I’m gonna do a fully shaded version but I really, really liked how the base value comp looked. Thanks to @filibusterfrog for their sick-ass ½ aasimar tiefling that inspired my character. now I just gotta figure out a name…
Okay, like, I only have one opinion about Venom as a character and I believe in it with my whole entire being so I’m just going to say it.
Preface: So we are all on the same page about the Symbiote is in love with Eddie Brock, right?? And Eddie loves the Symbiote. They use the word ‘love’ in-text. It’s romantic and sexual and obsessive and fucked-up and mutually self-destructive and gross and heart-rending and real and 100% canon. They consider themselves married. This is basic-level Venom lore. Okay, we’re all in agreement, right? Good.
Remember that meme about how Venom isn’t drawn with a dick but since the Symbiote is more than just a full-body sleeve, and he’s got his own discrete systems and shit, he honestly should have a dick, right?? Re: that hypothetical dick… C’mon, it’s so simple. I dunno why no one else has ever said it. I dunno why no one else has ever thought it. It’s almost too obvious. I’ve known where that dick is my whole entire life. I thought everyone would know.
I said it back then, but only in the tags. I should have just gone all-out and said it outright. But I didn’t, and now there’s Venomfuckers everywhere and normies across the globe are freaking out about how 2018!movie!Symbiote makes out with 2018!movie!Eddie and nobody seems to like. Get it. And that’s driving me balls-out insane. So I’m just gonna say it.
The Symbiote’s dick is turned inside-out, rock-hard, lubed-up, and sheathed to the hilt inside of Eddie Brock’s red-hot puckered asshole 24/7/365, gently rocking into him at all times.
There. I said it. The world may not be ready for the truth but this is the hill I will die on. Venom is fucking himself every minute of every day. During fights. During chase scenes. Downtime. Mealtime. Bedtime. Anytime. Every single drawing of Venom ever drawn, they’re fucking. Eddie’s getting his ass lovingly plowed. He and the Symbiote are connected and entwined forever, one and the same. That’s why Venom’s dick isn’t visible. It’s just on the inside. And inside of Eddie Brock. And very, very busy.
My conviction regarding this issue cannot and will not be swayed. May all you normies and Venomfuckers alike weep at the glorious truth. You have the knowledge now. You’re free.
God. I wish I was Eddie Brock now.
This is so unbelievably cursed. My eyes were desecrated when I read this. This text is unholy
ppl are so annoying “you can’t paint ur bedroom pink you’re an adult” i did not spend my entire life waiting to grow up and control my life to paint my bedroom beige
I had a sales woman in furniture store try and tell me not to buy a hot bubblegum pink loveseat because she wanted me to “think about the future”
Bitch, I am thinking about the future. I already got a hot bubblegum pink couch at home and now I need a loveseat to go with it.
when I first bought my house, I announced my decision to paint my bedroom purple. I had wanted a purple bedroom for thirty damn years, you fucking bet I was gonna have one now. My friends decided, for some reason, that I meant what one of them referred to as “14 year old girl purple” (through what’s wrong with the colors a 14 year old girl chooses, I don’t know, even if they’re not what I want as an adult). They didn’t believe me until they saw the color on the actual wall, even thought they helped me pick out paints. My mother, meanwhile, decided to get worried that if I painted my bedroom a “dark purple”, it would be “depressing”. As if, with an entire house to live in, I would spend all my time in the bedroom, which I wanted to be dark because I would be sleeping in there. In the damn dark.
I had like one, maybe two friends who were all like FUCK YEAH YOU PAINT IT WHATEVER COLOR YOU WANT, PURPLE BEDROOMS ARE AWESOME.
But when they actualy saw the finished bedroom, every single one of them was like, “Oh yeah, that’s really pretty.” (Well, the ones who supported me from the beginning were more like WOOHOO.)
And the moral of the story is: Fuck ‘em, please yourself. Either they’ll come around, or you can safely ignore every question of taste they opine about for the rest of time.
This applies to other adulting activities, too. When I was a kid, I decided that I wanted to have a wedding cake made of doughnuts. When I got older, I figured that I would be “mature” about it and get a traditional cake, which the older adults approved of. Now that I’m 25 and facing the possibility of actual marriage in the near future, I’m just like “marriage is a social construct but it comes with tax & insurance benefits, so just give me that goddamn doughnut cake.” If they don’t like it then they don’t have to come to my wedding.
I watched exactly one belly dancing video once and youtube was like “you like belly dancing??? you want belly dancing????? we GOT belly dancing!!!!” and I was like “youtube, you know what? you fucking got me dead to rights, keep them a’fucking comin my dude” and the point is belly dancers have isolated every muscle in their body and individually move them with the most sensual precision
‘On stage, she says, she always felt absolved – nobody was angry with her up there. It was her offstage life that she had to work on. Up there she will climb the scaffolding, holding on with one hand, leaping into the crowd and ripping her top off when she gets too sweaty. After those nights it’s quite hard for her to return to earth. Everything, she explains, starts to take on a magical significance. There will be moments – sitting in a friend’s room watching TV, for instance – when, sleep-deprived and sober, she will be suddenly awed. “Mundane moments become incredibly profound. The performing, the transcendence, then sitting watching TV – all can coexist, and the mundane makes the magical. Maybe I’m trying to hold on to normalcy. Maybe because being onstage has become normal, the pockets of peace seem really wild. But I treasure them.”’ – Florence Welch photographed by Phil Fisk for The Observer (June 2018)
You have a thing at 2:00 PM so you set a reminder for 1:00 PM because you don’t want to be late, but you should eat by 12:00 PM. That means you should start preparing food by 11:30 AM, but you want to double check or confirm the appointment before 11:00 AM before everyone goes to lunch. So if you want to finish your other tasks by 10:00 AM, you ought to start at 8:00 AM, which means you’ve got to wake up at 7:30 AM and you may as well get ready to go out then ahead of time, and that’s how something that starts at 2:00 PM effectively starts at 7:30 AM and lasts the entire day.
ME. ME. ME.
Literally how I plan my day when I have a thing
This is literally just being a functional adult with basic organisation and planning skills.
It isn’t some special *thing*
No, it’s not. This post is about my executive dysfunction. It’s my performance anxiety and my depression. It’s dozens of people with ADHD in the comments remarking that this is the only way they can make appointments– often with each stage of this process tied to an alarm. Many of those people routinely fail even with that forethought. It’s people with chronic pain or disability who clock every activity in their day by how long it takes, when they have to prepare, how long they’ll have to stand or work, etc.
I am sure “functional adults with basic organization and planning skills” go through a milder experience of this thought process. But it’s comfortable to them– not something they think twice about, let alone make a post about. I made this post when I was dreading going to get my hair cut. A haircut. I made this post because I was reflecting about how crazy a simple visit to the salon was making me. It was an appointment I called for myself, on my own terms, an experience I enjoy and actively wish I did more often. But I don’t. Because making appointments is so hard for me, because I have executive function problems. It’s been about 9 months since my last haircut.
I almost flubbed college because I dreaded meeting with a single professor once at the beginning of a semester even though I wanted to.
I haven’t gone to the doctor since I got new insurance. I just struggled for three weeks to bring myself to arrange for a mandatory safety recall upgrade for my car so its airbag won’t explode into metal shards and kill me if I’m in an accident. I often fail to go out, to arrange meetups with my friends, to achieve my personal functional goals simply because all of that is going through my head whenever I have to make simple appointments or complete basic tasks.
Does that sound like “literally just being a functional adult with basic organization and planning skills?”
Big Gay Dracula Does a Shitpost 