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cabensonsgirly · 3 months ago

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I'm Gonna Pack My Things and Leave You Behind. (18+)

Content: Angst, mentions of ptsd, happy ending dw, mentions of smut, religion

Word Count: 7944

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He hadn’t fled, not really. He had said his goodbyes, sealed with a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead and a silent I love you. That was enough, wasn’t it? Why stay when all that would happen is their hearts would ache, the cracks splitting into canyons that could never be filled? His heart was not a vase nor a piece of porcelain that could be repaired with kintsugi. He had seen what happens when Band-Aids cover wounds that haven’t been treated; they fester, the infection spreads, and soon everything is sick, and the only cure is radical treatment. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes he’d seen so many times before. So, he left.

When he closes his eyes, he still remembers how soft and warm her skin felt under his lips. But of course, with remembering such tenderness, he too remembers the way her eyes glistened with tears, the way her hand reached out for him in a silent plea for him to stay- to change his mind, to try just one more time. Why couldn’t he stay? He had seen her grow so much, blossom into such an incredible leader and advocate, a privilege he was so lucky to obtain. But he too had changed, although as he kneels at the altar of his new local church, his rosary clasped tightly in his hands, he wonders if he had turned into some kind of invasive moth, not the butterfly he so desperately tried to be. A moth and a butterfly could never work. A saint and a sinner could never work. Everyone knows what would happen, the saint would pay for the sinner’s deviance and then too fall from grace. Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice as payment for sinners, he did not want his love to suffer the same way.

He presses the beads to his lips before standing up, bowing his head once more then turning to leave the place he often sought refuge when his apartment felt too much like prison. He returns his beads to his coat pocket, his thumb running over them as he walks the pavement back home. His heart aches at that. He calls it home when talking to his mami, but it isn’t really home, is it? His heart does not feel content there. The walls, although adorned with tasteful pieces of art, shelves full of books he’s collected and awards and knick-knacks he’d kept after his abuela passed, felt lifeless. The plants, although thriving, seemed plastic, like he’d gone to the dollar store and picked out the cheapest ones he could instead of what he actually did, which was spending months researching which ones would improve the air quality of his apartment. No matter how long he spends there, it would never feel like home.

He hangs his coat up on the hook in the hallway, smoothing it out with his hands before stepping out of his shoes then heading through to the lounge where he goes to the liquor cabinet and pours himself a scotch. It wasn’t his favorite brand; he couldn’t bring himself to drink that anymore as it reminded him too much of her. Even now when he thinks about it, he can picture them sitting next to one another on the couch with her feet in his lap with a drink in one hand, his other resting gently on her leg as his thumb brushes softly against it. The way the alcohol always tasted sweeter when close to her, her laugh filling him with a warmth that nothing else could replicate, not even his mami’s tamales could hit the spot but he wouldn’t dare say such a thing to her face. He sucks back a mouthful of liquor, closing his eyes as he wills the tears to stay in his tear-ducts and not spill onto his cheeks to travel the same path they had many times before. He didn’t want them to find home in his beard because he knew he couldn’t find it in himself to wash away the reminder as each tear contained his love for this woman, a memory of how things used to be, how things could have been had he chosen to do something different. He runs his hand over his beard, smoothing down the bristles that stick out- he only trims when it becomes unmanageable, and even then, he has to force himself not to think about what he was getting rid of. The last hairs falling into his sink that his love had touched, it was too painful to think of.

He refills his glass, returning the stopper to his decanter before taking his glass with him to the lounge. His stomach rumbles as he sits on the couch, another sound he has grown to ignore most of the time. He reaches for the remote and turns his tv on, flicking through the channels until she appears, doing what she does best- advocating. Her voice is powerful, he can feel the hairs on his arms stand to attention, and he even leans forward so he can hear her better. A small smile tugs at his lips, “Look at you soar,” he whispers, the corners of his eyes creasing with adoration, “Look at you fly.”

He rests his hand against his heart, feeling a warmth spread through him as he sees her again. Love never really goes away. No distance has changed that, nor time. He picks his glass up and drinks the liquor, and of course- of course it tastes sweeter, he can pick up on the undertones, the subtle vanilla notes, the sweetness of toffee on the tip of his tongue, and fig coming through, all erasing the usual burn as it works its way down his throat. His eye catches a glimmer when a camera flashes so he pauses the news and gets up, moving closer to the screen so he can get a better look. The air gets sucked from his lungs, the glass nearly falling from his fingertips when he sees it, the necklace sitting on her chest front and center. It had been months, why hadn’t she taken it off? Why didn’t she take it off? His grip on the glass tightens, his hand shaking through sheer force. He clenches his jaw, hating how tears fall freely onto his tan cheeks, running their way through the paths they’d carved previous times, “Why didn’t you take it off?” He almost pleads. “Why couldn’t you make this easier?”

That wasn’t fair of him to say, and he regrets it as soon as the words leave his lips, his features dropping as he shakes his head, “Why didn’t I stay,” he adds, going back to the couch where he resumes the news, it quickly catches up to where she was now answering questions posited by the reporters. He watches her skillfully answer questions and deflect others that were borderline inappropriate, the muscle in her jaw tensing briefly- a sign she was trying hard to remain calm and not give a well-deserved tongue lashing to the journalist. Then a question comes truly from left field, “Are you still close with disgraced former ADA Rafael Barba?” His love falters, a flicker of pain washes over her face, her lips turning down slightly. She sucks in a breath, blinking rapidly as to force the tears to remain in her now glistening eyes as she ends the press conference, thanking them for their time as she heads off stage.

He reaches for his cellphone, unlocking it and going to his contacts before pausing, his thumb hovering over her number. It wasn’t his place anymore. It wasn’t his place to check in with her, to make sure she’s doing okay. He sits back, brings his glass to his lips as he finishes his drink, his eyes still lingering on her profile picture. He should have deleted her number when he moved because he often found himself late at night, laying in bed just staring at the picture of her, wishing she was there with him in his arms.

He sighs and turns the screen off, getting up before he makes his way through the apartment to his bedroom where he’ll bury himself under his thick sheets in an attempt to escape the reality he had made for himself. At least in the darkness he wasn’t at risk of reaching out to her, instead, he was trapped with pictures of her seared into his eyelids, haunting him. To be loved by her, though, wasn’t to be haunted. To be loved by her was to know how free Ikarus felt flying so high, so close to the sun. To know what beauty Michelangelo felt as he painted the ceiling on the Sistine Chapel, how close to heaven he was in that moment. He removes his clothes, leaving them discarded near the laundry basket before climbing into bed, pulling the covers over his head. Now he knows that flying too high, too close to the sun only means your wings will fail and you will fall.

He turns his phone on under the covers, checking her Instagram as he did on long nights. She was only posting pictures of meals she had eaten, flowers she found beautiful, and silly poses with friends. She seemed happy in those photos, a smile was on her face as she laughs, but he knew better. Of course he did. He knew that when she truly smiles, she gets crinkles on her nose, and the creases on the corners of her eyes become more pronounced. He had spent so much of his time tracing her features softly with his fingers, following the curve of her smile lines, the dip of her cupid’s bow, the scar she has on her upper lip after an accident as a child, all such subtle things that most people would overlook. Like her exes had overlooked in favor of just treating her like a piece of meat who was only as good as her tits and ass. Even thinking about her like that made his skin crawl because she was- is so much more than that. Yet whenever he would stop by her office and catch her explaining the case, he would notice the way her male colleagues would only stare at her breasts, excluding Odafin. It always infuriated him because how dare they do that? How dare they treat her that way when she has worked so hard to become Captain? He knew they’d say, “Oh I can’t help it, you know how us men are.” Because he knew he was nothing like that, so he was vehemently against being lumped in with the rest of the group. He would rather take the claims he was a little twink than puff his chest out and go “Yeah! I love staring at my boss’s tits!”

He takes a breath to calm his rising anger before resuming scrolling through her Instagram. He comes across a photo of the view from a yacht with a candle-lit dinner, a vase on the table with flowers. He remembers that night, and if he closes his eyes, he could still feel the weight of the box containing the necklace in his pocket against his thigh. He had called his friend the week before to see if he could use his yacht, and after a few back-and-forth things where he was mainly bribing his friend with a particularly expensive bottle of wine, his friend agreed to let him use the yacht for the weekend. He had gone into planning overdrive after that, any spare moment he was going to markets to order the finest produce so he could pick it up Friday evening after work on his way to get her. He hadn’t felt so nervous since sitting his Bar exam, and even then, he didn’t feel like throwing up. He had called his mom on the drive in hopes she would help calm his nerves, and she did. “If you’re this nervous, Rafi, it means you are worried about doing a good job. You will make her night, I’m sure. You know how much she likes these gestures. Take a deep breath, and try to enjoy yourself, okay?”

And of course, like the good boy he is, he did what his mom said. He thanked her before hanging up just as he pulled out front of her apartment. He parked the car then raced around to the other side to open the door for her, “You look beautiful,” he complimented and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. He shut the door after making sure her clothes wouldn’t get caught in the door before getting in the driver’s side after putting her bag in the back.

The drive was long as the boat was docked in the Hamptons, but neither of them minded. Rafael had held her hand the whole time, both of them just listening to music that played on the radio. A comfortable silence with the occasional, “Oh look at the sunset,” from her. He would always reply with, “It really is beautiful,” but his eyes were only looking at her. The cotton candy sky made her skin glow, dancing across her tan cheeks, catching in the golden streaks in her brown eyes making it look like God himself had carefully weaved in only the finest of gold threads. “Dios mio,” he muttered, a smile on his face as he looked back at the road. His heart had been pounding in his chest, a sensation that one could only describe as having made him feel giddy.

When they had finally made it onto the boat, he had poured her a glass of wine, “You sit and relax, okay? Leave the cooking to me. Put your feet up, admire the view, relax.” He had stroked her cheek affectionately, sealed it with a kiss before he pulled back and tied an apron around his waist. His mami had made sure he knew how to cook because she wasn’t about to let him treat a woman as just a kitchen-maid. As he cooked, he would make sure she would get a taste of the dishes too, along with providing her a little charcuterie board to nibble on while she waited. He loved cooking for people, and he loved cooking for her even more, especially because she appreciated food just as much as he did. She would tell him if he needed to add a little more salt or a touch more acidity, and he would agree. He felt incredibly in tune with her, every suggestion they would say it almost at the same time resulting in the two of them laughing. Rafael would add, “Does that mean you owe me a soda when we get back?” To which she would reply, “I’ll get you the finest bottle of Jarritos, Rafi.”

He had served their dinner on the deck, pulled her seat out for her before he pushed her back in. He sat opposite her, clinked his wine glass with hers, “To a wonderful evening in a beautiful place with beautiful company.” He smiled and sipped his wine before returning the glass to the table. He struggled to take his eyes off her as they ate, the setting sun danced across the surface of the still water and kissed her skin was just such a glorious sight to him. If he knew how to take better photographs on his phone, he would, he would gladly have filled his phone storage with pictures of her in beautiful lighting, and even more candid moments. Now, that wasn’t to say he didn’t have any photos of her at all, but certainly not the amount he wanted. He didn’t want to take a photo of her and have it fail to capture how he sees her. He longed for the ability to paint her like art gods of old, to see the texture of her soft skin like Van Gogh and his swirls, to see the Holy beauty and power that radiates off her like the artwork that adorns so many churches. He saw it every time he looked at the stained glass in his church, while the sun made the images glow brilliantly, there was still a softness to the art- conveying such tenderness, the way Mother Mary cradled her son’s face just reminded him of how compassionate she is with victims.

While they did enjoy their meal, and she had loved the necklace he gifted her, there was a heaviness that weighed on the two of them. Neither had spoken much about the case, about whether it was wrong or right to want to end the life of a baby who would never know true freedom, never have the ability to play or exist without pain. He could see it in her eyes, the conflict, the pain, and she could see it in his. He had laid some blankets and pillows on the deck so they could lay there and watch the stars twinkle in the sky above, she cuddled in as close to him as she could without climbing into his ribs. He idly drew patterns on her side, “I don’t know if I can continue to do this case, mi amour,” he started, taking a steadying breath so his voice didn’t crack like he knew it would, like it always did when it involved a child, a baby. “I can’t prosecute someone who- who is going through so much pain, so much turmoil. It doesn’t seem fair. We- we are supposed to do real crimes, assaults, rapes, murders. Not this. Not parents fighting over whether to continue watching their little baby suffer or let it pass.”

She had looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed slightly before she returned her gaze to the sky, “It isn’t our decision to make, Rafi. The baby is not a pet, we can’t just put it to sleep when it is suffering. No matter how tough things may be, it is our job, our duty to persevere and ensure justice is served.” She took a breath, “If they had known when she was still pregnant, if the tests had been available, there would have been options they could have taken. But to do so now is- Tantamount to murder, no matter how-“ She shook her head, “It’s- It’s not our decision to make. It is a burden to the parents, an unfair one, one that hurts everyone but hurts them the most. All we can do is make sure they have the support they need no matter the outcome of the trial. I know that whatever you choose to do will be the right decision.”

Rafael looked at her with tears in his eyes, “Mi amour,” he whispered, “Will you still love me if I made the wrong one?” She cupped his cheek softly, her thumb had brushed lightly across the swell of it as she reassured him that she would. They had shared a soft kiss, while she wiped away the tears that fell onto his cheeks. They returned their gaze to the stars above, she told him which constellations were which, sometimes making them up just to see if he would catch on, but of course, when he is so in love, he never felt the need to correct or interject because why would he? Why would he when any sound that fell from her lips was like music to his hears? When any word or string of sentences felt as though Shakespeare himself was speaking to him, or Sylvia Plath or Dickenson. To be loved and to be so thoroughly in love was such a privilege to him. At church he would confess how much he loved her, how it felt almost sinful to be this in love, only to be told by the priest on the other side that a love as pure and deep as his was so far from sin that the angels in Heaven could even hear his words. That they too would play their harps and sing songs about this mortal love.

“I hope,” she said, “That this feeling, this- grief, this darkness does not become too much for you.” Truth be told, it hadn’t become too much for him, but for both of them. The grief that came with the decision he made sent shockwaves through them both that no amount of prayer and penance could fix.

That first night apart, the emptiness in the bed beside him was palpable, it felt as though there was an anchor weighing that side down just to accentuate the fact that he was alone and it was his own doing. He would rest his hand where she had laid and if he held his breath, he could almost trick himself into feeling her hand gently wrap around his and press a soft kiss to his knuckles. He could still hear her voice, in the evenings there was always a slight roughness to it that made him shiver, and she would talk about where they would go on holiday when they were forced to take leave. Italy, Paris, Cuba, Mexico, but it did not matter truly, as long as they had each other that is all that mattered. They would talk about how they hope that one day, there wouldn’t be such a hard battle for victims to be believed, and sometimes they would just talk about the stupid reality programs that were plaguing the tv. Everything she said or did was holy to him. And although it was blasphemous to say such a thing, he would gladly worship at the alter of her, saying prayers between her golden thighs as though she were a God herself.

He always thought he had left to protect her, to save her from further anguish, but perhaps he was too caught up in his own heartache to realize that she had also done it to protect him. She had always done that. Looked out for others when she should have been focusing on herself too. And maybe… Maybe things had just become too much even for her.

That’s what he thought until he saw the pictures of her, but he could tell things weren’t right. He knew that when she was truly happy, the captions to the photos would reflect that, whether it be a flood of emojis or a quote that resonated with her, but now it was nothing like that. Just simple, “Fun with friends,” and maybe she was having fun, but he knew that wasn’t true. Her true joy was unbridled, outshining the sun itself, making grey clouds go away on stormy days. Her love- No, Olivia’s love was something that was uncontained, addictive, pure, Holy. Even on the last night they had spent together, they had assured one another that they would do everything they can to support each other no matter what. It was laying there on the deck of the yacht that he realised now was their way of saying goodbye to one another despite the kiss he would press to her skin the next day.

Now here he was, curled up under the covers like a dejected dog that had been told no to a treat. The alcohol made his head hurt, and on an empty stomach, he knew that any sudden movement would surely make his head spin. While church did fill him with a sense of belonging and community that he had missed since moving, it still did not fill the void he now had within him. He still returned to a lifeless apartment, he couldn’t bring himself to adopt a rescue animal in fear he would make it depressed with his moping, or worse, it would get critically ill and he could not bear to make that decision again. Every time he returned home, he actually prayed for Olivia to be there waiting for him. To see her suitcase by his bedroom door, her shoes tucked in next to his by the front door, and her coat hanging up beside his. He couldn’t stop thinking about her even though every time it hurt him so deeply, filled him with a grief he can’t help but compare to when Holy Mary was grieving the loss of her beloved son.

Olivia. Olivia. Always Olivia. The brunette whose laugh revitalized him, whose eyes he would gladly drown in, whose tongue skillfully empowered everyone around her, or soothed the worries and fears one might have. Olivia, who even on her worst days, was still the most wonderful person to be around. Olivia whose lips felt so soft against his own. Olivia whom he loved.

He wipes his eyes, his cheek feeling cold due to the tears that had cooled on his sheets before startling when his doorbell goes off. He knew it wouldn’t be his mami because she always called him when she was coming over. He pulls himself out of bed, begrudgingly putting at least some pants and a shirt on before going to answer the door. He scratches his beard as he looks through the peephole, feeling what color he had on his cheeks fade instantly. He blinks a few times, his mind going blank as he forgets how to open a door. The bell rings again, the woman worrying her lip between her teeth before she starts to turn to leave. Rafael fumbles with the locks on his door before pulling it open, one word leaving his lips, “Olivia?” What was she doing here? He did send her a text months ago about his new address, but she had never replied. Why would she? Why would she come when that is how they had left things there on the streets of New York City? “Olivia- What- What are you doing here?”

The brunette turns to look at him, almost surprised he answered the door; she looks so tired, her eyes sunken in the way they used to when she was particularly troubled by a case, barely holding on to the life-raft she had crafted herself- a flicker of a smile spreads across her face, a ghost of how she used to be, “I- It’s the anniversary of when you passed the Bar exam,” she says softly, “I couldn’t miss it. I could never miss it.” But she had. She did. But he couldn’t blame her for that, it was a mutual break-up, they were both at fault for missing important events.

“Olivia…” Rafael wanted to push her away because how could they go through all that pain just for her to come back? Without saying anything? How could he let her in when he had hurt her just as much as she had him? His eyes dart to her neck, she was still wearing the necklace, but it was tarnished, like she had never taken it off, not even to shower or polish it. He rubs his bear again, the sharp bristles scratching against the soft skin of his palm as he debates what to do. But at the end of the day, it was Olivia, his Olivia, so, he steps to the side to let her in, closing and locking the door behind her, “I-“

“I know I missed a lot of things,” Olivia says after a while of thick silence, the space between the two of them felt endless but realistically they were only a foot apart. They both made a mistake, they both screwed up by walking away from one another when really they needed that support that the relationship provided. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight more- I’m sorry I didn’t fight more for you, for us. I thought it would have saved us both some grief. I thought- I thought we were both going to drown, and I didn’t want you to sink with me. I didn’t realize in doing that, I’d cast you away.” She looks down at the bag containing a gift for him, a Band-Aid to loosely stick over the wounds she had caused him, but once again, like she had so many times before, she saw something and thought of him. Oh God, God how she thought of Rafael, every moment of every day was filled with thoughts of him. Every time she went to church to pray, he was the first name to leave her lips as she asked for God to watch over those she loved.

When she lay awake at night she thought of him, when she turned on her side to stare at the wall, she would watch the way the lights from the city would glide through the sheer curtains and skate across the wall and remember how it looked as it kissed his skin, catching the silver hairs that adorned him. She couldn’t bare it any longer. “I got you this- I saw it and thought of you,” Olivia says quietly, handing Rafael the bag, “I know- I know it’s late, but- Happy Bar Anniversary.”

Rafael takes the bag, it felt remarkably heavy, weighed down by the time the two had spent apart, the aching in his chest that was left in her absence, the loneliness that had settled in his bones and often anchored him down to his bed for days on end. He goes over to the couch and sits down, Olivia sitting a distance away as he removes the crepe paper from the bag before taking out the small box at the bottom. Inside the box was a pair of cufflinks, the Scales of Justice in platinum, he had always wanted a pair like this but often felt like it was too arrogant for him to get. He carefully removes them from the box and examines them, he loved it, he knew he would because he always loved anything Olivia had given him, “They’re perfect,” Rafael says quietly, “Really nice, Olivia. Thank you.” He returns them to the box, not wanting to try them on right now. He closes the box then just stares at it, it felt weighty in his hands. The room was quiet, all he could hear was the steady breathing coming from himself and Olivia.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry for everything, Rafael. I thought- I thought if I agreed to the break-up, that things would be easier. That I would be happy. I- I tried dating, there were some nice men, but you know- You know how they get when they find out what I do,” she smiles a bit, “Always wanting to know too much about work, about cases, some even- They always got so mad when I ended things. So angry. Said of course a stuck-up bitch like me would do that and wrongly persecute men because that’s all we’re good for. They’d push drinks on me, get pissed I’d turn them down because heaven forbid I want to avoid becoming like my mother. And all I could think whenever I came home was what it would have been like if it had been you on those dates. Those dates gave me flashbacks- triggered my PTSD and made me wonder if the medication even helps because I always feel like clawing my skin off to try and get out of it. That maybe we should have gone to therapy together and talked about what happened, but I was so scared that it would just make things worse. I know that makes me a coward and a fool, but I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you for good. Now I know that isn’t fair for me to say, but it’s the truth, and you deserve the truth after so long of nothing.” Olivia takes a breath, blinking back tears, “All I’m reminded of is all that could have been. That I could have continued winning cases because of you. That I could have been with you. I could have been truly happy, but now- now all I know is grief and heartache, surrounded by sharks that love to see me panic and scared. This darkness that seems to want to suck me in, and the only light that comes through those cracks are when I think of you.”

“Olivia,” Rafael puts the gift to the side, tentatively reaching out to hold his hand in hers, and oh its embarrassing how his heart soars upon feeling her hand in his own once more, “When I think of you, I think of warmth and hope. Nothing about you is dark. You are the sun on the first day of spring, radiant and a beacon. Those men- I’m sorry they did that to you, and I’m sorry it gave you flashbacks. But the meds- Do you feel like they’re helping? You’re still here, you’re still you, so they must be doing something, right?”

“Oh Rafael, you’re so sweet,” Olivia whispers, gently squeezing his hand, and there- there it is, that spark, that little ball of hope coming back to life in the very depths of her soul, the little ball trying to bloom into a beautiful flower that was him. “You’ve always been so sweet to me. You say you’re not romantic, yet you are, you always know what to say to me.” Olivia bites her lip, and he could tell she had been doing it more often due to the scarring on them, “Sometimes- Sometimes I think I’m getting better, and everything feels manageable, but then- then it all comes crashing down around me. There I am in the corner of my room clutching my pistol to my chest as I will the person banging at the front door to go away. It just- Feels like a battle I’ll never win, and the pills, the therapy, are just covering a wound that will keep festering.”

Rafael rubs circles lightly on the back of her hand, running his thumb lightly over her knuckles, “You’re still here, Olivia- You’re still here, so you’re still winning your fight. I know it’s hard, believe me I do. I don’t know how many times I have been to church and prayed and confessed and done penance in hopes it eases the turmoil inside me, but it helps even if it is just for the night. You can get through this.” He smiles a bit, an idea forming in his mind, “I think I’ve got some ice-cream in my freezer, how about we make some banana splits like we used to? Come on-“ He gets up and heads through to the kitchen where he starts rummaging through his freezer for the Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. He still brought a pint of her favourite flavor because he hoped that one day they would see each other again. He lost count of how many evenings the two of them had made banana splits, saying it was a healthy meal because of the banana even though it was drenched in chocolate syrup and caramel.

“Oh- I don’t-“ Olivia lets out a quiet, nervous giggle as she follows him to the kitchen so she could help. She tried doing this with a friend who stayed the night and they weren’t interested in it, saying it was too unhealthy for them instead of just enjoying it as a treat. “You’ll mush the banana if you keep that up, honey,” the term of endearment slips from her tongue before she could stop herself, but neither of them cared, it felt like things were like they used to be and that is what they both needed right now. She shows him how to cut the banana in the peel before handing him the other so he could do it himself, “We have done this so many times, and every time you would still squish the banana.”

Rafael didn’t have the heart to tell her that he did know how to do it, he just loved whenever she would do it because that meant she was closer to him, close enough for him to smell the faint perfume on her skin, the shampoo in her hair, and the laundry detergent on her clothes, “Silly me,” he chuckles softly, cutting the banana correctly this time. When he’s done, he places it in the bowl, a smile on his face, “Perfect.” And in that moment, the way the evening sun shone through the windows and flooded the space with a heavenly glow made her skin look like gold, and he remembered that was how he had always looked at her- like she was crafted from natures finest gold, and that the sun glimmered in the sky just for him. His Olivia always looks so beautiful, even on the days where she struggled to get up with her mused hair, and slight smile, she still made butterflies come to life in his stomach.

“What?” Olivia asks, doubt returning to her eyes, “What is it? Do I have something on my face?” She brings her hands up to cover herself, but Rafael stops her, gently holding her hands in his, “Seriously, Rafi, what is it? Please- I-“

“Olivia,” he says softly, “There’s nothing on your face. There’s nothing wrong. Just in this lighting- the sun makes your skin look like God himself carved you out of Earth’s finest gold, and it’s so beautiful. You are so beautiful. You always have been.” He brings a hand up to tenderly stroke her cheek, his thumb brushing against it lightly, “They never once said that, did they?”

Olivia dips her head, still leaning against his hand but avoiding eye-contact, she couldn’t, “No- Well- Not as nicely as you did. Just whenever they wanted something. I never believed them when they said it because of the look in their eyes, just this real sleezy look- Like those men we would put in prison.” She worries her lip between her teeth once more, it had been so long since she had felt beautiful and not like a piece of meat, and while she always had with Rafael, she still couldn’t help but doubt it this time because what if he didn’t mean it? What if he was just saying it to make her feel better?

“That was my favorite thing to do, doing that with you. It was always so satisfying seeing them get mad,” he chuckles softly. “Remember when we made one cry because he turned down the plea deal and got sentenced to life? That was great,” Rafael gently tilts her head up, looking into her water-color eyes. “You know, even though you’re likely doubting what I have said, I assure you that I would never lie to you about anything, Liv, never. You know my mami would know, and God would be the one to tell her, then I’d never hear the end of it. So, when I say you’re beautiful and that you always have been, just know that I mean every word of it.”

“I know- I know that deep down, I do, I promise I do, but it’s still hard when the only people who have said that to me lately were just saying it after staring at my breasts. It’s like how you struggle to think you’re a good lawyer- I still remember when you lost a case… You spent so long going through the evidence and your notes as though it would somehow change the decision the jury made, that you’d find some smoking gun and the bullets and be able to bring it to them and tell them they were wrong. I told you- I tried telling you that you are good at what you do, and that I know you did your best, you snapped at me with tears in your eyes because how could I think you were good when the jury had let him off his charge?” Olivia traces his features lightly with her finger, “You hid away in your office as you willed yourself to somehow be better, to will the outcome to change. You refused to eat anything, even when your mom came with tamales. You spent so long in there, and all I could do was ensure you drank, make sure the windows were open, so you’d get some fresh air, and ate at least one tamal.”

It took days before he came out of the hovel he had built, sure he went to the bathroom, but that was it. He didn’t speak a word. The night he came out, she had left the curtains open so he could see the city lights and watch the sunset kiss the sides of the buildings and flood the streets. She had come in with some horchata and fresh churros, and she saw him in all his glory. Olivia had put the food and drink down on the table by the windows before sitting down near him, her fingers idly drawing patterns on his arm, “Hey,” is all she had said with that silly little smile on her face. She knew he would be famished but knew he wouldn’t be interested in eating tamales, so churros and horchata was the safest option that he rarely turned down. Rafael had reached for one of the churros, his hand shaking slightly from the lack of food, and slowly made his way through them, dipping them in the rich chocolate sauce.

“How can you still look at me that way?” He had asked her, “With stars in your eyes, like I’m a good person. I don’t understand how you can do that.”

“Because you are. I will always look at you that way, nothing will change that. That court case won’t change that either,” Olivia replied, sipping her own drink she had brought. “I know you see yourself differently, just like how I don’t see myself the way you do, but please let me tell you what I think of when my eyes land on you, Rafi. I find myself thinking of statues that people carved as offerings to their gods, the stained glass murals that are in the churches we love, and even then, they still wouldn’t capture you. I see caramel skin that chefs couldn’t even make after years of practice, emerald eyes like beautiful lakes left untouched by man because you- Oh you are a rarity, a limited-edition print that stars could only dream of collecting, and you- you are all mine. Your hair is kissed by the stars with flecks of silver scattered throughout that so many look to in the skies above in hopes of finding some guidance. Then your smile, how it makes me feel like the only woman in the world, dazzling me like when we see the gorgeous paintings on the church ceiling. The fire you have in the court room is enough to keep me warm for days after. Never have I met a more passionate, handsome man than you. No matter the outcome, I know, and so do the victims, that you have done everything you can to win. A loss does not detract from that because all it does is show you did all you could.”

Rafael couldn’t breathe, staring at Olivia in shock and surprise that after all these years, she still remembered what she had said to him word for word, and how she managed to seem so serious despite the mess they were making while in the kitchen. Rafael, himself, had remembered that poem too, word for word, and tried reciting it to himself on the days where not even church could lift his spirits, but it never moved him the way it did when she said it. “You remembered,” he said after a while of silence, a small smile tugging at his lips, “You remembered it word for word. God, and does it still fill me with butterflies too.”

Olivia laughs lightly, her true laugh when she was happy, the one that came from deep within her stomach and bubbled out of her throat like the tune of a songbird, “Of course I did. I remember everything when it comes to you: How one of your favorite foods is your abuela’s tamales but you say your mom’s so you don’t get a clip round the ear, how you like peace lilies and begonias, how when you’re craving something you like really greasy tacos from the taco-truck under the bridge near the Bronx, although sometimes you just want a taco bowl from Chipotle and vow I don’t tell anyone you committed such a sin. I remember how you always wanted to adopt a rescue dog from the shelter, how you absolutely hate driving and would rather catch public transport.”

Rafael’s cheeks flush a deep red and his smile grows, “Oh Liv,” he whispers, feeling that little red thread pulling the two of them together once more, just like it had when they first met, although back then he didn’t believe in such a thing, “It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”

“And it has always been you, Rafi. Always.” Olivia cups his cheeks and leans in, their breath intermingling in the small gap between the two of them, she smelled off coffee and peppermint gum she always chewed when anxious.

“Liv,” he whispers, wanting nothing more than to feel her soft lips upon his own once again, “Are you sure?”

“I always am when it involves you,” she replies before kissing him softly, and in that moment, magic felt real again- the spark that travels from her lips to his then through his body, electrifying every single nerve ending in his body. It was cliché, but cliches are only that way because they are true. His hands return to her cheeks, tilting his head slightly so that their lips could fit together better, two puzzle-pieces after being separated for so long still fitting together as though they had just joined- perfection.

Olivia is the first to pull back, her cheeks rosy, "You still using the lip scrub and beard oil? It’s really like kissing a marshmallow and being tickled by candy-floss, your lips and beard are so soft.” She giggles and steals another kiss before putting a dab of chocolate syrup on his nose, her eyes twinkling once more, “Now we match.”

“I do, you know me, Liv, skin-care and beard-care are important.” Rafael chuckles and bites his lip, gently pulling the brunette closer, “Now we match. I think- I think you just gave me a reason to look forward to things again, Liv. Tell me, please, will you stay?”

“I don’t- I didn’t bring any clothes- I only have my bag,” she admits, looking at his hands holding hers, “I don’t want to leave NYC, Rafi-“

“That’s okay, Liv. I just- For tonight at least. You can wear one of my shirts tomorrow, and I-“ His cheeks color, “Have a few of your things you left in my old apartment. Then- If you want, we can- I can come visit you, we can take turns until we feel ready to move in again. We’ll be okay, Liv. You and I- Will make it work, we always will.”

Olivia looks at him, “We will be, won’t we? I- Would like that, a lot, Rafi. Thank you.” She leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow I’ll show you around the place, I know it like the back of my hand, oh and the church- Dios mio, it’s beautiful. Oh Liv, I have so much to tell you.”

“And now, Rafi, we have all the time in the world. I’m not going to walk away from us again. Not this time. Not again. I promise.”

“I promise you too, Liv.”

#Barson #Olivia Benson x Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Olivia Benson #Olivia Benson #Rafael Barba #Law and Order svu

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cowboyinternist · 1 year ago

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hello and welcome to the post where i finally talk about some of my favorite wtnv episode art, because it’s a thing they do that i absolutely adore.

and i think it’s severely under appreciated/untalked about

starting with this one because i think it’s really lovely both in concept and execution. i have the print of it :)

i enjoy this work a lot for a same reason that i love room scenes: story told through subtlety. using the fridge as a canvas, including esteban’s drawings and letter magnets, gives us a window into the lives of these characters that we don’t really see in the typical format of this show. it’s also just really cute??

the subtle references to the past, the constant, and the current really tie the themes of the episode (and the show as a whole) together.

other things of note:

the star tarot card is representative of hope and new beginning.

the exes on the community calendar match up to the day of the month (the 15th).

i really really really like the references to the wtnv novel, because i think the novels are neglected a lot when it comes to the podcast and merchandising.

it knows with a certainty that the people seeing it will understand the niche references on it, and thus does not feel a need to explain itself.

it works really great as episode art, but also wonderfully as a 10th anniversary piece. unlike the poster. which i hate.

like the above, i love this one for several reasons. the composition, the colors, the lettering.

but above all i am a big enjoyer of flower imagery and symbolism.

lavender is pretty well known to symbolize calm, and tranquility. i think most people know that. and i think that reflects the kind of levelheaded and methodical way that carlos finally deals with his problems in this episode.

and i’m hoping the it’s representative of carlos’ mindset in the year to come? representative of him finding peace with his past.

him having his back turned to the viewer gives a sense of withdrawal or running away, but the lavender and calm atmosphere portray an aura is resignation. he’s done running.

other things:

old woman josie says in an early episode that carlos smells like lavender chewing gum

lavender is drought resilient and does very well in desert climates :)

i love this one for the same reason that i have issues with the most recent arc.

the magnifying glass both casts a shadow over and a beaming light into the community that you see in the illustration. it can be assumed that it’s only a matter of time before it bursts into flames and is destroyed under the prying eye. symbolism that is pretty easy to dissect. it tells us exactly what the danger is and exactly what is in danger in a very easy to interpret way.

welcome to night vale has always had a very heavy emphasis on community, but for me that isn’t really shown in this arc.

allegorical meaning aside, it ended up being framed in this way that ended up m very cecil & carlos vs. the night vale community + the uowii. rather than it being cecil, carlos, and the night vale community vs. the uowii. which was so

i think both of those concepts exist within the arc, but the latter is less believable because there’s so much less community detail. characters motives are not described. characters reactions to certain events are brushed past, often with little emotion to them. oh josh is missing? that sucks. anyways. dana is completely innocent? woohoo! anyways. they don’t allow room to for us, and the characters, to just FEEL? which is a stark contrast to the writing of previous years.

night vale as a community is what was at stake at this arc. but the lack of focus on characters and the relationships between them really took the stakes and emotion out of the situation. and, for me, took some impact and comedic value out of the ending.

i remember being really excited upon seeing this episode art because this piece did a really good job at setting an expectation for what the themes of this year would be. the themes were still there, but the writing didn’t do them justice and didn’t give them enough push to make them feel as impactful as they should have been.

this is all that i have the energy to talk about for now, but if there’s other episode art you’d like me to talk about, send me an ask! i’m also happy to talk about my opinions on other merch pieces that they have in their store! :)

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #this was super fun to talk about agh #there’s also a bunch of episodes that don’t have ep art that i would REALLY love ep art for #part one of convincing myself i will NOT be shot in the head for talking about things i like #horsetalk

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tum-bakery · 4 months ago

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Howdy howdy!! Sorry I haven't been active lately ^^|| been getting sucked into other fandom stuff off tumblurb. Hope you've been doing well and have had easy days!! To try and make up for my crimes of not being here to see your incredible arts, I leave tummy thoughts!

Someone catches a raccoon-esque character having tried to p much rob them of their food, only to see the character had mayhaps gotten too greedy and is just in a sort of mental food coma trying to remedy their stuffed belly. Funnier if the character awkwardly waves their hand like "heyyyy..." when caught.

A pregged char feeling the absolute weight of their later term belly as they're trying to cook something that'd require two hands, yet not being able to even complain or huff about it before their partner unknowingly comes up from behind to hold up their belly to be loving. Funnier if usually preg char doesn't like being bugged when cooking so this is usually a teasing sort of thing the partner does, which makes the partner surprised when they're not playfully swatted away and told to wait til food is done.

Big gruff dwarfen char having a partner that's known for being a tall species like an elf or smth- and either the tall partner is pregnant and the short partner tries to make gadgets to help them rest their belly on as support & loves to dote on them and the belly often, or short partner is the pregnant one and tall partner is rather awkward but excited around the other - kinda acts like they're worried they're too big and could hurt the baby but gets encouraged to have cuddling sessions with the belly to reassure them. Doesn't carry the short partner exactly bc they know it will earn a stink eye esp during hormonal feistiness, buuut does try to make things easier and help support the belly whenever and however they can.

Fantasy royalty figure that expects their new court jester to just mock their belly like others they've stopped hiring in the past did, but the mockery-based entertainment surprisingly doesn't and reaffirms that they actually really like their body and wouldn't dream of making fun of it. Royalty x jester shenanigans ensue as the royal char gets more confident with themself and the jester gets to be more hands on with their body love off work. Bonus points if the jester gets to gain a bit of happy weight too with their partner.

I'd go on but I fear this ask is already too long lmao sorry cjdnd

No need to apologize friend!!!! (I'VE BEAN MEANING TO POST THIS FOR MONTHS) It's good to see you in my inbox and BOY HOWDY DID YOU BRING ME GOODIES.

Long post ya'll lets strap in!!!

I LOVE the idea of some sort of Raccoon or better yet a Possum or even a Bear hybrid getting into some left overs and going HAM. The idea of them being a self admitted GARBAGE DISPOSAL, and being willing to pick up left overs or out of date foods to fill up on. What if they ended up pairing up with a convenience store worker, who at first just caught them rummaging but instead decided to... welcome them more to enjoy the out of date goods. The hybrid is unashamed but SO surprised to be welcomed in any way and are putting on a LOT of weight now that they have the means to-

Something always warms my heart about characters that aren't usually touchy or who don't like to be bugged getting some TLC and melting into it. I can imagine their partner cooing to them that what they're cooking smells so good, and really just leaning into the affection they usually aren't allowed to give.

OKAYACTUALLY THIS RIGHT HERE??? I love it SO MUCH. I really personally love the idea of a short, THICK, bearded dwarved lady having a total dainty beanpole of an elven boyfriend. I love the idea of either of them being pregnant, and the other being so doting and I'm... I'M ROTATING THEM IN MY BRAIN AUGHHHHHH. Not only that but I think the shorter one would carry it BETTER, because elven babies are less dense, whereas the elf carrying this HEAVY dwarven baby, built like a calf in the way that they can probably WALK fresh out the womb. Good thoughts good thoughts. Maybe mutual preg where they crave things the other likes, and both deal with the woes of their particular babies.

I've always dug on how Jesters also are somewhat ... political advisors, so the idea that this royal figure has actually always been stifled by having people always comment on their weight- its almost a relief when their new jester starts teasing other things. Because their BELLY is fine, and should not be the focus (unless... it's for praise perhaps hehe.) Or saying stuff along the lines of "my liege, your best work is not typically done on an empty stomach!"

#bakerspeakin #Preg AND stuffing teehee #I'm too lazy to tag rn sorry...

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mcalhenwrites · 10 months ago

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I'm sincerely trying to find answers to these questions. I'm seeking advice.

I'm going to start this off by stating that I'm still writing. I haven't quit. I'm not going to quit. This is about sharing. I've had so many people assume I quit writing or only will write for the sake of being a published author. I'll always be writing as long as I'm alive.

And as someone who firmly believes that people can choose whether or not to share their art with the world and no one else gets to decide that, I also believe that it's not wrong to want to have readers. Libraries and bookstores and art galleries and art sites and everything else - we connect to each other through art. It wouldn't exist if everyone just went, "Welp, I made the thing, good for me. Done!" And if someone is going to tell me that I should feel that way, I hope you keep all your writing and art to yourself. If not, I'd consider it a kindness to us both if you don't respond to this post through comments, DMs, or asks. Thank you. ;)

So onto the questions I'm seeking advice on.

How can I overcome the shame of posting writing for about 14 years and still barely getting readers? (But often getting a lot of critique?)

I've been in writing circles, reading and cheering on others, and they read one anothers' writing, but I'm frequently passed over/ignored - and that's the kinder response. I've been told that I'm there for my support only, that I'm not a good enough writer myself, that my characters are all the same.

How does one keep posting links to their published work or AO3 chapters/works, when they never get any likes or reblogs across several websites?

When friends have done nothing but scold them for not being good at PR, when I'm just... I'm a writer, not a businessman. And I am trying, but even popular authors on social media have mentioned that word-of-mouth and boosting of their work on social media has impacted their success? That M*sk taking over one of those sites has negatively impacted their interactions and therefore their sales? (Wouldn't this mean they also suck ass at PR? xD)

Am I supposed to believe I have a chance, when even established authors are struggling?

I don't like myself very much, and I'm ashamed of level of skill, even though I enjoy writing so much I can't help but always want to do it. I can't help but create stories and get excited about writing them down. There are even times I feel like I've made progress. Gotten better as a writer.

But it's so hard not to end up letting other people make me feel ashamed.

It's true I shouldn't listen to those people, but why have they been so many, and why is the positivity always so few and far in-between? Maybe if it was one voice in one-hundred, but what if it's twenty voices out of thirty? What am I to believe then? When even friends clearly have no faith in my works and don't want to be seen associating with it?

I wanted to be a published writer. I wanted to make a little bit of an income on writing, so I'd have reason to do what I love even more.

But I've spent most of my life feeling like a fool who keeps humiliating himself. Who wonders if the truth is that I'm worse at writing than even I'm willing to admit.

I had one story that "took off" on AO3, but even that lost readers by the end, and no one is interesting in anything I have created before or since then.

And that story... I've been editing it heavily and even added chapters, and I'm like, "I should post the new version sometime" but I'm convinced no one even wants it. (And I'd have to do it for free, and I can't afford to do things for free. I just got on medicaid finally and went to a food pantry last week and keep applying for help, and I have to wait until April to see a doctor to get critical help for my multiple health issues that might make my ability to work even harder. I broke down and crocheted stock for a table this month, and the pain in my wrist is excruciating, and the pain my heart that I can't spend half that time making personal passion projects with something I only want to do as a hobby is even more excruciating. So no, not every story of mine can just be churned out for free.)

Anyway, thank you for reading and your time, and if you have legitimate advice/answers/support... I could use it. I could use it more than ever.

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dreadnotau · 1 year ago

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Its been a decent couple of months of productive work, so it's sadly time for a schedule change. I'll be posting pages two weeks apart again. Details provided below if you're curious as to why.

In all honesty there's no big dramatic reason this time around. I've just slowly lost drive to work on Dread Not as often and as thoroughly as I used to be able to. As I said in one of my previous posts (that sounded suspiciously like this one), I want to focus on other projects as well. One of those is my personal art blog, which I've neglected even though I've had art on the backburner that I've been meaning to post for AGES. Kingdomrune is another one of those, where I have shit I could post that I just... never did. Dread Not takes a lot of time and I miss being able to dedicate that time to consuming media instead of just grinding and trying to produce my own. One of the most important things to do as an artist is to broaden your horizons and take in as much art as you can, to diversify and expand what you know and what you can make. But, when all day every day I'm just sitting and drawing my own thing, it's like I have tunnel vision and my creative resources run dry. It's starting to feel weirdly soulless on my end, because I don't feel nearly half the inspiration to make the pages as I did when the big hiatus ended. It's all dependent on time and exposure, and I can only crunch for so long before it starts to feel damaging to me instead of fun and creatively fulfilling.

So what does this mean, practically speaking? Well, for one, I'm spacing out the page upload for the rest of Act 1, as previously mentioned. I'm well aware this will kill the pacing and it'll drag out longer than it theoretically needs to, but I'd even rather that than trying to rush out a page in the Two Days I have free this week (yeah, ONLY two days free out of the ENTIRE week. Don't ask me why it's not even my fuckin' fault this time). If pages become even more scarce than 1 page per 2 weeks, blame it on college. I'm getting new subjects and I don't even know the class schedule yet. Concerning Act 2 though, I'll be changing the structure of the pages from their core. I'll be switching to a different drawing software (probably Krita, suck my dick Photoshop) so it'll take some getting used to. I can't even promise bonus content or anything during the necessary break between acts because of that shift in software happening, I've never done a massive technical move like this. However, it'll allow me to, not only work on Dread Not better, but expand my art overall, so it's definitely worth it. I've wanted to get into animation for YEARS and Krita seems like an okay place to start (the gif on this post WAS made with Photoshop, but shitty gifs are about all I can make as animations in Photoshop). Act 2's style will, predictably, differ heavily from Act 1 and (with how long writing the dialogue alone for it is taking), it might end up being Longer than Act 1, too. Visually, it'll probably be something like cleaned up and coloured sketches, with simpler colour palettes and simpler (big airquotes) visuals overall, and it'll speed up the process and possibly allow me to post more than one page at a time. Possibly. That's not a promise.

I'm sorry if that's disappointing to anyone, but I physically can't make myself continue the current artstyle across all acts. It's just not feasible.

For those curious about the FARTHER future of Dread Not, I have plans to turn Act 3 into a series of fics rather than full comic pages, and something maybe a bit more insane for Act 4. I don't have everything figured out yet, and I don't want to make any false promises or give any grand ideas I won't be able to commit to, since only time will tell how my creativity will flow years from now. If you all want more content from me specifically, again I'm planning on reviving my art tumblr like a half buried zombie, and you'll probably see more there than you bargained for once I actually get into the habit of posting things. If you're mayhaps interested in my original stuff, keep your eyes peeled for a guy called Duro, I might start posting about him some time soon.

As always, thank you for your patience, and apologies again if this news was disappointing to anyone. I'm just one guy and this comic is a titan of biblical proportions. I'll keep you all posted on any further developments and plans for the future! Stay tuned!

#dread not #dreadnot #dread not au #dreadnotau #not comic #kris #schedule update #i was supposed to post this yesterday but then i got fucking sick #spent all day in bed hardly awake #so those two free days i mentioned in the post?#gone. just like that.#fuckin pray for me

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whisperingwisterias · 6 months ago

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Sword Art Online and Simulation vs Reality

In watching Eden of the East, the viewer is presented with the idea that when faced with real world systems of unfairness and oppression, the answer is to remove themselves from it, to change the system itself. Takizawa doesn’t want to be a player in Mr. Outside’s game and Saki and the Eden group don’t want to be chained down to Japan’s ruthless workplace cycle—and so they both find their alternative in utilizing their identity as NEETs, free from the system. Sword Art Online, however, does not challenge or try to change the world. Instead, their answer is to escape it, to replace it entirely with a simulation.

In the beginning of the show, the lines drawn between the virtual world and the real world are clear. Before realizing they’re all trapped there, they walk around with avatars that they create themselves, and some use personas that are completely alien to their real selves; their presence in that world is fake and everyone is aware of it. Everyone is also aware that aspects of the game do not correlate in real life: in-game food doesn’t satisfy real hunger, fighting enemies doesn’t put them in any real danger, and responsibilities in the real world still exist and need to be returned to from the game.

However, the further on we get in the show, the more those clear lines start to blur, both for ourselves and for the people trapped there. As months and even years pass by, people begin to embrace their lives within the game, and stop pursuing the goal of reaching the 100th floor and returning to the real world. Asuna comments at one point that out of the 10,000 people that were originally trapped there, only 500 still remain in the front lines trying to make further progress. Kirito and Asuna both reflect on the fact that they often feel like they’ve lived there for their whole lives, and that some days they don’t even think about the outside world at all. People settle into groups and guilds, create and work jobs, find homes, develop military systems, create a full-fledged society, and even forge romantic relationships and marriages—all of which have no actual basis in reality. But to many people, they don’t see the virtual world as less real than the real world, Sword Art Online has become their new reality. We as the viewers get sucked into this delusion too, to the point where any reminder that Sword Art Online is a digital simulation, such as Asuna showing Kirito how she cooks or any of the players pulling up their UI, feels strikingly jarring and out of place.

In the midst of this merging of reality and unreality, Kirito and Asuna pose to us a question: Is it better to conform to and embrace their new reality; or is it better to cling to the real world? Can unreality truly replace reality? Despite acknowledging that they’ve settled into their digital world, they also remain aware of the actual reality of the real world that Sword Art Online doesn’t provide. Like everyone else they also join guilds, they also find homes, they also forge important relationships, but they also don’t stop fighting to make it back to reality. They also never forget to separate their real world selves from their virtual ones—Asuna says in the beginning that she doesn’t want to forget or lose herself by completely embracing their new reality; she and Kirito both want to return to their loved ones who are still waiting for them in the real world; and they both realize that there are still things they want to accomplish in real life that Sword Art Online simply cannot substitute. When surrounded by a fantastical, unreal world, it is Kirito and Asuna who keep us grounded in reality.

In the end, I think that Sword Art Online does an excellent job of showing us that while an escape from reality can provide a sense of relief, it cannot replace the things that are real. Even when immersed in the game, real elements shine through. Their grief is real, their relationships are real, their societies reflect both the good and the bad of real life societies—no one can truly escape reality. This isn’t a bad thing, and in some cases it’s not necessarily a good thing either, and I think that’s the point. The point is that reality is real, and it’s something that cannot be replaced or replicated. Where we go from there is up to us.

#sword art online #anime analysis

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heleizition · 1 year ago

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AIGHT im back and i did the reading and i need to know e v e r y t h i n g about the naruto au im not even fucking around. the amount of times ive fixated on that shit despite never finishing it is unreal. also which one was the one that got beheaded? because thats superb shit and i require more information to rotate them in my mind

HIIIIIII thank u so much for this ask i saw it at work and i was SO EXCITED to get home and tell u all about a) the naruto au b) eden who's the one who gets beheaded :3

BTW you can find the art i did of my ocs by checking out the tags on my blog of their name (ex nell art is under #nell, vik's is under #vik ...)

i'll start with eden !!! he's my token white haired guy (altho i have also a white haired girl in the same group of oc lol) to whom i do many terrible things. ever since i created him he's had a scenario where his neck got hurt (electric shock to his neck, knife injury, beheading to simply head explosiong lmao). he's an angel in the angel/demon scenario and the village's doctor in the farm au :3 he's always some sort of healer ! (he's that one "im a healer but... *cocks gun*" meme)

in the angel au he has extraordinary healing powers that antagonists want for themselves until they realise eden is not gonna give under the pressure and side with them so they behead him/make his head explode. not quite sure whcih one yet <3. except he doesn't die bc his power is more. body manipulation than healing and it acts by itself and stitch him back together . its a very traumatizing process but in return he destroys the other guys : D he's often nell's best friend in aus... moody guys who become menaces together. he was supposed to end up w jasper when i very first made him but eh !!!

THE NARUTO AU

okay so . disclaimer most of what i know of naruto is memories from what i watched when i was a young teen and a lot of sakura centered fanfics ive read the past few months lol

the story focus on on genin team but for the sake of the story ill jst go and talk abt the others too :

a) main genin team is nell, vik, lena and their teacher abel

b) second genin team is belly, jasper and eden with their teacher noah

c) cody is basically tsunade, titania is a civilian from a noble family who has a whole side story with lena lol

nell and belly (twins) are illegitimate kids from a clan's girl, who possess the clan's kekkei genkai. no i dont know what it is yet it's not even relevant to the story SEFJSEFOSFJOE

once their mother die they're put under the care of their mother's clan, where they're not rly treated well,,,, belly is a natural as using the clan's technic while nell isn't,,, they stick together but they're treated different and it sucks. tbh nell and belly's ways of dealing with family trauma is a recurring theme in all of the universes they're part of...

nell's fighting style focus on ice jutsu mostly, he's not a powerhouse but he's deadly. belly is more of a brawler type but i havent figured it out much yet :]

vik is an orphan who was groomed into roots (in universe it's a secret unit of ninjas like anbu but it's controlled by danzou who's a fucker and stole kekkei genkai including sharingans by STEALING DEAD PEOPLE'S EYES), who want's belly & nell's clan's kekkei genkai, and who's sent to pass as a new genin in nell's team to gain his trust and kill him and take his eyes,,, theres prob something going on to take belly's also but i havent gotten that far lol

lena (my BABYGIRL) is a civilian, born from a big player merchant family, who's supposed to inherit her parent's role but does Not want to :] she's lovely she's great she has a lot of chakra that she uses for summons (tigers!!!) and also she IS a powerhouse (uses . axes). not the most usefull of spy missions lol i love her <3

abel, in most of my stories, is a big brother figure to most of the kids especially nell,,,, i have not figured out yet what exaclty he does in this au BUT he and cody are old buddies and are destined to be together in all of my aus. anyway

quick other stuff, belly is very angry in hte beginning like her brother and does not know how to work with a team, jasper is kind and gentle and has to learn how to deal with her, also later masters mokuton (tree/plants jutsu) (which makes him very precious and rare), eden is once again a healer in this except he also works with poisons. bitch

and their teacher, noah, also works in torture and interrogation which will come up later.

basically the story follows nell's team as they meet and start working with each other, vik realising that maybe he's doing something that he shouldn't, almost kills nell once when infiltrating his living place but manages to get out when he hears belly coming in, discovers the power of friendship, then they're sent in the death forest for their chunin exam, antagonist guy sends more roots agents bc vik can't do the job, vik protects nell and lena, spills as much of the beans as he can before the seal in his throat starts to paralyze him, nell holds on to him for dear life and fights the other roots, lena gets one of her summoned tiger to go find eden and his team who save the day & also vik...

once vik is saved he cooperated with t&i and noah, who works on the case, adopts him,,, all is well. its not much . i feel like i had more thoughts lmao but its all messy in my head <3 thank u for reading

#ask me #the unwanted #naruto au #nell #vik #eden #belly #THANKS FOR ASKING ABT THEM ...#<3 #i have to GO NOW #oh also vik fights with hundreds of thin needles <3 horrific terrible love him

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ancrchy · 2 years ago

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hey y’alllll, jay here with jeon jiwoong — spoilt brat and trust fund baby banished to daegu after repeated fuck-ups back in seoul! his dad got sick of him spending his trust fund on partying and reckless endeavours so he removed his access to it and made him live with his grandma in daegu. more info about him will be below the cut! i also have an about page up. like this post if you’d like to plot, i'll drop you a message! i’m available on discord too if that’s better for you.

₊˙ ◌ ⁎˚ 〇﹒﹙kim sunwoo. cis male. he/him.﹚guess who was almost late for their shift at lapis roasters again?? that’s right, it was jeon jiwoong! it’s a wonder their job as a/an barista isn’t in jeopardy. the 23 year old has been working at sunset galleria for three months, and is well known for their outspoken nature. on bad days, they can be rather arrogant, though. when the mall is dead at night, they can usually be found flirting with customers, but don’t tell their boss!

001. BACKGROUND

his dad’s side of the family comes from old money

they have a family business, which jiwoong is expected to inherit one day

his paternal grandparents had set up a trust fund for him, one he gained access to once he started college (he is in his final year and is currently on leave)

big mistake, because he took it as an excuse to do whatever he wanted

he went out partying every other day and dabbled in illegal activities like street racing etc.

what really did it for his dad was when he had gotten into a small accident after one of those illegal street races

his dad removed his access to his trust fund and sent him to daegu to live with his maternal grandmother

his mother had fallen ill and passed away when he was in high school but he had never healthily processed it; his dad was also too busy with work to realise that

this is also why he turned to bad company as he got older, because all the fun distracted him from the loss he never properly dealt with

he used to visit daegu during holidays when he was a child, but has never been back since his mother passed on

his dad wanted to send him away to reflect on his mistakes and have a taste of hardship, so he would understand the value of money and the responsibility that came with having a trust fund

so he decided it was best for him to live in daegu with his maternal grandma, who comes from a more humble background than his paternal family

his dad also figured that in order for him to inherit his family business one day, he has to understand the importance of hard work, which is why he insisted he get a job and not live off his grandma

i imagine this to be a time of reflection and learning for him, where he has to work for the first time ever and kind of returns to his roots, or his mom's roots, whom he avoided thinking about the past couple of years

002. PERSONALITY

a spoilt brat who has never lived a day of hardship so you can expect him to be struggling with this whole job thing

in the beginning, he most probably would be complaining or whining about how he wants to go home

but he's your typical softie whose bark is louder than his bite

might cause trouble for you and end up feeling really bad about it but doesn't know how to apologise because it makes him look "weak"

he's honestly just a child at heart and a lot easier to please than you think (just buy him some ice-cream and he'd be grinning from ear to ear)

seemingly doesn't take things seriously but it's only because he struggles with being vulnerable

is very prideful and might stay up all night perfecting his latte art just because you made a comment about how it sucked

very outspoken and not afraid to speak up about how he feels, certainly does not believe in the saying that "customers are always right"

frankly isn't the best barista out there (before this job, he didn't even know how to make 3-in-1 coffee lol) but he has a way with his words so customers often come back for more

misunderstood bad boy trope in a nutshell

potential redemption arc in the future as he loses his spoilt brat tendencies and start to come to terms with the loss of his mother

003. WANTED CONNECTIONS

enemies to lovers/enemies to friends: could be someone who thought of him as a spoilt brat at first and started to realise that he wasn't as bad as they thought he was?

a childhood friend: someone he had met when he was a child visiting daegu every holiday but grew apart from when he stopped visiting after his mom's death.

more than friends, less than lovers: is it just harmless banter or are you actually flirting with each other?

opposites attract: you are hardworking, modest and come from humble beginnings, the complete opposite of jiwoong. people who hear that both of you are good friends often ask, "how?"

bad influences/birds of the same feather: you're just like his friends back home who enjoy partying and living on the edge. he's meant to be turning over a new leaf but it's a challenge with you in the picture.

a parental/older sibling figure: someone who tries to guide him onto the right path. the person he turns to whenever he faces a problem.

neighbours: your muse lives in the same neighbourhood as his grandma. could be someone that is close to his grandma and is forced into showing him around or helping him adjust to life in daegu.

regular customers at lapis roasters: you can always expect a free upsize or a free cookie whenever you pop by.

flirtationships: doesn't have to be anything serious. you're pretty to look at and he's born with a glib tongue so he has to let you know.

#sunsetintro

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drawnaghht · 1 year ago

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SRTUC and the "3D vs 2D" toons

a little animation prediction:

...10-15 years from now, the kids growing up watching things from their parents' handheld devices are gonna be nostalgic for their cocomelon's and will be wondering, "why aren't there any good 3D cartoons like in their childhood??" just like how ppl in each generation have always been nostalgic for the entertainment of their own childhood haha x3

this little anecdote is smth I've slowly kinda realized after thinking abt the whole "3D vs 2D" mindset ppl have about animation in general. i've been seeing a lot of complaining online abt 2D cartoons and indie cartoons in general and I'm wondering.... when will the criticism end? Just 8 months ago, people would have shared the sentiment, "more indie animation! hollywood is starving our artists!" but now from online fans, I see a lot more of the sentiment of "this thing sucks" or in the case of Rise TMNT for example, "we were too late for this show".

People like 2D animation, but any time there's a new show out, people either don't give it a chance (thinking of my old faves, like Motorcity and Sym-bionic Titan, but also many others). Or like with Moon Girl, people seem to ignore it more than talk about it. Is it because it's a Marvel show? it's like the spiritual successor to both ROTTMNT and LMK, but also BH6 a bit?? it's good. animated by Flying Bark (known widely for Rise and Lego Monkey Kid) with supervising director Ben Juwono, story artist on BH6 and Glitch Techs. and there's lots of other cool ppl on the crew

also just, I'm thinking again abt how the 1st reactions from many different fans and viewers in general was so... strong. People reacted so badly to the 3D in SR, and it didn't make much sense to me, because personally, as someone who's seen many animated films and series since Toy Story in 96, it looks better than just "fine". the art direction in the show actually looks great to me. I do notice smaller animation or model/render mistakes but tbh they are so few and inbetween, that usually does not break enjoyment for me when it comes to 3D tv. So a lot of the hate that the "3D style" gets still doesn't make sense to me.

now I see that it's probably bc ppl are still used to 2D being their preference or something they see as better.... and maybe not entirely just ppl being tired of certain 3D rendering styles. A few thoughts...

So alright, it does not look like disney or like Sony artists' work with Spiderverse and later films. "Styles" or approaches to rendering which ppl are used to or have come to expect from all animated features and even animated series now. But it's still unique and strong in its own way. It doesn't look like Trollhunters either, 99 pictures' previous series of works, and I find that a good thing. it's been a long time since Trollhunters was in development to when Samurai Rabbit started 3D development.

The show is stylized in a way where it takes into account the work of all the visdev artists while also juggling the task of making anthro animals look animal-like and cartoony, but not too cutesy or too smooth either. It seems to follow the visdev art a lot. So there are many considerations to balance in the style. They also used many budget-saving methods, i.e. the changing walls of the city so they would have more variety without modelling a lot of buildings, or how scenes were rendered in a way to save time and space. Or cut character's legs off via camera view bc it's not important to see leg etc. So for the result they got on the show, it looks fine and quite often also nice. Again, the art directions saves the show from a lot of the smaller mistakes and ties it nicely together. One thing that did bother me a bit more was the crowd-characters style, both in 3D and 2D. To me they look a bit ugly and like they don't quite go together with the main cast "drawing" style, but again lol, you cannot splurge on everything when you're on a TV budget and imo it's not a huge loss.

I do like however how this show avoids what a lot of videogames do (for good reason), and what some 3D shows seem to also do. Everything looks like it's at the right size. Like the characters and objects/scenery/city they interact with feels tangibe, despite any technical shortcuts mentioned before. It looks really nice to my brain, especially knowing what many of these things look and feel like irl. I also enjoy that they've made the simple choice of making the characters more "furry" looking anthros and "less human" - so they don't feel awkward for having too many human traits and less animal traits. Or like animal heads with human bodies with the wrong proportions. Sometimes these things just work better in drawings and 2D vs 3D. Smart choice to not overly humanize them when they're already walking on their very human-like cartoon legs.

Lol maybe I've just seen much uglier things in 3D than what kids these days are used to. It does feel like with Samurai Rabbit in general, it's another case of a show coming out a bit too late for the changing tastes of viewers now. But then again, if we consider how many of these criticisms are coming from teens, who maybe just have a different taste and preference (e.g. they haven't seen maybe early 00s stuff so they judge all 2D to be superior bc they're tired of 3D? could be anything like that). And the other contingent I see are some older adults in their 30s/40s who are critical of animation in general, or they don't like how it's not a direct adaptation of Usagi Yojimbo. I remember a quote my sibling throws around about fans like these: "and baby food doesn't taste as good as it used to!!!" and I find she is right haha, some people have way too many opinions about shows which are not for them at all. Like, move on and watch something else x3 It seems it was popular with the indended demographic of kids ages 6-11, so, if that's something that helped the show, good. That's nice.

BTW, on that last note, been meaning to say this for a long time, but imo, it's actually good that the show wasn't a direct adaptation. Think about it. How many adaptations have you seen where people don't complain about how xyz part was left out? Or how they didn't capture the essence in their style? Stan and crew worked with what they got from Netflix, and I find that admirable on its own, seeing how Netflix treats many of their animated shows nowadays in general. Not just cancellations, but other things like contract disagreements and changes to a show. It seems with the last 2 years, the halcyon days of Netflix are over. Even though animation was the thing holding the entertainment industry in the US up during the pandemic, it and its workers are treated unfairly by the megacorp, who have also revealed that they're losing money in general. And from interviews and articles, it seems this show also had hard times, in terms of getting an adaptation at all (it was changed and NF asked them to do it about a younger Usagi instead, something like that), so they got the short end of the stick, but dealth with it. When Candie and Doug, the showrunners, were brought on board, they were told that it had to be for a younger audience, so a younger Usagi and the solution was to make a descendant. But that freed the show up a lot more than it would have been before. Now, instead of deciding on what favourite UY story to cut, the crew could instead focuz on making a complete story and rounded characters without stepping on Netflix's toes. It also seems the show had really enthusiastic execs and producers in general. So in the end we got a show with descendants of some of the comic's cast, who just happen to also be like retellings or their own versions of some of these characters (like Chizu and Kitsune for example)

saying all that.... lol if this show does come back, it'll be a while again and 3D preferences and styles would be changed again... I wonder what kind of visual style they would opt for if there was a new series based on Samurai Rabbit or based on other Usagi Yojimbo series, like Chibi Usagi or Yokai Hunter.

there's also of course just the factor that a lot of animation fans might be coming from a different place compared to fans of other media and are a lot more critical about what they watch. Never really been big on liveaction fandoms cuz I only watch liveaction stuff w my family as a fun activity to do, but i get sorta bored otherwise (so personal preference). I do know ppl complain abt their liveaction shows too but... it seems from this far away, much less whiney in some way. Like ppl being used to it and moving. But animation criticism always seems to be coming from an ungenuine or unfairly angry place. I don't know if it's the combo of "nostalgia nerd"-like youtuberisms having an influence on this, or just general negativity, but it's definitely something that's sorta become more boring/annoying to see. If you're critical of everything, eventually you sorta have nothing to criticise, or at least, nothing to enjoy.

but hey, if the general taste preference is still 2D, that's great! that's nice. I also still prefer 2D even if 3D is something I've worked with and something i've become accustomed to in animation in general. I just wonder where this mindset comes from that animated things have to be absolutely-infinitely PERFECT, or else it's not worth the watch.

I've definitely been in this camp of cartoon haters myself in the past... maybe not so much looking for perfectionism, but trying to see things I liked from an adult POV... but thankfully the early 00s we didn't have internet access i my family yet so no one else saw lol. As a kid, I genuinely thought that to be an animator, I have to learn how to be critical of every movie and animated thing I see. But animation brings me a lot of joy even when it's not "objectively" good... I wonder when more people will catch up and see their old mindset from a different point of view. I just find it sad that critics and internet drama seemingly have a much bigger impact on a show's success than say, the actual demographic watching it, or sales or whatever.

Anyway, if you read this far, thank you! I would offer an internet cookie, but it seems so here have a SR! Gen, representing how tired I am after staying up too late to write this haha x3

Anyway, good night, if you like a show or really enjoy it, pls watch it and share the word about it, that seems to do good.

Night!

#anyway I keep remembering how MOON GIRL apparently still isn't out in many countries #watch moon girl it's good #yuichi usagi #samurai rabbit #srtuc #usagi chronicles #cartoons #opinionate #like idk. just. sad? yeah i guess #just thinking #long post #fanramble #this is just a bunch of dumb rambling don't mind me #there are bigger things going on but i'm thinking abt cartoons again #this is not a thought piece i am just slowly frizzzing my brain out trying to think of coherent things #distraction destruction deception... i will write no more past this nightly attention

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artofapeach · 2 years ago

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I've always worried if no one will like me or just ignore me because I ship DamianxKayla. I used to be in a zoophobia discord chat and use to draw a lot. But whenever I post art in the chat, especially with a certain ship, I just get ignored in favored for someone's art or ship. It hurt so much that I lost motivation to draw for almost a year. Just a couple months ago I finally started drawing again. But I'm scared if I will get ignored again all because they don't like what I ship.

Please please please draw for you no MATTER what!!

It does suck getting ignored and having no one to talk about it with and worrying that people dislike you *because* you ship it—I go through that all the time!

…well okay not with shipping since if it’s not Blitzfizz I don’t really ship much, but with other things!

I draw a lot of body horror art and enjoy working on original stories—which pretty much gets 0 notes every time I post them. Usually, I don’t mind, since this blog was created for me to dump my art, but now that I have a primarily Vivziepop following, I feel this expectation to post mainly Vivziepop fanart. When I’m more in the mood for body horror and other original work, I’m often worried people won’t like it anymore and stop following :(

But I post it anyway!!

Because this is Tumblr dammit!!!!!! This is the place where we’re supposed to be cringe and post the things we enjoy, whether others like it or not!!!!!!!!!

I will tell you this. Unless it’s a proship (which Damian and Kayla is most definitely not) no one will ever not like you for what you ship! If they do, trust me, you don’t want to be involved with them anyway!

People will see your art, go “hey that’s a ship I don’t care for” and go on with their lives.

But for some people??? It doesn’t end there! They’ll keep seeing your art thinking meh, but then they see more and more and go “okay this is kinda cute actually” until they end up shipping it too!

How do I know this? Because it’s happened to me! Twice! Yes, once with Blitzfizz that’s predictable I know. But ALSO with Dandash—Danny and Dash from Danny Phantom. I did NOT care for them until I saw tumblr user Pbeltarts draw soft art of them again and again and I just finally went “okay this is cute actually”

You gotta keep drawing for you, not just for yourself but also for others! There’s 7-8 billion people on this planet—someone’s going to like your ship, your art of the ship, the way you implement the ship, etc. They just either haven’t realized it or haven’t found you yet :)

Again I know it’s hard—I still struggle with it. But I hope this motivates you to at least keep going!

#hey an ask #not art #zoophobia #im not a fan of Damian and Kayla in canon but I won’t complain about seeing them in fanon :)

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addictivepsychology · 20 days ago

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Day 102

I feel weird today

First day back to work and being here doesn’t feel right anymore,

Not comfortable, not safe, not happy.

So I guess I need a change but change can’t happen for 7 months, so I guess I’ll suck it up and figure it out,

I’m almost done unpacking, cleaning my room and car, getting rid of old clothes and replacing with new ones I need,

Finishing all errands I need to do,

It never ends sometimes

I woke up in my own bed for the first time saturday morning , I haven’t done that in a week,

Peaceful rain , dark room, alone,

Hungover, but that doesn’t matter,

I’ve been drinking quite often again, but I guess that’s fine since I don’t get hangovers nearly as bad anymore,

Since the stomach bacteria got killed,

I couldn’t drink for months with that bacteria, freedom Is finally back,

I told my roommate I’ll probably be drunk for the next two months , which should be fun,

Toxic,

I have so many emotions today that I’m not sure what to do with,

But spiraling is what I do best when I come back from trips,

Getting used to forced emotions and forced smiles, forcing myself to go to bed and wake up in the morning,

Work is a forceful place,

Maybe I’ll finally get a remote job like you told me to,

And do my work from a tent in the woods,

So much to catch up about but how do I put it into words.

I texted hippie and let him know I’m back in town and to let me know when he’s free ,

He said the same night,

But I was on a phone call that I wasn’t going to end,

And the today is my first day back at work,

So no,

But no response ,

I’m not sure how I’m going to feel when I go to see him again,

Dating is weird

Jesus Christ

Tried something new,

Grew up in a shameful household so it might be getting to me,

But I’ve had this issue for years about sexual things,

I get this guilt sometimes,

Which can be from the shame of back then or feeling guilty for dating multiple people,

But that’s so normal, it’s the usual now,

What a fun phone call.

It eases my nerves but also makes me nervous that I don’t know what you look like,

I’m so tired but I have to call you back after that,

You said at 4am, when you have to be up at 8,

You’ve finally crashed from your long and no sleep weekend,

I’m excited to chat with you when you wake up,

No matter what happens,

You’ve helped me so much ,

Being confident and comfortable in myself,

Sometimes I think about why we meet people and what purposes we have,

I can’t thank you enough, for accepting me and being who you are,

Mister blue eyes, blonde hair,

And no eyes

Princess,

You’re so sweet, and so funny.

We are going to plan the next time we see each other,

it feels so far away but I ruin everything close,

So if I want any hope, you’ll be at an arms reach,

Leaving time in between,

Getting to know each other over the phone,

Like I do best apparently,

You ask me to call you, so I do,

Small talk, talk about our day, talk about our past dates,

And wishes we were here, but 7 hours is a good distance,

You say you don’t want to get off the phone,

We don’t have to,

You told your family again that we’ve been dating for 6 years and I’m your fiance,

You said everytime you tell them, their face is priceless,

So I go along with the joke,

I’ve always wanted to be proposed to,

What better way than knowing someone for a week,

What’s more exciting ,

We fall asleep talking about rings,

And wake up with soft good mornings,

But how much do you really know me,

How much do you know where I am or what I’m going through,

But you will I guess,

I just need to let you in more,

How is it that I still don’t know what I want,

Does anyone really know,

There’s so many options,

So many life path possibilities,

How do you know there’s one you’re supposed to go with,

Everything has gray area and many chances at happiness,

I want to do art, get it out of me,

Maybe I’ll paint a little before bed.

I need to get my art stuff back from you,

Why do I invest so much into everyone,

Sometimes I feel I should be more closed off but my emotions are big and I like to express them,

Probably when I shouldn’t,

But I have to forgive myself and hope my words bring people up instead of weigh them down,

I’m so glad I’ve found supportive girlfriends, I’ve been needing it,

I’m so thankful people are brought into my life,

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surohsopsisofclouds · 5 months ago

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hiiii i did think of some questions about your art piece if you don't mind answering! also feel free to not answer or basically do whatever you want tbh

did you use any refrences for the poses? and how did you choose the poses (with or without refrences)

who (specifically, if you don't mind me asking) do the colors represent?

also does the font/handwriting style represent anything?

(also the vent art you did a couple days ago about people just kinda being mad in your general vicinity is so real and it sucks that it happened to you)

Thanks for asking! I love a chance to ramble <3

1. Nope! We don't use pose references super often, though we do spend time studying poses occasionally. We chose them based on vibes, tried to go with poses that would get the feel of how we were in those times across, you know?

Highschool -> subconsciously hiding from people & then towards the end closing ourself off from a lot of people. (did... not really realize we were traumatized at that point in time. When hindsight hit us it hit us with a BAT)

Just Moved Out -> Had just had some of the worst 4 months of our life + just moved out & had A Lot to learn about adult life, so we were super stressed and jittery while trying to cheer ourselves on through it and actually figure out who we wanted to be. (still kind of a doormat, but a self-aware one that was trying to change)

2024 -> More settled in our skin, more familiar with adult life with fewer Immediate problems to solve, and a better relationship with our immediate family, a lot more relaxed with healthier coping mechanisms even if there's still a lot to be stressed over. (successfully far less of a doormat, reveling in how far we've come)

2. The colors represent as follows! Dark Blue = Moon, Yellow = Sun, Light Pink = Estrellum, Green = Dream, and Blue = Remy!

Just Moved Out also has tints of Sun's colors in them, to show that towards the end of that whole era Remy stepped down as temp-host and Sun reclaimed her title as host. I think it was earlier this year/late last year that Moon also reclaimed heir title? Bringing us back to the original two hosts after about 3 years break for them!

3. The font/handwriting didn't represent much when we were drawing, mostly just the handwriting styles of each host, but if I were to ascribe any meaning to them it'd be:

High school: We had a bad habit of always putting way more effort into everything than we needed to, that included our handwriting/writing in general! We got bad anxiety even just from small accidental typos or improper grammar.

Just Moved Out: We noticed that habit and started trying to break away from it. Baby steps and purposefully mistyping things occasionally were key! It honestly helps that some of our littles have a hard time typing, it added a positive association with messing up!

2024: We've successfully broken the habit! To the point where sometimes we won't even notice we messed up a word till we already sent it, and even then we'll just shrug it off instead of worrying over it!

(also thanks for the sympathy on that /gen, it means a lot. sometimes art's a good way to work through that stuff, you know?)

#atomiccryptid #suroh answers #alex chats #there was also a like month gap between Moon and Dream being hosts where Virgil was temp-host #bc if we don't have one our brain unfortunately Will pick one for us #Also fun fact!#We have glasses that we wear 24/7 but for some reason We Never Fucking Drawn Them and I think that's hilarious #thank you so much for the chance to ramble about that set of art it was So Fun

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pikawarrior · 1 year ago

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Welp welcome back to my random rambles im just gonna talk bout alot of random stuff mainly my stories so here for go lets hope this is understandable

Story/maybe comic stuff

Turning of the orange | The Strawberry Patch - Old soon to be remade/written stop motion strawberry shortcake zombie movie me and my dad were making when i was in elementary schoolish. We unfortunately didnt make it that far since he had to leave often and for long times cuz work, but recently i found my old tablet with all the pics and my notes so rework time baby. Im about to use all my years of angst/horror writing to fuck these bitches up even more

The Butterfly Effect and It's Consequences | The Phoenix Effect -

The Butterfly Effect is my main rottmnt fanfic series. About my little rottmnt oc's (Ame) life and how the gang adopting them into the family changed everything mostly for the better but the bad things kinda got alot worse. Idk been focusing on the phoenix effect more

The Phoenix Effect is kinda an extension of that. Its basically the same thing but adds the cass apocalypse series into it. Basically how future Ame being there also changes things and how oopies mystics powers are hard to control after being half dead in stasis for about 12 years hope Ame does trys to leave to protect everyone from himself only to get kidnapped putting everyone in worse danger also oopies isnt that the super dangerous alien someone accidentally freed awhile ago

The Future Diary - So i watched The Hot Box's video on the anime future diary and well here we are

Another rottmnt oc thing. Ame obtains a diary from his future self being like "hey so the world is gonna end soon here's how i think you could possibly stop that. Pls dont do this all alone ur like 5" and ame decides to do it all by himself.

Got all eight chapters planned out already with two already at stage two (aka fully written out just needs to be edited and stuff). I just dont know how to use ao3 in this sense or how to tag stuff plus i got anxiety so its just sitting in my notes app

Video stuff cuz yes

Currently working on a few more special videos. On my channel ive technically reached 100 videos (i unlisted alot of old ones/never posted a bunch more so technically i reached that months ago but shhh let me have this) plus i got 135 subs now so celebrations are in order. Idk what to say bout this, am making a video using the ok ko ending song idk the name, one is a fake collab a friend made and another is an original meme a youtube mutual/friend by association made. Plus like so mant mini things for my ocs, Dimension and Watcher are gonna get so much development and cute couple moments.

Also everyone else is gonna go through so much trauma my gods its gonna amazing.

Also ive been trying to like voice things, audio quality sucks cuz im working off of my tablet but like ive voice a few of my own videos (only one posted) and like its so fun i wish i had proper stuff to do this so i can do it more

Other art stuff

I got a toyhou.se (its EnviousDeath), pls enjoy these characters and stuff

Im trying to make my art more mess and chaotic while staying clean? If that makes any sense. Still a lover of doing gacha stuff but am trying to branch out more.

Also btw how do people just idk do social stuff like trade characters, comment, and just aaaa idk what am doing i forgot how to do social stuff and also i never understood how to do this type without being awkward as hell

Character stuff

Watcher - *slaps religious trauma onto them* bitch gets sacrificed. Okay okay so Watcher, wasnt always Watcher. Before they used to be Ena a simple kid who was sent away for reasons i havent thought of yet to a church. Blah blah corruption, Watcher gets sacrificed for not falling in line blah blah they were saved and given a second chance.

Dimension - *slaps alot of anxiety and identity issues onto her* bitch got issues. Same as Watcher, Dimension wasnt always Dimension. Before she was Ellie a poor girl hated by her whole town because of the lies their mother spread about them and their father who had left years ago. She only had one friend, Watcher. Somehow they managed to make contact with each other despite being in different universes. Eventually Dimension snapped and went on a killing spree, slowly ripping apart her world in the process because this wasnt supposed to happen (think spiderverse canon events but different ill explain later) with her world crumbling around her, Dimension messages Ena one last time, not knowing Ena was already long gone, and accepts what they assume to be death only to fall into whats basically the anti void from utmv, gets corrupted and became a villain technically more of a multiversal criminal.

(For time and length reasons im cutting this segment short)

Multiverse stuff

OKAY TIME FOR WORLD BUILDING

How does what happened to Dimension's universe work? The way i explained it is like spiderverse canon events but different, but heres the details. Idk how to explain this but bare with me

Imagine each universe as a game in a folder on a computer. Each game has different code, story, art assets basically all are mostly different.

Most games are coded to have very specific story events and when something goes wrong everything breaks. Like take a spaghetti thing of code that shatters the moment you try to do something like trying to talk with an npc while having a status effect and thats how some of these worlds are like. And Dimension's was very much one of those worlds, and her breaking down like that shattered the code of their world and everything fell apart.

Im too tired to continue but my main multiverse is like one big computer own by a game creator who only sometimes knows how to make a stable game

Feel free to ask about any of what ive just ramblef about am always willing to ramble bout my stuff

#reaperspeaks

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dzpenumbra · 1 year ago

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8/4/23

I took the day off today. Okay, that's a lie. I tried to take the day off today.

The only work I did was to string the beads, knot between them and add a nifty slipknot to the end so the necklace is length adjustable. I decided to go with black hemp, the beads are a very deep blue that goes almost black along the edges. They don't have a perfect mirror buff to them, some of it seemed to fade a bit, but not nearly as much as the red ones did. I'm not really sure... why that's happening... but it's a thing. Instead of letting the beads sit for a few days to see how time and atmosphere affect their finish, I just strung them. And the final product looks pretty damn cool.

I like these jewelry pieces so much that I would wear any of them, and often do just sorta cycle through whatever catches my eye that day. I don't really think I'd have too much of a problem parting with them... as long as they go to good people... The trouble I have is, as always... how to price my shit.

In fact, the majority of my therapy session today was dedicated to how to price my shit. Which I just clearly really fucking blow at. Because I have dedicated so much of my life to putting value on things other than money and material possessions - like relationships and experiences. I keep calling it a "monastic approach to life". Like... I want nothing more than to just give my shit to people who love it, so they can have something special. Then I'm left fucking penniless and dependent on my shitty family's financial support. It fucking sucks.

My therapist was one of the first to get it himself, to connect the dots and go "man, you really were born a few centuries too late, weren't you?" And I just laughed and nodded. The first time I've ever heard that said by another person where I didn't have to lead them there. Hopefully we can follow up on that, maybe he has some ideas... because honestly? I really feel like most of my life problems would go away if I joined some kind of art community. Like some weird art collective living in studios with like a group kitchen and shit. Or at very least working as an art teaching assistant (or even a professor or guest speaker or something) and having the school take care of my food and board. Like... that would be fucking ideal. Well... the teaching would be less ideal because I'd have to learn how to teach and all that, with the art collective idea I could just really focus on my craft 24/7. I'm curious to see where that idea goes.

But yeah, pricing my shit... I have no idea what to charge for this necklace. This was a second attempt at this process. The red ones were the first, they came out okay. This was a 2.0 with the tung oil and it came out much better. I think it's one of my better pieces. So... here's what I'm not sure about. Since this is entirely hand-crafted. No power tools at all, the raw beads and hemp were sourced, but the rest of the process was entirely by hand. So I dyed them with 15 year old ink, coated them in an organic plant-based sealant, and sanded, waxed and strung by hand. These ones took me over a month. That said... I did have them on the backburner for a bit, but like... the tung oil alone takes 3 days to dry each coat. I put a tremendous amount of time, energy and labor into this piece, especially with the sanding. I don't really know how to convey that in like... an Etsy shop... in a way that doesn't sound gimmicky. And I really don't know what to set as a price point. $40? $80? $120? Where does it get ridiculous? Where do I get greedy? I just don't know. When, with art, the real answer is always "however much the person who must have it is willing to pay".

All that business talk just makes my brain freeze up and draw a blank. I really, honestly, really wish I didn't have to ever worry about that. Which is so alien in America. Most people are consumed with getting attention or making money - fame/fortune/success. And my only real metric for success has been... is the piece happy? Is my muse content? Is the piece where it needs to be? Does it feel complete enough to enter society? And if it does, I celebrate, and attempt to present it to society... and they summarily nod off and change the channel because they have the attention span of gnats and need to see actual crimes being committed in order to keep their attention more than 5 seconds.

So... my big problem is... I'd absolutely love to just make new pieces all day every day. Just new art projects all day long. And that's pretty much my life right now, which honestly... I'm very very lucky. Our society is simply not designed for that. And the only reason I can actually do this is because my deeply unsupportive family are tolerating it until I can support myself. Which is a very odd way of saying "we don't want to support you." Their goal in our relationship is to no longer support me in any capacity. Red flags, anyone? XD So yeah, that's scary enough. Plus, my rent just went up. And the cost of living is... utterly terrifying. So we're living in this super weird version of reality where I try to get a billing issue figured out with Comcast (Xfinity, whatever) and it is literally impossible to speak to a human. They literally do not hire human beings anymore. And, at the same time... it's impossible to be an artist without having another job... So... somehow... society is simultaneously eliminating human resource jobs... while also demanding you work a second career or else you starve to death. Shit is so fucked.

I don't even wanna go down that rabbithole, I know we're all feeling it, I don't even need to say it. Young people? Like... people a generation or two before my Millennial ass... just please do know that this is not normal, it's not reasonable, and you should absolutely be vocal about the situation we're all in right now.

Okay, mini-rant over. I was talking about... how setting my prices and valuing my time monetarily is a requirement in this society. And I'm so fucking bored of talking about this that I'm literally falling asleep. Ugh. Good lord, I'm depressed and trying to live a fulfilling life, can some fucking art supporters out there just like... magically appear and save me from this commercial hellscape? I really don't ask for much...

Welp... therapy today helped. Most of it, at least. We had to go over how I kinda freaked out when my former friend contacted me. And he kinda confirmed that the former friend is definitely acting sketchy. But the part about like... who the fuck do I talk to when I'm freaking out, and how can I get some perspective and grounding on important decisions I'm making... That's a really tough one. I mean this, when I was younger and had "friends" (or so I thought...) I really "didn't want to bother them" with my problems. I would just sorta keep it to myself and avoid things that I was too insecure about. I rarely got second opinions and missed a TON of opportunities because of it. The lesson I thought I was supposed to learn was - get a second pair of eyes on important decisions, but keep in mind the bias of the source. Essentially that I should not let my insecurity or "not wanting to bother" prevent me from taking big leaps in order to accomplish great things in my life.

It turns out... my self-protective insecurity... was unfortunately correct. And now... my brain kinda flails and doesn't know what to do in those times... and then starts slide-showing all the horrific nightmarish ways people I trusted and thought were there to support me had treated me like human garbage when I went to them with like... every day shit.

I even had my therapist say the word today, and it's still echoing in my head even this many hours later. "Gaslighting". And not in the new colloquial way people have kinda been misusing it, as a way of sorta referring to all kinds of manipulative behaviors... I mean classic Gaslighting. Literally convincing a person in extreme isolation who is detoxing alone off of benzodiazepines that he is losing his mind... as a way to justify not being supportive. Both family and "friends", my entire support network at the time, did this to me. It's so fucking hard to process how they can sleep at night.

So... without getting too deep into that, because I can already feel the emotions flooding back and my chest tensing up... When I need a second opinion on something - like a "former friend" showing up out of the blue and wanting to commission work that's not in my field, when I'm suspicious he might be trying to take advantage of me and get free work out of me - I now... often have trauma responses to that. Just the experience of needing help is a PTSD flashback. Fucked, right?

Why? Because I don't have anyone left in my life. It's just me and my therapist. That's it. And our relationship is strictly professional. So I feel absolutely horrible sending messages at a time like that, that's not really what a client-therapist relationship is for. But in some ways it is? Ugh, it just gets so fucking messy.

So... what I'm going to have to do is... just fucking Hail Mary all of those situations. Just sorta... live life without a second set of eyes on shit. Until I manage to make a good friend who is willing to fill that role. And here's the most fucked part.

The Hail Mary approach? That's what earned me the title of "crazy", "manic", "impulsive", "unstable", by my family and "friends". I'm really at the point where I might put family in quotes, too. Me "impulsively" reaching out to tons of people, trying to rebuild my life, coming up with tons of art plans... they viewed that as "crazy". So... they refused to offer me a second opinion based on their judgement that I was "crazy"... and their judgement that I was "crazy" was formed because I took leaps of faith and ambition without getting a second opinion! And they got so deep and hurt me so badly that I just turn into a fucking trembling leaf in the wind when I pull up a blank email to send to a former teacher to see if she is willing to mentor me, or needs an assistant, or if she could help me get integrated into the local art community.

My insecurity says I'm going to "overshare and overwhelm her with a novel, like I always do". My trauma says "you need to get a second opinion, but you'll get hurt if you get a second opinion. It's fire on both sides. You're fucked." All over a fucking cold-call email.

Have you ever stood on a skateboard? If you're brand new to it... the idea of rolling down a ramp on that thing seems like fucking suicide. Like, your knees are buckling and shaking and something inside you literally freezes you in your tracks and prevents you from going, because it thinks you're going to hurt yourself. I wrestle with that every time I skate, to varying degrees. Because, very often, that part of my brain is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The more you gain experience (XP), the more reference material that part of your brain has access to in order to make that safety judgement. And a lot of consistent successes rolling down that ramp will build a sense of comfort and familiarity with it. The paralysis grip just sorta... vaporizes. And, eventually, it just becomes a natural part of what you do... to the point where you look at someone who is shaking and can't get themselves to roll down the bank... and you struggle to even remember what it was like to be in their shoes. What demon they're actively going up against.

Now... imagine you've conquered that. You can comfortably ride down that ramp, it's second nature to you now. And one summer... you run up and throw your board down and hop on and roll down the ramp and get shot with a fucking sniper rifle. And then when you recover, you go back and face that fear and do it again... and you get shot again. 5 times in a row, this happens. When it's not just hitting a pebble or slipping out... when it's like... losing half your front teeth or hitting your head and almost dying? (I used sniper rifle for dramatic effect, obviously) When it's something really traumatic... especially consistent repeated traumatic events... that shit fucking haunts you, man. It's next level. And I guess some people are just more susceptible to it than others? Idk.

That's a really tough nut for me to crack. The concept of "support". And the subsequent deep betrayal from those in a role that are supposed to have my back. That's a big part of where I'm stuck. And it leaves me in this fucked up place where I can't really get any perspective on big decisions I make in my life. And it leaves me feeling more alone than I've ever imagined I'd feel. Teenage-Loner-Me was a fucking joke compared to this.

It's scary. And it feels like... like it's always going to be like this? Like it's not okay for me to get a second opinion, or ask for help. And that message is... not coming from me, for once. It's coming from the outside. "Your goal is to get to the point where you don't depend on people for guidance in those moments". Really? Since when?

I guess the endgame is for me to be able to Hail Mary again. Like I used to back in college, when I was more emotionally detached and my anxiety was easier to manage. Like I did back in 2019, which spawned this wave of trauma in the first place. I guess the only way forward is to just... put my foot on the board and push, and trust that I know what I'm doing. That I'm not going to get hurt. That I'm not going to embarrass myself and alienate others and lose valuable opportunities that I desperately need.

I mean, when you put it that way... yeah. It kinda is the endgame. It would just be so much easier and less of a living nightmare if I just had one fucking person to like... be there for me to lessen the blow. In any capacity. Proofread a letter? Reassure me in the interim when they haven't immediately written back? -_-

Anyway, enough of that sad shit. Ugh.

I took the day off... ish... I mean this is clearly work. And therapy is work... analyzing this whole complex trauma thing was the very end of therapy, the rest was really good but was pretty overshadowed by this. I finished the necklace, it's awesome. I made a nice dinner and ate in my comfy chair and watched TV, I haven't done that in fucking ages. I watched a behind the scenes documentary from Star Wars Episode 1. It was really cool, I really liked it. And... it's been raining and thunderstorms all day so, yeah... that's about it. Just a quiet day full of nightmarish self-reflection, more labor than I was supposed to do, and a cool documentary.

But the day isn't quite over yet. So I think I'm gonna do some more yoga and take a bath or something. Spa day kinda deal. That could be nice. Maybe get to bed early.

I just wanna say this before I go, because I think it's really important. I often beat the shit out of myself and feel ashamed of my PTSD shit, and my anxiety problems. And that often takes the form of it being "my fault". Mea culpa. Like I just lack the willpower to push through that invisible force that cripples me. Like all of these things that haunt me, from years and years ago, it's "my fault" for holding on to them. I should just "let it go" and let the past be the past. And, in theory... yes... "let it go" is the answer, but... this is not the way. What I really need to keep reminding myself in those moments... is that... it's not my fault. Being a victim of other people, whatever the fuck logic they had to strike me at times when I was most vulnerable, and twist my own mind against me... being a victim was not my fault.

I've heard others refer to this as like... a form of self-forgiveness? But it's beyond that, right? Because... how can you forgive something that was never your fault? I guess we just don't have a word for that. So... it's easy to turn this into rage, or vengeance, or whatever... against the people who did do this. But that obviously doesn't fix anything, it just creates more problems, more suffering. And I think it's much healthier to just let the past be the past in that sense, and correctly allocate the fault off of my shoulders. So... to stop incorrectly blaming myself, to let their mistakes be theirs to learn from, and to try to move forward with that in mind.

I just say this because... I've started to notice that those moments where I flash back... when I try to push through it can often have a sorta chinese finger-trap effect. The more I push, the worse it gets. But if I just acknowledge that I'm feeling echoes from the past, and I decide to act like a fucking friend to myself and say "it wasn't your fault, they were assholes"... it can do really surprising things. Kinda like a yoga thing, where you struggle to get into a pose because you're gripping too hard without knowing you are... so the way to push further into the pose is to... counterintuitively... relax?! Supine Twist comes to mind, for me. I got quite a bit out of it at first, but once I cued in to the idea of getting in position and then on an exhale just letting my body go limp and have my body weight do the stretch for me? It was a game changer.

So yeah, I just thought that was important, since I've been talking PTSD a lot here tonight. On that note, off to do yoga before bed. XD

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness #ptsd

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