*Sneaks back onto tumblr*

IM NOT DEAD I PROMISE OLEASE DON’T BE MAD THAR I HAVEN’T UPDATED MY COMIC IN A BIT IM WORKIN ON IT!

Anyway, hi, I still exsist, have some fanart of @somerandomdudelmao ‘s apocalypse au! If you haven’t seen this already, go check it out cause holy frick this thing rocks! I’m actually really proud of how this turned out! Hope y’all like it!

Thanks for the awesome comic Cass! Keep following your passion!!!💜

i've been thinking

I’ve heard of a certain “magoverse” thing from a friend of mine… it sounded interesting, so i went silly and made a velvet room attendant magalor! (I’m silly silly)

so at uni there's this course i follow that i absolutely love because the professor makes the lessons feel like banter in a pub with your best mate and i have this silly little crush on him if we're honest, and so last night my brain decided it would be nice to swap him for hamish. so i ended up following that same course at my own uni in italy but my professor was hamish and it's not like he was this random character it was hamish linklater himself and for some reason it was totally normal and acceptable that he would teach that specific course at an italian university. and ofc in this dream i was deranged about him same as i am irl he was still my phone background and everything and i remember thinking i hoped he didn't find out because i didn't want him to think i followed the course for that reason only lmaooo this is so embarrassing i'm afraid we're really in it

Went from being almost 6 ft to being almost 5 inches in just a couple of seconds. Let’s hope nobody finds them like this.

(idea from newmsies and a good friend of mine)

you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.

you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.

instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.

you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.

your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.

because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.

so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.

all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.

they have him pinned, but at least they're warm!

fanart for @tsunochizu 's backwards through the snow fic! im SO normal about this story (still emotionally recovering from chapter 15) i love this fic so much <3

they are the STINKIEST of family...

(for those who haven't read this fic, first of all, go read it now. but also pebbles is mostly ok. kinda. hes just dirty and stinky... amongst other things)

Jiggly

Posting the whole video on OF soon

let! him! have! his! octopus! plush! >:[

(messy extra stuff----)

meanwhile,back at NRC:

(+ here’s a WIP >:] )

TYPECAST: First Kanaphan edition

when are u gonna show me my children you’ve been teasing me for like a week 😞😞😢😢

singular (child) actually....i couldn't figure out how to draw vals hair bc im dumb as rocks,,,,,,,anyway take sam for now he's my beloved son as well my angel

pudding my darling daughter

that ask motivated me to do two things ive wanted to do for a while now; experiment with my style and doodle doe

so

heres doe! shes my little lab rat for this experiment (/aff)

doe by (the incredibly talented) -> @sad-leon

she means so much to me

i hate how commodity and capitalism has ruined so much storytelling . i hate how sequels and prequels and whatever else all ring like merch sales; i hate that i as an author have to include any social media following i have as a marketable trait; i hate that everything feels like a xerox of a copy of a dream of a memory.

i hate that my nostalgia has been turned into profit. i hate that companies fear consumer backlash so no real commentary may be made; i hate that companies care more about quantity over quality. i hate that so many artists and creators are being overworked to the point of complete collapse rather than being allowed to tell the story their way. i hate that every point of representation has to be fought for. i hate it i want us all to go back to living in a cave .

when you sit with friends over a bonfire and the night is getting long and people start telling this slow, almost hypnotic story - in this quiet voice, like they don't expect you to listen while they say the most fucked up shit you've ever heard - that is storytelling. who cares if the punchline is car hand hook door. storytelling has always been about community, about us all sitting in the dark, choosing to fill the silence while the last embers are dying. we forgot that storytelling is spellwork. hallucinating together, our breaths held, waiting for the ending we already knew was coming.