#stuff i'm kind of proud of

[chiropteracupola]

"Oh, Fitzjames, I wouldn't dare lean on you... there's so much grease in your hair, I'd probably slide right off."

[@dxppercxdxver and I have been working very hard on ...the terror, but make it glee. yes this is a good use of our time.]

[pekoeboo]

BABY TIME! BABY TIME!!

just felt like trying to draw Antony when he was tiny boyo because I wanted to draw something Cute! (*^▽^*)/ yay! <3

please do not repost. (reblogs are ok) also on deviantart

[iceclew]

I'm cracking up so much right now like....I really did it, wtf XD

First I wanted to go like "this is not my fault, this is @mechazushi's idea", but to be honest.. I had so much fcking fun with this.. ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

The idea is just *glorious* and so fcking stupid, it's perfect again.. https://www.tumblr.com/mechazushi/754110618707066880/so-this-isnt-so-much-an-incorrect-quotes

So this was her original post, the idea sprouting, so to say :D

Credit on your brain rot, it's hilarious @mechazushi :D

The less I get done in RL - the more creative I get, it's such a horrible curse..

Should I do a split up version of this as well, I wonder..? Like..all of them in seperate pics? (¯―¯ ٥)

[luvo27]

Should i like. Be plugging my fics here? Because to be honest i kind of was of the mind that everyone who would care to read the things i write had already seen them

[iraprince]

Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow

hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.

like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.

anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

i'm working on a new project that is (for once) not connected to any of my bigger original universes, so i thought i'd share some of the writing i have for it! taglist down below, feel free to take this opportunity to share your own wips (in a separate post of course) if you have any!! the first part is a sort of introduction to the story, from the perspective of main character marshall! the second part is a snippet from a scene much further into the story, to kind of paint a picture (for both you and myself lol) of what the setting and the tone of the story is gonna be like. it's a bit different writing than what you're used to from me so please take a moment to read the warnings first!! warnings >> blood, cult, death, implied cannibalism, gore, religion, violence

God won't speak to me.

He spoke to my sister when we were eleven, her howls echoing through the backyard of our childhood home as the venom of a wasp spread quickly through her veins.

He spoke to my mother the day we buried her oldest son, the hem of her alcohol-stained dress torn where it had caught on the thorns of a blackberry bush she had blankly passed through.

He spoke to my father the day he put the barrel of a .44 in his mouth, reenacting what he had classified a sin for all the wrong reasons, his trembling finger on the trigger strong enough to rip apart the last tendon holding our family together yet not to finish the job.

I was eighteen, when I was found on the river bank near Overture, Louisiana, the sharp end of a jagged knife plunged deep within my side and my bloodied hands clutching the cross necklace of my brother, my breathing akin to the ice cold shallow water grazing at my ankles as I stared up at the star-spotted sky with glazed over eyes, blue chapped lips shaped in the final hum of a prayer.

A black abyss stared back, a strained vacuum without comfort, leaving me with a plea unheard and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

And God did not answer.

'Gotta dig… Just gotta dig. Gotta get 'em out of there… Gotta take 'em home…'

The physical distance between Marshall and the grave did not muffle the continuous mumbling, the shaky voice of the young priest clear as day like a whisper directly in his ear as the eerie silence looming over the church's cemetery left him with not much else to focus on. He knew he should turn around and leave, at that hour of the night— get back in his car and return to Posey in the motel, get some sleep while he still could— yet curiosity held him tight within its grasp, and each step he took pushed him closer into the wrong direction.

'Just the bones… Just the bones…'

The man was hunched over, back turned towards Marshall and partially obscured by the few last rows of gravestones stood between the two of them. His neck twitched— a sudden and unexpected movement at an angle Marshall did not hold for possible, yet it had happened entirely too fast for him to clearly see.

'Hey, is everything alright?' he called out; well against his better judgment, hairs on his forearms standing up straight as his feet carried him another few inches closer to the priest.

And the closer he got, the more he wished he had listened to himself.

If he had just turned away, he wouldn't have had to notice the unusual and unplaceable noises bubbling up from the priest's direction. He wouldn't have had to realize the priest was sat next to a coffin, yet to be lowered into an undug grave. (A curious practice, but Marshall was not one to judge— Overture'd had to endure a rather tiresome series of curiosities as of late, and an unburied corpse in the middle of bumfuck Louisiana in the midst of a yet to be explained power cut would be the least of its problems.)

'Just the bones…. Gotta dig… Gotta bring 'em home.'

'Do you need help?' Marshall persistently asked, his voice muffled by the thrumming of his own heart in his eardrums while his eyes trailed over the coffin— splintered and shattered at the lid, the glimmer of the distant church lights barely enough to reveal the outline of an axe resting on the dirt at the priest's ankles.

'Have to do it, there's no other way. Gotta dig, gotta dig, gotta dig—'

'Hey!'

Marshall should have never stayed in town.

He realized that now, as the priest's obsessive muttering came to a sudden stop forcing Marshall to hold still too— yet he had already approached too closely, and realized that no dirt had been dug in at all, and realized that the priest's hands were instead stuck inside the coffin repeatedly plunging deeper and deeper into the rotting remains of the corpse inside, once white vestment covered in blood and gore and he stared up at Marshall with a faint glow in two milky white eyes and with a wide grin exposing bloodied and shattered teeth, much akin to a predator looking at its next prey.

'Just the bones,' he repeated, the nodding of his head nearly belittling— as if to convince Marshall this was how it was supposed to be, as if to convince him the Word of God was not to be neglected and his fate as a sinner was a gift to the Divine Light and as if to convince him as long as he would not struggle it would all be over soon.

'Gotta dig.'

Marshall could not move, lamb to the slaughter as the priest rose to his feet with the axe in his hand.

'Just the bones! Gotta take 'em home.'

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel

[enbysiriusblack]

i'm not really a barty fan, but he's still very interesting to me (from how i see him)

like. him growing up with a very distant and abusive father and a very caring mother. him getting into ravenclaw house, the same house as his father, and getting scared he'll grow up to be just like him. and so he starts rebelling. he gets detentions, he gets angry at teachers telling him what to do, he gets angry at the fact he still loves learning and listening in class and reading and revising and getting good marks because it means his father will be happy and think he can still control him and is still on his way to being him. but he can't help himself- he loves learning too much. so instead he befriends slytherins, notably a rosier and a black, the kinda people his father despises and is publicly against. and his father talks about and works on getting higher up in the government with his anti-death eater agenda and so barty starts getting into the small wannabe death eater circle at school. and then he gets to go to his first meeting and he gets the mark and he gets to go on missions and his father can't stop him, can't control him anymore, and he doesn't even realise he's lost his son until barty's getting arrested.

[felixravinstills]

Felix Ravinstill — Moodboard — Gray

Coriolanus wondered if Lepidus’s high praise had more to do with Felix’s being the grandnephew of the president than anything else, but he didn’t begrudge it.

— The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Chapter 14

[submech]

I'd give this year a 99% Raven out of 10

[drop-the-curtain-123]

ok very specific gripe about assassination classroom

But how comes the series is all "be yourself, use your hobbies, despite everyone judgement, for good" then just... Never questions the roasting of Mimura air guitaring?

Look at my boy! He's so unwell afterwards

Ik now there are more scenes later in the manga that again use it as a Punchline. It just encapsulates that weird gap of "things that are just never Not the Joke/Mocked" which kind of defeats the show messaging 😭

t's not even used in a "do it anyway, grow strong and proud" like some others, it's just. There.

(hi rinka btw happy belated birthday to you)

Anyway unconsequential nitpicking rant over, have a good day.

[finniestoncrane]

kkjahsd felt social today but now i feel like i'm just annoying everyone but it's fine it's not even 2pm yet we can regroup!! i'm holding on to my pleasant mood with my non-existent little fingernails

i hope i can finish off my character doc today for my oc at least and then i can maybe be brave and share it later u-u 💚

[pl0xm4st3r]

I made a new icon for my discord profile.

[not-tomorrow-satan-blog]

Just as a side note to everyone (I don't know who sees these, who reads them, and who cares. I also don't care how many people see and read these. If you're having a good day, that's awesome and I'm proud of you. Definitely keep scrolling, because a lot of my stuff cam get depressing. If you're having a bad day and need someone to tell you they're proud of you, that's what I'm here for.)

Anyways, if you've seen much or any of my posts, you'd probably get the impression that I'm fairly mental health focused. I am. I advocate strongly for positive mental health, especially online where anonymity is prevalent, because I know how bad mental health can get. I've been depressed (still am), I've had anxiety, I've wondered what's wrong with me because I can't fit in anywhere. I've dealt with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (not a great combination with depression), childhood emotional neglect, parentification and villification at the same time, somehow. I've looked at my future and asked myself, "I don't have anything to look forward to, so why do I care if I'm alive?"And answered that with "I don't. I really don't care if I'm alive or if I'm dead. I'll feel nothing either way". I've looked up the dosages of medications and prescriptions that could kill me. I've dreamed of falling asleep and never waking up. I've cut myself and hurt myself, emotionally and physically, because I thought that all I would ever amount to is a burden on others and a waste of time and energy. Hell, I still sometimes wonder what the point of being alive is (thankfully, it's less of a "I want to die" and more of a "Is there a purpose to it all, or are we just the newest dinosaurs, waiting for our asteroid,". All this is to say, I get it. I might not understand exactly what you're going through (there's some things that I will just never experience and so all I can do is offer support), but I get exactly how draining it is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, when every step you take seems to create a new obstacle for you to climb. That's why I make the posts that I do. If, when I was in my worst possible mindset, someone created something that I could look at and go "I'm not alone. I'm not exaggerating or spiraling or catastrophizing. Other people experience it too, and they understand." I probably would have still struggled, but not the way I have. I might not have wondered whether I'm exaggerating my mental state or my earlier years and gaslit myself into almost quitting therapy. So these posts are for anyone and everyone that needs a reminder to breathe, needs a distraction during stressful times, or even just needs an anonymous shoulder to cry on. I'm always here if you guys need something. I can't talk politics, religion, or anything else, for my mental health, but if you guys need to rant or talk through anything at all, I'm here.

As always, I'm proud of you. I hope to see everyone tomorrow. Be kind to each other, be kind to the earth, and most importantly, be kind to yourselves. I hope you either have a good day or a better one.

[the-dragon-hearted]

YOU KNOW WHAT: HATE COMMENTS

I wasn't gonna make a post about it, but I'm gonna make a post about it.

Writers, when/if you get hate comments. Delete them. Don't even answer. Who's this clown coming into my house, rustling around my trash, and questioning what I've done? YOU'RE IN MY DOMAIN!? -

Long story short I got a comment on one of my rougher works. I started it four years ago -I was four years younger than I am now. That's four years of writing experience under my belt AND -

MORE IMPORTANTLY

I STILL LOVE THAT WORK.

Who tf do you think you are? I'm a confident adult writer now. I know I write cringe and enjoy it, I also know I write good shit sometimes. So when some chucklefuck comes into my house like: "I can do better"

Excuse you??

Writers, there will always be improvements you can make to your writing and you will always look back at your old works and recognize their flaws. That's just part of writing - the important part is valuing those old works because they got you to where you are today. Don't hate the cringy you, you once were. They were important and they helped you become who you are now. Similarly, chucklefuck, if you go into someone's inbox to insult a writer's work you are the worst person to exist in creative spaces.

I am a confident writer. I know I write cringe and I know I can write good shit. I know I do both regularly because it's fun. But you come into my house and spit on a younger me's work. Nah.

Because if you can do that, then you'll do it to someone's first fanfic. You'll do it to new writers just dipping their toe in the water. You'll do it to some starry-eyed kid excited by their first comment. And Motherfucker that fills me with rage.

Never, and I mean never feel like you have the right to insult someone's writing. Everyone who posts their work is brave and deserves to interact with people who appreciate it, and people will appreciate it. It doesn't have to be you. Art is not made to be enjoyed by everyone, it is made to be enjoyed by those who resonate with it. Everyone deserves to improve their writing by being supported - by wanting to improve, not forcing themselves to because some loser under a guest profile decided to be an asshole.

So, if you're a writer. Keep on writing. Be proud of what you've done -of everything you've done, including the stuff you think is "cringe" because that got you to where you are now. You wouldn't want someone hating on a random 13-year-old's first work, so don't hate on the work you wrote when you were 13. Or 16. Or 18. Or 25. Or literally ever -

And if you're that chucklefuck, keep your opinions out of writer's inboxes lest you meet me in the back of a Denny's parking lot.

[wutheringheightsfilm]

i just found out the author of the atlas six book is on AO3 under the same name... like from my olden days of being in that fandom to read fanfiction of (i was in high school) i knew that name sounded familiar and lo and behold she publishes real books under that name 😭 omg...

[cultivating-wildflowers]

my book-buying ban ends on August 1st

my library's huge book sale begins on August 1st

it's fate