#blh

[felinefractious]

🐱 British Longhair

📸 Svetlana Valuyskaya [Berlizof*RU]

🎨 Cinnamon Tortoiseshell

[loupy-mongoose]

PREVIOUS This is the end of the arc

ARC START | CHRONO

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PREVIOUS This is the end of the arc

ARC START | CHRONO

I want to put a disclaimer here; I am VERY MUCH AWARE that this isn't how mental health works in real life, and I in NO way mean to diminish the impact of IRL mental health struggles. I know there's no "Oh, wow, my mental inhibitions are suddenly not a factor" like in this case. It's purely a fictional scenario and how I've chosen to tell this particular story.

Anyway...

It is done.

Massive shout-out to @phlurrii, who was a HUGE help in putting his new look together! Many, many thanks to you, Phlurrs!! <3

Also, @puzzled-zebra and @aurasoulhikari, I was going to scrap that "it's been killing me" bit, but decided to reinsert it after your comments here. XD

[mitnnvy]

HAAHAJJAH HAIII, GOOD MORNING GUYS! Not for me... Because my taiyaki melted 🙁🙁😭

I forgot to put it in the freezer 😭😭

[inktheinkling]

^llalala jst realized i never sent my artfight thing!!!! ^_^ here you go chat,,,, /silly https://artfight.net/~Ink__

[keithweberr]

𝐓𝐰: 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥

I need a dad like him ━Author Kei

I found myself in the midst of a sea of mourners during the melancholy proceedings of my family's funeral, where the scent of earthy, rain-soaked dirt filled the air and sorrow hung heavily in the air. The weight of my loss, which had until now left me detached, echoed among the mourners.   As I stood there, grappling with the enormity of my grief, a figure approached me—a woman whose features bore a striking resemblance to my late mother. Her eyes, filled with sorrow yet radiating compassion, She held my hands with a gentle touch, and she spoke with pure kindness and care.

'I am your aunt,' she said with reassurance. 'Ive come to take care of you from now on and then.'

The time I had with my parents wasn't the longest that I could wish for. I will always be thankful for that short time. I was a reserved child, preferring the company of the books in my father's library. My father is a good father, a great lover, and a great man. 

One summertime, I seem to recall myself playing in my mother's garden. I rushed to the old oak tree to hide under its shade. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a chirp of cries. Walking around the old tree, I found an injured woodpecker buried beneath the dried leaves. I immediately picked up the injured bird, rushing to find help.

I ran into my father, and I remember pleading for help. He took the bird off my hands, bringing it into the kitchen. He sat in one of the chairs, examining the living creature delicately. Not long after, he told me that the woodpecker might have fallen into its nest. He accompanied me back to my mother's garden to return the bird rightfully where it belongs.

As much as I wanted to keep it, my father told me that a woodpecker teaches us that releasing what no longer serves us clears the way for new growth. I never really understood it as a child, but now I wish to thank him for his wisdom.

Another thing I learned as a child is that I have certain control over things I wish to control, though sometimes they don't go as planned as you wish to. I remember wandering around the house, visiting rooms that were empty and never used. I found myself in another room where my mother stores her old dresses. 

Out of curiosity, I opened one of the cabinets only to find an infestation of moths gathered in the corners of the closet. Silk is bundled up like yarn. I held my oil lamp tightly. One of them flew onto the lamp, startled. I dropped it. I watched the others crawl towards the light. 

I cautiously picked up the lamp again, waving it around and enjoying it while misleading the insects. I heard my mother calling my name for dinner. I quickly ran downstairs and positioned the lamp in the corner. When I returned, I sensed a burning smell. My eyes were wide open as I witnessed the moths toasting in the heat of the flame.

I remember my mother picking up the habit of tending to her garden rather than leaving another chore to the servants. I watched her happily water her plants. diligently pulling the weeds that are sucking the life out of her precious plants.

She tried teaching me how to do garden work. I do not want to disappoint my mother. I tried to pick the same habit, but it ended up being my first and only pot withering by the end of the month. forgetting to water it.

"This will be your room from now on. Tomorrow they will send in the rest of your clothes and things." The woman smiles, guiding him to the bed to sit. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call me," she smiles. He nodded, looking around his new room.

"Thank you," he mutters. The woman smiles again. "Anything for you, dear."

[ghostjustliketherest]

UPDATE I DID NOT SURVIVE THIS

Less than an hour until I physically see anaïs mitchell in the flesh what if I die

[dufferpuffer]

honestly I don't even blame the intense Marauders fans for making the boys barely seem like friends.

How many lines are there (that wasn't said to each other) where teenage Sirius and James were not being absolute pricks...? They're such insensitive assholes. In their heads it really was James & Sirius and then everyone else in the world. Remus and Peter are included but constantly disrespected.

And like of course they were friends, and had each others backs - but there's a power dynamic in that friend group, and its James and Sirius are kings and Remus and Peter are useful for entertainment. Toxic lil teenagers. Dumb asshole kids.

But that's exactly the point, right? Every time we see a memory of the past, its to show the opposite of what Harry thinks: - James and Sirius were actually quite nasty - Remus wasn't a role model, - Peter was a bit of a victim, - Severus is honest - and straight up correct most of the time

I think the unfortunate thing in fanworks on this era is how they treat this dynamic as golden. As fine. They were the bestest and tightest of friends, the toxic shit was all stable and normal and good... and the only way to have that make sense is to twist who the characters are.

- James has to be a labrador who barely knows what he is saying. - Sirius has to be a drama queen to say insensitive things. - Remus has to be a grumpy badass to be so quietly defensive. - Peter... well they just ignore Peter. When he is there they have the others love-bomb him to make up for the abuse. - Severus has to be the worst otherwise the marauders look bad. But its more interesting that it wasn't like that! That the group fell apart! Remus separated after school, there was a rift between him and Sirius - Peter was such a fourth wheel he wasn't loyal at all - Sirius was almost TOO loyal and reliant on James, too dedicated - and while James loved Lily he was still irresponsible and selfish.

IDK its 4am and I'm rambling. I guess seeing so much stuff of pallid, pale, sickly Remus as a butch tanned teen scowling at people... it gets to you at 4am. I think, if you wanted a more assertive Remus to have hot sex with Sirius (if teenage sex can ever be hot...?) leaning into their characters would be cooler. That's my 2 cents.

“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.” “You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.

There's fire in that. There's dissatisfaction and annoyance and bite - alongside Remus' general meekness. There's disregard from Sirius. Idk. Feels like that's a cool angle to work with.

[hogfetish]

spent my time at work today thinking abt victor and his pet demons and not at all messing with that dynamic to cope with the dissapointment of venom 3 being really bad. no i would not do that

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

I get to see Marshall and Luxxall today 🥰

[felinefractious]

🐱 British Longhair

📸 Svetlana Valuyskaya [Berlizof*RU]

🎨 Chocolate Tortoiseshell Bicolor

[loupy-mongoose]

Yaaaaaay, no death warning this time! :D

It is very long, however, so to the Read More abyss it goes!

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

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~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

This part has some of my favorite expression works I've done thus far.

Just....

My boy's so happy...

It felt good to draw him so happy...

I just.... Have a lot of feelings about this part.

I love my goobers. <3

Shamelessly glossing over Randy's hospitalization for a few reasons, and also traced that hospital bed. Don't need Randy's getting better to ruin me. XD

[koa-z]

good gosh how could I possibly say no to that

[ask-cloverfield]

if there is a non-human man eating monster in a show the only thing I care about is how well fed it is

[keithweberr]

𝐓𝐰: 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

Click away if it's uncomfy folks! ━Author Kei

Alain walked gracefully among the crowd of dancers in the large ballroom, his movements timed and exact, the perfume of orchids blending with the gentle sounds of a waltz, chandeliers dripping with crystal tears. He had a stoic manner and an appearance of polite indifference that concealed the anguish roiling inside his head. For tonight, he danced not for pleasure but for duty—to fulfill the expectations of his uphold facade of aristocratic propriety. Across the room, Lady Anneliese stood alone, her gaze fixed on the swirling sea of couples before her. Watching her lovely niece dance across the room. 

Alain approached the woman. He noted the sadness etched upon Lady Anneliese's features. Unbothered by the gloom that surrounded her, he extended his hand with the practiced grace of a gentleman.

"Lady Anneliese" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the cacophony of whispers and laughter. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?" She paused, her eyes showing a mix of doubt and hesitation. Releasing a heavy sigh, she placed her hand in his. Alain was known for his previous scandal in England. It makes her wonder why they would bother inviting the man. Then again, his family honored him.

Their movements were a shrill symphony, a dance of shadows and secrets spun beneath the watchful gaze of society's eyes. Alain guided her with a firm yet gentle touch, his steps matching hers with a precision born of years of practice. Yet, for all his outward composure, there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—a glimmer of apathy. It gave her more reasons to detest the man. In the hushed elegance of the ballroom, as Alain and Anneliese moved in a somber waltz, the air grew heavy with unspoken words and unshared burdens. But then, like a sudden crack in the facade of civility, a venomous whisper escaped Alain's lips.

"Your eyes carry the weight of emotions," he murmured. His voice echoed in her mind; she disliked it greatly. "What do you know about emotions? Alain?" She huffs. "Even after all this time? It's folly to cling to a love that's long since turned to dust—especially when it's your own sister's husband, how uncouth of you," he continued. 

The words pierced Lady Anneliese's delicate exterior of calmness, each syllable laced with a poisonous scorn. They struck her like a dagger to the heart. 

She recoiled from the severity of his accusation, her breath catching in her throat and her steps momentarily wavering. Anneliese straightened her back and met Alain's stare, a flicker of defiance in her eyes that belied years of silent anguish. "You speak out of turn, my lord," she replied, her voice trembling with suppressed irritation. "You know nothing of the bonds that tie us nor the depths of the grief that consumes me. And if you cannot show me the courtesy of respect, then I would rather dance alone." She purposely stepped on his foot. He didn't react, knowing how childish a woman she had been ever since. 

The world around them faded into a blur of swirling colors and distant laughter, leaving only Alain and Anneliese locked in a silent struggle of patience. Their grip on each other tightened. "You cling to a love that's long gone, Lady Anneliese" Alain remarked, his voice low and cutting through the delicate melody of the music. "Is it not madness to mourn a man who was never yours to begin with? have you lost the last whims of love and respect for your sister?" Anneliese's grip tightened on Alain's hand, her fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and irritation. Offended, she tripped him with her heel, making him stumble a bit. A few heads turned to see the two. Alain's gaze hardened momentarily, a flicker of distain crossing his stoic features before it was replaced by a mask of empathy. "Forgive me, Lady Anneliese" he murmured, his tone tinged with fake remorse. "I did not mean to diminish your pain, but surely you see the folly of clinging to a love that can never be returned." But Anneliese shook her head, her eyes flashing with stubborn resolve. "Love knows no logic, my lord," she replied, her voice rising above the gentle hum of the music. "It defies reason and defies understanding. And though he may be gone, the memory of his love sustains me still." 'How delusional.' Alain thought.

Their dance carried on, a delicate balance of tension and release as they moved across the floor in a silent symphony. And though the other guests remained oblivious to the true nature of their conversation, the weight of their words hung heavy, casting a shadow over the fragile facade of aristocratic civility.

Alain and Anneliese were united in that brief instant by the shared feeling of love's bittersweet embrace rather than by the rules of society as they danced on the thin line between morality and truth. Their dancing would live on in their memories, serving as a moving reminder of the complexity of the human heart and the enduring force of love's unquenchable flame.

As Alain and Anneliese continued their dance, a subtle shift occurred in the dynamics between them earlier. While Alain remained aloof, his attention drifting with the ebb and flow of the music, Lady Anneliese's gaze grew increasingly distant, drawn inexorably towards a figure across the room.

Alain follows her lingering gaze. It was her sister's son, a young man whose features bore a striking resemblance to the love she had lost. With each passing moment, her eyes lingered on him, her expression softening with a mixture of longing and sorrow. And though she tried to hide her fascination beneath a veil of composure, Alain could not help but notice the telltale signs of her fixation. It made his stomach churn unexpectedly. As realization dawned upon him, a flicker of disgust crossed Alain's features—a silent condemnation of Anneliese's misplaced affections. For in her eyes, he saw not the innocent admiration of a grieving widow, but something far more unsettling—a twisted reflection of desire, tinged with the shadow of taboo. 

In that moment, the delicate facade of aristocratic decorum crumbled, revealing the ugly truth that lurked beneath her, even though the other guests remained oblivious to the silent drama unfolding before them. 

"You are a creature of madness, Lady Anneliese" Alain declared, his voice tinged with a bitterness that mirrored the dissonance of the music. "To harbor such desires for one who is so far beyond your reach. Have you no dignity left?" he almost stumbles as he expresses his distaste towards her unhinged actions. 

But to his surprise, Anneliese met his disdain with a quiet resolve, her composure unyielding in the face of his scorn. "Your judgment means nothing to me, my lord," she replied, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her. "For love knows no boundaries, no limits. And though you may mock me with your words, you cannot extinguish the fire that burns within my soul." 

The atmosphere in the ballroom grew thick with tension, suffused with the strains of the cello's mournful lament. Each movement became a calculated maneuver. There was a subtle push and pull for dominance as they circled each other in the middle of the crowd. "To cling to a fantasy born of your own twisted imagination. Do you not see the shame you bring upon yourself and your family?" Alain watched her face turn in anger, or was it shame? if only he could understand emotions. But Anneliese refused to back down, her defiance unyielding in the face of his scorn. "I care not for your judgment, my lord," she shot back, her voice rising above the crescendo of the music. "You know nothing of my family." she added. Their breaths mixed in the charged air between them as the dance became more intense and their distance shrank until they were engaged in a quiet standoff. And while Alain still treated Anneliese with unabashed contempt, a doubt started to seep into his being—a persistent doubt that suggested the frailty of his own beliefs and the boundaries of his comprehension. The final tunes of the cello faded into the ether, and they parted ways with a silent understanding—a fragile truce born of mutual respect and mutual contempt. in their dance of dominance. They had both glimpsed the depths of their own vulnerabilities.  He had a sinking feeling that she had already made her move. Her wants are no longer contained in fiction; instead, they have the potential to destroy the flimsy notion of decorum. Even though he took great satisfaction in his stoicism, a wave of sympathy surged through him staring at the boy as his aunt approached him—a compassion borne not of obligation but of the common humanity that united them all. Amidst the grandeur of the ballroom and the delicate dance of societal expectations, he had glimpsed the raw, untamed edges of human emotion—a landscape marked by desire, despair, and the haunting echoes of lost dreams.  Truly unhinged

[juicezone]

yeah sorry we gotta reschedule the playdate. yeah sorry i have to go explode and die. yeah it's gonna be all week sorry

[a-cat-in-toffee]

looove not being able to tell what's going on in my brain. go girl give me nothing