#art is so hard these days I will take what I can get

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 1: In The Shadows

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Living in the Wayne manor isn't the sweet luxurious dream you'd think it'd be, reality is in fact much crueler. For as long as I could remember I had lived in this dreary mansion, but lived isn't the word I'd use. I was more trapped here if anything. My "family", if I could even call them that, are well respected people. They're highly skilled and talented people, someone like me could only dream to be like them. I tried so hard to get close to them, I really did try, but no matter what I did nothing worked. I did everything, gymnastics, martial arts, theater, art, music, coding, dance, volleyball, cheerleading, heck I was even in the honors society. Despite being an A+ student and a role model in high society they never once went to any of my recitals, games, or showcases. I went to galas all alone, I had to deal with the sneering faces and snide remarks of high class men and woman alone since I was 8. Not very safe for a child huh? I didn't think so either but my "father" doesn't seem to care.

Nevertheless, I have no choice in this matter and it's not like life here is unbearable. Sure I get beatings and tongue lashings every now and then, but for the most part everyone in the manor tends to forget me eventually and leave me alone. It's pretty isolating but I got used to it, after all I have duties to perform. I have my job as Student council president and I don't intend to slack off. I got that job with my own blood sweat and tears and I will not let all those sleepless nights go to waste. I don't have time to wallow in self pity I have countless of students looking up to me and counting on me to do my job.

"Young master, are you okay? You seem to be staring off into space."

I looked up to our old butler, his face jaded and littered with wrinkles that seemed to contort pathetically in worry. I knew better than to accept his pity. He seems to be a wise gentle man on the outside with his elegant wardrobe, worn old body, and soft spoken demeanor, but do not be fooled. In truth, Alfred Pennyworth was a foolish coward. This was the same man who abandoned his own daughter just like my idiot of a father. I gave him a chance, but nothing's been the same since the day he accidentally called me Julia. I was nothing but a stand in for him, someone to relieve his guilt with.

"I'm fine. Don't you have something better to do? I'm sure Bruce has some kind of task for you, no need to bother yourself with my problems"

"...Very well then...Take care of yourself young master."

He clearly had something more to say but he decided to do nothing and walk away. Like I said he's a coward. Still I'm not new to disappointment, whether it's the disappointment of missed birthdays or the way they all see me as the disappointment, it's nothing I haven't experienced before. I quickly packed up my things and headed to school. Sure riding to school on an old worn out bike isn't exactly ideal, but I have to deal with what I have. Although, I do have to take some back alleys to school since I don't want anyone seeing and starting a scandal. I can already see the blaring headlines, "Daughter of Gotham's richest man caught riding to school on a beat up bicycle!". What a bunch of nosy bastards.

"Good mornin' (Y/N)!"

I turned to face the sunny senior calling my name, his unadulterated joy making him stand out in the crowd of groggy gothamites.

"Good morning Cyrus."

My crisp responses never seems to deter the boy as he continues to walk beside me chattering endlessly.

"(Y/N) I got things you asked! It's super cool what you're doing for the school, I'm so happy I get to be apart of it! If you ever need help with anything please do ask me!"

I sighed, his joyful energy was contagious. I couldn't help but crack a smile. Though it quickly disappeared as I regained my composure, but obviously not fast enough since Cyrus' joy seems to only be growing.

"Ahhhhh (Y/N) just smiled! I made the student president smile! I'm so sigma"

Here he goes again with those weird words and that cocky grin. I sighed once again, I'm too tired for this.

"Yes thank you Cyrus get to class now, I'll pick up the things I asked for after school."

"Yes ma'am!"

I watched as he playfully saluted and ran to class almost bumping into several people along the way. I facepalmed, he was such a handful but strangely I don't really mind. It's probably the lack of sleep I'll make sure to go to bed early today, for now I have to get to class myself.

Author's note: Omg chapter one is finally out! This took me a lot longer than expected but I hope it's good I went through a tiny writer's block😅. I hope you guys like Cyrus I tried to make him a silly and sunny character but trust me he'll have lore and be a much deeper character. I also tried making (Y/N)'s backstory pretty vague since they're the narrator and I figured they wouldn't like talking about it, but their lore will be revealed more throughout future chapters. Anyways as always thank you all for reading and have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk

[greengoblinswifey]

Making Hwang In-ho work for your pussy.

From the moment you and In-ho met, it was clear he wasn’t used to waiting for what he wanted—especially not when it came to intimacy. Yet, here he was, two months into a relationship with you, frustrated but captivated.

You’d been upfront from the start. “I don’t do casual, and I don’t rush into things. If that’s a problem, you can leave now,” you’d said on your first date, holding his gaze with unwavering confidence.

In-ho, used to a world where his power and wealth cleared every hurdle, had been taken aback. But instead of walking away, he’d leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. “Challenge accepted.”

And a challenge it had been.

He’d tried everything to win you over, lavish gifts, private dinners at the most exclusive restaurants, bouquets of flowers that seemed to appear at your doorstep almost daily. He wasn’t just trying to impress you, he was trying to prove he could play by your rules.

“You’re making me work harder than anyone ever has,” he said one evening over champagne at a rooftop restaurant he’d rented out just for the two of you.

“You don’t have to,” you replied with a sly smile. “But you do if you want me.”

And he did. Oh, he wanted you. Needed you.

In-ho found himself doing things he never imagined. Like taking time off from overseeing the games, something unheard of for him—just to spend an afternoon with you at an art exhibit you’d mentioned wanting to see. Or the time he drove across the city to find a specific book you’d been searching for, presenting it to you like it was a trophy.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said one night as he handed you a pair of diamond earrings.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. But in truth, he was growing more frustrated by the day. Every lingering kiss, every time your hands wandered but stopped just short of crossing the line, left him aching for more.

Still, he waited. Because as much as he craved you, he found himself liking you more with each passing day, your wit, your intelligence, the way you held your ground. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met.

When the night finally came, it wasn’t planned. You were at his home, sharing wine and laughter on the couch. His hand brushed against yours, and when your eyes met, there was something different in your eyes, something softer, inviting.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” His voice was calm, but his body tensed, like a predator sensing its moment.

“I think I’m ready.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand moved to cup your cheek. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes. I want you to fuck me. I want you.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed you deeply, his hands sliding over your body, memorizing every curve. He carried you to his bedroom, laying you down on the silk sheets as if you were something precious.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for months,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck.

“I know,” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I’m going to make this worth the wait,” he promised, and he did.

He worshipped you that night, his touch both rough and tender, his words a mixture of praise and moans of your name. It was as if he were trying to make up for all the time he’d spent wanting you, showing you just how much he’d been holding back.

He started slow, savoring every moment, every taste of your pussy, every clench of your walls around his cock. Until, he remembered this was the first of many times he’d be fucking you. Until he remembered how long you made him wait to have you. After this realization, he fucked you like no one had ever done before.

He gave you long, deep strokes, stretching and filling you to the brim. His hands trailed all over your body, touching you as though you would slip away. His lips never left you, whether it be on your lips or tits. He worked hard for your pussy, and he’d get all that it was worth.

“Made me wait so fucking long for this tight pussy,” he grunted in your ear, pounding into you. “You’re lucky you feel good.”

His hands wrapped around your neck as he rolled his hips harshly against you and that did it. The past two months of restraint and underlying tension finally built over and you both came undone with you absolutely soaking his cock and the sheets below. You were just as deprived as him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your ear, his voice hoarse. “So worth it.”

In the quiet aftermath, as you lay tangled together, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’d wait all over again for you,” he said softly.

You smiled, your head against his chest. “Good. Because you’re not going anywhere.”

[scribeofmorpheus]

I hate how LLMs have made it very untrustworthy to regard what one comes across as genuine craft anymore. i know artists are struggling big time with scrapping. I even wrote a paper on how openai was scrapping ao3 based on their early story prompt structures reading like a lot of popular fanfics i'd read before.

i was actually so paranoid that i locked most of my fics on ao3. sometimes i roll back the lock when i work on a fic again, but i usually lock em back up again after a while. scrapping is abhorent and i hate how much ai has shifted digital art paradigms and is now seeping into fandom culture.

I will say that i do find the "nonsense description" portion of this post a bit hard to align with. I'll get into it below the cut. but this is purely discursive, I'm not condemning or abstaining (I'm on op's side here), I'm just pointing out some factoids of my own for perspective!

here it is:

""her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1)."

See, I write like this, becuase i was trained in poetry first and then moved on to prose later. i use imagery, i use atmospherics, i use sensation in place of actual telegraphed motion or action that one expects of an action alone--it flows better, sounds sweeter and sometimes, yes, nimble fingers can move with quiet precision (not quiet as in "sound" but as in "understated", as in "draws little attention to the movement"). Firm but tender is another of my favourites--juxtaposition, contrast between the outward seen and felt execution of the action and the internalised, more personal mode of emotion conveyed so as to angle how we broach the situation. "firm but tender" is assuring, it's safe. "firm and rough" is more edged, and since we're left with little assumption of the setting and intent of such action, we cannot tell if the action and the emotions align--if its sexual, is it also consensual? if it's violent, is it because of haste to act, fear, annoyance, etc, etc. now "pooling like embers" is odd. embers spark and bristle and fly and catch things on fire, they disperse and scatter, never hold a body of matter congealed enough to pool. pooling like unfurled flame from dragon's breath? yeah, now that works! especially if it's a magic setting.

all this to say, ai is making it exceeding harder to prove craft is genuine if you work outside structural modes one can fact check. if you try to be more experimental, there's high chance you'll end up like me, and chip away at rigid writing structure in order to form your own voice. repetition and favoured descriptions is also a known trait of writers. one of my fav fanfic writers back in the day used to love "hard" after a pause. like: "he slammed the door, hard." or "his kiss pressed deep into me, hard." and it was noticeable and i loved seeing they had a tell.

though, i do agree that one of the things that need the least repetition in fiction is hair colour. but even published books like to remind readers of physical traits id it's something the author is so beguiled by. poor writing, but writing none the less.

i did suspect something was off with TSATS because of how fast the updates rolled. because damn! 23k word update after a 13k word update with less than 48 hrs between? crazy if true. but alas, i don't think i have it in me to be disappointed if i go seeking and do indeed find a pattern that proves LLM usage.

but to all my fic writers that take like half a day to write 3 pages and the other half procrastinating, if you (like me) got notified of all the updates and wondered if you weren't "productive" enough, you are not making a product, these are labours of love, keep at it, at your own pace, with your own skill, the process is the process!

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[coffeecat1983]

Mario Bros: Growing Pains

@vulpixfairy1985 Thank you so much for the story request, my friend, you kept me distracted today and I really loved working on this.

     "C'mon Weege, I wanna play Kid Icarus!"    Fifteen-year-old Mario stamped his foot, the sound muffled by his green sock hitting the soft carpeting. Luigi grumbled from his spot on the floor. He hunched over, gripping the NES controller tightly.      "You always play that one." he muttered. "I wanna finish Kirby!"      "That's not fair! Your game saves where you are, you can start any time!" Mario argued back. "I gotta start all over again with mine!"    From down the hall, Marianna sighed as she heard the rapidly escalating argument. Giovanni shook his head as he entered the dining room. "Puberty hitting hard, huh Mar?"      "I just hope they don't fight too much." she said. "Should I step in?"    Both paused, listening as their sons continued. "Eh let em work it out," Giovanni said. "They're like the twins, they'll get over it."      "I hope you're right."

   Mario clinched his fists. "Luigi it's my turn!" he dove for the controller and Luigi doubled over, stubbornly hiding it as his twin tried prying it by pulling the cord.      "You're gonna break it!" he squeaked, his voice cracking. "HEY! Stop!" he yelped as Mario managed to pull him over on his side and snatch the controller. "Mario!" Luigi scrambled, nearly climbing up Mario's back in an attempt to pin him down as his twin went to change the game cartridge. Falling to the floor he rolled over and folded his arms, face scrunched in anger.      "Play your stupid game." he mumbled. "Not like you're good at it anyway. You always lose."      "At least I can beat the second level!" Mario snapped, trying to hide the tears that were gathering. "You've been stuck in Kirby for months!"    Luigi curled up tighter. "M'm n-not talkin' to you anymore!" he stammered out.      "Me neither, meanie." Mario plopped down, the controller clicking as he began to play. Luigi got up and still keeping his arms around himself, stormed out to the living room and over to the corner where he would hide as a kid. He settled back beside the couch and the bookcase, legs drawn up tightly.    Salvatore, who was seated nearby, merely shook his head.

   A few days later, the family gathered for Sunday dinner. As everyone took their places around the table, the twins and Marie watched in surprise as Luigi gloomily shuffled to the seat next to Marie, taking it while Mario took his usual place beside Giovanni. The confusion grew as throughout the conversation, the bros refused to talk to one another. As the adults relaxed with drinks after the meal, Mario thumped loudly down the hall and slammed the bedroom door while Luigi retreated to the living room again.      "Eh, Ma? What's goin' on?" Tony asked, motioning towards the empty seats. "Those two are actin' bizarre."      "I think I know." Arthur spoke up, rubbing his chin. "First fight?" he said, glancing towards Marianna. She gave a nod.      "And they're not talkin' to each other." she confirmed. "They've had their little tiffs before but nothin' like this."      "Mamma Mia," Tony uttered, rubbing his eyes. "Art?"    The younger twin stood. "Older or younger?" he asked. Tony stood, cracking his back as he did. "Older. Hang on, Ma, we got this."    Luigi was tucked up tightly in his little corner, a family photo album in his lap. He glanced up at Arthur's soft laugh, his uncle taking a seat beside him.      "Good hiding spot." Arthur commented. "Used to hang out in this spot, myself." He leaned over a little, smiling at the photobook. "Your fifth birthday. That was a fun one, goin' to the park and you boys learning to ride your bikes."      "Y-Yeah." Luigi muttered, his shoulders slumping. He jumped slightly when Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.      "What's on yer mind, kid?"    Luigi stared at a photo, the bros laughing as they both raced together on their bikes.      "Uncle Art, do you fight with Uncle Tony?" he suddenly asked. His uncle didn't answer right away, instead gently taking the photo album and flipping back to when he and Tony were teens.      "We've had a few, yeah."      "You ever say somethin' mean?" Arthur had to catch himself, holding back the laugh as he thought about it. "I've been a jackass a few times, yeah." he grinned, nudging Luigi's elbow. "But so has your Uncle Tony."

   The bedroom door creaked and Tony peered in. Mario was sitting on the floor, back against his new bed as his fingers clicked furiously at the game controller. He remained quiet as Tony came in and sat beside him. Both were silent, Tony watching as Mario played. A beep, a game over screen, and Mario tossed the controller aside with a groan.      "Tough game," Tony commented. "Never could get far in it." He looked at the two beds. "Funny not seeing your bunk beds in here anymore."      "Stuff keeps changing." Mario's voice was so low Tony wasn't sure at first he heard him right. "Why's everything feel so weird?"      Tony snickered. "Called 'bein' a teenager', kiddo. Trust me, been there myself."    Mario turned, looking up at him. "I was mean ta Weege." he admitted. "I didn't mean to be! But he wouldn't share and I just wanted to play my game. Now I donno what to do."    Instead of replying, Tony waited and the teen continued.      "I can't sleep right! I miss not havin' Weege below. And I keep havin' crazy dreams!" he squirmed. "Bout girls, 'n stuff." he said this part softly. "I wake up and I feel weird all over..."    Tony's expression softened, the gentle teasing he had died on his tongue. "Ah, I know those dreams, and that feeling, kiddo. You're not crazy, you're a teen. Weird merda happens when you're a teenager."    Mario giggled, recognizing the swear word. He then shifted, turning so he was fully facing his uncle.      "Does it ever stop?"      "It does, it takes time, but it does." He got a knowing look in his eyes. "You're not really mad at your bro, huh?"    Mario shook his head, refusing to look up. "I donno how..."      "...how to 'pologize." Luigi said. A few tears beginning to trickle down, some getting caught in the mustache hairs that were just beginning to grow. "I was so mean!"    Arthur flipped through the photo album, stopping at one photo and gently lifting it from the page, held it out for his nephew to see. It was the bros, both bundled in a hospital crib.      "You know you two were so packed in your Mamma, the doc joked you must've had fist fights in there for room." He tucked the photo back into the book. "Yet you two stuck to each other like glue. Then, and now." He opened the page to their recent birthday party, lifting out the picture where the two had their arms around each other, leaning in to blow out the candles on the cake.      "Fights happen, kid. Especially right now. You two are growin' and it's not easy."

     "Bein' a teen can be a nightmare." Tony said. "But don't think everything's gonna stay bad. Yeah you guys might fight, but hey it happens." He put his arm around Mario. "The best thing is do what ya always do, say you're sorry and try not to do it again."    Both looked up as the bedroom door creaked again. Luigi stood there, tugging nervously at his shirt, with Arthur hanging back behind him.      "Go 'head." Arthur urged him forward.      "Uh, M-Mario, I..."    Mario jumped up grabbing his twin. "I'm sorry, Weege! I don't wanna be mad anymore. Please forgive me!"    Luigi grabbed him, hugging him tightly. "M'm sorry!" his voice was muffled as he pressed against his twin's shoulder. "I didn't mean it!" Luigi let go of him, rubbing his neck. "M-Maybe you c-could help with Kirby? You're good at the boss fights!"    Mario was already starting up the TV and game, holding the controller out. "I bet you could help with Kid Icarus, you're good at finding patterns in the enemies."

     "Think they'll be okay?" Arthur asked as Tony joined him. The older twin smiled.      "They'll be fine. They're nuts, like us!" Arthur slid his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, you're right." he smirked as they both started back to the living room. "Ya know, I haven't kicked your butt at a video game in a while. You up for some fun tonight?"      "Bring it on and prepare to lose, math geek."      "I'm gonna make you eat those words, book nerd." The two broke into laughter as they entered the living room. From the bros bedroom came cheering as the two started their game. In the kitchen, Giovanni shook his head with a low laugh.      "What're we gonna do with our boys, Mar?"    Marianna laughed brightly. "Love em to death, as always. All four of them."

END By "CC"

Thanks again, Vulpix!

[vidavalor]

Just wanted to say that I think that you hit the nail on the head with this meta, @dalliancekay. Big Shostakovich fan, me. He was someone who made absolutely beautiful music and did so walking a tightrope of pushing as hard as he could against the fascist regime targeting him while also trying to keep himself and his family and friends alive. I agree that Shostakovich managing to make transcendent art under very scary and oppressive circumstances is something for which Aziraphale would have great appreciation.

The pain of his quiet rebellion and his mistreatment by the Russian government and the pressure of never being truly free and, as you say, always being on alert for the literal and proverbial knocks at the door makes him someone Aziraphale can relate to-- especially as more and more has come to light in recent decades about the level of subversiveness and anti-Stalin messaging he hid in his work. All the emotions of that life are in Shostakovich's music.

Aziraphale feeling stuck and trapped and unsure how to break free in S2 makes showing him leaning into Shostakovich-- who lived an ultimately pretty tragic life and never really was able to truly escape-- a bit of a red alert in one way, as it's highlighting his depression, but I also think that there are some more positive, romantic aspects to him listening to that particular concert of Bernstein & the NY Philharmonic playing Shostakovich's 5th, if you're interested.

I'm off to investigate that Great Courses course you were taking as I haven't studied classical music since college and there's always new things to learn. 💕 I'm from Massachusetts [my new way of admitting that I live in the fucked up hellscape that is America right now is to include that I live in the revolution-starting state that's basically Canada lol] and I've been listening to that Bernstein Shostakovich record a lot lately. Very therapeutic for dark days-- I get what Aziraphale was on about. Current mood for awhile now has just been like...

Aziraphale vs Shostakovich

For a long time now I wanted to write something about Aziraphale's choice to listen to Shostakovich at the beginning of S2. Shostakovich is not an 18th century composer as some joke about Aziraphale being stuck in the past. He's not a romantic, sweet composer either. But a composer who wrote most of his work in the middle of 20th Century. Under the oppressive Soviet regime of Stalin and more.

There's so much about...the way he lived and worked, in constant fear, that just, begs to be compared to how Aziraphale feels. I just never felt I knew enough about Shostakovich to make a post about him and do it justice. I still don't. But. I was listening to this classical music and history course today - not focused on Symphony No. 5 (1937) that Aziraphale was listening to, but Symphony No. 13 (1962) - written in the brief 'Thaw' of Khrushchev, who condemned Stalin's just ended, rule of terror. The professor (Robert Greene - all his courses are amazing btw) nails it when he describes how Shostakovich's career felt:

There's a lot more in the whole chapter but I was struck by how Aziraphale copes and has coped with living in fear, in terror for 6000 years (and much more, since we see him worried in Before the Beginning too). Not just for himself, but like everyone in Russia, for his loved ones too.

Imagine. Living in terror of your friends being taken away. Your spouse. Your parents.. Of you being found a traitor and executed. Afraid of talking to anyone, about anything. Constantly having to praise the regime you live in or you will disappear. Never knowing who is watching. Who is listening.

Constantly. Afraid. Of. A. Knock. At. The. Door.

[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You" pt 3

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: Angst, drug use, heartbreak

A/N: Sorry It’s taken so long to get this chapter out. I hit a wall but then it came to me. I hope you like how this one unfolds. It’s angsty. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days I spent most of the time wrapped up in Ben’s arms. Things were different between us. He always made sure I was completely satisfied before we moved on to him. A stark contrast to other men I’d been with. I never took Ben to be so giving, especially in the bedroom. 

He still drank and smoked weed, but his coke habit had all but stopped. He told me he didn’t need it anymore. I like to think it was because of me. 

When we finally emerged I had to return to work. Ben was already up when I crawled out of bed and showered. 

I walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table rolling a joint. 

“That’s a hell of a breakfast, Ben. Don’t you think you should eat something?” 

He looked up at me and scoffed. 

“Doll, you worry about your breakfast not mine.” I furrowed my brow at him. His whole demeanor seemed to have shifted back to the ass he was before we spent the past three days tangled up with each other. 

I filled my coffee cup and stepped closer to him. I touched his arm, “Ben, is everything okay?” His eyes flicked to mine and the coldness sent a shiver down my spine. 

I swallowed hard. “Just peachy, doll.” “Doll? Really? Ben, come on.” 

He didn’t respond. He just took a long drag from the joint he placed between his lips. 

I grabbed my things and looked at him, “Will I see you later?” His eyes flicked to mine and he smirked, “Maybe. I think I might have company tonight.” 

I gasped and a lump formed in my throat. “Ben, really? Have the past few days meant nothing to you?” 

He stood, stretched and walked over to me taking my chin in his hand, “Of course it meant something. I finally got to give you a proper fucking.” 

Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled away. My heart clenched in my chest. What the hell happened? Why is he acting like this? Did he really just use me? 

“Aw doll, don’t leave.” He chuckled. I turned and looked at him as the sting of the tears became too much. “Ben, you can be such an asshole.” 

I turned around and walked out the door as the tears started to fall. 

The day at work sucked. The copier broke, I spilled coffee on myself, the big boss was in the building and of course my supervisor had screwed up a deadline so ultimately it was my fault. 

By the time 5pm rolled around I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the apartment. 

When I got in the door I heard giggling coming from down the hall. I looked at Butcher and he shot me an “I’m sorry” look. 

I sat my stuff down and shrugged off my coat. “Who’s he with now?” I asked Butcher in an icy tone. 

“Don’t know. They were in there when I got home almost 2 hours ago.” 

A lump formed in my throat and my stomach knotted. The sting of tears pricked my eyes. 

Oh fuck this hurt so bad. I was foolish to think Ben wanted me. He lied to me just to get me to sleep with him. 

“Oi, love. You okay?” I shook my head no. 

I walked past Ben’s room and heard them. His grunts and her moans. I felt sick. 

The tears began to cloud my eyes and the pain in my chest only grew. I closed and locked my door. Grabbing my bag I threw things in it. I couldn’t take this. Listening to him fucking another woman after we had just spent days wrapped in each others arms, whispering confessions and talking about the future. 

What the hell happened? I knew I shouldn’t have fallen into bed with him. Soldier Boy doesn’t do long term relationships and I was a fool to think he could fall in love with me. 

I was a fool to have fallen in love with him. I wrote Butcher a note telling him thank you for everything and I loved him. I also wrote Ben a note.

I waited to leave until I heard Ben and the woman stop, and I heard Butcher leave.

Before I left I placed the letters on the counter along with my key. My heart was shattered and it had nothing to do with Tom and everything to do with Ben. 

I heard him talking and when I heard him say he’d be back I walked towards the door. 

He walked out as I turned to close the door. Our eyes briefly met before I left. 

*Ben’s POV*

After spending days wrapped in Y/N’s arms I felt something I hadn’t in a really long time. I was falling in love with her and it scared the hell out of me. The last woman I gave my heart to betrayed me and left me to be tortured. 

I can’t risk being hurt again. I need to get out before it goes too far. 

I met the blonde at the bar. She was day drinking. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her so she was vulnerable and not looking for commitment. She was perfect for me. I invited her back to the apartment. I had a few hours before Y/N came home.

We went back to my place and I started kissing her. Flashes of Y/N’s face played in my mind. I did my best to block out the memory of her, but every touch, every moan I saw her.

Fuck! Get out of your head, Ben. Give this woman a proper fucking! 

I heard her come in, she sounded so tired. The soft click of her door broke me from my thoughts. I could hear her sniffling and I knew it was because of me. 

About an hour later I heard her open her door and walk down the hallway. I threw some pants on and opened the door, walking down the hallway.

As I got into the living room I saw her leaving. 

Our eyes met and hers were full of so much pain. It broke me. This was my fault.

I looked on the counter and noticed her key and two letters. One to Butcher and the other addressed to me. I took my letter.

Ben,

The past few days have been the most amazing of my life. I honestly thought I was breaking through some of those walls you carefully constructed around your heart. I guess I was wrong. I’ll cherish all the time we spent together. The touches, how your lips felt on mine and on my body. How just being in your arms I felt so safe and the things we whispered to each other. I’ll never forget how you stood up for me and I’ll always be grateful to you for that. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ben, and I hope you finally find the love you deserve. Believe me you are worthy of love and you will make an amazing husband and father one day. 

I love you, Ben. I know now I didn’t know what love was until I met you. 

Love,

Y/N

Ben sighed. He knew you were gone. He pushed you away after pulling you to him. 

Ben ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath. He had no idea what to do, so he called Butcher.

“Oi! What do you want?” “Butcher I fucked up. She’s gone and this time for good. She left us both a letter and her key. Come home, we need to find her.” 

Butcher gripped his phone tightly, “What do you mean she’s gone? What the hell did you do?”

“I fell in love with her Butcher. I fell in love and got scared. I’m a fucking coward.” 

“You fucking cunt! I told you not to hurt her.” 

Butcher growled into the phone, hanging up and tried to call me. 

I saw his name pop up on the screen and ignored it. 

Sitting in the Uber getting as far away as I could. My heart felt like it had been ripped out, pieced together, then ripped out and put through a shredder. 

You’re a fucking fool falling in love with him. You let your heart think for you and this is what you get. Two guys using you up and leaving you out to dry. Tom was right, I am damaged and unloveable. 

Tears slipped down my face and I quickly wiped them away. The driver was sweet. She didn’t say anything, but she handed me some tissues. 

“Thank you” I said softly. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I hope everything works out for you.” 

I nodded softly. Then my phone rang again, this time it was Ben. I sent him to voicemail. 

My phone kept ringing and messages kept going off. Voicemail and messages kept pouring in from Ben and Butcher. 

I couldn’t talk to either of them. I didn’t want to hear Butcher say “I told you to stay away from him” and I didn’t want to hear Ben make up some excuse that would send me running back to his arms. 

Butcher arrived back at the apartment and grabbed the letter I left. His jaw clenched as he read it. Ben stood silently to the side watching him. His eyes flicked up to Ben. 

“You fucking cunt! How dare you make her fall in love with you and then break her fucking heart. She deserves so much better than you.” 

Ben’s jaw clenched tightly. So tight his teeth hurt. He knew Butcher was right. Now because of his cowardice, I was gone. 

It has been almost two months since I left the apartment. I still got phone calls and messages from Butcher and Ben, but not as many as I did. 

The last voicemail I got from Ben almost broke me. His voice desperately pleading with me to come home. I could hear the crack in his voice. He ended the call telling me how he knows he fucked up, but he wanted me to give him another chance. 

Oh how I desperately wanted to be back in his arms, but I couldn’t. 

I’d kept in touch with Annie but made her keep my location a secret. She was coming over today to visit and have a girls day. 

I was excited to see her. It had been a few weeks. She said she had some news for me and wanted to tell me in person. 

I greeted her at the door. “Hey Annie. How are you?” I pulled her in for a hug. “I’m good. How are you?” 

“I’m okay. Just a little under the weather, but I’m fine. So, what’s the news?” 

She smiled softly, “Well, Huey and I are getting married. He asked me a few days ago and I said yes.” 

“Oh Annie, I’m so happy for you both. Congratulations!” 

She hugged me and thanked me. A comfortable silence filled the room. 

I swallowed, “So how’s everyone else doing?” 

She knew who “everyone” else really was but she was sweet and updated me on everyone. “Butcher really misses you. He’s been trying to figure out where you went. He’s worried sick.” 

I nodded, “I’ll call him. Let him know I’m okay. And um, how’s Ben?” 

I nervously bit my lip. She took my hand, “he’s really not good. He’s angrier than before and he’s back to snorting anything he can crush. I’m not exactly sure what happened between you two, but he’s a mess. As far as I know he hasn’t had a woman over since you left.” 

I gasped, “what? Are you serious?” 

She shook her head yes. “Sweetie, what happened?” 

“I was a fucking fool, that’s what. I slept with him and let myself believe he could actually love me. I fell in love with him and after spending days wrapped up in each other he tossed me aside. Gave me the cold shoulder and slept with another woman. He broke my heart after saying I was his and I was worthy of love. Who the hell does that to someone?!” 

A loud sob left my mouth and she held me tightly. “It’s okay sweetie. You are worthy of love. I promise.” 

The shrill sound of my phone ringing cut the silence that filled the room. We both jumped, startled by the sound. 

I looked at the screen and saw it was my doctor’s office. 

“Hello? Yes this is she. Yes. I understand. Yes, thank you I will.” 

I hung up and gasped. I looked at Annie and couldn’t speak. 

“Honey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

My mouth hung open. Shock filled my body and my mind was racing. Trying to process what the doctor said. 

My heart was pounding in my chest, feeling heavier and heavier as the words crashed around me. 

I felt dizzy and numb. She swore the tests were just routine for my physical. “Nothing to worry about. You’re young and healthy. Everything is going to be okay.” 

She fucking lied! 

“Y/N, honey, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” 

I blinked. The sting of tears filled my eyes as the weight of her words filled my very soul. I couldn’t believe this. I had always lived my life carefully. Now what was I going to do? 

Annie grabbed my arms and forced me to look at her, “Y/N! What the hell is going on?!” Her voice was loud and startled me back to reality. 

“I went in for my yearly physical and she ran some standard tests. She was calling me with the results. Annie, she said I’m pregnant.” 

Annie’s eyes went wide, “What?!”

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[thorraborinn]

Would it possible at all for you to point me in the direction of how to translate elder futhark runes ie: “Thor, Protector of Humanity”. I’m entertaining the idea of woodburning Norse art.

lol you're gonna hate this. Nobody asks me shit like this anymore so I'm gonna take it too seriously.

Really the answer is "no." I can try to do it for you but I don't think it makes sense for me to say "learn Proto-Norse" and hope for the best. Learning how to do this is a lot more difficult than learning Old Norse or Old English (and tbh "learn ON or OE or OHG" is the actual advice I'd give here). I know you're asking about doing this in general, and not for that phrase in particular, but you happened to provide a good example so I'm going to try a translation and show all my work.

I did put together a very non-exhaustive list of sources on runes available here but honestly that will not get you far here. Turning Proto-Norse into runes is easy, it's the language part that's hard. I also made a big list of deity names in Elder Futhark. Apparently the font embedding broke so it looks like nonsense, and I'm not gonna fight with it now. But the bolded text in each entry can be transliterated into runes. I haven't looked at this in years, but did just update Thor to be more in line with what I have here. Also, don't trust Wikipedia or Wiktionary for this stuff, you can use them as a research tool but verify independently or just use them to find other sources.

If I were in your position, I would consider using Old Norse and the runes that wrote that. Völuspá even gives us a near parallel: Miðgarðs véurr, and one of many ways to write that might be ᚦᚢᚱ ᛬ ᛘᛁᚦᚴᛆᚱᚦᛋ ᛬ ᚢᛁᚢᚱ.

I should make sure sure you're asking what you want to be asking. I'm assuming you want to translate into language that was spoken when the Elder Futhark was used. Some people say "translate" when they mean the less-commonly-known-but-more-accurate "transliterate" (turn "abc" into "ᚨᛒᚲ"). Maybe you just want to go ᚦᛟᚱ ᛬ ᛈᚱᛟᛏᛖᚲᛏᛟᚱ ᛬ ᛟᚠ ᛬ ᚺᚢᛗᚨᚾᛁᛏᛁ and call it a day, and there's nothing wrong with that but you don't need my help for it so I'm guessing that isn't what you mean.

Anyway I'll give you my crack at a translation of the phrase you provided now in case you don't want to read the rest of this but the explanation is after the break:

*þonaraʀ warjaʀ *man(n)akunjas þonaraʀ warijaʀ manakunjas ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ ᛬ ᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᚨᚾᚨᚲᚢᚾᛃᚨᛊ

(the i ~ ij thing is on purpose. word boundary markers optional)

Thor

There are some unclear phonological aspects of *þun?raz > Þórr. Haukur Þorgeirsson recently addressed this (this article is currently paywalled but for some reason the whole thing loaded just fine for me a few hours ago, not sure why), and I find his conclusions satisfactory, which complicates things. Haukur proposes an earlier *Þunurr but doesn't rule out *Þonarr (or earlier reflex of these). By Haukur's analysis the former is easier to resolve within Old Norse but the latter is more convenient with some other proposals already made, especially by comparative linguists. So we find ourselves with two proposals for the god's name in Elder Futhark-era language: ᚦᚢᚾᚢᚱᚨᛉ *þunuraʀ and ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ *þonaraʀ. I'm conditioned to favor *þonaraʀ, but I can't find fault in Haukur's preference for *þunuraʀ within the context of his own paper.

The only reason I'm not siding with it is that it seems impossible to resolve with Old High German donar and Old Saxon thunar (both 'thunder'; compare *eburaz > OHG/OS ebur, not **ebar). So while Haukur's got me convinced that *þunuraʀ seems like a more likely immediate precursor to Þórr, I can't shake *þonaraʀ being what seems to me, at least for now, a necessary precursor to the OHG especially. And for now, "seems necessary" beats "more likely." Of course variation is possible but that isn't a way to handwave conflicting data, it's a whole separate thing to investigate, and I haven't done that yet.

If I were researching something for myself, or for something permanent like a tattoo, I'd keep going and make sure I'm more confident. Even Haukur leaves open possibilities I haven't mentioned here. If nothing else, at least *þunraz no longer seems necessary to maintain (as Ringe 2014 thought following Noreen 1923).

Alternatively, one who does prefer *þunraz as the Proto-Germanic could probably be convinced to allow an epenthetic vowel for Elder Futhark-era language, so we're safe there.

I probably could have left all this out. *þonaraʀ is a fairly normal, mainstream way to reconstruct Þórr. But that wouldn't have been an accurate depiction of the situation. However we work this out, it highlights that what we're doing is not speaking/writing ancient, dead, unattested language. Or, if we are, it's only incidental to the primary thing we're doing, which is trying and sometimes failing to understand how attested words relate to each other, and taking sides in arguments about that.

protector

Selecting a word for 'protector' is difficult. It was only with some hesitation that I went with warjaʀ, a word only attested in compounded personal names like Landawar(i)jaʀ on the Tørvika A stone. It's highly likely to be derived from *warjan- 'to protect/defend.' What's a little weird, though, is that it seems to always be written warijaʀ, in apparent violation of Sievers' Law. I won't get into details here because this post is gonna be long enough as it is, but let it be known the word (and others -- the (i)ja thing recurs a bunch in the Elder corpus) is controversial and my preference for leaving it as it's attested would probably not be universal.

Snorri calls Thor verjandi Ásgarðs, Miðgarðs 'protector of Ásgarðr, Miðgarðr.' To be honest, this isn't the most common use of verjandi; usually it means 'defendant' in a trial, but we can get its meaning from context. We should stop to question whether it could have been used that way some 700 years before Snorri, and once we're satisfied that we can use it we run into trouble again with the non-phonological change of the suffix *-andz > -andi. The *-andz suffix is poorly attested in the Elder Futhark. We have the Tune stone's witada witanda-, but it's a compound word and doesn't give us the nominative ending. Then there's the Eggja stone's suwimąde swimmande and gąląnde galandi which are late enough to be basically fully Old Norse, and doesn't tell us much about earlier language. In Old Norse, these -andi words have the same endings as an n-stem in the singular, and maybe they did in Proto-Norse, but we don't have nominative (or even uncompounded in any case) forms from early enough to be sure. *warjandʀ or *warjanda? Or something else? If not for this, it's the word I'd probably use, and if we want to come as close as we can to technical dictionary accuracy, we'll have to be okay with a shot in the dark at the morphological state of the language.

Also derived from verja are vernd, verndari, vǫrn, vǫrðr. Both vernd and vǫrn mean roughly 'protection' and it makes more sense to say that Thor gives or provides them than that he is them. A vǫrðr is a guard or warden -- Heimdallr is definitely a vǫrðr but I'm not certain Thor is. Most likely, verndari is a later, Norse-era formation, which is unfortunate because it is the word I'd use if we were translating to Old Norse (might go a little bit something like ᚦᚢᚱ ᛬ ᚢᛆᚱ(ᚿ)ᛐᛆᚱᛁ ᛬ ᛘᚭᚿᚴᚢ(ᚿ)ᛋ).

In Old Norse there's also gæta. It isn't attested outside of North Germanic which means relying on internal reconstruction, which isn't great. Kroonen's (2013) *ganhatjan- makes sense and PN *gą̄tijaʀ does seem pretty reasonable as a reconstruction. Semantically, I'm not sure if it's a good fit, though I'm having trouble articulating why. Its meaning should be something like 'to watch, tend, take care of' and in most modern language is more like what Iðunn does with her apples, or what a shepherd does with their flock, than what Thor does with humans, but I don't know that we can be so precise with Proto-Norse and in either case I don't think it's wrong. Actually, perhaps gætir Miðgarðs would be a better way to put it (hint: gætir Miðgarðs < *gą̄tijaʀ miðjagarðas ᚷᚨᛏᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᛁᛞᛃᚨᚷᚨᚱᛞᚨᛊ).

The Norse word hlífa might be closer to what we're looking for, though it might only seem that way because we have little evidence to contradict it. In Norse it means 'to protect/defend/shelter (from something)' and works here, but its attestations in other Germanic languages are a little weak and don't inspire confidence in the semantics.

Given all this, I can't help but feel it's best to return to war(i)jaʀ. Though unattested outside of names, it presumably had an independent existence at some point, and is transparently derived from the verb *warjan- 'to defend.' And maybe most importantly, it is actual, attested language. This is a rare opportunity to forget about what I said at the end of the "Thor" section and connect to real language committed to real record by real people.

As an aside, véurr, mentioned way above, is probably etymologically equivalent to vé + warjaʀ, so *wīhawarjaʀ ᚹᛁᚺᚨᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ.

humanity

We catch a break with 'humanity.' There are complications but they won't end up mattering. There are a few ways to say 'humanity' but they all start man(n)-; we can have our pick of -kin or -kind to end it but -kin is more common, which in PN is *kunja. But the 'man' words in early Germanic languages are a little weird. Sometimes it has one n, sometimes two; it's always two in Old Norse, but it's hard to say if that was true in elder runic language. Fortunately we can sidestep this: in most runes you only write a letter once, even if the sound is long. But to use a connecting vowel or not? Gothic has compounds in mana-, manna-, man-, and mann-. So *man(n)akunja or *man(n)kunja? Well, as Martin Syrett (1994) pounds out, Germanic in general and Gothic in particular are not consistent when it comes to stem vowels in compounds. There's a tendency to spread -a- as a connecting vowel even where it doesn't belong. So we should feel pretty safe that even if *man(n)akunja isn't the inherited form from Proto-Germanic, it was always a possibility. Finally, worst comes to worst, you could just let ᛗ stand for the whole word, given that it's the 'man' rune anyway.

Last, we'll have to put that in the genitive case to make it 'of mankind.' We don't have examples of neuter ja-stems in the genitive from the Elder Futhark but there isn't really strong reason to believe it wasn't *-jas, so: *kunjas.

We've arrived at my answer:

*þonaraʀ warjaʀ *man(n)akunjas þonaraʀ warijaʀ manakunjas ᚦᛟᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉ ᛬ ᚹᚨᚱᛁᛃᚨᛉ ᛬ ᛗᚨᚾᚨᚲᚢᚾᛃᚨᛊ

Anyway I hope you don't mind me going completely over the top answering this, I don't think I realized before starting to answer this that I needed to get it out of my system.

[emryx]

When two NPCs with maybe 5 total minutes of screentime have you so obsessed you give them a child 🏃🏻

BEHOLD—my Teiago fankid, Elias de Riva (plus an info dump about him and his parents below because I’m very normal abt them but you can skip that and jus look at all the art if you want 🫣)

Realistically, it’s really hard to imagine a scenario where these two have a kid. But that’s what fanart and hcs are for 🙌 As of right now, I hc that around the time of the dialog from one of the crows abt Teia and Viago being "on again" is when he's conceived. But they don't really find out until after the ending of Veilguard. Any symptoms Teia might experience beforehand are just written off as stress or straight up ignored because of how much they have on their respective plates with the Antaam and the gods. Viago even calls her out for never going home and insists she takes a contract to “kill a vacation.” So I don't think it'd be too far fetched for her to look the other way until things are settled in Treviso again because of timeline stuff.

No clue how they react after the initial news rn but that can come later. They start being a little less childish with their back and forth break-ups at least once the seriousness of it all sinks in lol

Viago did not like the idea at first, I know that much. Mans was STRUGGLING with Elias in the early stages. Babies are loud, unpredictable, often inconsolable little heathens that he can't analyze or have a consistent system for. It would drive him nuts. A tiny human who can't yet care for itself and constantly needs to be held and directed, paired with his touch-aversion, OCD, and need for set routines? Yeahhh…Teia understands, but on one hand that woman just went through 9 months of her own hell and she's shoving that boy into his arms sometimes regardless of his bad days LMAO

It helps, in the end. Pushes him to gradually get used to it over time. Viago starts to realize there is somewhat of a system to the whole dad thing and fatherhood grows on him because I said so.

He holds a lot of resentment and hatred towards his own father. As a bastard of the king and one of his drunk mistresses, I doubt Viago’s upbringing was too great. The whole “demon teeth” comment was enough to hint as such. He wouldn't be thrilled about taking care of a baby, but the thought of entrusting his son to nannies? Strangers?? No. That's something his dad would and did do and he’s better than him. This is his kid; He doesn't care if it's gross, he'd rather feel uncomfortable sometimes for the sake of Elias’s comfort than stoop as low as the king.

On top of spite, the paranoia with poison extends to Elias in a way; one of my favorite hcs I’ve seen is Viago being exposed to assassination attempts on the king or his mistresses/servants while he was growing up before joining the crows, whether it’s via stories or witnessing first hand. The thought of entrusting Elias’s life to anyone else gives him flashbacks to being a child himself, scared to eat or drink anything prepared by anyone because of how many times others were killed that way around him. Even doing extensive checks and handpicking a trustworthy nanny is not reliable and doesn’t guarantee safety. We love a paranoid dad.

Teia on the other hand? | think she'd like a family tbh. Maybe she didn’t react well to first finding out she was pregnant, but otherwise the idea grows on her quickly compared to Viago. As an orphan, she didn't get much of a family—the crows became her family, Caterina as her "nonna" and some of the older Talons as her weird uncles. Being able to experience what she never had with a child she can ensure has a good life feels fitting for her character. Heals a bit of her own inner child too, yk? 🫠 She’s such a caring woman despite her occupation and she’d make a good mother. Scary, but good LMSKSKX

Life as a crow is harsh. Being the child of not one but two Talons?? On one hand that kid is very protected but on the other he has a huge target on his back. If Viago was worried about people thinking House de Riva and House Cantori had an alliance, I can only imagine what a wholeass child would stir up. They both would prepare him well for the future in their own ways. It’s not canon to him, but the thought of Elias being ridiculously resistant to poisons because Viago started building his immunity up so young is funny to me 😭

Anyways ramble over. Some creative liberties were taken, such as his eyes being more golden like how Teia’s are described in Tevinter Nights. I may give Elias his curls back because he looks goofy next to Teia and Viago with his emo hair JAKAMC

I love their little family…

[epickiya722]

When I tell you I'm so sick of this.

Yes, yes, Bakugou used to be his bully and all that yadda yadda. Oh my gosh, wow, a bully in the story! How dare such a thing exists!

Okay, stop clutching your pearls. Even Bakugou knew he was a total ass and it's not something he ever got away with like that, let alone he does grow up, so chill.

But if you're gonna go that route, throwing Todoroki in there to be like "it makes sense to pair them instead" is kind of strange because even though Todoroki didn't bully Midoriya, they did still immediately start on the wrong foot. I mean, Todoroki could have killed Midoriya in their match but I don't see people going "I don't understand how people can ship them, it doesn't make sense to me when Todoroki could have seriously killed Midoriya that one time".

I have seen people ship Midoriya with characters worse than Bakugou, but OMG, it's their ship that gets tackled on the most and at this point, I see it as a trend.

I see it as someone has to do because they're a follower.

Honestly, it's just getting ridiculous.

If the ship doesn't make sense to you, it doesn't make sense to you, who cares? But posting about it like this and then tagging it, doesn't do anything good.

No one who has caught up with the anime and manga would post about the ship in a rather negative way would be "it doesn't make sense to ship them".

"What if they aren't caught up?"

Even so, does it need to make sense? Is it an actual necessity for someone to have a ship to make sense if at the end of the day they're just entertained by the mere thought of it and not bothering you about it?

Take it from someone who ships Miruko and Burnin and is her favorite MHA ship at this time. We ain't see them have no onscreen interaction. That didn't stop me though and going "Hey, I think you two would look cute together".

There are ships in this fandom that have a way worse relationship in canon and still people ship them.

"I see art that depicts them being cute together." Okay, so and? Are you losing HP from it like some video game character that has yet to move out the lava? Do you grow a horn every time you see cute ship art of it? It's not the only ship drawn out there being cute together. It's not like there aren't cute moments in canon for them. Then stop looking at the art. Why are you looking at the art? If you keep seeing BakuDeku art, clearly... you're in the area. Probably on purpose.

I know if I keep seeing art of a ship I don't like it's a me problem because I have the choices to not follow certain people, block the tag, etc.

Maybe you shouldn't be in the MHA fandom at all given the amount of art for them anyways that's official.

Look, I'm not bothered by someone not liking Bakudeku. Could really give zero crap about it, honestly. I have ships I don't like either.

But what bothers me is posting about it, attacking the ship and tagging it.

We all have our opinions and I believe, good or bad, post about them.

However, people do shit like this and then mask it as "having an opinion" when really they probably want to start drama.

"But, Kiya, what if they're not trying to start drama? What if they don't know the proper way to tag?"

I call bullshit and I don't care. Oh, yes, I sound like a bitch, but let's be real here.

Stuff like this happens no matter where. It doesn't just happen on Tumblr. People have done this over and over and over to the point that it is hard to believe that person isn't trying to start anything.

New or not, people by now should know that if they're going to say something negative about a ship, don't draw in the shippers.

If this person didn't want to start drama then why bring TodoDeku into this? "Make it make sense." That right there is a sign of "I'm starting drama". Uh, people do happen to ship TodoDeku. I even ship it. It's not like people don't at all in the fandom ship them and only ship BakuDeku, so stop.

It's not like this person or anybody who does this is genuinely asking and do what to know because maybe they are genuinely curious and/or considering the ship but first wants to know more about it.

No, they're just being hostile. This is not an opinion. It's an attack disguised as one.

If you don't like the ship, okay. But if you're going to post about it, don't tag it.

This isn't even about BakuDeku only anymore. I see this with ships that don't even have anything wrong with them and in different fandoms. It's tiring, it's annoying and just takes the fun out of shipping.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

“Aang fans have to reach hard to find any sort of “development” in his story, and to justify why it’s acceptable for him to put the lives of millions of people at risk to maintain feelings of purity despite other Avatars (including an Air Nomad) telling him his decision is selfish”

Thoughts on this take? I found it on “longing for rain” blog.

1 - Zuko had THE perfect opportunity to end the war by killing Ozai during the day of the eclipse, but he didn't do so because "It's Aang's fate" and Zuko has a very rigid idea of what "fate" means and how it should affect one's behavior. Iroh also refused to even try to HELP in the battle because it'd make him be seen as a power-hungry kinslayer (even though he had zero intention of becoming Fire Lord). Both of these things can be seen as selfish, especially since they're all about how it'll affect their OWN image, yet only Aang gets labeled selfish. If everyone is throwing the burden on his shoulders, they can shut the fuck up about how he handles said burden.

2 - One of Aang's reasons to not want to kill Ozai is because HE'S TWELVE AND DOESN'T WANNA MURDER SOMEONE, even someone who deserves it. He never asked for this responsibility. He cannot be blamed for Sozin and every Fire Lord after him being a monster, or for Roku's inability to do anything despite being an adult. He's a child. This is not his mess to fix, and yet...

3 - He's not simply going "Sorry, guys, I don't feel like killing Ozai, guess you're all gonna die." He's trying to find alternative solutions - and when he can't find one, he ACCEPTS killing Ozai (and even almost does it AFTER being taught about energybending), despite...

4 - Him being a pacifist and wanting to stay true to his beliefs. He's not trying to be "pure", as in "I'm better than all of you 'cause I don't want to kill", but as in "I don't wanna be a hypocrite that preaches one thing but does the opposite" - thought I suppose I can understand how someone how tries to get praised by trying to pass off AI bullshit as actual art made by them would have a problem with a main character that vallues being an honest person.

Aang's development is not the same as Zuko's of "I need to completely alter my way of thinking" because AANG WAS NOT THE ONE SUPPORTING GENOCIDE. This doesn't make Zuko a better written, more realistic, or "more developed" character, it means he used to be a monster and now he isn't one anymore.

Aang's entire struggle is constantly having the world trying to beat his innocence and humanity out of him so he is nothing BUT the Avatar, just a super soldier/weapon that lives to sacrifice everything for everyone else's sake, while getting nothing in return because "it's his duty." His character arc is about realizing these "necessary evils" aren't actually necessary at all, and that he CAN save the world without destroying his spirit and identity in the process. He doesn't have to see the "error of his ways" because he was not the one in the wrong for saying "Fuck you, I'm a PERSON, not your sacrificial lamb."

And idiots like this particular dumbass would realize it (or rather, admit it) if they only they didn't have a giant stick up their pretencious ass and could get over the fact that their fanon ship "lost the ship war" TWENTY FUCKING YEARS AGO!

[pallanophblargh]

Another desperate strike at the art block and a tribute of sorts: super rusty linocut to reinitiate me into the world of printmaking. It’s not as attuned to my working style as intaglio was, but this is fun, tactile, and enough of a departure from my way of thinking that is super welcome.

It’s nothing special and definitely technically lacking (over-inked block and such) but it’s something, which is a big deal lately. Also it’s my favorite species of fish and we all know Kuhli loaches deserve all the tributes we can give.

[silverwhittlingknife]

"the fault, dear Brutus -" (Julius Caesar)

Quotes from A Critical History of English Literature by David Daiches. Panels from Death in the Family, Under the Red Hood, Lost Days, and Batman and Robin.

[triglycercule]

horror is so BLESSED he's the only one out of the murder time trio that has actual good people trying to influence his story 💔💔 dust and killer were both driven to INSANITY because of the choices of their respective humans but horror??? every time without FAIL the polls for horrortale's plotline have always ended in a good place for aliza (either by bettering her relationships/reputation or for her to just. not DIE)

horrortale's potential alternate timelines my beLOVEd🙏🙏 they're SO lucky that we're being kind and benevolent hehe (≧ω≦) now where are the aus based off the possible different outcomes that could've happened in horrortale HUH???? (like how aliza couldve killed toriel or chosen horror's puzzle or gone with undyne to the core........)

[puppppppppy]

man

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Hi y'all, I just wanted to talk a little about the behind the scenes of what I've been up to, to give y'all a little transparency and to open myself up for any tips or input! 🙏 Thank you for your continued support and for taking the time to look at my art 🫶

First and foremost I wanted to give some transparency about my art capacity.

As og followers may remember, I started this blog when I was doing art full time. Eventually my living expenses grew and I had to go back to work. I find myself in a cycle of "I'll make more art soon, once I get a job!" And "I'll make more art soon, once I am done with this job!" I lost my most recent job suddenly, having had an extension waved over my head until the last day(October 7th). Now I'm excited to have more time for art, but I am also feeling a rush to get a new job ASAP as I've been living paycheck to paycheck. I dream of doing this work full time, I'm just scared it's not quite there yet and I worry that I come off as scammy or dishonest when I anticipate more stability around the corner.

Second, I've been struggling with the Patreon. It's taken me a while to come to terms with this, but from what I've seen Patreon is not intuitive at all from the creator end. It doesn't do a good job of organizing addresses, emails, showing who or who isn't subscribed to me, or organizing and displaying the work I put on there. I've been really shocked by this experience, since lots of big names use Patreon. It's been a great way to streamline support, but it's been unhelpful in every other regard. I would like to continue using it, but I will most likely post more wips or process videos there in the future.

Which brings me to my third point, zines. I love making zines so much, it feels personal and fulfilling and fun! However the Patreon issues make it harder to keep information in order about where to send zines, or even where to message folks about them. In addition to this, the post office has been a big barrier to me, oftentimes only being open at the same time as my dayjob. Making zines can take days, then sending them out is a whole other monster.

This work is so important to me. Drawing peoples fantasies, representing body types, creating work around sexuality and the human experience feels like what I'm meant to do. I've made comics since I was a kid. This is the dream to me. The friends I've been able to make through this work are so important to me, and the conversations have been invaluable. Not to mention fun! I wanna doodle, I wanna draw hot stuff, I wanna thirst over these dudes! I want to play!

But I also just want to be transparent about the barriers I'm working around to share that experience. I'm completely self taught, both in art AND in running shops, building websites, running 8 accounts, etc. I take a lot of time to learn the logistics of these things, and try to make them make sense for my relationship with y'all (I do not want to paywall my art!! I don't want to!!!). This year my desktop broke down (the main one I use for all paintings and digital art). I've paused my Etsy shops and my Patreon to try to catch up with things. Trying to learn to paint in a completely different program. Then lost my job with no savings.

At the end of the day I don't want anything to come between me sharing my art with you. I wish I could doodle a thing, take a picture, and post it here. No third party site, no shop, no subscription. Just sharing my art with you. I promise I'm trying to figure out how to stay as close to that as possible, and I want to thank y'all for sticking with me as I untangle all of that.

So, what can you expect in the near future?

I'm working on a couple of painting commissions right now, which you should be able to see in the next couple of days! I want to catch up on kinktober and get those posted as well. There's a comic commission in progress which I'm very eager to work on, and which I think y'all will be excited for! To ease the weight of the Patreon I think I may do less zines/polls there and more wips and process videos! If possible, I want to do more full colored work too.

Thank you again for enjoying my work, and if you have any input or tips my inbox is always open 🙏🫶💕

[i-will-go-with-you-five]

Runner Five is feared for a reason… she is absolutely terrifying when she wants to be