MJ: You Often Use Humor To Deflect Trauma. Peter Parker: Thank You. MJ: I Didn't Say That Was A Good

I know Sabo was a retcon and Ace's tattoo was originally just a misspelling of his name but retroactively turning it into a memorial tattoo for his brother actually hits so much harder specifically because it looks like an incorrect version of Ace's own name.

Ace's name, Ace's identity, the very essence of who Ace is, and he not only chose to physically insert Sabo's initial into that name in the first place -- thus representing just how much he viewed Sabo as a fundamental part of himself -- he then chose to cross that initial out, creating the illusion that Ace's own name was spelled wrong. It re-frames Sabo's death as a sort of amputation; that the removal of Sabo from Ace permanently mangled what was left behind into a clumsy and misshapen facsimile of itself.

There's also the fact that the crossed-out S looks like Sabo's Jolly Roger; an S with crossbones. The flag Sabo died trying to sail under. With that context, it almost turns the tattoo into a sort of skin graft; Ace marking himself with Sabo's dream, implanting it deep under his skin where he can carry it with him and keep it safe.

I haven't abandoned this story. I just put it on the back burner for now. The story is just on a small vacation. It is currently out of office. It can't come to the phone right now. It just fell under my bed to sleep with the monsters. It never left my head. It is everywhere - except on paper.

Some days I don’t want to exist. I’m not suicidal, but I really just want to be not here anymore.

Childe: I have no friends...

Scaramouche: Finally, you got something right.

When I lay on my soft mattress,

The crickets the only sounds

In the still night,

My mind journeys;

Regrets wash over me,

My heart aches.

The moon shines beyond my ceiling,

And I curl up in despair.

Six feet below the ground,

Someone rests for eternity.

Then I begin to wonder,

What of their last moments?

I wonder,

Was it loneliness they had to bear?

Paralyzed on the bed

Yearning to join the chorus of laughter outside?

Did they lie on the bed,

Hearing joyous melodies

And having no ability to join?

Was it unbearable?

Did they watch everyone walk pass

Not giving them a single glance?

Those moments that would be the last,

Was it filled with all-consuming hurt?

Had we been kinder,

Better,

Nicer,

Could it have been alleviated?

It's midnight,

I lie awake,

Thinking,

Hating myself.

I lie awake in wonder,

Did they loathe me?

That in their death bed,

I had abandoned them.

In their final minutes,

Did they cry silently?

Fully awake,

Yet unable to move an inch?

In the quiet night,

Everyone peacefully sleeping,

Did they weep

And give up?

Thinking that they will not be missed?

Thinking of their own regrets?

Thinking of what-ifs?

Thinking if they were good enough?

Were their last moments filled

With the same pain I share only a quarter of?

Or was it a peaceful goodbye

With silent wishes of a happy life?

A tear slips down my cheek,

Apologies resting on my tongue,

For only spirits to hear.

I cry regrets.

I should have done more.

Should have been better.

Selfish and cruel I am, so,

Perhaps it should have been me.

I think,

As I see pieces of you in strangers,

And fragments of happiness in my memories,

Yes, perhaps it should have been me.

I lay on my bed,

Thoughts chasing sleep away,

I dig my fingers on my scalp,

My eyes shut tight.

I writhe

To shoo the thoughts away.

Maybe it's your spirit,

Wishing vengeance upon me.

But I desperately hope,

You wear white,

And watch over me

With the same gentle embrace as I grew up in.

I love you,

That much is true.

I'm sorry,

I couldn't show it enough.

I love you,

You might doubt it.

I'm sorry,

It wasn't enough for me.

I'm not a fan of that left eye next to the hand or my first try at chibi, but whatever. That one eye has a drawing behind it that I contemplated whether I should post as well or not, maybe I will someday. Those two that I drew using a highlighter were neat enough, I had to edit the picture like that so you could see it clearly

like wine.

1920s Baroque Works 🥂

Always wanted to do a movie poster redraw of the Great Gatsby so here they are!!

Dabi: What's up, guys? I'm back. The Todorokis: . . . tf??? Enji: What the—how? We saw your jaw. Dabi: yeah, I miss that thing Fuyumi & Natsuo: YOU DIED! Dabi: **shrugs** death is a social construct.

JUST YOU PEOPLE WAIT UNTIL I CAN ART AND WRITE!! THE AMOUNT OF FANFICS AND FANARTS OF MY OTPS WILL MULTIPLY BY TENTHS, I WILL SINGLE HANDEDLY CARRY MY OTP FANDOMS; JUST YOU PEOPLE WAIT!! Art block and writers' block will not hinder me...In the future. But as of now, I will die by their hands.