#i feel like i haven't been doing much art lately i've been on too much of a writing kick lately so hopefully yall have been enjoying my

[benevolenterrancy]

My art summary for this year! One standout piece for each month... so it was a little maddening when I had one month with a bunch of good pieces and then a few months (october...) where I did almost nothing

And a tally of the fandoms I drew for:

Hogan's Heroes, somehow, is still in the lead of my most prolific fandom! Given how deep I've been into the MXTX novels lately I thought it would have been overthrown, but nope, Hogan's Heroes still wins first in my heart this year apparently!

The other fandoms I drew at least a couple pieces of art for this year were Torchwood, MDZS, TGCF, MASH, Doctor Who, Rat Patrol, Sherlock Holmes, Cybersix, Les Mis, bandes desinées as a collective unit, A Marvellous Light, and Xena. The numbers for people who are interested

and fandoms I only drew a single piece or doodled for were: Banjo-Kazooie, Between the Lions, Detective Conan, Dr Domino, Dimwood Forest, Dragon Age, Firekeeper, Good Omens, Helluva Boss, Hitchhiker's Guide, Leisure Suit Larry, Lupin III, Miss Fisher, Ninjago, One Piece, Once Upon A Time, Penumbra, Pippi Longstocking, Planet of the Apes, Pretty Woman, RWBY, Spy x Family, Transformers, and When the Angels Left The Old Country!

...I do nothing if not dabble, apparently. That dashboard osmosis game certainly gave me a chance to draw for a lot of interesting things

[aberooski]

I love my gx winx au and I love that it's just bits and pieces of me being like oh that's fun and not having any semblance of lore or plot. It's purely contained to the character designs I've drawn for the girls.

[fairymosh]

omg

[alymccart]

[Click image > right click > "open image in new tab" for higher res]

Alright, uh. Screw it. Let's dust off this account. I was embarrassed about even drawing this, and especially about sharing it publicly, but I'm slapping it up here. Why not. Been extremely burnt out lately, doing art professionally has pretty much killed my desire to do art for the sake of enjoying it (sorry, fans of my dead comic). Mental health has been shoddy. Actual health is eh, as well. I've been too busy to really think and have been so guilty about there being so much stuff to do in my life still that I haven't really afforded myself time to relax or unwind. My enthusiasm for anything has been in the dumps for years. I don't think I've drawn more than a handful of fanart pieces in over a decade (what you see on here is pretty much it), and I've certainly never drawn something like... this. Obviously, I watched Hazbin finally (didn't even realize the show was an actual thing now, though I did love the pilot eons ago; I don't tend to traverse into fandom discussion and discourse so I've been out of the loop). I'm actually nearing double-digit rewatches... and the OST has been on repeat for weeks. Well animated, beautifully written adult cartoons? I'm here for it. Musicals? Oh yeeahhhhh! A well animated, beautifully written adult cartoon that is also a musical??? *teakettle noises*

I'm ace as hell, but wholesome, loving, devoted relationships like this in fiction seem to hit me right at my core. I also cry at heartwarming videos and movies, but that's beside the point... I just... hrrrnnnnggg... Charlie and Vaggie's relationship has SENT ME. It has an iron grip on my soul and I cannot stop it. I feel like i'm 14 years old again. I want to write fanfiction. Is it 2004?? Where am I????? What the fffffasdfasfagghfgfjhdd????????!!!! Aannnyyyyywayyyy.... This art gave me stomach butterflies the entire time I worked on it, as well as an immense amount of joy, and I really hope this can maybe do that for others. And I still have... so many ideas........ so many....

[cece693]

Olá, você está aberto a pedidos? Se sim, posso solicitar uma história de Ethan Landry (Scream VI) com um leitor masculino.

Poderia ter algo com Ethan Landry obcecado pelo leitor tipo Joe de you aí o leitor descobre e o Ethan sequestra ele igual o Joe faz com back

You Belong To Me (Ethan Landry x M! Reader)

Thanks for the request. As I've stated before, I haven't watched any of the new Scream movies, so some of the information might not be accurate. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Ethan is obsessed with you. So when you manage to discover he's the masked killer, Ethan sees no other choice than to kidnap you.

You didn't consider Ethan Landry a friend. More like an acquaintance. He wasn’t the kind of guy to stand out in a crowd—shy, awkward, the kind of person who stayed at the edge of conversations, almost too easy to overlook. You’d barely exchanged a word with him beyond the occasional nod in class. To you, he was just another face in the sea of college students.

But to Ethan, you were everything.

It started as a creeping suspicion that something wasn’t right. The killings had started months ago—violent, gruesome, and seemingly random. Students whispered about the Ghostface killer, the terror gripping the campus. Some people thought the attacks were personal, while others believed it was all just chaos without purpose.

You didn’t give it much thought at first. That was until weird things started happening around you. Little things, things that felt off. Your stuff went missing—a hoodie here, a notebook there. You’d see someone out of the corner of your eye, just a shadow, but every time you turned around, no one was there. You’d get the feeling that someone was watching, even when you were alone.

And then you found the messages.

A dozen missed calls from an unknown number, voicemails that were just the sound of breathing. Texts that said strange things: “You’re so handsome when you think no one’s watching.” Another: “They don’t deserve you, but I do.” It made your skin crawl. You thought it was some kind of prank—until the bodies started piling up.

People you knew. A guy from your dorm. A girl you’d once gone on a date with. And it hit you—every person who’d been killed had some connection to you. Not close connections, but they were enough to put you on edge. Someone was targeting people around you. Someone was getting closer.

You started paying attention to the people in your life, trying to figure out who could be behind it. That’s when you noticed Ethan—awkward, clumsy Ethan—showing up a little too often. Sitting just a little too close in class. Staring just a little too long from across the cafeteria.

One night, unable to shake the gnawing feeling in your gut, you decided to follow him.

You never expected it to be so easy. Ethan had no idea you were tailing him, walking a few steps behind as he slipped into the old theater building. You ducked behind pillars and crept through hallways, your heart racing. Why would Ethan be here this late?

Then you saw him. Ethan, standing in the center of the empty backstage area, staring down at the iconic white mask in his hands—Ghostface. Your stomach dropped.

Ethan exhaled slowly, like holding the mask was some kind of religious experience. His fingers traced the edges reverently, like it was a piece of art he adored. “It was you…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. But it was loud enough.

Ethan’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the mask slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. “Y/N…” he whispered your name like a prayer. His surprise melted into something far more dangerous—excitement. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You turned to run, but you didn’t get far. Ethan was fast—faster than you ever thought possible. He tackled you from behind, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. You hit the ground hard, the air forced from your lungs. “Shhh,” Ethan whispered in your ear, pressing you down. "Don't fight. You don’t understand. This is a good thing. It’s what’s meant to be.”

You struggled, clawing at the floor, but Ethan was relentless. He pressed something cold and sharp against your throat—a knife.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Y/N.” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. “I don’t want to hurt you. I love you.” Those words froze you in place, every muscle in your body locking up. This wasn’t love. This was madness. Feeling blood trailing down the left side of your face, you felt Ethan's hand going to your head before darkness consumed you.

When you woke, your wrists were bound with rope, and the rough bite of duct tape was pressed over your mouth. The dim light above buzzed faintly, casting shadows across the basement. It reeked of dust, old wood, and something metallic—blood.

Ethan sat across from you on an old couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was waiting for you to wake up. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile—a wide, boyish grin, as if the two of you were old friends and stood up. “You’re awake!” he said brightly. “I was getting worried. You hit your head pretty hard.”

You tried to scream against the tape, thrashing against the ropes. “You're scared,” he said, almost as if he were hurt by it. He crouched down beside you, his eyes searching your face. “But you don’t have to be. I’d never hurt you, Y/N.” He reached out to touch your cheek, and you flinched, your skin recoiling from the feel of his hand. “Everything I’ve done…I did for us,” he whispered, his voice carrying a note of desperation. “Can’t you see that?”

You glared at him, fury rising despite the terror that coursed through you. The tape over your mouth prevented you from speaking, but your eyes screamed the truth—This isn’t love.

He seemed to sense your defiance because the calm in his expression cracked, and for a moment, you saw the darkness beneath the mask of his boyish charm. “You don’t believe me,” he said, almost accusingly, his eyes narrowing as if you were the one who had wronged him.

“You don’t understand,” Ethan hissed, beginning to pace. “Nobody understands.” His voice grew sharper, each word edged with frustration. “You’ve been surrounded by people who don’t even see you—people who don’t deserve you.” He stopped and smiled at you. “But I do. I see you, Y/N. I know who you really are.”

You shook your head, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill. You had to get through to him—had to find a way to reason with him, no matter how deranged he was. You made a muffled sound behind the tape, pleading with your eyes for him to remove it.

Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering over your face. He approached cautiously, like someone might approach a wounded animal. “You’re not going to scream, are you?” he asked, tilting his head. When you didn’t move, he reached for the tape and slowly peeled it off, the adhesive burning as it pulled away from your skin.

You drew in a shuddering breath. “This isn’t love, Ethan,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s obsession.”

He flinched as if you had struck him. “No…” His voice wavered, but the intensity in his eyes remained. “It’s not an obsession. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. You were different.” He spoke as though he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “I had to protect you. I had to make sure no one got in the way.”

“And what about all those people you killed?” you asked, your voice rising with desperation. “Were they just in the way?”

His expression hardened, his jaw clenching. “They weren’t important.” His tone was cold now, detached, as though he were speaking about objects instead of people. “Not like you.” He moved closer, his hand gripping your shoulder with an alarming intensity. “You’re special, Y/N. Don’t you see?”

“No, Ethan!” you snapped, your voice shaking. “I’m not special, and this isn’t some romantic story. You’re sick. You need help.”

The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His grip on your shoulder tightened painfully before he yanked his hand away, his face twisting with a mix of anger and hurt.

Ethan's eyes darted toward the clock, and his frown deepened, as if he was weighing his options or calculating something in his head. His gaze shifted back to you, and for a moment, there was an almost regretful look in his eyes—like he wished things could be different, as if he genuinely believed this was all for the best.

“Maybe you don’t understand now,” he said quietly, his voice softening into something that almost sounded like pity. “But you will…you’ll see.” He took a step closer, his hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your face. “I have some things I need to take care of,” he continued, his tone unsettlingly calm. “But I promise, I’ll be back soon.”

Before you could say another word, he grabbed the roll of duct tape from the table and ripped off a piece, pressing it back over your mouth, smoothing it down with the same gentle care as if he were tucking you in for bed. His gaze lingered on yours, dark eyes gleaming with devotion. Then, without warning, he tilted his head and leaned in—his lips brushing against the tape covering your mouth in a lingering kiss. It was soft and disturbingly intimate, like a lover’s farewell.

“There,” he whispered against the tape, his lips still inches from yours. “Perfect.” He pulled back slowly, savoring the moment as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I’ll be back soon, Y/N," Ethan promised, a twisted kind of love in his voice. "I’ll make sure no one comes between us ever again."

[gor3-hound]

GIVE ME LOVE // NAOYA ZENIN

ft. brother!naoya x sister!reader

a/n: art by @/sakurai_itachi on twitter/x !! another commission for my fave @nexysworld ♡ more naoya... i feel like i'm single handedly populating the naoya x reader tag atp 😭😭😭 as always, feedback and reblogs super appreciated !!

cw: 18+ content, brother/sister incest, breeding, misogyny, kinda dub-con but very barely, spit, kissing, p in v, creampie, biting, tinyyyy amount of blood, naoya has feelings that he doesn't know how to handle, cockwarming

word count: 1.9k words

Growing up in the Zen'in clan taught you one important lesson - women would always be seen as inferior to men. It did not matter how hard you worked to prove yourself to the Elders in the clan. You were a woman, and that was crime enough.

More than anyone, Naoya had every right to resent you. Your mere existence was an inconvenience to him, but more than that, your birth dishonoured him. He already had to fight harder than your brothers to climb to the top and become the head of the clan, but sharing a womb with a woman was unforgivable. He was constantly ridiculed for having a female twin, and in turn, you were treated as a stain on the Zen'in name for bringing shame to a Zen'in heir.

Despite everything, Naoya could not bring himself to hate you. You were nothing but a woman, a thing. But he could not see his own twin as such. You were close when the two of you were younger, but as the years went on, you grew more and more distant. Now, with both of you past the age of adulthood and his claim to the clan stronger than before, you've been completely avoiding him.

If anyone asked why he was so obsessed with your absence, he would lie and say that his ego would not allow a mere woman to disrespect him so heavily by thinking she could be the one to ignore him, but the truth of the matter was that he missed you. Dearly. The thought alone had him burning red with embarrassment. He was meant to be better than this, and yet he was letting his emotions get the better of him over a stupid girl.

He strolls to your room late at night when he's sure he won't be caught. He doesn't want to explain to any of the assholes in his clan that he was about to grovel to his sister because he missed her company. He'd never recover. In fact, Naoya would rather die on the spot than be caught being so soft around you.

Naoya takes a deep breath before he pushes open the door to your room, eyes falling on your form sitting at the edge of your bed, bent over a book. He runs a hand through his hair before rapping his knuckles against the open doorway to get your attention.

“Hey.” He murmurs, shifting awkwardly between his feet, clearing his throat when you look up at him. “I piss you off or something? No need to be a bitch about it. Can't do anything if you don't tell me.”

He inwardly cringes at his words. He doesn't know how to do this, but he was willing to apologise if he upset you. He shuts his eyes for a moment sighing before speaking up again. “You've been avoidin’ me. Don't let what the old bastard said at dinner the other night get to you. I know you're a woman, but you're still a Zen'in. No need to be so sensitive.”

“I haven't been avoiding you.” You say in response, brows knitting together. Both of you know it's a lie - you'd always been an awful liar. Naoya scoffs, raising a brow at you. “And it had nothing to do with father. I've gotten used to him over the course of over two decades being his daughter.”

“You are avoiding me.” He huffs, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. “Don't bullshit me. You're a fuckin’ awful liar.”

Your jaw tenses for a moment as you close your book, setting it on the bedside table. Your eyes flick up, meeting him as he sits at the head of your bed, leaning back against the pillows.

“Father has not bothered me.” You repeat, running a hand over your face. “But our eldest brother has spoken of marrying the girl he's seeing. You spend too much time with me. We aren't kids anymore. My presence isn't helping your reputation. If we were seen less together, you could have more luck producing and heir to solidify your claim to-”

He should hate you, really. You'd ruined his chances at the life he wanted - the life he deserved a chance at by birth. He wasn't used to this tightness in his chest. Why was he so upset by you acting as if you were the reason he was seen as lesser by the clan if it was the truth?

“Are you fuckin' kiddin’ me?” Naoya hisses, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “We both know my claim was practically non-existent the moment your gender was revealed at birth. Not spendin’ time together isn't gonna do shit.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes dropping to flicker over your body in a way that makes you tense. You can feel his gaze burning through you, a knot twisting your stomach. His expression darkens as he meets your eyes once more - he's made up his mind.

“You can fix this, y'know.” He murmurs, shifting closer to you in the bed. He chuckles as you back up, grin spreading across his face when you're pressed back against the headboard with nowhere to go. Naoya let's his head dip forward, nosing at the crook of your neck.

“So worried about my reputation. It isn't your place as a woman to worry about me.” He growls against your neck, continuing the trail of heated kisses along your skin, tongue darting out to taste you. He bites down before pulling back to meet your eyes. “If father needs an heir to legitimise me, we'll give him one.”

“Naoya, we can't. You're my brother-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth before he continues sucking marks along the length of your throat. “And? Our cousin did it, and he's on a vacation in Venice with his sister. As long as it's not a servant girl, our dear father doesn't give a shit.”

“You're nothing.” He hisses against your skin. To him, it isn't an insult. It's a mere fact. His breath is hot against the skin of your neck as he pulls back just enough to gaze at your body, hands moving to gently pull open your robes. “I can make you something. Give you some power in the clan. Just need you to go along with this, yeah?”

He kisses you to silence any protests that might bubble up, pushing the fabric away from your body as he works on undressing himself. He kisses you like he wants to possess you, teeth pulling at your lower lip, hands grasping your waist tight enough to bruise as soon as they're free. Naoya slips his tongue into your mouth with a groan, tasting you, claiming you. 

You break the kiss when you feel his fingers hook themselves in the waistband of your panties, eyes shooting open. “Naoya, wait-” 

“Shut up.” He hisses, but there's no real bite behind his words. He lines himself up with your entrance, chest rising and falling more rapidly than usual as he struggles to calm his breathing. “This is your duty. You ruined me. You can… you can fix this. You said you wished to help me solidify my claim, yeah? That's why you're avoidin’ me? This is how you can make up for all the years of ridicule I was subjected to.”

He presses forward slightly, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cock trying to break through the tight ring of muscle. You take a deep breath, waiting for movement that doesn't come. He's just staring at you - waiting for some kind of agreement, you realise. With a shaky breath, you push back against him, nails digging into his arms as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you until he's buried to the hilt.

Naoya knows you're a virgin - not only because you're his sister, and he knows you enough to know you wouldn't destroy your honour before marriage - but also because of how fucking tight you're squeezing around him. He's warring with his body, trying to bring himself to go slow, to ease you into it.

But he's selfish. Even when it comes to you. He can't stop himself. He fucks into you roughly, shushing you gently as you make soft, pained noises. He grunts words of praise under his breath - so tight, so good for me, doing so well. Anything he can think of to soothe you.

“Gonna stuff you so full… gonna have you dripping me for weeks.” He groans, bracing himself with his arms either side of your head, holding his weight up as he fucks into you harshly, each thrust making the bed frame creak. The sight of your lips parted makes him feel a little dizzy, the pleasured little gasps spilling from them making his cock twitch. Drool pools on his tongue as he leans over you, and he opens his mouth to let the spit trickle onto your own before he leans down to press his lips against yours. The movement of his hips grows sloppy as he licks into your mouth, tongue exploring you forcefully, like he's attempting to claim every inch of you.

He bites your lip when he pulls back, drawing blood. His gaze is hooded with lust as he fucks into you, tongue darting out to lick the blood clean off your lip. He grins as he straightens back up, his hands grasping your hips as he begins to fuck into you with slow, deep thrusts, grunting as your cunt clings to him every time he starts to pull back.

“Milkin’ me dry, huh? Clenchin’ around your own brother's cock, don't even want me to pull out…” He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, pulling you back against him. “Gonna cum… gonna fuckin’ cum, shit. Cum first, baby. Wanna feel that cunt grippin’ me before I fill you up.”

It doesn't take much more than that to have you seize up, body tensing as your release rushes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, drawing out your pleasure until he stills inside of you, choking out a moan as he shoots his load deep inside of you. He stays there for a moment, just taking in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His gaze flutters down to you, and he collapses on top of you with a sigh before flipping the both of you over so you're lying on top of him without pulling out. His arms snake around your waist, your head resting against him.

“Didn't take you for a cuddler.” You tease after a moment, practically going up.

“Shut up. Fuckin’ brat.” He huffs, a hand coming up to the back of your head to press your face into his neck. “S'not cuddlin’. I'm making sure it takes. Gotta keep you plugged, yeah?”

You both know that's not the whole truth, but you say nothing as you settle against him, shutting your eyes as you relax in his arms. You'd deal with whatever this leads to in the morning, but for now, you were content to fall asleep with your brother.

[moon-ttokki-x]

hiii i see you hav angst fics, do uu write character death? if u do then can i request a reader death one and how the members react to it? totally okay if you can’t lolz

ok so this is the angstiest thing i've ever written . . . proceed with caution bc it gets quite intense >< it was a nice release though, i haven't been feeling too over the moon lately, so it helped me a little <3 also blurry header for added angsty vibes . anyway here you go, love~

don't go, please - skz hyung!line x reader

pairing: ot8!skz hyung!line x reader

summary: skz hyung line reactions to when you d*e.

genre: so so heavy on the angst i cannot stress that enough, kind of dark, mentions of not eating, depression, anxiety, reader doesn't really exist in this fic, sad skz which hurt me to write, mentions of pushing people away, unhealthy obsessions, loss of passion and interests, just really heavy grief themes

a/n: you can't expect me to get a request like this and not write the angstiest, most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking shit anyone has ever read . . . anyway suffer . div by @carnage-cathedral

if this content makes you uncomfortable, please skip it . the last thing i want is to make people upset, so don't read this if it's triggering for you. proceed with caution and be safe, my loves <3

skz masterlist

Chan who goes silent when he hears the news. Doesn't talk, doesn't move, and then gets up and leaves, walking endlessly and aimlessly through the streets until the members have to physically stop him. Doesn't wail or cry, doesn't make a fuss. Becomes less affectionate with everyone around him because physical affection reminds him of you; your hugs and kisses and your hands playing with his. Loses his leader attitude, becomes quiet and introverted, and can't seem to find as much passion in being a leader for his team like he did before. Is wary around everyone he's ever known, pushes people away like he did when he was a trainee. Sits in his room most days; is hardly ever seen, and when he is, he's looking at a little polaroid photo of you, clutched between shaking fingers as he wishes for you to come back.

Minho who immediately shuts himself away, refusing to see or talk to anyone. Spends all day in his dorm room, just sitting and staring placidly at the wall. Relives every single moment you've ever shared and wishes endlessly that he could have spent more time with you. Doesn't feel like dancing much anymore, and any remnants of energy he might have had when you were still here is gone. Becomes bitter and angry, harsh towards his own members. Even loves his cats a little less; most of his memories with them are ones shared with you, and they're far too painful for him to relive. His emotions dry up like a dead, shriveled plant and disappear, his teasing personality evaporating with it.

Changbin who goes radio silent over the phone; hangs up immediately after and can be heard throwing up from distress in the staff bathroom. Is taken sick for a week due to the shock, and doesn't eat much throughout. Ends up throwing all of his still-to-be-given-to-you love letters in the trash, along with the diamond ring he was planning to give you the night of your anniversary. Quits producing music; his words don't flow as smoothly as before, even when he rarely feels like talking to anyone. Permanent eye bags take place under his eyes as he goes online, clicking out of his gym membership. Doesn't want to touch any of your belongings, it's too painful, and quits working out due to the lack of energy in his body.

Hyunjin who choked out a terrible, wailing scream and tore out his hair when he found out what happened; begged his members for it not to be true. Spends all day just staring out the window; is no longer afraid of anything, and finds nothing but icy numbness and a deep blue sadness taking root in his heart. Covers the walls of his room and art studio in pictures of you; splatters the walls in scarlet red and peachy pink, and then splatters himself in the same shades. Can't find it in himself to paint for much longer after that; doesn't cut his hair or paint his nails anymore, because that was always your job. Sets fire to his sketchbook and puts the ashes of it in a jar; then sets it on his top shelf and tucks the rest of his supplies away. Is no longer able to find any beauty in the world, not if you aren't there with him to see it.

a/n: i'm not writing a part 2 unless someone requests it

[lackadaisycats]

Hey Tracy! Have you heard about the new Ai called Sora? Apparently it can now create 2D and 3D animations as well as hyper realistic videos. I’ve been getting into animation and trying to improve my art for years since I was 7, but now seeing that anyone can create animation/works in just a mare seconds by typing in a couple words, it’s such a huge slap in the face to people who actually put the time and effort into their works and it’s so discouraging! And it has me worried about what’s going to happen next for artists and many others, as-well. There’s already generated voices, generated works stolen from actual artists, generated music, and now this! It’s just so scary that it’s coming this far. 

Yeah, I've seen it. And yeah, it feels like the universe has taken on a 'fuck you in particular' attitude toward artists the past few years. A lot of damage has already been done, and there are plenty of reasons for concern, but bear in mind that we don't know how this will play out yet. Be astute, be justifiably angry, but don't let despair take over. --------

One would expect that the promo clips that have been dropping lately represent some of the best of the best-looking stuff they've been able to produce. And it's only good-looking on an extremely superficial level. It's still riddled with problems if you spend even a moment observing. And I rather suspect, prior to a whole lot of frustrated iteration, most prompts are still going to get you camera-sickness inducing, wibbly-wobbly nonsense with a side of body horror.

Will the tech ultimately get 'smarter' than that and address the array of typical AI giveaways? Maybe. Probably, even. Does that mean it'll be viable in quite the way it's being marketed, more or less as a human-replacer? Well…

A lot of this is hype, and hype is meant to drive up the perceived value of the tech. Executives will rush to be early adopters without a lot of due diligence or forethought because grabbing it first like a dazzled chimp and holding up like a prize ape-rock makes them look like bleeding-edge tech geniuses in their particular ecosystem. They do this because, in turn, that perceived value may make their company profile and valuations go up too, which makes shareholders short-term happy (the only kind of happy they know). The problem is how much actual functional value will it have? And how long does it last? Much of it is the same routine we were seeing with blockchain a few years ago: number go up. Number go up always! Unrealistic, unsustainable forever-growth must be guaranteed in this economic clime. If you can lay off all of your people and replace them with AI, number goes up big and never stops, right?

I have some doubts. ----------------------

The chips also haven't landed yet with regards to the legality of all of this. Will these adopters ultimately be able to copyright any of this output trained on datasets comprised of stolen work? Can computer-made art even be copyrighted at all? How much of a human touch will be required to make something copyright-able? I don't know yet. Neither do the hype team or the early adopters.

Does that mean the tech will be used but will have to be retrained on the adopter's proprietary data? Yeah, maybe. That'd be a somewhat better outcome, at least. It still means human artists make specific things for the machine to learn from. (Watch out for businesses that use 'ethical' as a buzzword to gloss over how many people they've let go from their jobs, though.)

Will it become industry standard practice to do things this way? Maybe. Will it still require an artist's sensbilities and oversignt to plan and curate and fix the results so that it doesn't come across like pure AI trash? Yeah, I think that's pretty likely.

If it becomes standard practice, will it become samey, and self-referential and ultimately an emblem of doing things the cookie-cutter way instead of enlisting real, human artists? Quite possibly.

If it becomes standard industry practice, will there still be an audience or a demand or a desire for art made by human artists? Yes, almost certainly. With every leap of technology, that has remained the case. ------------------ TL;DR Version:

I'm not saying with any certainty that this AI blitz is a passing fad. I think we're likely to experience a torrential amount of generative art, video, voice, music, programming, and text in the coming years, in fact, and it will probably irrevocably change the layout of the career terrain. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was being overhyped as a business strategy right now. And I don't think the immensity of its volume will ever overcome its inherent emptiness.

What I am certain of is that it will not eliminate the innate human impulse to create. Nor the desire to experience art made by a fellow soul. Keep doing your thing, Anon. It's precious. It's authentic. It will be all the more special because it will have come from you, a human.

[fanfixforfanfics]

Late Night Picture Show - Lux Imperator|Mr. Ring-A-Ding x Reader

oh my god i haven't written much less been close to finishing something in years i've been possessed by this FREAK. it hasn't even been 24 hrs since i started on it. i wasn't planning on this getting sexual but uh. yknow. just felt like i should keep going. so i figured i'd post the first half since it's all i originally INTENDED to write. dear god put me down like a lame horse

chap 1 is sfw, chap 2 will be explicit

It’s been a few months since, you met your… acquaintance, Mr. Ring-A-Ding. You say acquaintance, because you don’t really know your standing. You met him while working on a project to rebuild an old theater in town, and the little freak has been bugging you since. You caught on to the “I’m just a little guy” act within a month, but you’re still not completely sure what his deal is. You’re careful, but try not to let him yank you around either.

Words: 2,357

chapter 2 -> (coming soon!)

It’s been a few months since, you met your… acquaintance, Mr. Ring-A-Ding. You say acquaintance, because you don’t really know your standing. You met him while working on a project to rebuild an old theater in town, and the little freak has been bugging you since. You caught on to the “I’m just a little guy” act within a month, but you’re still not completely sure what his deal is. You’re careful, but try not to let him yank you around either.

You’re taking a small break from taking inventory on the recovered films in the projector room, just sketching whatever takes your fancy, when he pops his eyes over the desk. You pretend not to notice, just keep drawing. His little fingers pop up next, wiggling with an accompanying sound effect, before placing the pads of his fingers on the notebook with clear intent to swipe it. You put your arm on it as you lean over the desk to eye him down like a naughty cat.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, sir?” His shit-eating grin, previously hidden by the desk, is now on full display as he rises.

“Just checking in on my old pal! You don’t seem like you’re too busy for me right now, you know, your favorite excuse.” You draw in a breath through your nose, and sigh.

“Not busy at the moment, I guess.” You sit up and remove your arm, about to shut the notebook, when he stops you. “No, wait, I wanna see!”

You give him a tired smile. You can humor him-- this notebook is for work, so there isn’t much he could tease you for in there. Just doodles between the notes you take about the theater. You shut it, and hand him the book. His grin widens, and he snatches it with a ‘yoink!’

He begins thumbing through greedily, but he slows down as his face falls. He looks at you with his big wet eyes.

“These are nice, but… not a single one of me? I thought we were friends?” You giggle, and feel vindicated in your choice to only draw him in the peace of your home. Some of the art you’ve done would surely become ammo against you in his hands.

“I mean, do you see anyone else in there either?” He flicks to a page and shoves it in your face.

“You drew Kevin before me? You hate that guy!” You throw your head back and cackle when faced with the doodle of a man in a hard hat with an anguished face shouting “If only this could have been prevented!” as he lies prone on the ground.

“That was the day he fell in that hole I told him not to walk over, fuckin’ idiot.”

Mr. Ring-A-Ding tuts, waggling his finger and scolding you for language. “Still… not a single little scribble for little old me?” He pouts and lets one little crocodile tear dangle from the corner of his eye.

“You want one that bad, Ring?” He nods, slow and sad, before batting his eyelashes with a little 'plink plink!' He hands over your notebook.

“Make sure you get my good side!”

“You’ve only got two of ‘em, Ring.”

“But they’re both good?” “’Course, handsome little devil, aren’tcha?”

He grins and straightens his lapels before adding, “And humble to boot!”

It doesn’t take long, you had admittedly gotten quite good at drawing him in your spare time. Not that you’ll tell him that. It’s just him grinning and winking, but he lets out a whistle as he appraises it.

“Now this… this is art!” His hat falls forward as he looks down at it, and without thinking, you push it back into place for him. His pupils flicker yellow for a split second as he looks up at you. “Oh! Uh, thanks for that.” You grimace, feeling bad for touching him without permission.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

He waves away your concerns. “I don’t mind! You caught me off guard, warn a guy first.” “Yeah. Forgot about the touching thing.” “Touching thing? I don’t have a thing .” He pouts, indignant.

“You totally have a touching thing. You get this look in your eye like you’re gonna bite my hand off if I touch you.”

He squints. “I think you’re making assumptions, and you know what what they say about that. But I don’t have to assume anything to say you drew that pretty quickly.” His smile widens, lids lower and eyebrows raise.

You do your best to remain neutral. “Yeah, that’s not an assumption, but an insinuation. Very astute!”

He scowls, and lifts himself up on the desk to be eye level as he leans forward, pointing a blue finger right in your face. “You did that like you’ve done it a hundred times before. I’ve got your number, babe , don’t I?”

You feel heat in your cheeks, but bite your lips to keep them in a flat line. You go to move his hand from your face gently as a you start with a soft, “Ring,” but he cuts you off.

“I think you like me a lot more than you let on.”

God, you didn’t want him to know anything about this. Sure, you’ve got a crush on him. So what? You weren’t going to let him know, because you knew it’d lead to this. Teasing. Being made fun of. That’s the sort of thing that happens when you open up . Your cheeks burn, and you feel your eyes start to water . You can’t look at him, not right now.

You train your eyes on your lap as you gently move his hand away. “Ring, I… I gotta get back to work. You can keep the drawing.” You tear it out of your notebook and leave it on the desk, and leave the room.

H e leaves you be for the rest of your shift, to your surprise. No making faces in the projector window, no trying to convince your coworkers there’s a ghost by turning things on or off… nothing. You hate to admit you miss it. You watch the last of your coworkers leave, then sigh in relief. They know you’re always last to leave, even if they don’t know why. You’ll take the undue credit of being a diligent worker any day, though.

The sun has been down for a long while, now. You make your way back up to the projector room, at least wanting to give Mr. Ring-A-Ding a proper farewell before you leave. You’re just a bit… worried.

As you walk in, you see he’s waiting for you already. He waves meekly, rather unusual. You smile softly, and give him a little wave back.

“Work over already, huh?”

“Yeah,” you rub the back of your neck. “And it’s Friday, so y’know… I’ll uh, see you Monday.”

He grimaces, and rubs his knuckles nervously. You murmur a little “bye” before he puts a hand out, asking you to wait. You turn to him, obliging his request. He plays with his collar, tugging on it comically before speaking. “Was just thinking, you need to watch over the old reels to see which ones still work, yeah? Thought maybe you could squeeze in one before you went home?”

You smile, before deciding to tease him a bit. “Man, I dunno Ring, I’m real busy. This weekend I was planning on narrowing down my list of countless suitors, visiting one of my several luxurious vacation homes, and hanging out with my closest hundred or so friends. Y’know, weekend plans. Just so busy.”

He rolls his eyes, then twirls what’s left of his hair, letting out a very convincing, “Ahaha, you’re sooo funny.” He walks over to the second-hand love seat that had recently been brought in to use the projector room as a break room of sorts, but you were really the only one who used it. He sits down, then pats the seat beside him. “I already loaded in the reel, you just gotta start it, sunshine.”

He’s acting like himself again, good. You start the reel, before taking the seat beside him, leaning on the arm.

You expect some old shit you’ve never seen before that you’ll mostly make fun of, but it seems familiar…

“Dude. Did you really put on Singing in the Rain?”

He shrugs and grins. “C’mon, it’s a classic! An old favorite of mine!”

“Sorry, I forget you’re like, a million years old.”

“You don’t know the half of it!”

You watch the movie quietly, listening as he tells you trivia. Within fifteen minutes, you notice he’s been trying to inconspicuously get closer to you, your knees now touching. 30 minutes in, his cartoony thighs are pressed against the side of yours. He tries to play off an exaggerated yawn as he rests his arm behind your shoulder. Goober. You side eye him, vaguely amused.

“See? I don’t have a “touching thing.”

You raise your eyebrows, not believing him. “This is you touching me, not me touching you. That’s different.”

He takes the challenge. “Oh yeah? Then do it. Touch me.” He grins at you like you’re too chicken, the little fucker.

“You got it, boss.” You reach under the arm behind you, and pull him so that he’s sitting hip to hip with you. You feel him tense as you do it, and feel him try his best to relax. You don’t hold him there, immediately giving him the option to scoot away. He doesn’t though. He does wiggle a little, before resting his head on your shoulder. “Comfy?”

He nods into your shoulder, and looks up at you. There’s that flicker of yellow again. You sigh. “Ring, you don’t have to do this to prove a point or something. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“I don’t have anything to prove.” He looks back at the movie, but you keep watching him as he takes the hand that pulled him closer, gently resting his hand on top. There’s just a hint of blush on his cheeks. Was he… genuinely enjoying this?

Slowly, you turn over your hand, splaying your fingers in a silent offering. He takes it, twining his fingers with your own. There’s this sort of… buzz to the way he feels, the same kind of warm hum that comes from something like a light bulb. Slowly, you lean your head closer to him, the side of your cheek nearly touching the top of his head. He scoots into the touch, and sighs contentedly. You give his hand a little squeeze. This is nice.

A little too nice, apparently, because you’re woken up as he snaps, calling his ladies to turn off the projector.

“Oh, it’s over?”

He leans against you a little more firmly. Carefully, you hold him a bit closer. He looks up at you a little too innocently and asks, “Do you have to leave yet?”

You groan a bit as you reach for your phone to check the time. It’s nearly eleven. You look back at him as he bats his eyelashes. Damn him.

“I can stay a little longer. Should wake up a little more before I try to get home, I guess.” He grins triumphantly, and you ruffle his hair a little bit. “You’re so silly.”

He swats your hand away playfully, and you let it fall back to his side. He snuggles up closer to you. He’s been awfully quiet…

“So…”

“So?” You look down at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Was thinking about helping you narrow down that list you mentioned earlier.”

“Oh? Checking the films?”

“Huh? No, no, your uh, countless suitors?”

You stifle a laugh. “Oh yes, how could I forget. Always vying for my attention and what have you.” You turn your body toward him, and gently cup his cheek. He jumps just a little, that little yellow flicker. You move to take your hand back, but he catches it in presses it closer to his face. He looks you in the eye, pupils still holding that light glow, and it brightens, almost shimmering as he presses a reverent kiss to your palm.

Oh.

You stroke his cheek with your thumb, and he nuzzles your hand. You pull your hand back for just a second to get leverage as you lean back on the arm of the love seat, before pulling your legs up, inviting him to sit in your lap. He wastes no time in straddling your hips, and nuzzles into your neck. He pulls back up, lidded eyes, and return of the shit-eating grin.

“I knew you liked me.”

You shrug, letting one hand sit on his hip, the other against his cheek. “Maybe. You like me?”

“Puh-lease. You’re the only reason I haven’t chased all of those clowns out of the theater. Or worse.”

“What? You like being the only clown?” He turns his nose up in defiance, but take away all of his bravado as you squeeze it and it very much makes a little honk noise. He hides his face in the crook of your neck. You press a kiss between his antenna, they tickle your face as they curl up. “I’m sorry for freaking out earlier. I just… I didn’t think this would happen. Thought you were making fun of me.”

“Don’t mention it.” You pet his head, fingers playing in his hair idly.

“Ring, I, uh… Is it okay if I kiss you?”

H e looks up at you with eyes widen immediately, and you swore hearts were in his pupils for just a fraction of a second before he nods. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can press your lips to his, he’s pulling you in by your shirt. Your face is held in his hands now, he kisses you softly, every movement intentional. He’s leaning into it, trying to get closer, arms circled around your neck, the back of your head cradled by him. You kiss him back, caressing his face and holding him closer your body. You find yourself unable to keep from smiling.

[passionpeachy]

Sorry if this is weird but I wanted to say it's so comforting to know that there are other lesbians in their mid-to-late 20s who haven't had their first kiss or anything. I know gay people in general tend to reach those milestones later than cishet people but I've always felt like I was way behind even my gay peers, and it has really put a dent in my sense of self-worth. So, you mentioning that you've never kissed anyone made me feel a little less alone. :) Love your art and hope you are doing well.

You should look at the concept of "your first kiss" less as a milestone you have to achieve at a certain age and more of an intimate thing that happens when YOU want to do it, if you even want to do it at all.

I have no idea what your situation is like, but personally I literally just haven't felt a super strong urge to kiss anyone near me here in this very South Texan city. People aren’t really “visibly” queer here with pride flags and stuff, including me. We’ve only had 2 small Pride parades before and that’s it. I'm sure this would eventually change if I lived somewhere more queer-friendly with more sapphics who were my specific type (butch and nonbinary lesbians are pretty much nonexistent here. I once got embarrassingly excited when I saw one(1) online who lived here. It’s like all the real attraction I’ve been deprived of all my life hit me like a truck. No, I’ve never talked to them lol)

......but I'm not saying the girls here aren't ever cute or anything. They’re beautiful actually. Mostly bisexual latinas. I've definitely had some gay moments here and there. It just wasn't enough to spiral into more than light flirting and a cheek kiss, I guess. There’s also the severity of insecurity and mental illness that makes one a homebody, but I don’t want to get into that right now.

So while I want it, I love the idea of it, I'm not really that ashamed about being inexperienced this late in life. Seems more common than people are willing to admit tbh. ANYWAY, I rambled too much. My point is you shouldn't tie this to your self-worth and don't let anyone, even other queer people, make you feel bad about it

[allastoredeer]

Hello, don't mind me, I just need to vent for a second.

First off, I just wanna say, as an aroace person on the ace-spectrum, feel free to ship Alastor all you want. Ship him with anyone. Have fun with it. Sex repulsed. Non-sex repulsed. Grey-ace. Demisexual. Pure unadulterated smut. Whatever, have at it. I love that shit.

Just please do it without infantilizing ace-aro people.

The amount of art, fics, and takes I've come across that's so patronizing to Alastor and his sexuality. Thing's like Alastor venting to Rosie about his feelings for a character with the caption "Alastor feeling love for the first time." Or Alastor wanting to have sex with a character and having feelings about that, and someone commenting "That's called a boner, sweetheart. That means you like them 🤭"

Like??? Like do ya'll not see how patronizing that sounds? Being ace-aro doesn't mean you don't know your own body. It doesn't mean you don't understand the functions of your body.

It doesn't mean you've never experienced intense emotions. It doesn't mean you've never experienced love before.

And, look, I know these are meant to be jokes. I know. People are joking. I laughed at the first few I came across, too. It's not meant to be harmful or condescending; no one means it that way. But there's been so much with such...bad takes recently, and I don't know about any other ace-spec people (I don't speak for all ace-specs. Hell, there are probably other ace-spec's who don't mind, enjoy it, or are making content like it themselves. I just speak for myself) but GOD it's getting uncomfortable.

Alastor is in his late 30's-early 40's in human years. That is the established age range we have for him. Do you really think that he'd go that long without ever experiencing "love?" He went through puberty just like everyone else, do you think he doesn't understand his own body???

Being asexual, or sex-repulsed, or touch-repulsed doesn't mean you automatically don't explore these parts of yourself. It doesn't mean he's never, once in his life, touched his own dick, or pussy, or whatever genitalia you're giving him. He can still very well be a "virgin" (which in and of itself is a social construct) while also knowing his body and confidently handling any "sexual needs" he has.

Do you really think he doesn't know what a boner is? That in all the years he's been alive and dead (on Earth and in Hell), he wouldn't have experienced these things once? (And you know what? Maybe he hasn't! Perhaps there are ace's out there like that! But you're telling me he doesn't KNOW what that is??? Really???)

Ah, no, it's all because he just hasn't found the right person yet, right? It's not until Lucifer/Angel Dust/Vox, whoever found him, and they gave him these feelings, and oh no, poor Bambi is feeling twitterpated and horny for the first time, isn't that romantic!

Honestly, not really. It just sounds like the same, stupid shit ace-aro people hear from family, friends, and acquaintances about their sexuality. You know, the tried and true: "Oh, you just haven't found the right person yet. You'll want all that eventually, you'll see😊"

Do you not see how frustrating that is?

Look, I am all down for Alastor exploring parts of himself. I want him to navigate different relationships, feel them out, figure out what kind of relationship he wants and what he's okay and not okay with doing. But there are ways to do that without treating him like a little UwU silly baby boy who doesn't know his own body, or his own emotions, or his own relationships with other characters. Like he needs someone to teach him about himself.

How about instead, he finds someone he feels comfortable exploring these elements with? Instead of them "teaching" him how to fuck, or masturbate, or whatever the hell you want to call it, they're giving him the room and safe-space to explore it at his own pace??!!

It comes across as someone who isn't on the ace-spectrum "teaching" an ace-spec character about their own sexuality which puts such a gross taste in my mouth. Or, at least, that's how it comes across to me.

And the thing is, I know people aren't going to stop. I know they're going to keep infantilizing Alastor and his aro-ace identity, and I wasn't originally going to make this post, because you can't control what people do in fandom.

So this is mostly just a post to say: HEY! Hello! Ace-aro person here! I hope you all are having fun and I love that you're exploring Alastor's asexual/aromantic identity! Especially those who may not be in the ace-spectrum themselves, as you're learning about us and our experiences! That's awesome! Can we just do that while also treating Alastor like the adult he is? Can we do that without being infantilizing and patronizing about his sexual identity? Please?"

That's all I really wanted to say. I just needed to get this off my chest instead of letting it fester. This isn't an attack on anyone, this is just the perspective of an Alastor multi-shipper who loves exploring his relationships with other characters (sexually and non-sexually) and deep-diving into the dynamics of the show.

Thanks for reading.

[reimenaashelyee]

TCM 10th Anniversary

I haven't been very online and posting much art as of late, due to a surprising number of OBLIGATIONS (teaching gigs, job-hunting and catching up with lots of other comics work, which includes what I am gonna talk about in this post) and some disillusionment about posting art on platforms.

Some of you are gonna be shocked by this but 2026 is going to mark 10 years since I posted the first page of The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya on my webcomic's website. This is a pretty big meaningful event to me -- TCM is my first ever completed graphic novel and the reason why I am able to have a comics career now. So obviously I want to celebrate it big and wrap my journey with TCM with a nice fancy extravagant bow.

I've been wanting to do a full FINAL remaster of all of 600 pages of the comic. Not so much revamping the art because I already did a lot of art fixes for the hardcover print editions, and I am still pretty chill about how everything looks! More like updating the lettering (again), correcting colours, fixing the dialogue and strengthening the themes between books, and presenting the entire two-book series at the best it could be. I learned a lot about the realities/logistics of publishing and making comics since I finished TCM, so I'm excited to be redeeming the webcomic sins of my naive past self and update TCM to the current standard of the rest of my author catalogue.

Right now I'm about 3/4 of the way of remastering the 600 pages. So close!! But I want to talk about the stuff I've already done for it!

Everything's under the cut if you are keen to hear me yap.

First thing I did for the remaster is a complete revamp of the title design. I designed the original in late 2015 - early 2016 when the webcomic began to form and never changed it. But the 10th anniversary means I can pull all the stops and go wild, especially now that I have improved in terms of design and all the skills needed to make a historical comic.

The old title was meant to evoke Ottoman calligraphic brushscript without being too cheesy. I carried this over in the new one - I still don't want it to be cheesy and I'd prefer to evoke the feel rather than the look of Ottoman/Arabic calligraphy, since the Eastern calligraphic arts (by this I mean non-Latin script. i.e China and Japan are also equally sophisticated) is no joke and I'd prefer not to attempt replicating linguistic brushstokes and patterns for Aesthetique. Not to mention Latin letters don't lend themselves to Eastern calligraphy very well.

Luckily, Latin calligraphy already exists. I wanted to include more of the 18th century English stylings of the comic into the title, and for this I looked at English Roundhand/Copperplate and the French Ronde. Lots of curlicues and flourish. The outcome is this more condensed almost stamp-like design.

The second thing I did is the book cover. I am not really sure what the final cover will look like as it's dependent on whether I get a publisher for this edition of TCM - but I've made a mockup for now!

The 10th anniversary cover has more of the Ottoman carpet influence compared to the previous covers for TCM. I'm thinking of weaving in the Rococo S-and-C leaf scrolls and other motifs into the cover too. We will see!

The third thing I did is update as many of the Turkish marbled pages as possible.

So Volume I has a fair number of marbled backgrounds - but I didn't have a lot of resources back then, so I drew all of those pages digitally. It's not authentic, per se, but it worked.

As part of the remastering, I want to emphasise the imperfect, hand-drawn, there's-a-person-behind-this feel of TCM. Not to say the personnage wasn't there before, but I wanted MORE of that, especially given the AI nonsense that's happening for the past 2 years.

So this time I went to a Turkish marbled pages workshop, taught by an ebru master (shoutout to Eslem at Anatolia Art Studio), to make my own pages ... the traditional way!

I made 6 prints, and they will be appearing in some shape or form in the final remaster. The first image at the top of this post - which is the title page - is one of those prints! The marbled pages aren't perfect - there is so much technical skill involved in transferring the prints from plastic container to paper, and I bunged that part up too much lol - but that fits the point of TCM as a project? It's all me, it's all the artist's handiwork, and it's imperfect, but that's what allows the love to show.

The fourth and final thing I will be yapping about is the actual remastering work.

Top is the 10th anniversary 2025 remaster. Bottom is 2016 version.

The differences are not that extravagant - any tweaks I am doing, including the relettering, is for consistency and clarity.

Mainly I just wanted to fix the colour sins I committed in the past. In 2016 I didn't have any idea what printing a comic entails and would require - so I naively coloured everything in RGB... and failed to consider how dark colours will print in a CMYK space and on paper... and there are a lot of DARK COLOUR SCENES!!!

Top is the 2025 fix. Bottom is the original.

You can imagine how poorly the original printed on paper. :)

It took me a month and a half to work on Volume I, as I had to reletter everything and implement so many colour fixes. Luckily Volume II has been easy, and with any luck I will be done with this project in March.

I am considering rerunning the webcomic at some point! Sound off if you want to reread TCM again. :3c

[inkbloto]

✌🏾😈🔮▪︎ Purgatorio Art Dump ▪︎🔮😈✌🏾

Heyo it's me, back at it again with another project.

Okay but in all seriousness, this has probably been the wildest one I've been on, but in a good + learning experience way.

I haven't felt very much into my original characters for a long time now, ( PacAU doesn't count it's more of a fan-work I'm obsessed with lol.) which I know kinda sucks to hear since some do like my other original stories + concepts but ngl the previous ones just didn't *CLICK* for me. Felt like I was more-so doing them for portfolio reasons rather then actually digging the "story/characters" Ya'know? Not to say I don't like em or will never return to them, but It just didn't feel like I was into it If that makes any sense.

I was in a slight funk during Febuarry + March and thought randomly one day about Bloto. My old persona Bloto ( who isn't my persona anymore and hasn't been for awhile btw ) was always kinda a blank slate of a character so I was like: " What if I made them have a human form to blend in with ppl. " so concept art started then boom lore and a story for it too SOOO now we are here. I also managed to slip in my crack-ship here somehow so bonus points.

I've kinda gotten hyper-fixated on this one as of late. Feels weird to say but I haven't felt this STRONG BOND ever since I created PacAU LOL. I have a sunshine son and night daughter now.

SO ANYWAYS, I recommend following my bluesky + main twitter for updates revolving around these guys but I will TRY to post more oc stuff here. DO NOT quote me on that though.

BASIC INFO TO KNOW FOR NOW:

Beatrix / Bloto: Beatrix is Bloto's human disguise they turn into in order to blend with mortals ever since they were banished from Montero ( The Daimon relam ) to the earthly-mortal one; Purgatorio, mostly referred to as Atorio. They were kicked out due to attempted murder of a friend who had betrayed them. . . Now they are stuck on Atorio with cuffs that can't come off as punishment, but it allows them to turn into a human while working as a art teacher and protector at a church+academy.

Dante: A close friend to Beatrix/Bloto who is into the paranormal and the supernatural while trying to solve his family curse. . . Maybe the mysterious but heroic Daimon in town can help him? He does not know Bloto IS Beatrix in the earlier parts of the story.

Jewels / Jezebel : A happy go-lucky Daimon who was banished for not performing their daily qouta, so she would be shunned to the human realm. Even so, she has never thrived better than before as fashion designer on Atorio referring to herself as Jewels. She and Beatrix/Bloto at first don't see eye to eye as polar opposites, but eventually become good friends. Especially after learning the two are both Daimons.

Father/Headmaster Donovan : One of the earliest Daimons exiled for unknown reasons and the man who found Bloto/Beatrix after their banishment. . . To not give attention, he raises them as his own as an act but clearly shows deep care for them. Runs a pretty normal church/academy.

Other character info will come out later as I'm drawing more stuff but that's basic info you have for now lolz.

[cap-trio]

promised to another | part one

Summary: Things with Steve were perfect, like a never ending honeymoon phase. You ignored all the warnings from friends about how that stage doesn't last long, because you know you and Steve aren't like everyone else. But you should've listened.

Your relationship shifted gradually - fewer date nights, going to bed alone while Steve worked a second job, and feeling like you've been put on the back burner. When he suggests taking a break you feel your world crumble around you.

During that time you run into your ex, Bucky. Your first love, the right person at the wrong time, the one who got away. As you reconnect, old feelings resurface that complicate everything. Do you hope that things with Steve will work out, or do you take a risk and try again with Bucky?

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Modern AU, cheating, angst, exes to lovers, fluff, second chance romance, based on a Taylor Swift song (Ivy).

Word count: 2K

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, and Thunderbolts* rekindled my MCU obsession and finally inspired me to write this. I haven't written anything in a while, so any feedback is appreciated! I'm aiming to update once a week, hopefully more if I have time.

series masterlist / read on ao3

part one: grieving for the living

Things with Steve started like a dream.

You met him while taking an art class in college. After arriving late on the first day, you took the only open seat next to him. Your first impression was how handsome he was, like he stepped right out of a Disney movie where he played the prince. Intimidating, but with a softness that drew you in. From day one, you knew you were in trouble.

Things progressed slower than you had hoped. It took until halfway through the semester before your first date, months of flirting and dropping hints before he got the courage to ask. You found it sweet how nervous he was asking you to grab coffee, and how he seemed surprised you said yes. 

Dates became a weekly occurrence; trips to art museums, picnics in the park, and failed attempts to cook dinner for each other were interrupted by setting of the fire alarm. Things felt too good to be true; college guys did not act like Steve. All they wanted to do was “watch” Netflix in their filthy dorm rooms and hook up. Somehow, you hit the jackpot. By the end of the semester, you two were official.

Steve proposed the day after graduation. It was an obvious yes, and the two of you moved into a small Brooklyn apartment. It felt more like a shoebox, but the two of you were so in love that it felt like home from the second you signed the lease. Steve got a job teaching art at a local community college, saving every penny he could for the perfect engagement ring. Within a year and a half, you two were married. It wasn’t anything fancy; you both were too excited to be husband and wife to care too much about how it happened, but it was still perfect. 

People warned that the honeymoon phase would wear off, and you always scoffed at that. The honeymoon phase began at that coffee shop on campus and never faltered, growing stronger with every minute spent together. Sometimes, you were almost annoyed at how you became one of those sickenly sweet couples that you used to make fun of with your friends. But then you knew how it felt to be a part of one, and you regret everything you said about them. You two were in your own little bubble.

But unfortunately, that bubble popped.

The shift didn't happen all at once. It was a gradual thing, a dark shadow slowly creeping in unnoticed, until everything was covered in black. Date nights were canceled when Steve would get stuck at office hours. Texts and phone calls went unanswered because he was busy. No more surprising you with your favorite flowers “just because.” Stress about money turned into him getting a second job. Hardly seeing each other, and when you did, Steve was always exhausted or distracted. Fights about how you felt like he wasn't putting in an effort, only for him to argue that everything he was doing was for you. 

It wore you down. You stopped trying to squeeze dates onto the calendar, sending pictures of random things around the city that reminded you of him, or staying up late hoping to get just a few minutes with him. You gave up, and so did he.

Maybe this is it, you would think to yourself. But you still loved him, and you knew he loved you too. It was just a rough spot, a thunderstorm interrupting sunny days, that would be over before you knew it. 

And then Steve took a needle to your bubble by suggesting a break. 

You were adamantly against it. “How is that the best solution? We already don't see each other, and now, what, you think staying apart is going to help? ” 

“I think it gives us room to think. Reevaluate. See if we’ve grown apart, or if this makes us miss each other,” he’d said. “I already found a place to stay, so you don't need to worry about that.”

If we miss each other. Like you haven't already missed him for months. Like he doesn't miss you, and that he never will. 

“I guess you made my decision for me then, huh? Just like how “everything you're doing is for me”? I think that's a lame excuse to push me away, and congratulations because it worked,” you scoffed. 

Neither of you said a word as he packed his bags. He was already slipping through your fingers, and at some point, you knew you’d have to accept that he’d let go. 

————————————

Almost two months had passed. Steve took a part of you with him that left you hollow, just going through life on autopilot. At first, you would talk a few times a week, even met up for dinner once, but it wasn't enough. Things felt strained and forced, every conversation made you feel worse about the state of your relationship. 

How can I grieve someone who's still alive? 

It was something you asked yourself daily. Your marriage wasn't officially dead, but it might as well have been. Neither one of you was brave enough to admit it, leaving you in a waiting game of who would crack first. 

But then came an unexpected bright spot.

It was a random Tuesday after work. After a rough shift, you decided to stop at your favorite coffee shop as a treat. You were almost out of the door when you spotted him. It had been years since you’d seen him, but you’d recognize him anywhere. Long, dark hair, soft blue eyes, a physique most men dream of. 

Bucky Barnes. AKA, your ex-boyfriend.

Before Steve, there was Bucky. He was your first real love, your first everything . You met him at freshman orientation, and things escalated quickly. At first it scared you, but there was something addictive about Bucky. Most of your friends chalked it up to it being your first taste of freedom after high school, your first college fling, but you knew it was more than that. 

He was there on a baseball scholarship. After a bad arm injury, he was deemed unable to play and couldn’t afford the tuition on his own, so he was forced to move back home and find a job. You were convinced you’d survive long distance, that he could save up and come back, or you’d visit whenever you could. But between him working full time and you being busy with school, things didn’t work out. Bucky didn’t want to get in the way of you enjoying college and tie you down, so he let you go. It crushed both of you, but ultimately, you both knew it was the right decision. Right person, wrong time.

He was there for you during those homesick phases and nights when you weren’t sure college was for you. He brought you out of your shell, introducing you to new people and playing tourist around campus to make it feel special. Whenever you got the inevitable sickness spreading around the dorm, he’d be there with homemade soup and every kind of medicine. 

You tried moving on; hookups that left you empty, dating app conversations that hardly led to a first date, and when they did, you never saw them again. It wasn’t until you met Steve the following year that you felt something real again. But even then, it was different than what you felt for Bucky. 

Bucky would sometimes slip into your mind, and it always made you feel guilty. Steve was great, borderline perfect, yet you couldn’t help but reminisce about what you had with Bucky. Both were life-changing, once-in-a-lifetime relationships in different ways. And now here he was, and all those memories came rushing back.

“Bucky?” You asked to make sure you weren’t imagining things. 

His eyes widened when he saw you. Immediately, he stood up from the table and pulled you in for a hug. “Holy shit,” he laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.” Always a gentleman, he pulled out your seat for you. “So, how have you been?”

“Uh, I’ve been good,” you flashed your best fake smile. “Remember that internship I was hoping for? They hired me and offered me a job after graduation, so I’ve been there for a few years now. Got a small apartment over in Brooklyn.”

You watch his eyes flick down to your wedding ring. You hadn’t realized you’d been fidgeting with it until he caught you. His face hardens, his jaw tensing for a second before he forces a strained smile.

“Got married too, I see.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Two years. His name’s Steve.”

“I’m happy for you.” You know he’s being genuine, though you can hear a tinge of regret in his voice. Bucky was never the jealous type, and how could he be after all these years? He just wishes things could’ve been different between you. 

He watches your face fall. “Is everything alright?”

“Can we not talk about him, actually? Sorry, I just…would rather not.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” An awkward beat passes. This isn’t how you dreamt running back into Bucky would look. “So, what have you been up to?”

He notices the way you quickly glance down at his hands. No ring , you note, not that it even matters. “I just got promoted to general manager of the bookstore down on Third Street, and I’ve been helping coach the Little League baseball team. Makes me miss playing, but I love helping the kids and seeing how much fun they’re having.”

Picturing him out on the field coaching those kids makes your heart ache in the best way. “Congratulations! I remember you mentioning how much you love that store, and how frustrated you’d get because I refused to pick up a book, so I let you give me a mini book report. And those kids couldn’t have a better coach, they’re lucky to have you.”

Bucky laughs at the memory. “Sorry you had to hear all my ramblings. At least now I get paid for it. And thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t apologize, I loved hearing how passionate you were. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Shit. Admitting that shifts the vibe of the conversation; there’s no way he doesn’t feel it too. It makes you think of the other things you liked about him, in turn bringing back memories of your relationship. It’s too much, too fast, like a dam bursting open in front of your eyes.

“Really?” He leans forward. “Do tell, what are your other favorite things about me?” He tries to sound serious, but starts laughing almost immediately after. He’s always been good at taking an awkward moment and shifting it around. Something else you like about him.

“So you’ve gotten full of yourself these past couple of years, huh?” You tease. 

“Oh yeah, got a huge ego now. Having the kids tell me I’m the best coach they’ve ever had has really done a number on me.”

“I can see how that would,” you smile.

Another beat passes. “I’m really glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I never reached out, it was just…” You trail off.

“Too painful?” He finishes.

You nod. It’s not the best excuse, but at least he understands. “When I moved here, I didn’t know if you were still around, or if you’d even want to see me if you were. I wouldn’t have even known what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “I understand. I thought about calling a few times, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. But now that you’re back, I’d really like to see you again.”

“I’d like that too.”

You exchange numbers and promises that you’ll call soon. For the first time in two months, you feel lighter, like the sun is finally shining after nothing but gray skies.

[justleaveacommentfest]

Not an ask, but a story about leaving comments -- not long ago, I left a comment on a fic from almost 10 years ago where the author, in their end notes, discussed how proud they were to have finished this fic (it was an incredible fic that was over 100,000 words long because they're a god and I would also just be shaky in the knees if I accomplished something so long and profound); and they also talked in their author's note how strange it was to be the ages of 22-24 when they were writing this fic and how things weren't always easy, and that they hoped the future was bright for them.

I commented about my life, right now, how I came to find their fic a decade years later from when they finished (a little sheepishly, it feels weird to talk about yourself, but it felt important somehow) -- anyways, I also talked about how reading their author's note reminded me very much of how I felt right now, and how different the world is now from 2015, and how this fic made me feel all kinds of nostalgic and good and hopeful about growing older, and how my god they were this good at 22 and I hope they're still writing -- and even if not, I hope all these years later they really are in a better place.

They replied. They replied! I was so delighted! They are indeed in their thirties! and they are indeed still writing! Things haven't gone as expected, but they've got a healthier dose of perspective on life and how to cope with the hard times now. And it was just so heartwarming to hear and learn about them. And to know that they're still around!

Just seeing that, seeing these people who write about hard times nine years ago, and leaving a comment and getting a reply, it just brings so much hope. Because you never know! You never know if someone's still going to be here, and so when they are it's kind of a-- not a miracle, but it just feels like I'm suddenly so very aware of my existence in the world and theirs too and it just -- it MATTERS. And ao3 and fanfiction in general is so unique to most media where you stare at a television or read a book, you can engage with the creator of that thing you're reading RIGHT THEN AND THERE. And you may not get a reply, or you might get this touching response that lets you feel like you're less alone in the world. It's worth the chance, right? That's what building community and stuff is all about! You can make so many friends this way!

And even if they never reply, don't you want them to know how important their story was to you? And it doesn't matter if the story was finished a decade ago or just posted yesterday, there's still a person that's there that gets to see how their art made an impact on the world. I've made a couple of friends doing this -- and even if I'm not making a friend, I hope I make someone's day a little brighter. God knows I'm always delighted whenever someone comments on my fics.

I admit I'm not perfect -- I don't always comment on fics that I read. I'm trying to be better, I've got a list of fics that I definitely should have written a comment on that I've been going through and writing out how I feel about their writing because damn people are just so talented. This wasn't for just leave a comment fest, I admit, but I do love to see your blog and your drive because it is such an important thing for writers.

I didn't know you were doing a valentines day thing, but what a great idea! I wanted to share my experience, hopefully inspire some other people to go out and comment, and now I'm going to go check another fic off my list of ones that I'd like to comment on. Better late than never!

Have a great day! and Happy Valentine's Day Just Leave a Comment Mini Fest!

I AM HOOTING AND HOLLERING I AM PLAYING THE XYLOPHONE ON MY RIB CAGE WHAT A STORY!!!! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CONNECTION TO HAVE MADE THROUGH COMMENTS!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE TO HAVE HAD!!

ANON THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS HAS MADE THIS SKELETON'S DAY

[yandere-sins]

Hey guys!

I've been curious since I've been noticing a change in fanfiction lately and I was wondering if you did, too.

Lately, I've been seeing much more original stories gaining more traction than fandom stuff, which is totally okay and valid! But looking back a few years, it was almost impossible to post original stories/art and have people read it and like it.

Of course, since I don't always post about new fandoms or what is trending at the moment (and popular), it could be that I am just seeing a change because people are falling out of love with the characters/fandoms I post and that's why the engagement is not as good as for other things! But then again, I also see certain stories going better than others, even if they are one-shots or less extensive and details. It could all just be because of my writing, too, but it makes me wonder if you guys have perhaps been feeling burned out with certain types of stories or if you prefer certain topics over the others! It doesn't mean that I will change everything on my blog from today onwards, but if there is something I can do which all of us would enjoy, then I'd like to give it a try!

So, I wanted to ask what you guys think and have noticed, maybe about yourself or if you write/create then with that!

Do you find yourself leaning more to original creations that aren't bound to specific characters/fandoms or do you still hesitate when seeing something unspecific? Do you like what you have given a chance and read or have you been disappointed? Is there anything you'd like to see more of but maybe haven't found the right way to ask for/find it, or do you harbor any other feelings towards fancreations and how they are at the moment?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas in my asks/comments/messages, but I'll also leave a brief poll here in case you feel too shy to talk to me directly (but you shouldn't, I'm super nice, I promise ♥). Reblogs are also appreciated, maybe we can spread it around a bit and get many insights on the matter!

As I said, you can leave thoughts in the comments or asks, I'm really curious on what you guys think!