#man. its fine . i. dunno

[nevaroonie]

Im tired and feeling bold.

Never a good combo with Nevy but its whatever.

Unedited WIPs that I have yet to decide what to do with.

We have a lovely Alexis Fic that will probly never see the light of day

Here we have a Cheating angel, yes crazy nevy how could u? I dunno man It just came to me one day.

lol I got others- but I found these first

Night everyone :>

[bmpmp3]

sorry for art-class-critique-posting again but one thing thats been very fascinating to see from my classmates and especially from my professors is this like, usually implicit but occasional explicit assertion that a lot of the artistic techniques, styles, and practices i happen to do (such as quick, unblended brushstrokes, paint drips, etc) are inherently "masculine". i personally am secure and comfortable with myself as a gender nonconforming woman so it doesnt affect me one way or the other much but i also can't help but feel like.......... do you think maybe the reason you dont see as many young woman art students doing these techniques might be because they feel a bit insecure or uncomfortable having their womanhood called into question just because they were a little more aggressive with their brushstrokes? of course abstract expressionism and movements of its ilk where boys clubs (as were most artistic movements in the history of time) and theres a lot to unpack with that but i dont think leaning into the idea that women only paint neatly with careful paint blending and soft colours is the way to go about this.........

[ra-vio]

semester is almost over. im dying

[malikselfindulgence]

Sorry for the uptick in system stuff Im lowkey struggling and need to see system positivity posts or I'll explode

[tomfrogisblue]

INCOMING: LONG ADMIN THOUGHT I NEED TO GET OUT MY HEAD IN ORDER TO SLEEP

so I redownloaded twitter this morning and discovered that some of the admins for the eggs etc are indeed not coming back (TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE - been kinda out of the loop for this whole ordeal)(and I don't know which ones for certain either)

and I've been struck with the weirdest kind of... grief

coz you know, I've never seen their faces or heard their voices but like

the og egg characters are turning a year old in a few days, even the youngest eggs have been here for months at this point

and I know that during that time, admins were added or moved around to play other eggs when needed etc etc but like

the eggs were the most constant members of the 2023 qsmp, except for that one 3 month point where they were all missing and we were all miserable

(especially since if the admins weren't on at least three times a week their characters would literally have died and that overwork is part of the problem but I digress)

and this is not like "The admins should all stay grr grr grr even if they're unhappy grr grr grr even if they want to move on from this project grr grr grr"

if some admins leave, that's up to them, and heaven knows I would not want to be in anyone's shoes in that whole situation right now coz the Stress on all sides must be huge

the point of this long ass post is more like

"How do I explain to you, or anyone else, that I would die for you, even though I've never even heard your voice and don't even know your name?"

[justabunchofdragons]

1 allowed post per day : oh my GOD im so tired why am i SOO tired when i have been awake later than this many many times

[jacks-the-flower]

darling i just can't get you out of my head, your scent lingers in my old jumper

~~~~~~

It was so elusive, so mind-boggling. It put her brain on the edge of an idea and her tongue ready to burst out with the answer.

Hang on, was that her old perfume?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a peculiar thing, something so familiar yet so unanticipated. She caught it at the edge of her own perception, sweetly reaching her senses with a dubious flair. It was something she knew well, something that she knew a little too well. What was it? It was right there for her to grasp, but the concept was elusive. Perhaps there was too much going on around her.

She stood before him, simultaneously at home and exposed. What would he think of her now? Did he remember her? Did he still believe in the end of that sentence? Why did he change? Was he alone? What was that smell?

Now she understood it, the floral scent of her past. Her past with him. But why was she discerning it now? Was it the reminder of everything, of what she’d had with him, what they had been? Unless…

She approached him slowly, artfully prowling towards him, making herself known yet advancing calmly and disarmingly. There was no need for her curiosity to scare him off. 

She stopped a few feet away from him, drawn in by her own scent. It wasn’t her scent anymore, however, it was his. It mingled with his own various aromas; the wool coat, the leather polish on his hands and shoes, the grease from the TARDIS, what must be numerous hair gel products he’d used. His scent was quite unique, yes, but under all of that: her. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

Her golden brown eyes flickered to his own green-tinged ones. She’d never thought that any other pairs of eyes would be as entrancing, or scents for that matter. Somehow this version was the most intoxicating, boyish but ancient and venerable, something new in ways that she hadn’t experienced from him. When she looked into his eyes, she saw an openness that hadn’t been there. He was somehow, simultaneously, more guarded than she’d ever seen him, and yet more open to her.

“Am I- is it… good different? Bad different?”

His eyes grew worried and lines started to appear in assent with his fears, she supposed it was now time to say something, “You’ve been using my soaps.”

He gave a light chuckle at that, bowing his head a little in confirmation, “Yes well, I had to, well I- I had to…” he stammered uncertainly, “keep you with me somehow.” He looked back up at her, “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been, well…” he paused before blurting out, “I’ve been using your room.”

She raised her brows, he what?

“Well some nights, I’m in the hammock; lovely things hammocks, quite comfortable.” 

Ah, a familiar habit. He did so love a good babble, in both of the bodies she knew. Though her first one seemed to prefer it from her while she was cross with someone. He’d had beautiful blue eyes then, though his new green ones were just as gorgeous. He smelt of leather polish in that face too. 

She slowly pulled her hand up, sweeping along the hem of his coat on its way.

“I erm, I can move back out if you’d like,” she kept moving ever so slowly, brushing over his hearts, enjoying his impatient jitters, “who am I kidding of course you’d like me to move out of your very own, very personal room. That’s,” he gasped out as she pressed her hand against his cheek, drawing circles behind his ear, taking in the details of his new face, “that’s just common sense. In fact, it was wrong of me to take up residence in the first place, what was I even thinking? Stupid Doctor, never thinking about what you want.”

And with that, she was thrust back into uncomfortable memories; moments where they were so close, but separated by a wall of fear and uncertainty. Now isn’t that a funny comparison.

Her hand had stilled and she brought it down to caress his chin, “If I’m allowed back, I can’t do that again, Doctor.”

He stepped impossibly closer to her, knocking her hand down to his chest where she could feel his hammering double-heart rate, and reached up to cup both sides of her face with his hands, staring intensely into her eyes, “It was never, ever an if, Rose Tyler. It was always a matter of when.”

She peered into his eyes, searching for the deceit, the lie to placate her. She found nothing but determination and adoration. He looked amazed, presumably at her, his eyes drifting over her features; she’d almost call it reverent. Did he still have that much faith in her? After all of this time?

“How long has it been, Doctor?” she questioned softly, lips moving faster than her mind. 

His eyes dimmed, skirting from her face, and he withdrew his hands from her cheeks. She missed them.

He retreated in on himself slightly, stepping back and slouching down, bringing his arms in close, wringing his hands. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She missed them too.

“It’s difficult to place exactly, but my guess is around three-hundred, three-hundred ‘n fifty, years.” It was a painful thing to imagine, but not a surprising one. He was older.

Then again so was she.

She couldn't help her regret in not finding him sooner. Centuries had passed and they had to move forward. It changed them. “I’m so sorry, Doctor; I’m so late,” she told him mournfully.

He smiled bitterly at that, still looking to the side, “Something tells me I’m late too,” he said, green eyes finally looking at hers once again. She understood immediately; there was always something of the wolf about her. Though wolves don’t tend to live as long.

He faced her fully again, gazing at her with a great jumble of emotions, “I suppose we’re a bit more evenly matched now, not that we weren’t before but…” At that, his eyes grew more pained and guilt-ridden, conveying what she thought was an apology. Those eyes were always quite expressive weren’t they.

She approached him once more, this time she snaked both of her hands around his neck, his own moving to rest on her hips. She fixed her eyes directly on to his, trying to convey as much love and determination as she could, “You’ve got my forever, Doctor, do I have yours?”

He drew her in closer, resting their foreheads together, “I think you’ve always had my forever, Rose,” he took a deep breath in, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She took her own breath in, cataloging his new scent of antiquities and floral soap. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, before confessing, “I love you.”

She knew what would happen next, he never gets to finish his sentence. She was fine with that, content even, only knowing that he felt so much for her. It didn’t have to be said.

“I love you too, Rose Tyler.”

She snapped her eyes open, flitting over his face – nose, hair, ears, cheeks, eyebrows - before settling on his eyes; his ever expressive, blue-then-brown-now-green eyes. He was fixed on to her, transfixed on her face, her own eyes. Amazed, relieved, and genuine all at once. It was not the platitude that she might have expected, it was a truth in the way he looked at her, held her in his arms, caressed her features. In the way that he used her old soaps and slept in her room, three-hundred something years after she was gone. 

“Yeah?” She felt a weight lift from her chest, something she’d never known about. She felt herself brighten and she smiled at him, giddy with the new revelation. She always knew he loved her, but now she believed it.

“Yeah,” He followed suit, lips growing wider and wider, toothier and toothier. It was a marvelous sight for a face so marred by regret and guilt to be so openly happy, so openly in love. She found that it was intoxicating. She found him intoxicating.

Every bit of him - clothes, cadence, scent, hair, freckles - was fascinating and new, but intensely familiar in ways she wasn’t sure he'd readily admit. She found herself loving him all over again.

She always fell right back in love, even when he changed faces and preferences. She just grew to cherish each and every new characteristic and quirk. Like the eyes that were staring at her. Like the lips curved into a small, fond smile.

She slowly raked her eyes up from his lips, leisurely gliding over his features. His eyes were heavy-lidded, no doubt from watching her sultry show. She saw the same feelings that she had reflected within herself; attraction, fondness, intoxication, and love. 

He leaned his head down and she tilted hers up, moving in a familiarity they shared in their old lives. When their lips met, she realized that this was in fact so wonderfully new. They were not so young back then to not have shared a kiss between them, but this one was different. Different in the way they held a tenderness between them instead of stunted longing. Different in the way they embraced each other with care and affection. Different in the way they could taste the devotion and determination they’d been too fearful to commit to. 

His tongue flicked out along her bottom lip and she opened up to him fully, one hand threading through his hair. His left hand slowly traveled up from her hip to the small of her back, nails grazing her skin. The physical and mental effect it had on her caused her to gently pull back for air; the bridges of their noses resting together, their hands in wandered places. 

She had taken a few moments of stillness before realizing how mentally connected they had become. A soft presence was intermingled with her mind, sharing in her love and admiration as they became closer than they previously dared. 

She opened her eyes and found him, his own eyes already wide and fixed on hers. She smiled softly and sent a warm wave of emotions to him, focussing on reassurance and determination as well as tenderness and adoration.

He breathed out a short puff, breaking out into another disbelieving smile. He brought the hand from her hip up to her cheek and kissed her again, this time with excitement and enthusiasm. His tongue dipped into her mouth again, energetically brushing over the back of her teeth and soft palate. A small laugh bubbled up from her chest and he pulled back, sharing in her euphoria.

He settled back down, loosening his hold to a comfortable embrace. “Am I dreaming?” he breathed out.

She hummed at him, “That depends, what would your dream say?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head slightly.

She smirked thoughtfully, tilting her head to mock-think, “Then yes,” she decided, giving him a tongue-touched smile that she knew made his mind misfire. And misfire it did, if the stumbling rush of consciousness brushing against her was anything to go by.

He rocked forward excitedly, before pausing, eyes alight with mirth, “Well hang on now, is that a yes to me dreaming or a yes in contrast to what my dream would say?”

She just smiled wider, “Can I stick around and find out?”

“Darling, you,” he kissed both of her cheeks, before looking right at her, genuinely, “can move in with me.”

She felt giddy at that, sharing it across their connection, but outwardly maintaining her playful demeanor, “Weeeell,” she drawled out, “your home is pretty big, infinite, you could say.”

He chuckled, holding her tight, “That she is.”

He slowed for a moment, taking a deep breath, before looking at her in earnest, “Be there when I wake up?” he asked hopefully.

She reached up a hand to brush his hair, giving him a fond smile and a caress of conviction and certainty. 

“Forever.”

[bellflower-goat]

man

[bmpmp3]

dysgraphic artiƨts risɘ UP!!!!!

[muirneach]

the funniest thing about kink at pride is i went to pride before i knew about kink because i was like 10 and i didn’t even NOTICE 😭 like it did not register to me

[moongothic]

Absolutely losing my fucking mind over the KSBD page like. Fuck. Fucking fuck. God. Fuck.

We’ve watched Allison go through absolute fucking hell, so much pain, suffering and heartbreak, and now we get to see a glimpse of her ASCENCION

And as if that wasn’t touching enough as it was, like

Like we’ve slowly over the course of the story met and gotten to know all Demiurges

We’ve seen all the dope ass introductions to them that I can not even fucking include here in full because there’s so many and they’re full page panels BUT YOU GET WHAT I MEAN

We’ve met the other Demiurges over the past 5 books, a process that has taken 8 years in real time

And like, all this time, we all thought this fucking comic, this god damn story, was about the task Zoss gave Allison back in Book 1, the reason he gave her the key, the mission he sent her on

We thought that’s what the title drop was

But no

Zoss was calling Allison by her true name

The name she has now claimed, with her ascencion

And I’m not fucking okay bro what the fuck

[waterbottlqueen]

just remembered the worst thing ive ever seen on the opm subreddit and just thinking about it makes me go. man. that was really really fucking weird. what the fuck is wrong with these people. 

it was this post about. garou x zenko. and i swear when i first saw it i physically lurched. the replies to it too??? can we not make jokes about having sex with ACTUAL CHILDREN??? “loli” NO??? shes an ACTUAL CHILD??? (and even when the “loli” is a legal adult its still so fucking strange to me i dont care if you only want to fuck fictional women who look like little girls stay away from me.) 

these same people would are shitting bricks knowing that batarou exists but oh yeah its fine to go ahead and ship basically a grown ass dude with his rival’s 9-year-old sister yeah totally!!! 

[netflixnormalthings]

when people say steve did nothing wrong i go a little more crazy each time because i dunno man between the slutshaming and then calling johnathan a slur/implying he killed his own brother and uhhhh interesting ways of handling his relationship with nancy...

[soliddaddy96]

media analysis or just . SPEAKING about it for that matter on tiktok is so abhorrent it literally is making me infuriated 

[fiendslothful]

Oh shit, Given finished? Like it's done? Damn.

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

Im still wondering what the deal was with the joke at the start of peacemaker tries hard about people being mad about lore being retconned (and also how anybody mad is a dumb idiot who doesnt understand how comics work). Like the only people I've ever seen talking about Peacemaker's previous stuff being ignored in a negative way besides ME are people who arent actually interested in the character and just wanted to hate the show because they hate James Gunn (and it is very obvious from the way they talked about it that they didnt actually get who Peacemaker was as a character since most of those people were also convinced he was a serious antihero pre-show which like. Yeah ok.)

I dunno. Still convinced it was making up a guy to be mad at and is part of why I was annoyed with this miniseries from the start. Also because of the fucking sexual assault joke Im not ignoring that.