gothsic

[gothsic]

so ... there's a CHANCE I'll be coming back to the rpc, but I'll be *surprise* coming back w a new muse.

I may come back to jo eventually but for now I'm really feeling dr. Greg House ... Stay Tuned

[gothsic]

so one thing i've been trying to do is support the usps because the trump administration is actively trying to dismantle it. the usps is not only vital to ensure a fair mail in election during a pandemic, but is also the only way rural communities can get their mail, people in need of medication can get their prescriptions, and so much more. without it, we would have to rely on private shipping companies who often do not offer these services.

SO. what i'm doing is ...

DONATION COMMISSIONS!! ( wow amazing wow the audience is swooning )

for a purchase of $10 worth of stamps or more from the usps website or a usps office location, i will draw you a sketch like this one here!! just provide proof of receipt and we're all good. you can see examples of my art by clicking here.

reblog to spread the word, and feel free to dm me here!! thank you!!

[gothsic]

as apology for not being rlly active here anymore i give u this art challenge i did for @citialiin ... this is a Concept

[gothsic]

@revoide​ inquired: ' i’m a twisted fool, my hands are twisted too. ' ↳  glass animals lyric starters !!

" really? i don't see your hands being twisted, " comes his snarky reply, though he does so with a jocular smile. the usual serving, of course. " you'd have to really prove to me that was possible. then... then we'd be talking. "

he takes a moment, stares down at the table beneath his hands. his reflection can just barely be made out in the light overhead in this place. this strange little hole in the wall establishment in santa monica, where the beaches were littered with tourists and a heavy marine layer, not to mention the smog of the nearby factories. there is a haze to life that has, perhaps, existed since the time he was a child. he cannot truly be sure. but right then, looking at this woman, whose eyes are as deep and dark as his own - the reflective kind, where one would see copies upon copies of themselves staring right back at them - he cannot truly be sure. but right then, looking at this woman, whose eyes are as deep and dark as his own - the reflective kind, where one would see copies upon copies of themselves staring right back at them - he cannot believe that she has said something that existential. that odd. but why odd?

simple. this was the very thing he thought of day after day. his own fingers and hands twisting and turning, unable to connect with his fellow man. yes, he knew the feeling all too well.

he webs his hands together, cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. an act, perhaps, but there is a flicker in his smile. it's slowly fading, in fact, as a candle slowly fades without being attended to.

" i dunno. being human sucks, right? we don't even consciously twist ourselves. we just do. and before we know it, we're basically the equivalent of pretzels in front of the mirror. having no say in the matter is the biggest joke of all. "

" but hey, at least you can scare the crap out of people if you were able to prove that you were twisted on the outside. i kind of do want to see you physically twist your hands now. like, in a horrifically grotesque way. can you do that? then, we'd say fuck you destiny for even thinking they'd not let us have the last laugh. "

[gothsic]

❥   glass animals ,   an aesthetic meme .

either answer as dialogue spoken, or as an aesthetic to prose off the imagery of.

eyes killer cold and black and bare. i wanna go back, i wanna go back. i wanna take to my guns and break you. i’m so so cold in the marrow of my bones. i was in full bloom until i met you. dance with me and shake your bones. paperback dreams in my deep doze. take your throne, pump your veins with gushing gold. shake my little soul for you now. i’m a fool of many tricks and tools and joy, with a battery of guilt on which to poise. mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy slurs. i can’t take this place, i just wanna go where i can get some space. i take your gloom, i curl it up and puff it into plumes. how can i believe you, how can i be nice, tripping around the tree stumps in your summer smile? face so lost, petrified, timid twitch in your wide eyes. you’re so juiced, you said you’d kick the booze. don’t you cry, don’t you drain those big blue eyes. i fake my breaking smile. i’m a twisted fool, my hands are twisted too. don’t spin me a lie, i’m crooked but upright. all i ever want, is just a little love. all i ever want, is breaking me apart. makes my nerves clench close and my bones go cold when i see that room. your smile so super quiet. you won’t make it back this time. you know, you know the way that i hide. why don’t you dance like you’re sick in your mind? you know the way that i hide for you. can’t you feel your dirty face? don’t it leave that filthy taste? you can’t breathe without me.

daddy was dumb, said that i’d be something special. brought up tough but i was a gentle human. said that he loved each of my two million freckles. i sit in the car and i listen to static. you were clearly meant for more than a life lost in the war. i know you’ll feel the ghost of the memory so warm. my body’s in tatters, in an ordinary fashion. maybe, i wish i could remold you to vertical and golden. it hurts to say it’s hopeless and we ain’t gonna make it. sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me sad. why can’t we laugh now like we did then? how come i see you and ache instead? how come you only look pleased in bed? i want you for the world, i want you all the time. i won’t forget how you looked at me then. why don’t i say it then? i want you all the time. my heart strings broke and it was me, i pull they stretch infinitely. in the summer silence i was getting violent. i’ll be dreaming in my paper pale skin. burn through my love just like your drugs. everything you didn’t know you were looking for. i wish you could see the wicked truth, caught up in a rush it’s killing you. i settle for a ghost i never knew. i miss him, don’t you blame me. i feel so fucking numb. gonna fuck my way through college. i’m gonna sleep ‘cos you live in my daydreams. i am a true romantic, free falling love addict. pulled me through the door and stuck her teeth in deep. all your days are gone, sitting on the floor in your underwear, begging me for more. why don’t you light that cigarette and calm down, now stop and breathe a second. go back to the very beginning. can’t you see what was different then? your head is so numb. that nervous breath you try to hide, between the motions that trembling tender little sigh. i want to hold you like you’re mine. you’re gone but you’re on my mind. i’m lost but i don’t know why.

[gothsic]

quick lil sketches of jo throughout the years. he got grouchier.

[gothsic]

“ if only i could turn into mr. freeze and well, freeze the entire planet right now, ‘cause fuck. global warming really turned up the heat the past week. no way is my air conditioner going on; i’ve got bills to pay! “

[gothsic]

We haven’t talked that much and when I first saw your OOC tag with ‘is it Marie’ I thought this was a callout because my name is Marie as well. Im an anxious mess and love love your blog!

oh no! i’m sorry about that - i can understand how that can look kind of scary!! don’t worry about being an anxious mess, i know i am too in many ways. every time i see the name alex i’m like ??? do u mean me?? even with people i don’t know on the dash LOL. 

though i CAN promise that i myself am not scary - so feel free to come and talk to me about whatever, i’d be happy to listen! i love meeting new people and chatting so my ims are always open no matter what.

[gothsic]

ONCELER.​:

@gothsic​.

          ❝ AAAAND WE’RE STOPPED  again.  julian, why are we stopped again ? ❞  despite forcing a little laugh along with his demands toward his driver, he’s clearly exasperated.  ignoring the man’s response, the once-ler stares out the tinted window from the backseat of his town car to find short narrow roads and swimsuit clad people carelessly walking in front of traffic.  unable to stifle an eye roll, he leans back in his seat, propping a foot atop his opposite knee.  ❝ just honk at them.  jesus. ❞

a sigh escapes him as he gazes out the front window, focus eventually softening.  while his eagerness to reunite with jonathan vastielle, the complimentary writer who interviewed him months ago, overrules any minor inconvenience like traffic, he imagined a place with a name like venice beach to ooze glamour.  to say the least, the dingy little shops and homes they drive past are not what he expected.  he supposes it could just be the beach that looks this trashy.  the golf course they intend to visit should be a refreshing change for jonathan.

when the car finally pulls in front of a tiny shack, the once-ler gratefully pops his door open and steps out.  he’s dressed in a ridiculous set of high-waisted plaid pants in kelly green, styled with a matching cap and pepto bismol-pink polo tee.  by the way he lowers his bulky sunglasses down his nose bridge in a casual pose, he clearly has a high opinion of this outfit.  he looks the structure up and down before turning back to his driver.  ❝ this is the address he gave us ? ❞  the man rereads the address aloud and the once-ler’s eyes widen, staring at what he wouldn’t quite consider a house.  ❝ ha ha, no big deal !  i’ll, uh…i’ll be right back. ❞

a polite smile plastered on his face, he shuts his door and steps along the pavement toward the door, careful to avoid the cracks.  by the way jonathan carried himself in their interview, he hadn’t expected him to live like this.  regardless, the once-ler can’t remember the last time he just hung out with a friend–let alone, an older, cooler friend.  he hopes desperately that this game of golf will solidify a friendship between the two of them.

he raps on the door and rocks back and forth on his heels as he waits.  he notices a rather large spider in the doorway inches from his face and he jumps back, letting out a little squeal.  when the door opens, his grin returns.

❝ heeey, there he is !  ha ha ! ❞  he boldly swings a long arm around his buddy’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug.  ❝ i can’t believe you live here !  this place is so random, right ? ❞

for a second, he'd forgotten all about that man and his rather obnoxious, larger than life naivete. oh no, not his personality, but his utter ignorance. every word that fell out of his mouth was boisterous, proud, yet strangely innocent in that childlike way. it was not enraging as much as it was rather annoying - a bit like having your cheek repeatedly poked and prodded, or an unscratchable itch. 

and then, reality decided to smack him right in the face. right. he agreed to go... golfing with this guy? fuck. what in the hell was he thinking? golfing was for rich people, the ones with bottomless pockets and a failure to recognize the world around them. hell, they needed their own private world to feel powerful in while the riff-raff suffered outside. and yet... he'd said yes. why? well...

because this guy was just a total fuckin' weirdo, to put it simply. and jonathan was dressed to head out - not in his sunday best, perhaps, but in something that looked mildly presentable. black and brown striped sweater, his usual rings, and black jeans. oh, and we can't forget the combat boots, of course. those were essential.

jonathan sighs, taking a drag from his cigarette. letting it out. taking a moment to contemplate just what he was about to get himself into ( A WHOLE LOTTA FUCKIN' TROUBLE, SIR ), and gave him a slight smile. pained, a bit tired, but a smile nevertheless.

he inhales, the cigarette between his lips, and his hand behind his head. scratches his scalp, really digs his nails into the skin, maybe even draws blood. it's going to take the patience of a saint to get through this.

" i sure do live here, man, as random as that sounds. " he responded after a moment. no hesitation in his voice, but there is a slight bite.  " though i've heard cardboard boxes are en vogue this year. guess it's not the same as living in a mansion, huh? must be nice. " for a moment, another certain someone crosses his mind. red hair, overly made-up face. also a chain smoker, and quite the talker. in fact, the two were rather alike, though one was far more insufferable than the other. gotta scope out your options, lest you risk becoming irrelevant again, right? well, he certainly can’t argue with that logic.

he closes the door behind him, and takes a few steps down to the walkway. though, he stops, and looks back at the place he had called home for so long. sure, he lives in a shanty. it's been beaten by the sea salt, the wind, and a lack of upkeep over the years. and sure, he was renting it from his older brother for a steal, but it wasn't as if he thought about leaving it. no. it suited his needs nicely. how could someone like this rich baby understand? never in a thousand years. and yet, jonathan only strengthens his smile, and shoves his hands in his pockets.

" time to golf, huh. i'm surprised you're even interested in that stuff. i thought you were more the live fast type, based off what you told me. " he continues, taking a few steps towards the limo. fuck, what a huge limo it was. but jonathan maintained his posture - slightly slouched, eyes focused on him. onceler, was it? mr. onceler. what a weird-ass name. that had to be one of the weirdest names he's ever heard in his entire life, as a matter of fact. sounded a bit like mister twister, that capitalist american pig who took steps onto russian soil and made an ass out of himself in the famous cartoon. if only a jazz score followed him around everywhere. " we'll probably pass more totally random places on the way there. i'm sure your driver won't mind. 'cause based off what you told me, this course is in the pacific palisades. hilly place. a nice place. you can look over those cute little hovels from the isolated hill they built up there. really makes you feel like macchiavelli, so i'm told. "

he steps inside the limo, carefully, of course. the seats looked incredibly well kept, and the car itself appeared to have been buffed at least five times over before it was driven out here. jonathan sinks in his seat, looks up at the ceiling. the lights inside dazzle him, make his eyes feel heavier with the weight of his exhaustion. if only he could fall asleep in there, with the smooth bumping and grazing of the limo's tires on the asphalt soothing him. but alas, the noise in his brain would never cease, not even for a second. it would simply be impossible to do much of anything other than listen to this man go on and on and god knows what - a hyperactive overly wealthy puppy who, if he might be elected president ( a horrible, horrifying thing to think about )... no. we can't even think it. it's far too hideous to imagine.

and yet, jonathan maintains his smile as he looks over at onceler. it's all the same to him. it's a job. it's a person who's giving him something to do, a chance at relevancy again. it's something, and he'll be damned if he messes it up.

" dunno if you care, but the piece i wrote is interesting. i think you'll make for a good character, " he starts, hoping to shift the subject away from anything golf-related. making it about onceler, perhaps, would do just that. " very charismatic, endearing, little offbeat. like a peewee herman, except you run your own company. the question is more where i'm gonna put your character. no idea yet. though maybe i should hear it from the man himself. "

" where do you see yourself in this story? 'cause you've been running your business for a while. what would be your hypothetical next step? and here's the catch - you can't say anything business related. "

[gothsic]

Donations!

Hey guys! It’s Tycho here, and I’m gonna be honest: I’ve fallen on hard times and at risk of being homeless like I used to be. I’m only one year away from completing my undergraduate degree and moving forward with my independent research, but money has been hard to come by and, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I do need some help. As of right now, I’m scrambling to find a place to live after my living arrangements fell through last minute, I’ve gotta get some funds for my car maintenance, and I need to prepare for new course material for the upcoming semester. I don’t want anyone to feel obligated, but I’d really appreciate any donations possible. If you can’t donate, that’s okay; all I ask is you share this post if you can.

Please donate here if you wish! It’d mean a lot to me, and I assure you guys I’ll do my best to remain here no matter what happens. It’s been a tough year for us all, so above all just take care of yourselves first and keep trucking.

[gothsic]

anonymous inquired: weird confession but jo reminds me a bit (by looks) of gideon graves from scott pilgrim!!! it striked me as soon as i saw your blog a while back. it's kinda cool tbh.

funny you mention that, because i actually did consider using gideon as jo's animated face claim! he does look the part with the hair and glasses ( and wrinkles, lmao ). the only problem was that gideon always looked a little too evil, and he didn’t smile in that sarcastic way which was something i needed. well, okay, he does, but he’s a little too on the nose for my liking with regard to what i wanted for jo’s face claim, LOL.

[gothsic]

@abvnai​ requested to DISTORT REALITY... ( or DID she? )

" so... come to these things often? "

he knows it's a poor joke, and he laughs shortly after, lest this woman get the wrong idea. well, not a laugh, but rather a chuckle. he swipes a cookie off the table in front of him - a rather pathetic display of pastries and sweets that looked as if they'd been left out in the open air a day too long - and takes a bite. ouch. dry, stale. but there is still a hint of chewy sugar to the mix that he has the stomach to ingest it. he looks back at her, and smiles - the half-smile, just as rehearsed and fine-tuned as always. now then... what is the context for this little conversation, this blip in time? well, that's easy.

the paranormal, the unsolved, the mysterious. these were things that he, even as a child, had always been fascinated in. and, of course, when one was desperate for inspiration, they turned to the imagination to find it. but, he was struggling, he had to admit. it seemed as though everything truly horrific had been done before... but then, there were stories that were interactive, where everyone could join in. augmented reality games, they were called. and while searching for one to potentially join, he came across something different - a group of people chasing after a creature that was capable of jumping through unsuspecting victim's phones or computers, and eating their soul. so the story went. not that he believed it, as many on the forum assumed that it was simply a hoax and wrote it off, but the "creature" followed through. quite terrifyingly, in fact, with a message from one of the group's most vocal members - except, of course, that it wasn't him, but the creature informing the entire forum that they were next. they had to come find it, and eliminate it, before it took its next victim...

of course, jonathan laughed it off. but in a supposed panic, the moderator brought forum members into an ultimatum - to meet in real life and eliminate the use of all electronic devices so that they might figure out their next move. it wasn't the most clever way to elude such a creature, but it was a way, he had to admit. plus, he could not deny how curious he was about this supposed internet poltergeist. the very possibility that it could exist intrigued him. and so, biting the bullet, he took the first plane out to new york city just to see what would come next. maybe he was even curious about whether or not the creature was even real. but no. it had to be a game. there was no other way something like this would make sense.

now, back to the present. this woman he had noticed when he walked in, not for any particular reason, but rather for something that he rarely saw in people. how remarkably straight she sat while the moderator - channing morose, he was called ( what a fucking name, by the way ) - informed everyone about what they were to do next. some looked jonathan's way, presumably recognizing him, though none made proper contact with him. she was different, of course. she seemed quite interested in what mr. morose had to say, more so than the other participants, who were far more interested in preserving their lives than in deconstructing every possible angle to tackle this situation.

she was worth speaking to, he thought.

" i was surprised when the mod wanted to meet in real life, " he continues, though this portion of it was honest. " i thought these args were mostly always on the internet. no interaction with real living beings allowed, right? heh. well, i guess that makes it fun. though not gonna lie to you, i didn't turn off my phone to get in here. "

" but its entertaining to think about whether a scary internet ghost is real. maybe it is. i don't know. hell, maybe it stole my soul already and i don't even know.  think it stole yours? i'll bet a stale stop and shop cookie on it. "

[gothsic]

@deathlydclights​ requested to STEP INTO PITCH DARKNESS...

" listen man, it's not that simple. the kind of people i look for are the ones that can really hold a narrative, y'know? that's why i come to places like this. to listen, to... get a sense of the environment. "

sure, what he's said right then is a bit gauche, but then again, this is all part of the act that he's playing. at this nightclub, in the dead of night, with its pounding music and the throbbing of the bass in his brain, there was nothing more attractive to him than getting the hell out. but alas, that was not the choice he made. he was here for inspiration, to go somewhere different for once in his sorry life, rather than walk along the empty venice beach strip for the umpteenth time that month. but this was not los angeles, it was new york. and he was here for a convention of all things. no, not of all things, that was false - it was part of his livelihood, after all. but that part of his journey was irrelevant, for after a day of signing book after book, exchanging handshake after handshake, and smiling that ever so devious half-smile for the camera, he was truly exhausted. nothing sounded better than going out on the town, on his own, for something a little different for once.

and this time, he had figured it would serve him well. it was, after all, an opportunity to get an idea for his next project. but it wasn't so much that he was looking for someone in a specific occupation to write about, oh no - he was looking for characters. characters he could see popping off the page.

maybe that was why he was talking to this man now in this rowdy place, where he could barely hear himself think. there was something about the man's eyes, his entire demeanor... it was something one would only read about, see in movies. but this was real. this was right in front of him. and he couldn't quite discern what it was. perhaps it was the hollowness of his pupils, or perhaps it was a crease in his skin that only jonathan could make out in the neon lights overhead. it seemed an unnatural mixture of pink and purple... how odd. how could he not be so transfixed by someone who seemed to simultaneously fit in, yet make jonathan's skin crawl all the more? and why?

well, that's why he's fucking TALKING to the guy in the first place!

" you see what i mean? in my line of work, it's not like i can just imagine people and places without having a foundation. it doesn't work that way. so that's why i'm asking what you do around here. how you benefit. what it means to you. just answer honestly, and we're in business. “

he leans in, webs his fingers in front of his face as he balances his elbows on the table. oh, when the fascination struck, it struck. like a gold miner finding gold for the first time while sifting through mud, sludge, and water on the rivers of the old west. how rare it was for jonathan vastielle to be oh so entertained!

“ i'll buy as many drinks as it takes to keep you talking. deal? "

[gothsic]

WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SAY?

"i don't know how to accept this fact about me."

you have a secret. be it something going on in your life or a revelation about your personal identity, you've just learned something new about yourself and you feel wrong about it. you should be sure about this, but you're just not! even though you aren't comfortable with it, the secret feels important to you and it wants to break free. with the nature of the secret, though, you couldn't stand telling anyone.

[gothsic]

ART FOR BLM DONATIONS

hey guys! i’m indigo and i live in minnesota. im looking for ways to help out with the situation here and elsewhere.

if you can provide a *SAME-DAY* receipt for donating at least $15-20 to any of the organizations on this list, black visions collective, north star health collective, reclaim the block, the floyd memorial fund, the los angeles fund, or a similar fundraiser or protester’s bail, i will draw you a bust-style, single-color sketch of whatever character you’d like.

please note that the minnesota freedom fund has stated that they currently have enough money and are encouraging you to donate to other funds.

please send your screenshot receipt, character info, and color choice to my dms on this sideblog. i will acknowledge and post your piece here or send it privately if you prefer. posted pieces may be used for later promotion of this project on tumblr, insta, twitter.

EXAMPLES!

* providing a receipt dated the SAME DAY as your request hopefully helps stop double-dippers with other artists. the point here is to RAISE FUNDS.

THANK YOU!!!

[gothsic]

something rings in his ear. it’s painful. it’s persistent. but what could it be? he fails to notice, lying there on the ground, with his nose endlessly running some liquid that he can’t quite discern ( clear or red? he’s far too weak, too disoriented to tell ). all he could comprehend at that moment was the sharp throbbing of something on his cheek. he must have looked a mess, there on the cracked concrete beneath his brittle body, battered by insomnia, by endless hallucinations, by hellish nightmares. in fact, hold that thought, because the world around him was beginning to swirl, twist into something all too familiar...

if he closed his eyes, perhaps he would escape it - hold off the possibility of stepping inside it just a moment longer. no more dream world. whatever hurt him could not do so as long as he saw darkness. right?

oh dear. that’s copper. that’s blood you taste. surely you realize... something is very wrong.

[gothsic]

RELATIONSHIP AT A GLANCE

featuring cherry & jonathan (@gothsic)

※ full-view in new tab to read their commentary easier