#ive been there bud

[bamsara]

*projects my trauma and issues onto the lamb*

[alazic02]

My full piece for the @onceuponzine Miraculous Ladybug fairytale zine! I did an adaptation of Sleeping Beauty using the knight and princess designs. This one was really fun to work on, and the first time I've done a two-page spread :) The zine currently has its leftover sales open, so please check them out!! There's a lot of really cool merch and beautiful pieces that you don't want to miss, including a tarot deck and tote bag.

Check out what's available!

Artwork ©: alazic02 | buy me a ko-fi

Do not repost.

[crowned-ladybug]

I wanted to draw my own take on ART-as-a-presence-in-the-feed but struggled with what path to take for A While bc all I had was that I was adamant about a winding, serpentine body, too large to take in at once and So Good at piling upon your shoulders with weight that's either overwhelming or comforting, take your pick

And then I brought in the hexagons and everything just worked

(They let me give it a face without an actual face, make for a good shorthand to show that it's talking/present in potential future art, and as a bonus serve as an homage to JWST bc hey, science!)

Partially brought to you by a whole lot of listening to Satellite by Starset

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

you know how after black friday came out we all collectively named the hot chocolate boy oliver and wrote him as ethan's younger cousin?

well.... ethan is joey richter.... and he can still be the hot chocolate boy's older cousin because he's four years older then pete..... ted ethan pete power cousin trio

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

im devastated. i got a microwaveable curry from costco and. its not good. Why

[callmefaceache]

He finally reunites with his long-lost undead girlfriend only to end up as her sacrifice replacement for a cult. Typical.

Obsessed with @platsicbeach / @coffinwoodd art of her sona's head being in a crystal ball for Phase 7. Made my brain itchy with an idea, so I doodled this to scratch it.

W/out harsh shadows and light!

[starrystevie]

tw: main character death, hurt no comfort, angst

steve's staring at eddie's face when he first hears the tinny notes of rock-a-bye baby through the shitty hospital room speaker. he closes the book in his hand, keeping his thumb in the spine to hold his place, and pauses to listen.

it's strange to hear it mix with the sounds of the machines that are keeping eddie alive, keeping stale air in his lungs and morphine in his veins. we're keeping him comfortable, they say as more white coats shuffle in to change soiled bandages and write in their stiff notebooks.

it's all a lie, a fallacy. if they were keeping him comfortable, he wouldn't be poked and prodded and kept so drugged up that he can't open his eyes. if they were keeping him comfortable, he would have hands holding his own without wires and probes in the way. he would have music and laughter and joy warming up the cold, sterile room.

but steve tries to keep him comfortable as best as he can. he comes by in the mornings before work, in whatever afternoons he has free, in the late night visiting hours when yet another date fails because his mind is focused on curly hair fanned out on a too-white pillow and too pale skin with sunken in cheeks.

steve brings books that dustin swears eddie would love, reads them aloud to a shell of a man and hopes he isn't mispronouncing far away planet names. he smuggles in a boombox and plays tape after tape that he finds in the mess of eddie's van, hoping that one will be just the thing to wake him up.

but mainly he talks. he brings him stories and secrets and problems that he locked away in his chest with a rusted over key. he trails fingertips over blue veins under the thin skin at his wrist wishing there weren't tubes and needles just a few inches above. steve sits in an uncomfortable hospital chair until he has to stand, has to pace, before settling back down to whisper unanswered prayers, asking that today is the day that eddie will magically come out of it all.

it isn't any different on the day that it all falls apart. with a book in his hand and one leg crossed over the other, he hears the soft notes start to play. and in a matter of seconds, the machines around the two of them scream out harsh warnings of failures and disaster.

there's what could have beens and should have beens on the tip of his tongue, in the back of his mind, clashing with the lullaby filling the room. steve would laugh at the irony if he didn't think it would bring him crumbling down. it's a life for a life, a new set of lungs gulping in the air that eddie doesn't get to have anymore, cries of joy in a room down the hall overshadowing steve's own. it's a family's world being put together while his own feels like it's falling apart.

after all, a new baby is supposed to be a joyous occasion isn't it?

eddie's machines are loud enough now to drown out the faint lullaby bleeding through the speaker. the flatline is loud enough to drown out steve's broken sobs for someone, anyone to help. and when they call a time and steve's holding his breath like he can breath it in for the both of them, he wonders if they have a song to play through the speakers for that, too.

[hibiscuslynx]

california sketch….

besties ima be honest , art block hit me like a semi-truck going ninety . its rough out here. im in the TRENCHES fighting for my fucking life !!!!

but alas. a sketch of the boy 🫶

[fatmaclover]

ok i’ve never heard of this at all before, admittedly i’m a bit new to the iasip fandom. who is joyce kelly???? i checked the blog you linked. i’m kinda getting it but there’s so much there it’s hard to find the beginning lol

omg. you sweet sweet anon. i love you. ill write it out from memory as much as possible for you because im not at my pc to easily grab links. shoot me another ask if you need more sources. im worried about backing out of answering this ask though, tumblr usually deletee them if i do that :o(

i wanna warn you this post will contain heavy spoilers for season 13 episode 6. so. yeagh

joyce kelly is charlie. in season 13, episode 6, The Gang Solves the Bathroom Problem, theres a gag about how charlie wears a dress, wig, and heels while using the bathroom and uses the womens restroom. in the episode it kinda ends up fizzling out into a crossdressing thing and it feels a little awkward. theres also a later joke about charlie asks about the demographic of transgender people in philly, dennis says less than 1%, and then they ask "so where does that put me?" dennis replies "the majority", saying theyre cis, and they go along with it. turns out the original script for the episode got released(leaked? idk) and those two scenes, and even the rest of the episode, was pretty different. in the bathroom scene with the dress and wig and heels, dennis asks charlie if this woman has a name. she says her name is joyce. throughout the rest of the episode, they refer to her with she/her pronouns. the joke with her being confused about her gender instead ended with dennis telling her she was trans, the minority, instead. so uhhhhhh yeag!! a nice little corner of the iasip fandom refers to her as joyce now ^-^ ir typically she/her her, even if they still call her charlie.

@pariskim if ur available i know you have the original script ready like a loaded gun but anyone else eho has it is also free to rb this with it and ill rb it. i don't have it on my phone :o(

[cat-eared-rose]

Learning to do pixel art, and I thought the easiest way to get into things would be to try and recreate some real life objects in a limited palette! So, here's a Dreamcast utilizing the Gameboy palette, and another one that's a little more my style =w= (Still using only 4 colors). Having a ton of fun, and looking forward to getting better overall!

[nimoy]

big bud press is like. look at all our awesome colors. we are so size inclusive. [pictures of plus sized models where clothes obviously are not fitting them well or comfortably as opposed to straight sized models] $360 please! Oh you wanted to sit down in our pants? Umm…. Sowwy…. For you hogs i mean you curvy kings and queens theyre just standing clothes….

[stargazer-dreamer]

Erratum Discussions

character: spike spiegel

reader: gender neutral

content warnings: implied/referenced self-harm. intrusive thoughts. inability to move on (from past relationships)

notes: also on ao3. 1k+ word count. “spike centric” in a way that’s more about spike and less about the reader

Page after page, it’s hard to move on. It’s hard to find out who you are, and what you are, and why you are, and where you are, and—

Spike tries. He tries so hard. Page after page.

---

He likes to read, occasionally. It’s no good to train only the body, after all.

Not every bookstore was the same—big or small, cluttered or pristine—but there was something about that particular one, the one that sold them used, located down in the asteroid belt, that he found himself traveling to more often than not, when he found the need for something new.

If he were an honest man, he would wager that it would be more accurate to say that his visitations were for a particular person and not the selection in which they sold. Paperbacks, worn and pre-thumbed, with the corners bent, and notes scribbled in the margins—he had no part in any of that. No; while it was true that Spike enjoyed a good book here and there, he could not possibly work through the text at the rate he was buying them.

He is not an honest man. He would walk in, nonchalant, and browse the selection. After a while, scanning the shelves, he would end up near you; he’d strike up a harmless conversation—“Have you read this one?” “Does this sound interesting to you?” And, well, he couldn’t just leave empty-handed, right? His nightstand became cluttered, and the coffee table grew unusable. The bridge, the workshop, the glove compartment in Swordfish. He bought a bookshelf.

���I get good recommendations when I go there,” he argued, trying to be nonchalant about it when Jet had figured it out.

They were a poor choice of words, Spike realized, when his partner said: “Sure,” with an amused smile playing along his lips; humor and warmth dripping thick in his voice. “Book recommendations. I understand, Spike—that’s your business.”

“No, really,” he suddenly felt like a school-child; the overwhelming urge to defend himself, violently. And it would be a while longer yet for him to fully understand exactly why he was feeling this way, but—“Books. I go there for books, Jet. Books. Why else would I go to a bookstore?”

“Yes, I get it,” Jet still looked at him in a way that pissed him off. “Books.”

Despite the teasing remarks, Spike held firm in his stance. He even believed it himself, for a time. There could not possibly be any other feasible explanation as to why he kept coming back to this specific location, on this small of a settlement, so far out and away from their usual haunts, than the particular selection they held.

Not so soon after his previous relationship. Not when his heart still beated for her. Not when she still appeared in his sweetest dreams. No, this could not be that, especially when he did not know you and you did not know him. Strangers—less than so. You only spoke to him pleasantly because it was your job, and it was his own disillusioned mind that saw it as anything more.

So, he stopped going. He worked through a stack or two of paperbacks, crumpled and tattered. Life resumed as usual.

But he missed chatting with you. After your attention was on him, he would ease the conversation out of the confines of the small store—“Life treating you well?” “You ever worked out your situation?” And the two of you would talk; minutes, sometimes up to an hour, the clock ticking away until the old manager would come out from the backroom and tell you to get back to work. 

There wasn’t much work to do, you had told him, after the manager would hobble back out—probably off to go play solitaire on his outdated computer—and it would be just the two of you, once more. Update the database, tidy up the shop. Foot traffic was slow, most days. You would rather be talking to him, you had said, once, offhand.

Perhaps you were simply indulging him. Maybe he was too friendly. All the more reason to stay away. He didn’t want to appear as a creep. He didn’t want to appear desperate.

Not after her. Not after he couldn’t stay away.

Jet seemed to pick up on the lack of asteroid belt-related trips. Before, Spike would find a multitude of excuses to go. Now, he came up with reasons to avoid it entirely.

“There’s nothing there,” he would say, deliberately avoiding his partner’s eyes. “Not even any good bars—hey, why don’t we hit some bounties? We could use the extra money.”

But that pocket change used to go towards his collection of books. After amenities and necessities, he would spare some for the trip he would inevitably take; paperbacks in the back of his mind and you at the forefront. Always.

It slowly dawned on him that he didn’t have many hobbies, outside of that. He would drink, he would smoke, go out and play pool. He didn’t know if he even liked reading, if he were being completely honest. It was just something that he’d always done, after they taught him how. Something that they said he was good at. A good hobby. Enriching. Enlightening.

She had even appraised his collection, that first night she came over. Spike wondered—if he went back, would that apartment be empty? Those shelves he had spent years filling; text after text, ripped to shreds, left to cover a landfill—or did they preserve it? Collecting dust and bad memories, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Waiting for what?

He looked at his room aboard Bebop and found it mostly empty; his closet, his bed. Not much had changed, except the fact that everything had changed. He looked at his bookcase. He wondered if you would praise it, just like she did. Or would you look at it with disgust? Would you scan the titles and recognize every letter—every stain and scuff—and tell him he was a freak? To stay away from you. To never speak to you again.

Spike closed his eyes and stared into the abyss. He came out on the other side and saw only himself. Like looking at a mirror. He wanted to shatter it; to throw it against the wall and watch the splinters crack his reflection—he wanted to grab the shards and watch him tear himself to shreds. Hundreds, thousands of pieces, so broken and battered that no one could ever dream of repairing it ever again. To see his hands wet with it, to hold it tighter, to stop waiting around and finally finish the job himself.

Kicking, and screaming, and dry-heaving, Spike wanted. He wanted—

He didn’t know what he wanted. Perhaps he never did, at all. A man, with his two own eyes, sitting there on the piano bench; sitting, and reading, and waiting, and wanting, and singing—grab a glass because there’s going to be a flood!

Spike knew one thing for sure: he was always good at reading. So, he read. He worked through a stack. Then another. Life resumed like normal. Bullets, and blood, and books, and blue.

He thought of her. He thought of taking her home, to his apartment too big for him, and her looking at his shelves, all in a neat little line, backs against the walls, in every room. With bated breath, he would watch her. He imagined her eyes, wide with disgust and blue, and she’d turn to him and say, “Freak. You’re such a freak.” And that would be that. Finally.

He thought of you. He thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he thought of you and he—

And he wanted.

No, Spike is not an honest man. He never has been. But he likes to read, occasionally. It’s no good to train only the body, after all.

[severefartoholic]

STOP IT I DONT LIKE THIS GAME ANYMORE

[queddadraw]

who/what is jordan in your tags??

Jordan is simply a little creature

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

if my urine continues to be red i might have to go to the hospital. god fuck. please no.

[riddler-apologist]

hi chat,

im quitting my shitting $12/hr job tomorrow and i need encouragement because i have authority issues and the thought of my boss being mad at me makes me nauseated

pls send some kind words 😭😭