anon-of-the-void

[anon-of-the-void]

[anon-of-the-void]

DEPRESSION OVER.

wdym. there's. a rottmnt. ARTBOOK.

[anon-of-the-void]

it used to be 2007 you know

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me at any given time: can we just buckle down and focus on the task at hand please???

my brain:

my brain: ……….ranibow sprimkle……………

[anon-of-the-void]

Reblog if your blog is boopable-safe so you can get all the (probably new) achievements. I don’t care about notes I just want boops

[anon-of-the-void]

I feel like this needs to be said for everyone doubting themselves at any time with anything they do. (And I hope I make sense) This can be applied to EVERY interest one may have (but NOT including immoral shit. I do not support murder or anything criminal as a hobby. Just needed to clearify that. Moving on!)

We do our hobby because we like doing it. We appreciate the struggle and can be proud when we have finished the project.

Naturally we love to share that with others. Hear their thoughts on it. Hopefully get them hyped on it like we are. Receive praise for the work we put into it. It is nice to be known for something you do and are good at according to our interpretation of being skilled or "talented". There is no shame in it but people can be fucking cruel and some idiots just love to break others for a quick laugh.

Suddenly you are cringe when you do incredible stuff but don't have the community yet to back you up with views and likes and compliments. Now, any skill has become a contest for who is the prettiest or who makes it look the prettiest or who makes it sound the prettiest.

Niche things became mainstream. New things are being changed to fit that wave of a trend for some quick money grab.

Greed has killed passion.

We got addicted to the high of receiving praise in the hundreds to thousands to millions with just the press of a button. A button you can click on accident. A millisecond of barely an effort that has no character, no opinion, no thought and should have no weight to how we feel about the finished projects.

Sure, we use it to measure how valuable we think our skill is to the outside world. To everyone around us. To those living their own life and experiences. To the taste of people we may not have wanted to cater to. To a taste the project was never created for. But it has an opinion. And it's gonna use it.

In a lot of cases I see the doubt in the people who want to make it in the art world but simply get screwed over by the digital systems that helps so many other things become mainstream and the norm. And that shit is exhausting, never being first choice. Never being picked. And the few that pick you seem laughable in comparison to the big guys you may actually outdo with your creations.

What I am trying to say is that, if you create to be recognized and known for it, for the likes, for the fame- and you make it? Good for you. -if you fail at it? Quit it. You are not passionate about what you do. Maybe you even hate it. It can be incredible and some people will hate the loss of you creating things that others are passionate about. But still. Quit it. You are only hurting yourself. Choosing a path to get to fame- that thing you actually want- that you cannot stand is not helping you or the people in your life.

If you create because you appreciate the lows and are proud of the results. Get giddy when you get that idea and scrable to collect your materials. When you get lost in your own little bubble and forget time or that you had not eaten a thing for the last 10 hours. If you'd rather die than lose your vision or be unable to listen to music ever again or cannot draw or write. When you'd try everything in your power to find a way to still practice makeup or fashion or interior design even if all that's left is a brain with ideas, desperate to manifest them into something everyone can see, while being stuck in a decaying body. Imprisioned in your own flesh and bones. And you are not too focuses on all that you lost with it but instead cry for never being able to dance again or sculpt or simply making a little paper star to gift to someone retail worker who got yelled at by their boss again. If you'd rather die- do not quit.

Do not quit.

Never fucking quit.

Our days are numbered. We grow older and become more frail. We will be at that point eventually. Do you really want to mourn the ideas lost in your skull, stuck in your brain that will never see the light of day? Would you regret having silenced yourself because you didn't reach a silly little number of people you cannot even confirm are real (that is what we are online. A number. A made up name. And most of the time just some blank profile with nothing to show for itself.) I would. And I am pretty sure you would too.

If you create, and put your own needs to the side to create for anybody but yourself- take a breather. Throw your phone to the side. Go out and buy your favorite snack and drink and go on a walk. Sit outside and observe your surroundings. Be aware of what you see. Talk to yourself. Point out that the grass looks really soft and cozy. Or that that color is really pretty. Or count the rings of a cut down tree. Marvel at the age it reached. Wonder why it was cut. Give it 5 minutes of care that you wish you'd get from others. It sounds silly and it will feel silly but it will distract you or even make you aware of thoughts your brain was hiding in a corner.

If you can't find yourself enjoying anything you do, roll with the first ideas you get wondering what you used to do when you were a child. Board games? Dress up? Play make belief with some figurines? If you have it at home you are good to go to be cringe in the safety of your room. Be ridicolous! The sillier the better. Your goal is to reach a state of giddyness, happy stimming and your eyes glossing over, maybe even crying from the overwhelm of happy little feelings. Or go out and visit your favourite toy store with the intention to spend 20 bucks. Look at the toys you used to see as a kid still being sold years later. Look at the new toys and extended lines that were added into it. And if you are unsure about being there to buy toys for yourself then you are the fun aunty looking for a gift for the niece's birthday.

Important is to distance yourself from it for however long you think you need to. Do other things you know will bring you joy. You are in no rush to get back to creating in that specific hobby. After all, you are creating meals and outfits every day! Creativity needs a nap too sometimes.

Just never quit.

We all hate to lose. Hate to depart. And even when you choose to lose to greed in regards to that specific interest, maybe it was not worth fighting for. Maybe it is just a stop on the journey you want to stay at a while longer. Simply have fallen into the trap of tour guides instead of venturing out on your own. The possibility of doing so, getting lost or finding your connection back to the group are still as present as when you first arrived. All it takes is a choice or a happy little accident. Just never stop moving.

So?

Will you lose your passion to your greed?

Or will you make them work together and face the dangers of other people's greed that try and consume you.

The battle never stops. Greed will always be our threat. Our opponent. But it makes a difference if it is our own greed betraying us or somebody else's who has yet to realize they are at war with themselves and the people around them.

And that is ok. It has always been ok until someone decided it wasn't pretty to them. But it doesn't have to be pretty.

It just has to be real.

Low key feel like once I complete the last two requests that came in I may quit writing. My stuff just isn’t getting much traction.

Thoughts?

[anon-of-the-void]

But no joke can we normalize no kiss kisses but instead THIS?!

I'd melt. I'D BE A PUDDLE Y'ALL

lmao i’m back from the dead (finals ended and i’m free)

hear me out on this.

alastor doesn’t do normal kisses. instead of your typical lips on lips he places a small kiss on the tips of his fingers and gently presses them to your forehead, your cheeks, and if he’s feeling silly he might put them directly on your lips.

it’s a nice little thing with him, sometimes it even happens in public, but as adorable as the action may sound it sometimes has different uses. shutting you up whenever he feels like it, he presses his fingers a little fiercer into your lips to get the message across.

you can also do it to him too, not too often though. he likes his personal space. even if he constantly violates your own, it shouldn’t really surprise anyone that he’s a hypocrite.

sometimes he lets you press your kissed fingertips on his face and sometimes he snatches your hand before you can touch him and puts your hand to his lips while staring into your soul.

[anon-of-the-void]

I have plenty of OCs in the in my head for Hazbin but I think the one I will share first is the latest idea I had. She is in fact mere 3 days old. It's gonna be dark and from the rose colored glasses from the OC. I don't mean to romanticize abuse and toxic relationships or self destructive tendencies. It is a story about a woman who finds comfort in her suffering. She realizes things about herself. She has to decide. And face the unknown within herself. There will be questions but will she find the answers?

English is not my first language!

Also it's like 2 AM and I am at least tipsy from a game night with alcohol.

(I want to give Molly and Arackniss, Anthony's siblings, something, while giving Angel a friend and tell howI think he and Val got together. I wanted to write something that people would call love- that could be love in a sick and twisted world- and also indulge in the dynamic of obssession. But mainly this is a word vomit of a couple of characters thrown into the world of Hazbin Hotel.) idk how to do the cut so if you get triggered easily, do not dread past this part.

Trigger warning: abuse, toxic relationship, SA, death, addicting substances, mafia, backstory of acivities done while underage, mentions of Valentino

!!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

_____________________________________________

Between spider webs and cannibals

Being the only daughter of a mafia family comes with freedoms and duties. Growing up a goody two shoes has to come with a terrible personality trait. In Michelle's case it was her taste in men. Or whatever taste she thought she had regarding men.

It was a gathering of the elite where she was introduced to Anthony and Molly, the twins of a respected mafia family. They clicked instantly. Molly was the sister she wished she had. Anthony and her bonded over their taste in men. Especially when she met Arackniss. As a human, Arackniss was one of the most handsome bachelors. Any woman would kill to catch the man's eye. To her fluttering heart's surprise, she found his eyes linger on her figure thoughout the night.

She was introduced as his girlfriend a week later.

Anthony had begged his new friend to see reason and leave the prick he found his brother to be. It was a battle he had lost before it even began. Knowing his brother, begging Arackniss to let the innocent girl go would only endanger her more.

So Anthony bonded with her over every bruise that painted their skin. Hurt by the hands of their lovers. Comfort in the arms of each other.

Michelle was engaged when she found herself drugged out and drunk on parties. Arackniss enjoyed watching her dance for him and his friends. Seeing the innosence crumble underneath his touch. Spark a fire in her eyes to please him. Her ultimate curse was the thrill of being the hunted. Hungry eyes making her knees weak. Addicted to the discomfort of her heart wanting to beat out of it's bony cage. The vile taste in her mouth of being sick of it.

1944, Michelle had married Arackniss. It was not really a choice but the thrill numbed her pain. One evening he sent her out to buy cigars for him when she was picked off the street by a rivaling family hungry to get to the top.

They had sent him a video with their demands for her release carved into her skin. Arackniss watched it. She was a fun toy but not worth the hastle. She had lost the innosence he enjoyed to destroy.

Angry, the rival started their assault. Deeming her impure he asked them to do him the favour and get rid of the body when they were through with her. She died with a cross sticking out of her ribcage.

Her death was announced a week late. Anthony questioned his brother where his wife was when he had attended a family gathering without her. It was then that he told the family that she had gotten herself killed. It was an especially dark night for the twins.

---

Tangled in the webs of the mafia, born into a cruel fate, she went to hell. Fell into the lap of a deceased criminal mastermind. Fell right into the lap of Jacques Moriare. Organized crime had been his business. A French boy dragged to England to grow into an edwardian British gentleman. Took over his father's business at the age of 15, broke it down and built it back up to his ideals. It was flawless if he had not grown to lust after the gentleness and warmth of the feminine touch.

He had opened a club. Good women deteriorated quickly, he found. The bad women were hardly anything he would ever bother to look at.

When he had glanced in the dark eyes of the strange newly spawned sinner did he find the fire in her eyes that he had craved to possess ever since the age of 12.

Michelle became his May-Bell. She was putty in his hands and he would be damned if he were to deny her even just one wish. She was his belle. She deserved only the best. And he was the best. Or that's what he thought.

May-Bell had a club opened in her name. Letting herself indulge in her longing to dance. When she was alive, she had admired the women on stage. Craved to share the spotlight. In death she owned the spotlight. Dancing and touching and hugging and kissing pretty girls in the neon light as they danced to please the highly paying guests.

When Anthony died 1947, he spawned right in front of her doorstep. She took him in. Helped him adjust. Gave him a job.

He worked the night Valentino checked out the club he had heard so much about. It was when Angel Dust came to life.

May-Bell and Angel Dust bonded through the bruises that painted their skin. Hushed confessions how they had sold their souls for that high only these men could give them. Finding comfort in the arms of each other.

[anon-of-the-void]

Reblog because look at that cute snek!

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

[anon-of-the-void]

Thank you for tagging me @dewdropdinosaur I never participated in a tag game but I think it's a cool concept!

Last song: Starship Velociraptor by Jonathan Young

Favourite color: literally love all colors but pink/purple/blue share first place

Currently watching: Detective Conan, The Amazing Digital Circus, rewatching Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Sweet/savoury/spicy: sweet

Relationship status: single, 24 year streak and still going strong lol

Current obssession: Hazbin Hotel, BBC Sherlock's Moriarty (again), Rise of the TMNT (still going strong)

Last thing you googled: I literally looked up when my bus was gonna be there lol Before that I was looking for directions to a place I had to go to... Always looking for directions smh

Tags that may feel free to come and play this game with us :D

@camilieroart @somerandomdudelmao @kathaynesart @himecommunism

If I tagged you, we may not know each other but I think your stuff is neat! Have a lovely day <3

9 people you’d like to know better

Thank you for the tag @clockwork-ashes and @lovely-vanserra-sunshine

Last song: Riot by Hollywood Undead- trust me I regret a full shuffle too. Lol

Favorite color: pastels but pink

Currently watching: Does GTLive count?

Sweet/Savory/spicy: sweet

Relationship status: Chronically single

Current obsession: -gestures around- acotar

Last thing you googled: atmospheric gravity wave experiment

No pressure tags: @acourtofladydeath @mybestfriendmademe @tilseptemberends @tsunami-of-tears @hieragalbatorixdottir @shadowdaddies @mika-no-sekai-blog @wickedfelinaxo @achaotichuman

[anon-of-the-void]

I need help to figure out if it is a piece made up by my brain during sleep or if it is an actual show/musical I remember slivers of.

It is about someone surrounded by winged, wingless fairies, different kinds of fairies and other magical beings. I think MC was your standard typical winged fairy. Her kind was ruled by someone who sorted the folk into classes and she managed to be more of the upper middle class while her parents were lower class.

She wanted to bring peace and make the ruler disappear. She had turned her back to the fairies in her class to secretly meet her parents and plead for them to leave so they won't get hurt. Unfortunately she was seen visit her family (she wasn't allowed any contact with them) and had to run.

During her time escaping the grasp of the ruler she got to meet other beings (winged mermaids, normal mermaids, elves, trolls, in my dream earlier ther were Sonic the hedgehog and some other crossover characters which were definitely not in the actual thing if it was a show and not my imagination)

In the end, she and the friends she made along the way rose against the ruler who had an artifact that would release a very strong spirit, allowing the ruler to face the rioting people. The end is something like they surround the ruler, claiming that even if the wind would rip through their wings they would fight and win (likely with the power of love and friendship or something)

They win and then it sort of cuts off. I remember in my dream asking my mother desperately for the name of the show/musical and it was something like "fairy of the wind".

It was not the first time I had this dream but this time (although I am rapidly forgetting a bunch of stuff it had in it as I am typing this) it was very detailed and made sense during it's runtime in my head. I do have reoccuring dreams a lot but this one felt so familiar for me having dreamt of it about twice before last night.

The feeling was if you mixed wonderland, wizard of Oz and Studio Ghibli with a fairytale like story with actually some murder (a couple fairies who disobeyed had to deing poison in front of everybody before she met her family secretly), unhealthy personality traits from other characters like manipulation, liying, narcicism, etc. But in a very gentle dream like way of telling the story.

I also dreamt about Yu-Gi-Oh but with him piloting a mech and other pilot souls stuck in his big ass pyramid necklace who help him and partially take over control of the mech. That would change the eyes of the robot and kind of show how strong and how much of a threat the mech is at that moment lol

But I literally would do anything to see if that I described above is in an actual movie/show (I remember knowing the first of like 4 movies to be stuck in my head the most but the whole story took like 4 movies according to my dream self)

I remember in another dream having seen a book I could have sworn was real but it didn't exist (or at least not with the title it had in my dream) and it made me so sad because knowing the contents of that book in my dreams was so dear to my dream self. I don't remember the title anymore tho. It's been like 5 years since I last had that specific dream...

I just think my dream experience of seeing the show was so comforting and nostalgic idk man I just have to share and give it a try or I might actually try and write that as a book so that it can actually exist...

Thanks so much for reading

[anon-of-the-void]

The amount of soft Alastor that I require on a day to day basis is ungodly.

[anon-of-the-void]

you've all forgotten your roots anyway here's bulma waking up surrounded by garbage and then immediately chugging a warm beer she picked up off the floor

[anon-of-the-void]

Some stuff I drew during a training day at work. I did not have a reference as once can see very obviously and I keep forgetting to draw his monocle which- shame on me!

But ye, have more Alastor I guess

[anon-of-the-void]

Okokok hear me out: househusband Alastor but like platonically

And

Househusband Lucifer but they are still pining for each other and oblivious to each others' interest on the other person.

This can be radioapple or not. It works both ways. It works all the ways that aren't too "wtf why would you see them in a dynamic they don't even know of each others' existence"

[anon-of-the-void]

One massive, legitimate way to improve as a writer or artist or in any creative endeavor really, is to become absolutely obsessed with something and to allow yourself to be weird about it. Genuinely mean this btw.

[anon-of-the-void]

Alastor with his hair tied up in the kitchen, his ears flopping relaxed and his fingers dancing aeound the work space skillfully.

Lucifer baking a pie with a little duck wearing a pink apron sitting on top of the kitchen counter, supporting him.

I love me some house husband energy.

There is nothing manlier and hotter than them doing domestic work in an apron with a gentle tune playing in the back.