#im always thinkin about you...

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

johnny has very. cat like mannerisms. n by that I mean he loves a lil patch of sunlight. does not like bein approached suddenly. has like 5 people he's chill with n does NOT want more. n will scratch the fuck out of you when you piss him off.

[dailygihun]

day 12 || underrated trio in my humble opinion (just lineart under the cut cuz im stuck on which to post)

[bardace]

guys i really love my ocs and i love that no one will quite experience them in the same way i do and i love when other people draw them and they look different in subtle ways and i love that people dont know what theyre like as well as i do and thats ok and i love it when people have ideas of things they might do i love it when people think about them for more than just the times i talk about them. im giving out little pieces of my soul for people to play touys with and theyre picking them up and putting them in cute dresses its really wonderful :)

[enciecreates]

I think about Nagito’s death at the end of SDR2 a lot. There’s so much symbolism and meaning in it. His death reflects a lot of the other deaths from the first game, which is a cool easter egg, but the meaning of that also kind of blows my mind. 

The symbolism of how he’s embodying so much of the despair from the first game, compiled into a single death. How he’s depending on his luck to burn out every last ounce of despair from this death game, while also embodying every ounce from the last one at the same time. He - intentionally/consciously or not - is embodying as much despair as he can so he can burn it all away and bring hope. 

But most recently I’ve also been thinking a lot about the spear. 

Because there’s two major ways you can interpret Nagito’s luck cycle: either luck is a real supernatural force that exists in the DR universe, or Nagito is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Personally, I do think it’s hard to argue that everything that happens to Nagito throughout the series is totally unrelated to some greater supernatural force. But I also think it’s so tragic to think of his luck cycle as just a bunch of psychological tricks. So a little bit of this is a “what if”: even if it’s not the most likely explanation, there is a way of arguing for it and I think that’s interesting. He believes with all his heart that he’s cursed by this luck cycle. That good and bad will happen to him in extremes, in waves. Confirmation bias tells us he’ll pick out that pattern easily, searching for evidence that supports his understanding of the world, and then presenting what is essentially cherry-picked evidence to other characters. Which is often what we see of his luck cycle: the narrative he has constructed. Then, throw in how he’d subconsciously make decisions and put himself in situations that further supports his view of himself and the world. He might purposefully put himself in precarious positions when he thinks there’s bad luck due. He might do something like hang a spear above his own head. That act, metaphorical or literal, is then, also sort of his essence, isn’t it? Nagito hangs spears above him, poised to kill him, and waits for his luck - real or not - to use them. And when the spear falls, because if you keep hanging spears above your head eventually they’ll fall, he calls it intentional and purposeful. He calls it part of his luck cycle. But how much of it is really luck, and how much of it is that he’s just hanging spears and waiting? How much of it is that he really believes he deserves bad luck or pain or hurt? Honestly, we don’t know exactly if the poison killed him before the spear did. We can certainly assume it did, since Monokuma rules Nanami the killer, and because the spear was supposedly released upon Nagito’s death (and the nature of the poison). However, I think there’s enough doubt in there to argue that, even if its unlikely, the spear did kill him. Monokuma could’ve lied, there was no one and no way to prove him wrong after all. The poison could’ve weakened Nagito just enough that he wasn’t dead until the spear impaled him. 

Just, think of the potential symbolism of the fact that we can only assume- based on incomplete and biased observations - that the poison killed him. That Nagito’s luck killed him. From that biased assumption, we are led to believe his luck is cyclic and intentional. Just like everything Nagito does and says could be seen as a biased presentation of evidence that leads us to the same conclusions. But realistically we can also assume that Nagito just killed himself by hanging a spear over himself and waiting. We can also assume Nagito's luck isn't as drastic as he claims. What if, in reality, he just keeps hanging spears above him and waiting, maybe even hoping, they fall?

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

i thiiink hes soooo prettyabyway

[boimlerkisser]

Ougghhhhh new tiktok meme and I WANNA DO IT WITH BREA AND ANAKIN SOOOO BAD....

[cherry-bomb-ships]

I'm busy with family stuff still but the thing that just posted outta my queue at 3 is SO Mojo-core 😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖

[downydig]

Your art is really good have a good day, I love your Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy content a lot. :)))

Also do u have any ships or headcannons for any of the characters?

thanks for likin my raggedy fartwork! ive got lots but my main ships are annette and clandy if i had to give any new headcannons, ill say ive been thinking a lot that in my mind, andy sounds just like jerma i can see him getting mad about ovens and telling me to notice how big his hands are

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

It's thirty til midnight 'n the house is crowded with the hot press of bodies. Someone's shoutin'. Actually, most of 'em are shoutin'. The living room stinks like the spilled beer Two's ground down into the carpet. The TV's playin'. Some New Year's special that Pony's glued to. The record players skippin' its way through a Christmas album. The tree's still up 'cause none of them would let Darry take it down 'til after New Year's.

Darry checks his watch once, runs his thumb absently over the face, compares it to the little glowin' clock above the stove, stands up 'n shifts past the card game Johnny has been creamin' Dallas at for the last half hour. Darry wasn't sure how he had any money to his name left. He steps over the coffee table 'n catches the hand of pure shit Dallas grins 'n ups the bet on. Good lord Johnny was gonna have the shirt off his back before the night was over.

Soda's bouncin' back 'n forth between the holiday special 'n the card game, offerin' commentary only Johnny seems to enjoy. Steve's got a huge bowl of popcorn Darry had fixed balanced on his lap, pitchin' kernels at Two's mouth as he dives for 'em.

Darry sighs, snatches one out of the air 'n pops it into his own mouth, steppin' out of the way so Two falls unceremoniously onto his knees with a grin.

"Hey! I was gonna catch that one!" Darry rolls his eyes, absently grabs Pony from where he had his nose three inches from the tube 'n hauls him back, much to Pony's indignation.

"Sure you were. Just like you were gonna catch the other thirty or so that I'm gonna have to vacuum outta the carpet." But he doesn't really mean it. The mood's high 'n Darry's just pleased to have 'em all together. Outta trouble 'n safe.

"Hey it ain't my fault Steve can't throw straight! He ain't exactly got your arm, Dar." Two wraps both hands around Darry's bicep 'n Darry hauls him up, danglin' like a monkey with his knees all bent.

"Hey!" Steve takes his opportunity 'n dives off the couch, nearly dumpin' the entirety of the bowl onto Dallas' head. Dally yowls, drops his cards onto the table 'n snatches for Steve's ankles to drag him back across the floor. Johnny leans over, tips the cards up, 'n grins to himself, then promptly sprawls to the side to avoid Darry shakin' Two off him 'n onto the floor.

Soda, never to be left out, throws himself into the mess of limbs until they're all a tangled mass of carpet burn 'n sharp-toothed peels of laughter. Darry disentangles himself, hovers in the doorway 'n watches them for a moment. Then he checks his watch again, adjusts the worn leather strap, peers at the clock on the stove glowin' softly through the darkness of the kitchen, 'n slips out the back door.

He knows his time is numbered 'cause Pony 'n Soda have always been herders. Had to know where everyone was at all times. But Pony's sleepy 'n zoned in on the TV like a lifeline 'n Soda's had two shots (both hastily over the kitchen sink 'cause Pony still thought Soda was drunk on the plain idea of bein' alive 'n they all liked to let him think it) so he had maybe just a few more minutes than usual.

It's fridged outside. The kinda cold that burns along his bare arms 'n makes his breath hang in low clouds around his face.

He can't really explain it. He's never been real good about the holidays. They're just... heavy. Even before, well, everythin'.

He crosses the porch, sinks down on the stair 'n blinks down the empty street. There's a light or two on. One house or the other still holdin' out for midnight. Most are quiet 'n dark 'n Darry's heart does an odd little flip in his chest.

He doesn't know why he thinks about the winter he was twelve 'n had been the best of friends with the boy that lived on the corner. Or why his stomach sinks when he thinks about how hard he'd cried when they had moved out. Inconsolable even when their mama had pulled him up into her lap (though he was too big for that. Too big for needin' his mama.) (that last bit was never true. He still needed his mama. Maybe more than he ever had before.) 'n had just cried 'n cried 'til Soda 'n Pony had come home from wherever they'd been 'n that had been that. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He should be strong for them.

Somethin' shatters to the ground inside 'n jerks Darry outta his memory.

"Sorry!" Someone hollers 'n Darry chuckles to himself. Man, maybe he shouldn't have had that last beer. He must be in too good of a mood 'cause he doesn't even think about goin' in to reem out whoever was breakin' shit. But he knows that's not true 'n it ain't the beer to blame.

He runs his hands up 'n down his arms, stands up 'n crosses the lawn, dead 'n dry in winter, leans against the fence 'n hisses when the metal bites into his arms. He sighs, kicks at the hole ripped in the bottom, smiles absently to himself.

Soda 'n Two had put that there. Had run one of those push petal cars so hard into it they'd both flown off 'n scraped knees 'n elbows 'n come crawlin' up the steps with, not two, but three missin' teeth between the two of them.

God, they must have been in middle school then. When had they grown up so much?

"Agh put me down you sonofabitch!" Somethin' else hits the ground but this time Darry's mostly sure it's a person. No one wails so he figures he's still safe. 'N he ain't ready to go back in yet.

He checks his watch, fiddles with the knob on the side, a nervous habit he's had since he was eighteen. Fifteen minutes to go. Plenty of time.

A breeze kicks up, swings the gate open 'n closed so it lets out a low, mournful squeal. It hadn't hung right since the summer Darry was ten. They'd always just jumped the fence, givin' each other the boosts they refused to ask for, gigglin' when their mama had called them coyotes, takin' runnin' starts 'n laughin' off when they misjudged it 'n came down hard on their knees. Their daddy had sworn he was gonna fix it every summer since.

He never got to.

Last month they'd had a real bad wind storm that pushed that old gate forlornly back 'n forth for hours, wailin' 'n moanin' until Darry had scowled 'n muttered he was gonna fix that goddamn thing if it was the last thing he ever did. 'N then he'd looked over at Pony 'n they both suddenly felt sick to their stomachs.

He never did get around to it.

The wind howls 'n Darry flexes his fingers, realizes suddenly its the only sound he can hear. He checks his watch again. Five minutes to go. He should go back inside.

But then he's runnin' his fingers around the face 'n thinkin' about the people not waitin' for him back in that hot 'n crowded living room. Thinkin' about how it ain't really his watch.

It had been his daddy's. His pride 'n joy. Thick leather strap 'n gold platin' around the face 'n it had been his granddaddy's before him. God, Darry had coveted it. Could remember bein' thirteen, runnin' fingers around 'n around it til it shone. Fifteen 'n askin' his daddy if he'd pass it down to him one day. Eighteen when he had put it in his hands on his graduation day.

You gotta watch out for it. The time flies, kiddo. Be careful how you spend it.

Darry doesn't hear the screen door slam, or the patterin' footsteps across the lawn, or the creak of the fence as someone leans against it til Soda's there, head restin' down on Darry's shoulder. Darry jumps, scrubs the back of his hand against the tears so hot against his flushed cheeks they burn. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He had to be strong.

"I figured I'd find you out here." Soda wraps a blanket, stolen from the couch, around Darry's arms 'n he suddenly realizes just how cold he is. He sighs, pulls Soda in 'n tucks him under his elbow.

"C'mon, Soda. You shouldn't be out here." 'N he shouldn't. 'Cause he shouldn't ruin everyone else's good time with his stupid achin'. "Let's get you back inside."

Soda tilts his head back 'n blinks up at Darry. Or, no he doesn't. He doesn't need to. Hasn't needed to look up to Darry in a long time, long since hit that final growth spurt that had their mama lettin' out all his jean hems 'n hopin' they stopped below his ankle. "You shouldn't be out here alone, Dar."

"I'm fine-"

"Oh, I know. You're fine. You're good. You're peachy." Soda sighs, drops his chin back down to Darry's shoulder. "You thinkin' about them?"

'N he is. But not really. He's thinkin' about all of them. About breakin' promises 'n not bein' careful enough. About turnin' around one day 'n Pony's not six years old 'n followin' Darry around 'cause he was still young enough to think Darry was the coolest person alive. That Soda's not ten years old 'n missin' his front tooth 'n a permanent bandaid on his knees 'n bringin' home one kid after another until their house was always full. That Johnny 'n Two 'n Dallas 'n Steve ain't just his brother's friends or strangers hangin' around his living room or even just good buddies.

"I'm thinkin' about my resolution." He pulls Soda in closer 'n somewhere down the street someone bangs pans together. A lone firework bangs off into the sky, lightin' his brother's face in a way that makes him look like he was a kid again, pressed against the window 'n tryin' so hard to stay awake.

"Well, don't leave me hangin'." Soda yawns, presses his face into Darry's chest to shield it from the wind.

Darry smiles softly to himself, runs a hand through Soda's hair, the lamp light bouncin' off the watch face when he lifts his wrist.

"I'm gonna keep some old promises."

I ain't gonna let time slip me by. The back door bangs open 'n when Darry turns he can see the shinin' grin on Two's face, his arm draped around Steve's shoulders. Pony leanin' hard on Dallas though Darry knows he'll claim he ain't tired. Johnny shiverin' in his too-big jacket.

"Come on, Dar! You're gonna miss it!" 'N Darry knows he means the ball drop or the announcer on TV or the end of the special but Darry can only smile ruefully, shift Soda closer to him 'n sweep him right off his feet to carry him inside.

You're right. You gotta be careful or you will. You'll miss it all.

tags 'cause y'all were so sweet in my other post I was like well I simply gotta finish this right now😭@trekkiehood @strxwberry-julius @marmaladedcroissant @wildestdreamcatcher @sarcasticallyexplicit11 @scalls @greasernamedbug

[queenofbaws]

chin in hands

idk folks. tonight i'm just thinking about the one (1) scene we get with matt and ashley. and mourning that we didn't get to see them interact more in-game. or like. at all.

i just think

i just. think.

theirs would be such an interesting friendship to dissect and study under a microscope skdlfjlskdfjsldfj

[todayisafridaynight]

I really could just advertise my entire mine playlist but right now I've just been listening to 'heaven knows im miserable now' again and its SO FUNNY thinking about mine being so bitter abt his current office job, becoming yakuza in hopes of new and legit male bonds only for it to be EXACTLY like his old office job just with a wittle more crime </3

JUST A WITTLE MORE CRIME either way youre cookin bestie <3 i see it 😭

[obnoxiousarcade]

im thinking again

[keeps-ache]

i've realized recently that much of the expressiveness of my eyes was just me trying to see other people's expressions. so now when i make faces my eyes stay Wide Open loll

[geodetojoy]

<33333

(taggin you guys too bc yeah @mysteriouswolf @royallygray)

also @eowynarchives you too get over here

having online friends who are busy is just like. I LOVE YOU. I miss you. YOU GOT THIS. I'm giving you space to work. I LOVE YOU.

[reinabeestudio]

In a less serious note related to my last post: usually my hs stuff is my own flavor of No Sburb AU. So stuff like classpects don't really matter. That said...

She's technically a Guardian but also not really because her son's Guardian is the father yet it'd be funny if she like, was in the game.

Like somehow she's inside the game and somehow she survives all these events, confused and also searching for the kids because what else can she do at that point?

(+ and I do think that, while he was busy with Everything Happening, a corner of his mind kept wondering if she was alright. He already lost one Guardian, even if he was a piece of shit. But she's always been good to him. And he worries. Strider curse is to Care Deeply A Lot for your loved ones even if they show it poorly or at all)

And after what seemed like an eternity she finally reunites with her son in Earth C, and she's so glad they're finally together and also to meet his friends but also it's been so long. So used to the image of that little 13 year old kid, that now she sees this young adult in front of her and. sure she's happy he's alright but also... well, it's a lot.

We have a lot of talking to do, you and I. yeah yeah we do welcome back btw I missed you too.