#but i just thought i should just add onto the canvas i used for this one

[theemosiders]

curtis bros full sketch page!!! ☆

[fixyourwritinghabits]

I noticed many of the protagonists I wrote or thought of writing had either no personality or one too self-inserted (sometimes somewhere in between) and now I can't really connect with the protagonists I write so I wanted to know if you have any advice to help me craft more distinct characters and get attached to them.

First, some homework - pluck out about five pieces of media and nail down what you like about the protagonists within.

What about them appeals to you in particular?

Did you like how they grew and changed?

What struggles did they tackle that only they could handle?

Doesn't have to be neat and orderly, just try to nail down what really appeals to you about your favorite characters. When it comes to your own characters, here are some more things to think about:

Are you writing the character you want to write, or are you writing the character you think you should write? You may not be able to connect to your characters because you're trying to make them something you think they should be rather than what you'd feel more comfortable writing.

Are you projecting your feelings on a larger canvas (aka write what you know)? Are you thinking about how your characters would feel in bombastic circumstances (fighting a dragon, running from the cybercops) based on experiences and emotions you've had (facing off with a teacher, hopefully not running from the real cops but hey, you do what you gotta). The best way to infuse your characters with appeal is to take an emotion or an experience you can relate to and projecting it onto your characters.

Do your characters have internal struggles to go with their external ones? Is that high-stakes heist also paired with the character's struggle to display his real emotions? Does the fight with the evil wizard reflect the character's struggles to connect to their dad? If your story is external-plot heavy, a good way to flesh out the characters within is to connect their internal wants/needs/desires with the events going on around them. That zombie fight could be all the more enticing if the main couple is having a massive break-up during it.

Figuring out how to write a protagonist is often more than filling out a character sheet. Great if you can do that (I can't so like, go brag about it somewhere else), but often times you'll have to flesh out the character the hard way, but plotting out their journey before you write it. Work on their inner needs and emotional battles to draw them out as people.

Don't know where to start with figuring out a character at all? Grab an archetype list and get mixing and mashing. You may not come up with usable ideas right away, but you'll be able to pick out the ideas that appear to you until you have a handy list of things to lean on. Tropes are tools to be used, after all, and anything that could add to your characters is a tool with keeping. Good luck!

[sankttealeaf]

artistic endeavours

pairing ; arthur morgan x gender neutral!reader

summary ; during a walk around Saint Denis, you find yourself drawing a rather interesting stranger's horse.

other info ; this is completely self-indulgent, because all i want to do is draw with arthur. first time doing any sort of 'x reader' and i had a lot of fun. it's so silly i love it. left the ending open ended because i thought of a part 2 if people are interested <3

word count: 2.5k

psst, part two is here: masterpieces

Finding inspiration for various art projects came easy to you while living in Saint Denis - the city was full of interesting subjects to study and draw, and whenever you found yourself in a creative block it didn't take much to reignite the spark. You had signed up to paint some pieces for a new exhibition at the end of the month, “The Beauty of Saint Denis”, a love letter to the city you currently called home, and so far everything had been going smoothly. Three paintings were complete, with another needing a few finishing touches. The issue was with your main piece, a large oil painting of the Théâtre Râleur at night. Something was missing and you had no idea what it was. With a few days left to go for all submissions to be collected by the gallery, you were running out of time to make this work. You were hoping that some of these paintings would be sold during the exhibitions, and you really couldn’t afford to give up now.

The room you used as your art studio was beginning to feel stuffy and small; the ventilation was poor and you had forgotten to open a window to let some air in when you first started this morning. Perhaps that was why you were pulling your hair out, trying to get something down on the canvas - the oil paint was starting to mess with your mind. You sighed, deciding that now was the best time to go for a walk, find something for lunch and not think too much about how close you were to starting this painting from scratch, not that you had the time to do so. You packed away your sketchbook, grabbing a few charcoal pencils and crayons too in case you saw something that sparked inspiration, and left. Fresh air would do you good, you told yourself. 

The city was busier than usual today as you stepped out onto the street, the midday sun warming you up immediately. Your plan was to walk around for a bit, just to see if anything felt interesting to draw, and then grab some food. The walk and air would do you good, even if nothing was drawn. You walked around slowly, pausing every now and then to take down some notes on people’s outfits, wondering if you should add a crowd outside of the theatre to make it look busy. The more you imagined it in your head, the more you decided it wouldn't hurt to try. You quickly sketched down a few ideas, before moving on, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself from those you were drawing. The last thing you wanted was for someone to get angry that you were doing that - it had happened more times than you liked to admit. You decided to loop around the docks, and then walk back around and stop off at that bakery you frequented a lot.

The docks were busy, but there was no surprise there. People walked about, carrying boxes and bags between places. There was enough going on here to definitely spark some form of creativity, and you hoped that something would be interesting to draw. You took a moment to scan over your surroundings, trying to piece together things that could work with your painting at home when you saw something. A lone horse was hitched outside the general store, and it felt like a perfect thing to draw. 

You took out your sketchbook as you approached the horse, careful not to spook it. The pattern was something you had never seen much of before, and it stood out to you the moment you saw it. Maybe a horse was missing from your painting? You began to quickly sketch out the main shapes of the horse, keeping it loose and soft to get the basic idea of how everything fits together. Once you had filled up a page on quick drawings, moving around to get different angles, you opened to a double page and began a more detailed drawing.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest thing,” you mumbled softly, taking a small step to the side to get a better view of her head. You took more time with this drawing, making sure to capture all the details you could, from the markings to the way her mane fell to the style of the bridle. A quick look at the horse and you could tell that her owner loved her a lot, she was clean and looked well fed, and if you knew what kind of treats she liked, you would definitely give her lots of them.

You found yourself getting lost in the piece, now moving on to giving it pops of colour. Your charcoal pencil was tucked behind your ear, and you switched out between two colours to try and match the shade of its coat. The more you thought about it, the more it would fit well in the painting of the theatre. You were excited to go back home to add her in.

"If you're goin' to steal her, you might wanna be a bit quicker at it next time." A voice spoke, taking you by surprise. You quickly turned around to see the owner of it - a tall, rather rugged looking man. The guns at his side made you weary, and you closed your sketchbook, holding it closer to you.

"Oh, no, I ain't in the horse stealing business, sir," you said quickly, taking a step back to put some distance between you, him, and the horse. "But if I was, your horse would be one I'd steal." The words left your mouth before your mind could tell you that it probably wasn't the best way to compliment someone's horse.

The stranger raised his eyebrow at you, giving you a once over. "Sounds like somethin’ a horse thief would say.” He let out a small chuckle to himself, and then shrugged. “You don’t look like much of one, anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong, you definitely didn't give off the same vibes as a horse thief, though you didn't know many to compare yourself to. You watched as he gave you a nod, walking around to the opposite side of the horse. 

"Definitely not going to steal her." You looked down at your sketchbook, giving it a small wave in his direction. "Just drawing her, if that's alright. She looked really interesting, and I've been facing a real bad block lately."

“Saint Denis seems to have a lot of you artsy folk around, huh?” He asked, as you nodded.

“It’s a unique city. I find that there are a lot of things to draw here,” you replied, opening up back to the page you were just on. “Lots of horses, too. None as good as yours, though.”

“You sure you ain’t trying to steal her?” He raised an eyebrow, and you were quick to shake your head again.

“I promise I’m not!”

“I’m just messing with you.” He gave you a smile. “You're some kind of artist, then?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only things I’ve got going for me right now. I came to Saint Denis to capture its beauty, and haven’t left since.”

“Beauty is a strong word for this place,” he replied, scrunching his nose up as he spoke, and you tilted your head to the side in confusion.

“You don’t like it?”

“Too crowded. Too… city-like.”

You let out a laugh. “Funny that, considerin’ it is a city.” You turned to a new page, deciding to get a closer sketch of the horse’s head. “I hope I ain’t keeping you or anything.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” he said, and you looked up to see him take out a brush from his bag, giving his horse a quick brush down. “I know how frustrating it can be when the thing you’re drawing leaves too soon.”

“You’re an artist, too?” You stopped, giving him a look up and down. He didn't seem like the artistic type from the outside, but you supposed looks could be deceiving. He looked to be the kind of person you would bump into late at night, looking for trouble. The guns on his sides didn't help with that much, but he didn't appear to be threatening. The way he looked at his horse was anything but threatening.

“I draw. Not a proper artist or anythin’.” He looked at you, and you gave him a small smile.

“I think anyone who draws can be considered a proper artist,” you said, as he shrugged in response.

You watched him for a few moments, before going back to your sketch, smoothing some lines out to give the impression of shadows and depth. It wasn’t your best work, but for a fast sketch, it was decent. The stranger had moved during your sketch session, and was now leaning up against one of the wooden poles that held up one of the various awnings on the store, hat tipped in front of his face. You paused for a moment, your pencil hovering over the page before the horse’s head. With a deep breath, you began to very loosely draw the man. You had drawn other people that day, so there was nothing weird about doing it again. But with the person so close, you could feel your cheeks warm up from embarrassment - all he needed to do was look up and catch you drawing him. But he didn't. 

You kept things simple, using few lines to give the impression of features, smudging other lines to use as shadows. A quick line behind him, and you had a very rough outline. You took a mental note of the colours he was wearing - a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the well worn jeans, the dark boots. He looked like trouble, and yet here he was, letting you draw his horse without a complaint.

The sudden rumble from your stomach brought you out from your drawing session, and you knew you had enough to use as a reference for your painting now. You did feel a little bad for keeping him waiting, and looked down at your drawing of his horse’s head. You didn't have any change you could give him to thank him for your time, but you did have art… With one quick movement, you ripped out the page. Closing your sketchbook and shoving it back into your bag, you approached where he was leaning.

“Sorry for keeping you around,” you said, as he tipped his hat back, looking at you. He straightened up, giving you a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s easier to draw things when they’re still,” he said. “You done?”

“Yes. Thank you. Uh, here-” You held out the drawing for him with a smile. “It’s not much, and you don’t have to take it, but… a token of gratitude, if you will.”

He looked down at the paper, gently taking it from you. You watched as he held it up to where his horse was, looking between them. “‘Ain’t much’? I can’t even tell the difference between the drawin’ and her!” He looked at you with a smile. “Thanks, uh…?”

You told him your name quickly, holding out a hand for him to shake. Between all the art, you had completely forgotten to introduce yourself. 

He took your hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Thank you, Arthur, for letting me draw your horse,” you said, taking a small step back once you let go of his hand. You wondered if it would be weird to invite him along to the opening night of the exhibition, as you felt pretty confident now that you’d be able to finish the piece. You knew what it was missing now, after all. He carefully placed your drawing in his satchel, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. You rarely share your art with anyone, let alone hand someone a piece for free, and you weren’t too sure what had gotten into you to do that. There was something about Arthur that made you feel like you could share it easily. You stepped aside to allow him to walk by you to his horse.

Arthur gave you a nod, as he walked to his horse, unhitching the reins from the post. He turned to look at you. “There’s a lot of good places outside Saint Denis to draw at,” he said, pulling the reins over his horse’s head. “Lots of animals, too. Even more horses.”

“Maybe I’ll have to branch out one day,” you replied with a laugh. “Take a week long trip out to New Hanover, I’ve heard a lot about the landscape there.”

He seemed like a well travelled man to you, and you could easily see yourself going around to different places to draw landscapes and animals and people. Horses were expensive, so you would have to travel by train, and then find somewhere to stay… Maybe you would take his recommendation. You could always do with new focuses to paint whenever you got bored of Saint Denis.

You hadn’t told many people that your art was going to be displayed yet, and Arthur seemed interested enough in art. It wouldn't hurt to drop the suggestion, right? You searched through your bag for a small card that held the information for the exhibition on it. Your brain was telling you that it was strange to ask him to come along, but you pushed the thought away. It’s a public event, anyone could come, it didn't mean anything if you asked him to drop by. He turned to mount his horse, and you spoke up.

“If you’re in the area at the end of the month-” you started, making him look back at you. You took another deep breath to get you through this, holding out the business card to him, “the gallery downtown is hosting an exhibition, and I should have some art up on display there…” You hoped he understood what you were hinting at, as the thought of asking this stranger to see your artwork was causing a bubble of anxiety to rise in you. “Opening night is when I’ll be there, but it’ll be up for a week after that if you're still in the city.”

He took the business card from you, reading it and flipping it over in his hand. “I’ll drop by if I can,” he said with a smile, and you felt your anxieties leave you. With a smile, he nodded at you, before pulling himself up onto his horse. “Been nice talkin’ to you.”

“You too, Arthur.” You gave him a small wave. “If you ever need a drawing partner, be sure to let me know!”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” he laughed, and you watched as he left, walking off down the street. 

Nothing would come of it, most likely, but the idea of going around with someone and drawing together filled your mind. Especially with the idea of travelling - maybe this was your calling? To travel and paint together with someone. You pushed that thought away, not wanting to get too attached to the idea, however lovely it may be.

You began your walk back home, eager to get out the paints. This was going to be one of your best pieces ever, and you were now looking forward to the exhibition instead of dreading it.

[noemifawn]

Just saw your procreate brushes post! To add onto that topic, I’m curious as to what canvas size you usually draw in. Honestly, I try not to overthink that step in the art process but lately I’ve been wondering if I should give it more thought. Thanks in advance :)

I usually begin with a 2048px × 2048px and crop it to however it fits the drawing the best. I set the dpi to 132 but sometimes I go higher.

Just a little advice in general: I'd recommend not to go with too big canvases unless you want to make some insanely detailed stuff. Drawing on a smaller one is totally fine! I used to draw on 1500 px for a long time and as long as you're comfortable with it that's all that counts. On a big canvas it's easy to get caught up with details when usually it is the image as whole that counts :D

[earlofbats]

Eight Hours of Vigorous Praxis

The curdling hiss of the water pot sputters, the evening light creeps through the grates of the cage built atop the tenement building. Two young student communists read silently amongst themselves, a comfortable width apart, on a couch refuged from the side of some degrading road or back alley.

The scent of cheap coffee grounds, also likely salvaged from the garbage bin of some upscale Bougie cafe alongside the collection of dust-ridden rugs, almost covers up the smell of drying petrol oil, bright red as it drips off of white canvas onto gray concrete.

“Uli-” Steban looks up from the book he wasn't reading.

“Yes, Steban?” Ulixies acknowledges, flipping a page over, perched atop the highest vantage point the couch's shambled body has to offer.

“You remember when the gendarme slapped me?” Steban taps a nervous finger against the cover of his book.

Tap Tap Tap

Against the cheap waxy paperback.

“Yes.” Uli scans the words down the page, he's read this book perhaps a dozen times before.

“I'm concerned about how much I enjoyed it.” Steban closes the book over his finger, holding its place over the sentence he hadn't been reading.

“What do you mean?” Ulixies perks up from his reading, the words are mostly known, the essence absorbed, only the nuances left and the particular turns of phrase.

“I mean that the scenario was stimulating.” Steban elaborates.

“Stimulating?” Uli raises an inquisitive brow, glancing shortly between the text and his compatriot, unsure as to where the most appropriate place to place his gaze would be.

“Yes.”

“…In what sense?” Ulixies makes sure to tread carefully, lowering the book slightly to show he is present.

“You know what sense, Uli. Don’t be thick.” Steban rolls his eyes, bending the cover of the book over his finger, curling the paper around it.

Uli raises his free hand up in a placating manner “Okay, I was just making sure.” lets his book rest against his knee “Well, what element of it was concerning? You said you enjoyed it. Was it the physical stimulation? In the way that the pain may have activated your fight or flight responses? We’re academics. It’s only natural that we would be susceptible to the effects of endorphins.” Ulixies explains.

Steban nods sagely in agreement “Too many comrades have been addicted to substances. That hadn’t occurred to me, but does add to my concerns that my need for academic stimulation is an extension of a physiological need for addictive substances.”

They both turn to the coffee pot. Its feeble body is dented, paint chipped off and tarnished by use.

Steban shakes his head “But no, it wasn’t just that…” trails off.

Ulixies closes his book “You’re being cagey, then. I think you know what it is that’s concerning.”

Steban pinches his chin in thought, presses the knuckle of his pointer against his lips “The stimulation of pain and the rush of endorphins was definitely part of it, but I fear mostly that the key part of my–ehm–interest was the dynamics at play.”

Uli's eyes stare in direct line with the top of Stebans head “ I see.”

Steban looks up “Exactly.”

Uli doesn’t break the eye contact. “ I have a confession to make, Steban.”

“Go ahead, comrade.” Steban urges.

“I also found the situation stimulating.”

“…”

“…”

“Physically?” Steban asks.

“… “

“…”

“Okay.” Steban turns his head back towards its previously front facing position.

Uli, however, does not turn his gaze away “The question is: Do we address the fascist elephant in the room or not?”

Steban nods “We should address the fascist elephant.”

“Alright. So.”

“So-” Steban takes a long sigh “Clearly, fascism predicates itself on being an ideology founded in violence and force; this is often done through fetishizing strength and authority.”

“The gendarme, of course, being an unfortunate extension of the fascist ultraliberal and moralist state. “ Uli continues.

“Yes.” Steban exclaims, punctuating a finger in the air.

“The uniform was hot.” Uli remarks.

“It was.” Steban concurs, thoughts drifting off for a moment as he reconstructs the outfit in his mind.

Once again Steban shakes his head, forcing himself to reorient in the discussion “But this is by design. The regalia of the RCM is fetishistic costuming meant to impose a sense of authority and violence.”

“This simply means we’ve succumbed to the propaganda.” Uli reasons, “No one is immune to propaganda.”

Steban nods once again in agreement “So now that we’ve established that our excitement is simply the intended effect of the state, we can overcome it by acknowledging and recognizing it, thus robbing it of its power.”

“Excellent. Good work, comrade.” Uli gives a curt smile, opening his book back up.

“Awesome.” Steban follows suit, tracing over the words with his finger to follow back to where he was.

A moment of disquieted silence maneuvers through the space.

“ …Actually Uli?” restlessly Steban folds the book over again.

Uli does not remove his attention from his book “Yes?”

“You said you were also excited by the scenario. Does that mean you were empathizing with my position?”

“What do you mean?” Uli thumbs over to the next page.

“Were you imagining yourself being subjected to the fetishistic power of the fascism?” Steban worries his bottom lip.

Uli gives a moment of pause “…Why do you ask?” Hesitant to answer.

Steban takes a moment to think, crossing one leg over the other “Well, if you were similarly affected by me being subjected, wouldn't that be direct evidence of plasm exchange?” Steban uncrosses and recrosses his legs “Normally, when one sees another being assaulted, the reaction would be of fear and panic, which could be an expression of plasm or could be survival instinct; but in the situation in which I, the subject, was reacting atypically, you having a similar, mirrored result would be definitive evidence of plasm and psychic connection!”

“That would definitely be a strong argument.” Uli nods in agreement, eyes still locked onto the page.

Another pause.

“So, were you?”

Ulixies gives a sigh and closes his book once again “I have another confession, comrade.” He stares out beyond the grates, at the place where the ocean must meet the horizon.

Steban swallows, nervous at the sudden intensity of his companion. “Go ahead.”

“I was not imagining myself in your position. Shamefully, I was imagining myself in Gendarme’s position.” Uli continues to look out where the sea air finds its way through the warm colors of the sky.

Steban looks down to his hands, “Hm, that is a dilemma.” There's a small scar across his left hand that he doesn't remember being there.

“I know I’ve always had a penchant for violence,” Uli explains, “but it’s always been in the context of liberation or academic understanding of the enemy's tactics.”

Steban turns to look toward Uli, arm reaching out over the back of the couch. “I know this,Uli. I do.” his hand rests just next to where Uli sits “… Perhaps we’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective.”

Uli looks down at the hand, he remembers the scar, remembers that Steban got it trying to shave while a little too intoxicated.

“Perhaps engaging in these kinds of theatrics is a matter of subversion; a kind of parody of the fascist propaganda, a forceful reclaiming of iconography for the sake of pleasure. Empowerment of the proletariat through choice. “ Steban argues.

Uli gives a quirked brow “Steban,” a small incredulous smile slipping over his face “what the fuck are you talking about?”.

“We invited the gendarme to slap me; that was a decision we made together.” He gestures between the two of them “The state never gives the people a choice when they enact violence against us, but in this scenario, we had full control over what was going to take place. It wasn’t a genuine partaking in violence. I wasn’t in real danger, and the expression was intended for show, not for subjugation. We, in this situation, subverted the power by dictating how it was going to be wielded.”

Uli mulls it over for a moment before responding “I think I understand your position, but is roleplaying fascism any different materially to being a fascist?”

“Hmm,” Steban pulls his hand back to brush the underside of his chin in thought.

“ If I were to put myself into the position of the gendarme and slapped you around, would I not be partaking in enforcing the virtues of the fascist dichotomy between oppressor and oppressed?” Uli questions.

“I guess it would be like If a woman asked me to hit her. Hitting her would still be wrong, because it's wrong to hit women.” Steban reasons.

Uli shakes his head “But you’re not a woman. Also, I feel like not hitting her would be more sexist than iIndulging her because it would perpetuate the idea that men and women aren't equal.”

“Okay, that was a bad analogy.“ Steban admits.

Uli lets out a small sigh “But I guess, in that same line of logic, would it be more oppressive to deny your request for me to slap you around, in the same way that not hitting a woman ,on the virtue of her being a woman, would undermine her autonomy?”

Steban gives a sigh in return, “But my point is that, even in any given situation when a woman might request to be slapped, wouldn't doing so perpetuate the idea that hitting women is okay, even if it's theatrics?”

Ulixies adjusts his glasses “Mhh.” he takes another moment, ruminating over his thoughts, “This was the same argument made in your oppositional essay regarding tiptop; that the sport was an exercise in glorifying violence and over consumption and that, regardless of the external reason, those who enjoyed the sport were ultimately partaking in the fetishization of those elements.”

Stebans eyes widen in realization “Yes, and the gendarme did a fairly good deconstruction of that argument, didn't he?”

“That the circumstances of capital requires funding into all pastimes and thusly twisting the subject to its will; if there were no branding, tiptop would not be able to exist.” Uli runs a hand over his beard, “This isn't the fault of tiptop but of the way capital subsumes all things into itself and corrupts it.” gestures the hand outward in front of him, “That, while the destruction and violence of the vehicles and injury to drivers is a real present threat, the goal of the sport isn’t in this destruction, but in the execution of sportsmanship towards a collective spirit, as well as creating and innovating under the name of bettering the engineering and strategies involved. Most people who are actually fans of the sport are radically displeased when the vehicles crash, only the sensationalization of the coverage of these events paints them as exciting.”

Steban deflates “He even sourced the way that two competitors -despite the sport’s desire to have them be in opposition with one another in the way that Capital would like us to be in opposition with one another- through the sport, fell in love.”

“Jacob Irw and Alfie Deletraz. High Speed Love, yes.” Uli Interjects, “After it was mentioned, I went ahead and read it. They were brought together through the sport and the competition but ultimately were separated through the ruthlessness of capitalist greed and demagoguery.”

“So,” Steban raises his finger inquisitively into the air “If we are to assume that you slapping me was a neutral behavior due to my personal enjoyment of the action -and is only wrong in the context that capitalism and fascism's monopoly on violence has made any act of harm outside of their direct control taboo-, you and I partaking in the power dynamic for our own pleasure would actually be a subversion of that power.”

“Correct.” Uli concurs.

“I see.” Steban rubs a thumb across his jawline.

“ …”

“… “

“… Does that mean you should slap me?”

“… “ Uli gives it a moment of thought “I suppose… but I think my intention matters.”

“Your intention?”

“Yes.” Uli continues “Your intention in wanting me to slap you is about subverting the dynamics of oppression by dictating the circumstances in which that oppression takes place. That control gives you comfort and that pain, through your physiological responses, gives you pleasure, correct? “

“Yes, I suppose that's it. Like choosing to get on a roller coaster.” Steban adds.

“No, Steban.” Uli chides, “Roller coasters are bourgeois. We’ve already established this.”

“Right, sorry. Continue.” Steban apologizes, gesturing for Uli to proceed.

“What about my motivations?” Uli proposes, “Me partaking in your oppression isn’t a neutral act for me because I know something about that dynamic is giving me pleasure.”

Steban taps his book against his knee “I mean, would you giving me pleasure not in itself be pleasurable? In the same way seeing fellow comrades succeed produces plasm?”

Uli shakes his head “ If that were the extent of it. But there's something particularly appealing to being A: In a position of authority and B: Enacting violence on you.”

“Hmm.” Steban steeples his fingers in thought.

“Especially the violence part.” Uli reiterates voice slipping down an octave.

Steban swallows “You want to hurt me?”

Uli turns to look back down at Steban, “I would want whatever I did to you to hurt, yes.”

“Past my desire to be hurt?” Steban darts his eyes over nervously to where Uli’s feet rest against the couch cushion.

“Possibly…Hypotheticals aren’t as concrete as realities. Imagining doing something and actually executing on that image are very different things.”

Steban nods in understanding “Subject vs Object.”

Uli gives a small smile.

The two share a quick glance at one another, “‘This is not a pipe.’” they state in unison.

Steban gives another moment of consideration “Hmm… I mean, what if we just tried... doing it?” he offers.

Uli shakes his head “No, that would be dangerous. Especially if we don’t know the source of the desire. Perhaps this is a manifestation of years of anger towards the oppressive nature of capital taking form as a strong desire to enact violence and abuse indiscriminately.”

Steban hums contemplatively “The continuation of the cycle of abuse.”

“Capitalism does corrupt and put people in opposition with one another. Perhaps this is another prong of the propaganda I’ve been subjected to unwittingly.” Uli readjusts his glasses.

“It is true.” Steban stretches his legs out, nudging his chin to gesture at the coffee cup stationed directly to Uli’s left “No one is immune to propaganda.”

Uli obliges, haphazardly tossing the book to the side. He leans his body over to grab the mug, gently taking hold of the pot and pouring the coffee a little more than half way.

He turns his head to look up at Uli, an odd affection in his voice. “But do you think you want to abuse me?”

“I’ve already said; I want whatever I do to you to hurt.” He hands Steban the cup of coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his spectacles as he passes it over.

Steban dips his head in thanks, “I don’t think wanting to hurt me is the same thing as wanting to abuse me.”

“In what way?”

“In the same way that the subject isn’t always the object and that causation isn’t correlation. Think about it in this way; do you want the outcome of the violence to be that of my subjugation, to break my communist spirit?” Steban blows a few soft puffs of air over the top of the coffee, the steam floating off and away in streams of whispering vapor.

“…” Uli pauses, swallows.

Steban tips the cup up to his lips, eyes looking up to check on Uli.

Uli looks upwards and away “No, I want that look in your eyes…”

Steban sputters “Ehk,” Hot coffee spills from his lips and down his chin “Sorry, uhmm… What ‘look’?”

Uli flinches, moving to find some way of helping “Ah. Sorry, comrade. I didn’t mean to-”

Steban waves him off “No no. Its fine, just unexpected. ‘Look’?” he asks.

Uli waffles, shifting in his seat “Yes, ah- not to insult you, but you have a tendency to have a far off look. I actually don’t mind it. It reminds me of the portrait of Mazov actually. It gives the impression you are in deep philosophical thought.”

Steban places his book to his side, balancing the cup in one hand. He pulls a handkerchief from his inner pocket. “I usually am, comrade. That’s probably why I look like that.” He explains, dabbing the coffee off from his neck and chin.

“Right, and I appreciate this about you, but… “ Uli drifts off, seemingly transfixed on some far away thought.

“But?” Steban urges.

“But'' Uli continues “when you were slapped by the gendarme, it seemed like you didn’t have a single thought in your head… and then, uhmm, that you, uhh…” Uli trails off once again

Steban gesticulates for Uli to continue … “Yes?”

Bashful, Uli looks back to his friend, “Then you looked like you wanted it to happen again.”

Steban lets out a breathy self deprecating laugh. “I have to admit that, at the time, I most definitely did, which was concerning. “

“I think I want you to want me to hurt you.” Uli hypothesizes.

“Interesting.” Steban squeaks.

“Hmm.” Uli hums absentmindedly, digesting this newfound observation.

“Perhaps my prior theory isn’t entirely wrong then.” Steban raises his coffee to his lips, hiding his face. “That this is an extension of our camaraderie, that you’re understanding of me wanting to feel pain because pain gives me pleasure is then extended into you wanting to be the one who provides me this pleasure by inflicting pain.”

“Hm… That's possible. I’m still worried that some part of me wants to do this for the thrill of inflicting pain; for the power it would give me.” Uli taps his finger against his temple, along the thin line of wire that slips behind his ear.

“Why would you think that?” Steban lowers his cup.

“Because I don’t just want to slap you.” Uli admits.

“Okay.” Steban gives one long extended nod “Elaborate on that for me here.”

“Since the incident, I’ve gone beyond thinking about things that I know you would find enjoyable and have created fantasies of things I know I would find enjoyable to subject you to.” Uli elaborates.

“Hng, o-ohkay.” Steban stammers, “Wh-what kinds of things?” Steban asks, deciding to forgo holding onto his cup during such a precarious conversation, shakily moving to abandon it off to the shitty, industrially produced end table to the side of the couch.

“The most appealing one is choking you.” Uli watches Steban as he goes about gingerly moving the cup.

“Huhng Ohkay-” Flustered Steban lurches forward as he places the cup down, sloshing a bit of its contents over his nervously trembling fingers and onto the small pile of snuffed out cigarette stubs that litter the end tables surface “What about that sounds appealing?”

Uli takes a heavy disappointed sigh “Unfortunately, it’s hard not to interpret this as a subliminal desire for control. Restricting your access to air? The very essence of life? I fear there’s nothing more capitalist or fascist than that…”

“B-breath,” Steban stutters “-in a symbolic sense, has uhm, long been associated with love…D-Dolores Dei and her lungs as well as the stations of breath. Perhaps this is just an evolution of our camaraderie that we-” Steban swallows, “-through our ideological proximity- have likened ourselves to Mazov and Nilsen, a- a desire to receive and control my very breath…” and runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“But that's the crux of the issue. There, control is a hierarchical structure. Mazov and Nilsen were equals. They allowed each other to breathe freely.” Uli frets a tight, pursed frown curling at the sides of his mouth.

“But perhaps you were simply intuiting my desires subconsciously?” Steban offers.

“What do you mean?” Uli asks tentatively.

“I also want you to choke me.”

“God.” Uli gasps, gut-punched and breathless.

“M-maybe if you tell me more of the fantasies you’ve had since then,” Steban words slur around their edges, tongue heavy in his mouth. “perhaps we can compare notes and see if there's a correlation.”

“Thats-” Uli hesitates, unsure.

“It could be evidence for the psychic connection Mazov and Nilsen had; maybe this is the first step.” Steban assures, “Sexuality is a base primality. Maybe you’re just connecting onto a leyline of plasm that has bound us together?”

“Okay, that's a fairly sound theory.” Uli admits. “I want to leave marks on you-”

“Mhmm” Steban squeeks affirmatively.

“…I want to leave marks so that, when you look at them or if people saw them, they'd think that you… belonged to me.” Uli mulls over each word carefully in a strange mix of sultry and academic.

“That is pretty problematic.” Steban attests, “It insinuates ownership. That's definitely antithetical to non-hierarchy.”

“I told you.” Uli sighs forlorn “I've definitely been affected by capitalist propaganda. It's wedged itself into my brain.” Uli places an exasperated hand to his mouth and chin.

“Confession:” Steban states with clear and concise intent. “I want you to put a collar around my neck and treat me like a dog.”

Ulixies runs his hand up his face, pinching at his brow, nudging his glasses up to his forehead as he groans.

Uli shakes his head in exasperation “Like a dog, Steban? Really?”

Steban turns his head down in shame “Uli, I think we might be bad communists…”

“Shit.” Uli bewails, slumping down from his perch and firmly next to Steban with an audible Humph from the couch as he lands.

They look to one another with utter unabashed defeat “…”

“No.” Steban exclaims. “No, we can fix this, right? We’ve already established that by the virtue of me being the subject of oppression, by dictating a version of self-inflicted oppression for the sake of my gratification, that I can't be perpetuating my own oppression.” Steban, frantic, turns his body to face Uli, waving his hands about in the air. “I'm simply subverting it and in this case, my theory still stands that as our camaraderie is so deeply and ideologically intertwined, you're just reflexively drawn into meeting my needs. It's a perfect synergistic loop.”

“Right, but what if it's actually you intuiting my desires?” Uli counters.

“Hmm… Desires that you feel have been corrupted by the system's propagandizing.” Steban states, contemplative.

“Exactly!” Uli stresses “What if we're both being complicit in engaging with fascistic fetishism because we're being conditioned to do so.”

“Then I’d say we're fucked, Uli.” Steban mutters “Because, I'll be honest,” shakes his head in utter loss. “I've never been this horny in my life.”

“Me neither Steban,” Uli concurs “me neither.”

There's another moment of pause as they stare out numbly into the distance, unfocused and haunted.

“Uli,” Steban absently breaks the silence “it just occurred to me…We've been discussing this in the context of specifically you enacting violence against me as a potential continuation and propagation of state violence, but I feel like we're skimming over the other, perhaps slightly smaller or larger, non-fascist elephant in the room.”

“Which elephant is that?” Uli responds, inattentive, unpresent.

“Well,” Steban wavers “I guess we got so caught up in the praxis, I forgot to ask if this is at all explicitly sexual in nature or not.”

“Oh. Huh,” Uli marvels “I guess we didn't specify explicitly whether or not fetish was being used academically or colloquially.”

“We were definitely using it interchangeably.” Steban assures.

“Right.”

“So?” Steban urges.

“Huh?” Uli turns to Steban

“Did you want to fuck me or not?”

“OH!” Uli snaps back to himself “Uh, yes, having sex and achieving sexual gratification is a big element here. You're right.”

“I mean, couldn't we simply…write it off as…” Steban trails off.

“Steban!” Uli scolds.

“No, no, you're right.” Steban acquiesces. “Sex and sexuality are also valuable venues of political thought and shouldn't be brushed aside. Otherwise, we might risk undermining the serious nature of sexual violence and sexuality itself as a tool of the state.”

“Right, exactly.” Uli gives a curt nod.

“So I guess another avenue of questioning is whether or not you only want to cause me pleasure through physical harm, assuming we've definitely established that ultimately you want your pain to be pleasurable for me.”

“I’m not entirely convinced in either scenario yet, but we can circle back to that later.” Uli muses, gesturing for Steban to continue.

“Excellent!” Steban chirps “In that case, I'll ask you this: do you want to kiss me, Uli?”

“Hmm, yes I think so.” Uli ruminates, “For the sake of closeness, I would. But that isn't necessarily romantic. The platonic fraternal kiss of the communards is something I've wanted to explore for a while now, even prior to this.”

“Okay, and about you fucking me?” Steban asks.

“What about it? If you mean whether or not I’d like you to take the -” Uli trails off again, struggling to find the right words.

“Uli?” Steban probes.

“Sorry,” Uli cringes. “I can't think of a better term for this- the feminine role?”

“Oh, yeah.” Steban winces, “Hmm, that doesn't sound very good.”

“You're not a woman,” Uli laments “and using that as a comparison would once again relegate women to a specific role.”

“The patriarchy really is a slippery bastard. “ Steban tuts.

“That it is.” Uli shakes his head in disappointment.

“Though if you think about it,” Steban wags his finger in thought ,” similar to capitalism, patriarchy also corrupts. Being the one to be on the receiving end of ‘insertion’ is only seen as demeaning because of the way it's been associated with women through the sexist framework of the patriarchy. Just in the same way that being a proletariat is seen as lesser than being a member of the ruling class.”

“Good observation Steban!” Uli nods in agreement, before shaking his head in disappointment, once again. “But once again I fear it's that exact subjugation of the dynamic that I find appealing.”

“In what sense?”

Uli wrings his hands together, nervous fingers running over the tight tendons and stray veins that pop through his skin “In the sense I would like to fuck you like a woman. Which includes the insinuation that I want to demean you in some way. That I would be exerting power over you.”

Steban wheezes all the air leaving his lungs fast and fleeting, his head spinning as he pats a limp hand over his pockets “I need a cigarette…” He mumbles to himself breathlessly.

“But in that situation I would also want you to feel good, very good, maybe even too good.”

Steban pats over his pockets more fervently “Ff-fuck, where the hell did I put those cigarettes.”

Somewhere in the distance, the Gendarme and his partner lie in bed with one another. One of them picks a white lounge jacket from off the duvet only to have a pack fall out of the coat's inner pocket. Pleasantly surprised by the find, the two of them decide to share the last of the cigarettes amongst themselves, their legs tangled over one another beneath the sheets.

Uli, entirely caught in the maze of his own mind, continues, unaware or uncaring of Steban’s current predicament. “I think in that situation you losing control of yourself would be the goal. Mostly for the reaction or satisfaction of relegating you to something more sub-human, or maybe it'd be better to say primal.”

Steban remembers that Cindy keeps a pack somewhere, briefly he returns his attention to Uli “I mean- one moment.”

Steban leans forward, rummages his hand below the couch. He feels over the underside of it for the pack Cindy stashes there and tugs at it- it gives, and Steban holds his prize up, victorious.

Steban hits the bottom end of the carton, freeing a cigarette from its confines.

He raises it to his mouth. “Light?” Steban murmurs through pursed lips.

Uli pulls a lighter from his pocket, rips the cord from its casing and holds the stick to light Stebans cigarette.

Steban takes a few soft puffs before pulling the cigarette away from his lips. “What was I saying-” he waves the smoke off and away from his face “Oh! Right I mean I brought up the collar thing before, so I feel like we're in line with that.”

Uli tucks the stick back into its home “Yes, but that was extremely problematic. ‘Communist dog?’ It's a little on the nose, isn't it?”

Steban taps a bit of ash off to the side. “Perhaps that's what makes it enjoyable? I bet you Gendarme and his buddies are all into being ‘pigs’ in their free time, heh.” He pulls the cigarette back to his mouth and draws in.

Uli watches the ember glow red “…Which gendarme do you think…” He shakes his head. “No, sorry, that's wildly off topic.”

Steban lets the smoke pool out from his nose “what was it that the-”

Uli jumps to interrupt, the thought already at the tip of his tongue: “‘Thrashed like a schoolboy.”

“Yeah,” Steban agrees absentmindedly, pulling the cigarette back away from his mouth.

“Yeah” Uli keeps his attention on Stebans lips. “Do you want me to kiss you by the way?”

Steban gives a shy little smile “…Yeah, I do. I like the dip of your cupid's bow.”

Uli touches his upper lip “…My?”

Stebans smile widens at the display “Uli…”

Uli whips his hand away from his face. “Yes?”

Steban tucks his smile back into his cheek and thumbs the filter of his cigarette nervously. “I realized there's yet another elephant.”

Uli nods for Steban to continue, giving a little grunt of affirmation.

“Does this make us homo-sexual?”

Steban puts the cigarette to his lips and intakes air once again.

Uli takes a measured pause to think. “Not necessarily.”

“We've both admitted to wanting to engage sexually with one another, and we both- you do identify as a man right?” Smoke trails out from his mouth as he speaks.

“Yes.”

Steban nods “Right. Me too.”

Uli holds his hands over themselves “I mean it's often rumored Nilsen and Mazov were-”

“I always thought that was slander, perpetuated by the moralists to condemn communism by associating it with a disliked minority outgroup.” Steban rubs the worry lines of his furrowed brow, cigarette hanging loose from his fingers

“Which ironically probably just drew in support for communism from that outgroup.” Uli muses.

“I think any minority outgroup is more likely to engage with communism because as an outsider they're able to get a better understanding of the mechanics and flaws of the current system via the fact they're typically on the outskirts and the most victimized by said system.”

Uli nods. “When you're told your existence is wrong by the system, but you know better, it forces you to question what else the system is wrong about. Or you fall victim to internalizing those harms, which I would consider a tragic spiritual death.”

“Exactly.” Steban gestures for Uli to continue

“There's nothing wrong with being homo-sexual.” Uli states.

Steban purses his lips “so are you?”

Uli turns his chin up in contemplation “I still don't know.”

Steban gives an impatient little sigh. “Have you ever been attracted to a woman?”

Uli shakes his head. “No, but equally I've never been attracted to a man, other than you.”

Steban twitches upright in genuine surprise “You find me attractive?”

“Steban,” Uli rolls his eyes and gives a petulant huff. “You are by all standards extremely handsome, you know this, we’ve had actual hours of discussion about the ethics of utilizing your looks as a means to facilitate the spread of awareness for the cause.”

Steban rolls his eyes in return, “right, but that doesn't necessarily mean you find me attractive, just that general society does, a society that mind you is built around creating an extremely narrow definition of beauty. I wouldn't assume that you of all people were affected so easily by the way society dictates beauty standards.”

Ulis' brows cinch together, a small frustrated frown curling over his lips. “I think we're still narrowing down on the fact that I am clearly the worst communist here, but yes, I find you extremely attractive.”

There's a moment of pause. Ulis expression softens, becomes reserved and private as he speaks “However, I don't think it's just a physical thing, I find you most attractive when you are saying something enlightening. I find your ‘philosophical essence’ beautiful.”

Steban gapes, cigarette ash falling as he lets it burn to the filter. “ I think there's another, other elephant.”

Uli turns tentatively to look towards Steban. “Go on,” he urges.

“I think I might be in love with you.”

Uli nods “I see. I feel like what I just expressed is probably something you could fairly argue as being a result of me also being in love with you, that would be the most sound explanation.”

“So.. do you think all of this subjugation and fetishization would be fine under the pretense that we were in love with one another?” Steban asks, gnawing at his lower lip.

“That's an excellent question, Comrade. I guess that comes down to how we quantify love as an antithesis of capital.”

“Capital is about the prioritization of ownership and hierarchy, something we're afraid of engaging with in the fear that by living under capital we are being influenced to perpetuate capital,” Steban elucidates.

“But love is definitionally about collectivism.” Uli agrees.

“When reciprocated.”

“When reciprocated.”

“Which it is?” Steban asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“Right, good,” Steban nods “so if we apply Gendarmes critique of tiptop-”

Uli continues the thought, “that tiptop itself isn't the issue because ultimately the sport is about collectivism and that without the influences of capital it would still stand to be a worthy pursuit.”

Steban takes the cigarette back to his lips “If it weren't for capital and the fascistic nature of hierarchy imposing meaning onto acts like choking, slapping, and being inserted upon they would be worthwhile pursuits.”

Uli watches as the cigarette gives way and burns into smoke “-in the context that we both found the acts pleasurable.”

“Yes.” Steban exhales out towards the ceiling.

“Circling back to my point earlier, regarding the idea of whether or not my desire to cause you pain is in alignment with your desire to feel pain. When I think about it in this specific wider framework I realize I only really want to cause you harm in an explicitly sexual context which would insinuate that the end goal is to cause pleasure and not just pain.” Uli explains.

Steban stares down at the fading gray wisps as they trail off into the atmosphere. “right.”

“So I believe you are correct, I concede, well argued once again.” Uli offers his hand in congratulations.

Steban looks down and awkwardly crosses over his hand to shake Uli’s, trading off his cigarette to his free one. “Wonderful.”

Uli gives a polite smile and squeezes down harder as he gives a firm jerk before pulling away.

Steban turns to pull the cigarette back to his lips, only to find that it had burned too close to the filter. With a sigh, he snuffs it out against the small saucer on the side table, its crumpled form joining its compatriots in the growing pile. “So you think we can actually fuck now?”

Uli scoffs “Oh? Don’t be ridiculous, do you think we're really ready to put this theory into practice?”

“Uli- I-”

“We haven't even worked out any logistics Steban, how were you intending to apply any of this without doing that first, you should know better.” Uli interjects.

“No, no you're right. Okay, so, you're better at logistics than me, so I think you should lead this section of discussion.” Steban raises his hands up in defeat.

Uli straightens up, adjusting the lay of his sweater vest with a firm tug. “Alright”

Steban swallows, runs a nervous hand down his chest “do you mind if I touch myself while we do this though?”

Uli looks toward Steban, eyes narrowing “…Yes. I do.”

Steban throws his head back against the couch, a lazy hand ushering Uli to continue “Fine, go on then. I know you're doing this on purpose though, so hurry it up.”

Uli presses steepled fingers over his lips, “kissing should be fine, do we want tongue involved?”

Steban looks up at the ceiling, contemplating the answer as well as the rest of his life and everything that has brought him to this point, “hmm, I don't think I have any particular preferences, we should be able to work that out as we go.”

“Fair enough, I want to slap you and choke you, we've established that's good and on the table.”

Steban swallows. “Yes”

Uli gives a curt bow of his head “I remember what the Gendarmes said and did so I should be able to replicate the slapping with little issue. Choking on the other hand, I can't be sure I'll be able to do safely, we might want to do that another time.”

“I concur.” Steban concurs.

“We should probably not fuck here in Cindys studio.” Uli gestures to the space.

“I agree comrade, that'd be kinda gross and rude, we can just do it in my apartment.” Steban points down to the general area where his apartment lies beneath them.

“The light is good in there and the neighbors are all mostly away or drunk.” Uli adds.

Steban shifts his finger out to where his neighbors would be. “This is true, we won't have to worry too much about noise level but we should still try to be considerate.”

“Maybe some kind of gag or device to muffle…” Uli offers, miming the general shape of said device.

Steban shakes his head, hair swishing against the cheap fabric of the couch, “I can just bite a pillow I think.”

“Right, another question, should we turn the Mazov statue away or cover up the poster or not?” Uli asks, squirming nervously in his seat.

Steban waves off Uli’s apprehension with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “We can see how we feel when we're actually in the space.”

Uli huffs, flicking his fingers at the air in front of him, “always one to play it by ear I guess, okay now unless there's something I don't know about your physiology, we need some kind of lubricant right?”

“I am male, yes,” Steban assures “I have lube in my apartment, another reason we should go there.”

“I feel like it’d be more responsible of us to make sure we have the proper protections in place, condoms?” Uli asks, adjusting the fit of his glasses up his nose.

“Hmm, we would need to head down to the Fritte for condoms.” Steban scratches the stubble at the base of his jaw, where his hairs meet the skin of his neck.

Uli shakes his head in solemn condemnation “I’m realizing another unfortunate reality of capitalism is that condoms aren’t freely available.”

Steban sticks a swift finger in the air, “noting that we should add that to the docket for discussion. “

“Noted,” Uli gives a curt nod and then a small grimace, “I hate to have to bring it up, but, sanitation?”

Steban gives a small chortle “I can get some towels for the bed, and I have actually experimented in the past with this kind of thing on my own time, so I generally know what to do.”

“Have you had other partners?” Uli’s expression darkens.

“No, I mean,” Steban waffles, “none that were men and not in that particular fashion. It’s also been awhile- I’ve been to the doctor and am clean if that's a concern.”

Uli nods, apprehensive “It wasn’t much of a concern and I’ve never partaken myself, so I am also healthy in that regard. By the way, I feel like using the term ‘clean’ might be problematic in that it insinuates that those who do have sexually transmitted diseases are somehow ‘dirty’ or ‘impure’, which I feel like is an extension of the way sex and sexuality is demonized by moralism and the patriarchy. “

Steban gives a small deprecative smile, gripping at the collar of his shirt “True, that's my bad, blood is not being used for the important parts right now I fear.”

“I didn’t mean to call you out on it, just a passing observation.” Uli dismisses.

Strained, Steban clenches harder onto his shirt, “Uli can I please touch myself?”

“No.” Uli rejects, swiftly moving on, “you mentioned having done this sort of thing on your own time before?”

Steban gives a rattled sigh of defeat. “Yes, I had a time where I was deconstructing the way that patriarchal masculinity robs men of exploring their ability to express themselves in certain ways- when i started growing my hair out, I also felt like I should become more comfortable with my body and heard that the male g spot was the prostate and, well-”

“Does that mean you have toys?” Uli interjects, shifting one leg over the other.

“HA! In this economy?” Steban guffaws, “Uli we hardly ever have enough money for the coffee, you know how expensive those things are?”

Uli raises a brow.

Steban deflates “No I- I felt like they were too much of a luxury at the time and your ribs had been showing under your shirt. I also couldn't have afforded a hair cut so it was honestly cheaper to just grow it out.” He trails his fingers through the ends of his locks.

Uli tracks the movement “We should thank Cindy again for always cutting our hair.”

Steban gives a look around the room. “ And letting us use her space for our talks.”

Uli turns his head to look out towards the entrance. “We should probably do as the Gendarme insinuated and be less selective with who we let into the reading group.”

Steban gives a frustrated huff. “But it is a reading group, and Cindy refuses to do the reading.”

Uli slumps “But she is a comrade. Biting my own tongue here I think Gendarme is right about the intellectual purity crippling the movement.”

“Perhaps.”

Uli shakes his head and reorients himself “but that's irrelevant to the current project.”

“What else do we need to figure out the logistics for? Location, material, intent, ethicality…” Steban counts out the list on his fingers.

“Do you have money for condoms?”

“…”

“…”

Steban stares out dumbfounded, the realization dawning slowly but surely as the facts of his material reality present themselves.

“This is honestly devastating,” Steban huffs in disbelief “I can’t believe we’re too broke to fuck Uli, this can’t be happening.”

Uli winces “We could collect tare like the Gendarme? Or we could ask Cindy?”

Steban points a stern finger to Uli “We are not asking Cindy for condom money.”

Uli gives out a rattled sigh, “maybe it's better we don't jump straight to penetrative sex right away then.”

“Yeah, maybe that was a bit overzealous of us. Also, did you insinuate earlier that you've never had sex before?”

“Hm? Oh, yes.”

“You're a virgin?”

Uli rolls his eyes “Virginity is a social construct, one that I also feel is an extension of the purity apparatus upheld by patriarchy and moralism. But in the definitional sense, no I've never had sex before.”

Steban swallows thickly, “not even, like, a blowjob?”

Uli grits his teeth in annoyance “I've never had another person with whom I've engaged in sexual activities before. Is that clear enough? I feel like you're creating some kind of idea of me in your head right now.” Uli narrows his eyes.

Steban waves off the accusation “No no, I just, it's nice to know that you trust me.” Places his hand against his heart.

“Sex isn't special, Steban, it's capitalism that gives any credence to it, don't forget virginity was originally about the selling and buying of women as material goods…” Uli crosses his arms over his chest and slumps back further into the couch, shoulders raising up to the dip of his skull.

Steban levels a placating hand next to where Uli sits “No, you're right, I just, it makes me feel special I guess. It's something I'll have to unpack within myself at a later time.”

Uli looks down at the hand and softens his posture “No I'm sorry, I fear I was just being reactionary there. Not that what I was saying was not valid critique, I just mean I was being overly defensive.”

Steban looks over the small scar across Uli’s cheek, tender, “That's okay Uli, it happens to the best of us.”

Uli raises himself back up “Thank you Comrade.”

Steban gives a small pat to the space where his hand has been resting “You’re welcome.”

Uli strokes an inquisitive run of his fingers over his chin “You mentioned blowjobs, that might be a good substitute in this situation. Also why do they call it a blow job? Aren’t you supposed to suck on it? Shouldn’t it be called a Suck job? Also, bit odd to call it a job, not that it couldn't be labor, sex work is work, an unfortunate form of work given the way capitalism forces us to commodify ourselves, but no more or less virtuous than any other kind of physical labor.”

“Blow was an old euphemism for an orgasm, not the act of blowing on something.”

“Oh, interesting.”

Steban runs his gaze over Uli’s form, “but honestly I'd be fine with sucking you off.”

“But would you sucking me off be equitable?”

“What?” Steban snaps his attention back to Uli’s face in confusion.

“Sucking someone off is a fairly one sided ordeal is it not?” Uli postures.

Steban’s brows crinkle “ I mean I could suck you off and then you could suck me off.”

Uli lingers in thought before giving his rebuttal “True but then it feels like the act is transactional.”

“I … suppose.” Steban looks at Uli, slack jawed and disbelieving, before throwing his hands up in frustration

“ I just want this to all be reciprocal if that makes sense.” Uli tuts.

“What, are we trying to make this efficient as well?” Steban scoffs, cocking his head back in indignation.

“…” Uli Stares off in deep, reverent contemplation

“Uli?” Steban warns.

Uli jerks back from his trance “N-no, no, sorry.”

“Were you actually considering efficiency just now?” Steban asks with barely contained aggravation In his voice.

“Only in a purely hypothetical sense.” Uli defends

“Dolores fucking Dei Uli.” Seban huffs in exasperation

“I’m sorry, the bean counting has clearly rotted my brain to the stem.”

“that or the lack of blood flow…” Steban grumbles, folding his arms over himself in a pout.

“Sorry, what was that Steban?” Uli asks, feigning ignorance.

“NOthing!” Steban deflects, “Nothing. Can I please touch myself?” then begs.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be so impatient, comrade, however are we supposed to produce enough plasm at this rate?” Uli chides, poised and smug.

Steban freezes in place and turns a disbelieving head towards Ulis side profile “Plasm…. Uli, do not tell me that you have been dragging this along for-”

Steban jerks back his jacket sleeve to look at his watch.

“Eight hours Steban,” Uli interjects “That's how long the most devoted infra-materialists would engage in intercourse.”

Steban keels over, hands falling over the sides of his head in anguish.

“Uli,” Steban begs, voice cracking with desperation “Why? Why would this be relevant to our current scenario, there is no possible way in which anything we could engage with could last even remotely that long. We haven’t the time or physicality for it, and you haven’t even had sex before.”

“Right but I feel like physicality is less important than the mindset.”

“The.... mindset!?” Steban asks, at an utter loss.

“Yes, Plasm is an ideological pursuit not a physical one, similarly I theorize we could apply this to intercourse.” Uli speculates.

“Uli,” Steban runs his hands over his face in exasperation “We haven't even been able to get the matchboxes to work, the closest we’ve gotten was when the Gendarme was involved.”

Uli pauses, taps a finger to his chin “ …Hm, Do you think getting either the Gendarme or a third member involved would lead to better results?”

“N-! ….” Steban jumps before halting “Do you mean in the case of lasting longer or producing more plasm?”

Uli shrugs. “Hmm, both?”

“I- don’t know how I feel about having another member involved in this specific case.” Steban demures sheepishly.

“Not that I'm disagreeing here but I have to do my due diligence and ask, why not?” Uli tilts his head to the side, curious.

“I think I want this entire thing to be a one on one affair.” Steban mumbles.

“You mean you want us to be monogamous?”

Steban gives out a long sigh “yes…”

“Similarly, I feel like monogamy is another patriarchal capitalist framework meant to divide us as people. It’s another system that encourages putting ownership over another human being.”

Steban turns his head slowly to Uli, “No, Uli, our bodies aren’t resources, saying so would be commodifying and objectifying, this is a matter of autonomy.”

“Steban, the expectation of monogamy is a rejection of polyamory or the notion that affection or love is a finite resource that must be rationed accordingly.”

“Does that mean you’d like for us to be polyamorous?”

Uli gives a short huff of a laugh, “Oh, no, I very much would like to own you Steban. It’s something I have to wrestle with. A kind of internal ideological war between mind and body,” he adds, hand coming to fret over his brow.

“Oh, I can definitely sympathize with that comrade,” Steban grits, hands coming to grab fistfuls of pant fabric, white knuckled and tense at his knees.

Uli’s expression curls into a self satisfied smirk, “I didn’t know you were so *in need* comrade.. would you think it patronizing if i thought it was cute?”

“Yes. I would.”

“But wouldn’t you like to be patronized?” Uli crosses his legs and lounges back into the couch, hands politely folded over his knee.

“If it means I was going to be rewarded for being a good boy maybe?” Steban shrugs his shoulders, gripping tighter onto the fabric.

“A good boy?” Uli raises a perplexed brow.

“Yes” Steban hisses, knee beginning to quiver in impatience.

“Because of the dog thing?” Uli runs a hand over the back of his nape.

“Is that actually really such an issue for you Uli?” Steban runs his hands over his knee, flattening out the fabric, wiping his clammy palm of its sweat against his slacks.

“No, it just raises a few questions for me.” Uli releases his nape, calmly lowering his hand back to his lap.

“Questions?” Steban groans, free hand coming to run through the dew accumulating at his brow and into his greased locks.

“Yes… hmm.” Uli hums.

“What kind of questions?”

“Well, don't take this the wrong way but are you perhaps a-” Uli lowers his voice to a conspiratorial level “-furkin?”

Steban’s brows collapse into one another, forehead wrinkling into slopes and valleys of confused worry lines. “I’m sorry, I don't know what that is Uli. Is it some sort of welkin?”

“Oh!” Uli perks up. “No, It's a subculture of individuals who have a heraldic animal they identify with and will occasionally dress up as.”

“No, Uli, I am not a ‘furkin’ ” Steban quotes the word in the air, “This is completely unrelated to anything actually having to do with being a dog”

“Are you certain? You did say you wanted to wear a collar.” Uli points out.

“That's just because it would be demeaning-” Steban argues.

“And the ‘good boy’?”

“Uli, Im not a ‘furkin’ ” Steban strictly assures.

“So nothing to do with heraldic animal connections?” Uli queries, a subtle hint of disappointment simmering beneath the surface.

“Uli?” Steban questions hesitantly, picking up on the possible disappointment “are you a furkin?”

“Mm, no, I don't think so.” Uli states casually.

“What do you mean you don't think so?”

“I mean don’t be ridiculous, I've never really thought about it until now.”

“Of course not…” Steban bemoans, leg now bouncing in frustration.

“Besides, I swear if there were another elephant in this room, I fear we would be obligated to start a circus, Steban.”

“We’ve been over this, Uli, circuses are also bourgeois” Steban bites at his lips, hands clasped in a tight vice over his lap.

“Right, right, apologies comrade.” Uli gives a small pat to Stebans shoulder.

The only point of contact made all evening.

It’s too much, Steban jumps, startling to his feet, primed and vibrating in his skin.

He whips around and turns to loom over Uli, fists bunched at his sides. Unsure of what it is he is planning or going to do, pushed so far to the edge.

“Do you think it would be praxis to be a furkin?” Uli muses. Placid, he turns to look up to his compatriot.

There is an unfathomable and boundless, unfettered hunger in Stebans eyes.

“Is this truly what you’re asking me right now?” Steban simmers, voice mounting slowly in passion and volume as he speaks, “If me debasing myself? Embracing the anima, embodying the heraldic spirit of a sick and decrepit beast, getting on my hands and knees and barking for my scraps?! Would be PRAXIS?”

Steban reaches a crescendo voice shaking his frame “ Yes! YES! COMRADE, It WOULD be! If only I truly embraced being a dog?! Who knows maybe we’d even be producing enough plasm to resurrect Kraz Mazov himself, YOU ABsoLUTE COCK TEASE-” Steban lurches forward, fists coming to grasp with desperation at Uli’s lapels.

Faces intimately near one another, a breath’s width apart, the phantom heat of tepid air the only separation between the two.

It’s then there is a clattering shift of metal against concrete as the grate drags against the floor.

There, in the now open door frame, adorned in a long military coat, soaked in the scent of oil and sea with dark, striking, owl-like eyes, stands Cindy.

“Uhm, What?” she asks.

[raw-law]

am about to talk about art. alot.

okayyyy so like my favorite part about art is that it is completely subjective. your viewer might think its abstract while you think its clearly a horse. its wonderful how differently we all see art.

one of my favorite pieces i ever made was a painting of a dead body laying on the ground in a dingy bathroom with a creature chained up on the other wall. why is this so interesting you might ask? well, because it wasnt about the content, it was about the narrative that the viewer would create in their mind. did the monster kill that person? did the person have an accident? why is it in an abandoned bathroom? is the monster close enough to even touch the person? what does it represent? is it a metaphor for mental health? and so on and so forth. the piece did not have some deeper meaning. to me, it was about eliciting a response from viewers and all the responses varied a lot. i love that about art, that i can make people feel things with it. i can evoke things that i am incapable of evoking verbally with pictures that i take from my brain and slosh onto a canvas. isnt that beautiful?

link to the piece im talking about:

https://imgur.com/a/CAs6NAy

-🦌

L:

bare with me here as i add onto this ramble with an even longer one because i've thought about this for far too long without any outlet to shove it onto and i plan on not sleeping tonight so you're going to be facing the full brunt of this. light, i am sorry in advance, but also not really since i think you've gotten used to tuning out my 11 pm thoughts. and if not, that's just a fault on your part.

anyways.

first of all; this is an amazing piece and thank you for sharing it. i like when people share their art. feel free to continue doing so. i will stare at it for a very long time, i promise.

secondly; i very much agree with everything you said. i think one of the greatest values that art has comes not from art itself, but from the response art evokes. the conversation that evolves from art becomes an entirely different art piece itself. not only is the viewer indulging with the art but actively engaging and expanding upon it, and that's what continues the process of art to begin with. art comes from conversation. whether internal or external, that's essentially where all art can be derived from.

however, where my argument differs from yours is when subjectivity comes into play. you argue that art is subjective, which is a reasonable conclusion to come to. when something can be interpreted in so many different ways, it makes sense to conclude that it's subjective, because why else would there be so many meanings to one thing? it must mean that there is no exact right/true meaning to it, and therefore it is completely up to the viewer's interpretation. that makes sense.

i don't think that works for art though.

because when art pieces are argued to be subjective, that also argues that art itself is subjective and can be anything. art is such a messy media that stating a piece of it can be defined as anything also argues that art can be anything. and art being anything means art is everything. and as beautiful as that sounds on the surface, having something be everything essentially takes away the purpose of having a label for it at all. it's like the yin and yang of the world. if there's no definition for a word, the word is practically useless, and therefore essentially has no need to exist. but art should exist. art has a purpose. that purpose can vary between each art piece, but art as a whole has an encompassing purpose and therefore should have an encompassing definition.

that's where pretty much every debate about art starts. can a classical painting really be in the same category as a banana duck taped to a wall, or some random mpreg drawing you found in the dark depths of deviant art? what's the point of having art if you can point at anything and go "yup. that belongs in a museum." it just doesn't make sense. but every definition that people try to create for art either isn't all encompassing, is just snobbish in general, or is too vague to really serve as a definition. at least in my eyes that's what the definitions seem like.

that's why i define art as specifically "a piece that is derived from conversation, depicts that conversation, and then further continues or creates a new conversation". that might sound vague as hell too and i honestly have no idea if anything i have wrote in this makes much sense at all, but i can debate it and i will.

not now though. because my brain kind of stopped there. so. uh. yeah.

anyways. i like art. i'm gonna continue staring at yours. also again, sorry for forcing you to follow this up, light. not really though. i like art. like i like art. like in an unhealthy way. i am very tired. can you tell that i am very tired and very art right now. because i am. i really like art.

so. that's all i got.

have a nice day, and whoops. ¯\_(°_o)_/¯

Light:

I don't think I can match up to Ryuzaki's response...but I'll try to give my own opinion on it.

Firstly, I really did enjoy your piece of art. The inverted colour scheme was a good touch, and I find myself questioning about the story behind this work of art---I know there isn't one, but I do feel like there should be one, and it's itching at me...I really like it. Feel free to share more, if you'd like: I love when people share their art with me.

Secondly, on to your view that art is subjective. To an extent, I do agree with this, especially for abstract pieces or pieces without any context, such as yours. It can be interpreted in vastly different ways by vastly different people, and I agree that it's indeed beautiful.

But I would also argue that objective pieces of art do exist, where it's blatantly obvious what the artist's intention was behind the art. Art can be interpreted in many different ways, and I suppose one that's included traditionally's always literature. In studying literature, there's usually only one interpretation of the word choice/language/structure/etc. the author chooses to use...so that would suggest that art, in a way, is also objective, in the sense that there is only a fixed interpretation of the art that's created. And, I suppose, if the artist has expressed their reasons of why they wanted to create the piece, then...there will be a wrong and correct answer to that.

But that's my view, so. It really does depend on the 'art' in question, in my opinion. Thanks for your ask, though; I did enjoy turning this over in my mind. Although Ryuzaki's answer is certainly a lot more thought-provoking than mine.

[lorei-writes]

Winter Flower

Chapter XIV: Shut up

Masamune x OC [Hana] Summary: Hana wakes up in the gardens of Azuchi castle without any recollection of her past. Who is she? What was she doing there? And most importantly – what is she supposed to do now? Placed under supervision of Lord Date, Hana has to find her footing in the unfamiliar reality of the warring states. Series Masterlist

Content Warnings: none

The relief is quiet, or quieting, the way guilt is loud. But what am I to do about that now? There isn’t a brave fibre in me left. I am ashamed, but as insufferable as it is, it also means my hands can work freely while my mind is occupied – just as it has been up until now, although this time for slightly different reasons.

“I see,” Kojuro sighs, arms crossed in front of his chest. He nods thoughtfully, seemingly mulling over my request, his eyes darting all around the tent before closing. His forehead creases as he brushes his hair back, another sigh emerging from his lungs. “It… certainly would be advantageous if we could arrange that. Are you certain you’re willing to go? You may not be able to come back, and managing injured while on the road can be troublesome.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Perhaps, it is also part what I’m hoping for, but I swallow that thought.

“We most likely won’t be able to assign many soldiers to escort you either. You’ll be an easy target for an attack,” he adds, carefully searching my face for any signs of doubt. I do not wish to show him anything of the like.

“I did… consider the possibility. However, if nothing changes, those men are as good as dead.” I attempt not to waver. Not now, me, not now…

“You’ve struggled to even get here.”

“I did.”

“How will you manage by yourself then?”

“I think I’ve hardened since then,” I reply, my hands rolling into fists by themselves. Please, Kojuro. Please.

“Do you even know the way? You’re knowledge of the current day is severely limited,” he points out, prompting my jaw to clench, my tongue seeking an asylum behind the border of my teeth. However, I need it to speak for me, so I force it to cooperate.

“I will not be the only person accompanying the wounded, though. I’m certain I will be able to rely on others for guidance if needed be, although I do not expect that to happen,” I force the words out like through a sieve, careful not to slip.

“What if you’re attacked?”

“We will not be.”

Kojuro stares at me questioningly, my mock confidence seemingly only giving him reasons to question me further.

“We will depart as soon as you engage their main force. We… will not be able to transport all the wounded, so I suppose we should reach a relatively safe terrain before sundown. From what I’ve gathered, it is unlikely for the enemy to go after us, is it? What advantage would be there to killing a few men who would not make it back to fight in time either way?” I continue in one breath, hoping that the words I put together hold some semblance of sense even when outside of my head. “If we manage to connect with lord Nobunaga, we may gain reinforcements, no? So… so –”

“I’ll think about it some more,” Kojuro sighs. Clearly, this is the furthest he’s willing to go… But I do appreciate even that much.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t. I’ll still have to present the idea to lord Masamune. Nothing’s certain just yet.”

“Nevertheless, it’s plenty,” I disagree,

Kojuro does not seem to be exactly of the same mind, but I am quite convinced this outcome is rather positive. I am not sure why, but in a way, for the first time in days I am certain things will end well, whatever this well may entail. The thought seems to soothe that dormant consciousness within me… Or much rather, even what remains of past me can be soothed by it.

Night has arrived sooner than expected, blooming clouds shedding their petals, withering away for ink depths to take their place. Ripples form around starts, their light clinging firmly onto the canvas behind them, as if wishing to trace and thus reveal a hidden path. They do not spare much of their shine for us mortals between the plains, but no matter. There is still some fire around. There will still be some when the sun rises – and so, I use the flames as a guide, my very dim, very own shadow following me with caution. It is not a long walk this time, and no matter how much I stall, the time runs too fast. I take a deep breath, hide what needs not be seen, hide it even from myself… I clench my fists. I need not tremble. I shouldn’t, just as I shouldn’t fear. Soon… Soon all will clear, I am sure of it, so please, me, cause no further worry. To anybody. Especially not him. I step forward and into a familiar tent.

There are no lanterns here, but it is fine that way. A similar scenario occurs each day, and this night is no exception. Masamune shifts over his bed (although that may be a somewhat generous word to be used here), a sense of guilt welling up inside of my chest.

“It’s just me. Go back to sleep,” I whisper out before seating myself down in my own place.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he murmurs in a somewhat rasp voice… I suppose he did need to strain it a fair amount. “Where have you been?”

“I went to see Kojuro.”

“Nightmares again?”

“Yeah,” I lie. He, however, does not seem to realise that much.

Masamune moves again, this time to push his body to the edge of the bed, and just as I realise it, he speaks up, “C’mere.”

“No.”

“Come on. You’ll get better rest,” he insist.

“I don’t want to.”

“Just to sleep, I promise.”

Oh. Perhaps I’ve misunderstood the situation. “Fine,” I yield.

His chest is warm against my back, but oddly enough, there is only cold to his touch. My heart pounds, so I try to distract myself away from his arms, and from the way his breath tickles my ear. In the most literal sense of the word, his embrace is secure – there is no harm there, no lingering threats waiting patiently to fulfil themselves. His words are worth more than gold, after all, more than silks, or gems, or… a golden sea of delicious broth… My stomach speaks for me, or at me. It complains through a loud growl. How could you give up my dinner? it seems to ask. Well, I could, and I did, and now it appears I have a more pressing issue on my hands. Thank you, stomach. I’ll remember it, you fiend.

“Kitten, did you invite a bear in?” Masamune lets out a weak laugh.

“I did not.” And I am not nearly hissing right now. Most definitely not burning up in embarrassment either.

“A dog then?”

“Stop it.”

“It definitely wasn’t a cat purr just now,” he shamelessly chuckles. How dare? And here I am trying to be modest about being hungry.

“You’re terrible.”

“Your stomach thinks just that about you,” Masamune jabs back, his finger – cruelly! – poking at my side. “Since when are you skipping meals, hm?”

“I’ve been busy and forgot!” I whisper-shout. He does not believe me, or so I reckon based on the tickling assault that he launches. Damn you, you —!

“You know, if you asked nicely enough, I would have whipped you something up.”

Oh. Stop it, stop it, stop that…

“Maybe next time.”

“Make it so that there’s no next time,” he grumbles back. His embrace grows tighter, and so I let out some of the breath I’ve been holding back.

“Fine. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

The silence that follows feels thick, the back of my throat itching for the unspoken words to be freed. I close my eyes, however, and let it be. We do not talk about the things that are the hardest to say out loud, do we? Not here, not there, not then… Not now. Certainly not now.

I welcome the morning by myself, but it is not long before the sense of guilt resurfaces to keep me the company. On any other day, I’d be beyond worried, but today… I am relieved. Of all the feelings, relieved. It does not seem appropriate, but the relief does not appear concerned about that – about that, or about bloodied bandages, festering wounds, fevers, sprains, broken bones, cries, sleepless eyes… Dead bodies that, although they may not be piling up, do need to be carried out. Or even the fact that nothing is certain.

The relief is quiet, or quieting, the way guilt is loud. But what am I to do about that now? There isn’t a brave fibre in me left. I am ashamed, but as insufferable as it is, it also means my hands can work freely while my mind is occupied – just as it has been up until now, although this time for slightly different reasons. The thought that I may be leaving does keep me afloat.

You shouldn’t have come.

Shut up. I know that much. I’m fixing it now —

“Hana,” somebody calls from just above my head. I peel my eyes away from the man I’ve been restraining, his arm flexing against mine as I do my best to hold him still for the (actual) medic to do the work.

“Yes?”

“Switch with me. We’ll need you to help in the evening. It’ll be no good if you’ll tremble all over from tiredness,” the man explains. I purse my lips – be that as it may, he has been a patient of mine just yesterday, so to let him move this early… Well, I do suppose he already has, and will go out on the field soon enough just either way. Nevertheless, I waver, so I look towards others to gauge whether that indeed is not too much to take.

I walk out of the tent, one unsteady thud of my heart at a time. The camp is much quieter now than it has been at night, so much so that my ears ring as I look around. Guilt strikes, relief answers – meanwhile, I just step forward, further and further, until I cannot hear them talking anymore… until nobody groans.

Where to now?

Shut up. I’m trying to be in control now. So lock yourself up and stay quiet, just the way you were up until I allowed you to come out.

My mouth has dried up completely, each breath having me believe somebody has fed me sand. I frown, something inside of me crumbling at the thought that I’d have to go back to the injured to get a cup of water. I do not want to, not now… Just give me a moment of peace, just for a little longer. Is that asking for too much?

The answer dawns on me as I realise that I could very well bring in more water. We need it, don’t we? So why not let me go? Granted, I will not be able to carry as much as others would… But some is better than none. Everything counts. Here, now. Everything. Counts.

It does not take long for me to convince the soldiers standing guard to let me out. It was a short exchange at best, but it was so inconsequential that it has slipped my mind completely. What matters is the river cutting across the plains, its shy murmurs that seem to inquire about me, each splash a song of a…

siren.

Shut.

Up.

Perhaps it is my attitude that is the issue. If it is me that talks, then it is not a conversation, but an act of remembering. I should not reply – but all those thoughts fade away quickly enough, carried away by the stinging cool that embraces my hand as they slip into the water. I bring it to my lips, greedy and much too preoccupied with drinking to even make sure that I am safe now. All I need is in front of me. I can think once I’m satiated, think once I erase the traces of this nagging, think once —

Don’t move.

I lift my eyes and fall back onto my behind. The man I’ve met back in Azuchi is standing on the opposite riverbank… and it is only now that I realise that this sweetly medicinal scent that seems to follow him has permeated the plains around.

--

Series tag list: @cheese-ception @nuttytani

[sheliesshattered]

Top third or so of the pleated panel is sewn down!

I tried out a couple of different methods for handsewing this to the shoulder and sleeve, but after a few inches of each, the 'stitch in the ditch' method was the clear winner. It's basically invisible, and lets the piping stand up as it ought to. I'm doing a stitch about every 1/8th inch, and keeping most of the distance on the top so that the stitches inside the sleeve are as small as possible, and won't get caught on things. I'm getting faster with the technique, so I'm hoping to buzz through the rest of this sleeve and the other one over the next few days.

But I'm also going to be interspersing this sewing with starting on my vest scratch build. I was able to find the pattern I made for my vest for The Moment way back in 2014 (it was exactly where I thought it would be, hurrah for keeping old patterns), and I spent some time staring at the existing vest in the mirror and pin-marking the changes I would like to make.

There are enough small changes that I'm going to just draft a new version of the pattern using the old one as a guide. But there are only the four main body pieces that really need re-drafting, and once it's something I can try on then I'll figure out how I'm doing the new collar (so it doesn't look so much like a motorcycle jacket), and I might just drape the new collar on me while I'm wearing the in-progress vest.

Over the weekend I also went though my stash looking for fabrics that have enough yardage (or at least big pieces) to cut out the body of the vest, and after comparing all those to the pieces I know I'll definitely be wearing as part of my Batuu Bound -- gray hooded wrap, brown leather belt/bag/gloves, and black leather-look leggings -- with Jack's help I decided on some lovely dark navy linen that I've had in my stash for years, left over from a dress project. It's on the heavier side for linens, but not quite as stiff as the canvas the Moment vest is made from, but I think it'll work nicely.

I'm going to stick with the basic lines from the Moment vest, including the diagonal cross-body closure. After noodling on this for a week or more, what I've decided to do is a shorter zipper that ends around underbust level or just slightly higher, and then a flap over that with either no visible closures, or some cool looking Star Wars-y buckles or something. I have a few ideas for that, but I won't make any decisions until I can try the new vest on. The separating zipper and the thread for this project have been ordered and should arrive before I'm anywhere close to needing them. Pics on this whole vest project as it develops.

Beyond that, I need to add a tiny dot of glue to a pendant that I made (in the upper left of the photo -- it looks a bit like Jyn Erso's kyber crystal necklace, but smaller with more of a blue tone to it) to make sure the wrappings stay attached. I still want to figure out something to cover the lacings of my big Doc Martens, either wraps over the whole boot or a suede panel that snaps onto the lacings or something of that sort. I've started to gather other accessories, and there are a couple of things I want to order (in particular my Captain's License, once I can settle on a name and spelling for my OC, lol).

I have a long sleeve shirt to go under the vest that works with my color pallet, and an idea (and fabric) for another shirt I could sew, but the weather has been so all over the place lately (80 degrees and sunny! no wait, 60 degrees and rainy!) that I don't want to put too much effort into the shirt until I've got a better idea of the weather we'll have 4 weeks from now. Finishing Jack's jacket and making my vest are definitely the priorities.

4 weeks to go! Hokay, I've got a pile of linen scraps to go iron.

[revoltinggirl-urethra]

basically the thing to understand about me is i wake up at 11 am every morning and i have to decide if im going to eat the slabs of raw meat in my fridge.

i havent done it yet!! obviously, lol. but i go to get some eggs for breakfast and i see them there. the weak fridge light coats them in a glistening glow that should be unflattering (i really should change the bulb) but instead i am entranced. theyre piled up on top of each other sort of haphazardly, a thin, wide pale plate the only thing standing between them and the defilement of the foodstuffs below. i think theyre steaks? im not really sure. im not an expert you know, though i do spend a LOT of time researching and reading about the topic. i guess im something of an appreciator; an enthused observer. my vision unfocuses a little as i get lost in this familiar sight. the proud red color of the thick muscle swirls with the white of the marbling and it reminds me of van gogh, although a bit messier. as if he'd been up to his usual business and then splashed his paints across the thin, wide pale canvas in a serendipitous and terrible mistake. i become acutely aware of my skull's presence in my head. the way my face hangs off it like a coat on a hook. then i notice the eggs in my peripherals and remember what i am here for. i crack three of them into a bowl, add a little milk, salt, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder, beat the eggs, and scramble them over medium heat. theyre ok, not the best I've done.

when i tell people about this usually theyre a little confused. they ask me why id even want to eat the slabs of raw meat in my fridge. "you dont need to do something as drastic as that, cant you just grill them?" is the response i get most. the thing is, i love cooked meat! i eat it alll the time, its so delicious. i love all the ways you can prepare it, too, and you better bet ive tried most of them. however theres a certain je ne sai quoi about the idea of meat untouched by flame. nobody seems to get it. it makes me feel really lonely sometimes and like im going crazy.

lately ive been turning to online communities for a lot of my socialization. it turns out there are actually quite a few people out there who also think about this sort of stuff! theyre all very kind and intelligent as well, just total delights to speak with. i stay up late talking to them and laughing and feeling connected with them in ways ive never felt before. they make me feel as if maybe im not a monster.

some of them have eaten the meat in their fridges. they post pictures of themselves with grins and blood plastered on their faces. the cloying envy that fills my throat and threatens to suffocate me is one of the strange new connections between us because i know they've felt it too.

honestly most of these feelings are new, period. i havent always been so fixated on this. i used to not give that plate a second thought. of course, ive always been a bit of a carnivore, like i said before i do love and have always loved cooked meats. but this is a new level. its scary. intense. i mean also think of the risks! you can get hurt from doing this shit. i am very aware of all the ways that it can hurt you in fact. ive spent hours upon hours poring over everything anyone has ever had to say about the meat in their fridges and embroidered a complete list of consequences onto my consciousness. its always best to be safe.

i barely remember what its like to be normal anymore. no matter what im doing or where i am the knowledge that there is a plate of luscious animal product just waiting for me gnaws at the base of my brain stem. i open the door to my fridge. the tree of knowledge of good and evil is rooted in my vegetable drawer. i grab three eggs, i crack them into a bowl. milk, garlic, onion, some seasoned salt this time, because i am a person who likes to keep things fresh and new and exciting.

i lay in my bed and thoughts clump up in my brain matter. everything in the grand cosmos and also within the most secretive corners of my heart comes together and holds council over whether i should let these thoughts eat into my synapses. there's a delicious temptation in the erosion of my nervous system. there's a phrase on the tip of my tongue and i won't let it go. the aforementioned clumped concepts that weigh on my frontal cortex start bleeding raw sensory data. red and white swirl like a painting and my teeth rip into tendon and bone and i tear and i rip and there is a carnal beauty in the way blood pours from my mouth and down the front of my body and coats my skin in a slick crimson. this is no van gogh, now it is francisco goya, and i am greedily gulping down mouthfuls of flesh as if i've never tasted anything before in my entire life. and i am laying in my bed. and i go to sleep. and at 11 am i wake up in the morning and face whether or not i'm going to eat the slabs of meat in my fridge

[not-xpr-art]

Art Advice #15 - Overlay textures in digital art!

Hi!! It's been a while since I did an art advice post like this and since I've recently been using a new technique (well, new to me lol) for adding texture to my artworks I thought I'd share some tips on how to do it!

Brief introduction into overlay textures:

So I suppose I should start by defining what I mean by 'overlay textures' and why you might want to use them! Overlay textures can add real dimension to your work, and they're especially good if you want to give your digital work the appearance of being a traditional painting! Another great thing about these textures is that most programs will come with some great pre-set texture layers that can be customised, though you can also find great downloadable textures to add to your works too!

To give you a better understanding of what overlay textures are, below are two of the same artwork, one without and one with a texture placed over the top.

This particular texture I created from MS Paint (which I'll get a little more into a bit later) and you will get completely different looks (and can drastically change the colours and feeling of the piece) depending on what blending effect you use to add the texture to your artwork! In the above example I used the 'burn' effect (which is good for deepening colours whilst keeping the highlighted areas semi-bright).

A quick note before I get into the specifics I will say that a thing to remember is that adding texture to a digital work will drastically changed the file size, especially if you are saving things as .pngs!

What types of pre-set texture layers do I use?

I have a few go-to textures that I use regularly!

First is the 'sand' and 'cloud' filter effects on Firealpaca (I'm sure other programs have similar pre-set effects).

The sand one (on the left) is the only I use the most regularly because it gives a more dispersed effect. You can change the colours of the background and the texture by using the foreground and background picker (in the examples below you can see the background is set to the automatic white).

Next selection of textures you can add to your art are from MS Paint (an example of one of these is the above artwork by the way). This is something I only really discovered recently whilst playing around with MS Paint.

These are four examples of the textures you can create on MS Paint! The way you do it is use the rectangle shape and change the 'fill' option to either 'crayon', 'natural pencil', 'oil' or 'watercolour' (the other options in the drop down list aren't textured by the way) and changed 'colour 2' to whichever colour you want the texture to be and voila!

I usually then save that texture and copy it into my usual program (Firealpaca) so I can blend it down onto my artwork. The natural pencil (top left) is my personal favourite since it's more subtle than the rest, but they are all really interesting textures and I'd definitely recommend playing around with them!

What about downloadable textures?

I also regularly use pre made textures that I've downloaded from various places over the years! These are usually either real canvas or paper textures that give your works a traditional appearance!

I'd honestly recommend just giving a quick google of 'free paper/canvas textures' and you'll find some resources. Unfortunately some of the places I used to get textures have been deleted, but I'd definitely recommend checking out Unsplash! It's great for reference images and for textures that aren't copyrighted! There are also some Flickr groups that have free textures that are pretty good!

At the moment I've got a folder filled with ones that I've collected over the years and would really recommend you do the same if there are particular textures you like to use! I also regularly layer these textures on top of each other to give the piece more dimension!

Also you can take your own pictures of canvas/paper textures to use which is just as easy as using ones others have used! Below are a couple art examples of works I've added these kinds of textures to.

How do I add the overlay texture to my artwork?

As I've already mentioned, a lot about using overlay textures is learning how to apply them to an artwork where they don't overpower it, and a lot of this can be controlled by careful use of blending options, the opacity of the texture layer, as well as how and where you layer the texture on to (or underneath) your artworks!

So for example, because I wanted the above left artwork to look more like it had been drawn onto the paper texture, rather than floating on top (which the right line art is), I used the overlay blending effect on one layer of the drawing, and then added a full opacity layer below that, which gives a sort of effect of the drawing 'bleeding' into the texture layer below. I will sometimes use a couple layers of my drawing with the overlay effect blending them into the texture layer to give it a real appearance of it being drawn directly onto the paper.

Sometimes, however, you want to leave the drawing sitting on top of the texture to make it stand out a little more! It really depends on what kind of effect you're going for to be honest. The way you keep these things separate is by putting the texture on the bottom as a background. (You can also have part of your art with the texture over it and part without, like the above artwork on the right which has the line art hovering and the colour overlaid onto the texture!)

Below are a couple more examples of artworks that I've done with some of these textured effects in comparison to the same works without the textures!

Happy texturing! ~

I hope I explained this alright, some of the techniques I talked about are a little hard to put down into words so if you ever need me to clarify anything please feel free to message me!

Thank you for reading and if you enjoy my work please feel free to either commission me or tip me/go to my kofi <3

[fakeloveaskblog]

(Hi, me again.)

Sure thing Janus. I’ll go check on him now and let you know what he says later.

Hey Rem, are you up for talking? If not that’s perfectly okay.

If Remus is good to talk then I’ll get him say anything he wants before enquiring about the kiss.

If he’s not then I’ll float quietly next to him and gently bob up and down.

Glow Eyes

(Tw: talk of past sexual abuse)

A pot filled with ramen was boiling on the stove. He'd mixed in gatorade and monster energy into the water to add flavor. One of his comfort films was playing on the tv. When you looked over to the screen you saw a corpse so you promptly turned away again.

He was walking circles around the living room with the canvas standing in the middle. There was nearly a dozen brushes twisted into his hair and he kept nervously stimming with his hands.

Most obvious was the fact that he was wearing one of the few hoodies Remy owned. A blue fluffy one like what Britney wore in 2008.

Remus flinched when you spoke "Yeah yeah. I'm good with talking. I never can stop blabbering. I could probably fit an atomic bomb in my mouth"

He had slabbed on a quick layer of paint onto the canvas just so the underpart could dry over the night until he felt more ready to actually try to make something.

"I'm having some bad memories and like phantom touch and shit but it....it's horrible but it feels like normal to have memories like that by now. like it sucks! but it happens like every other day and I just gotta keep walking and distracting myself till it goes away"

He moved the hoodie up to his face, letting the fabric tickle his lips.

"I got paranoid Jannie and beanie were gonna be able to feel my memories somehow and think i was dirty and stuff. Unlike them thinking I'm gross which is a positive. But you can't feel my memories" Remus twirled his finger towards you "'Cause you're dead! No living brain to feel memories with!"

The stove let out a sound which made him go over and turn the heat up a notch since he liked his noodles slightly burned. He closed his eyes and rubbed the fabric of Remy's hoodie against his nose.

"It's helping me ground" He said "They're helping me ground"

His eyes panned down to watch the flames trickle up against the pot.

"...sometimes it feels like it would have been better if he had just raped me....It's like he stabbed me and tore out my guts but then didn't kill me....I know from like reading other people's stories and stuff that people who had been...y'know...tell themself that it wasn't Bad enough just as much as I do...but it still feels like what he did to me isn't enough to get this affected by till today....I wish I could know if he still thinks about me as much as I think of him....I- I wish he wouldn't be able TO FUCKING SLEEP AT NIGHT!"

He held on tighter to the hoodie before rubbing his eyes. He always got teary eyed when he got mad at his abuser. It was as if he contained so much rage his body couldn't fit it all. Some had to spill out every time.

"Y'know it's pretty fucking frustrating to think about how tiny of a chance there even was me to even meet him. Much less like end up with him! Like any tiny difference could have changed things! It's so- so- so irritating! And at the same time if it wasn't me someone else would have probs been hurt so if I wish it didn't happen I'm a selfish asshole! I should be glad it happened 'cause it's better I got hurt than someone more like good and not a stupid goblin brat!"

The stove rang again making him jump back. You bobbed gently up and down beside him while he took the noddles off the stove and moved to the couch.

He lost his appetite whenever he thought about his abuser. (That's why he'd gotten so thin while with him. He'd hoped if he had less curves there would be less to 'make' his abuser lust after). Neither could he sit still.

The noddles got cold on the couch table while he kept wandering around the painting.

"Did you come to ask something?I could use a distraction. I shouldn't be falling down into these tsunamis of think fuckery! It's not good for me!"

He rubbed his face against the sleeves of Remy's hoodie while waiting for your answer. The sleeves were way too long for him anyway. But it calmed him down almost as much as if they were holding him.

You made kissy noises while blinking with your big glowing eyes. You also...eventually...just asked him about the kiss with Janus like a normal ghost.

Remus got noticeably caught off guard but a hint of a smile played on his lips as he fiddled with the sleeves.

"Well I uh liked his lips...The shapes were good.....full of blood...warm blood.....very biteable even. His lips were nothing like...like....my...abusers" It was still hard for him to say it. He tried to shake the intruding thoughts about him away "Jannie's was also so different from Remy's in so many interesting ways. Like it would be cool to do like some scientific tests to really see the minute differences between their lips! For science! In a science way! By kissing a lot!"

He got lost in thought for a bit before blabbering out some more.

"Solid kiss. It was cool I guess. Cool cool cool. I mean not like I would be against another one. Do I look like a kissophobe!? I'm not scared of kissing my bro Janus on the lips! I'm actually GREAT at kissing! An expert even! They're probably not even ready for my kissing abilities! I will kiss his pants off- Wait- No- Well- Unless. Uhm. Remus over and out!"

He decided to stop talking before could cough out anything even worse.

[poealexholloway]

I needed to draw what the ship is going to look like while under attack from the underwater creature. I started by drawing the ship from above, beginning with the hull shape, adding the quarter deck for a better sense of scale, and then adding in the main masts. The fore mast is at an angle compared to everything else, so I had to try and account for that, which I have not had to do often. I then added the spare onto the masts, and being lanteen sails, they all was at an angle to the camera view, so I still had to take that into account. Paying particular attention to the first one because of the more extreme angle. I also added the lines for where the stairs are.

I then added in the tentacles as I thought the claw would be better at a different angle. The left has the initial claw, which I was not particularly happy with as it had too many curves too close together so I did it a second time. Rather annoyingly, I have just realised that the end of the original one was better than the current, so I will remember that for next time. I thought adding a tentacle round the front ,ast would also look good and I don't know if it would work with the gaff sail.

I then proceeded to add some more details to the ship, starting with the quarter deck boards, which where a bit wonky and irregular, and I'm not sure if the nails where a good choice, maybe if they were smaller. Then I added the stairs and the bowsprit so they were not forgotten. The deck boards where done using the straight line tool, which worked quite well, though there where some lines that were closer than they should have been, I had to carefully go through and make sure that the boards were not visible on the tentacles.

Finally we have the ship colours. The mast colour was easy as they are typically a quite dark wood so there were no issues. The problems came with the sails. As the sails are canvas they are unlikely to be white so they are a yellow colour, but so are the boards, so it becomes a question of which should be brighter, the sails or the deck. I have done both but I am unsure which is better.

[damianacottstudio4]

Experiment

i decided to expand further on the previous experiment witht he medicine bottle stamp

A2 size with red acrylic paint

using the information i gathered from the previous experiment i tried to put this into practice

i found that it did work but the first print was always the best, clear, heavy in colour and tone and didn't look like it was faded

i did still run into the occasional excessive amount of paint on the stamp face which led to more textural based stamps (paint heavy, having blobs of paint)

i did combat most of this by rubbing of the face of the bottle whilst also using a toothpick to pick out the paint

the process of this was tiring and long but i did actually enjoy it constantly pressing the bottle down was a bit tiring on the hands as i would press my body weight into the bottle by standing upright instead of sitting down

i also recognised that paint would begin to dry on the bottle whilst in the process of creating

i then began to apply black stamp marks onto the canvas

i wanted to make a contrast that was derived from the stop signs

i didn't press much with the black as i didn't want to over do it initially i wanted them to just be the contrasting stamp marks to allow for a more cohesive or recognisable work however i began to notice that this would take away the red behind it, so i used lighter presses (little paint, like the last press of painting the face of the bottle).

i also knew that i was going to add something else onto the canvas

i played around with different objects, characters in photoshop to see or rather map out a potential stencil for the actual work

i then decided to use this headless lego figure as i thought that it would fit the theme or feel of the work, i also had in the back of my head that it could be like a poster, sticky taped to the wall but i didn't follow through with it

i liked the lego figure as it was playful, instantly recognisable but it also is like childish but also aldutish ?. but moving on, it fits with the theme or the object/stamp mark

i played around with the orientation, scale and positioning of the figure in photoshop and i liked the idea of the figure being in the corner and not centred or in direct eye sight

i wanted it to be kind of off putting or even irritating because its not centred kind of like remembering to take the medicine or even taking the medicine

SIDE NOTE: i want to create a similar work however the lego character be inverted ( like the colour of the figure would be the stamps )

the final result was somewhat successful in my opinion

yes i do feel like the composition is complete however i would've wanted the stencil to be more complete on the left side of the lego figure as well as the right shoulder

i do like it, i don't know when i look at it it makes me feel like i'm floating around these bubbles (stamps) like lost in this endless pit of instructions? daily occurences?

yes i do feel like the stamps are repetitive and effect the meaning of the work especially with the headless lego figure facing away from the markings almost like he is leaving but taking a moment to decide wether or not he should ?

you can see this chaotic energy like atoms reacting against one another yet it seems so ordered and instructional maybe thas because of the stamp whilst this reaction is happening the figure stands alone, i don't know , i just feel like its taking a step away from the chaos that occurs like a chain reaction

i do see that it can potentially comment on the implications of the medicine? like is the medicine really helping? i think more and more about how this work just makes me feel like the character is just lost or maybe trying to break this cycle of repetitive actions?

the texture can add to this i think especially the reppetive pressing of the stamp leaving the blobs of ink one could say that it feels repetitive like a simulation almost to ensure you function at your best ?

it kind of reminds me of a ball pit

i did consider placing rows of these lego figures diagonally across the whole canvas kind of like a factory line of these figures being processed or manufactured but i mapped it out or made a mock in photoshop and didn't like the look so i decided not to, also i found that this solo figure placed in the corner would come across as sort of odd or off putting but not in a scary way more like it stops you in your tracts for a moment then you keep going

i knew i didn't want to place the figure in the centre as i felt that this would be to structured and ordered so i placed it in the corner or some what close to the corner so that when you first kind of look at it you either search for it and find it or your eyes lock on from the start, i did this so that the background would intensify which i think it did but i also think i did it so that if you try an look at it as a whole your eyes kind of just wander down to the lego figure so your kind of bubbling around between the figure and the background kind of like boiling water or chemicals

CRIT FEEDBACK:

All points listed below were from the class just stating how they feel, what they see, etc.

all over print on landscape, no borders, red , black and green colours

stamps have instructional visuals on it

overlapping each other

repetitive

busy and quick but even chaotic and even

beautiful

energy of stamp seems quick, you can tell the print

meticulous but deliberate

energy thats ordered

you can see the layering of the figure in the fore front and the stamps in the background

the lego figure feels like a logo signature or branding mark in this field of stamps ( like a wallpaper)

reminds of japan because of the stamps having this sort of oriental feel ?

the missing head of the mini figure looks like its getting screwed off

bottle top and spray paint have been subconsciously related

at first glance the work feels funny however as you look at it more it becomes sad or angry

theres an anxiety to it

feel's like the figure has lost his head

playful

feels complete like he's turned his back posing against the stamp backdrop

it's kinda like the background is his head cause the figure is headless

medicine bottle talk about it in title to help with pushing across the medium, context, theme etc.

reminds of drug abuse

like a dosage chart or a record of taking the medicine

ambiguity of it could read it as just something really random could be about the mundane life

its a subtle work

[fpbyclk]

Creating a VHS Camera look for my game

I used many tutorials for this so im going to link them all and include screenshots of the code used.

Blur Widget-

Making the blur widget was quite easy to do but plays an important role in making the VHS look even more realistic. To make this i created a new user widget and dragged a canvas onto it and then dragged it to fill the screen size and then added a slight blur to it and then done.

Camera Sharpen Material-

As you can see this material was quite lengthy but it creates an effect commonly seen on VHS tape inspired videos so i thought i should include it and im happy i did as it really improves the look of it.

Camera Sharpen -Instance-

Creating an instance of the sharpen material just allows me to increase or decrease the intensity of the sharpening.

Dirt Mask Texture-

I saw some videos of gameplay form games that use a VHS effect like im trying to do and they had a dirty lense and the way to do this is by getting a dirt mask texture and applying it to the postprocessvolume in your level. The video explains it in more detail but that is the basic premise of it.

BodyCam Material-

This material creates the fisheye lens effect that is usually seen on bodycam videos and games. I included this because i like the look of those games and i feel like it adds more to the whole horror aspect that im trying to achieve without constant jumscares and monsters chasing you.

BodyCam Instance-

making an instance of the material allows me to change the values of the material to my liking so its just much easier to find the right settings for me.

[frogsandfries]

My asthma

Has been triggered for days.

It's partially my allergies, since the two are linked. At first, I thought it was vaping THC for the first time in a long time--I used to keep my pen in a cup of actual pens and assorted art tools, but when I moved, it didn't get unpacked for, well, obviously a couple months.

I've been working on this disgusting candy bar my ex bought when they first legalized marijuana in NM. I think they only bought it because it had a higher dosage, but it's gross. First, it's dank. Obviously. Then, some freak put flecks of dried cherry in it, so it's just freaking weird.

I've been using THC to feel neurotypical, which is to say, hungry, thirsty and tired. Being alone has really fucked with my ability to sleep "normally" for work. I kind of miss being fully exhausted, tired enough to sleep by eleven, which is an appropriate time to sleep for the time that I'm waking up for work. Although, I'm thinking my ex was exhausting to me because they always had me on alert. When it's just me, I don't need to be alert for spontaneous combustion because I'm not really the yell-y or rage-y type.

I'm more of the groaning and flailing type.

I have no idea what is triggering my asthma/allergies. The AQI is shit, for me. If it's anything less than near perfect, like it is right now, it's bad for me.

I didn't vape last night and I still woke up with my asthma--ooh, this morning hurt.

Anyway, I have to cut my Canva document back down to a multiple of sixteen, since I can't just add four pages on to the end. Which kinda sucks, since I already formatted those pages, but ehhhhhh, it can't be helped until/unless I find a better document maker?

Surely, there has to be a program that compiles the extensive ability to format, like canva, with all the frills and bells and whistles, with the simplicity of something like Word, where you just dump the text in and set the parameters et voilá! ..........riiiigggghhhhtttt?

I want cake. I should probably go get some actual people food. I don't necessarily have cake and I really don't have money to buy a boxed mix or a made slice from...... somebody, a grocery store or a restaurant.

Nobody asked, but speaking of my French, I've been proofing a lot of the French the writer tried to put into the story, like they don't seem to have grasped masculine vs feminine, so I'm correcting for that, which I'm happy to do.

Also in this second half, they're making very ESL mistakes, which, no judgement on the language part, I just don't understand what happened to the quality of their use of language. It's fine. That's why I'm giving it a light proof before I print it. I'm just over-eager to get some of this story printed. It'll be cool to get a little payoff for all this hard work.

I really--I got distracted by the other neighbors' dogs losing their minds over something.

My WIP pile: BM/BS, the Auction, v1 and v2, Manacled, v1, v2, v3, and a couple (accidental duplicates) of Apple Pies. (So I only have, actually, nine books to punch and sew and/or glue and cover. It's going to be eleven or twelve with this typesetting project.)

I haven't printed: Bring Him to His Knees, or Blood Magic.

I'm not sure about printing: Presque Toujours Pur, and Remain Nameless.

Those are the typesets that I've found and been interested in.

They're gonna find my stupid hand-bound library, and be like, she was obsessed.

I've been trying to hunt down some Draco/Ginny, but goddamn, talk about a rare-pair. I'm always looking for fractured fairy tales, because 🤤 that's really my literary niche.

WHERE IS MY PUNCH CRADLE!?!

Fuck yeah: I can easily flip my objects onto the opposite side of the page with same positioning.

Fuck no: I have to do it almost three hundred times.

[niragixpsych]

Niragi listened to Fuji's words before thinking about them for a few moments. And as their eyes met again he allowed his lips to curl up into a softer smile, the kind of smile he rarely showed to people. "You're art in progress. You started as a blank canvas with bare skin and the more you get to know yourself the more detail the art gets." He said, hoping that the other would be able to understand what he meant. "Piercings are my way to express myself and so far I didn't think about getting tattoos. I'm not convinced I'm the type for them." Niragi added, the smile staying on his lips. "I'm looking forward though to what tattoos you will add to your skin with time."

"The brain often works in mysterious ways and it's rather easy at times to get in ones own head." The day goblin said, remembering the times in Borderland during which his mind had tried to distort itself. But every time Niragi had managed to break free so to speak. He pushed those thoughts away though as the other leaned closer to him. "I'm not the type to hold back if it comes to suggesting new things and adventures. I will let you know as soon as I can think of something thrilling to do."

The day goblin's eyes darkened as they stayed fixated on Fuji, watching him stick his tongue out. And after hearing him speak his lips curled up into one of his cocky smirks, which was fueled even more by the other confirming he was irresistible to him. Also that the vampire called him babe was getting to him too, because so far no one had ever used such a nickname for him. "You don't need to tell me each time because your actions will speak louder than words." Niragi said, his tone provocative again. He knew the other enjoyed trying to tame him for a little while.

Niragi never looked away from the other male, hoping the way he looked at him would let him know he loved to see this side of him as well. There was no need to try to keep any of his sides hidden and he should know he could show them if he felt like showing them. They were both in this together and this would keep making everything more intense for them, in the best of ways. He could his body heating up more while he kept watching Fuji, keeping his hand where it was so he could still see his face. "You can use me to your heart and bodies desire because I know I will just feel as good as you do."

The day goblin only pulled his hand away as the vampire straddled him, letting out a groan as he could feel his weight on him. He let their eyes lock once again, being lost in this intense moment they shared. Another sound came over Niragi's lips as he felt those fingers wrap around his length and as he felt his tip slip inside of the other's entrance he allowed a moan to slip. He mumbled a 'fuck' under his breath as his dick was surrounded by the other's heat and another moan came from him as his hair was gripped.

Just a moment later his own hands found their way onto the other's hips and his hips bucked up once unable to hold back. "Fuck... this really feels good...you're so tight... I'm trapped in the best of ways." He whispered, feeling his mind clouding over. His hands tightened their hold and for the time being he simply kept locking into Fuji's eyes.

@anemia-rp

He kept silent for a moment, being stunned about the way Niragi described him and his tattoos. "Yeah, I didn't have been fully myself without all the ink", he had to approve. "It wouldn't match my personality if I had bare skin. And tattoos are the only permanent body mod for me, besides of piercings. Scars don't last forever on me." He looked at the other, a certain tenderness even in his irides. "There's nothing wrong with bare skin though. Deciding against tattoos can show that you know yourself well, and that's pretty cool." His hand wandered to his own nape, rubbing it lightly. "True. That's why I try to not kill myself anymore mentally. But some stuff really happens subconsciously." His mind tried to distort itself quite often, however he had recognized this and would try to fight against it. He conspiratorially smirked at the day goblin, leaning closer to him. "So never hold back with suggesting new things and adventures, yeah?"

His grin proceeded to stay, to provocations not only riling him up but amusing him. "You think you're that irresistible, huh?" He stuck out his own tongue when the other licked over his lips. "The problem is you fucking are, babe. But don't think I'll tell you this each time to fuel the cocky brat even further." However, he knew how much Niragi was into getting praised, his reactions had told him a lot in the past.

"Now I'm gonna use you as my sex toy though", he groaned between gritted teeth as he hid his face behind his hair while trying not to moan too loudly as he stimulated himself from the inside. However, he looked up instantly, surprisedly, when Niragi brushed his hair out of his face, just to bite down onto his lower lip, feeling how hot his visage was at this point. He was /so not/ used to things being this way, vice versa. But yes, it was true, he wanted it badly. And he was delighted that Niragi felt the same when it came to this as well. Clearing his throat he straddled Niragi, trying not to avoid eye contact anymore meanwhile to not leave the other any occassion to wonder about Fuji's determination. Because this would have been the worst. Yes, he should see and feel that the vampire wanted this wholeheartedly. Thus he looked straight into the other's irides when he grabbed his dick and guided it to his entrance. Cursing when he felt the tip forcing him open and then disappeared inside of him, his body sucking it in instantly. "Feels so fucking good", he groaned and gripped the other's hair while he got used to the sensation, lowering his butt onto Niragi's dick. "I love your hard greedy cock, fucking hell." His voice shook a little.

@niragixpsych