#like so much really i don't have words

[thissortofsorcery]

I've been receiving a lot of love for Barbarian Youth recently, and I'm so so so grateful for it. You have no idea. Anyway, I wanted to share what my favorite scene from BY is, to remember why I love this ship so much.

This is from Chapter 12, so a little ways into the fic.

--

Billy picks a direction and starts walking. 

He doesn’t know how long he walks, or where he’s going. There’s nowhere to go. The wind is biting, cutting into his cheeks and making his eyes dry. At least it helps numb the pain in his nose. Billy curses, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

He sticks his finger in his mouth, hoping to stop it bleeding, at least, since he can’t bandage it. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

His mind feels sluggish, thoughts rolling slow like molasses, but not in a relaxed way like when he’s high or drunk. Thinking about his dad, or the Demogorgons, feels like it takes too much energy, and they slide away as soon as they come. He keeps thinking of song lyrics, for some reason.

He’s halfway through Jump In the Fire when he registers a voice calling his name. He stops walking, looking around confused, until a hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Billy?” He hears, and turns around to see Knight standing there, goggles and bandana and black jacket, but no nail bat in sight. He blinks, trying to situate himself.

He has no idea where he is. He must have driven past this street a hundred times in the last few weeks, but he doesn’t recognize it. The houses are small and sparse, woods sprawling in the backyards of one side, and only half the streetlights are lit.

The wind blows through him, and he shivers.

“Knight,” he says, and swallows. He tastes blood.

What’s Knight doing here? How did he find Billy?

“What are you doing here?” Knight asks, grabbing him by both his shoulders. Billy almost laughs. That’s what he wants to ask. “What the hell happened?” 

“I'm fine,” Billy says, and shakes his head. It makes his ears ring. “I'm just—” He trails off. he doesn’t know what he is. An idiot, probably. A piece of shit.

“You're not fine. You’re bleeding, man,” Knight says, and even though the bandana muffles his voice, Billy can hear the concern in it. For some reason, instead of annoying him, it spreads a warm feeling through his chest.

“Yeah, I know,” Billy says. There’s nothing he can do about it, is there?

“Jesus. Where’s your car?” Knight asks, looking around like the Camaro’s just gonna be parked somewhere and Billy’s taking a stroll for fun.

“I don’t have it.” 

“You're on foot?!” Knight’s voice hits a high octave, and it almost makes Billy laugh. He manages a crooked smile.

“Yeah, Knight, I’m on fucking foot,” Billy says, only not annoyed because Knight’s hand has moved from his shoulder to cupping his neck.

The tension on his shoulders dissipates, not gone but lessened to a degree that makes Billy sway slightly forward, and Knights hands tighten on him. He’s been walking with every muscle locked and ready to either run or throw himself into a fight for his life for god knows how long, and the fact that Knight is here now makes his whole body relax. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking I’m safe now. 

Billy doesn’t know when that happened. He doesn’t know if he’s okay with it.

“Hang on, let me…” Knight says, and takes his hands back. Billy has to fight back a groan. 

Knight’s opening his fanny pack, pulling out several things that he tells Billy to hold: alcohol wipes, peroxide, cotton balls, bandages.

“You got a whole drugstore in there?” Billy says, watching him pile on stuff in his hands.

“Shut up,” Knight says, and Billy snickers. I makes his lip sting.

Knight cleans the cut on his lip first, the peroxide stinging when it touches skin. It’s gonna taste like shit, Billy thinks distantly. Like he should be caring about the taste of his mouth right now. 

Knight uses the alcohol wipes to clean the blood off his face, after. Thankfully it’s stopped bleeding at some point when he was wandering aimlessly, and some of it’s already dried and flaking off. Knight’s hands are gentle on his face, tilting his chin up and trying not to rub too hard. When he touches Billy’s nose, his fingers make Billy wince, and Knight backs away immediately.

Billy’s face feels cold without Knight's hands on his face.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low. Billy can’t look away from him. “It's not broken, at least. But your eyes are already bruising.” 

“You sure, doc?” Billy can’t help but tease, even if it’s his own nose they’re talking about. He’s had his nose broken before, it’s no big deal.

“I’m certified in First Aid,” Knight says disapprovingly. He doesn’t seem to think Billy should make light of the situation.

Mostly, Billy’s glad he’s not alone anymore. The relief is heady, and it makes him feel lightheaded. Or maybe that’s the punch he got.

“Because you were a lifeguard, right?” Billy says, remembering the conversation they had while Billy was practicing killing Demogorgons.

“Yeah,” Knight says. Billy thinks he might be smiling. “It's useful for this stuff, though. I have to patch myself up a lot.” 

The thought of that makes Billy shudder.

“Are you gonna freak out on me if I ask where you got these?” Knight asks, pulling Billy out of his head. The question douses him in cold water, though, and Billy flinches back. 

“It's none of your business,” he snaps. No way he’d want Knight to know about his dad. Not when Knight carries a nail bat around and smashes monsters for fun. He’d think Billy’s a pussy.

“Okay,” Knight says easily. Billy expected him to push. Not that he has any right to demand information about Billy, because he never tells Billy anything. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Billy almost shakes his head, but his finger twinges as if to remind him. He lifts his hand, still streaked with blood.

“Do you have a bandaid in there?” He asks. When he looks up from his hand, Knight’s covered face is very close. In this distance, he can almost make out Knight’s eyes.

When Knight touches his hand, Billy shivers. He holds Billy’s hand in one of his, and takes out more alcohol wipes to clean the blood off. The whole time he works, Billy watches his face.

His heart’s beating fast, and it feels like his stomach is being sucked into a black hole, because Knight’s fingers are warm despite the cold, and they’re holding Billy’s hand more gently than Billy’s felt in— years, actually. Knight’s hand is calloused from handling the bat, and everywhere their skin is touching, Billy feels his tingle. He has the strangest urge to flip his hand down and hold Knight’s, intertwine their fingers, just to see what Knight would do.

He can hear Knight breathing under his bandana, and it’s a calm, steady rhythm that locks Billy’s attention almost completely. It’s all he can focus on, the sensations in his hand and the sounds of Knight’s breath, the scant distance between their faces, separated only by a few inches of air and a cloth.

“Are you cold?” Knight’s voice snaps Billy out of it, and he blinks at Knight.

“What?” 

“You're shivering. That jacket’s too thin to be out at this hour. It’s really cold out, now,” Knight says, and he steps even closer. Their proximity doesn’t seem to bother him. 

There was something Billy had to tell him, about the cold. But he can’t remember.

“Billy?” 

“I'm fine,” Billy says, and steps back. He feels the cold immediately, and shudders again. “I'm not a wuss.” 

“Yeah, right,” Knight scoffs. “Hang on.” 

Before Billy can protest again, Knight turns and walks away, and it’s only then that Billy registers the car parked a few feet from him, and that the light that’s been shining over them is the headlights. From this distance and with the headlights on, Billy can only make out that it’s small, but nothing else. 

The driver’s seat is open, like Knight just got out of the car and ran to Billy earlier, and the thought does funny things to his insides. Knight reaches in, disappearing into the car, and comes back with a bundle in his hands.

“Here,” he says, and hands it over. Billy takes it with numb fingers.

It’s a sweater, knit fabric dark and thick, softer than anything Billy’s ever worn. It looks like it could be dark blue, the color not really visible in the low light. Billy runs his fingers over it, distractedly, mind blanking on how to react.

“Put it on,” Knight says, hands raising halfway toward Billy, then falling back. “You're gonna freeze.” 

Billy huffs and takes his jacket off so he can put the sweater on. The smell of it hits his nose instantly, rich and clean, with a hint of expensive cologne that Billy’s sure he recognizes from somewhere. He does feel warmer when he puts his leather jacket back on, but he doesn’t want to give Knight the satisfaction, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Then distance’s helped Billy get his brain back into gear, and he remembers what was so important that he had to tell Knight.

“I gotta talk to you about something,” he starts. “It’s about the Demogorgons.” 

(read it on ao3)

[egophiliac]

I have SO many thoughts about everything and they are in no kind of order yet, so here's just some quick little bits in the meantime!

I am not normal about any of these characters!

[mokolat]

[renaerys]

"And perish."

A Quiet Thunder by @renaerys

Art by @hallous

[meownotgood]

haha hey so apparently someone stole my whole fic... copy and pasted except for tiny things changed... here is the link to their """fic""" (sorry random person I had to steal the reblog from). they've since deleted the fic off their blog + deleted their ao3 + gone on a hiatus so..... that's cool and whatever....... but they have written a lot of other shit so... don't be a dick but maybe check that for funny business too...

[arthursfuckinghat]

There needs to be a scientific study done on how Rockstar Games' Arthur Morgan is able to provoke the most earth shattering emotions I didn't even know I had in me

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[canisalbus]

Different Italian anon, but the thing with Tuscan C is that it's pronounced like a very strong H sound, which is extra weird cuz the letter H makes no sound in Italian, normally. It sounds the way Spanish pronounce the J. We say it's "aspirato". So then people from there will say things like Hoha Hola (coca cola), and it's funny. It's also extremely contagious, I got family in Florence, you spend 3 days with them you start doing it too before you even realize.

.

[demigod-of-the-agni]

kurunthokai, 168 — “what the hero said to his heart”

[ticklepinions]

Raise your hand if you feel utterly behind in life 🫠

[r-aindr0p]

I'm not gay but is it weird that I want to kiss Rollo on his (probably very dry) lips? Help

I mean....

Look at him look at this character design, the silouhette, his aura, his presence ??? The robes with the slits on the end ?? The 18th century cunty shoes ?? Puffy sleeves ??? Golden emborideries ?? That insanely cool staff giving him at least +10 charisma !!! (The general priest-ish look...)

And that face omg the tiny bangs + eyebag + "tired of your shit" look and almost constant frown

HOW COULD YOU NOT WANT TO KISS THIS MAN !!

I absolutely understand the feeling, bring him some chaptstick and go for it tbh

[deoidesign]

Hi, how did you learn to draw Steve's physique?

Ohh what a complicated thing to answer...

When it comes to how I learned to draw anything, it's hard to say anything too specific since it's always a culmination of many years of assorted study and practice... but I can try to do my best to explain some of the biggest things that helped me learn, some tips I keep in mind, and maybe at least some places to start/delve further.

(just a little disclaimer it's not like my drawings here are going to be 100% medically accurate.. they're just to illustrate concepts!)

The main thing about learning various physiques is understanding anatomy. Which feels obvious, but I don't mean proportions; these are important, but perhaps more important is understanding the skeleton and how it moves and learning where muscles connect to bones and where fat grows on the body. When you understand how these function on a more mechanical level, depicting form and movement in a way that feels natural comes in tow.

For instance, understanding things like the pronation and supination of the radius and ulna, as well as the fact that muscles can ONLY contract or relax, will help you understand a bit better which muscles will be flexed and which will not while someone moves. It's inherent to the positioning based on the structural makeup of the body... It's not like you NEED to memorize all the muscles and bones, of course, but understanding and gaining at least a passive familiarity with the concepts really helps.

In tandem with this concept is the way parts of the body flow into eachother. Muscles ALWAYS come in groups because they can only contract. Whatever muscle is there to lift something, there is a muscle on the other side to pull that bone back down. What this results in is a series of straight edges next to curves, which gives us a lot of really lovely "s curves" and dents and folds and so on and so forth just naturally occurring.

I would suggest at least learning the "bony landmarks", which are bones (usually) visible on the surface of the body. things like the iliac crest, the great trochanter, the 7th vertabrae, the acromion process... These can be used to help you understand the parts of the body as angles and relationships, rather than trying to remember lengths and sizes, which vary immensely... (since you asked about steve, he can be our model... also study these on your own don't just take my word for it haha, these are the ones I personally keep in mind)

I've done the same thing with body hair... learning where it grows and in which directions... It helps me make up variations without needing reference, because I have a set of rules I can follow.

The biggest thing that helped me understand all this on a much deeper level was my ecorche course. I sculpted this guy. We started by sculpting the entire skeleton to understand the bones, and then we added muscles on top. Not every single muscle, of course, but the "artistic muscles" AKA the ones which directly affect the surface of the body. Doing this let us see where muscles connect, because we would make a shape, put it on the bone where it actually goes, and then you get to see how other muscles overlap that.

This helped me, perhaps, more than anything else. But I also didn't just start with this course, I had been drawing for years before I even took it. I had been in school for years before I took it. Not that I think it wouldn't be helpful to someone just starting out, but I do think that the more you know going in, the better an in-depth course like this will help you and stick with you. Classes are also expensive, though so I'm not really like... recommending you pay potentially thousands of dollars to take one... But it did help me a lot, personally.

I also, of course, have done many figure, gesture, and master studies...

These just help you quickly gain a stronger understanding of generalized anatomy, and gives you real life examples of and practice with of how people move and balance.

What all this does when combined, is gives me a very solid ability to depict movement and form in a way that feels relatively natural from my subconscious without the need for reference.

The rest of how I've learned to draw his physique is honestly mostly just stylization. I understand the body, and this is how I am depicting it for his level of musculature.

And as I move into depicting him in other ways, either moving in comics or in animation, realistically rendered, or extra stylized, these concepts inform every step of that process for me! When he keeps the same/similar relationships between parts, he gets to still look like himself.

It ALSO really helps when putting clothes on, because the way cloth falls and bunches and lifts is all directly related to the form it is on... So the more you understand that form, the more you can depict clothing and movement in a way that feels natural.

This is all, of course, true when I draw anyone, you asked about Steve so I'm trying to mostly show with him! But because I'm just drawing from raw information of general anatomy rather than trying to study one body type at a time, it allows a lot more "give," I think!

Like, here's most of the cast from TTA so far... actually, they're not as varied as I thought they were nevermind LMAO ignore this part

But, it also makes monster and alien design much easier! It's a lot easier to come up with non-human anatomy when I understand human anatomy, because I can manipulate the knowledge I have...

There is infinite more to study in the world of anatomy... The complexity of the human body goes extremely deep. For our purposes as artists, we need only depict a fraction of it, but more information rarely hurts the process.

I'm sure there's something in here that's wrong on a technical level, I'm mostly going off of memory. But that's kind of my point - I understand enough generally and conceptually that when I am missing something and need to find reference for it, I understand what I'm looking at. It's much easier than trying to learn AND draw at the same time.

I hope even one thing in here helped you! Sorry it's so long.

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[p4nishers]

thinking abt how azi was truly crowley's sunlight through the millenniums. like, here's this demon who didn't mean to fall, who just asked questions and deep down he was still so good. and he is alone, he's the literally the emboidement of the first sin, and NOT by his own choosing. he's so alone and afraid and just wants a real conversation w someone, even if its an angel who'll most likely hate him. and here's the guardian of eden, who gave away his sword, that GOD gave to him, without asking a single question, to help the humans under his charge and he's kind to crowley and crowley is utterly fascinated. zira is basically the first protector, not only to adam and eve BUT CROWLEY TOO. he protects crowley from the first rain bc he's so fundamentally good and kind and crowley can't help seeking him out over the years. when they meet in rome, c is obviously far more withdrawn and angry bc of the things he's seen and was forced to do and there's az again, so happy to see him and even inviting him to dinner. everytime they met, even when crowley was saving azira, he also saved crowley by the simple act of being his friend.

[littlespidermonkey]

I think in the universe where the Cullens aren't in Forks, Bella Swan takes a while to come out of her shell, but when she does, she's witty and passionate and smart as a whip, even if she's still quiet and reserved. She sits with Jessica Stanley, who demands the best of everyone, and tells her friends about her boyfriend down on the rez, who is sweet and caring and funny and good with his hands, who works for everything he's ever had.

After class, during a sleepover, Bella whispers to tell Angie and Jess about the night after prom, even though her father, loving and careless, worries about her only a normal amount and loves Jacob Black like his own. When she gets into Dartmouth--all by herself, through study sessions in garages and with Jessica and in Angela's house--she chooses to go to Stanford instead. She misses the heat and light on her skin, even after falling in love with the rain. Jessica comes with her; Angela and Eric go to U of Washington in Seattle instead, for education and journalism respectively.

Bella makes sure to call every week and then one day she drives down to Seattle and her boyfriend, warm like the sun she loves and at least twice as reliable, becomes her fiancé. The ring isn't especially big or ornate or pricey, but the way she smiles could trick anyone into thinking that it was. All of her friends, new and old, are waiting at the small party afterwards, and Bella laughs the entire time. The engagement cake--chocolate, her favourite--is sweet and moist against her tongue.

She moves back to Forks once she gets her masters in information sciences and becomes the town's librarian. She gets married a month before the move, barefoot in the surf and her old prom dress, both her parents weeping with joy and Billy Black beaming damn near as bright as his son, Sue Clearwater holding his hand.

She raises her kids --both beautiful children, blessed with Jake's thick, long hair--with Angela and Eric's and takes them down to Los Angeles to visit their auntie Jess and her husband Quil, who lavishes them with gifts from her career as a top surgeon. She jokes about having to support Quil's career as an environmental lawyer and displays each and every one of his wins alongside her diplomas. When William Black II decides he wants to be a doctor too, she writes him a shining letter of recommendation to her alma mater. Sarah, who has always been the spitting image of her father, joins and eventually takes over Jacob's mechanic shop.

On occasion, Bella fights with Jacob, even though he's the love of her life. Despite this, she is never afraid of him, and he never stops her from doing what she wants. Instead, he goes out and works on his cars and comes back in an hour later with slightly greasy hands and a bouquet of flowers from Emily Young's little garden, planted to celebrate her cousin Leah Uley's wedding. Bella makes him muffins, recipe courtesy of Sue and missing bites courtesy of Seth, Colin, Sarah, Will, and Claire, with raspberries, not blueberries, just how Jake likes them. They make up, and they make changes, and they go on.

Eventually, both slower and quicker than she realizes, Bella gets old. She lives in fear of losing herself, of losing her husband and her children, like her grandmother had. But she remembers her grandkids to the very end, even gets to meet her first great-grandchild a week before it happens. Her heart gives out before her brain does, too weak and too slow.

It was too full of love, the letter from Jacob says. Sarah reads it. Her father passed a day after his wife--simply too heartbroken to live without her. Much of the town of Forks and hordes of family attend their funeral, remembering a life well lived.

It is an unremarkable life, in the grand scheme of things. She does not live to be a thousand; she is no great beast, with speed like the wind and strength; she does not discover her powers or lead a great defiance. Bella Black, happy and human and surrounded by love, could never imagine wanting anything else.

[sholmeser]

so like it’s 1999 and solid snake is in zanzibar land and gray fox tells you that all he can do is fight. it’s all he has and it’s probably all you’re ever going to have, too, because deep down you know your father is right, you know he is right as you click the lighter and burn the flesh off his skin, you know he is right when he tells you, this will never go away. i am always going to be a part of you. it’s 2005 and solid snake is in shadow moses island, alaska and gray fox tells you that’s good, snake. hit me harder. do it more. that’s good. when you meet meryl you kill the guards, and then snake thinks he loves her, so you kill psycho mantis for her, ocelot tortures you and you withstand it for her, you beat liquid to a pulp for her and while his blood is on your fists he smiles and tells you that you two, you’ll always be the same. gray fox means violence means meryl means violence, so what’s love if not that? what is it if not the feeling of broken bones under your knuckles, if not the smell of your father’s burnt flesh? but she's too young, she doesn’t understand you and she couldn’t if she tried, because she’s eighteen years old and doesn’t know any better and doesn’t understand that after you sleep with her you’re going to get up and let the pillow grow cold, she thinks you’ll tell her everything and when you don’t, because you can’t, she’ll leave you. you kill him with your fists and for her you destroy shadow moses and you hear him say to you again that’s good, snake, that feels good, do it harder. but it isn’t a coincidence that in mgs1 you meet otacon at the same time you meet gray fox. otacon who is so scared of battle he pisses his pants and otacon who cries over a woman who could never love him back and otacon who thinks good people like dogs, kind people like dogs, otacon who passed you a meal, ready-to-eat and a bottle of ketchup across the bars of your cell and when you ask him why the fuck are you here if you cant help me he says to you, i thought you might be hungry. otacon who gives you her handkerchief that was once her mother's and will be hers once again when she dies, when you rest it atop her glazed-over irises, a cycle of love. she was a good person, snake, and so are you. she liked the wolves and you do too. otacon who cries over his baby sister’s little body, who blames himself for being seventeen years old under the touch of the woman who should have been his mother. otacon who when it's 2014 will make you the solid eye and the octocamo suit and the mk. ii to keep you safe and say to you, don't hurt anyone, snake. will say to you: i'll follow you wherever you go, like this. otacon who blubbers like a baby and cries too much and who, when it's 2009 in new york city, you have to say to, go rescue the hostages, because if you don’t he’s going to crumple in on himself, a dying star. this is how you love, you don’t say to him, and how i love, because you showed me how. wrap your arms around his shoulders and hope it’s enough.