#i know i should unlearn the 'art is done in one sitting' but i like posting when i'm tired of something after a session so oh well

[dazzelmethat]

YASO curse of soirée's snake lady.. I'm love her. I used her as a model to practice some things. I may come back to this in a week or month to straighten it out.

[xshybutdeadlyx]

Questions for the demiromantic and demisexuals out there

Ok, so I've recently found this term thanks to an aroace character from a show I watched. I knew of the sexuality but I didn't really know the specifics because I always thought I was bi but now looking into it I didn't know how aroace was like a literal umbrella and there was so much more to it then meets the eye. Which I'm 30 I feel like I should know more than what I do. But with doing research into it trying to understand it better, I learned about all the terms, and I learned about demiromantic and demisexual and it really resonated with me. But I wanted to ask for advice, I guess? Like I like romance I love reading it seeing art and what have you but when it comes to romance for myself I'm not a big fan? And maybe it's because I literally have to unlearn so much romance equals a, b, and c when that's not really true. I literally been in only one relationship in my life and it consisted of hand holding small kisses (no tongue, honestly I have an ick with spit and the only reason I "wanted" to do deeper kisses with the boyfriend I had at the time was because I felt like it was a requirement) but I honestly didn't feel attraction towards him until after getting to know him and being friends with him for months well into almost a year. And he's the only one I ever felt that way for I hardly ever had crushes or when I did I almost kinda forced myself into having them if that makes sense? It was "natural," and every kid was supposed to have crushes. Nothing ever came from the "crushes" though.

Now, like I said, I'm well into my 30s, and the relationship I just mentioned was the only relationship romantic wise I've ever had. I have had strong feelings for two of the friends I have but one friend is straight as they come and the other is married lol the one that is married though we have a strong bond that I wouldn't trade anything for. She tickles my hand, and she lets me cuddle her all the time, and we just spend nights just playing games together, just like when we were in high school. I love her so damn much, and I'll cherish what we have even when we are both dead and gone. She is my forever person.

Sorry, I went into a mini rant about my platonic love, but she's the best, and when I start talking about her, I have to gush lol, but anyways back to my sexuality crisis

So anyways, when there is even a chance of someone having an interest in me, I honestly kind of freak out. Or like if someone tries to set me up with someone, red neon flashing warning signs pop up for me. I don't know that person, and honestly, I get put off by big romantic gestures. Like, I appreciate it, but I don't think it's necessary? Can we just go get McDonald's, sit in the parking lot, and just shoot the shit? Play some games? We can watch movies or shows too.

I've also been on the dating websites and such as well, and I'm just always immediately put off. "Hello beautiful," ugh. "Insert pickup line here." please God why. "Unsolicited romantic or sexual advances right after a day of talking." Haha, no. There was literally one guy I thought was cool and we kinda flirted but it was really just talking everyday about the games we were playing I feel like if given time a connection could of been built but he ended up finding someone else immediately. Which honestly was fine I was kinda bummed but like if he wanted romance immediately, I wasn't gonna be giving that to him. I wanted to still be friends, but apparently, we had "too much history," so he ended up blocking me. lol oh well.

I've also literally only have had two "crushes" in like in a 5 year time span (only because this is what I can remember lol) one of em was so goofy and seemed so fun but then it seems like they turned out to be very self absorbed instantly done the other had baby mama drama wasn't into that. Honestly, those things seem to be things that could be worked through? Maybe? But once I just see something off-putting, it's all I see, which seems more like a personal thing because of past traumas.

As of now I'm honestly content with no romantic relationship but I feel like I do want one but I don't want one with just anyone and it just doesn't seem like many people out there are willing to wait or willing to be friends first and want to hop into relationships immediately when I very much don't. It takes me a while to be comfortable with people, and I want to get to know them as a person.

For a long time I felt like I just wasn't doing things right or that I had to actually change something that I was doing. I thought I was wrong or that I should just force myself into the uncomfortable situation of being someone's girlfriend immediately but then if it turns out I just don't have those romantic feelings then there the whole process of hurting them which is just anxiety inducting.

Also, with all that I'm saying, it does go into the demisexual portion, too. I've still never been with someone sexually because even in the one relationship I have had, I haven't met someone I've trusted to give myself to. The thought of one night stands or anything of the like just makes me wanna crawl into myself. I don't mind anything sexual but I want to be with someone sexually that I trust and care about with my whole being, not some dude Craig or some chick Wendy from Tinder. I'm content with that, but a lot of the times, I'm almost made to feel bad because I haven't done anything sexual. But boy, can I read all the smut on Ao3. Like it all in theory, but dunno about in practice lol I just don't have much of a drive in general, but I don't know if that's just because I've never been with anyone before? I keep getting told, "As soon as you're with someone, your sex drive changes," and like, does that shit really happen? Lol

All in all, I really feel connected to the terms demiromantic and demisexual. Even when I just said I'm bi, it just never felt right, but for once, I feel like I finally found something that I felt connected to and finally found me. But I guess I also wanna feel like I'm right in assuming so? I dunno I feel like it'd be disrespectful in using a label that isn't really you? Which doesn't sound right because everyone has the right to find themselves, and sometimes people go through a list until they finally find themselves, which is what's happening to me right now. But my feelings also just get jumbled up and I have a hard time distinguishing what's been conditioned in me, like how you date, you get into a relationship, ya do couple things, then you get married ect. When all I wanna do is get to know you, really know you, then actually date but even then I feel like a lot of my stuff is more on the platonic end? Like, I like cuddling and kissing, and I do like romance but on a more tame level? I kick my feet when reading "he bought her all these extravagant gifts then he swept her off her feet and dipped her into a kiss" so cute but like if I was actually in that situation like bro put me down for real and I'm so awkward when given gifts lol

I dunno I'd just would really like to discuss this with others who have found themselves because I don't really have anyone else to talk to about this. I've talked to my friends and they of course support me and love me but I feel like they don't really get it? And my family just chalks it up to " Ya just don't have a lot of experience it'll all change when ya get out there and mingle with people"

Thanks in advance for reading all this if ya made it this far I know it's a lot of word vomit as I like to call it but I don't have very organized thoughts and I just kinda write what I'm thinking in the moment lol

[rebelwheelssoapbox]

The Influences Of Ableism in Veganism: A Disabled Vegan Perspective

by Michele Sommerstein

I don't know about you, but for me between the multiple genocides, the rise in COVID cases, the massive COVID denial, the related rise in mask bans, the elections, police violence, the rising threat of fascism, climate change, and so many other issues – for fuck's sake! it's a lot. And so lately, I've been feeling like while I am doing what I can to be part of the collective effort for justice, (for another world is possible), I can't only make protest art. My heart also needs lighter projects.

[image description: a collage. background is a field with a blue sky and white clouds and a field of rows of flowers of various colors. standing in the field is a silhouette of a pig that takes up most of the art. their shape is filled with a photo of from the universe (space) there is a human eye on them that slightly blends in with the space pattern. lastly behind them but towards the right is a pink cosmo flower with an orange center. as if the pig is smelling the flower. ] And so recently I've returned to making vegan content. But not some call for intersectionality, articles discussing inner-movement issues, kill counter references, and environmental stats, as I had done in the past. Just lighter. And perhaps because it has been a while since I have made vegan content, I found myself unexpectedly reflecting on the intersections of my disability and vegan identity. Before my disability identity-themed YouTube show (Rebelwheels NYC), I had a short-lived vegan cooking show called My Easily Amused Kitchen.

[image description: video thumbnail. a screenshot from the video taken in my apartment. a white wall and a purple couch behind me. text reads MEAK ep 1 creamy pea soup of vast fantasticness! my easily amused kitchen. there is olive oil being poured onto a bowl of peas. and I am pointing with my finger up sitting next to a penguin stuffed animal. I have glasses, a black shirt, and longer hair with bangs] And looking back on that time, I realize that I really wasn't being fully authentic in the videos. Of course, it was done in my motorized wheelchair and there was some of my quirky humor, but I remember I often downplayed any kind of physical fatigue even though that is part of my disability.

You see, between my animal rights activism at the time and the vegan content that I watched on YouTube, I was very much familiar with the protein myth. The false idea that if you go vegan, that you will by default, be physically weak due to not being able to get enough protein on a vegan diet. Often I saw other (physically able-bodied) vegans whether in person or via YouTube videos who were very intentional about presenting veganism as part of an energetic lifestyle in an attempt to counteract said misinformation.

And there are many professional athletes who are vegan. I personally knew a guy (not professional) who was vegan, who lifted weights and ran marathons with ease.

[image description: The background is a colorful collage of blue, yellow, and pink. The main text reads pity is not compassion! The vibe is artsy and punk. There is smaller text on top that reads spare us your pity we want our rights! And then towards the lower left-hand corner, it reads intersectional disability solidarity. Lastly underneath the word compassion is the phrase unlearn ableism.]

And then there was me, a disabled vegan, and not Paralympic disabled, disabled with low spoons (slang term for energy), disabled with health problems, disabled where muscle weakness is literally part of my disability. And now I can type that and say “represent” with a sense of disability pride, but back then it almost felt like it was a hindrance to the cause. And to be clear, no one ever said to me “hide parts of your disability for the movement.” It was just the way it was presented that made me feel like I should. And it wasn't just the impression I got from a lot of people in the vegan community. I could sneeze and an omnivore would say “Is that because you're vegan?” (as if they themselves never sneezed?)

As a result, I was very aware of how my disability was somewhat being linked to the protein myth. As if I wouldn't be disabled if I wasn't vegan. As if people aren't born with disabilities. As if disability and veganism were somehow incompatible.

[image description: white background. black typewriter font. "Ableism is... (a form of) discrimination. The false idea that disabled people are by default, inferior. When in truth disability is just another way for a mind and/or body to be." ] And so part of me felt that to show my truth was feeding into that weakened stereotype, thus hurting the movement and thus hurting the animals, which obviously as a vegan and animal rights activist, you don't want to do.

Looking back, it was also a lot of internalized ableism on my part, for I had yet to be aware that ableism was even a word, let alone working to unlearn it, and certainly had not yet found my groove and voice in my disability identity.

That said, I now see how essential it is to have a variety of vegan representation in all areas but in this case, ability and health.

And so, in the name of creating something lighter, and because it just so happened that I needed a new vegan cheese (long story), I filmed a taste test where I was un-apologetically me. Full throttle neurodivergent, processing delays, immensely honest, not downplaying when I was physically fatigued or in pain nor the fact that while there are many vegan cheeses out there, I could not try a lot of them, due to dietary intolerances and ingredient sensitivities.

[image description: tumblr has cropped the video thumbnail. the full thumbnail is as follows. Background gold glitter. Over that rainbow stripes. Purple blue green yellow orange red and dark red. To the left a photo of myself wearing a silence equals death with a watermelon pink triangle symbol on it holding up a piece of vegan cheese. I have oversized black cat eye eyeglasses and my rainbow flower crown hair band is pushing back my dark hair. Next to me is a collage of various vegan cheeses. And over that is the text in a bold black font "disabled and neurodivergent vegan taste test vegan cheese." Every line has a white rectangle behind it and behind that is a black rectangle shadow. In white text with a black rectangle behind it. "Not sponsored. Very honest."] And as a result of being authentic and sharing my truth, I'm starting to come across other disabled vegans like me, chronically ill vegans, neurodivergent vegans, etc. and it's lovely Many years ago, I wrote an article entitled Is Veganism Ableist? A Disabled Vegan Perspective. And in regard to the ideas of veganism, the answer remains no. However, I do think in the wanting and sometimes desperation to do all we can to save the animals (and to a certain degree, the planet as animal agriculture is one of the larger contributors to climate change), a lot of us took action to dispel the protein myth, and while in ways it was good, some of our actions had consequences that also caused harm. It is a reminder that when we take action to fight misinformation, we must make sure that we are also not punching down in the process (whether intentionally or not.) This is something that goes far beyond veganism. In the end, us vegans from marginalized communities must represent with as much realness as possible, not only so people know that vegans vary, but so other marginalized people who are perhaps 'vegan-curious', will know that they too are welcomed in the movement. After all, the animals need as many allies as they can get. (Author's Note: In the past, I have written articles using my birth name Michele Kaplan. However, in the past year, I have decided to use my mother's maiden name, and thus why this article is by Michele Sommerstein, while past articles are by Michele Kaplan. Same person. I didn't get married. This just felt right to me for personal reasons)

[dross-the-fish]

Started hanging out with some new friends in a Discord server on days when work from home is slow but I'm not able to leave my desk to draw or write, and I'm honestly surprised by how good of a time I've been having, how at ease I feel. This is the first friend group I've had where most of, if not all of, the people in it are queer in ways that are similar to myself, and not just cisgendered gay or bisexual people, but people who are also non-binary/genderfluid and on the aro/ace spectrum. After a lifetime of being friends with people who were mostly straight or gay and almost all of them cis except for maybe the odd binary-transperson all of whom are allosexual. It also made me realize that I've been walling myself off from most of my old high school friends for the duration of our relationship and haven't even noticed it. I always tend to sit and let little comments slide because I don't want to get into a debate or call too much attention to aspects of myself I'm still figuring out. Dealing with behaviors that were vaguely phobic and excusing them as my friends just "not knowing better," because they seemed well intended otherwise and nothing said was overt. Feeling like before I presented ace characters to them that I needed to have some justification and explanation at the ready and brace myself for people to try and tell me that "well this character can still have sex right?" or "What's the point of making x aromantic?" because they were allosexual and alloromantic and couldn't enjoy characters that weren't "available" in that way. Debates about whether asexuality should even be part of the LGBTQ spectrum weren't common, but they happened. Being made to feel like not being attracted to my partner was unfair to my partner because "everyone deserves to feel attractive to the people who love them." "A stands for Allies" is a thing that came out of one friend's mouth. "Non-binary is trans-lite," is another. "I could never love someone I wasn't attracted to, it must suck so bad to have that part of you missing." When I eventually came out as gender fluid, they seemed accepting but never bothered to use masc pronouns because I still accept fem ones. So they just felt free to ignore my gender all together and one of them even slipped and tried to correct someone who called me "sir" because it was that easy for her to forget, even with me standing right there in a chest binder and men's clothing.

There was always been an element of being ready to defend myself, of weighing my words before I spoke them and agonizing over whether I'd have to hear empty platitudes, excuses of people just "not being used to it" and an obvious, palpable discomfort that no one was willing to unlearn, that would be left for me to bear and to feel like I was at fault for creating by simply existing. And I never noticed it because it was so prevalent and it was still preferable to the blatant hostility most of the conservative population around here has for the LGBTQ community. I can talk to these people about every other thing under the sun, call them when I'm in trouble and they'll help me and turn to them for advice and support in every other area...but the little things still matter. Even when I told myself they didn't. Being around people and feeling like I can be unguarded is such a bizarre feeling that I'm almost afraid of it. Hearing one person talk about how an aromatic character I write isn't broken and wanting strongly for that character to be told that by somebody made me want to cry. Being asked if I would prefer couple art to be sfw vs nsfw because the asexuality of one character was taken into consideration actually felt like a big deal because NO ONE HAS EVER DONE THAT BEFORE. I didn't know these things mattered so much until they happened and now I feel I'm at a crossroads and debating if I should make the effort to advocate more for myself among some of my old friends. Acceptance matters, community matters. I always knew this intellectually but it's a whole different level now that I've experienced it. I've learned that it matters to me.

[openingpandorasbox1]

SCHOOL REUNION Part 1

SCHOOL REUNION

                At school I was bullied and was one of the most unpopular students at school – during both primary and high school. I didn’t feel I was attending school to gain an education, I felt like I was going to school to get emotionally abused. It wasn’t one person who was bullying me, it wasn’t a group of students who were bullying me; there were a lot of people who bullied me at school and it would have been impossible for me to be able to tell you who they were and their names (even at the time I wouldn’t have known all their names). It just seemed like I was the kid that people bullied and even students who I didn’t even know bullied me. Those kids had no justified reason to bully me – I had never done anything wrong to them or anyone else. They bullied me and they got away with it and there was nothing I could do about it. It just seemed like when one person did it and got away with it everyone else thought they could do it as well and get away with it – and that’s exactly what happened. I was told I was ugly and they would make fun of me for numerous reasons, most of the reasons were superficial. I was skinny but I was also awkward, shy, introverted, poor at sport, and I failed most subjects due to the fact I couldn’t concentrate in class. The only subjects I was any good at was art and history, and even though I spent my entire life enjoying books and reading, I didn’t do well in English because I didn’t like most of the books they gave us to read. There were particular books I did like but most I couldn’t get into. It’s a shame they wouldn’t let us pick our own books to read then my enthusiasm for English would have improved. I was a bit of a nerd, I wasn’t cool or popular and at recess and lunch I would spend time at the library or in the out of bounds areas. I would hang out in those areas because I knew I would be safe there and away from any bullies. However I would get detention often for getting caught in the out of bounds area by the teachers. If I approached a teacher about being bullied at school they would send me to the counsellor. I would just sit there and think ‘Why am I being counselled? You should be counselling the bullies they’re the ones with the problem’. The counsellors would ask dumb questions like “Why don’t they like you?” and I would be like “How would I know?” (I didn’t actually say that). Is there any justified reason to bully someone? No. I just knew I was the kid that got picked on. The teachers and my mother expected me to go to school every day just to be constantly fucked with. When I told my mother about being picked on she would always say “just ignore them” which didn’t help me at all. The teachers didn’t do anything about the bullies and in all honesty what could they do? Even as an adult I wouldn’t even know what advice I would give to a teacher or a school on how to handle bullies because there was too many of them. My friends at school were bullied as well – Sharon, Katie, Matthew etc. I’m not sure if they were bullied more than me or not. My brother tried to make me feel better during the summer before I started high school for the first time, he tried to reassure me that things will be better for me in high school, he said the high school kids were more mature than primary kids and they don’t bully as much and it won’t be as bad for me. My brother was one of the nerds in high school – but people liked and respected him and even though he got bullied sometimes he was left alone most of the time. He blended in well at school. High school was worse for me than primary school and that’s when more of the bullying towards me occurred.

                I left school and as time went by, I got over it. But it’s not something you can get over completely. As time goes by the memories fade but they don’t fade completely. You can’t unlearn something just like you can’t unremember something. When you leave school you learn that not everyone is an asshole – but you do learn that even adults can be bullies. It upsets me when we always hear about bullying and they always refer to school students as being bullies and victims of bullying. There are just as many adults who are bullies. I’ve experienced a lot of bullying in my adult life as well. A lot of parents teach their kids to be bullies, they don’t verbally tell them “be a bully” but kids grow up and notice how their parents behave and they mimic them and think its normal. A lot of parents don’t even care that their kids are bullies they stand by their kid even if their kid are in the wrong.

          I only remained in touch with a hand full of people from school. Years later I got a friend request from this guy from school called Simon who was adding everyone from our school, primary and high school and said he was organising a primary school reunion. At first it was supposed to be just a primary school reunion but he later invited kids from our high school as well. A lot of the kids from primary school went to the same high school. He was adding us all into this Facebook group and kept us up to date on the arrangements. We had to all pay money to go, but that went on drinks and to hire the hall, so that was cool. He told us that our primary school had given us permission for anyone interested to have a tour of our old school for nostalgic reasons. That was something I was looking forward to. Those who I went to school with had kids of their own who attended the same schools we went to, so they probably weren’t interested in the school tour. However, Simon cancelled the tour of the school which was disappointing. I would have loved to have a tour of our primary and high school just for nostalgic reasons.

#schoolreunion #schoolreunions #howtosurviveaschoolreunion #thelogcabinhotel #penrith #emuplains #yorkpublicschool #southpenrith #jamisonhighschool  #romyandmicheleshighschoolreunion

[bloody-bee-tea]

Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much  more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[zoeology31]

Another Elena of Avalor photo edit, wherein I try to explain why people perceive this cast of 90% POC as being much more white-passing than they actually are.

Throughout the show’s airing but most noticeable in the animation upgrades around the start of season 2, the lighting has grown more realistic and complex. Compare these daytime outdoors shots of Elena from “First Day of Rule”, “Song of the Sirenas”, and “Coronation Day”, particularly the increase in rim lighting and overall stronger contrast.

The problem with lighting, though, especially the strong lighting combined with the saturated color palette of Elena of Avalor, is the reflectiveness of the white light makes Elena (and other characters) appear much lighter than they actually are. This is a known phenomenon in animation: err on the darker side when modeling a character because they will get lighter at every step. Shown below are color swatches taken from Elena’s face in the above three images. Note how light the “Coronation Day” swatch is compared to the other two, though a lot of fanart doesn’t get close to any of these.

But if we can’t rely on lighting, how do we know what skin tones characters should have? Relative coloration. As a reference point, let’s take Chloe, the palest character in EOA, who is bright pink.

Look at this. Beyond genetic anomalies, no human being has this skin tone. She’s clearly intended to be on the pale end of Caucasian; plenty of real-life examples out there to understand how her skin tone would translate to a more realistic style. So using Chloe as the level-setter, we can look at the skin tones of other characters and shift them along the color gradient the same way we would shift Chloe’s, maintaining the relative difference but in effect removing the stylization of EOA’s animation.

If that explanation was too technical, look at Elena and Chloe’s hands in this shot. Elena is clearly meant to have a much darker skin tone than Chloe. Because of the abundance of white characters in media, people have a much firmer grasp on the range of white skin tones and will automatically translate characters like Chloe as “pale Caucasian” in art, giving them a more accurate peachy light tan tone. But if the skin tones of characters like Elena are not also translated accordingly, they will wind up looking much closer to the white characters relatively, therefore whitewashing them.

This is how I made the photo edit at the top of the post: shifting Chloe’s skin tone to a more realistic shade and everyone else relative to her. I used some basic color masking and a lot of eyeballing, but the more precise version is:

(Original image, from “Coronation Day”)

(Colors picked from image for each character’s skin tone)

(Colors all shifted in the same way to a more realistic palette)

(Final result)

This same method can be applied to other shows as well! Also, canon is only the starting point for representation, and fan creators can always choose to go further. Want to portray Naomi as a WOC, or the Castillo-Flores family as Afro-Latino? Go for it! Adding representation and filling the gaps of canon is always encouraged, as long as it’s done respectfully and not just for social points.

As a POC-centered media with a mainly white fandom, EOA sits in a precarious position when it comes to fandom representation. It’s the responsibility of content creators to uphold the canon representation that matters to so many people, and to listen to fans of color when they talk about whitewashing, white favoritism, and other race-based issues in the fandom. Be open to critique, and take it as a chance to improve instead of worrying about being “cancelled”. No one is perfect, and unlearning racism is a lifelong journey, so don’t take criticism from POC as a personal damnation. Respect the time and energy of your fellow fans.

Representation matters.

[oneiriad]

A potential prompt for you: What if, contrary to Wen Qing's belief, it was actually possible to re-form one's core when one has it taken out (rather than burned out by Wen Zhuliu)? It just requires a lot more concentration and self-discipline than forming it as a teen/the first time?

Nobody can really find it within themselves to be mad at Jin Ling for letting it slip. He’s young and that night at the Temple had been a crowded, confusing, traumatic time for all of them.

It’s not his fault that he couldn’t remember exactly who had been a) present and b) conscious during which revelations.

And really, a nice, private working lunch for just the four major sect leaders during the latest discussion conference in Gusu - is not the worst place he could have made a throwaway comment about Wei Wuxian’s golden core or - rather - his lack thereof.

“It’s funny, though,” he tells Sizhui, later, once his uncle Jiang Cheng has stopped yelling at him (because that’s how Uncle expresses his emotions, even when he’s not really angry), “’cause Uncle and Zewu-Jun both pretty much froze as soon as the words were out of my mouth- Zewu-Jun even had his hand raised as if he was just about to use freaky silence spell you Lans have. That’s when I remembered that Sect Leader Nie had been out cold during that whole bit, and we all looked at him, except - he was just doodling and didn’t look up at us until he noticed it’d gone quiet. And then he frowned at us, before going “ah” and folding his fan...”

But anyway, nobody - least of all his Uncle Wei - can find it within themselves to blame Jin Ling for the fact that Nie Huaisang now definitely knows.

It’s not like people weren’t eventually going to start finding out anyway...

***

The biannual Qinghe Games were not officially one of the various occasions for the cultivation world to assemble and - in good times - mingle. This was because they were mostly organized and financed by the Qinghe Merchants’ Guild with some donations - mostly prices and plenty freshly caught boars for the banquet - supplied by an anonymous local sponsor and most of the speech-making and problem solving falling to the Emperor’s local officials.

Nevertheless, the Games generally attracted quite a few cultivators, rogues as well as those affiliated with major and minor sects. Not quite enough on most occasions to make non-cultivators entirely give up on participating in the archery contests, but even when that happened the high point of the games remained the polo, where well bred horses was a far greater advantage than any golden core.

The invitations, delivered by a somewhat harried Nie disciple at the gates of the Cloud Recesses, were written in the most aesthetically pleasing calligraphy and distributed by a couple of the younger Lan disciples, who had already mastered the art of not exactly running.

Well, most of them. One of the invitations caused the senior disciple passing them on to frown and eventually send for young Lan Sizhui, reasoning that it would be preferable to trust the youth rather than sending yet another junior disciple off to fall under the spell of the dark forces outside their walls.

Said dark forces spent a fair amount of time staring at the words of the invitation.

“Are you sure this is meant for me?” Wen Ning repeated, and Sizhui repeated his assurances that there had been no mistake.

“Oh.”

***

Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen a lot of Wen Ning since they’d all arrived at Qinghe. They’d all been getting settled in some very comfortable guest quarters at the Unclean Realm, fresh from the road, when Nie Huaisang had appeared to greet them surprisingly briefly and then proceed to steal his fierce corpse.

He might be worried what the Nie sect leader was getting up to with Wen Ning, except he’d gotten the occasional glimpse of them in the days since. During the archery contest they’d sat next to one another at the viewing platform, Wen Ning clearly entranced by the competition.

It was nice to think that Wen Ning was making friends.

It was less nice to get ambushed by them.

It had been a pleasant day - watching polo matches with Lan Zhan at his side, happily buying him various treats from the roaming vendors, then just strolling around and having a quiet dinner at a local restaurant.

It had been a bit less pleasant and a bit more suspicious to come back to their rooms and find a small stack of paper on the desk and a Wen Ning who looked at once guilty and excited sitting next to a very suspicious looking Nie Huaisang (though, to be fair, Wei Wuxian could hardly be blamed for always feeling that Huaisang looked suspicious).

It was Lan Zhan who sank gracefully down behind the desk to examine the papers, picking them up and starting to read. Then he froze - just for a moment, and anybody who didn’t know him well might have missed the widening of his eyes, but not Wei Wuxian - before going through them with startling haste.

Lan Zhan put down the final piece of paper and turned to Nie Huaisang.

“Will this work?”

“It should. That’s why I needed Wen-gongzi. I needed somebody who would know the more technical aspects of how Wen Qing accomplished what she did. If it was similar enough.”

“Similar enough to what?” Wei Wuxian demanded, picking up a conveniently close jar of Emperor’s Smile to gesticulate with. “What is this, Nie-gongzi?”

It’s Lan Zhan who answers, though.

“It’s a training program. For reforming a golden core.”

Wei Wuxian drops the jar and almost chokes on the wine he was just pouring down his throat.

“What? How - how do you even have something like that?” he demands, once he’s done sputtering.

“As you know, my Nie sect’s cultivation comes with - some very unfortunate side effects. Over the years, different techniques have been tried to stall the qi deviations. One of the more successful in that regard, though the side effects make it one rarely used and utterly unsuited for any truly powerful cultivator, is the careful removal of the golden core. If done correctly, this is followed by a few years of hard training and a new golden core will form.”

Wei Wuxian is rarely at a loss for words, but just this once - just this once, he finds that he needs to let Lan Zhan do the talking for him instead of the other way around.

“Side effects?”

“Irrelevant in this case. The side effects are from the first part of the process, and to be perfectly frank, the most significant one is needing to temporarily pass a significant part of the cultivator’s control of his saber into the hands of a trusted fellow Nie disciple for the duration - which is not a problem Wei-gongzi would be facing anyway.”

“Years?”

“It’s not a fast process. From what I understand, it requires as much unlearning and undoing as it does forming the actual new core. But it can be done. It has been done. And I am confident that if anybody would be able to find ways to speed up the process, surely it will be the renowned Yiling Laozu.”

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates-Pt 8

Marinette didn’t know what to think. The Damian she met two weeks ago had disappeared, and in his place was the charming man she had grown to love over the past three years. It made her doubt everything she thought she knew about their relationship.

The first night had been hard. She woke several times in tears to the point that her pillowcase was soaked through. She could hear his level breathing from outside her door, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him.

The second night was worse. Night terrors began to set in and she found herself reaching out for company, even if it was his. She met him on the couch and curled into his side like she did a hundred times before with Chloe and Adrien. He seemed to understand as he didn’t push her to talk, only let her use him for comfort.

By the third night, she was able to have a conversation with him, longer than the awkward five minutes they had managed the other day. He finally opened up about his family, even telling her his real last name, Wayne.

“Why go by Al Ghul then?”

“Most people here Wayne and think money and favors, it’s unpleasant and draining. If I want a fresh start, I use my mother’s name, but it eventually falls through and I have to move all over again.”

“But why run from your family so often? I’d do anything to see mine one more time.”

Her eyes teared up, but she shook her head quickly, trying to stop before they really started. Damian studied her for a moment before offering her a small smile.

“They’ve always been very overwhelming. I went from high expectations with my mother to even higher expectations from my father. He wanted me to unlearn everything she had taught me and became angry and disappointed when I didn’t head in his every direction.”

He paused, noticing the tears still lingering on her eyelashes. Gently, he reached forward, brushing them away.

“Mother was to obey or be killed, which sounds terrible, but someone I liked better in a sense. At least I knew that any disappointment would be dealt with directly, nothing less. Father was angry, taking his anger out indirectly through comments and tough training, but the disappointment was worse. He’d compare me to his other kids, all adopted nonetheless, but it didn’t matter. He held them with high respect and praised them often.”

“That-” Marinette paused, unsure if she wanted to continue, but his smile was inviting her to speak her mind. “That sounds awful. Expectations are supposed to be set by yourself, not your parents. They’re just supposed to be there for support and the occasional guidance.”

“Is that how your parents were?”

Marinette bit her lip, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry Angel, I wasn’t sure if you were ready to talk yet. I won’t bring it up again until you say you’re ready.”

“No,”she shook her head, much to his surprise. “I need this.”

Taking a deep breath, Marinette dove in, taking several small pauses to wipe away her tears.

“My parents were so supportive of everything I ever did. I tried sports when I was younger and while I wasn’t bad, it wasn’t my passion. My mother bought me an art set when I turned nine and it was like magic. All of a sudden, the world was whatever I wanted it to be. When I turned eleven, I discovered designing. I mentioned it once to them and when I came home from school, there was a dressing mannequin and a sewing machine sitting in my room.”

Her eyes glazed over as she stared at her hands in her lap. It seemed like such a distant memory at this point. His hand reached into her sight, moving toward her’s.

“May I?”

She nodded as she watched him intertwine their fingers. He waited patiently for her to continue, rubbing small circles into the back of her hand using his thumb.

“I was so happy with them. When I first was given the scholarship offer for Metropolis University, I didn’t know what to think. Chloe’s mother offered me a mentee spot if I traveled overseas, seeing as the flight to New York was only an hour from here. My parents knew what it meant for my possible future in the fashion industry, and to them, it was a no brainer. It was hard seeing them only for the breaks and then even harder when Professor Brookes offered me a spot in her workfield.”

“Your parents sound amazing. The way I grew up was- unconventional to say the least. I can’t even imagine where I would be today if I had that kind of support.”

A small smile stretched across Marinette’s face as her eyes rose to meet his.

“You sound like Chloe and Adrien.”

“They were close to your parents as well?”

“Adrien grew up in a very unconventional lifestyle as well. His mother disappeared when he was 12, leaving his father a broken man. He distanced himself from Adrien, only communicating with him when business was involved. Adrien tried to come out to him when we turned 16, but he scorned him, telling him he was confused and that he either dropped the subject or Gabriel would deal with it himself.”

Damian frowned, his eyebrow furrowing at her words.

“That’s ridiculous, his father could be runner up to my mother for worst parent of the year.”

“Yeah, Gabriel sucks. He still does. My parents allowed him to crash at my house that night, and every night after that they insisted he came over for dinner. They talked him through his teenage years, offering him advice and unconditional love. It was exactly what he needed to go public about his sexuality, my parents on either side of him at the press conference, offering support where they could. There was nothing his father could do at the point; if he spoke out, he would be seen as homophobic. Adrien held my parents on such a high pedestal after that.”

“And what about Chloe?”

Marinette shook her head, a small laugh escaping, shocking the two of them.

“Chloe used to be a terror when we were younger, but to be fair, she was being enabled at every turn. Her mother was a workaholic, never around and her father was a corrupt politician. She bullied me alot.”

Damina raised his eyebrow, but Marinette simply waved him off.

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s what everyone said when I offered to be her roommate in college. ‘How can I be her friend after that?’ It’s simple. When we were 14, she really fell off the deep end. She helped Gabriel do some very terrible things out of her feelings of anger and loneliness. Everyone resented her for it, and even her own parents turned their backs on her. Instead of offering her help, they left her even lonelier than before.”

Marinette leaned forward, picking up a picture frame from the table. Leaning over, she allowed Damian to take a closer look. The picture depicted a happy family. Marinette’s parents in the back with Marinette and the two blondes in front of them. The moment frozen as everyone was caught mid laugh at some unseen humor.

“Chloe fell into a depressive state and one night, my mother found her on our doorstep, tears pouring down her eyes. My parents brought her inside, wrapped her in a large blanket and offered her a mug of hot cocoa. They knew who she was, they knew what she had done, but they could never leave her outside, they could never leave a child alone. She apologized for everything, telling me how her therapy helped her realize how terrible she was when we were younger. She was genuine.”

“How could you tell?”

Marinette pulled the picture close to her chest, a tear slipping from her eye.

“Chloe was a lot of things, but she never lied to me. She always believed in what she was saying, no matter how crazy it was. That night was a new beginning. It was rocky at first, but between myself and Adrien, we helped her back onto her feet. Pretty soon, she joined family dinners too. We did it every night for two years and I can’t tell you how much joy it brought to everyone, especially my parents. The one thing they loved more than each other, was loving others.”

A few more tears slipped out before she could stop them. It felt like she ripped off a bandaid she forgot was there. She knew her friends needed to know, Damian’s grim stare confirmed he was thinking the same thing. But it was too much. It was still too raw and the emotions swimming in her head from their deaths and from Damian’s confession. She couldn’t help them through their grief. Not yet.

“Marinette, I could tell them if you would like.”

She shook her head as she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing again.

“It’s something I should do. I just need one more night.”

He nodded in understanding, not pushing the matter anymore, something she was grateful for. Marinette sat down the picture and picked up the pen beside it. She handed it to Damian before settling back into the couch.

“Could you draw me something?”

“What would you like me to draw?”

Marinette shook her head, leaning in his direction.

“Anything.”

And so he began, sketching on his wrist, his eyes occasionally glancing over at hers as she watched her own wrist intently. He watched her eyes start to flutter shut only to fly open as she fought the exhaustion. But it was a losing battle as she finally fell into his side, soft breaths escaping her parted lips. He placed the finishing touches before capping the pen, tossing it gently to the coffee table.

“Goodnight Angel.”

He reached over to the lamp, pulling the string hard, plunging them into darkness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Marinette sat up abruptly to the sound of the banging on her door. Her first instinct was to reach into the drawer under the coffee table, pulling out a small pink container. She stood to move closer as a second round of banging commenced. Her eyes darted back to the couch where Damian had sat last night.  

It was empty, a small piece of paper on the coffee table promised her that he would return soon. Creeping towards the peephole, Marinette took a cautious look, only to find it covered by whoever was outside. With a deep breath, Marinette flung open the door, raising the pink container to her defense.

Her would be assailant fell to the ground, grabbing his eyes as he let out a string of curses that would’ve expelled him from any school he could’ve ever attended. She looked up to find two more startled figures, both had their hands held in a surrender position. Marinette lowered her defense, her eyes narrowing at the two men.

“Who are you?”

“She really pepper sprayed me! You guys promised it would just aggravate Demon Spawn, you didn’t tell me I would be assaulted!”

The man on the ground sat up, still rubbing his bloodshot eyes, tears pouring down his face.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and just to be clear, you give me anything other than an answer to my question and I don’t need the pepper spray to kick your sorry asses. Who. Are. You?”

Two of them shared a panicked look, neither daring to move to help the third man up.

“Well you see sunshine, you are not who we were expecting either, in fact-”

The man with the bloodshot eyes rose only to be slammed into the wall by the girl. Marinette gripped his arm tightly behind his back, pushing his front side further into the concrete wall. Leaning all of her weight into him, she ignored his cries to ‘tap out’, her glare demanding a better answer from the remaining two.

The smaller one nudged the taller guy forward, neither looking eager to talk.

“Well you see, it’s a funny story really-”

“I’m losing my patience.” Marinette pulled her hostage’s arm further back, causing another string of curses.

“It’s just that-”

“They’re my idiot brothers.”

Marinette turned her head to see Damian standing behind them, an amused expression evident on his face. He was holding a tray with two coffees in them, a bag from Marinette’s favorite bakery in his other hand.

Horrified, Marinette let go of the man, allowing him to drop to the ground, rubbing his shoulder as he scooted away from her.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. It’s just between the banging on the door and then covering the peephole, I just assumed the worst. Please, come in, I’m so sorry.”

Marinette repeatedly apologized as she moved to help her poor victim up off the ground. 

“Don’t offer him help habibti, you’re too generous. Leave him on the ground.”

She shook her head, gently gripping the man’s good arm as she helped him to his feet. He moved quickly out of her grasp, his expression a mixture between weary and respect.

Damian stepped in front of her, his glare causing each man to fold in on themselves, none expect the man from the ground even dared to meet his eyes.

“Besides, you were asking the wrong question. It doesn’t matter who they are, it only matters what they’re doing here and how soon can they leave?”

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg @smolplantmum @clumsy-owl-4178 @books-and-left-behind-journals @joejoejodee @iloontjeboontje @maybemanymuffins @zalladane @mysupporthyperfixations 

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

Lucy POV. TW: Panic Attack, Mental trauma/coping, PTSD

The university and Lucy’s professors had been really wonderful about everything, even offering to convert her classes to an online option so she could continue. She wasn’t happy about the idea of taking a sabbatical from college, but there was no way she could manage. Not only was it difficult for her to leave the apartment because seeing anyone that remotely resembled Touka sent her into a panic attack, focusing on anything at all was a struggle. Night after night it haunted her dreams and spilled into her waking moments. She’d run scenarios through her mind, all the what if’s, should haves, could haves, often leading to horrifying outcomes. They’d survived, yes, but at what cost?

She didn’t feel the same anymore as if a part of her did die in that apartment or fled to a hidden part of her brain too scared to come back out. The once happy, positive person had become a nervous wreck unable to control her emotions or outbursts. Lucy’s bedroom became her safe zone from everyone, even those closest to her, ashamed and insecure of their judgement. In her heart she knew friends like Levy or Natsu wouldn’t judge... but tell that to her broken mind, because her brain was the one in control at the moment, and insisted they’d look down on her.

All the irrational thoughts. It was her fault for not being careful, her fault she was kidnapped. Lucy knew Touka was growing dangerous, yet walking alone, at night... utterly stupid. She should have been overzealous at protecting herself, but oh no, stupid girl didn’t want to believe anything would actually happen. Until it did. And now she was even more pathetic and weak for not getting a hold of her emotions, for not controlling it instead of it controlling her. The danger had passed. They were alive. Touka was in jail. It should be over, but it wasn’t. Lucy couldn’t move past that night, stuck in an endless loop of fear. So many nights she’d wake up in a panic covered in sweat, the fading images of red... blood... like dripping down a tv screen in a horror movie. It was Natsu’s blood she saw and his screams when the knife had sliced him open.

The first week after the event had been difficult, sitting through an interview with Gajeel, and reliving all the mental wounds. It took several hours to get through it all despite the man doing his best to go easy on her. Each time painful parts came up, Lucy felt the anxieties rise, the mental blurring, the shaking, literally a physical shaking of her body in an effort to dispel the rise of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Interviews are best done without any other potential witnesses in the room to avoid cross contamination, but after Lucy’s first two attempts to talk to investigators failed, Gajeel was forced to allow Natsu in with explicit instructions to sit quietly and say nothing while the woman talked. Of course, Natsu’d been fine with that, he’d do anything to help, even if it was just holding Lucy’s hand. But it only added to her embarrassment. Surely Natsu will eventually tire of having an unstable girlfriend.

Then there was the therapist Levy helped Lucy to find which she hoped would help her to quickly get over the events and move on. So, when the woman explained that such traumas take patience and time to process, Lucy was devastated. It almost felt like nothing was going her way anymore, falling dominoes with no end in sight. She felt so ashamed for having to see the woman in the first place, and now she’s told it would be a long journey towards recovery. Just great! What’s next?!

“Lu?” Levy knocked before opening the bedroom door. “Are you gonna eat your dinner in here again? It’s ready.”

With the curtains drawn, Lucy’s room was dark and the only light available was a small desk lamp next to the bed set to a low setting. She peeked out from under her blanket. “I-I’ll come out in a minute, thanks Lev.”

As soon as her friend closed the door, Lucy exhaled in relief. She knew Levy was worried about the amount of time she stayed holed up in the room, so to dispel some of those concerns, Lucy would join her roommate for meals. She quickly applied a gauze wrap, threw on her long sleeve hoodie, and left the room. It made her feel safer to be shrouded and covered up, so gone were her skirts and tank tops, and hello to long sleeves and pants. If she could cover her face from the world, it would make her happy. Even her overall hygiene suffered. Lucy would forget to bathe or wash her hair for days on end, and it took Levy or Natsu with gentle prodding to get her to do it. She would wear the same clothes for a week if it wasn’t for Levy who made sure she changed at least every couple of days. Hell, she’d starve if her roommate wasn’t feeding her. This was a frustrating cycle, not having the mental energy to take care of herself, then feeling bad because they had to help her with things, which made her feel even worse.

It tore at Lucy’s heart to watch Natsu going through this process with her. She knew he was going through his own struggles, not just mental, but physically healing from his wounds. And here she was, the basket case of instability. Bless him, he never gave up no matter how distant she grew, but after that night, Lucy really didn’t want to talk about anything out loud, not that night, and certainly not the true extent of her pain from it. Both Levy and Natsu knew only what she couldn’t hide from them. Like the panic attacks, and since she really didn’t want them to see her go through one or what she’d resorted to, to calm herself, so the safest solution was stay quiet and not trigger them in their presence.

To show his dedication, Natsu even went with her to her therapy sessions and waited outside the office. Lucy knew it was costing him money to do this, because she couldn’t ride a train which meant cab rides every single trip. It bothered her a lot, but she did her best to hide it, and besides there was one small measure of security in having him at her side when she needed to venture out into the public.

“So, the nightmares are still a problem?” the therapist questioned Lucy. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a medication? It would help to ease them until we can get things under control.”

Lucy gripped to the hem of her sweater. “I just don’t wanna become addicted to that stuff...”

“That’s understandable. But not all are addictive, and I’ll be here to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“I... I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” the woman smiled. “Remember I’m just here to help you, at your pace. I won’t force you take anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the breathing and relaxation techniques? When you feel the anxiety rising, are you trying out the steps?”

“I try... I don’t think I’m very successful at it.”

“Does it work sometimes?”

Lucy pauses for a few seconds in thought before nodding yes.

“See, that is progress!” The woman encouraged excitedly. “Two weeks ago, it didn’t help at all, and now it works sometimes. It’s a big step forward Lucy.”

“Doesn’t feel like it is...” Lucy mumbled.

“I know it’s hard to see it for yourself, and that’s okay. These things take time and practice. Do you remember what I said about these things?”

“Not really.” Which was true. During the first week when the therapist explained the processes, Lucy had stopped listening as soon as the woman said it would take time.

“Let me ask you a question. You like to write stories, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When you first started, were you able to just write perfect stories.”

“Pfft, no.”

“Then how did you get better at it?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going. “Practice.”

“Yes! The PTSD requires learning new coping skills as well as unlearning irrational ones. To do both takes practice. The more we work at it, the easier it will get, I promise. One day you’ll be able to look back at this experience and feel stronger for it.”

She really wanted to believe the woman, but it was so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel! Tears well up in Lucy’s eyes, seconds before they start to flow down her cheeks. “Why is this so hard?! I just wanna get back to normal!” She could feel her anxieties rising. “I... I-I don’t wanna talk about it anymore! I just wanna forget it ever happened!”

The woman reached over and took Lucy’s hand, applying a strategic amount of pressure while rubbing her thumb over the webbing in a counter stimulus. She softened in tone. “I wish I could say that would work, but in order to get past it, you need to confront it. Together we’re gonna turn the boogieman into Casper the friendly ghost.”

It was such a weird way of putting things, it caused Lucy’s mind to snap out of the anxiety and snort a sniffling laugh in response. “Casper the friendly ghost?!”

“It was the first thing to pop into my mind,” the therapist laughed too. “The point is, we’re going to work together and slowly bring you to a place where this no longer scares you.”

“O-Okay...”

The rest of the session was tough, and Lucy had come close to a panic attack several times, but as a trained therapist, the woman stepped in at the right times to bring her levels down again using breaks and breathing routines. Sure, with a professional in front of you, it wasn’t as bad, but doing this on her own, the attacks were still winning. At the end of the session, the woman suggested a new technique to try out based on Lucy’s love of writing.

“You’ve heard of art therapy, so just think of this as a different form of creative therapy. Writing a diary is helpful to get out your feelings out in a healthy way. But let’s take it one step forward to use your skills in fiction writing. I want you to try before the next session, writing a story where you interject your emotions, feelings, whatever you want into the characters and story. Kind of like your character becomes you, but now you get to control what happens to them after the trauma they endure.”

“Wait, so you want me to write about a character that goes through what I went through?! Like torture my own character?!”

“Yes, to put it bluntly. Take your pain and unleash it onto the fictional character. It’s a much healthier way of releasing your anger or frustration in something that can’t really be hurt. Do whatever you want to them. But remember you also get to give them the ending you want to. It’s about utilizing a tool you’re already comfortable with and taking back some control. It’ll be normal if you cry, scream, and get upset through the process, but that’s okay, because instead of holding it all in, you’re getting your feelings out.”

Lucy slumped back in her seat. It sounded strange, yet at the same time made a bit of sense to her. Angst type stories were not really her forte, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it, especially since pain is all she was channeling at the moment. She sighed. “I’ll try.”

“And that’s totally okay. All I ask is that you give it a try.”

[bonesthebeloved]

Complicated- creativitwins

Digging up old drafts baby here we goooo.

The father in this story doesn't have a name so you can imagine it as anyone you'd like/ as simply a stranger. Happy reading.

Trigger/ squick warning: father figures, complicated relationship with parental figures, mention of screaming, child services mention (in like...one sentence) mention of crying, mention of animal death (bunnies) mention of homophobia. <- if I missed any let me know.

Edit: I did not check spelling. We die like men

-

Pappa had always been with them.

When they were three and just formed their first memories they might remember in distant futures when all was quiet and nothing was holding them back from reminisent, they would remember about the time they’d gotten two big stuffed bears bigger than themselves When Papa had still been alone and Dad hadn’t been with them yet.

They would remember the soft fur in their little hands as they cuddled close to the things when it was naptime.

Pappa was always there for them

When Roman was five and he woke up from a nightmare where a squirrel was chasing him around the playground pappa was there to wrap his long arms around him and tell him that he was safe and that he would get his squirrel catching gear out of the supply closet the man they had started calling Dad had built for them, first thing in the morning.

When Remus faked being sick the first day of school because a kid in his class had laughed at the white streak in his hair he'd had since birth pappa had come and picked him up, explaining that poliosis is nothing to be ashamed of and laughing warmly as his son tried to pronouns the word.

-

Pappa would always protect them.

When Roman first talked about his pappa and dad in school the teacher had looked like she'd eaten something nasty. Later on Roman was moved to the same class as his brother, his own teacher saying she didn't want to be associated with his kind.

When Pappa came to pick him up that day Roman asked what that ment. And for one of the first times in his life he'd seen pappa frown.

They baked a cake to celebrate them being the same class that evening and Pappa and dad lifted the two of them high up in the air and twirled them around while cheerful music played.

When Remus got told off by a teacher for the first time because he had pushed another kid in his class he had to sit in the corner for ten minutes.

When he was allowed to go back to his spot Roman thanked him for protecting him and Remus threw the paper ball that had been thrown at him right back.

When Pappa came to pick him up he and the teacher had a long talk and they left quickly afterwards. Pappa holding both his and Roman's hands in his own big one's and telling them about how they had done the right thing.

-

Pappa would always comfort them.

When Roman came back home with scrapped knees and an attitude Pappa had asked him what had happened.

Roman hadn't answered and his brother had later told their dad's that he had seen Roman getting pushed around by some older kids. The had been yelling a word he didn't know the meaning of. When he had told it to pappa he had looked angry. And told his boys that those kids were mean and to never use that word because it made fun of good people.

When Remus began to get more friends his pappa asked him to include Roman in all of their games.

His brother had trouble connecting to people and was quickly becoming the bullied kid. And while Remus would gladly take any bullets for him he couldn't protect him at all times.

And while Remus played star wars with his friends, running around the playground and pretending to know the characters, Roman sat and drew in the little notebook pappa had given him for school.

And Remus bought him a new one with his own pocket money when a mean kid threw it in the lake nearby when they went there to explore with the class around the time that eggs would magically appear in their garden and they pretended like it was a bunny putting them there.

Pappa would always be with them.

When they went to highschool and Remus his friends could no longer play starwars with him because one moved away, one said she’d never liked him and two others went to the same school but suddenly forgot about their being friends, he sat with his brother more often.

And when Roman got friends that he wasn’t sure he liked but hung around anyways because it was better than sitting alone, Remus was left sitting at a table at lunch, other kids coming to sit at the same one in the hopes he would get up and leave.

When he had refused to do just that they’d began whispering about him pretending he didn’t hear them. And when he acted like he didn’t hear they had began calling him mean things.

After two months at the new school they came home and both called for their Pappa with shaky voices too quiet to bare any sort of good news.

And when Remus showed off his bruised wrist he’d gotten when a kid had grabbed him harshly and Roman told him about how his friends hadn’t been friends but bullies in a trenchcoat and a mustache to make him think they were friends before telling him he was too weird to hang around, Pappa had brought them both into his arms. Whispering something like ‘oh my poor, brave boys,’ before holding them a bit tighter and then telling them that sometimes, the world was mean like that and that, sometimes, it takes a while before you find the right people.

And when they went to bed that night they laid in the room and stared at the same ceiling. Both pretending they couldn’t hear Pappa arguing with Dad in the hallway.

Both pretending they weren’t crying silently until they fell asleep to Dad accusing Pappa of being a vile and horrible human being.

Pappa didn’t have all the answers.

They learnt that when they were on their second year of highschool and both of their pet bunnies died in the same night. 

Roman had sniffled and stood near the gardendoor as he watched them dig a deep hole all the way at the back of their garden. 

Remus decided that he would be sad about this at night when nobody would see or worry and stood close by Pappa as he put the two bunnies in a shoebox and put it in the hole. Saying they had probably died because of the rat poision Dad had spread across the lawn and that the mice must’ve gotten into their food somehow.

They learnt this when Dad and him had sat them down after breakfast that had strawberries to tell them that sometimes love died and that weddingrings would rust and be put in two seperate homes in two seperate boxes that would never be opened again.

They learnt this the fifth time that Remus came home with bruises and Roman began to listen to darker music and emote less dramatically. Unlearning all the expressions he’d picked up from those animated childrens series they weren’t allowed to watch but watched them anyways. He faked having imagined a happy place when the woman that was supposed to help them through the divorce told him to invision one. Instead invisioning Remus, and how he should have punched the guy that had made him drop his books the moment he saw it happening.

Pappa was  a human being.

They realised this more clearly than ever when he’d found out why Remus only wore long sleeves and got sent to therapy after their Pappa had hysterically cried over it and begged his son not to leave them before he could grow old.

When Roman stared at the ceiling after he’d taken 14 paracetamol and googling how many it would take to leave them before he could grow old, only to find that he would probably be fine and go to school the next day feeling as empty as usual. Pappa had yelled at him when he had gotten back to be more careful and not get invloved with his brothers troubles after he’d shown off the scratched shoulder from where he’d been thrown against a fence when he'd tried to stand up for him.

And when Remus got diagnosed with dyslexia and Roman with depression they said nothing. Roman shaking his head when the doctor suggested therapy and Remus sitting quietly as they explained that he might have adhd aswell.

Their father wasn't perfect.

They learnt this when Remus came back from school with a black eye and a failed math test and the test was all that was focused on. Shouting not unlike the one they'd heard all those years ago when love began to die and rings began to rust booming through the house and piercing through the music Roman was listening to in his room. A bottle cap with water falling off his desk and the little growing plant in it falling with it.

They learnt this when Roman said he was asexual aromantic and their father said that he should consider therapy again because surely that couldn't be normal.

And when Roman told him that maybe they weren't normal he'd been send to his room. Doors slamming shut and noises too loud for Remus to process.

-

Their father was wrong sometimes.

They realised this when Remus first brought a friend home and jokes about countries the kid wasn't from were made around the otherwise uncomfortably quiet dinner table. And when religion was brought up in a house full of atheists Remus stood and took his friend's hand, saying that they'd eat something at a foodtruck and storming of, leaving Roman to feed little stripes of unseasoned meat to the cat.

-

Their father was bad sometimes.

They learned this when the both of them started college and the racist microagressions turned into jokes about how they'd never make it since they were both going to art schools.

And when Remus showed him his homemade costume he huffed and said it looked great in a tone that Implied anything but. And when Roman showed him the finished piece he'd worked months on he said it looked nice even if it had mistakes while pointing at every single one of them while his son, hands still stained with markers and pencil smudges, gave a watery smile and the artwork was put in a art map to never be looked at again.

Their father wasn't good for them.

They realised this. Finally realised this, when Remus was twenty and had decided to move out, getting a small apartment would have been to expensive had his brother not eagerly asked him if he could come with him.

And they told their father while their bags were already packed and the rent was already payed.

And their neighbours registered a noise complained and whispered about calling childservices when their father started another screaming match to tell them how much he didn't want them to leave and how they wouldn't make it.

And they painted the walls mint green while Roman painted a mural around the spot where their couch would be.

And they ate lukewarm noodles from the plastic canisters while sat on the empty apartment floor.

And Roman bought a dozen succulents to take care of and make it feel more like home.

And the wall was always covered in outfit designs and storyboards as the jar they had put the sticker 'for a couch' on slowly filled up.

And they still send him Christmas cards but didn't plan on visiting that house for a long long time.

And their father would have killed them for the mess they made of the apartment sometimes.

And they preferred it that way.

-

This is both an extremely specific vent and goes out to all the kids with complicated relationships with their parents.

You're allowed to not like your caretakers. You're allowed to not want contact with them after you've moved on. You're allowed to think how they treated you was unjust because it probably was.

-

-

Taglist

@purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit

[first-impression-s]

Not a request but I wanted to know what art program you use also what are your best tips for drawing the human body?

Art program:

For almost all the asoue art I’ve done, I’ve used Adobe Fresco. It’s a garbage fire of an art program, I hate using it, I very highly do not reccomend it. I use it because I already have an adobe subscription and I might as well use it instead of paying for some other program on my ipad.

My favorite program to use Clip Studio Paint (CSP) which is actually 50% off until June 23rd! I’ve been using it for six or seven years now. My parents bought it for me when I was in middle school (it was called Manga Studios at the time lol) I use the Pro version, not the EX version, which has even more cool features. It’s pretty similar to photoshop, except it’s made for art and 1000x more user friendly. (Also the cost is way more reasonable than anything from adobe)

If you are drawing on an ipad, CSP has a monthly fee than can be paid to use it on tablets, and I’ve heard procreate is really good too, and I think it only has a one time charge. I plan to get one of those in the future.

Drawing the Human Body:

I always have a really difficult time giving art advice because everyone learns art differently and also I feel super unqualified to give advice. I learned to draw people from Chris Hart books in 5th grade and have spent all my time since then unlearning that stuff.

I would say the most important thing is to practice often and the second most important thing is to work from references. Make a pintrest board or something of pictures of all different races/age/weight people and practice drawing them. Collect references from artists you like and copy what they’ve drawn. Don’t post those things, don’t claim them as yours. Practice drawing screencaps from cartoons, TV shows, music videos, whatever. You’re having trouble with something? Trace trace trace until you get a feel for it! Figure out how to break the body down into simple shapes. The more you draw the better you will be.

Also here are some general proportion and drawing people tips:

Eyes are an eye-length apart.

Outside corner of the lips, edges of the nostrils, and inside corner of the eyes line up.

Outside corners of the eyes and the edges of the neck line up (from straight on.)

Tops of ears are even with the tops of eyes, bottoms of ears are even bottom of the nose

Elbows are about equal with a person’s waist.

A person’s wrists and crotch are even

Hands are about the size of a face.

Feet are the same length as a person’s forearm (excluding the wrist)

Toes are actually way longer than you probably think they are when you draw them

Boobs sit lower on the chest than cartoons might lead you to believe. They also will never ever be perfectly round. They aren’t balloons.

Humans don’t stand perfectly straight up usually.

The illustrations on old sewing patterns make for great dynamic pose references

The hips and shoulders should angle in oposite directions (ex: left shoulder raised and right lowered = left hip lower and right hip cocked)

Drawing eyes from a side view is weird. Check out some references or tutorials, probably.

I don’t know how to draw ears, but they are super weird, probably look up some refs or figure out a good short hand. Ears usually tend to be smaller than I think they are going to be. From a side view, they also sit further away from the eyes than I usually assume.

A person with big hips/hour glass figure/curvy probably won’t have a thigh gap. (But feel free to make that stylistic choice if you really want to.)

Hope this was helpful! Sorry I went a little overboard. I love asks like this

[skaldish]

Not related to Loki... but I just wanted to say that I love your drawings? Do you have any tips for how to get better at drawing?

I do! I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this here, but I was an art teacher for almost a decade and had fine arts training at a certified atelier (not that you see much of that coming out in my doodles, lol). But I can definitely give you the laundry list of things I used to tell my students:

1. Use constructive anatomy. The “big shapes” give structure to your details.

Every drawing of a superhero you see begins with a stick figure. Every drawing of a spaceship begins with squares, lines, and circles. Every skilled drawing ever starts with lightly-drawn “big shapes” to provide a framework for details. Getting good at understanding this framework is the key to a successful drawing. Just like with houses, we start by building the frame before applying the paint.

When I was a teenager I actually refused to do this process because it was hard and looked ugly. But this stubbornness set my art back because I plateaued. To overcome it, I had to unlearn and relearn how to draw. Only just now have my figures become dynamic, and I still have problems drawing stiff pelvises sometimes. My biggest tip to you? Don’t be like me. Listen to the advice of experts.

Here’s a book I highly recommend to help you with this concept and creating action in your work:

2. Learn the rules so you can break the rules

The key to drawing a really good figure lies in understanding how figures work in real life. Many manga-ka are great at drawing manga not because that’s the only thing they’ve ever drawn, but because they’ve practiced real-world anatomy to the point they can now break the rules of anatomy to achieve desired results. My all-time favorite example of this is One Punch Man.

Breaking the rules without learning them first, however, can end up trapping your art in its own limitations, which is really hard to unlearn. A good example of an artist who’s done this is the comic artist Rob Liefeld. Despite the fact he can draw really detailed figures, all of them are very out-of-proportion because he never learned the basics of anatomy. (He understands this shortcoming though, and we forgive him for it because he created Deadpool).

The best way to learn the rules is to draw from real life, and if you can’t do that, draw from photos. I always recommend classes but I understand that’s not always accessible for everyone. Practicing drawing what you see can be a chore for some artists, but you’ll thank yourself later for it. I once heard a story of an oil painter who became the master at painting clouds because it’s all he ever looked at and painted for an entire year, so life drawing is definitely worth something.

3. Use References

I promise you, it’s not cheating. References are beautiful, beautiful things that fill in the blanks of your knowledge. Can’t figure out how a hand should be positioned in your drawing? Take a photo of your own hand and use it as a model. How the heck do abs work again? Look it up online. Need to draw a person sitting in a chair and don’t know how? Find a stock photo or other reference and use the pose. Professionals do this all the time regardless of their skills. Nothing is created in a vacuum so give yourself plenty of references to work from when you need them.

4. Don’t worry about developing a “style”

This is something a lot of my students were very concerned about, and I told them this: You WILL develop a style, whether you intend to or not. Style comes naturally out of learning how to draw and improving your skills, and while you can consciously influence your own style, it’s going to happen one way or another. Unless your art style is going in a direction you���re not happy with, it’s not something you need to worry about. 

5. PRACTICE

The secret to getting good at art is practice. I can’t tell you how many times I saw students without any artistic abilities surpass students with “natural knacks” just because they practiced well. No matter what your current skill level is, practice is the only thing that develops talent.

I used to tell my students this: “Draw bad feet. Draw bad hands. That’s your assignment--Draw them and make them bad.” And when they did, I said, “Great! Now you’ve drawn hands and feet.” Sometimes all you really need to do is give yourself permission to get stuff on the paper. You can learn from a bad drawing but you can’t learn from a blank piece of paper.

You don’t need to go into every drawing expecting it to be a finished piece. I go through 90 half-finished drawings and doodles to get to my 10 best pieces of art, and maybe 1 of those 10 works is my coveted “S-Tier” work: the best of my skills. But that one picture was built on what I learned from those 99 other ones, and those 99 drawings make it worth it every time. Nothing is wasted.

The quality of your practice matters too, though. I got wildly better after my atelier training, but you don’t need to take fancy classes to improve your art. If you follow these steps and do some very active practicing from time to time, you’ll see improvement.

(As a final note, make sure you’re practicing on paper. Drawing tablets and programs are great for their purposes, but you want to make sure your skills aren’t hinged upon their extra capabilities.)

Hope this helps!

[veridium]

oc interview - olivia

tagged by the terrific @heraldofwho​ to have my oc do an interview! thank you again for the tag!

tagging @dickeybbqpit​, @avaquet​, @bitchesofostwick​, @cullenvhenan​, and @star--nymph​ if they have not done one already, or would like to do one for another oc!

name ➔ “Olivia Sinclair is my full name, though people hardly know it on account of my title. I know you have likely been asked to adhere to that, but please, call me Olivia.” are you single ➔ “I...” She grins tensely, and looks off to the nearest window. “I have a troublesome history with that word. I never consider myself “taken” or “spoken for.” I am never spoken for. But I admit I have a fondness for someone. That is all I will admit.” are you happy ➔ She smirks and shakes her head. “Happiness is a distracting goal. I have not been happy as people would call it in many years. Do I have moments of happiness? Yes. Do I hunger for it? Yes. But someone like me, the world does not encourage happiness.”  are you angry ➔ “Yes, always. I just hide it well, and choose to laugh whenever I have that choice.” are your parents still married ➔ “They were until my Father passed away when I was seventeen. As far as I know, my Mother never remarried. I would not care, truly, if she did. I wouldn’t be surprised, either. Their marriage was far from perfect or lovely.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “I was born at my family’s home just north of Val Royeaux. Normally I just say the Capitol, since it is close enough.” hair color ➔ “Blonde, fair, bright, whatever you would call it. The Bard in the tavern, Maryden, teases me by singing of it as spun gold. She knows I scowl at the idea of being talked about like I am some pristine art fixture.” eye color ➔ “That changes rather famously. When I am at rest they are hazel, but I am never at rest. They glow a little of gold and sometimes red. Mages can have very expressive eyes, and if they choose not to control it, it can be rather sinister looking.” She pauses, and a wry smile grows on her lips. “I like it like that.” birthday ➔ “The 7th of Drakonis, in the year 9:15.”  mood ➔  “My mood? Hah,” she crosses her arms, “depends on who you ask. I would say quite friendly. Varric would agree. The Seeker would not.” gender ➔ “I am a woman.” summer or winter ➔  “Summer. Though, I have become used to the eternal snow and chill of the Frostbacks. It isn’t always a treat. Summer and Spring are my favorite seasons because of the warmth and liveliness of the country. My Father used to hunt and host gatherings celebrating the open season. Everything felt much more bearable and beautiful.”

morning or afternoon ➔ “Mornings. I do not sleep very well, so mornings are my most productive. As soon as the sun rises, I do. I absolutely detest getting a late start to my day.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ “You would never have me admit in open air if I was. Sorry, but I learned far before I ever had the chance to decide for myself, that wearing my heart on my sleeve is nothing but a liability. It is a hard habit to unlearn.” do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “I believe in infatuation as well as obsession. I believe we can use people as escapes from our own concerns. All-too-often we use these hungers as excuses to call it love. As for the real thing, perhaps I am unfamiliar with it and that has made me a skeptic. I cannot be blamed, no? After all, what have been my examples of it? Nothing worth recreating or venerating, I can tell you that much.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ “I did not have relationships, I had encounters. They ended as anomalously as they began. I do not start things with people that would cause me too much grief to finish.” have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “Yes...and their skulls...and their arms...well, I should clarify that it was not a lover’s quarrel or honest tryst. I would never do that to someone I was sincerely fond of. Where do you think I got my alias as the Black Dove, anyway? There is a reason no one has yet ventured to court me.” are you afraid of commitments ➔ “My friends would say yes. I would say yes if it means I know the perils of “belonging” to someone.” She says it with an ache in her voice, like she only half-agrees with what she is saying. She crosses one leg over the other and shakes herself of the melancholy. “I think it is even worse when the commitment is genuine. You cannot avoid it or dissuade yourself. It just becomes this affliction you have to wash yourself of.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yes! Of course! My friends, my Ambassador. She used to have such an odd look on her face when I did it in the beginning, she is such a stickler for decorum. We only ever do it in private because of it. She has been won over, though, I am pleased to say.” have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “In all likelihood, yes. When people first meet me it is all about how pretty and petite I am. Naomi said once that I am honey on the eyes but spice on the tongue. I do not disagree,” she snickers a bit. have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ She opens her mouth quickly, but catches herself from responding. She chuckles a bit anxiously, and runs a hand up around the side of her neck. “I have, and I do. But that is our little secret -- I cannot have people thinking I am so sentimental.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Love is a fanciful ideal. Lust is a human craving that I am much more sympathetic of, and I know that sounds rather careless, but it is the truth. When we are honest about what is lust and what is love, I think we find lust is the most apt descriptor for the needs we act on. Love, however, takes many shapes. I love my people, I love my allies, and I love my cause. I am a human who lusts for intimacy and gratification. These do not have to exclude each other.” lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Oh sweet Maker, who would drink lemonade? Tea, tea, nothing but tea. Though I will admit I like it better hot.” cats or dogs ➔ “I do not have a preference for either. Cullen will talk for hours about dogs and I only pay attention to the first sentence and last -- shit, don’t tell him that, he will only want to rant more. Cats are fine as well. My favorite animals tend to be much larger, and with hooves and muzzles,” she says with a fiendish smile, knee jerking to show off her calf-high riding boots still on her feet. 

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few very close friends is always worth more than a legion of accolades. I will never not say so. I will admit however that my inclusion of people into that category has grown bigger since the Inquisition began.”  wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Romantic, you say? So, me alone with books, candles, and a cup of something strong? I will take that over a night out. At the risk of being accused of lies, I will say I do not hate being out with good company. I am good at being sociable! Does not mean I wholeheartedly enjoy it.” day or night ➔ “Day for the struggle, night for the trouble, as my dear friend Roslyn would say. I will leave it at that,” she says tilting her head and chuckling again. 

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Yes. As a child I would always want to stay up late like my Father did. Sometimes I could make it from where my room was on my Mother’s side of the home to my Father’s and find him still sitting by his fire, smoking a pipe or drinking his brandy. When I was sent to the Circle such things were much more dangerous to do, but I still sometimes broke the Templar’s curfew for certain...reasons. Understandably, nowadays I do not run into such authorities.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Uh...hm, well,” she scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “I am afraid both. I am...or, was, quite clumsy. Funny, considering I was a dancer in my childhood. We cannot outrun all of our imperfections, no?” wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ "Yes, so many things. So many opportunities I have chased and craved for years. It is at the very heart of who I am. As for people...that is a much more sordid answer.” wanted to disappear ➔ “If it meant defying a Templar’s vigilance, yes. Completely. Growing up I would have given anything to just be what I thought was a regular, more liberated person -- someone not born to privilege which I saw as a cage. I have since learned it was a child of wealth’s romanticization of poverty. I had many troubles, yes, but none of them were insecurity with food, shelter, or protection. What I truly wanted was to be treated with respect and love. That standard should not depend on class.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes! Eyes are projections of the spirit. I fall for--I mean, ahah, I get to know someone a great deal through the way their eyes and faces change in different moods.” shorter or taller ➔ “With my height, it is rather easy to elect for taller.” intelligence or attraction ➔ “Both, yes? You need both to a degree. Minds in tandem with one another add the fire to any bond.” hook-up or relationship ➔ She gives a knowing look, brow raised and grin crooked, indicating to move on to the next question. 

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ She only chuckles and rolls her eyes.  would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I grew up in a deeply distorted and toxic culture. I was sent to the Circle which oppressed Mages for being who they are. My friends and I broke free and I landed here, somehow, with an anchor in my hand and a title before my name. I have suffered but I have survived. A lot of people would say the same having faced dangers I never had to.” have you ever ran away from home ➔ ”No, but then again, eventually I did not have to.” have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “I believe that is what one might say into describe my being sent to the Circle, so, yes?”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Secretly? No! Veronica knows I revile her.” She tries to maintain a straight face, but she cannot help but crack another smile.  do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Yes, of course. They are the noblest, kindest, and most worthy people I know. We grew up together. As for my friends in the Inquisition, I know better than to believe our relationships indivisible. We all have arrived from different places and positions in the world. If this fight ever ends, I imagine those positions will pull us into new and old directions. All this said, I wish to believe that our bonds have a sincerity to them.” who is your best friend ➔ “I could never say I have just one. I have a few. When we have different concerns and needs, we go to each other. It is as it should be.” who knows everything about you ➔ “Me as a person behind the leadership role? One of the girls could probably answer that. Me as both leader and person? Leliana and Josephine, of course. Cassandra would...she would, too.” She blinks, and shakes her head suddenly. “I mean, of course she would. That woman has dragged me everywhere. Insufferable.”

[alexeishostakoff]

the first time bucky barnes wandered through the city when he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t speak to a soul. kept his head down, his stride calm, made sure to avoid accidentally scaring someone. he didn’t have much of a purpose, just needed to do something, to distract himself, to move.

the second time, just walking wasn’t enough. he was full of nervous energy, full of drive, needed to fix something, help someone, anything to make himself feel a little better after the horror that had been his latest nightmare.

he met a woman at a corner shop two blocks away from his apartment. she was in her mid-forties, clearly tired, struggling to carry some large boxes into the back room. she cast a distrustful glance towards him as he approached, but he didn’t lay a hand on her, giving her as much distance as he could when he easily picked up the last two boxes and placed them inside the shop, continuing on his way down the street once he was done. he could feel her gaze on his back until he turned the corner, but he just kept walking.

he saw a man half-asleep on a bench two blocks later, and gave him a small smile and then a conversation and then maybe-just maybe-a new friend.

the third time, the woman from the corner shop gave him a small, hesitant smile when she saw him pass by, which he returned with a wave and a grin.

the man from last time wasn’t there, and bucky could only hope that he was okay and somewhere warm, and make a mental note to check around later for him.

he helped a vendor fix the wheel on his cart, and a teenager catch her dog, and had a small talk with a woman sitting on the steps of her apartment building, discussing the weather and the neighborhood and how that iron man guy was very handsome, indeed. (and if they maybe also mentioned his ass, bucky would rather die than admit it.)

it was a nice night.

he liked that feeling, liked helping people without having to fight, liked fixing things and having conversations and making new friends.

and so he kept doing it.

the woman at the corner shop's name was anika. she'd been running the shop for twenty years now, and everybody in the neighborhood knew her. she liked watching comedies and baking cakes, and her wife left her five years ago. she had back problems, but she always kept working, always had a smile on her face and a joke ready to be told.

she and bucky got along like a house on fire.

small conversations on the street turned into game nights and friendship, and she helped him remember what it was like to just be happy and have a friend, to laugh and talk and be fairly normal, for once.

it was a good feeling. bucky liked it, and anika did too.

the man from the bench was named carlos. he used to be a painter, but now he worked at a small auto store in a different neighborhood. he liked classical music and reading, and preferred chocolate ice cream over vanilla. he was clever, a force to be reckoned with, and bucky was fairly sure he was a genius.

he taught bucky a lot about french poetry and art styles and kindess, generosity even when you didn't have much to give.

in return, bucky helped him set up his first show at a museum.

they would talk about anything and everything for hours, debating and teasing in an almost brotherly way, a way that might've made bucky miss his siblings less or more, he wasn't sure. either way, the friendship worked.

the vendor's name was cal, and the woman from the apartment building's name was maya, and there were so many others in the neighborhood, teachers and cashiers and factory workers, and it didn't take bucky long to realize that he had a community with them, strong friendships and a happiness he hadn't known in a long, long while.

he was almost glad for the nightmares.

‘almost’ being the key word here.

----

bucky should have known that someone was going to notice how he kept leaving at random hours of the night.

it took vision exactly three months, two weeks, five days, three hours, seven minutes, and twenty four seconds to decide this was getting rather suspicious, and only one more hour to choose to follow him.

bucky noticed them, of course he did. awareness of his surroundings was an instinct that he would never unlearn. he didn't call them out on it though, didn't say a word, simply waited until he was halfway though his route and vision decided to walk beside him.

"bit creepy to follow someone like that, y'know."

"apologies, but it did seem rather-"

"shady? understandable. and it's alright."

they walked in silence, until they passed cal's cart, and the vendor called out to them with a friendly smile on his face. "hey, buck! who's your friend?"

bucky stopped walking, and turned to him, smiling back at cal as he said, "this is vis." vision gave him a small wave, rather awkward, unsure of what to do, but cal only said, "nice to meet ya, vis. i'm cal. you gonna be joining buck on his visits?"

vision paused for a second, before replying slowly, "it's nice to meet you as well, cal. and i'm not quite sure, though i might."

"well, i hope i'll see you around sometime, then. y'all have a nice night!"

"you too, man," bucky replied, looking more relaxed as he started walking off again, vision nodding to cal before following after him.

"are all the people in the neighborhood this nice?" vision asked, looking around. bucky chuckled. "depends, really. anika might be a bit wary of you at first, and maya'll be pleasant, though it'll take awhile for you to be considered one of her friends."

"you talk as if i'm going to be around here often, sergeant."

"call me bucky. and i think you'd like it here, but it's up to you."

----

they hadn't expected to, but vision started to come on bucky's walks every once in awhile.

they didn't come every night-this was bucky's place after all, these were bucky's people, not theirs-but they came enough to earn themself a spot in the neighborhood, to make friends and feel some of the same happiness bucky felt, to feel human.

they were working on that together, it seemed. the humanity, that is.

vision was gaining it for the first time, and bucky was gaining it again.

they were both glad to have someone to share the process with, changing from machine to person, and they were both even more glad to have another friend.

----

there was a mission to russia, a hydra base.

bucky volunteered, of course he did, and they couldn't stop him, because he knew the terrain and everyone knew he showed no mercy against hydra, that he was the best person to have around when it came to them because he would always complete his mission, damn the memories that tried to hold him back.

and that was how he ended up in the hospital, fading in and out of conciousness, surrounded by guilt-stricken avengers and sad-eyed medical workers.

and sure, the team was there, but something wasn't right.

something was missing, empty.

and bucky didn't open his eyes.

until vision made a call, and anika, carlos, cal, and maya burst into the hospital room half an hour later, ignoring the puzzled looks from the heroes and making their way to bucky's bedside, worry and anger and fear clashing on their faces.

steve tried to protest, to figure out who they were, and tony fought back even more, refusing to leave his side, but in the end vision ushered them all out, until only bucky and the friends he'd found, the ones he'd made for himself, the civilians who somehow trusted him, were all that remained.

and then vision left, too.

and bucky barnes opened his eyes.

he was confused for a moment, wondering where he was, why his friends were there, what was going on.

and even when he remembered, some of the confusion remained.

why were they here? how did they know about this? who told them-vision. it had to have been vision, of course it was. they were the only one who knew, the only one who had their numbers, the only one who could have thought that having them there would make things better.

god, he loved them for that.

the relief on his friends’ faces was clear, and bucky smiled weakly up at them, and then said teasingly, “aww, were you all really that worried about me?”

cal laughed, and carlos smiled, but maya rolled her eyes and anika glared at him a little.

“you scared the shit out of me, barnes,” anika said. “i thought you could be dying!” “you don’t need to worry about me, neeks,” he replied, still smiling. “i’m a supersoldier, remember? gonna take more than that to kill me.” she sighed, but held back a fond smile, glad that he was going to be okay more than angry that he’d gotten hurt-though she did still make a mental note to lecture him about being safe later.

“i’m just glad you’re okay, idiot,” carlos said, shaking his head in forced seriousness. “you almost cracked your head open.” bucky grinned at him, and made him burst out laughing with one simple, mildly self-deprecating joke: “we both know my skull’s to thick for that, buddy.”

cal started to speak, but bucky cut him off. “don’t tell me you’re going to scold me too, i need at least one person on my side.” cal shook his head, smiling. “just wanted to say that you did good, man,” he said. “helped a lot of people. also, if you scare me like that again, i won’t even try to stop anika from killing you.” bucky’s eyes widened, and he faked surprise. “i can’t believe you’d do that to me, you’re breaking my heart!” cal just smirked at him in response.

maya cleared her throat, and when bucky’s attention was on her, she said, “i gotta say, iron man’s ass is even nicer in person. you better tap that, jamie, or i’m afraid i’m gonna have to stay here and seduce him myself.” bucky turned bright red, and he spluttered, trying to find a good answer to that while she laughed at him. “you wouldn’t,” he finally said. she crossed her arms, a mischievous look in her eyes as she coolly replied, “i won’t hesitate, bitch.”

----

bucky barnes hadn’t thought he would ever have a family again, a real one, one that he found himself, not one that was just handed to him.

but as he looked around at his friends, he knew that wasn’t true.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

nobody asked me for my take on the liam neeson thing but i feel like tumblr is a temporary construct so fuck it imma say something;

i do not forgive him. what he said he was willing to do was 100% a racist act. it is correct for pocs to be angry and upset with him and it is important for white people like myself to not rush to excuse his behavior. 

however, i do not think that this one racist act makes him, as a whole, racist- the fact that he admits this act was shameful and expressed regret is important because it is indicative of the fact that neeson knew this type of thinking was unacceptable and he found his own actions reprehensible. terry crews said it best when he asserted on twitter that neesons interview displayed the fork in the road neeson faced; that he could either have completed the act of violence he wished on a black man and descend into white supremacy or he could have turned away. 

that neeson turned away, sought counseling and admitted that he was ashamed of himself for years is just as important to acknowledge as the fact that what he wanted to do was a racist act. by saying neeson is “canceled” and condemning him outright, i fear that we cut off the lesson that young white kids (especially males) can learn from this; that racism is something to be ashamed of, but that you can find the inner strength to turn away from it. that neeson admitted that he disliked that part of himself means that whites with the beginnings of a racist outlook (those standing “at the fork” of white supremacy or human decency, as crews put it) can look to this white man as an example for themselves; unfortunately, youths with racist leanings will probably be more inclined to listen to an older white man say racism is bad than any pocs. But they could still learn from neeson; the shame and guilt he felt were good things; things that stopped him from descending into the thinking that he could get away with such violence against pocs, things that stopped him and could stop anyone who learned from neeson that they SHOULD listen to those emotions of guilt and shame. trevor noah said something along the lines of neesons actions being better presented not as an interview but as a conversation; if he had been on a show like oprah, noah said, then he would be admitting to some past fault that then could be a conversation starter. i think that he’s right about that; neesons interview can be a conversation starter that is desperately needed for white youths with racist leanings. 

noah also addressed the fact that neeson is making things worse by asserting that he is not racist after the interview; i agree with this too. Noah was right when he said that neesons actions were racist and that neeson should stick to own that, as he did when he admitted his shame- if neeson had, instead of repeatedly defending himself against allegations of racism, agreed that the act itself was racist in nature and repeated that he was ashamed of it, he could have stimulated a conversation about how to turn from racism to counseling. by going out now and spouting that he’s ‘not racist’ neeson is invalidating any good he could do with his admission; he could call on other whites in hollywood, america, and the world as a whole to examine their own actions and especially their thinking for inherent racism. Racism is a learned trait; it can be unlearned with good counseling and leadership, which neeson had the chance to fulfill; his poor handling of the backlash stripped him of any potential good he could have done.

still, for any white youths out there who want to defend neesons actions, or take his ‘not racist’ defense as him saying his actions were actually okay- take the lesson from the actual interview to heart. be ashamed and guilty of those thoughts, as neeson was. get help, like neeson did. hell, admitting to your faults like neeson did can be a good thing- sometimes you have to admit your wrongs and take your lumps like neeson is (reluctantly and not at all gracefully) doing now. 

there’s a feeling among white ppl, especially the young or/and famous, that you cannot admit to any racist thought or action; that being pc is the most important thing and that you have to burn down any suggestion that you could have committed a racist act. thats what neeson is doing now- lashing out bc he knows racism is disgusting and hes afraid that he could be labelled as a racist because then HE would be disgusting. but that absolute, all-or-nothing, either youre completely innocent of racism or completely guilty of being a racist thinking then turns into white people not admitting to themselves or others when they experience racist thoughts or urges (inherent or otherwise) in fear of the social retribution that they could face. thus, they never face their own faults and so never become better people, only better at hiding from parts of themselves they dont like. by admitting to these racist thoughts/urges, white people can learn from them, deal with them, and avoid committing or thinking racist acts in the future.

but thats a hard process and when whites are taking those lumps in the form of social disgrace and feel themselves becoming defensive like neeson is now, its best to remember trevor noah’s advice for neeson; sometimes you gotta sit down and shut the fuck up.

Sources:

neeson interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nm8ibv9yJ4

terry crews article about his tweets on neeson interview: https://www.etonline.com/terry-crews-clarifies-his-comments-about-liam-neeson-i-was-not-defending-him-exclusive-119174

trevor noah’s take on neeson interview: https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2019/02/09/it-was-great-he-was-ashamed-trevor-noah-liam-neeson-missed-conversation-about-racism/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.3081d3b076b4