I Want To Write A Book Called “your Character Dies In The Woods” That Details All The Pitfalls And

my mom just had a 7cm brain tumor removed and since she's woken up she's been talking nonstop about this dream she had about going to an art gallery full of colourful paintings by a 'homosexual artist' named klimsdorf who was ethereal and wise, both young and old... at first she was convinced he was a real person but after failing to find him online she's accepted he was a figment of her subconscious mind and is now determined to bring him to life via painting his portrait herself. she's 67 and has never drawn in her life. and now this. blorbo from her tumor

i for real need people to understand how upsetting it is that arcane said, "the revolution never mattered."

arcane said, "trying to actively bring about systemic change is both wrong and futile."

arcane said, "the only moral way to become unoppressed is to simply do mutual aid, and wait for your oppressors to decide to give you rights after a suitably high-profile child death and/or foreign invasion."

arcane said, "to resist or raise arms against your oppressor makes you as bad as them. it is the duty of the victims of violence and oppression to break the cycle of killing."

Always wanted to make one of these

whoa whoa whoa, are you enjoying yourself right now? rookie mistake. you're supposed to be afraid and angry... yeah no all the time. how else will you prove you care about all the problems?

Alastor is drawing

also some things he's drawing

jfdhgdgfkdhgjlrutihg[ohplrtnbfkldgpdjf i love Alastor and the fact that he loves drawing is just dlgkfhdghglk so cute

huh. he wouldn't want to show these to anyone...

*trying to say i like a fictional character* yeah he activates my predator animal drive

my first actual contribution. hello mouthwashers

hazbin hotel character twitters

Some sketches of Vox’s life after he lost everything, as he tries to get his life back together (and eventually his fellow Vees)

The sorta context is here ~

I remember this story mom told me and my sister when we were little. Two frogs fall into a milk churn, and start swimming to stay on the surface. After a long time, one of the frogs tells the other that it's tired of swimming, and is just going to give up now. The frog sinks and drowns, while the other frog keeps swimming. Eventually the surviving frog that never gave up has been swimming for so long that the milk has been churned into butter, and the frog can hop out. The moral of the story is that life feels hopeless a lot, but if you give in to despair, you fucking die.

I had two aunts from my father's side. I don't remember anything about one of them, she died when I was three years old. We were never lied to about how it happened. She killed herself, jumped out of a window. She gave in to despair. My paternal grandmother lost her mind over the grief, developing dementia overnight. I never knew her as a sane, coherent person. She gave in to the despair. That's what I was taught, that's how I was raised. Life is pain, but if you give in to the despair, you fucking die.

I am an optimist. Always have been. I had to be. Indulging in pessimistic fatalism was a luxury that I could not afford. I'm not an optimist out of some naive lack of awareness that life can be bad sometimes. I grew up very familiar with how bad life can be. I was an optimist in believing - against all the proof of the contrary - that life could be other things, too. That it's possible that there could be a life that doesn't hurt all the time.

I can't afford to be a pessimist. I don't pretend to believe that things will never get bad, but I have no choice but to believe that no matter how bad things will get, there can be good things in life, no matter what. I don't talk to my family anymore, but I did survive being raised by them. The ones who give up hope don't make it. If you let the darkness seep in, and give in to despair, you die.