there are a lot of differences

Crossbow = Swordgun

I live for steven universe crossovers

hunk has to hide pidges eyes everytime these losers decide to fuse lolol

amor fati

Jungkook has heard it all: the assumptions, the accusations, the suppositions that blindly underine his whole being.

“You can’t do a single thing right.”

His inner world is quiet, an ivory realm that simmers with brimming thoughts that can’t be spilled, his mind shackled to his mouth that binds both into a restraint. The world before him dims into a lackluster orbit of weakened spirits, where the firmament of an azure hue slowly wanes into that of a worn down denim blue. 

Since when did all his convictions, all his bravery and ambition become so dull -  buried beneath the deep vicissitudes of his ingrained melancholia? How did his confidence warp into inward hatred, his honesty twisted into guarded deceit of I’m okays?

“You take everything for granted. Why can’t you be more grateful?”

His expressions become as blank as an untainted canvas when confrontations proceed. He feels as though his mind stops working, the engine jerking to a whole stop when he needed the cogs to turn the most. How, in desperation, he’s clawing at anything he can spit to make them go away, but apologies won’t cut it. They want more, more, more; explanations, sincerity, a face full of melodramatic contortions that convey the human emotions. No more of the same excuses. 

Apologies are forced; empty laced with fear as they tell him how to feel, how to react, what to say and do. It was as though every single little thing he did was a crime; they would blow things out of proportions, and it caused him a great deal of trepidation as he went along the day as his normal self - not exactly; unable to be normal, when he was so caught up in being so cautious and careful in every move he made, and it made him sick, because all the things he did weren’t sincere anymore. He just did them for survival.

“You don’t even mean it when you apologize. I’m always the one to ask for it when you don’t take responsibility for what you did wrong.”

But what did Jungkook do wrong?

“This is basic human decency - common sense. If you can’t even say a single ‘thank you’, how are you supposed to survive in the real world?”

But Jungkook does say ‘thank you’. He’s expressed his gratitude countless and countless of times but it’s not enough - never enough. 

“You never speak. How are we supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

Nobody listens to him.

“Why are you so selfish? Why do you always think about yourself?”

They’ve got it all wrong - 

“You’re so useless - ”

“ - always so passive - ”

“Don’t play the victim - ”

“Say sorry.”

Sorry.

“You don’t even mean it.”

Jungkook’s heard it all.

So he rarely speaks, never shows, doesn’t allow himself to feel, because whatever he does on his own free will is always seen as an unwatchable crime. It was as though his existence dripped acid droplets of iniquity, his worthlessness a true aspect of his character that’s been issued countless of times, and that he was a spineless puppet, seemingly vacant and controlled like a marionette with his limbs attached to invisible strings of the silhouettes that guilt-trips him into becoming a vessel of sheer depravity. Because that was what he was, right? 

A puppet. A worthless puppet. Quietness was an atrocity. Compassion was a transgression. Gratitude was sought for and expected. But then - 

“I like being with you.” Jimin said, his soft smile as bright as little dainty diamonds, his eyes shaping into that of an eclipsed moon that conveyed the absolute wonders of his beauty, “It’s comfortable. It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking about though. You’re a mystery.” His voice was soothing. Different from the others that were harsh and gritty. 

His voice reminded Jungkook of a forest’s hymn, specked with gold, a mid afternoon kissed by the summer sun and its gilded rays. It reminds him of the simplicity of beauty, like little etches of petite charms engraved on the trunks of trees; like noticing the glittering spots of scintillas integrated within a clique of granite rocks; like sleeping in on a Saturday morning with the warm sun beaming through the windows. He always felt warm being near him and listening to his genuine words and sweet voice. It gave him a little bit of faith in the cracked globules of his heart - of what remains, at least.

One day, Jimin breaks the wall of vocable boundaries and extends a hand towards him amidst the evening, as they sat on the prickly grass by the river and watched as the sun beautifully set, its luminous, glowing hues blending into pomegranate pink and tangerine orange, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook eyes at his hand momentarily with a glint of hesitancy. “What?” He tentatively reaches for the offered hand when Jimin beckons him to take it. The grip of their intertwined hands was soft and gentle, but enough to radiate a placid heat between their palms.

“Do you,” Jimin hums a bit as he delicately runs a thumb over his knuckles, “like being here?” 

Jungkook doesn’t understand. He always likes being with Jimin. He feels safe with him.

“It’s just that - your eyes,” Jimin tightens his grip just ever so slightly, his smile dostoevskian, and Jungkook didn’t like that. He wanted to see him smile with absolute mirth, dimples showing and nose scrunching, “your eyes says a lot when your mouth doesn’t. And I was just wondering, because you know I’m always here for you, don’t you?”

Oh. 

Do you like being here?

Do you like being alive?

It was the same question; just different answers. 

And if it were any other time, Jungkook would have answered -  lied with an ‘of course’, but as he stares at Jimin and his starry eyes and the tender smile only reserved for him, the realization of being in love with him hits him like a epiphany, a strange mellowness flooding his whole being.

“Remember this, Jungkook,” Jimin had once said to him, “It’s not your fault that the lives of those people who hurt you are in constant decline. It’s never your fault for any of their misfortunes. You’re not a pawn for them to take their anger out on you. You’re more than just what they make you feel. You’re more than their words.”

Perhaps it happened from the very beginning when they first met. Perhaps it was only just now that he’s finally aware of the fact that Jimin has always seen him as an actual person. He never looked at him with judgment or with hostility. Rather, he saw him. He saw right through him, saw through his chicanery and destruction, saw through his quietude only to witness the muddles of his mind and heart slivered in fragments of wintry albatrosses. He was the first person to understand his silence and his solemnity and never questioned the bruises that were scattered across his arms and ribs, like the blooming of wilting flowers still in their budding phase. 

And Jimin knows. And he’s still here when he could have left, but he didn’t. He stayed. (Even when Jungkook caused him inevitable frustration from the difficulties of his guarded nature, he still stayed.)

Since when had he felt this calm around a person without the anxiousness to perform well at everything to avoid being affronted at the tiniest things in scale? Without the possibility of things being blown out of proportion like they always are?

There was no denial, just a quiet moment of acceptance and understanding.

Jungkook looked down at their hands.

“I didn’t.” He confesses, but a gentle smile works its way on his face, the stretch of his face muscles aching from the unfamiliarity of a true, earnest smile made from his own volition, “but now I do.”

Maybe there was no kiss -  no banal declaration of love to signify their feelings but they knew; with their soft smiles and knowing looks and warm, prolonged eye contact; their interwoven hands that settled between them comfortably as they basked in the hushed reticence. Words weren’t expected to be spoken, no compulsory apologies - Jungkook felt a flood of pure freedom and an indescribable happiness. He wasn’t tied down to the puppeteers that bestowed a sense of shame upon him -  instead, he felt like a person for once and felt as though he was treated as one too.

And maybe it’ll take him time - a long time, even - to stop shaking at little mistakes, at automatically apologizing profoundly at the slightest shortcomings, and flinching every time someone moves to give him a mere hug. He’ll never be permanently okay, but who was always okay in their lives? Jungkook would learn, through regression and progression, to unlearn all the toxic things done onto him, because it was possible. Healing was possible - difficult, but attainable.

And as he looks at Jimin who looked at him with so much warmth, so much love, he felt hope probe at his heart and there, he learned that perhaps he wasn’t broken like he thought he was all this time, but was merely incomplete. 

Posting this on tumblr too!
My amazing @playdencos and @elfeyarts helped me purchase clip studio paint because it’s on sale and I’ve always wanted it!
I was messing around with its screen tone functions and how they worked and did something super simple! The process was so much easier than Sai and PS this time around and it runs so smoothly, I might just switch over once I get the hang of it! I’m gonna be studying it some more on my own and find some tutorials and such to get a better grasp on it and hopefully be able to start makin’ cute comics and dounjins like I’ve always wanted!

WidowTracer Week

Day 4: Saccharine

“Don’t forget your cap and come back safe, Cadet Oxton..”

“Roger!”

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ユーリ!!! on Ice - TV & BD/DVD Comparison | episode 2

 ep 1 | ep 2 | ep 3 | ep 4 | ep 5 | ep 6 | ep 7 | ep 8 | ep 9 | ep 10 | ep 11 | ep 12
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A nesspaula comic I made a bit late for valentines day

2

Rough sketches of Commander Clarke and some of her tattoos for In the Shallows because I know a few people expressed interest in seeing them a while ago. 

By the Corner Light | Bucky and Steve

Outside the barracks
By the corner light
I always stand and wait for you at night
We will create a world for two
I’ll wait for you, the whole night through
Like once Lili Marleen

2

getting some colouring practice in with some hunter husbands (。•̀ᴗ-)✧

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4

“this is getting a little personal”. i love pet names. look at this cutesy crap.
guys, i promise, i have dark stuff on the way. this… isn’t it.
(apologies to any polish-speakers out there… feel free to correct me if I use words wrong!)