#so sorry if i mess up lots

[saltedbiscuiit]

Silly 15!skk comic that I sketched awhile ago and dont remember what compelled me to draw this

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Assisting Acquaintance Acquired.

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[faragonart]

We interrupt this program to bring you...

Echo

[anthonyzoxide]

Today on drawing crossover False art despite not having seen a second of the crossover (I just think she's neat)

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is that small moment in “Air Turtle” where immediately after the Daves lose yet another game, Leo says how sorry he is and how he’s doing his best as the mascot. This moment is so short but it’s honestly jam-packed with a whole heap of characterization.

His need to apologize for things clearly not his fault - especially when it feels like he messes up the job he was given despite doing the best he can (the phrase “it’s not about you” takes a new meaning when this is one of the lessons to be learned from that - that he is not always solely responsible for things going wrong), his need to save face and make a connection with an older adult man in his life (something he consistently does throughout the series - he’s got a few daddy issues, always collecting potential father figures, it’s no wonder he jumps at the bit to keep rapport), and the way he sounds and looks and the words he chooses really pushes how he is just a kid (“Mr. the Dunk, I’m so sorry”).

Like I know it’s a one off moment that doesn’t truly mean much, but when put against the rest of the series it works really well with the rest of Leo’s established character and helps in solidifying later concepts as well.

[moeblob]

North and Simon: (shaking hands on killing Simon potentially)

[sabh0]

Little rant and probably a controversial opinion, please don't burn me at the stake for that If i asked you to guess how many dazai anon accounts have i blocked here till now, what number would u think of? Bc i just checked - i currently have 9 of their accounts blocked. 2 from this week alone. And it's not like i go around hunting for them. I just randomly open tumblr to check what silly things did ppl say about my art, and then i see 50 different reblogs, comments or asks from dazai anon alone, being no longer only mean to Chuuya or skk, but bashing my art or telling me to off myself!!! Yay!! And u know, it wasn't a problem in the beginning. The stuff they write is comedic with how stupid it is. I could also interact with em smh (ngl, they left me for a good while after i drew them and chuuya making out that one time). And as i said, before they didn't attack me personally. But then i started getting comments that i shouldn't interact with dazai anon bc something something they're mentally unstable? Like im sorry, but how is this my problem. They come to me and regularly tell me to hurt myself, but i can't even reply to them bc "sab, it's no use, they're sick smth smth smth, just block them"?? Like bruh aight, it's just that sitting silently actually starts to affect me. Bc no matter how many accounts i block, they come back with a new one the moment they realize they're blocked. And the whole carousel of "block, dont interact" starts again. I just think it's not really alright to tell ppl that they can't in any way stand up for themselves? Why do i have to care about personal wellbeing or a sad backstory of someone who doesn't respect mine? Why should i even know about their problems? They're a complete stranger to me and i don't really go around reading random people's biographies on the internet. Like aughhh it's seriously starting to annoy me now,,,, i'm not saying ppl ACCEPT what dazai anon does, but using the excuse that they're not okay mentally just doesn't sit right with me, idk. Mental health problems should never be an excuse for hurting others, imo.

[fraternum-momentum]

i think corrupted sydney would love nicki minaj send ask

fellow barbz where u at

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[kenmaiii]

after two years i finally draw the favorite

[thelassoway]

Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Season 3 » Casual Sweaters/Jumpers

[antidisneyinc]

so I'm learning that outside of the usual deluge of violent racism at having to see black skin onscreen, one of the major complaints about the acolyte is that it yet again doesn't portray the jedi as pure unabashed heroes who never did anything wrong. which is an issue I've seen in the tags on this site for other star wars things before and it is such an absolutely freakish hill to die on. why is the jedi's purity as an institution so important to you. are you vicariously defending a real life institution you believe to be pure and unproblematic? 🤨 why do you think what happens to the jedi is only tragic if they embody some ideal of heroism that doesn't exist? why do you demand that they fill a two dimensional role of goodness that isn't necessary in stories that go beyond the binary of empire vs. rebels? why are you allergic to exploring the flaws that exist in every religious organization fictitious or otherwise? why does this world need to be a cartoon in order for it to make sense to you?

[forevercr1nge]

Mesmerizer

[cherubchoirs]

Michael, the Ruined Prince

Michael, having used all of his power to seek out God, had failed as the Prince of Heaven. He had abandoned his people, absent for centuries on a fruitless search filled with unheard, increasingly desperate prayers and an unrelenting, bone-deep exhaustion that is now permanent. His grief grew day by day, and an angel in isolation begins to wither, to warp – they must be with one another lest they twist into their extremes, retreating into their divine purpose until it becomes self-destructive parody. And Michael had already been scarred long ago by his role in banishing Lucifer, by God’s own ever-mounting wrath that ate away at the mercy he was meant to feel alongside it. Michael had already been insular, something had already pulled at the seams of his soul, and now centuries of failure consume him. He would return to Heaven with nothing for his people. Nothing for the siblings he swore to protect.

So his final thought in a deeply troubled mind urged him to try one last time. That if he could not find God, then he must bring God to himself. He must sin, he must beg for punishment, and then God will come to deliver it onto him. Just as He once did to Lucifer. It disgusted him, to think he had to debase himself to be as the sinners he held nothing but vile contempt for ever since he couldn’t cope with the guilt of the first fallen angels. But his prayers have failed, his days of weeping have failed, he moved Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to come up with empty hands. Less than that. Not even a feeling. So Michael, even as a Cherub who could not, did everything he could to replicate his memories of when he had witnessed God Himself tear the light from His angels. Michael had seen it every time, it was he that had to bind any fallen angel that survived it to their place in Hell. He knew, implicitly, what the ritual was even if God seemed to enact it in one beautiful, elegant motion. And he did just that. Imperfect pantomiming, flawed execution, but the same ritual as best as Michael could copy it. All to himself.

But only God and the high Seraphim can sever an angel from their light.

His soul was rent from his body. His light was torn to shreds by his inexperienced hands. The agony that it screeched resounded all the way back to Heaven in unintelligible, muted whispers of nauseous grief no one could understand. Michael felt himself die, but it was incomplete. He was left in a corpse, a body destroyed and succumbing to all it meant but with him still inside of it. God did not come, and Michael was trapped a ruined body, bereft of a soul, of his light, giving way to rot and deterioration yet fully functional. He could do nothing but take this as a sign from God, one that he will not be punished no matter his crime for being such a loyal servant. Even as his body falls apart, as plants begin to burst from his remains, he believes himself to be blessed – see how he grows God’s garden. See how his crown remains pristine. He adorns his exposed bones with gems and finery, ostensibly as thanks to God for keeping him alive, keeping him sinless when he had so despised his impending fall from grace. But. Michael is, in the back of his mind, highly aware of what he’s become. He knows he is rotting, he knows he is in a dead body, he knows, somewhere, God had nothing to do with it. It was just a mistake, it was just his own foolishness with catastrophic consequence. He is more noxious than a fallen angel now, a botch job shambling numbly back to Heaven when he feels the death of Gabriel.

Upon his return, he largely attempts to hide the rot of his body, at least from the citizenry – he cannot hide it from Raphael or Uriel, nor does he try. To Michael, it proves his devotion, it shows God’s still present love for him, and it is a testimony to how he cannot fall, that he can never lose his place in Heaven. Raphael begs for him to be healed, Uriel pleads reason to him, but neither had ever been as strong as Michael and ultimately, he is their leader. No matter the state he returns in, he is the Prince of the Archangels and truthfully...they both fear him now. He is not the Michael they loved, not the one that had been quiet and stoic yet still loving in return. The Michael that would have done anything for them, that never wanted to lose another like he lost Lucifer. He commands them now to join him in binding Gabriel, his tangible grief the only thing that seems to be left of who he had once been.

Internally, Michael sees their fear, he feels the crushing guilt of Gabriel’s fall, he is violently ill with one true look at himself. He had gone wrong a long, long time ago, when he lost Lucifer, and now all of that was being made manifest, but he can’t face it. As flesh falls away, he covers it more and more with jewels as if that could hide the decay he can feel spreading night and day, the only thing he feels now. He must retreat into his purpose, he must not allow such devastating failure to be his legacy. So he turns on Gabriel. Gabriel, whose light had been severed. Who walks freely in an abandoned Hell. Who still has a living, breathing body. Michael’s vitriol toward the damned hones in on Gabriel, consumed with being sure he is left nailed to the lowest pit in Hell for his treachery. All the love he once had turns to hatred and in it, the other three can see that Michael has been left shattered, that nothing in him truly believes God made him this way. God’s most loyal, left to rot.

Additional information:

Michael now always exudes the Odor of Sanctity, but there is a distinct undertone of mold to it

The opalescent webbing that runs through his body is the angelic brain - normally it is iridescent and transparent with a strange glow, but Michael's is opaque and dull

Michael now prefers walking, something noted as unusual when he returned to Heaven, but it's simply due to the fact that his body has been left entirely numb and so it's difficult to maneuver in the air properly

He is very protective of his crown and dragon-skin bag, as they seem to be the only things left uncorrupted on him

[storfulsten]

Draw more Whitty x bf (?)

yee ok

sussy space boyfriends counts right

[fisherrprince]

miskellaneous