#on one hand i dont want it to end

[puppyeared]

act 4 :(

@chipper-smol and i came to a realization

[hinamie]

binding vow

[egoarc4de]

tell us how you remember it

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Icarus but not at all, you know what i'm saying? Does that make any sense? Do you see him? Take my hand, we're watching him fall.

Also a bonus little alternate that I drew first but wasn't satisfied with the emotional choices at ALL. and an alt color of that lol cause you know i'm gonna abuse the hell outta that green color as much as possible lol

[solargeist]

"do you think my wings are pretty..?"

he preened his wings..... theres no dirt or dye or anything.... so they're back to their original colour

[rottengurlz]

“Sometimes I dream about you. I memorize every detail of your face like a prayer. Those moments seem so real that I grieve whenever I wake up and your spot next to me is cold. Why did you beg me to kill you? I would’ve stopped. Even in death I cannot escape you. I’m not sure I want to even if I was begging for it.”

w/ @kashisun !! (happy birthday 😭)

[generalsdiary]

remember this message from aventurine?

yeah, so I wrote that scene.

To Aventurine's luck, he was rescued from the Nihility, the end, by a knight of Beauty. How lucky… He lives to see another day. Another assignment, another project, another trip which will all get blurred in a haze, memories merging together like melted crayons his mind too blurry if he ever even tried to recall.

A single drop of water slithered down his back under his satin shirt. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, trembling, hands shaking with terror mirrored in his wide open eyes. The hill of his throat bopping as he gasps for air. The sheets felt too heavy, too warm, too suffocating. Another night he woke up drenched in sweat. Another nightmare where the air left his lungs, he was alone, they weren’t there, no peace of death, no calm embrace of sins forgiven and a new life beginning. The air scratched against his throat, rose thorns dragging along the sides of his windpipe poisoning his vocal cords, his words dying there before they could be vocalized in yelps, wails, or even pleadings. His chest rises and falls down in weak attempts to make his heart calm down, to stop it from jumping out of his chest and making him less of a human than he already thinks he is. Red crescent moons scattered inside his palms are sending aching pain to his nerve’s ends, he stares forward, he doesn’t pay them much mind- he cannot, the pain could ground him but he is too out of it. out of his mind, out of his body, desperately clutching onto the sheets, the branches of this existence, of this reality. Palms sweaty with the ending of the nightmare still trapped in his tense hands, the bitter taste on his tongue the flavor of nihility. The eyes that glow in the dark, that he would’ve sold in his past if it got him something… money? freedom? If such a thing even exists. Those same eyes like boiling water overflowing and, with salt and regret fall down the hills of his cheeks. He cannot control them, the tears, it is his body’s weak attempt at regulating his emotions. He has been running, every gamble, every manipulation, every flashy smile… it is him running from his past and back to it. his legs would give out underneath him if he was standing, knees too weak, feet too swollen, burning him up from inside. Settling more in the now, he feels the guilt dripping off his teeth, snake toxin that colors each of his smiles and paints his every pretty praise… did he truly do it just to see his family once more? throwing it all away for that�� what would they think of him provoking an emanator, throwing this precious life away for the ones who have passed on? anger. White, hot anger, he regrets it. they wouldn’t- he never should’ve done it. they would want their little boy to persevere. to continue on. to stop gambling his own life. what is he worth if he won’t wager that of which has little matter to him? what blatant lies… the one who does not care for his life doesn’t clutch his chips in his hand for dear life. sadness. The ends of his hair stick to the back of his neck like ropes and chains that once bound him. or perhaps strings with which he is controlled. No one controls him. or perhaps this… glamourous, extravagant persona of Aventurine does. He needs to make a change. Cut the strings, control his own body, his choices, he can do better, he will do better… maybe he will dare to want to do better… in regards to himself. the various nightmares that keep his nights restless and his body frail keep coming, he exhales a heavy breath hoping, praying, that this is the last one. that this never-ending torment will end. Now his back aches from sitting up like so, or is it the weight of his job and his curse the ones which make it bend so? He has betrayed himself every day. putting the flamboyant clothes on and wearing it like a clown suit, parading around… except if someone gets close enough and sees the little Kakavasha hidden deep, far inside.

Sheets rustle behind him, grounding him even more in the present, anchoring him further in his body and out of the darkness of his dreams. “another one?” the baritone voice quietly asks, strong arms embracing his torso and his hand clutched onto them for… dear life. a hand presses against his damp forehead, seemingly checking his temperature. The thick, swallowing, dooming silence now cut with breathing of another that came to his awareness. Another set of ribs expanding and contracting against his own. A heart beating, pumping blood in rhythm with his. “I will draw us a bath.” The arms threaten to move away, and Aventurine grips them tightly refusing to let go, he turns back facing the man his eyes pleading, begging him to not go. “Veritas…” the man’s eyelashes flutter a few times before the indigo hair moves with a nod. “I’m here, Kakavasha. Right here. We will go together.”

[shikisei]

is that so

[foccaccia]

okay suzanne collins. i love and trust you. you wrote the hunger games prequel, its a movie now, im sure it was pretty good. now do you remember the underland chronicles. can we go back to that. please tell me how gregor is doing. is he okay. pay no mind to the gun i am holding

[red-moon-at-night]

I find it so SO interesting that as soon as Kazui's breaking their marriage vows and revealing his true feelings (literally tearing apart the dove), the wife is already falling off the balcony

Her hair is fluttering in the wind. The apple fucking splatters on the ground this whole sequence is so visceral I'm spinning it around in my mind. Kazui views his truth telling as a violent act, the killing blow.

[starry-bi-sky]

'Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings' doodles, because Pathetic Wet Cat Danny is the best Danny to practice drawing young faces with (and expressions).

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[ibeewashere]

I genuinely cannot describe how deeply DEVASTATED I am about riz being the only one who can take stress tokens for the others. Yes fig is a protector and will fight endlessly for her friends and I love that about her but there is something about the way riz loves his friends. It’s a more subtle kind of love, but just as relentless and passionate and he will take any burden for the people he cares about and bear the weight of it on his shoulders so they don’t have to deal with it without any hesitation. I am ILL.

[902186]

thinking about kurapika and chrollo and parallels and this circle of horrors where they are the victims AND the tools of their fates.

they both think they are neither or more like they don't care about it at all. they don't see themselves as victims, and they see absolutely no other way to live other than this role they took upon themselves. kurapika had such a strong sense of identity and what he wanted to do with his life and understands himself perfectly at all times. he was a part of his clan, but he was more an individual than anything else. kuroro, on the other hand, never knowing, never thinking what his motives are, deliberately not understanding himself and desperately holding on to the spider. he can't be an individual but with others, he can be the spider.

and for both of them, it all started on vengeance. kurapika abandoned himself in order to become a tool, a weapon, to avenge his clan, and to collect scarlet eyes. he stopped being himself and became his people. kuroro didn't know his family, didn't know where he actually came from, didn't know who he was or what he was supposed to be. so growing up in meteor city, he held on to his people strongly. and in order to avenge and protect his people, he would become a tool, a weapon, he would give himself to them. he started being himself as he became his people.

kuroro could be something for his people. and kurapika could be nothing for his people.

kurapika took on the role of judgement for vengeance. kuroro took on the role of villain for vengeance. kurapika acted his part by diminishing everything he was, and kuroro acted his part by filling up his identity with it.

but one thing stays clear and fixed with them throughout it all. they would do anything for their people. for whomever they consider their people. "he'll put his friends before his mission." a weakness kuroro sees in kurapika so quickly and so easily. but the same thing he considers a strength in himself. "i am not your top priority. it is the spider that must be kept alive." as long as his people are alive, his identity will live on. and as long as kurapika is alive, his people’s identity will live on.

"now you will get to experience the pain of losing your home." kuroro (and the spiders) killing the kurta clan set this parallel in motion for himself as the circle began for kurapika. and (speculatively) kurta clan hurting his people was what set the circle in motion for kuroro, too. now thinking about where they are in the story and how their end could be, it is very clear that they are finally ending up in a place where they mirror each other (as they have from the beginning) and they can recognise it in each other and themselves. kurapika ending up empty after his mission and kuroro ending up empty after losing spiders. both of them purposeless and with no self left outside of it. in a way, this is how the circle ends. "i can hear that he accepted death." they walk with death every day with no fear and full acceptance and after losing the only thing they live for, not even something they hold on to because they don't see a point in being alive outside of the fact that they must keep going for their people, for their purpose, and if not then there's no reason to exist, they are meaningless.

kuroro's vengeance left kurapika all alone, with everyone he knew dead, and feeling hollow at the end. by fate, he ended up all alone, with everyone he knew dead and feeling hollow at the end.

and at that point, they will have to start a new page and build a new self for themselves.

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

this one's for all the yuri enjoyers out there — nsft under cut

meronia event prompt(s): scar