#they updated like. 2 days ago? 3?

[speedydestinydream]

I think "countdown to his final show" and its direct continuation, "and i'll be in denial for atleast a little while" by drewsterling on ao3 are the only fics to send me on the verge of tears. Not like. Full on crying but I teared up a lot. I don't cry over books, let alone fanfiction, but these fics have DESTROYED me mentally I cannot stop thinking about them

This is a recommendation if you love heavy angst and pain and suffering and misery because that's the only thing you'll find. no happiness. no joy. only sadness and grief and it's written beautifully

I could talk about these fics all day they have hurt me SO MUCH and I LOVE THEM

[saphushia]

|| part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 coming soon... ||

man sabo really thought he'd get away from ace that easy, huh? well tough shit buddy you just got the attention of one of the most stubborn men on the seas. i do wonder how this'll play out now that sabo's cornered... hehe >;3

textless versions below the cut for those who want to look at. pictures <3

(skipped page 5 due to. y'know. it not having any dialogue)

[fibi-draws]

i've been really into making really high effort drawings of my favorite kpop boys because autism is one hell of a drug i will not explain myself just please take them and listen to p1harmony i promise you my obsession is justified ple a s-

also my [commisions are open] so this could be u think about it

bonus me making literal stickers to promote them like its bad over here gamers i dont even apologize

[pochapal]

girl who is not going to be okay (i need to phone the gp to chase up a missing prescription)

[ironicsoap]

god it is so insane getting so close to the end of making this base. like it feels fake that in like a week from now im gonna have it out but IM SO CLOSEE to being done it is real i know i can hit that deadline.. but i feel like im in the infinite mental dragon prison tunnel

[ghostclangen]

Marshlily dreams of the Dark Forest again. The smell of rot fills her nostrils, and she retches, barely holding down the contents of her stomach. She’d dreamt about it every night for moons now, but she still can’t get used to the squelching of mud between her toes, the only sound in the uncannily silent expanse. What did she do to end up here, so far from StarClan?

She takes a few steps forward, but quickly stumbles. The shaking is worse here, rapid jerks that make it difficult to walk—not that trying to run away would save her. 

“Is anyone here?” she calls, as she always does; her words are chopped up by the tremors that wrack her body. It’s with a frozen feeling in her stomach that Marshlily realizes that that’s not the only thing cutting her off; in what feels like just seconds, her throat has become clogged with foul-tasting blood. She hacks it up, splattering red on the damp ground, but it just keeps coming, choking her more and more by the second no matter how much she coughs and splutters.

This hasn’t happened before. This is new. Panting between coughs, she stares down at the pool of blood that’s growing on the grass before her. She’s faint, fainter than she should be; it’s not so much a loss of blood that makes the world bleary, but a sort of … a sort of … Marshlily shakes her head, unable to think of some way to describe it but finding herself unable to think of the words. 

She digs her claws into the earth to keep herself grounded. Her mind, however, can’t be gathered so easily; the dissolving feeling lingers. I’m all apart, the part of her that remains within in her grasp thinks. Through a mouth of blood, she gives a garbled cry once again: “Is anyone here? Help me!” 

After a few moments of silence, Marshlily hangs her head and whines gutturally. Why does she even try anymore? Nobody ever answers …

And then someone does. 

A familiar voice echoes in her ears, high-pitched and scratchy: “Marshlily …”

Weakly, Marshlily lifts her head, her ears pricked. “... Hornetstar?” she asks. “Where are you?”

“We care about you, Marshlily.” “We need you, Marshlily.” “Come home, Marshlily.”

Marshlily looks frantically from side to side, looking for Celebi, Crageagle, and—her heavy heart jumps in her chest—Charredtail. “Where are you? Where is everyone? Did you come to rescue me?” 

As the voices continue, they begin to sound closer, and with some time, Marshlily can pinpoint the direction they’re from. She takes a wobbly step toward them, but she makes it only a few taillengths before the voices of her loved ones fall quiet and a piercing scream erupts inside her brain. It’s like that alien feeling she’s been having, but worse, overwhelming her senses. There are no words put to it, no way to understand what’s going on, just a desperate yowl. 

“Leave me alone!” Marshlily cries. “Let me go!” She sinks to the ground in a heap as the screeching continues and begins to scream herself, wearing her bleeding throat raw. Of course it wouldn’t let her go. Of course her only hope would be a trap. The dissolving feeling, which had dissipated slightly, comes back with a vengeance. She really could just lie there and give in—it’d be a lot less painful …

As soon as she resigns herself to the faintness, though, something cuts through the screaming. It’s faint, but it’s there, and little by little it gets louder until Marshlily can finally hear it clearly: “I love you, Marshlily. I’ll always love you.”

It takes Marshlily a few moments to recognize the voice, but when she does, her breath stops in her chest. “Mom?” she asks, her voice wobbling. “Mom, is that you?” Half-remembered memories float to her head: milk scent; a soft, murmuring voice; the warmth of her siblings snuggled up against her. 

The voice doesn’t answer. Instead, it continues, “You have to keep going.”

It’s with uncertaintly that Marshlily gets to her paws, and the screaming in the back of her head never relented, but nonetheless, she does. Her movements are jerky and discoordinated, and she stumbles over her paws more than once, but with nothing else to do, she follows the voices of her loved ones: “It’ll be okay, Marshlily.” “You have to keep trying.” “Just follow my voice …”

She can’t begin to tell how long it takes—it could have been minutes or days; they’re all the same here—but eventually, as Marshlily continues in her unsteady gait, something shifts behind the rotting trees. The air here is always a bit misty, but this is different: a hulking wall of fog hangs ahead of her, condensing in mere seconds as she approaches, as if it were waiting for her. 

Tentatively, Marshlily pads through the last few trees ahead of her and into a small clearing. She can see the fog clearly from here; it writhes like something alive, but she doesn’t find herself unsettled by the breath-like undulations. Instead, she’s overwhelmed by a feeling of welcomeness and love. She takes a few steps toward it and realizes something: she can walk straight now. The jerking has stopped, and when she swallows, she finds that there’s no taste of blood in her mouth any longer. She’s thinking clearer, too. 

“Come here,” a chorus of voices says, and Marshlily grits her teeth. What if it’s a trap? What if she never gets better? What if she falls right back into the thrall of whatever—whoever—is screaming inside her head? 

But then, what other choice does she have …? It’s stay here and dissolve into nothingness or risk the pain of whatever might lie on the other side. With just enough trust to allow the warmth of it, Marshlily braces herself and runs through.

She jolts awake into a world of silence. No, it’s not silent … there’s the birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the rushing water of a nearby stream. What’s silent is the inside of her head: no screaming; no vicious, alien thoughts; just her own internal monologue, so much clearer than it has been in moons.

Marshlily takes a few breaths in and out, in and out, then closes her eyes shut. What if this is just a dream? What if this is the Dark Forest playing tricks on her? How can she trust it? 

Tentatively, she brings herself to her paws and stares out across the land; she’d run far from the Cavern the night before, but she’s still high enough up that she can see across all four territories from here. There’s PrairieClan’s, out in the tall grass of the moor; that over there is SerpentClan’s, wrapped in the shadows of the forest; and way on the opposite side is MoonClan’s, a mix of warm sand and tall trees. They’ve never looked so beautiful. Surely the Place of No Stars and its denizens could never create a place like this.

“Marshlily!”

The echoing voice comes from somewhere above her, and Marshlily turns to see Hornetstar bounding down the rocks, Hubert, Celebi, and Nettledawn in tow. She slows down as she approaches, her pawsteps becoming (rightfully) tentative, but she doesn’t flinch away in fright, which is more than Marshlily could ask for, really.

“Hi, everyone,” Marshlily croaks, and winces at the ache in her throat. For a brief, panicked moment, she thinks it’s blood that’s making her voice groggy; common sense kicks in when she realizes that the only thing she tastes is stale morning breath. She laughs at herself internally; of course her throat is sore, she’s been sleeping for … “How long was I gone?” 

“Days!” Hornetstar says. “You weren’t responding, just flailing around and talking to someone. Were you dreaming about Kestreltail?”

Marshlily can’t keep back a melancholy smile at the sound of her mother’s name. “A little bit.”

“Come on, stop with the chatting,” Hubert says, taking a couple steps toward Marshlily. “How are you feeling? Are you still sick?” 

Marshlily thinks on it for a long moment. The violence in her head is gone; she turns to Hornetstar and hears no disembodied urge to attack. She turns to walk a few paces this way and that, and her body doesn’t jerk, or even twitch. “I don’t think so,” she says finally, turning back to the others. “I think I might be okay.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Hornetstar is pressed up against her, purring up a storm. “I was so worried! I thought you were going to … I mean, I was scared that …”

Marshlily chuckles and nuzzles her face into Hornetstar’s shoulder. “You and me both, Hornet,” she says, voice muffled by her thick pelt. “You and me both.”

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[knee-stockings]

so do you ever find yourself being so careful around someone to spare their feelings even tho it’s not your responsibility and also they’re a whole adult

[jattendschaton]

holding back tears when your 47k fic hits 80 kudos but you cant like celebrate with anyone because thats literally not even an accomplishment but you thought it would never actually reach 80 kudos and you're being an emotional little baby :') :') :')

[apocalypticdemon]

finally did my goddamn dishes. and that wasn't all i managed to do today. fuck yeah.

had a meeting for thesis prep. bmv trip. rough plan for friday's discussion lecture. cooked dinner for the first time in like 3 weeks. read ~50 pages of academic text for 2 classes and a paper revision.

feels like i didn't do enough but. considering that yesterday i managed... going to classes and nothing else! and monday i was only capable of doing the required meetings i had, this is a pretty good day!

[neptunianrefrain]

shoutout to all the art supplies i have lying around that ive been given by family

[keeps-ache]

so Apparently a game i was running on my computer (without a cooler thing for a good minute there, because i guess i thought i was invulnerable to heat) may or may not have burnt out some parts of my machine. and it's been a couple months since i've played it bc it just stopped working one day and i just had to accept that lmao- but anyway i'm booting the game up again today, Surely this will go differently :3

[gamerwoo]

if i finish writing all the parts to age-restricted idk how im supposed to resist just posting them all at once tbh

[callilouv]

yipee season of strike controversy solved ty devs >:)

[enigmaticgale]

wait hang on i want to test something

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.