#some random stuff

[blackghostm2oart]

“Ladies and gentlemen! Only tonight! Come and see The Monstrous Caliban, prepare to be mesmerised by his singing and to discover his secret! What could he be possibly be hiding under that mask?”

Some close ups and yapping under cut

SO… YAY! I’ve finally finished this! Yippee! It took me idk how many hours 🫠, but I’m satisfied with this.

This started as a mere folds study, because I found a really scrumptious ref that I wanted to use, but then things got out of hand… I decided to ink and hatch this and then I was “Hmm… Let’s make this some kind of circus poster.”

This is from a really silly lovely AU (CircusAU) in which Gerard is even more of an asshole and he doesn’t kill Erik at the roof, so Erik, out of desperation, tries to jump off, but doesn’t die. Gets caught by the police and ends up in prison for some years (idk… maybe 10), after getting out as a shell of his former self (totally apathetic and having lost his childlike wonder) the sees as his only possibility to survive is by working at a circus where he gets the name of “The Monstrous Caliban” (Ty to @masksonmasks for the idea of using Caliban)

His whole shtick is singing to an audience and then showing his face.

He is on his early to mid 50’s here (because I like old dudes)

Christine is married to Philippe, they have a child and they are expecting another. Had to quit singing because of her marriage. Has tried to meet Erik when he was in prison, but he never wanted to see her (out of shame for how he treated her after the unmasking)

Gerard never cared to meet his son.

Are you amused yet *I say as I’m barely holding my tears*

Lil snippet of the argument between Gerard and Erik when he was dying next to the lagoon

I might draw this, idk

Possible reply idk

[mshrmtea]

I just been drawing Finrod and without reason did his eyes black (or dark) and think what he look cute with eyes like this.

[hiimgin]

Just random sketch of random Link

@whyoneartheven(?)

[unremovablemoldstain]

DIARY EXCERPT__NOV. 30 2008

a short fic in which I attempt to explore Mello's feelings after the explosion.

__________________________

Healing isn't any sort of miraculous blessing of a process. It’s just a duty. A simple given to be taken bluntly. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, the journey that actually matters to me is beating stupid Near. None of that recovery crap. The past days in bed have just been a huge waste. When I tell you I despised it with my very soul, I mean it. Although it’s probably bound to happen when you’re bedridden for too long, I kept having terrible nightmares. Even in my sleep sadness was trying to curl its glum hands around me and squeeze. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. Until the wall of apathy was crushed and I actually started to care a bit about all the suffering done unto me. Hazy memories tormented me every night as they painted themselves on the back of my eyelids. Kids huddling around Near and praising him, while they only could offer sorrowful looks to me and all my silver medals. The rain pelting me as I left Whammy’s with nothing but a few dollars worth of savings and fiery ambition. Red hot singing leather, skin, and hair. Smoke and ashes befalling bloodied hands; a gas mask dripping melted plastic.

I would wake up and contemplate that I might have actually earned the right to cry.

But no. That’s an action reserved for defeat. The thought of ever partaking in an action that silently confesses weakness in such a submissive and pathetic way disgusts me. I can not bear the thought of my own impotence. The world doesn’t understand that I don’t want to think about those things and wallow in self pity. When things happen, I don’t need a whole three months to process. Maybe three minutes at most. 

Whatever. At least on this calm Sunday morning, I am finally unchained from healing and have reached the point of recovery. The cotton that has masked my right eye for so long is finally torn off. This moment has been awaited eagerly since the thing was first taped over my face. The world is offering me freedom for once. A quick event that allows me to work towards continuing the battle to solve the kira case before Near. Which is all I really wanted. 

But when I catch myself in the mirror it flashes a glimpse of reality that I struggle to suppress in the name of moving forward. Grooves and thick clumps of tissuey veins are caught in the light the morning sun sheds. It’s like a fleshy lava has been slathered over my face and then hardened. My eyebrow has been burnt away, and my eyelids are seared almost shut. Peeking under the barely open eye is a pupil that has lost its bright blue to a colonizing dull grey. My vision has noticeably declined in that eye, as well. Suddenly every part of me falls into itself. 

My looks have never mattered that much, right? Even as I stare at my own mangled features. Even as the eyes that had always been the one thing that never changed about me for 19 years now reunite with their reflection in a way permanently different. 

Honestly, I spent all this time trying not to cry out of fear that it would preach defeat.  Looking at my face though… It’s a symbol of everything I’ve fallen short on etched right into my very skin. What started as 95s against Near’s 100s and my card tower crumbling after it reached two levels as Near’s stood at a good meter or two became him getting picked first to be the successor to the great L. And now it’s become me wearing the sign of Less Than as his skin remains fresh and without blemish. 

If crying is defeat, I don’t know what this is.

So I do allow myself to cry.

Tears streak down my skin and wet the raised keloid. They’re warm and stinging and I try not to think about how serious this is as I choke on air. I make weird chirping noises as I sob, like something not even human. Everything is being forced out of me in emotional vomit. It’s uncomfortable. But it doesn’t last long.

I stop crying when I see myself in the mirror again. As my chances of ever becoming number 1 narrow, I realize that I cannot allow any time to be wasted. In a way, I’m almost glad for this. It was the wake up call I needed. A reminder that it’s come down to all or nothing.

And I will not live with nothing.

[ameliecausse]

[roselyn-writing]

Some edits I made for Fujin simps, Hope you like it <3

@darialovesstuff @huepazu @krysta-cross @loverofthewindgod @riyaselfships

[a-little-bit-of-tradition]