#Y’ALL ITS DONE

[dahldahlbills]

y’all 😳 jumob is Complete

[lerildeal]

wow Ace attorney doodles two days in a row?

yes 😔

I finished the first case of the second game and boy it was surprisingly queer

[walk-to-gallows]

Spn fandom view characters objectively and without bias challenge (absolutely beyond comprehension)

[thepaladinstrait]

finn jumpscare

[robiinurheart33]

(TW for major panic attack, small s3lf harm and intrusive thoughts) - clicks for Palestine

Anyone who takes a good look at Ghost can probably guess he isn’t the most mentally healthy person.

Okay, he lied. No one would look at him long enough to actually take a good look before looking away in fear.

So why the hell are so many people annoying him today?

Look. He isn’t usually a very angry guy. Ghost is more like a combination of all his traumas and defence mechanisms and depression with anxiety all wrapped up in a scar-filled muscle tank. He does not get angry easily. He’s trained for that.

But fuck, when everyone is somehow getting on all his nerves at once, Price demanding paperwork, Gaz being way too fucking patient with him, and Soap whining all the god damned time. Jesus. Christ. Give him a bloody break already. He hasn’t drank water or eaten anything today, and his head is light and his brain feels like soft tissue scrunching up in preparation for a killer migraine. His boots are too tight, his mask suffocating him, his dozens of knives and guns and whatever the hell he keeps in him, he’s feeling every single minute detail and it’s driving him up the fucking wall. Who the hell decided all the lights be white?? God, his eyes burn. He probably hasn’t blinked properly in a while. His jaw and teeth hurt from clenching them, and ghost can practically feel his shoulders turning into giant boulders.

Ghost wants to crawl into a hole and die. Well, he already did do that, didn’t he? That wasn’t funny. He grimaces, sucking in a big breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Pull it together.

His thoughts are all over the place right now, and he can’t focus on one thing at a time. He needs to do a hundred things at the same time, and another part of him is reminding himself how dehydrated he is. He wants to choke the living hell out of his brain. Able to kill hundreds of people but unable to escape the confinements of his own mental stability. Ghost almost huffs at that. So you use comedy as a coping mechanism under stress? The words of his shrink suddenly ring through his mind, and ghost wants to bash his head into the wall and pull out all his hair.

Okay, okay, okay. Stay focused. First thing is to get back to his room, finish paperwork, drink and eat then sleep. As simple as that. Nothing else. Work, eat, sleep. Okay. He can do that. Terrifying lieutenant reduced to some guy who can’t even take care of his basic necessities. How can you even take charge of thousands of lives on the field? Ghost bites the inside of his cheek hard, tasting metal flow into his mouth immediately. SHUT THE FUCK UP. He feels like his skin is wrapped in cling wrap, pulling tighter and tighter, until his skin burns and he wants to scratch on every cell on his body until the feeling goes away. This is quite literally his own personal purgatory. Is he dead? He hopes he is.

Ghost slams open the door to his room, and winces at the loud sound that happens. He closes the door a little more carefully, his fingers trembling and even the subtle “click” of the door echos through his head and he wants to melt into the floor and die. Ghost presses the heel of his palm into his eyes and watches the sparks flutter behind his eyelids, until the pressure relieves some of the tension, until it almost hurts, and his breathing somehow soothes slightly. He wasn’t even aware of how hard he was breathing. His chest itches, and Ghost scratches at it, surprised by the dull pain that etched through his ribs. He rips off his gloves and throws them onto the floor, like a child throwing a tantrum. His father’s words plague him, and a cold sweat starts to break out.

It all boils to a point, and Simon throws his mask off, hands trembling and shaking and he doesn’t know what to do how to get rid of this how does he function, and he has work, work, work and there is no time at all and he’s paralysed by the thought of choice, and he’s standing in the middle of his room, face flushed and panting. His shaking hands raise slowly and he grabs onto his hair and yanks. He gasps and grinds his teeth together and it hurts. It hurts, and it’s making his brain feel sharper, and his eyes are slowly blurring. It hurts, and he doesn’t let go. Energy thrumming beneath his skin, and his nails sink into his forearms, and he scratches, scratches, scratches, it hurts, and he scratches, scratches, scratches, and there is nothing that can save him, and he scratches.

It hurts.

He hurts.

It’s good to see you again, Simon.

A sinking feeling explodes in his gut and his mouth opens, jaw limp and he doesn’t know what’s happening. He pants, and it hurts. He falls to his knees, face plummeting into the foot of his bed, and it hurts. Tight, tight, and with fumbling hands and skin and blood under his fingertips he unbuttons his jeans, throws over his shirt and lay panting on the ground. It’s too close, and he unties and throws his boots across the room. Tantrum. His mind taunts. It’s not enough, it’s never enough, hurt. It hurts.

His fingertips tremble.

He almost sprains his ankle tumbling into the shower, turning the knob completely to the right. He slams his head against the wall tile, not even waiting for the water to heat up before stepping into the water. His back and shoulder hurt, and he tries rolling his shoulders back but to avail. He tries to compose himself, and he fails. There is simply no more energy left in him.

Simon shivers and slides down to his ass, closing his eyes and welcoming the boiling water with reverence. It burns, and he hurts, and he’s alive, and he feels horrible. He knows he hates sitting while showering. He knows that there is no way he can possibly get up now. He knows that this is the absolute worst way to deal with his attacks right now. He knows he should get help. He knows he should breathe.

Simon does none of that.

He cannot tell if the liquid falling down his face is water, blood, sweat or tears. He doesn’t think about it any further. He angles his face just slightly out of the water to take in a gulp of humid air. That’s one down now. He shudders yet again, could imagine the goosebumps break across his arms. One objective right now is to get clean. He breaths some more. Counts to 10. His body doesn’t listen to himself. Dirt scrapes across his knees, and it’s not real, none of it. A metal hook, rotting jaw, and blue eyes.

Soap. Johnny.

Simon opens his eyes.

There’s no dirt, there’s no hook, or wood, or fire, no smell of decomposing bodies, no gun or blood, no pats to his shoulder, no whispers, no tommy, Beth, Joseph, elizabeth Riley or Johnny, he’s alone.

Like he always knew he was.

Simon twitches his toes, and watches as it slowly curls up. One more down. he blinks, and both his feet curl up. Twenty blinks later, and his hands twitch, static twitching up his arms. Distinctly, he remembers that they react that way due to not getting enough oxygen into his body. Ten blinks later, and his hands curl up. He slides his fingers against his palm, clocking in the water slowly getting colder again. He makes his hand into a fist. Another slow ten, and he lays his palms flat against the shower floor, inhaling painfully before pushing himself up with a grunt, slipping slightly and slamming his shoulder into the shower wall. He wheezes, clawing at the wall to keep himself upright. It hurts. His head spins. He blinks.

Breathe.

His hands fumble for the water tap, clammy hands shutting off the water and suddenly it’s way too quiet.

That’s- shit, that’s even worse and Simon turns on the water again, not to have it beat down on his back but a small drizzle, just to keep it from being silent, to not remind him how alone he felt.

A beat. Then two.

Simon turns off the water again and steps out of the shower quickly. He grabs a towel and wraps it around himself, staring at the man in the mirror.

Simon blinks. So does he.

Breathe.

That’s enough. He has work to do. He opens the door and steps back into his room, changing quickly and ignoring the blooming bruise on his shoulder and forehead. He takes one last breath and looks at the balaclava thrown onto the floor. He has work to do.

Ghost picks up the mask.

[pm0]

me when i’m literally sooo chill and nonchalant about being trapped inside a computer till the end of time like i literally do not care at all seriously idgaf I fr don't I really couldnt care less

[kaiju-krew]

HOW DO YOU DRAW GODZILLA??? I WANNA DRAW HIS GOOFY ASS BUT I DONT KNOW WHERE TO START

RAAAGHHGG okok i have like 100 asks wanting a breakdown on how i approach drawing him and i think it’s long overdue for me to buck up and make a tutorial of some kind😤

i guess my main question would be…. would those who Wish To Draw The Ziller prefer a shorter, very succinct like, 4 page post of a breakdown on how I do it, orrrrr a longer form video tut with voice over that breaks down the step-by-step in a more detailed way? i guess a third option would be both but the shorter/less detailed one first so you guys aren’t waiting 9 months for it LMAO

OH RIGHT POLLS ARE A THING sure i’ll turn this into a poll wHY NOT i run a democracy here

[uhzuku]

are u ever gonna write again

to be completely honest w u i don’t really know <3 atm i am perfectly content kicking back n playing games n reading on ao3!! i finished my last comm from my last set and i wrote one gojo thing in jan but other than that i don’t really feel like writing!! i have SEVERAL drafts sitting in varying degrees of completion tho so if i do write u would get one of those dhfbhfcn

[ponds-of-ink]

Poor Unfortunate Souls — A Rough FNAF AU Animatic

Would you believe that this probably took about a year to make… and yet it still ends up with an audio desync that I’ll have to fix later?

Regardless..

This AU is basically just “What if MXES was forced to consult Glitchtrap (or what’s left of him, honestly) after the whole Ruin storyline? Namely to get a human form to contact everyone involved..”

Thing is, an eager-to-“help” Glotchtrap dumbly assumes two things:

(1) MXES is asking for a way to obtain a romantic human date

(2) MXES is a girl because Vanessa made him in this AU. “Like programmer, like program”, I reckon.

The only thing he gets correct in that entire conversation is that revealing that him and Vanny used to work together is a sure-fire way to (reluctantly) convince MXES.

Bottom line is I hope you enjoy(ed) this particular Glitchtrap slowly getting more frustrated with MXES. I know I sure had a blast drawing his more manic expressions lol.

[raskies456]

on second thought, most of y’all never did actually figure out the whole aphobia being perpetuated by joke posts equating asexuality with cringiness thing so idk why im surprised to see so many of y’all falling for the same exact shit when it comes to polyamory

[sirbird]

Storyboard redraw is finally complete :)

[uhohdad]

there’s so many words in the English language and none of them could even begin to describe how genuinely excited I am for the next chapter😭😭ur writing is so MUAH perfection I’ve re read the story like 7 times since it’s came out sjsjsjxjjsidjx its literally taken over my brain I need this story injected in my veins atp

😭😭😭 ilysm thank you for your lovely kind words <3 <3 <3 💖💕💗🥺💖💕💞

adding the final garnishes and i will be serving to you soon i hope it meets your expectations <3

[feralsneeze]

Not sneeze just mental health rambling in the tags

[honnelander]

gurl u made me obsessed with Taz and i got this in my reels.....

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxDmmvZMOKg/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

I WANT HIM SO BADDDDD

I did that ? 👀🤭😇 you’re welcome!!! 😈

I kid you not- I just watched that reel for like 10 mins 😫😭😭😭 he’s just so- 😩

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

pffffft what? no debbie gallagher scene could make me cry. she’s an annoying drop out teen mom who’s character was ruined. nobody likes her, why would i cry ove-

“hey! celia! tonya! open the goddamn door! give me back my baby! give me back my daughter! hey, franny! franny- franny, baby! oh- i’m here! mommy’s here, baby, i’m right here! i will kill you if you don’t give me back my daughter! i’ll fucking kill you! you hear me? i’ll burn your house down! you hear me? she needs me!”

[cryscendo]

kurt hummel in every performance

6x12 - 2009

Mr. Cellophane - Kurt Hummel

“Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be singing "Mr. Cellophane."”