#but it's like. I'm doing it!!! I'm making some art again!!

[annasellheim]

So this was on the @writing-prompt-s site- so I'm treating it as a writing prompt. (I can't fucking draw right now due to a busted shoulder, so I'm doing a bunch of them because I'm alone, hurt, and sad, and they're fun).

Anyway, the story:

I sat down next to him. I looked at my former student, now an adult. A brilliant engineer. I remembered him. I had really liked this kid. The man in front of me was impressive as hell too. It didn't surprise me at all.

"I'm really, really sorry this hurt you. That I hurt you. What I was trying to do was show you some techniques. My goal was that, later, after you learned them, you could deviate from them and make your own thing.

We have a set of guidelines of things we need to teach. It's a mandatory curriculum, with national guidelines, just like math or science or whatever. But it varies from state to state. And who the hell knows what they do in private school. And the curriculum isn't focused on self expression as much as teaching you how to use fine motor skills and..."

Shit, stop it Anna. You don't need to keep justifying yourself.

I try to remember when he had moved away during the school year. I wonder if I hadn't gotten to the point in the spring semester where I gave my students more lee way, to experiment and deviate from the techniques I showed them. To let them decorate their dishes any way they wanted. To make trees and flowers for different seasons. I wondered if he had been part of one of my first classes, before I figured out how to create a really solid curriculum.

Regardless, I could have been clearer about it. I was new to teaching when I had him as a student, I know that much. I was overwhelmed, and honestly, barely keeping it together for the first, like, 4 years I taught. And there were 20-30 students in my classes. It took me a a while to figure out what works and what doesn't in the classroom.

The most important thing was this man in front of me. He was way quieter and more hesitant than the kid I remembered. I hope I didn't do that to him, but I'm was probably reading too much into it.

I took a sip of my coffee.

"You know what's cool tho? The shit you've been doing at work-"

He looked surprised and snorted.

"What?"

"You swore."

It was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, to be fair I'm not in classroom mode right now.

Anyway, the stuff you've been doing at work, it all sounds like it takes a ton of creativity to accomplish."

"I never thought of it that way..."

"Well, you've been on the forefront of a bunch of stuff because you think outside the box. I'm glad I didn't rob you of that."

We sat next to each other on the bench. He was thinking it over. I was trying to not dwell on the fact that he brought this up, that he had carried this pain with him for 20 years.

"Do you still make art?"

"No, not since elementary school, since my last-"

"Your last required art class. Got it."

I gave him a side eyed glance.

"You know you can get back into it at any time, right?"

He was taken aback, he obviously had never considered it.

I smiled. I've had this conversation before, many many times.

"It's not like a sport or something. You can start at literally any point in your life, you don't need to be young and in peak physical condition. Art ain't basketball.

The cool thing too is that you can choose what you want to make, you're an adult. Nothing in art is required for you to learn. You can pick any class you want, or no class at all."

I gave him my business card.

"If you shoot me an email, I can give you some books to read for you to get started. Not to teach techniques, but exercises that help get you back to the point where you just make stuff. I think a LOT of people stop making art for all kinds of reasons, not just because of a novice teacher. There's been a bunch of stuff that's come out recently to try to help adults make art again. y'know, to recapture the joy of it."

We said our goodbyes. I really hope he thinks it over and reaches out.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

[bumblingbabooshka]

When the only person who might understand what happened- understand. Not sympathize or empathize or comfort you but understand what happened, isn't there anymore. Or: 'A Man Made Me Do Something I Didn't Want To', for when you can't talk about it or look it in the eye [Patreon | Commissions]

[ilikeyoshi]

"#yes yes yes!!!! #and ngl it makes me want to read or engage with it more too!"

i hope it's ok to point out these tags bc this is SUCH a huge mood i think deserves a little more explanation!!!! (at least from my perspective as both a creator (writer) and fan (of artists))

i used to have a ton of anxiety when creating and especially sharing my works, and my impulse was always to talk down on it, because a) i* (*my anxiety) believed it to be bad, and b) because i had this idea in my head that if i lowered people's expectations, they wouldn't be as disappointed when reading it.

i want to tell you what i've learned in my years of both being a writer and being a fan of artists, and it's that this is a terrible, terrible anxiety fallacy (like so many ideas/misconceptions borne of anxiety are) that ONLY hurts you, your work, and your potential readers(/fans/etc). it SOUNDS like a good idea when you have really bad anxiety, i know, i used to DEPEND upon this idea just to have the courage to SHARE my writing—and i want to emphasize that it's OKAY if you've done this before, it's an easy, easy trap to fall into, but i also want you to try and stop doing it because there are a lot of reasons you would feel better and do better for doing so.

you are what you practice! if you only ever focus on or speak about the flaws in your art, you WILL feel negatively about your art. my very first therapist explained it in a way that still really resonates with me: you have created a well-beaten, highly trafficked "road" in your brain. it is very easy to take this road because even though it's longer to your destination, it winds and bends, it's walked on so much it's flat and easy to traverse. when you try to build a NEW path—in this case, a path where you focus on what you like about your art—you're starting with no path at all. it's all undergrowth and vines and thorns and it hurts and it's tiring and you feel like this will NEVER be easier or feel better than the old path. but you have to keep taking the new one. you have to beat down the undergrowth until it recedes, cut down the low-hanging branches until you can walk with your back straight, and if you keep at it, if you keep at this thing that feels so pointless and stupid and hard, eventually, the path will be clear, and easy to walk, and you'll make great time getting to your destination because it cuts straight through; no winding or bending. and the old path? it will overgrow, and it will become hard and stupid to take. you have to beat the new path because once it's beaten, it'll be the far superior path in every way, including ways the old path was never superior even when it WAS the one you were always taking.

further—as these tags point out, and as i agree with wholeheartedly—by disparaging your art, you DO lower people's expectations. people don't want to be sad, frustrated, disappointed when they look at art—at least, not unless the art itself is trying to tell a story about that. you get what i mean, i hope—they don't want to go INTO something they already HAVE negative reviews on—your reviews! you, the creator, have already told this person the story/art/whatever is going to be bad, and i know, i KNOW it's not your intention, you're hoping someone will see through what you can't and tell you no, no, this is good, i liked this! and some people do! but you make it a lot harder for them TO do that when you tell them right at the beginning, "this is going to be bad, i don't like it," because what you're unintentionally telling them is, "and you probably won't like it either." the first way i learned this was in people always saying in their fanfic summaries, before you even open the fic, "the summary is bad, i'm bad at writing summaries, the story is better trust me bro." because what this does—again, so unintentionally, i KNOW what you're trying to do because i've been you—is you're telling the reader, "here's my pitch, here's the hook to my entire story, it's the worst part, it's bad, but the rest will be better," and what they KNOW is they've already put the time in reading the summary, and it's hard to commit MORE time to something when you've already told them it's bad, even if you promise the rest is better. it's like biting into a fruit and you hate the taste of the skin; it's harder to try the rest of the fruit when, so far, it's been bad (or you've been made to believe it's bad).

so what's the solution? how do you begin beating that new path? well, it depends on you. everyone's a little different in how they navigate stuff like this. but what worked for me, and what might be a good place to start (and by all means adapt as you figure out what works and what doesn't), is start by just NOT saying anything negative. no, "i don't like this," or "the summary's bad, sorry," or anything. write your artist's comment, author's note, whatever as normal, and REMOVE anything that depicts your art/writing/etc in a bad light. just don't give people any opinion whatsoever on what experiencing your creation is going to be like. this, for me, was easier than jumping straight to, "i'm pretty proud of this," or "i enjoyed working on this," because it wasn't withholding AND replacing, it was JUST withholding. going back to the roads and paths metaphor, i think of this part as the "taking a breather before i get to work on this monumental task of beating this new path" stage.

then, overtime, i started "stretching" my positive comments about my works. if i liked, say, TWO LINES out of a whole piece of writing, i'd say, "i'm really proud of this work!" because i AM proud of ANYTHING AT ALL, NO MATTER HOW SMALL, within the work. it's not a LIE, to anyone including yourself, but it is, perhaps, an EXAGGERATION. that's OKAY. we're trying to teach our brain to look on the bright side, to take the new path, and i've found that treating it a little bit like a dog—giving it a treat for ANY TINY BIT OF PROGRESS, was a good way to encourage myself to start making MORE progress. ESPECIALLY because the tags i reposted above are RIGHT: LOTS of people are MORE interested in a work when their very first impression (YOUR impression!!!) is positive. 'the artist/writer/etc is proud of this? oh, i'm so glad they had a good time creating, let's take a look!" it probably sounds too easy if you're still taking that anxiety-beaten road, i know, but try to think of how you've felt when someone disparages their creations versus uplifts them. were you put off by the negativity? were you sad that your friend worked so hard on something and didn't even like it? conversely, doesn't it make you a little excited when an artist says they really feel good about something they made, especially in a world where so many artists ARE feeling inadequate? i hope you see what i mean.

it's not an overnight thing, of course, this took me YEARS. this took a miracle that doesn't happen to most people: i wrote something i felt SO TERRIFIED people wouldn't like, even though i was secretly very proud of it (but too scared to dare suggest i was proud of it), so i indicated all kinds of things like "i hope you like it, i dunno if it's any good, it's just a little thing i'm chipping away at in my spare time" (it was not, it was a full-blown passion project) and, against the odds, a LOT OF PEOPLE told me they really really really liked it. a couple of friends who were decently popular in the fandom it was for liked and shared it and i got A LOT of encouragement. i basically got to beat my new path with a HORDE of helpers, and it was more like THEY beat the path for me and i chased along like, "what is happening, oh my god, what are you doing???"

i got really lucky. that doesn't always, or even usually happen. in most other areas of my life, i've had to beat the path myself. and it takes a long time if you're doing it on your own. but you should anyway, because it's so fucking worth it dude. yeah, it was awesome to get so much help with my writing confidence specifically, but it's been just as worth it every time i've had to do it alone too. and i have good news! there ARE ways to tell people you're on this journey of making yourself a new path. here are some suggestions:

"i'm new/rusty at this, so please let me know what you think!" - informs potential readers/viewers/etc you are learning and gives them an opportunity to HELP you learn. this is a positive interaction! this allows people to find a GOOD experience EVEN if they didn't enjoy the story much, because they can help, and people DO, MOSTLY, like to help.

"i want to improve at [dialogue]" or "i'd appreciate advice on [lighting]." - similar to the first example, but does 2 things: gives viewers specific instructions that can be really helpful for those that aren't sure how/what to critique (surprisingly common thing; the more specific you are about what you want advice on, the more likely you are to GET advice), AND allows you to, neutrally and non-disparagingly, ask for help in areas you don't feel confident about.

"leave a comment if you liked it!" or "let me know what you liked best!" - listen. i don't think 'fishing for compliments' is bad as long as you're not being manipulative about it. these examples are very clear in what they're asking for, which is compliments, positive reviews, etc. and that's okay!!! first of all, lots of people LOVE praising works they like, i promise, and asking them to DOES make them feel like they have "permission" to (i know that sounds silly but i also know if you have anxiety about creating, you have anxiety about commenting, i see you, i was you). secondly, i have gotten the MOST encouraging, confidence-boosting comments this way, especially with the latter example. there is NOTHING more immediately anxiety-curing than a comment that says "i liked [scene/dialogue/character/etc] specifically." it's AMAZING. (also, if you're looking for advice on commenting, this is a GREAT thing to do. imo, this and "speculating/interpreting the work" are the two coolest comments i get they make me feel AWESOME.)

remind yourself, as many times as you have to, CONSTANTLY if you have to: likes/kudos mean someone enjoyed your work enough to press a button. views mean someone liked your work enough to click through for more. these are POSITIVE interactions, they are not "less positive" than comments or reblogs/reshares. i know those last two things are more obviously gratifying, and depending on if you NEED your work to spread (for exposure/commision prospects/etc), very good, awesome ways to support you, and i don't mean to say you shouldn't WANT comments and reblogs/reshares. but for me, it's helped me a lot to recognize that any bit of effort whatsoever means someone LIKED my work. it's also helped me to think of all the times i've shared a link to an artwork in a discord or something, and know that there is an entire, untangible metric i can't and will never see that, sure, i can choose to believe doesn't exist or isn't very high, but i can ALSO choose to believe it happens quite a lot, and the latter makes me FEEL better about my work and makes me want to create MORE, so i think that's the more productive mindset personally. it doesn't matter what the truth is, you know? we'll never know it and it doesn't harm us to never know it. but it DOES harm us to assume no one quietly, unseen by us, likes our work, and it DOES ENCOURAGE US to assume lots of people do.

here's the thing: anxiety disorders fuck you up by making you believe extremely negative, scary, depressing things. the disorder gets worse the more you allow it to make you believe these things, and the only way out, as stupid and hard and at times impossible as it feels, is to say, "no, i don't like that interpretation, i'm going to replace it with a positive one." anxiety is making paths all throughout your brain, and you have to just, make paths too. anxiety needs YOU to make paths, but YOU don't need anxiety to make paths. your paths WILL be better, safer, easier and happier. you just—and i know that is the biggest "just" ever—have to make them.

but i believe in you. i don't need to know you or your circumstances to believe in you. i believe in the sheer amount of control you have over how you face the world. and it's so much more than anxiety would lead you to believe.

i looooove seeing artists & writers proud of their work!!!!! i looooove captions & authors notes that say things like “i’m quite happy with this” “i love how this turned out” “i had so much fun making this”!!!!!! i loooooove when the act of creation is joyful & we take pride in what we make!!!!!!!!!!

[cherry-burst]

Rafayel Sexting F!MC

Love & Deepspace

🔞 MDNI... Or else

2:07 AM

Rafayel: Hey cutie, are you still up?

Rafayel: Just 3 more days until my flight. I can't wait to see you again.

MC: I will put a countdown on my phone for when you get back!

Rafayel: You dun already have one? Woooow

MC: Do YOU have one?

Rafayel: Of course. I set it up the second I left.

Rafayel: *Calls MC*

Ringing...

<1 Missed Call>

Rafayel: Are you too busy to talk on the phone? It's already 2 AM and I can't sleep

Rafayel: Hearing your voice would be nice and it would help me fall asleep. You won't leave me hanging, right?

MC: Sorry! I just got back to my apt from a mission and I needed to eat something real quick before I shower.

Rafayel: Ooo, video call me from the shower

MC: Nooooo! It's going to be a QUICK shower. Then I need to sleep. If I vid call you, it wouldn't be a quick shower anymore.

Rafayel: You know me so well.

Rafayel: Fine fine, but I'll leave you with some messages to read for when you get out.

MC: Deal. I'm hopping in now

Rafayel: I can't believe you're naked right now and I don't get to see it.

Rafayel: You know, I went to a pop-up art exhibit and they had a big canvas with paint smeared all over it. It looked random at first glance

Rafayel: The plaque said the artist and his lover covered themselves in hues of pain then made love right there on top of the canvas to make the art piece.

Rafayel: Totally unelated, but I have a new date idea when I'm back home :)

Rafayel: I can only imagine how beautiful the painting would be that we could make together

Rafayel: I wish I was there with you. I miss you

Rafayel: I want to hold you in my arms. I want to kiss your soft lips. I want to watch you blush when I bully you ;)

Rafayel: And don't try to protest. I know you like it. Why else would you be so wet afterwards?

Rafayel: Please call me when you get out of the shower. I need to hear your voice

Rafayel: I can't stop thinking about your taste, you scent, and how your body heats up when I lick you in all the right places.

Rafayel: Fuck, I want to taste your pussy so bad right now. I miss the way you gasp and moan when I push my tongue inside you.

Rafayel: I can't stop from touching myself, sorry. I'll hold off untill your phone call

Rafayel: Please let me kiss you between your thighs

Rafayel: I love how much wetter you get when my tongue is inside you. You seem to like that very much

Rafayel: I can do that all night if you want. I never want to stop

Rafayel: Do you like my tongue that much? You always grab my hair and force me closer. It's so sexy when you do that

Rafayel: Don't worry. I wont stop until you're shaking.

Rafayel: You should be out of the shower by now, cutie.

MC: Yes but, I need another one after reading your texts

Rafayel: You like my words? Want me to keep going?

MC: Yes...

Rafayel: If that's your wish

<Incoming Call From MC>

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, can I request a continuation of Wasp's twin who took his place?

Maybe something about the team Prime getting worried over Buddy rarely leaving her room? And when she does she just sits in a corner and hugs her knees?

Buddy is also scared of going outside the base, because what if the Elite Guard comes to earth and found her? She will get thrown to the stockade again!

Optimus is like, "i'm not a doctor, but i'm pretty sure this isn't good for her".

And ratchet is like, "i'm a doctor and I can comfirm this is not healty for her, we need to make her come out of her room more as soon as possible".

And then Bulkhead is like, "oh, I know how!", and takes out his art.

He shows his art to Buddy which draws her attention a lot.

Maybe that's how Buddy gets into pottery and knitting, Bulkhead inspired her!

(I'm sending this twice incase it disappears from the inbox)

I'm giving Wasp's twin sister a name! Look for it in the link for established Buddy names!

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp's Twin Sister finds a hobby

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFA

Ever since the news of the Elite Guard potentially making a stop on Earth happened, the team had noticed their newest member, Vespa, had been a bit closed off.

No, that was an understatement.

Vespa was either always in her habsuite or sprinting across the Plant to get something and go straight back to her habsuite.

Bumblebee tried once to make her stop during one of her sprints.

Bumblebee has Vespa grabbed by the waist. Bumblebee: “Gotcha!” Vespa lets out an unearthly shriek before biting on his servo. Bumblebee: “OW!” Vespa zooms back into her habsuite. Bumblebee is on the floor groaning at the bite marks on his servo. Bulkhead: “That looks like it hurt.” Bumblebee: “You think!”

Yeah, the yellow scout stopped trying to stop her after that.

Soon enough Optimus called in for a mini meeting to discuss Vespa’s situation.

He was no medic, but he knew that what she was doing definitely wasn’t healthy.

Ratchet backed him up, as a doctor, this indeed wasn’t healthy behavior at all.

They had tried to ask what was wrong in the past, but so far nothing has worked.

Optimus had tried to lure Vespa out with a chat, but she just politely patted his pede and left.

Ratchet tried to get her to talk with a medical examine… too bad she knew that she wasn’t scheduled for another physical exam yet.

Prowl tried to get her to go to the park, but that was immediately shot down when she sprinted the other way.

Bumblebee tried to get Vespa to sit down for a movie marathon, but it turns out the yellow bot still didn’t know what types of movies she liked watching yet.

Team Prime were grasping straws, trying to think of any other way to get Vespa to talk to them.

They had tried everything!

Expect…

Sari carefully knocked on Vespa’s door. Sari: “Vespa? Its Sari.” Nothing. Sari: “I’m not feeling good and could really use a friend—EEK!” Sari nearly had whiplash from how fast Vespa’s servo shot out and grabbed her into the habsuite. The bots hiding not too far from the door blinked. Prowl: “I don’t think I’ve seen a bots servo move that quickly…”

It took a couple minutes before Sari would emerge from the habsuite wearing a worried look on her face.

She relayed back that Vespa was worried about the Elite Guard showing up outside the Plant, waiting to snatch her up and bring her back to the stockades.

Oh… that explained a bit…

As the others were trying to think of ways to reassure Vespa that the Guard was not here, Bulkhead suddenly had an idea.

Bulkhead knocks on Vespa’s door. Vespa opens it a bit. Vespa: “Bulk?” Bulkhead: “Can we paint together?” Vespa opens the door a bit more with a confused expression. Vespa: “What ‘paint’ Bulk?” Bulkhead offers his servo to her. Bulkhead: “C’mon I’ll show you! And if you don’t like painting, I’m sure I can find you some other art we can get you to do.” Vespa looked around hesitantly. Bulkhead’s optics soften gently patting her helm. Bulkhead: “No one’s gonna hurt ya little buddy. It’ll just be me and you.” After a minute Vespa gives him a small smile and takes his servo.

Bulkhead makes it very clear to the others for his idea to work, it just needed to be him and Vespa alone.

Given the limited number of ideas, they let him continue.

After about an hour Bulkhead came back to the main room followed closely by Vespa.

She sill looked nervous, but a bit more relaxed.

The smaller bot was covered with wet and dry splotches of clay and paint.

In her servos she proudly presented her greatest creation.

A human sized mug and gifted it to Sari.

It had an atrocious orange and pink coloring, but Sari didn’t dare try and put the bots spirits down.

This made the bot beam with pride, something the team had never seen before.

The smile suited her.

After that day, Bulkhead was slowly trying to get Vespa to start creating things with the pottery set whenever she felt extremely nervous or scared, and it seemed to be working.

 It was a bit of a pain to scrap off the bits of dried and cracked clay from off her armor, but she had to admit it the activity did make her calmer, and she could make gifts for her new friends!

Team Prime swore to take in every one of Vespa’s sculptures no matter how weird looking or horrendous coloring it had.

[kwillow]

regarding romance involving your characters, im aware you've talked about how you likely wont engage in making content surrounding that topic (WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY FINE obviously), but do you mind if others do? i personally find a lot of enjoyment in those kinds of scenarios and itd be good to know if thats something you're fine with when it comes to your own creations. (im sure you get enough asks about romance already, apologies!!)

and related to this, are there any strict boundaries or hard lines youd prefer not to be crossed when it comes to fan content of them? even anything that just makes you uncomfortable; if youre alright with sharing, that is <:-} i would really like to know just to be certain

Hi there! This is a very kind and conscientious message; thank you for that. ^^

Short answer: sure, I don't mind if people want to make romantic-themed art or writing with my characters. It's flattering!

I don't really have much in the way of hard limits when it comes to depictions of my characters (not counting nsfw/kink art, where I'm also pretty permissive but want to be communicated with in advance), but here are some personal boundaries when it comes to how people treat me, the human:

My characters aren't able to be "claimed" by people for exclusive shipping purposes (either with other characters or for self-shipping). When people get jealous of either other people who want to ship themselves or their characters with mine, or jealous of the characters' in-story love interests, it creates a highly uncomfortable situation for me.

I'm happy for people to enjoy their romantic fantasies with my characters, but I am not included in that bargain. Liking my character does not mean one knows or is in any kind of relationship with me, platonic or otherwise (especially not otherwise).

Likewise, I probably won't reciprocate a lot of self-shipping or Your OCxMy OC type stuff. Of course I'll comment and appreciate the effort and the expression of being interested in my silly stories! But I won't necessarily make a lot of ship art in return or trade head-canons or what have you (again, I just am not super into shipping and I have my own story stuff I already don't have time to draw orz).

My characters aren't made to be boyfriend material. I also have not drawn/written/shown every part of their awful personalities or actions. In the future, I might reveal something about them that makes them unappealing or unsexy. People can ignore the unpleasant qualities I give my characters in their fantasies/fics, but I won't change how I write or draw the character to make them better suited to someone's tastes (yes this is something people have asked me to do).

I feel like stating some of these things makes me look a bit neurotic, like "oh come on, that's not going to happen," but unfortunately all of these things have happened to me before when people got, I guess, a liiiittle too romantically invested in my characters.

So really, I don't have many boundaries in the way of content. Go forth and write or draw or just imagine what pleases you (general you). Write them getting married, having unrequited crushes, being one of the last survivors of the Titanic and sacrificing themselves so that the other character can live her best life beyond their doomed romance, etcetera.

All I ask is that the appreciation is centered on the character as an imaginary being, and I, the real and very boring human woman, am largely ignored in the equation and not pulled in to do matchmaking, officiate any weddings, or act as a conduit to manifest a tulpa.

[bloggerspam]

"I think I'm going insane."

Val jumps, almost bumping her head up against the underside of the car above her, at the sudden sound of Steph's voice echoing in the garage.

It's been about an hour since Jay finally got Danny's reply texts. He left, now assured that Danny was awake and understood it was a misunderstanding, to hopefully ask Danny out.

"Insane?" Val echoes, rolling out on the creeper until she can sit up, grabbing a rag to clear up the grease all over her arms as best she can.

Jay had told her to go home, along with the rest of the mechanics, but in his rush he had left a broken down Mazda leaking so she wasn't exactly going to just leave it like that.

Plus, she's gonna be staying far away from the apartment until she's 100% it's all clear. Maybe crash Sam and Tuck's hotel room, stay with them just in case.

"Insane," Steph confirms, looking like some kind of art piece leaning on Jay's work table across the room, "Y'know, like that Einstein quote."

"I'm not sure I follow," Val scrunches up her nose, thoroughly confused. She gets up, tossing the rag and heading towards her sudden guest.

She's technically not allowed to be doing these types of repairs, considering she lacks the certifications, but she thought she might as well finish it up for Jay to look over tomorrow before heading home, so the timing of the other girl's visit is at least perfect.

Steph watches her as she twirls a finger through her hair, pretty blue eyes half lidded and pouting with her very kissable lips. Val looks away to focus on clearing up her workspace.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Steph quotes, and oh, right. Conversation was happening.

"Actually," Val starts, slipping the top part of her coveralls off and wiping her face and thoroughly ruining the white teeshirt she's got under, "Rita Mae Brown said that quote. Well, wrote it in her book."

She realizes a little too late that that might sound too condescending, so she course corrects, "But anyway, what are you doing that's making you insane?"

She turns to look at Steph, jumping once more at how close Steph suddenly is. Val's backed up against her work table, Steph looming over her with all of her 3 inch height advantage. A metal tool falls over the side of the table, Val's not sure which one, from the resulting bump.

They stare at each other, Val profusely thanking any and all Gods, Ancients, whatever Higher Beings out there that her dark skin makes it harder to see if she's blushing. Not that it helps when Val's probably staring at Steph's mouth like a loon.

A long moment passes, Val somehow finding it within her to tear her eyes away from the other girl's mouth—did she mention how kissable they looked?—and staring somewhere off to the side, confused.

"Flirting, Val!" Steph groans, throwing her hands up and stalking away to pace back and forth, "I've been flirting with you since we've met!"

"What? No." Val says, scoffing, "I'd notice if you were flirting with me."

Steph gives her a look that promises some kind of spar in the future that will cause Val to possibly lose feeling in all her limbs. Val shivers at it, sure that something's wrong with her if that turns her on, as she watches the blonde take off her jacket and prowl forward towards her.

"You're so fucking stupid." Steph says, the profanity of it shocking Val enough that she doesn't react when the other girl fists a hand into her shirt to pull her forcefully towards her into a searing, almost painful kiss.

Val feels like she's having an out of body experience, like lights have blinded her. But Steph's lips are soft, her hands are holding Val's hips, her body is pressing up against Val's and Val's definitely been stupid because they could have been doing this the whole god damn time.

But she kisses back, and that's all that matters. She kisses back, and somehow her body knows how to do the rest.

Her hands trail up Steph's biceps, feeling the soft cotton of the sleeves, trailing up to drape over the other girl's neck. She tilts he head to get the angle a little better, tiptoeing just a bit to make up the distance. The kiss isn't urgent, despite the sudden nature of it. The kiss, kisses, are soft, reaching, insistent. Small little things that cumulate one on top of the other, breathing into each other's spaces, bodies trying to melt into one another.

Steph's hands roam up towards the small of her back, Val arching at the feeling of it, and Steph must like that because she moans into her mouth like it hurts. Between one breath and the next, tongues are involved, and Steph tastes divine.

It's enough to make Val lose it. Her hands trail back down to Steph's waist, bunching up the fabric as she clutches the other girl closer. It frees up space for Steph to loop her long arms around Val's neck this time, gives Val the opening she needs.

She grips tight, spinning them around and lifting Steph onto the table. The other girl graciously makes room to accommodate Val's bulk, long legs wrapping around Val's waist as her hands trail down to trace the seams of the rough denim of the other girl's jeans.

Steph pulls Val down with the arms around her neck as she leans back and what is Val to do but respond? Her hands end up gripping Steph's thighs, and the heat of her is intoxicating. It's like Val's burning from the inside out, flames licking at the roof of her mouth and trickling down her throat, pooling in her stomach and radiating a heat that threatens to melt her.

And yet still, still, the heat of Steph consumes her.

Val detaches from the other girl now, to take a moment in the steamy haze. She braces one hand on the table below them, giving her abs a much needed break from hovering over the other girl, and just breathes.

Steph is beautiful.

Val stands over her, splayed over her work table like a vision from a dream straight from some romance era painting that Val could never hope to conjure up in her most fantastical dreams. Milky white skin, pearl blue eyes, a flush that Val wants to follow helplessly with her lips, her tongue, her fingers. Her blonde hair fans out around her like a halo, scrunched and mussed and silky and beautiful.

Val was already breathless from the kissing, but now it feels like the entire room has deprived her of air.

"You're beautiful." Val breathes out with the last of her oxygen. It's worth it. It's so worth it.

Steph, who had been half lidded and dazed, quirks a soft smile. Her entire body seems to soften with it, muscles loose and arms still lazily looped around Val's neck, squeezing just a little bit, a quick little hug.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know." Steph whispers back, voice husky as she brings a hand to trace over Val's cheek, her brow. She leans up to give Val a soft peck on her cheek, and the tingles of it warm her, makes her close her eyes to lean her forehead down onto Steph's, to breathe her air, to share space.

"As nice as this is," Val starts, "I want to be clear…I don't want this to just be a fling."

If her relationship with Danny taught her anything, it was that communication was important.

"I like you, Val. I want to get to know you more, date a little." She pauses, smiles a wry smile, "Or at least, go on dates and have you know they're dates too. Maybe…girlfriends? In the future?"

Relief and embarrassment floods through her. "Yeah, yeah that sounds great. And uh, sorry. For, y'know, bein' stupid."

She curls down to bring Steph into a hug, lifting her a bit to make room for her arms against the hard wood of the table below, burying her face into the space where Steph's neck and shoulder meet, laying a kiss as gently as she can to the place she rests.

She feels the shiver that wracks through Steph from the action, feels the way her legs tighten around her, and Val breathes and breathes and breathes her in, clutching tighter.

"You're forgiven. Besides," Steph sniffs, "I wasn't going to let you take me here and now. I'm classier than that."

Val chokes on a laugh, muffling it into the other girl's shoulder. "Wouldn't have been hygienic anyway." Val wiggles a hand out, showing off the grease and oil, "Sorry about the shirt. And pants."

"I can't complain." Steph laughs, and it lights Val up. "I was the one who jumped you, after all."

"Serves you right." Val mumbles as she wraps her arm back around the other girl, causing another precious laugh.

"Can I touch your hair?" Steph's hands are rubbing her back up and down now, migrating shyly up to the back of her neck.

"Yeah, 'course." Val mumbles, trying her damnedest to become a part of the lovely girl beneath her.

Delicately, Steph seems to fiddle with her hair, as if twirling a finger through each dread, one by one.

It's a long peaceful moment before Steph breaks the silence again.

"Now that we've established that you're a moron," Her tone is soft and sweet despite the words, "and that I'm clearly moron-sexual…" Val snorts, causing Steph to whack her on the back of the shoulder lightly for the interruption.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Val lifts up, loathe as she is to separate from the blonde, beaming, "My treat."

Steph rewards her with a smile so soft, a lovely little thing, as she curls up to give her a kiss on the cheek and whisper her answer into Val's ear.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[tokiogoull]

More Adult!Byler headcanons bc I'm on break and I got a lot more interaction on my last post than expected. But this time it's Parents!Byler bc I'm a sucker for it.

(Sorry it's a long one...w/ a lot of typos...oops.)

Parents!Byler:

- They have three kids, all adopted, and about 5 years apart each. They adopted in their 30's.

- Will is the parent who disciplines the kids more, but in a gentle-parenting way bc of his upbringing. He actually sits them down, and talks about why their actions weren't good, how it made him and/or others feel, and what the best course of action should be.

-Mike will discipline the kids at times too, but sometimes he catches himself acting like his parents. Either half-assing it like his father, or yelling like his mother. He asks Will to keep him in check over this. More often than not, he will talk things out with their kids in a similar fashion to Will's style.

- When they first heard one of their children swear, they disciplined them properly, but they had to go hide in their room to laugh their asses off afterwards.

- They both encourage their kids to explore the arts, they take family trips to art museums.

- They decided to explore therapy before adopting. Both fearing of becoming their parents. Will was especially scared of turning into Lonnie.

- When the kids want money or to do something without being told "no" right off the bat, they go to Mike.

- Mike accidentally said "shit" way too many times around their first child, that their first word was "shit". It was funny at first, but it convinced Mike learned to curse less.

- Since it was the early 2000s when their kids were babies, the baby bottles were made of glass. One of their kids accidentally whacked Will with the bottom of a bottle and he still has a faint, small scar on his forehead from it.

- Since he has middle child syndrome, Mike likes to make sure Will and him spend time with their middle child. They try to treat all of their kids equally.

- When they adopted their first child, they were text book anxious parents. Scared to do wrong, and read every book and parenting they could get their hands on. They learned with their second and third child to loosen up.

- Their kids will send them tiktoks, and they watch them in confusion. They're used to them now though, thanks to their kids' Vine phase. That was a strange ride for them.

- They love to embarrass their kids, especially in public. If there's a song they recognize playing in the store, they will sing terribly with it. Their kids will walk off and act like they don't know who their parents were.

- When it was Mike's turn to do grocery shopping and if he took the kids with him—whenever there was a clear aisle in the store, he would have the kids hold onto the cart, and he would run and then jump onto the cart as well, so they'd zoom down the aisles faster. (They stopped once they were older, but they sometimes still do it for the nostalgia.)

- Will is the good driver of the two, but he likes to drive fast at times and Mike isn't a big fan of it. So when Will is driving with the kids in the car, minus Mike, he will take back roads where the small hills are. He purposely drives faster over the hills as the kids find it fun (responsibley ofc).

- They both got a mild case of empty nest syndrome when the kids went off to college. So they adopted two Maine coon cats.

Some Grandparents!Joyce, Hopper, Karen, and Ted as a bonus:

- The kids love both of their grandmothers, but they prefer Karen during Christmas and birthdays for the gifts. They love Joyce more in general, though.

- When it comes to grandfathers, they love Ted bc they get away with a lot more shit. (They're secretly low-key scared of Hopper even tho there's nothing to be scared off.)

- Hopper takes the kids camping in the summer. The kids loved it as small children, but not so much as the teenage angst began. As older teens and young adults, they started loving the camping trips again.

-Joyce carries a tin in her purse full of Skittles. When she takes the kids on errands with her, she gives them some as a treat. She sometimes swaps the skittles out for those grandma strawberry candies.

-Karen kept a lot of Mike's old toys and will have the Byler kids play with them when they stay over. She converted the foyer into the grandkids' playroom for both the Byler and Jancy kids.

-Ted acts similarly to the Byler kids like he did with his own, but he's much nicer. It gives Mike mixed feelings, some bitterness, but he's ultimately grateful that his father is accepting of his kids.

[teamchillidogs]

Oï!!

First, I want to say, I love this comic and genuinely can’t wait to see what awaits for us next ♡♡♡

The premise is such an interesting concept– And the art is to die for, hello?? (all my ♡ to you guys, and I mean ALL of you!)

I just had two tiny questions, if it haven’t been already answered:

If it doesn’t spoil anything, is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited? I can’t imagine my poor baby stuck with average speed, but I’m not really sure that this leg is capable of supporting his sonic speed.

And second, mostly adressed to others fans... WHY IS EVERYBODY BLAMING MAH BOI TAILS FOR EVERYTHING?? Like, yeah sure he’s technically responsible but–

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?!

Both Sonic and Amy told Tails to come back to the ARK and let Sonic&Shadow handle things, and I think we can safely say he would have (even reluctantly) obeyed and gone back to the ship.

But noooooo, Knuckles had to chime him and told him to make himself useful.

Useful.

To the boy who literally just witnessed his BigBroTM (fake) death in an explosion without being able to do anything abt it.

The kid who just had an entire arc abt gaining confidence and learning to step out of Sonic’s shadow (pun not intented), to be his own person with his own purpose and all that jazz.

The child who’s probably still pump up on the adrealine from his fight with Eggman (which he won if I remember my SA2 correctly).

Knuckles, mah bro, best hot-headed himbo of the franchise. You could not have chosen a worst time to utter these words.

Of course Tails was going to take him up on that and try to ”MaKe HiMsElf UsEfUl”, why wouldn’t he?? He defeated Eggman in battle (Left-over adrealine and possibly cockiness?), and didn’t seem to trust Shadow with Sonic (who, again, was thought Dead literaly less than half an hour ago bc of the Team Shadow was on– Seriously, I can see why he’d like to be by his side when Sonic is again risking his life out there for them)

And franckly, how was he supposed to realize how bad his intervention would turn out to be? It never got that bad before, why now?

#StoptheTailshate #HoldKnucklesaccountable

Sorry for the rambling and the terrible english, but it had to be said, bruh. Tails ain’t even in my Top-5 favorites character, but everyones’ so harsh on the baby, he needed some backup 🥺😭

Hii @sookilini here answering as per usual!

this is the best ask we have ever received and it's honestly my favorite, thank you so much for sending this.

I always get to excited and emotional when i read these things, thank you so much for your kind words <333

ALSO THANK YOU FOR NOT ATTACKING TAILS, he has been DRAGGED TO FILTH I CAN´T TAKE IT /j

So first: is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited?

Unfortunately, the people of Marmolim (the planet he landed on) as you may have been able to tell, don't know who Sonic is and are unaware of his speed and abilities. So, the prosthetic leg isn´t capable of withstanding his speed...

Secondly

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?

I honestly have no idea why most people commenting did not catch onto Knuckles provoking Tails by poking at his insecurities, I'd even dare to say his ego more so... Tails got into his head "oh I don't need Sonic to get things done. I can do anything, I'm more than just the brains, I can do the action too" at least this is my intention with his actions.

We have to remember, Tails is literally just a child at the end of the day, yes he is incredibly smart but can you really expect a 12-year-old-ish kid to act rationally when put in a stressful life or death situation while getting yelled at by everyone for just trying to help?

Nobody would ever expect a kid to even be in that situation to begin with right? at least that´s what I think.

We all know Knux isn´t the smartest in hindsight...he isn't stupid by any means, but he will say what comes to his mind without second guessing for sure.

But oh well...Knuckles isn´t here to defend himself....anymore...

But there is still hope

[normal-enderman]

My interpretations of people in the Life Series, as someone who is a very casual viewer and has no emotional investment in the series and barely knows any of the fandom knowledge below surface level.

Jimmy - stupid. so stupid. he barely has two braincells to rub together. but unfortunately for me i find it adorable. hes also blonde and young and pretty and im a basic idiot who likes young pretty twinks. he also has a really pretty smile. but hes so stupid. he sucks at minecraft. he dies all the time. his editing is also mid.

Joel - my second favourite after Jimmy. did I mention Jimmy's my favourite? no I didn't. im not basic. shut up. Joel is really cool. he's very funny and i love the overly-aggressive persona he puts on, he's one of the people who gets the most into roleplaying (it's basically his default for whenever he's on camera, he has a very defined cc persona that he never breaks out of), so it's easy to get immersed watching him. his editing is also seamless and brilliant. and he has good music taste. just a cool guy. i like the green streak in his mc skin.

Lizzie - usually when people call women quirky, they're being cringe incels who want a manic pixie dream girl. but i swear i mean it in the most sincere, old-fashioned use of the word way when i say Lizzie is quirky and i fucking love it. her aesthetic is cutesy pink kawaii, but the more you watch her the more you realise there's something delightfully strange about her. she's also incredibly fucking funny. the way she delivers lines just cracks me up. the way she speaks and phrases things and approaches the situations she finds herself in in general is awesome. despite her cutesy aesthetic, she's surprisingly tough as well. her editing is also a seamless, immersive delight.

Scott - master manipulator who gets violently mischaracterised by the entire fandom. he's definitely one of the smartest members of the Life Series SMP, he's always planning everything out, he always has a backup plan, he always seems to be three steps ahead. And again, a master of maximising his income of social capital. He's an expert at utilising his connections with the people around him, and always seems to be able to use his relationships to manouvre himself into an advantageous position. i don't understand why people make soft flower husbands art because Scott just seemed like he was taking advantage of Jimmy to me. in fact I dont understand why yall make scott soft in general, he's one of the most ruthless players from what I've seen. bit weird to mischaracterise "the gay one" as the soft guy, no? also why do you draw him as thin when he is chubby. why is his intro so fucking loud.

Bdubs - i have never watched this guy's POV because his editing is bad but he's always appearing in the corner of other player's POVs being adorable. he's like a little bug. he's always yelling and it's so incredibly unthreatening. why is his face all beat up like that what happened to the little guy.

Etho - he's friends with Bdubs and he's Canadian and he lives in the woods and fights moose and he's good at redstone and also some sort of cryptid. i have heard this. i have, however, not watched this because i have ADHD and the way he edits (or rather doesnt edit) his videos is so boring that i cannot watch them for longer than five minutes. which annoyed me because i really like his chill badass vibe and would like to see more of him, but alas. get better at editing etho. i also love the fan designs people make for him very much, especially when they make him into some sort of wolf or beast. makes sense since he's hunting all those moose.

Grian - HOT TAKE HERE. I'm not the biggest fan of Grian. His POVs are not very interesting. I guess people like him so much because he has a mad killer instinct and watching him hunt people down and get kills is fun. And this is true! I also like watching this! However, before it gets to the killing spree part, he's very self-contained and doesn't take much interest in what the people around him are doing (unless he is managing / leading them), which is boring for me because i'm interested in people's interactions with each other. Grian is actually far more interesting from other people's POVs, because from there you can see how his self-contained nature, tendancy to lead and thirst for blood and chaos affect everything around him, something which he himself seems to not notice because he is too focused on only dealing with the stuff that's immediately relevant to him.

Scar - what a charming man. oh my god. holy shit. sir. sir. what the fuck. he's also so funny. and has a little bit of the nature of a wet cat surrounding him. why does he love roleplaying being some form of scam artist so much that he choses to do it literally every single season. its like he cant stop himself. he has a scam artist disease. he also likes Starwars also one time he mentioned that he can't stand on twitter and everyone yelled his name. actually he does stuff that makes people yell his name in shock/exasperation a lot and its like a greek chorus. i also love the way he speaks in his voiceovers, his voice is very smooth.

Pearl - she has wolves apparently. this is a thing that i have heard about that has happened at some point. yes.

Cleo - they speak in a mocking tone and it makes me feel like i am being bullied in secondary school so i do not like them.

Impulse - this person does, in fact, exist, and may have done things at some point.

Geminitay - people draw her with antlers and that is cool

BigB - i have never seen this guy a single time in anyone's POV but apparently he is there! he keeps to the shadows.

Ren - there is a larper in this SMP. which is not a bad thing at all! I love hardcore minecraft roleplay! i am a Dream SMP fan, incidentally. which is related to nothing. The way he roleplays so intensely and in such a distinct style is a bit of a weird clash with the almost zero roleplay from everyone else, though. You have to all be into the roleplay and outputting the same amount of commitment to the bit, or it doesn't work and i just get secondhand embarassment watching. But I appreciate it nonetheless!

Other people who i've forgotten because i dont care about them - they sure do exist and are doing cool things yep

Thank you for reading my useless list, from a "fan" who isn't really invested enough to be a proper fan. I love minecraft men kissing. peace.

[not-xpr-art]

meaning time ladsssssss

(this is gonna be a bit less concise than my other one because my thoughts are ALL over the place with this piece... I'm also just really tired today but anyway)

ok so this is one where I had SUCH a vivid concept idea in my head (mainly inspired by the nothing but thieves song 'lover please stay'*) but I was finding it really hard to translate into an artwork... so let's see if I can explain it better with words lol?

ok so basically I wanted the disembodied hand of Len (surrounded by a halo) to be reaching out towards an unaware Tommy (which someone in the tags mentioned made them think he was reaching out to give him head pats or something which did make me giggle a bit lol) hanging above like the sword of damocles, a heavy, suffocating presence following Tommy throughout his life (and especially at the funeral)

(originally had it hovering at his shoulder but it looked weird idk... partly because foreshortening is NOT my strong point and fsr I refused to use a proper reference for Len's hand?????? can't explain it...)

the stark lines of the background were originally going to be more organic and soft looking... I think the lines feel more relevant, especially with the idea of Tommy being trapped in a life he never wanted (because of the sacrifice he made to save Len by leaving him)

(the silver bars perhaps like a cage, or a prison...)

and it is kinda funny that I did start with a very different colour palette (pale blue and gold), but blue and red seems to be my in9 colour scheme so here we go again pfft...

not a lot to say about the style of this one lol... again, planned to do something totally different (wanted to do art nouveau style) but it just ended up morphing into something else entirely lol. I guess maybe an interesting thing about how I painted is that I predominantly painted Tommy's skin tone in pinks/reds (I was aiming for a more realistic tone than I usually do) which is maybe why the pale blue and gold background didn't work hmm...

the string of fate between them has disconnected, but Tommy is still unable to let go as Len unravels from his life like a loose thread...

this episode just makes me feel so much lol I just really hope that emotion comes across in my artworks of them tbh...

*also just in case people aren't aware of some of the lyrics in the song that I felt were really relevant for these two, so here they are:

'So take from me what you want, what you need

Take from me whatever you want, whatever you need

But lover, please stay with me

...

And I can see you, I can feel you

Slipping through my hands'

i can feel you, slipping through my hands...

(yes, another bernie clifton's dressing room fanart lol)

(09/2024)

this piece went through like 5000 concept changes before i settled on 'sword of damocles meets red string of fate' lol...

[genericpuff]

1. Have you read Circe by Madeline Miller + Song of Achilles ~ if you have what are your thoughts

2. In the original what was your favorite male character drawn out (mine was Hermes only bc I found him hot😓)

3. How long do you think it’ll take you to ‘finish’ your story, like do you have a set date: 2026,2027, even 2030🙈🙈

4. What’s your backstory on tattooing and art, was this your initial plan

5. Fave girl character, (mine is Minthe only bc she reminds me of my younger self since I seemed to only choose realtionships where I get here)

thank youuu

ahaha so many questions! I'll answer them as concisely as I can :>

1.) Song of Achilles is on my shelf, I've been meaning to read it all but I haven't been able to make time for it, I might try and do so before the new year! I've definitely heard great things :>

2.) Hephaestus! He gives me such older brother vibes, he just seems like a really chill and snuggly guy LOL Only complaint about his character design is the fact that he's constantly using running blades (sure they look cool but they're not practical for casual wear, you're supposed to use them for, y'know... running lmao) but that's really it, I think his arc with Aphrodite in S3 was poorly written tbh especially with how rushed it was, but overall not the worst treatment out of the cast.

3.) Definitely don't want it to take until 2030 LMAO It's gonna depend on a few variables, including update schedule (I'd really like to get back to posting once a week again like I used to but I don't think it's gonna be possible for a little while u.u""") and how long the final scripts come out to be. Ideally though I'd like it to be wrapped up within another year or two. This definitely isn't one of those "work on it indefinitely" type projects, I have an end goal in mind and I don't want it to take over half a decade like my last comic project did LOL

4.) Never expected to wind up making Rekindled or in tattooing. I'm kind of a "fall into it" type person, I do what feels right in the moment even if it's not what I initially planned for (within reason, of course! I've learned to sit on new ideas and plans for a bit before pursuing them to ensure I'm actually into them before diving in lol it helps me avoid the impulsive ADHD-fueled decisions 😆). I sort of had a plan for myself back in primary and high school - I wanted to become a video game concept artist, but over time as I got into making comics and after I graduated college, it just never really happened. It's never too late, of course, but right now I'm having a lot of fun tattooing and making comics in my free time ! I think I'd still be making comics even if I ended up in game dev, it satisfies my storytelling side haha

5.) If you mean specifically LO, yeah, Minthe here too. Which is wild because I remember when I was still a huge fan of the comic and was on the "fuck Minthe!" train. Now that I've explored the comic with a more critical eye, I sympathize with her way more and I really hope she had gotten a more satisfying conclusion. Still, she got away from Hades and Persephone's nonsense so that's better than nothing LMAO but I definitely want to explore her side more in Rekindled as the story unfolds, I have some fun plans for her <3

[velvet-cupcake-games]

I’ve been following this game from the sidelines for awhile now and Im waiting on the full release before I play it (bc I think I’ll die if I play another route and then have to wait years for the Sheriffs route 😭) but lately everywhere I turn something reminds me of this game and I get so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Only I’ve had one thought niggling at the back of my head for some time though, and I’ve scoured the blogs history the best I can on mobile to see if there’s an explanation, but I might just be imagining something that isn’t there? About the sprites updates, I played the original demo with the old sprites and instantly fell in love, but when I played the enhanced Demo, Marion didn’t even feel like the same person to me ~ her sprite seemed dramatically different. Is this just my own perception or was there a conscious decision in the design?

Either way, again, I’m just so excited about this game and love the world you’ve concocted!!

Hiya! Thanks for sharing your excitement with us. We totally understand that not everyone wants to play during Early Access. I'm similar myself as a player, so I get it. We just wanted to make things available for everyone who does want to play because of the development delays.

Marion's original design was what our lead artist Arrapso envisioned with just a character description at the very beginning of development. She was the first character who was designed for the game. Her new design is Arrapso's vision of the character after getting to know her through the demo and prologue text.

I love both designs, but I do find the new design easier to use when assigning different emotions to the sprite (her base expression is more neutral in nature). It also brings the sprite version of Marion closer to the CG/logo art version. So there was no deep change in who Marion is as a person between the two sprites, more an evolution of how Arrapso envisioned the character's looks along with the change in art style. As the writer of the character, I approved of the evolution and am very happy with her new art.

Hope that helps!

[galaxygermdraws]

In the simulation you drew, the bros don’t have scars…. Makes me wonder what luigi thinks of his current appearance.. (since it’s Luigi’s design for a perfect world)

GOOD CATCH. This isn't actually the first time I have done this!! If you take any look at my art for Dream Team, Dreamy Luigi is also lacking in scars. I think Luigi has mostly accepted everything that happened back during SPM, but there is probably some small nagging voice in the back of his head that blames himself for all that stuff. Why did he wish for some kind of kerblooey? Why did he have to jump into the Chaos Heart? Why did he have to challenge Dimentio by himself? Why why why???

It's like when you think about something you did a few years ago and it makes you feel terrible even though you've accepted that you have done it and you're okay with it...I think the thing he dislikes the most is his hair just. Turning white when he's near something powerful. (cause when he was part of Super Dimentio, the mustache was white. So it just makes him think about that. Doesn't help Dimentio had light hair too, so it makes the association worse).

Notice they don't have their grey hair either, in the simulation. I think the bros were def sus the entire simulation, but honestly I do not think it was their appearances that threw them off, they hadn't even realized they looked different til I think everything started glitching, including their own appearances. Cause the idea of their scars glitching and them both noticing is kind of terrifying.

I'm still tryna figure out how I think the simulations work, I definitely think it's some twisted funhouse mirror version of the dreams of the simulated. So like, Luigi probably just wants like. Peace. for once. With how much he literally cannot relax (any vacation they have gets ruined, they go on adventures non-stop, it's very tiring, ya know?)...of course he would want peace. He knows it won't happen but he can dream. But like, even he knows if they DID get peace between the two kingdoms, Bowser would never act like that. They've teamed up with him before, they know how he acts when they're on the same team.

So I don't even know if it's specifically Luigi that wanted the scars removed. It could be part of the twisted funhouse mirror stuff. Of course the bros would want to look ""normal"" again. This is a perfect world where everybody is happy. They shouldn't have any proof of anything else.

OK that got away from me I did not mean to go that long talking about the simulation but I literally haven't stopped thinking about it. I have thought about what would happen if u were to pull the petals of the flower up, how the simulation even works, etc...

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The Axe - Chapter 3 (Part 1)

Okay so I've done a lot of art recently, but as I've mentioned to some other people I want on a vacation for my anniversary so I'm back, I'm refreshed, and I was able to sit down and write the next part of The Axe. This fic is always super fun and interesting. I know medieval fantasy is always a turn off for me, so I don't expect many people to enjoy it, but I do think the world building in here is pretty impressive. Let me know what you think!

If you don't want to wait for the whole fic to be published over the next couple of days, check out my KoFi HERE

By the way, the whole fic is 24 pages size 10 Times New Roman. Full fic is about 11.3k. This is a long thing.

TW: mention of alcohol, public execution, gore description of corpse, religious figures

Wordcount: 6k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me

You’d never been keen on execution wakes before, but today was different. Today, you wanted to see if you could learn more about the great hooded man with that glinting, silver axe. A part of you was afraid to so much as offer to help your uncle, but another part of you was too excited to stop yourself.

“You want to come to a hanging?” your uncle stared at you in bewilderment, “a hanging? Have you lost your gourd?”

“Uncle, I know what I want,” you sighed again, “I want to come with you. You only just got out of bed, you need someone to help you there.”

“I don’t need that much help,” your uncle snorted, “I’ll be just fine. You can stay back and do some work here. Buns need to be made for Halaxwake.

“But you need rest, uncle,” you chastised him again, “you have to rest just a little bit, right? Auntie would never forgive you if you got sick all over again.”

“She wouldn’t, nor would she forgive me if I came home empty-handed!” your uncle chuckled before glancing at you with a mischievous look in his eye, “why, you’re so eager to go I might think you’re looking to meet someone there!”

Your face flushed a violent crimson as you spluttered and coughed.

Your uncle hummed, “You really do like to get yourself into all the worst situations, dear. If I didn’t know better, I might even say you were looking to see a certain shrouded man! Maybe even, dare I say it, a certain mysterious hangman?”

You shamefully turned away as your uncle laughed.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you!” your uncle’s grin was woven into his words, “I’d bet you really thought I didn’t know any better!” he calmed his laughter momentarily to heave the last load of loaves into the wagon. He took a moment to lean against the side and cross his arms over each other, shoulders back as he stood tall in the crisp air. You glanced back to see him admiring you with his wise grey eyes, “Come with me. If you’re anything like me or your father, I wouldn’t be able to stop you, anyways.”

Your blush hid behind your wide grin as you walked over to stand beside your uncle. He hoisted the wagon up and looked at you, casting you a wry wink before pushing the wagon forth along the dusky dirt road.

Your uncle pushed the wagon along the road, his eyes straight ahead as he hummed a gentle off-pitch lullaby under his breath, one you’d heard your auntie sing to your cousins. You walked beside him, admiring the wild poppernickins as they grew in bundles of little white and pastel orange-pink blooms along the fence posts on either side of the road. Occasionally, the flowers were overtaken by winds of orange-brown twineweed that snaked up the wooden posts and curling along the fencing. It interwove onto itself, making intricate patterns formed in the ivy under wilted papery white flowers. You figured that soon the farmers would be collecting the pollen for the Hanndoal’s-Turn harvest. You smiled at the thought, memories smelling of bright fruit coated in syrups and the taste of old brew ghosting through your mind.

“You think Ernest’ll have another batch of wink ready for this harvest?” your uncle interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to look at your uncle and blinked, “Wink? Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope so,” your uncle smiled, “I think Ernest’s wink always tastes the best, but don’t tell Leonard I said that.”

“I don’t think he can bring his head out of his ass long enough to hear you,” you snorted.

Your uncle laughed and shook his head, “Your mother said much the same, back when she was around. She never liked the Buscher clan, really.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

Your uncle kicked a stone out from underfoot, “She thought they were all pompous pricks. Thought they knew everything there was to know about gourds and squashes and the like, but they were all the sourest things you ever did chew on.”

You laughed, “That sounds like my mother alright! She knew what she was talking about.”

Your uncle shook his head, “Oh if you think they’re sour now then you should’ve been around for the older Buscher. That old tyrant grew gourds sour enough to pinch your lips clean off. Horrible things, really.”

“And here I thought Leonard was the worst farmer in the village,” you hummed.

“Leonard’s a right gem compared to his father,” your uncle said, “his father was a right good-for-nothing. You couldn’t talk to him for longer than a vigil before he’d go off about how we were bound to be under the rule of elves if we didn’t prepare for ‘the rise up’ or whatever he called it.”

“The elves?” you rolled your eyes, “I’ll admit, I might say he was right if I didn’t know better.”

“But you do,” your uncle pointed out, “we all know the elves won’t ever try to take over the continent. They’re the best warriors you ever did see, sure, but they’re not that bright. And anyways, they ain’t as evil as he made ‘em out to be, but you already know that yourself. Elves are all just a bunch of bastards with egos big enough to blot out Brak-Hah’s-Eye. And anyways,” your uncle smirked, “they still don’t know how to make any sort of good drink. They need us for a good party.”

You laughed and nodded along. If nothing else, you supposed humans had that going for them. You weren’t called ‘The Joyful Children’ for nothing.

You walked along beside the cart as it squeaked and jostled over the stones littered across the dirt road. It seemed to whine over each and every pebble it overcame as it was pushed closer and closer to where the bodies swung in the breeze. Just the thought of the place had chills crawling up your spine. How anyone was able to endure living in that forest of corpses was beyond you. But then again, most of The Axe’s life was a mystery to you. You’d never even seen the man’s face before.

The Axe was a man hidden in a shroud darker than the one he wore upon his face. He was a strange, curious thing made up of flesh, stolen bones and misplaced teeth. He was walking death through a field of corpse flowers. He was the peace made between a dying man and his maker. He was hatred and rage and bloodshed held within a porcelain vase. All of him was drenched in criminal blood, and yet his eyes were blue as a newborn’s.

This strange man had taken a place in your life unlike any other. No man stood with you when you kneaded the bread for the next wake, but he watched over your shoulder and asked about the herbs and spices you tossed into your mixes. He walked with you when you went to church, an invisible shadow by your side at all times. These past two god watches, when you went to church, you would look down at the stone tiles and wonder if The Axe sat below, a doomed man listening to the words of something floating ever beyond his grasp. Innocent eyes trained on the glowing light coming from beyond an iron grate. You wished you could sit beside him.

Your uncle trod along beside you, blithely ignorant to any of your personal quandaries. He bullishly pushed the cart forward, ignoring its groans of protest. His stone-grey eyes were trained ahead, never wandering from their final destination.

“Uncle,” you asked quietly.

“Yes dear?” your uncle replied with a curious lilt to his tone.

“Do you think that The Axe is a bad man?”

Your uncle hummed slowly. He adjusted his grip on the wooden handles of the cart as sweat bloomed up on his rosey forehead. He took a moment to stop and wipe his hairy forearm over his face, then shook himself clear and picked up the handles again.

As he began to push the cart again, he said, “I think he comes from a cursed line.”

“But is he cursed?” you asked.

Your uncle chuffed, “Oh he’s cursed alright. Cursed by a little girl.”

You screwed your brows tightly together, “Cursed by a little girl?”

Your uncle nodded solemnly.

“Cursed by a little girl,” he confirmed, “I heard it happened when he was sixteen, right after his father went out into the woods and offed himself. I can’t remember the details, but the basic idea of the story is that an execution went south and the man’s daughter cursed The Axe. What the curse is? I don’t know, and don’t you go and listen to anyone who says they do. Nobody does,” your uncle gave an affirmative nod, “but he’s cursed for sure. He sees the witch, the apothecary and Father Kim to treat whatever it is, but I’m betting that as long as that hood’s on his face, he’s a marked man.”

You shivered at the thought.

“I’m sad to hear it,” you said quietly.

“Well, that’s life when you’re a killer-for-hire,” your uncle chuffed, “you need to be prepared for those sorts of things. And,” he paused briefly to glance at you, “if you really wanted to get close to a man like that, you’d have to be ready for those sorts of curses being turned on you.”

You glanced away from the cart to look at more of the tangleweed fencing.

“I know,” you admitted, “but… I can’t help it.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” your uncle sighed, “I know I can’t stop you. If I were a nobleman, maybe I could marry you off to some prince from another land. As it is,” your uncle shrugged, “all I can do is warn you. I’d tell you to stop, but I’m not your father, am I?”

You grimaced, “No, but you’re a better father than mine.”

“You’re speaking of my brother-in-law, you know,” your uncle huffed, “but,” he adjusted his grip, “you’re right. My sister’s husband wasn’t exactly the best sort of man. I always thought he was a bit immature, but what he did when your mom died? I still can’t fathom it.”

You nodded and admitted, “I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like if he stayed.”

“You’d be a farmer’s daughter,” your uncle said, “so if you prefer the fields to the ovens, maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed.”

“I like the ovens well enough,” you chuckled, “I’d rather Auntie in my ear than getting my legs cut off by a scythe.”

“You heard old Martin got it good last turning-time, did you?” your uncles winced.

“Old Hutch told me it was a nasty wound,” you nodded, “he had to send him to The Axe for further treatment.”

“At least with The Axe around he can mend some of the worst wounds we get,” your uncle mused before a scowl dawned his face, “mind you, he only knows to heal as many wounds as he gives out.”

The thought of The Axe’s words from your last visit rang through your ears.

“I don’t think he likes hurting anyone though,” you said.

Your uncle shrugged, “Doesn’t matter if he likes it or not, he’s a torturer and an executioner by trade. That’s enough for me to make up my mind.”

“But can he really be anything else?” you asked as you stepped around a particularly large stone.

Your uncle shook his head, “As I said, he comes from a cursed line. His blood is tainted by generation on generation of curse. I’d be surprised if he can even sow another line if he tried with you.”

“Don’t be so crass,” you huffed.

“What?” your uncle chuckled, “it’s not like he’s got much to give any son of his. An old axe and a sorry story? I don’t think I’d want to be born to that, if you ask me.

“And anyways, would you want to give birth to any son of his?” your uncle asked you.

You thought for a moment. The thought of being a mother was always there; it was expected of you since birth. You were raised to be a mother much like any other young girl in the village. You were given dolls to care for and stories to lull your newborn to bed before you’d reached your third cycle. Being a mother and a homesteader was just what being a woman in the village meant. That was life. You’d never really paid too much thought to it. If anything, you didn’t even know if you’d ever take a husband. Sure, one day it would happen, but you never put much thought into it. Already most girls your age were married off with a troop of children around their hips. You were a bit of an outlier by now. But, the thought of having a husband and child comforted you at the very least. One day, soon enough, it would happen.

But you hadn’t thought of having children with The Axe. By the spirit realms, you hardly even knew what his face looked like! For all you knew, he was the ugliest man you’d ever lay your eyes on in your life. He could have a rotting face, for all you knew. And yet… The thought of a child with him didn’t sound half bad. It was a thought you’d have to play around with more after you’d gotten to know him better.

“You’re thinking of it now, aren’t you?” your uncle groaned, “by Halax, I shouldn’t have even said his name. I shouldn’t be talking about him with you at all!”

You rolled your eyes at that, “Well, you want to warn me, don’t you?”

“I’ve warned you plenty!” your uncle scoffed, “I keep telling you he’s bad news but you won’t have any of it!”

“I’m having some of it,” you retorted, “just not all of it.”

“Well go on and have some more because I’ve got plenty to give!” your uncle shook his head, “I mean, look, I can’t change your mind. Go and talk to Father Kim if you’re really interested in that man. Father Kim seems to know him best, at least. And if a holy man thinks that it’s a good idea, who am I to judge?”

“So you give me your blessing?” you asked hopefully.

Your uncle sighed, “Not now.”

“But maybe soon?” you prodded.

“Maybe,” your uncle conceded, “but not anytime soon. I still don’t even know the man.”

“But haven’t you given him his rations for years?” you asked quizzically.

“I have,” your uncle explained, “but he isn’t much of a talker. He’s a bit spooky, actually. He’s so quiet I might think he was a louse.”

Your thoughts drifted to when you ate sweet buns together in the forest again.

“I think he just needs some encouragement to talk,” you offered.

“You’ve chatted to him plenty, have you?” your uncle grumbled.

You flushed, “I’ve spoken to him in passing.”

“In passing,” your uncle drawled.

“In passing!” you bristled up.

“Calm yourself, you prickly little poke bear,” your uncle laughed, “you’re acting like a schoolgirl here!”

“I am not!” you huffed.

“You keep telling yourself that,” your uncle smiled knowingly, “you’re only digging a deeper hole for here.”

“I-” you cut yourself off, “I don’t need to hear any of this. I’m better than this.”

“Are you now?” your uncle cackled, “look, your father isn’t here. Somebody has to act the part while he’s gone.”

“And that person has to be you?” you grumbled.

Your uncle gestured to the wide open fields around you, “Who else do you see?”

You bit your tongue harshly. He had you there.

Your uncle laughed as he carted the wagon along the trail, happily poking fun at your ‘schoolgirl crush’ and your youth as he made his way along the old road. You, for your part, flushed up to your poor mortified ears and stayed that way for the rest of the journey. Your uncle took endless delight as he moved the cart along. With a sigh, you accepted fate and walked behind your uncle.

Your uncle only calmed his laughter once you broke through the forest. The cart caught on tangled weeds as you travelled down the lonesome road to the old hanging stone. The trees were thick enough to cast a haunting shade over the two of you. In woods like these, a highwayman could be hidden behind any tree. Suddenly, you were terribly glad to have your teasing uncle by your side. Even if he was an older man, he still had a good bread knife tied to his belt. You had your own little dagger, but your uncle was a seasoned man with a quick draw. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than giving in to whatever the highwaymen demanded.

Your uncle huffed and puffed as he pushed the wagon along the overgrown road. You only knew to follow the path because the trees had been artificially cleared generations before you, leaving a winding trail that snaked erratically through the woods. Evidently, the wood cutters had only cut through the easiest trees, unable to move the monoliths that stood along the edges of the waxing and waning road. In some parts, the wagon only just barely squeezed through the gaps in the trees. You wondered how any of the large carriages were able to make their way through the trees when they already pressed down on you, crushing you like insects under their wild thumb.

Ferns and flowers peeked from behind the old woods to wave in the passing wind. You watched Brak-Hah’s-Eye blink in and out above between the tall pines as you walked along. As you drew further and further into the woods, you felt the chill of shadows creeping up along the back of your neck.

You were blinded when you broke into the bright opening of the Criahlin’s stone. The black slate shone, polished of blood and grime to prepare for the coming day. Around the edge of the circle, stalls had been set up to welcome in any visitor in need of a sweetlin or a swintlin. Someone had set up a stall to shine shoes, another gave out bags of grain for cart beetles. You couldn’t help but be amazed by how so many were able to come and capitalize on the death of a criminal.

Already, a group of townsfolk had gathered around a large loch tree on the far edge of the clearing. Beside it, a long ladder had been placed, leading up to a long twineweed rope. You followed the rope up, up and up to a thick and heavy tree bough. It looked as thick as a man, but it had been cut off after a couple of lengths to prevent the tree from covering up the entire clearing. You had to wonder how often someone had to go up and trim it back to keep it from taking up the whole space.

By the bottom of the tree, Judge Holten sat on one of the large roots that jutted up from the loamy earth. Beside him, Father Kim looked out over the crowd, lips pressed into a thin line. His dark eyes darted side to side as he took in the familiar faces of his congregation. You wondered what he thought of you all.

In the stall nearest to you, you could see Nikto sitting and watching the crowd with an amused look in his eyes. By his side, bottles of eggs, vegetables and even meats were put on display with delicate care. He glanced over your way and waved at you and your uncle.

“Ah, friends!” he called out, “come take the stall beside me!”

Your uncle waved back and brought the cart as close as he could. When he stopped the cart by Nikto’s stall, the old northern man rose to his feet to help you and your uncle set up your display.

You worked quickly with the extra set of hands. A few times Nikto stopped to help your uncle set up his display in a more appealing way. You laughed at the sight, but thanked him nonetheless. Halax knew that your uncle needed the help.

“No no no,” Nikto grumbled as he took the spider buns from your uncle, “put these on the middle shelf. They’re cute and sweet, so people will see them better if you put them there. And put the smallest buns on top! Trust me on this, old man.”

Your uncle followed the other man’s words, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But who were you to argue with Nikto? All his displays were immaculate. Even the products themselves were made so perfectly that you couldn’t stop salivating at the sight of them.

“How do you know how to make everything look so nice?” you wondered as you followed his guidance.

“Secret tips from my mother back home,” Nikto’s eyes crinkled behind his wooden mask, “mother always knows best, you know?”

You faltered briefly before flashing a wide smile, “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Nikto shook his head, “Mothers never leave their children, Criah doesn’t work that way. We always have our families with us.”

You smiled softly, “You think so?”

Nikto laughed heartily, “I know so! Mother never left. She’s always here,” Nikto thumped his chest before he leaned in conspiratorially, “and that’s how I know your uncle can’t set up a stall to save his life!”

You groaned but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Nikto was an odd man, but at least he was always a fun person to share company with. You shook your head and turned back to your stall.

“Well, it looks like we’re about ready to start selling,” you said as you admired the hard work.

“Can you manage the till?” your uncle asked.

“Are you offering to do the calling?” you replied.

Your uncle nodded and pointed over to the other stalls, “It looks like we don’t have much competition today.”

You glanced over at Nikto.

“My goods are meant to be brought home,” he shrugged, “not eaten here. Yours are better for the show.”

Right, the show. That was certainly one way of putting it.

“I can handle the crowds,” you told your uncle.

“Right then,” your uncle nodded, “I’ll head out and get to hawking.”

You watched your uncle walk out in the crowd, puff up his chest and call out in a big, booming voice. On que, a few customers eagerly turned and looked around before finding your stall and rushing forth. You didn’t understand how anybody was able to eat during these events, but evidently you were the odd one out.

Before long the line had formed and you were up on your feet exchanging coins for sweet and savoury buns. To your delight, a few customers immediately left your line to go over to Nikto’s stall to pick up some jars of his pickled goods. Nikto was never quite as popular, but having the top-selling stall beside him evidently did something for his numbers. A part of you wondered if he’d thought about this when inviting you over, but another part couldn’t care less. You were shopkeepers just the same as he was; you had to do whatever it took to make a good living in a small town. 

As the townsfolk came and left your stall, you did your best to focus on them rather than on the absence of the most prominent figure at the event. Wherever you looked, The Axe was notably absent. Of course you already knew where he was. He was probably bringing the poor victim to the gallows at that very moment. You knew the ritual well enough by now.

The executioner would go to the prison and then pick out the culprit. Then, the culprit would be carted to the outskirts of the forest, at which point The Axe and his victim would be dropped off and The Axe’s assistant would drive the cart back to the Axe’s home. Then, the Axe and his assistant would both make their way to the hanging site. Of course, the assistant would arrive first, and then the Axe would come through the clearing. Then, once they’d both arrived, the event would begin. That’s how it always was, it was how it always would be. A part of you wondered if there was another way. The thought of letting a murderer go free seemed unthinkable, but did they have to die themselves? You didn’t know. Somebody with more time on their hands might have been able to think over the problem more thoroughly, but as it was you only felt opposed to the executions, but weren’t able to think of any other good solution.

You watched the crowds slowly grow in number as they bumbled around your stall. The bread and buns were flying off the shelves at this point. Muffins were devoured before your very eyes. The throng of people was generating an electric buzz in the air, crackling with the winds through the trees. Judge Holten looked out over the crowd with a disdainful eye, Father Kim behind him with a more sympathetic expression. Even from here, you could see him shivering in the cool air. With how his hands had withered away, you figured they were probably more sensitive than ever.

Whispers rippled through the crowds. As with any gathering, you heard stories from all around the village. Some talked about the local drunk’s latest antics at the tavern. Another rumour was about what an old woman was doing with her pets in the shed out back. Someone mentioned that the butcher was getting a bit steep with his prices. Another said the nuns were getting frustrated with the lack of provisions provided to the church as of late. All these stories curled around the air with a whimsical twirl. The stories ranged from the banal to the completely bizarre in nature. The ones about the old woman and her pets stood out as a particularly egregious one.

You chuckled at the latest tidbit of gossip being thrown your way. You waved the man off with a big toothy grin and turned to help the next customer. To your surprise, it was none other than Salvatrice.

“Salv!” you beamed as you packed her usual order, “I didn’t think you were back yet!”

Salv played with an arrowhead between her fingers as she said, “Well, the raptor was pretty easy to track. It was too big to hide from me for long.”

“So, a successful hunt?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Salv nodded, “a good hunt.”

“Great! So you’ll be selling it soon?” you queried.

“Once Tor breaks it down,” Salv frowned, “but he’s getting pricey these days.”

“So I heard,” you mentioned as you served a different customer.

“He’s asking for nearly a quarter of my wage now,” Salv grumbled, “I can’t keep up with that! Hunters don’t make that much, you know?”

“You’ve let me know a few times before,” you replied easily.

“Now he’s going around asking for a hundred stones. I can’t afford that! Nobody can!” Salv clenched her fist around the arrowhead.

“I’m sure the prices will go down,” you assured her, “Tor can’t keep charging those sorts of prices for long. The people in this village just can’t afford that.”

“Maybe, or maybe they’ll keep paying them because there’s nobody else,” Salv clenched her jaw tight.

“Well, I hope not,” you scrunched up your face, “I don’t want to think what people would do. The last cycle was bad enough as is.”

“I think it’s because of the last cycle that he’s charging these prices,” Salv shook her head, “he realised he can get away with it.”

“But those were desperate times,” you pointed out.

“And all the businesses took advantage of how vulnerable we all were,” Salv leveled a glare at you, “they learned from our weakness.”

You shook your head free of her thoughts, “No, I’m sure there’s a good reason. Tor isn’t a bad man. He’s not like that.”

“You say that,” Salv spat bitterly, “but I’m not so sure. I think he’s a blorgron.”

You glared at the dark haired hunter fiercely, “Don’t say that! We’re all just trying to recover after the flooding and droughts.”

“At the expense of the people!” Salv retorted.

You cringed and held up your hands meekly, “I don’t know. It’s not my place to say.”

Salv stared you down with coal-black eyes. Hot burning coals burned through your clothes to your very soul. Hatred, fury, injustice, it all flickered through her eyes before she settled on one final emotion: defeat.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she sighed, “you’re a vendor just like Tor. But,” she gave you a resigned half-smile, “you keep your prices affordable at least.”

“We try to,” you handed out another loaf of bread, “Uncle always wants to raise them up, but Auntie won’t let him.”

“She’s a damn good woman then,” Salv determined.

“She’s sometimes a good woman,” you grumbled, “she’s a slave driver if you ask me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you,” Salv gruntled.

“I suppose so,” you said. You turned to say more to her when the crowd broke out into a roar.

Salv smirked as she took a bite of the beetle meat bun, “Looks like the show’s started.” 

Salv slunk into the obscurity of the crowd as you peered over the edge of your stall. You couldn’t help but stare as The Axe came into view, easily a head and shoulders above everyone else at the clearing. His hood fluttered around his clavicle with the wind as he strode forth. He looked around the clearing with blank eyes before they fell upon you. Immediately, they lit up with bright recognition, and just as they did, the light went out and he was back to the blank mask of before. You were the only person in the entire crowd to notice how he stumbled slightly when he moved past you to the Criahlin’s stone.

Once they got to the stage, the prisoner was finally revealed to you. A wiry man with a thin, pinched face. His eyes burned dark with a silent rage, furious and clawing inside him like a ravenous beast.

Judge Holten watched The Axe guide the man to the center of the stone, then down into a kneeling position. You winced sympathetically.

“Karl Hoffman,” Judge Holten pulled out his thick book of laws and perched it on his bulging stomach, “thirty-eight cycles, father of eight cycle Klara Hoffman and ten cycle Mathilde Hoffman. Husband of thirty–two cycle Martha Hoffman. Employed as a fishmonger, but was found out to have joined the Raptor’s Claws to steal a living as a highwayman.

“Karl Hoffman is accused of three charges of manslaughter, the assault and battery of two different women, battery of six different men, and accused of stealing over twenty thousand faces. For these charges he has been sentenced to death by choking,” Judge Holten smirked as he shut his book and tucked it under his corpulent arm and turned to face Karl, “you are a damned man, but I will be giving you one last chance at redemption. Do you take Halax as your lord above, in this life and beyond, forevermore?”

Karl turned his thin neck to glare down at Father Kim. You watched as Father Kim stood tall against the withering stare, unmoving in the face of evil. Karl pulled his head back, then spat directly into the priest’s face.

Karl turned back to look at Judge Holten’s reddening face and gave him a twisted grin with a mouth full of crooked teeth, “No sir, I don’t think I do.”

His whispering voice sent chills up your spine. The display itself was unthinkable. How anyone could revoke the name of Halax, especially in their dying moments, was beyond you. You stared, gobsmacked as Judge Holten awkwardly shifted his robes over his protruding belly and waddled side to side. Judge Holten glanced over to Father Kim, who had carefully used his coarse brown robe to wipe his face clean, marring the markings he’d painted onto his face that morning.

You glanced between the men as Judge Holten looked to Father Kim, he himself shaken by the flagrant display of utter disinterest in any form of honor or redemption for himself or his family. You trembled slightly as you waited for anything to happen.

Father Kim stepped forward and presented a bowl of black ink to Karl. The man tried to move out of the way, but The Axe clamped onto the back of his neck and kneeled into his legs. Father Kim gave the executioner a long, thankful look and then went on with his work. He gently placed his forefingers into the ink, then gently pressed them onto the man’s forehead. With a shudder of his shoulders, he painted a large eye on his forehead, then two slashes crossed over it. Father Kim rose back to his feet and steeped back with a mournful shake of his head. The Axe stepped back to hover by his side.

You watched as Judge Holten turned back to the crowd with a shaky breath. He looked up, his watery red-rimmed eyes glanced around before finally settling back on the crowd.

“Karl Hoffman has declared to the court that he does not wish to be reunited with Halax in the next realm. As such, he is declared lost, and Martha, Mathilde and Klara Hoffman are hereby stripped of their citizenship and declared lost as well,” even the horrible Judge Holten trembled like a leaf before he straightened up and turned to the hooded man by the back of the stage, “my Axe, if you’d please.”

The Axe stepped forward from the back of the stage to take the back of Karl Hoffman’s neck into his hand. He screamed bloody murder and thrashed against the giant man’s grip, kicking and spitting like a wild animal. The Axe tried desperately to give him one last chance of dignity by letting him walk up the ladder himself, but Karl immediately tried to dart into the woods. Within a couple of steps, The Axe had his hand back on the back of his neck and gripped it tight as he dragged the man back to the ladder. With one hand on the ladder and one on his victim’s neck, The Axe slowly crawled up the ladder while Karl dangled limply at his side. He tried to kick the ladder over but Father Kim was quick to stabilize the two. Karl screamed until his voice broke when The Axe rose to the top and finally looped a noose around Karl’s neck. With nothing left to do, The Axe slowly lowered Karl and left him to suffocate.

Karl kicked and gripped at the noose around his neck, lifting himself just barely to scream profanities at the gathered crowd. He spluttered and spat before he turned to his wife and cursed her and his children like nothing you’d ever heard before. Meanwhile, his wife watched him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Her rudy hair waved in the coming breeze as she watched her husband use his last moments not to declare his love to her, not to apologise for his actions, but to spew hatred the likes of which nobody there had ever seen. Even from here you could see her struggle to keep her wailing children at her side. Their littlest daughter stared up at her father with big black eyes, so much like her father’s but filled with sadness and love instead of hatred and fire. You could only imagine her asking her mother what it meant to be lost, what it meant now that their father was gone.

Karl Hoffman continued to kick and spit, but his grip grew weak and he slowly slumped into the noose. At that point, you turned away and focussed on packing up the rest of the bread. Some things were better left unseen.

Glossary

1. Halaxwake: The first day of the week/God-Watch

2. Poppernickens: A species of flower characterized by tiny five-petal flowers that grow in bunches along a tall stalk. Large round leaves shoot out along the bottoms of the stalks. The flower seeds can be ground to get a floral spice used in cooking. Leaves can be used as salves for burns.

3. Twineweed: A long vine once considered a pest plant, but is now used to weave fence posts together to create natural fences. The large white flowers are toxic to most animals, but the pollen has a pleasant smell that some people use as perfume.

4. Wink: An alcoholic beverage made from fermented fruits. Farmers often collect any fruit that spoils or grows poorly and use it to make wink for the end of the year. Each batch has its own individual taste. Usually, years with plenty of rain make the best wink.

5.  Vigil: A minute in their time, a bit over a minute in our time. Used as an expression for a short amount of time.

6. Elves: A warlike species known for being the best hunter/warriors on the continent. Their brutal culture is widely feared by others. Many believe that if elves were more intelligent, they would have organised to take over the continent and wipe out all other species. As it is, they are known for their brawn more than their brain, and thankfully they are too curious and entertained by other cultures to attempt genocide. They find all other species weak, but amusing enough to take as slaves for their own entertainment.

7.  Brak-Hah’s-Eye: The sun, the center of their solar system

8.  Corpse Flowers: A group of species of flowers that grow near decay. They are often seen as cursed flowers, and use of them is heavily prohibited by most laws. However, they are known to be excellent pain killers and excellent disinfectants. Have a notably bitter, sour taste. Look somewhat like snowbells or lady’s slippers.

9.  Turning-Time: Season

10.  Poke Bear: A tiny species of bear covered in spines. The animal will occasionally roll into a ball and charge downhill at its prey. Other times, it uses its long spined tail to defend against larger predators.

11.  Sweetlin: A round, sweet fruit, much like an apple but larger and more filling.

12.  Swintlin: A very sour fruit covered in a thick, black skin. Very citrusy and used in both sweet and savoury cooking and baking.

13.  Loch Tree: A type of coniferous tree that grows in the northern Mormonian forests. Grows to eighteen meters in height with long branches spiralling around to form a canopy below. The pine needles are hard, and often used as sewing needles to make clothes. The sap can be used for glue. The wood is notably difficult to work with because it is so hard, and it has a strong smell that lingers for years to come. Makes poor firewood because the sap forms large pockets in the wood, and when heated up explodes.

14.  Stone: Slang for a face. A face can be broken into one hundred fragments, which refers to cents. Every face is composed of one hundred fragments. Slang for a face is a stone, slang for a fragment is a pebble. Used as currency.

15.  Blorgron: A large, fat and unintelligent lizard with a broad head and a stumpy jaw. Equivalent to a pig, but a simple herd animal. Known for being simple minded and territorial over food. Often considered to be symbols of gluttony.

16.  Declared Lost: When an individual is legally declared lost, they lose their rights as a citizen in their nation. They are considered lost from the light of any god, and as such are considered lesser citizens. They cannot vote, cannot marry nor divorce, cannot receive medical treatment or any form of charity from the community. Many fall into complete poverty as others refuse to be associated in any way, lest they be dragged down with the lost ones. To be declared lost is the greatest social punishment a court can give out. Many will leave to go into exile because of the shame of being lost.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Full Fic on KoFi Here

[damnfandomproblems]

https://www.tumblr.com/damnfandomproblems/768147269164892160/fandom-problem-6500-im-trans-its-fine-if-i?source=share

Ways to fight for Trans Rights:

❌ Reporting a hate crime. Holding actual transphobic people responsible. Warning others of potentially violent people in their area.

✅ Guilting an ACTUAL trans person from playing a video game by an author who already made bank on the series.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

Since this generated several responses, I'm going to include a compilation below.

Anon:

I hope y'all know not everyone is aware of all... that. Some buy the game cause they like the universe but dont follow all that is happening on social media. Some of them are not british/english speaking prople and just... don't know. You can either try to, politely, make them aware of what is happening, but if they already purchased it, no need to be agressive. I do not condone jkr, i do not play/entertain anything related to her anymore; but i still have my scarf or books or movies. Does that make me a bad person? Lets take a seat back from HP I am able to understand what is problematic in media/art; i enjoy HOTD and GOT, am i a bad person because i like the serie despite how problematic it is? No. If you refuse to talk to people buying anything HP related, then block them. Don't call someone a bad person without knowing them. Your opinion means nothing.

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Anon:

1. You can enjoy a piece of media without agreeing with the author/artist/developer etc. 2. Way to make Trans people seem like a hive mind. "You can't play this game, even if your trans. Virtue signaler." How about let people play the media they decide to play and decide for themselves it's controversial or not. Like, do you expect people to just follow your cause blindly? 3. THERE IS A TRANS CHARACTER IN THE GAME.

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Anon:

I get this may have been submitted prior to the Oct 7th attacks, and the dramatic rise in antisemitic attacks everywhere, so I won't go off like I wanted to. But to just get to my point, as a Jew, we kinda have bigger problems right now. I'm barely concerned with HP fans.

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Anon:

Here we go with the reading comprehension again. At least one person is the comments is going on about "buying" the game when OP never specified buying it. They just said "playing" the game. Huge difference. One monetarily supports the creators and such, the other doesn't.

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Anon:

This is WILD. The op makes a dozen assumptions, none of which may even be true. For starters the "you are not immune to propaganda" thing might be true in a sense, however OP is using it to imply people are all but guaranteed to fall for propaganda in media. And we all know that isn't true. A person who reads Hitler's shitty book (Mein Kampf) is not going to close it being a step closer to a Nazi sympathizer if they have basic information dissemination skills. A person who goes looking on Kiwifarms for information is not going to be radicalized if they have proper information dissemination skills. So OP is really telling on themselves here and saying the quiet part out loud: they have little or no ability to engage with questionable media without fearing they'll get affected by it in a negative way. They can't go plumbing like that. And they're saying others can't either, which just shows bad perspective. Their quote says the person was talking about playing a game. Playing it. The implications that come with "playing" a game are as follows: the person played it. That's it. If OP can't exercise one brain cell to understand that while yes, people have bought the game, playing it could easily mean they got it from a library or downloaded it illegally via torrent, that's on them. "You're a bad person" is beyond comedic given the above. Dare I say even if someone does buy the game, which I'm wholeheartedly against, saying someone is a "bad person" is still insane. Anyways, OP is basing practically their entire complaint on the premise of someone buying a game when that wasn't even what the quote says. Boo. Do not pass go.

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Anon:

Nooo, we're not bringing Scottish independence into your crusade against people who play a video game, leave my family out of this you keyboard warrior weirdo.