First Meeting...

Felt sad so I decided to cheer myself up by redrawing some post it note fanart for Isonian’s fic ‘Keiko’ on ao3

@whatweoughttosay

a rlly good trope is a teenager who was forced to grow up too fast suddenly being surrounded by teens who love having fun and goofing off, and just slowly starting to come out of their shell and do dumb stuff just for the hell of it bc they can finally act their age

..... fuck

thinking about werewolves and the concept of becoming a monster and discovering that something savage and uncontrollable exists within you and the potential that has to be a liberating narrative about growth and change and courage rather than a story about controlling and concealing it

"Such a petulant child..."

(Pose Ref is this)

I've been thinking a lot about the like moral frame work that Malevolent sets out because I don't know, what else am I going to do with my braincells.

Interestingly, and fittingly, it's very much a coming together of one ideal from Arthur and one ideal from John which both together make up the central part of the story.

From Arthur we get the precept of having to own your past. To John in episode 14 he says "You are the King. You don’t get to deny that because you’re choosing to change. Own it. Grow, change, be better, but own your mistakes." This seems to be the same rule he holds himself to with Faroe, or perhaps he holds onto thia ideal because of what happened with Faroe.

On the other hand, John brings to the table the idea that anyone can be redeemed. As early as episode 3 he says "I have to hope that any creature can be redeemed." This is before John knows who or what he is, but faced with the possibility of what he might be he wants to believe that he's capable of changing. This idea continues to carry through the Dreamlands arc after he learns he's the King in Yellow, but I think it's become most evident again in episode 26 when he conforts Arthur about Faust. The King has not won. If John can seek redemption after everything he's done, than certainly Arthur, a human forced to those extremes under intense stress and trauma, can be.

But... The ideal that Malevolent sets out isn't either one of these things, it's the combination of both. You cannot forget your past mistakes. You have to live with them. But you can be redeemed from them. No matter what mistakes lie in your past you can move forward and become a better person. You carry those things with you, but you are not restrained by them.

Been playing around with ink ✍🏼_(:3」∠)_

How dare you

nuttella is satans sauce

Facts

Being a primarily angst writer is so fucking funny, I just got these texts from a friend exactly 5 minutes apart

Heh... wouldn't it be fun to draw some slightly more detailed fanart for Keiko and-- oH gOD! OH FUCK!

@whatweoughttosay

"POVyoureGertrudeRobinson.png"

A doodle and a quick extract from the monster au i've been developing because I love writing tragic backstories and i love gerry keay

Gerry here is what is more commonly known as a soul eater, a wraith or many other horrible ghosty ghoulies. He hunts by marking and stalking certain unfortunate individuals, waiting for that opportune moment right after death where he can devour their souls and the remants of their lifeforce to extend his life.

[Statment Begins]

He’s heaving and crying, shifting in an out of focus as eyes blink in and out of existence all while shuddering in his place in the circle. He’d thrown himself from his chair at some point, losing it in his desperate primal instinct to just crawl away even trapped with nowhere to go he were. Something awful pulling him apart from the core before it eases under the sigils tight grip. Heaving, hurting even when it ends, crying despite it all. Trying to force himself to take a breath, to work past the pain and fear keeping him locked tight, something blackened among the divots of claw marks carved into the wood of the floor.

Gerry is in the room now, he looks right to burn everything to the ground with agony and murder on his face. Gertrude, a mix of fury and sick unexpected fear of her own he can feel goes much deeper than him failing to die.

He forces himself to speak through raw, gasping breaths as he forces himself through the lock on his body. Still clutching his head and digging lines into what used to be his skull and moving just enough to look at her, eyes wide and voice shuddering as he tries to keep the growl of static of unwitting frantic compulsion from his throat.

“He knows what we tried to do,” is all he can force out

“We?!”

“Of course he does,” she snaps, tearing papers from the walls and stowing them away into open books, scrambling in a way none of them have ever seen before, “I’d wager the bond is more than enough to make him clear of that, even with the measures I put in place”

Gerry is steps between them.

“He’ll be here any minute now,” She says.

“What the fuck did you do?” Gerard thunders, form morphing, turning into something else. Something that towers over both of them and sends the world into shades of black and white. Permeating the world with thick ink tendrils that turn over filing cabinets behind him, as ink flows like blood out of the closed books on the shelves and from between the spaces in stacks of yellowed pages. The stench of death choking them both as his face twists into something horrible. Something that would have made the old Jon, the Jon who'd only ever known to fear Mr. Spider, choke on his fear.

He’d… he’d never seen Gerry look like that before.

“Gerard, now is hardly the time.” She grits out.

“Answer the fucking question!” he roars, "What the fuck did you do to him?!"

A yellow door opens, and all argument ceases with the man who walks through.

“What do you think, they were trying to do?”