#this was for a school project from a while ago lmao

[grayeet]

dinosaurchestra album cover redesign

🦕🎺🦖🥁

[reallyhardydraws]

2023.

i hope any of you reading this will forgive the essay. i started posting to this art blog ten years ago in 2013 when i was just at the very end of high school, uploading short animations i'd made for one of my final projects, preparing myself for art school where i was gearing up to become an illustration/animation student.

i went into my art foundation course in 2014, still thinking i was going to be going into storybook illustration or with faint hopes of becoming like a concept artist for game/animation, although even then i'd started thinking about patterns...

and then in 2015 i did go into my BA, going in for that illustration with animation degree that... usually when i talk about it in real life, i say didn't really feel like the best place for me. if i think back, the best things i got out of it were two of my best friends, one of whom is now my partner. looking back on my BA era, there's some bits of sketchbook stuff...

and while i was at university my main fandoms were thunderbirds are go and x-men for a bit... these are from the end of 2015 into the beginning of 2016...

then for a little while i was doing this still sort of pastel-ish lineless situation:

and i alternated between that and this thin fineliner type work (pretty sure all of the linearted pieces were done on paper and scanned, and all the lineless were graphics-tablet-only) - it was in this style that i started to offer commissions for the first time too.

and i also had fineliner-lined work in sketchbooks that i coloured with marker and posca pens, the colours of which were generally a bit more intense just based on not being able to slide the hue/saturation around on paper:

also 2016 was when i discovered the spongebob musical just after it's trial run in chicago (which ended in july of 2016) and i started making fanart at that point... which would have the biggest effect on the way i drew (and i did end up handing in a piece of spongebob musical fanart as one of my art school homeworks lmao)

from summer 2016 until early 2017 things were still quite soft and pastelly in my digital art, colour-wise:

and then suddenly everything got whacked up to 100% on saturation. also i was using the binary tool to give everything really thin pixel lineart for some reason.

then i went on vacation in summer 2017 and didn't draw for maybe a month? just short of? and when i came back i decided to change everything up again... giving characters blobbier, more ugly-cute faces with large squinting eyes and big nostrils and i was worrying a lot less about making anything look smooth, lineart-wise. i turned off the pen stabiliser in SAI and let it wiggle.

then... the spongebob musical opened on broadway in late 2017, i went to see it live in person for the first time... and my whole brain was ENTIRELY consumed by my love of it. i was putting that david zinn inspired pattern explosion into everything, even if it wasn't sbm fanart.

as we go into 2018, i started colouring my lineart. my biggest interest was still broadway musicals (with spongebob at the top of the list)

i think summer 2017 - early 2018 is probably my favourite art era, i was at my most bright and colourful and exciting... although i know in my actual real life i was struggling a lot with my home situation and i had been for some time. art was definitely my escapism back then, and i think a lot of the time i drew really bright, joyful stuff to try and inject that feeling into myself.

as for my university work, i was putting my focus into 3D paper-mache puppets:

and i was also starting to do more repeat patterns, mostly inspired by things around me. i'd learned how to make patterns actually tile and repeat in 2017, so made a few during my time at uni just to accompany some of my projects, but never as the focus of them. one of my university tutors told me that maybe i should put more focus on doing surface pattern, and maybe applying it to textiles, but i said i wasn't interested.

i graduated from my BA in the summer of 2018, and immediately began volunteering at the whitworth art gallery doing anything i could - stewarding, helping with arts and crafts, dancing with families...

in 2019 i was still very colourful... i was trying out more chunky colouring on characters skintones that i think was def inspired by tumblr artist jadenvargen:

but the blobbyness and ugly-cute style of drawing faces was gone by here, and i think... the way i drew characters probably had better *anatomy*, proportions were maybe a bit more realistic...

in 2020 i started adding the black shading to under the chins and some other places on characters' bodies because i started watching the anime my hero academia with my brother, lmao (and i was starting to pastelise colours a bit again, these are the most pastel-ish examples) my lineart has really smoothed back out too, though i never turned my pen stabiliser back on in SAI. i think my hand just adjusted. probably seems a bit insane to miss that, but i do.

by the end of 2020, the almost-year of lockdown over cobid had... made me a bit insane, i think, and i moved out of my mother's house and into a flat with a friend from university.

in 2021 i think things were much the same... i think from this point on is where things have sort of settled. i don't want to say stagnated, but i do think things have been very... like this for a while.

2022 - got the most exciting examples out...

also i was very into these little frames in 2022.

and then on to 2023! in 2022, i did begin trying to shift gears a bit -- hoping to put more energy into sewing and making products (like my tutor has suggested back in uni, even though i'd really resisted the idea.) i sold at a few in-person markets during winter of 2022, but got disheartened by the amount of money i had to sink in up front to sign up for a spot...

which has made me VERY grateful for the people who have supported me via online sales. it has really helped me stay afloat in 2023 - AND it has felt more wonderful than i can describe that there have been people interested in my work... especially when a lot of it has been my original designs, rather than the fanart that i expect a lot of people initially followed me for.

i've also... in the past 2 years... branched out a bit more when it comes to 'being an artist' - and have had the opportunity to deliver arts & crafts workshops with local refugee & asylum seeker support charity, afrocats. it's taken me to their home base in a church to hotels across the city where asylum seekers were temporarily placed while waiting on their new homes, and of course to my beloved whitworth art gallery, where we welcomed visitors from all backgrounds: from the typical white middle class visitors the gallery usually expects, to all the refugee visitors coming into the space for the first time.

and through my volunteering at the whitworth, i showed up so often they decided they might as well pay me. so i've also become a facilitator of... creative play sessions, my favourites of which have been outdoors. monthly, year-round, we have 'outdoor art club', where i get to paint with mud and make potions from leaves with kids & families - here you can see me tell you a little bit about it in this video below with 'crempog' a puppet character that makes videos about activities for kids and families around manchester (my bit starts at 01:10 although i am in the intro and thumbnail haha)

and then of course the summer 'PLAYTIME' activities we've had the past two years: scrap studio in 2022, and play market in 2023. it's the best freelance gig ever -- just to hang out and encourage families to be creative and have fun.

in working more in these new avenues... outside of being - as i've called myself for a long time - "an internet artist"... i've found myself more interested in this sort of thing. in being a "real world artist" too. in doing surface pattern design, and being a workshop facilitator, i find myself wanting to put more energy into these sorts of projects.

in 2023 i've also dabbled a little bit more in youtube videos! i have had a channel for a while and have made videos in previous years, but 2023 has been the year i've done the most in. admittedly most of them haven't been about my art, and more just like... random things that interest me (the spongebob musical in particular) but i've really been enjoying video editing. that's kind of an art form too, so i'm including it here!

moving forward, want to keep putting even more of my energy into other things. my shop, with a bigger range of products to offer. workshops in real life, where i can make a difference.

as for my art blog... i feel like i've done the least drawing in many years in 2023, and... well, things have been weird and complicated for a bit in my real life. i hope to draw for fun a bit more again very soon, and to return to doing things in more of a wild and crazy way, to be more creative and exciting with the way i draw things. still, here's some of my favourites from 2023:

thank you so much to everyone who has borne witness to my art journey this past decade!!! i hope you will stick with me, who knows, maybe for another 10 years if tumblr holds out. especially a big thank you to everyone who has ever commissioned me, or bought anything from my store, you literally keep me able to make art at all and i cannot, cannot, cannot overstate how much it means to me.

i'm moving homes soon, possibly into very cramped temporary conditions for a little while before HOPEFULLY starting my real life with my partner. if i can take one more moment to plug my work, then [here is a link to my online shop] and [here is my ko-fi page too.]

cheers, cheers, cheers!

- LOREN 🌈🍍🎉

[miyamoratsumuu]

𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

↳ kuroo tetsuro being the nerd he is, had the audacity to give you butterflies this late in the evening.

character: kuroo tetsuro (haikyuu!!)

genre: fluff

note: <...) is a message from kuroo while (...> is a message from you^^ text in italic are your thoughts

navigation . . .

haikyuu masterlist

"Will I really be able to finish this tonight?" You thought to yourself as you glanced over at your list of assignments, projects, and whatnot. "Well, it isn’t even 10:30 yet. I could push through with this. It’s the chemistry ones left anyway." That was your attempt to stay optimistic given your current situation.

Minutes passed, and you continued to work through your school tasks for the night. After a while, you paused. Again. "Geez, it feels like these are never-ending." You scanned around your desk until your eyes landed on your phone resting beside you. "Hm. Taking a break wouldn’t hurt now, would it?" With that, you grabbed your phone, unlocked it, and immediately opened a social media app.

It was most likely that you didn’t notice that time passed by so quickly. You only figured that out once you glanced at the top of your phone screen, where the time was displayed. "Huh," you blinked. "IT’S 11 ALREADY?" You turned off the phone and placed it back on your desk. You blame the phone. You blame the personality tests that begged to be answered. You blamed the teasers for a new anime movie that was going to premiere; your blaming was cut off by your phone screen lighting up with a message notification. You looked over to examine whose contact was on the notification. You were surprised, to say the least.

tetsuro !! <wyd?)

(assignments. why?> sent 11:06pm

tetsuro !! <assignments huh)

tetsuro !! <says the one who posted their "which spongebob character are you" test results just 5 minutes ago)

You scoffed and laughed. "Am I really amused just by that? Well, I wouldn’t complain;” For the first time tonight, you answered your own question.

You ended up debating with yourself about whether or not you should show that you were entertained by him. In between your thoughts, a notification appeared on your screen again.

tetsuro !! <you take way too long to reply sometimes, y’know?)

tetsuro !! <and here I was about to offer help with your homework, you lazy butt)

(I’m not lazy, for your information> sent 11:12

tetsuro !! <yeah yeah, u're really hardworking, I know)

Why exactly did that make you smile? God, you could imagine Kuroo’s smirk through the phone. You wish you could just slap it off of him. Despite that, though, you accepted his offer to lend you a hand with your tasks, and so he facetimed you and fulfilled his promise. All the while, sometimes in between, the both of you told each other about your day and shared a few laughs. The two of you finished up a little after 11:50 and ended the call.

(hey, thanks sm again!!> sent 11:56

tetsuro !! <you’re welcome, it’s no problem. Anything for you;) )

“;)” You smiled. Again. But before you could reply, three dots appeared at the bottom left of your screen. He was typing.

tetsuro !! <alright, well it’s really late now lmao)

tetsuro !! <I’ll message you again tomorrow morning before we get to school)

tetsuro !! <gn:) )

Reading the messages, your heart skipped a beat. But before you get carried away with your thoughts again, you typed a reply.

(mkayy, goodnightt!! See u tomorrow:)> sent 12:00

Placing your phone back on the desk, you close your eyes in thought. "How will I be able to get some shut-eye straight away when my heart can’t calm down?" That was another question you didn’t answer. “Damn rooster head” You ended up dozing off quickly anyway.

You never thought you’d feel the most joy at midnight. You really do learn new things every day.

☁︎ were the timestamps on purpose and meant to do something? honestly idek either

☁︎ this was first written in filipino (wondering if I could post that ver. since I actually like that one more than this one) I fr just translated it to english for tumblr BWAGAHAHSBA

[capitalisticveins]

Baabe and Angel (seperate) Angst HCs (Ft Sweetheart and Sam)

Got to these late, but better late than never. Gift for @ajfromabove​ ^^

- The “Secret Mate GC” didn’t have a single message for about 2 months after Inversion. It was Angel who broke the ice.

- Remember when Baabe didn’t get the job in their comfort audio? Aaron is the one who got it instead

- Angel isn’t taken seriously at work at all. They’re usually given the lighter, or less important workloads compared to everyone else. Nothing pisses them off more than when a higher up gives them the easiest stuff and then tells them “I think you can handle it”

- Baabe was reluctant to talk to Angel at their first pack meeting, they didn’t interact until their third pack meeting, and it was Angel going up to them to start a conversation.

- Angel was always in and out of hospitals as a kid due to their body being normally hot and being mistaken for a fever or underlying disease. After their family learned they were normally hot, they were never taken seriously if they had an actual fever.

- Baabe never had the opportunity to be an actual kid. They had to take care of their siblings from the jump, since their parents weren’t around often to take care of them.

- Angel is scared to ask David for things

- Baabe got a lot of good grades in middle school to impress their parents or get their attention. Didn’t work. They tried acting up and getting bad grades, still didn’t work.

- Angel’s cat died a while ago.

- Angel was afraid of dogs before meeting David

- Despite Baabe doing their best to take care of their younger siblings, the younger ones locked them in the closet sometimes while babysitting and banged on the door to mess with them.

- This meant Baabe was alone, in the dark, with loud banging and screams on the outside.

- You can imagine why they’re claustrophobic

- Angel and Baabe are kinda envious of Sweetheart’s and Sam’s empowered abilities. They’re treated incredibly fragile in the pack compared to Sweetheart and Sam.

- Baabe was surprised and sorta upset when they were told Amanda moved away. They knew a few members would leave after Inversion, but Amanda was the shifter in the pack they were closest to (except for Asher obviously)

- Angel can’t reach the top shelf

- Baabe didn’t invite their parents to the double wedding

- Angel isn’t exactly “in love” with their body. David does his best to make them feel better about themselves, but the thoughts always come back.

- Whenever Angel feels uncomfortable, they laugh excessively.

- Baabe doesn’t like being given gifts.

- Angel laughed a lot at their first pack meeting.

- Baabe cares a lot about their appearance due to stuff said to them in the past.

Some HCs are projection, some are from little hints dropped in audios (like the one with Baabe and Amanda since it’s canon Baabe met Amanda before they went to their first pack meeting). Hope these made sense lmao

I also didn’t write a lot bc even thought I want these 2 to get hurt I cant imagine them being hurt that much 

[cosmicpines]

There are a lot of things I'm thinking after watching the Alex Hirsch interview but a lot of it really is how much I appreciate how much I have learned about storytelling and emotion and how much of that was through GF. I'm sure most of the people who were around back in the day aren't here anymore, but there was a theory called Grunk4Gramp that arose in the hiatus after NWHS and before ATOTS. It was essentially that, since we knew Stan had stolen Ford, (god, he was still Stanley at the time)'s identity, that Grunkle Stan was the twins' grandfather. And I don't remember my exact opinion at the time but then when the "Shermie's grandkids" line and the fandom exploded again. I don't remember exactly when I realized that, yeah, that is a bit of a sloppy solution, but emotionally, yeah. It can't be Stan or Ford because that would retroactively make one or both of them really, really bad. It would be heavy and super complicated to cover in half a season. And then hearing Alex literally say that, practically word for word, just makes me really happy.

It makes me think more about just the prevailing attitude of "oh they're geniuses they must have had a plan for everything!" level of deep scrutiny. Which like, honestly? Fair. Most of us were in high school or younger. GF was a show like no other. It encouraged this kind of behavior. In retrospect, the moment that started falling apart for me was when a lot of people were so deeply insistent on the slit pupil maybe-still-possessed-Bipper thing after NWHS that I just... It's like Grunk4Gramp. What kind of storytelling would it be if Dipper wasn't making any of his own decisions? What would we even gain from the story then?

Being a creator is very difficult. Even as creators, we often forget that people who make things are still human and make mistakes. We sometimes forget that things can't be perfect and shiny and are just going to be good enough. We fight for those emotional beats and sometimes it'll make something inconsistent. Or sometimes something will fall a little flat. Or sometimes something will fall really flat. And that it happens to everyone, even creators we really love and respect. The best we can do as people is fight for the story we want to tell, not filling every plot hole and demanding an answer for every little thing. It's fun to be the second -- god, don't I know it. It is SO MUCH FUN overanalyzing things, ask literally any of my friends -- but knowing that something being complicated and intricate doesn't mean its good and vice versa.

Anyway I just really respect the GF crew and how much they put into this show, even now, 12 fucking years later. I really respect and love the fandom and all the wild shit that came out of it. My main creative project right now wouldn't exist if it wasn't for an offshoot fandom of the GF fandom, which is really a weird thing to say out of context. I just miss it.

oh also I found this on my blog while trying to find grunk4gramp things and lmao

8 years ago...

[cranberrymoons]

🧟‍♂️ franken-wips 😎

Rules: post 3-6 sentences of your most recent WIP's, with titles, and people can send you asks for more 3-6 sentence snippets! tag as many people as you want or just use this as a reason to add a few new sentences to your projects!

I was tagged by @hbyrde36 and THANK YOU because I have been absent for a few weeks while i tried wrap my head around my own writing (do you ever do that? have a weeks-long existential crisis about your own writing and disappear as a result? anyway..........)

{untitled steddie cowboys fic} (this is due in a few days and i STILL do not have a title for it)

After a few minutes of walking, they find themselves at the door to a saloon, a sign overhead advertising Clean Rooms: $3. “They’d better be, for that much money,” Robin says as they lean against the wall of a building across the street, eyeing the place up. Their shoulders bump together, and she bites down on the end of one of the pins she’s kept tucked up in her hair since they left Louisiana three days ago. “What d’you think?” Steve makes a soft, doubtful noise. It looks pretty dim, and there aren’t many people around. He’d feel better back on the main street where the crowd is easier to disappear into, where they can make a quick getaway if they need to. He’s about to say as much when the door to the saloon pushes open, revealing a man with a guitar slung over his back, a cigarette hanging loose from his lips.

{untitled 911/buddie fic} (lmao i had never even WATCHED this show until a couple weeks ago and then i wrote 10k about them in a single weekend rip 🤦‍♀️ genuinely do not worry about it)

“What, you don’t want to marry me? The moms at school already think we are.” Their hips knock together, and Buck flexes his hand in Eddie’s grasp as the other comes to settle at his waist in the mirror of a dancing pose. “I know they do,” Buck says quietly. He raises his eyebrows. “And I didn’t say I don’t. Seems like you just never asked.”

{untitled steddie summer exchange fic}

i'm not allowed to share snippets from this but it's in the works 😇

the seas be ours (steddie pirates au that I DESPERATELY need to update once i get the rest of my miscellaneous projects under control)

“Found her tied up in the hull,” Eddie’s saying. He nudges his foot against hers, drawing her attention away from Steve. “Hey, you got a name?” She blinks up at him then narrows her eyes. “Yeah.” She tilts her chin. “You got any food?” “Yeah,” Eddie says. “We do.”

tagging @medusapelagia @thefreakandthehair @urmomsonfire @penny00dreadful @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes @shares-a-vest @starryeyedjanai

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Please do the Chris Evans pottery fic! I legit have always thought about for years! Like him taking a night class or a private class for anxiety or hobby (that Scott guilted him to take) so he doesn’t get recognized and the reader (please preferably male) vaguely knows who he is and doesn’t care and teaches him and he falls in love with reader. Like a slow burn. Bro please I’m on my knees begging 🙏 your writing is god tier for Chris fics

related to this

First and foremost I have to say, goddamn, you really went back into the archives to find that post 💀💀 don't get me wrong, I appreciate the hell out of you for that but, also, oof, have I already been on Tumblr for 3 fucking years!?

What? When?

Second, I actually never thought too much about that idea haha. I just couldn't get past the idea of Chris using his hands in that way 🥴 because look, I'm much more of a sculptor than a potter, but it has never been lost on me (a) how much skill it takes to throw on the wheel, and (b) how fucking hot it can look lmao

So, because I never thought too deep about the idea beyond the look, I have to say That's A 👏🏻 Top 👏🏻 Notch 👏🏻 Idea 👏🏻

I love that idea, like:

Chris rolls up to a night pottery class with a baseball cap pulled down real low, trying not to be noticed, squeezing his shoulders in to be less big and noticeable.

You notice him though--he looks a little funny, trying so hard not to stand out and obviously not realizing that a long sleeve, chunky cardigan is 100% the wrong thing to wear when you're about to be playing with clay. But, you don't care about him being Mr. Movie Star (or dressed badly for this activity lol) because, obviously, if he's here for a class, he wants to learn

(Later you'll learn that Scott was the one to push him into it, telling him, lovingly, to quit just talking about beginning to work with his hands and actually Do It)

and so, he's gonna learn.

You are the teacher though, so... it's your duty to keep the secret that Captain America is in their midst.

(But that won't keep you from teasing him subtlety by asking him if he'd perhaps like a blue or red or clear glaze)

Chris might not pick up the skill of throwing as quickly as some of the others (mostly because he's never messed with clay before while many of the other students have even if it was years ago in high school or college or wherever), but he's dedicated.

He puts his all into learning throwing.

You learn quickly, instructing Chris, that he has this tendency to squeeze a little too hard and over-correct the clay. The strength he's got comes in handy with wedging clay and assisting in reconstructing the electric kilns by putting in the heavy shelves, but, when on the wheel, it's not about how hard you can press the clay, how hard you can squeeze it, or anything like that (unless you're working on huge, HUGE projects with massive amounts of clay... but, these students are not there yet). It's about letting your hands glide over the clay, it's encouraging the clay to stretch and compress delicately.

Pottery very much more finesse than force.

And you tell him that a lot in the beginning, "relax, for now, don't try to control it too much. Try to let go and just feel. Keep your elbows anchored in your hips and thighs, but, otherwise, stay loose and relaxed. Breath out. Sink into it, y’know? Relax."

Chris laughs, looking up at you from the little mound of clay he's been centering on his wheel head, "I didn't know this would be so... spiritual? I mean, shit, this feels like therapy."

"Ha," you say, "just be glad it's therapy and not Ghost."

Chris chuckles, "are those my only two options?"

"Right now, rookie? Yes." You point back at his unattended and still spinning wheel, "now, please put your nose back to the grindstone before I'm forced to saddle up behind you. I don't need to be shot in the streets before I get hands-on with my teaching"

You swear, under that cap and beard, Chris blushes. But. He also gets back to work, so... you can't be sure you're not just seeing things 👀

There are a lot of little moments like that throughout the class. Flirting. Maybe. Maybe not. Chris might just be that charming. You can't be too sure.

It's very charming to watch Chris pick up his wobbly creations after they've been put through the bisque kiln and laugh at their unstable bumps and lumps as he tries to set them flat on the table. Plus, when he sands his pieces, he murmurs to himself, talking about all the silly mistakes he finds. Nail marks. Dips. Bulges. Extra bits of clay he missed when trimming. You swear you hear him call himself a "meatball" once...

That is a challenge to not laugh at, but, you don't because you don't want him to know you're paying such close attention to him. (You can't have favorite students after all 😘)

And later, it's very sweet to watch him admire his first glazed pieces. He's very gentle with them, running his fingers back and forth, back and forth, over the smooth glaze. He seems to enjoy the smooth sensation.

Also, listen, I have no proof but I feel like Chris is gonna be the type of potter that gets Really Messy. Like, clay and slip all over his hands, of course, but also all up his forearms and flecks of it on his face and in his hair. His poor apron and shoes.

Also, I think Chris would be the type of potter that wipes their hands on their thighs over their apron 😮‍💨

Chris takes one class then another and another. He's getting much, much better.

But, he still looks like he's watching you perform magic when you quickly throw a vace or pie platter for a demonstration. It's really endearing. You'd love to see more of his face while watching you work, but, no matter how good you are at pottery, you can't do it without looking. Not yet... maybe someday, if you keep practicing.

And eventually, I'd like to think that you exchange numbers. Chris no longer takes your class and so it's fair game.

He comes over to your place and you cook a meal together because you already know each other well enough. So, you skip the more public dates that are better for strangers.

Chris seems mystified by the fact that ALL your plates, bowls, mugs, etc. are things you've made. Thrown on the pottery wheel. He just thinks it's very cool and personal. Also, he swears because of taking your class that he can't look at a factory-made plate or bowl or mug the same. They look so plain and lifeless now. In return, you tease that you'd offer to make him a set for his own home as a present (maybe for his birthday or Christmas) but, you're gonna insist that he at least try to make a set himself first.

And, hey, if he needs more encouragement maybe that Ghost option could come true...

Sorry, this is so short but I just had to get some real quick thoughts out between study sessions lol

Thank you so much for bringing this up again and thank you for reading!!

[asexualbookbird]

were there any other anime that you enjoyed?

ANOTHER BIG ASK LMAO

I was big into Haruhi Suzumiya (God Knows... almost made it onto that list of fave songs not in english lol) and Toradora for the LONGEST time! One of my high school teachers actually gave me half the manga volumes I own because he knew I loved it so much. I wore my hair like Haruhi every day for. A year? Maybe?? At least???? TRULY I WAS IN DEEP. Someone ruined them for me though lol still trying to win them back in my heart.

Naruto was like. 60% of my personality in middle school and high school. I think I've cosplayed every iteration of Itachi and some Sasuke too. Met some of my favorite people through cosplaying loser Uchihas. The music kicks ass. Kishimoto doesn't know how to write women. Fanfic authors always came to his rescue.

Yakitate! Japan. I don't have much more to say about that. Except it's VERY good and VERY fun and I never got into Food Wars because YAKITATE! JAPAN IS RIGHT THERE!!!!!!! I should probably get into Food Wars though.

Tokyo Mew Mew was FORMATIVE!!!! It's the series I read my first fanfic from! I made my own mewmew sona a while back (like. a few years ago. not in middle school LOL) it will ALWAYS hold a place in my heart.

MADOKA! Listen. I respect why people don't like the series. Girls deserve more than suffering. BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH LMAO HOMURA MY GIRL, and the visuals UGH THE VISUALS!!!! IT'S SO PRETTY!!!!

Also pretty was Made in Abyss, but again, I fully recognize why people stay away from it. But it's SO GOOD AND SO PRETTY AND OUCHIE. Perhaps there is a theme here,

I didn't get into Love Live! when it was still airing, and never really watched the anime until I got VERY into the rhythm game a couple year ago (I'd been playing way back in 2014, but stopped when I got a new phone and lost my old account but downloaded it around 2020 as something to do) and im kind of kicking myself because now all the merch of the OG girls is GONE! GIVE ME MY MAKI MERCH!!!!! I'm still very salty about the mobile game fiasco lmao but its okay because Project Sekai will save me :)

I feel like I could go on, but then it'd just turn into "what anime have you watched?" because im very bad at watching anime so I've only ever finished shows I truly like (or if a friend has sat me down and said 'we're watching this now :3' ) Full Metal Alchemist was also Formative, but I never actually sat down and watched Brotherhood all the way through lol I've seen Death Note a half dozen times I think which is weird because I would NOT consider it a fave yet it's probably the one I've seen most other than Haruhi (endless eight DNI)

I have not watched anything recently, but I love the Dungeon Meshi manga, and I think I might watch..fri....frieren? The little elf girl. That looks cute. It will probably destroy me.

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

Chapter warnings: angst, hurt (no comfort), bittersweet feelings, it's a difficult one ngl but I'll make it better I swear lmao, reader is described as having scars but no specifics, story tags still apply

AN: Ayy another chapter done. I'll try and find time to keep updating, but bear with me as I switch between this, other oneshots, and my own personal work. To those who follow along, thank you. This is such a passion project, and I'm loving the story so far.

October, 1984

It all still feels like one horrific nightmare. You’ve still got blood in your hair, staining your skin, with no idea who it belonged to. For a while, the pain had vanished, as you clawed your way to a nearby road. Perhaps a leftover survival mechanism passed down the generations. But now, now you couldn’t ignore the agony that your wounds created. The gashes that would forever disfigure you, a reminder that would become apparent every time you looked in the mirror. For now, covered with clean white bandages. You had no idea what it looked like beneath them, and you weren’t ready to look anyway.

 Everyone had looked at you with such vitriol that made you want to wither into nothing. The doctors and nurses were doing the absolute bare minimum for your care, giving you minimal pain meds and spending as least time with you as humanly possible. The steel handcuffs that clasped your wrist and secured you to the hospital bed were starting to chafe, but you knew better than to say anything. Not like anybody would care, or even do anything about it. You knew the police officer that sat outside your door from high school, someone that had graduated when you were a sophomore. Harmon, you think his last name was. Either way, he hadn’t said anything to you yet. Not even made an appearance, just sitting himself down and reading the newspaper. You couldn’t see it, but you wondered if your name was in the news yet. Unlikely, considering everything had only happened a couple of hours ago. You prayed for it never to happen, but it was unlikely anyone up there was listening anyway. 

Someone came through the door and stopped by the end of your bed, a small notebook in one hand and pen in the other. Horned rimmed glasses framed eyes that bore into you, a squint that conveyed the disgust he had for you. He was dressed in a police uniform, the Hawkins P.D badge on his chest slightly glinting under the fluorescent lights. Callahan, the name badge opposite it said. You’d seen him around town, but had never crossed paths with him until tonight.

He said your name with a tone that told you he’d rather be anywhere else than here. You nodded in affirmation, as he looked down at the notepad, pen tapping against the pages. 

“Wild night you’ve had,” he drawled, a slight sneer as he shook his head. “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

For a moment, you said nothing. How could you possibly begin to explain it all? It was all such a blur, time doubling in rate with no hope of slowing. Your gaze lowered to the thin blanket that covered you, free hand picking at the off white fibres. “I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, far away. You didn’t sound like yourself. 

A scoff. “You expect me to believe that?”

Another pause. No, you didn’t. You expected absolutely nobody to believe you. 

“We’ve found two bodies so far,” he continued. “Are we going to find any more?” 

You shook your head. They’d found Cynthia and Scott. Cynthia was your friend since Kindergarten, your neighbour that you grew up with. Your best friend, who never judged you. Scott had started dating her when you were all sixteen, and you actually liked him. Thought he was good for her. Thought they’d end up the childhood sweethearts that actually stuck together through life; would get married, have 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Get a dog, and live a boring but fulfilling life. 

Where had it all gone so wrong?

“Done any drugs tonight?” Callahan asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer, and way just testing you to see if you were going to lie about it. 

“I uh, smoked some weed,” you admitted, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eye. You still felt fuzzy around the edges, but it was wearing off all too quickly. “Drank some beers.” 

“Nothing else?” he asked you. “Hallucinogens, PCP, anything like that?” 

“No.”

You swore you saw an eye roll, though his glance away was helping to conceal it. “We’re going to be testing your blood, you know. Easier to just admit everything now, rather than it coming up in court later. I’m tryna’ help you here.” 

No, you aren’t, you wanted to say. You’ve decided I’m guilty. And you want to lock me up to rot. 

You could barely remember the rest of the interview. A lot of “I don’t know,” and “I can’t remember.” You can remember being sent to the place that terrified you as a child, though. Family horror stories of a great Aunt who went in and never came back out. You remember crying every night for the first six months, only for nobody to comfort you. You remember having to clamp down on your emotions, to bury them deep and hope they never resurface. 

You can’t remember your parents ever visiting you. 

August, 1986

The sweltering heat of Indiana summers were finally starting to break, cooler air filtering through the iron bars of the gaps of the slightly opened windows of the dayrooms and cutting the thick scent of sweat and cleaning products. You and Eddie had engaged in small talk during the countless games of cards, and you’d learned quite a fair bit about him. You learned he liked pickles on his burgers. His favourite album was still up in the air, citing that “you just couldn’t do that, it’d be like admitting you have a favourite child.” His favourite colour was red and black, leading to a couple of hours of heated conversation about black being technically a shade, not a colour. He missed being able to play electric guitar, but there was something about the ward’s battered acoustic that he appreciated. 

And in return, you’d shared the tiniest amounts that you hoped sated him. Safe little facts that couldn’t be used against you. And to his credit, he never pried. Instead, he did what he was best at. Talking enough for the both of you, when your social battery wasn’t at its fullest. 

“I swear man, Miller’s got something going on at home,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes bounced between the project in his hand and the Doctor that seemed to be in the middle of an under-the-breath argument with an orderly on the other side of the dayroom door. Time had been allotted for arts and crafts, or rather, whatever shit they could throw in a box that could vaguely be suited for the occasion. Dried up glue and mangled pipe cleaners, a box of googly eyes that Eddie had pocketed for ‘later use’, and egg cartons that were probably older than you. But you’d found some lengths of different coloured string and a pair of the bluntest craft scissors known to mankind, and had decided on weaving them together to make bracelets. Eddie had decided to join in, and after a crash course in the most basic braids you knew, you were both winging it in trying to make something that wouldn’t just fall apart. 

You looked up from the strands of black, red and white that you held in your hands to follow his eyeline, shaking your head as you spared a glance at the man opposite you. “She still givin’ you shit?”

You knew full well about the meetings he had with her, from the venting he always did afterwards. Apparently, medium security was a privilege, not a right. As if Eddie was capable of doing any harm with what little means he had in here. Fuck, you saw him shed a tear when you watched Bambi together not last week. It had only been a month, but you were absolutely positive of one thing, given you’d had enough time to make your own conclusions. Eddie wasn’t capable of his charges. Not for a second. 

You expected him to frown at your question, but instead, a lopsided smirk played upon his lips. “Same as always, but nah. I’m talkin’ about what I overheard one of the nurses mention about her.”

You couldn’t help but snicker as you continued braiding. “Really, Munson? What’re you, a housewife at a damn Tupperware party?” 

“Hey, I’d look fuckin’ fantastic in a pair of heels and a flouncy dress, thank you very much sweetheart,” he playfully chided, pointing at you with faux accusation and making you chuckle. “But seriously. Apparently, someone found a bottle of vodka stashed in the filing cabinets in the records room. And apparently, there’s only a handful of people that have access. She’s one of them.”

Finishing the last knot of the makeshift bracelet, you looked up to give Eddie your full attention. You had to admit, he was pretty. The long hair, full lips and rounded eyes were a given, yes. But it was the way that he looked at you, how much kindness he gave you, that sealed the deal. The way he would duck his head to make eye contact with you when your eyes felt glued to the floor. When you felt like all hope was lost, stuck in your own misery with no way out, a large hand would be felt on your shoulder, a slight touch that didn’t push your comfort levels. His shit jokes that cheered you up, and the fact that he seemed to know just what to say to make you feel better. In another life, you might have asked him on a date at one point. Maybe to get milkshakes, or to see a movie. But those ideas were bitterly shoved back down, when you remembered where you were. That’d never be an option. Not again. 

You rolled your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with the length of woven bracelet as you raised an eyebrow. “So you think she’s drinking on the job?” you asked, pulling the conversation back to something nonchalant. Before you had a chance to think of him in any way other than a friend. 

“I think she’s doing a lot of things on the job, and caring for people ain’t one of them,” he muttered with a slight sneer. His demeanour seemed to change with the final touches of his own craft project, a triumphant look crossing his face as he held it between his fingers. “Here, gimme your arm.”

You shot him a look of confusion as you crossed your arms instead. “Why?”

“So I can yank it out of its socket and use it as an improvised weapon,” he drawled, sarcasm heavy on the words. “Just trust me, alright?”

You did trust him. Or at least, trusted him better than anyone in the whole building. “You’re a sick puppy, y’know that?” you chuckled, holding out your arm on the table. 

“So I’ve been told,” he answered, tone ever so slightly taking on an edge of bitterness that you noted. Calloused fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and it took everything within you not to shiver at the sensation. The softness averting your eyes to the window past his shoulder, your inner critic beating down whatever sticky feelings got caught in your ribs at a deep inhale. Get it the fuck together for Christ sake, he’s just-

“Aaaand done.” You looked back to see that lopsided grin of his, though his eyes betrayed him with a slight sense of panic at what you guessed to be the impending sense of rejection. “You like it?” 

You finally allowed your eyes to dip down to your arm, twisting it to get a better look. Purple, blue and lilac threads had been twisted haphazardly into what could technically be considered a braid, though on every fourth or so knot, it twisted at the seams and knocked all uniformity right out of it. But a part of you hoped it was made with intention. The same intention that middle school girls gave them, when they swore up and down to be best friends forever to the other girls they’d bonded with at summer camp, only to forget their names in the next couple of years. The same that still rattled around your old jewellery box back at home, buried under tacky hoops and cheap pendants that teenage you liked wearing. You still remembered the pale pink half of a heart that you kept there, on a chain that’d seen better days. The other half at Cynthia’s house, hanging on her notice board underneath a picture of you two together, smiling at the lake five summers ago. 

Friendship. A word that up until now, had lost all meaning to you. Something that was beginning to spark, though the rockiness and unease of having it for a long time was throwing you off balance. Something that was being offered, and you were so starved for it, you let yourself believe it. Even if it was fake, you’d take it.

You let the smile that graced your lips grow wide, as you nodded your approval. “Bit of a bold colour choice, but I dig it,” you shrugged, your tone taking any malice out of the words. 

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly in a position to waltz on down to Hobby Lobby to get the perfect shades or anything,” he snorted, now idle fingers seeking stimulation by opening a new pack of cigarettes. “Cut it off if you don’t want it.”

And there it was. That slight drop to his smile, as his eyeline averted. No doubt already trying to soothe the sting of assumption, to protect his dignity. Laugh the pain away, don’t let anyone see into it. This was about more than a seemingly simple act of kindness, and you knew the feeling well. God, you wanted to soothe it. Make it go away for him. Because it would be a damn sight easier cheering him up than the sheer amount of effort it’d take to try and do the same to yourself. 

But it needed to be carefully done. Replied to with the same jest, play the same game right back, otherwise the raw vulnerability would cause him to clam right back up again. “Nah, I’m keeping this sucker. Really makes my eyes pop, don’t ya think?” 

You both shared a look of amusement, before your hand darted out before thinking. You noticed the way he flinched, and again, the inner critic was back with the whip to flagellate yourself with at the ready. You willed it away by turning your hand around, an open palm rather than a grasping claw. “My turn?” you offered, hoping the look on your face didn’t give off the desperation you felt. 

You noticed the way his expression morphed, brows furrowed and lip darting out to moisten his lips, as he usually did when he was thinking in rapid motion about something. It relieved you to see his arm come into view, elbow to the deep gouges of the wooden table, an offering of his scarred wrist. You noticed the way his muscles tensed if the pads of your fingers brushed one of them, and you were careful not to make too much contact in securing the bracelet, pulling away when you were done to a respectable distance. Letting him bring his limb back to assess the new adornment, wrinkles around his eyes fading slightly and crinkling into a smirk as he picked at the fibres. A hum of acknowledgement, of endearment, rattled around his chest as he looked back up to you. “Same colours as Hellfire.”

Hellfire. You remembered that name, and you rattled your brain for the memory. “That’s the club you had, right? The one you had with your friends?” 

“Yeah.” He fiddled with the smooth braids, rubbing the tip of his thumb back and forth across the length. You noticed how his voice had taken an edge to it as he shrugged, seemingly to shake off an intense emotion. 

You wondered if the memories of the group was sinking him back into the realisation that he’d most likely never have a meetup with them again. Never have that sense of normalcy, of feeling a part of something. You knew full well that remembering could be a dangerous thing. Something that should be avoided, lest you fall trap to the longing of your freedom, sending yourself mad with the knowledge that things would never indeed be normal again. 

You were still thinking of something to say, a distraction, when Eddie’s name was called from the hallway. His neck nearly snapping with the force of him looking over with a shocked expression, as the orderly grimaced at him as he beckoned him over with two fingers. With a glance at the clock, you noted the time, and something uncomfortable settled in your stomach as you waved the orderly in the room for a lighter. You’d seen a couple of people over the years be summoned around this time, to a part of the building you knew you’d probably never see. You didn’t want to give Eddie the heads up, just in case you were wrong, and this was all just mere coincidence. You bolted that heavy mask to your face as you swung your chair on it’s back two legs, a balancing act as you waited for your turn with the sacred lighter. 

“Better hope Miller hasn’t picked up on your suspicion about the records room,” you smirked as you waggled your eyebrows, a sarcastic laugh volleyed back your way as he got up to cross the room. You spared him one last glance as his shoulders slumped, head down and eyes glued to the floor as he trailed behind the staff member. For all his bravado that he was slowly getting back, you knew that was the true Eddie. A man caged against his will, and the strength long since stripped away from him. A husk of a person, just like everyone else in here. Just like you. 

You just prayed that for his sake, your assumption was correct. 

~

In Pennhearst, knowing where you were going wasn’t exactly something that got shared often. An orderly would begrudgingly call out a last name, and with a jerk of the head, you were just expected to follow behind. At first, it had scared Eddie something fierce. Long were the days of coming and going where he pleased; in school, it was common for him to just wander out of the building for a smoke, and classes were optional in his mind. Part of the reason he could never graduate. Why bother going into a room where you’d be belittled? Where a label was instantly placed on you, and where it stuck no matter how hard you tried to shift it. He’d practically had ‘troublemaker’ stamped on his head since his Junior year. So why even bother? 

A trick he learned was to look at the signs, commit them to memory. Try and figure out a map in your mind, and follow it. The orderly in front of him had passed left at the laundry room, and past the West wing bathrooms. He’d lost track of where he was since the right hand turn by the low security ward doors, and he was going down the corridor blind. Asking wouldn’t help. He wasn’t expecting an answer anyway. 

The sight of a battered sign that seemed to be straining free of the plaster caught his eye, craning his head back to see it. The two words seemed foreign to him. A feeling that he knew them, knew the meaning, but hadn’t seen them put together before. The two words that both made his heart skip a beat and his stomach to churn in anticipation and excitement. 

VISITOR ROOMS 1-5

It ached how much he was wanting them to stop at one of the doors. How much he needed them to. He started praying to anything and everything, things he didn’t believe in, right up until the man in front of him stopped at the door with a number three painted on the front. His hand stayed on the handle, and over his shoulder, Eddie could just make out a window that most likely let staff keep an eye on the patients without having to enter. He could just make out the fabric of a deep blue denim jacket in the bottom left corner, before it shifted and moved out of sight. 

“You’ve got five minutes,” the orderly growled through gritted teeth, finally making eye contact with a venomous glare. “Any funny shit, and your ass is getting thrown into solitary so fast it’ll make your head spin. Am I clear?” 

Eddie’s tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten cracked lips, nodding fervently as his hands clawed at his issued shirt to ground him. It took the raised brow of the man in front of him, a sign that he was quickly losing patience, to make him respond verbally. “Y-yessir. I understand.” 

With one last glance into the room, the door opened, and Eddie was ushered inside. His breath getting stuck between his ribs as he took in the sight of two faces he thought he’d never see again. 

Dark blue eyes, and a gruff face marred with wrinkles and tanned from the sun. A face with the expression that reminded him of being ten years-old, when he was just a kid with a bruise on his cheek and tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The hand of the social worker on his back doing nothing to comfort him, but the look of ‘I get it kiddo, I understand. You’re safe now’ that was worn by a man that looked so similar to his Dad but didn’t have any resemblance at the same time. And like the kid he once was, a sob bullied its way out of his throat as he rushed into the open arms of the one parental figure that never beat him, bellitled him, or expected anything more of him than trying as hard as he could.

The hug was crushing from both parties, with how Eddie clung to his Uncle Wayne, and how those solid arms around his chest added the pressure he so sorely needed. Gave him a reminder of just how much human contact he’d been starved of for five months, and how much he needed it more than oxygen. If Wayne was bothered by the way he buried his face into the older man’s neck and wracked out stifled cries, he never said anything. The large palm that cradled the back of his head seemed to encourage it, as if he knew this was what his nephew needed.

It seemed like an eternity, time suspended in the air, until firm hands carefully grasped his shoulders and tenderly pushed. Eddie relented, a hand flying up to wipe away as much snot and tears as he could. He recognised the next look that he was given, too. A look of pure worry, as Wayne’s eyes flitted from feature to feature. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he had access to some sorry excuses of polished metal as mirrors in this place. Dark circles practically tattooed onto heavy eye bags from the lack of sleep, features getting gaunt as stubble tried to force itself through the skin. Eyes no longer shining like they used to, now replaced with a soulless stare. Once, when he stomached a flash of eye contact in the mirror, he was reminded of his Mom. The way she looked after a blowout fight with his old man, when she lay in bed and cried for what seemed like hours. 

“Eddie… You uh- you look good man,” another voice said quietly from his right, causing his head to snap violently towards the noise. 

Dustin’s mop of curls were hard to mistake for anyone else's, the fondness in his facial features still the same as they were before. That certain look about him that occasionally glimmered underneath it all, the one that gave away that he’d grown far too fast for a kid his age. Had seen too much, and had to deal with far too much burden for a grown man to carry, let alone a fifteen year-old. The comment made Eddie gargle a sort of chuckle, hesitantly pulling away from his Uncle to wrap the kid up in an iron grip. He was happy to feel it returned with fervour, rocking his friend as he swayed with each bounce on the ball of his foot. 

“I look like shit,” he weakly responded, making Dustin laugh as he squeezed even tighter. How long had he waited for this moment? To see someone from the outside, and to know that they were as happy to see him as he was to see them. That they wanted to hug him, and show him tenderness, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it. 

Eddie jolted away as soon as he heard the latch of the door forced open, as if his friend was made of blistering coals. Eyes habitually returning to the faded and torn excuse for carpet, as the harsh words of the orderly that had brought him here made him flinch. “Hey, no contact in here,” the voice barked. “It’s against the rules-”

“Now you listen here,” another voice hissed, though through the venom, it sounded so much louder than it actually was. A southern drawl that Eddie was familiar with, but only when Wayne was riled up to the point of fury. Sparing a glance upwards, he could see Wayne’s finger pointing towards the door with an accusing jab. “It’s the first time I’ve seen my boy in God knows how long. If I wanna give him a damn hug, if his friend wants’ta give him one too, then we’ll do as we damn well please. Y’hear me?” 

He could hear the orderly start to splutter, as if it was the first time he’d ever been refuted. Knowing that the staff around here liked to elevate themselves above all, as if they were some kind of capricious deities, it was likely to be true. “I’ll be letting my supervisor know about this,” was his answer, a thinly veiled threat. Wayne’s short burst of laughter was devoid of all humour. 

“Go ahead,” Wayne replied. “I got my numbers t’ call too, if I think Eddie’s not gettin’ the help he needs. Wanna see who wins the little pissin’ contest ya got goin’ on here?” 

For a second, no reply. Then two. Another look showed both men in some sort of stand off, before the orderly finally sneered his final taunt. Door slamming shut behind him, making Eddie jump out of his skin. Dustin’s gentle guidance got him to sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic armchairs, his fingertips finding the bracelet on his arm to fiddle with. Back and forth, stroking the braid and focusing on his breathing to try and even it out. He heard the two other inhabitants take a seat, Wayne’s clasped hands just in view as his elbows rested on his thighs. His voice now gentler, as if coaxing a frightened animal to come closer. “How’re you holdin’ up, son? They treatin’ ya decent in here?” 

Eddie didn’t mean the bitter laugh to escape his lips, as he swiped the back of his hand across his face to try and clear his face. Finding the bracelet again, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Normally, he’d make a joke about it all. Call this place a five star hotel, but make a comment about how they could use better pillows. But he couldn’t find the words, no matter how hard he tried. Resigning himself to the truth, as he shrugged. “S’fine.” 

“Did uh… Did you get moved to medium security?” Dustin asked, and the puzzled look Eddie gave him in return as he looked up to see the boy must have prompted a further explanation. “Hopper put in a call. Well, several. Explained to the right people about what happened. He uh- he sends his best, by the way. Everyone does.”

Hopper? He thought the old chief of police had snuffed it in that Starcourt fire. More questions than answers given, and Dustin sighed wearily before explaining it all as best he could. As best as anyone could, given they had such a short time period to meet. 

Hopper was alive, something about being in Russia for a while. El was back from California, and shit was still going south with the upside-down. Hawkins was still in trouble, but they were on the case. Some sort of higher ups were working on Eddie’s case, but it needed to go through proper channels to keep an illusion of normality. Evidence to be hidden, to be planted, to clear his name. They were waiting on Max to wake up, so she could give her statement and have all charges officially dropped. All of it barely sticking in Eddie’s brain, no doubt the meds he was on still keeping his neurons dulled. 

But one thing stuck out. They were working on clearing his name. It was a shot at freedom. Not much, but it was there. In the darkness, came a small glimmer of hope. Like seeing a seam of gold in a coal mine. Something to cling onto for dear life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other for. 

It was hope. 

“You’re gonna get me out?” Eddie questioned, timbre cracking on every other syllable. Daring to look up to see the two people who probably cared about him more than anyone else on this Earth, and being met with a soft smile in return. 

“Yeah, we’re getting you out,” Dustin echoed, voice soft as he rubbed his palms on his jeans. He reached over to retrieve a plastic bag, leaning over and placing it by Eddie’s feet. “But for now, we’re allowed to come and see you every two weeks. And we’re allowed to bring stuff, too. I mean, it’s something, right?” 

Eddie felt too full of emotion, an experience he usually wasn’t fond of. A big reason he liked to get stoned, or listen to heavy metal music, or play his guitar. An outlet always helped, and right now he had nothing. Nothing but three pieces of string circling his wrist, and his leg bouncing a fast tempo. Peeking from the bag, he could see a book and a carton of Camels so far. Something he’d previously took for granted, but not any longer. He’d sworn to himself an oath during his two month mark in this place; if he ever got out of here, he’d never take the little things for granted ever again. 

He nodded along to the words, unlatching the harsh grip his teeth had on his lower lip before answering. “Yeah, it’s… It’s something. Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it man,” Dustin replied. “If you need anything, just… Just tell us, alright? We’ll see what we can do.” 

It took all the self restraint he had not to openly laugh, instead scrubbing his palm down the length of his face. He needed a lot of things. He needed a good night’s sleep, and a shower with water more than lukewarm and to never again smell carbolic soap. He needed to be able to take a long drive, maybe to the woods, avoiding lover’s lake to not have to remember those frightening and isolating days of hiding. He needed a good ounce of bud and his record player. Lots of things were needed. None were likely to actually be received.

“So, uh… Where’d you get that from?” Wayne asked after seconds of silence that went far too long for his liking. He knew better than anyone what a downward spiral looked like in his boy. 

It took Eddie a moment to realise what he was talking about, before clicking all the pieces together when his uncle stared at his arm for too long. He said your name, softly at first. Like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. An eyebrow raise prompted him to clear his throat and explain. “She uh… She’s helping me out around here. Someone to talk to.” 

Wayne didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, arms folding as he leaned in his chair. “You sure you can trust ‘er?” he asked, head slightly tilting. 

Eddie’s head nodded erratically, sending split ends and frizz flying. “She’s like me, Wayne. Innocent.” 

“And you believe her?” 

“...Yeah.” 

He did believe you. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a sort of gut feeling to be had around people that meant others harm. He’d felt it a couple of times in his life. Hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a nausea that couldn’t be replicated by an illness, a sense of unease paired with an urge to run. He first remembered it when his father would come home drunk, the front door slamming open and shut with heavy footfalls. He’d felt it when Jason and his lackeys were chasing after him that night on the boat. Hell, he felt it when that patient with the missing piece of his ear came a little too close for comfort, before you’d come to his rescue. 

He could trust you. He had to. The only other option was doing all of this alone.

He watched the wrinkles in Wayne’s face to deepen for only a few seconds, before they relaxed to his natural frown. The Munson men had a habit of speaking without words, knowing each other well enough to be able to see slight gestures and eye contact to mean something that nobody else could pick up on. This particular eyebrow raise meant ‘I believe you’. Eddie’s slight nod was a thank you. 

It was all over before it felt like it truly began. The sense of normality, of a conversation between three people who knew each other well, was cut short by an orderly opening the door and barking Eddie’s last name. With the faded grocery bag in hand - after yet another check of the contents, as if a shiv would magically appear after opening it for the fifth time - he was led back to the common room to engage in the mind-numbing routine that never changed. 

But at least you were sitting there, waiting for him. Lounged in one of the threadbare sofas, flipping through a magazine that he’d seen you read at least a half dozen times. You looked up, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips as you nodded towards the other side of the couch. No judgement, no questions barraged at him as he crossed the room. Just patience and a slight eyebrow raise. Thank God that won’t change, was his first thought. The smallest bloom, like the first of springtime, got caught in his ribcage. Swallowed back down, bitter as whisky, before it could cling to his heart and not let go. 

“Visitors?” you asked as he leaned over the armrest, your eyes not leaving the freshly turned page. He could sense something in your voice; something that caught his attention. It wasn’t anger. It was deeper than that, hitting at a lower emotional register. He noticed an ever so slight furrow of your brow, eyes ever so glossy. Then it hit him. Visitors. 

Something that not once, he had ever seen you leave for. 

He recognised that feeling. The feeling of always being left out at the playground, never allowed to join the other kids. Of being dumped at a doorstep you didn’t know by your piece of shit father, the memory of the back of his jacket exiting view through a haze of tears. It was being called names, or worse, being flat out ignored. He knew it all too well. And he’d always hated seeing it in others. 

But there was no point lying about it, either. “Yeah,” he nodded, plucking the carton of cigarettes from the bag and beginning to unwrap them. “My uncle and a friend. Hadn’t seen ‘em since…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he grasped a few packets from the sleeve. If you noticed his choice of words, you weren’t showing it.

 He placed them by your feet where they were half tucked underneath you with a wry smile. “For all the ones I stole when I first got here.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned, finally tossing the magazine to the floor. He noticed the way you seemed touched by the gesture, though. “This place gives ‘em out like fucking candy.” 

“Yeah, but you hate the brand they give out,” he chuckled, remembering how often you complained about it first thing in the morning, still half asleep and grumpy from the medications used to sedate you. “Just take ‘em. Save them for special occasions.” 

For a moment, he expected more of a fight. But to your credit, you took them with grace. Opening a pack and handing him one, you motioned for the lighter as you nodded your head towards the bag. “What else you get?” 

“Uhh… Good question,” he shrugged, finally taking everything out to inspect. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, and from the looks of it, it was secondhand. A quick inspection of the first page gave him the name of the previous owner.

D. Henderson. 

“Love that little shit,” he mumbled under his breath, a fond smirk as he plucked the last item. Well, items. There were various envelopes, already torn open and no doubt already read, bundled together by a rubber band. He recognised the one on top from the character sheets he’d had handed in over countless times. Lucas’ neat handwriting spelling out his name. Already, a lump formed in his throat as he hastily shoved them back. Not here, he reminded himself. 

“Good haul,” you said quietly, no doubt well aware of his sudden shift in mood. It was strange, how two people adrift could find equilibrium. He could sense your fluctuations, the small changes in behaviour, that let him know to tread carefully. And now, it was happening in reverse. 

All he could do was nod. Allow the static of the silence to wash over you two, and to your credit, you never pushed.

He was thankful for that. 

~

Small stacks of paper surrounded his silhouette on the bed, the one he was trying to read gripped tight in his fist whilst the other hand muffled his sobs. Eddie hadn’t had many good words heard about him over his short life. Words were usually spat with venom, and he flicked barbs back. But now, it was there, all in black and white, and in various calligraphy. 

“Be strong man, you got this,” wrote Steve. 

“We’re fighting for you as hard as we can out here, just hang tight,” Robin scrawled. 

“I’ve always known you didn’t do it, son. I need you to know that.” In a font he remembered the most. 

His ribcage broke with the force of how much his heart hurt. The grief, the sadness, the shame. It was washing over him like waves, threatening to drag him under for good. He grieved for Chrissy, and he grieved for himself. It just kept pouring, like molasses sticky in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t stop until dawn broke, when he finally managed to put a lid back on everything and shut it away. Close the door and refuse to look, for fear a monster is in the closet. 

Hide it away, so it doesn’t hurt. Hide it until it’s safe to come out, if it ever does. Hide it, conceal it, consume it until it’s as dense as a neutron star. And if you did hear him crying from across the hall, you didn’t say anything. God, he was so thankful you didn’t say anything.

[sizzleissues]

Future meeting

(Futures AU: Seventeen years ago the miraculous were retired. That was until the thought destroyed Butterfly returns. A story within this canon that I wrote while falling asleep lmao)

It had been seventeen years since he last transformed but some things never changed. Marinette still snored in their bed, the face of Parisian fashion stretching her arms out in a lion-like yawn. She sprawled out across the mattress, the duvet twisted to the side and a half finished sewing project lying across her stomach. Adrien debated moving her before deciding against it, instead tidying away the needles and fabric and laying the duvet across her body. Eventually she’d get too warm, wake up, and more to her side of the bed again. Until then Adrien made the rounds, checking the doors were locked, blinds drawn and lights off.

It had become common procedure since the return of akumas. The new heroes were alright, he even saw some of himself in them. Whether Kitty Bells and Crimsonbird were dating was always a subject of hot debate. He’d installed new window locks a few months ago but he couldn’t help the useless feeling that bubbled up in his chest whenever an akuma attacked. It was his fault Paris was no longer safe, his negligence that led to two more young kids taking on the impossible job of saving the world. He tried not to dwell on it, moving down the corridor to his kids' rooms. 

Hugo and Louis slept soundly, Adrien picking up the toys they forgot to clean up and putting them away. Marinette scolded him when he did that, ‘they’d never learn’ if he always tidied it for them. He couldn’t see how it would hurt. They were good kids, nothing but glowing reviews from school about how generous, caring and vocal they were. (Took after their mother).

Emma's room was next, a stream of slightly muffled music coming from inside. Awake writing again probably. He let her be, knowing how she hated to be disturbed when in the zone. She was focused, like him. 

Adrien reached the end of the hall, descending the stairs and entering the kitchen. The sound of something small moving around set him on edge. They’d had mice last year and it had been torture getting them to leave. No one in the family wanted to kill them. It had been a relief when there had been no signs of them for months.

He moved silently to the switch on the wall, flicking it on and searching for the mouse. 

Instead he saw Plagg eating Emma’s school cheese. Plagg finished it off in one big gulp as the lights switched on and their eyes met. The pair could only share dumb silence for several moments before Adrien pointed at him and yelled.

“Plagg?”

“Adrien! Hi!”

“What are you doing here? Is-.”

“No! The boss is just super forgetful and forgot my dinner. I knew you were in the area and you wouldn’t mind so I thought I’d borrow some cheese. Random coincidence really.”

Adrien approached slowly, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Plagg, his old kwami in the flesh. 

“It's so good to see you.” Tears welled in his eyes and he stumbled toward Plagg. He’d missed the little terror whispering in his ears. 

Plagg softened for a moment, drifting toward him but then snapping away. “I have to go. You were never supposed to see me again.”

“Can’t you stay. Even for a second more. For old times sake.”

“I really can’t-.” 

“I have Camembert!”

Plagg turned back, his eyes glowing with interest. “Where?”

Adrien smiled, walking past him and crouching down at a locked cabinet. “When Emma started asking for cheese I began storing extra. I almost thought- but that's ridiculous. She doesn’t know about this.” He opened the cabinet door revealing several rolls of expensive smelly cheese. Plagg’s tiny mouth watered as Adrien pulled out a roll and placed it onto the counter above. He made sure Plagg saw the rest, so he might be tempted to return. 

“I guess I can stay. For the cheese only.”

“Right.” Adrien laughed lightly. He had a feeling Plagg missed him just as badly as he did. 

-

Plagg drifted back upstairs after a long and filling meal. Emma hardly noticed him returning, only glancing back after a second.

“Oh, hi Plagg. Where were you?”

He couldn’t say talking with her dad. He’d nearly exposed her identity because he was hungry. Instead he thought of a clever lie.

“Swimming.”

Emma frowned. “Swimming? Can kwami’s even do that?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to call him on his lie. Adrien would know immediately. Her lips twitched downward for just one second but nothing came of it, turning back to her writing. 

“Cool. Don’t lie on my bed if you are wet.”

[amiaaa-official]

//ooc rambling about my Pjsekai OC Unit

ok ok so I'm only gonna talk about ONE of my units, cuz I may or may not turn this into a full project thingy lol

ANYWAYS, the groups called SWINGIN' BATS!

After being threatened with expulsion, a ragtag group of "delinquents" decide to distract themselves by making music, eventually using it as a coping mechanism

I've been calling their Sekai the 'Station Sekai', but it's an abandoned train station thats starting to be reclaimed by nature. it does have functioning vending machines though!

I'm thinking their Untitled is either going to be Lagtrain (INABAKUMORI) or How-To World Domination (NERU), I can't decide which-)

(these aren't their unit outfits, just their casual fits. their unit outfits are like. full Sukeban)

NOW ONTO THE OC'S THEMSELVES:

Yukio Ozaki

He's the leader of the group! He's a second year at Miyamasuzaka. he likes building computers and various sports (he's really good at Martial Arts, especially Brazillian Ju-Jitsu).

he's new this year to his school, previously attending Kamiyama. after being outed as trans, his parents enrolled him in Miyamasuzaka to "let her grow out of it" he's the only one of the group whos actually TRYING to get expelled, until the switch he was a relatively good student. He WOULD be dating his groupmate, Etsuko, but both of them decided to wait until they're in better home situations/mental states.

He's the second tallest of his group at 5'9

(lmao you might recognize them from my discord pfp)

Etsuko Tanigawa (TW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH AND CHILD NEGLECT)

A first-year artist from Kamiyama. they often get blamed for things they didn't do, so they decided they we're going to actually give the school something to punish them for. this usually means them spray painting random parts of the school. They'd wear the girls uniform, but are scared too after hearing how a pink-haired upperclassmen gets bullied for it...

while seeming shy, they're an absolute menace. They often instigate fights and arguments. After almost freezing to death from their parents negligence a couple years ago, they seem to think that they shouldn't be alive (not necessarily in a suicidal way. more like. a toned down walking corpse syndrome).

they're the tallest at 5'11

Eto Mitsuru

while she's really into cutesy things, she puts up a tough guy act after having been bullied her entire life. she decided to try and be more intimidating so people wouldn't mess with her anymore, eventally meeting Yukio in second year.

she's surprisingly a really good guitarist, often posting faceless covers. she eventually becomes the groups composer.

she's 5'6

Reiko Kimoto

despite going to a private school, she often stays home to focus on her streaming career. when she does show up, she's known to pick fights and blow up at the other girls. She only just barely passes, making teachers concerned about her future while she's only a first year.

despite being quick to anger, she can be quite friendly when you get to know her. she cares very deeply for her friends, often volunteering to be a life model for Etsuko just to see them smile (mostly through their eyes, as they never take off their mask)

she's the shortest of the group at 5'1

I have like. events n shit planned for these guys I love them so much-

[riddle-me-ri]

His kid brought home a friend. While saying hi kid goes. "Oh, I know you. You once kidnapped my dad :D." and they said it with such innocence.

Riddler BTAS, ZY,Arkham

A/N: Well, this will be fun…I tried to mix it up so BTAS has a son, ZY is gn and Arkham has a daughter…don’t ask why that’s just sorta where the dice landed rip. Also I broke canon and gave Aaron Cash from the Arkham games a daughter too, even if it’s canon he has one son, so there’s that tidbit too lmao

Riddlers Reacting to Being Recognized by a Victim’s Kid

Batman The Animated Series Riddler:

Edward knew Gotham City was a close-knit city, but he thought the odds of his child running into a child of a fellow victim to his riddle games…were slim. Extremely slim. 

He never imagined the day would come when his years at Competitron would come back to haunt him. Even though he’d sought his revenge on Mockridge, knowing that he left the man a trembling anxious mess even if he did get away. 

Yet, he never knew Mockridge had a child…or that he’d meet his son. 

“Hey, Dad! I’m home and I brought a friend home from school!” Eddie’s son, Junior (I have no doubt in my mind if Ed had a son he would name it after him, prove me wrong) called out as he arrived home fresh off the school bus. 

He tugged along another little boy with him, about the same height but with dark black hair and a familiar pair of light brown eyes. 

Edward was on the couch, before he got up to meet the boys at the door. He got down on one knee to be the same height as them. He ruffled the top of his son’s red mop of hair and then turned to Gunnar. 

“Nice to meet you, Gunnar. I’m Edward.” He held out his hand. 

Ed expected the returned handshake but not the response. 

“Oh, yeah. I know you. My dad fired you and you kidnapped him for it, until Batman saved him.” Gunnar stated plainly like he was answering how the weather was like that day.

Edward’s heart dropped from his chest cavity and sunk to the bottom of his gut. This was the last thing he was expecting.

“Er, um…well t-that…was a awhile ago..” Edward awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Although, call him curious. “Um…h-how is your father nowadays?” 

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler: 

First off, props to the birth giver of the child cause like wow. Second, how did you manage to tell him? And have him actually stick around? Like be a part of this kid’s life and not convince you to just terminate it or chuck your kid into an orphanage? Let’s be honest, I don’t think Zero Year Riddler exactly wants kids? Sure he’ll like the idea of creating a mini-him to perhaps continue his legacy but also can barely take care of himself let alone a child? He can’t bring himself to give a shit about anyone but himself??

Sorry, sorry, overthinking got the better of me…ANYWAY

“Hey, Dad! This is my friend, Charlie from school! We’re working on a project for science class.” 

Ed grumbled. He remembered such assignments, why must group work be so strongly pushed even this day in age. Probably something about socializing and collaborating.

Edward was doing the newspaper crossword in his recliner in the corner. It faced the door and he was able to glance up at the two kids and gave a small wave.

“Hey Mr. Nyg-oh wait I know you!” 

Well, that’s terrifying. 

That statement made him jump a little from his chair.

“Uhh..” He got up and walked over to the two children in his home. “Y-You do?” 

“Yeah…you held my dad hostage when you took over Wayne Tower…” Charlie stated in such a matter-of-fact tone.

Edward’s eyes started shifting from left to right…shit he didn’t kill him did he? He can’t remember all those corporate nobodies looked the same to him. 

“Uhh…yeah, uhh small world Gotham is…h-how is he?” Edward bit his lower lip.

Ed’s kid groaned. “Ughh..Dad!”

“He’s all right. I mean Joker threated to bomb the tower last week, my dad was able to get paid time off for that. And he’s still seeing his therapist.” 

Edward shrugged. “Well, sounds like all’s well that end’s well…”

Ed’s child’s response was just more groaning and face palming. That’ll teach them to bring a friend home from school again. 

Arkhamverse Riddler: 

Edward was clinking, clanking, and clunking away on another project in his garage. He had the doors open, so he wasn’t working on anything…outright conspicuous that would cause alarm. Plus, his pride and joy was coming home from school. 

“Hi, Daddy!” A small little girl, with bright green eyes, started running up the driveway. 

Edward lifted the goggles up from his eyes, with a soft smile he waved at the girl. He put down his tools and got up from his seat. 

The little girl ran up to Ed and clung to his leg. Edward laughed and picked her up and held her in his arms. 

“Hey! Wait for me!” Shouted another little girl. 

“Oh, Daddy! That’s my friend, Molly! Mom said she could come over so we can play.”

Ed had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Figures they would make plans without telling him (they did fully did tell him, he just wasn’t listening at the time…like every other time when he was in his mind palace)

Edward was about to greet the child until she said something to make his blood run cold. 

“Hey! Ain’t you the Riddler? You put my dad in one of your traps! If he didn’t stop moving his head would’ve exploded!” Molly exclaimed. 

Edward chuckled nervously, “uhh…sweetie…what’s your friend’s last name?” He whispered in his daughter’s ear. 

“Cash…why?” 

Shit.

“I, uh, um…well…”

“It’s okay, Molly!” Ed’s daughter hopped out of her dad’s arms. “He doesn’t do that kinda stuff anymore,” she turned her head to him over her shoulder. “Right, Daddy?” 

Ed started nodding vigorously. “Y-Yes, she’s right…” well, to an extent anyway. 

“Hmm…okay!” Molly perked up and the two girls ran inside to play. 

Edward took the biggest sigh of relief. He wiped away the fresh droplets of sweat more from his nerves than any heat. He was going to have to look more into his daughter’s school, classmates, faculty, family, and everything.

That was way too humiliating to repeat again.

[neverevan]

“feels like they've been keeping buck and eddie apart in s6 for a reason, even as friends” i agree with this! it really sucks but it does feel like they were separating them even as friends and then the LIs were just the cherry on top

it gives me the same vibes as steve and bucky from captain america? they had THE most romantic lines in winter soldier and a close friendship bordering on family, but then once the ship got big after that, they barely interacted and ultimately steve ended up with peggy

maybe they’re just trying to force people’s realisation that buddie isn’t going to happen. but why do they have to remove/reduce their friendship too?? like i want them to be together, but i’ll accept having just the close friendship/family we’ve had so far. please don’t take that away from me too!! lol

but also? if they’re not doing buddie then it’s purely because of the writers’ opinions (which is bad anyway bc surely you should be making the fans happy) bc if it’s about ratings?? viewers?? most of the viewers are probably there for buddie anyway, or at least would be fine with it. if they don’t do buddie, if anything they will LOSE a huge proportion of viewers bc i know for sure that lots of buddie supporters are losing patience

Well while I mostly agree, we gotta admit that while they kept them separate for most of it we still got some incredibly domestic scenes with Chris and Eddie this season; hanging out and Buck's and him cooking for them... like Eddie literally bundled up Chris and all his stuff so he could do his homework at Buck's place and they could eat together lmao (or maybe Buck picked Chris up from school and Eddie came over later?) and then there was the poker party and the lightning and okay Eddie wasn't in 6x11 that much but that little was meaningful... I feel like their distance was kind of worked into Buck's trauma and how lost in life he's been feeling lately (that was his main story line this season imo trying to find what he wanted out of life, what was the key to happiness)

So now for me the natural continuation would be a breakdown after a row of stupid decions (the donation, Natalia, etc) and his friends and the firefam supporting him through it and ngl Buck should be single at first before dating anyone, let alone someone like Natalia

Unfortunately queerbaiting is a running theme among the Marvel movies and series alike... sadly it's a good strategy to make money on these projects cuz it works and a lot of creative studios and producers have realised this years ago (after Sherlock bbc and Supernatural everyone knew it was a sure money maker)

Also, I said this before but people who are solely watching this show for buddie don't deserve to call themselves fans tbh it's an ensamble show and regardless of buddie going canon or not actual fans will still watch it.

And yeah having queer characters throughout the run of the show kinda ensured that most viewers would be at least neutral if they actually went canon... that being said there wasn't a single male on male kiss on screen during the whole run of the show and we know that homophobes don't mind two women kissing as much as two men so who really knows...

[nananarc]

EXCUSE ME WHILE I RANT FOR A BIT

So anyway I finally started with the graduation project and, lemme tell ya, it was annoying. I mean I expected this, but it's still annoying.

The school and the mentor wants things to be of a certain aesthetic and standard so it can fit with the general public's taste and eventually it can be picked up by a publisher. it has to be commercial and easy to digest, for a lack of better words. Which is like, the opposite of essentially what i am as a person and as an artist.

So anyway I'll be doing Truyện Kiều again, illustrating the full book with better art this time. Here are some sketches I did:

Below is the mentor's very quick sketch for demo:

Which is. Ok cool, it's very traditional, Vietnamese fine art design and aesthetic. The thing that you see everywhere in books and media. The thing that is taught in fine art school. And it's also very HIM because he's a very prominent artist since a long time ago. I'm not talking about the difference in the era clothing tho because he demoed in Nguyễn dynasty while mine is of the Trần dynasty.

My style was criticized (politely) that the face doesn't look pretty, the nose is too prominent and big, the lineart is too scratchy and loose, and that I have to restrict the freedom in my lineart more.

Which is. Like. Pretty much all the things that i like about my art the most. I don't really like drawing "pretty" people, I wanna draw distinct and unique people. I like the fact that the nose is prominent because that's a very Vietnamese facial feature. Our nose is big, flat and flared. And I like it. AND I DIDNT EVEN DRAW IT THAT BIG. it's already stylized and stuff. The lineart is scratchy and spontaneous because that's how my ADHD brain works! And I like the freedom, the raw unfinished feel to it. And my way of scrawing is kinda similar to sculpting in a way that I like to put in a block of line or shape (yang) and then erase it and putting in more nothing space (yin). And I like Maximalism and Kitsch and Neo-traditionalism so I love to do things a bit crazy and new and filled with emotions.

My mentor comes from a very different generation, and a different field than me. He's very commercial, leaning more into minimalism, fine-art conservative and traditional aesthetic. WHICH IS THE OPPOSITE OF ME. Sadly we don't get to choose mentor cos there's only one lmao.

And also I don't understand why I have to aim for publishing in Vietnam too, because that's not where my target customer is. I'm a niche artist with limited customer base and they are international clients (who mostly pay better, treat you better, and appreciate your art more than the general public in VN do). Luckily I have a bachelor in business admin so I know how to do brand and marketing myself, othewise id just keep on trying to please everyone (flexing a little bit, but i was graduating with excellence and on the top 10 of my intake lmeo). Not to mention the fact that why do I even have to publish in the first place, because this is a school, it is a place to experiment, make mistakes, and learn. It's not a place to conform to the industry to make a living. If I wanna do that I would not be here and start working for a company already!

I understand it when they said that it would be a huge advantage if you can get published, but then again, that route is not for everyone, and it's not the only way to be an illustrator like they said. I have my own path to walk on, and I don't think they are aware that we even have those paths, because they are from a different generation. I mean, that's why I was struggling so much before to find a footing, because virtually no one here knows there are other paths! I had to dig things up myself through sweat, blood and tear.

Anyway I rant but i will keep trying to fight and do it on my own terms. They can't make me anyway. There's gonna be sticks and stones, but I mean, I can't physically make myself do something I do not wanna do. There's another option which is to drop it because I don't need the certificate anyway, but I wanna finish a big project of my own too.

[unsleepingtales]

Burrow's End Episode 2 Reactions!

Ok so I watched this spread out over last night and this morning and now I'm in a Great mood for class! This episode was so good though. Really really truly this is wonderful and I love this season.

She thought they would have greater numbers?? Aabria you’re the one who wrote it what do you mean

Erika’s character look is so cool

Electricity?

That is what mothers are like yeah.

I don’t know about every stoat in the world being able to harness lightning magic but sure okay

This line of thinking from Tula feels very in line with what Brennan’s talked about in the past of it always being valuable for someone to have basic needs in mind, and it making everything easier and more enjoyable when those things are considered first.

Oooh paladin things!

This season is going to fuck me up incredibly badly and it’s not even going to be the sad shit it’s just going to be the parent/child interactions.

It hurts to be awake because it’s all I ever think about and there are no answers. So real.

Ava is so good to watch

Every time it cuts to Erika-

Ugh I love dnd so much

Every time Brennan gets a nat1 he kind of hides behind it lol

Tula has a -1 to arcana???

Love to see the weird british things counter return

Cageyyyy

Bear nearby and bear has small friends?

BATTLE MAP BATTLE MAP

THE WHOLE MAP IS A BEAR

Vampire chipmunk??? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuckkkk

WHAT

Ok oh my gif the threatening energy in “Oh, you didn’t beat me.”

WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD WHAT I HATE THAT WHAT

I hate it I hate it I hate it no god please no

ON THE DOME TOO??

Izzy is so right about the magic school bus thing

My soul shoots straight out of my ass, into hell. 🙂.

This is so unpleasant to look at

This does not feel proportional but it’s fine this is fine

HOW IS THIS BEAR ALIVE

Erika is so good at being The Old Lady

Be better!!

So help me I will turn this bear around!

Oh my god

I get that the heart beating is important to convey that the bear is still alive but jesus

There’s literally enough bear already.

Parasitic chipmunks nesting inside a bear. Good lord.

God I keep looking at the projection. That’s so unsettling.

Bad! This feels bad!

Oh my GOD

What oh god please no

What a brilliant episode to be watching while I have breakfast

I’m so curious if the bear’s actions are legendary actions or lair actions

Oh that was such a new york mother voice

That was literally a commercial break. The Iyengar-Mulligan bit. That was a comic relief commercial break

Horrible!!!

Eraser destroying power couple lmao

Like a stoat!

As an experienced babysitter I can confirm. Eight year olds are strong and it is because they don’t know they are. Being punched by an eight year old fucking hurts.

They’re taking the Alvin thing so far and it’s incredible

Ava WHAT are you doing

Oh I had a physical reaction to that. That was so unpleasant.

You think you’ve got this (threatening)

(Aabria laughs at the nerve of this play)

I love seeing my own table dynamics reflected in others. Because this wild swinging from hysterical laughter to jaw dropping horror is exactly what happened literally four days ago in my current game.

If your spine isn’t working store bought is fine

I dislike this strongly

She’s in the medulla oblongata! (Mentopolis)

FUCK YEAH LILA

Oh my god Aabria

Terrifying right now but like I’m a fun way

Just a lil blood soaked guy

I really appreciate how Aabria always mentions who’s up next so they can prep

I love doing things that potentially have great consequences just to see what it would do.

Oh we’re in blue again ok

What a wild thing to be happening right now

Oh good god

Do NOT eat it

What oh god what the fuck are you doing

MID COMBAT LEVEL UP???

Oh ok.

No I don’t believe that they’re dead- well, they don’t look great…

Pick your one favorite organ

The devil inside my child’s head!

Level up eyyy

What a visual

And also to you :)

Oh my god

Ok! What a time. Wow.

[ticklystuff]

hi im just rambling about my day (long post)

im sure most of you have heard of pcr by now. if you've used a covid test, especially during the early pandemic days, you've used pcr to confirm your results. i actually work with one of the inventors of pcr and i am currently on one of his projects. this man is so smart and creative and humble and everyone respects him so much. like this man is in your high school/college bio text books and his impact on diagnostics and healthcare cannot be understated. like none of us at this company would have jobs without his work LOL

but ya he announced his retirement a while ago and today was his last day (coincidentally it's also dna day) and so many ppl showed up for his last seminar and retirement party. ppl that have retired already and ppl that were laid off were invited if they wanted to congratulate him and say goodbye. it was nice bc i got to see a lot of old familiar faces and catch up and it felt like a giant family reunion

we also had ppl flying in from our other sites around the world. we mainly had ppl fly in from our main sites in germany, switzerland, and south africa, but there were a couple of others as well. this was cool bc i got to meet some ppl that i've only talked with through virtual meetings. one of them told me that i'm shorter than he thought i'd be asdlkfjsdalkjfkldsa

he gave a seminar on all his work throughout the years and the work he's currently doing and usually at the end of a seminar, ppl will have a "special thanks" page where they acknowledge all the ppl they've collaborated with throughout their work and he had a giant "special thanks" page for all the ppl he's worked with and everyone's name was in tiny font to save space but i managed to find my name aslkdjflk

i really wanted him to sign something and at first i was going to ask him to sign my lab notebook but i was afraid i might spill something gross on it so i printed out the first experiment i designed when he asked me to help him with his current project and i asked him to sign it and im gonna frame it LMAO

at the end of his seminar, he said the reason he's retiring a year early is because they're forcing us to convert to open desk LOL like everyone hates it and im so glad he said something about it

but ya in total there were more than 400 ppl that attended in person (a lot were watching virtually too) and im honestly so sad bc he's such a legend and a good resource when i needed help lol but we have a smaller department lunch with him monday. also im still going to keep working on his project, it's just my manager will be taking over as lead, so i'll probably still bother him bc this project is his baby