#i feel nice about having finished at least one thing which is that second drawing

[bradshawsbaby]

scenes from the kitchen sink

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: A little moment inspired by that hair washing scene from Water Rises. That movie may have stressed me out, but at least it gave us plenty of domestic Lew content!

Warnings: Domestic fluff and the tiniest of innuendos (if you squint).

Smiling, the hem of your sundress brushing against your calves in the late afternoon breeze, you step out onto the back porch in your bare feet, crossing your arms over your chest and resting your head against the door jamb to better admire him.

He’s stripped down to his boxers—that’s the nice thing about it being just you and him for miles on end—and standing under the steady stream of the garden hose he’s holding above his head, blue eyes shut tightly as he allows the icy gush to wash away the dirt and grime of the day. You worry for half a second when you realize he isn’t wearing his glasses—Did he leave them somewhere?—but your shoulders instantly relax when you catch sight of them in your periphery, the sun glinting off them as they lay resting on the ledge of the window box overflowing with the weeds he hasn’t yet gotten the chance to pull.

It’s silly of you to fret about it, you think with an amused curve of your lips. Bob never goes anywhere without his glasses.

His eyes still closed and his back to you, you continue to gaze upon him, struck not for the first time by just how beautiful he is. Water droplets cling to the broad expanse of his freckled back, winking at you as they catch the sunlight. His muscles ripple with every movement, and your stomach clenches as you recall how they’d felt stretched taut beneath your fingertips that morning.

He looks so right here, so at home standing half naked on the grass outside the little two and a half room cabin the two of you have turned into your own personal love nest these past few days. You know he’s glad that he volunteered to come here, to straighten things up at his grandpa’s old fishing cabin that hasn’t been touched in over five years.

The place has no WiFi, no air conditioning, and no hot water. The floorboards creak something awful, the windows rattle at night, and you’re fairly certain there’s a family of mice taking up residence in the walls. Still, even you have to admit that the place has its charms. Charms that are easier to see since you know you’ll be leaving at the end of the week, once you and Bob finish setting a few things to rights around here.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he whispers to you every night before you fall asleep.

But there’s no place else you’d rather be. You belong wherever he is.

Even if that means showering with a rusty old garden hose. 

Which, considering the veritable deathtrap the shower in the cabin is, it does.

Your chest tightens as you watch Bob wash the day’s hard-earned sweat away, your heart filled nearly to bursting with love for him as he bounces on the balls of his feet, gritting his teeth and bearing it as the cold water trickles down his back and snakes a path along his legs, pooling in the dirt at his feet. As soon as he’s able, he’s running to twist the spigot off, winding the hose up in a neat pile before reaching for his glasses.

When he turns his head and catches sight of you standing at the back door, watching him, his face lights up in a way that sets your pulse racing.

No one’s ever looked at you like that except for Bob Floyd.

“C’mere,” you tell him softly, crooking your finger at him to draw him closer.

“I’m all wet,” he murmurs ruefully, stopping short a foot or so away from you.

“I don’t care,” you grin, holding out your arms, which he gladly steps into. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body even as the chilly water droplets seep through the thin cotton of your sundress.

With him still standing in the grass and you at a slightly elevated position in the doorway, you’re able to look down at his wet locks, glistening in the waning afternoon light. You run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the way it knots even as you try to smooth it down.

Bob makes a valiant effort to hide his wince, but you spot it all the same.

“I know just the thing you need,” you whisper to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead before reaching for his hand and tugging him inside the cabin.

“Where’re you going?” he asks with a laugh as he stands shivering in the small kitchen, his eyebrows rising above the rims of his glasses as you move hurriedly out of the room.

“To get you a towel!” you call back, already in the bedroom and digging through your bags.

When you return a moment later, however, it’s with more than a towel in hand.

Bob watches with a quizzical expression on his handsome face as you set down your shampoo and conditioner bottles next to the kitchen sink on your way to come wrap a warm towel around his shoulders.

“You want to wash off, too, honey?” he asks sweetly, looking down at you as you towel him off. “I can hold the hose up for you.”

“No,” you reply with a smile, shaking your head and meeting his blue eyes. “Not right now.”

“Then what’s that for?” he questions, gesturing towards the bottles of coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner.

“For me to wash your hair, silly,” you tease, booping his nose before dropping the towel to the floor and reaching for a chair from the rickety kitchen table. Before he can so much as open his mouth to reply, you already have it propped against the sink, the back perfectly level with the edge. Bending down, you scoop up the towel you’d been using before and drape it over the back of the chair.

Bob just stares at you in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turn pink. “Aw, sweetheart, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your eyes twinkling. “I want to. Now sit,” you command, resting your hands on his bare shoulders and gently pushing him down into the seat.

“But you don’t have to use your shampoo,” he protests as he lowers down into the chair. “Isn’t it expensive? My shampoo should be in my—”

“Robert Floyd, I love you, but that 3-in-1 shampoo you travel with is a crime against humanity,” you laugh, making a face to underscore your point. “Probably explains all these knots,” you add, lightly tugging on his sandy brown hair.

“Fair enough.” he mumbles sheepishly in response.

Giggling softly, you bend down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Just relax and enjoy, honey. Let me take care of you.”

Before you can reach to turn the faucet on, Bob snags your wrist and uses the momentum to pull you back down to him, his lips skimming yours as a smile stretches across his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth before you can straighten back up. “Thank you.”

Even after all this time, he still manages to throw you off-kilter in the very best of ways. Your cheeks feel warm and your heart is singing when you pull back and reach for the faucet a second time, managing to turn the water on this time.

It’s just as cold as the water from the hose, but your hands are warm and gentle as they tip his head backwards, thoroughly rinsing his hair and running your fingers through it once again.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the world’s softest hair?” you query, admiring his glistening locks as they catch the light filtering in through the small window above the sink, the one you had spent about an hour scrubbing the day before.

“Hmm,” he hums softly, his eyes closed and his long fingers laced together across his chest as he loses himself in the feel of your delicate hands in his hair. “Well, you certainly have. On more than one occasion,” he teases, cracking one eye open and gazing up at you.

You grin in response, ducking your head to peck his oh-s0-kissable lips. “At least I’m consistent,” you joke in return, nudging his nose with your own before straightening and reaching for your bottle of coconut milk shampoo.

“That you are,” Bob smiles, bunching up the fabric of your sundress as he raises his hands to grab hold of your waist.

“Don’t distract me,” you giggle, shaking the bottle and squeezing a quarter-sized dollop of shampoo into your palm.

He lets out a soft groan as soon as you run both your hands through his hair, the tropical scent of coconuts filling the distinctly midwestern air. “Feels nice,” he confesses, dropping his hands back down to his chest as he stretches his long legs out in front of him and relaxes further into your touch.

“Good,” you murmur softly, a small furrow appearing between your brows as you concentrate on lathering the shampoo through his honey brown locks. You’d once told him, in a loopy state of exhaustion, that the color of his hair reminded you of Teddy Grahams. To this day, he still finds it hilarious and buys you boxes of the little teddy-shaped crackers whenever you go grocery shopping.

Bob sighs softly as you scratch your fingernails against his scalp, his slightly sunburned chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that matches the beat of your heart. You can see, as well as feel, the tension oozing out of his body, the stress from a long several days of labor being washed away with the coconut suds. Your hands still for a moment as you simply gaze down at him, suddenly moved beyond words at the total trust and vulnerability in his posture.

You must pause for longer than you realize because suddenly those cerulean eyes are fixed on your face from behind his wire-frame glasses, a small smile crinkling the corners of his mouth.

“Getting tired?” he asks with a playful nudge, letting his fingers run over the soft cotton of your dress.

Shaking your head, you smile sheepishly, your hands getting back to work. “Just admiring the view,” you admit, feeling your skin grow warm at the way he looks at you in response.

“Me, too,” he says in a low voice, turning his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your forearm.

You massage his scalp for a few minutes longer, then reach for the faucet once more to rinse his hair out, gently detangling all the knots as you do so. Good thing you grabbed the conditioner as well.

“Conditioner, too? I’m really getting the royal treatment,” he chuckles when he feels you rubbing it through the ends of his hair. It’s gotten a little longer while he’s been on leave. He’ll have to cut it again soon enough, but you’re enjoying it while you can.

“Only the best for you, Lieutenant,” you grin, rewarded for your comment by the adorable blush spreading across his skin.

Bob’s eyes pop open again and he watches you this time as you carefully tend to him, so focused on taking care of him and making him feel good.

“C’mere,” he whispers, the husky tone in his voice turning your knees to melted butter as he reaches up and tugs on your waist, pulling you down into a kiss while your hands still rest in his hair.

You’re not sure if it’s just something in this fresh country air, but his kiss tastes like sunshine and wildflowers.

You can feel the “I love you” mouthed against your skin, his lips closing around your bottom lip as he bites down softly.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to pull back, a small laugh bubbling up in your throat when you see his little pout, his mouth still searching for yours.

“Let me finish,” you murmur soothingly, washing the conditioner out of his hair.

You let the frigid water cascade over his head a few minutes longer than necessary, your fingers turning to ice as you continue to card them through his Teddy Graham hair. It's only when you see the goosebumps rising on his shoulders that you finally turn the water off, squeezing the ends of his hair in a gentle fist to release some of the excess droplets.

“All done,” you say, laughing when he sits up and begins shaking his head back and forth, looking suspiciously like his family dog. “Stop, stop!” you scold him good-naturedly, reaching for the towel on the back of the chair.

“My goodness, you are impossible,” you tease, stepping between his legs and draping the towel over his head, scrubbing his hair as he reaches up and links his hands behind your back, trapping you against him.

“And you are beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning forward once you lift the towel and pressing a kiss to the center of your chest, just above the neckline of your dress. If he can feel your heart nearly jump out of your chest, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“There, good as new,” you hum, pleased with your work as you watch the silky soft strands of his freshly washed hair glide through your fingers. “And now you smell like coconuts, too,” you add with a grin.

Bob only smiles in response as he slowly stands up, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you soundly.

He still has his arms around you as he kicks the forgotten towel away and begins walking you backwards out of the kitchen and in the direction of the small bedroom, the one with the rickety full-size bed the two of you have been sharing since your arrival.

“What’re you doing?” you laugh, your bare feet tripping along the creaky floorboards as you let him guide you.

“You took care of me,” he says softly, blue eyes twinkling as he rests his forehead against yours, his hands resting securely on your waist. “Now I’m going to take care of you.”

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 03/April/2024

Do you ever have a week where there’s so much going on, but it feels really good to tick so many tasks off your list?

Well, I had one of those weeks, hehe! :D

First up was finishing up all the edits to the demo section, which went super smoothly, and it was great fun reading the comments from them. I always appreciate how they take the extra time to write what they’re enjoying, or their fun reactions to things that happen as they edit!

Then it was onto social media days! The sporadic internet has still been a major obstacle, but I actually managed to get on long enough to get some asks done! That was great fun getting to do those and indulge in getting to talk about Wayhaven even more with you guys, hehe!

With the Patreon content, I worked on the sketch for Adam/Ava’s masquerade mask for the upcoming ball in Book Four, which was both awesome because I loved the ideas and inspiration I had for it, but also was nice to get some drawing in! That’ll be going up on Patreon later this month!

And then I even managed to get a massive amount done on Chapter Two! Way more than I expected yet again, so this chapter is seriously moving on at a pace! I was actually starting to think I’d get it finished next week…but then I decide to move a big chunk from the start of Chapter Three to the end of Chapter Two, lol.

The flow will be much better. Where it ended before would have been a great cliffhanger at the end of Chapter Two but it just…it didn’t feel like where it should have ended. So, moving that section now makes it feel more like the chapter I wanted.

This new ending section does contain more variation to account for love interests, etc, so will take a bit longer, but at least that means it will also make the second demo section that much more chunkier! :D

But the first demo section is now with my final set of readers, so hopefully not long until I get to share that with you all!

I hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We'll be offline as usual, so I'll update you all again next week! <3

[autumnnnsun]

Now that I’ve finished reading Hortus de Escapismo and Executor’s record, I really gotta ramble about Executor for a second and kinda talk abt how Arknights handles his lack of empathy trait that I really enjoy. This isn’t a proper analysis or anything just my thoughts I wanna vomit for a sec.

So it’s implied in Executor’s record that he just, wasn’t born having empathy despite being a sankta. Or at least he just naturally doesn’t have the same levels of understanding of emotion as other sankta. The part that I really like about it is how Executor’s Record and story in general doesn’t portray that as a necessarily bad thing.

His lack of empathy allows him to think in a way that is a lot more unique than other sankta. When his partner in his record story told him to sacrifice him, he still brought his body back to Laterano. One of the reason being because of a specific sentence in the will they were enacting (“I hope all Laterans return back to their home.” Smth that most people would assume is just smth the will writer wrote for some extra literary flare) but also because he disregarded his partner’s feelings. His lack of empathy is the reason why he did something good and that is very interesting to me especially when most people tend to demonise having low/no empathy.

I also just really like how in his record story, it’s emphasised that he knows what emotions ARE. He has developed a system with his parents to recognise and visualise emotions by drawing lines that represent them. He knows what it is, he can recognise it to a level where he can think of the next best course of action when confronted with it, he just doesn’t put much importance on it nor does he bother with understanding it for the most part. Especially if it’s something that will get in the way of his job. And I REALLY like that cus it reminds me of how people irl that have low empathy will develop systems to work around it and still be kind.

I know a lot of us joke about Executor being autistic and that’s funny and I like the jokes as much as everyone else, but low or no empathy is a trait of other mental disorders and disabilities and even as someone that hasn’t been diagnosed with anything yet it still feels kinda nice to see low empathy being portrayed in a way that isn’t villanious.

In fact, Executor having low empathy kinda makes him the best person in the room sometimes especially in Hortus de Escapismo. The part where he does a warning shot at Oren and Lemuen and essentially goes “Can ya’ll STOP I’m trying to do my JOB.” And essentially manages to stop a massacre because of it is so funny but also so fucking hype bruv. I like how in the end of the event when Executor was starting to ask more questions and have more doubts and was starting to let emotions affect his actions a bit more, it isn’t framed as like “Oh mah gerd, he’s learning empathy and being more hooman!”

Instead he’s asking questions and seeking to find solutions to them in his own unique way. Asking around and adding more variables to his thought process like a computer would (which has some implications that gets my lore brain churning but hrghrghrgh)

Top it all of with the fact that he is specifically a character that is born and raised in a society that values empathy. Being able to feel other people’s emotions is what makes you a sankta. And Executor, is one of the better sanktas because he doesn’t follow that rule.

God I love Executor, go son, thrive.

[blue-disco-lights]

✨ Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thank you so much for tagging me - love this one! (i love them all actually) @jrooc

@stocious @michellemisfit @doshiart @mybrainismelted @mmmichyyy

@sgtmickeyslaughter @gallapiech @suzy-queued @spookygingerr @roryonic

Name and A03 handle: Julia, Blue_Disco_Lights

Current Location: my dining table - my work is hybrid, so this (suprisingly uncomfortable setup) is my desk twice a week.

Favourite picrew: I never really wore my space buns this high, maybe a bit lower… also the jewelry is a Chain Mickey homage obviously.

What's one thing you want in a picrew? I love a creative background and good sweater options. If left to my own devices, I’d be in a hoodie all the time, but it’s nice to spice things up!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Hard to choose! it's a tie between some @galladrabbles and these @gallacrafts.

Why is it your favourite? I’ve been knitting since I was a kid but never really got beyond the scarf phase lol - and Season 1 Not-a-booty-call/“Whatever, see ya” Mickey wore that green scarf and I knew I had to recreate it. The t-shirt is me attempting to draw for the tomato theme and I just think it would be so funny if Ian actually wore this outside.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? For the scarf, it was all about finding the right yarn and also that cute patch that just appeared out of nowhere at the craft store. Drawing is hard because i don't know how 😆

Last ao3 fic you commented on? It was either on Shame-proof written by @ms-moonlight-inn and @notherenewjersey or A Song Only You Can Hear by @suzy-queued - both so good!

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I’m usually OK with WIPs taking a while, truly… but oh man, I’ll copy @jrooc's answer and say Things Beyond Mistake by grayola. What a STUNNING work and we’re left just aching for what happens for those two. My second is Elevator Music by gallavichsecurity- another beautifully written one that I hope will continue one day. 

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I love enemies to lovers, the slower the burn the better 🫠🔥 . I’ve yelled about loving road trip plots a lot, so I loved Highway of Hedonism  by @roryonic (w/ beautiful art by @gallapiech).

Least favourite? I’ve never gravitated to mpreg   

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Never even knew A/B/O was a thing until i got here - hello! Same goes for Whump - once it clicked that it was an actual genre, it was like oh wow, i think i’ve been into this my whole life lol.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Er, shocked quite honestly. When I see that I actually have multiple things posted on AO3 I do wonder who that person is??

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: There are so many hype people i want to thank in my writing journey - your amazing comments & reblogs really made me feel like a writer! (which was a little shocking - so please know they went a long way 💕) @gallawitchxx @energievie @creepkinginc @jrooc @michellemisfit @palepinkgoat @gillyp @suzy-queued @ian-galagher @sweetbee78 @francesrose3 - and special shout out to @mybrainismelted for being an amazing sounding board and co-conspirator on Gallavich Summer Camp among other things!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Hang out on Discord and Tumblr, and fall into one of the very many tabs I have open. Currently it’s You’ll Never See Us Again by @spoonfulstar - and omggggg.

If you're tagged in this post and haven't made one of these yet - this is your official invite!

tagging in @lingy910y @deedala @heymrspatel @atthedugouts @wehangout

@lupeloto @sisitrip @sandrashaine @shippergirl121fic @stocious

@jessij1997 @sickness-health-all-that-shit @thisdivorce @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos

@mickeyheartian @mickeym4ndy @callivich @transsexual-dandelions @nymacron

@rororowyourboat18 @transmurderbug @bawlbrayker @i-think-you-mean-reduction @gallavichsuperfan

@runawaybrainsc @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @thepupperino @celestialmickey

@crossmydna @spacerockwriting @catgrassplantdad @look-i-love-u @silvanshadow

[iraprince]

do u have any advice for those that want to run a quest?

it feels a LEETLE silly answering this when all my own are currently on hiatus bc i got busy (SORRY TO CALLIST0 READERS LOL) BUT!!! yes i do. i have only ever run quests/interactive comics on the site questden, so i guess as a baseline this will kind of all be geared towards that, but i think most of this should translate to any hosting situation

you have to be cool with your plots branching and mutating in unexpected ways, and you have to be willing to play ball with your readers. quests are a collaboration between the author and the audience. it often feels a lot like gming a tabletop campaign (and that's the origin!! questden, specifically, was originally an offshoot of /tg/.) -- we've all had or heard about bad GMs who view their position as that of a narrative dictator who exists to punish and prod a captive group of players thru their own personal novel, but a good GM is interested in telling stories as a group. u have final say and have to stay true to the important stuff abt ur story, but if u get mad or frustrated when ur readers want to explore something "off topic" or aren't following the threads of ur narrative the way u expected them to, u don't actually want to run a quest, u just want to make a webcomic w mandatory comments. (the flip side of this is: consider if the story u want to make is the right one for an interactive quest. if it is REALLY important to u that the plot beats of a story go a certain way, maybe save it for a medium where u have more control!)

keep it loose and fast. the art does not matter. i am rly guilty of not following this one, but i still think it's really important! one of the things i like best about quests is the barrier to entry is very low and you SHOULD be able to start and maintain one very quickly. if i were better at keeping my art scrabbly and sketchy and loose, my stuff would not go on hiatus as often as it does. draw fast! it's NICE if the art is gorgeous to look at and definitely will draw readers, but it's way better if the art is simple enough that you can update frequently and without much stress. the quality of ur writing + character building, and whether u are telling a story that's engaging and that ur readers feel meaningfully involved in, is 100000x more important than the art.

on the more nitty gritty side: try to have a hook in each update. one of the most common reasons suggestions die off is readers being unsure of what they're supposed to do next. sure, too much spoonfeeding could end up feeling like railroading, and you don't have to end every single update by getting right in their faces and yelling "WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT??", but when you finish an update try to take a second to put yourself in a reader's shoes and see if there's an obvious next step. is there a course of action to decide on/debate, are there clear questions they can ask an npc, etc -- i can't think of a great way to describe it, but you want to avoid ending an update on a note where the player character and readers are basically sitting there looking at each other like "um... okay. that's that, then." some ppl even just end all their updates w multiple choice options, which is a super simple way to keep things moving if it fits the style of what ur doing. if you don't want it to be that overt but you still can't think of a way for there to be a clear hook, you can at least try to leave a little nudge in the narration that invites the readers to try to tie whatever they've just done/learned back into the pc's main goals/motivations or current tasks. (on this subject, VERY useful for your main character to have a very specific goal or end destination that everyone is on the same page abt. it's harder for your plot to lose momentum if you can always point at what your readers are supposed to be moving toward!)

finally: KEEP UPDATING EVEN IF YOU GET VERY FEW/NO SUGGESTIONS. it's a niche genre. questden is a small website. it's hard to get people to read something new, especially if it's in a new and unfamiliar format (and especially especially when it's on a website that looks like a chanboard lmao). picking up readers takes a long time, and a lot of people lurk without suggesting (ESPECIALLY if it's a difficult/plot-important decision, and also especially in the opposite, if it's a very obvious next step and someone else has already commented what most ppl would say). it's very tempting to want to wait for more suggestions bc u "only" have one or two, and then that wait becomes stagnation, and then you're frustrated and u end up dropping the quest bc "nobody cares." instead u just have to push thru!!!! u only have two suggestions and u wish u had more? maybe next update u'll get more. u have NO suggestions and u feel like that means ur quest is dead in the water? NOPE! the solution is to update again, bc maybe ppl with latch on more and have something to say in the next scene. the more u update ur quest, the more u'll be able to talk abt it (and maybe get more readers), and specifically in the case of questden the more ur thread will be bumped to the front page. think abt how many times you've seen ppl talking abt a webcomic or a book and thought "i need to check that out eventually...." but it takes months for you to actually do it. 99.9999% of the time, ppl need to see something MULTIPLE TIMES before they check it out!! most readers do not come from clicking something the very first time they see it!! i know it can feel lonely and discouraging, but u owe it to ur art and the stories u want to tell to keep trying, even if engagement is very low at first, otherwise you're killing it before it's even had a chance. like, get shameless about it. ask your buddies to comment on your quest. but give that horse a few really good whacks before you decide it's dead!! i think that's my main thoughts. if you have any more specific questions i'm happy to help if i can! but also i think you'll learn the most by just jumping in and fucking around. quests are easy to pick up and easy to drop, and imo do really well as a playground where u test different ways to draw and tell stories, so might as well just get messy.

[highlordofkrypton]

What is this "proshippers" stuff that I have been seeing all over the internet? Is it a bad thing?

Good morning, anon!

I just gotta say before I start, your timing 😭 I absolutely love this question because you're making me research and I have a lot to say, but I just finished the gym so please picture a trembling T-Rex over the keyboard as you read this.

Short answer: Proshippers are people who believe in 'ship and let ship', even if the ships can be viewed as problematic, but not all proshippers ship problematic ships. It is not a bad thing, if you take into account the whole picture and not just specific problematic examples. BUT over time, people have come to use proshipper as 'problematic shipper' so it depends who you're talking to?

I'm not an authority on what is bad or good, the best I can do is give you the different points, and let you decide how you feel about the topic.

WHEW, THIS GOT LONG AND PERSONAL SO BUCKLE UP!!

This Reddit thread sums up what proshipping is really nicely, and I'm just going to add onto what's already said there.

CONTEXT

As an older fandom member myself, and back in my day, proshipping and a lot of the labels you see floating around wasn't a thing. At least, not to me. Back when I was active on Tumblr over a decade ago, everyone just kinda stuck in their own corners, doing their own thing with their niche group of people.

Then, as time shifted, the fandom became more popularized and acceptable, you have more people coming in to engage with the culture. As I mentioned in my ACOTAR fandom analysis (which can be applied more broadly), fandom really started as the weirdos being weird together on our weird little site (and I say this with the utmost affection). With more people participating, you have more opinions coming into the mix with more discussions happening. Not to mention, how the pandemic brought fandom to the eyes of the general public making it a lot easier for them to shame and comment on something they don't necessarily understand.

One thing that you'll see me repeating on this blog is that art is a form of expression, exploration and therapy. Art can be problematic and it can be harmful to some people, but the beauty of fandom is that tags are a form of etiquette to help cater your experience and I do see most people trying to do it. You are in control when you are in fandom. You do not need to engage with anything you do not like, but the responsibility is on you (not others) to manage your experience.

TWO WAYS TO LOOK AT PROSHIPPING

As mentioned above, at its core, to be pro-ship means that you are all for people shipping whatever the hell they want because it's none of your business. By that definition, you could look at it more as a movement or a belief system, rather than a 'label'. It's a belief of freedom of expression and being anti-censorship rather than focusing on problematic ships.

As of late, and with my return to Tumblr after an eternity (it feels like a whole new place, btw), proshipping has morphed into meaning 'problematic-shipping'. I see people tagging their blogs as 'proshippers DNI' and then list that they are anti-incest or underage content. This is a totally fair request, but it lumps the idea that you have the right to ship anything as you're specifically pro those two things or anything that is specifically problematic.

THE PROBLEM WITH 'PROSHIPPING' READ AS 'PROBLEMATIC SHIPPING'

If you're someone who stands by the second definition and that proshippers are all, by default, people who stand by problematic ships, you may risk falling into the trap of extremes, generalizations and censorship in a way that I find is harmful to people who use fandom as an escape.

Where do you draw the line about what's problematic? Some people say that age gaps are problematic, but as an adult, I think that a 30 year old dating a 50 year old is not inherently problematic. At 30, your brain chemistry changes and you are mature enough to make these kinds of decisions. There is a certain age where the ages start to blur and you don't really feel the difference between generations. Then, there's a hundred other questions you can ask. Did those two people start dating now at those big old ages? Or did it start younger? What was the context?

Speaking of context, there are a lot of people who will see a tag or a ship and immediately deem that work as problematic. It's important to remember that there is so much more at play than just the text itself, and you can't always make a direct moral correlation between the art, artist and perceiver. All three of these present a different perspective. The art is the finished product, the artist comes with their own set of experiences and so does the perceiver.

SOME EXAMPLES & DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES

(tw: abuse)

Two more things I'd like to add.

I haven't yet read the Death of the Author which a theory that says you shouldn't take into account the author when you are reading a text, but rather how the text or the art makes you feel, but fandom is so tightly knitted with creators that this is a tricky approach to take. With larger more traditionally published works, there's a separation between you, the perceiver, and the author. It's easier and better for discourse to disassociate so you can discuss with your peers what you got from the text.

In fandom, you are among peers and you are already in the community. I am not absolving any problematic ships and I do have personal hard boundaries that I enforce (and do not engage with), but I will say that there are things I can empathize with. There's a reason in fandom that we always so 'don't like, don't read', or why we don't leave critical reviews or why some people think it's bad form to censor/police others.

In fandom, you are creating for you or directly for your community.

Now, I'm gonna get into more personal examples.

As someone who has been neglected, abused (every version under the sun -- physically, sexually, verbally, emotionally, financially, etc.) and other stuff I don't want to get into, writing is my outlet. I don't personally claim the label of victim for personal reasons, but for all intents and purposes, I am one. I am someone who has spent most of my life alone, with my emotions (alone) and my thoughts (alone) because any form of vulnerability or imperfection was punished. When I look back at my life, sometimes I wonder why it feels like I lived the Murphy's Law of abuse.

That said, I only had writing. From the age of 11 to my big old age now, it's the number one way for me to work through emotions without ever having to put my name on it. I didn't have to be the victim and if I needed it, I could write myself a hero. It's a question of reliving experiences or exploring themes in a setting that I can control.

What if my character is assaulted? But what if someone came to comfort them afterwards? Made them feel seen and didn't diminish that pain? Or what if they did take away that pain so the main character doesn't have to carry it for as long as I did? What if I write about power dynamics because having someone you can inherently trust with everything brings me peace?

What if the violence I portray is my way of feeling in control of a situation like that? What if I support women being violent in my work because they deserve to stand up for themselves with the same force of the violence committed against them?

What if I write about ugly things because I see myself as an ugly thing and I want to celebrate that? I love villains. In the eyes of my abusers, I am the villain. (Have you ever been under the thumb of a narcissist? Many narcissists? They are always right, and you are always wrong.) Did you know that as a woman of colour (depending where you are), the more your stand up for yourself and the more you maintain firm boundaries, the more you're treated as a bitch? Or some kind of poison to the world around you? Some men will go out of their way to make you submit, even professionally.

All that said, I do not wish any bad thing on anyone and when I'm done writing my silly little work, the only reason I share it is because I hope someone sees a part of them in this and feels a little less alone. When I finish writing, I log off and live my life bringing as much positivity as I can to every person I interact with because I don't know what they are going through.

I never shared my writing before this year, and let me tell you, the number of people who have told me that they cried, they felt sadness and felt seen by the way trauma was depicted in some of my work -- THIS is why I share. The world is so big, and everyone is so focused on fitting in, or hell, just surviving, and it's easy to feel alone.

So, I can't imagine taking that label of anti-proshipping, or bringing that whole energy of trying to silence and police people when some of the 'problematic' content you see might actually help someone work through some things in a way that works for them without harming real people. (These are works of fiction, and art.)

Would you prefer wiping the entire board because there are some people, yes, who glorify problematic things, but there are more people than you know who see themselves in seemingly 'problematic things' and it heals a little part of them? I'm not saying everyone has a 'valid' excuse, but who am I to play judge and jury? That's not a task I'm personally willing to undertake in a fictional sandbox. I block and move on, that's it.

If, after everything I've said, I do fall under proshipper, please keep in mind that I am fighting for the people who find community, the people who are healing and the people who just want to get away from the performance that is our daily lives.

[quibbs126]

So I decided to finish off the day with a kid from scratch (granted I ended up finishing later than I thought), whom also happened to not be a request, but I decided to do because the pairing caught my eye when scrolling to Dark Sapote. Anyways, this is Matcha Cheesecake

…Uh, I’m only realizing now I don’t have a character for her. She just has vibes and a design. Let me make something up right quick

Let’s see, she’s an avid party lover, frequently attending her mother’s parties (though not in this outfit, rather the one from the sketch). She also tends to be a bit egotistical and vain. However, her more eccentric personality only tends to come out at parties or in social events; outside of that she’s a lot more of a shut in

She’s also not exactly helpless, as she constantly grows plants, and they even tend to grow on her. The plants she grows also tend to be sentient, and see her as their master. So it’s best not to cross her

…I don’t really have much else. I mean I guess at least this wasn’t a request so that I disappoint whoever asked for it, but I feel like I’m not giving much interesting here either way

The name’s pretty obvious and self explanatory. She’s a cheesecake made with matcha, her name is literally a combination of her moms

Matcha cheesecake:

I’m gonna be honest, I feel like she could have turned out way better. Or at least, I think so in my head

She wasn’t that bad during the sketch phase, but it got difficult with the colors. I think it’s a case of Matcha and Cheesecake’s colors working well together as a pair, but when I try to combine them, at least how I was attempting to here with the light greens, they don’t work that well. Her final color scheme was me trying to come up with colors that looked semi nice together

A real shame too, since the pictures I found of matcha cheesecake (as well as basque matcha cheesecake since that’s a thing too) had some really nice looking color schemes

Also, during the final phases of the sketch, I was debating between this outfit and the one you see in the rough sketch above

In my eyes, she has both outfits, but one she wears at parties and the other is her casual, I just wasn’t sure what to make her default, until my friend said the second one

Speaking of the dress, that was giving me so much trouble throughout the sketching phase, I kept having to try and make new ones over and over again until I eventually got to the two you see

I tried using Festivia from Star vs as a reference, which is why she has her horns that way and the headband. She also originally had an outfit closer to Festivia’s, but it didn’t pan out because of the legs

I swear, every time I draw a character sitting with their legs in a certain position, they end up wearing a dress or something that partially goes over their legs, and it makes my job so much harder. I know I do it to myself, but still, it’s really frustrating

To be honest, I don’t know if my frustration comes from me not liking her design, or if it’s just that I’ve been up all night and she doesn’t look exactly perfect. My thoughts on her may change come the morning. But I don’t feel like she’s my best work. Maybe I stretched myself too thin creatively by trying to make myself to a third guy by day’s end

Anyways yeah, that’s Matcha Cheesecake. Not much to write home about to be honest, but I hope you can find some enjoyment from her

[stirthewaters]

I Love You

SUMMARY: After being somewhat neglected by Wednesday, you head to the library, deciding on self harm to make sure that you won't remember, and you won't feel anything.

WARNINGS: Angst, self harm, descriptions of gore, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, trauma, child abuse

A/N: SEND IN THEM REQUESTS! Personally I think this story concludes itself but if you guys want more than lmk

================================================

You can tell that your mental health isn't doing so good.

Normally you're feeling good; spending time with your friend group and your girlfriend, listening to music, and taking walks in the evening (even though it's past curfew).

You're a pretty nice person; not over the top with giggles and smiles, but you know what makes you happy and you're comfortable pursuing those things; your friends, Enid, Yoko, Ajax, etc, they make you happy. And of course, your girlfriend, the Wednesday Addams.

When the raven-haired girl arrived at Nevermore, it didn't take long for you to realize that you had completely fallen head over heels for her; her brooding and mysterious personality held you captive, not to mention the fact that she was simply stunning.

The two of you had become friends, having a sharing of horror novels and scary movies, and after a couple times of going to her dorm to watch a new horror film you hadn't seen yet, after a couple of times of her coming over to your dorm to listen to a new rock album, you admitted your feelings, and to your surprise, she had returned them; albeit a bit hesitantly and stiffly.

But lately, the Hyde had been taking up more and more of your girlfriends time; every afternoon instead of hanging out with you, the raven-haired girl would trek out into the forest in search of clues, and by the time she returned to your dorm, you were asleep.

And sure, you knew that being in a relationship with Wednesday meant that she would be a bit rusty; she had said so herself; more or less that is. When you had confessed your feelings, she had told you that she was currently deep in a case, and that she couldn't be very committed to you, but you had shrugged it off.

And you knew that you had been warned about it, but the fact that aside from school you were hardly seeing your own girlfriend was starting to sting, and knowing that you didn't have any excuse, you'd been starting to feel worse and worse as time crawled by.

So even you have to admit that you're not doing great.

Your routine itself is starting to get repetitive and draining;

Get up in the morning.

Head to class

Finish school for the day

Hang with friends

Go back to dorm for movie with Wednesday

Repeat

Except for scratch the second to last bit; that wasn't really happening anymore.

You've been starting to skip hanging out with Enid; what you truly longed for was the hesitant touch of your girlfriend as you watched a movie, one hand around your shoulder, the other stroking your hair.

So you've been taking time to yourself; which admittedly wasn't the best idea for someone with a bad view of themselves and draining mental health, and spending your time in the library.

At first it was fun; you'd dance to the music that you have on your iPod, or listen to a podcast while drawing; but the activity itself has gone dull, and you're starting to feel depressed.

______________________________________________________________

After school, you head for Ophelia Hall. At this point, it's instinct, except for the noticeable differences in your attitude and appearance. Your steps are heavier, your hood pulled over your head, and your typical perky expression is nowhere to be found.

You hesitate when you arrive at the door to Wednesday and Enid's dorm. You can hear muffled voices inside; they're arguing. Now normally you would be expecting this; the roommates arguments never tend to be too serious; but this time you hear your name slipping in and out of the conversation.

"You could at least spend one night with her!" Enid. She seems noticeably upset.

"She understands why I can't. I'm too deep in the case to take a break," Wednesday snarks back.

"You don't know everything about her, Wednesday. She's acting different lately," Enid snaps. "As someone who actually tries to spend time with her, I would know."

Turning on your heel, you head for the library. Of course, she assumes that you're fine. Wednesday doesn't do emotions. But it stings to see that your girlfriend is dismissing how you're feeling. Feeling tightness clawing at your chest, your footsteps becoming brisker as you hurry to get to the library before you start crying; you hate crying.

Once in the library, you feel your head aching as you want the feeling out. You want to feel nothing. You'd try to commit suicide, but you know you're not brave enough for that. You bury yourself in the farthest corner of the room, causing two vampires to scuttle away.

______________________________________________________________

"Come on, can we at least just have dinner together or something?" You plead to your father, who sits on the couch, bottle of beer in his hand as he scowls at the TV facing him. "Get out of the way, I'm trying to watch my show," he snaps, gesturing angrily with his hands. "Some father you are," you scoff, turning on your heel to leave.

"What was that, young lady?" Your father growls, grabbing the hem of your shirt to yank you backward. "I said you're a bad father. Want me to repeat?" You snap, anger broiling. Your father stands, expression crude and menacing. "Say that again," he growls. Too angry and bitter to hold back, you attempt to push him away, but he grabs your hands and shoves you backwards and into the wall, sending multiple picture frames shattering to the floor.

You look at your hands in horror as blood begins to flow. Angry and scared, you pull yourself to your feet, trying to back away, but your father continues to advance, lifting his fist to swing.

______________________________________________________________

Snapped into reality, you realize that you've been breathing so hard that you're light headed, and your cheeks are wet. You shake your head. Crying is bad.

______________________________________________________________

"Stop crying for God's sake, it's really getting on my nerves," your father snaps at you, flicking on the light switch in your room. "Crying is for the weak. Crying is for babies. Got that? Are you a baby?" He growls, glaring at your crying form in bed. Wiping your tears, you shake your head, trying not to let your watering eyes overflow. He slams the door closed, turning off the light, and you wrap yourself in your blankets, sobbing silently, trying desperately not to let your clawing fear get the better of you.

______________________________________________________________

You need these feelings out. Out. You want to feel nothing. You're not worth loving. You are weak, you are pathetic. You shakily open your backpack, taking out a long glinting hunk of metal; a pocketknife.

Ignoring the pain, you let out a shaky laugh in spite of yourself as you dig the blade under your skin, dragging it along the length of your arm. The cut, although not deep, ranges from your wrist to your elbow, and you smile at the sight of the blood dripping from it; it's so pretty. You dip your finger into the blood, smearing it all over your hand as you marvel at the sheer beauty of the color itself.

================================================

Wednesday knows. She knows. After her heated discussion with Enid, she realized that she had been an unfaithful girlfriend, and she wanted to kick herself. Sure, she wasn't the best at detecting others emotions, but even she had to admit that she was being negligent, and hadn't taken the time to notice the change in your behavior.

So instead of mapping out the woods to execute the location of the Hyde, she decides to find you and perhaps take a walk instead; something that you've been asking to do for a while.

"Where's Y/N?" Wednesday asks when she finds Enid and your group of friends in the quad. This is where she expected you to be, and she's a bit surprised that you aren't.

"Finally taking my advice, hmm bestie?" Enid grins at her.

"I don't have time for games. Where is she?" Wednesday rolls her eyes. Enid shrugs.

"I'd check the library. She's been going there more often."

Wednesday turns on her heel, not bothering to thank her, and strides quickly for the library.

______________________________________________________________

By the time you've found the pain pretty much unbearable, you have a museum of different cuts up and down your arm, and you're holding back tears. Somehow it's having the opposite affect of what you've intended. On the bright side, you now have a pool of that beautiful blood surrounding you as you sit on the floor, breaths shallow with the effort of suppressing your emotions.

When you hear the clomping of boots entering the library; you're positive it's a hallucination, and you look up with a loose and tired smile to see Wednesday standing in front of you, her typical deadpan expression replaced with one of shock.

"Hey Wens," you giggle, clearly affected by the amount of blood you've lost. "Come to kiss me?"

She drops to her knees, looking at you. She looks angry, but her eyes are glistening with tears as she rips out part of her sleeve to start making a tourniquet.

"You foolish idiot," she mumbles harshly, "why would you do this to yourself?"

You laugh again, voice slurred.

"I miss you Wednesday. Like I realllllyyy miss you. But I can't complain because complaining is for weakness," you're starting to become dizzy, mixing up reality with memory.

"Don't close your eyes," Wednesday spits, hauling you to your feet. "If you die, I will kill you."

Unable to stand, you look at her with another tired smile.

"Love you..." you groan, head swimming as you see Wednesday shout something unintelligible, pitched abruptly into darkness as a tear slips from your eye.

_

Wednesday is furious with you, and, though she will never admit it, scared. What kind of an idiot decides to hide in a library to harm themselves? If she had ever expected self harm from you, she would've assumed it would be in a secluded part of Nevermore.

As she carries your limp body through the halls toward the nurse, she glances anxiously at you as she plows through the crowd; this is all her fault and she knows it. Students stand and gawk at your form trailing blood as she races into the nurses office.

"Fix her," she chokes out. "Now."

As the nurse gets to work bandaging your scarred and bloody arms, she sits anxiously in a chair she dragged up beside the cot they laid you in, glancing back and forth between the heart monitor and you, holding your hand as she strokes it softly with her thumb, angry with herself for being so ignorant.

She knew that you had been hesitant to tell her about your past before, but at this point she's going to have to get you to admit what. After knowing so much about psychology all these years, she can tell that you're either doing this for attention or doing this for some other reason; and the latter seams more reasonable for you.

Nights and days go by. The nurses start making less frequent checks, assuring her that you'll be fine. She can't help but wait anxiously for you to wake up, eating only when Enid and Ajax come with food for her since she refuses to leave your side.

______________________________________________________________

When you wake, you're greeted with the sight of Wednesday sitting beside you, looking at you with anxious eyes. You smile wearily.

"Hey Wednesday."

[bear-of-da-forest]

Force-puppification is so damn hot to me. . .

Initially, finding the idea humiliating. Being treated as a dog? Are you fucking serious? Why would anyone ever want to have their humanity removed and have that void filled in with a leash and a collar, as well as a new title of "pet" ?

Then you do something good, you do something right. Someone comes up and tells you how good of a job you did, talking in a tone just smidge too condescending for your liking. You want to tell them to go fuck themselves. Right as you're about to tell them to shove it, they place a hand on your head, patting you gently while still speaking in a way that makes them come off like they think they're better than you. Where the fuck do they get off treating someone like that? Thinking they're so much superior, you'll fucking show them who's in charge how about that.

A few days later , the same asshole who thought they'd talk down to you wants to give you a gift. . . A gift? An actual apologetic offering? Finally, some damn respect. . . You open the little box they gave you to bury the hatchet, and it's a choker. . . ? It's got a little part on the front for something to attach, which is a little odd stylistically. A gift is a gift, though. The point here is that they wanted to make it up to you, so be the bigger person just call it water under the bridge.

You've been getting a few stares wearing it out, though. Nothing bad that makes you want to take it off, but just more stares than usual when you wear a choker. . . People have also been treating you nicer, or at the very least, the same kind of nice that was coming off as a special way to make you feel inferior. It was a little annoying at first, but at this point, you've gotten used to it. More than gotten used to it, actually. . . It's evolved to whenever someone gives you a compliment, just a regular compliment, it feels disingenuous. It doesn't feel right if they don't act like you're beneath them. . .

A week passes, and your new buddy invites you over to their place. Hell yeah, you have a friend, and you're able to just mellow out at their place? Fucking score. You get there, and the place is nice, kinda. . . It's got an ominous feeling to it, like you need to be on edge just standing in the entryway of the place. Despite intimidation and unease, they're being friendly. You're even offered a thing of biscuits! They're a little odd, unique flavor wise and bone shaped. You're assured they're homemade, so it's not like you're being made to eat dog treats or anything weird. . . probably. . .

You sit on their couch, and everything seems alright. You're a lil uptight because you are in someone's home for the first time, but you'll manage. As your sitting and they keep rambling about all what's been going on in their life your eyes keep darting around the room and drawing some odd questions. You see they got a dog cage in the corner of the living room with string lights intertwined with some of the bars, it looks cute, sure, but it's big. Big enough that whatever sleeps in that thing should have causes a damn earthquake running to the door the second it heard you come in the apartment.

Wait. . . Apartment? How the fuck haven't they been kicked out for having such a big ass dog when they have neighbors in four whole directions? So, you ask. Just an unassuming "Do you have a dog?" With a polite smirk on your face.

There's a bit of silence for a sec, then they get a similar smirk along their face. Not in the same area of politeness but more in the 'I know something you don't' way.

"Oh not yet, but I'm hoping to adopt a new one soon." They shoot you a playful wink.

"See, that actually leads into something. . . You've been liking having that collar on you, right?"

Collar? No, this ain't a collar. That has some implications there if it is a collar, but it ain't. You open your mouth to shoot down whatever they're saying a-

"It was rhetorical, pup. Be a good dog and let me finish, okay?"

You close your mouth and despite the urge to fight what they said you just silently nod in agreement with what they told you to do.

"As I was saying, I know you've been enjoying having your collar on. Anytime I bump into you I see you wearing it, so it's clear you want this. So, since I've been wanting a puppy I think it'd be best if you were my little doggy, alright?"

They stand up and walk over towards the cage, opening it and grabbing something inside before coming back. You can't really tell what it is until you see the clip.

It's a leash.

"Now, I'm not gonna put this on you until you tell me something. . . Are you a doggy?"

You attempt to whimper out a yes but a finger is quickly placed over your lips.

"Remember, dogs don't use people words, okay?"

Can you do this? Should you do this? It's humiliating in the worst possible way. You open your mouth and try to do what they're asking, to let a bark escape your lips, but nothing comes out. It's just too much.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart, it can be scary going from a person to a puppy but I'll make sure to treat you like my good little pet."

You try again, struggling to form the syllable of a W, stuttering a few times before you're able to do it clearly. It's the same situation with the OO and the F, but you make it happen. It's almost intelligible, which means you have to do it once more.

It's easier this time, you do it quietly but you still let out a decent woof, especially considering it's your first time doing it.

They lean over, clipping the leash to the hook on your choker collar.

"You did such a good job, puppy. I'm so proud of my little dog."

[artistic-endchamber]

Untitled Ship Files - 001

♥ Yuno Grinberryall x Giana Silverstone (Oc) ♥

♥ 𝘾𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙮: 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ♥

•❣•୨୧ "It feels like... I'm falling in love all over again.." ୨୧•❣•

A special thanks to @hybridanafrost for being enthusiastic about this!!

‘Do I have a yellow pen..?’

'No… I don’t think I do.’

Giana sighed, looking up at the sky momentarily before she looked back down. It was an off day, and she didn’t have much to do. She had finished her research for the day, and had nothing else to do. That’s how she ended up in the courtyard, underneath a tree.

She reached for her small pouch filled with ink pens – hoping to find a color other than black. After a bit of rumbling around lazily with one arm; she found it a green pen. She shook it a tiny bit to get the ink moving and pressed it onto her hand. With complete focus, she began coloring in the leaves placed with the vine pattern she had drawn onto her skin just a while ago. She filled in one after the other without blinking or moving for even a second. This was a habit of hers. She had to draw or do something to get her brain working, she just couldn’t have it any other way. Leaving her without anything creative to do was like leaving a man without food and water for a week – She swore it would kill her. She had to do something to get her creativity out; so she was doing this. She was drawing on her hand. ‘Next… The flowers. Red petals should be good, I think.’

Her hands moved to her pouch again, rustling around only a little bit to find a red pen. She repeated the same process, shaking it before starting. She took note of how every flower had four petals – and how the ones that didn’t she would be coloring with blue instead of red. ‘If I don’t have yellow.. What should I color the cent-’

“Hey,” This time, her thoughts were interrupted by a voice. The voice was a masculine one, and one she recognized. She looked up slowly, blinking. “Hey, Yuno.” She smiled softly as the tall, black-haired man crouched down to sit next to her. He pressed his back against the tree and looked up at the sky and she went on to scribble on her hand again. He noticed this, and stared at the design momentarily before making a remark–

“That looks nice.” She looked up at him and stayed quiet for a few seconds. She opened her lips and mumbled a “thanks” before she looked back down at her hand. But this time, she didn’t continue drawing or coloring. Yuno raised an eyebrow, this was the quietest she had ever been, other than their first meeting – and he wondered why. He noticed Giana swallow thickly before she spoke again. “I used to draw on my old best friend's hand all the time. He would draw on mine, too. We would always leave with each other’s drawings visible on our hands.” With how fast she spoke, it felt like she was just blurting the little tidbit out to Yuno, rather than her just talking normally. He took a second to process her blurb but nodded after he was done; responding with an “I see.” Giana nodded yet again before she went back to drawing, and Yuno watched her. It took about 5 minutes for him to come up with something else to say. It was usually Giana who talked and dragged him into the silliest things – he was only now realizing how hard her job actually was.

“Here, Let me draw on your hand.” He started off on a soft tone, looking down at her. His gaze was met when she stared up at him with a blank expression and then blinked. “Or would you rather prefer to draw on m-” “No, No, Yuno. I would love to draw on your hand.” Giana smiled softly, which made Yuno feel better. At least she wasn’t as down as she had seemed at first… She was just quiet, is all. He let his hand out, and Giana handed him a black ink pen. He took it in his right hand and held her hand in his left. This hand was Giana’s blank hand, so he was able to start fresh. The red-haired girl informed him to shake the pen first – and so he did. He shook it before he bent down and pressed down onto her skin, starting with a small, four-leaf clover in the center. “Like your grimoire?” Giana raised an eyebrow before she questioned him. She was curious about his plans, but that was all she asked.  Yuno was silent at first. He looked up at her and sat back up, only to kiss the tip of Giana’s nose and bend back down yet again.

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll see. And I promise, I won’t disappoint.”

[color-craz]

Good game and good fight everyone! This is another compilation of all the artworks I've made since my Midweek Post + Artist commentary. A significant less amount than last time because I got hit with that Burnout Special soon after. Speaking of that, everyone give a Huge Thank you to @mouwuma for doing the lineart and coloring of my sona!! (I owe them bigtime b/c I was NOT drawing that complicated ass outfit for a third time). Please give them some love or financial compensation! Without further ado, let finish this!

@twidaisi I had to get Twi back for that attack of Compact!! So I decided to do the character that was on my bookmarks as revenge!! I went a different route on him than I usually do (The neckless style again) because I thought it would fit his build better than if I did give him a neck. It was fun doing this cartoony lad who totally isn't committing fraud and medical malpractice!! (That license is totally valid I swear)

@goatpaste I always loved loved loved Sammi's fan JJBA part with Holly and just have been a big fan of his in general, so when I realized he was on AF I knew I had to draw at least one of them!! I picked Roxanne because she is just so pretty and her lore is just really really neat! Fun fact, I sneaked in a I.M.P at the last minute because the top half of the canvas was feeling empty and then remembered stands can partially show themselves. Overall a lovely design so such a neat character!

@salezmanradioz Polyblank was actually in my bookmarks since the beginning of AF! I ended up seeing them right before it started and saved it until now. This also another character that I read into the lore for him and god it's really really intriguing! I had to hold myself back from putting more people into this one because I had other things I needed to do. Polyblank is such a lad and I liked doing their face + colored lineart. (P.S Check out this character playlist it's BANGIN)

@lovelandfrogofficial A little backstory here, once I logged back into AF after posing the Midweek Roundup I found myself hit with four attacks!! Two revenges and two surprises! Cryptid's being one of the surprises, so I felt like I had to give some art in return. I picked out Valentine because he had very few attacks and I had an idea from reading his character desc (A kid like him would definitely dramatically pose inside of a coffin). It was an experience doing the lace and adding the roses (Which was actually a last minute decision, thank godness it turned out so well) but overall I like the look of this one!

SunshineCo225 Their attack of Underscore was my second surprise attack of this year, so I chose Elie of Dicey Dungeons to revenge with! I actually do quite enjoy DD so I went with a location I personally liked from it, which was the library stage. It ended up working out well since Elie's greens and yellows give a wonderful contrast to the reds and blues. I gave her a hammer since her daggers can transform into other weapons which is really cool :>. Honestly the contrast, pose and lighting makes this attack my favorite out of this batch.

@prizebubble A friend of mine attacked one of Nep2ne's charaters, which inspired me to do one of my own as well. A double whammy if you will! The idea behind this one is Kit ripping through AF to cause chaos so this one is transparent. It was lovely doing the patterns and stitching on Kit, it was like I was decorating her myself! Overall just a nice quick one with such a rambunctious looking character.

@mouwuma Me going "Oh I can't participate in AF this year" and then hitting you with an attack should be tradition at this point, it's happened like twice now. Anyway, this one is a Double Whammy of Dop & Ninian, they come from completely separate universes but Dop is a gigantic, pretentious nerd. And I thought it would be funny for them to be rambling about Ninian, a Pokemon fan character of theirs, and make up a fake amiibo pose for him. I felt like I had to do one for how much I pestered you to put Dop on AF so here it is!! (Fun Fact, Pokemon doesn't have an official amiibo line like Mario does. All the Pokemon amiibos are exclusively for the Smash Bros line. Nintendo is losing out big time here.)

@skittisketch My final attack of the year! This one almost didn't get made at all (So thank Jesse next time you talk to him). The ref described Skitti as a "wandering artist" so I thought her walking around a park for inspiration would fit her nicely. I could've simplified the background but god dammit I had sketched it already I had to go all in! (Even if I was on a bit of a time crunch). Overall a good work to finish of this year's Art Fight with!

Honest to god I didn't even expect myself to get out as many attacks as I did for this second half. So I'm quite proud of myself for that one! This was an ArtFight of trials and tribulations, but I finished this year off with 862.75 points! Thank you to everyone who gave me art this year and one more Thank you to mouwuma for doing the art for me (And for being such a good friend!)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to collapse before school starts ;-;.

-Gappy, A Very Tired Witch

[grimvestige]

2023 Summary of Art!

This year was full of experimenting and trying new things, and I think it really paid off in the end. I'm getting more comfortable with pixels, I finally have a way of painting I can do reliably, and I feel like I refined my main cel-shaded style a lot! I also feel like I improved on fundamentals just a bit more, with more solidly constructed anatomy (which I want to get even better at in 2024), and shading that actually makes more sense.

I feel like I'm finally getting to a point where I like my art - and a huge part of that is my partner picking up the habit of asking me what I like about a piece whenever I showed him something I made this year. It was super hard when he started, but now I can find at least one, maybe two things that are my favorite. I used to feel really, really neutral to bad about most of my work. I just did it and it was done, and on to the next piece. I knew I was "good" at art, but never really in the way I wanted. Now I'm daring to set my own work as my desktop and phone wallpapers.

I also finished a yearly challenge for the first time ever! Not that I completed every day of it, but I tasked myself with drawing a "Daily Snake" each day - as in Metal Gear, not the creature. It was sort of like those year of Miku challenges, but with Snake that left me room to draw any version of him. It was a fun thing because at the end of the day it ended up being like a little diary of my art, I could tell how I was feeling, whether I had lots of time to draw, all that. I think there was one time when I drew Liquid, there was an ACAB Snake in there, and also a trans one for fun.

Going into 2024 I have three big overarching art goals I want to work towards.

I want to learn and improve my anatomy enough to be able to solidly construct a body in perspective without needing to grab reference. (Not that I'll stop using reference, this is meant to be a goal that forces me to learn even more anatomy to feel confident with it)

I want to push my colors to be a lot wilder and more interesting. Rather than just picking the correct "local" color and working with light, shadow, and gradient maps to tweak colors, I want to be able to make interesting color choices right off the bat.

I want to at least try to start figuring out 'the style' for ttrpg art. (That nice rendered painting style you see in core books!) I'd really LOVE to start working on those projects, but I know most of them shoot for a different art style than I have.

The general plan is to keep doing studies, with the first half of the year being anatomy, the second half being color, and the ttrpg style thing being spread out throughout.

Thank you to everyone who's supported me and hung out on Tumblr! It genuinely means a lot, as this has been my go-to site when I'm down, and the one where I feel most comfortable sharing my art because the platform itself isn't predatory. I hope 2024 brings everyone lots of comfort and joy this year 💕

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 6.18.2024

I'm so sorry. I'm soooooo sorrrrrrrryyyyyyy.

It is June. School is out and the children are here. I am not good at writing in this conditions. It's not that I'm too busy, it's just that I get interrupted a lot and also, I can only write when my brain has a lot of alone time. I know this. I planned extensively that I was not going to have any goals for the summer because last summer was so frustrating and I still feel so, so, soooooo baaaaaad for not managing to write anything.

I put aside the thing I was having trouble with last week, and started writing a thing that I've wanted to write forever that baaaaaarely fits one of my prompts and I've written 2k words on it, but, like, 1 sentence at a time. It's got multiple [fill this in later] parts AND I'm not sure how to end it, and anytime I try to think about it, it just sliiiiides off my brain.

I have about 7 WIPs I want to work on (none of which are my requests) but I think that if I actually tried to write them, I would just stare blankly into space, the way I have stared blankly into space for the last two things I have tried to work on. I feel super duper bad because people sent me so many nice prompts and my brain is just too smooth to work on them. I know that me feeling bad about it doesn't help anything and that no one wants me to feel bad, but unfortunately, the feeling bad is obligatory.

A thing that did not help was that Mr P and I have spent the last two weeks d e v o u r i n g the Imperial Radch series and so all I want to think about is my favorite extremely problematic sci-fi military-empire complex instead of my favorite extremely problematic anime military-empire complex. (I think Old Man Yams and Anaander Mianaai:Vaguely Remorseful Edition would be besties). I finished the third one yesterday and I am holding myself back from reading them all again, immediately.

Every day I draw lieutenants. I have actually drawn all of the lieutenants at this point, but I think I want to re-draw Hinamori, because she was the second one I drew and isn't quite as good as the later ones. It's all just sketches and I am currently waffling on how much clean-up I want to do on this. One of the wolves inside of me wants to just leave them as they are, it was just a practice project. The other wolf says, you did all this work, would it be that terrible to do 10% more work to make it actually look good? (aka do an inking layer). It's also done on a very wide canvas and I need to figure out how to make a pan animation. I mean, I know how to do it in a very crude, manual way, but I feel like there must be a better solution (at least, a better solution that is not shelling out $20 for Procreate Dreams, which to be fair, is very cheap for an animation program and I am sure I would enjoy it). ANYWAY! Hopefully I will be done with that project this week!

I also made some bad cookies today. I am very bad at making cookies, but Lil P wanted to, so we did. They taste okay, but they are among the ugliest cookies I have ever made in my whole life.

I will try to be better next week!

[shipmistress9]

Made to Order - 2

Chapter 2 of my fluffy Bakery AU. Enjoy. 🥰

AN: I made a detailed plan about what needed to happen in this second chapter. And after finishing off point one of four, the chapter was already twice as long as the first chapter. 😆 So I decided to split it into more chapters. Currently, the count says five chapters, but depending on how former chapter three plays out, it could still get longer.

(Previous Chapter) (AO3)

. o O o .

When noon approaches the next day, I don’t know how to feel. Which in itself is already ridiculous. She’s nothing special, just another customer. There is no reason at all to feel anything, and certainly not this weird mixture of looking forward to and at the same time dreading seeing her again.

And yet, when I hear the entrance bell ring, I suck in a sharp breath, my heart racing. “Just a minute,” I call over from where I’m busy passing raspberries through a sieve. It could be anyone, but somehow I know it’s her. It’s like something tugging at my mind, pulling me toward her.

Ridiculous!

She’s just another customer, I remind myself again. Nothing special. Grinding my teeth, I finish off this batch and place everything into the fridge for later before cleaning my hands and walking over into the front room.

Fuck, she’s even prettier than my memories made me believe.

I give myself a moment to watch her as she meanders through my shop, gazing at all the decorative cakes with those inquisitive eyes, before I make a deliberate noise to draw her attention. “Hello again,” I greet her, enjoying her little blush at the reminder of how we skipped any greetings yesterday.

“Hey,” she greets back, and her little smile is already enough to make me lose my sanity. “Thanks again. For squeezing my order in and meeting with me on such a short notice.”

I force myself to shrug and reach for my work notepad to give my hands something to do and myself the chance to regain my composure. What in Amari’s name is happening to me? “Don’t say that until you got the bill,” I joke, earning a tiny snort from her, then invite her over to the small alcove where I set up a comfortable sitting area exactly for these conversations. “But let’s get started, I have a lot to do.” It’s only half true. I do have a lot to do, but I’m also eager to talk to her. Eager to have this meeting over. I don’t even know.

“Can I get you something to drink? A coffee? Tea? Water?”

She’s not getting any special treatment here, I have to remind myself. Offering customers something to drink is just common practise. I’m not trying to impress her.

But why does it feel like I want to?

“A coffee would be wonderful,” she all but sighs. “I barely slept last night. Ah, one sugar and a drop of milk, please?”

I nod and try not to examine her too closely as I prepare her cup. She does indeed look tired, exhausted even, dark shadows under her eyes marring her beautiful face. And are her eyes bloodshot? Did she cry?

And that is none of my fucking business.

Just like it is none of my business how sweet she sounds practically moaning after her first sip of coffee.

“Okay, first things first,” I focus on getting back into professional mode as I start a new order form on my tablet. “Your name?”

“Violet Sorrengail.”

I type in her name on the attached keyboard. “All right, Ms. Sorrengail, for how many—”

“Just Violet, please. I’m sick of formalities.” She throws me a pleading smile that does weird things to my heart.

So much for my professionalism.

But at least calling her by her first name shouldn’t be a problem. Just everyday routine, whatever makes the customer more comfortable.

“Sure. Violet. And I’m Xaden, by the way.” I hold out my hand for a formal handshake. As a lark, I remind myself. Not to feel her skin.

Chuckling, she takes it. “Hello, Xaden. Nice to meet you.”

Nice indeed…

I pull my hand back quicker than I should, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and I quickly turn back to my tablet. “Okay, now that that’s settled, we should first pin down some basic information. How many people are going to be at your wedding? How big does this cake need to be?”

Violet snorts, humourless, and shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

I blink. “Pardon?”

She sighs. “‘When the Colonel’s son marries, there will be too many people for just one cake.’ And yes, that is a quote.“ She rolls her eyes. “But yeah, this cake isn’t supposed to be for every guest. There will be countless other deserts. This cake is just… just the centrepiece. Just a symbol, you know? For the show of cutting the wedding cake. So it doesn’t need to be big, just… impressive.”

I raise my eyebrows but try to hide it by making another note into the order form and mutter, “No pressure.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine. From what I see here, even the Colonel will be more than satisfied.” Another roll of her eye.

I get the distinct impression that she’s not the biggest fan of her future father-in-law.

“Well, if we’re talking about ‘impressive’ I do have ideas.” Liam will be ecstatic when he can get creative with gum paste on the clock again. That reminds me though… “There is, however, the question of the budget. How much do you want to spend on this wedding cake that is mostly for show?”

At that, Violet’s face turns into what can only be described as a devious smile. “Since ‘Daddy’ is paying for it all, Dain told me there is no budget limit. We can go completely overboard here.”

Without my help, I let out a whistle. I bet she didn’t get to mention that when she enquired at the other bakeries. But I won’t complain.

“Okay, I have an idea for this cake,” I say as I search through some files. “How about you tell me a bit about you and… what was his name? Dain? For long have you known each other? How did you meet?” Just to get a feeling for them, I remind myself.

A shadow flickers over her face, sorrow and pain, and for a heartbeat I wonder whether I got something wrong. But before I can be sure, her expression settles on a soft smile, her gaze drifting off as she dives into her memories.

“We’ve known each other since forever,” she says, quietly, the smile around her lips growing warmer. “Or that’s what it feels like, at least. We’re both from military families, you see, and since we were five and six years old, our parents were always stationed together. We moved often but no matter where we went, Dain and I always had each other. He’s my best friend, and…” She chuckles, shaking her head. “And ever since I was eight years old or so, I regularly imagined marrying him, how our wedding would be, the whole thing.”

The smile comes easy onto my lip at her words. No matter what impression I got from her, maybe she’s happy after all. “And is it everything you dreamed of now?”

At that, she snorts, more humourless. “Not exactly.” She sighs and shakes her head, her eyes fixed on her hands. On a ring that seems pretty—but to my eyes looks more like cheap costume jewellery. “He gave me this ring when he ‘proposed’ to me,” she adds as she notices me starring. “In fifth grade.” She chuckles again, though with an edge this time. “Silly, isn’t it?”

This time, my smile is more forced. “I’ve heard sillier stories,” I say truthfully. I do wonder, though. Is she only going through with this wedding because she feels indebted to a promise she made when she was ten? Because despite her story, she still doesn’t seem happy.

But, again, it’s not my business. It shouldn’t matter to me whether they’re just going through a rough patch or will be miserable for the rest of their lives. It mustn’t matter to me.

“All right, here’s a suggestion,” I say, getting back to business. “When all you need is a few pieces for the wedding couple and presumably the closest family, best man, maid of honour and such, then that’s easy to do. No issue at all. And the decoration, we can prepare in advance over the next two months. Me and my coworker,” I explain at her curiously cocking her head. “So, what we can do is make a huge cake stand of sorts, one that looks like the cake actually has many layers. Three, five, seven, you name it. They’d only be fake, only styrofoam for example, but decorated to look exactly like the cake layer at the top.”

Violet wrinkles her nose for a second but then nods. “Yeah, that sounds just perfect.”

Perfect for people who value appearance over reality, I want to add, but I bite back that comment. I really don’t want to make her feel any worse about her own wedding. Instead, I add this information to the order form as well, then move on to the next steps.

“Okay, then I have a few more questions. For once, what kind of style do you want for this cake? Romantic? Flowers? Modern? Abstract? Is there a specific theme for this wedding? Some colour palette to work with?”

I glance up at her and am surprised to see her getting ready to leave. “Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head, not looking in my direction, but she sounds tight when she answers. As if she’s fighting back tears. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I need to go. I’m sorry.” She hesitates, then scribbles something on a piece of paper. “This is my number. Could you send me a list of all information you still need? I’ll coordinate with Dain and then get back to you.”

“Sure, no problem,” I say slowly, confused at her sudden mood change. Within seconds, she’s at the door and out of my shop, and as I follow her with my eyes along the windows, I see her wiping her eyes with her hands. So she is crying.

A bit stunned, I clear the table, all movements mechanical as I go through our conversation and try to figure out what upset her. I’m used to customers getting emotional but this was… different. All day, I keep thinking about her, ignoring the memories of her smiles, how her lips would tilt upwards and her eyes sparkle, and instead focussing of what she said. But no matter how many times I replay our conversation in my mind, I can’t find an explanation for her behaviour. So it must have been something else.

After closing off the shop, I send her the list she asked for, including questions about allergies and intolerances, which filling they would prefer, the usual. She doesn’t reply, but I didn’t expect her to. Not when she first has to talk to her fiancé and probably other family members since I doubt they already have put much thought into this.

There’s no reply when I close the shop the following day, either, but I remind myself that’s not unusual. Organising a wedding is a lot of work and not everything can be done within a day or two.

For nearly a week, I hear nothing from Violet Sorrengail. I debate contacting her, asking whether her order still stands. Whether she’s okay. But I decide against it. Inquiring after her personal life, that would be overstepping a line.

And I’m already doing too much of that when it comes to her.

Next Chapter

[alpinefrsh]

What are your thoughts on C!Wilbur now? Anything changed?

I’m asking for reference because I’m honestly having a hard time figuring out what to think. I was never really attached to ccWilbur in the first place and what he did was absolutely shit so the decision to stop supporting him wasn’t hard. But dear lord the character he played was so well-crafted(again I don’t support him at all). I just really don’t know where to draw the line between the story and the writer, if that should influence my admiration for this really well-crafted character or if me still liking c!Wilbur counts as support to the creator.

Thoughts?

(sub question: how is this gonna affect how you write the c! character in the future, if you write him at all?)

Support Shubble!🫶

Heads up, probably gonna get a bit long and ramble-y here, I haven't really gotten to think or talk about this much yet.

I'm still not entirely sure where I stand with c!Wilbur at this point in time- because on the one hand, whenever I see a drawing of Wilbur with a white streak in his hair I go "Ah, c!Wilbur" and don't feel particularly strongly about it. While the character and the streamer are unequivocally linked and I'd rather avoid writing about c!Wilbur in the future, they're still not the same person in my mind.

Yeah, I mean, I liked cc!Wilbur well enough before all of this- but my primary reason for watching him was definitely Tommy (didn't really watch many of his streams if Tommy wasn't also there kekw). I consider myself rather fortunate in that I've already gone through getting a little too dependent on a streamer for comfort who then turned out to be a really shitty person ages ago, so now I'm much more careful to keep a stronger degree of separation. No parasocial relationships here, thank you very much. Been there, done that.

I think the only person I would genuinely have some level of difficulty with dropping at this point is Tommy. Ooh, big shocker coming from the person who writes almost exclusively Tommyinnit-centric things, I know.

But yeah, back to Wilbur-- regarding c!Wilbur in fanfics, I unfortunately can't just remove the influence he's had over c!Tommy- just like I can't remove the impact c!Dream's had on c!Tommy's life. I also can't change c!Tommy's perspective of c!Wilbur, so at least regarding TomTurtles, Tommy's still going to mention Wilbur, and he's still going going to think of him his older brother and someone that he cares about.

However, as the writer, I will be far less merciful in how he's portrayed, regardless of c!Tommy's biased perspective (c!Wilbur isn't going to show up- that was never in the cards outside of a now scrapped idea for a non-canon fic in the series where c!Wilbur has actually been living in the same America as Tom and the turtles and they find each other again)

After I'm done writing the crossover series though, I don't think I'll be including him in anything else. Which is a shame only because it means I can't use c!Tommy.

Sure, most of my portrayals of Tommy will probably still draw heavily from c!Tommy but I probably won't be able to take him straight from dsmp anymore.

Upside to scrapping all of my ideas that included Wilbur- I can completely replace him with Technoblade AKA, more bedrock bros content \o/ (That being said, most of my fic ideas at this point in time are just various AUs getting Tommy to interact with the cast of rottmnt ahaha-)

All that is to say: While I ultimately view c!Wilbur and cc!WIlbur as different, the second I've finished writing this series, he will most likely never be mentioned or shown again in any of my fics after that. Might as well give any roles he might've played to someone more deserving.

And support Shubble, I'm so incredibly grateful that she decided to speak up about all this.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you have a nice rest of your night/day.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

3154 - THAT WHICH I CANNOT DO

May 21st, 3154

LosMech Bar - Manager's Office

Unity City, Terra

"I was never going to push that button," said Asena.

Spirit and Asena had only just finished something that neither would forget, and it had been difficult for both of them. For Spirit it was the trying, desperately to pretend she wasn't into the fact she was fucking a cyborg ex-ComStar agent, who'd had a Mantis blade to Spirit's throat, and two fingers... Elsewhere.

For Asena, it was trying to pretend she'd be able to forget it. It had been good, so good she knew it was never going to leave her. Spirit was no longer someone she could simply act normally around.

The statement had been unbidden, coming as the two were still pressed to each other against the wall.

"Nice that you're saying that now, a hundred years after the fact," Spirit shot back, voice leaden with poison, dripping with it, like dew from a leaf. "How many war criminals would say that if they had not been given a command, I wonder?"

"A fair point. But I wouldn't have let anyone else push it either. Over my dead body. The codeword was Blaze," Asena said. Spirit could tell Asena was truthful. That only made it worse.

"Is that supposed to reassure me? ComStar—you kin—were content to turn Tukayyid to trinitite. What's one more death on the conscience of the great and mighty Focht?" Spirit asked icily, blue eyes flaring and frosting over.

"No, it isn't. And you are right, it would be nothing. But I hope it at least shows you that not of us agreed with it."

"I'm sure that the dead feel much better knowing that you felt bad about killing them."

"No, actually. I imagine they hate me for it."

That brought Spirit up short for a second. But only one second.

"Something they and I have got in common." Spirit leaned closer, dagger's edge pressing into Asena's skin, just millimetres away from flowing blood. "How many of my kin alone you killed? One thousand? Two thousand? More? What about scientists, trying to make a brighter future? Three thousand? Four?"

Asena's face, her eyes, went unfocused. Recall. Of things that hurt. It took her a second to respond.

"Too many. I only know it was much too many," she half-whispered.

The dagger's press softened just slightly. Millimeters separated Asena from death now, not nanometers.

"On that we agree."

Asena nodded, in the process deliberately pressing forward, making the knife draw her blood.

"And I regret it all. Every single night," she said, eyes haunted in a way that only someone truly regretful, truly ashamed, truly horrified at themselves could be. "We both lost our souls there. But unlike you, I... haven't found mine again."

"You lost your soul a long time before that."

The knife retreated again, tantalizingly close.

"Regret it all you like. Toss and turn in your sleep all you fucking want. I don't give a shit. You know why? Because my sibko is dead, and nothing you do can change that."

The knife slipped back into the sheathe; a hook-punch slammed into Asena's jawline.

"I was going to kill you. You know that? But I don't think I will. You deserve to live."

I can't think of anything crueller than that.

Asena rubbed her jaw. She didn't speak. Just nodded, extricated herself from Spirit. She slowly, methodically dressed, ignoring the bleeding wound on her neck, even as it had already clotted. Every ounce of bluster and confidence, all the bravado and swagger she'd entered the room with - it was all gone.

Asena turned to leave. Spirit made no move to stop her. No move to say anything. No move at all. Asena felt the Witch's eyes boring into her back with every step she took.

"Think I'll go be with Amaranth now."

It wasn't Asena that spoke. At least, not the one that walked in earlier. Just a shell. No purpose, no care, no life.

The tone of the statement was final.

There was something in that tone that triggered something in Spirit. Something she'd seen before, in soldiers who couldn't leave the battlefield behind and couldn't stop seeing it on the backs of their eyelids.

Spirit knew she was merciless. It was a reputation she'd carefully cultivated, year after year, little cruelty after little cruelty. She had crafted that persona. Woven that calculated air.

She knew she was a liar, and a good one, at that, because she also knew that Spirit didn't exist. Spirit was the codename of Eliza Ryhill-Hazen. A mirage. A persona she wore to protect herself as much as others. Spirit was fake.

Eliza was real, and her greatest flaw was that she cared.

A knife, thrown in a single motion, passed millimeters in front of Asena's face, and slammed into the doorframe.

"No, you'll stay alive. Until your heart gives out and your muscles atrophy, you'll stay alive."

By the time that Asena had turned around, Spirit was pressing her against the wall, running a hand down her side, slipping past her waistband.

"We do this once, quiaff?"

"Why do you care?" she asked, tone still dead.

Because I lost people to suicide. Because I'm not as cold-hearted as I pretend. Because I owe Melissa and sparing her lover sounds like a good way to start repaying that debt. Because warriors should die from the enemy's bullets, not their own.

"Just shut up," Spirit murmured into her ear.

Asena did so. And as the sensations washed over her, she breathed.

Seemingly for the first time in a long, long time.