Emergence 🌱

if anyone’s wondering what the weird texture is about, this piece is mixed media! background is acrylic on canvas, then finished digitally.

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

the Viper buried in his Sand

For the last day of requestober, can you please draw something spooky/scary with Negative RGB? With all the cool lighting stuff you've been doing recently, I think it could be very dramatic, and I'd love to see him in your style!

Day 31 -Pl̷̼͙̯̼̟̈́͒̃̓͆e̵̢͔̞̤̯͗as̴̨͆̒̏e dö̸̧̢̝̳́͝ not̸̨̞͔̗͆̔͝ͅ ̶̦̋͒a̵̪͋̉̈́̒djus̶̪͔͎̘͈̍́̂̅̚t yö̶̙̺͎́͘u̷͚̙̿̓͆r sc̸̙͍͒rę̸̰̺̣̿̓͌̔̎en̴̏̈́͊ͅ

a tiny little ficlet based on this lovely comment from @queer4cryptids on this post! (i accidentally made it angsty, i’m so sorry!! but there’s comfort and gay yearning in there, i swear!) when the night falls low and settles against the side of the Earth; when the the dark begins to carry a certain weight, he shifts his stance. he lets himself breathe air he doesn't really need into lungs that exist simply by virtue of his inclination to breath. it's the same pattern Crowley's watched unfold a hundred million times times over—the stretching of a thread until it frays, three women, a set of blades; a wicked inevitability carried in the lines of time-weathered hands.

and still it never changes, never lessens the welling of grief that builds and breaks in his chest, that stagnates and stratifies like layers of sand upon gravel upon so many eons since he first fell from the sky and lost the right to mourn a woman hungry only for bread and a little kindness.

he leans back against a headstone, swallowing down a familiar hollowness. the sparrows have all taken root in the knots of tree trunks. the moon blinks back at him, clouds swaying like an eyelid closing to sleep.

he turns his face away from the light, sucks in breath for which he still has no need. the rough-hewn granite is going to scuff his coat; he knows this with the certainty of having lived in a world full of serrated edges for so many years. and yet he doesn't care. Crowley can't find it in him to give a damn because finally, finally he's there. he's there and he's real and tangible and it's been eleven months, two weeks, and four days since he's last felt the warmth of angelic skin so close to his own. not that he's been keeping count, of course. and Aziraphale's got that faraway look again. the one pressed into the lines of his face in the aftermath of a flood that tilted against the sky; the same one Crowley saw in the stark daylight of a death warrant unfurled and stamped with the name of the holy Mother herself. it's the same, hollow, teeth-gritted look Crowley himself wore as he stood on a hillside reeking of freshly-cut wood, bearing witness to yet another child of the Almighty thrown to the wolves. Aziraphale turns, then, and blue eyes meet black lenses meet amber-gold. "Crowley—" Aziraphale manages, choking it out in a half-whisper, like it hurts—like it scrapes his throat with bits of barbed wire. and, just like that, something in him is breaking and the oak trees are all whispering dangerous things and still, still he can't find a version of this story in which he doesn't lean closer, doesn't press himself forward into air that smells of earl grey tea and old books and something celestial and hallowed and holy underneath it all. and as though he's drowning—as though the moon doesn't watch them with a flickering gaze and the trees can't hear the brush of skin meeting skin—Aziraphale presses his fingertips to the side of Crowley's wrist. he moves no further. the air holds still, time seeming to freeze around them. it's intentional, he realizes; it's fire and it's heat and it's utterly fucking terrifying. even now, so far above ground, Crowley can nearly feel the weight of hellish eyes on his back. a shudder runs the length of his body. and yet. in the atomic space of that hungry, desperate, throat-baring yet, he turns his hand, trembling, to the side. he finds the angel's touch like a bird bearing North—like a compass forever calibrated to a single, fixed point.

"I know—" he rasps. “Angel, I know.” he twines his fingers with Aziraphale's, and it's positively electric. every cell in his tragically, wonderfully human body has turned pure gold, conducted and galvanized and sparking. a sharp, stilted inhale; a quiet anticipation carved out in the space between their pressed hands (and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss...). the graveyard is still. the grief is there, still. the grief might always be there. but the sharp edges dull, the welling in his chest grows steady and slow and gentle. and the world becomes a little less difficult to bear with the two of them holding it up.

Oh I'm waiting alright, when do they come into the picture

_pwrpm igs 03.12.23

if we dont finally see what happened between macaque and wukong in s5 i think i might actually explode

In responce to that last anon, throw the most feral bitches into bed, who goes eepy the fastest

(I am glad we see my vision of sleepy little clones all tucked in bed, hehe

Also, Chickpea wins the eepy race, since he is practically half-asleep all the time

Pancetta, Mint Chip, and #05231 are the 'losers', since they don't sleep until they are exhausted or are so stuffed to the gills that they can't do anything but sleep gjfdjhfdjk)

ooohhhh you wanna give me specific and preferably Adventure Time doodle requests sooooo baaaddddd

Kristina, Wille and physical affection

I want to look a little bit closer at two scenes after Wille’s outing and how physical affection seems to be between Wille and his mother.

We all remember that scene:

It looks like Wille needs a hug and the only comfort he finds is himself instead of his mother, right? And I’ve seen a lot of people say that she should have hugged him, especially when we see Linda comfort Simon that way.

But, something I think we often tend to miss or ignore is that while she doesn’t hug him like he seems to need, she does, in her own way, do express some physical affection or reassurance to Wille. At the beginning of the scene, she is sat at Wille’s desk, in front of him.

Only when Wille says he is sorry (which he shouldn’t have to btw but that’s another discussion) does she come and sit near him.

Let’s analyze this picture ⬆️. She doesn’t hug Wille, doesn’t rub his arm like Linda does. But she does come closer to him once he looks at her with that sad and sorry expression. And, what I think is important, is that she sits close to him. There isn’t a lot of space between them. Granted the next convo is shit because she tells Wille they’ll deny it, but she does close the physical space between them, and I think it’s important. In her own way, she does try to be there for Wille in a way that he seems to need but also in a way that she can offer.

Then, before she goes back home, we see that scene:

She gently and lovingly —dare I say— caresses Wille’s cheek and squeezes his shoulder as a goodbye. And look at Wille’s smile once she does. He appreciates the gesture, and it is a good moment between them (again, if we ignore the whole let’s deny it convo they’ve just had). She is expression physical affection for her son.

What I want to highlight with this is that Kristina is probably just not a physical affection kind of person and that is okay, no matter if the other person needs it. Sometimes you need certain boundaries and this is one certain people have, even if it’s their kids. Do I think she should have expressed affection verbally to Wille? Or acted as a mother instead of the queen? Absolutely. Her kid shouldn’t have felt the need to say sorry for being a victim of their own violent outing. She should have told him that he has nothing to be sorry for. But I also don’t think it’s fair to ask of her to be more affectionate and hug Wille. There are a lot of things she should do better for her kid but this one isn’t one of them and it rubs me the wrong way when I see it suggested. A lack of physical affection does not equal a lack of love, just like physical affection does not equal love.

El Vampiro

Wander-ful! (Patreon)

Sometimes you have a chronic illness flare up and decide to draw your friend’s @gastly-tea’s OC War as a bride to cheer yourself up =)

[ID: The meme showing a teacher playing with a toddler versus a painting of philosophers walking together.

The toddler is labeled, "Discussing Nope (2022) with people who think Marvel movies are the best movies ever to exist because there's nothing to think about because every second is filled with action or explosions so the only thing required of them is for them to sit there and watch and turn off their brain".

The philosopher side is labeled, "Discussing Nope (2022) with people who understand what symbolism and metaphors are and enjoy thinking about the stories they watch instead of mindlessly consuming things that they stop thinking about the second it's over".

End ID.]

Watching Nope for the third time and showing it to our mom and her husband for the first time only for them to proclaim it's boring and makes no sense and if we want to see a REAL good movie, we have to watch Deadpool, and thus having them watch Deadpool for probably the third time while we watch it for the first time sure...

is eye opening...

I’m heading back to campus after like a week of being away and I’m absolutely Vibrating at the fact that I can pick up the dips I ordered bc they arrived while I was out. Just Northshore samples but they’ll be my first actual diapers rather than just Goodnites or improvised pads made from baby dips. I’m like half a step away from stimming really hard rn.

I love that time of year where the jcs blogs revive themselves

I just woke up from a nonsensical dream but at one point my main f/o was there and he held my hand and I actually ran my fingers through it and it was so soft I just stood there admiring the moment 🥺