#there are 200 images. why did I do this to myself

[siflshonen]

The Bakugo presentation 3.0 is slowly but surely going up on Ao3 - it’s 2/3 of the way done. Whew! Curating images and stuff is hard work.

[boxbug]

A Canary’s Final Flight

My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real

Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)

So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.

This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.

So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)

At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)

And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.

I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.

(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)

So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!

Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Prompts I’ve seen/found online that I have used an inspiration for many things, but mainly DP X DC stuff.

There’s 200 prompts/quotes in there

1. They match each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.

2. People often mistake me for an adult because of my age.

3. “I have a solution.��

“Thank goodness.”

“It involves fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

4. Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?

5. We can’t have a crisis - my schedule is already full!

6. “What’s our exit strategy?”

“Our what?”

“We’re all going to die.”

7. That is a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let’s do it and see what happens.

8. “This coffee tastes weird.”

“That’s probably because it’s not coffee.”

9. “Can I bother you for a second?”

“You always bother me, but go ahead.”

10. “Are you mad?”

“No.”

“So sharpening knives at 2am is just a hobby?”

11. I’m going to give my inner child a gun.

12. Your inability to learn complicated handshakes is tearing this gang apart.

13. I get so affectionate when I’m sleepy it’s disgusting.

14. Leaving a watermelon on someone’s doorstep in the middle of the night is a pretty inexpensive way to occupy a portion of their mind forever.

15. No offence to myself or anything but what the fuck am I doing.

16. I would love to be mysterious but I never shut the fuck up.

17. The divorce rate amongst my socks is astonishing.

18. Adulthood is a scam I want to be a crow.

19. Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everybody’s problem.

20. My house is haunted because I live there.

21. That’s my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.

22. God released me into the wild and now he’s hunting me for sport.

23. No, no you don’t want to get to know me, I’m better as a concept.

24. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to pretend I can’t hear.

25. Do birds every just fly for fun or are they always on some kind of mission?

26. The older I get the more I understand why roosters scream to start their day.

27. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’ I am older and I understand absolutely nothing.

28. Source? It was revealed to me in a delusion.

29. Why do drugs after 30 when you can just stand up too fast?

30. I won’t ever be the bigger person in an argument. God made me 5’ for a reason.

31. This meeting could have been a fist fight.

32. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m never going to have a midlife crisis because my entire fucking life is a crisis.

33. Anyone fancy going off the fucking rails with me I’ve had enough.

34. Go ahead and get in the pond since you wanna act like a silly goose.

35. My life is like a romantic comedy except there’s no romance and it’s just me laughing at my own jokes.

36. Who the fuck decided to call it ‘emotional baggage’ and not ‘griefcase?’

37. I don’t have a nervous system. I am a nervous system.

38. “What makes us human?”

“Selecting all of the images with traffic lights.”

39. Don’t let anyone else ruin your day. It’s your day. Ruin it yourself.

40. The sixth love language is combat.

41. “I just told you 2 minutes ago.”

“I do not control the remember.”

42. Due to not wanting to. I will not be.

43. My flabbers be gasted daily.

44. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Like a hallucination, a therapist, or a person?”

45. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you I try my best.”

46. I tried to embrace my inner child today and the little asshole bit me.

47. I think my dark under eye circles are adding to the aesthetic actually.

48. Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot.

49. Next time I’m opening up to someone will be at my autopsy.

50. Too many songs about love. Not enough song about sword fights.

51. “You’re cute.”

“I’m feral and chaotic, don’t touch me.”

52. I’m not as unhinged as I could be and I want everyone to be great full for that.

53. How dare you know stuff about things.

54. “I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I have a plan.”

55. “Are you decent?”

“Not morally, but I’m wearing pants if that’s what you’re asking.”

56. I may have the right to remain silent but I do not have the ability.

57. I don’t want to look ‘pretty.’ I want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

58. If you ever feel safe please remember that I’m out there.

59. “I’m too good for revenge.”

“Well I’m not. Give me the gun.”

60. “You know I really feel like we aren’t seeing eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re taller than me asshole.”

61. “They rely on you.”

“I can’t be blamed for their lack of judgment..”

62. Well, aren’t you a little Ray of pitch black.

63. I can get behind murder but I draw the line at misogyny.

64. In my defence your honour, I simply do not vibe with the law.

65. Life is a tornado and I’m just the cow being spun around for cinematic value.

66. You can burn all the sage you want, I’ll be back.

67. I believe in holding grudges. I’ll heal in hell.

68. You know…they make medication for the way you act.

69. I like men with massive, throbbing vocabularies.

70. My swear jar could finance the fucking space program.

71. “Well if you want my opinion-”

“I don’t. I have my own.”

72. I’m awake but not operational.

73. Due to personal reasons I’ll be going back to sleep.

74. The bags under my eyes are Prada.

75. I identify as a threat. My pronouns are try/me.

76. Audacity must be on sale this year…

77. “Have you ever been handcuffed?”

“Sexually or by law enforcement?”

78. I don’t like salad or eye contact.

79. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

“No you’re gonna hit me!”

80. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

81. I have to keep reminding myself that I am an adult and will be charged as one.

82. Apparently ‘spite’ is not an appropriate answer to ‘what motives you?’

83. There is a fine line between my crazy and my intelligence. I use that line like a jump rope.

84. I don’t know where you got your opinion but I hope you kept the receipt.

85. Sometimes when I close my eyes…I can’t see.

86. Is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?

87. Some days the supply of available curse words is insufficient to meet my demands.

88. I’m running out of reasons to not stab you.

89. When I said ‘how stupid can you be?’ It wasn’t a challenge.

90. Love at first sight? Tired, boring. Love at first assassination attempt? Spicy.

91. I’m sorry I don’t take orders. I barley take suggestions.

92. And that’s a wrap on another day where I acted like I knew what I was doing.

93. Now if you’ll excuse me…tonight’s bad decision isn’t going to make itself.

94. I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.

95. I wanna be 14 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.

96. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parent’s job.

97. Being an adult is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

98. If I’m ever murdered, feel comfort in knowing I ran my mouth until the bitter end.

99. My spirit animal would fucking eat yours.

100. Some people will only like you if you fit inside their box. Don’t be afraid to shove that box up their ass.

101. I wonder if people look both ways before getting on my fucking nerves.

102. If I was a bird, I know who I’d shit on.

103. Giving a fuck doesn’t really go with my outfit.

104. I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you.

105. Life is full of disappointments and I just added you to the list.

106. And then I decided to take a detour to deliver an ass beating.

107. I wanna contribute to the chaos.

108. I’m gay and also stronger than all of you. So don’t try any shit.

109. With all due respect, which is none

110. What, pray tell, the fuck?

111. My arson charges don’t define me.

112. Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range.

113. I don’t understand your specific kind of crazy but I do admire your total commitment to it.

114. I am not above slashing my own tires to avoid going to this family brunch.

115. I don’t want to heal my inner child I want them to get revenge.

116. In order to insult me I must first value your opinion. Nice try though.

117. There’s someone for everyone and the person for you is a psychiatrist.

118. Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you’ll find a brain back there.

119. I think my guardian angel drinks.

120. In my defence, I was left unsupervised.

121. I believe in you. I also believe in Bigfoot so don’t get too excited.

122. If you figure me out I want an explanation.

123. I don’t think I meet the height requirements to ride your emotional roller coaster.

124. When killing them with kindness doesn’t work, try voodoo.

125. Another fine day ruined by responsibility.

126. You call them swear words. I call them sentence enhancers.

127. Stop petting my peeves.

128. What a year this week has been.

129. Don’t follow me I don’t know where I’m going.

130. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I am awake.

131. I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

132. Please don’t interrupt me while I’m ignoring you.

133. Everyone has the right to be stupid but you’re abusing the privilege.

134. I just know I will die trying to pet something I shouldn’t.

135. At this point, if a clown invited me into the woods, I’d just go.

136. I told him to take care of his eyes because they’re the only balls he has.

137. The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.

138. My last words will probably be sarcastic.

139. We don’t have time to unpack all that.

140. I may have committed light treason.

141. How is ‘pretty boy’ supposed to be an insult? I’m the prettiest goddamn boy in this town.

142. I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual.

143. “Based on statistical evidence, I’m immortal.”

“How so?”

“Haven’t died yet.”

144. I’m just here to establish an alibi.

145. Take the day off from being the bigger person and choose violence, you deserve it.

146. Forgive and forget? I’m neither Jesus nor do I have alzheimers.

147. People are so ungrateful. No one ever thanks me for having the patience to not kill them.

148. “I can see your bra.”

“Fucking good it was expensive.”

149. Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.

150. My idea of ‘help from above’ is a sniper on the roof.

151. “We’re surrounded!”

“Excellent, we can attack in any direction!

152. Lord give me patience or an untractable handgun.

153. Step back! I’m a professional idiot!

154. “Trust your gut.”

“I have anxiety. My gut is always telling me to abort mission.”

155. Keep your morals away from me.

156. Your existence gives me a headache go stand over there.

157. What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck?

158. My heart is not a home for cowards.

159. Underestimate me so I can embarrass you.

160. “It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce them.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

161. You’ve got heart, kid. Several hearts. Honestly, I’m a little scared of you.

162. It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.

163. I’m no doctor - but I think he’s dead.

164. I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.

165. “What brings you here?”

“A continuum of terrible choices.”

“You’d be surprised to know how often people say that.”

166. “I thought we agreed to tell each other when we were bleeding internally.”

“That’s a very specific promise I don’t remember making.”

167. “Did you really google how to flirt with a girl?”

“What? How’d you know that?”

“You do realise there’s a search history?”

168. “I’m gonna…”

“If you kick down the door, I swear…”

“I’M GONNA PUNCH IT WITH MY FOOT!”

169. “Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?”

“That’s a threat.”

“Damn.”

170. Surprise! I’m back from the dead! Isn’t that exciting?

171. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis.

172. I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.

173. You’re important to me you piece of shit.

174. “Why are your hands purple?”

“That’s a very good question.”

175. Can someone turn off the sun please?

176. “I had a thought.”

“Oh no.”

“I swear it’s a good one this time!”

177. I’ve met bread smarter than you.

178. “Please stop getting shot, it stresses me out.”

“Oh, well if YOU don’t like it.”

179. Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.

180. You’ve got as much charm as a dead slug.

181. For you, I could steal the stars - but I can also get them through legitimate means, if that impresses you more.

182. I am under no obligation to make sense to you.

183. You smile like an idiot when you’re talking to them.

184. Don’t you sign to me in that tone.

185. Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.

186. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t care. Shut up.”

187. Now that I made it weird, I’m going to make my exit.

188. So uh, I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional or…?

189. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Smart man.”

190. Well, if you’d woken up properly the first time I kicked you, I wouldn’t have had to do it four more times.

191. “I have NEVER been so insulted.”

“You don’t listen much, do you?”

192. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yup. I just don’t care.”

193. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. I just thought it would be amusing.

194. I would tell you to be yourself but that almost got us killed last time.

195. “Why aren’t you worshipping me, mortal?”

“Not interested. Thanks.”

196. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Then I have some good news for you.”

197. “Did you hear that scream?”

“Yes, I’m the one who screamed.”

198. “What happened to your-”

“I lost a bet.”

“Why-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

199. Reading way above my grade level didn’t get me as far in life as I had hoped.

200. Due to foreseen circumstances well within my control I will be late.

[mindfulstudyquest]

starve your ego, find your peace

these are my personal thoughts, an outburst. if you want to share your opinion in the comments, i welcome it, but please be kind. if you just want to insult, go elsewhere. if you're not interested, don't read <3 i remind you that english is not my first language, so there may be a few mistakes.

ego, what an interesting word. it is a latin lemma which literally means "I", it indicates

the self, especially with a sense of self-importance.

(psychology, freudian) the most central part of the mind, which mediates with one's surroundings.

a person's self-esteem and opinion of themselves.

in a society like ours, we fight against our ego every day, the anxiety of constantly being in the spotlight, the overwhelming thought of having all eyes on us.

the idea we have of ourselves is the strongest chain that prevents us from freeing ourselves from this mental cage. both positively and negatively. if you have a distorted idea of yourself and low self-esteem, you will never be able to become your higher-self, to take that extra step that allows you to transform your daydreams into a solid reality, if you think you are unintelligent, you will tend to take this truth for granted. "i'm not smart enough for this" and you'll give up your dreams of a higher education, or of getting all A's on your finals, or of having a great and fulfilling job.

but sometimes we think too highly of ourselves too. i always joke that i make study plans like i'm a genius who studies 200 pages in a day, but the truth is, i'm not joking at all.

many of you will recognize themselves in the stereotype of the burned-out gifted kid, especially when you move to a higher level of education (from middle school to high school, or from high school to university) and at that moment all certainty of your acclaimed intelligence collapses. you are no longer in the pond with the small fish, now you are in the big tank with the big fish, relating to a much bigger world (at least in italy, the difference between high school and university is abysmal) and your brain will do everything to maintain an accurate simulacrum of your self-image.

in fact, your brain spends less energy processing two pieces of information that agrees rather than disagreeing information and since our biology is based on self-preservation, your mind will do everything to preserve its rightness. when i started university i was incredibly afraid of taking my first exam, why? because i didn't want to find out that i wasn't good enough for a more advanced education, that i wasn't the straight A's student i thought i was.

but waiting for the fear to go away will lead to you staying in the same place forever, because the fear only goes away if you face what you are afraid of, and yes, being afraid of exams may seem silly, but i'm sure many people who follow this blog will understand what it means to identify so much with your grades and to crave academic validation more than anything else.

so i did it, even though i was scared, i had to have the certainty that this was the right place for me, i studied hard, and i definitely rocked my exams. but then the spring exam session arrived, and the fear returned. tired and burned-out from the winter session i had little or no desire to study, so when the exam date approached, i was afraid of not achieving the same results as just two months before, so i postponed, i procrastinated, until the day before, i knew i had to study otherwise i wouldn't pass the exam, yet my brain continued to do everything to protect itself, to protect that completely crazy idea of myself that i could study the entire program in two days (i wish). i don't even have social media (tumblr and pinterest excluded), which is why i found every excuse possible not to study. i didn't want to sit at my desk and realize that i wasn't going to pass that exam, that i should have studied harder, try harder.

that is until i realized that it wasn't laziness or procrastination that was stopping me, or rather, procrastination was just a symptom of a bigger cause: a distorted image of myself. understanding this in my first year of university will perhaps change my next academic years, or perhaps not. i don't know how many of you have drawn these things or reached these conclusions, i just hope that you soon understand that you are not lazy, nor procrastinators, you are just humans who are afraid of failure like all other humans.

the problem arises now, how to change this image? i don't know yet, honestly, but i won't let it stop me from living my life.

uptade in the end i was so fucking lucky and got a 30/30 on my exam yesterday, but still at the cost of a lot of sanity, sleep and unjustified stress.

[morihaus]

Beloved

I am a Lover of the Rose. Yes, even still.

For 200 years, I have been her priestess. Since the turning of eras, I've committed my soul to her, and in return, she has lent me her guidance. Gracious Azura, she foretold of the disaster on Vvardenfell that would redden the skies and choke the sun; she led her faithful to safety, far from the troubles that enveloped our homeland. I was a novice in the cult then. I walked the pilgrimage to Skyrim with so many others who, like me, felt the warmth and compassion of our goddess in the coldest of nights.

I helped to raise that statue and establish that shrine. I tended to it, I heard her voice, and obeying her wishes I tended to my fellows and myself. Azura is a spirit of love, of true, beautiful, all-consuming love. No matter how lofty she may be, no matter where in the heavens she walks, her love is felt by her faithful. Not one of us would ever doubt it. She bade us fly to Skyrim to escape the dreadful fate of our homeland, but also, to make preparations for those who would follow in our footsteps. Those who her voice could not reach, the blind, the deceived, the lost, her soul swells with love for even them. Our people flocked to Skyrim to escape the chaos of the Red Year, of the Arnesian War, of the fall of the Tribunal and the dawn of a new era, and it was we, the Lovers of Azura, who welcomed them, who guided them as she had guided us to the embrace of her sanctuary.

It has been some time since I last visited that shrine. I spent centuries there in worship, in devoted service to the brilliant soul of my Lady. I worked with others to make a place for our people, to soothe their pain, to give them surety and guidance in those dark times, but little by little, they began to dwindle around me. Lady Azura is kind, but her prophecies are not always so. In those dark times, it was difficult to accept the fates of those around you, the horrible things foreseen. Tragedies like the collapse at Winterhold, the deaths of so many more Dunmer who had taken this place as their new home… not all were made to withstand these tests. In the end, only I remained.

And I remained because she had told me to. Because one day, her Champion would arrive in this land, to that very shrine, and defend her honor. She told me this long before her birth, over a hundred years in fact. And for all she had done, and still did for me, why would I refuse her request? Was it not the least I could do? Did I not do it out of love?

As I kneel before her image, I can feel the eyes of her Champion on my back. I am not atop that mountain, not at the feet of her statue, but instead at Windstrad Manor in Hjaalmarch, knelt before a traditional etching of Azura. The one who took me away from that place of sacred duty is standing on her porch, wrinkling her nose up at the goddess's portrait.

Azura's Champion is not fond of her. Who can say why? Why it is that she was destined to be her chosen, this I cannot surely know. I can no longer ask my goddess such things. Our tie has been severed, well and truly, with the completion of Vivynne's duty, and my own. But I can wonder-- stare up and wonder at the blending hues of twilight and attempt to decipher her scheme. Sometimes I do. Other times, I only lock my hand with hers and lean close.

Why it is that she dislikes her, she has told me herself. While it is true that she has never been fond of marching under the orders of her betters, whether her family, her house, or the gods themselves, she has quite adamantly argued that she begrudges the manner in which she has treated me. It took some time to understand what she meant. After all the wonderful things she's done for me, after saving my life and the lives of countless others, what have I to complain about? I would not have lived and loved in devotion to her for so long if there was even a shadow of doubt. Vivynne knows this and never means it to insult me, but in her eyes, it is unfair to have served her for so long only to receive nothing once my work is done.

And when she tells me this, time and time again, I smile so that the creases of well-loved centuries show around my lips, and I say this to her. "I did not receive nothing."

I said I wasn't sure why Viv was chosen, yet in my own time, I have reached some conclusion.

It had to be someone like her, ash of the earth, whose irreverence would shock me, unglue me from that stylite station of long-held duty. For so much of my life, that was all I knew. Serving the Queen of Dusk and Dawn, her intermediary, her follower, her Lover. It's who I became under her light, a mirror of her loving soul. Could anyone but Viv have coaxed me off that frigid perch? Could another devotee have roused me from that complacent pattern of true and tireless loyalty? Lady Azura knew my path- she has known it since the moment she first spoke to me, since the moment she foretold of her Champion's coming, she knew I would serve her well and never waiver, and one day, that I would be relieved of my service, and that she would need to relinquish me.

It seems cruel, I will admit. Viv said I was cast aside the moment my purpose was fulfilled. But how can we pretend to know better than the goddess whose sight extends across the twilight of time? To mortals, the actions of gods seem arbitrary, but we, their lovers, we can scarcely glimpse the depth of sentiment in each and every choice they make, and we know, I know, that she has not abandoned me. She has not let my love for her go unrewarded, unanswered. It was her who brought me a new love, a kind of love I could only grasp if I had left. If her champion convinced me to leave. If her champion was a jaded wizard without any heed for the gods or their worshipers.

So when Viv tells me I've been abandoned, overlooked, ignored by my goddess, I only laugh and press myself against her. When we lay together, our bodies so perfectly intertwine, as though they were always intended to. And here and now, when she wraps her arms around me and I bury myself in her embrace, I know, I am her most beloved.

[bosskie]

Mean 'n' Clean

I didn't mean to draw more today (yesterday) but I just got a vision like this and I just had to draw it... Man, it feels like all this sketching is starting to actually improve my stuff. That Molluck just looks better than all the other Mollucks I have done within a week.

But yeah, what the odd is this? Well, I kinda tried to vision RuptureFarms back then. I felt like drawing kinda twisted versions of those Scrab Cake and Paramite Pie ads. Yeah, that Scrab is 'dancing' on that cake, like they do after killing their victim. And well, Paramite is eating the Pie... I have never drawn those creatures before, so it was nice to finally draw them too.

That Abe, well, I felt like portraying him as a cleaner with some cleaning equipment and I wondered why he would have such an expression if he is cleaning... Then it came to my mind that maybe is cleaning Molluck's toilet, so that's why he got that toilet cleaner. Just some random stuff for fun, I have been just laughing at that Abe.

Also, kinda related to this cleaning thing. One day, I figured out why RuptureFarms is so clean in New 'n' Tasty compared to Abe's Oddysee: There are 200 Mudokons more! Yes, Molluck could figure out the amouth of Mudokons he needs to keep the place clean.

I also wanna add that despite of my own problems toward myself, I do appreciate you liking my stuff! And I wanna say this that I do love this community. I did get such a warm reception when I started to post my Molluck stuff and it still warms my heart, especially after many years of feeling like no one cares about the stuff I create. I do admire the stuff you do here like daily but I have had hard times to tell you it, even thru a like. It's nothing personal, my thought about that no one probably wants me to interact with them is just strong... I used to be lonely for years... But I'm trying my best with healing this scar and gather my courage to say the stuff I would like to say but I just cannot because of my mind... Sometimes, I also just feel so embarrassed of my way to speak...

I also wanna say that I don't wish that creating fan art is a competition. The more important thing is all the passion and love people put in it. Of course, great art deserves to be featured but it was kinda odd still (I think that they should had been a bit more neutral too, to create a more believable image of that they do really love all the fan art; this is what I mean. Just changing it to be 'one of the best' or being an artist feature video in general would had been enough). And especially to me in a sense of that I did won that SoulStorm tattoo design competition but OWI never posted it but some other submissions to that competition before announcing the winners. There was a Stranger fan art competition before and they did post the winners on social media. It's just odd and I think that I really should ask OWI about that, I'm still waiting for my prices from them. I'm just not sure of how to do it. It has just started to feel like maybe they didn't even really like my piece and just made me a winner because I probably spent the most time... If someone hasn't seen it or needs refreshing, here's my piece I did for that competition:

Sometimes, I have been thinking about 'remastering' this since it has some flaws I would like to fix. But yes, I really gotta try to ask OWI why did they kinda cancel this tattoo competition after announcing the winners, though they never did it on their media but on the competition website. I don't really mind if they don't post this since this ain't great but I still would like to hear their explanation for this. This was supposed to be a temporal tattoo they would have shared and I would have gotten one too. Well, I did get the main thing, the moolah price, at least! My inner Gluk is happy.

~ Lots of love to ya!

[justajsworkshop]

today's thoughts:

ok, so i've always been fascinated with the way sincerity works with manifestation because it's always been one of the most powerful heart postures that given me unbelievable results:

i once affirmed for 10-minutes that "i manifest money instantly" just to see what would happen, and a few minutes into that 10-minute session, i received $200.

i once was yelling and venting my heart out to a friend on a voice note and telling them "i'm done! i'm done waiting! i'm not waiting for other people or things to change any longer!" i felt it with full conviction in my heart of hearts as who i was ( and this was before i found the law of assumption, btw ), and literally as i was leaving the message, two of the biggest things i had been "waiting on" came through. they got my real time reaction as the notifications popped up during the message, and trust me, i was very attached to these outcomes.

i once quietly asked God to show me my true self when i was feeling so defeated around the void state, questioning and wondering if any of it was real, and that night, i saw it. i saw the Lord with my divine eyes. i saw myself as one with Him. and i knew that the physical world is all a waking dream that we get to create, mold, and shape to our liking, for we are made in His image—limitless creators.

i've had countless other instances of things such as these. like telling myself one time something will happen, and it does. writing down a seemingly impossible desire on a note, forgetting about it, and it manifests. i've always asked myself... what's the common theme here? why does conscious manifestation "work" sometimes and not others?

in the second example, i was desperate. i was at my wit's end. so, i know we don't have to be emotionally "perfect." in the first example, i've tried to repeat the process and did not yield the same results, so it wasn't the method. ( same with the third. ) i've tried countless techniques, affirmed all day long, and literally nothing has shifted my reality faster and easier, than sincerity.

because that's really the common thread amongst all of these. when i ask without agendas, without trying to prove anything, without being anything other than open and curious, i'm not sitting in nonfulfillment, secretly waiting to be dissatisfied, waiting for my perceived limitations to show their faces to me. it makes me think of what neville said about telling a mountain to move, waking up the next morning to see it's still there, and then saying, "of course, you didn't move."

are you secretly waiting for nonfulfillment to show its face to you?

God can't be mocked. He doesn't look at outside appearances like how many times you affirmed or what techniques you used. He has no palate for performance for the sake of performance ( i.e., vanity ). works without faith are dead. ( and i'm not saying faith = belief from the limited physical mind. you'll only exhaust yourself trying to get your limitations to believe beyond their capability. it's about having an inner knowing that through your I AM awareness, all things are possible. )

we saw in the story of selecting david to be king that God looks at the heart above all. He knows when your heart is full of sin ( the metaphysical meaning of sin being nonfulfillment ), and i also think it's worth noting that God hears you the first time.

we're the ones who need repetition.

so, yes, keep utilizing the techniques that you enjoy and that help you stand in the conviction that "i am that i am"/"i am that which i desire to be." but if you feel like you're doing this all for nothing, it might be worth honestly inquiring with yourself if you're somehow—on a deeper level—trying to fool God.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Nikola - part of the Magnus Monsterverse AU

What was I even truly being asked to do? Was I being used like Jonah had used me before?

I had no way to know that tonight, and I was too damned tired to think about it. And I still had to go to work.

Web Martin, I decided before I slept, was giving me a gosdamned raise.

Part of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

------

I almost forgot about my job. 

I had a job! A job! One I’d stressed over! And I damn near missed it. I woke with my heart in my throat (whatever that meant for a man made of eyes) and sprang out of our bed so fast that I scared Martin half-invisible.

What followed was, according to the Eye, every bit as delightful as Tsukino Usagi running late for school in some anime called Sailor Moon, which I was vaguely aware existed as I scrambled around the room looking for business-worthy clothes, and by the time I was reaching for the door (stealing one more kiss from Martin, who was back to full-color, and so proud of me his cheeks were red), It had caught me up on all 18 volumes of manga and half the 200 episode series.

I didn’t really want any of that, but It was so damned happy about it that I felt bad telling It to stop. I finally did, though, when It projected to me the image of running down the street with a piece of toast in my mouth, which I absolutely would not do.

Fine, It whined, and fed me a silly science-fiction podcast following people in a space station orbiting a red dwarf star some seven and a half light years away from Earth instead.

#

This London was so different than I didn’t at first realize just where the bus was taking me.

It was just so damned quiet; no one spoke, not even in whispers; no one but me looked around, even though London was beautiful. Sort of in the way a mausoleum is, honestly: clean and stone and shadowed with ghosts of itself. I didn’t realize. I really didn’t, not until I saw we were driving past Battersea Park (Why was that the same name? How did that work?) and clocked just where we were going. 

Owlwood Library sat in Chelsea, a few blocks from the Thames. It was a lovely building on the other side of Vauxhall bridge, near the embankment. A lovely Victorian structure, red brick and white stone, four stories and two towers and hell beneath the ground.

But it could not be. This was not the same place. It could not be the same.

The bus stopped.

A few people got off. I… almost didn’t.

I couldn’t let Martin down. I couldn’t… let this chance slip away. I leaped to my feet and staggered off the bus, breathing hard, snagging everyone’s attention because I was behaving like a loon, and then had to take a moment on the sidewalk, bent over, leaning on my thighs, just trying to breathe.

For an inner ear made of eyeballs, mine did a lovely job of making the world spin 'round. It was a coincidence, I told myself. My new job just happened to be in the same building as the Magnus Institute had once been. Ha ha, so funny, someone's idea of a joke. And after all, some things were the same (and never mind the utter madness of how many things had to be coincidences to make that so), so it couldn’t be related, it could not.

Could it?

The Eye wanted to show me and… couldn't. It fizzled. Sparked. Seized up? Froze like an old-school CRT monitor, blue and flickering. What? Why would… 

The Eye didn’t do that. The Eye hardly reacted to what it saw, even with all this latest hyperactivity. The only time it ever just froze was in the face of—

Oh.

I stood slowly and looked at the building, looked at the building, LOOKED AT THE BUILDING, and saw the webs.

They were… everywhere. Everywhere. Blocking every window. Covering every door. Dangling, with little twirls as if in non-existence wind, brushing the heads and faces and unblinking eyes of every person who walked in and out of this place, and so many people did. So many. University students, mostly, but there were teenagers, and older academics, and the odd single parent looking for a good read. It was a busy place, and a happy place, and a stronghold of the Web, and I was two good, deep breaths away from just running down the street with a scream.

“Hey,” said Web Martin behind me.

I did scream as I spun. I’m sorry, Quiet London. 

“It’s okay,” said Web Martin, holding out, of all things, a cup of tea on a little saucer. “You’re all right. No need to freak out.”

I stared at him. Through him. Oh, gods. He was full of spiders.

He sighed. “Jon. I’m not your enemy. We’ve been over this.”

“Don’t you dare fake impatience with me,” I snarled.

The act dropped. He smiled, looking like Annabelle Cane’s soul in Martin’s body. “Sorry. Force of habit; disappointment was usually the best way to get you to do anything.”

Oh, heavens. “Well, that’s not me anymore,” I said with far more force than I felt.

“Please come in. I promise this isn’t a trap. We couldn’t trap you, anyway; Jon, you could literally burn this entire web to the ground if you looked at it too hard. We are the ones in danger here, not you. All right? Come in so we can talk. It isn’t safe out here.”

“Did I even earn the job on my own?” I blurted, which was the dumbest thing in the world to say.

“Did you earn the original?” he said, deadpan.

Damn. That hurt.

His apology looked real. “Sorry, Jon. Please come in. We’re trusting you.”

And I must have been mad because the next thing I said was, “You’re paying me for my damn time.”

He laughed, and I knew, knew , I’d genuinely surprised him. “Of course! You really did get hired. Come on, now, let’s go.” He offered the tea again.

It was an Earl Grey with the most delicious scent, automatically calming, positively Pavlovian, and I inhaled for a moment, eyes closed. 

The Eye was here. I was not alone. Not that It could do much to help me against the Web, but… I looked back at the building, then at Web Martin.

I looked at him. Looked. LOOKED.

He shuddered. “Wow,” he whispered. “That feels… not great?”

I’m sure it didn’t, because I saw him.

He was afraid of me, genuinely. He hadn’t lied. And filled with spiders or not, he… this was Martin.

Not my Martin, but he was Martin. He hadn’t been replaced with something else. This was genuinely him, with a different path, different choices.

My eyes pricked for a moment (yes, all of them ), and I wasn’t sure if they did in grief for the loss of the Martin I might have known, or guilt for refusing to see him as a person this long.

“Come on,” he said, relieved, because he hadn’t been sure how I’d respond (he… what? He what? ), and lead the way toward the Institute.

No, toward the Owlwood Library. Fuck.

#

It smelled exactly the same: books and cardboard boxes, cleaning material and that oddly earthy scent of old air conditioning installed in even older places. 

The carpet was different. The marble was not. The office of Elias Bouchard was now a conference room and there was no Rosie guarding it. The door to the Archives still loomed, marked, EMPLOYEES ONLY, and I could not bring myself to see what lay beyond.

“Hi, Hannah!” Martin said quietly, waving at a researcher who waved back. “Mark coming today?”

“No, not today,” she whispered in returned, and smiled.

Martin shrugged it off and lead me deeper in.

I kept blinking. Between one blink and another, I could see more webs, or none. The place was just… full, but even I could see that some books were more wrapped than others, that to touch them would be to get web on your hand.

I wasn’t sure I could do this.

“You won’t be getting any on you,” said Martin, guessing from the way my own eyes were wide and horse-panicked.

“You got me the job,” I retorted.

"We’re well aware of what you’ll do to us if we upset you,” said Martin. “This is an attempt to invite you along, not do anything to make you upset.”

“Sure.” Wait, what had he said? “Invite me along to what?”

“Truth. And then, of course, your choices.”

“Oh, and you have no investment in those, I suppose,” I muttered.

Martin did not answer me until we entered a back office—a space that had, in my time, actually been divided into study rooms for our student population. Now, it was his space; books lined the walls, and maps, and he had lovely stylized things like globes and old portraits.

I stared and a lovely Victorian portrait of an older woman in mourning clothes, smiling knowingly at the painter. Her back was straight and her shoulders were squared; she looked like she knew exactly who was staring at her face from across time, and knew she could out-think them. “That… who is that?”

“Johanna Owlwood,” said Martin, “who founded this library in 1818 as part of a Cesarean outreach to the underprivileged who lacked the means for higher education.”

Cesarean. There was a whole bucket of nonsense I’d yet to upend. The Roman Imperial Cult was what lasted in this world, though it still ended up spreading Latin and Greek throughout, and—

“Have a seat, please. Let’s get your orientation out of the way,” said Web Martin.

“Wait a moment. Are you my boss?” I blurted.

Web Martin grinned.

“Oh, that’s simply unfair,” I said, trying to joke, and sat.

“Now, the pay rate and benefits are exactly as you saw in the paperwork you signed,” he said.

I hadn’t made it here the other day, though. “I didn’t sign any—”

Martin slid unsigned paperwork across, and I suddenly understood this was one of those conversations: time was a construct, and all that mattered was crossing and dotting appropriate letters.

“Fine,” I said, taking a moment to read it over.

“However, we’d hoped to discuss something that isn’t in your list of official duties,” said Web Martin.

“Out with it,” I said.

“You know something is wrong with this world.”

I sighed. “Nikola said so, yes.”

“The other Nikola. Would you like to question the other-other Nikola?”

“The… the one who’s imprisoned somewhere?”

“Yes.” 

I sighed. “Look. I understand you have the need to make things complicated. I remember what it was like to talk to Annabelle. But I also know you can understand me when I say this: my tolerance for nonsense is, right at this moment, nearly as low as it ever has been.”

“Yes, we—”

“ No, you don’t understand,” I said. “I want straight answers. Simple. Clear. Few syllables. No trickery, no leading questions.”

Web Martin studied me for a long moment. I had the strangest impression; like gears made of web, turning in some colossal and complex machinery too intricate for me to understand. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try.”

We’d see. “I’m listening.”

“A god rules this world. It’s not a good god; it’s a cold god, and cruel. We believe it’s Eye-related.”

“Why?”

“Because it has so far seen, with complete clarity, every plan we’ve attempted, every investigation, and every try to get away from its influence.”

“That sounds aggressive,” I said, using the first word that came to mind. “The Eye doesn’t do that. It’s passive.”

“We said Eye-related for a reason.”

“And you intend for me to do… what, exactly?”

“An Eye cannot see itself,” said Web Martin. 

“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms.

“We believe you can uncover what’s really going on and help us to stop it.”

“What is it doing that’s so terrible?”

He tilted his head. 

I pushed. I already knew the answer on some level, but I pushed. “London, at least, is clean and quiet. Crime rates are incredibly low. Tell me what’s so horrible about it all.”

“Guilt, Jonathan Sims,” said Web Martin, who had not blinked at all since agreeing to be honest with me. “It rules the world with guilt. Didn’t you know?”

I did.

I… I truly did. It wasn’t fear; but it was like the fear, driving things, controlling things, forcing people into boxes not meant for their size. It compressed human beings into shapes not right, sucked out joy, bled away hope.

Guilt.

And the moment—the moment —I forgave people, that god of guilt lost its grip on them.

Crew. The Distortion. Martin. Tim.

This wasn’t possible. Shouldn’t be; my word should not be enough to counteract whatever this other force had going. “The whole world?”

“Yes.”

I realized I was wringing my hands and stopped. “Only the one guilt-god? It’s not… there aren’t other cruel gods?”

“Oh, the Fears are here,” said Web Martin, “along with the quiet scents of the ones your Gerry disbelieved—love, mercy, all those things. But they’re balanced . They are as they should be; merely higher up the food chain, neither depleting nor depriving, simply existing as all things do. But this… this throws it all out of whack. We can’t feed as we ought. We are starved; and the fact is, Jon, that’s putting our patrons in… something of a bad position.”

I stared at him. “Will they die if they starve?”

“No. They’ll go mad and devour the world, is what they’ll do.”

He was right. Oh, gods. He was right. I knew it. Felt it. “But… all the other rescued avatars don’t seem to be starving.”

Web Martin’s smile wasn’t kind. “Well, that’s because—in spite of misunderstandings—our patrons do take good care of us. As long as we feed them, we who represent are cared for. Even though they are not receiving enough, we do. But that can’t last forever.”

When I’d told him to be blunt, I hadn’t expected this. “So you’re asking me to help undo something the Web can’t figure out.”

“We don’t need understanding, Jon. We need sight. That’s your department.”

“Why not ask someone else? Gerry, or…” But there were precious few people of the Eye here, weren’t there? Precious few. “Did Manuela avoid rescuing people connected to the Eye?”

“They don’t survive. Something destroys them while she brings them in.”

I stared. “What?”

“It’s quite awful. They’re torn apart, or… well. They tear themselves apart, is what it seems like to us.”

“Tear themselves apart?”

“As you very nearly did.”

I… had. Shame over what I was, what I had done. If not for Martin... “This isn’t what I expected.”

“You asked for bluntness.” Web Arthur shrugged. “Unlike Annabelle, I actually know how to do that when needed.”

“Can’t whatever this thing is see us now? Didn’t it see your machinations to provide me with gainful employment?”

Web Martin started giggling again. “Machinations.”

I sputtered. “Well, it’s accurate!”

“No, no, you’re correct, you just… manage to put such nefariousness into the word. Adorable.” He kept chuckling.

I glared denial. “Can you tell me anything else?”

“Ah, let me see.” He wiped his eyes. “Yes. There’s something of a resistance? It all has to be carefully done, since… well, being watched is unavoidable; but the thing is that this god, whatever it is, seems limited to guilt. Those who have slipped the yoke, as it were, can be recaptured, but if they manage to fight it off, they can be useful.”

“Do they know they’re part of a resistance?” I said, dry.

“Some of them,” he said with that still-surprising honesty. “Of course, they all think it has something to do with Manuela and Leitner.”

“Does it?”

“I don’t know.” Web Martin shrugged. "The Spider can’t really work with them, you see. They simply don’t react as predicted; they aren’t mappable. We have not been able to pull a single thread to get them to do anything with great effect. Are they working for this guilt-god? We don’t know. Is Sasha? We don’t… think so, though she’s certainly unintentionally complicit.”

“She believes guilt keeps us safe,” I said slowly.

“An effective lie, isn't it?” Web Martin shrugged magnificently. “Is there anything else? I have a nine o’clock I really have to take.”

I stared. “You have to tell me more than that.”

“We don’t know more than that. We have guesses, but nothing proven. Do you really want speculation?”

“I…” Blast. “Maybe?”

“Not yet, I think,” said Web Martin. “You’ll get overwhelmed. As it is, you have to put in a full day of work.”

Dear lord, was this happening?

“Oh,” he said. “I’d suggest trying to meet with Nikola tonight. She won't last much longer, now that her original is gone. Since you can portal, you can do that.”

“But I don’t know where she…” Except I did. Manuela’s mountain. 

“If you come up with specific questions—”

“Which I will.”

“—then we will answer,” said Martin. “But there is the fear that giving you too much information will send you on some… damned crazy crusade.”

“Nonsense,” I said.

“We can’t really afford any broken tables, Jon,” said Web Martin almost gently. “Not this time.”

Oh, ouch. “Oh, there’s the manipulation,” I drawled. “Wondered where that went.”

He smiled like the sun rising, and absolutely conjured the feel of spider legs tickling under my skin. “Good luck.”

“Wait a minute. What am I even doing?”

“Today, it’s simple: go around the place, all four floors; find the carts with returned books on them. Return the books.”

“Don’t they need to be… logged, or something?”

“In a normal library, yes, but not this one.”

I sighed. “And for this, I’m being paid a livable wage?”

“You can actually shelve any book in the place without getting entangled. Quite frankly, you could ask for more.”

“Maybe I will ,” I said.

“Maybe you should,” he said, and smiled like the sun.

Someone knocked on the door. “Mister Blackwood? Your nine o’clock is here.”

“Thank you!" he called. "And thank you, Jon,” said Web Martin.

“Don’t thank me. I know you’re just tugging heartstrings again.”

“Maybe, but I do mean it. Good luck.”

#

Good luck , as it turned out, meant, Those carts are old and the wheels don’t work well and you’re going to have a time trying to steer them places.

I checked, too. The wheel brakes weren’t on. They were just… I don’t know.  Maybe designed to move according to the will of the Web, or something, and my presence apparently cut that off.

I looked up books and shelved them, relying on the Eye to give me the Dewey Decimal information so I wouldn’t have to continually go back downstairs to the card catalog (which was not digitized, and I couldn’t decide if that made me happy or annoyed). 

It was pleasantly mindless work. I have always loved the feel and smell of books, and as the ones I touched were mysteriously web-free, I got to enjoy them.

I got lost a couple of times reading a book before putting it away. You know. On the clock, because the Web can go to hell.

How  much of what Web Martin said was true?

All of it , the Eye assured me, but that didn’t help. I knew the Eye was thinking in absolutes; not in shades of color, in the angle of a lie. This was not a true/false scenario. This had dimensions. I just wasn’t sure what they were.

The Web was the Web; the Spider couldn’t change her nature, so I knew this hadn’t been completely blunt. But… I think it was about as blunt as she could manage. The question was what to do about it. Who was this resistance? What on earth could they accomplish, given they could not go unseen? What were they resisting, anyway? Feeling bad?

Why hadn’t Gerry been invited? What the hell was I going to say to Nikola in an hour?

I felt stupid today. I’m sure it had absolutely nothing to do with being exploded at and impaled last night, not to mentioned helped by an iteration of my worst enemy. No, I’m sure all of that was totally incidental.

The Eye began feeding me internet programming about mental health and what stress does to the body. Yes, thank you. I don’t have a body. I have eyes in a sack. Thank you. I’m… I’m good now. Thanks.

It switched to “reality” programming following couples around who kept secrets from each other. Oh, what the hell? What? 

We weren’t keeping secrets from each other. Fuck that noise.

(Or at least, I wasn’t.)

(I knew he wasn’t, either. Come on.)

I finished my shift and checked in with Web Martin. He handed me some paperwork to take home, an unbelievably fake smile, and a cursory good night.

It was getting dark out. I texted Martin: Want me to pick anything up?

Just you , he typed. Then a moment later, That didn’t come out right

I laughed, walking on a rapidly darkening street, phone in hand. I’ll see what I can do about that.

He sent a few emoji which were not public safe, and I walked with a grin and heated cheeks. What ridiculousness!

I had a lover, and he was… he really cared for me. That hadn’t happened before, any of it. I’d been friends with some cuddling with Georgie, but nothing like this. Even then, she’d… well. She’d liked me. She’d trusted me, which I managed to destroy completely; but she hadn’t really… enjoyed spending time with me?

I irritated her. My rants. My little obsessions. My... well. Neurodivergence, I suppose.

That thought took a lot of introspection. It seemed I didn't annoy Martin by just being me, and that in and of itself was more of a miracle than gods or monsters or any damn thing.

I needed to keep him safe. If Web Martin was right, and I had a unique chance to figure out what was going on with this world…

Oh, shit. I’d freed Martin from its grip. Was he in danger?

I stopped walking. It had grown dark enough that street lights littered the sidewalk with circles of dimness, and I really needed to get to the bus stop and go home.

Or.

Or.

Or, I could spy—which I hadn’t done yet—and see if Manuela was out of her mountain so I could go speak to Nikola.

Manuela had security in place; I remembered that. But I wondered if she’d thought to put it in the cell where Nikola was locked away.

Was I really thinking this? Making a plan to appear in close quarters with a monster who had actively tried to skin me?

I was thinking this. I focused.

The Eye showed me her cell, and it was through her own eyes. Looking down at her plastic body, at the rags she’d been permitted; at the nothing that was her day, a completely empty space apart from a single board attached to the wall like some godsdamned cowboy prison. 

Nikola had fake moonlight. High on the wall apart from the door was a barred window opening to nothing—into the mountain—but it had light coming through it, aping the outside.

Why had Manuela done that? Enrichment was clearly not a thing. Why had—

The Eye… showed me: it is a mockery of hope. A mockery of the outside she’d never see again, a mockery of real life she would never feel on her skin, day and night changing place without seam, a reminder of what she would never be given as long as they deemed her unsafe.

Nikola was starving. And I was thinking of hurling myself into that cell. Was I really going to do this?

I looked for Manuela. She was at home, watching Brother Love season two, wrapped in a robe, holding a mug of hot chocolate.

Great. Now I felt bad for betraying her by doing this. 

I need Manuela not to see this, I thought.

The Eye responded with one simple image: the lanky, slumping, teenage form of Callum Brodie. 

There was an idea. First… I had to go home.

#

“Yes, I have his number,” said Martin, my Martin, who was so much better than Web Martin that I could just crawl into his clothes while he was wearing them and kip for a month.

“I need to talk to him.”

“Tonight?” Martin was baffled. The containers of Thai he’d picked up for us sat on the counter, opened and steaming.

“Yes.”

“Well.” He blinked. “All right.” He handed me his phone.

It was impossible not to catch glimpses of his texts. 

Michael D. Apology already given and we

Mike C. Sure we can meet up how about the

Peter L. Anytime.

I forced myself to stop peeking and click the compose icon. (He obviously wasn’t hiding anything. He’d just literally handed me his phone, for crying out loud.)

Callum, this is Jonathan Sims. I apologize for using Martin’s phone to reach out to you, but I don’t have your number. If it’s all right, I need a favor this evening. Please let me know if you’re available. Thank you. -JS

Martin took it back, stared, and started giggling. “Really? Format grammar and everything. Jon, it’s text. ”

“It’s an introduction,”I said, just a bit defensively. “I have to make the right impression.”

“Oh, Jon. You’re ridiculous,” he said so warmly, so gently, and kissed my cheek.  

“Ew?” said a cracking teenage voice to my right, and I jumped.

Callum Brodie stepped out of the shadows.  Just out of the shadows, completely invisible to me, and then not, and I had a badly frightened moment that must have shown on my face, because he laughed. “Shouldn’t’ve been snogging, then, you didn’t want to get scared.”

“Take the piss out of someone else,” said Martin mildly. “Callum, this is Jon. Jon, Callum.”

“Hi,” I said, unable to see inside him, able to see him with anything but my very human eyes, and it was so very strange. I hadn’t just used my two basic eyes for so long, and hadn’t even realized it. He almost didn’t seem real. Flat, like a cardboard cutout of himself. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What do I get out of it?” he said.

“Um. What do you want?” I said.

“Way to bargain, Sims,” said Martin, the corners of his mouth curled.

“Oh, shut up. What do you want, Callum?”

He studied me. “Money.”

“Oh. I just got a job today.”

“Not that kind of money. A lot of money.”

“I’m not… robbing a bank for you , or something.”

Callum stared at me. Then he looked at Martin, eyebrows raised.

Martin shrugged, wearing a beatific smile.

Callum looked back. “I want you to find me things . Things only Eye-guys can see. Not robbing people. I’m not stupid.”

“I… don’t understand what you’re…”

“Lost treasure. Missing things. Overlooked paintings. Things like that.”

I scratched my head. “How are you going to handle provenance?”

“Not your concern, Pupil Boy.”

Martin lost it, just for a moment. “I am so calling you that.”

“Don’t you dare,” I said back, equally unserious. 

“You’ll do it?” said Callum.

I checked with the Eye. “Looks like it’s possible,” I said. “All right. I suppose so, but not open-ended. Three things.”

“Sure,” said Callum, who clearly thought he’d gotten the better end of the deal (and probably had), and then said what they all say: “I killed you in my world.”

“Yes, yes,” I said.

“You tried to see through the dark, and you couldn’t. It ate you.”

“I think you mean one of the things inside it ate me,” I said, pedantic. “One of the lightless beasts, or whatnot.”

“No,” he said with a little shrug. “The Dark ate you. Really enjoyed it, too. Gave me a real boost.”

“Oh,” I said.

A deeply awkward pause… happened.

“Callum,” said Martin, chiding gently.

“Fine,” said Callum. “What do you  need?”

“I need Manuela Dominguez not to notice that I am visiting her special lab in the Alps.”

“Done,” he said.

I blinked. “What do you  mean, done? It can’t be done already.”

“It’s done. What, you think I don’t know where she is? You think I don’t know how to hide something stupid like a visitor from her system?” Callum said.

I stared at him. “You’re… efficient.”

“I fucking destroyed my world. Yeah. Efficient’s the word,” said Callum. “Four things. For being rude.”

Martin chortled.

I could sort of see why. Callum was abrasively winning, somehow. Bleh. “Sure. Four things.”

Callum smiled. Like a shark. “Do whatever you gotta do. I’ll keep you out of sight the whole time you’re there.”

“Thank you.” I kissed Martin quickly.

“Ew,” said Callum, who watched eagerly nonetheless.

“Be careful,” said Martin. 

“I will make sure we’re safe,” I said, nuzzling him once.

Then I opened a portal and stepped through.

#

I made it sound so easy. Opened a portal and stepped through. As if it didn’t involve narrowing my mind, opening my gaze; somehow seeing across hundreds of miles and through a mountain of solid stone that had supposedly been protected against this very thing. As if it didn’t involve telling reality to open, to part, to fold so that I could step from my London flat into her Switzerland lab. I couldn’t explain how I did this if my life depended on it, and it frightened me, because what if I couldn’t hold on to this instinctive skill?

The fear made it stronger, of course, and faster than I was ready for, I’d arrived. And oh, gods, I couldn’t see shit.

Okay. Okay; no, I could see, but the same way I saw Callum: strange, two-dimensional. It felt like I could only move in one direction across a flat plane.

Her door skewed, a trapezoid, but I found my way to it, reached through it somehow (don’t think about it, Sims), and walked inside.

Nikola Orsinov was deeply startled to see me.

Oh… oh, she was not well. Her feet and hands had both been melted off; there was no paint left on her, anywhere. The ringmaster's uniform was shreds of red, unrecognizable on her mutilated manikin body. 

In spite of all that, her shock was palpable. She sat up, joints creaking, plastic squeaking. “Archivist?” she said in a broken-music box voice.

This wasn’t right. She was being tortured. This was… inhumane. This was monstrous. I didn’t care what she had done. This was…

I had to be out of my mind. “I know you’re a copy.”

We were still for a long moment, she and I, staring—one without eyes, the other whose sight was flattened by the Dark.

“She told you,” said Nikola.

“Yes. I’m here to find out what you know about guilt.”

 “Are you? That’s lovely! I don’t believe you.”

Of course she didn’t. “What have they done to you in here?” I said.

“You, the arbiter of that which exposes, which sees and reveals, wish to learn about guilt?” she said, and her laugh was terrible. It sounded like ping pong balls rattling together, as if they’d been dropped down the stairs.

“I’m hoping I can stop it,” I said.

Nikola could not stare. She had no eyes—but that which was within her could most certainly see. I found myself pinned, peered through, seen by that which must see clearly in order to erase and replace it with itself. I was… this was…

This was a god , and anyone who’d called me one was full of shit.

“I see,” said Nikola. “You think you can restore the balance? You?” She stood.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t… even think. Felt like I was held in a hand made of knives, and it hadn’t skinned me yet, hadn’t pierced, but with the slightest twitch, it could.

She stopped in front of me, pretending to see, letting the other see. “You could, I think… but might it be more fun not to let you?” Her stump pressed into my chest and

fingers she had fingers though they were not visible

They pressed into my skin, and—“I’m torn, Archivist. I’m so very hungry, and you’re right here, and delightfully afraid. It’s like you’re a little Cornish pasty, steaming and ready!”

For one second, just one, she had me. Terror—a lifetime of it, before my bizarre millennia floating in nothing—settled into all its familiar place, refitting its fingerprints to the bruises it gripped into my soul.

The Eye showed me Martin.

A glimpse, lying beside me in our small bed, too close, smiling in the morning light; sleepy-eyed, utterly relaxed, mine.

Oh, fuck this creature. “ Don’t touch me ,” I said, and I don’t know where it came from or how it worked, but it thrust her away with the same trembling force my forgiveness.

But this was not forgiveness.

Nikola cracked back from me into the wooden board that was her bed and collapsed there, limbs askew, clacking and creaking and inhuman. She laughed.

And then from her issued a… sense. Sentence? Communication that was not in words.

Maybe you can do it

She didn’t say those words. That which looked through her at me said those words. The godsdamned Stranger itself regarded me, and Nikola stood down. “She would never tell you to ask me,” she said, stolen voice box creaky like her limbs. “I take it she is dead.”

“Yes. She’s dead.” 

And this Nikola’s whole form… shuddered , making a sound like a failing bridge. “So then it's done! I am no longer needed.”

She was falling apart. “I need information!” I snapped. “What, you’re going to just… die?”

“How can I die when I’ve never been alive, Archivist? What funny things you say,” she said, and I—

could see

Exactly where she was being held together, and the threads of unreality were being pulled away, and I

held

them fast.

That which looked through her unpainted face groaned.

“Tell me what you know, Nikola Orsinov,” I commanded.

“It controls,” she moaned, “needs to control… to keep all… where it thinks they belong. It does not allow… chaos. ”

What?

Oh.

Oh… that made… sense to me.

Sense in a horrible way, sense in a way I did not want, like feeling the beauty of the Vast, or the joy of the Distortion, or the relief of the Lonely. Keeping it quiet, keeping it shamed , meant no one would do the worst things, or very few would. It meant saving people. It meant calm.

But was that actually saving anyone?

No. It wasn’t. I knew that. Saving them at the expense of their joy was not saving them at all.

It was becoming hard to hold Nikola together. “Do you want to live?” I asked her.

“I don’t live, silly Archivist,” she said.

“Answer me.” I could make her do that.

She shuddered, rattled. “I want to be released from this form. I won’t truly die, Archivist—but I can be untrapped.”

Fuck Manuela for doing this. This wasn’t right. I don’t care what Nikola did, how many lives she’d taken; we were supposed to not be the monsters here. “I release you,” I said. “And… I forgive you, too.”

She fell apart. Clattering, legs rolling under the board, arms plonking to the ground and rocking just for a moment. Her head rolled all the way to my feet, where it landed, looking up at me.

Impossibly, there was some paint there, after all. I’d swear it was a smile.

I don’t know what I did, by doing that. Maybe I made things bad. I don’t care. This hadn’t been right, and I…

I was angry .

I opened a portal and stomped back home.

#

Martin and Callum both did a double-take and stared.

“It’s done,” I said.

“Jon?” said Martin as if unsure.

Great. What was wrong now? “Of course, Jon. Why? Do I look like someone else? Did the fucking Stranger…”

“Jon, you’re glowing,” Martin said.

“I… think… uh,” said Callum. “You’ll pay when you can, probably.” He took two steps back and into the Dark and was gone.

I looked down at myself. I wasn’t glowing. “What?”

“Jon, you… you look radioactive.”

And suddenly it hit me. Sometime during that time in Nikola’s cell, I’d adapted to the Dark. seen in three dimensions; seen fully, comfortably, no longer restricted by whatever Callum cast over us.

Damn. I’d done it again. “Glowing?”

Martin nodded.

I tried to stop doing that. “Still?”

Martin nodded.

I waved my hands. “Fuck!” I declared.

Martin took a step. “You’re warm,” he whispered.

“Warm!” I said the word like it offended me.

He stepped closer, and very, very carefully, reached to touch my hand.

Immediate relief. I hadn’t known I was hot, hadn’t known I was burning up like an underground fire, but I was; and from him, coolness, relief, isolation spread over my skin like a healing balm, and I welcomed it.

I could have fought him fought the Lonely's kiss, but why? For a moment, I was all alone, alone in the world, in an ocean of mist and silence, and it was bliss.

Then I was in his arms, trembling, knees weak. “Oh,” I whispered.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Doused it. Whatever it was. Don’t know how, but… but it worked.”

It worked because I’d wanted it to. Oh, gods. I clutched him, feeling weak as a kitten. “She’s dead. The fake. Died as soon as she knew the original was gone.”

“So you didn’t get a lot of answers, did you?” he said.

“No,” I sighed. “I didn’t even get to learn how the original Nikola got here.”

ALWAYS HERE , the Eye told me.

Sure. That made sense.

“Come on,” he said. “Full day of work, running around inside of mountains, blowing up enemies… I think you’ve done enough, yeah?”

I laughed. “When you put it that way.”

I let him drag me to the bathroom, washing off the grime, the sweat, the workplace . I let him take me to the living room, where I sat on the sofa like a dropped shirt, limp and barely awake, and let him feed me leftover curry.

He made a fuss over the fingertip bruises on my chest, where Nikola had pushed in, somehow. I hardly cared about them.

I cared about him. “Too good to me,” I kept mumbling.

“Oh, hush,” he mumbled back, and got me to bed.

I was exhausted. I had to do most of this again tomorrow? Somehow? Why in blazes had I gotten a job, again?

Martin was already out, eyelashes moving with his dreams, breathing softly.

What was I even truly being asked to do? Was I being used like Jonah had used me before?

I had no way to know that tonight, and I was too damned tired to think about it. And I still had to go to work.

Web Martin, I decided before I slept, was giving me a gosdamned raise.

[hpdfag]

Your three kitties are absolutely so adorable. I have three too!! I just love looking at them sm,,,

Also good luck on your uh thousandth replay of SDR2? Like yass let’s add up to those…I don’t remember 2k hours of gameplay? I seriously don’t remember. But good luck! Autism wins today.

Strange question but what do you think of 2020-2021 danganronpa fandom or just media in general…tw for nsfw regarding dr but I was a shameless DR role player who did erotic rp. Nowadays I have found out I was just very psychotic and I didn’t understand that and responded with psychosis…but it sure is a dark time…! I’m not a role player and stuff tho nowadays dw dw I just thought you sounded cool. Well, I hope you have a great day,,,

- 🧶

hehe thats lovely !! i wish tumblr let you send images thru anon so u could send me pics .. (though i understand why anon image sharing cld be Abused...)

and its 200 hours!! 2k hours would end up as like a third of a year straight having dr running which would be a nightmare despite how much i love the game...

and i was a fan in 2020 and god. do i not miss it. im glad the hype around the games has died down because it was just hellish trying to exist as myself back then ... i was essentially a stereotype of a "faker" because my delusions center arnd being komaeda lolol. also none of the jokes were ever funny if i hear one more bagel "joke" im gonna start actually maiming.

i think generally it was just a symptom of being a big fandom at the time, any fandom with enough people (especially people that hop fandom to fandom based on popularity) will be a total abysmal mess and i try to avoid those whenever possible. and i truly have nothing against roleplayers, i think its a fun hobby, i always just feel weird seein people rp my friends and i lolol (and i dont want people mistaking my vents for like. in character musing. like no i do unfortunately think all of this is real)

and i hope you have a good day too !! since i finished up cleaning for the day (you can see my floor now! how lovely!) im gonna dick arnd in bloxburg for a while .. ive been working on a new house for a while and im excited to get it looking nice :D (ill probably also be doing more work for artfight later but for now .. rest tiem)

[myel-stress-wd]

Hello, I want to discuss something with you regarding your post about Spain being a “father figure” to your Mexico and how this is not a very good take.

- You do realize that Cortez’s brief stay in Tenochtitlán, while “pacifist” was the beginning of what would be one of the most disgusting acts of violence against the Mexica peoples and later lead to the colonization of Mexico? Cortez and his men where later ran out during “Noche Triste” where they had to retreat and join forces with the Tlaxcalans, Otomi and several other tribes who where on bad terms with the Mexica just to sack and burn Tenochtitlán.

- Making your Mexico Spain’s kid (regardless of whether or not they’re biologically related) is unintentionally romanticizing the colonization and brutality the Spanish committed against the Mexica peoples. I’m not denying the Spanish influence Mexico has, I’m Mexican myself. I’m simply saying that colonialism shouldn’t be romanticized.

If you want me to elaborate on any of these points I will do so gladly. I mean no ill towards you, I simply want you to maybe take another look at how you write these character’s relationship.

I don't know why it won't let me publish it in Spanish… but here I'm going to put images of what it says in Spanish and if you want, you can read the English translation at the end!

~~~~~~

Here is the English translation!

I'm not a fluent English speaker but I try to use it for the community on Tumblr! <3

Hello buddy from Mexico, I'm from Mexico too! I totally understand everything you are saying, but I wanted to make the explanation in Spanish so you could understand me in the best way.

Luis at the time of the conquest, he was less than 200 years old when he was born/appeared in the territory of Tenochtitlan, but his presence was important for the consolidation of what would later become "New Spain". Well, I take Antonio/Spain, to be the father figure of my Mexico because to begin with Luis was physically and mentally between 5 - 7 years old when the territory was taken, he was present at the murder of Moctezuma's offspring, but as you may notice he was just a little boy, what he did was to suppress the terrible and bloody memories about the bad times during the Spanish occupation of Mexico.

There are children who do not remember parts of their childhood, partly because as you get older your memory goes through a process of erasure from an early age, but with Luis he blocked out the experiences in reaction to prevent such a traumatic event from driving him mad. Antonio sheltered him in his arms and obviously he, not having overcome the mourning of his first father figure, sought desperately to cling to a new one with whom he would associate all the good and his new care.

In my interpretation I have 2 more Mexicans! Teresa is the South of Mexico and Mateo plays the North. None of the 3 share the same age nor the same experience of the invasion.

Luis would have been between 5-7 years old, Teresa between 9 -11 and Mateo is the youngest as the northern territory itself was not very populated, he had physical and mental years between 2 - 4 years old. Teresa was the most "mature" of the three and she and Mateo share the idea that Antonio was an invader, someone who took away their original home, but all three were born to be the representation of New Spain and later of the Mexican territory!

And as I have said before, Luis represents the centre of Mexico, the part with much more European influence than the north or south of the same country (not to say that there is no European influence in these parts. There are many cathedrals and government buildings in the centres of our states that have a colonial style!), but historically, Mexico did not stop pursuing the idea of "being like Europe" until 1921, a little more than 100 years ago.

A piece of information I heard in a podcast called "the true history of Mexico", by a Mexican historian and psychologist called Francisco Mendoza, he talked about the American invasion, in one of the chapters he explained that there was a president of Mexico who was so terrified by the idea of Mexico disappearing and decided to make a proposal to send a letter to Spain and ask them to send a prince, Obviously this person was removed from power, but I don't doubt that Luis could have been someone who supported the idea, because he lived all that time with the father figure attachment he gave to Antonio/Spain. His brothers later gave him a good beating for that, but he could have been the one behind the idea.

Even later, when the Austrian emperor arrived from France some time later, Luis received him with enormous affection and affection, and how could he not? He did a lot of good things for the Mexican people even though they didn't know about it because they couldn't read or write, and later the Ministry of Public Education (SEP in Mexico) itself had to take some of the many writings that Maximilian of Habsburg was going to propose to form the educational system that we have!

Also, in the Porfiriato itself, there were many buildings influenced by French architecture, such as the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City. Historically speaking, Mexico did not stop chasing Europe until after the Mexican Revolution, and nowadays the city centre still has a lot of European influence. We ourselves are the product of years of miscegenation.

I never meant to imply that the actions taken by the Spanish Empire in Mexico Tenochtitlan were good! I just want to make it clear that Luis was a child when all this happened and his attachment to Antonio came from the trauma of a loss at an early age. If you want me to explain more about my interpretation of my children you can ask me again and I will answer calmly! ✨

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

This gets long. It continues my obsession with old Edinburgh Fringe Festival videos. It is of interest to no one in the world besides me.

Okay, the situation is: I’ve just gotten back from a wonderful week-long vacation by the ocean, I am now home where there is no ocean, I’m starting a new job tomorrow, I’m very anxious about it (I did just start another new job a couple of months ago, but I was so desperate for a job at the time that I’d applied for everything and took the first thing I was offered, then something I wanted more came back and offered me something so I took that instead, now I start that other thing tomorrow, I would feel bad for leaving my old job so soon except that they were doing a lot of illegal shit that I cannot get into in one Tumblr post but just trust me that they broke far too many labour laws to deserve my loyalty, this is getting off topic). I just spent some time very carefully going through the Cowgate video to find a screenshot that could be my new cover image, I ended up going with this:

That was taken from this video, of an event that I refer to as Cowgate, due to it being a cow-related scandal that also took place near the Edinburgh neighbourhood of Cowgate:

I had to go through that video to find the screenshot, and this reminded me of how many questions I have about it, so I have decided to distract myself from new job anxiety by writing a post that lists just a few of my top 200 questions about that fucking video. Let’s go through it, shall we? It’s been a while since I’ve done a post that self-indulgently goes into great detail about that video that no one in the world want to think about nearly as much as I do. Not that I’ve never done that before. But it’s been a while, and that'll be a good distraction.

Essential, all-encompassing question: Where did they get the cow?

There are several possible classes of answer here, all of which inspire different follow-ups. As far as I can see, there are two overall possibilities: the cow was there when they arrived and they did not plan it, or they specifically procured a cow for this purpose. I think it’s more likely to be the former, because at the beginning of this video (a video that I put together myself, by the way, cutting out things from two different videos that I got on YouTube, because somehow this was captured twice and uploaded to YouTube by two totally separate accounts, and I combined them), you see Daniel Kitson sitting on the cow at what seems to be the beginning of the night, and he seems to be figuring out what it is along with the audience.

If it’s the former: How did it get there? Who put it there? Why did they put it there? Where did they get it? How did they feel about it being destroyed?

Did the Chocolate Milk Gang know it would be there before they arrived? If so, did they plan its destruction in advance? If the answer to one or both those questions is no, when and how did the plan formulate? How did they work out that they were allowed to do it? Presumably you can’t just destroy shit that’s on stage without consulting someone. Did they consult someone while the show was happening? Does that explain why the weapons they used all look like things they might have found backstage at the last minute? Why someone walks in during the scene and hands John Oliver a metal pipe like one out of the game Clue/Cluedo? That would make more sense if they had not prepared this beforehand.

Here's one theory of mine on that’s subject: I think the plan was formulated sometime after the first clip in this video, when the audience was shouting challenges at Kitson for things he should do with the cow (ride it, touch it, jump off it), and he told them their challenges were too easy. I think that after the camera stopped filming, the audience started issuing more difficult challenges, and one of those challenges was to rip it in half.

Another question if that’s the case: How were they initially planning to end that night? What got bumped for last-minute cow destruction?

But all my theories could be wrong. They all have the issue that I’m not sure you can get permission to destroy a large installation once a show has already started. So maybe it was the latter of those initial options, and they did plan it beforehand. Which brings up lots of other questions, such as: Why? Who thought of it? Why? What were the plans leading up to it? I still want to know where they got the cow, and how they got permission to bring it to the Gilded Balloon and destroy it on stage.

All of that can be summarized in two main questions: “Where did the cow come from?” and “How did the plan to destroy the cow come about?” But there’s another main, overarching question, which is: “What the fuck was the plan? What were they actually doing?”

I mean, clearly they were trying to destroy the cow. But why? What were the parametres of the challenge? Adam Hills says they have “three chances”, and they’ll either succeed or “bottle it”. Does that mean they tried two other times earlier in the night to destroy the cow, and only succeeded on this third attempt? That’s pretty good, if so, because this is clearly the end of the night (you see Kitson come out afterward to introduce the band, signifying that comedy is over). So it’s some good narrative planning if they managed to space out two failed attempts and then got it right at the end.

That might explain why Kitson got involved. At first he’s hanging back, just doing hype with Adam Hills. At some point, it looks to me like he figures out they’ll be here all night if he leaves them to it. He starts giving specific advice – Adam Hills is yelling Eminem songs at them, and Daniel Kitson starts saying helpful things like “combine the chisel at the hammer”. It’s shortly after that that he, as far as I can tell, decides they won’t manage this without him, even though he’s tried to tell them how to do it, so he jumps in there and helps. That would make even more sense if they'd tried this twice before and it hadn't worked, they'd agreed on some sort of challenge (with the audience, maybe) in which they had to do it in three tries, also it was the end of the night and the last night of the Festival and they wanted to get it fucking done.

I might be wrong, it's difficult to tell, but I think Daniel Kitson was right to think they needed him, because he's the one who actually ended up breaking it. I've tried to figure this out before, mainly because I've decided I desperately want a Taskmaster one-off live task someday in which they wheel the Taskmaster cow on stage in the studio in front of these five people and tell them that the first person to break it in half wins. So even though it was a collective effort, I want to know who actually would win if this were a Taskmaster task. And I think it may have been Kitson. You can see him kick it pretty hard, then hit it once with his hammer, and then it immediately comes apart and he throws his hands in the air in celebration:

It might have been too much of a joint effort to give the points to any one person, though. John using leverage definitely helped.

The other option for what “three chances” means is it was only meant to be three people trying to destroy the cow: David O’Doherty, Demetri Martin, and John Oliver. That would mean they didn’t really succeed in their challenge, since Daniel Kitson ended up helping. But I don’t know if it really makes sense – do three people working together and concurrently count as three separate chances?

Look, let’s go through the lyrics to really understand everything going on here. From Mr. Adam Hills:

If you had three chances... Would you take 'em? Or would you quite literally bottle it?

I've covered the "three chances" thing already; I don't quite know what he means by that. But I'm also not sure what he means by "bottle it". I know that's slang for fucking things up, but why would they literally bottle it? The use of the words "quite literally" imply that an actual bottle is somehow involved in this. I have no idea how.

His palms are sweaty, his hair is sweaty, He's ready to shoot spaghetti

This is a sort of parody ("parody" might be a word that gives it more credit than it deserves) of Lose Yourself by Eminem, obviously, since that's the beat that's playing in the background. I point this out only because it comes back later, when he starts singing a different Eminem song, having apparently forgotten which one he was supposed to be doing.

He's got a cow on stage It's got red horns, it's all the rage

I find those lyrics worth mentioning because here's another video from earlier in that same night (one that I also put together by combing clips from two separate YouTube videos):

Adam Hills is freestyle rapping there, but he got the idea of rhyming "stage" with "all the rage" from David O'Doherty, who had used the same rhyme in his own on-the-spot rapping earlier in that same Late 'n' Live show.

It's cow tipping, it's not quite shitty Get that cow down in this city Take it up the Royal Mile, attack it with a hammer

The Royal Mile is a stretch of road in Edinburgh that I think is meant to be a central hub of people and bars and whatever wild things happen during that festival. In the YouTube comments of one of those videos (the original one, that I cut up to make the one linked in this post), someone said they did, in fact, carry the broken cow up the Royal Mile after they'd crowd surfed it out of the building. So apparently enough planning had gone into it beforehand so that they knew, at this point, that that's what they wanted to do. Maybe that was part of the challenge? They had to break the cow in half and then carry it up the Royal Mile?

At this point I will skip a few lines, because even I cannot bring myself to type out every word that Adam Hills said around the line "fuck the udder", but I do find it very funny to watch Adam Hills getting really into his role as hype man, while Daniel Kitson watches beside him, tries to look like he's also playing the hype man because that's what he's supposed to do, but he knows he needs to also be actually paying attention to how the whole thing's going and making sure to keep it on track. He's trying to look as though he's fully thrown himself into it and isn't putting any effort into controlling the gig, whereas Adam, I think, has genuinely thrown himself too far into it to keep anything on track. Does that say something about their different styles of comedy and/or compering? Possibly. Adam Hills definitely grew into a host who could keep a live show on track (and has done it on many Fridays for many years), but it never seems as natural for him as it does for Kitson to have one eye on appearing to be fully caught up in stuff, and one eye on keeping tight control over the situation.

Anyway, the result is Adam yelling increasingly nonsensical shit around the words "fuck the udder", and then Kitson puts one hand over his mouth and one in the air in an exaggerated parody of a hype man, but what he actually says is:

Davey, Davey, what you need to do is combine the chisel and the hammer

Not hype. Genuine advice designed to get this done so they can win the challenge and get out of here. I find it quite funny how David O'Doherty was diligently focused on the cow for the whole time, until Kitson yelled that at him, when he suddenly stopped and looked up like "Oh... right, yes, I'll get right on that."

I also enjoy the way John Oliver looked up at him too while he was yelling this helpful advice, like, yep, that's the guy I'm on the same page with, the one who will do the rapping but only with full awareness that it's all bullshit and we just need to accomplish the task and go get milkshakes:

There’s Martin, Demetri Martin The Perrier win has left me smartin’

That is a reference to something that would have just happened, as this is the last night of the Fringe Festival and I assume they do awards at the end. Adam Hills had, in fact, been nominated for the Perrier Award that year, but Demetri Martin had beaten him. He had also been nominated the previous year, and lost to Daniel Kitson. And he'd been nominated the year before that, and lost to Garth Marenghi (Matthew Holness and Richard Ayoade). After 2003, he was no longer eligible for the award, putting him in the James Acaster class of people who were nominated several times but never won (not as many times as Acaster, but still).

John Oliver, he’s the man If that pipe won’t do it nothing can

You could make a lot of money if you put that on t-shirts and sold them. People won't even need to know the context.

David O-ha-doch-her-ty He comes from Ireland, the land of the green Daniel Kitson, he’s got a hammer He’s also got one motherfucking stammer

I mean, the way he added several extra syllables to DO'D's name so it'll scan for a song is still far from the least accurate pronunciation of that name that I've heard. What I like about this part is how absolutely no one reacts. They are all so engrossed in their cow destroying task, no one even looks up at Adam. DO'D doesn't want to engage with whether Ireland should be reduced to "the land of the green". Kitson does not retort about his stutter. Martin won't be drawn into competitiveness about the Perrier Award. They all have a very important job to do and will not be distracted.

It's time break this cow down It’s time to break this cow down It’s not time to chow down It’s time to break this cow down

Is anyone else beginning to suspect that Adam Hills may not have been 100% sober during the recording of this video? Though it is worth noting that the Chocolate Milk Gang got their name because they drank milkshakes instead of alcohol after late-night Edinburgh shows. Stewart Lee called it "a cult of abstinence built around Daniel Kitson" - which probably says more about Stewart Lee than anything else, if he thinks not getting drunk every night is a cult, but still. I think that means that the Chocolate Milk Gang members in this video (Kitson, Oliver, O'Doherty, Martin) all were sober they whole time they were taking apart the cow.

Late 'n' Live, Late 'n' Live, it's the very last night It's time to wrap this show up tight Send out the front, send out... Break the cow, break it in half Lead it out the front to the path

Another reference to bringing it out the door. So that must have been part of the challenge from the beginning, not something the audience spontaneously did. Break it in half, crowd surf it out, take it up the Royal Mile. But why?

Karen Koren, she's outside She's got petrol dripping down her eyes There was a fire at the Gilded Balloon The police found no one else was to blame If this season doesn't go well This fucking venue's going up in flames

Okay, it took me a while to work out the meaning of this part, but I know it now. Karen Koren was (and still is) the owner of the Gilded Balloon venue, which hosted (and still hosts) Late 'n' Live, a show that runs late into the night during multiple nights (most nights or maybe even all of them, I get the impression, at least back then, but I'm not entirely sure of that) of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Late 'n' Live has one person hosting all night, bringing on different comedians who do different stuff throughout the night, the lineup changes depending on availability and other stuff. Then when they're done (around 3 AM, I think, at least back then), they bring out a band to play and it becomes a dance floor. Daniel Kitson hosted it for several years in the late 90s/early 00s, and that's what was happening here, in 2003. It was, as Adam Hills said earlier, the "very last night" of the 2003 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and this was that night's Late 'n' Live show, hosted by Kitson with all these other comedians around throughout the night. That's all useful context.

In late 2002, there was a fire in Cowgate, which is the neighbourhood in Edinburgh where the original Gilded Ballon was. The Gilded Balloon burned down, and was rebuilt nearby. So this event, less than a year later, is taking place in the rebuilt version.

So here's what Adam Hills was saying (jokingly, it's worth clarifying) with that verse: Karen Koren, owner of this building, is currently outside with petrol. If this year's shows at the Gilded Balloon don't go well enough to make as much money as she wants, she'll burn the building down (I guess for the insurance money or something, to make up for insufficient revenue). He's implying that that's how the previous year's fire happened, the police incorrectly found no one to blame, and she'll do it again if they don't make her happy.

The cow's in half, the cow's in half Let's hear it for the cow in half! My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Get out of bed at all The morning sun goes up my window, and I can't see at all Even if I could it'll all be grey But your picture on the wall Reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad...

All those lines after "Let's hear it for the cow in half" are from the Eminem song Stan, which is a different song from Lose Yourself, the one he was doing at the beginning. It is funny that Adam Hills forgot what Eminem song he was singing and started doing the wrong one. But it's not shocking. Because here's a clip from 4 at the Fringe, a BBC Radio 4 show that was recorded at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival - this episode was recorded at the Fringe in 2003, with Adam Hills compering, and here is doing some of his material between a couple of the acts:

At the Fringe Festival in 2003, Adam Hills had a bit in which he sang some of the Eminem song Stan. I assume all the bits he did during his compering were taken from his larger set that year, which means he'd have been doing that nearly every night for a month, every time he performed. So it was in his head. When he was, I'm going to guess, drunk, and he was on stage and hearing Eminem, he just automatically started singing Stan because he'd been doing it all month.

Crowd surf the cow, people.

Once the cow is broken in half and being crowd surfed out of there, Daniel Kitson high fives Demetri Martin and David O'Doherty, turns around to high five John Oliver, then hugs Adam Hills, like a sports team that's just won a big game. Great work everyone, real strong teamwork out there, couldn't have done it without you all, okay, hit the showers.

It is, and this is only the slightest of exaggerations, the cutest shit I've ever seen.

This video is going to haunt me for the rest of my fucking life. It's keeping me awake at night. If I could ask any of those comedians one question, my brain would pass by all the interesting intellectual things I want to know about some of my favourite creators of valuable works of artistic merit in the world, would give up the chance to learn anything about any of that, just to ask, "Where did you get the fucking cow?"

[aller-geez]

why do people assume everyone is the good protagonist that can't be hurt and is invincible and doesnt get affected by hate seriously i- listen i fully understand how you feel, and that you made an apology is amazing. But i also understand you rant on the internet because it hurt you more than you hurt anyone else. And now ppl are suddenly shitting on your hair, only because of one photo i seriously can't imagine how you must feel right now. I'm literally so angry.

Listen, this is what happened. Geezie worked super hard to create all the drawings she created, and did something admittedly pretty horrible once, and now people are ignoring the effort from earlier, hating on her, claiming she did it everytime, which i can kinda understand. But what i do NOT understand is that someone can come over and tell you to improve because you're mental health is affected by it!! I cannot grasp that mentality! You must have a great fucking life to be able to say something like that. Now if anyone hates geezie more because a FAN of her (aka not herself) can't take the critisism she received, dont you fucking dare to direct even more hate at someone who's been bullied for a reason, but nevertheless bullied. Listen, viceous words are as sharp as knifes and it hurts even more coming from a community that has loved and accepted you for a while. Can't no one understand that??

That’s honestly kind of where I’m at with it all..

Like, I know I fucked up, trust me. I am in no way trying to excuse what happened, or minimize it in the slightest.

But the amount of pure hate I’m receiving about personal shit due to something as vulnerable as fetish art that was instantly taken down, apologized for, and even the reblog that started it all was deleted.

The space I felt the safest with who I am suddenly made me feel like less than nothing over something that could have been handled by sending me a dm and I would have had the same reaction.. But instead there’s people insulting my appearance, and I can’t even scroll through my dashboard without seeing someone post about it. I’ve drawn over 200 pieces since April when I joined, which is an embarrassing amount of hours and finger calluses from my Apple Pencil.

And all of it was set on fire because no one could just shoot me a message..

So I feel, as someone who is diagnosed with a grab bag of mental illnesses including bpd, and autism, I’m allowed to feel depressed that 4 months of work and all of that time I’ve spent on art to go up in smoke..

Yes, I definitely caused it and haven’t tried once to defend my actions. I am extremely sorry.

But the hate I’m getting is so hard to not internalize when I already struggle every day with keeping my head above water.

Idk, maybe I’m expecting too much, maybe I’m just rambling and this will just further the clown image I already have going on for myself. Idk

either way, thanks for your support and kind words, it really means a lot to me.

[weirdhasanxiety]

So. Hey, I’m back, just not with a drawing as per usual, apologies.

A warning to artists doing comms:

TL;DR: When doing comms, check email addresses, don’t forward any money before you’ve received any(or just don’t forward any at all), and ask for details of your commission to the commissioner.

I got scammed out of 200 USD on Instagram the other day.

I usually don’t do comms(because online money exchange is risky and I’m just not familiar with it), but a guy called Fred James(likely a randomly generated name) messaged me asking if I would be willing to do a drawing of his kid’s dog for 300USD.

I had some time, the guy’s dog was cute, and even after me saying ‘no, you don’t need to pay, I’ll just doodle something up for you’ multiple times he insisted, and me being the pushover I am I said ‘okay, I’ll open a PayPal’.

I did that, and he said he’d sent the 300 over. Then an email popped up, saying that for ‘verification’ the guy needed to send an additional 200 over and I needed to refund it to get my 300, and I actually did it.

I was panicking about this over on discord, and another artist who did comms pointed out that this might be a scam, and I double checked the email addresses. One from PayPal saying that I’d added a card to my PayPal, and the other saying that I needed to give the guy 200.

They were different(though very similar). It was a fucking scam.

I was angry, and I felt guilty over it for days.

Another email from the same fake address came the day after asking me to send an additional 300 over. I forwarded it to PayPal’s phishing address, deleted it and the other two fake emails, and just went to crochet to try and feel better about this whole shitshow.

I really hate how this guy took advantage of my unfamiliarity with commissions and PayPal, and because of this I doubt I’ll be doing any comms in the future, and my relatives(and my parents) have told me to take all my art off the internet, stop using social media and just… stop. With online art.

As seen with this post, I’m not going to do that, because I like sharing my art with people, and I’m not doing it for profit, anyways. I got greedy this time. I’ll not make that mistake again.

In hindsight, all the hints were there. When I asked the guy about what style he wanted, he didn’t answer. When I asked what his son’s name was, he didn’t answer. When I refused payment, he insisted, and he told me to give my name despite it being not necessary for PayPal transactions.

The fake emails he sent me had my name, and I know I’d given him my email as well, which is why the emails had my name and looked so official.

The emails’s images were all missing, too, and the copyright thing at the bottom said 20xx-2022. That’s another thing I missed.

I’m putting this out there, because I’ve checked my message requests on Insta, and there were two more people there asking ‘Do you do commissions?’, the exact same thing the scam guy asked me.

There’s nothing wrong with doing commissions. You do art for someone, you get paid, and that’s great!

But please, be careful. Check the addresses of your emails. Ask for commission details. Don’t send money to anyone before checking if it is legit.

(Unrelated to my particular case, but according to some friends, a lot of comm artists receive a percentage after doing the sketch, and the rest after they finish the final piece, to avoid getting scammed)

That’s all, I guess. And I did an initial doodle of the dog, too.

And to think I was so excited. I’m going to be terrified of doing comms, now, fuck.

Fuck you, scammers. Fuck you for taking advantage of us.

And fuck myself for not being careful enough.

[theharrowing]

Did you read the new Yoongi Weverse article? It kinda talks about the D-DAY concert in terms of stage, setlist, and the vcrs. I was surprised that the chain hands in the background is Suga watching Suga. The reference to “first love” with the “brown piano”. WHY WASNT FIRST LOVE IN THE SETLIST?! 😭 I LOVE THAT SONG! It makes sense that it probably doesn’t fit in the overall storyline of the setlist but damn😢 I also can’t believe they weren’t sure about adding songs from the “Agust D” album. “The Last” is essential! It never fails to make me emotional. The shoulder grab 😢 The walk away is fitting. But it’s kinda sad to not have an official goodbye at the end of a concert. I love the ending ment Yoongi does though. He’s a cute tease lol

OMG MAPLELEEEAAAFFFF!!!!!🍁💜

you have once again fallen victim to responses getting lost in drafts. 😶😶😶 i think i went off to find images of the agust d/gimme more cgi to add to this response and then never came back. i am very flightly sometimes.

anyway, yes, i did catch that it was the creepy cgi version of himself watching and toying with the stage during the second and third nights when i was watching from up in the seats. so cool. he's so cool.

ANYWAY, here is what i wrote before i so rudely interrupted myself: AHHHH I LOVED THE ARTICLE. I LOVE YOONGI. I MISS THE D-DAY TOUR SO MUCH. 😩😭🥺😍 honestly, i love First Love, but i wasn't surprised that it was missing because it doesn't really match the vibe, overall? although!!! with a live band, he could have done anything to make it match the vibe, and i'm sure if he had included it, it would have been awesome. i personally really wanted to scream sing 28, but i was still very pleased with what i got.

i was actually very surprised to see The Last. a friend was saying she hoped he would play it and i was like "hmmm idk that one seems almost too personal..." but it fit PERFECTLY and GOD it was such a magnetic way to end the set. i remember seeing clips from it and being liek WHAT THE FUCK WHATTHEFUUUUUUUCCCCKK!!!!!!! i think it is perfect the way he did it, with doing some ending stuff between D-Day and Nevermind, introducing the band and dancers, and taking their bows then. i find it pulls me kind of out of the mood when they stop at the end to talk, so seeing him end on a powerful note and walk off was just asldjaslkdjalskjdaslda ugh so fucking perfect. i love him so much. everything about that set was so fucking good, and i could watch it again and again. 🥺🥺🥺

i really love having the chance to read about his thoughts and the plans, and hearing how the stage directors were planning. it was kind of clear to me, after a few watches, that they were stripping everything bare and that the fire was "burning everything away" in a way, and i loved hearing in their words what the plan was. it was so cool. i used to photograph live events, and i have seen well over 200 concerts, and i have never seen anything like that. 💜💜💜

[urlocallesbiabs-reblog-sideblog]

[Image Description:

tumblr tags that read:

#mine was a $35 stuffed dolphin i got from the gift shop at the zoo in first grade #now why do you remember the admittedly expensive exact price of this stuffed animal topsy i hear u ask #well i'll tell you why i remember it's because my parents said i couldn't buy it #or see they tried to #bc i imagine telling a first grader with no income #'you can buy a toy that expensive when you can pay for it yourself' is Parents for 'no' #but i operate by fae law and all i heard was a win condition #and i will tell you right now i was not about to let myself be taught a life lesson about the value of money no SIR #i went RABID #for the next 3 weeks i spent every spare second crawling under furniture and scanning the bottom of the public pool #and insisting we go to different parks every day so i could Hunt #and after all that i marched up to my parents with 35 dollars worth of LOOSE CHANGE #in MOSTLY PENNIES #and went ok i can pay for the dolphin take me back to the zoo #and they did #well they took me to the bank first to roll up all the coins and exchange them for cash #but yeah. got the dolphin #the funny thing is my parents tried to pull the same shit AGAIN when i wanted an ipod touch later on in like middle school #maybe because they thought $300 would be too much for me maybe bc they wanted to see what would happen #maybe bc they wanted me to get a job #found a solid gold bracelet on the ground that a jeweler gave me about 200 for and then enough cash to make up the difference #in once again the space of a few weeks #marched up with the 300 dollars and went ok i can pay for the itouch take me to the apple store

/end ID]

How many people’s most beloved childhood stuffed animals are actually teddy bears, like I feel like that’s a thing someone made up. Reblog this and put what your longest owned and/or favorite stuffed animal as a child was in the tags, inquiring minds want to know

[sillysurrealwriter]

Künstlich auf Ewig

“Goddamn it! Not again!”

I stared at my recent posted artwork, on the platform known as UArt. I’ve been a user of this app for almost a year and posted artwork after artwork....

Yet no matter how much I drew or what I drew for that matter, my likes were only around 5-10. 15 on a good day.

It was so frustrating....

Oh right. Sorry, I haven’t told you who I am yet. My name is Emily and I am a 18 year old artist. I loved drawing for my whole life. To just create my own worlds, characters and whatnot....It’s magical. Art was my favourite subject in school even, the only one I excelled at while the rest was....Let’s not talk about that. I did end up graduating after all (somehow).

I was working as a cashier, at a local supermarket and tried in my freetime my hardest, to make my art business run well. I posted regularly, posted stories and connected with other artists. My online friends liked the water color painting style that my drawings often had. My own artstyle.

Yet....in spite of all the support, I never had anyone commission me... Well except a few people, who ended up scamming me out of 200 dollars and now I am in credit card debt. Urgh.... Mom and dad didnt like that and haven’t talked to me since. Was about 2 months ago.

Right now, I was getting out of bed and looking on my phone. Today, I had a day off so I wanted to spend some time to work on my artwork.

But sadly, my motivation sunk faster than the Titanic.

Because my artwork, which depicted my OC a serial killer who loves strawberry and uses the blood to make strawberry, barely got any likes. Which wasn’t unusual. But I wasn’t mad about that.

No...I was mad at another artwork. Well....No. Calling it artwork would be an insult.

Because I was looking at soulless trash of a beautiful anime girl. An AI-generated image. Guess how many likes that one got?

If you guessed 90k, then you are correct.

There were so many comments, praising this soulless piece of trash. Simping for this thing...just because of the fat milkers and charming smile.

Barely a single comment, called the artist out for using AI. I mean, come on! Her thumbs were as long as the other fingers and as thin too. Not to mention that the dress she was wearing was fused with the background.

Either the “artist” who posted this shit, deleted all the comments. Or some people are too horny, to see what’s in front of them in the mirror...well, on the screen. But you get me, right?

It’s not fair!

I work day and night to generate artwork after artwork, barely getting any likes. And what does this user do?!

Just type in some stupid commands, to generate this shit!

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to scream.

God...I needed some coffee......

Forcing myself to get out of bed, I slumped towards the kitchen and immediately poured tons of coffee into the machine, as I sat down and ate some chocolate cake I made from last night. My figure was rather plumb and it was annoying that people make fun of my weight.

But I think I am physically well off. Otherwise, I would have already had an cardiac arrest, lifting those water pack bottles in the back. Seriously.

I am strong enough, to lift two boxes on my shoulder. I am fine, damn it.

Urgh...

Sipping out of my coffee, I noticed yet another rent notice on the ground. The landlord was starting to get impatient.

Damn it............

I needed money quickly.

I...needed-

Suddenly, I saw a notification on my phone. Someone sent me a DM. With a smile, I opened it and began to read it.

“Hey MagicMaroon, I love your art. Its soo cool and it inspired me, to make my own AI Art using your style. Hope you like it!” :D

I stopped smiling, when I saw the post he forwarded too.

It...was the same stupid ai artist......And...

He made an ai-generated image with my style!

And...it got 10 k likes already!

I gritted my teeth angrily and typed.

“Take it down.”

“Why?”, he asked. “I like it.”

“You stole my art!”

“Well, your fault for posting it to begin with.”, he answered, with a laughing emoji. “Nothing on the internet is private. I can do what I want and I gave credit too. Check the desc.”

My eye twitched, as I read the description.

They wrote “Credit to the artist”

I typed again.

“You fucking bastard! Type my name!”

“Hm? But why? It’s not like you have tons of followers anyway. Plus, I made the art. Not you. I am a way better artist than you. Haha xD”

I groaned angrily.

He...he had the nerve to steal my art....something I worked on for years.....And mocked me?!

That’s it!

I quickly took screenshots of the convo, while that bastard kept writing me.

“I made 90 k with all my art!

“I made the best art ever!”

“AI is the future. No one cares about weak humans like you.”

“Hello, why are you not responding?”

I smirked and then swiped to the story board and then made a long post, detailing my screenshots.

And then....I posted it.

It took a bit, but eventually I got likes.

First one...

Then two...

Then three...

I got more and more likes and shares and I waited patiently, for the little shit to write back in shock.

I smiled and then swiped to the DM profile and laughed.

His account was no longer there. It got deleted.

“Take that, art thief!”, I shouted and laughed loudly. God...this made my day......

And it barely started!

Giggling to myself, I suddenly noticed an email popping up. Curiously, I opened it and.....

.......it was from the AI artist, MoonDream AI. He wrote:

“Listen bitch. You made a big mistake. You cost me a lot. You will pay.”

Rolling my eyes, I blocked the bastard and got up happily.

Time to draw another painting.

The next hours were rather uneventful. I painted on my phone, as my account got more and more followers and my art got more and more likes. Many artist reached out to me, in order to share their experiences and frustration with AI art. It was liberating.

And in the upcoming days, I even got a few comissions and I finished em all in a couple of days, making about 400 dollars, enough to pay my stupid rent.

At last, everything was going my way. Which is why I was sitting in my home in the evening, watching Netflix. It had been a week since that AI artist disappeared from the end of the earth and I was feeling quite relaxed, to say the least.

Things were going great.....

At least, I thought they did. Because no matter how hard I tried to draw, I still had that mail in my head.

It sounded threatening...but, what were they gonna do? I blocked them and their account is no more.

I should just relax for the time being. Some guys on the net can talk big, but have next to not action. Which is why, I simply needed to relax for now.

Stuffing my mouth with a bit of popcorn, I hummed relaxed and stared at the TV. Right now, the main character was about to kiss his lover and have hot sex with him. Slowly, I watched in awe as he took off his shirt, for their tongues to clash and their little buddies to perk out, when-

.....something strange happened.

The hand....the hand of the MC.......

Why did it suddenly have a 6th finger? An animation error?

Well.....it happens. It-

Wait...why did the hand now go into the penis, as if it was liquid? And..why....

The men....they kiss but...........their tongues...fuse with each other and their hair..fuses with the noses...

Suddenly, they barely resemble people anymore! Wh...What’s going on?!

The background..it was a bed and now....and now......its...a car? And...then......a boat?

The animation changes constantly! Like...like a machine and...and....and....and....and.....

................Wait...........

I blinked briefly.

And all of a sudden, I was sitting in the darkness. My breathing hitched, as disgusting images shot through my mind.

That grotesque animation....those...disgusting gory visuals....the faces I was looking at, shifting into different people every second.....

I coughed something out. I...I thought it was blood, but....

It...was some black liquid.

I vomited the substance out heavily and fell on the floor, the room filling with some strange scent that reminded me of some rotten meat and sweet candy.

It...was disgusting...So disgusting...

And those images...they kept on coming...and..and...my limbs...

They...twisted...turned....and....and.....lost the right proportions...My leg was twice as big as my body, my head was as small as my pinkie and my limbs were as thin as my hair, as my breasts expanded and became as big as my leg and arm respectively.

I tried to scream, but the substance began to make me choke. I screamed in pain and...and...and.....

................................

................................

...............................

The next day, another artwork was posted on URArt. The artist was Moondr_eam AI....

....and I was the artwork.

The End