#anyway fuck it we ball

[birdinabowl]

whenever I post one of my rarepairs I can’t help but feel like someone’s going to order a public execution of me

#This might be my fear from being on TikTok for way to long #LIKE PEOPLE ON HERE ARE USUALLY CHILL ABOUT RAREPAIRS #anyway fuck it we ball #birds rambles

[wetslug]

.

#just thinking about how i was absolutely petrified to become an adult n do Adult Tasks bc i just assumed id be shit at all it #but as an autistic living on my own and having to make choices have been a fucking godsend tbh #i make my own decisions.. i get more privacy...my routine is entirely based on what i wanna do #when i was living w my folks still id have a meltdown at least weekly and now i never have them #anyway Fuck It We Ball #i will say. it is lonelier. but its a tradeoff u gotta make if u want to stay sane

[fate-pride-order]

Trans pride flag color-picked from Anastasia!

#fgo #fate grand order #anastasia #trans #pride flag #I'll be honest I've been keeping this one in my files for like months now #bc it's really pretty but she is just recent enough of a historical figure that this feels. weird #anyway fuck it we ball

[leafannarchive]

I feel like your account vs the rest of tumblr is that one TikTok sound with the “Spinnin’ like a ballerina” and you’re the Ballerina rn /pos

literally me -> 💃 (pretend it’s a ballerina)

#i’m in mourning qnf was so special to me :/ #anyway FUCK IT WE BALL #peepotalking

[honeybeekao]

having a unique existence sucks because if im not like everyone else then obviously that makes them better than me (hyperbole)

#if my art isnt like That then im obviously a less capable artist #if my voice is unique then obviously no one wants to listen to me #if i am too myself then someone should stop me #all irrational thoughts i dont need reassurance i dont think #just. sometimes i hate humanity for feeling lesser #anyway fuck it we ball #dino cry

[sapsolace]

obsessed w these boneheads as of late :]

#griddlehark #tlt #the locked tomb #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #gtn #when u and the situationship livin it up in a haunted palace... FO FREE!!!!! #i wanted 2 do a background 4 this but college and work have been kicking my ASS so #figured i should just post it and move on i got other sketches and wips #anyways hello tlt fans do not expect me 2 draw anything the same twice. love u <3 #in this kitchen we fuck it And we ball. no artistic sameness and we like it that way. i also serve food once a month #stay at your own risk #i've been going insane over tlt by myself on my side acc and the longer i have no one 2 talk abt nona grief with #the more art i will pop out. but also pls i need 2 talk abt this shit w someone i'm coughing and dying out here

[incredubious]

same old, same old

[ print available here ! ]

#one piece #sanji #prints #if u want to point out anything wrong - i know. #*MJ pushing gun gif* i know. #we ball so fucking hard anyway. #this was a bit of background practice that I ended up cleaning up a bit ago and turned out swell #save me primary colours. Save me

[leather-field]

mistresses

#pathologic #clara pathologic #maria kaina #capella olgimskaya #my art #idk if i like how this one turned out but im posting anyway. fuck it we ball

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

#happy world bipolar day to all my bp babies #(more thoughts at the end of the tags) #shameless #shamelessnet #shamelessedit #ian gallagher #cameron monaghan #*macygifs #bipolar disorder #hello pals how are we doin #i made this gif set in july of 2023 and never posted it because 1) i was terrified to share it and potentially see Bad Takes in the tags #and 2) because my hyperfixation was waning. and while both of those things are still mostly true (the fixation comes and goes) #i feel like it's really important to share as ian's bipolar storyline was not only so vital to his character it was a bit of representation #that isn't often given to the disorder and those (like myself) who live with it every single day #world bipolar day is a day where we can both celebrate ourselves and our resilience and also raise awareness of the reality of the disorder #which is both terrifying and beautiful at its core. this disease is not a death sentence or a sentence to an unfulfilled and miserable life #while there are challenges galore when it comes to balancing life with this disorder it IS possible to live a full and productive life #and i think it's really important to have representation of that in media - and while shameless dropped the ball on a LOT of storylines #over the years THIS is the one they really fucking nailed and i am incredibly grateful #i first started watching shameless while in the midst of a major depressive episode and i was later (finally) diagnosed during an extended #hypo/manic episode - this show and ian's storyline got me through so much and made me feel so seen and validated in my struggles #world bipolar day is also vincent van gogh's birthday (happy birthday buddy) who was posthumously diagnosed with bipolar disorder #and who experienced both depressive and hypo/manic episodes during his lifetime (and was regularly institutionalized) #it takes a lot of help and support to keep us going. it takes the support of our family and friends and *most* of all #it takes patience and kindness and understanding - which is so so so easy to give if you are willing to love and listen #so please. be willing. listen to our stories. be patient with us. show us love without conditions. support us in any way you can. #we are worth it #i promise #anyway. that's really all i wanted to say. happy world bipolar day to those who celebrate (me) and may all of us living with this disorder #go on to live happy fulfilling beautiful magical lives

[rugwurm]

she rips out my bones, just like an animal

#fnaf #michael afton #ennard #uuuuuuuuuu #png of violent man saying “artists when they have an idea they cannot execute” well #need to do a learn a lot more these days. but i say fuck it we ball and draw what i do not know anyways #myart

[theminecraftbee]

okay so. hear me out. but. au concept--

joel is one of many people affected by a Vanishing. its a phenomenon sweeping the country--people simply not showing up for work, school, life one day, as though they've vanished from the face of the earth. it's almost possible to mistake for normal missing persons cases, if it weren't for the way a few of the higher-profile Vanishings have happened to people who shouldn't have been able to vanish at all, let alone in a way that wouldn't be noticed until too late. look at joel's hometown. the people monitoring the dam were supposed to be redundant, and yet--

anyway. not like he cares or anything, except for the fact this stupid disaster or whatever has left him without anywhere to live or anyone to live with, and he still has a year of high school left, so he can't just do whatever he wants. luckily there's this school in a town called new hermiton that agreed to give him a scholarship to finish his education in the name of recovery and solidarity or whatever, and it's kind of a shwankier school than he'd normally go for, but it's free and, more importantly, they're willing to pay for his lodging, and he can't really turn that down. and it's not like he has a choice but to upend his entire life now. so packing what few of his belongings survived into a bag and getting on a train and moving across the country to a new school it is, he guesses.

(he's been having nightmares that inexplicably feature swarms of blue butterflies. last time he checked, lakes don't have butterflies in them. although maybe it's a metaphor or something, on account of the butterflies saying stupid stuff about how people who are remembered can't disappear, and even a false world cannot be erased if it's watched over, and how fate depends on him holding people in his heart. thanks for saying the same stupid shitty platitudes his social worker told him, just more cryptically, butterflies. real cool.)

new hermiton, it turns out, is a small city. while new hermiton academy is a newer school, much of the city is older. he's moved into a nice enough flat in an older apartment building. he has another cryptic butterfly dream. he thinks he remembers someone trying to urgently warn him of something, but it's all... shaky. that morning, he goes to the school for the first time. he's greeted by a fellow transfer student, skizzleman, although apparently he already knows some of the other folks in town, and transferred here so he could stay with them. but it's at least someone else in a similar enough situation to joel, especially since joel can just tell by the way people are looking at him that skizz didn't have much of a choice but to be here, either, and best friends with impulse or not, he's on his own too.

so. a friend. maybe this school won't be that bad, even if joel keeps having nightmares, and even if the weather here is weirdly cold for july, and even if his new homeroom professor keeps on looking at him really weirdly. (aren't professors supposed to be better about stupid rumors anyway? what's that mr. hills's deal?)

and then, two days later, he waves skizz off at the end of the school day, and gets skizz's friend, impulse, at his door, desperate to hear that skizz had just come to stay the night in joel's shitty lonely apartment, because otherwise it looks like--come on man. joel's already having a shit time. the universe deciding to go after his one existing friend too? he promises impulse to help investigate that night, in the vain hope that Skizz isn't one of the Vanished. joel gets a splitting migraine trying to follow their path back, though, and they have to stop for the night.

skizz is reported missing the next morning. joel resigns himself to cutting himself off from the people around him, as per usual. then, strangely, mr. hills corners him as he goes home.

"you'll need this," he says, and shoves what feels like a cheap butterfly knife into joel's hands. "uh, remember, trust your heart! you'll know how to use it."

"what," joel says. "hold on. you're supposed to be a teacher. why are you giving me this. i know for a fact my file says i have like, ptsd or whatever, which is stupid, but you definitely aren't supposed to be giving me a knife, you weirdo?"

"you'll know how to use it," joe hills says again. "goodbye! believe in yourself!"

mr. hills sprints behind a building before he has to explain anything else. joel is left standing on the sidewalk holding a knife, staring after him.

so. that's weird as hell. joel shivers in the cold and continues on his way home. the butterfly knife feels heavy in his pockets. he should probably report that guy to his social worker or something, but actually talking to his social worker feels like conceding defeat. joel can take care of himself. he can prove he can take care of himself. just watch him. step one: go out to get ramen because he forgot to buy any food for his apartment.

he sees impulse putting up signs as he eats. impulse looks miserable. joel thinks about how skizz, just in the short time he'd known him, had sort of unintentionally given away that he felt isolated after his mother Vanished. that impulse was a great friend, but impulse didn't understand what it was like. he never really SAID as much, but--

it's not fair to impulse, for that to be the last thing impulse remembered of what was apparently a friend since childhood. and joel doesn't care about any of these guys, but he can still pay his check and go out and help impulse go looking. he's no good at comforting people and doesn't know this guy, but joel had been alone too, sitting on the roof and crying, when the helicopters came.

except when they go back to the path by the school, joel's head starts to hurt again.

he looks up and there's a butterfly.

"hey, impulse, are butterflies common here?" he asks, a little desperately.

"i mean, not really, why?" impulse says.

"uh," joel says, and gestures. the two of them stare as the strange yellow butterfly circles in place.

"okay, so that is kind of weird," impulse admits.

"right?" joel says. "the only way it would be weirder is if it were blue." impulse gives him a look. joel does not explain.

it starts to fly away.

"we should follow it," impulse says, his voice getting a little dull. "yeah. we should follow it."

"what? no! no we should not follow the haunted butterfly, are you nuts?" joel says, but it's a bit too late. (maybe this is what the knife is for: stabbing impulse. it would be an effective method of stopping him!) he chases impulse down, down to the river, where yellow butterflies are swarming. impulse, as though possessed, simply steps into the swarm and falls through them to the water.

joel's, uh, freaking out more than a little bit? he'll admit he's freaking out. he dives forward to try to grab him, only to realize that he doesn't see impulse anywhere.

a single blue butterfly lands on joel's shoulder. "do you hold his heart next to yours?"

"i'm going insane," joel says.

"no heart is meant to be completely alone. do you hold his next to yours?"

"this isn't happening," joel says. "this is like a stupid manga or something. it's not happening."

"there is still time to save them; you must hold your heart strong, or the consequences will be dire. i believe in you."

the butterfly vanishes.

"fuck it," joel says. "if i drown then it's nothing people haven't expected of me anyway."

he steps through the swarm of butterflies.

that night, he drags both impulse and skizz out of the river. they're all freezing cold. shadows and strange, yellowy liquid still cling to all of their skin. also, joel stabbed himself, which like, glad to know that's what the knife was for, apparently, and the scar is warm and comforting. he can feel his--persona, and don't ask him how he knows that--shifting under his skin, under the mark on his hand. it said its name is pygmalion; it says it is a piece of joel's soul.

this is all patently insane. but skizz and impulse are alive and NOT eaten by shadow monsters, so even if they're both a little unconscious, joel takes that as a win.

they lie on the ground outside the river. someone stumbles across them. "well give me some teeth and call me an alligator. you got out on your own," breathes a fellow student clutching a dagger. joel thinks he's in the class across the hall. also--

"what are you talking about," joel wheezes.

"you found it on your own. you can find them?" the student says. his eyes are wide. something in joel's soul recognizes something in the student's. something in joel's BRAIN puts two and two together and realizes why mr. hills gave him a knife.

"no. no, go away, i don't want to be involved in this," joel says.

"well, don't you think it's too late for that?" the student says, and joel passes out. he's pretty sure the butterflies have to be laughing at him. in fact, as though to mock him further, after passing out, he doesn't even get to avoid it forever, because he wakes up in a glowing blue boat. there is a man with white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue outfit leaning over him, poking him.

joel takes no responsibility for punching him. he'd do it again, too, as the long-nosed man sitting next to the unmanned steering wheel welcomes him to the velvet room.

(this, joel realizes later, all rather sets the tone for what the next year of his life is about to become.)

#hermitcraft #joel smallishbeans #smallishsona au #THAT'S RIGHT BABY ITS THE PERSONA AU I WAS WAFFLING ABOUT #because i'm playing p3re right now this is pretty p3 inspired but also expect elements of p4 (my fav) and p5 #i. do not know enough about p1 and p2 to be using all these butterflies but FUCK IT WE BALL. #a bee fic #KIND OF I GUESS I'LL PUT THIS THERE. #anyway the idea is that this au is half a crack au and half DEEPLY SINCERE #because the JOKE is that joel hates every minute of being a persona protagonist #but the OTHER bit is that joel is genuinely an extremely loyal guy who would do VERY WELL as a persona protagonist #you just have to drag him there kicking and screaming #(sort of in a very. p3-esque way)

[dangoulains-devotion]

to catch a falling star

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #ff7 #cid highwind #vincent valentine #valenwind #my art #genuinely!! kind of v proud of this one fellas!!! #the original version was the right hand one (falling/catching) but bc of the perspective you couldn't really tell vincent was falling #so i liked how the left side version looked too in a descending/catching kind of way. so u get both #my friend said he liked both versions bc it made him think of a tarot card and i will be chasing that high #anyway shout out to the tenebris ad astra project for existing bc it finally gave me the power of inspiration for the first time in months #i tried to mix vincent's hair between the dirge style and remake style. idk if it worked but fuck it we ball #i forgot a tag. i am moonlight elegy on twt #(its meant to be next to the my art tag) #swings back in here to mention its hard to see but it is v important that vincent has hip dips. thank u

[teethflavoured]

squid weezer, squeezer if u will

#ok back to drawinf spyke making really stupid faces anyways #posting it early cause fuck it we ball or smthing #teethdraws #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon fanart #splatoon art #splatoon fandom #splatbands #namida #ikkan #murasaki #ichiya #squid squad #splatoon ikkan #ikkan splatoon #ichiya splatoon #splatoon ichiya #namida splatoon #splatoon namida #murasaki splatoon #splatoon murasaki #hey if ur looking in the tags suggest me some platoon characters 2 draw will ya #i wanna draw every1

[skrunksthatwunk]

skwisgaar punished arc

#twirling my hair hiiiiii metalocalypse fandom #also sorry if i fucked up the boys' designs at all 1) this is my 1st time drawing any of them and 2) i didn't look up refs. lol #truly a fuck it we ball moment #metalocalypse #mtl #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwistok #anyway i binged all 4 seasons in like 5 days. my brain has been hijacked by these stupid awful terrible horrible jerks. >:/ #still need to watch aotd though smhing my head #they jacks off? they jacks off together but it ammenst homoskectuals? it ams more likelies than yous think! #also the straight floor is covered in crumbs. if you even care #see skwisgaar is pretty in that italian leather shoe type way that timothy chalamet is. like paper mache #anyway hope i didn't fuck up their voices too bad more content on the way whatever see ya✌️✌️ #sigh. edit: i resized all the panels bc they were just like. cartoonishly small. they're a bit low res but eh. legible enough for me #i drew it too small </3 a mistake i won't make twice mark my freaking worms #skrunkart

[amethysttribble]

Father had personally asked Feanor to stand for this portrait, so he was. Father had quietly suggested that perhaps this could be a painless exercise, which did not actually mean ‘painless’ but rather ‘silent’ for Feanor, but he agreed. Father told him this painting did not symbolize anything but his own desire to have a record of all his available loved ones around him, and Feanor was trying to see it that way- for the sake of his own sanity.

Because his stomach was roiling, and there was a heaviness in his chest, a great emptiness which his heart was pounding against, echoing, echoing, echoing.

Father had one hand on Feanor’s shoulder and the other was upon Indis’s. She was sat in front of them, smiling beautifully, little golden-haired Arafinwe in her lap. Around them, her three dark-haired children were gathered. Findis on Father’s other side, Nolofinwe with her, and Lalwen in front of Feanor.

To the unaware eye, Feanor knew, they must all look like they matched. Like they went together correctly. Like a family.

When the portrait was complete and those dark haired children were gathered around the mother and father, who would guess that one child was out of place? Who might glance at all that paint representing their faces and think anything but-

You could almost be her son, Feanor thought, and then his mind replied, But you’re not.

He was so still and he dared not move, because if he did, he’d never get back in place. If Feanor flinched once, the sharp, jagged pieces of him that never fit right in this puzzle would scratch one of them. They’d be annoyed and that would be it: he’d combust in anger, he’d shatter across the floor, snapping and snarling at everyone unnecessarily until he ruined their perfect little scene. Father said this might be a painless exercise. No, no; this was to be a silent, still exercise.

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

How good a painter was this person Father hired? How varied his faces? Would he capture that Feanor’s nose resembled that of none of the people here? Could he represent that his frame was already different from his father and little half-brother’s?

Would he lie and throw a pleased smile on Feanor’s face? Not even Father had asked him to smile.

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

Feanor’s presence made them fit together so symmetrically, maybe that was pleasing enough to hide the wrongness of this scene. Maybe that’s why Father made him come here today, the pretty scene. Why he asked him to suffer, even as the longer he stood here, the more and more Feanor felt like he was about to be sick all over the floor.

A ghost, a ghost, there was a ghost looming over their shoulders ruining this perfectly symmetrical scene. Couldn’t they feel her breathing down their necks, icy chill against sweat? Didn’t their perfectly posed heads feel her long, clever fingers wrapped lovingly around their necks?

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

Feanor’s gaze slipped down to the back of Indis’s head. Her beautiful golden hair. She didn’t wear a crown, this was a family portrait, and that felt worse. So much worse.

If he let his eyes unfocus and his mind wander, he could try to lie to himself that her hair was much lighter and the faces of the children around them more closely resembled his own. The woman in front of him loved him, and she fussed over his hair before they sat for this portrait, and he’d let her do it.

The worst part was Feanor did know that Indis would help him with the ties of his robes, if only he let her.

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

She’s not, she’s not, she’s not. It was a simple statement of fact. It was scandal enough that the father replaced the wife, when one at least chose a wife, but what freak replaced his own mother?

What would the people who saw this portrait think? Would they see Finwe’s happy family or would they see Feanor’s blaring, uncomfortable intrusion upon what gods and men declared to be a better order of things? Father wanted him to belong here, but he didn’t.

He just didn’t.

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

A painless exercise. Painless, painless, painless, for them. Silent, still Feanor, a happy accessory to the triumphant union of Finwe and Indis, a grateful stray dog permitted to drink from the bowls provided by Indis’s family.

This exercise was just meant to capture the image of all Finwe loved, nothing more. Don’t think too hard about it, Feanor. You might make the children unhappy.

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

You should pretend you are, though. That’ll make them like you.

Because they did so disdain him, most of the time. They disliked how he glared at their mother and started fights at family dinners and ignored them in the hallways. Why shouldn’t they? Feanor would hate a person who did those things to his family, too.

He just couldn’t stop, though. He wanted to, sometimes, when the exhaustion and loneliness caught up, and then he remembered that he wasn’t Indis’s son and never would be, and remembering that made him angry. Wouldn’t it just be so damn convenient for them all if he was almost her son?

But he wasn’t.

He was Miriel’s son. That was her name. He had no portrait with her. He loved her.

He loved Miriel, but it was Indis he posed with and-

When the session was done, Feanor jerked away from his father and shoved his way past Lalwen. As he went, Indis looked up at him, caught his eye, and he couldn’t help the sneer that crossed his face.

He hoped that was painless enough for her.

When he returned to his chamber, he went to the wash room and heaved in the pot there. The gagging and retching made wetness prick his eyes, and the sudden tightness of throat made him choke all the harder. The sickness and heaving stayed long past when there was anything in his stomach to lose.

No one came. Feanor hoped maybe Father would, but really, why would he? Feanor had been mostly good, just a little rudeness wasn’t worth either reprimand or comfort.

No, they were together. Maybe admiring their portrait, happy and pleased, or complaining about his behavior again. Really, why couldnt that Curufinwe just accept nice things?

I need to get out of here, Feanor thought, face and body wet with both sweat and tears. I need to leave this place.

He was a good son, and he could do anything else his father wanted but betray his mother any more.

Feanor couldn’t pose as Indis’s son even a second longer. He would destroy himself, if he had to think one more time-

You could almost be her son. But you’re not.

#I understand what it’s like to be surrounded by people all telling you that you belong and it’s okay and just /be nice/ #just play ball and settle and you can everything in the world #but you know you don’t belong #and you never will #and pretending is killing you #you won’t you can’t and you’re just so fucking sick of them pretending you can fit if you’re just /nice enough/ #because they’re lying to you and themselves #just don’t be angry?? omg why are you angry? stop being angry and enjoy what we say you should want teehee #anyway I love feanor and don’t think he should have just gotten over his mothers death #tolkien #the silmarillion #feanor #tribble post #fanfic

[awerzo]

he's right behind me isn't he

#pathologic #pathologic 2 #art tag #daniil dankovsky #Мор. Утопия #me??? posting two days in a row???? AND posting traditional art??? #what is this #anyway this was like #me sitting down at the desk opening my sketchbook and just going 'fuck it we ball' for an hour #and actually made a decent result #granted i forgor that i had drawings on the other side of that page and forgot that uh #ink bleeds through #oopsie #also if you saw me post this few hours ago no you didnt #100