#I always wanted to make a design like this purely out of spite

[crystallizedday]

My husband @aceofcards0715 is going to be the death of me

I’m too sapphic for this shit /lh KWMSOSMSODKDODM

Someone had accidentally typed Demongo as “Demonga” & my husband felt obligated to do what needed to be done

[runningwithscizzorz]

(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[empty-movement]

Welcome to Something Eternal: A Website Forum in 2023 wtf lmao

It's 2023, and a single belligerent rich guy destroyed one of the primary focal points of uh...global communication. Tumblr is, shockingly, kinda thriving despite the abuse it gets from its owners, but that I will call the iconic refusal of Tumblr users to let Tumblr get in the way of their using Tumblr. Reddit killed its API, removing the functionality of mobile apps that made it remotely readable (rip rif.) Discord, our current primary hangout, has made countless strange choices lately that indicate it has reached the summit of its usability and functionality, and can only decline from here as changes get made to prepare for shareholders. (NOTE: WROTE THIS POST BEFORE THEIR MOBILE "REDESIGN" LMAO)

The enshittification is intense, and it's coming from every direction. Social media platforms that felt like permanent institutions are instead slowly going to let fall fallow incredible amounts of history, works of art, thought, and fandoms. It kinda sucks!

A couple years ago, I posted about a new plan with a new domain, to focus on the archiving of media content, as I saw that to be the fatal weakness of the current ways the internet and fandoms work. Much has happened since to convince me to alter the direction of those efforts, though not abandon them entirely.

Long story short? We are launching a fucking website forum. In 2023.

If you remember In the Rose Garden, much about Something Eternal will be familiar. But this has been a year in the making, and in many ways it's far more ambitious than IRG was. We have put money on this. The forum is running on the same software major IT and technology businesses use, because I don't want the software to age out of usability within five years. It has an attached gallery system for me to post content to, including the Chiho Saito art collection. It has a profile post system that everyone already on the forum has decided is kinda like mini Twitter? But it is, fundamentally, a website forum, owned and run and moderated by us. We are not web devs. But we have run a website on pure spite and headbutting code for over twenty years, and we have over a decade of experience maintaining social spaces online, both on the OG forum, and on our Discord. Better skilled people with far more time than we have can and will build incredible alternatives to what is collapsing around us. But they're not in the room right now. We are. And you know what? Maybe it's time to return to a clunkier, slower moving, more conversation focused platform.

You're not joining a social media platform with the full polish of dozens of devs and automated moderation. Things might break, and I might need time to fix them. The emojis and such are still a work in progress. Because e-mails no longer route in reasonable normal ways, the sign-up process instead happens within the software, and has to be approved by mods. Design and structure elements may change. Etc. The point being, that the forum isn't finished, but it is at a place where I feel like I can present it to people, and it's people I need to help direct what functions and things will be in this space. You all will shape its norms, its traditions, its options...choices I could try to make now, but really...they're for us to create as a group! But the important stuff? That's there. Now let's drive this baby off the damn lot already!

Come! Join us!!

PS. As always, TERFs and Nazis need not apply.

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

Why do you even ship them?

In the past couple of months I’ve seen a lot of people genuinely confused about one or the other ship existing, so I wanted to explain some common reasons characters might get shipped.

But before we get into it: The point is usually just good, plain old fun! The entertainment of them being together !

And for entertainment and fun, it doesn’t matter whether they’ve even been in the same room or not! Hell, it doesn’t even matter if they’ve been in the same universe or not! Basically: It’s all not that serious and the ppl harassing creators/actors/fans about said ships are usually the minority and frowned upon!

First of all, there are different ways in which people enjoy that ship:

In canon, aka it either is canon or they want it to be canon

Half canon, this means either post canon or if a very specific thing would have happened differently within canon

Canon divergent, aka it’s only enjoyable in theory or alternative universes and they don’t actually want it to happen within canon

In other words, there are different ways in which people support this type of relationship

It is the perfect relationship and everyone should strive to find and be this kind of love

While they have their flaws, this is a realistic way a healthy(ish) relationship can come out on the other end of all the horrors tm

This is (somewhat) toxic but in the universe/story line it makes sense and is the best possible outcome for them

This is the truly worst thing that could come out of it for the both of them but that’s why it is so interesting

Usually it boils down to these emotions:

It would be funny if they go together.

It would shift the impact of all that angst and trauma

It would be super cute. Plain old romcom vibes. Specially if the of story is not that at all and you just want something good for them.

Some basic reasons, that are more about the concept of them than actually them: :

They are fan favourites

They are both hot

Everyone else in the group is coupled up

They fit a certain stereotype/common trope

They resemble another popular ship juuuuust enough

The actors have played a couple/ship in another show

Spite! To annoy the author/other fans

Some personal reasons of the individual fan:

Reminds fan of their own crush

Fan relates to some aspects of their story

Fan relates to some aspects of the characteristics

Character looks like them/ like their crush

Based on the characters/stories design

They claim to hate/dislike/annoy each other but are somehow always found in each others business (willingly or not)

Opposites attract: They have opposing color schemes, personalities and/or views. The more differences the better.

Parallels: They have the same color schemes, personalities and/or views. The more similarities the better.

Based on their relations

You just want something good for this character and they (other character(s)) ARE that something good.

You just want something annoying for this character and they (other character(s)) ARE that something annoying.

Them being together would annoy this other character to noooo end

Even tho they don’t interact on screen (often), there is evidence that they did so off screen: they keep up a certain level of relationship (good or bad) despite everything else going on

Purely about the characters

They don’t pay attention to anything or anyone else nearly as much as they do about each other, especially ppl they should objectively care more about.

They’re the only ones who survived/left to deal with the aftermath. Even if they didn’t talk much prior to this, this is something to bond over. To keep the memory alive.

The expectations set on them are/were the same. And despite the different support systems and coping mechanisms… the other is truly the only one who could even find a glimpse of understanding of what they’re going through.

Yin and yang: a perfect mixture of parallels and opposites: They’ve gone through the same thing but deal with it widely differently. OR They come from widely different backgrounds and reasoning but end up at the same conclusion.

BECAUSE they’re so codependent they just wouldn’t make sense with anyone else, regardless of wether they themselves make sense

BECAUSE it is unhealthy and toxic and it’s interesting to explore such a relationship

BECAUSE if they’d be in literally any other genre/time they’d be fine. Nothing this bad would’ve ever happened if they’d just lived in another universe.

Why not ? It’s fiction.

These are all the reasons I can come up with at the top of my head but feel free to add!

Alas I want to encourage everyone to be open minded! Either to genuinely try to understand why a ship exists or, if you don’t want to waste your time on sth. you’re sure you don’t like, just filter and block the ship and their fans!

None of us can afford to waste our very limited free time on arguing with and harassing others about something FICTIONAL …that we don’t even like. Instead, please focus on making and/or supporting art about YOUR ship! This is not only much nicer to the fans you don’t support but also to yourself! Positive interactions will result in more positive interactions after all! Mostly.

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: next chapter is gonna be steaaaamy decided to cut it here because I needed to update the story like yesterday. But I love them too much (even though I know they are not endgame and I'm literally the writer 😭😭) Can I make fanfiction of my own fanfiction?? *asking for a friend*

<- Previous

Time seemed to move differently in the face of eternity. A year passed by in a flash and (Y/N) would not have noticed had it not been for the absence of Beatrice. 

She had been preparing for a morning class when the mailman slid a letter through her door’s mail slot. She knew it was something that would arrive anytime soon, but she still wasn’t ready for when it did. In her hands rested a forest green envelope with gold lettering and her name staring back at her. Of course (Y/N) knew what it was. But the witch didn’t want to believe it had arrived. 

“You are cordially invited to the soulbinding ceremony between Beatrice Cabot and Russell Morgan,” (Y/N) said with a scoff. “Guess I should have seen this one coming.” 

As the spiteful words left her mouth, the witch found herself regretting them. She had said it in solitude, yet she still felt they had reached her raven-haired friend. The wedding was inevitable. After she had left them behind, it was the normal trajectory of their life. Bea would live, she would marry, she’d have children, she would live. They were all things (Y/N) could not give her, could have never given her. 

The wedding was only a day away when the envelope arrived, and it made her think maybe they didn’t truly want her there. She had probably been invited mostly out of a formality, but by sending it so close to the date, she believed they were hoping she would show up at all. And maybe she wouldn’t. (Y/N) believed that until she turned the paper over. Behind the thick cardboard, in the same perfectly crafted calligraphy, the words ‘Come home’ were written. It was a beacon back, a desperate cry for a last solace. Bea hadn’t pushed her away; she never had. They had merely become victims of time and space, of busy schedules and raying lifestyles. 

But the love? Oh, the love burned bright and hot, lying patiently waiting for the moment it could blaze through everything in its path. Beatrice was (Y/N)’s eternal love. She didn’t know there would be another far greater and far grander. But for the time being, Beatrice was love incarnate for the witch. She was the girl’s first taste of a love so intense it surpassed societal boundaries and predetermined limitations. A love so pure it wasn’t jealous or selfish, greedy or impatient—just love in its most pristine form. 

Before she could think twice, (Y/N) was running through her apartment, searching for that one piece she needed for the celebration. She had been saving it for a special occasion; not that many came around. And this was the most special event of them all. The love of her life had found a version of happy ever after, and that was all she could ever hope for. Bea was going to be happy, and that was enough. 

There, in the very back of her bedroom closet, is where she found it, still enclosed in the box her mother had stored it in. It was the most expensive piece her mother had owned, and it wasn’t even designer. She pulled the sapphire blue gown out from the tissue paper layer, coughing slightly at the smell of it being stored away. Yet, even after so many years, it was as beautiful as the day her mother had made it. 

In those times, the coven had not been doing well financially—no one was—and her mother’s younger sister had caught the eye of a particular rich bachelor in the city. Her wedding was set to be grand. It would even appear in the papers. Her mother was happy for her sister, of course, but she would never be able to afford the dress she had picked for her matron of honor. 

(Y/N) had been twelve then, and she’d witnessed her mother have a discussion with Margaret regarding the matter. The rehearsal dinner alone would put a dent in their finances they didn’t want to spare. Her mother had thought she would either have to ask her sister’s new family for help or not go to the girl’s wedding at all. 

But the older woman had done something neither (Y/L/N) had thought. “I don’t have the money for a new dress,” she had said. “But I do have enough for fabric. Go ahead, get yourself however much you need, and make yourself the most gorgeous gown this coven has ever seen, Nellie. Make those rich people weep with how beautiful you are.” 

“It’s my sister’s wedding, Margaret,” she had smiled with small tears in her eyes. “I can’t upstage her.” 

“She’ll have her entire life to upstage at a party?” Margaret had teased. “She can have a taste for one night.” 

That very afternoon, they went into town and bought yards and yards of sapphire blue satin fabric that looked like real satin. Her mother had set to work the next day, spending hours upon hours working with old and cheap fabric until she had the perfect pattern to follow. Even with the mismatched cotton pieces, (Y/N) had thought the dress was beautiful, a gown fit for a queen. 

“This is just so I don’t mess up the real thing,” her mother had told her as she hemmed the bottom of the practice piece. “This fabric is too beautiful to mess up.” 

“Then, can I keep this one, mommy?” young (Y/N) had asked. “If you’re gonna make yourself another, that is.” 

“Tell you what, little one. The dress will be yours as soon as you grow into it. And I can’t wait to see how beautiful you will be in it.” 

“But where am I going to wear it to?” 

“Wherever you like to, my dear,” she had smiled brightly. “You’re gonna do great things, my dear jewel. This will just become one gown amongst many.” 

Nellie had been right about one thing. (Y/N) did grow into the dress but her mother had not been able to see her in it. Only two years later, her mother passed, and the dress remained in the white box her mother had neatly folded it into for over a decade. 

Finally, (Y/N) had a place to wear the gown, yet her mother still wouldn’t be able to see it. But the most important person in her life would, and that’s what truly mattered to her. The dress would serve a purpose, and, just like her mother had said, she would look beautiful in it. 

After packing any other essentials, the witch left her apartment and did not look back. She took a taxi down to Rice Field, earning herself a weird look from the driver. It wasn’t usual for a single lady to be dropped off in the middle of the woods with a suitcase at midnight. But the man took the money and left—couldn’t have been too worried. (Y/N) needed a big enough body of water and a secluded place, and at that time of night, Rice Field was perfect. 

She made it to the river bank in a couple of minutes, breathing in the fresh air that surrounded her. She allowed the water to call to her, the earth to sing, and the wind to whisper. They called her home, called on her magic, and begged for her abilities. 

Home, they told her. Come home. 

(Y/N) knelt by the edge of the river, sinking her hands into the mud as she muttered her incantation. Just like the water implored, she thought of home. She painted the image of Bea in her mind and the Bound Souls’ Bank right behind her. The witch felt the pull toward her home through her limbs, saw the reflection of her river in the water, heard the singing of her birds and trees. 

Home, they told her. Come home. 

The bottom of the river opened up, revealing the portal toward her land. She slung her suitcase over her shoulder and took one step forward, allowing herself to sink into the water. Her body was enveloped in air, surrounded by water, but not a single drop touched her skin. 

Home, she felt. She was going home. 

She walked in darkness for a few seconds, her mind clear about where to go. Water travel wasn’t something she frequented. Given the amount of magical energy it required, she couldn’t do it more than just a few times without depleting her magic for a long time. But this moment required travel faster than any human could create. 

Home. She needed to come home. 

Complete darkness soon turned into sparkling lights in the night sky, into rustling leaves, into a babbling river with a waterfall a hundred feet away. She recognized the smells, the sounds, the sights. From every ripple in the water to every rock on the edge, she knew this place like the back of her hand. Including the girl who had fallen asleep a few feet away. 

On a patch of grass, Bea rested her head on her crossed arms, her eyes fluttering under the weight of sleep. She always looked younger when she slept, but (Y/N) could tell just how much a single year had already transformed her. There were more than just three white hairs on her raven mane, she had new dark circles under her eyes, and the lines on her face had deepened ever so slightly. Yet, her beauty remained. In the witch’s eyes, she was the perfect woman she had fallen for in her teenage years. 

“Darling,” (Y/N) whispered as she shook the girl softly. “Darling, wake up.” 

The younger woman opened her eyes softly, a smile spreading across her mouth as her sights were set on the witch above her. “You’re here,” Beatrice beamed, wrapping her arms tightly around (Y/N)’s neck. “You’re finally home. I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“As if I’d ever miss this for the world,” she chuckled softly. “I just got the letter today. I would have been sooner if I could have.” 

“I waited here every day for two months since we sent the letters,” Bea said. “Something told me I should wait longer today, but I fell asleep while waiting.” 

“That’s alright, darling,” (Y/N) smiled as she caressed her soft cheek. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” 

Bea remained quiet as she stared at the woman before her. Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes, glimmering under the light of the moon. They fell promptly down her cheeks, faster and faster, before either could stop them from coming. It seemed as though everything she had been holding inside was making its way out to the surface and wouldn’t stop until it was done.

“I’m getting married, (Y/N),” the younger witch whimpered. “Tomorrow, I’ll be Mrs. Russell Morgan. Beatrice Morgan.” 

“I know, my darling,” she sighed defeatedly. “But what’s the matter? Is he not treating you right? Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no. He treats me wonderfully. Russell is honestly a man designed by the very gods,” Bea chuckled softly. “But he’s not you. I do love him and care for him immensely, but he’s simply not you.” 

“Beatrice…”

“I know. I know I was the one that pushed you away, and we both know it was the right decision,” she sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you with every fiber of my being. You are embedded into my heart and my soul. You are and always will be the one keeper of my love.”

“Bea…”

“Just be mine,” the witch whispered, leaving a kiss on the skin of (Y/N)’s neck. “For one last night, tell me I’m yours and that you are mine. Possess me, own me, claim me. Just this one last time.” 

“Bea, you belong to somebody else now,” (Y/N) muttered. She was trying her best to remain strong for them both. When it came to Beatrice, she was weak, and it wouldn’t take much convincing to fall back in her arms. “Russell is a good man, and I will not allow you to ruin that for yourself.”

“He knows, (Y/N),” Bea stated. “He knows my heart has long been taken from my body. He understands the love I have for you is different than the love I have for him. Russell knows about this proposition—I would never keep this from him.”

“How can I be sure that he truly is okay with this?” 

“May the Great Goddess strike me down right now if I am lying to you,” Beatrice exclaimed. There was no lightning, no thunder, no earth-breaking moment that would say otherwise. “Russell and I have great communication, (Y/N). He knows that my heart aches because you are away. He knows you are the greatest love I have known in this lifetime and the next. He knows that if I don’t do this, there is no way our marriage could ever go on. “Tell me I have you, (Y/N),” she cried. “Tell me I still have you, or I fear I may never breathe again.” 

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment. The woman she loved was on her knees, begging for the same love she had pushed away only a year before. Beatrice had told her to go, to leave her behind and start her new life—she would do the same. She had understood it was the right thing to do because it was what Bea had asked of her. Bea had told her to let go, to forget, to renew. She had told her to live. 

And yet, there she was, pleading for the love she had pushed away. How could (Y/N) refuse? 

“I don’t know how you could ever think that you lost me,” (Y/N) smiled, trapping her worried face between her hands in a gentle caress. “For as long as we both live, you will have me, Beatrice Cabot. My heart belongs to you. My lips belong to you. My soul belongs to you. You are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars. And you, my dear Beatrice, you belong to me too.” 

Bea was too overwhelmed to speak. Instead, she pressed her lips onto (Y/N)’s, whimpering slightly at the touch. A year had felt like an eternity without her—a cruel reminder of what the rest of her life would be. She didn’t delude herself. She knew one day the other witch would come to forget her, at least the love they shared. Forever was far too long, and (Y/N) would one day meet the soul bound to hers. Even if she didn’t forget her, it was inevitable that she would no longer be the love of her life. Moments such as these would be fleeting for the now immortal witch, but they would mean the whole world to Beatrice. 

“Take me home,” Bea whimpered as she clung to the woman’s coat. “Take me home, (Y/N).” 

The older witch took the young woman’s hand, helping her up from the ground while grabbing her suitcase with the other. They ran through the woods, down the same path they had taken since they had been little girls. Branches smacked against their skin, leaves tickling their limbs as they passed, luring laughter from their throats. 

Soon enough, they reached (Y/N)’s old cabin, the very place it had all begun—the place where she’d had all of her firsts. From her birth down to her first kiss, even where she had first taken Bea to bed. It was the place where, no matter how much time passed, she could always call home. No matter how much society advanced, she knew the village would withstand the changes of time, and her home would always stand tall and strong, waiting for her return. 

(Y/N) was sure she’d find a layer of dust covering everything she owned and was surprised to see it all in pristine condition. “You’ve been cleaning,” she smiled. “You even removed the sheets.” 

“If I’m honest, I removed them the very day you left,” Bea said sheepishly. “I couldn’t stand seeing the house abandoned.”

“I love it,” she beamed. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” the girl smiled. “I love you more than there are words to describe.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t bear being apart from Beatrice any longer. Closing the door behind her, she dropped her suitcase to the ground and crashed her lips back onto hers. Unlike their kiss at the river, this one was desperate. It was the kiss of a woman starved—starved of connection, of affection, of love and passion. It was the answer to a silent prayer. More than a kiss, it was a covenant. An agreement between two souls that yearned for each other. The moment would come to pass, opportunity would cease to appear before them, but the love would burn brightly for as long as they fed it. 

After tasting her mouth and rediscovering every corner she had claimed once, (Y/N) moved to Bea’s jaw, followed by her neck. She knew her body like her own. There was not a spot she had forgotten about. The raven-haired girl moaned as the witch kissed her right below the ear, just as she had done for years. (Y/N) nipped at the skin, smiling as she drew out the melodious tunes from the girl’s throat. Bea snaked her hands into her hair, pulling at it as the other gave her a particular sharp bite. It took everything inside her not to look at Bea’s surprised face, choosing instead to relish in the sweet taste of her skin before traveling further south. 

(Y/N) kissed her way down Bea’s chest, stopping just above the hem of her nightgown where the top of her breast was exposed. That was the moment she noticed the other woman’s attire. Bea had forgone outside clothing and had been waiting in the cold of fall in nothing but a nightgown and a robe. Until then, she hadn’t even noticed just how cold her skin had felt, finding the temperature comfortable enough. “You could have frozen out there,” she worried. “You should have at least worn a coat.” 

“I drank a warming tincture before I left,” Bea assured. “Russell insisted I did.” 

“He really does care for you,” (Y/N) muttered, her tone coming out sadder than she intended. 

“He cares for your happiness as well, my darling,” she smiled, placing her hand under (Y/N)y’s chin so their eyes could meet. “I promise you, he is in accordance with this arrangement. We spent a very long time talking about it. All he wants is for me to be happy, and he knows you make me happy. I’m telling you, he is a man written by the very gods.” 

“I just feel like I’m betraying his friendship. Even betraying you in a way,” the witch admitted. “You’re supposed to marry him tomorrow. You’re going to be bound to him for the rest of your life, and yet, here we are, already breaking the easiest of vows.” 

“We are not breaking anything, (Y/N),” she reassured. “Do you need to hear it come from his mouth? He does not mind this, darling. I would never lie to you.”  

“But…” 

“Just give me tonight,” Beatrice implored. “If you do not feel comfortable after the wedding, then I understand. But I have not stood before him and the Great Goddess yet to make my vows. Tonight, I am as free as the day is young. Tonight, I am allowed to change my mind about marriage if that is what I choose to do.” The girl took hold of (Y/N)’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze before laying a chaste kiss on her lips. “Stop worrying, my darling. Just give me tonight.” 

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[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Touya Drabble

Sometimes I can't help but wonder how things would be for Dabi if he had stayed Touya. If his father had been to Sekoto Peak. If the course of life had gone on.

Touya would still grow to resent and hate his father as both a parental figure and a hero. It would never reach the level of pure hatred he has for Endeavour as Dabi, but the feeling of being thrown aside in Shouto's favour, of being nothing more than a failed designer baby, that, would always remain. He’s always had trouble controlling his emotions, because no one ever showed him how to. How long until he would run away from that house and all it represents? Fifteen, sixteen years old? Touya would still see his siblings and his mother, sometimes, but never his father. Never again. He would make him regret losing interest in him like a worthless toy. He'd become the greatest goddamn hero in Japan just to spite his father, and crush his pathetic dreams of being number one.

As a hero, Touya would be a lone wolf, refusing to work for an agency or any group that would try to use and publicize his title as Endeavor's son. He would fully shed away the last name “Todoroki”, because being part of that family's legacy had never brought him anything other than pain. Some would call him a vigilante more than a hero, but he has never really been one to care about labels, either way. If he would go by an alias, I'd like to think it would be something like Phoenix, a symbolic rebirth from the ashes of a past he's left behind (and a perfectly melodramatic name for his theatrical ass).

Touya would still have scars; although his body would never burn to the extent of Sekoto Peak, he would get heavy marks and scars from overusing his quirk, mostly around his arms and chest. At first, he hides them when he's out, not wanting to prove his parents were right about him slowly killing himself. It would be a cold day in hell before he admitted his father was right about anything. Then, tattoos and piercings start making their way into his life, and it becomes less and less about hiding the scars, and more and more about making them a part of his body. Dark swirls of ink would become indistinguishable from charred and marred skin, and he would show them of proudly. His skin would be a reminder of his determination, his drive to keep going despite being told he was weak. Nothing could bring the fire in him down.

It would take him time to forgive the rest of his family for not standing by him when he ran away. Natsuo and Fuyumi are the easiest, because Natsuo shares part of his anger towards their father, and he grows a begrudging respect for how Fuyumi tries to hold everything (and everyone) together. It takes him until he's eighteen to start accepting maybe his mother was a victim, too. Maybe her complacency with their broken household had less to do with cowardice, and more with wanting to protect her children. He'll bring her flowers at the hospital, from time to time, but he never apologizes for the words he might have yelled at her before. Apologies were never really his thing.

It takes Touya the longest to forgive Shouto. Deep down, he's known for a long time it isn't the youngest's fault. But it's hard not to feel anger at how easily he follows their father's plans, how stoic and seemingly devoid of any real identity he is. A puppet. It's only when Shouto joins UA that Touya starts seeing the fire of passion burn in his brother's eyes. Real emotions, trapped underneath the icy surface of the perfect child who had so efficiently replaced him. A bratty teen who bottled up his feelings until he exploded, finally letting others see how he felt all those years. His brother.

In many ways, Touya wouldn't have been very different from Dabi. He would still be angry, and hurt, and desperately in need for his father to notice him, one way or the other. But in many other ways, he would have been so different. He would have been a hero on his own terms. He would have been able to grow as a teenager rather than be trusted into adulthood with no landmarks or experience. He would not forget, but he would forgive.

But Touya died a long time ago, and these are just thoughts I get at night.

[a-wonderful-danganronpa]

📖 DESIGN: Suzuran Dustcrawl, outfit concept 1

[NO SPOILERS]

"Usami, I can't just make believe this is the first time..."

our adorably schlubby librarian comes to life, just in time for her birthday tomorrow!

i knew what i wanted from Suzuran's outfit from the start, so it wasn't difficult or tedious to design, and this will be our beta drip for the time being. some details:

post-apocalyptic librarian chic, but only sort of: Suzuran's design falls under the "eclectic" or "eccentric" style i've described earlier. she's not cyberpunk, rustpunk, or bronzepunk. Hope's Peak Monastery sits atop a man-made mountain and receives varied visitors from across the lands of the Empress, so her clothes reflect many aesthetics and non-aesthetics. a fashionista she is not

always cold: hence the triple layers. and, i suppose, she does live on top of a mountain. but she's the sorta poor-circulation-ass freak who's got the full winter fit on even in mid-summer sometimes

sweater: a repurposed fisherman's sweater. she's always wanted to go fishing. the inside of her brain looks like a river

coat: probably fucking made of upholstery material honestly. thicc

floral design: simplified, of course, to make it easier for me and future artists to draw. she'd keep plants if she had the ambition. the 蘭 kanji in her name (涼蘭) means "orchid" and suzuran means "lily of the valley" in general, so i wanted to reflect that. i wonder if Usami gave her that name?

floral design part 2: this is not embroidery but patterned fabric. she's been told she herself added the floral touches to this coat, but she doesn't remember if that's true on account of all the divine device anti-insomnia brain scrambling. the monks may be lying to her and/or making fun of her, really. they do that. a lot

patches: denoting her as a Monastery worker but not one of the monks. she sewed these on herself crookedly out of pure spite, but could easily do it well if she had the willpower, which she does not

schlub: i forgot to draw it in but these clothes are always wrinkled and poorly kept and smell like the inside of an old book. she does not button or tie anything unless reminded

another design to let sit for a while. next up on the docket for design: Kaname Yoshida, Gossip Wonder!

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Just a thought I wanna share but, the best thing about Byakuya's backstory for me is how much interpretation one can have. Like, there isn't much know about the Togami Inheritance system, how Byakuya won in specifics, if it was a battle of the body, mind, or some combination. Same goes with Byakuya's parents. There is like NOTHING for those guys. I know in the dubiously canon Danganronpa Togami books, his father is named as Kijo Togami, dunno if it is exclusively in those books where he's named. Not much info is on him though. Like, what does he look like? What is his main personality? How is his relationship with his son, Byakuya? Meanwhile, Byakuya's mother is a mystery too. No name, no physical description, nada. It makes sense for her in specifics though as she was probably just there to make the child before said child got shipped to a IRL battle royale. Though, it's not like that's set in stone. That's interpretable too like if she was a good mother whether it's in an interpretation where she only had her son for a small amount of time or if she was always there or hell, if she kicked the bucket and died in some shady ass well! Other things to factor in too such as the fact that Byakuya could be mixed or biracial or something due to Togami men having to have offspring with fancy women all over the globe. That's one interpretation I like a lot. Just makes sense to me. Like, sure, blond hair could be dyed, but it could also just be that European blood coursing through his veins. Or, whatever one sees. Depending on one's own interpretation, his life could be just relatively shitty with the uphill battle of becoming heir and the stress that comes with to potential abuse even, whether verbal or something else. Byakuya is already an individual with some problems after all with his mindset, general demeaner, and childhood or lack there of cus i REFUSE to consider what we know about his childhood to be a diggity dang childhood! Cus, no! That SOOOOO wasn't one. The limit with the interpretation is simply how much one wants to interpret about him like his secret in chapter 2 which never was revealed. Hell, even his list of likes and dislikes is a little vague or at least one of them that I constantly think back to like, what do you mean you like French, Byakuya?! Like, is it JUST the language? Culture? The food?!?!? Gasp Does he relate to the baguettes? Okay, I'm being a bit silly here but my point is that even his likes and dislikes can be fluid with interpretation. He likes coffee but it's open to what KIND whether it be black coffee or a Frappuccino at Starbucks with excessive amounts of whipped cream (I say this like I've actually seen a Starbucks coffee in person and have walking into an establishment). He dislikes microwaved food. Well, how far does that dislike go? Pure hatred even? Would he refuse to eat a reheated meal that he likes out of spite because it was reheated in a microwave even if he's literally about to starve to death or would he cave and eat the food? Or, does he hate the microwave ITSELF more than the food products designed for it? Then my brain loops back to the important biz! What does he find funny?! How would one hypothetically get him laughing?! Dang! Sometimes I wish there was an ACTUAL concrete answer to this though, who knows. If there was, I might not like the answer though that is delving into what-iffery. Dunno! I just overthink like this! I gotta dissect my muse! Besides, even if some of the interpreting can be annoying, even for me at times, it's not the worst thing ever. Not like he's the only character with this trait. It's just more apparent when you have some characters when you know all their family members or have actual CANON books about their backstory (Kyoko). And there are also other characters in which the vagueness is by design or just characters with vague spots like him cough cough Kokichi cough cough. Suppose it doesn't help that I am way too attached to this freaking loser T-T. Perhaps, there is some beauty to that.

[spc-rambles]

I adore the steelworks gang, like more than I've seen other people express online.

First of all...

My little icon Lexi.

They have been known and initially regarded for their silly voices and jolly nature but I don't often see people looking into why they do it. Like their voices make them more wild than Marion who's generally loved by some fans but they also do it in spite of themselves. They and Theo did an entire upbeat song about how much they are failures to railway engineering with lyrics like:

"We're experiments gone bad

in other words whoever designed us must be mad."

These are not the words of someone with self esteem in how funny they are! They even showed them actually depressed when saying 'We can't do anything.' for the final time in the special.

And anyone who knew how long it took for more in-your-face LGBT+ representation in 2018 She-Ra will know that if this special just came out three or four years later, we might've had proper gender-fluid Lexi representation.

As for Theo...

He is still a pure little bean and I feel the ambiguity of his design makes it all the more reason for him to feel bad about his design. I don't know what about his design warranted gigantic cogs on his sides but we don't know what went on in whatever workshop he was built at. For all we know he could've had the Henry treatment, having been dumped on the doorstep on the first desperate railway executive needed an engine, as a last ditch effort for a dying manufacturer.

As for him being on the spectrum, I can still see it in his behaviour. Lexi was truly not gender fluid but once you've met one autistic person, you've met one autistic person.

And some characteristics are visible in him.

His unintentional bluntness. "Are you being scrapped?"

His tics and stutters.

His shakes in excitement, if you were to count it as stimming.

And who's to say he's not limited to physical disabilities? He and Lexi, depending on how successful you can view it having designs as unique as them on British rails, are the perfect ones to have given the body language they were adamant on giving all the engines back then.

Him being so gentle and anxious is generally adorable, so yeah, not so much to say about his actual personality.

Speaking of not much to say, not much to say on Merlin either, at least nothing that people haven't said already. We all know how awesome he is.

Beresford is MY MAN!

Beresford just wants a friend guys. He said in his own song that he was always ignored by engines who just want to get a job done. No time to chat with him. Loneliness can drive him mad. It is kinda sad that his appearance in Royal Engine was not only a sign of the further appearances these characters could've had but how it was also kinda a rehash of the scene we got in his last appearance, so maybe an episode of his own where he learnt to make friends properly would've been fun.

Ah well, at least he got some friends in another life.

And what can I say about Hurricane?

Keeping it real, working with steel.

Since 1902

He is such a chill guy, that while his companion might've had a lot of hard labour in mind for Thomas, he seems so genuine in wanting to take Thomas in while still acknowledging his terrible position. He could've done with standing up to Frankie though. But whatever, that's meant to be a part of his character, and he was voiced by the chad Jim Howick no less.

It's so funny when people say he sounded like a member of the royal family when he's played kings before.

And then there's Frankie.

Oh my god I adore her so much. Her manipulation being legitimately intimidating at the best times, especially when she's actually chasing Thomas down in the dead of night, her musical style bribing him into working for her, her VA's performance capturing all of her personality through line delivery perfectly.

Everything about her class, her demeanour, most of her lines makes me so curious about her whole life.

How is she running this steelworks better than the human manager of the works if there even is one? How are the human workmen so ok with her doing this? How did the other engines before Thomas get into doing her work? How did they get out? How did Hurricane stay with her for this long, let alone not encourage some potential friends of his to work with her? Was she indirectly responsible for Hurricane surviving as long as he did to still be a tank engine after she was built? Why didn't the railways surrounding this fictional steelworks not agree with this most likely non-existent human manager not just agree to get a lot of their engines to transport steel from their works? What did Frankie do? What are you hiding from us!?

The whole mystery surrounding her and her apparently feeling put-down and apparently not evil at heart according to her character profile and her role in the book 'Delivery at the Docks' makes her potential crimes such a goldmine for story potential that I really want to delve into very soon.

And yeah, that's what I have to say on them in canon. All beautiful characters that I feel need more recognition on a regular basis.

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

halfway point only friends character rankings

(i am bad at rank so i tiered them, also i don't dislike any character this is more a scale of how many hours i lay awake thinking of them)

tier one: ray

ray: I think anyone looking at my only friends posts can immediately guess who my favourite character is and why. ray is THE character for me, i knew in the first episode before the title sequence that he'd make me extremely unwell (his "being known as a burden who is either professing his love for anyone who cares to listen or begging people not to leave him in his drunken desperation" captivated me ok) . besides relating to parts of his characters and story, i am thoroughly invested in this man and his emotions. like will he fall victim to the cycle he's already convinced he's doomed by? will he find a way out? will he continue living as self-fulfilling prophecy purely out of spite for himself and everyone around him? will he get better? can he get better? will he ever want to????????? i think i always had the potential like ray as a character but i also think the actor plays him in a way that has altered my brain forever (like i am not good at reading faces but the look on ray's face sometime feels like im looking into his thoughts, its thrilling) deciding to play ray as layered and complex and oosing with pain no matter the circumstance was a choice that made the character for me, and i also think it takes a lot of skill to have an asshole insult everyone close to him and ruin relationships he has no buissness ruining for most of his screentime and have the audience come away with "wow that guy is absoultey dripping in pain, i feel so much for him"

tier two: nick, boston, mew

nick: i love nick so much, maybe its my thing for pathetic little guys but something about him makes me scream throw shit whenever i see him. i'm obssessed with all the crime he commits, because he's such a cutie about it. like watching him get all sad listening to the topboston tape fully sympathizing with him and his little sad face to the point i forget he only has the tape cause he WIRETAPPED BOSTONS CAR. just excellant character, i hope his crimes being revealed leads to him looking more pathetic and then becoming 5x more evil but 10x more cute about it (i also am desperate to know what comes of him chasing after a man who has made it clear so many times he doesn't want him only for nick to fall harder like what is up with that)

boston: boston has always been a favourite character of mine because he may not be a good friend and he may not be a good person but one thing he will NEVER not be is entertaining. like if he is on screen your ass will be tuned IN, and for that reason i love him. what i want to see from boston in the rest of the series? i think he is an interesting case of how far is to far when it comes to friends doing you dirty, and im interested to see what the lasting impact to his relationships are and then the impact to how he views relationships in general. i think it'd be nice if there were consequences that made him reavaluate the way he treats other people, but i also find it absolutely necessary for him to retain his sluttiness. like it doesnt hurt anyone else, and i think he genuienly enjoys it, so i hope he keeps it along with his love for photogrphy (would love to see him get more into getting consent of people before he records them and spreads that around tho) stay messy my king 🫡

mew: mew was my designated little guy after watching the first episode but kinda got lost in all my love for sandray. i will say he shot back up towards the top after seeing this one post (i cannot find it now its lost under the thousands that have been posted since) about mew, control, and bdsm (and all the new meta that has come out since too tbh). also realizing around epsiode 4 we knew absoultey nothing about him as a person had me watching everything he did like there would be little clues left. i think its safe to say after episode 6 that the relationhip between sex and control will continue to be interesting as well as WHATEVER THE FUCK HAPPENS TO MAKE HIM ACT UP LIKE THAT IN THE BATHTUB anyway... i am here for his villain?? era

tier 3: top, sand, cheum

(again i tiered them cause im not good at straight ranking and this doesn't mean i like them any less its just they make me personally a little less insane then the others do)

top: i think he needs to be topped by mew and that it has the potential fix him, i've thought about this a lot (A LOT) and thats all i have to say.

sand: i am still kinda obsessed with him, like don't get me wrong. i like the way he mirrors the other characters while still maintaining traits that are specific to him. the fact that he has his heart broken by the belief that ray didn't truly care about him and only saw him as a distraction, distinced himself from ray, took insults and physical attacks from ray, and STILL chased after him because he knew ray was in an unsafe headspace speaks to how strong this guy is, cause you saw everyone else in that bar abondon ray to whatever self-destructive thing he decided to do next but not sand, never sand. anyway maybe its because i relate to ray so much that whenever i see sand on screen or think about him my mind gets overtaken by hearteyes (this is my way of saying i don't have many coherent thoughts about sand in my brain theres just 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰) anyway i can't wait to see how he develops, if we meet the sandtop mutual ex and what chaos that brings, and whatever the fuck happens with the sandray codependency dynamic and i am dying to know if he does indeed have something in his past related to driving under the influence and what it is about ray specifically that made mr "i can seperate love and sex" into the character we see now

cheum: my girl isn't in the show as often but whenever shes on screen with april i have to smile. anyway i wonder if we'll get an explaination as to why shes always presurring the rest of the friendgroup into monogamous relationships or if thats just who she is (i do think her lying to april about how she feels in order to keep them together at all costs was an interesting detail in all this, like is she scared of what it means to be single/alone, does she feel intense pressure to be in a certain type of relationship, etc)

anways this is inspired by @thatgirl4815 and my autocorrect broke so sorry if this makes now sense

[galar-abortion-clinic]

🍀🧠🥊🎓 For Jules, Mauly, and Rory! Just curious about these three!

(Jules is getting his own post since someone else asked about him, so stay tuned. Same twat time, same twat channel)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Conceptually, both Mauly and Rory are two sides of the same coin. At first I only had Mauly, but I decided to extract a few traits from her and squelch those out into their own character so that her personality wouldn’t feel so totally neutered by incompetence. She’s a little more idealized, whereas Rory is my worst fear of what I could turn out to be, or how other people might perceive me

Mauly is impulsive, brash, self-serving, and arrogant. She’s unapologetically angry, horny, and human. Rory is all of those things, but deeply insecure and constantly overcompensating. He’s pathetic and he makes me sick. Basically he boils down to “sid vicious if he were a bit less of a dick, purely because he’s subdued by cowardice”

Design-wise? Kalos’ rendition of the Punk Guy/Girl trainer class, man. I fell in love instantly. Also this one specific tank girl page:

Good shit

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Mauly takes no shit. Sure, that might mean she leaves a bad taste in some people’s mouths, but she knows when she deserves to be treated better. Something I’ve always struggled with has been not standing up for myself because I’m worried it’ll hurt or inconvenience other people. Mauly says fuck those other people, It’s not my job to accommodate anyone else’s existence by minimizing my own. Her whole arc is about self-acceptance through ambivalence. “Even if i don’t love myself, i can’t change who I am. You’re not going to change me either, and you look stupid for trying”

Rory’s best use to me is catharsis. I’ve shoved all the shit I hate about myself into this guy and exaggerated it by queefzillion, and it feels reassuring to see him being knocked down a peg for behaving like a little wart. It also feels kind of nice when he still manages to find occasional kindness in spite of his many, many glaringly hideous flaws.

🥊 - What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Mauly was one of those kids who every adult in her life would describe as “so creative” and “a free spirit”, which is actually grown-up code for “this poor bastard’s gonna be a starving artist and we’re hiding our disappointment”. If she had the means to create more often, she’d have a lot of fun honing her craft and fully leaning into art as an outlet for her angst

Because she’s so hands-on and skilled at improvised patching and the like, she often gets stuck with repair responsibilities by the other schmucks she lives with. She doesn’t mind slapping duct tape over stuff several times over or whacking things with a hammer til it fits right, she just would prefer not being assigned that job by other people. Never tell her what to do

Rory’s nimble fingers don’t only make him a passable thief, but also a possibly-not-the-worst musician. He’s never played for anyone else, which might be why he kinda sucks, but it’s one of the few things he keeps to himself instead of bloating to give his delicate ego some padding. His songbook is loaded with edgy cringe, but its the sort of raw soul-bearing stuff that reminds you there’s a person in there. Not a great person, but a person

Anyway something he hates doing is uhhhhhh giving to charity,

🎓- How long have you had the OC?

Mauly’s been around ffffforrrrrr i wanna say maybe two years now? For a long time she was just an idea in my head, i didn’t wanna touch that idea til i knew exactly what i wanted to do with it

Rory’s my freshest OC, only been around for like a month. Not even. Could still use some fine tuning

Bonus: some VERY rough first drafts of Mauly that’re a little closer to the source material (excuse the positively grimy state of the paper, i dont take very good care of my sketchbooks)

[rigberts]

just finished teppuu, and while of course i wanted more, i was super satisfied and really intrigued by it. number one, it's a mma sports manga focused on women that is insanely horny, but not because of the normal reasons anime is horny, like skimpy outfits or contrived excuses to have a character be groped or stripped. In fact, most of the characters fight fully clothed in athletic shorts and tshirts. Rather, it's the psychology of the characters that makes it horny. More on that later. There are many cool side characters with really unique, recognizable designs (always a plus for me) but the real draw is how the author deconstructs two major character archetypes in sports: the hardworking enthusiastic protagonist, and the arrogant antagonist that gets by on talent until the MC puts them in their place.

Except, in this case, we follow the bad-tempered Natsuo, as she works to improve at MMA so she can get back at the friendly Yuzuko after she easily beats her in a spar. It's a total role-reversal. And the interesting thing is, you definitely start to root for natsuo, though she maintains a pretty terrible personality, and at no point does yuzuko become a "bad person".

To put it frankly, Yuzuko is the sports genre version of Gon. That is to say, she's a classic protagonist, to the point that it's unsettling. She's been training in MMA since she was a kid living in brazil, and though she has no particular talent, she trains constantly, simply because she has boundless enthusiasm for the sport. She loves it, to the point that she doesn't care at all about the brutal side of it, hurting people or getting hurt. She's not a sadist, but hurting people in the name of the sport is no consequence to her. And though she has multiple friends who like her, it is made very clear that they find her extremely creepy. She seems to have no emotion but cheery enthusiasm and it's deeply off-putting, especially to Natsuo. (I also make the comparison to gon because there is a side character that is essentially Pitou, so i think it's safe to say the author is a hxh fan)

Natsuo is a classic sports manga antagonist. She's extremely tall, beautiful, and has a terrible attitude towards others. Everything comes easy to her, and she's always bored. However, she has almost no friends because of this, and her home life is awful, with an absent single mother and a shut-in older brother that hates her because she's better than him at everything. Natsuo hates Yuzuko for "having everything", and out of pure spite, she quits volleyball and becomes an MMA fighter just to kick her ass.

Natsuo never becomes "good", but she is insanely interesting. She's selfish and condescending at the best of times, but she's not two faced or underhanded. She's also remarkably self aware, knowing that her grudge towards yuzuko is mostly based in sheer jealousy and her inferiority complex. Also, she's a huge sadomasochist (see where the horny part comes in) who feels deeply unsatisfied when she can beat people with ease, but also enjoys beating the shit out of people in a hard-won fight.

There are very few male characters, but lots of really well designed female characters, and as you can expect, there's lots of lesbian undertones, from the in-depth grappling scenes, the protagonist's blatant attraction to other women (she's almost always the one to point out when a woman's sexy) and masochistic tendencies, and the (unfortunately) unrequited lesbian romance subplot. There's also some really handsome middle-aged butch women.

In terms of art, this is a really great series. Super expressive and individualized faces, excellent anatomy and really clear fight direction, art is detailed and polished.

All in all, i want to call this Baki for girls, but first of all, the tone is very different, and second, to compare Baki to Teppuu is an insult to Teppuu. Fighting can be horny without having people piss on each other all the time, Itagaki.

All in all, would solidly recommend.

[biinarysttars]

Making a quick masterlist of all of my TES OCs so that if someone feels compelled to ask me about them they have the names to do so :)

Arena

Evelara Wicking, the Eterenal Champion - a smart, stubborn, and dedicated member of the Imperial Court. She is a Breton Nightblade. Her parents both died following her unjust arrest-- so her desire to eliminate Jagar Tharn is borne not only out of loyalty to the Empire, but out of pure, unadulterated spite and hate.

Ivyrandil Athaere - a sexual deviant Altmer Healer cast out by his noble family after literally being caught with his pants down. He likes making potions and being a cunt to people (and loves being knocked down a peg.)

Ereld - a 16-year-old Bosmer Barbarian who was adopted by a small Nord village. He spent his whole life trying to make his village proud before opting to travel with Evelara and Ivy.

Daggerfall

None yet ;) I will add them when I play the game!

Morrowind

Travlse, the Nerevarine - a carefree Dunmer Withchhunter. He can find the silver lining to any situation, and while he seems completely self-serving, there is nothing he wouldn't do for someone if they asked.

Vivyne Faewatch - the future Queen of Morrowind, following the events in Tribunal. She is kind of a hopeless romantic, and is stubborn and patient beyond measure. She has a good heart and knows right from wrong, and she doesn't care who she pisses off about it.

Alavesa Faewatch - a baby that Vivyne found abandoned close to the end of the initial plot of Morrowind. Alavesa spends her first year or so of life travelling with Travlse and Vivyne.

Oblivion

Ko'Yana, the Hero of Kvatch - an ex-slave Khajiiti woman hailing from Morrowind. She was completely fucked over by the new Queen's sudden and poorly-implemented anti-slavery laws, and forced into a life of crime. She was arrested promptly following a hit she took out on a member of the Imperial Court. Usually I design a custom class with a focus on unarmed combat & destruction magic for her.

Everlara Wicking - a close friend of the late Emperor, and wife to his second-born son. She'll wring Mehrunes Dagon's neck herself if she has to, and she'll protect Martin with everything she has.

Skyrim

Etheara Reverie, the Last Dragonborn - an empty-headed manual labourer that travelled to Solstheim in a last-ditch attempt to revive Raven Rock Mine. In doing so, he encountered a Daedric force far, far beyond his mental ability to grasp, and he pays for it.

Vanyarintil Korothaeus, a False Dragonborn - a strong and silent chosen of Hircine. He was travelling to the Imperial City and overshot by a good bit, and ended up stumbling into a raid at the border and was arrested. He has a natural talent for learning Dragon Shouts, so it was thought for a very long time that he was the true Last Dragonborn. Also I may be making him transfem but I'm not sure how that impacts the story, or whether it impacts the story so we'll see.

Melanarto Korothaeus, a False Dragonborn - a passive and quiet priest of Mara. He travels Skyrim preaching her word, always returning to Windhelm to stay with his close friend, Revyn Sadri. They are very close. When he was a child, he happened upon a dying dragon that gave him an amulet. This amulet has the ability to absorb and keep dragon souls, so it was thought for a very long time that he was the True Last Dragonborn.

Kyryi Orah - a Maormer man that was somehow stranded off the coast of Winterhold. Because of the historical tensions between the Maormer and the Altmer, he assigned a keeper: Ancano. Somehow, his circumstances are simultaneously a dream come true and his worst nightmare; all he has ever wanted was to study magic-- but why did it have to cost his family and whole world?

Terarae Isevryn - a commanding officer in the Imperial Legion. She is a Snow Elf, but her family clan (which was large at one time) adored travelling and adventure-- so they were on the other side of the continent during the conflict with the Dwemer. Now, she is the last member of her family, and had returned to Skyrim with the hopes of being embraced by her people. But since the Falmer had become what they did, there was no place for her-- so she threw herself into the easiest work she could find: the military.

Aster Reverie - an innkeeper on Solstheim. He didn't want to let Etheara travel alone at first, so he and his fiancee moved with him and set up an inn near Tel Mithryn. He seldom hears from his twin anymore.

Anira Mirlayn - an innkeeper on Solstheim. She never had many plans for the future, so when her finace suggested moving to Solstheim to be close to his brother, she agreed. She is bright and friendly, able to draw any recluse from their shell.

[poltergeist-coffee]

I can understand you, hence why I am get so happy when you say that my analisies are on point

I'm always scared to do those type of analysis because I think might it really wrong, but we at the end of the day we can't get everything right and we are trying so I guess this is what matters

But I have a lot of respect to those people who do characters analysis that you can clearly see how correct it is

You can blame that anxiety for keeping me from writing things there, I've thinking about the vampire Pac headcanon and I was like, could we make this about pacman duo too? ... At this point I might learn french out of pure spite just to be able to write about him

Also I'm happy you like favela six because then my rambling would probably be boring, but as always, it make some happy to see people of others countries enjoying what they do

And those people who started learning other lenguages because of it? Absolute incredible people, especial if you don't have any previous understanding of the lenguage

Like, I've remembered Duolingo was a thing other day and said "ok, why not?" And put Spanish and french, because again, why not

As native portuguese speaker, Spanish is not that hard, they are really similar

And... french has some similarities I can work it(and with English too wich also help), but those silent s and t's will be the end of me

I will probably catch up with Forever's stream from today later(if I don't forget) so... If you suddenly see a essay long ask on your askbox it was probably because of that

But now I've got things to draw... When I'm done with looking for clothes references

- 🍽️

i love making aus because if the cubitos are out of character then i can just say its because it's an au and not meant to be canon compliant/super accurate KNSAKJVNASJK aus are my scape goat but also they're just very fun to think about for me <33

the qsmp canon + lore moves SOOOO fast it's hard for me to think of like good anaysis of the cubitos so i adore anyone who can do that, i absorb all their knowledge

qpac and qetoiles standing in the same room but not talking: me: how can i make this about pacman duo /hj

I SIMPLY MISS THEM YOUR HONOR!!! I THINK THEY'RE SO NEAT AND DESERVE ANOTHER CHANCE TO FLORISH TT

i have so much respect for the people who are actively learning another language because its so tough TT even thought im not like using dulingo or really learning any of the other langauges i still think its cool that i can recognize some words in the other langauges when i hear them!! i'm like "HEY I RECOGNIZE THAT ONE SINGLE WORD!!" and then the rest is a mystery to me but still AVDNKAJSAMLK

dw plate anon i love your favela six ramblings because i love the brazilians so much. im so fond of them, they're all so interesting characters and i adore the cc! so !!! they're so wonderful :"DD im so glad i got to meet them/was introduced to them through the qsmp

i eagerly await your essay in my inbox o7 im sure it'll be a banger (im also writing a mini recap of forever's stream for my friend so if you don't get a chance to watch i can always share that :3c)

I LOVE DRAWING FULL BODIES BUT I SUCK AT CLOTHES DESIGN TT I WANT TO DRAW COOL VAMPIRE AUS AND OTHER AUS BUT I ALWAYS GET STUCK ON THE CLOTHES TO HAVE THE CUBITOS WEAR TT good luck on your search!!

[cherokeegal1975]

The Grey, WIP: 7/7/23

Well, I wish I had realized yesterday that by painting the base coats of the wings and then just fading out the references over the top of them, I could have saved myself some time and trouble. Now all I have to do is erase around the white wing and it'll be mostly done...save for some highlights I might want to put in.

This was a single image, then a doubled one because my graphics program has a tendency to merge all layers prematurely once in a while. A glitch that I'm not at happy about. I was just able to remove the bulk of the reference picture today. Look so much better without it there.

I was going to do a half gold and half silver halo, but with all that black and white, there's need for more splashes of color. So, the halo will be solid gold and have red jewels set into it. The flames will also add some color as well as the lady's skin. A nice brown. Her hair will be black.

References for the bits I need to see are still there, just invisible at the moment. Except for the frame design. I'm doing my best to eliminate anything I copied from online as fast as possible. Except for the wings of course. I need those.

I will lighten the hue of the cloak; I usually start dark and work lighter then darker again in spots as I go along. I even have brushes that will do fabric textures. I think I might try that. In spite of the need for more color, I still insist that the cloak be grey. Maybe I can add some patterning or something. I'll think about it.

Anyway, I never meant this drawing to look like a playing card. In fact, the main elements of the drawing just showed up randomly in my head when I wasn't really thinking of anything particular. But I liked what I saw, so I'm drawing it.

Yes, I know I'm cheating a lot. This is because sometimes I have trouble translating what's in my mind onto canvas. I can draw the human figure but haven't had a lot of practice at it. Nor do I have a lot of practice drawing clothing. It was just easier to find what I needed online to help me out this time. I don't know who all the artists are who put out all these free resources for me to use. Though angelic figures are common, I can say with confidence that this idea is uniquely mine. Just for the fun of it I did a general search image for a moment and found lots of angels, but nothing exactly like mine. So, there's that.

I can and to draw freehand. I'd do it more often than I have been lately if I had more time. My time off is sporadic at best/worst. Given the choice, I'd spend more time doing everything in my head. Taking a few hours a day just to draw. I can do a solid three hour session of drawing before my brain gets tired and I have to take a break. I rarely get that time lately.

Ugh. This is devolving into a bitch session. I won't do that here. Anyway, when this is completed, people who are into games like Dungeons and Dragons or similar games may use this character as part of your game. Just ask me first because I want to know about it. Give me credit for the design. No, you may not sell it. I need the profits far worse than you do.

I came to think of The Grey as a kind of judge for contests and legal issues...and maybe other things. She knows there's more than one facet to every story, there isn't just pure evil and pure good. There's always those shades of grey. And she's an excellent and fair judge. A living personification of justice and a powerful force for the good side. My mind had to work on this for a while as I drew her "card." Because originally, she had no story, no meaning. I'm still inviting people to have an open interpretation of her character however.

I can also see this as a big poster over someone's bed simply because it looks cool. It would be a nice decoration, especially if it turns out as nice as I want it to.

I'd appreciate it if no one used my idea until it was completed. I might make some changes along the way that I won't know about until I get there. Not that I think anyone will really. Every offer of free resources I put out gets ignored. I don't know why.

I will also post this on Redbubble when it's done and send a link. I can't seem to completely let my optimism go even though I'm aware that no one wants to buy my artwork. I don't know why.