#paramortality

Do you walk in the valley of kings?

Do you walk in the shadow of men

Who sold their lives to a dream?

Do you ponder the manner of things

In the dark?

Part... Honest to god I have no idea what mumber this one is just take him.

Happy Pride month. Please accept some text post memes of the gayest creature in my possession.

Part... Honest to god I have no idea what mumber this one is just take him.

Happy Pride month. Please accept some text post memes of the gayest creature in my possession.

(September 2025 edition)

Ho there, friend! I'm Paramortality!

You're welcome to pick one of the 3 names above, but most people know me as Bone Dad!

A03 | Bluesky

There's something weird about where hobbies, fandoms, and friendships take you. Even weirder is sometimes what they cost, too. It's been a few months since I picked up art again. Ten years ago, I threw it away. It's insane how much has changed since then.

But I inherited a tablet, set it up, and bought my license out for CSP. I've spent a good amount of time on it; just my silly lil scribbles and me. I've had an awesome friend teach me the pen and how to make the most of every brush, setting, and tool. I wish I'd tried going digital back in the day sometimes. Because honestly? The limitlessness and freedom is really cool.

What kinda sucks in the midst of it... No, what's actually been the fucking worst? Is that that hollywood trope is kinda true: that magic tablets are usually cursed. Sure, this one isn't ancient or engraved except from some scuffs of love and wear. But since I picked up, a lot of relationships and spaces have been going bare.

Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe it really is just me. Maybe coming home to art has restored the hole in my heart where my desperation for validation would usually be. Granted... to learn how people really feel? It's been a slap across the face. People I've known so long and wonder now: did I ever matter in the first place?

What a wild thing of things, to be threatened by art? To look down on someone for creating? Where do we even start? How do you unpack that kinda upset with someone? Where does it even come from? Jealousy? Envy? Just plain boredom?

And so I sit with this wacom in my lap, and, to myself, I grieve. I scrawl and shade and tone and tap and fill the spaces people leave. It's a tad sad– though not necessarily bad– that my happiness has come at a cost. You don't tend to think of hobbies and say "look at all I've lost."

But it hasn't been all terrible, which I wanna make sure is clear. I don't regret my choices. I'm glad life has finally led me back here. I missed it, I need it, and for as crappy as I am, I want the world to see it. I'm never again gonna smother my spark out of fear.

I have made new friends, and found new spaces safe to stand. They're all so loud and rowdy with their love; they're all who really put this tablet in my hands. I wasn't looking when I stumbled onto all of them. Surely it was fate. I'm not gonna overthink it, at this rate.

The point I'm trying to make I guess- what I'm really trying to say- is that you find out who your friends are when on the precipice of change. Hurt and grieve if you must, but you didn't lose much if you're so easily estranged. It's never to late to start or follow your heart. And focus on those who love the whole of you, not just a part.

(real bones under the cut)