#promise this is all for a bit

[singingshutin]

Islands: Sunset

alex feels alive again.

Read on ao3 or down below!

The first day after the island came and went like a scene from an old movie: grainy, muted color streaked across the landscape, blurring together in a runny watercolor palette of rain and mud and quiet Sunday stillness. No sun peeked through the clouds—the only hint of the passage of time was the fade of the cold, hazy light into pressing darkness. Even the house lights felt heavy on her skin, casting a grim yellow spell across the distant dinner table conversation. Yes, Mr. Wright, no, Mr. Wright, she didn’t know, Mr. Wright. Her mom was happy, Mr. Wright, and that’s all that really mattered, wasn't it, Mr. Wright?

Sleep, school, dinner, sleep again: three more days passed, the sky heavy with unrelenting rainy malaise. Alex went about her business, a single ant falling in line with eight billion others, all in a mindless march toward a state of normalcy that she wasn’t sure was ever going to come. None of it felt real—not classes, not homework, not even Alex herself.

It was a Thursday evening: her mother was working late again, and Jonas’ dad had run out of milk halfway through cooking—something. The look on Jonas’ face told Alex it was probably better not to get her hopes up. Not like she was hungry, anyway. Being unreal wasn't conducive to developing an appetite.

“We’ll be back soon, Dad,” Jonas folded himself into his green jacket. “Just milk, right? Nothing else?”

“I’ll text if I think of anything,” Mr. Wright smiled through steam-fogged glasses. Whatever he was stirring glopped unappetizingly in the saucepan. “Thanks, Jo-Jo.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jonas herded Alex out the door with an embarrassed huff.

“Be safe! Be good-”

Jonas shut the door.

Alex pulled Michael’s jacket tighter around her arms, wrinkling her nose at the nippy autumn air. Red and yellow summer trees blurred together in the cold, cloudy light, washed out and stark against the backdrop of green-black pines and grey sky.

Jonas gestured down the sidewalk. “After you,” he said.

Alex obliged.

Perhaps, to an outsider, the silence between the step-siblings making their way down the road would have looked awkward. Uncomfortable. Resentful, even. Michael’s kid sister, bright and quick and smart, and a boy branded by the law—tied together by the thin, thin thread of their parent's remarriage.

Absolutely nothing could be further from the truth.

Alex was older than time. She’d watched the universe explode into being a million times, and watched it fizzle out a billion more. She’d seen countless lives, sailing across the churning seas of time and space like tiny ships—some sticking together in tight fleets, others breaking off and disappearing over the horizon all alone. Each time it was different, pasts, presents, and futures all converging and diverging in endless different ways simultaneously.

But for all that, for all the eons she’d existed—she was still only seventeen. Seventeen and infinity at the same time, all tangled up inside her, whirling in a frantic loop of never-ceasing contradictions. She had seen possibilities on possibilities that could have, would have, should have happened. She knew every single way the earth would end, every single way humanity would go down with Terra’s sinking ship, every single way it could live on among the stars—and yet she had no idea what was for dinner tomorrow.

And that was painfully lonely.

Jonas had believed her. Every single time, every single loop, he believed her when she told him “we’ve done this all before.” He always tried to flip the breaker switch, always fussed at her reckless leaps across the island cliffs, always cracked the same bad jokes. He was always there, and when he wasn’t, he always found his way back.

He was always her brother.

And for Alex, that was enough.

"You doing alright?"

Alex looked up. Jonas was next to her now, his eyebrows knitted together in a concerned frown. "You've been really quiet since…well—you know." He gave his beanie a quick, awkward tug. "Since we got back.”

Ah, yes. Hell.

“I—hah,” Alex cut herself off with a sigh, folding her arms in a tight knot, squeezing herself against the foggy undertow of swirled-up feelings. “I don’t know yet. I’m…thinking. I think. Processing? I don’t know.” She tilted her head towards him. “And you?”

Jonas looked down, treating the asphalt passing beneath their boots to a humorless smirk. “I was kind of hoping you’d have an answer so I could figure out how I feel.” 

Alex bumped her shoulder gently against the sleeve of his jacket. “We’re on the same team, then, bud.” 

“Bud?” Jonas pulled a face at her. “Who are you, my dad?”

“Champ,” Alex shot back, unable to stop the smile creeping onto her lips. “Kiddo. Big guy.”

“Little sis,” he retorted.

Alex faked a gag. “No one really says that.”

“I could start.” Jonas’ threat didn’t hold much weight when compared to the wide spread of his lopsided grin.

“Fine.” Alex tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But I get to call you Jo-Jo.”

What little Alex could see of Jonas’ ears flushed beet red. “Ugh,” he groaned, “I give up, I give up. You win.”

“Dork.” Alex flashed him a grin of her own.

***

The fog of unease had gathered over Alex’s mind once again by the time they reached the corner shop, and the old feeling of unreality was slowly creeping its way back into her body. The sensation was both blurry and stark: her feet didn’t feel like her own as she floated up and down the narrow aisles under the deafening hum of the fluorescent lights. She could barely feel the chill of the cooler on her skin as she picked out a gallon of milk at random—a bright blue cap, she noticed, the pebbled plastic of the bottle an alien texture on her fingers as Jonas slid it from her grasp—and she hardly registered the cashier’s voice as she handed over a crumpled bill gone soft with time. The register dinged and slid open with a mechanical click. Cold metal clinked into her palm, and she closed her fingers over the smooth coins. Huh—what little remained of her dark nail polish was chipped and peeling…

Back out into the open air they went, the hiss of the automatic doors accentuated by the thick smell of tar and the heavy glow of the street lights against the darkening blue of the sky. Blue as the cap on the milk jug.

A forgotten something stirred in Alex’s chest.

“Clouds’re gone,” Jonas remarked. The thin plastic grocery bag hanging from his arm rustled with the movement of his long, slow stride.

Alex nodded.

“Wonder if we’ll see the sunset tonight.”

The something in Alex’s chest clenched.

“Sunsets in North Valley were always, like, this weird muddy yellow, I—hey, where are you going?”

Alex’s feet were moving on their own, shooting off the side of the road in a flailing sprint. Blood thrummed through her veins as she flew up the nearest knoll, wind rushing across her eardrums, drowning out Jonas’ shouts behind her. Grass and weeds and wildflowers all fell before her boots, the sharp, clean scent of green flooding her head in an intoxicating rush: faster, faster, faster, she had to see, she had to see it—

She skidded to a stop.

Red and yellow and orange and purple: the most vibrant flames she had ever seen licked at the bottle-cap blue sky, wreathing the dazzling golden sun in a crown of paradise. The tiny corner store—before so plain, so sleepy, so everyday and grey—lay beneath the face of the heavens like a pendant, windows gleaming like rubies and diamonds set in silver. Bright and hot and heavy, the whole scene dripped with scintillating splendor, the thick oil paints of nature running down and mingling in brilliant rainbow smears that she could see, that she could taste, that she could hear, that she could breathe—

“Hey—! Ho—holy shit—” Jonas’ voice wheezed up behind her. “What the Hell—”

Alex whirled with a shout of laughter that echoed off the trees. “Just look at it, Jonas!”

He swallowed, eyes fixed on the sky over her shoulder. “...whoa.”

“Don’t you feel alive?” Alex whirled around him in a wild dance, her chest heaving in something between a breathless laugh and a happy sob.

“It’s—wow, uh—” he took a shaky breath. “Holy—damn, it’s—”

“Yes,” Alex crowed in triumph, spinning into his chest with a thud, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could, squeezing him like her life depended on it. “It’s all that and a bag of chips!”

“Careful—” he wheezed, catching himself from a stumble, “you’ll knock us down the hill—”

Alex laughed. “God, I feel drunk.” She buried her face in Jonas’ shirt.

Jonas chuckled at that. Alex drank in the sound—oh, so, delightfully Jonas—raspy and dry and low, laced with a light cough and accented by a gravelly huff. It was warm and soft and familiar: just like the time-worn fabric of his jacket clutched in her hands and the wrinkles of his shirt pressed against her nose.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.” Jonas folded her into an all-encompassing hug. “We are.”

And—you know what? In the end, Mr. Wright’s weird casserole-soup-thing was the best meal Alex had ever eaten.

[redpapercraness]

all four of my sonic 3 movie trailer redraws in one spot 🫡

[thebibliosphere]

I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.

He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.

Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.

In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.

Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.

Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?

That kid?

You think that kid is Red Robin?

Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.

[chloesimaginationthings]

WAIT- UR TELLING ME.

VANESSA.

IS A SCENE KID?!?

HOLHWInehaiwkN18/!&:BFISNAW’77/2&!ajejdnwk

YOU GUYS GOTTA HEAR ME OUT, Doesn’t it makes so much sense Vanny would have been a scene kid??

[peaceandlove26]

wip of my new favorite baby, designed by graymutual, currently unnamed but definitely a twiluna child

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

“zukuu, you have to stop making faces at him.”

insulted, izuku splutters. breaking eye contact to gasp at you.

“ i wasn’t making a face ! was i..?” he trails off, you giggle, you turn your back to your boyfriend once again to continue wiping down the last of the dishes.

“he’ll pout harder if you keep making that scary face.”

“i-i wasn’t trying to scare him !” your boyfriend exclaims, looking at your baby cousin again and slumping when he sees the pout still fixed onto his face, visibly dimming “i don’t understand what i did wrong..”

“zuku, i already told you. kuma always looks like that. you’ll get used to it.” you reassure, a teasing smile on your face. your boyfriend seems undeterred by your explanation and hides his face behind his hands again, peeking through his fingers hoping to see even the minuscule crack of a smile on your younger cousin’s face.

your aunt had asked you to babysit your younger cousin takuma after suddenly being called in for work and having no one to watch over him for the day. you were free, and agreed to help her out, takuma was a sweet little boy and you didn’t get to see him super often. so the more you could the better ! unfortunately this fell on the same day as when your boyfriend was meant to come over to your house, but ever the loving, helpful boyfriend he is, izuku insisted on wanting to come over to help you out. he gets to spend time with you and get along with a cute baby, that sounded like a great time to him. and not to brag, but kids always seemed to love him.

every kid except for takuma apparently. the little boy’s face seemed permanently stuck with a frown. his eyebrows stood furrowed and his chubby pinch-able little cheeks puffed out, obviously unhappy with izuku’s presence.

you’d tried to tell izuku that this was just takuma’s resting face. that he looked at everyone this way and that it always surprised strangers. but as loving and doting as he is, your boyfriend could aslo be endearingly stubborn. he was determined to get takuma to smile at him at least once today. and now it looked like he was trying peekaboo. you couldn’t help but snort at your boyfriend’s laughable attempts at making your little cousin’s poker face crumble. “aw man, that one usually always works..” you hear him mumble. you put the final plate into your cupboard and turn with a sigh.

“izuku.”

“no no, i got it.” without realizing it, izuku’s brows furrowed in concentration, which your baby cousin unfortunately mistook for a challenge, furrowing his eyebrows even harder and even huffing at him. the nail in the coffin it looks like, izuku gasps, looking at your cousin with a betrayed expression “ ah ! what’d i do ?!”

“you were glaring at him !” you giggle, your boyfriend throws his head back, exasperated. you pull out a chair and sit next to him, giggling and pulling on takuma's pudgy cheek. said little boy does not break eye contact with izuku. you can admit he's acting kind of strange. was he actually going out of his way to challenge him ? the thought makes you giggle again. you turn to look at your boyfriend's pouty face looking at the exchange between you and your cousin.

"i didn't mean to glare at him.." he whines, leaning into your touch when you put your hand in his hair.

"i know."

"i felt like we were making progress."

"i..kinda doubt that," you snort, scratching at his green locks. desperately, he looks back at you wide eyed "but we were i swear ! it felt like he was starting to like me !"

"mhm ?" you break into a fit of laughter, and soon after izuku joins you, laughing softly to himself and shaking his head. takuma blinks at you both in confusion, and it makes you smile harder. seeing you laugh so hard makes izuku smile harder too, cheeks glowing a cute pink.

"i..sound crazy don't i ?" he asks, grinning at you. you pretend to think it over to tease him, and he huffs affectionately.

"hmmm, a little." izuku shakes his head, dropping it in shame as he stares at his lap. he heaves a heavy sigh and it makes you giggle a little bit more.

"i really don't know what i'm doing wrong, babies usually like me.."

"but i told you you're not doing anything wrong, izu." you reach to pinch his cheeks next, he yelps a little. "kuma's only lookin' at you 'cus you're new. he'll get used to you in no time, kay ?" you smile. a beat passes and izuku nods, smiling back at you.

"but i don't know, he kinda looks like he has it out for me.." he whispers, you assume so takuma doesn't hear. how thoughtful.

"yeah i did think it was kinda strange how he hasn't stopped looking at you.."

he drops his head back at your words "i thought so..!"

"but that doesn't mean he doesn't like you, per se..maybe he's just weary of you !" izuku leans back, placing a hand over his chest like he's actually been struck. he looks over at takuma still sitting proudly in his high chair like a king.

"what's there to be weary of ? i'm really nice, i promise !" takuma's only answer is a blink "that's really intense.." you're boyfriend sweat drops, "i don't think i've had anyone look at me like that before."

"shouldn't you be used to being glared at by now since you've known bakugou since you were kids ?"

"i don't even think kacchan was this bad." you scoff, slapping at his sturdy arm. "don't say that, you liar !" your boyfriend laughs to himself. struggling to hold your laughter back as you play fight. you're interrupted by takuma's whine. his poker face finally somewhat melting as he pouts, big eyes going glossy as he reaches out for you with chubby little fingers. you immediately zoom over to the child's side.

"aaww babyy," you coo "you wanna be wif me, yeah ? cuutieeee," your voice rises up an octave. izuku blushes at how cute you look and he hates himself for feeling a smidge jealous your cousin had managed to grab your attention. he shakes his head to rid himself of those childish thoughts.

you hop the baby up in your arms to readjust him, tickling his little tummy which earns you a giggle, izuku feels his jaw drop to the floor so hard if he were in a cartoon it'd make a comically loud clang sound, now he's a bit jealous of you.

"i think he's a little hungry, i'll be right back izu." you press a quick kiss to his cheek before bounding off to go get the toddlers bag that your aunt had entrusted to you in your room. the little contact alone makes heat blossom all the way to izuku's neck and he can't fix his lips to say anything, nodding dumbly.

the last thing he sees before you leave the room is takuma's gaze fixed to him. izuku sends him a determined smile and a wave. he'll win him over soon enough.

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted

[curly-cottage-girl]

I’m sorry but my Mother Mary, Terror of Demons, Queen of Heaven, Star of the Sea, was not “REDUCED to motherhood” by God

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[catliker49]

Surprise!

Quite literally! I have Finally drawn again! I am so Happy! My style is a bit rough.. or perhaps I should say... ruff! (Haha, sorry!) but that's just because I have not drawn anything other than my Final Piece for the past few months!

OH!! SPEAKING OF! I GOT DISTINCTIONS IN EVERYTHING! HAHA! (The highest grade for everything! Yay!) OOH! And! Final thing.. I am starting to use my name for my Signature, so, if you can spot it, that is why it does not say Catliker :O)

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[dotted-clouds]

Replaced.

[sandflakedraws]

✨The Touch of Sunlight Comic Book✨

This short romance is an enchanting tale of warmth, choice, and of breaking bonds.

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

Our story begins with Nulo, a night-bound fae who emerges from a well every full moon to grant wishes. They withstand the solitude by the short contact they have with their guests, and the trinket each leaves behind for a brief moment. But what should happen, when a guest wishes for something they don't even understand? What does it mean, when she says she wants to know… how are they?

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

Newcomers to this tale, you're in luck! If you want to see what emotions are in store for you, you can read it in full, in its premiere Webtoon form right here.

-----------------------------

At last, we are live!!! This project marks my entry into offering standalone, physical merch. If you've ever wanted to have some of my art in your hands, here's your chance~ Alongside the book itself, there will prints and stickers. And if we meet the stretch goals, even more!

There is also a special tier where you can receive a little traditional doodle I'd make with copic markers, but be aware that those are first come, first serve.

That said, I've added a lot more to the kickstarter version to make it sing like:

50+ additional panels 📝

small emotional sequences 💖

A nine page epilogue for those who wanted a little more touch in the touch of sunlight 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

If all goes well, I'm hoping that this kickstarter will help me get my footing to start making comics full time, something that I've always, always wanted to do.

If you have read this far, Thank You. It means a lot for this even to be seen, and I'm truly grateful for any and all support. That's a form of sunlight all on it's own to me.

-----------------------------

The campaign will run from April 28th to May 28th!

[dee-snut]

Whitney lactation is real trust me (sources: me. milk that bitch.)