when he comes back to her after Viktor gets sick that she realizes he believes this is something deeper. And it's notable that she responds to that emotion - she opens up about herself too, comforts him, and expresses real emotionality about it. It's then that we see his ideals start to influence her - especially reawakening in her a desire for nonviolence.

Wanting to do things peacefully is something that's been with her since she was a child. It is what guides her away from Noxus, because her pacifism just does not fit there. It's why she loved Piltover so - they aren't a violent expansionist empire, which is a really low bar, but that's what she's grown up in.

She never finds the violence in Zaun, because she never goes looking for it. This is her fault, and her flaw, let me make that clear. She has some of the most power in the city, and should know about what kind of violence is holding up, and work to resolve it, truly. But she doesn't, because she's focused on her own exploits, and has so insulated herself away from the class struggle that it does not register for her until it grows to violence.

And then, once that violence comes, she maintains that pacifism with an iron grip, more than Jayce himself. It is Jayce who constructs (almost) all the HexTech weapons that are used in the Undercity, in Caitlyn's police squadron. He betrays the oaths that he's made to his partner, where Mel keeps the promise she's made to her's. She is the only politician left to try to tamp down on the worst of Ambessa's instincts, and her removal from Piltover is what marks it's descent into militarism.

She is ultimately a complicated woman, with a bunch of interesting relationships to Piltover and Zaun. I think you can divide Piltover as a city neatly between her, Jayce, and Caitlyn - each of them standing for some of Piltover's best instincts, and some of its worst.

[roki-roki-roll]

"I am a world, Percy. I am a forest."

[realtapiocafan]

🥺 i just let out the softest whimper

[canisalbus]

Whenever I see the they/them please in your bio I am strongly reminded of the meme where the guy says "he looks very polite", the t-rex arms thing that some people so, or of a sad little teary wet dog. I really hope you know that you absolutely don't have to ask, that you could just say they/them.

.

[janthewriter]

I Am Tired

I am tired of feeling unloved.

I do not think anybody could ever love an unusual creature of perpetual habit like me. Only can they become intrigued with fascination of the unknown. Digging and prodding, only to yield no answers, fueling their anger until they move on to next best thing of existence, one that will gift them with the satisfaction they do hungrily desire.

I am tired of feeling this way.

My mind takes me to the dungeons of a Victorian castle in some frightful place unknown. Even the moonlight raises no hope against this stand of darkness within. I can never seem to escape the shackles. I must free myself. I must free my brain from it’s cranium. And then maybe I will finally be set free at last.

I am tired of the hollow emptiness.

It almost feels as if there is nobody else out here in this void of darkness. I call out, echoes of silence are my only answer in return. I turn mute. Only to match the peaceful, yet painful silence, that I am forever engulfed in.

I am tired of feeling trapped.

I wish I could free myself from this labyrinth, that I somehow found myself stumbling into. The birdcage in my chest that encloses a beautiful bluejay, feels punctured with every breath, being poked and prodded for amusement.

I am tired of breathing.

I breath, just for the oxygen to be sucked out of my lungs through the mouth of a lover, into the infinite space unknown. It is pointless, I shall take shallow breaths until my breathing diminishes altogether; this way it can never be stolen at the hands of a thief needy for more, again.

I am tired of seeing the good.

It becomes painfully hard to see the good, when I can only feel the bad. My eyes are the most diligent. They never fail at accomplishing to deceive me with enticements that are almost up for no refusal. I know better to believe the sweet lies that my eyes show me, telling me all is well. Almost nothing in this world is.

I am tired of fighting.

I am strong and indestructible, until I am not. I become so weak and fragile that with every step I take, my bones creak, revealing my hand of vulnerability. My armor has become too heavy, my arms to weak. Tears cascade down the calming silver onto the battle ground. Fighting has become pointless. It is not in my favor. But someone must win the battle. This war must end eventually.

I am tired of only being seen externally.

My body has nothing left to give. I have ripped every organ out with my bare hands, just to serve them on a silver platter to the greedy. I have given almost everything away, but no one has accepted my heart yet. Seek pity on me and just take what’s left of my heart and make it yours.

I am tired of this torturous day to day life.

A good day only seems to stare at me with wide eyes, extending it’s hand. I reach out in acceptance, thinking greatness is to be bestowed upon me, at last. I am deceived into receiving the small left over bread crumbs called inconvenience. I watch as the the latter is passed on to the next one in line awaiting the opportunity of delight.

I can’t do this much longer.

I am just really really tired.

~Jan

[technocyte-09]

extremely disappointed by the sheer lack of quincy/drifter fics on ao3

i haven't even wrote any fanfic/stories in an extremely long time but if no one else does it i may have to take matters into my own hands

[moonlight]

is there a way to be an eldest daughter while maintaining your sanity, your spirit, your energy, and your happiness?

[onejellyfishplease]

here, have another meme redraw.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chat htey fuckin jumpscared me while im trying to do my assignment

[thedreadvampy]

lmao it is undeniably true that I am Depressi Spaghetti but you know. fuck it we continue.