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25 years old. Black and Non-binary (They/Them) Artist. Page WIP Likes and comments (plus discourse) from @toodamnchaotic

[derklowwn]

Spectre’s Ship List

cuz everyone fucking asked /s

...will not include dead dove as not to trigger others...

Please keep in mind that I interpret some characters differently, so whatever you deem problematic idrc about, thats not my problem- block and DNI as you wish

OTPs:

Krelake (Krel x Jim)

Polyorder (Skraelroc, Narrael, Forestkeeper)

Steli (Steve x Eli)

Vexando (Varvatos Vex x General Morando)

Morgwen (Morgana x Gwen)

Zantel (Zoe x Chantel {my OC}) 

Warstaff (Toby x Claire {my version of Claire})

Jimxie (Jim x Douxie)

Jim x Krel x Douxie (no ship names that I know of)

Kreli (Krel x Eli)

Douxari (Douxie x Nari)

Douxie x The Whole Order fr

Merlin x a better hairline

Ships I'm Neutral/Don't really care about:

Trolldads (Blinky x AAARRRGHHH)

Shannon x Connie

Clairxie (Douxie x Claire)

Hammer Hunter (Jim x Toby)

Krexie (Krel x Douxie)

Barbmura (Barbara x Nomura)

Strickrot (Strickler x Angor Rot)

Dicrot (Dictatious x Angor Rot)

Zadra x Izita 

Bellgana (Bellroc x Morgana)

Vex x Nancy Domzalski

Logan x Seamus

Mary x Literally anybody

Darci x Toby

Staja (Steve x Aja)

Ajim (Aja x Jim)

NOTPs/Ships I'm squicked by:

Jlaire (Jim x Claire)

Zouxie (Douxie x Zoe)

SpaceCamp/Kreamus (Krel x Seamus)

Stricklake (Strickler x Barbara)

Krel x Any girl

Btw, here's my The Arcane Order Aren't Siblings post

The Arcane Order *aren't* siblings.

And I will tell you how I know this :) Recently, people have been trying to stir things up again. Calling ships between members of the Arca

[dredsina]

Ive said this before but swear the biggest skill to learn as an adult is how to resist high-pressure sales tactics. You do NOT have to answer questions with anything other than "Sorry I'm not interested." No matter how nice they are or no matter how many follow up questions they ask or even how agitated they get when you stand your ground. Just keep saying I'm not interested. Don't answer their questions. Don't give them an opening to try to push back on your reasons. Be a fucking brick wall of I'm not interested.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

When we bought our car, I told Sean to let me handle it. I walked in and said "We have X for a down payment and cannot pay more than Y in monthly payments." My Y number had some leeway, but I didn't mention that.

First thing the sales guy did after I laid down the rules was turn to Sean and go, "What's your number?" And Sean said. "Oh, no, you negotiate with Gayle."

So, strike one for the sales guy. Could not divide and conquer us by implying THE MAN would not surprised at what I laid down.

Sales guy then had to confer with his manager and left us at his desk for several minutes. I have a vague recollection (this was 16 years ago) of Sean and I amusing ourselves doing bits about the other people there to look at cars. I am sure we did not give off the stressed or nervous energy they were hoping for.

Guy comes back. His first offer is fifty dollars a month more than I told him we could pay. I looked at him and said "I gave you our upper limit."

"Well, but what's another 50 bucks a month?"

"Something I can't afford."

He didn't know what to do with my open and unashamed admittal that I had a budget because my money was finite.

He went back to talk to the manager again.

It took two more rounds of "I told you what I can afford" before he finally came back 20 bucks under what I'd stated as my max.

The trick to resisting high-stress sales tactics is doing the math at home, knowing exactly what you can afford, and then walking into the room and stating that number minus 15%. Then refusing to budge from that number. Never, ever, meet then where they want. Always meet them where you want. Because at the end of the day, you can walk away and go somewhere else and say "I told the people at Z what my terms were, and they refused to work with me. Here are my terms. Meet them, and you make a sale today."

[birdsareblooming]

For the love of god stop

[realshinjiikari]

[birdsareblooming]

this post seems to have broken containment and if anyone's interested in what they were telling me to stop, i found the og post with this song and was mass reblogging it at an alarming rate. ive done this multiple times but i think this was the instance i reblogged it 64 times in a row

[twinkothydrake]

[extra-star-storage]

3BELOW Google Drive

I've seen a lot of people looking to find 3Below, since Netflix is removing the Tales of Arcadia series from streaming, so I thought I could help out ^^

(They're not 4k or anything, but I'll do whatever I can to help preserve the series)

I can also make one for specific episodes of Trollhunters or Wizards if needed. (Though probably not the whole series, as I don't have enough file storage or google accounts, lol)

[yourrottingwife]

SIMPLE GUIDE:

Body Horror: Things that cannot happen in real life. EX: The Thing, stomach mouths, eyes on hands, etc

Gore: Fresh injuries, often severe. EX: Severed leg, gutspill, deep gashes, etc

NEITHER: Healed injuries and burns, congenital differences, missing appendages, etc. If I could theoretically go to the store and see that character browsing the isles- It isn't body horror or gore. That's just a person. *AND the amount of people that tag, not just fictional characters, but real human beings as body horror is staggering. Its not solely a fandom issue, ableism and bigotry against anyone that looks sufficiently "different" is prevalent in real life and has devastating consequences.

(Modified) from my comment left on this post.

[dragon-in-a-fez]

"you don't know what you have until you lose it" works for things that suck too btw. sometimes you need to experience life without something for a while to realise oh damn that was some bullshit

[sionskaia]

Pisha, for VtM-artbook

[luckyladylily]

So the thing is boobs really do be jiggling. If having breasts has taught me anything it is that the ladies frolic. I don't even have that large of boobs but every time I go down some stairs all I can think about is that stupid quote about boobing breastily down the stairs or whatever it is because God Damn.

But anime and video game boob jiggling is like. The most uncanny valley shit I've ever seen nine times out of ten. You would think people this horny about tits would have actually looked at some but I guess not.

What we really need is some pervert to compile the ultimate visual guide to boob bouncing physics that's just like 500 hours of meticulously organized videos of breasts of different size and shape and under different fabrics bouncing around from a wide variety of physical movements so horny game devs can finally get it right and I don't have to be creeped out by women who appear to have surgically implanted softballs in their chest under skin made of rubber bands.

[vryfmi]

[id: an opening spread of “You and I and that Empty World”, written by El and illustrated by vRyfMi, illustration depicts a snowy forest area with a seemingly abandoned farmhouse; on the foreground, leaning on a tree, stands Jinx, her leg profusely bleeding./end id]

last year i participated in Dancing With You: A Timebomb Zine and collabed with El (smokesatellite on AO3) on her zombie apocalypse AU. im a huge fan of El's writing and zombie AUs, so this project was such a pleasure to illustrate and work alongside her! biggest thanks to mods team of @timebombzine and all incredible participants! LEFTOVER SALE is on until August 1st! you can still get a copy of the zine and merchandise!

[id: a contents entry, acting as a post divider, with piece's title and its authors (El and vRyfMi)./end id]

full text of You and I and That Empty World can be read under the cut along with two additional spot-art illustrations, im posting it with El's permission to do so

You and I and That Empty World

(Written by El (smokesatellite on AO3) and illustrated by vRyfMi)

The cold had teeth.

Sharp, white, biting. Everything felt wet in that way that snuck through the seams of Jinx’s coat and made a home in her bones. Her knee was ruined—too stiff, too swollen. Something pulled every time she took a step.

But there was no time to stop. Not now. Not when anything—anyone—could find her.

Branches cracked underfoot as she limped through the woods—tall, naked trees clawing at the sky like they were begging for spring. Her breath fogged the air in sharp, uneven bursts.

There was blood stiffening at the hem of her jeans—dried, mostly. She wasn’t in danger of dying, probably, but she was freezing, hurting, and about five minutes from screaming at the world just out of spite.

She didn’t expect to find anything, not really. But then there it was, tucked just above the valley; a crooked old farmhouse with frost hugging the glass and its porch warped under the weight of time. It looked haunted, maybe. Or just long forgotten.

She raised her gun, anyway, because nothing was ever truly abandoned.

⸻

The door creaked like it held a grudge. Warmth spilled out immediately, hitting her in the face like a slap. Real heat. Firelight. The kind of thing she didn’t take for granted anymore.

She stepped in slow, gun still raised. The wood groaned beneath her boots. Then, he was there.

He didn’t move much—just emerged from behind some half-rotted support beam, holding a blade low, but not low enough. His stare was unreadable. Careful. Jinx froze.

They didn’t say anything at first—just took each other in, like trying to place a half-remembered face from a dream. She held her gun up higher. Instinctive. Innate. Twitchy. She wanted to say something. To scream. Usually, that kind of thing came easy—the erratic words, the impulsive bite.

But with him, in the first warm place she’d found in days… nothing. “You sick?” he asked eventually, voice level.

His eyes scanned over her—dissecting. “No.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Then, finally, nodded once.

“One night,” he said. Not his name. Not his history. She didn’t lower the gun. She offered nothing back. But she didn’t leave either.

[id: a half-body drawings of Ekko and Jinx on either side of the spread as they are confronting each other, both looking hostile—Ekko stands with a hunting knife ready, but lowered; Jinx stands with a gun also lowered./end id]

⸻

When she awoke, she had no memory of falling asleep. Her leg throbbed like hell, but the bandages were new. Tighter. Cleaner. The pain was still there, but someone had tried to make it bearable.

She groaned, hauling herself upright. She wasn’t dead, which felt… inconvenient. Unfortunate. A curse. The house creaked as she hobbled into the hallway—floorboards shifting under her weight like they had opinions. The walls were lined with old photos, long since faded.

Someone’s life used to live here. She wondered if that boy—that ghost—even noticed them anymore. The kitchen was warm.

He stood at the stove, back to her, pan sizzling with something that smelled vaguely like eggs. He didn't look up. Jinx leaned against the doorway. Something in her wanted to bite—wanted to bare her teeth and pounce.

Instead, all she managed was a pointed joke. One she wished had come out meaner. Sharper. “You always feed your intruders?”

“No.”

“You got a name?”

A pause. The sound of sizzling pierced through nothing. Then, with a swallowed gulp; “Ekko.” He didn’t bother turning. “You got one, too?”

She should’ve lied. But with him, honesty came before she could snatch it back. “Jinx.”

Then, her leg gave out. She caught herself on the frame before she could eat shit.

He helped her to the couch without a word—just an arm hooked around her ribs. “Stop hovering.”

“Stop falling.”

She sank into the cushions. He stepped back but didn't go far. “No creeping around. No stealing.”

She squinted. “Don't touch my stuff.”

He huffed. “Should've predicted that.”

⸻

She was on her feet the next morning. Barely. The leg still burned, but she limped better—less roadkill, more stubborn mutt. Outside, Ekko was swearing at a warped plank on the fence. Nails bent. Wood splintered.

She leaned in the doorway. “You seducing it into staying put?”

He didn’t look up. “Got better ideas?”

“Yeah. Move.” She hobbled down, grabbed the hammer from him. They fixed it together—her bracing, him nailing straight. Ekko eyed her hands.

“Didn’t know you could still do that—in your state and all.”

She shrugged. “Didn't know you could still talk.” Later, when the wind cut through her bandage, he showed her how to wrap it tighter. She grumbled. He almost smiled.

⸻

The barn was colder than she expected. Dust clung to everything—blueprints, scrap bins, half-gutted drones. In the corner, the old generator rattled out a dying cough. Ekko crouched beside it, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess.

“Gonna lose our heat if this thing quits,” he muttered. Jinx didn't ask—just limped over, popped her knuckles. “You're wiring it backwards.”

His eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “You think you’re an expert now?”

“I know I am.” She shoved him aside with her hip. He huffed but held the flashlight steady while she stripped a wire, twisted two new ends together, sparked a connection. The hum steadied.

Ekko let out a low whistle. “You always fix dying things?”

“Not quite,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans. Their eyes caught—familiar and new, all at once.

“Thanks,” he said, quiet. She shrugged. “Keep it running next time.”

[id: a drawing of a crudely-made generator with a green body that is covered in blue and pink graffities./end id]

⸻

The fire cracked low. Night settled over them in full, draped in frost and dark silence. They sat near each other. Not too close. But closer than before. Ekko peeled a potato with an old pocket knife. Jinx watched the blade glide in slow, practiced circles. Her leg throbbed faintly, but she didn't complain.

After a while, she muttered it. “Vi.”

Ekko paused.

“She's—“ she swallowed. “Was. Is. My sister.”

Ekko's lip twitched. Something in him softened that made her nails curl into the palms of her hands.

“She's why I left,” Jinx added. “She went on a run—was leading the team. I waited for days. Weeks. But...”

“You think she's still alive?”

“Don't know.” She stared at the fire like it owed her an answer. “But I have to check.”

He didn't say anything right away. Just nodded, slow. Understanding without promising. “I wasn’t planning on finding anyone else,” he said. “I lost people, too.”

The quiet stretched. Comfortable, almost. But then she twitched. Jerked her leg. Her hand spasmed. She stood up too fast.

“Jinx—”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was sharp, splintered. “Don't look at me like that.” Then she disappeared down the hallway, and the firelight flickered like it was trying to follow her.

⸻

They hunted together. Ekko had the patience. Jinx had the noise. He moved quiet; she stomped like the forest owed her rent.

“You're loud,” he muttered.

“I'm effective.”

A Gray stumbled out. One clean shot—through the eye. Ekko stared.

“Useful,” he said.

They buried it later, out of habit. Humanity, too—though neither would call it that. She shot a turkey big enough to last all week.

⸻

She found herself watching him. Not just watching—studying. The way his eyes narrowed when he was thinking. How he tied his boots double-knotted like it was life or death. The quiet things. It pissed her off. So that night, she packed again. Didn’t say anything. Just zipped the bag. Reached for the door.

“You running?” he asked from the couch. His voice didn't rise. Just settled. She froze.

“I have to,” she said.

“No, you don't.”

“I do.”

She left anyway. Got as far as the edge of the trees. Then stood there for a long time, shivering, cursing herself for not being better at goodbyes she didn’t want to make.

When she turned back, Ekko was already waiting on the creaky porch with a chipped mug of too-hot tea. She took it from him without meeting his eyes. Still, she caught a hint of his smile.

⸻

The map was a mess. Drawn by hand, edges frayed, dirt ground into the creases. But it was detailed—routes inked in black, scrawled notes in the margins: danger zone, collapsed bridge, possible Gray nest.

Jinx stared at it, brow low, arms crossed like she needed to brace herself against the thought of hope. “She said she was heading south,” she muttered. “For the outpost. Might've veered off.”

Ekko didn't look up. “I've marked three paths that keep us off major roads. Less chance of exposure.”

She squinted at him. “You're helping me?”

He nodded. “Wasn't gonna let you limp off into a nest of Grays alone.”

“I wouldn't have limped,” she said, but it came out weak.

He looked at her, quiet. “You’re not alone, Jinx. Not anymore.” She didn't know what to say, so she didn't. Just nodded, throat tight, fingers twitching at her sleeves.

⸻

She tried it again one night at dawn—pack ready, hand on the knob.

“Jinx.”

Ekko leaned in the doorway, hair wild. “You don't have to go alone.”

“People die when they stick around.”

“I know.” He paused. “I don't want to lose anyone else.”

She stepped away from the door. Didn't say anything. Stayed.

⸻

The generator died mid-morning. Silence swallowed the house. Jinx found Ekko outside, boot against the metal, sparks spitting. “Stop kicking it,” she snapped.

“Help me, then.” He tossed her the wrench. They bent over the guts together—swapping wires, cursing under their breath. When it finally hummed back to life, they both laughed—relieved, exhausted.

They didn't see the goat slip through the gate until it bolted. By the time they dragged it back—soaked, shivering—Jinx dropped into the grass, gasping. Ekko hovered, half-grinning.

She snorted. “Next time, you fix it alone.”

⸻

The wound had scabbed over enough. She sat out back with a chipped knife and a rag between her teeth, the last of the stitches gleaming in the cold. Her fingers were trembling, but she was careful—angling the blade just so, breath low and steady.

One by one, she cut them loose. Blood welled up immediately, dark and wet and hot against the cold morning air.

Ekko found her like that—half-hunched, eyes glassy. He didn't yell. Didn't lecture. He just sat beside her, reached for the gauze in her bag, and pressed it to her skin. His touch was steady. Warm.

Her eyes flicked to him. His jaw was set—worried, but calm. She watched his hands move. Saw the way his lashes caught the sun. The scar under his eye she'd forgotten about.

“You always this gentle?” she asked, voice rough.

“Only when I want someone to stop bleeding.” A beat passed. He shifted. Hesitated. Then leaned in. Slow. Intentional. Stopped just short.

“Sorry,” he whispered, breath skating her cheek. “I shouldn't—” She cut him off. Grabbed the front of his jacket and kissed him. It wasn't smooth. Wasn't clean.

Her nose bumped his. The blood still ran warm down her thigh. The rag she'd used to muffle her pain was still clenched in one hand. But he kissed her back like he'd been waiting months. Years. It was soft, at first—almost reverent. Then messier. Hungrier. Like neither of them could believe they were still allowed to feel anything this warm. When she pulled back, their foreheads pressed together. Breathing the same air.

Her voice shook. “Don't make me regret that.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he whispered.

Later, when he moved to kiss her again, neither of them wanted it to stop at all.

⸻

They packed light. Two rifles. A bag of wire and tools. Rations. A battered radio transmitter. Ekko had the map. Jinx had the compass. The sky was pale gray, clouds trailing like ghosts overhead. He walked ahead, steady and certain. Jinx followed, one hand resting on her pack, the other twitching near her sidearm.

She didn't look back. But she didn’t stop watching his back either.

And for once—for now—it felt like forward was somewhere they could go together.

[cactusique]

i survived griffith park and all i got was this lousy ptsd

[oldbootbutch]

You are allowed to find things hot in theory while also never wanting to actually do them in real life btw. You can get off on whatever wild shit in your imagination and still prefer to be very vanilla in real life. Or not want to have sex at all in real life. You don't owe the universe anything in exchange for your dirty mind.

[evilwriter37]

People seem to have forgotten what fantasizing means.

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

staying housed: july/august edition

Hey, folks! It's that time again. If you aren't familiar with my story, posts going into the situation in more detail can be found here and here. The short version is that I am a queer, trans, severely disabled person, attempting to rebuild my life while living in poverty after escaping domestic violence at the hands of abusive family who nearly killed me. Currently I have no reliable income, and for the last six months or so I have been almost entirely reliant on donations to survive.

To update on things so far: I've made it safely to the other place, and have been mostly recovering from the move and getting settled back in. I am happy to report that, with functioning A/C and a clean environment where housemates aren't incentivized to be awful, I am already doing much, much better than I was, and I am feeling immensely hopeful about what I'll be able to get done to pull my life together with a year of not having to worry about where I'll be living next month.

However, for that to continue being a reality, I'll still need help with covering rent and bills until I can get some meaningful financial aid in order. As things are I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if I lose my housing that will all come crashing down, and I will be extremely unlikely to survive long if it does; even without the nerve damage, physical frailty, and extreme autoimmune heat sensitivity, outdoor temps where I live at this time of year reach 100°F+ on the heat index most days, and without a roof I will have zero protection from any of it. The killing heat is here, and will likely be here for most of the year yet.

To that end, I am once again asking for donations. I have significantly more spoons to put into art than I did before the move, if anyone would like doodles in return for a donation (though my workspace is still limited), but anything at all helps; I would not be alive without the kindness of strangers online, and as much of a nightmare as things are in the broader world right now I'm finally starting to feel some hope. Please help me stay alive and keep fighting. 💜

My goals are:

$750 (Rent for this month, due by the 26th)

$280 (Bills, meds, and groceries for this month; will need to start paying my own phone line, since that's being cut off this month)

$650 (Rent for next month; however much of this I can get a headstart on will be helpful)

-

Current Goal: $0/750

pypl: manymogs

[picsthatmakeyougohmm]

[gothredy]

[shattersaurus]

COAT OF PRIDE IS LIVE!

This is it! We are officially live! It is really happening….

COME JOIN OUR KICKSTARTER CAMPAIGN NOW

Coming soon: Coat of Pride: The Mythological Pride Enamel Pin Collection!

A collection of Pride themed Coat of Arms Enamel Pins. Rally your friends, choose your crest and celebrate with PRIDE.

Should we break through our initial funding goal, these additional designs will become available as stretch goals, so let's see how many we can get to!

Back our little project now to secure yourself one of these adorable little guys.

!!WE WILL ONLY MAKE THEM ONCE! After this they will be gone!!

This already has been an incredible ride so far and we would love to see it through with you to the very end! Thank you so much for all the support you have kindly given to us over these last months. We shall not squander it. Now let's get out there and crush those goals!

Take care of each other, love thyself and HAPPY PRIDE!!

Support us here

Coming soon: Coat of Pride: The Mythological Pride Enamel Pin Collection!

A collection of Pride themed Coat of Arms Enamel Pins. Rally your friends, choose your crest and celebrate with PRIDE.

[aghostnamedcalamity]

They built a beach in St. Louis just for her actually

[roguedeer]

Being asexual and racist is embarassing as fuck. Being racist at all is obviously embarassing as fuck but the amount of racism and especially antiblackness i have been seeing from asexuals recently is obscene.

One of the only asexual activists is Yasmin Benoit, a Black woman. She has raised so much awareness for the community. She was the first asexual person to lead Pride in London, she started the #thisiswhatasexuallookslike movement and is THE leading voice for the community.

And you all will celebrate international asexuality day on April 6th but we wouldn't even have that if she hadn't cofounded it.

Edit: why are you all too scared to repost this. Cmon. Be vocal about being against racism

[sanyu-thewitch05]

No hate to OP, there are other Black asexual activists besides Yasmin Benoit.

Marshall Blount: https://www.instagram.com/marshall_blount?

Ace in Grace/Ashabi: https://www.instagram.com/_aceingrace_?

Yagirllici: https://www.instagram.com/yagirllici?

This one is more of a group but there’s Black Ace Culture: https://www.instagram.com/blackaceculture?

Asexual/AroaceBarbie: https://www.tiktok.com/@asexualbarbie?_r=1&_t=ZT-97gFM9iWa3a

Kim Riottt: https://www.instagram.com/kimriottt?

Jacques Jacky: https://www.instagram.com/jacguesjacky?