#hoooo boy it's something

[simonsquest]

Me: Every Simon Belmont has a special place in my heart. CV1 Simon: :) Haunted Castle Simon: :) Akumajou Dracula X68000 Simon: :) Castlevania Chronicles Arrange Mode Simon: :) Vampire Killer Simon: :) SCV4 Simon: :) CV2 Simon: :) SSBU Simon: :) Castlevania Judgment Simon: :) Worlds of Power Simon: :) Grimoire of Souls Simon: :) DreamMix TV World Fighters Simon: :) Harmony of Despair Simon: :) Lords of Shadow Simon: :) The CV2 Tiger Electronics handheld Simon: :) Captain N The Game Master Simon: :)? Me: NOT YOU >:( Captain N The Game Master Simon: <:(

[letssofia3006]

You know what’s even better than waking up with a certain someone absolutely annihilating your notifications with likes? When they escalate to a full-blown reblog spree.

[kutyozh]

I have to ask you, as the certified language playlist expert of tumblr if you have any musical recommendations for me. I am slightly in love (huge understatement) with the sound of the Russian band Shortparis but nothing else I know hits the same. Is there anything out there that will heal my art punk soul?

--- all the best, Sasha

muuum i'm the certified language playlist expert of tumblr nowww

hhasjkdfdj hi Sasha!! first of all, I just listened to their top songs and they slap?? I can totally feel why nothing else would hit the same 😭 their music has a very specific vibe to it, but I've tried to find similar-ish sounds anyway:

in russian:

Петля Пристрастия, I don't know their discography very well but you might want to check it out; esp. their album Фобос

По пятам by Лиса

3x3 by Gruppa Skryptonite, 104, T-Fest

Yamakasi by Miyagi & Andy Panda

in other languages:

Ул by AIGEL (tatar)

Ophelia by George Taylor (english)

Neturėjom Dainos by Solo Ansamblis (lithuanian)

Everything In Its Right Place by Radiohead (english)

Ah, Anne by Augusta (chuvash)

BIBA by Farasat Anees, Slick Trick, Toshi (urdu)

Qustai by Qudyr (qazaq)

Süpürgesi Yoncadan by Altin Gül (turkish)

Rat In The Trap by GIRIBOY (korean, english)

Alala by CSS (portuguese)

Oh My God by Sevdaliza (english)

Усе песні спетыя by AKUTE (belarusian)

Cradles by Sub Urban (english)

Gender Eraser by Mad Foxes (english)

Truly hope this helps 🙏

[angelpuns]

I wish I was kidding when I say I am physically restraining myself from getting out of bed to read the Usagi Yojimbo comic book rn I have rolled myself into a burrito cause I WANNA READ IT SO BAAAAAD

[normaltothemax]

Intervention Starters “Drop your weapon.” (jason but here we are. ooooh the drama)

Anger tinted green, shining out through his eyes, making them glow that toxic, neon hue of the Pit.

Now, Jason liked to think he was a pretty patient guy. He could handle a lot of shit hurled his way. But there was something about John goddamn Winchester that just managed to get under his skin, since the second he’d met him. It wasn’t even anything he’d said to Jason that’d set him off, but the buildup of every word that’d come out of his mouth and been directed towards Dean. Cutting remarks, condescension, so much bullshit that’d only served to piss Jason off more and more.

Still, he’d kept his mouth shut, because Dean was a grown-ass man who could fight his own battles and this was between him and his father.

But then John took it a step too far. He fucking dared to lay a hand on Dean. Grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against a wall in their own fucking home. Jason was there in an instant, the barrel of a gun pressed against John’s temple, the only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger being Dean’s presence.

Pit or no Pit, he didn’t like to kill abusers in front of the people they hurt, if he could help it.

Just like that, the Pit had swallowed Jason whole, brought with it that familiar, serene certainty that what he was doing was right. “Do you have any idea what I do to pieces of shit like you that like to throw their kids around?” His voice was quiet, cold, and completely calm. Jason wasn’t here anymore; this was the Red Hood out in full force.

“Drop your weapon.”

Dean’s voice cut loudly through the whispers of the Pit, the ones telling him to do it, pull the trigger, make him pay, he deserved it. Jason didn’t look away from his target, but he did hesitate. This was the right thing to do, he knew that. The Pit had told him so. So why was Dean defending him?

“Dean…”

@therebetterbepie (x)

[ravenekrops]

oh lordy lord do i have Opinions about Artfight's "nudity" rules

[acesammy]

it's like, actually baffling to me when i think about how much sam is misread both by other characters in text and by the fanbase

[buckfell]

so I’ve mentioned this on my other blog but my fiance is sick and I’ve been taking care of him and this week in general has just been like. kind of a lot for me!! so I’m here ish and I’m plotting and I want to write but idk if I’ll get done a lot this weekend! I’m sorry in advance

[blowflyfag]

do u think hes into men

[novelconcepts]

11. For taivan

11 - Helpless/Taken Care Of

The feeling of control, of being belted into a ride at whose helm only she has ever stood, sits at the root of Taissa's existence. As long as she can remember, she has not enjoyed feeling as though she belonged to the ether. To the wild abandon of luck, or fate, or coincidence. To decisions made by anyone but herself. The moment she learned to drive, a supreme dislike of passenger seats rose, until even her own parents behind the wheel made her uneasy. The moment she learned to chart her own path through life, the very idea of anyone else calling the shots became anathema.

The feeling of control is paramount, where Taissa is concerned. She does not enjoy closing her eyes and letting the road ahead blindly unfurl. She does not enjoy feeling helpless.

She does not enjoy it until a random Saturday in April.

Van has invited her over for a movie marathon. She said it with the usual ease, the careless hope she's brought to hundreds of invitations since they were kids: "Come on over. My mom's gonna be out."

She's said this hundreds of times in exactly the same tone, and if it sent a new ripple up Taissa's spine this time, if it called to mind the shocking slide of Van's lips in the locker room last week--that didn't have to mean anything. Van's grin was the same as ever. Van punching her in the shoulder was standard operating procedure.

Some part of her had been terrified to show up on the Palmer doorstep, worried that Van would haul open the door in a tux to reveal candles and expectations. Naturally, when she knocked, Van didn't open the door at all. Naturally, Van's voice ricocheted out to meet her, just as it always does: "It's open! Get your butt in here before I eat all the Reese's!"

Van, normal. Van, standard operating procedure. The whole situation in complete control, just as it's always been, just as it was long before Taissa learned the taste of Van's lips and the giddy scrawl of her sigh.

The small television set plays Beetlejuice and Nightmare on Elm Street. Van sits like a complete gremlin, one leg awkwardly tossed over the back of the couch, the other dangling off the arm. Her head rests on a pillow leaning against Taissa's thigh, the heat of her familiar as the curtains, the carpet, the sunlight slipping through a crack in the open window.

A perfectly controlled environment. Taissa's been here a hundred times, has watched a thousand movies with Van periodically speaking over the actors to clarify some trivia Tai really doesn't need to know. She sits with her back mashed against squashy cushions, one arm draped casually over Van's chest. She's careful not to let her fingers land anywhere suspect. She's careful not to move her hips, jolt Van out of position.

She's careful, and she's in control, and all is as it should be.

Then, without looking away from the TV, Van gathers up Taissa's hand. She holds it lightly, tracing her fingers over delicate veins and the arch of knuckles. Her thumb presses into the cup of Taissa's palm; her index finger trails, breath-like, between each finger in turn. She navigates the slim distance of Taissa's wrist, the fragile hump of bone before her watchband. She does not take her eyes off the screen.

Taissa wants to do the same. Controlled. Steady. She wants to master the speed of her heart, which Van must surely be able to feel as she turns Taissa's hand over to chart an exploration of all those tiny lines in her palm. There's an entire cityscape stamped into her skin, and Taissa finds herself helpless to look away from the tip of Van's finger as it traces without a map. Helpless to do anything but watch, as Van skims each finger in turn, her touch absent enough to tickle.

Helpless, most of all, when Van guides her wrist up against soft lips. Her heart careens in her wrist as Van traces idle kisses over blistering skin, chaste as anything. Her thighs are granite. Her whole body is stiff, desperate not to move even the slightest bit, desperate not to draw too much air. She needs Van to keep exactly where she is. She needs Van to keep doing exactly what she's doing.

There is no control here, no power she can exert. Van kisses the cradle of her palm, the jut of her knuckles, the pad of each finger. She does not look away from the television even once, though Taissa can see how badly she's blushing. Van, too, seems helpless to stop what she's started. What they both started in the locker room last week, neither quite ready for the fallout.

Taissa can't pull her attention from the slow, studious kisses raining down her wrist, her inner forearm, the back of her hand. People are screaming onscreen, and she thinks dizzily: someone should tell them there's no need. Someone should tell them the only thing worth focusing on is right here on this couch, strung between the weight of Van's head and the grace of her lips.

There is no leashing the pound of her heart. There is no leashing the heat under her skin. She feels Van smile, and it's worse than every roller coaster, worse than every dream she couldn't wrangle into shape. Worse than luck, and fate, and coincidence. Worse, and infinitely more beautiful.

She never wants it to end.

[katyspersonal]

When you started drawing? And how? Your works are so detailed and you feel the perspective so Q_Q Your drawing of old hunter from DLC is incredibly cool, I am looking respectfully

Oh- You mean this ( x ) one? Haha, yeah, it was an art commission, so I tried to give it the best I could... Though maybe using something I was paid for as a chance to practice perspective was a little irresponcible :') But the customer was happy, and this is what matters!

To be honest, I've been drawing for as long as I can remember...? I have quite the regrets about having basically none of my drawings from childhood survive, because it's been a LOT. But I've been going over the top with details, colors and settings since the age of like, 4-5 I think? I recall the caretakers at kindergarden REALLY loving my drawing of underwater, because I killed it with variety of fish and seaweed, despite having no references or knowledge! Also, fun fact - the very first art criticism of my life from me was towards a girl that colored every woman in her coloring book as blonde with blue eyes! I criticized her saying that there were other colors for people and that it was boring to be so samey dsfjjdshfsd Had to apologize, but.. yeah, it was the ultimate "I've always been this way" moment if I've seen one. :')

I used to visit classes to practice my drawing in elementary school, though! But it was mostly environment and animals, when I was more interested in drawing people at that time! The period from 8 to 12 years was the one where I kept creating OCs obsessively, and stories for them, and I've had like 6 comics I've been drawing and coloring at the same time (mostly comedy + fantasy)! I think what really inspired me to start creating the comics and characters that were mostly young girls with elemental powers was the Russian comic, Rainbow Knights x) (Журнал "Юла", припоминаешь? хд) I was obsessed with it, and I was obsessed with excuse to use more colors, effects and nature/elemental aesthetic. And yes, it was all trdaitional! I love using crayons, markers, pens and pencils for coloring. My clumsy hands were never good for paintbrushes... I moved more onto digital around the age of 14. It was when I've found a summer job, and earned enough money to buy a tablet! So.. I started prioritize digital art since then! But it had the form of me first drawing something on the paper, and then scanning and fixing/lining/coloring it on the computer for a LONG time! Well, it was taking some time to get used to, as well, so I also had some drawings I did with my mouse and vector tool in PS or SAI, like this:

It is one of the only few remaining "ancient" ones, since most of them got lost forever on the old hard drive! ...I still HAVE this hard drive, I just have no idea how to extract anything from it.. It is kinda broken :U But if I get my hands on very old doodles trapped there, I will share!

^ I believe this was the first doodle that I did 100% on the computer AND with the tablet! Without mouse, without first drawing traditonally and then digitally, but just on the computer, from start to finish! But it was still hard to do, so I kept with the use of paper and pencil for some more while. Like- I hoped I'd find some old drawings for this ask, but all I found were traditional versions of some of my drawings!

You could tell that using traditional paper + pencil were beneficial for anatomy and proportions. And that I used to be better at that, VERY much better. And that it was sorta... easier to 'get lost' in the process? It was a simpler life when not only I was far less depressed and broken, not only I had more spare time in schoo/uni years, but also just... I did not feel burnt out. Or guilty over the fact of not finishing new drawing "fast enough" (and thus, looking like a loser). I also had less things online to drain my spare time, less distractions... I kinda miss that time, really...

All in all, I've never learned to draw PROPERLY. I was self-taught but not studying too hard, mostly I was just analysing art of artists I loved to improve my own, and asking advice from good artists to fix this or that! Hence, my skill used to be better! Year 2015-16 was my most productive year artistically! I've been drawing a bunch of (then) popular cartoon stuff, as well as TONS of fanart for Rick and Morty RP community, and all the things were sooooo bright, colorful and full of energy...

And now meet the man that sorta ended my art career :^) I've picked interest in Mark (Endlish localisation called him Marx and I hate it lol), and that pulled me into the rest of K1rby. Except I could not actually play anything (besides 64 Crystal Shards that I emulated), so I compensated with letsplays and anime. And Super Paper Mario was a side obsession. xD But.... yeah, since MARK, dark ages for my art started. No, no, my art was good! Awesome, even! I kept people begging me to "please draw K1rby again" for years since fandom shifting! Words like, 'no one ever cared about this universe and characters the same way you do'... But! Drawing 'creatures' for 2-3 years completely destroyed my prior (already loose) knowledge of human anatomy and proportions, and I am still struggling to recover that former skill! :')

Finally, year later, around February/March 2021, I've gotten pulled into Bloodb0rne! Badly. And thanks to Mic0lash. Huh, it is always some madman, isn't it? xD But I felt very self-consious about my art... I felt like serious, detailed, dark and beautiful atmosphere of BB deserved better than my "overly cutesy" and "tone-deaf" art.... annnnd if this sounds like something I'd never say, but rather as an unfair criticism from some antsy reddit-ish asshole? It is because it is EXACTLY what it was! :')

But in either case, the Doll was the first time I've used paper and pencil again in many years. I felt so... alive? I recall the feeling I could only describe as 'blood returned in my veins' but spiritual, you know? It felt like so much fun! To remember how to draw traditonally, to break out of my 'round cutesy' comfort zone- heck, I even downloaded brushes for my SAI for the first time in my life, just to color the characters better! Learned new coloring style, too: usually my coloring was very rigid and relying on very concrete colors for shadow and base.. but from this point on, I prioritized more 'chaotic' approach, as I felt it was more appropriate!

....and so, now we are here. x)

You could tell that some of the things I am just used to persisted, and that colorful, "childish" energy is still slipping through the cracks. Soulsb0rne games are ideal for how my mind works... but perhaps not for how my soul works. There is just something in me that craves that sillyness, overly colorful designs and settings, and maybe ER is closer to that aesthetic? Yeah, had I not been criticized on my art harshly upon joining BB, maybe my art would've been way more cute and 'free'! I always loved drawing many details, but something about the route I've taken about drawing made it very heavy. My brain short-circuits at the AMOUNT of the details I keep in mind, yet I can't rest unless I got it "at least 90% correct", even when it is a darn shitpost ;-; I will figure out what went wrong compared with the way I used to draw humans..... someday.

Thank you for asking, though! Ha! Honorable mention: tons of shitposty comics and doodles I kept drawing in classes, both school and uni! x)

[britishraptor]

Had a series of anxiety attacks getting ready and heading to the train station so when I finally got on the train and it didn’t show any sign of calming down I finally took some meds except I forgot I was supposed to split the tablet

Sitting in my train seat having temporarily lost 20 IQ points, 50% of my reflexes and unduly fascinated and playing with the cupholders while trying really hard not make the train staff think I’m on drugs

[lisbonsteresa]

AND THE TOUCH OF A HAND LIT THE FUSE

[pinnithin-writes]

tapeworm story taking me for fucking ever because every time i pick it up i bum myself out super hard

[murmmers]

retribution has got me so fucked up. ive played it every day for a week straight just going through so much

[bi-demon-ium]

Constance Contraire and the no good very bad terrible day.

i mean there's the obvious place to start which is Constance Is Having A Bad Fucking Day, Man. but i think it would be about a) her relationship to the other kids, and how she often feels isolated from them even as she pushes them away herself (her antagonism with sticky, her fragile budding mutual respect/friendship with kate, and reynie's earnest but clumsy attempts to include her that sometimes do more harm than good--i imagine she sometimes sees them as more pity/just him doing it for himself "to feel good"/"be a goody two shoes" rather than actually liking her, so she might feel it's condescending--etc) and b) her relationship to mr benedict (who she genuinely has grown to like and feel safe with, but also is in the unique position of him being both a paternal figure and someone she's very, very aware of like. the flaws/issues he has, how he himself is a hurting, imperfect person. + her attempts to distance herself from him, too, like refusing the adoption, despite the fact part of her wants to stay, and how he reacts to that differently than the kids do)

so like. i think first it would start with her having a bad day in little ways--little, stupid things going wrong--and then it just builds and builds, she ends up first getting into fights with the other kids unintentionally (they think she's fucking with them and she's genuinely not and really annoyed) and then just sort of picking fights because she's upset and tense and it's all built up and she ends up storming off and then--there's mr benedict. and he tries to help, and maybe normally it would have worked. but constance is just. she is having the worst fucking day. (i think maybe it's even an anniversary no one else knows about--like the day her parents left, or something.) so she ends up snapping at him, and not just her usual mildly amusing rudeness. something really meant to hurt. and his eyes go wide and. i mean. constance is psychic. even if his voice hadn't gone a little wobbly before he forced it calm she would have known he was hurt. but fuck. it's so much worse when you're Literally Psychic bc she can almost feel it. and it's like. fuck. he's very good at pretending to be fine and keeping his face and voice steady but she ends up... well, does she quietly, while backing away, stutter out an apology? (uncharacteristic but she is extremely upset) or does she just run out right then and there? or does she keep up the uncaring facade a little longer, arms crossed, and calmly excuse herself? maybe he actually collapses, falls asleep, and she's gone when he wakes up. (does she leave him a pillow under his head, or does she just run?) whatever the case, she flees, and feels. even more awful.

maybe it's then she talks to one of the other adults--milligan's a great choice, or perhaps rhonda. or maybe she ends up talking to reynie (great choice) or sticky (to continue that theme of their relationship being a little rocky and him, now with more confidence, basically telling her while her rudeness has its charms, she can be genuinely hurtful, and she has to come to terms with that--but that it doesn't mean they want her to change entirely or suddenly be a reynie clone in braids. although... i think reynie would be too nice to tell her the first part but sticky is too close to it tell her the second part. hm.) (also i want to be clear i adore constance and her mean poetry and bluntness and contrariness, and i don't think she should change, but she can be genuinely hurtful or cause unnecessary tension, just like the other kids have their own issues. but also she's like twelve i'm not saying she's a bad person she is a traumatized isolated orphan and a whole child 😩)

anyway. constance introspection time. interiority and all. thinking about why and maybe even how she developed these coping mechanisms. she's not going to suddenly be super nice or anything, but like. she quietly slips into mr. benedict's study. maybe he's talking with one of the other adults, maybe he's silently reading or taking notes, but he stills when she comes in, even though she was silent. and then he looks up and--he's not mad. he greets her like always does, and she can feel that he's tired but genuinely glad to see her. she doesn't get it. maybe she confronts him about this (oh, constance, my dear. i'm not angry with you. and a little shouting like that certainly isn't enough to drive me away.) or maybe she just. sits. quietly next to him. he scoots over a little to give her more room, gently nudges her shoulder and offers her a biscuit. when she--very quietly, almost reluctantly--says i'm sorry, it's not reluctant or begrudging or angry, but almost a little ashamed. very unlike her. mr benedict (desperate desire to hug her vs respecting her boundaries: fight) says it's alright, my dear. it's alright. maybe one of them quietly moves forward one of the pieces on the chessboard--i think mr benedict, eyes twinkling, and constance says i will destroy you, old man, and then winces, but he only laughs, loud and delighted, then collapses back for a moment. it's nice--no longer overstimulating, in the quiet of the study. none of the others to deal with, although she isn't sure if mr benedict has somehow asked one of the adults to keep them out.

and--it's not such a bad end to the day. playing chess together quietly. maybe, after a few games, when it's a little late, constance even begins to talk.