#and my art skills and my lack of confidence in them will not stop me

[maukuja]

He's wearing Yakou's hoodie btw

[limielle]

idk i feel like so much discourse could be easily minimized if people learned to say "i think" instead of "it is"

[eldhuug]

if I stopped making art, nothing would change

Maybe I would find other ways to fill my time, maybe I'd do something more productive, or I'd find a new passion that made me proud of myself in a way making art isn't managing

I often ask myself, why do you draw? And the answer is because I want to, I feel compelled to try to make something, I have an idea I need to express

Im also very aware my skill level, technical abilities and consistency in production is nothing special. And no, it doesn't have to be good for art to matter, art can be impactful and significant in many, many ways that all feel beyond my capabilities

There are artists I dearly loved who stopped making art, and I dont know why they made that decision. Maybe it got made for them, or they moved on and my life was changed by it as I mourn their absence and wish them well when i revisit their work

If I stopped making art, maybe I could leave the deep rooted pain behind, the inadequacy and the scolding for drawing the wrong type of card for my hospitalized grandmother. Maybe I would move on from the humiliation of sharing work I made to no response . Maybe I'd be free from the stress and sadness that I don't make anything worth gifting yo someone else

I drew my first birthday card for a family member last year, after sitting in the silent rejection by my mother for years. I made it for my sister in law, who printed it out and hung it on her office spot. When she showed me I felt nauseous with anxiety and confusion, and I still can't understand her response

I still feel a mix of anxiety and nausea about sharing my work, and drawing anything for my friends still feel like I'm somehow insulting them by being so fucking shit at it

Im not going to stop drawing, and I don't know how to tackle the complex and evaluating vortex of my complete lack of confidence in myself. But I'm going to try, because I think the world is best when people make their art and share it and that includes even me

[ibijau]

Sins of the Fathers pt5 / On AO3

At noon Jin Ling went to his parents’ house where his husband had spent the morning. They all had lunch together, after which Wen Yuan and him would head back home to start training. Following Jin Guangyao's advice, Jin Ling planned on testing his husband's knowledge of internal cultivation and to work on that as a first order of business. If Wen Yuan proved to have been taught already, they could move on to martial arts. Jin Ling hoped that could be delayed, though. If they had to go to the training grounds, Jin Chan might see them and try to cause problems, which he hadn’t decided yet how to handle.

It felt unbearably awkward to be alone together in the middle of the day. They never spent time like that in each other’s company, so Jin Ling felt his husband was still pretty much a stranger. Making things worse, Wen Yuan was as silent as ever, waiting in the middle of the room, staring at Jin Ling with cold eyes. 

Jin Ling wondered if it had been a mistake to accept his mother’s request. It probably was. But between his unresponsive husband and being around Jin Chan and his idiot friends… 

“My mother told me you already have some training?” Jin Ling asked, trying to sound imposing and confident, like his cool uncle Jiang Cheng. “Tell me more about that.”

Wen Yuan nodded, not the least bit impressed by his husband’s tone.

“When I was young, Wei zongzhu taught me a few notions. It was a long time ago. I was younger than Jin Bai when the lessons had to stop.”

“Do you know why he stopped teaching you?”

“Yes,” Wen Yuan said.

Jin Ling waited for his husband to elaborate. No further explanation came. Wen Yuan just placidly looked at him, radiating indifference.

“I’m not asking because I’m nosy,” Jin Ling announced, which was mostly true. “We’re not friends, we don’t have to know everything about each other! But I need to know if your lessons stopped because you were bad at cultivation, or if there was some other reason.”

“Oh,” Wen Yuan said, blushing a little. He quickly shook his head. “No, it was another reason. Wei-ge… I mean, Wei zongzhu said I showed promise when he was teaching me. But circumstances forced us to give up.”

It wasn’t the answer Jin Ling had expected. Considering Wei Wuxian’s reputation as a cultivation genius, and his animosity toward all other sects, it would have made sense for him to train any child of his that had any skill. He would have needed some disciples now that he’d left the Jiang sect, and also some people to fight for him in case the other sects decided to attack him. The undead were a useful weapon, but they could only do so much.

After being told by his mother that Wen Yuan had only minimal training, Jin Ling had assumed that his husband lacked natural predisposition for cultivation. It was the reason most cultivators gave up on their own child. His own mother had been like that, interested in cultivation to a degree but with a body too frail for it. So either Wen Yuan was lying (but why would he, when Jin Ling was sure to soon find out the truth?), or Wei Wuxian had lied to him to spare his feelings (but would an evil genius ready to sell his son care about that?) or… or there was something fishy going on.

“Well, alright, let’s see that then,” Jin Ling said, once more trying to sound imposing like Jiang Cheng. “Let’s test your breathing first. If you’ve really learned anything at all, it should be that.” He paused and hesitated, something Jiang Cheng would never have done. “I, uh, I’m going to have to touch your chest to check that. Don’t go getting ideas, it’s just to see if you’re doing it right!”

To his surprise, Wen Yuan blushed again. Which was stupid, because Jin Ling had just said there was nothing personal to it. But of course seeing Wen Yuan blush made it weird, and suddenly Jin Ling too was blushing

“Sit down,” Jin Ling ordered. “And, uh, get in position to meditate and all.”

Wen Yuan obeyed, sitting down in the middle of the room. Strangely, the position he adopted was the same one Jiang disciples usually took to practise their breath and improve their inner cultivation. It seemed Wei Wuxian, however creative he’d been for other things, still used the basics he’d learned in the Jiang sect. Jin Ling wondered if Jiang Cheng would be happy or angry about that. It was the sort of thing that was often reproached to new sects (Jin Ling had heard so much criticism of the Moling Su sect) but in that particular case, maybe Jiang Cheng wouldn’t mind that much.

After giving his husband a moment to get started, Jin Ling knelt down next to him and placed one hand over his ribcage. The first thing he noticed was Wen Yuan’s heartbeat increasing the instant he was touched, but Jin Ling ignored it, refusing to make this whole thing any weirder than it already was. Instead, he focused on Wen Yuan’s breathing, its slow and steady rhythm, the way it helped energy gather inside his body, making it pool in the right places.

Wen Yuan hadn’t lied, and neither had Wei Wuxian. He really had a lot of potential. Well trained, Wen Yuan would have formed a golden core years ago. It was baffling that he didn’t have one. With such good bases, even just handing him a cultivation manual and checking on him every few weeks would have been enough, as long as he practised dutifully. So why had Wei Wuxian given up on him?

Jin Ling didn’t bother asking. Wen Yuan wouldn’t have answered. Still, it was hard not to be curious. Nothing about this made any sense. Even Jin Guangshan, not particularly known for caring about junior disciples unless they were rich, would not have given up on someone who showed such promises.

Jin Ling removed his hand from his husband’s chest. Wen Yuan looked at him, his expression a little less cold than usual.

“You’re doing alright,” Jin Ling said. “More than alright, really. How long can you last doing that?”

“All day,” Wen Yuan replied, some pride piercing through. “I can also keep it up when I sleep sometimes, but it’s harder and I'm equally likely to fail.”

“No surprise there. It’s hard to learn to breathe right in your sleep, unless you have a teacher who’s willing to watch you and wake you up every time you go back to normal. Xiao-shushu said he’s never gotten the hang of it. It’s mostly fine, though. It’s not as good as if you could maintain the right breathing all the time, but you can still cultivate like that. Can you control the energy inside you at all?”

It was the expected next step. There was hardly any sense in gathering energy and then not doing anything with it. Even Jin Bai had already learned how to do that. And yet, Wen Yuan shook his head, looking embarrassed.

“Only a little,” he confessed. “Wei zongzhu… didn’t have a lot of time to teach me, even when he still had time at all, and I was often busy as well.”

“You’re a sect’s disciple, what could be more important than your training?” Jin Ling exclaimed. “It's a real waste, with natural skills like yours! If your father was just some rogue cultivator it would be one thing to prioritise other things, but someone like Wei Wuxian should know better. To leave you to your own devices like that…”

“You don’t know him,” Wen Yuan cut him off. “So don’t talk about him.”

He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t even frown. But coming from a boy that normally couldn’t even be bothered to speak to Jin Ling at all, well, he might as well have been shouting.

“I know enough about him,” Jin Ling snapped back. “I know he sold you to us and couldn’t be bothered to see you get married. I know that he couldn’t bother to properly teach his own son. He’s really just as bad as everyone says, in the end.”

“You don’t know him,” Wen Yuan softly repeated, looking down at the floor. “Wei-ge is a good man. The things he’s done, the good he’s done… but you wouldn’t understand.”

Jin Ling clenched his fists. Of course he didn’t understand, when his husband refused to tell him anything about anything! Was he supposed to read Wen Yuan’s mind to learn in what ways Wei Wuxian was entirely unlike everything everyone knew about him?

To Jin Ling, it was clear that Wei Wuxian was a cold and uncaring person. Everything he'd done in the past had proven it, everything Wen Yuan had said now confirmed it. That Wen Yuan still wanted to defend his father was to his credit, it made him a filial son… but it also made him a bit of an idiot. If Jin Ling could accept the truth about his grandfather, then he expected everyone should look at their own family with the same clarity.

The only reason Jin Ling kept from saying these things out loud was that he didn’t want to disappoint his mother. It was clearly important to her that these lessons go well. Jin Ling couldn’t let her down.

“Nevermind your father, none of this is about him,” Jin Ling said. “It’s about you. So you’ve got some basics when it comes to internal cultivation, that’s already more than I expected. What about fighting? Has anyone taught you that? Hand-to-hand styles? Or some swordsmanship maybe?”

“I’ve never used a sword,” Wen Yuan replied, looking embarrassed again. As he should be, even the smallest and poorest of sects found enough money to get their disciples a blade. “But I can defend myself, and I’m alright with a bow.”

In spite of himself, Jin Ling felt a spark of interest at the mention of archery. A bow was not the most common weapon for a cultivator, but it was one he’d always liked. It was in his blood. His father was after all a renowned archer, as was his uncle Jiang Cheng. But come to think of it, Wei Wuxian too used to be a reputed archer in his youth, so perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that his son had inherited his skill.

“Has your father taught you?” Jin Ling asked.

“No,” Wen Yuan said. Then, to Jin Ling’s shock, his husband actually elaborated on his answer, on his own. “It was my cousin Wen Ning who taught me archery, and most of what I know about hand-to-hand combat as well. He’s the one who really took care of me after…”

Realising he’d said more than intended, Wen Yuan trailed off with a frown.

“After what?” Jin Ling asked.

Wen Yuan looked away, his frown deepening.

“It’s not important. Do you want to test me for this, too?”

Although disappointed that his husband had stopped talking just as the conversation was becoming interesting, Jin Ling considered their options. On one hand, he definitely needed to assess Wen Yuan’s level. His mother had given him the impression that his husband was a complete beginner and he’d planned some lessons accordingly, but Jiang Yanli seemed to have underestimated her son-in-law. 

On the other hand, trying to test someone who had trained with a fierce corpse was a little scary. It was possible that Wen Yuan wouldn’t know how to control his strength, nor how to avoid seriously harming a living opponent. 

Ultimately though, Jin Ling had to test him, and he had to do it without showing any fear. He was the teacher in this situation, and what could he hope to teach if his student knew he was scared?

“Let’s get up,” Jin Ling ordered. “You’re going to try to strike me.”

“What if I hurt you?” Wen Yuan asked, unfolding his legs and getting up while his husband did the same. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Have you hurt people before?”

“Yes, once or twice,” Wen Yuan calmly said. “Sometimes, people would try to enter the Burial Mounds in Yiling. Uncle Wen usually took care of them alone, but in recent years I’ve helped him when necessary.”

Jin Ling shivered. “Have you… killed anyone?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Wen Yuan hurriedly shook his head, looking horrified.

“Oh, good then,” Jin Ling awkwardly said, more relieved than he could admit. “If you couldn’t kill some low level robbers, then I don’t think you’ll really be able to hurt me.” He took a fighting stance, bracing himself. “Go on, show me what you can do. Hit me as hard as you can.”

Visibly reluctant, Wen Yuan got in position to strike. Before he’d even moved, Jin Ling noted that his posture wasn’t very good, his legs weren’t as solid on the ground as they should have been. It would have been easy to knock him over. He kept that thought to himself, and waited for his husband to hit. 

When he finally did so, Wen Yuan’s attack turned out so weak that Jin Ling easily took the blow without flinching. It would have hurt a common person, sure, but that was all the good that could be said about it. It had lacked power, proving that Wen Yuan had never learned to use his energy to strengthen his blows, something any child would learn in a sect. It also lacked speed. A common person with some knowledge of martial arts could have avoided it. A cultivator, even a low level one, definitely would have dodged, and found Wen Yuan open for a counter-attack. 

Overall, Wen Yuan had attacked the way a fierce corpse would, but he lacked the raw power of one.

“Are you alright?” Wen Yuan asked. “Did I hurt you?”

“Was that the best you can do, or did you hold back because you were worried about hurting me?”

Wen Yuan looked embarrassed by the question, which was already an answer in itself.

“I held back a little. If something happens to you because of me… I don’t want to risk the wrath of the Jin sect.”

That was a fair concern to have, so Jin Ling couldn’t scold him. At the same time, it was insulting that Wen Yuan thought him weak.

“Don’t worry about hurting me, you’re not capable of it,” Jin Ling assured him. “If you’ve hurt anyone before, it was just luck on your part. We’re going to have to start over from scratch, you’re really bad at this. Your family and your sect have failed you, if this is all they’ve bothered teaching you.”

It might not have been the nicest thing to say, Jin Ling realised after he’d already said it. But he was starting to get angry on Wen Yuan’s behalf. Bad training could be worse than no training at all. It was going to be so hard to undo all the bad habits he’d probably picked up over the years, something Jin Guangyao had told his nephew he’d also struggled with after using fake cultivation manuals when he was young. Right then, Wen Yuan was offended at the insult against his family, but Jin Ling didn’t doubt that in a few months, Wen Yuan would be furious that they had failed to properly guide him.

For now, Wen Yuan took a deep breath. There was a spot of red on his cheeks, this time likely from anger rather than embarrassment, but aside from that he still looked perfectly calm. It made Jin Ling feel like he wasn’t even worth getting angry at, which in turn made him angry.

“What is next in the lesson?” Wen Yuan quietly said, like a dutiful student talking to his teacher. “More testing?”

“No, I know everything I need to know,” Jin Ling scoffed. “You’re much better than I expected, but also much worse. I have to change my plans for you, nothing I prepared will work for someone like you. You can go if you like, or stay here and hide in your room until dinner. I have to go to the library to figure out how to deal with you.”

His face still red, Wen Yuan bowed deeply and, Jin Ling thought, with a touch of disdainful irony.

“Thank you for your patience with this unworthy student,” Wen Yuan said, and definitely that had to be ironic. “I am grateful for my husband’s help.”

Jin Ling scoffed, refusing to answer that veiled insult. His patience indeed! Next, Wen Yuan would thank him for his gentleness. Maybe it was better when Wen Yuan didn’t speak to him at all, if all he could do was mock him when he spoke.

But Jin Ling didn’t have time to deal with that. Without another word, another look at his husband, he left the house and strode toward the sect’s library, hoping something in there could help him deal with a student who was at once too good and too awful to be taught the usual way.

[goatgoatgoat7778]

I really don’t know why I have such an infatuation with this character lol. I haven’t felt confident in my art or writing in a while but I tried I guess. This did end up twice as long as the rough draft and I also have a second pic sketched out (the Railgunner needs love too, after all) so no one can say I didn’t try!!! Jus ignore how sketchy the pic is X’D

On another note, I have a test coming up with a LOT of vocab so maybe that’ll get me to write more. If you have any ideas/prompts for a story, you can send them to me; it might help spur some inspiration since I don’t really have any ideas atm.

Contains: Women-centric hunger kink, animals killed for food (not graphic though), one character briefly implies that guns are cool (If you want to skip these last two, stop reading after they get to Rallypoint Delta)

The first hour after she dropped from UES Safe Travels were difficult for the Huntress. She woke up late and missed the shuttle she was supposed to travel on, so she took an individual drop pod. Her descent into the atmosphere was turbulent, and her pod landed upside-down.Even worse, she landed far from her squad, alone on a dark foggy mountain side surrounded by monsters. Alone, at least until she ran into the Railgunner a few hours later, who was more than happy to team up with her. Things had been going well as they traveled but now, 72 hours later, the Huntress was starting to run on fumes. She raised her bow, arms wavering, aiming at a wisp about to fire at the Railgunner. Before she could release her bow, the Railgunner gracefully whipped around and shot it square in the middle, killing it instantly.

“You alright?” the Railgunner questioned as she brushed off the dust on her pants. “You’ve been a bit slow lately.”

The Huntress sighed, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get to the next teleporter.” Suddenly her stomach shook hungrily, and she brought a hand to it. She hoped the Railgunner couldn’t hear it growl. Back in her earlier years as a huntress, it was well known by her confreres that her stomach was so noisy and active it could easily give her position away- the fact that she was still one of the best in her profession regardless was seen as a testament to her skill. She sucked in her gut, as she often did when out on a hunt, to try and dampen the noise.

Part of her wanted to ask the Railgunner if she had any food to spare. Due to her lack of preparation before dropping onto the alien planet, she had run out of her rations on day one. The Railgunner had seemingly come prepared, so the Huntress felt it would be inappropriate to ask that her incompetence be covered. Surely she would find food eventually. She just had to wait it out. 

Two different pathways in the aqueduct appeared before them, both sprawled with chests carrying items necessary for their survival. “Split up?” the Railgunner asked rhetorically. 

The Huntress nodded and they parted ways. Her stomach began to churn and rumble once again and it seemed to echo across the rocky chasms of the dried aqueduct. At least she no longer had to actively hide it from her partner, and could focus on fighting and looting. With each chest she opened her stomach twisted in disappointment. A crowbar, backup magazine, and a medkit. Useful, but inedible. The energy drink she found seemed promising at the time, but it only caused her stomach to roil and gurgle even more intensely than before, irritated that it was filled but somehow still hungry. “What do you want from me?” she whined, resting a hand on her sunken-in tummy. 

 There was little time for rest though, because in the distance she saw the Railgunner waving her down having found the teleporter. She pushed down on her stomach.“You better stay quiet, or else!” she threatened. Her stomach gave a soft grumble of what she hoped was compliance. 

Once she caught up to the Railgunner they activated the teleporter, summoning the Beetle Queen. Together, they took her and her beetle guards out quick and easy but the Huntress was enervated from hunger and when the teleporter was fully charged, she practically collapsed. 

“Are you okay?” the Railgunner asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice.

“Just need a break,” the Huntress replied casually. A long drawn-out groan evinced the cause of her fatigue. 

Grrrrooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwlllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

The Huntress’s face flushed beneath her helmet as the Railgunner cocked her head. “Was that your stomach?”

“Um, maybe?” Her stomach gave another belligerent grumble through her thin skinsuit, ensuring she could no longer deny its needs any more.

“Yeesh, I swear I saw your belly moving that time. When was the last time you ate?!”

The Huntress awkwardly fiddled with her fingers. “I, uh, ran out of food a couple days ago. Overslept, not enough time to pack.”

“Well why didn’t you-?! Nevermind. Here.” The Railgunner tossed her a protein bar. “Nothing special, but it should tide you over for a while.”

“Thanks,” the Huntress said as she devoured it greedily. Her stomach gave a small grumble with dissatisfaction, barely filled. She gave her ungrateful tummy a pat before they moved on through the teleporter. 

The teleporter took them to the abandoned camp Rallypoint Delta. After the two trudged through the snow for a while, they took a break for the night inside one of the forlorn cargo containers and huddled together. They were nowhere near freezing, but the close contact made them both more comfortable, though neither would outwardly admit it. 

“If I’d known we’d be taken to a frozen wasteland, I would have stayed back in the other place.” The Huntress shuddered, pushing herself closer to the Railgunner. 

“Mmhmm,” the Railgunner replied sleepily. 

Through the sound of icy wind blowing outside, the Huntress heard a noise. She readied her glaive just in case it was a new monster, but put it down when she heard the sound again.

Grooooooouuuuuuuuwwwwrrrrrrr

Hungry as she was, she knew it hadn’t been her this time. Gently she placed her hand against the Railgunner’s belly, hoping not to disturb her from her rest. She felt her stomach churning and grumbling beneath her rib cage. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen the Railgunner eat anything since they were at the aqueduct. Perhaps that protein bar had been the last of her rations. She pressed down in the crook of the Railgunner’s rib cage, inadvertently pushing a few grumbles out past her fingers. It was clear how painfully empty she was. 

The Railgunner, who’d been awake the whole time, hitched her breath. It was hard to keep up her cool, enigmatic facade with a growling stomach. More difficult still would be to admit that she liked the feeling of a hand assuaging her hunger pangs. Stupid pride. She crossed her arms.

The Huntress could tell she was abashed and tried to reassure her. “Hey, it’s alright. If anyone makes stomach noises cool, it’s you!”

“Well with a gun this big, there’s no way I can’t be cool.” she joked. “But… thanks.” The warm moment was short lived as a massive hunger pang rippled through her middle. She winced. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep like this. Maybe we should just keep exploring. I think we can handle it.”

“I know we can handle it,” the Huntress replied, pulling her up.

The two crept quietly through the dark and found that the camp was mostly devoid of useful items. They hoped it had been picked over by the survivors who they got split up from during the drop; maybe they were close by, and maybe they had food! But for now they were stuck with empty bellies and a long road ahead. 

“Shh! Look!” the Huntress whispered under her breath, pulling the Railgunner behind a rock. Peeking over the corner, the Railgunner could see a herd of unsuspecting bison. “How does some steak sound?”

The Railgunner’s mouth watered and she felt a large growl building up in her core. She pressed her arms into her gut and bent over to try and stifle it, but it was too little too late.

Grrroroooooooaaaaaarrrorooooooorrrrrrrrwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrgggggggrgllllllllllllllllllllleeee

Suddenly the bisons’ heads shot up and they looked directly at the rock they were hiding behind. They began to charge. Quick as lightning, the Huntress threw her glaives. The bison fell one by one as the glaives bounced between them. She wiped her brow. “Thank god for the stuff I found in the aqueduct. We could’ve been goners!”

“Now lies the issue of cooking it…” the Railgunner replied. She held up a container of gasoline. “I have this, though.”

“I mean… is that even safe?”

Both womens’ stomachs gave deep aching growls.

The Huntress shook her head. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers I guess.”

[legodcsupervillansbiggestfan]

throwback to that time I made different stages of players for each TF2 class (all direct quotes from what I wrote):

Spy:

Sphee: the newest of the new. A literal baby who has no idea how to play. Embodiment of an f2p and honestly very adorable to see in the wild. Adorableness scale: infinity/10

Spo: more experience than a Sphee, still rather new though an still pretty inexperienced. Adorableness scale: 9/10

Spu: a decent Spy that needs more training. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Spi: good Spy but lacks in skill. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Spa: very good at Spy though needs to get more convincing when disguised. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Spy: THE Spy, an absolutely great player, bested by only one other. Adorableness scale: 2/10

S: The ultimate lifeform, unbeatable. Gets ubered, might have pocket Medic. Adorableness scale: 1/10

Spycrab: hon hon hon funny french crab!!!! Adorableness scale: 100/10

Sniper:

Shiper: Totally new at Sniper, most likely only has the confidence to go for fully charged body shots. Adorableness scale: 8/10

Spipper: A tad bit more experience, but still not too good. Still most likely mainly body shots. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Snip: Getting more confident, probably using a different rifle now. Misses a lot though. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Skyler: Wowie, this guy's good! 99% chance this one uses bazarr bargain. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Sniper: The Sniper. Awesome at headshotting. Beware of them though. Adorableness scale: 3/10

Spisser: jarate. EVERYWHERE. TOO good. Adorableness scale: 1/10

Huntsman: STOP THE ARROWS! GO PLAY MEDIEVAL MODE!! Adorableness scale: 0/10

Medic:

Meem: New to Medic. Either tries to constantly recreate the Über scene in Meet the Medic or pockets no one. Adorableness scale: 11/10

Meddy-Man: has now discovered the art of pocket Medic. Soldiers and Heavies will abuse this new player's innocence. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Meedick: despises teammates. Innocence ruined. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Med: doesn't hate team as much. Nicer, more willing to heal. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Madic: HATES Scouts. Also might have become a woman by now. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Medic: Heals everyone equally. Pretty nice. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Pocketee: Pocket Medic. Turned to dark side. Adorableness scale: 1/10

Battle Medic: DEAR GOD STOP I BEG KF YOU!! Adorableness scale: -2/10

Engineer:

Egg: Sets up sentry nests in strange places. Doesn't build teleporters. Uses mainly the pistol. Adorableness scale: 14/10

Egoneer: Too confident, not much skill. Might get a Pity-Pybro. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Fearfulneer: started using teleporters. Spies will target these guys because while they're easy to kill, they still provide a small challenge. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Smartgineer: getting smarter. Better sentry nests and better at detecting Spies. Adorableness scale: 8/10

Enginear: Outside your spawn. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Engineer: Pro Engie. HATES Spies, Demomen, and direct hit Soldiers. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Engineer Gaming: Help he's IN my spawn. Adorableness scale: 3/10

Battle Engineer: Gunslinger, frontier justice, and perhaps wrangler? Satan fears him. Adorableness scale: 1/10

Heavy:

Heevee: Stop spraying bullets at EVERYTHING! Okay, but they are sweet. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Hoovy- Has discovered the art of friendly, will be in this stage for a while. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Hefty: uh oh he's found out about pocket Medics. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Weight: oh no he's sedist and homophobic now. Some Heavies may skip this stage, thankfully. Adorableness scale: -100/10

Hevky: Aw he's so nice :) yay sandvich!! Adorableness scale: 9/10

Havvy: My god how he's improved... Adorableness scale: 7/10

Fat Scout: JUST USE YOUR MINIGUN!! STOP SHOTGUNNING ME!!! Adorableness scale: 0/10

Demoman:

Dimmyman: Why would you give an f2p ONLY bomb projectiles?!! Adorableness scale: 8/10

Damemale: Sticky spam grenades for emergencies. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Dunkoman: uh oh, a parachute. He dunks on people from the skies. Adorableness scale: 7.5/10

Damnoman: God he's good. Help. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Demomemo: Man, I can't get past a single choke point without dying. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Demoman: That's it, I'm going Pyro. Prepare the be airblasted. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Alphaman: I'm gonna go play Portal. He's too good. Adorableness scale: 2/10

Demoknight: HOW AAAAAAAHHHHH!! Oh wait, I'll just go Heavy or Pyro or Scout or Soldier. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Pyro:

Photo: Picked by f20 because promise of fire is quite appealing. My first main. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Pierow: this guy rarely uses airblast. Very much w+M1 but that's fine because that's literally how they use their fire and move. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Pyruse: Uses airblast a lot! Spychecks CONSTANTLY. Or: Phlog user. Two options. Adorableness scale: 8/10 or 3/10

Piroo: fire everywhere. Has discovered the degreaser, panic attack, and powerjack combo. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Pyrule: real life pyromaniac by now. Adorableness scale: 2/10

Pyro: uses both airblast and fire. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Pyrbro: loves helping Engineers. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Pyro Shark: not even the water is safe anymore. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Soldier:

Slurdur: desperately trying to rocket jump. Fires rockets at anything that moves. Adorableness scale: infinity/10

Soulger: still hasn't learned NOT to fire rockets at good Pyros. Adorableness scale: 11/10

Sillyder: Rocket jumps are pretty good. Mainly relies on splash damage. Has started sparing friendlies. Adorableness scale: 10/10

Sulldier: Sanity hanging on by a thread as the pressure of NOT relying on splash damage and hitting airshots is a lot. Adorableness scale: 8/10

Soilder: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? NO!! It's a rocket jumping Soldier! Adorableness scale: 6/10

Soldier: Can You Airblast?!!?? Very good at Soldier. Has become Patriot. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Slurpdor: help. Adorableness scale: 2/10

Trolldier: Market gardens but cries when fails. Adorableness scale: 7/10

Scout:

Scot: Annoys Snipers, double jumps everywhere. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Scoot: Oh god they've got the Atomizer. "Now we're all sons of bitches," - Soldier TF2. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Scut: Has learned NOT to pick fights with those stronger than them. Still slips up every once in a while though. Adorableness scale: 4/10

Soot: if this was real life, my skull would be caved in from how many times I've gotten beaten to death with these guy's bags. Adorableness scale: 3/10

Sot: no comment. Adorableness scale: negative infinity/10

Scout: okay, these guys are all right, do some funny things. Adorableness scale: 6/10

Scooter: he's in my WALLS. Adorableness scale: 5/10

Scum: makes me wanna yell, please go away I have no money. Adorableness scale: Stop/10

That's all, let me know if any thoguhts! P.S. I wrote all this originally when I first got into tf2 in 2022 lol so my humours changed since then

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 1

imagine you are celebrating your big promotion at the pigeon crushing factory (in this world you make a living crushing pigeons into a cube, this isnt important) and decide to treat yourself to a delicious hibachi feast at the local grill. as you sit down, your chef introduces himself to you; to your surprise, the chef is reknown mangaka hirohiko araki!

"wow, amazing!" you think to yourself, "i can't wait to see what delicious treats he has waiting for me, especially after that scrumptious part 4 i had last time". araki smiles knowingly, seeing the recognition of his talent in the gleam of your wide eyes. with a dramatic flourish, begins his work. a wild and frenzied solo performance begins. ingredients are chopped and flung with dazzling accuracy, speed, and showmanship until you are presented with the fruits of his labor: a new dish, just for you.

there's one problem. he forgot to turn on the grill. or maybe he never meant to. his confidence leaves you unsure of what to do when he starts flinging raw onions into your mouth and encouraging you to chew. like the tragic chef from the clickhole video, he has served you a plate of raw chicken and vegetables and is now looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to dig in.

its not all bad. you can eat some of the veggies as long as they don't touch the chicken, but the majority of it is inedible. you didnt even get to see him do the cool onion thing. you push the plate back unfinished and hoping for an explanation for what the fuck just happened but when you look up, you realize araki has already left. his big chef hat and coat are lying on the floor where he shed them on his new journey to start a raw foods store having discovered his passion for organic veggies. next time you crush so many pigeons you get another promotion, you try the new store and its delicious. can't fault him, i guess!

this is the experience of watching jojo part 5.

---

and LOOK. i'm not lacking in perspective here. its presumptuous to say "i can do better" or "i could fix this" when it comes to anyone's work, let alone the work of someone singular like hirohiko araki. no one's brain operates the way his does, as evidenced by the paltry and weak attempts by the spin-off artists who struggle to recapture that same magic; they all lack whatever je ne se quoi araki has tapped into that's off limits to every other human on planet earth.

straight up, my approach to storytelling is too conventional to be a good replacement for araki's (who seems to be just completely unhinged both on and off the page) so my suggestions to "fix" part 5 are going to be broad strokes and not finely tuned fanfictions. there are just...things i would have like to see happen. and the list is long enough that i think it necessitates that this essay be done in parts. but everything you need to fix it is right there within the existing text. much like the bad meal, the manga (presumably, i only watched the anime. no! stop booing me!) has all the ingredients, the passion, and the skills to create a satisfying end result, its genuinely just missing the ability to bring it all together in a satisfying way. and it is so, so frustrating to watch unfold from the comfort of your couch.

however, for people not in the jojo know-know (who are just reading this bc it started with a pigeon crushing metaphor and you wanted to see where it was going), i do have to explain the historical lens we have to consider with part 5: it wound up being the first evolutionary step of araki's change in art style and story-telling conventions. the fashion aesthetics are wilder, the stakes are bigger, and the stands (WAY) more esoteric. with hindsight, we can look back and understand that it turned out to be weird because he was experimenting in real time (as artists who work serially have to due to the nature of the job) with what he was interested in and what he wanted to explore. so there's nothing WRONG with part 5 in the cosmic sense. and it wasn't without entertainment. and most of the characters were great!

it just that this whole thing causes me enough mental anguish to think about day in and day out to the point of writing what will turn out to be an embarrassing amount of words about my objectively least favorite part of a body of work i've come to adore. its fine. whatever.

come with me...join me whether you know jojo or not, as i try to stay sane tonight and many other nights. watch with concern and glee i rant incoherently about things that will make me seem like an absolute raving lunatic to anyone who is only barely familiar with the franchise and loosely understands it, as i only did, as a series about people who do pokemon but with ghosts who punch people.

first up, i need to do some comic work, and then we can talk about AHHH

OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF HERE! GET THAT BEAST AWAY

AHHH

[a-crumb-of-whump]

A New Beginning #21: Positive Affirmations

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Content: Self esteem issues, [mentioned] past child whump, recovery, pet whumpee, vampire whumpee, human caretaker, [past] parental whumpers.

I have been in such a slump recently, I'm so sorry for the lack of content </3 either the next chapter or the chapter after is when shit gets real.

-

“What’cha doin’?” Adam asked one morning as he sat down on the couch with his second cup of coffee. Carlos immediately glanced up from his new diary, a smile coming to his face when he realised that it was a genuine question rather than one asked out of politeness. 

“I’m practicing positive affirmations with myself,” he told him. “Trying to write down three things I like about myself, or three things I think I’m good at, or… really, just three positive things. It’s… uh, harder than the people in the video I watched made it seem. I only have one thing so far.” 

It was almost sad that he’d only been able to think of one thing in the hour that he’d been sitting here. Despite his humans’ constant flow of compliments and reassurances, his opinion of himself was still rather low, and it felt like there was something physically stopping him from seeing himself in any other light. Himself, perhaps?

Adam hummed, still looking half-asleep despite his attempts to wake himself up.  “Can I see what you got so far?” 

Obediently, Carlos rotated his book and pushed it towards the human, allowing him to see what he’d written. A single dot point, written in messy cursive that even Carlos found hard to read at times. He hoped that, with time, it would look better.

I’m good at being good. 

“You are,” Adam reassured him. “You’re always good to us. What about your art, as well? You’re getting pretty damn good at that.” 

The vampire considered that for a moment, thinking back to the last few things he’d scribbled down as of late. He’d certainly been getting better, but in comparison to the few pieces of art Rebel had been kind enough to show him, his was an embarrassment. 

He sighed, setting his hands down in his lap as he slouched a little. “But what if I think I’m good at something, and it turns out that I’m really not?” he asked quietly. “I was gonna put down that I’m okay at cooking, or that I’m getting better at remembering social cues, but I don’t wanna do that if I’m really not. I’m scared that if someone sees that I think of myself like that, they’ll get upset with me for… lying? or thinking too highly of myself?”

“Buddy, if you judge your skills by how the people around you perceive them, then you’ll never get anything down. The exercise is to write down things you like about yourself, right?” Carlos nodded, eyes directed at the table rather than at Adam. “Then, if you like that you can cook or do art or pick up on social cues, it counts. Nobody has any right to tell you you can’t like a certain aspect of yourself.” 

Huh. He’d never seen it that way. For so many years, any sign of self confidence was promptly beaten out of him, to the point where his entire life revolved around how the people around him viewed him rather than what he thought of himself. It was hard to imagine a world where he could be content with who he was without at least a little concern for the opinions of others.

He reached forward to pull the book back towards him again, idly tapping his pen against the open page a few times as he struggled to work up the courage to write down the things he wanted to be there. For a moment he looked up at Adam for some reassurance, and the man silently encouraged him with a warm smile and a nod. 

“I’m… I’m good at cooking,” he murmured to himself as he wrote it down. “I’m good at my art, and I’m getting better at reading social cues. There… those are my three things.” 

“Congratulations, man. Are you happy with it? Do you agree with what you’ve written?” 

There was a small hesitation before Carlos finally nodded. “Yes, I think so. At least, I know that one day I’ll mean it, right? If I say it enough times?” 

It made his heart warm to see Adam nod enthusiastically along with what he was saying. “For sure. You’ll get there eventually. Like most things, it just takes practice. Sort of a… ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ kinda concept. That’s how I did it, anyway.” 

“You had to do this, too?” 

The man shrugged. “Yeah. Both Ryker and I had to, in our own ways. I grew up being beaten horrendously for liking who I was. My mom and dad saw me as a burden and they hated when I didn’t see myself in the same way. You already know how Ryker was treated. That obviously had major effects on his self esteem, too, which… paired with his ADHD, put it at rock bottom for ages."

He took a sip from his cup of coffee, now staring down at his knees with them brought to his chest and his back against the arm of the couch. “We worked hard to build ourselves back up again, ‘n’ I’m so sorry that you’ve gotta go through that same journey. It fucking sucks.” 

“The world isn’t so great,” Carlos whispered after some time spent in silence. His chest felt heavy now, sorrow and guilt having made itself more comfortable there with each word that left Adam’s lips. Humans lived such short lives. Why did so many of them have to spend it recovering from things they had no control over? It didn’t seem fair. “Sometimes I wish that I could create another one, just for Ryker. One where he could have all the friends and family he wanted but never get hurt. He’d have those guardian angels that I read about in a book once watching over him and people to keep him company when he felt alone.” 

He adjusted his weight a little before finally glancing up at his human again. “You deserve to know that I would do the same for you, if I could. You protected Ryker throughout the years that I could not and gave me a real home to feel safe in. I owe you more than I can give.” 

It surprised him to see a dampness to Adam’s eyes as he smiled over at him. Unlike the ones of reassurance or comfort that he usually gave, this one seemed to be caused by what he’d said. Something that indicated he was happy with his words. That made Carlos happy, too. 

“You’re good at making the people around you happy,” he said after another sip of his drink. “Write that down on my behalf.”

Carlos instantly lit up, already pulling his book close again. “Yes, sir.” 

-

@choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello mbti-notes, 28F ENFP here. I have written to you a few times, one of them about my relationship with my 27M INTJ boyfriend and the other about my childhood trauma regarding my ENTJ mother and how it was keeping me from pursuing my art career.

I have been on the road of Fi development and lately I have started to develop Te. Some major life events happened since the last time I wrote to you; I had gotten diagnosed with ADHD after suspecting having it for years; then, my younger cousins got diagnosed with level one autism (Formerly known as Aspergers), and after my mother conversed with their mothers, we reached the conclusion I and other members of the family are also autistic and ADHD, since I displayed symptoms of both as a child.

With this new knowledge, I have been making all the changes necessary to accommodate myself and do the best I can and pull my own weight. I am almost finishing University, and my boyfriend (he’s pretty much my husband at this point) started his doctorate and is now an art teacher at our local arts University. (those issues I had written to you prior were resolved and we have been very happy together and supportive of each other since).

I have been slowly tearing down my perfectionistic tendencies; I am no longer unhappy about my work or extremely self-critic to the point I put myself down. I have gained confidence and trust in myself and handling problems, crafting solutions, planning (even if short-term) and improvising. I have been re-enganging my Ne in a healthy manner, focusing on my projects and progress instead of being scattered and wanting to do everything and anything.

Despite that, and all the growth I have done already, I feel that I have an unsurnamable mountain of obstacles to pass through. Over the last year, I have realized just how little my ISTP, probably autistic and bipolar father and ENTJ, probably ADHD mother completely failed to prepare me for life. I was emotionally neglected, made a scapegoat for their problems, made to pick up after myself because of my autism and ADHD being seen as failures of character instead of disabilities.

They saw I was intelligent, and rationalized it as “not needing help”; then, when my problems with executive disfunction and organization started flaring up due to their neglect, they yelled and blamed it on me, worsening the situation. I grew up with no understanding of boundaries; I wasn’t allowed to advocate for myself and everytime I tried I was yelled at; I wasn’t allowed to discover myself and my identity properly so I clinged to my special interests like a moth to a flame; I was shamed for my way of functioning and that impeded me of developing proper knowledge of myself and what I needed.

I now notice my social differences, my trouble dealing with and regulating emotions (and why I put off dealing with them), and my lack of social skills and differentiating levels of relationships. I feel angry that the time I needed to be using to deal with these issues, during adolescence and early adulthood, was taken away by autistic burnout, depression, and dealing with a disfunctional family who had no idea how to care for me and never tried to, and spent pursuing bad relationships, hyperfixations and changing interests, all the while not being able to put effort into what I really wanted because of the shame and judgement they placed on me.

I have been trying my best to pick up the slack, but it’s hard. I can see now how I was unjustly punished for my differences my whole life. I finally understand now why people get upset with me with things like being unable to regulate tone or asking clarifying questions (when I’m just trying to understand them).

I have accepted myself; I know my difficultities now and I know what I have to do to regulate myself, but I still can’t stop feeling angry at this injustice. I do my best to be proactive and helpful in the communities I join and make friends, but people will turn on me the moment I do something impulsive like vent to chat about my parents doing something rude to me that day (which happens regularly). The bridges I put effort into building get destroyed in minutes, and I feel like all my progress is undone.

Family is a tricky issue for people, I get it. There are different times and places to say things, I get it. But It still happens. I know the way to fix it would be to leave, but due to the housing crisis, inflation and my expenses of trying to finish my degree, I can’t move out of this place and still currently live with them. Rent is unnafordable, my boyfriend is going through his degree and busy, and I’m already at capacity fully comitting myself to art and doing the best job I can with chores and house stuff.

I know my parents have issues and I try my best do understand and be empathethic, but they aren't doing anything to get better or to resolve them. My dad is on disability and unemployment aid right now, he does minimal chores and watches TV and sleeps all day. My mother is a pre-school teacher and constantly overworks herself because that's how she learned to get through life.

A few months ago, my mom almost ended her marriage because in her words, she developed a "platonic crush" for another man. It was a huge fight, and one they tried to drag me into. When they're not having outright fights, they act lovey-dovey; but they soon have another nasty fight, and the cycle goes on.

My dad is extremely misoginistic, judgemental, and cynical. Everytime he tries to engage me in conversation, I act uniteresting so he leaves me alone. I am uncapable of building a relationship with them after all they did to me.

I just can’t stop feeling I got dealt a sh*tty hand in life and there is nothing I can do about it. I realize this is Si grip talking, but this enviroment completely kills all my optimist, motivation and will to move foward in life, and I’ve been doing this dance for way too long and just want it to end once and for all so I can keep progressing. I know I’ve already come a long way, but I can’t stop feeling it still isn’t enough, and I’m afraid that feeling won’t ever go away. So I turn to you for guidance on what to do.

Currently I am sitting on a few unfinished projects (a comic and animation) that will be my portfolio só I can start working while I finish my degree. My parents are paying for the remainder of it (honestly, the least they could do after the horrible lifetime they gave me) but I plan to start paying for it myself as soon as I get some work. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I'm doing everything to try and make things better, but I feel like they never will, and I don't know how to deal with that.

----------------------

Whenever people tell me about how they're making progress, even trying to develop lower functions, but also suffering from inferior grip, the alarm bells go off in my head, because it usually indicates some form of troublesome denial. In terms of type development, inferior grip is one of the most serious signs that something is not right psychologically.

I never want to poopoo on people's efforts to improve. I definitely believe that you've been putting forth your best efforts. However, if the outcome is inferior grip, it means there's a problem with your approach or method.

The way that you're stuck in blaming your parents for your misfortunes is not just a sign of Si grip, but also Te loop. If you're suffering from Te loop, it means Fi development hasn't progressed to the point where you are ready for Te development. Being a lower function, trying to develop Te when you're not ready is only going to exacerbate Te loop and eventually lead you into Si grip.

I won't deny that the people around you every day have a big influence over you. As a Feeler, their moods can easily affect yours. When that happens, the best thing to do is to draw up boundaries, to try to shield yourself from those negative influences as much as possible. However, what you've done is the opposite.

You've been drawn into the negative influence through blaming them, fighting back (mentally), judging them for their flaws, indulging pointless "what if" scenarios about your past, etc. In short, you have been swallowed up by the negativity partly because you didn't do enough to protect yourself from it. This is related to Fi development because Fi should inform you about what is needed for self-protection.

Now, since you find yourself in a hopeless place and can't accept the feelings of helplessness, the recourse is Te loop. You wish to actively "correct" everything that you perceive is "wrong". However, this is a futile endeavor. Why? Because those things are not for you to correct. You have overstepped/violated boundaries by wanting to solve problems that aren't your responsibility. This only serves to entangle you in them.

Your mom and dad's flaws, your mom and dad's relationship, are none of your business, but you are all up in there. Even if they try to involve you, as an adult, you have the power to refuse. Because you care about them, it's hard for you to refuse, but refuse you must. That's what it means to draw healthy boundaries.

Yes, it's tragic to have been deprived as a child. One thing you realize more and more deeply as you get older (especially if you have children of your own) is that parents are human, their knowledge is limited, and people can only do the best they can based on what they know. Many, many people are ignorant about psychological issues because they have had no opportunity to learn about them. What's worse, sometimes what they have learned is misinformation or outdated information based on what was being taught when they were growing up.

I say this not to excuse the bad things that parents do, but to foster empathy for the fact that people can't do better when they don't know better. You are the same. You didn't think to change your behavior or didn't know how to do it in the right way until you learned about ADHD. You live, you learn.

Empathy for others starts with empathy for oneself. Instead of pitying yourself or being angry about your past, healthy Fi should prompt you to express empathy for your struggles today. There aren't enough signs that you possess this depth of empathy, which indicates Fi development has a long way to go yet. It's hard to feel empathy when you're in the thick of negativity, but that's the time when it's most important to practice it.

An important part of having empathy for yourself, aka self-compassion, is allowing yourself to move at a realistic pace in life, a pace that takes your challenges into fair consideration, rather than always trying to live up to unreasonable ideals. Feeling "not good enough" and being afraid of that feeling never going away is directly related to Fi development and lack of self-acceptance. You must accept the truth of yourself and the facts of your situation before you can move forward in a meaningful way.

Also, if you find yourself speaking inappropriately or not giving enough consideration to social context when your feelings get too big, it means you haven't done enough to set up a good social support system and create more appropriate opportunities to explore your personal issues. Expecting parents or colleagues to give you support that they are not capable of giving is basically wasting energy barking up the wrong tree. In other words, don't look for love in all the wrong places. This is related to Fi development in terms of doing what it takes to care well for your well-being.

You are well into adulthood. At some point, it has to be fully your responsibility to craft the life you want. By continuing to blame your parents for not living up to your ideals, you are the one keeping yourself tied to past unhappiness, rather than moving forward. It is a choice you make.

I always say that forgiveness isn't about other people. Forgiveness is something you do for yourself. It's not good for you to live in a state of resentment, anger, or hate. It's not good to keep revisiting and rehashing such emotions on an endless loop. Therefore, you have to learn to forgive the mistakes of the past so that you can have the emotional stability necessary to focus on improving your life today and into the future.

Forgiving your parents for being the imperfect human beings that they are is difficult but necessary, not for their sake, but for yours. You can set yourself free from the past at any time through learning how to be more accepting, empathetic, and forgiving, which is very much tied to Fi development. This would be a healthy way of lifting yourself out of Si grip and mending your mental health.

[semiferalstreetcoyote]

ok i wanted to do something for croma week rlly bad and since i'm not that confident in my art skills i wrote a fanfic :) its only about 2k words, i've never really done this before tho so i hope it turned out ok lol (ignore that it’s a day late)

“Did Lord Death really need to rent a venue this far away?”

“Maka, keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“I wouldn’t need to keep looking back and forth if you read off the directions like you were supposed to!”

Soul grumbled something about the ‘straightforward’ instructions under his breath in reply. When Maka glanced at him, his dirty sneakers that he had insisted on wearing were smudging the dashboard and he was very clearly watching a Minecraft parkour video. Despite the lack of space in the back, she was regretting giving him shotgun privileges. She could have made room somewhere. Overlooking the trunk was too generous a move.

In the rearview mirror she checked on her passengers. Kid sat in the middle seat – the ‘bitch seat’, as Patti refused to stop calling it. Liz and Patti sat on either side in matching white dresses. Their outfits had been painstakingly planned out by Kid weeks in advance. On each side of his chest he wore a perfectly positioned white boutonniere.

“Kid,” Maka asked into the mirror, “why is your dad going to all this trouble? Couldn’t we just do this on school grounds?”

“He mentioned something-or-other about wanting to do ‘something normal’ for the student body. I believe all of this is wildly unnecessary, but… you know Dad.”

“Ah.”

“Maka, that’s – that’s the turn. You’re missing it. Get the – no, the sign with the balloons on it. Maka!”

“I got it! Stop yelling in my damn ear, Soul!”

The venue that Lord Death had chosen was rectangular and beige, with large cardboard letters that spelled ‘PROM’ adorning the entrance. They weren’t lit up and so they loomed in the darkness above the students. Even though the little parking lot, too, was dim, it was clear that most of the spots were taken.

“Maka, your clock reads eight-o’-four,” chirped Kid from the back seat. “Prom started at eight o’ clock. Your clock is fast, right?”

Soul sighed. “Calm down, Kid. Ever heard of being fashionably late? It’s cool.”

“I don’t see what’s ‘cool’ about being late.”

“Yep, that checks out.”

“Frankly, I don’t need somebody who wears Air Jordans to a formal event lecturing me on what’s ‘cool’ and what isn’t.”

“Both of you please shut up.” Maka swerved into a free space at the end of the lot and the jolt, thankfully, quieted the bickering men.

Black Star and Tsubaki stood outside the entrance and greeted the group when they arrived, by leaping up and down and waving, respectively. Soul ran ahead and ended up in a headlock, his friend shaking him around like a dog with a toy. Maka chuckled under her breath. Black Star was Soul’s reason for showing up at the micro-event. Neither of them could miss such a cool, super-cool gathering of coolness.

As soon as Maka stepped inside, she was snow-blind. Had Lord Death decided on ‘the color white’ as the theme? White streamers, white paper lining the floor, and was that a cutout of a polar bear in the corner? It had to be. The disappointment that hit Maka did not seem to affect Soul and Black Star in the slightest. Both of them trotted off to explore. Tsubaki, now separate from her friend, crept up to Maka.

“Hi, Maka.”

“Hi, Tsubaki! How did getting Black Star up here go?”

“He tried to wear one of those dollar sign necklaces. He… has a sense of style!”

Maka grimaced. “He sure has one.”

“Crona is already here, by the way. I saw them in the window while we were waiting for you.”

Maka would have been content staying at home studying the whole night. Crona was her reason to go. Prom was nothing more than an excuse to see the people you adore, after all, and the more time she spent with them, the more her affection grew.

“Really? Where are they?”

“Over there.”

Tsubaki pointed to what appeared to be a snack bar. Crona stood crooked beside a wide punch bowl, observing the dancers on the floor. Tsubaki giggled and threw Maka back to the present. She had been staring.

“Tsubaki, look at them. Look at their bowtie. They’re so cute, I’m… my hands are so sweaty. Ew.” She laughed to herself.

“They really do look nice. You go talk to them. I’m going to say hello to Liz and Patti.”

“Got it. Wish me luck.���

“Good luck! You’ll do just fine.”

Crona spotted Maka after she was already speeding toward them. They jolted and offered an awkward wave hello.

“Crona! Hi! Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

“Oh! Th– that’s fine!”

Maka threw her arms around them in a bear hug. She wasn’t sure if the lavender smell on them was the work of false fragrance or a real plant in their pocket, but she loved it all the same. Their jacket itself was soft. Very soft. She buried her forehead into their shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too. I, uh… missed you.”

“God, you see her all the time. You saw her two days ago, dumbass.”

Maka forced a smile. “Hi, Ragnarok.”

“Ignore him,” Crona whispered. “Do you like the decorations? It was mostly Marie and me setting them up.”

“They’re nice. I’m, uh… not sure I understand the theme.”

Crona lit up and snatched a solo cup from the table beside them. They filled it with the punch and handed it to Maka.

“Try it. It’ll make sense, I promise.”

“...Oh, it’s coca-cola.”

Crona pointed to the cutout of the polar bear. Up close, Maka could see that someone had draped a scarf around its shoulders.

“Oh my God, is the prom coca-cola bear themed?”

They nodded vigorously. “Marie came up with it after Lord Death bought nothing but white decorations.”

“That’s adorable! I… don’t think anybody’s going to get it, though.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m over here, so I can explain it to anyone who doesn’t know.”

Maka squinted. “Your plan is to be over here, pouring soda for everyone the whole time?”

“Um… yes?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather tag along with me instead?”

Maka saw Crona begin to blush. The abundance of black blood let off a gray color instead of the typical red. Crona looked back and forth; the confidence that they once held had evaporated into the stuffy room.

“Are you sure that I wouldn’t bother you, or anything?”

“Of course you wouldn’t bother me. Actually, I’d really like to spend time with you.”

Crona agreed, thankfully, because Maka’s face burnt and she was not entirely sure what she would say if they had any other doubts. Together they said hello to the chaperones – Marie, Sid, Stein, and Naigus, each of them commenting on the secret theme and Crona’s involvement – and bounced between Tsubaki’s group and the snack bar. Despite the attractions and the people to spend time with, Maka’s attention remained consistently fixed upon Crona.

They had been engaged in this routine for an hour until the dj’s cacophonous dance music was abruptly replaced by some 80s love ballad that Maka couldn’t remember the name of. From the snack bar, they watched groups break off into pairs or cluster at the back of the room.

“The music’s quieter now,” noted Crona.

“Yeah. It’s so that everyone who brought a date can, well… have their date. It’s the whole reason couples come here, anyway.”

“Oh.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her palms onto her dress. “Do you want to dance with me, Crona?”

Crona froze, their mouth open, a small pretzel still in their hand. “Are you- are you sure that you want to? With me? I - I’ve never really done this before and I don’t want to ruin–”

“I’m sure. I’ve kind of been hoping that I’d get to dance with you since I got here.”

Crona’s whole face bore smudges of gray, like charcoal. They scratched the back of their neck and, with great care, held out their hand for Maka. She took it.

“Awh, your hands are sweaty, too!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind, I promise.”

After a few failed attempts at a traditional dance, the pair decided that the best course of action would be to follow the precedent set by the other couples and rock back and forth holding each other. Maka could hear Crona’s heartbeat even over the music. Every once in a while they asked for some form of confirmation – was Maka comfortable, was she still okay with it, and so on – and each time, she reassured them.

“I’ve been having a really good time with you,” she whispered during the song’s closing solo.

“Yeah. This is really nice… thank you for dancing with me, Maka.”

“Mhm! Like I said, I really wanted to.”

Crona just smiled and pulled Maka closer. What was once a loud growl of dozens of people talking throughout the room had died down to a distant humming. She could focus on them, their texture, their smell, everything. Nobody else existed.

The song changed from classic rock back to modern pop and the roar started up again. Maka looked around at the groups of friends reclaiming the dance floor, and among them, she spotted Black Star and Soul dancing – perhaps they thought that they were on fire and they were flailing in fear. That would explain quite a bit.

“These idiots,” she scoffed.

“Hey, Casanova,” Ragnarok sneered, “Why don’t you take your lady friend upstairs?”

“Oh, no, they said not to go up there.”

“Come on, I’m trying to do you a favor here!”

“Ragnarok, shut the fuck up.” Maka looked from the vile little ghoulie back to Crona. “What’s upstairs?”

“Oh, it’s just the roof. Marie said not to let anyone up there because someone could fall.”

She side-eyed Black Star, who was doing some sort of dance that involved clenching his hands into fists and wiggling his arms very very fast. “Did she name any names?”

Crona seemed to see, too. They winced. “I guess that rule was probably for him. It’s so loud in here… we can go up there, if you want. So we can hear each other better. I don’t think that would be against the rules.”

They snuck through the stairwell door after Crona revealed its location – obscured behind one of the bear cutouts. Outside, nothing could be heard of the party except for a muffled beat. Nothing could be felt except for a cool night breeze. Against the horizon, turbines whirred valiantly in the darkness. Both of them sat down side by side in the middle of the roof.

“This is much better,” sighed Maka.

“Mm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just happy. This past…well, everything has been really nice. Thanks for hanging out with me, Maka.”

“Of course. You don’t have to keep thanking me.” She grinned and nudged their shoulder.

“Sorry. Habit. I just don’t know how to say it. Being with you at the DWMA has been… I’ve been happy. Especially because of you. You’re amazing. I really… I really like you.”

“I really like you, too. You’re one of the bravest people I know.” She was smiling. Her face hurt from it. “Hey. Crona. Look at me, okay?”

“Hm?”

Maka leaned in. She waited, in case Crona wanted to pull away, and when they only leaned closer she held their jawline and kissed them. A second later it was over, and she was staring into their eyes again. Those eyes sparkled like lightning in the desert.

“Hi.” They said after a sizeable trail of stammering.

She giggled. “Hi.”

For a time – there was no way to be certain whether it was minutes or hours – Maka leaned against their shoulder and the two of them spoke in whispers while they looked at the stars. The kiss seemed to give Crona a second wind of courage and they had their free arm caressing Maka’s.

“The others and I are going to go to my place after this and watch a movie,” she said. “I’d really like it if you came.”

“Are you sure they wouldn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding? They all like you. Even Kid.”

“Mm.” They smiled. “I’ll come with you, then.”

A coyote cried out somewhere in the distance.

“All of this really has been great. Even the shitty music and the coke bear theme.”

“Your lips tasted like coke when you kissed me.”

Maka laughed. “Well, there’s worse things, I guess.”

It was almost midnight when Soul and Black Star lost their energy at the dance. They were some of the last to leave apart from the chaperones themselves. What this meant was a lot of barefoot waiting in the car for Maka, Crona, Kid, Liz, and Patty.

“Okay, we’ve gotten through… fourteen songs waiting,” sighed Liz. “Any requests for the fifteenth?”

“I don’t think I know any more songs,” said Crona.

“Really? That’s tragic. Liz, play something classic,” Kid ordered.

“Classic or classical? I can never tell with you.”

“Wait, hold on!” Maka gripped the steering wheel. “Here he comes!”

Soul walked across the parking lot, his tie undone and his shoelaces spilling over the pavement. He was a mess. He staggered to the shotgun door and opened it, only noticing too late how it was occupied.

“What? Crona? Huh. Would you mind moving over?”

“Sorry, Soul. You snooze, you lose.” Maka smiled. “You’ll just have to sit somewhere else.”

“Wh–? There’s no more seats. Where am I going to sit?”

“Well, there’s always the trunk.”

[j0kers-light]

Hello Chaos!

I have problems with communication, so I was wondering if you could do headcanons for the goons x reader who has problems communicating so she never really tell them whats wrong nor if something made her feel bad and she always gives them the reason when arguing so it is over

love you!

Joker's Loyal Three: Communication Issues

Hey hi my sweet anon! 🖤✨

I’m terribly sorry to hear about your problems, but have no fear!! The best boys are here to make it allll better! I love bragging about my boys and they silly antics. Without further ado, roll the scenarios! P.S. I LOVE YOU MORE! 😭😭

I did not get carried away writing this out 👀👩🏽‍💻

Frost

Ugh, Frost our mature King. He’s a literal Daddy so he mastered the art of patience to handle any problem you have.

Frost picks up on your poor communicational skills early on in the relationship, probably during the talking stage. 

The two of you rarely fight but if things ever get heated, he takes a step back and becomes the adult/bigger person in the situation. 

Because 10/10 you are red in the face, fighting back tears of frustration (from being misunderstood and not knowing how to express it correctly) to be of any use. 

Deep in my soul I know Frost will talk you through anything. Hear me out anon!! This is still SFW.

“Breathe and tell me what’s wrong Y/n.” 

He knows he did/said something wrong, you got wayy too quiet as the day progressed and he misses that bright smile of yours. 

Something is wrong and he’s gonna find out now. Frost would corner you and make you talk. There’s no point in trying to lie to him.

This method doesn’t help with your panic attack but something about this tall giant comforting you during your most vulnerable moment? 🥹

You break down in his arms. Frost is patient and catches every other word in between your wet sobs.

He grounds you by rubbing your back or playing with your hair. Anything to establish physical contact you so desperately need right now.

“I never meant to make you feel that way, Y/n. It won’t happen again.” 

And he’s not just all talk. Frost goes out of his way to ensure that you never feel lesser than while around him. 

He speaks up for you whenever you feel overwhelmed. We all know the popular meme, “She asked for no pickles.” 10000% Frost. 

Frost can tell when you’re feeling helpless and he swiftly asks for your opinion to reintroduce you back into the conversation. 

He listens. He learns. Frost encourages you to speak up and no you are not a bother for taking your time.

Frost wants to hear every thought floating in your head. It may seem stupid to you, but Frost clings to your every word because he knows.

Words are precious to you so when you do speak up, it means something.

Mac

Our pretty boy is a little tricky. Communicating and networking is in his blood and he was taught to snub people who lacked that natural ability.

When you stumble over words he (initially) rolled his eyes and mocked you. “Hurry up sweetheart.” or “Any day now…”

His lack of patience hurts to the point you learn to keep quiet and just nod whenever he addresses you.

It takes Mac a few weeks to notice how your confidence has diminished since dating him. You all but stopped talking to him.

Mac knows you’re not mute so when he finally asks, “Why is my Princess so quiet?” He’s shocked when you shrug off his concern saying, “I dunno it’s nothing.”

It’s definitely something. The sweet bubbly girl he fell in love with is missing and he doesn’t like the imposter taking your place.

Mac begins a one sided argument where he brings up communication issues between you and him as you try and disappear. 🫠

You’ve never seen him so angry. Is he mad at you? Of course he is.

He’s stuck with a girl who can’t speak up for herself around his well spoken friends. Its embarrassing.

You hate feeling like the bimbo on his arm reduced to pinched smiles and empty laughs at every event he drags you to.

You have plenty to say but lack the confidence to try and say it correctly! It’ll only make you look more foolish so why even bother?

A lightbulb goes off in Mac’s head seeing you bite your lip despite your eyes giving away to the chaos going on inside your head.

Now he understands the problem. Not everyone is a natural smooth talker. He's more upset that you didn't confide in him about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me Y/n? You know you can tell me anything, right? I can hire a speech therapist and we can work on improving your skills. I want you to be happy with me!”

Mac makes it his mission to help improve your communication skills and to build that confidence to speak up and be heard.

He never wants you to feel inadequate when you’re with him. Your happiness is everything you him.

Neo

Good luck anon because Neo would ghost you at the slightest inconvenience. That being said… let’s base this on after the two of you are exclusive. (Chaos wants this to be positive...)

Neo is surprisingly understanding of your problems. He knew something was up from the moment he met you.

He hears your meek voice, the many ums, and incomplete sentences as you try and get your point across in a conversation. It’s all cute to him really.

Neo is rather impatient so expect to be interrupted from time to time. He’s not being rude, he’s buying you time to think about what you wanna say.

“Hold on, Ma.” He sets his phone down and gives you his undivided attention. “Aight, talk to me.” You are shocked he listens intently despite every single mistake you make.

Neo would blurt out helpful aids when you struggle to communicate. For example, if you can’t seem to find the right word to use, Neo will say one to help your brain along.

You thank him and continue, not catching his pleased smile.

He loves when you’re in a full blown rant. You don’t have any slip ups when you’re comfortable. It shows that he makes you feel safe and that fact boosts his ego.

He sends you the Merriam-Webster word of the day as good morning texts because his approach is subtle.

Neo knows what’s wrong here but he doesn’t want to encourage you into improving (he secretly likes you the way you are). Baby steps anon.. Neo can be helpful just in his own way.

Neo loves hearing your forty plus minute long audio messages where you say everything and nothing in that beautiful voice of yours. He saves each one.

If someone makes fun of you, Neo is beating them up/killing them behind your back. 🤷🏽‍♀️ No one makes fun of you. No one but him.

You are not winning an argument with Neo. Let’s just start there. He’s leaving you a sobbing mess, second guessing the entire relationship if you try to speak your mind against him.

Neo uses your shortcomings against you and that shatters your confidence and trust in him. Your biggest advocate was never on your side to begin with. 🙃

Will he apologize? Absolutely! Just weeks after the spat so it’s going to be very hard to believe him.

“I’m sorry Ma. I didn’t mean what I said. Ion care bout all that s__t. It’s you and me baby. I understand you just fine, that’s all that matters.”

Neo has to work overtime to regain your trust and to assure you that he loves every flaw you might have. Now is the time he begins taking your communication skills more seriously.

[earthtooz]

hello! i love your works so much everything you write is perfect! i stopped writing more than a year ago but reading your works inspired me to write again 😊 it’s crazy how we are the same age but our level of writing is completely different, yours blew my mind 🤯🤯🤯 (in a good way!!!!!) i was wondering if you could give me some tips to improve my writing as i feel like i’m lacking in many departments (if you’re comfortable in doing so, ofc!) thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

this ask was send march 5th, and i'm happy to report that four months later, for the first time in a while, i think i'm finally at a point in my writing where i'm confident giving out tips that are not generic and stock standard. i do not know if anon is going to ever see this, but i hope you do, and i hope that you're still as inspired to write as you were when you sent this :) a lot can happen in four months!!

i'm just going to get straight into it. you'll find that the further you go, the more... catered the advice might be to you (it's long, and maybe a bit rambly, but i hope it’s useful in some sort of way 🥲)

# ONE - THE MOST BASICS:

the most DEVASTATING thing you can do for your writing is not have a purpose for each scene or snippet you write. give your scenes a point, don't let them be just images that you sit on the document to take up space! are you trying to prove that character x oc's relationship is growing? are you trying to show that it's breaking apart? are you trying to set up the character as someone who's beginning to fall in love and hates it? give everything a purpose. every word must be linked to your intention.

you know what they say about chekhov's gun, if you are going to mention some little thing, give it a purpose later! you mention reader likes sweaters? let character give them a sweater! this works in many-a-ways.

this all comes down to the planning, which i would give tips on, but i'm writing this part too late. i'm also trying to keep this first part brief because this is a very long post.

for english speakers, the second most devastating thing is to not know your grammar LOL (i cannot criticise those who speak another language as their first! kudos to you, keep doing what you're doing.)

# TWO - FIND YOUR STYLE: easier said than done, but it's an essential part of any art. writing takes time, and only time will evolve your skill and therefore, your style. if you do not like what you write off the bat and believe you are 'lacking' in some departments (no such thing, there is room to improve instead of being 'incapable' of doing something), then i always turn to some of my favourite authors, whether they are published or another fanfiction writer, turn to them and study them. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, just try and emulate what you see from their works and put them into your works, with your own sense of individual style.

i have my list of esteemed tumblr writings that i look up to, as well as writers that i adore. ocean vuong will always be one of my favourite writers, i listen to him frequently when i am stumped by my own writibg. he has this sort of creative aura that drips of his own idiosyncrasy that inspires me every time i try to listen to him, him just speaking calms and invigorates me so much.

so yeah, find your writer, and learn from them :)

# THREE - THE 'DEPARTMENTS': the departments that i have included are:

characterisation

dialogue

description and artistic expression (this one is long, bear with me.)

like i said earlier, there are indeed departments are writing that we all have room to improve in. i will talk about the few that i might find specific to fanfic writing because i am nothing like an actual author :,)

characterisation: a fickle little thing T^T the worst thing ever. to characterise properly means you know the character like it's your own, but in fanfiction that's just truly not possible :,) so i can try and give you my own tips on how i deal with characterisation.

listen to the english dub (or your first language) - DON'T CRUCIFY ME. PLEASE. BUT LET ME SPEAK. for my fellow fluent english speakers, listening to a dub in a language we do not understand can only go so far in the way we understand a character. when listening to english, we hear the intricate ways of their tone and personalities work, and what kind of dialogue best flows with them (toji fushiguro is excluded from this. never listen to that man's english dub.). when i was writing for bakugou- he's not the hardest character to understand, but with the help of the english dub, the dialogue that i wrote for him flowed a lot easier than if i had just tried to internalise his jp dub. he's gruff, and rude, and cocky, and his english va captures that in quite an adorable way! ofc you can never just ignore the original, the original is there to provide you the blueprint, but sometimes a little help explaining the blueprint goes a long way !!

characterisation can also be perfected through the subtle changes in dialogue that you see. a big part of character is how they talk, and even just the subtlest of changes can go far. let me start with the example "this is a really bad idea." if i were writing itoshi rin, then i would change the sentence fit to his speech and embody how he'd actually react to a 'bad idea'. he's curt, doesn't say more than necessary, and unashamed to be cold so he'd probably just say "this is stupid." before walking away LMAOO if i were writing someone like gojo, then the sentence also changes too. he doesn't mind talking and adding more to his point, so i would write something like: "you sure? this doesn't seem like the brightest idea." and if i'm really trying to sell a romantic relationship, i'd add a 'sweetheart' there or something.

dialogue: this is a personalised experience, so as is everything in writing. i have been complimented on my flow and dialogue a lot of the time but in truth, i am merely having a conversation with myself in my head. i try to become the character i am writing about and then i just chat with myself :3 it can be that simple. dialogue does not need to be something you over-complicate, i am my own, ethical character.ai.

description and artistic expression: look, i can't say much on this one except that you're all on your own. i am still trying to perfect my own skills in this department because this is perhaps one of my most vexing parts of writing. i truly am just not... as poetic and imaginative as i want my words to be, but i am trying and i am improving.

my biggest tip regarding description and artistry is: if the reader can imagine it, you don't need to write it. you don't need to fill in the gaps with actual scenes, if your characters are walking through the park as a filler for getting from destination A to B, then that park scene does not need to be as descriptive as A or B. a mere 'you took a shortcut through the park' will suffice. or even better, just go straight from A to B.

say my 'A' scene is starting at a cafe, and my 'B' scene is going to the mall, you could just go 'calling for the waitress to get the bill, you then find yourself in the mall within 15 minutes'. spend time on the gaps that require a bridge to cross, not the gaps that you can merely step over.

these kind of things appear in your planning and admittedly, i don't even plan ROFLLL but i have primary scenes that i have sketched out which i sometimes add to. like spider webs, when going from one thread to another, sometimes the journey is not all that important if it does nothing for your plot.

again, i find inspiration in a lot of the writers i look up to. a recurring motif is something i love adding, whether that be dialogue or a recurring item that symbolises something (like the hairband in between love and lies - a nagi fic). techniques like motifs or an extended metaphor add a lot of depth in your writing that you can't find otherwise. you can also omit going too over the board with reader's emotions too, or just the character's. if it's obvious that they are angry, sad, happy, you don't need to go too far in detail about said emotions.

another so crucial thing is to take note of the things you see in real life and apply it in fiction. the most mundane of things you are doing can have beauty in words.

are you at the beach? why don't you take a look around. tell me about the people that sit on towels, minding their own business. tell me about the way the sun sits high in the sky, unforgiving and burning before going into the main plot.

are you sitting on a bench, killing time? tell me about the breeze you feel, or perhaps the heat that overwhelms you. tell me about what you hear- bikes, children laughing, whilst you're waiting for your date to show up- all of these minute things, so long as you don't go overboard, will matter a lot to the imagination of the reader!

# FOUR: TAKE CARE OF AND LOVE WHAT YOU WRITE writing will always be hard :,) not a single draft goes by where i do not find inconsistencies and flaws, but i love them all the same. i love the drafts that i read over once and posted and i also love the drafts that i poured blood, sweat, and tears into. neither of them are more special to me because they were all born from a simple idea.

to look back on what you wrote and going 'i can do this better now' is beautiful, no? i love the end product for what i learnt on the way.

i know me giving this advice is kinda hypocritical because you'll find me going 'i hate this' in the tags, and you can choose to believe me or not, but i adore all of my stories the same. some of them i just hate that i couldn't give them the attention and love that they deserved, which shows through in the end quality. not that you guys seem to care, it's all in my head sometimes lMFAO.

# FIVE - KEEP THE POV CONSISTENT: now we are getting to the tips that i've been learning myself recently. how funny is it that i learnt this whilst reading from a writer that i so admire?

whilst reading a long fic, i noticed that the flow is satisfying because there was no swap of perspectives. the character was in the focus the whole time and the reader was the reactor, the catalyst being the character's actions and internal dialogue. on the other hand, the reader's thoughts and feelings being in the spotlight can also be significant.

i had always known that keeping the pov consistent would influence your writing, but i never knew how much.

which pov you might want to choose is all intuitive. writing is intuitive- every other tip that i have revealed is all intuitive and i'll cover more of this later. more importantly right now, which perspective you want to execute is all on you, and no one else. if you know your character, your storyline, and your skills, you will simply know how the story shall go. it is just as powerful to write it from reader's pov as it is the character's because it comes from your knowledge and authority as the writer!

# SIX - LEAVE THE COMFORT ZONE: this kind of returns to tip four. sometimes the only way to evolve is to do something we are bad at and that advice applies to writing too. writing is a path set by previous writers but it is not one that we have to follow all the time, why take a shortcut when the long way is prettier, and more rewarding? your journey of improvement is dependent on what you realise and give yourself opportunities to improve in.

for example, recently i have been trying to improve the depth of my descriptions and- don't laugh, but the way i've been doing so is as followed:

i input myself into the scenario, i empathise with the characters within the scene and i describe it. maybe it's emotional and the character can't look you in the eye because they don't have the heart to, not when their chest is filled with a smoke that is so unbearable that all they can focus on is not turning to ashes. maybe it's a happy scene and all you can look at is the character. maybe it's confronting, and the only thing you can think about is defending yourself against their clenched fists that will never actually hurt you, but you know damn well can break your walls in one swing. leave the comfort zone, write new au's and new dialogue pieces, write new metaphors and similes and use rhyme, listing, repetition- just try something new every time and let it be meaningful to the story.

# SEVEN - GIVE YOURSELF TIME. like the growth of your muscles or the mobility of your limbs, or the way your hands flow along the canvas or keyboard, writing is a skill that can only be improved with time. fanfic writing is intuitive and completely reliant on your own tastes.

i can sit here, speak for ages about writing, but the only way you can learn is to do. i have people who see what i do and praise me for being one of their favourite writers, and as honoured as i am every time, i am merely born from the six years i have put into this craft, as well as the hours i put into writing and planning what they see. if you could see the behind the scenes, you would go 'what the fuck am i looking at' LMFAOO.

when i write and then i reread and i know what it is missing, but i cannot speak about this like it is easy, like i have not spent the past few years of my life consistently writing for various characters and growing along the way. to be fair, you don't need to take six years to get good at writing, it can be a very smooth process! i don't think i was the brightest cookie at 12 ngl but i took my characters and rewrote them into different scenarios and here i am today, at 18 and (marginally) better.

as long as the urge is there, worship it, take the step and write. then post, if that is a step you want to partake in. simple as that :)

that's all for now! sorry this is so long, now that you've reached the end, i just wanted to say that i have no authority over what you produce and how you do it. these are simply just things i've learned along the way and i hope they can provide you some sort of revelation.

[katyspersonal]

Sometimes I just can't shake the feeling that "the curse of Mico simps mysteriously vanishing" I half-jokingly mentioned earlier is simply a reflection of the issue of Bloodborne fandom both being small(ish) and having many very talented artists.

Out of all fandoms I've been at, Bloodborne is the one where literally nothing is easier than to see extremely skilled artists banging out masterpieces every week and feel kinda.. talentless? Mediocre and not wanted, even, especially if you have a simple or cute/silly art style. The only ways to combat this dread is to get on the good side of "cool popular kids" that distribute majority of likes/reblogs, or to find your own supportive group of friends. With Mico fans it just is harder because for some reason the fanbase of this character has always been kinda disorganized, and he himself tends to attract people with very sensitive, intricate souls hahah. Thinking back on Mico fans that mysteriously vanished from the fandom like goddamn magic that I used to know, they all had severe self-confidence issues...? AND no network of "the same two supportive mutuals". Maybe that's why so many of them just deactivated or never posted again? Maybe feeling "small" as artists was too much?

Again, not only this character, but the example I am most familiar with because unlike other characters, this one fails to create a "core" if you know what I mean? But THE funniest thing? Situation with art in the fandom reflects how Fromsofts games feel themselves...? The sense of being overwhelmed by something much bigger and stronger than you, feeling your self-confidence crashed and wondering how THE fuck are you supposed to overcome this? This is the other side of being in the community full of a little TOO talented people, really. It just can be easy to feel like you are worse than others and not wanted.

Basically, I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you feel like your skill and talent are lower than everyone else's - treat it like being kinda not very good at soulsborne games as a player, and if you feel like you just can't join a group or create your own to get enough engagement and validation - treat it like not being able to online coop for help! How would you continue playing in this situation? Right, you would study the game, keep trying new tools and practice on your own terms and at your own pace! If you feel this kind of dread, do the same: experiment with the style, designs, characters, ideas and so on until you feel so engaged and satisfied that you just can't quit. Until it becomes almost like addiction and finishing your art ideas becomes what keeps you here. Before I've found the same five people that always like my art I've also been feeling like I just don't belong and my art is worse than that of "actually" talented artists here. So I've kept looking for something within my art itself and discovered a passion: both for drawing characters in the way that captures every single detail (no matter how much it torments me lol) and for depicting absurd amount of references for characters in every single state of their life! This is what helped me to not feel so bad about what art skills I lack, this keeps me engaged even if I stop getting notes and compliments at all, this is what makes how good other people's art is irrelevant because it is about my goalposts now, and I am sure other people who don't feel confident can find their own ""playing style"" but in creativity that'll make it fun!

Just don't quit, okay? Like... no matter how much you may feel that "everyone else is more talented or more supported or both", I promise you can find the way. Just like how you didn't understand how to beat these games at first but adapted in the end. EVERYTHING Soulsborne goes back to a theme of having to overcome a really hard challenge, right? Creativity too, and our self-confidence is under constant testing which I honestly do not recall being the case in my previous fandoms??

[2-lines-and-a-circle]

Oh, a note? Event

This one is for @miriamladyvoid I hope you enjoy this one! 

Feel free to request another or if anyone wants to participate here is the link to the event: 2 Lines & A Circle : Oh, a note? (tumblr.com)

On a breezy spring evening Silver found a note attached to his baton. Intrigued he read the note, there it read,

Hey Silver

Lately I have been feeling tired and exhausted by my daily duties, I love studying arts but I admit that I am very slow to grasp things and I still lack skill like my peers. I miss creating art without feeling stress or fear. Don't you feel that stress from your duties as a royal guard? I would like to be by your side, your presence reassures me.

Sorry, just wanted to vent for a moment. take care Sil ♥

In response to this note Silver spent the rest of his evening pondering what to write back. He decided the best thing was to put down his feelings as to how he felt. Grabbing a pen and paper the boy started writing in the dimly lit room. Through the crack in the door three figures were watching closely at Silver, curious as to what he had been writing.

The next day Silver walked up towards the recipient, handing his carefully written letter. Opening the letter, it read

Salutations,

You confining in me caught me off guard… I couldn’t stop thinking about your words since I read them. Expanding one’s own capabilities takes time to do, I for one wasn’t always a guard beside Malleus. In the past my father often trained me till I couldn’t walk straight anymore. I won’t lie to you because you’ve taken the time to confide in me, but I think it’s important for you to know this. You should keep on training. I believe that if you train each day then gradually your skills will improve too.

It may not be as obvious as it may seem, but I do get stressed and scared as Malleus’ guard. When I lose sight of him I find myself concerned about where he went. Other times I stress over the behavior of Sebek… still, I’m confident in my abilities. I know that my training won’t let me down, I became a royal guard prepared to defend Malleus till the end. Stress and fear, those two emotions aren't something you can avoid when it comes to something you love either. I never met someone who wasn’t feeling that way and doing something they love. I’m sorry I don’t know if it helped you.

Staying beside me? Alright, just for now. I’ll stay beside you until Sebek comes to find me. Promise you’ll wake me up if I fall asleep okay. Your presence is nice to be around too.

- Silver

[chainsawmascara]

TAG GAME TAG GAME TAG GAME TAG GAME, man, i missed these. @hotnerdywizard got me on this. Let's fucking GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

1. Are you named after anyone?

I was named after an actor! Quite a famous one. I won't name him, of course, but i love his work. Renaming myself was a bit of an accident. Someone had to take up the mantle of Prince, as a very short and flamboyant singer, it fits despite the lack of intention.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Excellent question! I was listening to a song about two weeks ago, it came out of nowhere. Spent about half the track crying with not an inkling as to why. I suppose i was overdue, no?

3. Do you have kids?

I do! A little mischief muffin of a young man. Very snuggly, shockingly bright, biggest smile I've ever seen. I adore him. I'd set the world on fire for him.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

Cross country! I was Scouted for my refusal to play team sports when i could run laps and get three miles in (this did not prevent the necessity of dodging when dodgeball was the sport - whoopth). I played short stop for a while. Basketball at home, scorekeeping for my first job when i didn't make the team. I was a gymnast for years! Damn good at it, too. One of these days, I'll reteach myself to backflip. Eventually. At some point. Does extreme inline skating count? I was big on that.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

No, I've never been sarcastic in my life. (That was sarcasm.)

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. I stand by that. General aesthetic, their vibe. The emotion they're hiding in their eyes.

7. What’s your eye colour?

Somewhere between green and yellow depending on the light.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

There's a little of both in any story.

9. Any talents?

Talent can only bring one so far. It's the skills we hone from them. I have quite a number tucked in my back pocket. We haven't the time for the list. Well, we DO, it's more I'll Sound Like An Asshole if i give that laundry list. I may sound like one anyway. Folks tend to view a confident person as arrogant.

10. Where were you born?

Good old Providence. I never leave this city for long, it has my heart. Not to mention that one time i had to drink from a fountain downtown, there's a fountain down city with a superstition to it. Should one drink from it, they never truly leave. I'll die in this city, I'll die happily.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing - poetry, journaling, journalism. Singing. Running when I'm able. Catching any concert I can. Art of many kinds. Perhaps I'll indulge that today. Reading. Philosophy. Designing. Stand up comedy and spoken word, I'm overdue a return to stage. Gaming. Body surfing and swimming. Rockhounding! Deciphering grave markers. Traveling, with any excuse, often with no notice to anyone until maybe a day prior. There are others, surely, that escape my mind at present. I do Many Things.

12. Do you have any pets?

My beloved bearded dragon, Babs. I'd set the world on fire for him, too.

13. How tall are you?

5 feet of fucking fury and an extra inch of insufferable pretention.

14. Favourite subject in school?

Neuroscience and literature - existentialist and gothic horror to be precise. I was a neuroscience TA, in fact!

15. Dream job?

A dream is what you want to do but still haven't pursued. I've done my dream jobs, I'm still doing most of them. I've always maintained I'd never have a normal job. So far, I've made good on that. If any of you catch me at an office job, kill the imposter on sight.

My dear friend tagged most of the folks i would've! It's up to you, @yolo-swaginz and @kuzupekos , should you find yourselves up to the task.

[shizukoakatsuki-blog]

Ngl, even if it's "just" a hobby to me, I've been scared about the future of human-made art.. I see so many artists, both online and irl, hobbyists, students and professionals alike, lose confidence over their work.

Even the most skilled and popular of them seem worried about being replaced by AI and losing their income. And the worst part about this is the total lack of empathy from non-artists.

Everytime one of us voices our concern about our future, we are just told to "go get a real job". They absolutely won't elaborate on what they mean by "real job" of course, because saying stuff like that is just a way of brushing off the issue, because it's so much easier to live by looking away from others' anguish than to show basic human empathy

Fuck that, I don't want to see aspiring artists give up on what they do because of AI. And it fucking breaks my heart to witness my favorite artists slowly starting to struggle with paying bills, food, and rent, especially with the cost of life endlessly going up (but that's a whole other matter)

Anyways, I have so many other things to say, but I won't, because no one cares anymore ♥ I just needed to let some of that out somewhere. I personally won't stop making art anytime soon, because it's the only thing I feel I have left in this dystopian, soulless, consumerist nightmare