#anyways welcome to my brain~

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Fear street - 1942

i have fear street brainrot now that its getting back into the spoopy months so here have this from my brain-Fear street au/dumb idea of mine of Tom Riddle being put in situations.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bacchuschucklefuck]

she turns, makes direct eye contact with you, smiles,

[frenchfry99]

"new friend?"

Another day in neighborhood, another troublemaker in Howdy's bugdega

Explaining that he has a whole stack, stash and a box of things to do, "uncle Howdy" tells Lilly to go find someone else to play with, giving a couple of beloved by her tangerines, to sweeten the situation at least a bit.

Throwing out the peels Lilly finds something bizarre- more like someone??

They went to visit frogs later :]

That frog ribbited something too personal 😔😔

Tiger cubs tend to bite others while playing, so does Lilly! (Nobody can escape the lil ankle biter!! Muhaha!!)

Her clown nose honks if you press on it! :]

so silly!!!! Gahhhh!!!! He better watch out for the claws though-

Being silly whole day is a hard job to do so they're taking a nap😔😔

Goofy doodle of "the mandatory older sibling report in the end of the day" lmao (Sunny would think Robbie is just one of the countless itty bitty bugs Lilly befriends)

Robbie belongs to @clownsuu ! >:^]

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

fantasy au scribbles!!

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[pro-crastinate17]

ok so my apple of discord thoughts

"worst version of yourself" is kind of an overstatement bc its less that it makes you worse and more that it takes away the parts that are good, if that makes sense? it doesnt make anything, it just warps and takes from whats already there.

so with jake, he thinks those things about art and being the only one who understands/appreciates it, but hes too kind to act on those thoughts yknow? and the apple took away the kindness that kept him from acting.

with cassandra, shes interested in those practical applications with fatal outcomes, but she would never act on them, again bc of compassion and self control. the apple took that barrier away.

eve and flynn see themselves as above the others bc of their various experiences and powers, but they dont act on it bc humility and caring for their teammates, being able to recognize their skills are necessary. humility specifically in flynns case. again the apple took that away.

my theory is that it did affect ezekiel. it took something away. not sure exactly what, but im thinking something along the lines of kindness again, maybe his care for others - the thing that makes him steal for charity rather than personal gain. the reason it doesnt outwardly affect him is he already hides that part of himself. the others cant see a change, they cant see whats been taken away, bc he hides it so deep down that they cant tell its been stolen.

[fauxridium]

@radioactivehimbo @gummysharko he bustin down at the sockhop or whateva

[k3nnyonly1]

I LOVE YOUR ART!! IT LOOK AMAZING! PLEASE KEEP DOING IT 🙏

THX! You guys are AMAZING too!

Thank you guys so much for the likes and support! So i give you guys this!

A short comic i did or whatever you guys want to call it.

[egg-salad-0000]

Please tell me nobody has done this yet 😿😿😿

[gay-ppl-real]

Fic-related doodles :)

I am continuing to draw fanart of my own writing /j

The first one is based off of my recent fic Insect Removal Services

And the second one is from a fic that I haven't shared yet, so it's under the secrets wall for spoilers. The fic is about Eddie getting sick and having to hand over control of the post office to some of his neighbours for a few days. Specifically this is from the second part, where he's on his first delivery rounds after getting better!

[andy-clutterbuck]

S9 Promo | for Anon

[rubia-peregrinart]

Old Y rpz 💥🤙

(& henryk)

[astrum99]

I can’t stop thinking about angel anatomy.

How are they made? What are they made of? If we break them down limb by limb, flesh by flesh, molecule by molecule, would we find the same structures that echoes our DNA? The same stable, constraining carbon? The same heavy metals? The same blood that flows with life, with death? Are they made of the same stardust that echoed in me?

Do they have a brain? A large raw organ, fragile and limited, capable of complex imaginary hallucinatory mathematics with scheduled periods of unconsciousness to make up for the capacity? A liver and two kidneys? To distill the holy light from the contaminates of the polluting environments akin to a dialysis machine cycling the liquids within the veins? A spine that holds strong? Riddled with the same 33 bones and ridges and intervertebral disks and fluids and sensitive nerves and has a habit of bending over for tedious work? A stomach that stirs and shifts constantly? To hold food? Souls? Light? To churn and froth at the consumption of concepts? An appendix? This small unless thing that rests and nestles between the layers of warm, worm-like intestines? How many teeth do you have? How many fingers? How many knees? What is the shape of your nails? What is the colour of your esophagus? How deep are the socket of your eyes?

How fast does your heart beat?

Is it faster? Slower? Do you even have a heart?

Do you feel in the same way that I feel? The pressure of processed wood against my feet, the nagging buzzing of LED light above my head, the smell of faint smoke from a cooking disaster weeks ago. The sound of people laughing unruly in the distance, putting on a show in the TV program that no one watches. The dampness of the towel against my face. The pain of a needle sliding into soft flesh that gives way willingly to metal. The bruises blooming slowly, aching like love. The chirping of songbirds, the shape of cumulus clouds, the haziness of a morning fog that really stayed for far too long. The way that my mother worked around the hard peels of an orange with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, just to present the sweetest parts to me. The tenderness of a shoulder touching mine before stealing my blankets (again) with a giggle that indicated no remorse. The sluggish sunlight that sneaks through the shades just to press a kiss on my forearm. The sorrow and passion of the symphony on the last show on the last tour, followed by cheers and drunken (revered) confessions during the post-performance celebration at 3am in a random bar of a random city. The foot print of an animal in the first winter snow of the year, like a human pressing their hand print on to the cave walls, chanting I am here I am here I am here, chanting remember me remember me remember me.

Do you bear the shame of sacred inabilities as we humans do? Unable to see beyond the visible spectrum of light? Unable to distinguish the difference between wet and dry, only to assume based on temperature and texture? Unable to know if someone else was speaking of the truth? Unable to see inside someone’s mind? Unable to thread words in a way that completely gives you away like you intended to? Unable to turn back into a child and speak of love so easily? Unable to run forever and ever? Unable to peak into the veil beyond space and time and death? Unable to tell your pet that you’re sorry for making them take the awful medicine and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me? Unable to be remembered and recognized, at least not wholly, at least not without mistakes?

Do you ever feel the strangeness of existence? Why you? Why now? Why here? That sometimes it feels like the world is five degrees to the left and you are just out of sync enough to keep going. That sometimes you are so overwhelmed with the the giant coincidence that is the world so you weep uncontrollably at the wonder of it all. That you feel like suffocation as you dig into the earth with your bloody fingers because a bird hit your window and died and you didn’t know and you kneeled by it for an hour before realizing it wasn’t breathing.

It died so long ago. It won’t get up again. The first time you held a bird was its cold hard corpse. So small between your palms, so fragile. It’s feathers iridescent. You have never seen one so up close. It was the prettiest and the deadest thing you’ve ever touched. It feels like the world. It feels like a prayer. Do you understand?

Do you regret like me? Love like me? Despair like me? Do you dream like me? Pray like me? Cry like me?

How close are you?

Let me touch you.

Please, I have to know.

[arc-digital-art]

Absolutely obsessed with @sketchquill’s Corpse Puppet AU, so I had to draw Wally and Y/N on a moonlit stroll through the graveyard <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

there is something so so so Appealing about angry/irritated Barnaby. it scratches an itch in my brain. somethin somethin comic relief characters getting to break their mold and be outwardly unhappy