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celandeline · 3 days

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Hiiii bestie, can we get an angry Carl x reader, leading to smut

Yes we can!

Make It Up To You

Carl Grimes X Reader (SMUT), oneshot

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You’ve never seen Carl this mad before. Sure, you’ve seen him get mad - pissed off, sulky, more snappy than usual - but you’ve never seen this. This is something else. This has his eye brimming with rage, and an ugly curl to his lips, like he’s getting ready to spit venom.

“Anyone would have done the same!” You shoot back, brows furrowed. You don’t really understand why he’s mad at you. Going back into the department store after a bunch of walkers broke in wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done, sure, but you weren’t just going to leave Tara behind. Not when she’s saved your ass before. And you’re fine - a little scratched up from climbing through that broken window, but that's it - no bites, nothing serious.

“It was stupid, and risky, and you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Carl spits.

Now you’re starting to get mad too - you’re tired, you haven’t really even gotten a chance to sit down since you and the rest of your run group got back, and now Carl’s in your face, almost shouting at you. “What happened to ‘we don’t leave anyone behind’?” You shoot back. “You’re saying I should have just left her there?”

“No! I’m just saying, instead of running in by yourself, you could have gone back in with the rest of the group. You know it’s stupid to go anywhere on your own, you could have at least asked someone to watch your back, or draw some of them away or something.” He says.

“Sorry - there wasn’t a whole lot of time to draw up a plan before she would’ve gotten eaten.” You snark back at him. “And, in case you haven’t noticed,” You gesture down to the rest of yourself. “I’m perfectly fine. I can handle myself.”

“Couldn’t handle asking for backup, apparently.” He says, icy blue gaze boring into you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You ask. “It’s fine - I’m fine, Tara’s fine, everyone got back safe. Yes, I could have died, I know, I don’t need you lecturing me about the risks-”

“Maybe you do, ‘cause it seems like you forgot-” He cuts you off.

“Fuck off.” You spit, turning around to head back to your house. You don’t need this right now - you just got back from risking your ass to get supplies for the town, and yeah, there were a couple really close calls when you went back in to save Tara. All you wanted to do was go home, take a shower, get a fresh change of clothes. But instead, you got an angry Carl Grimes trying to lecture you about shit you already know. You don’t even know why he cares so much - sure, you’re friends, but the way he was so angry-

“Where are you going?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of him following you, and don’t bother to turn around to look at him. “Home.”

He falls into step beside you, still glaring at you from under the rim of his hat. “You can’t just walk away in the middle of a conversation-”

“Didn’t feel like a conversation to me.” You interrupt him. “Felt like you were just shouting at me about how stupid I am.”

“I didn’t-” He starts. “That’s not- I wasn’t trying to say that you’re dumb-”

“Well, you did. Quite a few times, actually.” You cut him off, heading up the steps to your porch. You turn around to face him once you get to the door. “Look, Carl, I’m really not in the mood to keep doing this right now-”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.” He says, the anger in his voice turning into urgency. “And I’m not trying to say that you’re weak or can’t handle yourself, or that you shouldn’t have gone back to save Tara, but it was risky. Too risky, and it didn’t have to be, and if it had gone bad, I don’t-” His voice cracks, and he stops himself.

You wait for a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Careful,” You snark. “It almost sounded like you were going to say something nice about me. If you’re done, I’m gonna go shower-”

His lips are on yours before you can really realize what’s happening, and on instinct you pull away. “Carl.” You say, brow furrowed as you look him in the eye, searching for… something, to explain what the fuck is going on.

“If you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He says, lips only an inch away from yours. All the anger in him has turned into pleading, his eyes wide, searching your gaze the same as you search his.

“So, what, you shout at me the moment I get home?” You ask.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “Really. I just- I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Please.”

Most of the time, you find the extravagance of the houses in Alexandria a little annoying. It only serves as a reminder to before, how your mom used to cut out pictures of places like this to scrapbook into her future plans journal. It only serves as a reminder to how much your dad would grumble about ‘rich people shit’ when he got home from the construction site.

Now though, you find yourself a little grateful for the heated flooring in the ensuite master bathroom, and the spacious glass shower. The glass is almost completely covered with steam from the hot water cascading out of the showerhead, and you can only see the faintest reflection of yourself, back against the tile as Carl fucks you.

He’s propped up above you, watching you reverently as his hair drips water onto your cheeks. You keep running your hands through the wet strands, trailing your fingernails across the nape of his neck to make him shiver, despite the heat of the shower.

“Fuck.” He gasps, dropping down to press his chest against yours and tuck his head into the crook of your neck.

“Mmm.” You return, taking the opportunity to mouth at the side of his neck, gently sinking your teeth into the skin there. He moans again, and his hips stutter against yours, briefly losing his rhythm before regaining it. You trail your lips upward to bite at the lobe of his ear, and grin when he falters again.

“Stop doing that.” He pants, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to look down at you again.

“Why?” You ask, winding your arms around his shoulders to tug him down for a quick kiss. “I can tell you like it-”

“I’m supposed to be the one - mm, fuck - making it up to you, not the other way around.” He says.

“You already picked - ah - all of the walker guts out of my hair, I think your debt is paid.”

He shakes his head, little droplets of water flying out of his hair. “Not until I make you cum.”

He throws himself back into fucking you with his full focus, burying his head back into the crook of your neck to mouth at your collarbones, panting heavy against your skin. You let your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the ride. It’s good - surprisingly. He’s done this before, you think - Enid, probably - enough times to know what works and what doesn’t, and if he keeps going at the rate he is, he might actually get you to finish without you having to help him along.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, breathy against your skin.

You open your eyes again, and run a hand up his spine, causing him to arch into you. “You should’ve just - fuck,” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “Told me you liked me.”

“Probably.” He agrees. “Didn’t - mm - want you to say no though.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious I wouldn’t have.” You breathe, winding a hand into his hair again, holding him against you as the coil in your stomach tightens.

“How was I supposed to, ah, know?” He asks, lifting his head out of your neck.

“Could’ve asked-” You tip your head back against the tile as you feel yourself nearing the edge. “Fuck, Carl-”

He groans, low in the base of his throat, and speeds up his thrusts, snapping his hips against yours. “Please,” He moans. “Please, please-”

You sigh as you cum, and pull him down against you. You’re more relaxed than you’ve ever been as you come down, between the sex and the heat of the shower around you. Carl doesn’t take too long to follow, letting out a few more hiccuping moans before he pulls out, shooting his cum onto the floor of the shower. You watch it get carried away down the drain as you catch your breath.

Carl plops himself down on the floor of the shower next to you with a satisfied smile. “Good?”

“Very.” You agree, pulling yourself up from where you were sprawled on the floor.

A moment passes between you, the only sound is that of the shower water hitting the tile, and you take a minute to just look at him, taking in just how pretty he is.

“Sorry again.” He says, breaking the silence. “For yelling at you. And, um, not telling you that I liked you.”

“S’okay.” You say, because it is. “We got there, eventually.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah.”

You grin at him. “We’re going to have to clean off again.”

“That’s alright with me.” He says, returning your smile.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes #twd #the walking dead

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hannahssimblr · 1 day

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That evening after I drive home the house is a battlefield. As soon as I let myself into the hallway the sounds of some escalating conflict are sweeping through from the kitchen, but it doesn’t surprise me. It’s been this way for months. I just toss my car keys onto the table and head upstairs.

“Think about the way you make me live!” My mother shrieks as I shuffle through my desk drawer to retrieve my iPod and the noise cancelling headphones I use for my laptop. My dad says something in response, his rumbling tones infuriatingly calm, unfazed. He always speaks to her with such a patronising air of reasonableness, so honestly it’s no wonder she’s going insane.

“Ivy?” I knock on her bedroom door, “I’m back. Can I come in?”

Her voice is quiet within, “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The noise from downstairs is louder I come inside, but Ivy’s room is right above the kitchen. I know she has been listening. She is perched on her bed kneading a corner of her blanket in her little hands, body tense and static like a startled cat.

Mom raises her voice even further in shocked outrage, “What are you saying? Do you regret our children?”

“I just bought a cool new album,” I say, “do you want to hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

“Contra. You remember Vampire Weekend, right?”

“Um...”

“You liked their last album.”

“Did I?”

“Here,” I climb to my knees in front of her and plop the headphones onto her head. They’re big on her and want to slip down towards her jaw until i carefully adjust them while she watches me with interest. Everything I do is interesting to Ivy, even my thumb circling the dial on my iPod as I navigate to the first song on the album. I grin into her face, “can you hear me?”

She nods, so I crank it up, “how about now?”

She gasps, “It’s so loud! I can’t hear you!”

“Good,” and I sit right by her, on the floor by her bed while she lays back and tries to hum along to songs she's never heard before. She does it in mom's car every time the radio comes on, which is apparently irritating, but I don't think so. She's a musical kid who is just trying to work something out in her head.

As I listen to her weird little melodies I doodle with a ballpoint pen I found in the pocket of my jacket. I've flipped to the back page of one of her school copy books, and I know she doesn’t mind, she can bring them into school and tell her classmates that she did them if she likes.

Every now and again pieces of the argument are clear enough to understand, mostly mom’s side. “You do nothing around here, what are you talking about?” She screams, “You just sit in your office all night and-” some muffled aggression. Then at one point she brings up Fergal from work, which is a poor choice, because it really sets dad off. I know this because I finally hear a shocked “how dare you!” from him, which seems fair, actually.

Fergal from work is her boyfriend. Or was, maybe, I don’t ask. All I know is that Fergal from work exists and that my mother was having an affair with him for, like, two years or something. I googled him when I first started hearing his name thrown around like daggers through the rooms of this house, and he’s pretty much how you might imagine a Fergal. He’s older, weedier and less good looking than my father, with hair so fine and light that his eyebrows are hardly visible and a hairline like the tide has gone out on it, but his smile is sort of kind. His LinkedIn picture has him smiling broadly and the lines on his face and around his eyes suggest that he’s spent a good chunk of his life doing just that. Smiling. Aside from likely being nice, he’s probably ten times more interesting than Christopher too, which has to be the real selling point. I bet that listens to her when she talks to him and makes her laugh, if she’s still capable of that, so I can’t really be angry with her about Fergal. I might have done the same thing as she did if I ever felt so trapped.

I must be listening too obviously because Ivy slips the headphones off. “What are they saying?”

“Stupid shit, Ives, it’s not interesting.”

She pauses and says in a very small voice, “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?”

I turn to her, “They might. But I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea. Do you?”

She shrugs.

“At least if they divorced they’d stop fighting.” At least eventually.

“They fight a lot,” she whispers, “I hate it.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What will happen to us? What if neither of them wants us?”

This surprises a laugh right out of me, “It's not like they'll have a choice. Did you think we’d get thrown into an orphanage or something?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those Jacqueline Wilson books about the kids from broken homes. Next time we go to the library we’ll get you something a bit less sad and tragic, do you think?”

She shrugs, but I'll get her into Goosebumps yet. I am determined.

“You want to know what I think?”

A nod.

“I think them being divorced would actually be fine, because at least they wouldn’t be doing this all the time,” I tilt my head toward the floor, shaking with the reverberation of the slamming patio door, “And also we probably wouldn’t have to be around dad half as often.”

Ivy looks conflicted, “Well I don’t not want a dad.”

I almost tell her that Christopher isn’t that interested in his role as her father and the way that he interacts, or more accurately fails to interact with her, is not normal, even if it’s what she’s used to, and that I bet Fergal would be a better dad, but I figure it’s probably not the wisest to mention any of that.

“He’ll still always be your dad, just like how mom will always be your mom and I’ll always be your brother, you know? No matter what happens or how things change. You're made from him, you know? That doesn't just go away.”

“I don’t want change.”

“Everything changes, all of the time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Things move on whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.”

Her eyes fill with tears, “I don’t want you to move away either.”

“No, c’mon,” I scramble onto her bed and pull her into my chest, “I know, but I can’t stay here forever, I’m an adult now, I’m going to have to go, but it’s not right away…”

“Yes, but soon.”

I hesitate, “Oh, Ivy, it’s, like-”

“And then it’ll be just me, and everything will be different,” as tears overflow I understand that it’s not just about this, it’s about everything, all of the chaos and the disruption that I cannot fix. I just shush her and rock her side to side. It’s hard for her, but I refuse to lie to her about what might happen.

“I need to move away, I feel like I don’t have another option.”

“But why?”

“I- I think you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe. It's just very important to me.”

“I won’t see you anymore.”

“Yes you will, maybe not as much, but you’ll get used to it really quickly. And imagine if I went to college somewhere really exciting, you could come and see me and we could do all kinds of fun stuff, yeah? Like if I’m in Paris, imagine, I could take you to Disneyland.”

She sniffles, “Paris?”

“Yeah, you loved Paris a couple of years ago, right?”

She nods and rubs her eyes, “Could we try and go up the Eiffel Tower again?”

“Duh, and you’d be old enough not to be so scared.”

“Maybe-” a thick swallow “maybe even your new house would have a balcony and we could see it from there.”

“Oh, for sure, and we’d get pastries from the bakery downstairs in the mornings, they'd just so happen to be best ones ever, and there’d be a man playing the accordion outside- no, everywhere, like, no matter where we go, he’s there with his swirly little French Guy moustache...”

She giggles, “Is he following us around?”

“Oh, yeah, a total stalker, actually. Maybe we’d have to call the French police on him.”

We both laugh as she dries her face with her sleeves. Coming up with all the very French things we would do in Paris, every detail down to the layout of my beautiful Haussmann style apartment overlooking the Seine is nice.

I'm not stupid, of course, I know perfectly well that the reality of a move to Paris would involve me and Michelle stuffed into a Chambre de Bonne tiny enough to touch both walls at the same time, tripping over half baked art projects and every possession we own, our pent up frustration causing us to have screaming matches that would wake up the whole arrondissement, but it’s nice to be an idealist for a minute or two.

“Where else could you live?” she asks me once we’ve exhausted all of the parisian stereotypes and run out of hypotheticals.

“Hmm, how about Amsterdam?”

“Oh! Anne Frank lived there, we read the book at school last year.”

I tell her that yes, if I lived there I’d take her to see the house with that stairway hidden behind the bookcase, and then we would... cycle around the place and annoy everyone because she’s so unsteady on her bike. I make up a story about how she keeps swerving out of her lane and getting in everybody's way, eventually causing a giant bike pile up along the canal like some sort of rat king of Dutch cyclists.

“Where else!”

“Um, Berlin...” and I purse my lips and try to think of things to do in Berlin that are appropriate for a nine year old, but for some reason all I can think of is a surly line of leather clad druggies in front of a techno club. “They like going to nightclubs, I guess…”

“I can go to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, as if! You’d hate it, it’s just loud music and everyone bumping into you. Hey, you know there’s one nightclub in Berlin that’s so exclusive that they only let the coolest people in Europe inside? You have to wait in line for hours and if they think you’re even a little bit uncool then they send you home.”

Her eyes get wide, “Really? Hm. I think I could get in.”

The idea of Ivy being let into Berghain makes me guffaw, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Yeah I’m cool enough!”

“No you aren’t.”

“I am,” she leaps up and pretends to strangle me while I hold her at arm's length, “there’s no such thing as a cool nine year old.”

“There’s no such thing as a cool eighteen year old either.”

“Uh! There is, you're looking at one. I would get into that club, no doubt.”

“No you wouldn’t, they wouldn’t even let you in the line.”

“Nah, they’d beg me to come in because I’d make it cooler.”

“They’d see you coming and pretend to be closed.”

As we laugh and make stupid, childish jokes at one another I’m aware of an acceptance I feel with her that I don’t around other people. I’m never really so blatantly stupid and goofy in public, but Ivy, who has become my favourite person in the world, no matter what I do or say it’s funny, and she never thinks I’m weird, at least not in a bad way. I can fully let my guard down. Even though the fighting has stopped I don't really want to leave, but the moon has risen now, and the grasshoppers are chirping. Ivy has to sleep.

I gather up my headphones and iPod and get up, despite her protests and attempts to come up with more funny things we might do as we galivant through fictional Europe.

“You're stalling,” I say, “you know well you have to go to sleep now.”

“No, no! Just one more thing!”

“Nope! Sorry! And don’t forget to brush your teeth, or I’ll tell dad.”

She pulls her ugliest face. She knows I’d never, but it’s funny, like telling a christian kid that Satan is watching.

I shut the door very gently. It's not particularly late, maybe ten, but the house is morgue quiet, almost eerie, like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #IVY #:(#tw: divorce

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elmundodeflor · 3 days

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Come here, sit down. I have something important to tell you. A message that could save both our lives.

You’ll have two kids, Gabi and Falco, by the time you’re a little over forty. Well, no, it’s not like you’re gonna be a parent. At least, not in the sense that you’re probably thinking. But you’ll care for them. A lot more than you’ll ever want to admit. You’ll brew them your best tea, tell them bedtime stories about giants from a foreign land.

Gabi, the girl, she’s hotheaded, and reminds you of that time you saw firecrackers on a Marley festival. She gets angry at the world often, but she’s kind. And smart. And has a heart that has so many broken, empty spaces, she can take everyone else in; no questions asked.

Falco would never hurt a fly. He has this soft, warm gaze in his eyes that never deceives, never hides. They both look after me, us, though they’re just that— two children of war. Gabi carries my wheelchair, now holds the cups the same way we do. Falco tells her to shush whenever his instincts warn him, she’s making me talk too much.

I don’t know, I guess all this was to say: don’t listen to me. Ignore everything that you’ve ever been told. You’re not guilty of any of these wounds. It was never fair of you to take so much ache in such a tiny, fragile frame.

When I talk to myself, I’m not talking to you, did you realize? When I feel this huge pull at my chest, it’s like a part of me is breaking yours apart, as well.

I apologize, Levi.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

It’s understandable, that you run behind closed doors if you hear my footsteps. That my words make you tremble, and you go search for mom under the covers. You’re scared of me. I’m your nightmare. A ghost that paces in the darkness and looms in the corners of your sweet, sweet innocence.

Every punch I received, every slash that left my skin burnt open, it made you bleed. Every time I doubted myself, my own will to fight, I shrunk you. I made you smaller.

I turned into a monster. You search for me in the shadows, in the closet, under the bed. I’m everywhere. I’m all of them. I’m all those who hurt you, when all you needed was a pair of arms to stitch you back together.

I’m worse than the sum of every enemy. Titans, the nobles, the underground thugs who tore you to shreds. They were on the outside. But me, Levi— this pain—, it lives within us. It’s buried so deep, that it stings, and it makes every scrap of us sink to our very core.

I’m sorry. I am. Don’t listen to me, okay? When I talk to myself, every choice that I regret, it’s not about you. It was never about you.

Even so, though, why do I feel this way, then? Why is it that, every time I wanna hurt myself, I can hear you shout? Why is it that, whenever I put pressure on my shoulders, I can see your hands clinging at my sleeves?

I’m here, you’re there. So close, yet so far. And even at that, what I wanted to say is that there’s still hope.

There's still hope for the both of us.

I’m your monster, right? So, if you turn the lights up… remember? I disappear.

I can still recall every last bit you. Tender, naïve, hopeful, happy. So, turn the lights up, you little Levi. I want to look up in the mirror and find you there, looking back at me. I want you to take control. To take over the two of us.

Your voice is softer than mine, it has always been. Your voice can speckle the small, ordinary things in life with threads of marvel. It can create worlds, where days are ever-sunny and the air smells of herbs and tea.

Your voice will bring us home. I’m sure. Your voice will fill it with warmth seeping from its windows. I’ve been a monster too long, little Levi, but you’re still there somewhere. So, scream. Scream as loud as you can. Grow all the huge and all the brave that I could never be, for the sake of us both.

Or be tiny. Be tiny, and precious, and never let this sappy old grump rob you of your wide-eyed gaze.

And don’t believe a word I say.

And do what Gabi and Falco do for me. When I’m too weak to walk, they let me rest my hands on their shoulders. When I’m tired, or grey, or sick, they climb to my bed and tell me stories about kids who fought dragons and saved their loved ones. They’re my adults. They clean my shelves, they comb my hair, they heal this crumpled soul of mine.

You see? Maybe I’m not the adult that you’d wished me to be. I don’t always treat ourselves with kindness. I don’t always forgive ourselves for what we’ve done. So please, please, please, take care of me now. Be my adult, if only for a little while. I’m tired, and grey, and sick. And I need you. I need you like I need Gabi and Falco. I need you like I need mom.

And I’m sorry.

I apologize, Levi.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

But for right now, it’s you who has to show me that there’s still hope in this cruel, yet beautiful world.

That there’s still hope for the both of us.

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ganondoodle · 8 months

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i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

#ganondoodles talks #also probably sounds like self pity #but this feeling hits everytime i see a super popular artist be the popular cool artist #i am a little weird i know that and thats not somethign bad i think #but the internet never gets to see that much of me #i tend to write posts when i am at my worst bc it has to go somewhere #so the image it tells people is that im a weirdly strong opiniod freak that gets breakdowns over nothing #i also dont feel like im otherwise -cool tm- enough to balance that out #i dont think my art is as stylized or as inventive as others nor am i cool to interact with bc idk how to be cool to interact with #i feel double bad when i misstepped with someone i used to talk to bc of something stupid ... or just dont know what i did wrong #im guessing its especially when i am in that spiraling state of mind where i really am not myself tbh #it still feels very bad bc i feel like i can never make it up to anyone again #sorry i acted like a jerk my brain was exploding in emotions in a desperate attempt to deal with something idk how to deal with-#-and made me not act like myself but now i feel really dumb about it #doesnt sound like a good excuse #... i want to thank those that do stick with me #even if i acted strange sometimes- even if i disappointed sometimes- even when i couldnt keep a promise #there are little things that still make me angry at myself #like that one time i asked in the tags whod read as long as the end of them and if someone did shoudl send me an ask so id draw a lil thing #and i got two #and i kept trying to remeber oh shit i need to do that and forgetting again/not having energy for it in a loop #i still feel like a jerk about it but now its probably too late #i wish i could answer all asks i get but man my energy for that is always rock bottom #no matter how much i enjoy the ask #and i love getting asks!!!#im sorry :((

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pansyfemme · 3 months

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i think this time of year is cursed

#last year i got horribly sick and depressed #this year i had to flee my dorm and miss classes to keep myself safe from harassment until i could work out moving times #im so fucking angry i am fuming i am furious i want to scream #i did absolutly nothing to deserve this. this wasnt a mutual argument this wasn’t a bad roomate thing this was a person using the fact that #i am a traumatized trans person to intimidate and harass me and make me feel unwelcome in my housing #i feel sick with rage.#im well liked on campus im doing fantastic in all my classes i am doing everything i can #and one person decided he hated me and fucked up my entire semester #the good thing is i am never sleeping there again. i am not returning to that dorm until i am there to move out and i am greatful #but im just so upset about the whole thing.#everyone on campus agrees i did nothing. that i didnt cause this. but i still have to carry the burden of moving #he will be talked to and i dont think he will ever feel welcome on campus after this but i am so angry he thinks so little of me he thought #he could make my life hell and face no punishment for it.

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dizzydizney · 1 year

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God this fandom is insane lol. I made a post the other day about negativity in the fandom and today my dash is flooded with "well sooorryyy if SOME of us arent mindlessly happy about this SLAP IN THE FACE of a fake sequel!!! we're allOWed to have FEelings and opINions that arent sunshine and rainbows!!!"

Which, yes, duh. But I really hope my post didn't spark these rants

Bcoz truthfully I was talking about the franchise as a whole and how lately it seems like no one has ANYTHING good to say about ANY part of the franchise which, while you're obviously free to have and voice your negative opinions, is nevertheless disappointing to see when you just wanna come on your Descendants blog and have a lighthearted good time

Think about how tiny this fandom is now. Aside from a few (talented and appreciated) creators, we really don't get a lot of new content. Do you want to scare off potential new artists, authors, or gifmakers from this fandom bcoz you haven't been able to think of a single positive thing to say about the franchise in god-only-knows how long??

Not saying people can't be upset about things in the franchise. Just saying if you can't find ANY joy in it, maybe take a step back?? I don't think that's too controversial a statement to make. But that's just my opinion!

#descendants #disney descendants #dcoms #disney #disney channel #descendants 4 #descendants franchise #dizzy speaks #i mean i was grown when i first watched these anyway #so im not sobbing myself to sleep at night over how d4 is ruining my childhood #but its like i tell myself with every new shitty thing born from an old good thing #the best we can hope for is that it will put new eyes on our franchise #and let a whole new group of people go back and watch the other movies for the first time #and join and grow the fandom #positives babe #at least try a little #anyway feel free to make more passive aggressive vagueposts #or send me angry anons directly idc #i guess even shitty upsetting disappointing new posts about descendants is still content and engagement huh

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flowers-that-sing · 9 months

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how to cure the sudden onset of horrible and inexplicable rage

#bobbi babbling #ive tried punching my mattress and screaming and jumping around and throwing pillows #im still furious #there’s literally no reason for it either #it’s just because i have fucking BPD #i’m so angry #my voice is too high i sound like a girl and i cant hit any of yhe notes i want #and the singer is a woman! and she has a deeper voice than i do!!!#i hate my voice!#and my parents dont give a shit about anything i have to say but they expect me to just listen to them #and be the perfect obedient little puppet of a daughter #they didnt even do anything actually. they just dont care about music or stranger things so they dont listen when i talk about either #but they don’t care about ANYTHING i say! they dont even care about ME or what makes me happy!#all my dad cares about is if im STUDYING #I DONT WANT TO STUDYY IM ANGRY #I HATE EVERYBODY AND I HATE MYSELF #i want everybody to just go away #i want them all to just fucking die!#no i dont. thats bad. i dont want them to die.#I HATE EVERYTHING #I WANNA JUMP OUT A WINDOW #I HATE EVERYONE #i hate having fucking BPD what is WRONG with me #WHY AM I SO ANGRY?!#bpd posting #and im so unremarkable #everyone is better than me #everyone is talented at SOMETHING #everyone else is special #why am i not remarkable at anything

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dailyeca · 7 months

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sometimes i think that i should be putting him in more complex compositions and dynamic poses and cool outfits and color palettes and pretty rendering and detailed backgrounds and more characters and story-driven comics and personal meaning

and then im like. that's the fucking devil talking. dailyeca is and always was supposed to be a low maintenance blog where i draw an eca a day and this eca can be the most scribbled motherfucker in da world but as long as there's a daily eca then i've succeeded. when i have time to add cool shit i can absolutely do that but even if he's just a sketched up bust shot at 11:59, i'm doing enough because that's just dailyeca babey.

#eca orichird #daily eca #we do what we can. i am doing enough.#for a lot of other things i always feel the need to make masterpieces; art larger than myself and my scope; something with heart and soul.#dailyeca is truly like. not everything has to be perfect. this is my grimy grumpy little asshat and i can do whatever the fuck i want.#(including cursing because goddamnit i am no one's pure little angel baby anymore. i am not here for your judgement anymore.)#im not trying to impress anyone here. dailyeca has always been art for me first. i never truly announced this blog in the beginning.#if no one looked i'd still do it. i draw this angry lonely boy for me. if other people want to see i appreciate it but that's secondary.#that one tumblr poem post. ''you say 'it’s my villain era''' by ridinkskinned. sometimes i feel like making eca was my villain era.#what i mean is that sometimes people hate things when they hit too close to home. what i mean is when i first made eca i felt repulsed.#i can be angry and rude and imperfect and alone. i don't need to facade or fawn or listen at all times and be the perfect little nobody.#i can be flawed and i can still be important and i can still have a happy ending and have people love me without need to change me.#i wrote that i wanted to draw ecas with more personal meaning but every eca posted is a personal meaning in of itself.#you get it. (you probably don't. but that's fine. that's secondary.) i should work on creator and creation again.

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orcelito · 1 month

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Having lost my cat, my uncle, my great grandmother, my grandma's best friend (& one of the people who helped raise me), AND my dad all within the span of 9 months,

I have little sympathy for people who use deaths as an excuse to be an asshole. I get it, it sucks. Get the fuck over it. Your grief is not an excuse to treat others like shit. What the fuck.

#speculation nation #this isnt anything personal. im just reacting to a post that kind of pissed me off.#to be fair i was never close with my great grandmother so im not particularly broken up about that one #but it's still yet another death in the family within such a short period of time.#my cat is on this list bc he was the first one and it majorly fucked me up. so yeah it deserves to be here.#the others. well. my grandma's best friend makes me sad but at least she was getting up in years #my uncle and dad though. especially my dad. yea those have fucked me up the most.#im never gonna be the same after experiencing all of this in such short succession.#it sucks in a major way. and things are still continuously tumultuous.#but you dont see me lording it over people and using it as an excuse to be an asshole.#maybe i make people uncomfortable with how casually i mention it. but like whatever. it's simply my truth.#that's still just like. me just talking about what ive been up to. that kind of thing.#idk acting like someone needs to be treated with the most tender of touches after experiencing a major death #to the point where you cant even tell them when theyre being a manipulative little asshole?#i dont fucking think so!#yeah okay all grief hits different but ive pulled myself up by the bootstraps and kept my head on straight #even after i experienced death after death after death after death after Fucking Death #whats your excuse? youre Sad? we all fucking are. thats just life.#it's horrible and awful and it sucks that we have to live with this but you CANT let that affect how you treat other people!!!!!#and here i am making my own post venting about it instead of replying to the aita post that sparked this #bc the person the post was about just made me so angry to hear about.#but i am... a reasonable adult who separates themselves from situations before reacting in anger...#and so im making a tumblr post to get the emotions out instead of getting emotional at random strangers lol #anyways i actually had a pretty good day today. but in the way of grief. the smallest things can trigger moods sometimes.#but i am letting the emotions flow... here they are... i have expressed them... and i shall now release them... amen...#negative/#i guess lol. i sure did rant enough for it.

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piplupod · 2 months

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one of the cashiers at the grocery store i go to is so fucking fixated on shoplifters and it drives me crazy any time i check out through him (i try to avoid him but his checkout is often the most open/empty - hm! i wonder why! - and im often on a tight schedule w the bus). he brings up shoplifters every opportunity he gets and he seems so convinced that theyre a huge problem.

BUT WHAT REALLY GETS ME ,,, is that today the customer in front of me was needing a price check on one of the items bc it should've come out to be cheaper, so he was kind of apologetic abt it and saying "ah well, yknow, six dollars is six dollars, especially with how expensive groceries are right now" and i was nodding and agreeing (trying to show that i dont mind the wait and also solidarity my guy good for u for speaking up and getting the price fixed on that) AND THE CASHIER AGREES. FULLY ACKNOWLEDGES AND BEMOANS THE FACT THAT GROCERIES ARE CRAZY RN. AND THEN GOES ON TO COMPLAIN ABOUT SHOPLIFTERS. HUH ??????

so you agree that groceries are unreasonably expensive... and that sometimes ppl can't afford them... and yet ....................

#HE MAKES ME SO FUCKING ANGRY CMONNNN THINK ABOUT IT DUDE....#i knew him in highschool (small town things lol) and im pretty sure he was one of those kids who thought cops were really cool. so. yknow.#not surprised. just annoyed fdjkl #i would say smth like ''oh does ur paycheque get docked if shoplifters come thru or smth?'' but i dont want to piss him off #i would like to remain civil with the cashiers here bc its the only grocery store i can get to most of the time fdsjkl #but like. i would love to find out why he hates shoplifters so much #when i worked at DQ in highschool and ppl stole dilly bars or FULL CAKES... i did not give a single shit #even though the managers and boss would get kind of angry at us (but they knew we couldnt do anything abt it really lmao)#and then we had to put locks on the customer-facing freezers which was a hassle for us #AND STILL. I NEVER FELT ANGRY AT THE SHOPLIFTERS. BECAUSE WHATEVER DUDE LIFE IS EXPENSIVE GO GET THAT ICE CREAM!!!#also i was not paid enough to care LMFAO and i know for a fact that this cashier isn't paid enough either bc my brother used to work there #I DUNNO DUDE. HONESTLY I HAVE MAD RESPECT FOR SHOPLIFTERS #i've potentially done it a few times and its fucking terrifying esp w the amount of cameras installed now fdsjkl #i dont do it now even though i need to more than ever bc i was making myself sick every time i possibly did it #i'd get home and sit in the bathroom for an hour trying to make sure i wasnt about to throw up from the stress fdsjkl #also it was stupid to do honestly (but . needed. so yknow.) bc again. i dont have any other options for accessible grocery stores really #ANYWAYS. fuck that cashier i hope he realizes what a little narc he's being and gains some class consciousness or smth idk #all for one and one for all etc etc etc we're all in this together my guy #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year

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...

#sometimes i feel like my brain is disintegrating in my head. coming apart like a lump of paper in a pool of water #it comes with this weird feeling of vertigo. like i turn my head and my thoughts are spinning too fast. they keep going despite my standing #still. its also a but when you start drinking something and when u stop your thoughts r hazy and ur breathing is heavy #maybe thats not a universal experience. sometimes when i stop i realize ive slipped half out of my body #and now im stumbling from day to day trying desperately to remember all the things im supposed to be managing #but there are these big holes in my brain. like im missing chunks of grey matter. the bits that would let me stop and start things #i dunno. when im taking measurements i have this image of myself on my knees holding the fragrance pieces of my life together as they #crumble thru my fingers and my insides shrivle away from the walls that contain them. i go hollow like a gord #and ppl say oh ur so passionate abt what u do. and i go brittle bc it doesnt feel like passion it feels like the symptom of an illness #i dont care. im just trying to burn the hours away. make time vanish. and for what? what am i building toward? i have an answer that i give #interviewers but i dunno i never thought id make it this far. but here we r. unhappy and lacking in purpose. its just that this last year #was so weird bc about a year ago i burned out so hard that i never recovered and it just got worse and worse. i feel now that ive stopped #the bleeding at least but the bitterness is still there. still infecting my words and curving my spine around the injury #and in theory i understand the path to healing but its hard when im just so. i dont even kno. angry? im not mad but the word feels right #but i dunno what id be angry about. maybe im just sick of empty tasks and not caring. i used to have passion and enthusiasm now i just feel #fragile and hurt. bracing for pain. and that makes me so sad. i wish i could go out into the woods and wander. just breathe #but no. instead ill start another day identical to 100 others and hope to keep my head above the surface bc im sick of swallowing sea water #anyway. itll b fine. hopefully this week i can commit to a program. hopefully. another program halfway across the country. this time #vertically. landing me still 2 time zones from home. but hopefully there i can breathe a little. maybe. hopefully. well see #unrelated

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bibiana112 · 10 months

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Girl are you okay? Cause you've been looking through the "My lesbian experience with loneliness" tag again

Well the short answer is no :D

#the long answer is I saw one post of someone going 'well now that I'm 28 too maybe I'll try doing the same thing the protag does here''#and nearly cried because 28 is such a ridiculously long time away except not really except it's SO #fucking long and so close to what I was gaslit into believing I would ever have that I'd be lucky to make it to my thirties for no reason #and I never wanted anything different and just wanted to live and had panic attacks when reading but I'd still believe it was inevitable #and now I am suddenly having to come to terms with so much I want from life that I had resigned myself to never having because I couldn't #but how am I meant to do that? it's just hanging over my head now and it feels so stupid and I feel so out of place everywhere #it feels like I'm too bad at being a person to be loved and too angry to even admit I want to be #and too regretful to seek it because I'm scared of trampling over people's boundaries like people have done to me #and like I did too before I grew up and thought my way through having some empathy #why do only boys show any interest in me.... why is every friend I make entirely outside the range of people who could possibly reciprocate #why is it so easy for me to brush crushes aside aren't people supposed to suffer for this stuff #does that prove it's not a romantic crush and it's just that I want to be held and wanted #it feels so wrong to want this after fighting so much just to have fulfilling platonic relationships what's wrong with me #that I still want something else what more could I want this life is so ideal as far as 12 yo me is concerned #...when did my brain start viewing any and all kinds of want or ambition as doomed efforts for me?#I have such a headache all of a sudden #I think... the way I value self preservation has gotten all the way around into being harmful maybe #at least a little #everyone I know is nowhere near the amount of control freak as I am and they just go do things they want to do #have I seen them hurt over the consequences multiple times yes. but . I'm tired of hurting over absence #''did you know wishing you had more extreme and easily verifiable trauma is in itself proof of having undergone trauma'' well yeah but like #fuck why couldn't I be traumatized by anything else that wasn't literally the profession supposed to help you with all the trauma #delete later #like for real I want to delete it rn but I also don't

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izzy-b-hands · 7 months

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Absolutely horrific heart pounding nightmare woke me up for the day. That's. a start to it lmao

#text post #it started out so cool and had like. Jim as a diver? in something v futuristic for some docu that olu was narrating #but it just got. horrible minute by minute #Olu's narration revealed that the earth had been decimated by a war involving multiple nuclear weapons #and somehow things were like. okay enough for some survivors like him and jim to make it? but things were V Fucked lmao #then midway thru jims device/pod thing broke and it felt like i was literally controlling them thru an ocean under the crust of the earth #(no idea what that's abt lmao i think my brain spaced on set dressing this dream a lil bit)#and it was like trying to swim them thru pudding but with so many irradiated and fucked up and ANGRY sea creatures all around #i got them to the surface after floating past a bunch of bodies but they were basically out of air by then so they were gasping hard #and i woke up right then and woke up basically the same way lmao #it's been several minutes now and my heart is still pounding like mad #and im crying a little and can't seem to stop but today i set aside to try and force myself to have a good big cry #i need to find something to watch to make me cry tho so maybe s2 thus far again lol bc certain moments might do it #more likely i need to see what else i have from my past watchlists that are Guaranteed Cry items and try one of those #so i can get over this current thing with the ptsd and get my shit back together even temporarily #duct tape that all back together in the box in my brain until the next random trigger (bc i still dunno exactly what made this one go)#i think it might actually be my brain processing late a lot of Move Feelings re: mum & family bc that's what Housemate #and i talked abt last night a lot but ultimately im ???? as to a for sure trigger #anyway GOOD FUCKING MORNING i guess aksndjffjfj

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painted-bees · 10 months

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A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

(First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

(Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

(Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

(Fourth panel): The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

(Fifth panel): Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

(Sixth panel): The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

(Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel): Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain. But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

(Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

(Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

(Thirteenth panel): The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

(Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks. Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

#sketch #comic #Hi-Note #magritte #rafael

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