Nans does arts @nansdoingartstuff - Tumblr Blog

they're the perfect adventuring party...

#nans doing arts #my ocs #sgnizard is spelled in traditiognal gnome magngner #(she's also quarter dwarf ogn her mother's side!)#(Which mother? your guess is as good as migne)#it is a point of contention among scholars whether it is right that toadstruct is described as both a toad and a frog #babygirls goin on adventures at the Pond Out Back

I still dream that I'm thin, sometimes.

and in the dreams, I look in the mirror, and tell myself, "well-

things have been rough, lately.

eating has been rare, lately.

not because you're trying to,

it's just been so hard, you can't be blamed."

and in the dream, I look in the mirror,

and secretly I am pleased,

that finally, my suffering has made me beautiful,

enough for someone to maybe, maybe, take pity,

or at least say a kind word,

about a thing that, awake, I would begrudge them for.

and I wake from these dreams, and I seethe,

in the shame of still having them,

in the bitterness of the wrongs done to me, ingrained so deep.

and I tell no one.

and I feel ugly, but I make sure to get a bite to eat.

#my prose #nans does writing #no comment

Redrawing DE portraits is very good painting practice, I think. Also, I love these asshole men.

#disco elysium #fanart #disco elysium fanart #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #jean heron vicquemare #had fun giving them subtle differences of expression #paintin... is fun #who would've thought #nans doing arts

Horizon Terminalis

It has always ended here.

Around the bend of the horizon,

I step into my place,

waiting for my cue.

There are no paths.

You always find me here, where neither wants to be.

This is where we intersect.

You fail, in the belief of imminence,

ends that you define.

You flail,

cry and scream and cling,

bite and bleed and scratch and growl.

Your mark found, your own skin breaks,

so that I must run forth- to heal, to hold, to keep from ruin.

The wounds bleed free. I stand apart.

In all of time, I have seen this.

It happened only once, in this great plane,

on every path that was not paved, it is recurrent.

You spend yourself,

a puddle of blood and tears,

begging me to hold you,

with arms raw from cruelty.

My cue.

Over the bend of the horizon,

which you will never cross.

#nans does writing #may 2026 #disappointment and exhaustion #not much left to say

You lean your weight against my chest,

and for a moment i revel in being able.

in carrying it without brace nor struggle.

but you deserve a stable nest,

one that does not shift or murmur when you sleep

so i allow myself to reposition,

so that you know that you are safe.

i rest myself,

and you against me,

and i wrap an arm around your chest

and you reach up to hold onto it

like a child on a rollercoaster,

fingers clinging to my arm,

which i hold firm,

enough not to hurt.

you're bracing,

waiting for the drop that this embrace means to protect you from.

i hold you there,

watching your face from an angle,

and see that you have not yet closed your eyes.

i am warm enough for you,

and me both.

i rest in the knowledge

that you rest in my arms

that there's nothing more than that

and in time,

your eyes close,

and your grip loosens,

and your held breath hisses free

and i know you survived your fall,

and know i caught you.

i hold you, and feel you shift against me,

rubbing into your temple a reminder,

you're alive, you're alive.

i do not need to move, or shift, or sigh,

i know

that you have found your rest

and all else is forgotten.

you will eventually twist awake,

though you never slept, too absorbed

to let yourself lose sight of it,

and will be able to stand on your feet,

and reach,

and i will not hand over,

because you have the strength to take,

all your own.

you will return to your bed,

i will go home to mine

i will see you some other day,

and return your smile.

#nans does writing #april 2026 #it was so nice to be trusted this way #i love my friends

don't you know, darling?

it's so rare to pass by something,

so deep into this dark void.

slow your descent,

halt your engines.

stay a while.

take a looksie, darling,

take a gander,

'cause time will pass,

and we all leave when we must.

it's so rare to find something, darling,

in this deep dark void.

won't you hold my hand,

before we'd drift too far,

and I'll hold yours?

#nans does writing #drifting away from you in space and time hoping you'd catch my outreached hand #they never did but oh well #march 2026

Schrödinger's Person

I am not human- though I am, yes, of course. In pure, biological fact, I'm as human as can be. But that's not what the word means, is it? It is community, *humanity*, belonging.

I am Schrödinger's human- only one when insisting I am not, and not one when seeking proof that I am.

And once again you say- but you *are* human, flesh and blood! And I ask, if so, how is it that when my flesh is appealed to, it is only in exclusion?

No. Humanity cares not to hold me among their own, in my quantom state. This is not my choice, not my desire in either way. It is the choice of the world, to accept and digest and incorporate. I was not put in this box willingly.

#nans does writing #being ace AND trans?? in my Human Community??#it's more likely than you think #march 2026

Last to the Lions, First to the Hares

The burrows tremor

As we are hidden, deep

The dirt loosens, spotting our fur

Above, the marches trample

They feed

Before us, they feed

And we will have the rest,

When they are done

But first they feed

We are awoken,

We don't yet hunger

Slumber's hold still twisting

And turning in the guts

But when next blood will grace our lips

Unfathomable

We feed when we are woken

Or we never feed at all

King of the quick-footed,

Of the runners and the thieves

Runt of the proud,

Of the golden children of the blazing sun

Fear grips both, in tandem

Let it be today

They beg

Home, as we are told

A piece of dirt and rubble

And maybe a patch of grass

Long yellowed from neglect

If we are lucky.

The footfalls of the march

Smother the weeds,

And so the blunt teeth

Must turn to fangs

If we are to fill stomachs

That are not yet rumbling

But won't wait long.

The quick-footed blaspheme

In their burrows in the earth,

The prideful golden above

All but one:

The First to the Hares,

Rises through the earth

And meets the eyes

Of the Last to the Lions

And they do not share a tear

And they do not look away

And they do not call each other's name

Though they know it

As deeply as their own

And as the First

Buries its head in the ground

And the Last

Follows the roars of a battle

It never chose to lose

They do not say the name

That they remember from their youths

And instead they say

That together they are strong

And as liars, they do not weep

And do not falter

As the clay of the walls

And the blood of the kill

Dot their fur

#nans does writing #made this one in a Very Bad Mood #not much to say otherwise. being politically marginalized sucks #june 2025

A woman stands in a room with no ghosts.

How could it be, you might wonder. How is it possible?

How clever of you to ask, for ghosts, in their eternal, morose lingering, outnumber the living, and multiply by the millisecond.

Where is the death in the clay of the bricks, you might query. Where has the soul gone, in the painting hung on the wall? The ancestry clinging to her flesh?

Your acumen has been observed and avered, and we congratulate you for your salient ardor. The answers, for your intelligent bewilderment, are simple, though lachrymose.

The room has no ghosts not because the clay brick held no bones, or because the paintings are not soulful, or because the woman's flesh comes of no ancestry. No, the room has no spirits, specters, or ghouls not because it never held any, but simply because they departed.

But! You might exclaim, a geist's possessive nature is of some notoriety! It is known, you surely assert, that no spirit within or without its right mind would let go of its share of the world, and that none in the whole of existence could force it to do so. It is simply a fact!

Once again, your brilliance overwhelms. However, this time, your beauteous understanding of the world as it is is, unfortunately, minutely askew.

It is true, that ghouls of every breed and sort are prone to a territorial counternance. And it is true, that no specter of import, nor none of a despicable or downtrodden nature, would release its hold of its piece of existence for anything within it. However, the woman, who, and this must not be said lightly, is standing in a room with no ghosts, is herself not, in fact, a piece of existence, nor wholly within it. She is, veritably, a thing that does not exist. And so, though her flesh bore ancestry and the room held souls aplenty before her arrival, her presence has brought a great deal of nothing along, and so the spirits, who abhor and recoil from nothing, have fled. Doubtlessly they reconnected with lost relatives, pieces of the soul they once were that have held to other chunks of their long-forgotten lives, and will continue to haunt those for the rest of reality. But the clay of the brick, the paint of the picture, the cells of the flesh, and all other very real, very haunt-able things in this singular, particular room do not, currently, hold a single ghast within them. Perhaps, even, they never will again, such is the utter contempt a spirit holds for the nothing this woman has brought with her.

Now then, your ingenious mind simply must be wondering, nothing? How do you mean, nothing? A vaccum? An empty? How can such be brought? Surely it will have filled? Surely it will have gone? And even had it not, why oh why do spirits despise it so?

Ah, you are once again correct. A nothing, as is within reality- a vaccum, or an empty, cannot be transported. It can be translocated, yes, in the sense that something can be made to fill it, creating an empty where it has once stood- but it cannot be moved. However, your brilliance in the ways that are once again fools you, for this does not relate to the ways that are, but to the ways that aren’t. The woman, who- once again, for posterity- stands in a room with no ghosts, is a thing that does not exist, and thus obeys to the laws of the none, whereas we obey those of the now. It is simply so that, a woman who stands in a room with no ghosts and is a thing that does not exist, brings with her nothing, and nothing repulses spirits, ghouls, and specters so that they choose, of their vehement volition, to depart. It is simply so. That is the way that things aren’t, and as such, is the way that, in this day, this woman, who is a thing that does not exist, stands in a room with no ghosts.

#nans does writing #nov 2025 #one of my proudest pieces #decided to start postin my poetry here so my friends can reference my bullshit in their bullshit

elliestoybox

Another art from @nansdoingartstuff this time perma cursed!

It sat me down to watch a bad local kids movie that was unfortunately foundational to it called Didi's Magical Keys and like the whole thing is about keys and hearts so by the end of our 6h watch session (the movie is like 50m) it had these terrible things (affectionate)

images from the movie under the cut together with some rambles about the characters

nansdoingartstuff

I make terrible, terrible things. I am evil and contemptible. look at my work and despair

#kingdom hearts #kh donald #kh goofy #this movie was foundational to my youth #we would put it on whenever my parents wanted me to be quiet for a while #i had a lot of takes on it as a kid #tantan has become a permanent part of my psyche due to this #tantan deserved better hashtag mytantan

oughoughough her!! Woman of all time. to me

#off (game)#off game #fanart #off fanart #the queen (off)#my woman my woman who sucks my WOMAN #nans doing arts

elliestoybox

Shout out to my friend @nansdoingartstuff who does not go here (YET) who drew this comic after i explained to it some stuff about kh and joked about rikus keyblade

It does NOT know these men how did it do such a good job holy shit (it asked me to post it so it could reach the right audience lol)

#I made this thing #for My Beloved Friend #i am very happy with the lineart

My friend @liibiil said 'LaBoisBois' at me and I blacked out and resurfaced to this in front of me. What do I do with this. What is this.

#If anyone is tempted you can take the png and slap him places just tag me #this is actually awful. I am scared of myself #I can't believe this is the piece in which I made actual progress towards the game's painting style in. this one #I can't believe I'm proud of this #also if I ever draw kim for a gag and I'm not putting way too much effort in shoot me on sight that's an imposter #fanart #disco elysium #de #disco elysium fanart #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #labubu #I guess that's a tag I've used now #nans doing arts

#fanart #in stars and time #isat siffrin #siffrin #they are. my baby boy #perfect #horrible child #idiocy incarnate #love them #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #nans doing arts

nansdoingartstuff

Fanart for the latest chapter of Accretion Disk by @getinsulidianstickbugged because I've been following it for a WHILE now and I CANNOT contain myself any longer. If you love Kim Experiencing the Horrors you will UNDOUBTEDLY have a good time.