#so I can reupload

[poore-choice-of-words]

The Heroes' Guild is down

I know that I don't post about it that often, but for those of you who care, my web serial, with over 200,000 words of my original fiction, has become inaccessible for all. So if you were planning to read my shit, you can't.

And now that my routine's fucked, I'm definitely not winning Camp NaNo this year.

And we were heading for some turning points too.

[savagegood]

after my friends expressed horror watching professional hockey player nathan mackinnon spray suncreen straight in the face, i'm actually curious...

[thottybrucewayne]

I think what I want to get into with the "Anyone can do harm." thing that I keep beating yall over the head with is that literally anyone, anyone at all can do harm it's not "in your DNA" to be an abuser or written in the stars that you'll be a predator. Whatever image you have of an abuser in your head, drop it and replace it with your favorite person in the world and you'll probably be closer to the truth than you realize. It's easy to address harm when it's coming from someone you already hate. I see it happen all the time. Someone you couldn't stand for no real reason does something heinous then all of a sudden here comes the avalanche of "I always knew they were a fucked up individual." No, you didn't. There is no possible way you could have known, you just already didn't fuck with them before they started doing something you could use to justify your hatred of them. I'm guilty of it too! I'm petty, mean, vindictive, and yes! I'm way quicker to believe something bad about someone I hate versus someone I love because I'm human. Still, y all gotta learn to move past that initial "Well, they were always nice to me!" gut feeling and understand that nobody truly knows anyone and anyone can be capable of anything. Even victims. Even you.

[phasedsun]

and, as my upload version of course, here's the piece I did for ultragift!

[loki-hargreeves]

I can't believe that this man now lives in my head rent-free

[flashypunches]

( REUPLOAD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT im so sorry )

You're someone who's held great resentment for your godfather.

For your first meeting, for his ego, for his murderous intent towards your father.

For his failure to provide comfort or understanding when your parents refused you as a son, when your friends have left you as a corpse.

You suffer through long years, sticking with him through thick and thin, because he’s the only one like you, the only other Death refused to take.

( The daughter he made, the cousin you mourned, Dani, is gone. She will not return to either of you. It is always his fault. )

Because he’s all you have left. The only one who wouldn't refuse you.

He moves you to a city that matches your dreary state. Vigilantes take residence, closing in on crime. Closing in on your godfather.

Vlad leaves. He doesn’t take you with him.

He leaves you his wealth, a place in a school that makes you miss home, and an order to never speak to the ones who made him run– the Waynes.

He doesn’t return. Never properly. You make due with phone calls and brief visits every now and then. You don’t mind, you preferred this more than his haphazard attempts at providing companionship when it was too late.

Your schoolmates does not like you. That is okay, even if it leaves you longing for friends.

( Sam and Tucker are in Amity and will stay there until they die. They would never come and visit a corpse like you. Not when you desecrate their friend's body, parading it around, like you're him. They know who you really are. They've always known, they just couldn't see sense before. )

But you find someone who could be one.

He is prickly, rude, disliked less, but disliked nonetheless. But he is the only other person who does not care about your worn out shoes, for your scars, your clammy skin, all the things that made your parents refuse you as a son, as sentient— or about you coming in the middle of the school year.

You care not about his attitude, desperation clawing at your mind for any form of socialization not from Vlad or who he calls company.

You make quick work of befriending him, a shared rivalry for an annoying schoolmate pulling you close together.

You learn his interests, his pets, his family. You know his name but do not ask for it. Willful ignorance could be considered bliss. Just for a moment.

He lets you stay at his house for a night, though his siblings push the matter more enthusiastically. You do not see his father.

( “He’s on a business trip.” Daniel blinks, looking up at his friend.

“Who?” he asks, despite knowing there’s only one person that Damian could be referring to.

Damian tsked automatically, “My father, you imbecile. He will return in two weeks notice.”

Daniel thinks of his godfather, of his various excuses over the years to many people, including him. But instead of telling Damian the likely truth, that his father won’t return, never like how his best friend wants him too, an “Okay” comes out in place of it.

Let him bask in ignorance, Daniel tells himself, Let your friend have this. )

His father comes back. You don’t call Vlad when he forgets you. For all he wanted you as a son, now he never tries to treat you as such.

You continue the cycle of avoiding an empty house, of sleep-overs, of waiting for something to happen.

And something does. Your godfather comes back. He lies to you that he won’t leave again. He says that he will stay longer, that the family who tried to run him out won’t succeed again.

You do not think of your best friend. Why would he even care?

Your godfather treats you like he had before, when you still had your friends, your home. Like you are a misbehaving child, and him, the tired parent.

( Shouts of an argument ring from an dead manor, before being shut out to the upstairs.

Daniel slammed the door, not caring if Vlad had heard it or not. Ancients, he'd forgotten how much of an utter fruit-loop Vlad was. He gritted his teeth, rubbing the bruise left on his wrist by the man.

Why'd he expect anything different? Vlad was just going to be his usual nutty self, and go back to treating him like he was still some misguided kid, that he would just come around to playing nice with Vlad.

The wood of the door was smooth, most likely sanded down from any splinters by the past families who lived here. Daniel moved his fingers along the grooves, faintly remembering how he had done this before, when he was better. He bit his tongue, ignoring the bitter taste of ectoplasm it brought forth.

He hadn't thought of who he was before since he'd ran. He hadn't been this angry at Vlad since he ran. He hadn't felt so like himself after he ran.

Daniel would be lying if that thought didn't make him feel just a little bit better.

He let his head fall into his knees, back leaning against the wooden door, limbs sagging. He did not cry, because the Danny from the empty home did not do that. )

It irks you, but not like before. Maybe you were doing something right if he’s treating you like this now, treating you normally. Maybe you’re back to who you were before, before the rejection scarred you.

Damian notices the change in your personality, as you notice his change in costume. He is on the rooftops, in the streets, cloaked in muted colors, not unlike your own old costume, and his family knows your godfather is back.

When you come back to school after a week of Vlad trying to bond with you without success, Damian doesn’t say a word about your godfather.

You don’t either. What even is there to say?

“Oh, I know that you are investigating my godfather, and that you’re a vigilante, surprise!”

You would have been killed ages ago if that was your response.

Your friend does not invite you over anymore. You know why, understand why but it still stabs your core, in the way a butter knife does to wood. Dents it but does not cut.

You repeat the loop of boring conversation, of stilted companionship. You grow tired of it, as you always do.

Vlad's signature is easy to forge. You get to skip your classes under the guise of it being a family emergency.

( Damian is near the gate when he gets off the bus. Daniel's ratty sneakers are hitting the ground, as he walks over to him.

The weight of his backpack feels heavy, the evidence that Daniel had stuffed inside not helping his back. Damian twirls around at his steps, a scowl already on his lips.

Daniel smiles back, readjusts the straps on his shoulders. He whispers to Damian, uncaring of the fight currently breaking out in the front, the fight that Damian is watching, "I'm getting out of school today, wanna come with?"

His friend tears his eyes away from the brawl, looking intrigued at Daniel's offer.

Damian considers the chance. The thought of having to sit through another day of school with only Jon for mild company sickens him.

"I suppose I can, though if this is a trap Masters, then let it be known that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you in still?" Daniel flashes his (only) friend a cheesy grin, ignoring Damian's eye-roll at his theatrics.

"..Yes."

-

The route to the local park is quick, though slowed by the need to be away from the public's eyes, lest they be caught right away in their venture.

Daniel gasps in a breath, ancients, did he need to jog way more. Damian easily strides beside him, the only sign that he was showing off being the smug gleam in his green eyes. Bastard.

The papers, the records, the flash-drive, all weigh down his back. Vlad has definitely noticed them missing, and he most definitely knows who took them.

But Daniel didn't care, not right now, because right now, he was spending time with his bestest friend in the whole wide world, and he'll deal with Vlad later. )

You drag Damian over to a secluded bench, taking no mind to the mutations Poison Ivy has given the plants near. The backpack is emptied, and you guide your only friend to the path that leads to Vlad's destruction.

The dread fades away, the high of adrenaline taking its place, at the crimes left behind in pieces, put back together in a backpack, and let loose into the hands of your only friend.

It feels good, like something’s been taken off your shoulders. You know that Vlad has anticipated you telling someone about what he’s done. He’s still not leaving.

Your high is running down, as you start to beg Damian not to arrest him, lying to your only friend that Vlad is a better man, and doesn't deserve to rot in a cell. You know that when you take a separate route to your homes, that he’ll tell anyway.

You can’t bring yourself to care. Vlad’ll just weasel out of it, as he always does.

He knows what you did, doesn’t bring it up, with the only sign being a watchful eye whenever you’re back in his grasp.

You get invited to a gala by your friend. You accept, uncaring of Vlad's reaction.

Your friend gets held ransom. No one’s worried, no one feels anything but annoyance. You stay away, not wanting to feel your core straining to help, to protect.

The Bats swoop in to help. You ignore the envy at their luck at having a team of other heroes to depend on.

( Your friend ) The Waynes send people after your godfather. He tries to bribe his way out of the charges, out of the jail cell that cannot hold him. They leave with him in tow.

You start staying overnight at your friend’s house even more. Damian doesn’t say a word about it.

His father does. His siblings do.

They talk about adopting you, they fight about Vlad, about what they are meant to do with your godfather, and what to do with poor old Danny. You don’t listen in much. They remind you of your parents, just a little bit. It hurts.

Vlad is let go. False charges, apparently. You know he just bribed the judge and juries.

He wants to talk to you, intent on having a conversation that lasts more than five minutes without shouting and tears ending it.

I'm sorry for not being there, please, give me forgiveness, are the only things you remember from the conversation. You do not give him what he wants, but the conversation doesn't end in slammed doors and withheld tears.

You sleep under his roof for the first time in weeks, the most civil conversation you’ve ever been with him looping in your mind. You even wonder if he’ll let you go to your friend’s birthday party.

You don’t sleep at your friend’s house as much. There’s not much need to anymore.

You wake up one night, to hear the sounds of ectoblasts and footsteps. They are on the roof, and you know what they’re here for.

You go ghost, going up the roof, watching invisibly as Plasmius shoots at the vigilantes who yell about something. You stay like that for a moment. You almost decide to let him go.

He's the only one you have left, to leave him, to abandon him, is to leave the last person in your corner. That thought is the only reason why you lift your thermos up, capturing Vlad in one fell swoop, before he leaves too.

The vigilantes are not pleased, as the Bat barks out orders to find you. You can imagine Vlad is the same, fuming at your disrespect inside the can.

With Vlad in your thermos, the Bats on your tail, there is no hope in your mind of getting out of Gotham with everything you need.

Oh Danny, what are you going to do?

[straightasaaro]

I can fix him 🤪🤪🤪

Sure buddy sure

[angelogistics]

sanji learns a new word

[http-taru]

misery loves company, isn't that what they say? it always felt nice when he touched you. the roughness of his gloves against your skin meant that his touch was deliberate but still somewhat distant, you were able to feel him but only as much as he let you. you could touch him but only as much as he let you, never letting you deeper than that god awful suit he always sported. the smell of blood and dirt and sweat are etched into your memory, a haunting scent that's become almost comforting to you now. you could easily reach up and pull the mask off of him, you doubt he'd even stop you if you tried, but you don't. there's comfort in this distance he's put between you both, comfort in the unknowing that you're unsure you ever truly want to know.

it's nice, isn't it? the time you guys spend together is so...nice. lovely, even, but it's never enough. there's always that longing for more, every time he touches you you can't help but wish you could feel the rough calluses of his fingers against your skin instead of those leather clothes. his touch is calculated, deliberate, somehow knowing how to draw out the sweetest sounds from you with such ease it's like he has it engraved in his memory. those honey laced pet names of his never sound sweeter than when they're spoken into your ear, his hands keeping your body pressed against him so you've no choice but to listen.

and you do listen, don't you? you listen when he tells you to hold onto him so he can move you against him himself, that overwhelming strength of his never letting up for a moment. you listen when he tells you he's missed you, that he's been thinking about you all day between odd jobs and killing blows. he's so strong yet he never hurts you, never so much as leaving a mark on you. sometimes you wish he'd leave some kind of mark on you, even if it hurts, just some kind of proof of his and your moments together.

no matter how many times you tell yourself you won't let him in, you won't listen to his silky sweet voice and his empty promises you simply can't resist, can you? misery loves company and you welcome it with warm, open arms. isn't it nice? it's so nice it teeters cruelty, you think.

[i-restuff]

finally finished with these sibling moments edits!!! wooooooooo!!!

go watch em here

[sergle]

I'm thinking abt that pretty fall leaves embroidery pattern post and about how like... it is categorically a repost, it's a reupload. right? a thing that is generally disliked. but because it's credited, it's genuinely boosting the artist in question. and it could ALWAYS be like this. reposting content could ALWAYS be a symbiotic relationship, but because sourcing back to the original creator of something is so uncommon, it's just easier to ask people not to repost it at all. and people still don't understand the difference. or they'll go to the effort of cropping out usernames/signatures to repost something, which is More Effort than literally crediting the creator of something you liked enough to want to repost. Like. I literally don't actually care if my own shit gets reposted, you have to understand. I just don't want it STOLEN. But "do not repost" is easier to write on my art than "you can repost this, but don't alter the image/remove my signature, don't you dare write 'credit goes to the artist' because that is not credit, please link back to my original post or someplace that you can actually find me. please use an actual link/url instead of writing a non-clickable link of my username, because making it text instead of a clickable link cuts the number of people who will go to the effort of visiting my own page in Half." All those aggregate themed accounts, those fuckin annoying as hell instagrams and facebook groups that are like "body positive art we love wamen 💕 hashtag feminism" and then MASS-STEAL plus sized art created by women, if pages like these that always go and steal my older self-portraits and other works... If they just put a link to my prints of those pieces in the text of those posts, or, fuck, my commission info page? I would literally be living on the moon right now. I would have a house on the moon

[yzafre]

I've decideeeed to do a "draw fast" experiment this week. Basically: given a sketch I already have on hand, I have to get to "finish" (new line art, flats, & shading) in under two hours - the closer to 1hr, the better.

The idea with this is that, like... trying to get a fast time will keep me from sitting and overthinking things, then fidgeting with it. I just gotta get stuff on the page. Don't know how, if at all, it'll help my art, but I think it'll be fun.

I figured my "three iteration" sketches I did last week were good ones to use, so have some Leo's for today. This one was at 1hr 32min.

[14dayswithyou]

That is all thank you

ANSWERED: Art credit for da first Ren meme goes to @meo-eiru!!

BUT HELPPPPP THESE ARE SO FUNNY JDSGJH T_T The Moth meme + Uno meme had me CACKLING lmaoooooooo

[ryllen]

x

[an-established-butt-dent]

Solas - Dragon Age: Dreadwolf 2024

"I was Solas first, Fen'Harel came later."

But who will you become?

Acrylic ink, colored pencil and gouache on paper.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.