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richardmuckrichard · 8 months

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VYVYAN WILL EAT THE UK GOVERNMENT

This took way too long istg

before and afterss

#the young ones #vyvyan basterd #britcom #ade edmondson #the young ones fanart #silly little guy #he eats people #and tellies #fanart #frequency 141.12 #im bad at tumblr #help lol

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tapittt · 1 year

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THE BEATRII CUBE REF IS DONE!!

i will repost another time when i finish the ref sheets for the other major characters BUT for now have the little eeby deeby

#jsab au #jsab cube #just shapes and beats #jsab art #jsab sad cube #jsab #my art #digital art #artwork #character design #character ref sheet #character art #im bad at tumblr #LMSAO

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sanniesi · 2 years

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Doodled @enden-k ‘s Wangsheng Investigators AU Childe, hope it is to your liking! I have no clue how Tumblr works as I never use it so sorry I am horrible at this ahah

Anyway today I realise I have no clue how to actually draw smiles

#im bad at tumblr #how do i tag this #design credits to enden #slight thank-you gift for keeping me entertained with their blog

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bonkwosher · 1 year

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OHMYGOD I HAVE POLLS

I'm gauging interest for which I should write this weekend & requests I should prioritize in general! Requests are still open too if you want to request more!

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rc-colaa · 9 months

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back on tumblr despite how confusing it is

#apparently im supposed to add tags #what the fuck #how does this work #im bad at tumblr #AUUUGHH #do i just like add random bullshit #what the fuuuck…

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cloudieechan · 1 year

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hello my first post hehe

I really liked this work so I drew this art as a moment from this fanfiction

poor tails he’s being scolded

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic is big bro #to his baby bro tails #im bad at tumblr #im bad at tags #im bad at art #lol #sonic and tails #they’re brothers your honor #unbreakable bond #tails getting scolded #hurts my heart #english is not my first language

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calciummuffin · 8 months

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OC's (for fun, also cowboys)

This is long as hell, sorry! :) (ft. my cowboy OC's)

Sean sat amongst the damp forest surrounding them, his rangy, thin hands fumbling with the harmonica. The instrument was worn down, but it still gave him a thrill to hold it in his hands. He watched as Carl, his older companion with strong blue eyes, warmed a pot of water. The forest around them lay frozen, as if time had stopped to allow them a moment of peace. The boy’s eyes twinkled as he lifted the instrument to his chapped lips. A split second was all it took for the harmonica to emit a harsh, unmelodic sound. Carl"s eyes darted to the boy’s gaze, watching as he grinned at him before he blew again. Carl held up his hand, signalling for Sean to stop. He knew that the sound of the harmonica would scare away any game in the area. Sean sighed, dropping the instrument onto the wet soil. His eyes followed Carl’s gaze as the older man scanned the trees surrounding them. Shaking his head, Carl sighed before dropping back onto his knees beside the pot of water. He took in a deep breath, watching as steam rose from the liquid. "What’re we doin’ out here, Carl?" Sean asked, a faint smile still plastered on his pallid face. "Them deer we're lookin" for ain't deserve to get shot." "We gotta eat, Sean," Carl replied, stirring the pot. "Us and the whole ranch." "We have cattle, pigs, and chickens," Sean protested. "All of them other animals. Why can’t we just eat them?" "Livestock ain't meant for food," Carl corrected. "What’re we tradin’ ‘em off for?" Sean asked, his voice rising. "To get eaten later? Why don’t we just eat them instead?" Carl sighed, taking a deep breath. He didn"t turn to look at Sean. Instead, he continued to stare at the pot of water. "Neither of us wants to kill those deer, Sean. But it"s just something that"s gotta be done." Carl took another breath, watching as his breath fogged the air in front of him. Carl's heavy hand clasps the pot's handle as he sets it carefully on the ground. The older man strides across the camp towards Sean, the young boy perched on a log, staring into the flames. "Sometimes family is more important than morality," Carl says, his voice heavy with resignation, "We all have to...do bad things for the people around us someday," he continues. Sean, his shoulder-length hair swinging as he shakes his head, speaks up, "I don't want to kill them. They’re just trying to go home to their families," he says, his voice trembling with emotion. "Just like we have to go back to ours," Carl sighs, placing a reassuring hand on Sean"s shoulder. The younger boy flinches, unable to meet the older man’s gaze. "Sorry," Carl mutters, "I forgot about your...your thing." Sean fixes his gaze on the fire, his eyes tracking the rising smoke as he tries to shake off the feelings of sadness and anger that have been building within him. He speaks up, his voice trembling, "Those men ain't my family," he says stubbornly, his words laced with resentment. "Yes, they are," Carl states firmly, his hand reaching up to run through Sean’s oily hair. The older man gives the younger boy a gentle shake, as if to shake off the feeling of uncertainty and self-doubt that has been weighing on him. "We’re all family. We’re all stuck in this thing together," Carl says, his tone firm but kind. Sean doesn"t respond, his eyes still fixed on the fire. After a few moments, he finally speaks up, his voice softer and more resigned this time. "I know. I just...I don"t know if I can do it," he says, his words barely above a whisper. Carl gives Sean’s shoulder a reassuring pat before rising to his feet. The older man strides back to the pot, his movements determined as he returns to his duties. Sean watches him go, his eyes narrowing as he contemplates the weight of the responsibility that has been placed on his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and leans back, staring into the flames once more.

Carl and Sean sat by the fire, the older man slurping a steaming cup of coffee as he stared into the flames. He sighed, his lips curling into a small smile as he spoke. "Y’know, my pa, he hated hunting," he said. "Would whine and whine when my ma asked him to hunt somethin’." Sean, lost in his own thoughts, responded without looking up "Why?" "Said that them animals had souls, they were God"s children in his eyes," Carl explained. "The man believed that every animal on this Earth had a special somethin" to "em beyond just sustainin’ humans." Sean stared into the fire, his head cocked to the side. "Mr. Fisher ain't your pa, is he?" "Nah," Carl responded, his voice deep and rough, "that old man caught me stealin’ from "im when I was about fifteen." "He didn’t get you in trouble with the law?" Sean asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Think he planned to, but he saw somethin’ in me somewhere." Carl took a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the campsite. "So, you didn’t know the Fisher"s at all?" Sean asked the older man. Carl smiled warmly. "No," he answered. "Came from Vermont." "You're from the North," Sean stated, furrowing his brow as he took a sip of his coffee. "Northeast," Carl corrected Sean with a chuckle. "My folks were poor as all hell, but sometimes money don"t mean all that much, y'know?" Sean shrugged, his eyes fixed on the fire. He sighed heavily. "My parents owned a farm. Small one." "The hell were ya growin’ in Wyoming?" Carl asked as he tore open a pack of coffee and poured it into a cup, handing it to Sean. "Wheat, corn…anythin’ that'd survive up there,” Sean responded bitterly. Carl laughed, a hearty laugh that seemed to echo through the campsite. "We oughta make a supply run into town soon. "Bout a day's ride South." Sean, his skinny frame huddled against the cool night air, nodded absently. "We outta meat?" "Almost," Carl confirmed, his eyes scanning the campsite. "We got some venison and maybe a little offal, but that's 'bout it." Sean grimaced at the thought of eating offal, the organs and fatty tissues from an animal"s body. "You eatin' that offal? I ain't." Carl laughed, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. "All yours, Sean."

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ieatmyselfknd · 8 months

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such a pretty house and such a pretty garden, no alarms and no surprises please.

#radiohead #sad thoughts #no surprises #sadnees #im bad at tags #im bad at this #obssesive #im bad at tumblr

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dawormey2 · 1 year

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A lil bit of Two-Bit x fem!reader stuff

so this is my first time putting anything up, so keep that in mind.

So this is more like hc’s i guess and please ignore any miss spellings

He would try to get you to watch cartoons with him, for example; he would be sitting watching a Mickey Mouse short and see you walk in. He would walk over to you “hey Y/N” and ask you about your day and bring you over to the couch and set you down on his lap and turn the tv back on.

His mom would love you! You would wear a minie mouse shirt to match two-bit’s mickey shirt, and some jeans over for dinner. His little sister would love you and you offered to play with dolls after dinner

he doesn’t have many pet names for you, because he likes the sound of your name. When he decides to go to class all he can think about is the sound of your name instead of his teachers yelling at him to focus.

he loves cuddling! He’s the big spoon and loves it. He likes wrapping around you when you’re both tired. He can almost sense when you’re cold and will cuddle closer to you.

Everyone in the gang looks out for you. As soon as two-bit started bringing you around everyone was surprised that two managed to get such a good girl to go out with him.

#the outsiders #two bit x reader #mickey mouse #two bit imagine #pet names #mini mouse #im bad at tumblr #im bad at tagging #first post #s.e. hinton #greasers #two bit mathews #cuddles #soft kisses #your name #thinking of you #cartoons

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yandecifi · 2 years

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In a Way That Matters

bakugo/reader

~1000ish words

cw: derealization + depersonalization

idk made this one shot a bit ago bc felt dpdr wasn’t rlly anywhere and I very much use fanfic, reading, and writing to vent/cope/whatever so idk maybe some other ppl will relate and feel less bad?? might delete this later lol bc idk how tumblr works¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Shakespeare once said: “To be, or not to be, that is the question.”

That is, in fact, the question. That has been the question since it happened. Are you, or are you not? Are you awake, or are you not? Are you alive, or are you not? Are you in a coma, in a hospital, unable to wake up, dying, dreaming, sleeping, something, or are you not?

You have been on pause since it happened. Stuck. Time, life, the you that is not you has progressed without… you. What is you? Who is you? When is you? You are living through memories while at the same time realizing that you have no memories at all. You are alive but you are dead. You are here but you are not.

Bakugo shifts in his seat and asks if you’re there. You pull yourself to the present, whatever that is, and say yeah, sorry, bit spacy today, kinda tired, nice day, isn’t it?

He stares at you. He stares at you with the same look people give when they want to ask you about it, but aren’t sure where to start because what?

Is it happening again?

Is what happening again?

The thing, he responds, crossing his arms. In truth, you knew what he meant. You just wanted to hear somebody else say it for once.

Your eyes and hands find their way to your drink. You fiddle with the straw as you find your answer.

It’s always happening, is what you come up with.

Bakugo doesn’t respond directly. He never does, not really, the way his thoughts connect to his words is about as smooth and straight as his hair. This time, his response is a grunt just loud enough to let you know you’ve been heard. His arms are still crossed as he stares at the hand twisting your straw. You wish he would be as open as you force yourself to be.

Always, he states, though you guess he meant it as a question.

Yeah.

Y’know why?

Nah.

The silence after is one you’re familiar with. He’s probably thinking, I don’t get it, what do you mean it’s all the time, are you crazy, what even is it -

What’s it like?

You squeeze the neck of the straw between your fingers. Both of you are still focused on it, on the plastic tube you’ve been crushing and bending and rolling about, like a silent agreement to not make eye contact. Maybe it’s a way to make him feel less like he’s asking personal questions. Maybe it’s a way for you to feel less naked.

Sorta thing you don’t get unless you’ve experienced it, you say, but that doesn’t feel quite right so you tack on some stuff about dreams and weed and stuff, you know?

The way his eyes squint at the cup shows he doesn’t. You hurry to fix your description.

Like, okay, you say, pausing to flex your hands, watching the tendons writhe beneath your skin. It’s like nothing’s real. Like, imagine someone’s strapped VR goggles to your head and you’re trying to make your way through the place you’re seeing, but it doesn’t exist, so, like, you’re blind but you can see at the same time. Everything’s weird - there’s this sort of disconnect. There’s this gap between you and what you’re feeling. Y’can’t think straight, either, everything’s always foggy and, oh, that’s right, your memory’s shit too. Sometimes I think I’m getting dementia. Or that I’m schizophrenic. But I’m not, I’m not crazy or anything, so don’t worry. Not that you are, or anything. I’m just - I’m not crazy. I’m not. Okay?

Bakugo nods slowly, says yeah, but they always do that. They just nod along or agree with some monosyllable, they don’t - no, they can’t say it, they can’t say: no, you’re not crazy, you don’t sound crazy. Because you do, don’t you? To someone who doesn’t understand.

You’ve stopped fiddling with the straw, instead preferring to work a massage into the palm of your hand. Bakugo has sunk lower into his seat. His arms are still crossed as he stares at the crinkly tube.

He thinks you’re crazy. He does, doesn’t he? He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t have to say it - you can see it. You can see it in the way he won’t meet your eyes. You can see it in the crease of his brows, how they’re pinched together like they are when he’s taking an exam, trying to find the answer to some impossible question, you can see it in the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down, swallowing like he’s nervous, he’s nervous, he’s nervous, too. People always get nervous when you talk about it. They’re like, I had no idea, I didn’t know this about you, what else is she hiding, and then they treat you like a stranger because they feel like you’re one, you’re strange, you’re strange to them. You��ve become strange. He thinks you’re strange.

Bakugo, you say, though it comes out more of a mumble. He finally looks you in the eye again. He’s finally looking at you. God, he’s finally looking at you. Look at me, look at me, show I’m real. I’m real, right? He’s looking, right? Your head swims like TV static. Can static swim? Can heads?

Bakugo asks you what you were going to say. You shake your head. You blink. You blink again. Hey, he says, what were you going to say, but you don’t hear his voice, you can’t hear it, your brain can but you can’t.

Your vision’s like one of those old film reels - clack, you’re looking at his face that isn’t really a face anymore, clack, you’re looking at your hands, you can’t see the writhing anymore, clack, you look up, Bakugo’s gone.

Where is he, where is he, there’s a guy that looks like him next to you. He’s leaning down, about to sit in the cafe booth next to you, speaking words you understand yet can’t seem to hear.

It’s not Bakugo, though. He looks the same, but something inside screams he’s alien, he’s not him. But, that’s just how it is when it’s bad, isn’t it. People become objects, objects become people, and you become nothing.

Yeah, you’re fine.

Yeah, everything’s okay.

No, there’s nothing he can do.

No, you don’t need to go home.

You’re responding to questions you don’t even know are being asked. He’s holding your hand. You don’t know when his fingers first clenched around your hand, how long it’s been clenched around your fingers.

It’s bad, isn’t it, Bakugo.

It is. What is it?

You already said. He tried, he tried, didn’t he? Why keep asking? Why?

He wants you to know, he doesn’t want you to be alone.

You are alone, doesn’t he get it, you don’t want to be either, but he keeps asking and it’s so hard, Bakugo, it’s so hard. Stop asking. You can tell him what it’s like, hours, you can tell him what it’s like for hours but he will never know, he will never know what it is, he will never understand, it doesn’t matter how much you want him to, it doesn’t matter what he thinks, none of it matters.

You will never be able to explain this in a way that matters.

You tell him, that strange, invisible cushion wrapped around your head, that invisible cotton stuffed to the brim of your ears, that hand wrapped around yours.

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #derealization #depersonalization #mental health #angst #hurt/comfort #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #im bad at tumblr

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zaffluto · 1 year

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