#it’s very long

[phatcatphergus]

Y’all i just passed out and had the kinda nap where you time travel and everything feels weird and now the whole day is gone when I needed to do things and everything is all messed up and nothing feels right

ALSO I MISSED THE START OF NO DICE AND THATS THE WORST PART

#i got spoilers a bit but does someone want to give me a summary #idk if I’ll be able to watch the vod :( #it’s very long #tubbo #tubathon #no dice

[fluffabutt]

Decided to write another yandere prompt

Thank you @bellafragolina and @wertello for letting me bounce ideas off you

Gender Neutral Reader x Nanu/Guzma

More of a guess to see which one is the yandere, and this boy is long

assault and implied stalking

You walk down Route 17 in the pouring rain, when you walk into the Pokémart your sneakers squeak with every step as you walk towards the back room.

You lock up your stuff, and put on your apron, switch out with Cayden who looks at her student portal with such dread you don’t give her any grief when she forgets to log out of the cash register.

You look out the window to the one or two desolate street lamps you can see standing as little beacons home. Almost pitch black like the bottom of the ocean it feels like, and you won’t see the sunrise for another 8 hours.

You tell Cayden have a good night as her sneakers squeal in the wet tracks you left on the floor. You log into the cash register, and as you grab the mop and bucket punch into work.

This is the routine you’ve grown accustomed to for the past few weeks.

You’ll be here tonight.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

For how ever long it takes you to save enough money to move off Ula Ula Island.

——————————————————————-

You get into the rhythm of cleaning the floors, some hokey country song about youth and friendship and pie plays over the store speaker system. You wish the owner would just spend the money to buy an official music service, if only because you realize you’re almost fond of how terrible it is.

You hear a thumping sound from the windows that damn near causes your heart to leap out your throat, but you turn to see your regular idiot Masquerain bashing it’s head against the flood lights on the exterior of the building.

So you sigh, roll the mop back into its place, grab the wet floor sigh and the push broom and start to walk outside.

You put the sign up and then walk out into the humid, muggy rain.

“Hey! Dumb Bug!” You say, pushing at the Masquerain with your broom under the extended roof so it’s wings don’t get any wetter than they already have.

The poor thing cries and whines until you turn on the portable lamp you hung there for it to mash it’s head against.

You just sigh before walking back inside, you have no idea how that idiot gets stuck here almost every night, but you don’t mind if that’s the only returning customer.

Route 17 doesn’t get a lot of trainers this time of night, and you’re thankful even though your ankles are already aching by the second hour. The owner doesn’t allow you to sit at the cash register so you patiently set an alarm on your Rotomphone for an hour and half from now for your break.

The sound of pounding feet run up from outside as you see a small cluster of Team Skull members burst in from outside with the chime of the automatic door. They keep their mumbled complaints to themselves as they look at you.

You just give them a wave while you check social media on your Rotomphone. You were paid to mind the store, and you could mind your business for free.

Team Skull was part of the reason you never saw trainers much less regular schmoes around route 17, it was their turf.

You didn’t understand the hype, a bunch of kids trying to rap at you wasn’t intimidating in your opinion. Even when the beatboxer was steady most of them still couldn’t rap on beat.

So you idly tap at your phone while they shuffle around through the aisles, arguing over chip flavors and candy bars. Your heart hurts a little when one quickly shuts down that argument with a “What’s the point? We can’t buy it anyway!”

You look up at the chime of the automatic door, and try to put on your customer service smile when you see it’s an adult.

You see a hunched over guy in what looks to be his mid 50s, grey hair matted down from the rain when he closed his umbrella. But it’s his eyes, and the dead stare he levels at you that gives you a sudden feeling of anxiety.

It’s broken when he looks away with a click of his tongue as he walks toward the Pokéfood section of the store.

You place a hand over your heart to try and calm down when you realize how quiet the teens have gotten since the guy walked in. They watch him with caution, a respect you haven’t seen them give to anyone.

You realize you don’t get paid enough to focus on that.

Even if the sound of his sandals clopping on the wet tile drive you crazy.

The ring leader of this small pack walks up to the register with purpose, and slaps down some 100 pokedollar hot dogs that you ring up. It’s some hushed arguing of who’s got how much while you stare blankly thinking of what your “dinner” is tonight, until they pool the total together with spare coins.

You pop the register, drop the coins into the necessary slot, and give the expected “Thank you for shopping at Pokémart” as they run back into the rain and up to Po Town… you assume.

Your guy ambles around for another 10 or so minutes hemming and hawing about the prices of the wet food cans and then walking to the front.

He plops about 10 cans of food on the counter and you start to scan them while he pulls out his wallet.

“Oh, and one pack of the Motostoke Reds.”

You give an affirmative noise and turn to pull a pack off the shelf. It’s when you turn back that you’re stuck with his very intense stare.

Like he’s expecting something.

What that could be you don’t know.

You just push the barcode under the scanner and tell him the total.

Outside of the grunts and young trainers, nobody really pays in cash anymore, so you’re surprised when he flips through a large wad of bills to pay with.

His tongue sticks out while he concentrates and hums the count.

You take the cash from him, pulling up the coins that you owe before dropping them into his open palm with his receipt.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.” You say, rehearsed and robotic.

“Uh-huh.” He drawls, and finally walks out of the Pokémart, his sandals clacking against the tile as he leaves.

You just breathe a sigh of relief when he disappears back into the rain with a… Meowth umbrella??

It’s a super cute umbrella pattern. You want it.

Next paycheck.

The evening goes by uneventfully, mop the floor again, give the Dumb Bug a berry when you take your meal break.

You take out the garbage around five am when there’s just enough light to see and the rain has finally stopped.

You see a couple cigarette butts and grumble under your breath, but clean them up anyway.

The owner comes in at 6 and you clock out.

——————————————————————————-

Another day, another night.

Same old same old.

Except for your old dude buying cigarettes once a week.

The times he walks in are sporadic but at least he tends to avoid coming in on your meal break. Same thing every time: wet food, pack of Motostoke Reds.

Except tonight he grabs some prepackaged Basculin rice balls.

You don’t know why that spurs you to actually talk to this guy.

“Oh, those are super good.” You keep ringing up the wet food cans.

He looks shocked at your voice but he gives you an appraising look.

“Is that so?” He trails off.

“Yeah, they’re pretty solid.”

He hums contemplatively, before you ring up his total and you give him back his change.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.”

He gives you a smile, though it’s more of a shitty grin.

“You too.”

Then he and his clopping sandals walk out the door and into the night.

——————————————————————

You get a surprise visitor that week, a tall dude with bleached white hair and tats struts up to the cash register. It would’ve been more intimidating if he wasn’t soaked to the bone and his sneakers weren’t speaking with every step.

And you’re gonna have to fucking mop. Again.

He slaps his hand on the counter, and of course you jump because why the fuck is this guy trying to pick a fight at 2:20 in the morning.

“Gimme a pack of Motostoke Reds.” He orders gruffly.

You take a deep breath and grab the pack from the shelves, you scan the barcode and tell him the total.

He mutters under his breath some obscenities about how expensive cigarettes are getting and how bullshit it is as he rummages through crumpled up bills from his pockets.

You don’t get paid enough for this.

You notice he sticks his tongue out while he counts the money.

Huh.

“Hey!” He barks, your eyes dart up to his face. “You got any of those Basculin rice balls today?”

You nod.

You both stand there, silence.

What does this guy expect? You don’t get paid to go fetch, you get paid to stand here damn near all night.

“Over in the back over by the premade sandwiches,” you almost forget your retail politeness,” sir.”

He’s got a vein bulging in his forehead before he stomps to the back over by the sandwiches. Muttering fuck word after fuck word.

You think about your account balance, and sigh.

You pray to Arceus this guy fucks off and never comes back.

He slaps the rice balls on the counter and you give him the new total.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” He says shoving his purchase and his change into his pockets before stomping off into the rain.

Asshole.

You find even more soggy cigarette butts outside when you take out the trash.

—————————————————————-

The Asshole and The Old Dude pop in intermittently, along with different clusters of Team Skull members. Very rarely you get a couple of older trainers, veterans and martial artists who find some satisfaction in almost catching hypothermia from standing in the rain all night.

You make polite conversation with The Old Dude and the trainers that come in.

Every so often The Asshole walks in and asks for some bizarre food item, a rice ball, and his cigarettes. It’s starting to become satisfying to just tell him where to find it, since he still expects you to go get it for him.

His squeaky sneakers and sopping wet hair only make him look like a grumpy toddler.

You get more and more trainers coming in though, which keeps the nights busy even if you have to mop so much more often with all the water being tracked in.

You still hook up Dumb Bug with its lamp and a berry.

You still take your meal break at 3:30am.

You still take out the trash to find soggy cigarette butts, but this time there seems to be a collaborative art project because they’re leaving them in shapes.

You don’t think it’s one person, there’s more cigarettes here than in just a single pack of the stuff.

But you don’t stop the “Mother Fucker” you bark when you have to get the broom and dust trap to scrape them up off the sidewalk.

——————————————————

The new influx of trainers typically dies down around 1am.

But tonight seems to be dragging.

Your card reader malfunctions, so you have to hand write a post-it note to stick on the reader.

Cash Only.

Doesn’t mean that grown adults know how to fucking read apparently.

Yes, the card reader is down.

No, I can’t take any card transactions.

You’re almost pulling your hair out by the time a customer walks up to the counter and throws a fit.

The Asshole was an asshole, but this guy is the fucking King Asshole. Asshole to end all assholes, waving his hands like if he throws his shoulders out of socket you’ll get the card reader working.

“Sir, either you use cash to complete your purchase or leave, I can’t fix it-“

“This is un-fucking believable! This is the new kind of low The Pokémart brand has sunk to?!”

“Sir, you’ll have to wait to buy until the morning with your card when the owner comes in to reset it. I don’t know what else to tell you-“

“FIX THE FUCKING CARD READER!”

You typically are fighting the best of a migraine with the shitty fluorescent lights, now your ears are ringing with how loud he’s yelling.

“Oi. You buying this shit or not?!”

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you look past King Asshole to The Asshole looming behind him.

Good. Two assholes.

“I-I-“ King Asshole tries to get some traction to start his impassioned tirade like a pull motor.

“No? Get the fuck outta my way then.”

At least The Asshole isn’t yelling.

God damn does your head hurt.

“Oi!” The Asshole speaks up, snapping his fingers obnoxiously to get your attention. It seems King Asshole has left, and all of his purchase is on the counter.

Nice.

“Oh, yeah,” you blink to give yourself a quick reset before you start scanning The Asshole’s items.

There’s a heavy silence as The Asshole scowls and shuffles his feet before he opens up his mouth when you turn to grab his cigarettes.

“You okay?” He says gruffly, though with a pinch of softness you’ve never heard before. It doesn’t help the tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You say, your voice cracking on the “yeah”, and you’re so fucking frustrated.

He just clicks his tongue and starts counting out his wadded up balls of bills.

You scan his cigarettes, and read him the total.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a nice night.” You plop the change and his receipt in his hand.

He looks at you and you feel just so drained you just stare back. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but he turns around and squeaks back into the dark with the little automatic chime.

You walk to the back to take your break early, sighing and softly dabbing at your eyes while you eat your sandwich.

Fuck man, just a couple more weeks.

You just needed a couple more paychecks, and then you can leave and get away from this place.

———————————————————————

You find your cigarette savant has put a smiley face design today.

You mutter a quick, “fuck off” to nothing as you scrape it off the sidewalk.

The back of your neck aches. Like a weight settling there.

———————————————————————

You don’t see King Asshole, thank Arceus, but you run into rude customers occasionally. Aside from The Asshole.

You’d noticed a couple of blocked off areas, but you thought it was construction or something. The owner put a Pokémart on Route 17, there was probably some other developer willing to be stupid enough to build something else here.

Cayden is clocking out when she looks up from her Rotomphone and taps your shoulder.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” You put on your apron.

“A couple of people have been getting attacked on the way back from the Pokémart.”

“No shit?”

“You didn’t notice the caution tape?” She gives you a look, but you just roll your eyes.

“I saw the tape, I just thought it was construction.”

“Who’d build anything out here- ah shit nevermind. But! Either way, be safe out!”

You clock in and meet her eyes. You feel a little floaty feeling in your stomach.

“You think it’s Team Skull?”

She sighs as she pulls out her stuff from the locker. Looking up trying to remember something.

“Nah, they have been pretty quiet since the whole Aether Island stuff. I think I read something about the victims said it was only one person.”

Oh good. Great. Fantastic.

“Cool I’m probably gonna get murdered after standing around here all night.”

“Probably,” she says with a snarky tone.

You put away your stuff and lock it up but you hear a quiet thump of the cash register counter and look in that direction.

Cayden gives you a serious look, you’ve never seen so much trepidation on her face outside of an exam or a paper. You feel your gut churn.

“Be careful okay?”

You swallow, and clench your hands to ground yourself.

“You too.”

——————————————————————

You scroll more on your Rotomphone than usual, trying to just pass the time out of your own head so you don’t flinch and look at whoever walks into the store with complete fear.

Even the thumping Dumb Bug does has you on edge. But it seems the Masquerain can sense your nerves after you walk out to turn their lamp on, because they flap over and nuzzle your face before they continue their bizarre little lamp dance.

You feel a little bit of tension ease, but you try to keep yourself busy nonetheless. When the last of the late night crowd dissipates you just stand with your nerves going haywire at the register.

It’s just you, the hum of the fluorescents, and the darkness outside. At least it isn’t raining.

Fuck.

Old Dude walks in today, and you’re almost relaxed listening to the clip clop of his flip flops against the tile. Even with the shitty country song playing over the loud speakers.

He brings his spoils over to the counter and you ring him up like usual.

“You seem tense.”

You were so startled, you almost drop the wet food can you scanned.

“Huh?” You look at him.

“I said,” he drawls. “You look tense.”

“Oh,” you let out a nervous laugh, and turn to get his Motostoke Reds. “Yeah, did you hear about the attacks lately?”

“Attacks?” He arches a very thick brow at you. Ugh you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Yeah, my coworker said people were getting attacked on the road back to Ula Ula Meadow. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Hm, that’s… unusual.”

“Yeah,” you say, the awkwardness makes you want to get out of this conversation so you can go back to standing at the register and panicking to yourself.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, stay safe.” You say, change and receipt placed onto his open palm.

“You too. Oh, if you need any help,” he pauses standing in the doorway. Your interest firmly captured on him. “There’s always the police station up the road.”

You’d forgotten about that, mostly because you didn’t have any business walking towards Po Town at all.

“Uh, sure. Thanks mister.”

“Oh, you don’t know who I am do you?” He seems to give you that smug smirk. Though you wonder if he just seems to not know how to smile properly.

“Uh the dude who buys wet food and Motostoke Reds?” You say, your shoulders rising with a shrug.

“Yeah… we’ll go with that.” He says with a chuckle as he walks out.

“Oh… okay. Cool.”

What the fuck was that about? You sigh and count to ten before going back on Pokégram to watch shorts to focus on.

Even if you can’t seem to shake the feeling something is watching you.

—————————————————————————

Your shift ends with a heart made of cigarettes butts.

It makes you queasy.

——————————————————————-

The Old Dude and The Asshole visit more frequently.

The Old Dude seems to have fun forcing you into polite conversation. Talking about the frequency of attacks on the road, and you’re pretty sure it’s just to make you squirm.

He always smirks when he gets a reaction out of you. And your stomach drops every time.

The fucker seems to revel in watching goosebumps run up your arms.

And you’re almost thankful to see the asshole, until he starts to intimidate other customers in the line.

Any bad manners from customers are met with him loudly complaining about how they’re wasting his time to get them to hurry up. Only to… just awkwardly try to make conversation with you.

“Oi.”

“Yes sir?”

“Fuckin’, the weather…”

You just look at him, blinking. My brother in Arceus, what were you supposed to say?

“Yeah, it’s not raining tonight.”

“Yeah…”

Weeks of that.

Weeks.

Of the two of them coming in almost every night, to get the same stuff. To trap you in the same circling conversations.

It was sick.

The anxiety they were giving you left you barely able to eat.

You put in your two weeks notice quietly to the owner, tired of feeling like a Rattata being hunted by Meowths, counting down the days until you could leave.

For weeks the feeling of eyes on you at all times doesn’t leave until you go home after your shift.

————————————————————

You clock into your shift, getting a hug from Cayden before she leaves wishing you luck with your fresh start.

You go through the usual routine of the crowd, ignoring the bids for attention from The Old Dude. He just quirked an eyebrow before leisurely strolling back out the door.

And you turned the lamp on one last time for Dumb Bug. There wasn’t anybody on the route path, so you just sat and reminisced with the fluttering insect Pokemon. It wasn’t until you got up to go back inside that Dum Bug acknowledged you.

By grabbing your shirt sleeve with its delicate little grippers.

“Hey bud, it’ll be okay, the next person on Night Shift will be nice to you. Just don’t get hurt flying around in the rain okay?”

The bug just grabbed onto your shirt even further settling onto your shoulder. This dumb fucking bug and your dumb fucking heart so full of love.

“What fucking pair you two make.”

Ah. The Asshole.

You turn, putting on your retail smile to acknowledge him.

“Oh my apologies sir, I will ring you up at the counter, please give me a moment.”

“‘S fine- you’ve been building a bond with ‘er for a while yeah?”

You feel your heart stop.

You put your hand over your Rotomphone in your pocket.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of bad guy, ey?”

You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

“Look just, alright lemme explain.” He says taking a step towards you.

You realize now how tall he is. How bulky he is.

How easily he could hurt somebody.

How blind you’ve been to the obvious.

The fucking skull pendant on the chain around his neck.

You never noticed.

“Hey,” he says and you hear a loud whine as your breathing picks up. “Woah wait don’t-“

Your Dumb Bug flaps quickly in front of you and oscillates it’s wings to unleash a horrible loud whine that has The Asshole clutching his ears with you.

Dumb Bug pulls you in the direction of your home but Asshole quickly steps to the side while getting his bearings to cut you off.

So you pivot: the Old Guy had told you there was a Police Station up the road right?

That’s where you run to.

“HEY! WAIT- agh, FUCK GET BACK HERE DAMMIT LEMME EXPLAIN!” He shouts after you, and you feel tears start to well up and run down your cheeks as you haul yourself up the hill.

Dumb Bug tries to chirp to cheer you on, especially when you can hear Asshole catching up with you. You let out the loudest scream you can before you’re cut off by him grabbing your collar and choking you.

You kick and jerk away from him as he pulls you close. He grunts when you manage to catch his shins and land a hit to his nose with a lucky flail.

Dumb Bug tries to start up another loud screech but Asshole holds you against him like a meat shield and your sweet little Masquerain clearly doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s got your arms caught behind you while you howl and scream for help.

“Gah-fuck! You couldn’t just- stop moving-“ he jerks you roughly enough to make your shoulders pop and you yelp at the pain. “Look all you had to do was let me explain-“

“Explain what?! How you fucking stalked me?!” You shriek, still fighting against his grip while he pushes you steadily up the hill towards the police station.

“Look I wasn’t stalkin’ ya- you weren’t being secretive about it!”

“And now you’re fucking assaulting me!”

He wrenches you back to yell in your ear.

“Because you ran away dumb ass!”

It hurts your ears, and all you can do is struggle and yell for help as he shuffles the both of you up the road. When you see the police station you get a surge of energy.

If you don’t get away from him now- god you don’t want to even think about what he could do to you.

So you lean back and stomp your foot on his toes as hard as you can. He grunts as the grip on your arms loosens when he flinches.

“DUMB BUG NOW!”

You pull forward, and Dumb Bug releases that horrible sound from it’s wings again, thankfully slipping out of Asshole’s grasp and you push one last sprint away towards the Police Station.

You manage to sprint towards the station, the faded white exterior with striped columns standing ominously with a few sconces lit up. Probably on a timer.

You beg to Arceus and the Tapus and whatever else can hear that somebody is in the building.

You slam into the blue doors of the entrance, making the windows rattle. You slam you palms against the door and beg for somebody, anybody to open up.

You hear multiple Meowths hiss and shriek while you pound on the door, begging through tears and gulps of breath for help.

You know Asshole wasn’t going to be distracted forever, that guy was the Leader of Team Skull, he had pokemon.

You left the poor Masquerain with a sicko.

You hope the poor thing was okay.

Eventually the lights turn on inside and you can see the shapes of the office interior through the clouded glass. A figure quickly rushing to the door backlit in shadow.

You heave a sharp gasp of relief as the door opens-

“Oh, thank you please- I’m being chased by-“

“Hey,” it’s his voice that makes you nauseous so quickly you sway on your feet. “Woah, hold on what’s got you so riled up?”

He clasps your shoulders in a firm grip to keep your legs underneath you.

You weren’t specific enough in your pleas for mercy, because the gods had gifted you the old creep as your beacon of hope.

“Oh look at you, you’ve been all roughed up. Scaring the clowder- tch, the boy’s so rough sometimes.”

You wonder if the universe had a specific grudge on you at this point.

“Oi! Guzma!” You look down at the badge on the old guy’s shirt, Police Captain Nanu, it says. You never had the desire to know anything about him before this point.

You were stupidly hoping you could ignore the both of them and leave Ula Ula Island.

“Yeah yeah! I get it-“

“Do you now?” You look into Nanu’s eyes as he speaks with his casual drawl. “Tears and bruises on the arms don’t imply to me that you in fact “Got it”.”

“Oi! They threw the first punch not me! Besides, I was busy grabbing this-“ he holds up your boarding pass for the morning flight out of Ula Ula Island, out of Alola. “Seems they weren’t going to tell us they were leaving.”

That had been in your bag. In your locker.

In the office.

Had he only just gotten to your stuff?

Or had he been rummaging through there this whole time.

Guzma holds Dumb Bug, unconsciously flopping it’s little wings as they jostle with each of his footsteps, and he finally leans down to get close to your face.

“It’s okay though, me and the old geezer ‘ere will make everything crystal clear.” He says with a mean sneer, a wild look in his eyes and you stand there and shake.

“Guzma, enough, we’ve got all night to help them understand. And besides,” Nanu says, his arm curling over your shoulder while Guzma opens the other door to flank you. “You’ve got every day afterward to accept your situation.”

#fluffabutt writes #yandere imagines #yandere pokemon x reader #yandere Nanu #yandere Guzma #yandere scenarios #yandere pokemon #it’s very long #a little meandering even #I don’t want to do a third draft on this #completely gave up trying to think of the pokemon equivalent of a Hot Dog #yandere x reader

[cafemagie]

Hi all,

I hope everyone has been well. This post will answer to some asks about why there wasn't much activities on Solace anymore, why I stopped drawing regularly, and if things have been okay.

Some of you maybe know that I'm currently a pharmacy student with two more years to go in my program, but things are pretty challenging at the moment. I've been fighting with burn out, and the thoughts of playing my reverse uno card to quit it, or stick with my deck and go through it, since the finish line is so close.

However, along with other students, being verbally mistreated by some professors during our curriculum and at retail work by colleagues and customers didn't help us coping at all with already very demanding studies -and most of the time personal issues and mandatory part jobs to keep up with student living costs 🫠

During my 3rd year, it went as far as our entire class writing to the Dean about internal problems. What's what even more surprising is that our seniors also wrote a letter addressing the same issues. I saw fellows cry, great students suffering from injustice, and some of them having a hard time coping with this mess😞. One student even drop out without a warning, by missing a decisive oral examination. Could write a webtoon about it…

That's why I've felt so overwhelmed last year, tired of this rat race, and wondered if I should just quit, go far away from this place and those people, pursue art instead, or design, change my studies, go to a new school, whatever it takes…and build a career from that.

However, life isn’t that simple. The world current state is kind of a mess. Even if it's hard to believe in it at our lowest point, we need to keep our spirit. Challenges are most of the time temporary, and the rewards of overcoming them are long-lasting. That's the conclusion I've come to after days of reflexion.

Deep inside, I feel I maybe need to finish what I started and earn this PharmD degree, before pursuing art, design, or whatever life has in store for me. I don't want to let petty people win over my spirit. It has been so hard to get there, and somehow if I succeeded passing 5 years already (took competitive examination 2 times), I can survive those two years.

It may be very hard, but I am committed to pushing through and completing this crazy program, so I can at least have “Dr. Solace” as an useless compensation for all these years of craziness 🫠

Once I graduate, I know that my passion for art will still be there, waiting for me to pursue it.

Thank you for your support, and I hope that everyone will find strength to deal with whatever life will throw at them.

For those who are also dealing with petty people right now, know that your resilience will beat them in the end, and that caring people exist. Reach for help, and believe in your worth, even if I know it’s hard sometimes. We'll keep standing up even if we fall, and despite the pain, find a way to overcome the challenges.

#ask solace #no reblog #it’s very long #but it should answer your asks #thank you for your messages

[takitakidancetillthesunriseyea]

I have a post in the works and am just procrastinating

#crying #it’s very long

[stardial]

Well I'm tryna SIMP HERE! AND THE HISTORICAL INACCURACIES! ARE MAKING IT! DIFFICULT

IM SORRY! most important tags should also b pinned in the search though

#asks #new carrd will be done SOON. maybe #it’s very long #<(:)c

[infiniteiram]

after MONTHS of beating myself up that i didn’t finish the fanfic in the desired time (i was overwhelmed by sm stuff so i don’t know why i added sm pressure onto myself) i actually realized last night how happy i am with what i have written so far :D

#it’s very long #i’m wondering if it’ll be longer than the jens szn fic #and i’m only aiming for six chapters #i have two more #but it’s lenghty #but this is a reminder to #be kind to yourself #don’t treat your hobbies and interests like a chore or u will start to hate doing it #do it because u love it yk #anyway #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #wtfock #van der stoffels #vds #vds fic #hehehe i’m so excited

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

#i cannot tell you how much this made me smile just bc it's so full of love #moon #venus #zoozve #long post #sorry about that it's very long but it's very entertaining i hope you enjoy this lil zoozve gem haha #astronomy #astrophysics #space

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

#dungeon meshi #falin touden #marcille donato #farcille #I always loved how chapter 27 ends with them both so bloody and 28 starts with them in the bath. #not just because of how iconic the bathtub moment is but because you know they had to scrap off so much gore first. #I think everyone in the party took a very long and methodical bath but Falin was basically *all* blood*. #Being covered in blood is one of those 'just girly things' that women deserve to stop being shamed about. #I just don't think Chilchuck is progressive enough. He probably made them take a bath first B*/ #Okay jestering aside I want to just highlight - #The magnitude of Marcille's joy at seeing her dearest friend again! Of holding her and sharing her presence in the same room! #Something about this reunion feels like a beautiful dream you are afraid of waking up from...

[wildbasil]

things haven't been great but i think they will be. eventually 🌻🌼🩷

#personal #comics #tw abuse #digital art #personal comic #for the record no i don't think my mother loves me #but the idea that she did kept me in an awful situation for a very long time #the number of times people said “she's your mother. she's trying her best. of course she loves you” etc etc #but i don't think “love” and abuse are mutually exclusive #like even if someone DOES love you it doesn't mean it's not abuse and it doesn't mean it's ok #art tag

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#shut up e #long post #Saturday thoughts #this has been in my drafts for a week haha #also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong #forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong #because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation #even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it #unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.

For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.

I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.

#i have to get at least 8 hours of sleep a night to even barely function #with sleep #getting ready for work #commute #cooking #and errands #I typically have maybe 2-3 hours to actually do what i want in a day #and I'm usually too tired to actually do the things i want to do #and that's with a very short commute #if i actually had a long commute I'd basically do nothing but work #i see my friends like once every few weeks or months #because we're all so fucking busy with work and have such little time for socialising #and none of us even have kids or anything!!

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

#transgender #trans history #transsexual #transphobia #Magnus Hirschfeld #holocaust #holocaust denial #book burning #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #just in case you missed what i mean by all this: go fuck yourself anon :) #trans people have always existed #and we will always exist #if you really wanna pick a fight with me over well-documented history then you better bring in some sources to back your shit #queer history #queer #lgbt+ #lgbta+ #lgbt #lgbt history #edit: i finally got around to those damn image IDs. i am so very sorry for totally forgetting that's my bimbo moment of the month #also real quick i thought about adding an image of the actual building but the only one i can find has a Nazi parade in front of it #it was taken the day of the book burning raid and honestly if i were to include it then i'd add it to the first few paragraphs #and i think the story's better told when you uphold the hope Magnus Hirschfeld and all the researchers he worked with had #also keeps being brought up: yes Hirschfeld was a eugenicist. it was a popular belief set that was only discredited after WW2 #Hirschfeld died in 1935. he literally didn't live long enough to see science turn against those beliefs and practices #considering how he changed his mind on transitions i like to think he would've changed his mind on eugenics too if he'd lived

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

#cw: suicidal ideation #cw: suicide #cw: self harm #cw: mental health #cw: depression #i made the balloon the main representation of my self destructive urges for a reason but im not going to explain it #i tried to keep a lot of the details in this vague #it would be my worst nightmare if this comic encouraged someone to hurt themselves #so. please dont #for a long time even the thought of making this comic felt so insipid and narcissistic #with the state of the world as it is #having the only threat to your life be yourself felt so privileged and trite and shameful #but doing this comic made me sit down and process things in full #and im just. very grateful i didn't give in to my thoughts back when i sincerely felt i'd be more useful to the world dead #i also feel the need to say that this wont represent everyone's battle with mental illness. its unfortunately different for all of us #there is no fix-all #and im afraid this might be one of those comics that either resonates a lot or misses the target by a mile #i made it for myself foremost. and now that its done im glad i did it #thank you for reading #and please stay alive #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics

[emberglowfox]

Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)

*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.

This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.

#sparks art #comic #angel #robot #my art #my comics #keeper: the angel #keeper: the lighthouse keeper #my ocs #hoogh. this was a grind yall lmao. but i am pleased with it #i hope you enjoy :pray: also keep your fingers crossed for me that this wins the contest #like it. it wont. because i am up against actual SEQA kids that know what theyre doing. and i dont actually mind really #but it would be funny #long post #very long post #sorry #i hope the readmore works

[catmask]

does anyone have like an anti aesthetic. like something you look at and can recognize as a complete fashion/interior design/artistic movement and understand it but it makes you shudder seeing it. i am not talking like “its morally bad” “its poorly structured” like just sheerly devoid of joy for you actually invites a repulse response.

#also if it wasnt clear this isnt ‘its bad its lazy’ there is a level of like #completion consistancy i am thinking for with this #personally i really do not enjoy the like. vintage chic long red nails fur coats noir esque aesthetic HOWEVER 💥💥💥 #i can recognize that it is put together it is Intentional #i feel like a lot of people are going to say minimalism on this so LET ME SAY 🫰☝️ i recognize that minimalism is Considered an aesthetic #but i *PERSONALLY* do not consider it an aesthetic i consider it the void of one #it is a lapse in aesthetic or personality in the same way a silence in a song is still technically a ‘beat’ but no music is played #however the importance of Space or Breath in design is more akin to a purposeful silence in music #because that silence matters in the same way rhythm and breath in design do #so i guess minimalism is more comparable to like. white noise. the sound of a fan #very little effort and there is a comfort in it i suppose but its not. A Design. okay #TO ME 🤫 #if minimalism has one hater its me if minimalism has no haters im dead

[lylahammar]

Randomly thinkin about Chilchuck today, and how he tries sooooo hard to self sabotage

like for example, other half foots on the island think that he's a greedy asshole who only cares about money, and he does nothing to try to disprove that

but then there's this omake at the end of book 9 that shows that people treat half foots fucking TERRIBLY and chilchuck started a union to protect them

and then in the bicorn chapter, he doesn't want Marcille to keep digging into his personal business so he tells her he CHEATED ON HIS WIFE

but he just COMPLETELY fuckin lied about that and made himself sound so much worse than he is bc he's afraid of being vulnerable with people and would rather everyone believes he's a shitty person so he can keep them at a distance

and the thing that's memed so often is that he refuses to help with fighting most of the time because it's not part of his contract

but if you take this lore into account (not gonna add those particular images to this post simply bc I've used them in so many posts already LMAO) along with this tidbit from the world guide:

then it's like. yeah he has to keep his weight low so if he gets killed or severely injured and has to be healed, that could be really dangerous for him. and even if he was healed at that point he'd end up being a burden to the party after that point, he would be too dangerously thin/sickly to be able to help.

Like, Chilchuck has so many things about him that APPEAR to be character flaws, but every single one of them has a very reasonable explanation. He just leans into the mischaracterization bc he's emotionally withholding and can handle people thinking he's an asshole more than he can handle opening up to anyone. he's such a well thought out and interesting character

#someone commented about his weight management on my fatness lore post and it got me spinning chil around in my brain #had to do a lil infodumpy post about it eheh #it's fun to make fun of chilchuck but he's really secretly a very kind and selfless guy when it comes down to it #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon spoilers #chilchuck tims #long post #lyla's talking again