#anyways hope this helps you remember artists are people making beautiful things regardless of why you think it should exist

[poketaur]

i see you doing adopts a lot so i feel this is a fine place to ask

what's the point of adopts? couldn't i just make my own character based off of the adopt for free? i know you want to sell your drawings, but wouldnt commissions be better since you're offering something knowing you'll actually get something out of it? this isn't anon hate, im genuinely curious

hi this isnt anon hate but i think what youre doing is useless to me, try to convince me that it isnt, btw wouldnt it just be so easy for me to take the designs you make and make them my own? do you hear yourself? like yeah you could do that, i cant really stop you, but 1) do it then. i know you wont. surprise me though :] and 2) do you say this same garbage when you go into an art museums or exhibits??? "lolol i could totally make that" okay then do it! quit wasting my time and start making something. put yer money where yer mouth is. you sound goofy.

im going to pretend to try and take this in good faith now. long answer; i like making designs but i dont want to keep them and its better i give it a chance of having a home thatll use it rather than rotting in my files forever. i like doing adopts over commissions because its something i get to have complete control over and complete artistic freedom over, its also less communication which is difficult for me 1 on 1. I want to make the things i want to make and i hope someday people will support me entirely based on that, rather than feeling like i have to take everything everyone else wants into consideration and make things for other people. i create for me, i want to only create for me, that is my goal. most of my life my art has always been a commodity for other people (exactly how youre treating it rn btw) rather than an genuine expression of my artistic desires. if you really want to rip my designs go for it but it wont ever mean to you what it meant to me while making it and that alone keeps me confident in what i do. i finally have a space were i can express myself again and im still feeling it out to see what i like doing best. im going to take my sweet time and make whatever i want to make. short answer: i do what i want

[aminiatureworld]

Musings of Thanatos

Characters: Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,640

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, in depth conversation surrounding death

Premise: In which the reader doesn’t want to grow old.

Author’s Note: I’m going to reiterate that this is a fic talking about death and a character that, regardless of capacity, actively wishes to die young. I hope that for some people this fic can bring catharsis but if you aren’t sure that you can handle this then please don’t read it. I know that it can be like “lol I can read it” when the back half of your brain is screaming at you not to. This time you should listen to that part of your brain. I am not going to pretend that this doesn’t have the potential to be incredibly triggering. Not only if you experience suicidal ideation but if you’re afraid of death. I think it might cause a very visceral reaction.

And if you feel similarly to the reader then let me tell you, I understand. I can understand the future being completely terrifying, I can understand not wanting to stick around. But though I understand I still urge you to give the future a chance. Happiness might only come in glimpses now, but I promise it will come again in the future. There are moments in life that are euphoric, and everything except death can be changed.

That being said, I hope whoever’s reading this can find something out of this fic. Please enjoy

Zhongli

“Zhongli, do you ever wish you were mortal?”

The day was a lazy one in Liyue, the calm after the storm. Glaze lilies waved gently in the breeze. Soon they would show their petals, gently gracing the evening with their presence before once again closing their buds to the sun. Then again, these were only the glaze lilies that had managed to survive. The others has disappeared slowly, becoming more and more rare. You had only seen one real glaze lily once. It was gone after a day.

“I suppose I’ve never thought of it my love. I cannot really imagine a mortal life. I suppose it would have some advantages. Yet I think everything has their place in the world. I would make a poor mortal as I am now.”

“If you say so.”

“Why do you ask?”

He was beautiful, your lover. Even now, having seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, not a strand of hair on his head was shot through with grey. Of course time had wrought change on him; even from standing far away there was an aura about him that was somewhat untouchable. If fate had deemed to keep him statuesque, then surely it had also put the distant darkness into his eyes, had molded his features into a mask through which one could see a deity tired of seeing so much life. Nevertheless you had to envy him. For surely he wielded a stronger hand than you had been dealt.

“I don’t know. I just, it’s been on my mind.”

“What has been on your mind?”

“What it means to grow up. I mean, you’ve never experienced it. Not really, not the way we do. Growing up, it’s terrifying. You look at all the people walking down the street, the old people I mean. They’re all… wrinkly!”

You had to laugh, a bitter, sharp sort of sound. Indeed how they did look strange. Bones and muscles twisted like branches of a tree, knobs visible in the guise of liver spots and still joints. Their faces, how terrifying their faces were. You always found it odd when someone called an old person beautiful. You weren’t sure you had ever seen one who fit the definition. Rather, it was like looking upon an utterly different sort of people, a transformation that you knew one day you would have to undergo. When you emerged, it would be like a butterfly shifting back into a caterpillar. There would be no going back.

“Perhaps they are, but it is a sign of old age. Of wisdom. Humans who grow old, they are survivors.”

There was a hint of displeasure in Zhongli’s voice. Not that you could blame him. It was quite heretical to insult the old, surely even more so to one who would never experience such a thing. Then again, perhaps that was why he could act that way. He would never know.

“Maybe; but all the wisdom in the world couldn’t prepare me for growing old. I mean, who wants to be around an old person? Who wants to be an old person? You can’t do anything for yourself anymore, you’re basically a baby again. Except this time there’s nothing to look forward to.”

“My love, surely there are many things to look forward to in old age. The knowledge that one has gained, the ability to look back on the past. Those who you have grown to love will gather around you. Above all, when one has grown old one finally has been granted the privilege to rest, to think, to do what one wishes.”

“Is that why you gave up your gnosis?”

The wind rustled your hair slightly as you gazed at your partner. There was no reply to your question, but then again you weren’t expecting one. There were just some things too painful to speak of, some things that you couldn’t understand. Just as there were things your partner couldn’t understand, the things you were trying to explain to him now.

“Anyways, I’m not sure if any of those things are worth growing old for. Worth becoming immobile and forgetful and ill for. Honestly, I’m not sure if I ever would like to grow old.”

“Well you will one day, my love. Such is the nature of time.”

“Well I wish time would stop, or better yet that something would come and put me out of commission before then.”

Silence again. You had made an error, or perhaps you were simply seeing the natural reaction to your declaration. You loved Zhongli’s eyes, the way they glowed and shifted and reflected the light. They were almost dragon-like, not that you had ever seen a dragon before. Now, however, they seemed muddied, bogged down. It was as if you’d thrown muddy water on them, and now you were seeing the natural consequence.

“Do not speak that way.”

“Why not? It’s what I think.”

“Then I hope that you soon change your mind. Even if you cannot see the merit in growing older now, to react so… violently. It is alarming.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ll ever experience this, this fear. You’ll never wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing. You’ll never have to hear your mind scream in fear of ageing. You’ll never have to think about the years stretching in front of you, each a painful sentence of pain. You’ll never have to think about losing your mind to age.”

A pause. There was a frown slashed across your lover’s face. It looked entirely out of place.

“What would you want then, my love, if you could have it?”

“I would like to be young forever, like you.”

“Would you really? Would you want to see person after person die, while you can only watch? Would you like to exist isolated from those you love? My darling, even love is dangerous when you are destined to eternity. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of, of when the inevitable will happen. When I will once more wait for the end of eternity.”

“If I were like you, then you wouldn’t have to think of that.”

“If you were like me then you simply wouldn’t be as you are. Why is it that mortals are so much more prone to action, so much more emotional and bright and determined? It is their very mortality. Death is what creates authors and artists and the great heroes upon which we rely. A life without them, it would be a very drab world indeed.”

“So you want others to suffer for your own good?”

“Do you think that the way out is to ask for death my love? Truly? The death of a human is the death of a universe. Would you throw that universe away to be remember as young, whatever that may mean? Would you give up the ability to see, to feel, to think, to exist? My darling, if you truly think it is worth it then let me convince you otherwise.”

It was warm, the world. The world was burning up and you were stuck, staring into the eyes of the person you most loved.

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t say these things, even in jest. I, I cannot understand it. It frightens me a great deal.”

“Why? I’m just, I don’t know. It shouldn’t bug you that much, I mean, I’m not about to go jumping into the sea or anything.”

“Today perhaps, and tomorrow too? If you truly were only saying these things in jest, would you be so firm in your questions and in your arguments?”

Too many questions, he was asking too many questions. They made your head swirl and throb as you tried to wrap your brain around them.

“I don’t know. I just, it, it scares me.”

“More than death? More than the annihilation of your senses and your thoughts? I realize that you are experiencing a fear that I myself will never carry. My burden and yours are opposites, they will never intersect, except perhaps to think about what the other will do when time eventually shows itself. Yet, my love, I cannot help but feel that, when that comes to pass, it will be better to have experienced age, to have experienced every phase of life, every moment that you possible can, than to be stuck in someone’s memory. We glorify the young dead, we do not remember them.”

It felt odd to crumple to his arguments, perhaps it was only momentary. He hadn’t explained anything particularly well, hadn’t been able to cross the divide between the two of you. Perhaps it was how awfully old he looked in that moment, how he seemed to age a thousand years, so much you could almost imagine him hunched over and grey and wrinkled. Maybe he did know more about age then you thought he did.

Besides, you couldn’t leave him, or Liyue. Not truly. And if that was only your survival instinct kicking in then it was doing a damn good job of it.

Slowly the roaring of the cicadas was replaced with a chorus of crickets. The glaze lilies turned their pale faces towards the light of the moon. Laying your head down in Zhongli’s lap you studied your lover’s face, trying to piece together the strange conversation that had soaked up all other conversation. As if reading your thoughts Zhongli’s eyes met you. Though a smile still refused to breach his expression, he leaned in to bring his hand to your cheek. You relished the warm of shared connection.

Maybe none of this would last the night, maybe tomorrow you would think the same thing you had before. But right now you very much wanted to stay. And right now was all that mattered.

[fangirlovestuff]

Butterfly Effect - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - Hey lovely people! this is for @holylulusworld​​‘s 10,000 followers celebration, congrats!! (even though you have a lot more now lol). the divider is by the amazing @firefly-graphics​. italics are for thoughts / flashbacks, and the first parts are all in chronological order. Enjoy!<3

Summary: The words on Steve’s arm point to the circumstances in which he will meet his soulmate, and they’re very specific, or so he thinks.

Prompt: 11 - soulmate AU

Word Count: ~2,070

Warnings: reader gets a tatoo but basically this is just a huge fluff fest:)

"That's a cute owl you're drawing there."  

These are the words that were imprinted on Steve's arm since the moment he was born. When Steve could finally read, he asked his mother why are the words there.

"These words are very important," Sarah explained. "They are the first words your soulmate will ever say to you."

"What's a soulmate?" asked a confused Steve.

"A soulmate," his mother answered, "is someone you're gonna love very much. They're the person you'd probably choose to spend the rest of your life with. Their soul is connected to yours in inexplicable ways, almost as if they were one and the same. This," she pointed at the words, "is the sign for you to realize when you'll meet them. Somewhere out there, there's someone with the first words you're gonna say to them."

"So I'll be drawing an owl when I meet my soulfriend?" Steve asked.

"It's soulmate, dear. And I guess you probably will."

"And this… soulmate, will they buy me ice cream?" Steve asked hopefully, not quite getting the point.

Sarah giggled at her son. "Yes, I think they will if you'd want that. But also, they would love you so much, and you'll have the most fun in the world with them."

"Was da your soulmate?" Steve asked.

"He is," his mother answered, the smile on her face tinged with a little sadness that Steve hadn't picked up on.

Okay, so two round eyes, and then the body, and I should add some feathers and –

"Mr. Rogers!" the math teacher said sternly. "I haven’t assigned any equations yet, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep your attention on me instead of your notebook, for now."

"Yes, Ms. Williams," Steve replied sheepishly.

"You know you've already met everyone in this class right? No one here is your soulmate," Bucky whispered once their teacher turned back to the board.

"But I still want to get better at it," Steve shrugged defensively. "She's gonna say it's cute, Buck. For that to happen it needs to actually be cute."

"I don't get your whole fuss around soulmates Steve, but whatever. Suit yourself," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You don't believe in soulmates?" Steve asked.

"Well, I wouldn't strictly say that, it's just… my words are 'watch it, weirdo.' Call me crazy, but I'm not that stoked to find that person," Bucky chuckled.

"Mr. Barnes! Something to share with the rest of us?" Ms. Williams said.

"No Ms. Williams, I'm sorry," Bucky said timidly and Steve snickered.

Steve could draw owls in his sleep if he needed to. Right now, his pencil was sketching over the page, lightly shading the wings of the owl and the –

"Rogers! You're on in five!" the stage manager called out to him.

Steve sighed and snapped his sketchbook shut. He kept hoping that maybe it was one of the girls on tour with him, but so far it wasn't going so well. The government-mandated entertainment had quite enough free time so Steve could draw as many owls as he wanted to in between shows.

He put the notebook aside and slipped on the cowl they had him wear. The Captain was needed on stage.

"So people take art classes… for fun?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," Natasha answered. "Lately you're always drawing away in your little notebook, so if you want to, I could help you sign up for a class. Maybe they can teach an old dog some new tricks," she smirked.

"Ha ha," Steve answered dryly. Yet he couldn't help considering the idea.

The thing was, Steve wasn't sure if his soulmate was still out there to be found. You'd think he would feel a difference, some indication if his soulmate was dead, but when he went out of the ice, Steve felt nothing different. There was still a part of him that was hoping that maybe, just maybe, fate planned this. That his soulmate was still out there.

"That's a great color scheme, Steve," the instructor said, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Thanks," he smiled, albeit a tad shakily.

This was the fifth class Steve took this month, and yet, no luck. He wasn't even drawing an owl, and yet the start of that sentence made him jump as if he didn't have super… well, everything.

But that doesn't mean he was giving up. His tattoo was still in place, even after all of these years, it hadn't faded. So he had to believe he could still find his soulmate.

These times were a lot more different than his. People here weren't always inclined to live by that philosophy of "soulmates". Some people chose to simply disregard that and find someone they loved regardless. Steve admired that, but he couldn't say he understood. If you're offered your perfect partner, why walk out of that?

"It's called instant gratification," Nat chuckled when he raised that question to her. "People like to have what they want as soon as possible. Besides, some people don't believe it's real, or don't believe it'll work for them. So, they take matters into their own hands."

Steve was more patient than the average person. He waited decades in ice, what's a few more years to find his soulmate?

Bucky had found his soulmate. Steve couldn't believe it.

Sure, he was happy for Bucky. When he came back today from the store with nothing but a small slip of paper, Steve had half a mind to smack him upright the head for not getting anything. Probably forgot his wallet.

But when Bucky showed him the paper he read the words scribbled onto it – "call me, weirdo, xx" and a phone number, Steve pulled Bucky into a tight hug, patting him on the back.

"Congrats, pal," he smiled.

Bucky beamed. Yes, Bucky Barnes, the terrifying Winter Soldier was beaming and his eyes were shining like a high-schooler in love. And Steve wished that could've been him.

He really was happy for Bucky. That's the thing – this was a good thing. Besides from his best friend finding the love of his life, it also meant that Steve's soulmate is almost definitely out there. But he couldn't help feeling a spark of resentment deep inside of him. It made him feel guilty, but he couldn't help the bitter thought that Bucky was never too keen on finding his soulmate while Steve did everything in his power to find them. And yet, Bucky found his while Steve's still in the dark.

So, to get out of his own head a little, Steve decided to go paint in the park.

To be honest, it was a wonder that Steve hadn't gotten awfully tired of drawing by now. But he still loved it, loved the quiet it cultivated in his mind.

Steve set up a canvas and looked around. People weren't noticing him, busy in their own endeavors. He almost started drawing an owl out of instinct, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Steve wanted to forget about the whole soulmate business for a while and just draw.

He saw a butterfly fly over and land on a nearby bush. Steve focused on the butterfly, trying to remember as much as he can. The rest he can improvise. The butterfly fluttered its wings for a few seconds before flying away.

Steve started drawing the butterfly. Once he had the pencil sketch, he started filling it in with the paints he had brought. He started with the little circles on its wings, filling them in so the shade will be just right, and he was about to move on to the rest on the wings when –

"That's a cute owl you're drawing there."

"It's a butterfly," Steve turned around, puzzled, before realizing what you had just said to him.

Your mouth opened in a gentle gasp. Your hair and clothes were a little messy from your long day at work. And at that moment, when you were caught completely off guard, Steve first met you. You were the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on, and he was an artist. He stared at you in utter shock while you returned him a similar look.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" your friend asked, sitting next to you with a worried look.

"I'm tired of looking for my soulmate. Do you know how hard it is to make conversation about butterflies?" you looked back at her. "I want to do this," you told her.

The tattoo artist came closer. "Okay ma'am, you wanted a simple butterfly, right?"

"Yes," you answered decisively. "On my left wrist." Your right hand had your words on it. "It's a butterfly." Maybe if you had a tattoo your soulmate would see it, would find you.

You closed your eyes and braced for what came next.

You weren't sure about this blind date thing, but why not. You trusted your friend that she set you up with a nice guy, at least.

You set up to meet in a park, and from there walk to a nearby restaurant. Right when the guy showed up, there was a butterfly next to you.

"What’s that?" you asked quickly, pointing towards it.

Your date turned his head to look, but by the time he did the butterfly was already flying away. "I don't know, it was probably a bug or something."

You stifled your groan of disappointment. At least you'd get a dinner out of this.

You and Steve were staring at each other in amazement. Finally, you were the one to speak up. "You're Steve Rogers," you said, frowning in disbelief.

"And you're my… soulmate," he returned the same disbelieving look.

You introduced yourself quickly, smiling at him timidly when you finished.

"So, you wanna get ice cream or something?" Steve asked, unsure of what exactly to do. But apparently he said exactly the right thing, because your face lit up.

"Right now though? You're in the middle of your painting and I wouldn't wanna –"

"It doesn't matter," Steve said quickly and stashed the canvas and paints underneath a bench nearby. "No one passes here anyways," he shrugged. "Until today," he smiled and you giggled.

You made your way to an ice cream shop across the street from the park, walking side by side.

"So, what is the great Captain America doing drawing owl-looking butterflies in a local park?" you asked, smiling.

"I was just looking to clear my head a little," Steve said dismissively. "To be honest, the fact that you didn't find me drawing an actual owl is very ironic, looking back," Steve chuckled. "I spent pretty much my entire life drawing owls, attending painting classes, anything I could to find you," his gaze met yours and he smiled softly. "And I find you in a random park while drawing a butterfly."

"Don't underestimate nature's camouflage," you chuckled. "And hey, you think that's ironic? Butterflies are so scarce I got this," you rolled up your left sleeve a little, revealing your butterfly tattoo.

Steve's eyes widened. "It's beautiful," he automatically reached out to trace the lines on your arm, then withdraws his arm when he understands what he's doing. "It's not as beautiful as you," he says with a smile on his face.

You avert your eyes to the ground in front of you. "Thank you," you bashfully say.

You and Steve got your ice cream, and you exchanged plenty of stories of your adventures in search of each other, most of which were devastating when they happened but when you look back at them now, they were actually pretty funny.

"I hope I can see you again," Steve said when it was getting a little late.

He looked so hopeful, but the question in itself made you want to laugh at the obviousness of the answer. Instead, you rose onto your tiptoes, and planted your lips on his soft ones in a sweet kiss.

Once you parted you took a napkin and wrote down your number. "I sure hope to see you soon," you smiled.

"I'll call you, butterfly," Steve grinned and you beamed at the nickname.

And that night you both went home with huge smiles smeared across your faces. Finally, your quest to find your soulmate was at an end, and you could start a new journey, together.

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000​

if you wanna join / be removed from this taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[writeblrfantasy]

excerpt from a council of golden swords: tattooed cairic king

planned this scene weeks ago, forgot about it, enjoyed writing it immensely. poor kayani, they're so in love

anyway i hope you love this as much as i loved writing it, acogs has been kicking my ass this week and this was a nice battle won

~

Asma crosses her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

Kayani chokes on their own saliva. “What?”

“I’m going to paint you. Take off your shirt.”

Kayani stares at her, open mouthed, a thousand indignities resting on their lips. Asma taps her foot, paintbrush held between two fingers, frowning impatiently. No excuse, no argument, no plea will ever sway her. She is unmovable.

Kayani stares at the floor and loosens the laces of their shirt before whipping it off. They ball it up and stand there holding it until she snatches it from them and tosses it on the sofa. “Sit on the stool,” she says, “and for Cai’s sake, stop looking so stiff. Actually look like you want to be here. You don’t even have to smile. Just look a little less queasy.”

Queasy for a different reason, Kayani thinks, but obediently sits on the wooden stool in the center of the red, blue, and gold room. The yearly trip west, spent in close quarters with almost all of the Cairic army, has driven the modesty out of them, but everything is different with Asma.

She sits on the ottoman and drags her easel closer to her, a tray of paint pools sitting beside her on the sofa. The easel legs scraping against the floor makes Kayani startle. “Relax,” she orders in a tone that’s anything but relaxing.

Kayani folds their hands and tries not to slouch. The hairs that itch when they fall into their eyes will be the least of their worries over the next few hours. Why else would Asma paint them shirtless if not just to torment them?

Once Asma has everything apparently set up to her standard, she looks up and rakes her eyes over Kayani’s torso. Her breath hitches. “You have so many tattoos. I forgot you would.” Her voice disturbs the quiet of the room, breaking a sacred peace, or however peaceful the two of them alone can get.

“Isn’t that why you wanted to paint me shirtless?” Kayani asks. “Why else would you?”

She hides her face behind the canvas and doesn’t bother with an answer. Kayani prepares for a long set of hours filled with waiting, an aching back, and keeping their walls firmly up.

After ten minutes of silence, Asma working quietly, she asks, “What does that one on your chest mean?”

Kayani resists the urge to look down and earn themself their first don’t move, idiot. They could trace the lines of the * in the darkness, in their sleep. “The death of my mother.”

She gasps. “You got tattooed when you were just a child?”

They shrug. “I’ve known some babies who got tattooed after birth because of a difficult or scary pregnancy, complications that should’ve killed them. Parents, too. We use our tattoos to cope with many things, many emotions, but prominently grief. For many people, the experience itself of sitting there for ten hours while a needle pokes into your skin—it helps.”

“By enduring pain?” Asma asks.

Kayani shrugs. “Some people find solace in pain. It’s something real they can grip onto.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Asma says, peering out from over the canvas. “It isn���t.”

Kayani’s eyes drift to the tattoo on her forearm, she follows their gaze and pulls her sleeve down. Kayani remembers it all too painfully well—her poorly stifled tears and cries while getting it, their own desire to comfort her squashed by the hatred in her eyes. It’s their fault she has it.

“What about that one?” she asks, gesturing to the wings covering their shoulders.

“Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious,” Kayani asks, “or just trying to fill the air?” They want to poke further into her reasoning, but they don’t want her to change her mind and throw them out. Alone time with Asma is bliss as much as it’s torture, and they’ll take every last bit of it.

“I got the wings one year after becoming king,” Kayani says. “To celebrate not being assassinated.”

She snorts. “Get better guards.”

“I am my own best guard besides Ajar and Samad. I didn’t want to trust anyone else. The palace guards on rotation can only do so much against an assassin hired by someone who was angry I became king and not my sister.”

Asma rolls her eyes, the soft strokes of her brush soothing to listen to against the faint chatter of birds. “And the one on your back?”

“You’re not painting that one. You can’t even see it right now.”

“Answer the question, dimwit.”

Kayani grins. As much as they love to nag Nikolai about being attracted to the ones who seemingly want nothing to do with you, they’re no less guilty. “I got the first part done after I survived the Trials.” After healing up upon their return, they went straight to the royal tattoo artist. They knew exactly what they wanted: Ajar and Samad standing side by side, blue eyes pointed to the moon.

The two of them are right outside—if Kayani’s quiet, they can hear them scratching at the door—but an ache for them runs through their chest regardless. Sometimes they’re convinced the three of them share a soul.

“I would’ve gotten the outlining done before I left for the Trials for good luck and gotten it filled in after I came back, but I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary pain. I got the second part added on after I came back from my first trip west with the army. That time, I did do it in two halves for good luck, like many of my soldiers.”

Going to get those outlines and later the full lines done with their soldiers had been one of the most rewarding experiences of their life. Sitting beside ten others in a salon, all laughing or grimacing or telling stories to work through the pain reminded them that they could still mix with normal people. Winning the Trials didn’t make them special in the soldiers’ eyes, and Kayani liked it that way.

Their second back tattoo consisted of a light brown stag leaping across the center of their back, over the dogs. “Each trip after was another add on.” They’ve since added a grassy field for the stag and the dogs to rest in, stars for the moon, flowers and sparkles in a mix of reds and browns.

“Your entire body will be covered by the time you die,” Asma says.

“That’s the goal.”

As the hours go by, Asma asks, and this? What about this? That one? What are the ones I can’t see? Kayani answers her every question, shares every story, every memory. They don’t tell her about the one on the back of their ankle, small enough to miss. A golden paintbrush.

Finally, when the sun is halfway to setting and Kayani’s lower half has gone numb, Asma announces she’s done. Kayani wobbles to their feet toward the canvas, but she picks it up before they can see it. They sigh quietly but don’t question it—until she turns around.

She’s painted them in a background more heavily red than the wallpaper behind them. It brings out the red in Kayani’s tattoos, which are obviously the star of her painting. The edges of Kayani’s muscles are blurred, but the lines of the tattoos are as clear and sharp as they are on their skin. Their eyes are halfway open, tired, and Asma captured their faint smile at something she said, maybe some memory that took them away.

The sun from the glass wall behind them drips golden light onto light brown skin, a glowing backdrop for the tattoos. Kayani sat with their left forearm up, right hand holding that wrist, but Asma painted the opposite to hide the tattoo there.

Kayani has never had the eye for beautiful artwork, nor the time to study why people devote their lives to it, but this makes them reconsider. Not because it’s them, of course, they’re not that vain. Because it’s Asma.

“I will call it ‘Tattooed Cairic King’,” Asma says. Kayani can’t take their eyes off her nonchalant expression, the casual way her fingers grip the canvas. She completed this in a day and she acts like she’s holding a piece of cheap furniture. Doesn’t she know all of her artwork will be studied meticulously after her death merely because she’s a queen?

Not just because she’s a queen, Kayani thinks. Because she’s an incredible artist. They wish they had the courage to say so, but knowing Asma, she’d make some crack about their narcissism.

“Where are you going to hang that one?” they ask. “Which guest room or dining hall or office will get the pleasure of seeing my tattoos?

She fixes them with a look. “My suite wall.”

The floor seems to swim under them.

“I thought you hated me,” they manage. “As you pointed out, last time we were together you told me to never come into your sight again.” They gesture to the canvas. “I think that violates your rule.”

For once, Asma’s silence seems to be because of her loss of words, not dramatic pause or the bother of answering a question. “It’s some of my finest work,” she settles on. “I’d like to admire it often. Let people admire it when I’m dead.” She closes her eyes and runs her finger along the top of the canvas. “Also, I’d like to do your back sometime."

“What?” Kayani sputters.

“Oh, come on. If you can survive a needle pricking your skin for ten hours, you can survive sitting still for another six.”

That’s not the problem, Kayani thinks, but only nods. Cai have mercy.

~

kayani being shook by asma's ability to Art is me @ all the talented artists here yall rock

also if you noticed the tsoa inspiration for "and this?" then props to u

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses

[theodora3022]

Cursed? No, Loved.

Pairing: Prince! Hitoshi Shinsou x F! reader

Summary: Being tossed into the suitor tournament as a pawn by his father, Hitoshi didn’t expect you to love him, at all.

Notes: So...this is a little headcanon collection I did after writing the Shoto fanasy AU piece. I got no inspiraration whatsoever, so the quality is meh. Would write a part 2 but no ideas head empty now... No yandere in this though, just how I want to cherish this precious purple boy.

Warning: fluff, past trauma?

Ever since he can remember, the whole Kingdom seen Hitoshi as an evil being. Because his mother died giving birth to him, the youngest prince was seen as cursed.

He was sent to the State church once he was able to walk, so his relationship with his family is somewhat estranged.

“To purify your curse.” What curse? 

It was not his fault the Queen died...

The church treated him fairly, prepared him for a priest career, taught him how to paint,sculpt, and music. Surprisingly, the prince got artistic talents and excels in arts. 

Then one day his father suddenly told him that he is going to your kingdom to serve as an ambassador, or more explicitly, to join the suitor tournament. 

However, Hitoshi is content with his current life. He got no thirst for power, nor did he desire to be the center of attention. Secluded, quiet monastery life had made him into a shy person. He can never be as bold as his oldest brother or be as charming as his second brother.

But he has to follow his father’s orders. He doesn’t have much attachemnt to his country anyways.

You greeted him with politeness and a warm smile. You do not seem to mind how he is “cursed”, treating him fairly as a guest.

You found him interesting, as he never flatters or praise you. He barely even makes eye contact with you.

Not the one for parties, after two dances Hitoshi decides to spend time in the castle gardens. 

By the light of the only candle you held, you saw the melancholic prince sitting on the bench in the gazebo. Moonlight pouring a layer of white frost on him, reminds you of the moon gods from the legends.

“Prince Hitoshi. Not enjoying the ball?”· 

 “I could ask you the same thing, your majesty. This is your coronation ball, after all. I’m just here for some fresh air.”

“The food and drinks are not to your taste, then?”·

 “They are thoughtfully prepared, though I must apologize for my lack of appetite. Are you enjoying this scenery as well, your majesty?”·       “Quite, when the sun is out, you can see the whole capital within a glance. Although I would not recommend here on a rainy day since the ivy-ceiling is not so waterproof.” That was a bad joke. But instead of laugh at it regardless like others, Hitoshi did not even smile.

“I imagine it will be even more beautiful after it rains. Your capital, covered in misty rain… I am an artist; therefore I think I would like to see both sides of beauty.” His eyes are closed, seems has started to sketch a picture in his mind. 

What a strange man. You thought. He seems to care more about his paintings then State diplomacy.

“Your majesty? Do I have something on my face?”

His voice pulled her back from her imagination. You realized you had been staring rather openly. “My apologies for staring, Prince Hitoshi. Would you do me the honor of join me in a dance? I bet they are looking for me already.” Glancing over your shoulder towards the ball room, you let out a sigh. Somehow, you do not know what his response will be. It seems he was enjoying his imagination of raining days more.

“The pleasure is all mine, your majesty.” 

“Thank you, I do hope I can undo my insolence somehow.” Letting him take your arm, you both marched back towards the ballroom, where the band of musicians were just playing some intermediate songs to avoid awkwardness.

“Do you hate being the center of attention, your highness?”

“I can’t say I enjoy it. I prefer the gazebo, but you had offered me a dance, your majesty.”

“My apologies for dragging you here.”

“Your suitors are burning holes on me with their eyes.” Hitoshi said when you arrived at the center of the room, bowed to each other before the waltz. His voice is no more then a whisper. “Are you sure those aren’t gazes of admiration?” You tease when his left arm lightly wraps around her shoulder blades.

“Hmm, if I am a woman, I will feel troubled by this.” He opens his palm slightly to allow your gloved hand to place on. You try to study his current expression, but you can only see worriedness in those lavender orbs. He still has the usual stoic face.

He requested to paint your capital from that gazebo, and you said yes, telling him that he could came in sunny afternoons.

You would drop by to chat in your break times, although he is not talkative, his presence is oddly calming for you.

Hitoshi is surprised but glad that you enjoy his company. Even back in the Church, people seem to avoid him like the plague. Interacting with him as little as possible.

“Why do you want to spend your free time with me, your majesty? I know how busy you are...”

Taking him by the hand, you sigh. “Even a Queen needs a break every now and then.” His fingers are littered with callous, from those 4 hour harp pratices.

You already learned why he was sent here, how his people treated him even he don’t deserve any of it. He was an infant, how can he intentionally caused the death of his mother?

No more of that, not if you can help it. Hitoshi had suffered enough colored view, enough cold treatments. 

You decides to make up for it, for all the affections he could have gotten throughout the years.

[sope-and-shine]

My Favorite Kitty

-> SFW // Shifter!AU // fluff, angst (if you squint) // Shifter!Taehyung -> Pairing: Yoongi x Taehyung -> Word Count:  3.6k -> Summary: What else is Yoongi supposed to do when his best friend gets him a cat but accept it and take care of the fluffy creature. But Jin may not have told him everything about his new pet.  -> Warning(s): mild language, nightmares, avoiding sleep, Kim Seokjin (cause I think he should always have his own warning) 

a/n: Sooo... I’ve been working on this for almost a year... cause I’m a dummy who can’t write consistently... BUT it’s finally done and just in time for @cest-la-tae​‘s birthday. Daija boop I know you been waiting for this since I hard you read is months ago, so I hope you like it!

*

Yoongi honestly doesn’t remember how he and Jin became friends. Sure he’d tell people Jin had annoyed and followed him so much that he didn’t have a choice. But neither boy could ever think of a time they didn’t know each other. Maybe they met in school before Yoongi’s parents had died in that freak accident. Yoongi remembers being so scared and alone, everything he knew was suddenly going away. And then he found himself living with his best friend and that’s how it’s been since. He’d never be able to forget how much he owed Jin’s family and the man himself.

Growing up with Jin had been an adventure. The two were polar opposites. Jin was a people person, beautiful, popular, the ideal student. Yoongi wanted nothing more than to be left alone, keep his head down and simply do what was needed to achieve his dreams.

But regardless of what he wanted, people knew him. They’d have to be living in the stone age not to know the illustrious Kim Seokjin’s broody best friend. They were nice to him because otherwise Jin would have their heads, and no one wanted to be on the King’s bad side.

Yoongi had never been a fan of two-faced bitches, so anyone who tried to make nice with him simply to get to Jin, well they were in for a rough time. Some could describe Yoongi as nasty and vicious. Once a girl even tried to tell Jin to cut Yoongi out of Jin’s life. That had not ended well.

Even now that the boys had long since become adults with their own lives, they constantly inserted themselves into each other's lives. Jin made no secret that he loves Yoongi like a brother. And, while Yoongi would never admit it outloud, he loves that brat to death. They graduated college together and Jin went off to make a name for himself as an up and coming actor. Yoongi got to live out his childhood dream, creating and producing music. He preferred staying behind the scenes, being a faceless artist but his music was out there now. They even ended up at the same entertainment company.

Jin flourished, making friends wherever he went, just like always. Yoongi kept to himself, just like always, only having two close friends besides Jin. He’d help them with their own music and they weren’t as loud and boisterous as Jin, so he didn’t mind when they stuck around. Well, actually Hoseok was quite loud but his cheerful personality and kind heart made it hard to turn him away. Yoongi’s world was small and quiet and he was perfectly fine.

Mr Kim Seokjin, however, thought that wasn’t enough. He thought his pretty Yoongi should be out there living it up. He made a decent amount of money and was more than smart enough to do great at work while cutting loose. But that wasn’t what Yoongi wanted, and Jin respected that.

He still thought the man should at least have a roommate or a pet or something! Or he should have at least accepted that date Jin had tried to set up for him and Hoseok. Well before Jin had realized he had a crush on Hoseok and went on the date himself. But still, Jin constantly pestered his small friend about expanding his circle just a little bit. He wanted to disrupt Yoongi’s peaceful little world and he wasn’t going to stop until he won.

Yoongi was perfectly fine living alone. He was happy with his handful of friends and his quiet empty apartment. He didn’t want to go out cause that meant dealing with people and people were annoying. He was fine just going to work and staying home. He was a grown ass man and what he did with his life was his own choice.

Besides, Yoongi would rather keep his problems to himself. He felt bad enough that his horrible sleeping schedule was messing with his work schedule and caused Jin to worry, even if he really didn’t need to. He’d feel worse disrupting any little animal inhabiting his small studio apartment, let alone another human. He got sleep, albeit at strange hours, and handled his workload perfectly fine. The man just had a little insomnia and some nightmares from time to time, but that didn’t make him someone who needed to be babied. Jin didn’t need to constantly worry and look after him, it was getting old.

What does it matter if his annoying friend thinks Yoongi needs a pet? He doesn’t. He is perfectly fine on his own. Who cares what Seokjin thinks? Yet he still decides to waltz into the apartment at the ass crack of dawn carrying a fucking cat.

Ok, so maybe the cat was really cute. He’s pretty blue eyes staring up at him made Yoongi’s resolve weaken. But he refused to let Jin be right. Even if this cat had the softest fluffiest cream colored fur in existence. Nope Yoongi wanted nothing to do with this adorable baby.

Jin dumps the poor cat onto Yoongi’s lap before moving about the apartment setting things up for the fluffy creature. “What’s his name?” 

“I’m not keeping him, Jin.” Yoongi grumbles, finding himself regretting giving Jin a key for the millionth time.

“Why not?” Jin doesn’t even falter in his mission, knowing this time he’ll win. “What’s the harm?”

Yoongi cautiously peers down at the cat before shooing him off the bed. Deciding that a large cup of black coffee was the only thing that could help him deal with his dearest friend at the moment, the dark haired man brushed past the tiny creature to trudge to his little kitchen. “I don’t know the first thing about caring for a cat, for starters. I don’t even have the things he would need. And I’m busy with work.”

“I bought you stuff. It’s in the living room. And I know your work schedule, you can’t pull that I’m too busy crap.” Yoongi grabbed a mug only to find Jin sliding him a large cup of coffee from his favorite cafe. He ignores Yoongi’s hard glare in favor of picking up the fluffy feline. “Just give him attention, feed him, and change the litter. Easy. He basically takes care of himself.”

It was a long, hard fought battle, but in the end he kept the cat. Actually, no it wasn’t. All it took was the little fluffy ball curling into Yoongi’s belly and his soft purrs for the small man to know Tata was never leaving his side. 

Even though he’d never tell Jin, maybe Yoongi really had needed Tata. He was the sweetest baby, alway staying nearby or tucked into his side. He was the perfect companion for his lazy ass. And a great cuddle buddy when he went to sleep at night.

Tata was such an amazing addition to his world. So Yoongi really hated it when he’d wake up, tears on his cheeks after a nightmare, only to find his little friend staring up from his place on the man’s chest. He’d say it was fine, more to himself than the cat, but the stubborn boy never listened. Yoongi found it odd. He’d alway heard cats were less caring and standoffish, he’d even been compared to a cat by several people for his blunt and, at times, harsh actions. But this little guy was anything but. He’d watch Yoongi closely until he slipped back into slumber, curled up on his chest the whole time.

Yoongi never remembered the nightmares but they kept coming, and they only got worse. He slowly slept less and less. It had been weeks and the most sleep he’d gotten was 45 minute naps here and there. 

By the time a month had passed, he knew something had to change. But the man couldn’t bring himself to do anything. So Yoongi continued on as if he’d die if he slept too long. And every time he stayed up through the night, the faithful kitten was right there with him. Always looking at his human with a sad glint in his eyes, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

By now his coworkers and few friends had noticed the change. Yoongi was a phenomenal producer and, even with his lack of sleep, still was, but his work wasn’t at its best. That and he had to fight to stay awake as time went on. Hoseok had accidentally woken him up after barging into the smaller’s studio to tell him about the progress he had made on his mixtape. Meanwhile, Namjoon had to continually keep him from dozing off while the two worked together on songs for their own releases. Needless to say they were concerned and if Namjoon and Hoseok knew, it was only a matter of time before Jin found out as well.

Which he had, and quickly hunted Yoongi down to yell at him. He made it very clear if the man came into work the next day, he’d get the CEO of the company to ban him for 2 weeks. And Yoongi knew Jin could pull that off, at this point his chaotic best friend owned the company in all but name. Plus Bang PD always wanted to take care of his people, so the CEO would probably ban him without Jin even asking.

So he stayed home. It was easier to stay awake doing chores around his apartment than sitting in his small studio anyway. And he could dote on his pretty kitty this way. 

Yoongi spent his new found free day organizing the kitchen. How on earth some of these things ended up where they did he had no idea. He must’ve thrown his favorite coffee mix on the top shelf while unpacking in a hurry, because otherwise he’d never put it there. Besides the fact he couldn’t reach up there without climbing on the counter, the mix always went right next to the coffee maker to fuel the man’s dependence of the dark bean juice. 

The day dragged on and still Yoongi refused to rest. At one point he thought the sleep deprivation was getting to him when he heard the toilet flush even though he was nowhere near the bathroom. When he walked in and found Tata sitting on the closed lid staring up at him, Yoongi decided it was the perfect time to make a big pot of coffee and move on to scrubbing the bathroom. Tata stayed for a moment before bolting off to the kitchen, probably on a quest for his food.

Before long Yoongi’s phone was constantly going off, vibrating harshly against the ceramic tub. Not wanting to add a headache to his ever growing list of problems, he quickly snatched the annoying contraption to see a multitude of texts from Jin, Hobi, and Namjoon, all with varying degrees of threats. Really it was only Jin making threats, Namjoon and Hobi were simply telling him to rest up and take care of himself. Yoongi rolled his eyes, looking at the time before locking his phone. 

10:33 PM, the perfect time for him to start drinking his fresh coffee and start a Marvel marathon. Grabbing his biggest mug, Yoongi fills it up to the brim, lazily running his hand through Tata’s fur. Setting up his laptop with his first movie of the night. As the intro plays, he takes a huge sip of his warm coffee and cuddles up with Tata.

As the night passed by, Yoongi found himself just getting more and more sleepy, no matter how much coffee he drank. He was tired but he wouldn’t- no, couldn’t sleep. So the small man curled up on his bed, at the point of exhaustion where he just wanted to cry. But crying meant sleep, and sleep meant dreams. So he only curled around his pillow tighter and watched the seconds slip away. 

He’s so tired that he doesn’t question the deep voice humming to him and the warm arms that wrap around his smaller frame. It soothes him in the worst way, making him lethargic instead of more aware. It feels as though a memory is seeping through in his haze and attempts to lull him. Yoongi tries to fight sleep but the second his back hits the warmth behind him he’s gone.

The next thing he knew, Yoongi was snuggling deeper into the bed trying to hide from the sun’s blinding rays. When he finally managed to force his eyes open all the exhaustion from the previous night was gone. 

He barely remembered falling asleep, just the comforting warmth. The man had felt so safe and, honestly, he’d never slept better. No dreams, just sweet beautiful darkness. He’d slept so well Yoongi didn’t even remember his alarm going off.

Maybe that’s because it hadn’t. As he fumbled for his phone and caught a glimpse of the time, the small man felt his stomach drop. 1:33 PM. The numbers glared back, mocking him. He’d already missed about half a day of work, and he wasn’t about to miss the rest.

As he started to rush around, trying to look at least somewhat alive, he failed to notice the confused looking man sitting on his kitchen counter. “What’s the fuss for, hyung? You should be resting.”

“I have to get to work. I’ve already missed enough.” The smaller threw back at the blonde.

His entrancing blue eyes light up as he proudly claims, “I already called off for you!”

Yoongi stopped in the middle of the room, “Called… off?”

“Yeah! So you can get some more rest.” The man’s boxy smile grew larger, despite the slight scowl slowly appearing on the other’s face.

“I’m not going back to sleep.” Yoongi walked past the cute but annoying man, grabbing one of his coffee cups.

“Do you need more sleeping pills?”

“I don’t…” Yoongi paused, shaking his head before continuing to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot he made last night. He didn’t have time to start a fresh pot, he’d have to settle for warming this one up in the microwave. “I’ve never taken a sleeping pill.”

“Yes you have. Hyung said you had to ingest them but I figured you’d find them in your food. But they disappeared in the black stuff.”

Yoongi stopped and slowly turned to face the man, his happiness not at all affected by the pure stupidity that had just left his mouth. “You put sleeping pills… in my coffee.”

“Yeah in the pot.”

After a moment of dumbly staring at the man, Yoongi grabbed the coffee pot and promptly dumped it down the drain. 

The blonde cried out as he watched the dark liquid go down the drain.  “But I made that for you.” Yoongi knew the man probably had a little pout on his face just from the cute whiny voice.

“I appreciate the sentiment however if in the future you could try not to poison me that’d be great.” The shorter turned back to face the man perched on his counter, and sighed. “And can you stop sitting on the conter like a fucking cat.”

With a sheepish smile, the man slipped off the counter and walked towards Yoongi. He stopped barley an inch away and dropped his head onto the smaller man’s shoulder. He reached to hold Yoongi’s waist but paused, seemingly thinking better of it. “‘M sorry.” He whispered, his breath ghosting over Yoongi’s collarbone and sending shivers up the man’s spine. Yoongi sighed and wrapped an arm around his waist, slipping the other up to run through the soft blonde strands. The taller melted into Yoongi’s touch, bringing his hands to cling on Yoongi’s waist and nuzzle into his neck.

They simply stood there, the blonde practically trying to wrap himself around Yoongi as they cuddled. Yoongi thought they probably made quite the picture at the moment, the tall blonde man with enchanting blue eyes looked quite small now. Yoongi didn’t try to fight the small smile, knowing the only one who could see it was buried in his neck. This moment was so peaceful, Yoongi almost never wanted it to end.

Suddenly the smaller realized a very crucial detail. He had no idea who this man was and how he got into his apartment. So Yoongi decided to do what any logical person would do; shout, shove him off, and throw the rest of his cold coffee at the startled man.

“Why’d you throw that at me?! I made that for you with love!!” The blonde cried, trying to wipe the coffee off his face.

“Get the fuck out of my house weirdo!” Yoongi took his chance to run over and grab his frying pan. He may not be the best at self defense but he could wield a mean frying pan. 

However, Yoongi hadn’t been expecting the blonde to have such quick reflexes. The moment he turns to swing, he feels a large hand wrap around his wrist. Firm and strong, but gentle at the same time. Yoongi tried to use his only hand to get free, only to end up with both hands being held in the blonde’s while he gently took the frying pan and set it down on the counter. “Jin-hyung did say you were feisty but I wasn’t expecting this.”

Yoongi stopped struggling, zeroed in on one very important word. “What did that stupid asshole do now?!”

“Hyung is the reason I’m here, remember?”

Yoongi scoffed, once again regretting giving Jin a key. He really needed to get that back. “No, my loving best friend didn’t say anything about letting a stranger into my apartment.”

“But I’m not a stranger, I’m Tata.”

Yoongi paused to look at the man, finally noticing his hair and eyes match his precious cat’s exactly. That and the feline has been missing the entire time the man has been here. “I thought hyung told you.”

“No, that little shit didn’t tell me anything.” Yoongi grumbled, seemingly done with fighting. Tae hesitantly let him go, pleased when he wasn’t immediately attacked.

“I thought that’s why you called me Tata. Cause you knew.” After receiving a confused and annoyed look, he continued on. “You know, cause my name is Taehyung?”

Yoongi didn’t say a word as he grabbed his phone off the couch. Angrily jabbing at it, he made his way to the contact to call his favorite hyung. 

Jin answered after the first few rings, sounding as cheerful as ever. “Hey, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, hey. WHAT THE FUCK!” Yoongi knew starting a shouting match with Jin would break his ears, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yah, you brat! Where’s the respect?!” came Jin’s indignant reply, so loud even Tae flinched from his spot on the couch.

“You don’t get any, you bitch. You gave me a fucking human?!” Yoongi growled out, wishing Jin were here so he could lovingly strangle him.

“Shifter.”

“You shut up.” Yoongi glared at Tae, causing the blonde to put up his hand in surrender. Pleased that one of the two idiots might behave for the moment, he went back to trying to figure out what the hell his dearest friend was thinking. “Jin I swear I’m-”

“Going to kill me? Yeah I know. But look, you like Tata and Tae is the same person.”

Yoongi flops down on the couch with a sigh, “He is a human. I had a cat yesterday and now I have a human.”

“No take backsies! Love you bye!”

“JIN!!” Yoongi shoots up again, ready to scream and curse Kim Seokjin to hell and back, but Jin had already ended the call. “I should’ve poured that coffee on his fucking head.”

Yoongi sighed, falling back onto the couch and holding his phone up “Hey Siri, add kill Kim Seokjin to my to-do list.”

There’s a moment of silence before Yoongi is reminded of Taehyung’s presence. The shifter softly placed his hand on Yoongi’s smaller one, his expression solom. “Do I have to leave now?”

“... No. I just don’t know what to do,” Yoongi sighed and opened his arms, an invitation Tae quickly accepted, curling into the elder’s side.

“Well you can throw out the cat food. It’s nasty.” Tae mumbled, his disgust causing a gummy smile to appear on Yoongi’s soft lips “And then we can get food and cuddle for the next week.”

Yoongi’s smile dims once he remembers food means money, and money means work. “I have to go back to work.” He made no effort to move from Taehyung’s comforting embrace no matter how many times he repeated that.

“Yeah after you get more rest. Please hyung?” Tae gently pulled Yoongi closer, trying to tempt him to stay, using his best puppy dog eyes and cutest pout for good measure.

“Ugh fine.” Tae’s boxy grin returned as he nuzzled into Yoongi’s side. The smaller tried to fight off the blush rising up and softly placed a kiss on Tae’s head. The shifter perked up at the action, blue eyes staring intently in dark brown ones, before tackling Yoongi and showering his face with kisses. He tried fighting back, but Yoongi has discovered when it comes to Tae, he can’t say no.

“I liked you better when you were smaller.” Yoongi whispered once Tae had stopped, his soft smile showing of his gums and making Tae’s heart melt. They affectionately stare at each other for a while longer, before uncertainty creeps into Taehyung’s gaze. 

“It’s really ok for me to stay?” His voice was so quiet, Yoongi almost missed it. But he didn’t and his face softens, his gaze warm and comforting. His hands move to gently cup Tae’s face, his thumbs running over his cheeks.

“Yes Tae. I’d be sad if my favorite kitty left.”

[gumnut-logic]

Not So Alone (repost)

This is a shameless repost because I haven’t written a thing today. So I poked around in my archive and found some fluff. I chose Alan fluff cos that is what I’ve read a bit of today :D I think this may have been one of the first times I wrote Alan’s POV. I know I remember being a touch terrified :D

Apologies to those who have already read it, I’ll try to write some new stuff tomorrow ::hugs:: My brain has just been mush today :(

-o-o-o-

Title: Not So Alone Author: Gumnut 21 Jun 2019 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Alone time is sometimes better shared. Word count: 1767 Spoilers & warnings: None. Timeline: Standalone Author’s note: This is for @ak47stylegirl​ who wrote me the first part of this little fic, Alone Time, which can be found on her profile on Ao3. She wrote Virgil, so I stepped out of my comfort zone a little and wrote her some Alan to keep her Virgil company :D I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-   

Alan was bored.

It wasn’t often that he found himself with a lack of things to do. Life was generally busy with Thunderbird maintenance, rescues and backup duties.

Of course, he could always kill some zombies, but he was feeling restless. Gordon was off the island with Grandma so that didn’t help. Scott was buried in paperwork and John was still hiding on Five. Virgil had disappeared.

Wandering out onto the balcony, Alan eyed the pool a moment before throwing the idea out. Without Gordon it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun.

Maybe he could go for a walk. Scott had been nagging him to get into a more regular exercise routine and, hey, he hadn’t seen the other side of the island for a while.

Darting up to his rooms, he threw on some loose clothes, decent shoes and a hat. A quick note to John to say where he was going and he was out the back door and crunching gravel up the side of the mountain.

While he had no objection to the great outdoors, Alan had no particular preference for sun, surf or bush walking. Not that he didn’t love a splash in the ocean with his brother, or even a jog around the island with Scott, it was just that many of his interests lay in the confines of the virtual world.

Or space.

Part of him didn’t want to admit he was like Johnny, but he was in many ways, but where John adored seclusion, Alan loved people. Basically, Alan was happy doing pretty much anything as long as it was with someone, preferably someone he loved.

So, he would really be lying if he said he took his route at random. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more just what he knew was going to happen regardless.

Virgil had some favourite places on the island to sit and just be. Alan didn’t quite get it any more than he got John’s love of solitude, but he knew his brother liked it and he stored the information for when it was needed.

Today Alan wanted company, so he used the information he had at hand.

Clambering around on the rocky island was not for the faint-hearted. There was no doubt that he was getting a good workout just by going for a simple walk. His first stop was a small cliff beyond Thunderbird Two’s runway. It was Virgil’s favourite, just on the other side of the mountain. He could often be found here just staring out into the ocean thinking who knew what. The scene had been painted, scribbled and, in one case, mosaicked onto a table. This was definitely Virgil’s favourite place.

He wasn’t there.

But Alan still had his list.

Two more Virgil spots proved empty and Alan had managed to work up quite a sweat. He was beginning to wonder why he was even bothering when he caught sight of a figure almost completely hidden in a grove of palm trees.

Virgil sat on a rock, his sketchpad on his lap, completely absorbed in his art. He was up a cliff overlooking a good chunk of the island, the twin peak at an angle even Alan could appreciate.

Alan eyed the climb and with a deep breath began the trek to reach his brother. He kept quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb him. That would be a good way to get his head ripped off. But if he approached from just the right angle, he should be able to see what Virgil was actually drawing.

It took actual rock climbing in a couple of places, but Alan eventually found himself situated behind his brother on top of the cliff, and as expected the view was breathtaking.

It was late afternoon and the entire side of the island was lit up by the sun. Gulls were wheeling in the air above the forested slopes, catching rising air. Far below, raw Pacific collided with the rocky shore in places and wrangled with reefs in others.

Virgil had certainly found a spot.

Quietly Alan made his way closer to his brother. Virgil drew on, showing no sign of knowing Alan was there. The cliff was a slope that had Alan descending towards his brother. Virgil was facing away towards the scenery, slightly hunched as he drew. Because of that slope, Alan was actually able to see his brother’s hand, this time his right, sketching pencil lines on the paper.

For a moment Alan was content to simply watch, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t come all this way just to spy on his brother.

“You do know it is rude to stare.”

Virgil’s voice was always soft yet possessed a strength that could be startling. Alan stiffened, annoyed at being caught so easily.

“What? Do you honestly think all that rock clambering would go unnoticed?”

“Dunno.”

His brother had yet to look up at him, simply continuing to sketch as he spoke. You gonna come and sit down?” Virgil held up a hand. “Just be very quiet, I don’t want you to disturb them.”

Alan frowned. “Who?”

But that hand didn’t answer, just beckoned him over.

Alan did what he was told and found himself sitting on that rock beside his older brother.

Virgil was scratching lines furiously onto the page, but the subject wasn’t what he expected. All that beautiful scenery and Virgil was drawing a haphazard pile of sticks?

Whispered. “They’re sea eagles. I’ve never been so close.”

Alan’s eyes darted from the sketchpad to a slither of rock a stone’s throw away from the edge of the cliff. The pinnacle stood alone and defied gravity almost to the point of disbelief. On its very top sat a huge nest. From this angle he could see the two chicks waiting for their parents to return.

Breathed out quiet. “Cool.”

Virgil was sketching madly and under his practised hand, one of the chicks slowly came to life. Simple line instinctively placed, shaded and shaped. It was a little mesmerising.

Alan, of course, had watched Virgil draw before. Amongst all the other things. His brother was usually fiddling with something. He had to have something in his hands, whether it was a pencil or paintbrush, piano or Thunderbird, Virgil tended to always have something playing between his fingers.

When Alan was little there had been many a Kansas winter night snuggled up by the fire, curled up beside his brother watching him draw. Sometimes he would dare him to draw outrageous things like Pedro the Peanut-Killing Pickle. There had been odd stories and scribbled down comics. Alan had even tried his hand under a little encouragement from his brother, but he didn’t have the enthusiasm that Virgil had for the art.

Besides, Alan was quite happy to just sit and watch. Rare quiet moments shared with his artistic brother.

They had been getting rarer and rarer.

“Can I sit with you, Virg?”

A brown eye with an arched eyebrow peered at him. “You’re already sitting.” The curve of a smile. “But sure. Just be quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Respectfully whispered. “Okay.”

So, they sat for an unknown length of time. Virgil drew the second chick, and as one of the parent birds landed with the evening meal, its strong wings, talons and beak appeared on the page. Alan watched as the pencil lines grew darker, surer. Virgil switched pencils and they grew darker still, the birds emerging out of the page into three dimensions.

Down below the two chicks guzzled food from their parent.

A loud, awkward screech from above and another eagle was circling overhead, likely the other parent.

In the corner of the page, the bird quickly appeared, wings spread wide, soaring.

The quiet was amazing. Alan wasn’t one to sit still for any length of time, so perhaps he was missing the obvious, but the sound of Virgil’s pencil, the tease of the breeze and the call of the eagle above had only to compete with the waves far below and the rustle of the scrappy forest.

And a pair of squawking, complaining eagle babies.

Gordon would probably have loved this. His fish brother loved the sea, but he loved all the creatures contained in it even more. Despite this preference for water breathers, if you shoved a puppy or a panda in front of him, the man melted into a gooey puddle. Eagle babies would definitely be on the goo list.

“This is nice, Allie.”

“What?”

“Bit like old times, you sitting and watching me draw.”

Alan shrugged. “I’ve always liked to watch you draw. Guess we haven’t had as much time lately.”

The pencil paused. “Yeah.” His brother turned to look at him. “Well, it is good to see you out here. Nice to have your company.” A gentle smile.

“Anytime, bro. Kinda nice out here anyway.”

That smile grew a little before softening. “Well, unfortunately we have to head back now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to pick up Gordon and Grandma.”

Alan checked his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d been out here…three hours! “Wow, didn’t expect it to be so late.”

Virgil didn’t comment, just smiled a little more as he packed up his sketchbook and pencils.

Alan stood up and stared out across the ocean. A flicker on the surface of the water and he caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the swell. He stared.

“It’s amazing what you can see if you stop and look.” His brother’s soft voice so close to him made him jump.

“Virg, personal space.”

His brother snorted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think such a thing exists on this island.” That smile again. “Probably why John hides on Five.”

Alan grinned. “You’ve got a point.” And despite his earlier protest, he dropped his head against Virgil’s shoulder and for just a few more moments, they both tracked the dolphins as the cavorted past the Island.

“Can we do this again?”

“Sure.” Virgil slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Great.”

Silence fell, and they stood there a moment longer until Virgil squeezed a little and let go. “C’mon, sprout, time to clamber down the mountain.”

Virgil took the first few steps and Alan followed, throwing one last glance back at the nest now full of the entire family of sea eagles. A sharp beaked head turned in his direction and glared at him.

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the bird before he hurried after his brother.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[firewoodfigs]

(long post, but I’m gonna try and make journalling a thing in 2021 😆)

The first day of the new year was nice. :) I woke up to the sounds of rain crashing against my windowsills - a strangely chilly morning in this tropical country where it’s summer all year round. For a moment it felt like I was back in Canada again, all cloudy grey skies and whimsical rain - the perfect weather for introspection. 

I started my day with a pot of hot green tea, then settled down by my reading lamp to finish a book that I’ve been putting off for far too long - Steinbeck’s East of Eden. I only had about forty pages left, but somehow couldn’t bring myself to finish it. I hate when books end because it feels like that little world I’ve created and compartmentalised in my head has likewise ceased, but the good thing about books is that you can always re-read them and immerse yourself in the same fantasy. (Maybe even a different one, if the same words lend themselves to a different interpretation!) But it truly was an absolute masterpiece: such a stunning, intricate exploration of humanity that tugged at my heartstrings and led me into still waters of reflection. I know that I will definitely carry this tale in my heart for a long, long time to come. 

Afterwards, I had some instant ramen while watching The Queen’s Gambit. I’m not a big fan of watching shows usually because I often feel like they move too slowly or tend to miss details from the book, but this one is pretty exceptional. Like, the acting and the artistic direction are incredible - the constant juxtaposition between Beth’s traumatic past and her glorified present, and the exploration of the fallibility of genius were executed so brilliantly. Another thing that really stood out to me were the scenes where she’d hole herself in the toilet and rebuke herself aloud for weaknesses in her play and/or being weak, in general. I cannot begin to explain how many times I’ve done that to myself in law school for even the most trivial of infractions, the most minor of errors - Lord knows I’m my harshest critic. 

I promised to try, however, to be a little bit kinder to myself in 2021. My perfectionism tends to be a bar to goodness and growth because sometimes I get so afraid that my subconscious keeps demanding that my first draft has to be perfect. But it really doesn’t. That’s what editing is for. And writing, like any other talents and passions, requires nurturing and constant practice. I saw a quote yesterday about how we cannot just sit around and magically expect to be Faulkners overnight, and that is so true. I definitely need to find a sweet spot where I’m not berating myself to the point of giving up, but still demand growth so that I can keep bettering myself. 

In the evening I headed out to a friend’s for tacos, which were an absolute delight in itself. And then my bf and I got to walk his dog, who I am convinced is the most precious thing in the entire universe - maybe even more so than my bf himself (I kid... or maybe not) - and who is just such a gentle-natured darling. It began to drizzle, so she led us home and we spent the rest of the night playing Sherlock and Among Us with the rest. :) It was a very peaceful evening. For a moment I’d forgotten all about the fact that I start work next Monday and was simply content to bask in the Christmas lights, the heavy downpour and the anomalous chill that came along with it. Just... living in the present, enjoying the moment. 

Now that’s definitely something else on my to-do list for 2020 as well. So often the beauty of the present tends to be marred by my worries and anxieties of the future, but I always remind myself of this quote from Scripture: “Which one of you, by worrying, can add another day to his life?” And when I look back at my life and all the times I’ve worried and fretted and cried, feeling like there was no way for us to extricate ourselves from this rut, this perennial cycle of debt and other things that have plagued me from birth, I am also reminded of God’s grace and providence that has brought me through so, so much. It would’ve been impossible to have done all of this by myself; I frankly might not have had the will to continue living if not for those things. 

Talking about my lived experiences also ties in to the last part of my day - where I thought about how exclusive and inaccessible the poetry scene here feels. You would think otherwise, in a country of no more than 5-6 million folks, but no. I was ranting about this a little to my boyfriend: how it feels like a lot of the spaces within are reserved for the elites of society with silver spoons in their mouths and golden plates on their tables offering them anything they wanted while I was struggling to put food on the table at fourteen. Sometimes I also lament the fact that I didn’t have my parents to tell me bedtime stories, to encourage me to read and cultivate my vocabulary. Perhaps it’s jealousy, or inferiority, or a mix of both. 

But my boyfriend, ever wise and supportive, offered me a different perspective. He made a fair point about how I still fell in love with books and writing regardless, and how literature is oftentimes only a harbour that the privileged visit because the marginalised, the poor are too busy working for basic necessities to even think about such things. To the ordinary blue-collar layperson, poetry is just frankly a frivolous sentiment that won’t turn itself into gold. I agree with this wholeheartedly. It’s one of the reasons why I always felt like I didn’t have time to write, and one of the reasons why my first job was at a library (so I could read as much as I wanted! For free!). Then he said, “But see, no one wants to read about the rich waxing poetic about how lovely and grand their sunny little island is. But people will want to read about your perspective - your poems of the brokenhearted clinging on desperately to their inner child, your poems about the poor working to make ends’ meet, your poems about your tangible struggles - all of those will resonate with the masses, for sure.” And I was like, well, that’s fair. But I certainly don’t express myself as eloquently as these people do. Next to them I’m like an uncultured swine who can’t even tell the difference between all the different forks splayed on the table. 

His response was that people need to understand these things before appreciating them, and sometimes simplicity works best - a lesson that’s been drilled into us from the very inception of law school. And I was like, okay, fair, but deep down my heart was exploding with the sheer warmth of having someone so incredibly supportive of everything I do, even if it’s worthless in society’s eyes. I remember one night when I was telling him about how, as a twelve-year-old, I had a dream to one day study Literature at Yale. I would hole myself up in the library after school, feverishly flipping through books to expand my imaginations and horizons, my mental dictionary of words, dreaming about the day where I could escape all of this and dwell in nothing but imaginative worlds one day. Where reality failed me, I knew that I could always count on my imagination to transport me to somewhere safe and special, filled with joy and sorrow and tragedy and hope. 

I ended up studying law. Not a bad thing, because as stressful as it was I really did enjoy the things I’ve learnt - international and constitutional law, especially - and it has certainly given me new, mature perspectives on so many things; taught me to argue with reason and objectivity instead of just emotion and passion and has led me to meet so many wonderful (also trashy, but I’m out of this hellhole) people. I just don’t like the fact that 80-hour work weeks are the norm and that there’s always so much to... read. If you gave me a piece of fiction I could happily indulge in it for hours, but sometimes judgments can be so ridiculously mundane to read, especially if they’re just itemising every single case on illegality from the 19th century. Lord knows I need at least two cups of coffee for that. Black, to be specific. 

Anyway, I digress (as I always do lmao). My bf ended up researching all night until he stumbled across this Literature programme at Harvard - which frankly sounds amazing, but also unattainable. Which was what I said. And he was like, “Do I think it’s impossible? No. I think you have a very compelling life story, and you’re full of amazing stories within you to tell. And if you want to do it, I will support you wholeheartedly.” 

Again, as is usually the case, I had nothing left to offer apart from muted sobs under my blanket. It still sounds absurd to me - unthinkable, even - but I am just so, so grateful to have someone like him support me through everything. Literally everything. This is the man who has spent hours tutoring me in the subjects that I was hopeless in in first year, because I was too busy tutoring random folks in economics and geography and catching up on sleep (in class, no less), who has patiently helped me prepare for every single mooting competition and watched every single one of them, who has seen me cry and admonish myself for being a failure (only to spend hours trying to convince me otherwise), who has celebrated every single one of my victories and losses - you deserve a treat, anyway! Let’s go eat something nice and put it behind us, for now! This is the same man who has so much passion for what he does, who is so darn good at it without even realising that he is (I wept when he won a mooting competition this year because I was so proud of and happy for him), and who inspires confidence and compassion in me every day. 

I am grateful to share all our triumphs and tribulations together, and I look forward to starting a new chapter in life with you. :) 

[lucrloux]

— meet LUC RIOUX !

hello ! my name is ani and i am so excited to be here ! below the cut you can find some information on my son, luc ! if you are interested in plotting please feel free to like this post or simply shoot me a message ! 

— the OVERVIEW !

( WOLFGANG NOVOGRATZ, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — oh gosh, sorry LUC RIOUX ! i didn’t see you there ! y'know, i can’t believe you’re already 26 years old; seems like just yesterday you were tripping over yourself, or was that yesterday ? just kidding, just kidding ! anyway, i hear that you’ve been here since 1955, or so you think; congratulations ! at least that shining EXTROVERTED personality of yours hasn’t changed a bit, especially that OBSERVANT + CHARMING, but IMPULSIVE + FRAUDULENT way about you. look, i gotta get back to the group, but i’ll see you around ! 

tw: ww2, alcohol, smoking.

— the BASICS ! 

full name /  luc rioux.

nickname /  lu, lucky.

age /  twenty-six (26).

year of disappearance /  1955.

date of birth /  7th april.

star sign /  aries.

hometown /  paris, france.

current location /  raven house.

nationality /  french.

gender /  cis male.

pronouns /  he/him.

sexual orientation /  bisexual/biromantic.

occupation /  art forger.

language(s) spoken /  french & english.

faceclaim /  wolfgang novogratz.

— the STORY ! 

there is meaning in all things… but are you paying attention? 

tiny fingers curled around mother’s hand, green eyes glossed over in an attempt to take in the world but it is too much– there is too much for you to see. you hear whispers of difficult times, hushed tones floating through otherwise empty halls. mother and father try to hide their worry from you. they try their best to keep the world beyond arched windows hidden, though even a simple glance outside gives way to their delicately spun tales. you see figures rushing past, always in a hurry– never stopping to look at the beauty in this world. as the months grow colder, their features fall– worry encompasses all the shadows you have yet to know. 

would you look at it? 

the world as you know it crumbled, nothing is as it was. nothing will ever be as it was before, times are changing and so are you. your heart yearns for simpler days spent chasing your sister up and down flights of stairs, dancing in the rain and watching father unfold the morning paper without scowling at the newest headlines. this world is not for you– this world is rough, it is cold, it is void of what makes us human. you are yet too young to understand the gravity of it all, but you see the pain. you see the exhaustion in people’s faces, the darkness beneath growing with each moment that passes. you watch it reach out from the corners, you watch it divide those you know and care for. you don’t understand, but you are filled with sorrow for them. you roll up your sleeves, and help where you can. 

you watch father leave for war, his head held high wearing his pride visibly on his chest. for a moment you fear you might never see him again, but mother is there to hold you, to carry your burden. you fear he might never return. and then a letter arrives, you only catch a glimpse of it before mother tears it from your grasp. you see her tears fall, and though you cannot know for sure– you know it must be about father. you pray for his safe return, but in his stead soldiers enter your home. they speak a foreign tongue, and though you do not understand– you are told to fear them. and most importantly, to keep your sister safe. 

your life has changed so drastically. you now serve the soldiers who have taken over your home, you bring them their morning coffee and scramble away as fast as you can. every part of you is filled with rage, you wish for nothing more than things to return to what they were before. you yearn to see your mother’s smile, but these days even the light in her eyes seems to have vanished. and though you are young, you must grow up fast. you must protect your family at all costs, but even so you cannot bear to bite your tongue and hold in your obvious distaste for these men. your sister tries to keep you in check, but you cannot help spitting in their cup, you cannot help calling them names, you cannot help making them feel unwanted in your home. and whilst you feel good in the moment, the punishment is always severe. though, in your eyes your little acts of rebellion are worth every moment of them. even if you tried, you could not sit quietly by. 

the tides are changing… 

the times are changing yet again, the men who occupy your home are no longer composed. you can see the terror in their eyes, and it brings you joy. they become crueler, and that fills your heart with hope– for even they know that their time would come to an end soon. there are whispers of forces liberating your country– and you hope it to be true. 

c’est la vie…

you watch as horrid flags are taken down, and your own are raised once more. the city you call home is far from glory, it is in shutt and ashes. the very foundations collapsed under the turmoil of the war. and yet, everywhere you turn you see life return to empty shells. and with such a return, so does your father. but he is a changed man. he is not the sweet and tender man you remember him to be. his gaze has hardened, blue eyes turned cold as steel. you cannot find your way home to him, for his heart is shut with the despair of what he has lived. 

you try so hard, but you are always met with disappointment. 

you have a pale memory of that time, but why? 

you are old enough to sit at the table, you are old enough for your voice to be heard. and yet, in your father’s eyes you are but a child. he pushes you aside, in his eyes you are worth nothing. and you have to wonder why is it that you are so wrong for this world? but you never learn the answer beyond never being good enough in his eyes. and so, you stop trying. instead, you follow your heart. 

though the war is over, its remnants loom over your shoulders. you cannot unsee the things that have come to pass. the graveyards filled with bodies– old and young alike. the city is a ghost town, lights flickering as you walk past. when you wake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, all you can think of is those horrid soldiers leaning back on your living room chairs, their dirty boots placed on the table. all you can remember is your mother running through the house fulfilling their every demand and you are angry. you are angry at the world for being so disappointing. 

setting fire to our insides for fun, to distract our hearts from ever missing them… 

*tw alcohol*

for a while, you think, it would be best to feel numb. you want to forget– you want to bury the terrors you have witnessed. but you cannot seem to forget. and so you turn to the bottle, you hope that maybe the answer lies at the bottom of your glass. but there is none to be found, instead, you watch the world go blurry. and you decide, you have seen enough– as well as far too little. you want to enjoy your life. you want to dream. you want to escape into different worlds all together. 

*tw end*

art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self…

your sister urges you to follow your dreams. she urges you to showcase your talents. and for a moment you believe her. you believe in yourself. regardless of what your father might think, you enroll in art school. you study the grand artists of your time, but you will never measure up to them. and once more you are met with the word you despise the most: disappointment. though you see your professor’s lips moving, you hear your father’s voice. and once more you run– you run from responsibility. but you are not willing to give up the life you love. and so, you turn elsewhere for guidance. 

people leave pieces of their soul in their art… 

you look to the masters for guidance, you know their work– and you can paint fairly well. you may not know yourself, but you search for pieces of yourself in their art. brush on paper, you begin to duplicate their works. after the turmoil of the war, art is lost and scattered and you abuse this. you sell your work for theirs, forgeries none the less– but good ones. 

suddenly you have more money than you know what to do with. and you spend it foolishly. you spoil your mother, your sister and most importantly yourself. finally you have the means to do as you please, and so you do. you treat life as though it were a game, an illusion. you aren’t sure what is real and what is not– for you haven fallen under a spell, intoxication. but one thing remains certain: you are in for a wild ride. 

— the THE FACTS ! 

luc was born and raised in paris, france. 

his family was well off, but like many others they still struggled with the economic demise prior to ww2. 

during the war, his father participated in the battle of france, but never returned home. like many others he was taken as a prisoner of war. leaving his mother to take care of luc and his little sister. 

during the war, their home was occupied by german soldiers and they were forced to serve them. he hated this more than anything in the world, and acted out despite severe punishments. he was never one to sit by quietly. 

during this time, his mother helped smuggle people out of the country and while luc was but a child, he aided her as best he could. 

after france was liberated and his father returned home nothing would ever return to as it was in the time before. his father was a changed man from his time spent as a prisoner of war. he was cold, and distant. luc did not know how to deal with him, nor did his father know how to deal with luc. 

he went on to study art and art history at university. but, there too he was met with disappointment. his professors did not agree with his style of work and eventually luc gave up and dropped out. his father, ever the more disappointed in him threatened to cut him off. 

luc is a very proud young man, and so he essentially dared his father to cut him off. which the man then did. forcing luc to try and make ends meet himself. 

luc was used to luxuries in his home, and he was not willing to give up such a life. so he turned to the other side of the law. he began forging famous paintings that had gone missing during the war. selling his own work as those of renowned painters. with the money he lived a lavish lifestyle. 

he worked hard in this illicit career, but he partied even harder. 

the young man had been dabbling in matters on the opposite side of the law, fraudulent behaviour on the verge of being uncovered. his sister had been so kind to pass him a note at breakfast, it hadn’t been signed by name though the message was threatening: ‘ we know what you are doing, it’s only a matter of time until we can link you to the crime. ‘ alas, he sought out a space, in which he could go about his work undisturbed. 

checking in under a false name, jacques de villiers, the young man patted himself on the shoulder in the belief that this would solve all his problems. he would be able to use his hotel room to forge artwork, all evidence placed in the hands of the hotel, whereas at his home there would be none to be found when the police came knocking.

— the RAVEN HOUSE ! 

the year was 1955. 

the young man decided to check into a hotel, tucked away in the heart of paris. it was far from modest, but truth be told he wouldn’t settle for less. luc had always been drawn to the luxurious aspects of life: a glass of champagne in the morning, silken sheets hugging his body, and leaning out the window to smoke his first cigarette of the day with a perfect view of champ de mars. 

perhaps he had indulged in too many pleasures the night before, for when he pushed the door to his room open he was greeted by an entirely different interior. it was beautiful nonetheless, crystal chandeliers and ornate decorations. and yet, something was off. he caught glances of people passing by, each dressed in a manner he could not recognize to belong to his time. with a smile plastered on his lips, the young man left to discover the place he found himself in only to become aware of the fact that he now resided in the raven house. 

— the PERSONALITY ! 

his unpredictability made him a menace to society, or better said the social circles his family operated in. he was everything but poised and calm, he had a certain spark in his eyes: the desire to live life to its fullest. luc was charming at his root, equipped with honey lips and a serpent’s tongue. though he didn’t necessarily say the right thing at the right time, he had a way of getting away with it. perhaps it was his sociability, or the way he would make the person he was speaking with feel as though they were the only one in the world. that was until his attention drifted elsewhere, which it always did. ever with a drink or cigarette in hand, he was the life of the party, one debacle after the other– a sight to behold, but never to own. he came and went as he pleased, making himself at home in any environment that he deemed acceptable. in his core, he is an extrovert– though a rather chaotic one. 

— the HEADCANONS ! 

001. his most treasured item: it was a gift from father to son, the one object he owns that symbolizes his father’s acceptance. gifted to him upon his birthday, it came with the words, “now you are a man.” it was the only moment his father seemed to stand eye to eye with luc, as though they were equals. but this is not why the object means so much to him, no– he couldn’t care less about that man. he holds it dear for the words so delicately scratched onto the bottom by his sister, “l’artiste est semblable au prince des nuées “ (the artist is alike the prince of the clouds). the object is none other than a silver lighter with his initials engraved onto the center of it, always found in the comfort of his pocket. 

002. when luc first entered the raven house he was content simply enjoying every day that passed without responsibility. however, when it dawned on him that he would never be able to see his family or friends again he became obsessed with remembering their likeness. he tried his best to draw images of those close to his heart, but with each day that passed he came to realize that those memories were lost. there are a vast amount of ripped up images, or unfinished pictures scattered around his room that he furiously scribbled over in frustration. for he was only ever able to draw one person from his past life: his father. the look of disappointment ingrained in his mind for all of time to come. though, the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t manage to create a single image of his sister, who he was really close to. he felt so guilty that he could not remember the details of her features beyond the green eyes they shared– and even then he was unsure if he remembered her eyes or if he was simply drawing his own. 

003. after his mysterious disappearance, the note was discovered by his family. his story quickly became a rather large investigation, but as no trace of him was found his family grew impatient with the investigation and offered up a rather large reward for any news on their lost son. the case found the tabloids, the newspapers, and general gossip quite quickly. his story influenced the character « charles bonnet » in the movie “how to steal a million” years later.

004. when luc first entered the raven house he was only able to speak french, but one of the other guests was so kind as to teach him english. he still struggles with the pronunciation of words to this day, but he tries his best. it doesn’t exactly bother him either that his mothertongue often slips through when speaking in this foreign tongue, for he never cared much to perfect this skill-- he only wanted to be able to communicate. (this could be a possible plot ??? one of the other guests that teaches him english !!! ) 

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[mobius-prime]

228. Sonic the Hedgehog #160

Birthday Bash! (Part One): Giving and Receiving

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

Welcome to the beginning of Ian Flynn's reign, everyone! As many of you will know, Ian is a fan favorite amongst readers of the comics, and for good reason. Objectively, I'd say he has a much better sense than any previous writer of how to construct dynamic and interesting stories, as well as a great head for writing dialogue. Every character has their own unique voice when speaking, and as someone who takes a particular interest in dialogue in her own writing, it's something I admire a lot, especially given how stilted and unnaturally formal a lot of dialogue by Karl and especially Kenders often sounded, regardless of who was speaking. That said, I think that it took a good year or so for him to fully come into his own as head writer for the series, so some earlier issues are a bit strange and not up to par with a lot of his later work. Some of this, to be fair, is due to him essentially playing clean-up for this first year, untangling a lot of the bizarre leftover plot threads that Karl and Kenders left behind, and generally trying to make the world of the comics conform a little better to that of the games. All that aside, anyone reading the comics will likely notice an immediate and apparent improvement in the overall quality of the work starting with this issue. This is helped along, in addition, by none other than the very talented artist Tracy Yardley! who always (well, almost always) introduces himself in the story credits with an exclamation mark. It's kind of his calling card. Tracy took a while to really improve his art as well, so while his earliest issues sometimes have some strange proportions and poses, later on his style became easily one of the most visually attractive and recognizable ones in the series, simplifying a lot of the inconsistencies that many character designs had as well as doing away with the strange pseudo-human proportions that some artists tended to favor, particularly with the female characters. All this said, I will say that Ian isn't going to be immune to my criticism, as while I do recognize his skill as a writer and the good things he brought to the table, there are definitely some problems I have with the way he handled certain things. We'll cross those bridges when we come to them, however, so for now, let's dive into the new world he's creating and see how he does!

Elias and Sonic are walking on the outskirts of Knothole as Elias explains why his father approved the Metal Sonic troopers from last issue. We don't even really get to hear the explanation, but to be fair, we hardly need one, as the idea was so insane to begin with that the only true explanation is that Kenders needed a plot device. Sonic tries to make Elias promise that "you royals" won't hit him with any more weird surprises, and Elias says they only have one more, leading him to a building next to where the Great Oak Slide into the village ends.

I mean, canonically he's supposed to be turning seventeen here, even though realistically he should be turning eighteen, because remember, for him to have turned sixteen in StH#68, had the Robians be deroboticized in early June in StH#123, and still have managed to spend close to a year in space before turning seventeen, literally everything in between the two aforementioned issues would have had to take place in the span of a few weeks - yes, that's counting the month-and-a-half time span that Sonic was confined to Knothole, as well as major events like Eggman's return and the entire Green Knuckles saga. You can see why this huge discrepancy still bothers me, right? Hmph. Anyway, no sooner has the party begun than an explosion destroys the door, and two new players enter the scene - Bean the Dynamite and Bark the Polar Bear from Sonic the Fighters! Nack's been part of the comic for long enough now, so it's cool to see these two make their first appearance. Bark is totally silent - as far as I remember, he never says a single word during the entirety of the comic - but Bean, in the absence of an obvious personality to draw from in the game, has subsequently been given the personality trait of "criminally insane" in the comics.. He's erratic, he talks to himself, he cracks jokes where jokes really shouldn't be cracked, and most importantly of all, he loves his goddamn bombs. Bean starts chucking said bombs left and right at the various Freedom Fighters in the base, while Sonic tangles with Bark. He seems to think these guys are only after him due to something Evil Sonic did in his place, something which he has by now apparently finally explained to all the women of Knothole, and manages to break away from Bark to stop Bean's bombing spree by pinning him to a wall and asking about Evil Sonic. However, Bean happily insists there's been no mistake and he wasn't even aware of Sonic having an evil twin, nor does he particularly care. Oh, speaking of Evil Sonic…

Huh, it seems that Evil Sonic has actually explained his true identity to Rouge in between their previous failed attempt and now. I'm surprised she hasn't outright abandoned him by now due to Rouge not exactly being evil-aligned to begin with, but I guess the pull of the shiny is just too strong for her to resist. And as it turns out, Bean suffers from a similar insatiable need! Fiona pulls out a ring of keys and shakes them around, completely distracting Bean from his current activity of bashing Sonic's head in, and throws them out the hole he made in the wall, prompting him to immediately abandon everything to chase after them. Fiona then advances on Bark, who by now has gotten himself cornered by every Freedom Fighter in the room, and convinces him to stand down as he's outnumbered. Outside, Bean plays with the keys and talks to them, seemingly convinced that they're a beautiful woman with an "adorable accent" who wants his number, when a suspiciously-Shadow-shaped shadow converges on him, prompting him to try to invite him into smashing Sonic as well. Good luck there, buddy, I don't think Shadow usually runs with crazy…

Geez, Sally, cut Fiona some slack. Not everyone had a squeaky-clean record - hell, just look at Shadow! Back in the Chaos Chamber, Rouge and Evil Sonic begin to battle Locke, who tosses Evil Sonic to the side as he perceives Rouge to be the bigger threat. However, that turns out to be a bit of a bad idea, as with Rouge tied up in the fight, Evil Sonic takes his chance to go after the Master Emerald without her, obviously recognizing it as more than just a shiny trinket.

Back in Knothole, Shadow explains that he's only here to thank Sonic for saving Hope, as he knows he wouldn't have been able to do it on his own, and reminds him that as soon as he leaves this building they're back to being enemies, as Shadow's still aligned with Eggman for now. Sonic, to his credit, seems to recognize that Shadow is only allied with Eggman because he doesn't yet know better, and cheerfully invites him to come back here whenever he cuts out on that deal in the future. It's at this point that everyone realizes Bean has quietly snuck into the brain trust's comms room to casually let Eggman know that he and Bark failed to take Sonic down, and when Fiona ushers him back out of the room, Eggman is only too happy to let Sonic know personally that he wishes him a happy birthday and he's sending him a new, more metallic present. Within seconds a thud outside alerts them to the arrival of this present, and everyone rushes out to see a strange figure emerging from an egg pod - a figure which resolves itself into the combined forms of Crocbot and Octobot, now merged into the singular entity of… Croctobot! (Don't worry, Ian knows just how silly this is and even acknowledges it next issue.) But what of Evil Sonic and Rouge? How is their fight faring against Locke after the former got knocked aside? Well, Evil Sonic takes his chance to dramatically emerge from behind the emerald as the other two get ready to continue their fight…

Plot twist! How many people actually didn't know by now that Evil Sonic and Scourge were the same person? I'm guessing there had to be at least a few of you. You can actually already see Ian's new plans being put into action - it's very telling of his intentions when the very first issue he ever pens immediately makes a point of distinguishing a rather tired and boring character into a new and improved version of himself, with a unique name and new, visually distinct look. Apparently Kenders, who if you recall is the original creator of Evil Sonic, never liked this and continued to insist on referring to him as Evil Sonic, but screw that, Scourge is a much more interesting character and this was a change that sorely needed to be made.

Sonic Rush (Part One of Two)

Writer/Pencils: Tania Del Rio Colors: Ben Hunzeker

So unfortunately, Sonic Adventure 2 isn't the only case in the preboot of a partial adaption of a game being included without any actual ending. Sonic Rush, the game, introduces Blaze, a cat from an alternate dimension that is controlled by the Sol Emeralds rather than the Chaos Emeralds, and most of the plot revolves around the Sol Emeralds ending up in Sonic's dimension and her trying to recollect them to bring back to her own world. However, things are a bit different in the comics universe. In this story, Blaze comes to Sonic's dimension because, apparently, she's been having nonstop dreams about him, dreams which show her visions of Eggman threatening the Sol Emeralds and Sonic helping her protect them. She's frustrated that she would have to rely on anyone else to help her protect the emeralds at all, believing them to be her sole responsibility, but nonetheless she's tracked Sonic to Knothole. However, while deliberating her next move, a squad of swatbots - yes, ordinary ones, it's been a while since we've seen them rather than shadow-bots - happen upon her and decide that they should take her in for interrogation.

Yeah, I guess Blaze doesn't understand the dangers present in this universe yet, does she? An hour or so later, Rotor sends for Sonic, informing him that they caught the aftermath of Blaze's capture on their video surveillance. Neither of them know who she is, but they decide she can't be from their village, since she left several disabled swatbots behind, while most people in Knothole are noncombatants and those that aren't are accounted for elsewhere. Sonic rushes out to find their trail and tracks them to a nearby facility set up amidst the trees, and while he begins fighting his way in, the scientific robots in the building go about studying their new specimen.

Sorry, but why the hell would Eggman be looking to add some random Mobian to his team? He only likes robots anyway, and tends to either betray or enslave every living being that comes to him. Blaze suddenly awakens and becomes furious - not that she's been captured, mind you, but that they took off her coat while studying her. She must be really goddamn attached to her coat, because she starts absolutely trashing the place, exploding into flames and screaming so loudly that Sonic becomes genuinely worried about her wellbeing, rushing to where he last heard her. The door of the lab she's in is completely blasted off its hinges by the force of Blaze's explosions, but thankfully after this she seems to have found her coat, because the blasts subside and she appears in the doorway wearing it once again, staring down at an utterly shocked Sonic with a look of fiery fury (the literal flames coating her entire body probably help with the "fiery" bit). Uh… good luck dealing with that, buddy boy!

[ariela-of-aedyr]

🙏💍🍵🎁🗺️ for each of your Watchers? (or as many of them as you'd like to do, anyway ;-D)

Thanks so much for the ask! It’s taken me literally three nights to finish answering this (largely because I kept getting distracted, but still), cos I actually did answer for all of my Watchers, like an absolute fool! Threw in a read more, since it got lengthy.

(Missed out the adventure question for Ari since I answered it previously, but I answered it for everyone else here)

Ariela:

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way?

Ari definitely isn’t particularly religious. There’s not a reason why, so much as the Gods just didn’t really play a big part in her life until after she became a Watcher and they started popping into her head on a semi-regular basis to ask her for help. She thinks she might have been Eothasian, had history gone differently, and she whole-heartedly believes that her mother’s soul is a part of Hylea’s court, but otherwise, she doesn’t really think that much about religion.

She believes in doing right by others, though, and lives her life always trying to do what she can to improve the lives of those around her.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

She has a couple, actually; all sentimental things. Some letters from her father from during her youth, a bracelet which had once belonged to her mother, a couple of Vela’s baby things that she just couldn’t get rid of. 

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

Back in Aedyr, almost certainly. The family members who had been conspiring to kill her cleaned up all evidence of foul play and made it appear that she’d just packed up and abandoned her family for no reason, and I can imagine that they’ve spent the years since she ran spreading unpleasant rumours about her.

In the areas that she’s visited since becoming a Watcher, though, there’s probably some good-natured rumours. Exaggerated tales of her exploits; things that make her sound larger than life. And anyone who ever spent any amount of time in Caed Nua recounts awe-struck stories about her love of sugary treats. 

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indecisive? How do they wrap their presents?

My gut instinct is to say, like, cakes or biscuits would be the perfect gift for her. But honestly, Ari would love and cherish any gift that came from the heart, and is probably particularly fond of homemade things, regardless of their quality.

She’s very good at gift giving; she pays particular attention to what her loved ones like and dislike, and thoroughly enjoys anticipating their needs. She’ll sometimes buy her friends random gifts, and present them with little fanfare; new boots when she notices that theirs are looking worn, enchanted items after she’s seen them struggle in a fight. For occasions, though, she wraps her gifts prettily, to the point that the person receiving it feels bad for ripping the paper.

Aubrey Stargrove:

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way?

As a self-taught Priest, Aubrey is definitely religious. She’s incredibly devoted to Wael, to the point of often making very poor life choices because she believes that it is what Wael would want. She found Them at a crucial time in her life; struggling with her amnesia and starting to lose hope that she might ever figure out who she had been before. Learning about the God of Secrets, Mysteries and Revelations helped to rekindle that hope, and she considers Them the thing that helped her find the strength to keep on going.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

Her travel journal, for sure. She keeps a log of everywhere that she’s visited inside, complete with sketches of landscapes and people, and pressed flowers and plants from each area. She considers it priceless, because she knows that if she was ever to lose her memory again, this would give her something to help her to remember the life that she lived.

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

There’s almost certainly a lot of rumours about her all around Eora, since I feel like people would probably talk about That Weird Orlan Woman Who Rolled Into Town, Did Strange Things, Then Left After a Couple of Days Never to Be Seen Again… even more so after she’s become a Watcher, and some of those ‘Strange Things’ involve, like, talking to the dead.

If she stays in a town for any length of time, she starts subtly spreading rumours about herself, all wildly different, just to see what kind of things stick and what kind of reputation she ends up with.

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indecisive? How do they wrap their presents?

Any kind of art supplies would probably be the perfect gift for her, or something practical like a pair of sturdy shoes or a warm jacket. But she’s also pretty fond of shiny things and any kind of knickknack, so little collectable type things would probably go down a storm as well. The worst thing to buy her would be something like jewelry; expensive things with no practical use.

She’s terrible at giving gifts. When she does give a gift, 90% of the time it’s probably a prank, so it’s probably not great for the receiver. She’s very good at wrapping, though, and draws beautiful images on the paper.

🗺️ Does your OC like going on adventures? Have they ever discovered something really interesting and significant or are they just too busy getting lost? Where is their favourite place they’ve been? Least favourite?

Aubrey loves adventuring! She’s been travelling and exploring almost literally as long as she can remember, and drastically prefers life on the road to time spent staying in one location.

She doesn’t necessarily have one place that she considers her favourite, but she loved being back in the Deadfire again, and really enjoyed having her own ship this time round, so maybe The Defiant (or whatever I end up renaming it for her later in her playthrough). She’s probably petty enough that The Hall of Revealed Mysteries was her least favourite place, since her experiences there… left a lot to be desired.

Mia:

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way? 

Mia considers herself to be religious, though religion isn’t really a big part of her life. She’s a follower of Hylea, and tends to pray through song, at least once every few days. She likes to celebrate all of the creative souls in the world, and tends to support artists of all different kinds.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

Her collection of scripts and music is fairly priceless to her, as she’s poured her heart and soul into each piece, and she’d be devastated if she were to lose her life’s work.

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

Well, she is famous, so that would figure. Her old troupe probably spread around some rumours about her being a self-absorbed diva, which… I mean, isn’t entirely untrue. But she’s working on improving herself. Most of the rumours about Mia are definitely pretty catty and unpleasant, honestly, largely fueled by jealousy.

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indescisive? How do they wrap their presents?

She’d love jewelry or flowers, or clothing or accessories. She’s definitely accustomed to people buying her the finest and most expensive things, though she’s trying to unlearn that expectation and has been doing her best to try and appreciate genuinely heartfelt presents.

She’s definitely not good at giving gifts. She probably had ‘people’ to do that for her before her days as a Watcher. She almost certainly asks the shop assistants to wrap her gifts for her, though she tips them handsomely for doing so.

🗺️ Does your OC like going on adventures? Have they ever discovered something really interesting and significant or are they just too busy getting lost? Where is their favourite place they’ve been? Least favourite?

Mia despises going on adventures. She hates the outdoors. There’s mud, there’s bugs. There’s people and things that want to kill you. She’d much rather be warm and safe at home, surrounded by luxury.

She’s glad to have had her adventures, though, as they’ve helped open her eyes to the world around her, and made her realise how privileged she really has been, and that there is so much more going on in the world than she had ever realised.

Faenna:

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way?

Faenna isn’t sure how they feel about the Gods any more. They followed the teachings of Galawain for most of their life, but found themselves starting to have questions and unsurities after the deaths of the rest of their hunting/mercenary group. These concerns only amplified after the revelations about the Gods Origins (and then the whole revelations about the Godlikes in Deadfire).

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

I haven’t settled on anything solid, but they probably have a small collection of personal items from the friends that they lost, which are incredibly sentimental to them. They also place a high value on their surgeon’s tools, which they’ve kept in pristine condition over the years.

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

They don’t really talk about their past, so I feel like there’s probably a decent amount of rumours from people who like to gossip and make up potential stories about them. And back in the Living Lands, I think there’s likely rumours surrounding the incident in which their friends were killed, with people claiming that they only survived because they abandoned their group, or that perhaps the group died because of their incompetence.

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indecisive? How do they wrap their presents?

Much like Aubrey, Faenna definitely appreciates practical things. A decent gift for them would be good boots, new arrows, or something to replenish their medical supplies. The worst gift for them would be a hat.

They almost certainly don’t give gifts; they’ve been trying to keep others at a distance after the deaths of their friends. But if they did, I can imagine they’d probably be rather practical things; a utility knife, a lantern, etc. They’d probably be rather good at wrapping, as they’re pretty patient and have a steady hand.

🗺️ Does your OC like going on adventures? Have they ever discovered something really interesting and significant or are they just too busy getting lost? Where is their favourite place they’ve been? Least favourite?

Faenna really likes adventuring. They don’t have that much interest in history or exploring urban areas, but they absolutely love losing themselves in nature. Their favourite place was likely somewhere back in the Living Lands, maybe an area that their group tended to meet up in or camp in on a regular basis. Their least favourite place was the Endless Paths, which started to feel almost claustrophobic for them the deeper that they went, and then finally ended with them having to face their worst nightmare; a dragon.

Anik:

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way?

Anik isn’t particularly religious in the traditional sense, but he believes in the Universe. He believes strongly in fate and destiny, and that all things happen for a reason, and truly believes that the Universe will guide him to where he needs to be. He thinks that the Gods are sometimes mouthpieces for the Universe, but that is pretty much the extent of his interest in them.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

He wears a bracelet; just a simple leather band, with almost shoddily made charms attached, which was crafted for him by his family and friends before he departed The White That Wends to follow his Destiny. It wouldn’t appear to have any kind of financial worth, but it’s the most priceless thing to him, as it reminds him of where he came from, and who is rooting for him back at home.

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

I can’t imagine that there are that many rumours about Anik. He’s a pretty chill guy, and tends to do right by others when he isn’t keeping to himself. There might be people who have known him who think that he is crazy for believing in the things that he does, but aside from that, I can’t imagine there would be much gossip about him.

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indescisive? How do they wrap their presents?

Anything heartfelt would mean the absolute world to Anik. Whether it’s a shell or a cool rock that you saw and thought of him, or something that you’ve poured your heart and soul into crafting, it would all make his day. The worst thing to get him would be something generic and store-bought.

He’s probably very hit and miss when it comes to giving gifts. His gifts will either be the most perfect thing for you, or they’ll be something that makes you go “oooookaayyy”. He tries, though, and that’s what counts. He’s not great at wrapping, and the presents usually end up with the weirdest shapes.

🗺️ Does your OC like going on adventures? Have they ever discovered something really interesting and significant or are they just too busy getting lost? Where is their favourite place they’ve been? Least favourite?

He does like going on adventures; he truly believes that it is his destiny to do so. He’s found many interesting spots along the way, and one might think that he gets lost a lot, but he’ll insist that he’s right where the Universe intends for him to be. His favourite place was probably Sun in Shadow, because he both found it incredibly interesting, and was able to complete a big task for the Universe there. His least favourite place was the In-Between, and he’s not super anxious to return any time soon.

[sweetasssuga]

Taegi Fic Recs

personal favorites = ♡

new additions = ϟ

Little Lion Man by mucha [3k] [teen]

Deep down, Yoongi always knew that making rash decisions would one day send him early to his grave.

(Or; Yoongi confesses to Taehyung via text and immediately regrets it)

in all dishonesty by fruitily [3k] [teen] ♡

while taehyung is trying to figure out whether or not min yoongi wants to stab him with a fountain pen, they find out they make an excellent team when it comes to board games.

feelings you provide by sugarlizard [3k] [teen] 

Feeling a little daring, Taehyung slips the ring on his finger. He’s not expecting it to fit, he knows that part of the victorious appeal of this jewelry is it was designed to fit only Yoongi, but instead it slips over the knuckle of his ring finger like a glove.

*

taehyung borrows one of the SUGA diamond rings when he needs a comfort object

help me out by clumsy_taegi [4.6k] [teen] ϟ

Taehyung talks Yoongi into helping him rehearse for a play.

Of Handlebars and Heartbreak by bananamilks [5.5k] [teen] 

Totally unprepared are you, to face a world of men.

[or, the mutual pining fic in which: one of them is in denial, one is oblivious, and both of them are idiots]

caught in a lie by booksinaballroom [5.6k] [teen] 

Ten years, one acting degree, and a frankly embarrassing amount of student debt later, his plans have...changed, a bit. Turns out waiting for callbacks from Colgate toothpaste commercials and roles as extras in dramas isn’t exactly lucrative. Certainly not lucrative enough to pay off his mountainous student debt.

Which is why he has turned to a spinoff of the acting industry. The underground of the acting industry, if you will. A place to hone his skills while raking in plenty of cash. A high-stakes challenge, something that tests and proves his ability to perform under pressure.

In other words, Taehyung is what might be better known as a con artist.

(soulmate au: you can't lie to your soulmate)

A Different Kind of Magic by tryst [5.8k] [teen] ♡ 

Wherein, Taehyung doesn't really need extra Potions help, but could definitely use a hug and Yoongi is pretty indifferent about being a tutor, but is down to hold hands.

my heart flutters from the sugar high by hoars [5.9k] [mature]

Yoongi and Taehyung sneak around together, cheating on their diets. The group? They’ve drawn different conclusions.

Birds in Your Heart by m_aur_a [6k] [not rated] 

Origami cranes with cute, if kitschy, words of advice are popping up on campus. Yoongi is struggling with a lot right now, but they help. So does the pretty boy that leaves them.

Ring the Hogwarts Bell by mucha [6k] [general audiences] 

“No, it’s fine,” Taehyung interrupted him, circling his fingers around Jimin’s wrist and squeezing reassuringly. “It’s just a few days, I’ll be okay.”

It was the furthest thing from truth, though. Christmas was always his favorite holiday and in his mind, it was irreversibly connected to home and family and watching silly Christmas movies with a mug of hot chocolate in his hand and his puppy, Yeontan, in his lap. He was hoping that maybe at least one of his friends would be staying in school too, but that hope quickly vanished when he checked the list in the common room and saw no familiar names. Well, he saw one familiar name but it belonged to someone Taehyung had never spoken to, so it didn’t matter anyway.

As if he could read Taehyung’s mind, Jimin spoke up again:

“I noticed that Yoongi is staying at Hogwarts too.”

(Taehyung spends his Christmas at Hogwarts and makes a new friend)

human by awsuga [7.7k] [mature]

Taehyung almost kills the most beautiful mortal he has ever seen.

yesterday’s tomorrow by locks [8k] [mature] ♡

Yoongi just wants to get through the night with his pride intact.

Enter Kim Taehyung.

Or, the one where they used to date and meet again at their ten year high school reunion.

but not for me by raviolijouster [8k] [teen] ♡ 

Taehyung’s straightforward, he thinks. A 2 + 2 = 4 kind of guy. He’s just not always sure that his 2’s are other people’s 2’s. Sometimes it seems like they might be 3’s. Or 7’s. But Yoongi’s 2’s are the same 2’s, they’re just in italics, size 8 font, while Taehyung’s are in bold and size 72.

or,

People think Yoongi and Taehyung are dating. Taehyung wishes they were.

ring ding dong by chlexcer [8k] [explicit]

the one where taehyung loses his precious gucci ring the very first time he meets yoongi, but he doesn't lose it just anywhere, oh no— he loses it inside of yoongi.

By Tomorrow by Oh_Hey_Tae [10.6k] [teen]

“Why are you freaking out now?” Seokjin asks, and the seconds tick by and suddenly the atmosphere shifts. “Ahh, I get it.”

Yoongi perks up, swivels, spots Taehyung stepping from the hall into the room and he’s in fitted slacks and the baby blue button-up from earlier and he looks divine.

Yoongi’s heart just stopped and he’s not sure how to get it beating again. Namjoon’s a doctor. A doctor in training, but some form of medical professional regardless. Namjoon knows CPR and cardiac arrest symptoms and all that shit. He’ll know Yoongi’s dying.

“Perfect timing. Let’s eat.”

Or he’s going to wink at Yoongi and send suggestive eyebrow raises the whole night. Great. Fabulous.

(Or: Yoongi loves Taehyung and Taehyung loves Yoongi and somewhere along the way they figure that out.)

neons and watercolors by aimandignite [12.6k] [explicit] 

“Do you stare at the sky in the middle of roads at night often?” he asks.

Yoongi shrugs. “Do you join random people staring at the sky in the middle of roads at night often?” He glances at the guy and his heart slams in his chest at the wide smile he sees.

“I’m Taehyung. Everyone calls me Tae though.”

Yoongi nods slowly, “Yoongi.”

Tae seems to repeat the name to himself, carefully remembering how it feels in his mouth. Yoongi can’t look away. “Yoongi? Do you want to get out of the middle of the road and get hot cocoa?”

812 (rock my world) by aileron [13k] [explicit] ϟ

Jimin sniffs in a way that lets Taehyung know he’s an ungrateful brat. “Look, some people would pay good money to get a free pass that allows them right in front of the stage and hence right under the nose of Min Yoongi.”

“Min who?”

Jimin waves his hand dismissively. “The rock star you couldn’t care less about but whose face you have to stare at through your camera lens tonight.”

Taehyung slings his camera bag on his shoulder and shoves the press pass into his back pocket. “Sure, whatever. Just point me in his direction when we get there.”

- or: the fic where Taehyung thinks Yoongi is an arrogant piece of shit (albeit a hot one), but as Jimin puts it, “Which memory is going to be more awesome to look back to when you’re eighty: the time when you went and fucked a rock star or the time when you didn’t and went home instead?”

Chasing the Sun by almostsophie1 [17.6k] [mature] ϟ

Yoongi calls it a phenomena.

Whatever it is, it brings Taehyung to Yoongi again and again, twining their lives together. If it's a kind of magic, it's not one that Yoongi understands. But it pulls Taehyung to him and him to Taehyung, and somehow that's all that matters.

Out to Lunch by roebling [19k] [teen]

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Taehyung is not above taking a soul-killing office job solely for the benefits. The drab cubicle he now calls home is bad enough, but his new boss Yoongi is possibly a robot and definitely an asshole. Vision and dental coverage are enticing, but Taehyung’s not sure how long he can stick this out.

Siren of the Interstate by fringecity (indiachick) [23k] [mature] ϟ ♡ 

Yoongi is a traveling salesman circling the same set of weird towns and highways. Taehyung is a gas-station clerk in the middle of nowhere.

"Won’t space be lonely?” Yoongi asks. Taehyung shrugs—Yoongi can feel him move beside him, just a finger-breadth away. “It’s lonely down here too.”

Heart of the Matter by fringecity (indiachick) [33k] [teen] ♡ 

Disaster witch Kim Taehyung meets perfect senior Min Yoongi in the poison greenhouses of witch school. Years later, Taehyung owns a clinic that fixes hearts, Yoongi has a celebrated apothecary, and they (don't) get along.

Harry Potter-ish, but not in that universe.

A Breeze Blows, and My Heart Swells by roebling [36.6k] [teen] ϟ

Former Idol Min Yoongi is struggling to write his next album. He knows he'll never live up to the success of his first solo outing, and the pressure is getting to him. After a series of minor scandals, his manager and best friend Jimin ships him off to Harmony Retreat, an ecotourism resort deep in the Daegu countryside. With electronics strictly forbidden and no company but a rooster, a dog, and his eccentric host Kim Taehyung, Yoongi's not sure how he's going to get through this -- let alone write a hit song.

a spoonful of suga by ellievolia [38.6k] [explicit] ϟ ♡ 

“Good evening, ladies and gents. You’re listening to First, the premium digital station, and this is Spoonful of Suga, hosted by your very own Suga. Relax, let the music do its job. We’ll be taking requests later, but first, please enjoy the next uninterrupted half hour of music.”

Min Yoongi, a late night radio show host, has a regular caller. He also has busybody best friends, too much music on his playlists, dreams that feel too big for his heart, and a genius dog.

Kim Taehyung works nights as a mortuary cosmetologist, likes to listen to the radio, and he also has a genius dog.

Say My Name (And I'll Lie in the Sound) by fadetomorrow [51k] [explicit] ♡ 

Taehyung wakes up 500 years in the past and catches feelings for a Joseon prince.

The Romance of Old Clothes by fringecity (indiachick) [59.6k] [explicit] ♡ 

Min Yoongi is an art director with zero tolerance for bullshit, looking for ultimate perfection in everything he creates. Kim Taehyung is the co-owner of a vintage fashion boutique who talks to clothes and learns magic from Tumblr.

It’s a match made in the depths of hell.

[“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin says, wily and soft, “You’re not scared of meeting Yoongi, are you?” Taehyung knows this is bait. Seokjin knows this is bait. Even Yeontan, running circles around Taehyung now, knows this is bait. His angry brows are very expressive, and right now they’re saying 'don’t take the bait, don’t be a stupid fish.' Taehyung's a stupid fish.]

[theparaminds]

We always ask for organic in music. Someone who is truly grassroots and honest in their come up, someone who has had to find every possible solution the roadblocks that they face on their artistic journey. Look no further than Jan Romina, the Philippines based artist doing it all on her own, building a world of sound from her bedroom, one track at a time. 

Jan is constructing musical emotion to a degree few can match, bringing forth instrumental knowledge and intensity that few would expect but all are gladly impressed by. She understands the broken heart as much as she does a full one, as well as everything in between, as she traverses her fears of growing up by expressing it all in song. 

She often worries that due to her location she may not be able to break through into the music scene and that possibly her efforts won’t go anywhere. But if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that her worries are completely irrational. Jan has the talent and emotional understanding to take herself anywhere, as long as she continues to stay honest and true to herself while releasing damn good music along the way. 

PM: First question as always, how’s your day going?

JR: Well, although it’s 1:16 am where I am from right now, my day is going pretty well. I can’t sleep because as usual, I’m listening to music and discovering new bops.

PM: Oh yeah? What have you been listening to as of late?

JR: I’m listening to “Nobody” by Mitski! and Vansire’s new single, That I Miss You!  And songs from the 80s, which is my favourite era of music.

PM: When creating your own music, how do you find yourself implementing your influences into your own sound?

JR: l think subconsciously when I am on the process of creating my music, I am implementing their style and sound. Artists like Phoenix, Miniature Tigers, Tennis, The Smiths, Cuco and other artists from the indie scene have contributed to how I want my music to sound like. I realize and find myself implementing the sound of my influences after I listen and internalize the song I created. Then after, I can recognize the similarities. I really enjoy “poppy synth” sounds and I think it was highly influenced by Phoenix's Bankrupt! album and Miniature Tigers’ Cruel Runnings.

PM: So how did you come to create the sound you have apart from through influences? Did your environment and location growing up bring you on this path or did you find people in your life nudging you towards this train of creativity?

JR: Definitely with the help of GarageBand and learning different instruments. I first started to create sounds in my phone and then leveled up using the mac. The different instruments that came with it really helped me to create my sound. I made use of what I had just so I could make music.

I think everything that was mentioned had a significant part in how I was brought into the musical path. Singing contests happen a lot here in the Philippines and my mom constantly pushes me to join. At first, I disliked it because I was a really shy girl but then I grew to love it. Growing up, I am already surrounded with music because of my mother who is also a musician. I also have a friend, Ed, who is beginning to make music and we are helping each other somehow. Also, my friends and family are very supportive of what I do so now, I am more than inspired to create more and follow this train of creativity.  Special mention to Victor Internet, a very talented, kind and supportive person! I think my music wouldn’t be as known if he didn’t share it. So he’s also one of the people that nudged me in the music/ indie scene.

PM: What is it for you about the indie scene that resonates with you and your journey as an artist?

JR: The indie scene provides a diverse playground wherein creativity is encouraged and experimentation with different styles are accepted and appreciated. This makes the indie scene capable of fostering the freedom of making music that's really your own. There is also a beautiful simplicity as to how the indie genre presents itself. Personally, I find that this along with those I mentioned, relieves the pressure of being a novice. And it’s not just about the music that encompasses this scene, it’s also about the community that supports and participates in it. They encourage multi-cultural dialogue and a platform to discover and create music that has never been heard before.

PM: Absolutely, would you say the key there is that outsiders finally feel accepted into something larger than themselves? And if so, is that what you experienced in this scene compared to others?

JR: Yes. It’s an interesting feeling, having something as simple and as complex as music be a part of you and simultaneously make you feel like you’ve found your home. The community is warm and open to beginners such as myself, which makes my communication with other artists and listeners easier. I’m still new in the scene so I am not certain about how it has been for other artists but I’m sure they probably feel the same as I do.

PM: Going forward, what skills and improvements do you hope to add to yourself as an artist to continue growing and accomplishing artistically?

JR: I super want to improve my skills in producing, playing the keyboard and the guitar! Being in depth with music theory is also one of my goals because it is undoubtedly going to enhance my skills as a musician artistically and professionally. I feel like there’s so much more I need to learn and improve that is essential to my growth as a musician. I am actually going to study music in college, so hopefully, I’ll be able to achieve these goals.

PM: Those are such fantastic ideas to get to, apart from music theory and music school, what are 3 goals you have set up for yourself that you hope to achieve?

JR: Oh my, I’ve been thinking a lot lately on performing my songs live! When I move to the city I would really love to do live shows and gigs! I think it would be one of the best feelings in the world to perform and sing my songs live and reach out to people. Apart from that, I am planning to release an album by September, assuming school won’t hinder me from doing so. This coming August, I’m going to be releasing two songs! Lastly, I plan on collaborating with more artists!

PM: Let's talk a little bit more about moving and where you are now, is your current location limiting to your artistic endeavors and how do you hope moving will open doors for you?

JR: I’ve been living in Ilocos Norte, a province here in the Philippines and I think the only things that are limiting me is the inability to expand my music outside of the internet. Live shows aren’t much of a thing here. Although, as I’ve mentioned, when it comes to singing contests, I’m all in! But since I’m moving to the city of Manila, where you know, things happen, maybe I could grow as a musician by performing in shows. It is also going to be an advantage that I am going to be surrounded by musically inclined people constantly!

PM: Yeah! Changes like that can make a world of difference! As well, we’ve talked about those that influence you and your art, but I wonder who it is YOU hope to inspire and who you hope to speak to with your work?

JR: I think timeless music moves this way. From every walks of life, it exists. Further, I want my music to inspire young and beginning musicians like myself. I want them to know that we’re in this together!

I also don’t really hand pick people who I want my music to relate to or speak to because I want it to resonate with everyone regardless of who they are, their background and any other factors that might come in to play.

PM: That’s a beautiful way to put it. In your music, what topics and themes do you hope to talk about and why do they have significance to you as an artist?

JR: Aside from the usual romance content, since I am approaching a new life and things are inevitably going to change, it is going to fuel me to write about the experiences I am going to face may it be about friendships, sadness, love, really anything. I’m still young but I am growing older every day and I think it would be interesting to perhaps document this journey through my music and just be raw. It’s more of a narrative of what I am going to experience given this new change awaiting me. However, maybe someday I think I want to deliver more substance into my music meaning, I would want to share my views on advocacies and issues that are relevant to this era.

PM: What would you say are the one album and one movie that has meant the most to you most and why?

JR: Oh I find this question hard to answer! But I have to say Louder Than Bombs and The Queen is Dead by The Smiths (I’m sorry I couldn’t choose haha) because I have this personal connection with the content of their songs. I first listened to them when I was 14? I think. I was just a really sad teen and when I discovered the band, I instantly fell in love with their sound and that the lyrics of their songs relate to me. They’re just brilliant and listening to them made me happy somehow. Anyways, I know came to think that the films that are close to my heart are Begin Again and Her! I also really enjoyed watching when I was younger was Almost Famous. I remember I kept rewatching it. Lately, though, I was mind blown by Hereditary. It was fun and I’d honestly watch it again.

PM: If you could design the ultimate creative space, what would it include and how would it look? What personally do you look for when wanting to be creative and inspired?

JR: Ahhh, I’ve been envisioning about this a lot! Well, I’d really want a cinema and a studio in my own home! I would really want the studio to be cozy, low light and my favorite albums would be plastered on the wall, something like that. And it would include the essential instruments and gears for producing and a food bar.  This is just a dream for now. I’m really broke, like I’m going to be selling my electric guitar and I’m just borrowing my uncle’s microphone. Honestly, I don’t really look for anything. I just let myself be because I don’t want to force my art when I’m not feeling it. Some days, I wake up full of inspiration and creativity and when I am in that state, there’s not stopping for me. Some days, I just feel disconnected, but that’s okay.

PM: Agreed, you can’t ever force creativity. Now, what’s one book everyone reading this should pick and why?

JR: ‘Life’s Little Instruction Book’ by H. Jackson Brown Jr. It’s minimal but substantial.

PM: And final question: do you have anyone or anything to shout out or promote?

JR: NEW SONG NEXT WEEK (OR THE WEEK AFTER THAT), TITLED ‘CLOSE TO YOU’. ALSO, SHOUT OUT TO THE PEOPLE WHO’VE LISTENED AND SUPPORTED MY MUSIC! YOU GUYS ARE COOL!

Follow Jan Romina on Instagram and Twitter

Listen on Soundcloud and Spotify

[sosation]

Volume is Power

The following is a transcript of my "Audio Liner Notes" for Volume is Power, the album I released earlier this year under the project titled Temporal Distortions.

The album can be purchased for free on my bandcamp here: https://temporaldistortions.bandcamp.com/

and it is available on all streaming services:

-https://open.spotify.com/album/3983Bepp9uxIv1pb9qaEwY?si=qWpTAozTS2ujMQ79R_FZZg&utm_source=copy-link

-https://music.apple.com/us/album/volume-is-power/1557283830?uo=4

and music videos are up on the Local Famous Records Youtube page: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRIjOlGfx0M

Volume is Power

Transcript of Audio Liner Notes and Recommended Readings

Hi. My name is Anthony Sosa and you have just listened to Volume is Power. I hope you enjoyed it. I began actively writing for this record in December of 2019. Some of the musical ideas were written in previous bands going back as far as 2009 and others were written after I had started working on the record. As you know, 2020 was an insane year. So, as you can imagine, it affected the writing and conception of what we were working on. When I began writing lyrics it was the middle of the democratic primaries for President. I was a Bernie Sanders volunteer. I wanted to talk about issues in the US and around the world. But then COVID happened and George Floyd happened, and I had to talk about those things as well--If anything, to document this moment in time. Honestly, those events backed up what I already wanted to say with this record: Our system is broken.

Sonically, Volume is Power has a lot of specific influences that influenced specific songs. For each track I tried to lean into whatever influences were present at the time and treat each piece almost as a genre study, though the genres span a narrow spectrum along the “rock” continuum. Time -- was, and will continue to be, an important aspect of the project. Temporal Distortions are happening all around us all the time. This record is essentially a series of distortions, or songs, that span, temporally, from the mid 1990’s to the late 2000’s. There are also audio clips from the 1950’s and 60’s as well as from this historic summer of 2020. Songs from my past still inspire me in the present to create an album for the future which is now here. Now, this album will exist in the past for me but for you this is your present. Maybe, if I did my job right, and you are so inclined, it will inspire you to create something in your future.

I had intended to make this album available for free everywhere, but youtube and bandcamp are the only platforms where I can achieve that. You can always email localfamousrecords@gmail.com and we will send you a free digital copy.

In this Audio Liner Notes track I intend to give credit to all of the amazing artists who helped me create this record. I am honored and privileged to know and have the pleasure of working with so many amazing people and to all of you thank you for giving me your time and energy. Chief among these is Dale Brunson, my colleague and compatriot. I met Dale in 2009 when he was playing in Werewolf Therewolf and I was playing in Housefire and The Raven Charter. We’ve been friends ever since and in 2012 we started a Top 40 cover band called Sweetmeat who is still together as of this recording. Dale mixed and co-produced this record with me and without his patience, insight and guidance this record would have been impossible. I definitely threw him some curveballs throughout this process and he has handled all of it graciously.

I, now, am going to give a track by track breakdown of the record but I am not trying to spend too much time explaining or discussing lyrics. Those are for you to interpret how you will. I’m not great at insinuation, anyway, so I’m sure you get the point. I’d rather discuss the people on the tracks and the musical influences behind them. So:

Track 1 is titled Our Streets and begins with the voice of Rod “Teddy” Smith whom I met on the streets of Fort Worth during the protests this May-July. Rod and I, as well as Defense Attorney Michael Campbell, Christopher Rose and my wife, Amber, started a non-profit organization in the wake of these protests called The Justice Reform League with the goal of advocating for evidence based socio-economic and criminal justice policies at the municipal, state and federal levels and to empower impacted communities through civic education. I, personally, believe that there needs to be more effort put toward educating our community on how local politics actually works, how it impacts us, and how we can get involved and change things. So that is what we are trying to do. I also feel that music, or art in general, can be an educator and is one of the reasons I was inspired to write this record.

In regards to the opening clip with Rod, I actually have hours of footage from weeks of protests in May and June but this clip stuck out to me particularly because it evokes Fort Worth and the particular sentiment I was wanting to express with this record. The piano was played by me, recorded here at my house. At the end of the track are protest chants from one of the larger protest-days this past summer here in Fort Worth. My wife, Amber, and I marched for about 3 weeks before actually beginning to organize. On those later days of the protests I started carrying a battery powered PA speaker on my back in a doggie backpack with a mic and using that for chants and to further project those giving speeches. The album cover is a photo by local photographer Zach Burns capturing me doing just that. Zach being another awesome person I met this past summer. Before I move on, the real first voice (and last) you hear on the album, and multiple times throughout, is of Jordan Buckly of Every Time I Die- my favorite band. Early in the pandemic I paid Jordan $30 on Cameo to say “Temporal Distortions” and to “purchase” a shitty riff idea. I didn’t use the riff, it was god awful like he said, but I made some clips of him because it made me smile.

Track 2 is Daring Bravely.

This song was intended to be a The Raven Charter song and was introduced to the band near the very end of our time together. For those who don’t know, The Raven Charter is the most serious project I have ever been a part of. It was the most important thing in my life for many years. I am not going to use this time to give a history lesson on TRC, though that would be fun. Go check out our stuff if you’re into Prog Rock. So this thing kicked around on my hard drive since 2015, I recorded multiple demos with guitar, bass and drums, over the years and finally settled on a bridge. I didn’t actually write the lyrics until I began working on this album proper in Dec of 2019.

I had the awesome pleasure of doing this song with my boys Daniel Baskind and Erik Stolpe of TRC. Daniel wrote a beautiful solo for this track. It was exactly the energy the song needed and also sounds quintessential Daniel. As I stated at the beginning, I was leaning into the genre for each track and the genre on this track was “Ravencharter” and Daniel nailed it. And Erik, I truly feel, did an amazing job in making this song more than it was. The orchestration and production aspects of his writing for this track are spot on. He really got the vibe I was going for and took it even further. It was great to get to work with both of them again to recreate some of that magic we used to make. The audio clips are from Dr. Brené Brown and her TED Talk “The Power of Vulnerability” from Jan 3, 2011. Funny story about that. When my wife Amber and I first saw Brené’s TED Talks we really enjoyed the concepts she covered. We both came away from watching those remembering the phrase “Daring Bravely,” which is why I named the song that. I like those two words together and the concept they elicit. However, when researching for these Liner Notes I discovered that all along she was saying “Daring Greatly.” She even has a book with that title. So, we’ve been saying it wrong the whole time. Regardless, I prefer “Daring Bravely” because it requires bravery and courage to dare greatly and have confidence and believe in yourself. So be brave. Dare Bravely.

Track 3 is titled Division of Labor.

What radicalized me? Working in the service industry and learning history. This song is essentially an amalgamation of that. The line in the bridge is an Oscar Wilde quote. This was just a rando idea on the guitar that I recorded into my phone on new year's day 2019. Musically, the main guitar riff seemed to me Every Time I Die influenced but when I put drums and bass to it it ended up sounding more like At the Drive In or something, to me. My demo leaned into that a lot more than the finished product. This song definitely ended up in a different place than when I started working on it which is always fun and surprising. Workers rights are very important to me and I tried to put that into this song.

Track 4 is Pay for your own Exploitation.

This is another relatively recent idea recorded into my phone on the acoustic in October 2019. I remember when I did it because my friend and fellow musician/producer Randall C. Bradley from Delta Sound Studios came over and before we could even really greet each other I had to stop and say “hold on I have to record this idea before I forget.” It kinda had an Aerosmith vibe to me when I put it all together in the demo process for the record. Like 90’s Aerosmith. I dunno. I guess really the 90’s are smeared all over this album. Another temporal distortion. And then from the bridge on it goes all ETID. The “sex organs of the machine world” line at the beginning of the song is a Marshall McLuhan quote. The bridge vocals “Politics is war without bloodshed. War is politics with bloodshed,” I heard from Adolf Reed Jr. but I don’t know if he was quoting someone else.

I had the pleasure of working with Double Bear on this song - my Local Famous Records brethren. The gang vocals in the song are myself, Michael Garcia, Brandon Tyner, Garrett Bond, Matt Bardwell, Glenn Wallace, and Dale Brunson and we’re having a lot of fun, if you can’t tell. It makes me happy that we got to work together on this project and I imagine there will be more collabs down the road.

Track 5 is We Make the Past.

This song is essentially a Bush song, or was when I wrote it. Very Pixies influenced. Dale’s production took this a lot further than I imagined in the best way possible. I also showed up to the studio thinking my lyrics were finished but realized I was missing a second verse. The demo version was just like a minute and a half and I extrapolated the rest and got it wrong. Once that started I essentially re-wrote all the lyrics on the spot. The lyrics are meant to be scattered and random, like Gavin Rossdales’, though they come from a book by the late Hatian anthropologist and historian Michel-Rolp Trouillot. Bush was one of my favorite bands growing up in the mid-late 90’s and early oughts. I’ve always liked their raw energy and lyrical strangeness. (The same could be said for my love of The Mars Volta.) So this was my homage to Gavin, Nigel, Dave and Robin and shitty guitar playing. Also, I pronounced “His-tor-icity” wrong. I said histori-ocity and I don’t know why I didn't notice it until really late in the process. Same with “commodozation” instead of “commoditization” Oh well. Making up words is fun too.

Track 6 is Serve-Us Industry. This song was fun. It originally was going to be a new Huffer song. I had the pleasure of being a part of Huffer from 2015-2018 with Chea Cueavas and Jeremy Nelson, and we were working on a new album in 2017. Between Chea and myself we had about 10-13 ideas kicking around. This was one of the ones I had thrown out there. To me it had a Foo Fighters vibe, which makes sense because Chea and I were also playing in The Foo, our Foo Fighters cover band, a lot around that time. I just thought it would be fun to sing about all the mistakes that happen while working in the service industry and having to deal with customers. These lyrics made me laugh and sometimes that’s all you can do.

Track 7 is an interlude titled Employer vs Employee. This is a clip of David Griscom from the Michael Brooks Show episode 145 - Police & the ANC & We Need a Liberation Theology ft. William Shoki & Ronan Burtenshaw recorded on June 23, 2020. I really enjoy David and even though at the time of recording he has been living in Brooklyn for several years he has never forgotten Texas. His insight on economic issues and worker’s rights is immensely important. The underlying music on this track is just myself playing bass and guitar. A bass riff I had laying around for almost a decade.

The Michael Brooks Show has greatly impacted and influenced my life since I became a Patron in Dec of 2019. I wanted to take what was I learning from Michael, David and Matt and their guests and put it into music. Since Michael’s passing in July 2020, David and Matt Lech have gone on to create their own show Left Reckoning. Check them out for leftist theory and international news and analysis regarding the global left. As Americans, we all need a lot more international and historical perspectives.

Track 8 is titled Class Struggle.

This song was influenced by Silverchair's 1997 and 1999 albums Freakshow and Neon Ballroom. At least that’s kinda what I was going for tonally. The quote being shouted by Karl Marx from his Communist Manifesto, with a slight edit. In hindsight I probably should have use “their” instead of “his or her,” but it was an effort to use more inclusive language. I feel like most people hearing this will know that that was Marx, but if you don’t now you do. This track was originally written and proposed to Huffer as an idea in July 2017 but didn’t make it further than that. Dale plays the double stops in the middle of the song.

I suppose I should take this moment to say that this album is my first lyrical endeavor. I have written personal things in the past but never anything for any of the various bands and projects that I have been a part of, save one short lived hip-hop project back in 2010 I did with Aaron Anderson which was never released. So any idea that I “proposed” to any previous band was just music not lyrics. When trying to decide what to write lyrics about it became clear to me that politics and history was what I felt I needed to talk about. As a History teacher, and someone who studied history at the graduate level, I understand that not everyone learns history by reading historical monographs--but rather through pop-culture. So this is my contribution to pop-culture and I hope some people do learn some things by listening to this. And perhaps, then inspired to do some of their own research.

Track 9 is the Stoop Romans interlude.

These are 2 clips from two different performances of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. The first is from the 1970 film and the second, I believe, is from the 1953 production. I got them from youtube and you ideally, got this for free, so hopefully no harm no foul. The piano is a repetition of the piano at the beginning of the album. And these clips, to me, summed up the sentiment of many in America in 2020.

That is another thing I want to take a moment to say. The creation of this record and the method of its release is a statement. I do not want to profit from this. That is not why I made it. I made it for the message and I want this message spread as much as possible and the best way to do that is to make it free. So it was a labor of love and I tried to reject the capitalistic game of “the hustle” that most musicians, and artists, are forced to play with their creations as much as possible. It is my gift to you and example that things can be done differently.

Track 10 is Imperialism get Fucking Bent.

Soooo I was reading a lot of Noam Chomsky at the time, what can I say. If you don’t know who that is look him up. He is an important intellectual whose perspectives on recent American history and economics are invaluable. This song was heavily influenced by ETID, though a lot more simple, and was written on the guitar in 2018.

Initially, when I began writing lyrics I wrote stuff about Magic the Gathering, of which I am an avid Commander player, at least before the pandemic. But the tone of the song didn’t match the lyrics so I scrapped them and started over. The clip in the middle of the song I got from the Congressional Dish Podcast hosted by Jen Briney, of who I am a Patron. She got it from the Senate Hearing: United States Strategy in Afghanistan, United States Senate Armed Services Committee, February 11, 2020. The two men speaking are Sen. Angus King (Maine) and Jack Keane: Chairman of the Institute for The Study of War who was appointed by John McCain when he was Chairman to the Congressional Committee on the National Defense Strategy.

If you want to know what congress is up to, which you should, then you should listen to that podcast, it is invaluable. The point of the clip is to demonstrate that these men acknowledge that we will be at war “indefinitely.” They said the quiet part out loud in an untelevised hearing of which at the end of they say essentially “let's not discuss this again publicly.” I’m not a journalist but this is me trying to do my part of getting this information out there. We, the American People, shouldn’t want “preventative war,” eternal war. IMO we should want no war unless all other options have been exhausted. Take those trillions of dollars of our money and give it back to us in the form of Medicare for All, a Green New Deal and free college. Then there will be plenty of money left over to rebuild our infrastructure and provide Universal Basic Income. I believe a healthy and educated populus is crucial to a democracy. We need that in America, desperately. And it would be a lot easier to pay for all of that if we weren’t in Somalia, Yemen, Libya, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. And that is just for drone strikes. The U.S. military currently operates in 40% of the world’s nations including most of Africa and Central Asia. Check out the Smithsonian Magazine website for info on this. And read Chomsky. Book Recommendations are at the end.

Track 11 is Ka’s Dance. This is a straight up Stephen King love song. He wrote all the words and it’s the 2nd, 5th, and 8th stanzas from Song of Susannah, the 6th book in the Dark Tower series. The clip is from the audiobook narrated by George Guidall (gwidell). This song was another one that was influenced by ETID. Energetically, it reminds me of Jefferson Colby--the band I was in with Matt and Danny Mabe from 2010-2013. Those two have absolutely influenced the way I play and view music, as well as their father Mark Mabe-who taught me how to play bass. Anyway, that is a story for another day, I hope to collaborate with them again in the future. The clip at the end is Captain Janeway and Chekote from Star Trek Voyager.

Track 12 is You Opened My Eyes. I had the honor and the privilege of working with 3 amazing artists on this song: Tornup, Chill, and Canyon Kafer. Christopher Hill, AKA Chill, and I have known each other for years via Dale Brunson and we briefly worked together on a collaborative musician lottery competition thing titled DIG back in 2017 that never happened. I have always wanted to record with him and had a lot of fun doing so. He is one of the best drummers I know and his pocket gave this song the life it needed. Torry Finley AKA Tornup and I met on the streets this past summer of 2020 during the protests and I heard him speak at the public speaking event we held at Trinity Park-- and he moved me. Eventually, we started talking music and I found out he is a fellow musician and bass player as well, I thought “I definitely want to collaborate with this dude.” Fortunately, this opportunity presented itself and, as I am sure you can tell, this song wouldn’t be what it is without him. He performed the first verse. Canyon performed the sick bass solo before the final chorus and I am truly humbled and grateful to have all of these guys on this album.

Track 13 is Fight the Hegemony. This is by far the heaviest track on the album and I essentially shout out some of my influences in the lyrics. Thrice, Glassjaw, and The Used, Dream Theater, Cohoeed and Cambria and other early-mid 2000’s bands still have a big influence on me. My friend and colleague Chris Musso performed the drums on this track. Chris and I played together in Silverlode in 2004 and in The Raven Charter from 2005-2008. We still play together in the aforementioned Sweetmeat, with Dale, and I am super happy to get another opportunity to collaborate together again. As I mentioned earlier, I volunteered and canvassed for Bernie Sanders during the Democratic Primaries in 2020 and the lyrics in this song were inspired by his movement. Now that I am writing these Liner Notes in early 2021 I want to take a moment to reiterate and clarify-- in the wake of the attempted insurrection on January 6th--this song is NOT aiming to inspire violence nor an overthrow of the system by using violence. It is crystal clear to me now how people can read into things and take what they will. These lyrics are about the Bernie Sanders movement. Period.

Track 14 is Simp for the System (Free Market Capitalism Love Song). This is another one of those songs that, musically, was originally written for Huffer, well the bass part anyway. Chea and Jeremy, both had written completely different stuff but I didn’t want to rip them off so I rewrote it and made it as emo as possible. Brand New, was the band I had in mind, circa Deja Entendu. The lyrics are a joke. I was laughing out loud when I wrote them. I had considered just making it instrumental because for the longest time I couldn’t think of any lyrics to go with it. I didn’t want to do “real” emo but I couldn't think of anything else. Then I was like “ well, often these emo songs were about a girl. What if the girl wasn’t a girl but a system that people simp for all the time?” Ta-da. It was actually Dale who suggested the “Hey girl…” rant in the bridge and I think he was onto something. I hope you thought it was as funny as I did.

Track 15 is Cold War Nostalgia. This song is the oldest one on the record and has gone through the most changes- creating nostalgia for me on multiple levels. I wrote the original version in 2009 for my band Housefire. That version was more upbeat and the main verse riff was a dotted 8th note delay melody...very 2009… and Housefire broke up before it was properly recorded. I really liked the song and re-worked it several times on my own over 7 or 8 years until Huffer began working on our new record. I rewrote the track again to be more “Huffer'' sounding by making the bass carry the melody in the verses rather than the guitar. I also slowed it down quite a bit and went for a more rough sound (thinking Refused-esque) rather than polished, uber-compressed late 2000’s scene music. Chea and Jeremy weren’t that into it, and honestly even with the changes it didn’t sound like Huffer so we dropped it. Then, I picked it up again when I started working on this record and tried to put some words to it, and it has now become this sprawling lengthy piece. The original version was a tad over the 3 minute mark and it is now close to 7.

Lyrics were difficult at first. But because the song, for me, was oozing with nostalgia it seemed like a good topic to start with. I had written a paper in my final semester of Grad school in 2018 for a transnational history class about the Cold War- my area of study for my history degree. That paper is my proudest academic achievement to date, titled “National Narratives in Post Cold War America and the Former U.S.S.R.'' and was about the stories we tell ourselves. The ones we tell ourselves at the interpersonal level and the ones our culture, society and leaders tell us at the macro level--and how the totalitarian can affect those stories. This looked at Nostalgia of the Cold War and how that nostalgia is different for the US and the former Soviet states. All the lyrics from this song are taken from that paper- particularly from certain quotes that I quoted throughout. The first verse, starting with “Nostalgia then…” is either Olga Shevchnko or Maya Nadkarni (both are cited) in 2013 from Kevin Platt’s article “Russian Empire of Post-Socialist Nostalgia and Soviet Retro at the New Wave Competition” published in the Russian Review issue 72 no 3. The second verses’ “Does human nature undergo a true change in the cauldron of totalitarian violence?” is from a book titled “Life and Fate” by Vassilli Grossman-- an epic novel about Stalin written in 1960 from someone who lived under him. The only reason it was published was because a friend of Grossman smuggled a copy out of the USSR into the west. One of the few published examples from that period of people questioning the totalitarian state from the inside.

I encourage anyone interested in the full paper to read it, it can be found on my Tumblr blog- Sosations Transmissions.

Now, you may notice that there is phenomenal guitar playing on this track. That is the work of my very good friend Glenn Wallace. Glenn is one of the best guitarists I know. He and I met back in 2004 via Daniel Baskind, Erik Stolpe and Chris Musso from Silverlode and The Raven Charter. The only time we have had the pleasure of playing, or sharing the stage together was in Housefire, so I was thrilled when he agreed to do this song. Glenn was our 3rd and final lead guitarist in the band before we broke up, (following Eddie Delgado and Dusty Brooks). There actually is a video on youtube of one show we played at The Boiler Room in Denton from mid-late 2009. Getting him on this track was something that I had been thinking about for a while but the opportunity finally arose when Glenn, Dale and myself, along with the Double Bear guys: Michael Garcia, Brandon Tyner, Garrett Bond and Matt Bardwell, as well as Erik Stolpe and the resourceful Tanner Hux, decided to start our own record label: Local Famous Records. Now that this relationship has solidified you can expect much more collaboration from all of us as well as more records like this one. Starting a record label with friends has been one of the most enriching experiences of my life and I highly recommend that you try it.

Track 16 is “Be ruthless with institutions, be kind to each other” - is the final track on the album and is a brief quote from the late Michael Brooks from his talk at Harvard University titled: “Michael Brooks MLK Jr. and Love and Power | Class Warfare | Harvard” from the Harvard College YDSA youtube page, recorded on Feb 1st. 2020. I had written a blog about Michael’s passing and how important he was to me personally and to the progressive movement in America today and in the world , and it can be read at the aforementioned Tumblr. I had set this clip aside to put on this record back in May or June of 2020 but after Michael’s passing in July it became clear to me that I would close the record with this sentiment. “Be ruthless with institutions, be kind to each other” is an affirmation I will carry with me for the rest of my life and I will proselytize this message wherever I go. Humans over entities. Always. “The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over all laws and institutions.” As far as the music for this track, it was just me pulling something out of my ass to go under the quote and I did it in one take, on an untuned shitty acoustic (for those familiar, the one from high school and college with the Albino squirrel sticker on it.) I recorded the guitar without any accompaniment into a handheld recording device and just got really lucky that it was an appropriate length. I was going for a Dashboard Confessional vibe and I think I got it.

So that is Volume is Power. Thank you to everyone who helped me create this thing and to those who supported me along the way. I am forever grateful.

Thank you to my wife, Amber, for without her this would not be possible. You are my superhero-bird-watcher, my anchor, my guiding light, my soulmate. Thank you for inspiring me to dare bravely.

Thank you to my parents for allowing me to follow my dreams and drop out of college to pursue a career in music. I know it didn’t make you happy at the time but you believed in me anyway. And thanks for not saying “I told you so” when I decided to go back to school 3 years later.

Thank you to my brother David for all the love and support over the years. For your artistic contribution on Daring Bravely. And for always having the courage to be you.

Thank you to Samantha, Lauren and Matt, for being so supportive all these years. I couldn’t ask for a better step-family.

Thank you to Dale for making this record happen, putting all the work into it that you did, and for putting up with my bullshit.

Thank you to every musician I have had the pleasure of playing with, on or off the stage.

Thank you to Aaron Anderson, Jason Dixon, Andrew Del Real and Anthony Davis for being the first band of dudes I got to do real shit with.

Thank you to the Silverlode/Solace Prime/ The Raven Charter guys: Daniel Baskind, Erik Stolpe, Brandon and Garrett Bond, Brian Christie, Chris Musso, Stephen Thacker, and Brandon Bailey. You guys are my brothers.

Thank you to the guys in Dreams Like Fire, who I only had a brief stint with in 2007 but learned so much from: Alan Mabe, Dathan Martin, Ryan Moody, and Kyle Istook.

Thank you to the Mabe Family for treating me like family and for--literally--teaching me how to rock: Mark Mabe, Matt Mabe, Danny Mabe, Chris Mabe and the beloved Terri Mabe.

Thank you to Chea and Jeremy from Huffer for bringing me into your lives and music. I am so glad we got to do what we did.

Thank you to Neal Todnem and Justin Jordan for being awesome roommates and apart of memories that I will always cherish and for our Tsegull Tsunami.

Thank you to Ben Napier for being a good friend, and at times mentor, and for asking me to be your Bogus “Green Day” cover band. I appreciate our time together.

Thank you to Ansley Dougherty, Nick Wittwer and Scott White for making our rage Against the Machine cover band a real thing, even if only for 2 practices. And to Scott for being my headbang partner at our The Foo and the Kombucha Mushroom people shows. And for trusting me to record some of your demos.

Thank you to Randall Bradley for being such a good friend. I value our talks and our jams and always look forward to hearing that you are in town from Argentina. Your perspective is unique and important.

Thank you to Cody Lee and the 27’s for involving me in your record and to Jaryth Webber for being a badass academic colleague, a badass musician, and for introducing me to Congressional Dish.

Thank you to Ben C Jones for the opportunity to work together on your music.

Thank you to Daniel Kunda for the opportunity to be apart of what you’re creating and for, at times, letting me be your sensei. Your future is bright.

Thank you to Chill, Torry Finley and Canyon Kafer for taking You Opened My Eyes above and beyond where I possibly ever could have. I hope we can do it more in the future.

Thank you to all my Local Famous brothers: Dale, Garrett, Michael, Brandon, Glenn, Matt, Erik and Tanner, for believing in this thing with me and making it a reality.

Thank you to Collin Porter for being a good friend and letting me bounce creative and political ideas off you. I truly value our conversations.

Thank you to Ryan Smith for always being a good friend and for our jammy jams.

Thank you to the bands that invited any of my bands on the road with them over the years--you guys helped make my dreams a reality: Matt and Mike LoCoco, and Danny Borja from Transit Method in Austin; Nick Barton, Trey Landis, and Justin Huggins from Sleepwalking Home in Tulsa, and Johnny Hawkins, Mark Vollelunga, and Daniel Oliver from San Antonio’s Nothingmore. The memories I have from those shows and trips are truly priceless and I am thankful to have those experiences to look back on.

Thank you to Dr. Johnny Stein, Dr. Joyce Goldberg, Dr. Christopher Morris, Dr. Patryk Babiracki, and Dr. Andrew Milson at the University of Texas at Arlington for greatly influencing my historical knowledge and thought that has influenced the making of this record.

Thank you to all co-founders of The Justice Reform League: Amber, Christopher Rose, Rod Smith, and Michael Campbell. And to Thomas Moore from no Sleep till Justice. I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to start a nonprofit with and I look forward to our future.

Thank you to Michael Brooks, Hank and John Green, Dr. Cornel West, Slavoj Žižek, Dr. Kevin Dunn, Dr. Richard Wolff, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Fred Hampton, Rita Starpattern and Edward Snowden for being my exemplars, always daring bravely and inspiring me to do the same.

And thank YOU for taking the time to listen to the songs, and this Audio Liner Notes track. If you are unfamiliar with any of the influences I have mentioned over the course of this I encourage you to go listen. And if those bands resonate with you, find out who influenced them- you’ll find more awesome music, more temporal distortions, if you will. I hope you find some inspiration to create your own work, whatever that may be, and to put it out into the world.

Dare Bravely. Salut.

Anthony Sosa

12-6-2020

(Updated 2-6-2021)

Recommended Readings

Global Punk by Kevin Dunn (2016)

The People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn (1980)

Permanent Record by Edward Snowden (2019)

Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History by Michel-Rolp Trouillot (2015)

Reason in History by Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1953)

The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels (1848)

Welcome to the Desert of the Real by Slavoj Žižek (2002)

Humankind by Rutger Bregman (2020)

Utopia for Realists by Rutger Bregman (2017)

The Hawk and the Dove by Nicholas Thompson (2009)

Dark Age Ahead by Jane Jacobs (2005)

Tribe by Sebastian Junger (2016)

Give them an Argument: Logic for the Left by Ben Burgis (2019)

Against the Web by Michael Brooks (2020)

Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? by Mark Fisher (2009)

The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity, and the Renewal of Civilization by Thomas Homer-Dixon(2006)

The Counterrevolution: How Our Government Went to War Against Its Own Citizens by Bernard E. Harcourt (2018)

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson (2014)

Team Human by Douglas Rushkoff (2019)

On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century: by Timothy Snyder (2017)3

Totalitarianism by Abbot Gleeson (1995)

Imperial Ambitions: Conversations on the Post 9/11 World by Noam Chomsky (2004)

Profit Over People by Noam Chomsky (1999)

How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr (2019)

The Lucifer Principle by Howard Bloom (1995)

The Dark Tower Series by Stephen King (1977-2003)

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Sonia Boyce Documentary ‘Whoever Heard of a Black Artist? Britain’s Hidden Art History’

What an absolutely amazing documentary, this is the kind of thing that needs to be shared within our schools across the country as part of the curriculum. Highlighting these truly amazing unsung artist of our time. These trail blazing black and Asian artist that have been literally swept under the rug and discarded by art history and the art world.

Sonia Boyce has done an amazing job bringing this to light once more. I just hope this time they will stay and that this is the beginning and not another foot note. 

The subject of marginalisation is something I feel so strongly about as a female artist from a working class background growing up in the 80s and 90s. Iv known discrimination in the form of sexism, class discrimination and disability discrimination and is recent years ageism. It’s partly because of these experiences that I can not stand to see people harmed in anyway shape or form, I will always stand with the oppressed and never the oppressor!

I can't say I know how it feels at all when it comes to racism, I can only deeply empathise and try and understand how that must feel for people. To have to suffer all those things and to be solely excluded for the colour of your skin! Regardless of their contribution, skill and merit. It makes me sick that this has happened and is still happening within our society today. Our society owes these communities a great debt for the pain and injustice they have had to endure for far too long.

It was so sad to see when happened to Li Yuan-chai his contribution to the art world was so great and yet he did not live to see his work finally being appreciated and displayed in all its glory. It makes me happy that he is now being celebrated as The Father of Abstraction. 

I loved hearing how he created his art centre out in the countryside in such a beautiful and secluded place for families to enjoy making art. This is something I wanted to do eventually myself, create a centre for families to enjoy being creative. Its heart breaking that he worked so tirelessly to feel so unappreciated for trying to do something good for others to help the local community and give back. 

If I remember rightly award winning artist Lubaina Himids work was show not that long ago in the Walker Art Gallery highlighting the forgot history of black people and black artists throughout art history and within its museums by placing cut outs of black figures and placing them around the museum literally filling in the gaps where they so rightly belong. It is wonderful news that Lubaina has finally been rewarded the Turner Prize for all her contributions to the art world, but so very sad that it has taken this long. 

(Photos I took of Rasheed Himids work in The Walker Art Gallery earlier this year)

I had the pleasure of seeing Rasheed Araeen’s works a few times in the Walker, I absolutely love his work, he uses lattice to create these geometric form, his use of bright contrasting colours and sculptural approach to his artwork is transformative. The shadows from the geometric form cast against the canvas give the work a sense of cross dimensions and depth enlarging the structure of the works itself. Learning more about him was so inspiring. 

I so saddened that he had to endure this treatment, but I so glad that he was brave enough and didn't take it lying down. He stood up for what was right and just. Forming the Thin Black Line making waves in the history books that so rightly place him as an important part of our art history. 

It was so brave of Rasheed to do the performance pictures above. I actually can't write its name because the racist phrase makes me so angry. He literally stood up in front of a large crowd of people and called himself racist names because the anger and injustice of how he had been treated by racist groups had hurt him so much, he bravely took a stand. I would like to say things have changed, but sadly as we have seen recently, it is still happening there is still so much that needs to be done to evoke much needed change.

I lived in London when Muslim women were having acid thrown in their faces. I can't imagine the pain and the fear that this must cause these communities. To still have the courage to stand up to this vile sickening, evil, behaviour is true bravery. The people that carry out these crimes are ignorant, evil, monsters.

Im not sure how I feel about artist damping their message to be more acceptable in the art world because the subject of racism makes me really angry and I don't even have to suffer it. 

Chris Ofili’s work even if a toned down message is still so very powerful with hidden faces of his lost friend in the tears of a women in his art piece ‘No Woman, No Cry’.

I see why artists have made their work like this because now they are gaining more recognition and selling more artworks, but it must be so hard to produce art work on something that causes so much pain and anguish and approach it in a more humorous or more muted level, but I suppose if you want to say something that has impact maybe anger fighting anger isn't the right way? so maybe the subtle approach with hidden message could have more impactful?

Like a very wise artist said to me recently, you can't fight the oppressor with the oppressors tools. 

With regards to my practice, Im going to make it my mission to high light these fabulous artist especially in my essays. One of the artist in this documentary Frank Bowlin was actually recommended to me in relation to my recent paintings. He works intuitively and with texture and colour in such a gorgeous way. He is definitely another artist I want to learn more about and I think its so sad that he felt he had to move to America to gain recognition. News York is so lucky to have him, it is definitely a sad loss for Britain to lose such an artistic talent. 

It still shocks me to think that the artworks we learnt about in this documentary are just a fraction of the artwork thats out there its literally just the contents from the archives of a few museums. You can only image what beautiful and transformative works are still be be unvailed.

(I have so much more to talk about with this documentary and will add more later.)