#on this day (or rather evening) back in 2020 I drew a couple of skeletons for the first time and never stopped doing it since (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

[zu-is-here]

5 years of storydrawing (& loving these two) ♥︎

[kryptsune]

I have a Confession... {Red X Frisk Drabble}

FRANS WEEK 2020 // Day 1: Confession

>>Day 2

@fransweek

🌼So a little bit about this. I am planning on doing Frans week this year that said I also don’t want to stress myself out. I have a sketch that I am working on that combines a few of the prompts but I still wanted to do something for day one so here is Underworld Red and Frisk after her run. Frans is so important to me so it is nice to post this kind of content again. 

If you are currently reading Underworld there are a couple of spoilers within this that have yet to show up in the fic. I actually have decided to write this out instead because I am currently editing and getting feedback on the latest chapter which I plan to get up today at some point. If not it is going to be tomorrow. This scene is not canon to Underworld btw angst ahead.

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She had yanked her hand away yelling only for him to become a little overly aggressive. It had slipped her mind as she shook from his actions. His boney almost claw-like fingers dug into her skin causing a blossom of blood to form and trickle down her arm. He had released her when he didn’t realize his own strength but it was too late.

 Her ears rang with his shouts as she ran clutching her arm. Her legs brought her to the only place she found solace. A small little place in Waterfall. She collapsed next to the glowing blue stream shivering as if the very ground she now rested was but ice. When she looked down at her arm, the wound was nowhere to be seen. 

That only meant that her mind had started to decay and old horrors were spilling out. Did he even grab her? Her eyes filled with tears as she placed her shaking hand against her lips. What was real? What was fake? She knew that he loved her but this. She was sure she looked at him with horror swimming in those cobalt depths. The fear was undeniable and he had done nothing to deserve it. How could you ever love someone that saw the shadow of your former self-overlaid over the present? Was she a hypocrite? She told him that she forgave him and yet her mind was wrought with rot. It’s decay slowly creeping deeper and deeper into her mind. The ghosts of the past haunted her even to the extreme of physical sensation. What were you supposed to trust? 

She closed her eyes leaning forward in defeat. Her age was in its prime. A young woman with so much life to live and yet this disease had slowly consumed her sanity and with age, it would only devour what was left of the present. She couldn’t put him through that. It would break her heart. She didn’t deserve him not after that. At that moment her heart began to break. She loved him so much that his happiness went beyond her selfishness. He was better off finding a monster to be with than her. She would get old, her condition would become worse, and he would be tied to a human with such a short life in comparison to his own. It was the way it truly had to be. No amount of apology could ever fix what she had just done even if it was not in her proper state of mind.

She just sat there staring blankly into the water only to hear a small noise off to the side. It was him. It was near impossible for her to truly be alone when he was able to track her down so easily. Even when he approached she refused to raise her head to look at him, “I’m sorry…” She nearly choked on her next set of words as they passed her wavering lips, “We can’t be together. I…. I can barely control myself any longer. All I see is the worst part of you when…” 

The tears began to form as she tried to stop herself, “I know there is so much I love. I…I don’t even deserve you. I want to love you and keep you close to me but I fear I am losing my mind. I see things past and.“ She was cut off as she screwed her eyes shut only whimpering a few chosen words, "I’m so sorry I yelled…. That I ran… I don’t know what is wrong with me anymore.”

Physical ailments could be treated with simple medication or rest but the mind is a complex beast. Just as it’s physical appearance depicts it is a maze that one could be trapped in for all eternity with no hope of escape. She was shaking and nearly on the cliff of a panic attack. What would he say? 

 All she felt was gentle arms wrapping around her from behind cradling her in that warm embrace. How could he even look at her let alone touch her? All she could hear was that soft twinkle of chimes that made Waterfall so unique. He loved her, cared for her, and comforted her. He was her best friend and now someone she couldn’t imagine being without. His silence only led to soft gestures like the wiping of tears, a soft squeeze, and a small smile. He didn’t need words to tell her how he felt. When the silence finally broke she was staring up into those red eyes. One that used to frighten her but now drew her in with that brilliant ruby hue.

He knew what it was like to lose your mind as his father had made sure of it. The monster he once was and the one she had met were like doppelgangers and though those traits from his past had returned he still struggled with the one thing that stained his very being. The very thing that had nearly torn half the Underworld apart with its aggression and madness. To see her go through the same pains hurt his soul. 

He had learned to control his and yet hers only seemed to become worse. He feared one day she would harm herself due to some demon that crept into her mind. Take that pain away... that was all that he wanted for her. Even her outbursts could never change how much he loved her. Even if she tried to pull away he would always pull her back. He had done this to her and so he deserved what he was getting.

 He only threaded his fingers through her hair gently combing through the auburn strands, “Why would ya ever think I’d be mad at ya?” He had been working tirelessly for weeks trying to improve her mental condition and yet no amount of magic could fix her wounds, “Ya don’t deserve me? Sweetheart, ya got it backward. I did this ta ya and I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all back er’… erase all tha bad but I can’t. You could yell at me fer tha rest of yer life… I will never leave ya.”

 He just held her praying to someone, anyone that one day those demons would be purged from her mind even if that meant he had to be out of the equation. She deserved better and though he loved her with his every breath he could not deny that he was only causing her more pain. He could feel her small frame shuddering as she sobbed, “Shhhh I gotcha.”

It was ironic considering the place she had chosen to escape to. It was a special place for both of them. It did not look like much but this was the place where his once cold and ruthless soul had been soothed. No amount of words or magic could do what her warm smile had or just that sparkle of hope and love in her eyes. It was the moment he realized he had been horribly wrong about the seemingly fragile human girl sitting beside him and how much of the term monster he had become.

 A truly awful horrible demon of a skeleton that didn’t deserve her angelic mercy. He had a difficult time living with his past actions drowning in a regret that not even time could cure. He remembered finding her trying to hold back tears as she wrapped her pale arms around herself. Seeing his handiwork in full display only for her to panic at his snooping. She explained that though time appeared broken for her that did not mean there were no consequences to such a thing. She called it a curse and rightfully so. Even as they sat in silence he could feel his thoughts shifting.

 That was the moment that changed everything. That was truly the moment that he realized just how special she was and how important she was to him specifically. He nearly cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. It was the same exact spot. The only difference was that he had no hesitation in his comforting of her. He wanted her to know that no matter what he would always be there no matter what she did because deep down a little of her hope had made its way into him. He would save her just like she had saved him all those years ago. She deserved happiness and he knew that for her that included him just as much. She had said so herself.

He closed his sockets just resting his mouth on the crown of her head before slowly raising it to speak clearly, “Ya saved everyone Sweetheart… now let me save you, alright?”

 He continued to hold her like the little fragile thing she was letting her feel that warmth and comfort. That loving embrace that would never leave her. She looked up at him now calmed by the soft words and warm cradle of his arms. It was a simple word one that might make another laugh at its absurdity, “Red…” 

Ah yes, the nickname. The very one that had been a joke in the past. A failed attempt at a kind of quip for his use of so many pet names for her. There was one that stood out among the rest, sweetheart. There was nothing as fitting as that one simple word for her. She had made a point about mocking his fashion sense and his unfortunate eye color saying that he should be nicknamed after the color he seemed to be drowned in but it was his.

 A name that proved that though he had become something he hardly recognized that was the person she had grown fond of and could call a friend. It was special even if to the untrained eye it would appear rather bland or foolish. When that word slipped past her lips his soul would thump in his chest skipping the nonexistent beat that filled what a heart would do.

 He stared into those blue eyes that were filled with so much love for him something he never thought he would ever deserve. No, no one could say that name like she could. She didn’t need to speak anymore he just swept her off her feet so they could once again return home. He would keep hope for a brighter future and one day all those grey clouds would give way to the most beautiful blue sky.

 She had already cleared away the storm for him now it was his turn to show her the true beauty of a night sky unhindered by a single cloud. A peace, love, and happiness unmatched and unequal to anything on this planet or under it.

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Thank you, everyone, for your continuous love and support. It truly means so much to me.

[theliterateape]

Election 2020: Swimming in Sewage Toward a Different Kind of More Hopeful Cesspool

by Don Hall

8:00 a.m.

I wake up a few hours ago. Slept like the dead. I read through the same bullshit with poll numbers and predictions with the same combination of hope, certainty, uncertainty, and boredom as I did yesterday and the day before. Yeah. Trump is a full-blown dickhead. Biden is a truly nice guy. Will Texas go blue? Do I even know anyone from Texas anymore?

My wife wakes up. She’s helping friends move to North Carolina by helping them drive their shit for the next week as if today is not anything big. She gives me a blowjob and gets a bagel.

I’m not worried about the results of today. I truly am confident that the nation will tip back into some semblance of rationality and dump Trump. I’m more interested to see how it all unfolds and if the deposed Mad King will take a shit on the desk in the Oval as a parting gesture in three months.

I have this image of he and his whole skeleton crew, fully repudiated by a massive and historic blue wave, sitting in the White House like squatters, selling off pieces of our national history on Ebay and hiding from His Majesty as he stomps through the hallways screaming at portraits of presidents past about the unfairness of it all.

In tandem is the image of the cultural left sharpening their knives to go in full attack once Biden is sworn in to remake the country into some bizarre Maoist Shangri-La doing what the Left always does — cannibalize it’s own — while the defeated Republicans pretend they were never in league with Trump but held hostage by him like the rest of us.

Fuck me. This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?

10:00 a.m.

I’m not terribly worried that Trump & Co. will steal the election.

I remember years ago a prominent Chicago poet who dressed and spoke like a rap star telling me “It ain’t the n****rs who talk about shit you have to worry about. They’re all bark and no bite. It’s the quiet ones you need to keep an eye on.”

Trump has been barking about stealing the election for months now and I’m pretty certain a man so overwhelmingly incompetent as the one who completely blew both his debate appearances and fucked up a national response to an epic pandemic so horribly that a retarded child could’ve done better is not going to suddenly reveal that he is an evil genius capable of stealing one of the most televised elections in history.

I’m likewise less concerned about the rabid, angry Trumpers wreaking havoc on the country. They were never in this for a long campaign. They couldn’t even take COVID seriously enough to wear masks. They’ll make some noise, get into some melees for a few days and then slink home and grouse just like their hero.

I wonder what the Antifa crowd will do once Trump is deposed? Start an emo band? Go back to working at Starbucks and REI? I hope they decide to occupy Kentucky and reign terror on Mitch McConnell. It’s a terrible thing to say but the party I’ll throw in my semi-quarantined apartment when Trump loses tonight (this week? Next month?) will be nothing when compared to the full-on Mardi Gras parade I’ll throw when the Evil Senator from Kentucky dies. I’m known to say that I can’t hate someone unless I’ve met them but I fucking hate Mitch.

I read a weird op-ed online that essentially thanks Trump for giving us four years reprieve from the cultural warriors of the Far Left. I wish I read it in a paper so I could wipe my ass with it because an iPad makes for an uncomfortable symbolic gesture.

I shower and get dressed. I’m on shift tonight at the casino so I’ll be dealing with the regular crowd while history unfolds like a soiled sheet and you can’t quite tell if that’s a bloodstain or merely ketchup. 

For our sixth anniversary, Dana got me my eleventh tattoo. She came up with a cool design concept: a Chicago tattoo for my right back shoulder that included the baby in the clamshell from the City of Chicago flag, a light blue background and three of the red six-point stars of Chicago, each representing one of my three decades there. She booked an artist in a very chic studio who happened to be a great trace artist but not so much with the original design thing.

As it stands, it’s a fine tattoo with some elements that look like a child drew them with a Sharpie. Not great but growing on me. But the odd thing is that it being being on back, I don’t see it so I forget it’s there. Reminds me that as Americans we tend to dwell on history but not what is directly behind us. We’ll send Trump packing and immediately forget how embarrassing he was and set into attacking the new administration because it isn’t as brazenly Marxist as we fought for (I use ‘we’ although I actually voted for Biden’s moderation).

12:00 p.m.

Dropped Dana off for her trip. Ran some stuff home. I’m now actively avoiding anything news related. I receive an email that our division of casinos is not putting the election coverage on the screens in our Sportsbooks and I’m relieved.

2:00 p.m.

At the casino now. It’s pretty empty and I’m unsurprised. I’m informed that the larger properties and on the Strip there are special task force groups of LVMPD set up at every location to stem any bad partisan behavior in the casinos. For our property, I’m the task force.

I recall clearly the night four years ago when so many of us were so certain Hillary had it in the bag only to be gut-punched around 9:00 p.m. with the news that Trump had won the thing. Unlike so many, I accepted the result regardless of fact that she won the popular vote. Until we sack up and remove the Electoral College, that’s a legitimate win.

5:25 p.m.

I checked. I couldn’t help myself. The only thing that pisses me off is that Mitch won Kentucky, that sour, putrid fuckface.

Yeah. I really want the Dems to sweep this up. The question I’m asking myself is if we repeat 2016, why? The answer so many gravitate to is that half the country is racist but I’m not buying that reductive bullshit. If I had to guess, half the country doesn’t buy into the identity politic of the Far Left.

Alright. Enough. Optimism. Fucking optimism.

7:30 p.m.

At this point I have to remind myself that Dems voted overwhelmingly early and so many of those votes are still to be counted. I’ll admit, I’m surprised that Trump is even competitive but given my disdain for the Wokesters I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If I can’t take them someone from the rural side of Texas probably hates them as much as I hate Mitch.

I was hoping for a blow-out but it’s looking more and more like this thing will get decided in the courts over mail-in votes.

On the floor, no one is talking about the history unfolding. By now, the place is about half-full and people are far more concerned with getting their comp drinks and hitting payouts. I overhear a couple of guys at the blackjack table. They think the Dems are going down. One thinks it’s because of Kamala Harris. I walk away without saying a word.

If there’s anything we should have learned from 2000 is that, under no circumstances should the Blue concede until every last vote is counted. Every last fucking vote.

I’m finding a bit of Zen. We aren’t going to know who won tonight. In some ways this is a good thing. It means Trump will be wrapped up battling the process rather than losing and tearing shit apart out of petulance. We still have a raging pandemic and our economy is shredded.

The divide in this country is not one of race or racism. The divide is between city mice and country mice. As the picture emerges, the urban centers of almost every state skews left in statewide seas of rural red. It also demonstrates how deeply unpopular the extremes are with the opposing sides. The racial identity politics of the Far Left — you know, the folks who flatly state that all white people are racist — and the strident authoritarianism of the Far Right — you know, the ones who love the police and lotsa guns — are so toxic that equal measures of citizens will vote with little more than a passionate hatred for one or the other despite a host of rational reasons to vote the other way.

9:40 p.m.

We won’t know until later in the week. 

Votes are still uncounted in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania. We wanted a decisive repudiation of Trump and, once again, half the country (and much closer to half than four years ago) took that away.

From one angle, this is the best outcome. Uncertainty as to who won means all those businesses boarded up can breathe a sigh of relief. With no clear winner so far, there isn’t a reason to riot in the streets. A couple weeks of legal battles and ballot counting and the assholes on both sides will get bored. 

I was humbled in 2016. I thought I knew how it would go because I was so certain my worldview was so obviously right that how could anyone not see it so? I’ve been ready for this. Like so many, I felt the surge of certainty once again with the polls and how incredibly monstrous Trump became in the last days of his campaign. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Don’t get me wrong. I still believe Biden will be our president on January 21st, 2021. I just wish it had been an easier road.