#we grew up together

[edsartss]

Schiele study that turned into Asuka bc of the expression >:)

[skincareroutine]

okay but what happens when its time for me to bring a girl home to meet my family and i just link them to my tumblr mutuals blogs

[ccrabapples]

I've been looking through my follow list and goddam...some of us have been mutuals for an entire decade

[singlethread]

My most special Mei-Ling I still miss you every single day even though it’s been five years

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[one-blaze-of--glory]

at what point did whatever higher being there is (or isn't) decide to hate me so much to make three of my cats die within one year.... (Szürki is alive but we just found out he has an aggressive form of cancer and probably has weeks-months left)

[stumbling-old-boy]

i like cats more than dogs.

but my dog is dying soon. And he has been more present and consistent in my life than most things, most people even.

I hope he doesn't think I have abandoned him, only to start caring again when he is so far gone.

i once wrote a poem about how i hated dogs. how they seemed to haunt every bad memory i have ever made.

another bad memory with dogs is coming. i hope the dog knows it is not his fault that i will be crying. i hope he knows that i don't hate him.

i hope he knows im sorry for not loving him more.

[beautifulandraretoevenexist]

This. When you grow up as part of something great like this, like we all did, no matter how much you grow and change, it will always be a part of you.

i have no idea how to process this. it’s not unfathomable and it’s something i’ve thought about many times but i don’t actually know how to process it. what do you mean he was such an integral part of me growing up and he did some fucked up things in part bc of the fucked up environment he grew up in and now he’s DEAD and can’t do anything to try and make amends. what do u mean the boys now means harry louis liam niall zayn. what do you mean he left behind a child less than 10 years old. what the fuck do you mean

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[internationalharvestgirl]

i cant stop caring

[stil-lindigo]

ashes to ashes.

a short comic about the day Ash was born.

Ash's story

Red and Wolf's story

notes:

--

all my other comics

store

[hajihiko]

Trainwreck in double speed

[aelswiths]

Baby Thyra 🥺🥺

[squidpedia]

One final thing for april fools

I called him baby brother on discord purely to confuse him originally lmao

[last-of-the-jaded]

I love that they just say shit now