#sorry for disappearing for two weeks

[mangomoths]

In the end, we all become like the moon

[hotttgrilled-cheese]

The idiot siblings🩵

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Og meme by cooltimesonline

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[buglaur]

i've been playing the game in my own time but i gotta share this lil angel cus she's the cutest toddler my sims have ever had

[kayberrie]

We were robbed of the best mother-daughter duo in the history of stars and war

don’t ask why they’re wearing dresses that are like that: the togrutan clothing was not clothinging and I may have been listening to Epic: the musical for the past 16 hours. Just pretend it’s spaceoween or something

[agnes-draws]

posting a new thomastair art tomorrow 🥰

[bubblergoespop]

“suffering is like anything else. live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.”

okay porter solaire

[melancholic-marksman]

Aw piss I forgot I had a Tumblr

[redbootsindoriath]

Welcome to I-just-realized-that-I-only-posted-4-times-in-the-whole-of-last-year. I was largely uncreative throughout 2023 and 2024, unfortunately, but I think I've finally compiled enough stuff for a short queue as a sort of apology to you guys. A lot of the art is over six months old, some of it from more than a year ago, which means I get to dust off my backlog tag again.

A majority of the queue is going to be stuff from my own original works, which I am aware is not the reason most of you guys follow my blog, but alas, the artist must be a slave to the muse. Last month I picked up writing again more than 5 years after setting aside my main writing project, so there's been a lot of character design and other worldbuilding taking up most of my free time lately. Which is exciting for me, but I know it's nothing compared to Tolkien's legendarium and I apologize for that. Unfortunately I haven't worked on much Tolkien stuff for quite a while, which is going to make this a very unusual and jumbled series of posts with artwork from all across the board. Some of it is going to be unfinished in a big way: stuff I meant to share here when it was done but never got around to finishing.

First post should be up tomorrow at 11 a.m. GMT (I think), and then one per day at that same time until the queue runs out.

[joenhead]

“First it’s joy, but then it’s worry. When he sees them he immediately notices they’re incomplete. There’s an unmistakable dread and fear that fills him once he looks at their faces. Emotional but valiant Callie has mascara running down her face from her tears, which haven’t stopped. Challenging but strong Calder can’t even look him in the eye as he takes the helmet off and shrinks into himself. Sol isnt there with them. Where is he? Then Calder tells him, because every time that Callie tried to the only thing that escape her mouth are sobs. Calder tells him what happened in a distant and cold tone, eyes dull. Albin can’t believe it. He can’t be gone. He thinks back to when it was just him and Sol, his frog pal, his best friend. And he can’t be gone. But he looks back at Calder and Callie and they don’t stop crying. And Albin is faced with the realization that Sol isn’t coming back. That he is involved with all of this, doing so much more than he thought he could, because Sol helped him and believed in him. Now Sol isn’t here.“

Small thing where I expand on the whole Sol gets alexandrited. Because. I like to make myself sad I guess and now you all have to deal with it too.

[acediaedeus]

he was a punk, she did ballet typa story with grimmichi, but both of them are punk, and both of them do ballet.

this one is an AU where they're just humans, but Ichigo is still a weirdo who sees ghosts, cause why the fuck not. also, long-haired Grimmjow.

in Ichigo's case, it's that he did ballet. why? let's imagine Masaki sending Yuzu to ballet classes when she's four because the girl is fascinated by the beautiful women dancing in white tutus on TV in one of her mum's shows. Masaki is afraid her small, gentle, and shy daughter will have a hard time making friends with all the new kids, so she tries to convince Karin to go with her sister, at least for the first few classes, but the girl is unwavering in her refusal. she would hate to pressure her children into anything, so accepts, and as a last resort goes to her older son. young and filled with the desire to protect his family and please his mother, Ichigo says he'll go with Yuzu.

and so on top of his karate, Ichigo also does ballet for a while, so his baby sister will have an easier time adjusting. he actually likes it too, but then mum dies, and the beautiful women dancing on TV she used to watch no longer bring fascination, only tears. so they no longer do ballet and that is that.

everything else after that is much the same: Ichigo gets bullied, puts the karate classes to use and becomes a delinquent. all is well until one day Yuzu comes to him, timid and unsure, putting Ichigo on high alert, fearing someone has hurt his sister (a big mistake they'll regret and learn not to repeat), but all she says is that she wants to try dancing again. he, of course, encourages her to try.

like the good older brother Ichigo is, he comes along for her first class as moral support. Yuzu is amazing, as expected, and he definitely feels some water in his eyes watching her dance, which no one needs to know that. BUT, there's this guy, who seems to be his age, training on the opposite side of the room. beautiful and mesmerizing, and so ethereal Ichigo can hardly look away. the way he moves is enchanting, his long blue hair swaying and spiralling into a snake with each spin. he leaves with a happy Yuzu for their little sibling celebration with Karin, filled to the brim with confusion.

time goes on, but he simply can't get the guy out of his head, and one evening he comes to walk Yuzu home (he is not about to let his baby sister walk alone in the darkness of winter). he's a little early, so the class is yet to finish, but oh wait, there's the guy standing outside. one thing leads to another aaaand... they're fighting. positively rolling on the ground like children. and like a child Grimmjow (cause that's his name apparently, which Ichigo doesn't even remember when he was told that) bites his hand, so like a child Ichigo tugs on his blue hair. it's soft and nice, and he's getting distracted. but then Yuzu is yelling at him, calling him a foolish boy (and he won't even argue, because he really is a fool).

so yes, turns out they both were punks and both did ballet.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

me when i want to accept writing commissions vs the depression thats been eating me inside and out

[slumberpartymakeouts]

ringo. if you even gaf

[hanzajesthanza]

every time i am reminded of this sketch, i imagine cahir and morteisen

[sinshckled]

★ |  * ⋆      -   -  - –  INBOX !  *  ﹡                  ﹡     ✧ * ☇  ( @nocentis ! )

Suddenly, the walls feel like they’re [ closing ] on him – and Jellal is suddenly much, much too aware of the GRIDS OF METAL that surround him - them. He feels trapped. Not by any binding, nor by any cuffs - but by an all too familiar gaze of hazel. .

Ever since his identity had been ( accidentally ) revealed, the children’s behavior toward him changed drastically - and UNDERSTANDABLY. His disguise was one of their jailers’, but his face is the one of a friend ; ( regardless of how the years had changed it. ) And while his heart fills with fondness at the way Millianna and Sho run to hug his leg & at the awe in Erza’s eyes, it is not enough to dissipate his apprehension. Looking at his younger self has been harder ever since. Jellal knows the child has questions – can SEE IT in his body language, FEEL IT in the weight of his stare, and HEAR IT in his voice. && To these inquiries, he has no wish to answer.

But the ghosts of the past have never failed to catch up to him.               WHY WOULD THIS TIME BE ANY DIFFERENT ?

.

He gets cornered at the end of his “mission”, once the dust has settled back down. When the threat is no more, and they can all breathe a little easier. While checking up on the wounded - taking advantage of the first aid supplies he always carries and knows are scarce within these walls - 

He feels a shy tug at his cloak, and turns around to cobalt strands, a familiar marking, and a [ request to talk ].

Right there and then, he knows he cannot run from this anymore.

Alas, even though the Heavenly Body mage had started preparing, as much as he could have, for this discussion to occur  - this was him, this had been him, he should know better than anyone what he could ask . . . and yet, 

                              he still finds himself at a LOSS FOR WORDS.

                " … "

     What is he supposed to say ?

     He swallows thickly. His tongue feels HEAVY in his mouth, burdened with the knowledge of the last decades. He knows that child is DOOMED ; from the peek he had gotten in the office, it was only a matter of weeks… days even, perhaps. 

     These eyes – HEAVENS, he was so small; pale skin upon frail bones, muscles built from years of labor and stolen childhood. He looks so fragile, but his eyes, despite it all, burn alight with a ferocious SPARK ; one that has not shone in his own gaze for a very, very long time.

     His fingers crackle with starlight. He tastes an anger the likes of which is foreign to him – old, bygone. He feels an urge to defy the flow of time - to let the stars bring JUDGMENT upon this wretched island, sending this ATROCITY of a R-system crumbling to the ground, and take him - take them, all these poor innocent children, so so very far away from here. & yet he cannot ; 

       Why here ? Why now ? Why him ?             What is he doing here ?

     Memories of this time are nothing more than movie sequences in his head now, decades later ; so far away, so distant. This part of him has been laid to rest alongside the WICKEDNESS of his teenage years, and both only ever come back to haunt him as a form of torture. As a result, this child was no more than an ACQUAINTANCE, a figure erased by time, wrath, grief and BLOOD.

     But being there, quite literally face to face with his past - it all comes back to him. Flashes triggered by the long-gone architecture of these walls, by the stench of rot sitting heavily across the perimeter, by the crackles of electricity, the whirring of heavy machinery & the haunting sound of children sobbing a few cells further - quietly, by fear of being whipped into silence –      He now remembers being that boy. Forcing a smile every single day of his life, for the sake of the young who looked up to him. He would tell stories upon stories, wiping tears while holding his own grief tight on a leash. ( because those stories had been his brother’s, and his mother’s, and the village elder’s, && they had starred his cousin, his neighbor, the shop clerk and the fishermen – and all these people were DEAD, by now BONES buried underneath stone and charred wood and ash. )

       ... What was HE doing here ?

     He thinks he’s struck by all five stages of grief simultaneously.The thoughts crossing his head are a blur. He feels dizzy, knees one gust of wind away from buckling.

Blaming yourself for your own weaknesses is easier when you don’t have the 11 years old version of yourself standing before you.

Looking into your eyes with – one last sliver of hope.

––– How could he ever put the blame of his anger upon him?

HE WAS A CHILD. He was a child.

            ( It hits him all at once. )

.

He knows the intricacies of time travel. He knows he doesn’t remember going through this. He knows his younger self will not walk away with an answer, nor with a solution. This is Fiorean history – and it is set in stone.

That doesn’t mean he wants to LIE to him.

( Not when he’s been standing wordlessly for this long. Not when he has let silence stretch so far. Not when the tiny, fragile version of himself is catching on to what it means. Perhaps, if he’d been quicker, it could have been an option. ) 

.

     And so Jellal does the only thing that, amongst all the possibilities offered to him, feels undoubtedly, irrevocably right. 

     He closes the distance between them with a few steps and crouches down to meet himself at eye-level. Looks – really looks at him, commits every detail to memory. From the slope of his nose to the tangled, soiled strands of blue decorating from his head ; from to the fainter scars he still sports to the swirls of angry red framing his eyes, pools of sage & amber in his irises. And then he reaches out, wraps his arms around the scrawny frame and gathers him slowly, carefully, in a hug. 

     He hides him in the crook of his shoulder; gives him a shelter, an adult, where the hastily-built foundations of his mask of strength can crack, if he so wishes. 

He lets him be a child once again.

     ――――― Just for a moment.

.

━━━ ━━ ━ ╸╺ . * ✰

“ is all this countless suffering for my own good? ”

.

Later on, shortly after finding his way back in the present, Jellal will ponder this further. The Heavenly Body mage will stand on a beach, amongst speckles of sand, and watch the sun gradually DISAPPEAR beyond the vast sea that once held him [ hostage ] ― painting the sky in shades akin to the burning fire that took everything away from him. 

He will think of his younger self - so far away in time, yet now so close in memory. 

He will close his eyes, push open the door to his history, rush past the whispers and shadows crawling its walls, and find that child still within him. He will dig him out from the grave he was buried within, and he will give him his SIGHT - his HEARING - his TASTE - his EVERYTHING.

He will let himself feel breeze upon his skin, breathe in the smell of sea salt, taste the freedom of a boundless life.

     And when his eyes open again, he will gaze upon that landscape, && he will find it beautiful.

.

✔ ― ACCEPTING

[vibeamphibian]

no fix hand [beheaded version because now he looks. Like a puppy ]

[eggsbenedictinurmom]

I feel like absolutely DOGSHIT this week but at least I finally finished my Au’s 06 Sonic campaign timeline today