#still in the process of moving lol

[katnumdrum]

Wowow!! Your art!! Your style!! And you’re a hobbyist? Your work carries the feel of someone who has done this a loooong time! Just wanted to say that 💕

Aww thanks! And yup, I am indeed simply a hobbyist, this is a side gig at best for me, haha. I've been doing art for over 12 years now, and only 4 of them have been done seriously digitally. I learned almost everything I know purely from practice and looking at pieces, other than that I used a book called morpho to better understand anatomy. I never took any advanced art classes or seminars, just practice to get where I am now!

[guardianbee]

rewatching s1 meljay scenes just to feel something and while I want to do an analysis of their relationship to argue against every bonehead that touts "mel manipulated jayce" I got to the end where jayce tells the council to go fuck themselves BUT THEN POINTEDLY TURNS TO MEL AND SOFTLY SAYS "Except you. You were right. You were always right." And I CRY OKAY. Her eyes widen and it sinks in that there's someone who supports the same vision of peace she has, who VALIDATES her views. And one of the LAST scenes is them smiling at one another when the council agrees to Zaun's independence. They made peace without going to war. Without using hextech and corrupting jayce and viktor's dream. Without compromising mel's values.

And then s2 fucked that all up.

[spotaus]

The Maskmaker (New Age AU Drabble)

Hiiiii. So, this isn't very long and doesn't do Nightmare or N enough justice, but I wrote this a while ago and my lovely pals looked at me w/ big ol' eyes on my post about posting it, sooooo!!! Here it is!!

This is shortly after Night's coronation and follows Ancha's drabble regarding Ccino + his remaining by Night's side!

   These halls. They were cold. Colder than the rest of the castle.

   Nightmare only knew, thanks to the gentle puff of steam left by his shallow breaths as he stepped down the corridor. The dark, long, corridor.

   He couldn't feel it. No. His sense of warmth and cold had faded almost instantly after eating the apple. The nervous chill in his core had been replaced with a luke-warm air. Like a puddle left after a summer rain. The chill couldn't reach him.

   Still, he wore his cloak. One which Ccino had tailored not a week ago because he feared Nightmare would feel bare without it. His old one used to keep him warm. Ccino was right, of course. Purposeless or not, the new heavy fabric kept him centered. Covered the restless twitching of his tendrils as he spoke with the few he could bring himself to communicate with since the incident.

  

   Now, it's bottom hem was suspended away from the old floors, just barely, by his extra limbs.

   His steps were silent, he wasn't sure when that had begun, but he imagined in this darkness no one would know he was there at all until the Cyan of his eyelight was turned upon them.

   He approached the door. Finally reaching the ornate, carved surface he'd visited only once before. When he and Dream were young. Nim had ordered them to come alone and let the mask-maker measure them. So they'd know when time came for them to commission their own masks. They didn't have to come down, the mask-maker already knew their measurements. They always did.

   His knuckles hovered away from the door. With its carving of that tree, swirling and dancing in the low light his eyelight provided. This space held more lingering emotions than he'd expected. His hand trembled a bit.

   No. He couldn't chicken out. He couldn't go crying, this was important to him. It was his right. It was... the least he could do.

   His fist connected with the door, twice, steadily. The loud sound echoed into the space behind him, and he stood. Prepared to face heckling and anger abd fear, for he wasn't sure the mask maker even knew of his rise to the throne. He hadn't been there, after all. At the ceremony.

   The door swung inward, and... Nightmare found hinself staring down at a monster.

   This monster... was not the one whom he remembered.

   Before, when he was young, he recalled a large, imposing monster. Heavy clay hands that held the pristine masks so carefully. Kind eyes which skimmed sorrowful past him, and handed him that lovingly carved owl mask. The one made simply out of dark wood.

   Now, the monster stood before him, leaning in the doorframe, was not that monster. This one was slightly shorter than him, stocky in the shoulders, and bundled in layers of cloaks and gloves. Their face hid behind the mask of some sort of rabbit, bright, burning lights behind the eye-holes were a soft lavender and blue. Only a lashing tail gave away their species. A skeleton varient.

   "Mask-maker." He greeted, composure renewed.

   The monster blinked, before they widened the door a bit more. A wave of amusement and excitement washed over Nightmare, and he thought he might be sick from just how potent it was.

   "Ah, my King!" They exclaimed, and Nightmare could almost hear the smile in their tone. "I wasn't expecting you so soon after your whole coronation, come in!"

   They darted away from the door, allowing Nightmare to see past them. The room beyond was as he remembered. The large sets of work-benches, suspended candles, piles upon piles of wood. Masks lined every inch of the walls, though now he could see newer ones piling up along shelves and along the stations.

   The monster seemed to round to a large chair, much too oversized for them, and plop down into it. Nightmare drifted inside, closing the door behind him carefully.

   "You royals only come down to see me for masks, that is my job though," They mused. "Or, well, that's what my mentor always said."

   Nightmare drew closer to the opposite side of the table which now separated them. He could see the messy, amalgamated surface of a partially-completed work laying between them. The wood mangled and frayed not unlike torn flesh.

   "I must ask," He knew he had other business and little time, but, "Who are you, mask maker? My mother never mentioned a change in position."

   It would be just his luck that a fraud would be hidden here in the depths. Though, the emotions were simply so delighted. They swirled about, as though every flick of their tail sent another ripple through the air.

   A giggle erupted from behind their mask.

   "Oh, I think I like you already, my king!" They said happily, "Mask-makers have never been asked such a thing by the royals! We have always been known to retire and pass on the mantel without care from you folks."

   They divulged the information so easily, but Nightmare didn't recieve the answer he had asked for. It took a few more breaths before they spoke again.

   "My name is N, my King. Call me as you see fit, I change as easily as replacing my mask." They finally admitted. "King Nim visited me once, two years ago, only to inform me her prince may quickly approach after his coronation. Though, I'm sure you're not the one she meant?"

   Nightmare withheld the hiss which desperately wanted to bubble up in his throat. His tendrils whipped about in frustration. Guilt. Of course they were expecting Dream. He'd figured as much.

   "No matter. I am here to serve my king, and that king is you, my good sir." They dipped their head a bit, "So, what is it you'd like me to carve? A noble wolf? A regal ibis? Something fitting a consort or-"

   "None of that." Nightmare cut them off, his good socket narrowing in disgust. The thought made his stomach churn.

   He thought he'd have to wait for her to speak up again, but found they had quieted and were seemingly awaiting information.

   "My... head of house. Recently promoted as of my ascension." He said, slower. He wouldn't get worked up again, "He deserves only the best, and I know you understand this well."

   N seemed to smile beneath the mask again, their eyelights hidden in thin crescent slits.

   "Describe away, my king!" They exclaimed, reaching out for a scrap of paper.

   Nightmare remembered how he'd been taught. To describe the mask with intention. Feelings and thoughts tucked away into each and every word. Those were supposed to be insightful for the mask-maker. To guide their hand as they carved.

   "This mask. I would like it to be the Visage of a cat. Well-kept, clean, orderly." He spoke, gently, drawing his eye away from the table and to the plain floor were nothing would influence his thought. "A kind face, soft. Trustworthy and bold. Clever. Warm."

   Nightmare wasn't sure what came over him. Descriptions and feelings tumbled from his jaws for what felt like ages. By the time he finished, his throat was raw with emotion. His hands clutched the inside of his cloak like a life-line.

   It was the tapping of N's charcoal stick to her desk which alerted Nightmare. Made his eyelight snap back up to her position.

   Though, she'd already put her sketch down and was up and across the room. Tugging at her piles and piles of enchanted and imported woods. For being a stationary monster, they had strength to move the wood with ease.

   "You've given me the perfect working material, my King! This mask should be done in four-days time." They assured him, not turning around.

   Their emotions read as elation now. A pure, unadulterated joy at the... the way Nightmare had described his mask? He could only imagine his magic intent had something to do with it. Ccino would, hopefully, understand.

   Oh!

   "The mask. You are aware who it is for?" He questioned.

   N hummed, before popping away from the stack of wood with a nice chunk of white-ish wood. It reminded Nightmare of cooked fish flesh, a pristine off-white with an intricate pattern.

  

   "I can only imagine it's that guy? Ccino? Good for him with the promotion, by the way. I'm sure he had his fair share of struggles to get there." N replied.

   Nightmare gave a minute nod. He hated that he had a heavy suspicion as to why N already knew Ccino by name. Nefarious plans set by his mother yet again. Bastard woman.

   He debated staying longer. Watching N strip the bark away or making smalltalk.

   In the end, it was better to leave. His hands were still shaking and his gut felt like it'd spill if he felt one more overwhelming emotion from the craftsman he was standing with. So, he bid them a farewell, promised to return in four days time, and exited from that heavy wooden door.

   The trip would be worth it so long as N delivered. And she would.

[vaguely-concerned]

more for the garashir fairytale grab bag AU I am never going to actually write: garak knows exactly what would break his curse from the start, he just never tells anyone for the longest time b/c he's so sure it could never happen

(it's asking forgiveness, of course. he thinks it's tain's forgiveness he needs, and tain is fucking dead and knew he would be by the time garak woke up so it seems the perfect unbreakable parting fuck-you revenge curse. and garak would expect nothing less from his father than that, so he's resigned to dwindling away painfully. enter julian bashir and his fierce force-of-nature compassion (and also secret illicit immense magical powers) with a steel chair!!! to go 'OH YEAH??? we'll see about that', as you might expect. oh. OH necromancer-ish julian calling tain's ghost up to ask him about what the hell he did and how to undo it, ala his gambit to go see him the wire? and the knowledge he gains from that is what confirms garak's suspicions as to what is Up with this handsome young healer mage because it could be known only by those long dead. cue east of the sun west of the moon part of the narrative once julian understands his game is up and runs away??

anyway getting some true love's kissing in by the end of it all is just a nice bonus it's not needed like strictly magically for either of their situations lol)

[spotlightstudios]

My professor: Okay, you guys should take about 4-6 weeks on this project ideally. Take your time, don't rush things, I want to see work that you put effort into.

Me(4 hours later): Well. You see.

(I'm nowhere near done. But. Unfortunately I have some sort of wiring done wrong in my brain. So the instruction to 'block out' my plan requires me to basically finish it so I know wtf I was doing last time and won't give up after I leave it alone for several (2) days. Yes this is going to be Apollo. Yes I did keep smacking his pecs and internally giggling.)

[runawaymun]

the whole tiktok ban situation is super crunchy and I'm conflicted. Because on the one hand...it does feel startlingly close to a kind of censorship and I think the whole 'chinese government links' thing is pure scaremongering. But on the other hand I genuinely think that tiktok has accelerated the rate of enshittification of so, so many things. Like it has been a net harm in basically everything. Even the publishing industry is suffering now. As someone who wants to get novels published, the entire state of the publishing industry catering to tiktok and the quality of even bookbinding rapidly deteriorating in the past couple of years, I've been reconsidering and thinking about simply setting up a website/archive to self publish my work.

So...I don't know. It's not as if other social media sites (X, Facebook, etc.) haven't done harm, and it's not like huge media giants like Google haven't caused possibly irreparable damage to how things work now, but...I just distinctly remember a pre-tiktok, pre-covid world and things legitimately weren't as bad online then as they are now. Tiktok actually feels uniquely bad. The change happened so rapidly, too. At what point do we decide that a product causes enough visible harm that it needs to be removed? Because that's what tiktok is, at the end of the day. It's a product. We don't have the same clear measurement as we do with, say, lead paint on children's toys, but idk idk idk...

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also "textless" versions of these, wahooo

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol. Lol. Lol.

[cielosuerte]

so fucking busy the rest of the year. being alive is awesome :]

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[robinsnest2111]

ah. yeah. the bad kms mood might be because of the nightmare I woke up from. was stalked by someone I'd rather never cross paths with again. fun times.

super unrealistic, and I sincerely hope this person is living a good life with me out of the picture. they deserve it after all the pain me being around them caused and all the crap life kept throwing at them. but still. my broken brain likes torturing me in my sleep when I can't do anything about it.

[sysig]

VUXisms (Patreon)

[spotaus]

Flesh Anon again.

So like, the only thing I can imagine now due to the Nightmare and ccino addon is just pantry renovations shortly after Nim fucking dies right?

So it's just ccino taking mental notes like "Okay, this is beef. This is staying... that's... pork, right? Yeah, alright.. and this?" And he just points at human flesh and the cooks and staff have to stutter and stammer out that "Well, that uh... that's... that's uh... human flesh... the late Queen never really, um, cared about the origins, only the price and this was... this was quite expensive so she decided it was fancy.... and elegant..."

And Ccino just stands there

Absolutely motified.

Welcone back Flesh Anon! Good to have ya! And. Ohhh yeah. This is tasty 🙏

They definitely took some time to rework everything, but the kitchens were like top of the priority list because. Well. Night was always a fussy eater and now as an adult... not much has changed! So Ccino takes the time to start reorganizing like you said and they get to that point and the chefs have to explain it and. Ccino is unamused to say the least, mortified to sat the most.

He's still new to the whole managing other people thing, and he's still got that instinct to not accidentally step out of line, so he's a deer in the headlights before processing and going, "The King won't eat that, we should just... throw it out." And. I mean. Ccino's the boss here so they toss it as told. (It isn't until later that Ccino lets himself process that and get queasy about it-)

Nightmare never knows that Nim ate it or considered it a delicacy. When Night was freshly King, info like that would just add to his stressors, and he got to keep a hint of blissful ignorance <3

[todayisafridaynight]

would it be okay if u told me why u like aoki😭/gen😭😭😭😭BEEN TRYNA LIKE HIM FOR SO LONG I JUST CANTT but i love ur art so much so i still consume it otherwise lol

i liked tohru adachi in high school and tbh i think that alone is enough of an explanation for why i ended up liking aoki

[nozomijoestar]

Took me a while to realize but I can see similarities in how Asuka seems to process grief and how Guts from Berserk also processed his grief after the Eclipse. They both get so overwhelmed by the wrong that happened to them (father's hospitalization vs the Eclipse and a lifetime of misery) their reaction isn't to seek comfort in others or help/protect their loved one who needs them after the tragedy, it's to go off and inflict their pain on others to self soothe, as if that'll release the feeling from their minds.

The difference is that Guts was called out for this by Rickert and Godo. He needed to snap out of wanting to prioritize ridding his own pain to remember Casca needed him, and that Casca even in the state she was in was all the good in his life who went through the same experience with him. Guts had to remember he loves Casca more than he wants to self destruct. Like Godo told him he was a sword called fear with cracks in it. He feared sitting with his pain and grief and seeing it on the person he loved after so much violation. He feared vulnerability.

Asuka doesn't do this reevaluatation and has no one to call her out for her self destructive coping canonically. She can't sit with anything bad or face looking at it on a loved one either. That's too bad and helpless of a feeling. She's just as much made of fear (primarily from any helplessness as much as violations of her inner ethics) which fuels her anger, but her one personal attachment to her father who needs her isn't enough to make her want to reevaluate what she does at all. Instead his tragedy is the permission she needs to self destruct and destroy in the process, not like Guts who always told himself everything was for Casca and the fallen Hawks, who always reminded himself of the pain to justify the bloodletting.

Unlike Guts I think she'd be stubborn even accepting to listen to someone pointing her behavior out. Though her anger toward Feng did start out carrying a reminder this vengeance is for Dad even if it kills her in 5, even in 5's branching narratives that excuse falls apart when she continues in the tournament for her own pleasure during her route. The moment vengeance is achieved critically injured Dad is out of her mind. Her behavior during 6 repeats this process, preferring to hurt herself and others rather than sit to process a shitty feeling over her and the world's situation. Like Guts in this state she pushes away anyone and everyone else including any comforts because the anger isn't resolved, the fear isn't resolved, the pain isn't resolved.

They're both used to everyone being against them and having to fight for survival until they found joy in it as a side effect. And because of that independence born from isolation when something like the tragedies that happened takes place they put resolving their pain not on sharing with others but into scorching the earth along with themselves.

I don't say this either to imply they're exactly alike or that they have enough similarities to make a true character comparison because they absolutely don't. There's also some stuff I'm leaving out simply because Guts is a far more complex character in ways where there's nothing from Asuka to compare against (I would say Kazuya is the closest, more fitting Tekken comparison for substituting Guts vs Asuka style notes). I just find it interesting that even across wildly different stories the outline for an angry, self destructive, terrified person who thinks self destruction makes them strong and puts them in control uses a lot of the same foundation. And the contrast in their depths really shows how far you can push the concept depending on what you want or need for the character.

[worm-in-a-trenchcoat]

Me: *Gets diagnosed with autism by my therapist*

My parents: Okay :).

Also my parents: *Question and make fun of my autistic traits/stims that I used to aggressively mask but have always had because I am and have always been autistic*.

Me: 😃