#i just am. im just living. there is nothing to do but just live.....

[fishii-writes]

aphrodite’s favourite star - a poem

cw: profanity, mentions of god (nothing religious), jealousy? (kind of), implied suicide if you squint, self hate,

a/n: melancholic era but there's reasons im sad obv lol

my dear,

my stunning darling.

can i be honest?

i fucking hate it, i really do,

when you say you’re ugly.

because, well, why??

you’re gorgeous,

Aphrodite hand crafted you.

the goddess herself put utmost care into your creation,

she knew what she was doing when i look at your face.

and think, no, wish.

fuck it, not even wish. long.

“god, i want to look like her. be her, even.”

and i mean, am i wrong?

people should be jealous of your beauty,

and be grateful for your mere presence.

i, for one, am delighted and appreciate your mere existence,

for to even breathe the same air as you is a blessing.

but part of me,

i think it’s also a curse.

why must you bless me with your presence,

yet i curse you with mine?

why do you breathe the same air as me,

so gracefully and perfectly,

yet i pollute it like it’s not life’s greatest necessity.

is it?

life’s greatest necessity, i mean.

i mean, i don’t need it, do i?

it’s not like i want to live,

let alone need to.

aw, isn’t that silly?

i’m not pretty and suddenly it’s the end of the world!

maybe you say i’m overreacting,

and i kind of am.

but maybe you don’t know what it’s like

to live like me everyday.

well, that’s besides the point.

may you recognise it one day,

my gift from god themself.

y’know, if you were a star,

which you are to me,

i would dedicate my whole life to astronomy.

just to begin to understand how such an organism exists,

in a world where i’m the night sky. the background.

after all, you’re the main attraction,

my beautiful star.

taglist: @reapkusho / @reaper-in-reverie , @shrii-kk , @the-rini-rush (ask to be added!)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[kitsuga]

two left feet. {Elliott x Reader/Farmer}

Description: 

A fic in which Elliott has prophetic (?) dreams. 

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Tags: fluff, you ever have prophetic dreams? i do, elliott seems the type to have them too. look at him, reminder i am both blessed and cursed with the possibility of ooc bc mods have been installed in my brain for far too long, reader is referred to as "Farmer"!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, stardew valley/sdv x reader/farmer, elliott x reader/farmer, stardew valley/sdv, elliott

Word Count: 2,375

A/N: Written on: February 24, 2023 

I!! Think!! Hes!!! So!!!! Cute!!!! I don’t think I like the ending on this one but to be fair im gonna let it slide and pretend it doesnt exist, why not lKJSFHIUEF 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was cold in the stoney area Elliott found himself in; deep below the surface, he thought to himself—damp, cold, and full of unsettling shadows hidden in corners. Small flames lead his way down the makeshift corridor, but he was weary to follow—what would find him at the end of it? With no exit found behind him, he pressed forward. 

The flames started to die out as he walked past, their lives cut short without a second thought—except, he thought about it. Why were they blowing out so suddenly? A chill started to climb up his spine as he made his way down towards what looked like an open area; it was darker than where he had been, only a few dancing flames had sat within the room.  

This room was bad news, Elliott thought to himself. Everything in his body was screaming to run, that there was danger around, but he couldn’t. With his feet planted in place, his eyes darted from flame to flame, straining to see what horrors they would illuminate. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end as sounds started around the room; quiet at first before steadily growing louder, menacing, echoing off the stones. Shadows peeled themselves off the walls, contorting to hideous figures; sharp shrills came from somewhere deeper. The knot in Elliott’s stomach grew tighter, almost causing him to hunch over with fear.  

Creatures he thought he’d never be able to even dream of started to show themselves in the dim lights, just as frightening as they sounded. Horrifying sights, he thought to himself; dripping, oozing, some even rigid and sharp—creatures with faces so frightening he couldn’t fully comprehend what it was his eyes were trying to focus on. They moved with malevolence, each action full of venom; Elliott found himself begging in silence that he kept out of their sights. 

They started to merge together, moving towards something lying on the ground just within the remaining candle’s flames. It was balled up, hardly moving; the figure was... human, Elliott thought. What were they doing there? Were they alright? They needed to get up—needed to get out. The monstrosities grew ever closer, and his anxiety was on the rise; he tried calling out to the person, trying to will the air from his lungs to say something—anything—but nothing was productive. Even if something had come out, his voice would be lost amongst the terrifying noises that echoed among the walls, falling on deaf ears.  

The growing sense of urgency made him jittery as he tried and tried again to call out, but the moment his eyes adjusted and caught a glimpse of just who lay in the monster’s trap, his heart sank to his stomach. 

“Farmer...?” 

Elliott managed to whisper, his voice trembling while their name felt heavy with dread. He tried to move his feet, reach out to them. He tried calling out to them again and again, voice raising and wavering each time. The shadows started to move in, but he could only watch as they swoop in on their prey. With his heart in his throat and lead in his feet, he reached out for the Farmer who lay there unresponsive. 

“Farmer!” He shouted. “Farmer! Get up! Farmer, please!”  

He got desperate, screaming their name now as the shadows pounced at the person he cared about. 

“FARM--” 

“-ER!”  

Elliott woke up with a start, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, jumping out of his chest and into his throat all at once. His breath was heavy, shaky, and felt as though he couldn’t catch it—his chest rose and fell with pain. Elliott’s clothes stuck to him, drenched in a cold sweat. His mind started running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were able to keep up. Was it a dream? It had to have been; he looked around the room and registered that it was his own. Trying to stabilize his breathing, he tried to brush his hair from his face and slowly lay back down.  

It was a dream! It was a dream. It was... a dream. Elliott bolted out of bed, alarmed that it had been a dream. It wasn’t a prophetic one, right? It couldn’t have been. Was it? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. He was being ridiculous! Surely it was just a nightmare, and he should go back to bed. This is what he tried to soothe himself with as he drew back his blanket and attempted to crawl back into bed. 

But... what if it wasn’t? He jumped out of bed once again and rushed around his room—he should just go check on them! No, he NEEDED to go check on them. He felt around the dark room to grab his jacket from the back of his chair and struggled to put it on in a rush, tripping and falling against the front door as he also attempted to put on his shoes. Outside was quiet—even the waves were drowned out by the sound of his racing heart and his breath trying to catch up as he took off running, struggling to keep his footing in the sand. He ran much faster as his feet hit solid ground, sprinting through the familiar path to their farm. Weaving through paths of hard-earned crops and practically jumping over the rickety, old wooden steps of the porch, his fist pounds at their front door. He continues to knock, and knock, and knock, beating at the old wood so hard he could hear it over the static playing in his ears. 

Are they there? They have to be. It’s the middle of the night; oh, please be there, he thought to himself. Please be safely in your own bed, comfortable and warm—where they should be. He began to knock again before he was cut off, the door in front of him opening slowly to reveal the very person he was so desperate to see; they stood there in their pajama’s, a fist rubbing one eye while the other attempted to blink away the drowsiness and process the need to wake up. They were here, they were safe, they were... adorable. Elliott hunched over, holding his stomach, and let out the heaviest breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  

“Elliott...? Are you alright?” Farmer asks, voice drenched in sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

It took a few moments of trying to calm down and regulate his breathing before Elliott had stood back upright. He looked at them carefully, taking in every inch of them to ease his mind and soothe his heart, as their body was bathed in the gentle moonlight. 

“...Ahem,” Elliott cleared his throat and attempted to straighten his shirt. “Hello, Farmer.” 

They studied him with half-lidded eyes. Their shoulders hung with sleep still wrapping them like the warm blanket they had left in their bed. After a few moments, and a few hoots from an owl in the distance, they broke the silence of the night once again. 

“Are.... you okay?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Elliott felt the corners of his lips turn upwards, but not of joy or relief. He was certainly feeling very awkward, now. How in the world was he going to explain this behaviour to them! His smile starts to grow, becoming more and more disconcerting; sweat fell from his brow though his body had certainly had enough time to calm down. He started to clear his throat again, moving to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words to say. Come on, Elliott! You’re a writer! Certainly, you can think of a story to excuse this behaviour away? He watched as the Farmer looked him up and down, squinting a bit at him before they opened their mouth to speak. 

“Well... you were banging at my door is if your life depended on it... in the middle of the night.” 

“Ah... yeah...” Elliott managed to stammer out. 

“Then, your jacket is inside out--” Elliott promptly looked down to see the inside of his jacket pockets where they certainly should not be. “--and you’re also in your pajamas.” He certainly was. 

“Well, you see...” He started. 

Farmer looked down and stared, causing Elliott to follow suit. He took a look at his feet and felt the heat of a blush creep up the back of his neck the longer the silence drew on between the two of them. The distant hoot of an owl called out again before Farmer stuck their hand out and pointed at his previously mentioned feet. 

“You have two different shoes on.”  

The silence of the night swallowed the two of them whole once again. 

Elliott heaved a heavy sigh and slowly, almost with a shaky hand with how embarrassed he was feeling now, wiped the cold sweat off of his face and spoke through a crooked—and awkward—smile. 

“Ah. So I do.” 

“It’s like you have two left feet.” 

“That is not the same thing, they are simply different shoes—they're meant for the correct feet.” 

Elliott looked up at them through his eyelashes, his embarrassment practically melting away the instant he saw a bright smile on their lips. Of course they tried to make him feel better about it all, it was just who they were; it was something he truly adored about them, after all. Their soft, melodic giggle echoed through the still night, wrapping him with the comfort he had practically begged for just moments ago—it was such a welcomed warmth that he had almost forgotten what it was that had him so worried in the first place; the daunting fact crashed against him like a wave as he remembered and the blush of embarrassment crept up his neck once again. 

“Ahem... Well,” Elliott cleared his throat once again—it was going to be sore by the morning if he kept it up, “you see, there’s this tradition of... waking... people up... frantically... to...” 

Farmer cut him off with an unconvinced look and by gently putting their hand up to motion him to drop the horrible acting. 

“You’re a writer. You couldn’t come up with something better than whatever you were about to give me?” That’s what Elliott had been telling himself, too, only hearing the Farmer say it aloud struck his heart like an arrow. 

“Alright, fine.” He took a large breath, held it, and let it out in a quick meditation. “Believe in what you will, but there are times when dreams may be... prophetic.” 

“...Go on.” 

“It comes in as a sort of déjà vu at times, you see.”  

“Elliott.” 

He threw his hands up into the air as an indication that he had given up trying to beat around the bush. Holding those same hands out to the Farmer, he looked at them with such heavy concern and care in his eyes, he started to tear up. He fought back those very tears as Farmer gently put their hands in his own, instantly, without being prompted. Softly, quietly, as though the night itself would carry his words to the moon and reveal his secrets, he confessed. 

“I had a nightmare—about you.” He started, rubbing his thumbs across the Farmer’s knuckles and keeping eye contact with them. “I... needed to make sure you were alright. I was truly... truly frightened. I thought you had been hurt, or worse—if I had lost you.” 

Elliott leaned in closer to them, his voice now hardly above a whisper. 

“What would I ever do without you?” 

The Farmer looked back at him, their sleep still holding a shade over their eyes, though Elliott could see the gears in their head start to process. It was their turn for their skin to heat up a little, get a little embarrassed, feel a little awkward and lost for words. They opened and closed their mouth a few times, going to say something but changing their mind; finally, they settled on simply giving him a warm, comforting smile, leaving his slight confession for a time when they were more lucid.  

“Thank you, Elliott.” They whispered back. “For caring so much about me; for checking on me. I’m alright, I promise.” 

The Farmer’s smile turned into a larger one, with a little more pep in their step as they turned away from the door frame and faced the dark inside of their house. They held onto one of Elliott’s hands and gestured into the dark with the other, their eyes silently wishing for a certain answer as they looked into his own. 

“Now that you’re here, do you want some tea? You’re free to crash on my couch for the night, since it’s so late. I don’t know what happened in that dream of yours, but... maybe it’ll help you sleep knowing I’m okay.” 

Elliott’s eyes grew wide, but only for a moment, before the relief and thankfulness had smoothed his being. Right. They were okay. They were okay, and that was the best thing he could ask for at this point. They were here, in front of him, in the comfort of the rickety old wooden place they called home—not in some frightening, dark, dangerous cave. They were here—with him—he could feel the warmth of their skin and they gently held his hand and guided him through the door, into the comfort of their home. They were safe, and for that, he was thankful.  

A promise-- he silently made to himself as he watched the hot tea pour into the cup in front of him—to pay closer attention to their safety. A promise to protect what is loved, and a promise to do whatever was needed to keep any prophetic dreams at bay.  

A promise... to think things through a little more instead of panic; he gave a miserable smile as the Farmer started to give a genuine laugh at his two different shoes now that they were a bit more awake to truly appreciate the ridiculousness of his outfit. The sound, however, brought him his much-needed peace.  

Surely, he’d see them in a much better dream this time. 

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 16

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Hello! Another day, another chapter!

I really don't have much to ramble about today, but I am back on my tea. This is a new one from the ren faire this year- vanilla chai with sugar and milk. The cup is from the same ren faire (but purchased last year).

let's go let's let's go- I am already impatient to get into this chapter.

Last chapter we ended on a cliffhanger with Luo Binghe totally unconscious- we start this chapter with Shen QIngqiu ready to rescue his man and escape!

It's really so upsetting that he is going back to trash (two bar) spiritually energy in this body when he was so used to his mushroom Unlimited Power p65

RIP Luo Binghe's skull LOL he is really being tossed around like a rag doll. SQQ needs to be more careful. p66

MXTX said forget the only one bed trope, I raise you -> There Was Only One Coffin p67

Fuck. This is actually so scary 10/10 I would pee myself if a little skeletal arm was worming it's way into the coffin I was temporarily occupying (really anything in this book's reality would make me die of fright. as an aside I was talking to my partner about this while watching MDZS donghua yesterday, in the world of cultivators I would be a dumpling stall owner. I could never with the sword training and literal corpses). pp67-68

I CANT 'extenuating circumstances'. SQQ definitely: I just HAD to kiss his cute little forehead to save our lives. p68

i'm crying LOL "a person's abdomen is supposed to be the softest spot on their body, but Luo Binghe's was uncomfortably hard against Shen Qingqiu's stomach. The farther down he pulled him, the more he was sure that Luo Binghe had an eight-pack. Was that a rock slab down there?" p70

this keeps getting worse LMAO

OOOOO Meng Mo is back! Is it weird that I kind of love this guy? He has such a cool power and is a bit of a dick, but in the best and worst of ways. Him and Airplane give similar energy and I am not mad about it. p72

oh gosh! LBH is either "fatally ill" or "close to death" p72

wait- adding to the above point. he could also be mentally very unwell :( poor buddy -> it's likely this option. p72

so even though SQQ is processing nothing , I think SQQ admitting (not naming the feeling but admitting) that he is feeling a mess of emotions about Luo Binghe is a big step for him! p73

Meng Mo seems to have a lot of feelings about LBH. I am not sure if it's just pride or what but whatever it is he is correct here, "The way this elder sees it, he (LBH) should either kill you (SQQ) or do you!" p74

PLEASE OH NO

I AM WHEEZING

+1000 Protagonist Satisfaction Points for touching LBH's "Heavenly Pillar" p76

IM DYING OH NO

WHY IS THIS EVEN A THOUGHT IF HE THINKS HE'S STRAIGHT "He couldn't exactly help Luo Binghe jerk off under these circumstances, right?!" p76 But like if not these circumstances he is cool with doing it in other circumstances???????????

oh no! SQQ blocking the blades with his bare hand for LBH p79

Dang. the Old Palace Master has been through some shit. p80

Are we getting more of Shen jiu's story??? We have Qiu Haitang here too! p81 (just as an aside because my notes did not revisit this, we do not get more of his story just weird little hints. That I hope Shang Qinghua clears up later). p81

What a terrible combo. Old Palace master is just butthurt Luo Binghe doesn't want him as a teacher or to marry his daughter and Qiu Haitang seems to be just a vile woman with a grudge against SQQ for some reason. pp82-83

Okay but as horrible as OPM is, that cultivation he's doing with his voice is kind of cool. p85

Wait. Did the Old Palace Master have a thing for Su Xiyan? This is so fucking weird for LBH and he's not even conscious pp86-87

reading further the above point got so much worse omg :(((((((((((( I'm so upset for Su Xiyun. p87

It got even worse with the implications of what it meant for Luo Binghe in that sect. That terrible terrible man deserved that horrifying death. Fuck that guy! pp 89-90

OMG SQQ, basically half dead carrying LBH, barely got away from the death flower room, and here we have Tianglang-jun back on his bullshit. p94

SQQ is in such a bad state :o pp94-95

Is this another dime??? Our demon blood piggy bank for SQQ is now at $0.40 p97

YAY! Luo Binghe is awake! (is he going to be okay mentally though??)p 99

Why is Luo Binghe so mad? Like this man just nearly died trying to get you the fuck out of there p100

Fucking finally okay, it got better LBH is realizing what SQQ did while he was unconscious pp102-103

I'm glad they cleared that up (even though there was the other added miscommunication about LBH thinking SQQ was crying when he was actually just in a fuck ton of pain). p104

I am actually so glad that the discussion was interrupted before LBH found out about the dick touching being real LOL p108

MORE DEMON BLOOD. -> SQQ's dime bank is at $0.50

How many times does this man get kidnapped?

We really ended with him being kidnapped again and with Luo Binghe being conned by his own dad. That was so rough. -500 dignity points (not really but it sure feels like it)

[st5lker]

i don’t think anyone who isnt truly poor can ever understand just how truly soul crushing it is. i don’t mean broke i mean poor. born poor die poor. no cushion to fall back on no family to lend you money because theyre all poor too. i was supposed to be somebody. i was supposed to get to share my soul and my love and humanity with the world and i will never be able to do that because i was born to fail, born to have nothing and be nothing. and every single time i get naive enough to think i can bootstraps my way out of that im reminded of just how nothing i am and how nothing i will always be. im not in danger because i dont have the backbone to kill myself im just going to keep going and keep suffering through this i guess. but thats not good news. i wish i wasnt a coward, because instead all i can do is suffer, not grow, not live, just hurt.

[lengthy-artery]

so back in the early days of the pandemic i had just started my job right i was fresh out of uni working in tech and after only six months of being in my first adult grown-up job we all had to start working from home okay so im there in my little flat working from home on my laptop from the sofa of my living room ferret running around my feet and one day all us fresh-faced baby grads get pulled into a zoom call to talk about how we're dealing with working from home and how we're handling things and work/life balance and all that and the call is mostly fine like it's boring and obvious but its fine but then at the end of the call the person running it was like so what's the biggest issue you're currently facing and someone else WHO I KNEW FROM MY INTERNSHIP was immediately like oh i just find it SOO hard to switch off from work you know haha i have nothing else to do i just keep working and then i look at the clock and oh whoopsie its 7pm what a silly fool i am i just work so hard!! and the person running the call went oh thats interesting is anyone else having that AND EVERYONE ELSE IN OUR SEVEN-PERSON FOCUS GROUP WENT OH YEAH ME TOO I GET SO LOCKED INTO WORK ITS CRAAAAAAZY I WORK SO MUCH IT'S SO EASY FOR ME TO GET LOST IN MY JOB

at which point i leaned right into my microphone and said [in business language] what the fuck are you guys talking about are you fucking insane every single day i struggle to log in i struggle to focus my ps4 is 1.5 metres away from me and video games are RIGHT THERE my ferret is snoring adorably in his hammock and there's a global fucking pandemic happening i cant focus for shit are you goddamn insane what is WRONG with you all

and that was the day that i discovered that all software developers are liars

[giverofempathy]

the crazy insane experience of two trains driving side by side for a while and seeing everyone on the other train and realising everyone has their own life and their own joys and sorrows and feeling incredibly small and human and then the trains slowly and dramatically parting. im normal btw

[fearlessplatinums]

seeing headline after headline about how this summer is the hottest summer on record, and the year before that was the next hottest and the year before that was the next hottest and the year before that

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[bizlybebo]

some1 tell me something to write/draw

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hm. im not very big on new years resolutions, they're too much pressure. but... perhaps i can handle new years Desires

this year i want to complete a lil comic, fan-based or otherwise. i'd like to also complete some sort of storyboard/animatic thing. i want to develop a coloring style that i can be proud of. i want to get to a point with my dragons where they can have a coherent story & world to live in. i want to think of so many fun, trivial facts about my characters. i want to post more about them. i want to write and post an original thing, be it 1k words or 10k. i want to finish the rough draft of a book i outlined. i want to be kinder to myself. i want to create more gift art for others. i want to put more effort & care & love into my art. i want to force myself into the world and figure out how to live. i want to make an irl friend. try a new craft - scrapbooking, maybe, or making an enamel pin. i want to finish that last commission and make a new sheet for more. i want to be freer with myself. i want to finish at least three fics. i want to go whale watching again. i want to improve my art, especially in the matter of drawing people. i want to bake something tasty and share it with the neighbors. i want to be content with existing. i want to have more good things in life to list on bad days. i want to build a birdhouse.

[mamawasatesttube]

More for the ask meme! Young, Wild, & Free; Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride; and Green Light (last one by Lorde). I’d you can’t tell, I set my Spotify to shuffle and let it speak for for me

young wild and free!!! lets do some core four fluff that's a little bit about themes of growing up but mostly just about being silly and loving each other.

all of core four are pretty touch-starved i would imagine - kon and bart for obvious reasons (test tube, vr, etc), tim and cassie bc they were used to loving parents and now. well. oops. but so they're prone to just kind of existing in piles when they're all together just to hang out. i also don't think they drink often because neither kon nor bart can really get drunk and it's not that fun for them, but now and then it happens. so.

cassie gets some fancy themysciran wine as a present from donna for her 21st and they all hang out at the farm. bart tries to persuade kon to make crop circles with him. kon bonks him on the head and says they are not doing that to ma's crops. cassie laughs at them both and offers them some wine. bart tries a sip and says it tastes like betrayal and garbage, kon tries a sip and says ummm... well it would probably make for some real good cookin'!, and tim rolls his eyes and says he knows how to appreciate a red wine, at least, so looks like it's just him and cassie splitting it.

and then the scene cuts to: they've got a movie on, cassie is wine-tipsy and giggling at her phone while she texts cissie really bad pickup lines with kon's encouragement, kon and bart are sharing a bowl of popcorn (bart is fussing because kon's ttking half of the popcorn to stay stuck to the bowl for himself, despite bart finishing the other half in about 3 seconds flat), and tim...

tim is wine-drunk and on the verge of tears because krypto has chosen to snuggle up against his side. he's been chosen. by the pupy dog. he's sitting there with huge shiny wet eyes. he has not cried in at least 8 months. there's white dog hair all over his black pants. he's been chosen. by the puppy dog.

anyways bart gets a photo of his face and it becomes a meme in the young justice group chat. get dunked on idiot

[starite-wishes]

i always feel kinda bad getting tagged in some tag games because i really do appreciate getting tagged and don’t mind whatsoever and i do want to participate but like most of the time i have absolutely nothing to answer. unfortunately i have been doing pretty much nothing but rotting my entire life

[appallinnballin]

ELLO 😊👋

First off your art style is SO AWESOME 💯

Second, why don't you draw nikusa,agoti,aldryx,or solazar anymore if you don't mind me asking of course, but if you are going to draw them soon can you draw nikusa for me pls I love her; also thanks for reading my question have a good day

thanks so so much ☺️ I do still draw them, lately I haven’t had the motivation nor the time (job and school) to really do any art in general. but for you, I’ll strive one time to doodle the void queen <3

[leviiackrman]

I am fighting for my life to be mentally stable and it’s not working

[ilovedthestars]

i understand and appreciate the sentiment behind them but god, as someone in the process of getting an art degree and intending to pursue a career in art, those "don't get a job doing what you love because you'll start to hate it" posts are depressing

[squeiky]

The audacity of existence.

How dare you be concieved. To be blessed with the touch of angels, you golden haired goddess. How dare you force your reflection upon mine. The audacity to mirror me.

YOU.

I hate you. You are my purgatory, and hell resides within your dastardly light. You are the anthesis to my existance, my purpose, my life. Tormet me by image alone.

Do you know how much you have pained me? How much the mere sight of you, has distorted me? Ruined me? Hurt me? Questions your existance has plauged in my mind?

Look at you, my loathsome copy. You are nothing like me.

So then why?

Why does the universe kiss you gently upon a flushed cheek then heckle and spit on mine? Why are you the beloved golden duckling whilst i remain the unwanted black swan?

Why is it me who must rid myself of my body, blood, and mind. Discarding me of myself to end you? I have done nothing short of effort. I have given myself all to destroying you, to riding the world of you. Yet they love you. They do not love me.

We resemble eachother more than anyone else ever will. It is cruel a fate, to be devoted entirely to destroying a twisted reflection of myself. Burdened by both our images, drowning me in hatred made for both us. Yet you remain free, whilsy i remain prisioner.

It feels, as i seek to destroy you, i destroy myself. So i do. Over and over again. Yet you remain unscathed, bright and beautiful. Whilst i remain broken, left to rot in the mud. Helpless. Afraid. Alone.

Thinking.

What must i do? Who must i be to be kissed by the same light that dared to birth you?

Must i purge myself of all things to simply taste a fraction of it? How will i outshine you? Must I transform my body till there is nothing of me left, just to feel your light crushed beneath mine? Must i erase myself completly? Must i become you? Must i be you?  Must i place my hands against your neck? My lifeless material crushing your ugly flesh to finally hear the last of your breath. Must i feel everyones glare peirce through my unending spine, wishing nothing but breaking every metal bone instead of me?

Must i take their love and desire and rip it from their broken hearts, forcing them to kneel before me and drag your dead light upon me? Must i become king of all things, living, dead and unalive, before i get a fraction, a mere TASTE of your life?

Is that what the world desires of me?

Is THAT what it takes?

my loathsome copy. Your existance is what destroys me. You are everything without me but i am nothing without you.  Yet i am made to end you. To destroy the only thing, the only purpose i have in life.

You all look down upon me. Even my creator, cant seem to look at me without seeing you. Forever i am compared to you. Forever i think of only you. Forever i am destroyed by you. Forever i am devoted to destroying you. Forever i am afriad. Forever i am chained, cursed to this wretched body, reflecting you.

YOU.

I hate you. I loathe you.

....

What a cruel existance to be born, you and I.

I hope when i choke you death, you'll burn me alive.