#this is such a visceral image too I want to draw this

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

━━ ✧✧ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋? ✧✧ ━━

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐒 … 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆. It is bleeding all the time. Sometimes it's a gentle, almost unnoticeable trickle. Other times, it drips from your display and floods onto the carpet. It frequently needs to be dealt with- wounds that never seem to heal must be resutured and rebandaged. No one is sure where exactly the blood is coming from... but it does not seem to be of short supply. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐘. Every twitch sends another rocket of white hot pain through you. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐒��𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. You assumed incorrectly.

Tagged by: @alltimelines ( thanks for this pain ᕕ(ಥ﹏ಥ)ᕗ

Tagging: @agonizedembrace, @mxlevolence, @hemoplagued, @saviourofzaun, @essencefluxed, @deathdxnces, @deathfxnds, @steel-and-fire, @piltover-sharpshooter, @manufactoredxbyxdesign, @leadxxr, @zaunrising, @fearsgod

[widowshill]

r/v + loneliness.

102 / Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca, ch. 4 / 4 / 8 / Art Wallace, Shadows on the Wall / 603 / Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca, ch 4. / 473 / Richard Sherman, Demo: "Lovely, Lonely Man/Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Finale" / 2

[nonranghaes]

heads up: plus size!fem!reader having an off day (body image issues). reader gets called beautiful.

the feeling slips underneath your skin before you've even realized its hit you. this visceral discomfort, starting in your stomach and taking hold a little too easily. you shrink into yourself, and try to minimize yourself as much as you can today...

and seungcheol, ever the observant one when it comes to you, picks up on it. he waits until you sit back down at the end of the couch before he crawls over, hand coming to turn your face to his as he kisses you.

"hi, beautiful." he murmurs against your lips, already moving in to press soft kisses against your skin for a moment. it's his little way of reminding you that he loves you, but he draws away soon enough to get a better look at you. his hair falls into his eyes a little. "do you want to talk about it?"

you let out a groan, sinking down further into the couch cushions. "you know me too well."

he chuckles. "it's my job. did someone say something? or is it just one of those days?" one of his hands comes to rest at your side, and you nearly shrink away. "honey--"

you let out a sigh. "sorry."

"if you don't want me to touch you, i won't." he adjusts so that he's sitting next to you, careful not to cross a line. "i get it. but you know i'll always think you're beautiful. you've seen me at my worst and you're still here."

his worst is the time seungcheol had the flu a few years back and was miserable for a week. you've always insisted that he gets a free pass when he's sick (he still does, even to this date), but he's always been open about how pathetic that week alone made him feel. like he was crossing a line showing you that side of him so soon. you think it's sweet he let you take care of him (he takes care of you, too, after all). he's seen you sick plenty of times, and he hasn't run away so far...

you just reach out, brushing his hair back from his face. "i think... i need some time to get my thoughts together. and then we'll talk it out. okay?"

"okay." he leans over to kiss you, on instinct, but stops himself short. "if that's what you need."

you just close the distance, nose brushing against his own as you kiss him. "for what it's worth... you're very handsome yourself, my sweet."

seungcheol chuckles, pressing a long, lingering kiss against your cheek before he pulls you into his arms. with a blissful sigh, he curls around you, content already to hold you close. his voice is soft, enough that you don't think he actually means to say it out loud: "we match, then..."

at least you have each other on your bad days. you think you'd rather stay right here than run anyhow: his arms are infinitely warmer to stay in.

[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!

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 40

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of war

But it was beautiful, in Whumpee's eyes. And he cherished the gesture, the kindness that came with receiving a gift.

"I'm so glad you're back!" Myra squealed happily. "I've been wanting to ask you something. You said you didn't know how to write, right?"

Whumpee shook his head sadly.

"That's it, I am going to teach you how to draw no matter what!" Myra said resolutely.

Whumpee flinched slightly in surprise at the unexpected contact when Myra suddenly slipped her soft tiny hand into his giant calloused one, tugging him toward a table with paper and coloring tools on it. But he quickly recovered and let the young girl lead him away and force him to sit at the small children's table. He towered over it, and ended up convincing Myra to just let him sit on the floor instead of a chair. He'd probably break it anyway.

A small and fragile creature bossing around a giant war weapon. How cute, Whumpee thought to himself with a small grin. But he was content to play along, even if his back might be stiff later from sitting on the floor so long. It made Myra happy, and he enjoyed seeing her excitement.

Myra snatched up a paper and some crayons and put them in front of Whumpee, doing the same for herself.

"Okay, so first you have to hold it like this--" Myra demonstrated the proper way to hold a writing tool, and Whumpee tried to copy it. The first couple of tries he accidently snapped the crayon in half completely, before figuring out the right amount of gentleness required to hold without breaking. It felt like holding a thin, brittle twig.

"All right. Now you just draw whatever you feel like!" Myra squeaked, and drew one of her signature stick figures. It didn't look too hard.

...It was, in fact, significantly harder than Whumpee had expected, coordinating his thoughts with his hand that would translate it through the crayon and turn it into a recognizable image. So far all he'd managed was a bunch of wild squiggles in the shape of -- a rock? A word? He had no idea.

His hand was stiff with old scar tissue from countless battles that made it hard to flex the right muscles to get the crayon to do what he wanted and move in the right direction. It felt awkward and unnatural to keep his hand in the right position to hold it. It didn't help that the crayons were like toothpicks in his giant hands anyway.

Whumpee frowned down at his attempted creation, disappointed.

"Look, you can turn even a mess into a masterpiece!" Myra chirped, and she took a crayon of her own and scribbled two dots in the middle of the lumpy, deranged circle-thing he had drawn. "See? Now it looks like the monster under my bed!"

Whumpee couldn't help bursting out laughing. Myra was trying so hard to be helpful -- it was adorable to witness. And even funnier that a 13-year old girl was teaching a grown man to draw the simplest pictures, and even that was challenging for Whumpee.

They went through dozens of papers and countless crayons before Whumpee finally managed to make something he could be proud of.

Because there, in the center of his latest paper, was a single wobbly stick figure -- the lines not as sharp and clean as Myra always made them, but it was recognizably a stick figure, and Whumpee was ecstatic about his accomplishment. His first piece of actual art.

"Now you know how to draw!" Myra squeaked happily, and threw her little arms around Whumpee in an unexpected hug, startling him.

But then Whumpee cautiously draped a giant arm around her in return in a half-hug, oh-so-carefully, viscerally aware of his own supernatural strength. It was strange how these hands, that were usually drenched in blood, were so warm and gentle right now. How he used them for kindness just as naturally as he used them for violence.

Whumpee's gaze flicked up and he saw Flint standing in the doorway with arms crossed over his chest, an amused and slightly grateful expression on his face.

Such a strange turn of events, how Whumpee had gone from a mindless war dog... to a gentle but powerful guard dog instead. It would be a rough change for all of them, but... Whumpee was looking forward to the freedom that awaited him in the future now that the war was over. Though he had a feeling he'd stick around the headquarters anyway.

⏪️ Back (Part 1 of sequel story)

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@dragongodryss

[ginjones]

An ending (Ascent)

It’s probably not normal, Hob will reflect later, to walk in on your boyfriend sitting cross legged on the floor, wearing a giant pair of headphones, clutching a spoon in one hand, and staring into the middle distance in what can only be described as a state of divine rapture.

Perhaps it is for celebrities who have access to all the really good drugs, but celebrities don’t leave their partners bundled up in bed while they nip to Tesco’s to buy more milk.

It’s also not normal that he’s completely naked, save for one black sock which sits defiantly on his left foot. That would explain the detritus of clothing which greeted him on his way down the hall, but not whatever…this is.

Dream is sitting with his back to the living room bookcase where Hob keeps his vinyl, a selection of it discarded around him. He’s playing absently with the cord of the huge Bose headphones, weaving the coils around his delicate fingers, lost in thought. And there’s nothing to suggest he’s noticed Hob’s presence, no questioning whether Hob has remembered to pick up his favourite snack. For a moment, Hob wonders if he should whip out his phone; take a sneaky picture of this ceremonious event. Then he notices the shimmer of tears falling serenely down his partner’s cheeks and discards the notion entire.

“You okay, sweeting?”

No response. He shrugs off his messenger bag and sits down to join him, scooting over the laminate floor in a graceless bum shuffle.

A soft, white light from the overhead lamp illuminates the scene. It pours over Dream like a sheet of pure silk, highlighting his nakedness and the paleness of his skin. There’s a wonder to his expression; something soft in the way his mouth is held slightly open, his hair mussed from sleep. Like a renaissance painting, he thinks, in the way that all academics conflate one thing with the other. like Iris in the land of Hypnos and yet, he looks so human.

Because of course, he is.

It’s been 4 months and 3 days since he’d chosen to join Hob in the earthly realm of humanity. Hob’s been keeping track on the calendar, trying to offer him one new experience a day. They’ve watched classic movies, read each other poetry, (Dream still has the perfect voice for orating) and early last week Hob had introduced him to modern music (the Beatles were a hit, the Stone Roses were not).

Hob’s immediate presence must break Dream out of his reverie because slowly, sapphire eyes meet his and wordlessly he places the spoon down, picks up the sleeve of an album and holds it out to Hob like it’s the Turin shroud.

It’s not immediately identifiable. The artwork a scant wash of beige imposed over an image of moon craters; aesthetically pleasing yes, but not particularly noteworthy. Hob’s collected vinyl for the better part of five decades but his visual memory’s not the best. Without being able to hear what Dream’s listening to he’s drawing a bit of a blank. Then he sees the sparse red writing at the top and the name down the side and all at once, it clicks.

Brian Eno has broken my boyfriend.

It’s not the first time Dream’s had such a visceral response to artwork in these acclimating months. It had been very sweet to find him weeping over local artwork in the coffee shop they’d visited in Coventry. The issue was the shame he’d felt afterwards. In the car park outside, Hob had soothed him, rubbing gentle circles across his back as he listened patiently to Dream’s lament that it was all too much, these…feelings. I cannot hide them like I did before.

This time however, the tears seem to have stopped and a hazy sort of smile plays at the corner of his lips. He’s coming back to himself and in the privacy of this moment, shared only with Hob, he may be able to appreciate this outpouring of emotion for it is, something human.

“Want to take off the cans so we can talk, love?”

Hob’s pretty sure Dream hasn’t learnt to read lips, but the headphones are slowly lifted away, leaving the tinny echo of the song playing in the background. His expression changes to imitate something of his former status, a furrow of the brow, a regal upturn of his chin.  

“Ah, you have return to me. You woke me when you left you know?”

He does, in fact know this. When he had risen gently from bed that morning, Dream had moved to pull him back; a flow of pale arms moving like water, muscles softened from sleep. He’s still getting used to it; the sense that Dream belongs here. That he won’t apparat back into endlessness, leaving the bed cold, the tea undrunk, the rooms quietened by his absence.

“And I’m guessing that’ll be the reasoning you give when I find arse prints on my lovely, new laminate floor?”

“You were gone for too long; I decided to entertain myself.”

“By listening to Brian Eno naked?”

“Yes”, his eyes trail down slowly to observe his current state, “I realised clothing was detracting from the experience.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

“So, you like Brian Eno, and I can see that he’s affected you,” Dream nods slowly, looking down to the album on the ground. “What is it about this album in particular, because I can tell there are some big feelings here. I want you to know we can discuss them.”

For a moment, Dream is silent, playing with the cord in his hands. He’s sitting a little straighter now, his shoulder muscles tightened in a familiar stance. Weighted by the question perhaps, a wish to answer dutifully, but still, he pauses for several seconds longer, worrying his bottom lip.

“It is… soothing I suppose. I enjoyed the piece Mata from this composition. It is nightmarish in its construction, recalling a jungle swollen with noxious blooms, but this one?”, he places a finger to the title, An ending (Ascent). “It remindsme of the space between form and thought where I once spun the diaphanous silk of my creations. It was where I was most at peace and upon listening, I found myself reminded of those moments.”

That is, quite frankly, a lot to unpack.

At his core, Dream remains a storyteller, weaving an elaborate web of seemingly disparate ideas. Hob finds it all a bit overwhelming. How he can take a piece of art, deconstruct it, and recraft it into something new. Pulling inspiration from the air, plucking its strings, and finding where the vibrations cross paths with his own experience. And Hob must be getting better at reading his partners mind because, in a quiet, searching tone, Dream asks:

“Has it been written for me?”

This man, Hob thinks This man who has come back to me, who has crept into my life and reads my books and listens to my music. This man who lays himself out to me in naked candour.

“Oh love, come here then. Give us a cuddle.” He’s blushing now, a pink hue spreading across the lily paleness of his chest. His skin is warm when Hob pulls him closer, and it smells sweet and living from sweat. “I mean, maybe? You tell me. Ever pay Mr Eno a visit like you did Shaxberd?”

“No,” Dream continues, “but it is as if this man has looked upon me and glimpsed a fragment of my being.”

“That’s a common phenomenon of the human experience I think. Lots of people feel like songs speak directly to them. Yours just happens to be written by Brian Eno-which doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckles affectionately, “he’s quite a conceptual artist-it’s all very ethereal.”

“Ethereal…” Dream pauses, his brow crinkled in thought. “Yes, there’s an otherworldliness to it I suppose… but a tangibility all the same. How the counter melody sits low in the mix-the bass notes appear rooted to the earth while the top notes look towards the sky. What did the first humans wonder when they looked towards my mother? I do not know…. I did not care for them as I do now”.

“Well,” Hob continues, “perhaps they thought about their own existence? Their place in a world which is confusing and often painful. Perhaps they wanted to feel like they were being protected by something bigger than themselves. Spirts; angels.”

“Angels?”, Dream scoffs “Angels do not sing like this. The holy choir is faultless in its melodies. It lacks the vibrancy of imperfection, the subtle intricacies of the human spirit. No; this piece holds far more divinity.”

“Ever thought about taking up music journalism Dove? Pitchfork would have a field day.”

As predicted, there’s no response to that.

So, Hob bundles him up and they sit on the sofa listening to Apollo together. Tomorrow, he’ll try and convince Dream to watch 28 days later, with the promise that An Ending (Ascent) is in the soundtrack. They’ll eat nothing but comfort food and Hob will remind Dream to brush his teeth before he goes to bed and in an otherworldly Parthenon, the muses will smile fondly down, and kiss the brow of a kindred aesthete.

[thefaiao]

Hi, firstly I just wanted to say that I love your art, especially with the way you use dynamism and angles in character sketches. It's really beautiful and I always look forward to seeing more black and white pieces from you.

I just wanted to ask, as a beginner artist whose been drawing on and off from 2017 onwards and hasn't seen much improvement, are there any resources or books you would recommend for someone still trying to grasp form and shape? Especially in creating 3d forms with line? I'd love to be able to draw characters in a similar way that you do but my cubes and cones never seem to come out correctly and humanoid shapes are even tougher. Thanks again for sharing your art.

Hello! Thank you very much for the compliments. Up until somewhat recently the B&W pieces were my favorite things to draw, so I get you. I did fall in love with coloring eventually though.

Alright, there are lots of things that can be done. I have had some classical training, and done human figure studies live, but honestly not nearly as much as I probably should have. You definitely should still do figure study as much as possible, especially in person. I'm just prefacing to say it may not get you to draw the way I draw I suppose, as its only part of what I've done to improve my drawing ability.

There are a few good resources to start with, notably the Loomis method, which a lot of artists use as a base. That's how you should use it too, ideally. It's not about copying his work exactly, it's about understanding just how the human body is proportioned, and adapting it from there. It doesn't have to define your thinking, it's just a good guideline. It's possible to structure a body quite differently than Loomis (and there are many many books for that), but the truth, which is, the proportions of the human body, is still there in all mindsets. Once you understand that, you can understand the reason for each approach, and even forego them to express something more unique, abstract and visceral.

The biggest thing you should do though, is always be observing the world around you, both online and offline. Figure studies are nice but they remove one of the most important things, and that is context. I find that people who will use those large libraries from people who pose professionally with bows and swords and the like will often draw technically impressive images, but they still feel like a fake pose. It doesn't feel like the person is holding onto the weapon like their life depended on it, or like they have a relationship with the object, that they pose and move in a certain way that reflects their personality. Live study with strangers helps rectify this somewhat.

Online you should also be following lots and lots of different artists! Don't limit yourself, pay attention to how they construct their drawings, how they go about things. It's important you follow a lot of people, see how they evolve. They are not only a point in time, they are also learning and evolving just like you. It's especially good if you can have artists friends to draw and share stuff with. I have a deep-seated belief that we draw art for others, to express ourselves to them, so they need to see it.

It may sound weird for me to say if you want to draw like me try to draw unlike me, but I'm just saying what I've done. I follow a lot of people and draw from a lot of places. Ultimately the main appeal of my forms is their dynamism and volume as you've said, but it's good to be versatile so you can always explore new avenues!

Now, you've done all these things, you are practicing them constantly. Now is the most important part. Keep drawing!!! Just keep drawing no matter what, no matter how bad you think it looks. You have to believe you have something to say, to express, no matter what. You say you haven't improved, but I don't believe you! Maybe you are faster, maybe your technique is better, maybe you have better habits, maybe you are a little more patient. There are a million ways to improve which don't even appear in the image. You have to keep drawing, NO MATTER WHAT!!! You have to believe you were born to do this and you will do it well, don't worry about what others think.

I can only draw such dynamic forms because I have kept drawing and masticating and elaborating this idea that is called my style. When you are drawing you are developing your own little language, and only when you are fluent you can start writing good books with it. Being fluent will take many years, you must accept that. If you take breaks, take breaks so you can keep drawing later. Take care of your health so you can keep drawing. You will only get to see your drawings become beautiful if you live long. To live a long and healthy life is to keep drawing.

That is my ultimate advice really, let that frustration build up, but keep drawing anyway. You will force yourself to find solutions to release that frustration as you do so, and improve. Maybe it's simple, but it's the only thing that is true no matter what. Don't worry about AI or whatever, none of that matters. Just keep drawing!

[odessa-castle]

I'm bouncing around a larger post about Nishiki and the mortifying ordeal of being known, but in the meantime I'm thinking about Nishiki and Kiryu and how the clothes make (or don't make) the man. Like, beyond my visceral horror that Kiryu begged Nishiki to pick out a safe and boring suit for him in Y0 and then said he was envisioning something purple with gold stripes.

I'm thinking about Nishiki's incredible sensitivity to image and his need to control how he's perceived. I'm thinking about Kiryu's inability to let go of the past. I'm thinking about how KIryu dresses like who he thinks he is, and Nishiki dresses like who he thinks he wants to be.

There's some interesting incidental dialogue between Nishiki and Kiryu in Y0 while they're en route to the men's suit store. I wish it wasn't so easy to miss, because there's a lot to unpack here. (I'm just transcribing the English in-game subtitles here; I don't speak Japanese so I have no idea how loose vs. direct the localization is in this part.)

NISHIKI: …now that I think about it, you've been dressing like an old man since we were kids. KIRYU: Have I? NISHIKI: Yeah. The few times we got to pick our clothes, it was always like, "you're choosing THAT?" NISHIKI: I wouldn't say you're a plain guy…You'd pick shirts with weird prints though. KIRYU: Guess I forgot all that. It's weirder to me that you haven't. NISHIKI: Well, confession time. You're why I started caring about fashion. I swore I'd never go out dressed like you. KIRYU: Come on, I'm not THAT bad. [we have already discussed why kiryu is, in fact, that bad.] NISHIKI: [laughing] Aww, did I hurt your feelings? NISHIKI: Well, this time you've got me with you. I'll see my bro gets taken care of. KIRYU: Heh. What an honor. NISHIKI: Leave it to me.

Nishiki doesn't bring up Sunflower Orphanage much; when he does share memories of his childhood, those memories are kind of painful (see: "do orphans not get to dream?"). Kiryu's surprised that Nishiki remembers how they dressed as kids, but it makes sense that wearing a limited selection of hand-me-downs stuck with Nishiki so strongly. His clothes announced his poverty, and they weren't even his -- he had to share them with the other orphans, so what he wore showed he belonged to yet another stigmatized group. And I'm sure people picked up on those visual signals, especially other kids. Kids can be vicious, and appearance is an easy and immediate target! We don't know for sure how young Nishiki interacted with his peers and teachers, but given what the Morning Glory kids go through in Y3 (and given, like, everything about Nishiki), he probably didn't have a great time.

Kiryu frames his childhood as poor but loving, and places much more emphasis on the latter. There might be some rose-colored glasses at work there -- let's look at the flashback where Kazama tries (and fails) to violently dissuade Kiryu and Nishiki from joining the yakuza.

KIRYU: I owe you everything, but this isn’t about that. [...] We’ve looked up to you for all this time. Your car. Your confidence… The way everybody bows to you. We idolized you. I want that life, too. Is that so wrong!?

Nishiki doesn't really speak in this flashback, but like, Kiryu uses "we" enough for us to draw some obvious conclusions about Nishiki's own motivations. That being said, I don't think Kiryu's being dishonest or disingenuous when he describes his childhood as happy, and himself as well-loved. He's not ashamed of his upbringing, and he doesn't hide where he came from. Nishiki seems to have the inverse view. It's not that he doesn't love (at least some of) the people he grew up with, but what comes up first for him is what he didn't have. He didn't have money. He didn't have respect. He didn't have a cure for his little sister. He didn't have a lot of choice, right down to the clothes he wore.

(There's a whole other essay here about why Kiryu's and Nishiki's perspectives diverge on this, but I'm trying to limit the scope of this post. Suffice to say that, while I don't think game canon gives a timeline, I do think Nishiki was a little older when his parents were killed -- old enough that he actually remembers them, at least.)

The same mindset fuels Nishiki's interest in fashion. Yeah, part of it is that he's ribbing Kiryu, but I think it goes deeper than Kiryu wearing ugly shirts. Nishiki doesn't want people to look at him and see what's missing. Fashion isn't a means of personal expression for him, really. It's a message. It's the interplay of knowledge and resources and presentation: knowing what clothes read as successful and trendy and expensive, being able to afford those things, and convincing people that your successful important outfit makes you a successful important person. And he's not wrong about the social dimensions of fashion.

NISHIKI: Try sporting a suit that runs 500 grand for once. Trust me, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. KIRYU: Fashion’s not my thing. Besides, Kazama-san never wore flashy clothes. NISHIKI: You do realize he’s the family captain, right? Number two in the whole Dojima operation? You get to that level, you can wear whatever you damn well please. But for the rest of us, “flashy” is part of the business. KIRYU: So that fancy new car you bought was just “business”. NISHIKI: Yeah, and that fancy lighter of mine, too. Which you still haven’t given back. KIRYU: You want to play the rich guy, quit being so stingy. NISHIKI: But you get what I’m saying, right? People see the expensive car, the designer jacket, and the gleam of that little Dojima pin, they pay attention. A yakuza’s only as good as his image. [...] Take your buddy today. These squeaky-clean idiots, borrowing money just to blow on tits and booze… Nobody in this town gives a crap about substance. What you see is what you get.

That's our first take on one of the major themes of the game: what does it mean to be yakuza? Again, there is truth to what Nishiki's saying here, particularly in terms of the ethos of the eighties. I'm not an expert on the bubble era, but the worldbuilding in the game speaks for itself. People hail taxis with 10,000-yen bills. You punch money out of punks during random street battles. Nishiki keeps a personal bottle of high-end booze at a bar he's visited twice, mostly because he "can’t stand being taken for a bum." The act of spending is important, not what you're spending it on.

Nishiki's outfit in Y0 is perfectly suited (heh) to that outlook. And look, I might be inviting controversy here, but in context, I think it's a werq. Yes, it's loud. But the silhouette -- squared shoulders, single breasted, thinner peaked lapel -- is right on trend for the time period, and it fits him well. The colors look good on him. The bold pattern (no, it's not animal print) under the solid maroon is a risk, but he pulls it off. And excess aside, he knows when to pull back on the accessories. It's bright and confident and memorable, and boy would Nishiki like to be all of those things.

Also -- and importantly -- Kiryu would never go out dressed like that. Because we can't talk about Nishiki and Kiryu without talking about Nishiki's Mt. Fuji-sized inferiority complex. Mastering image doesn't just make Nishiki stand out; it makes him stand out from Kiryu. Let's go back to the beginning of the game.

NISHIKI: I’ll admit, though, you’re finally starting to look the part. You make a pretty convincing yakuza. You’re done with collections today, right? KIRYU: Yeah. NISHIKI: Good. That should put Kazama-san’s mind at ease a bit. KIRYU: Heh, dunno about that. But he always knew all I could do is fight. You’re the one who’s good at the dance.

Nishiki then calls attention to the "rags" that Kiryu's wearing, which...is not an unfair assessment. (TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT, KIRYU. HEM YOUR PANTS.) As the two of them walk around Kamurocho, Nishiki offers Kiryu plenty of hot tips, from meeting girls to making big bucks to cozying up to the brass. But even when Nishiki's opining on his area of expertise, there's a competitive edge to it. "You asking me to pick out clothes for you means you admit you have terrible taste," he tells Kiryu on the way to the suit shop. Kiryu tells him to shut up, but there's no actual hurt behind it. Kiryu doesn't really care that his taste in clothes sucks. Fashion isn't important to him. Most of the things Nishiki knows so much about don't really matter to Kiryu. And that makes Nishiki feel more insecure! Because if Kiryu rolls out of bed looking like a yakuza, if Nishiki's image counseling sessions aren't helpful or meaningful, if Kiryu can skip the dance and get to the top on the strength of his fists and convictions, then who cares about Nishiki's 500 grand suit or his hourlong hair care routine? If image isn't what makes a yakuza, what does that make Nishiki?

At the end of Chapter 6, Nishiki tries to look out for Kiryu again -- this time, by granting him a merciful death before the Dojima Family drags him to the Hole. It's one of my favorite scenes in the game. Nishiki's crying too hard to aim the gun properly; Kiryu tells him to man up and shoot. Finally, Nishiki collapses.

NISHIKI: Can’t do it… How could I shoot you!? Without you, I’ll always be nothing. Can’t make it as a yakuza… No. I wouldn’t even still be alive now if I didn’t have you beside me! I’m just… If you’re not with me, I’m useless! Nothing means anything!

Mastering image hasn't granted Nishiki anything of substance. At the end of the day, Nishiki's playing dress-up, and he knows it.

And I'm almost certainly getting into overthinking-this territory now (if I haven't gotten there already), but I kind of like the spin this puts on Nishiki ripping his expensive suit off in Chapter 14 when he decides to fight the Dojima Family at Kiryu's side. Like yes, ripping off your outer layers to get at the naked (so to speak) truth -- your irezumi, and what it represents -- is just Yakuza Storytelling 101. It's decisive, it's kind of dumb, it's great, it gets me hyped every time. But I like that Nishiki's honest answer to "what does it mean to be a yakuza?" isn't about looking the part. I am genuinely trying not to end this paragraph by saying that Nishiki must become like a dragon, but like...you get where I'm going with this.

Of course, Nishiki's back to playing dress-up in Y1/Kiwami. I'm not the first to call the Patriarch Nishikiyama look a glow-down (though I like the patterned white tie). Like, fashion-conscious Nishiki would look good in a Hedi Slimane/Tom Ford-esque skinny black suit. But he picks a silhouette you'd expect to see on a much older man, torso-swallowing pants and all. The slicked-back hair doesn't help. He's just so transparently trying to look bigger and broader and older, and he doesn't pull it off. Big Bad Patriarch isn't a good look for him, in any sense of the phrase.

A final thought: Kiryu's clothes, and Nishiki's commentary on them, are the subject of their first conversation in Y0 -- and of their last. Kiryu's costume progression in Y0 is a pretty obvious commentary on his journey, to the point where Kiryu and Nishiki explicitly call attention to the color connotations in their final exchange. As a Dojima grunt, he wears black, and it doesn't look good on him because "brutish thug who keeps his head down and does what he's told" isn't a role he's comfortable with. He wears white when he works in real estate, but the change in color isn't enough to sell anyone on his transformation into a civilian. Although it's a little rich for Oda "Red Clown Shoes" Jun to chide someone for not wearing a proper suit. At the end of the game, Kiryu's in his classic grey suit, and well, the game spells it out:

KIRYU: I’m not feeling black or white these days. This is where I’m at right now. I chose it myself. I’m making it a fresh start. NISHIKI: Fine, fine. See if I care! Wear it the rest of your life!

Nishiki, dismayed, tells Kiryu that the grey suit already looks dated, but for Kiryu, "fresh start" doesn't mean "on trend". His image might be out of step with how other yakuza view themselves, or want to be seen, but if he's always going to look like a yakuza, he might as well stake his claim on what being a yakuza means. Still, it's telling that, even as a young man, Kiryu looks like a throwback to an earlier era. As the series progresses, the games hammer this home more and more. How many antagonists tell Kiryu that he's out of touch with the modern world, that he represents a version of the yakuza that no longer exists, that it's time for him to make way for the next generation?

"Wear it the rest of your life!" is a funny little in-joke, yeah, but...it's a little sad when you think about it, isn't it? Kiryu gets new outfits from Y3 on -- and in every game, he ultimately puts the suit back on and heads to Kamurocho. It's exactly of a piece with how Kiryu views being yakuza. We, and he, can debate the exact extent of his retirement from the Tojo Clan's affairs, but the yakuza isn't a career for Kiryu, it's a set of beliefs he carries with him. He wears the suit the same way he wears the dragon on his back: as an indelible part of his self-image.

[bullet-prooflove]

Taken!Series Part Five: Perfect - Angel Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @wakeama @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @emily2003alzaga @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @expir3dl0v3 @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @stressed-chas @daydreaming-belle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @adaydreamaway08 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @crimeshowjunkie @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

You survive, barely, but you do.

They let Angel have a couple of minutes with you once they have you settled in the ICU.

The next few hours are critical they tell him, there’s nothing he can do.

He sits beside your bed, his fingers curling around yours. His thumb traces over the veins, he can’t get over how stark they are against your skin. You look so small, so dilapidated. There’s tubes running into your body, he has no idea what any of them do only that they’re keeping you alive.

You’re usually so vivid, so passionate, seeing you like this is a blow, one that’s not sure he’ll recover from.

“Valeria’s safe.” He tells you. “We got her back.”

There’s no response from you, he doesn’t expect one. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but he hopes you can because that means you’re coming back to him, back to the family you fought for.

“It was bad Lila.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your knuckles. “Our baby girl was wrapped up in bath towels, sleeping in a cardboard box in a fucking shanty town. That’s what you were trying to save her from.”

His eyes are stinging now, he feels the tears spilling over his cheeks as he squeezes your hand.

“She could have died up there.” He says, his voice breaking. “She was crying, dirty, hungry…”

He draws in a shaky breath, using the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that stain his cheeks.

“She needs you Lila, we both do. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.” his voice breaks, a sob erupting from his chest. “I don’t want to do this without you. I need you to get through this so we can be a family again because you’re the mom she needs, the one that was there when…”

He can’t bring himself to say it because the images it conjures in his head are too raw, too visceral. Everytime, he closes his eyes, he’s sees you lying there bleeding out across the laminate.

He thinks of his mother’s ring nestled in the top pocket of his kutte, the one he’d collected from his father a couple of weeks ago. That’s the reason he’s agreed to go out last night, him and EZ were putting their heads together, trying to come up with a proposal that you’d love.

EZ had suggested the rose garden because they all knew how much that place meant to you. Jo and him had put together a plan, they were going to decorate the place with fairy lights, make it magical for the two of you.

Next weekend is when they decided, his Pops would take Valeria for the night. EZ and Jo would set things up while Angel took you out for dinner, your first date since Valeria came along, you’d go for a walk afterwards to the rose garden…

It would have been perfect, he thinks as he watches the rise and fall of your chest. You would have loved it.

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[greenhorn-art]

Prince of Shadows, Lord of Thieves by alkat

Fandom: The King's Avatar | 全职高手

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 1 929

Once upon a time, their exploits were immortalized by artists and writers across the tapestry of history. Once upon a time, they were worshipped as gods and reviled as demons. None of that stopped the Met from stealing all their shit.

About the Book

FONTS: Alegreya [Google Fonts], Lato [Google Fonts]

IMAGES: all art made by myself @greenhorn-art for this fic

MATERIALS: regular ol' printer paper (8.5"x11", 20lb, 96 bright); ~2-2.5mm binder's board; Neenah cardstock (8.5"x11", 65lb, bright white); Cialux bookcloth (black); waxed linen thread (30/3 size, white); wheat paste (1:4 flour:water); paste wax (from a friend, unknown ingredients&quantities, some kind of wax and turpentine/mineral spirits)

PROGRAMS USED: Affinity Publisher 2; Affinity Designer 2; Bookbinder JS | Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, custom signatures of 2, 1, 2 sheets).

Text & QR codes printed with colour laser printer (duplex, flip long edge), images printed with inkjet printer. QR codes generated with LibreOffice Writer, snipped, saved, and inserted where needed.

BINDING: quarto (quarter-letter) size, sewn board binding with french link stitch and breakaway spine.

.

So this one all started because the visual of HST's outfit was so fun that I was possessed by a visceral need to draw it. Inspiration slapped me across my mind's eye, and much like a medieval knight being slapped in the face by a glove (which didn't actually happen, that's a myth that sprung from the throwing down of a gauntlet. but that's beside the point), I felt bound to take up the challenge. Which lead me to draw a few more, and then I ended up binding the whole thing.

(Also, I find it really amusing that the famous Terracotta Warriors were just storage for YXs stuff. And the gang going 'shopping' at various exhibits for gifts for friends/family,, like that sure is SOME window shopping! I can hear it now: 'Oooh I'll take one one those SMASH, and that SHATTER, and throw in some of those CRASH, they're going to love these! 😇'. All in all, it was a fun little read, and fun little project! :D)

About the Art

Because this was initially a one-off drawing I tried a new art style (and struggled to at least not stray too far for the rest). It was fun and helped me think more about shape and visual focus, instead of being caught up in the details.

The crow (based off of image ID: 4039963 from Rawpixel) and the red umbrella on the front cover were filled curves made with the pen tool. The illustrations' poses were based off of a combination of images found on Google and photos taken by myself.

Pinterest is awful for sources, but it would have been handy to pin the references I'd googled. Only remembered to save the one of a man sitting at a desk. (I deliberately searched for someone sitting with bad posture because YX is described as being "slumped" over the desk. I figure that since "the laws of physics held no meaning to ["cursed souls eschewed by the natural order"]", they'd also be immune to mundane things like discomfort from sitting hunched over for too long. Back pain images were a gold mine! All I had to do was choose one with lighting that would give me a silhouette.)

The Myriad Manifestations Umbrellas and illustrations were drawn in Procreate.

I opted for a more plain umbrella design because it's not (presumably) a fantastical weapon in this story. Though the initial version did have YX cradling the donghua!MMU.

For the scene breaks I inserted the images, pinned them inline as character, and adjusted height and baseline in the pinning menu to fit.

The author wrote one scene break differently than the others, using multiple empty paragraphs instead of just one. Following suit, I used a different image for that particular break. I wanted to reference vampires somewhere, so for that break I made two bloody spots resembling bite marks. The blood spots were made with a group of shapes in Designer.

On cover design:

Because the MMU is what sparks the whole heist, I wanted it on the front cover.

Earlier iterations involved a full cover spread with a man's shadow standing before a shattered glass case, with a plaque mounted on the wall to the left providing information. The plaque was formatted like a museum label and had the author, date published, title, event collection, and story description. I'd also added a QR code to it. Ultimately, I abandoned the concept because it was difficult to decipher what is was when only looking a one cover at a time.

My second idea for the cover would have been a bookcloth-only cover with a cut-out of the MMU on the front, acting like a window showing off an image of the MMU on paper below it. (Inspired by the work of a number of folks over on Renegade's Discord. Here's a few examples gleaned from a quick search: szynkaaa's lung cutouts, some of EHyde's books, and the front cover of Spock's massive all-in-one TGCF). As fun as that would have been to try out, I felt it didn't quite suit the style of the art so I nixed that too.

Eventually I landed on the back cover design with the Met exhibition webpage. At last, I felt that the back & white and simple-shapes-background went with the artwork. The webpage viewed on the phone is based off of the Met's actual website. I took a snip/screenshot of the Met's logo from the banner at the top, then looked at their exhibitions' pages and eyeballed it to create my own. (Threw in the QR because I wanted the easy access to the fic online on the back cover). I chose to use a phone screen rather than I computer monitor because it worked better composition-wise. And besides, while YX may be allergic to owning a phone, SMC is not. I imagine that she saw the news while on her phone then messaged him.

The front cover came together after that. An umbrella for the MMU, and a pop of red. One of YX's messenger crows. A black shape in the background similar to the back cover's, sort of creating a spotlight over the umbrella and placing the rest of the cover in shadow.

Trying New Things: Applying a protective finish to printed covers

Over on the Renegade Bindery Discord, folks have spoken about using a beeswax & turpentine/mineral spirits 50-50 mix to seal printed covers (thank you Kate). According to my dad that's just a paste wax, so he threw 3 different ones at me and said 'have at it'.

I tested them out using the same paper and inkjet I'll use for the cover. I was looking at 1) whether the paste wax affected the paper colour or print quality, and 2) the finish. After applying one coat each and buffing them out I had my winner. Then I applied & buffed two more coats to it and tested 3) water resistance by dripping tea on it. The liquid beaded up and wiped away without staining -- good, three coats will work nicely.

(Test results: Mystery paste wax from a friend wins.

The commercial SC Johnson Paste Wax Original formula (intended for woodworking) has a nice dry shiny finish, but coloured the paper slightly brown -> disqualified

My dad's homemade stuff has a nice shiny/satin finish and didn't change paper's colour, but it felt slightly tacky even after buffing it -- maybe I didn't buff it enough?

The gifted paste wax has a matte finish, didn't change paper's colour (in the image below this one has 3 coats. The paper is now slightly off-white, but still acceptable), and while not as dry-to-touch as the Johnson it was not as tacky as the other homemade stuff.)

When I print out my quarto covers, I print front and back covers side-by-side on the same page*, with some guides to ensure I'm cutting and gluing in the correct place. (The guides mark the boundaries of the covers and start of the turn-ins, and stop at the edge of where I cut. Before cutting I flip it over to mark the guides [see marks indicated in image below] on the wrong side and connect them so I can see where to glue/place book. Then flip it back over to cut, right side up.)

*I'm being economical here at the cost of possible warping damage. This layout means that I'm only using one sheet of paper, but the grain is running in the wrong direction (across the book instead of preferred head-to-tail/top-bottom). This could cause warping issues, but I'm OK with that. I'm hoping that by just gluing at the edges, instead of pasting down the whole thing, warping will be minimized. (I use wrong-grain endpapers most of the time with larger books anyways).

I applied the paste wax before cutting out the covers, working carefully to avoid accidentally creasing/bending the paper (which happened twice, but it was minimal and I hardly notice it). Doing so before cutting ensured that the cover material was completely covered. Even the turn-ins -- something I later came to regret. After all, wax is used specifically so that things don't stick to it. It made it rather difficult to drum on the endpapers because I was trying to glue something down onto a waxy surface. It all worked out in the end -- perhaps due to the fact that there were multiple layers of wheat paste which could adhere to each other, followed by being squashed in a press.

[donnyclaws]

I'm sure the creation of Leopard has been a healing experience for you. I just want you to know Leopard is that for others too. More or less speaking for myself, I mean. I've dealt with a lot of internalized homophobia (as a non straight traumatized masc transthing) and it really affected everything in my existence. Deep down I've always been interested in drag, but never let myself persue the thought without a battering of slurs in my head. Seeing how you depict them, how you draw everything- it's cathartic. There's such a visceral nature to the existence of it and I think I needed that. I use to sneak around to even just try putting on lip gloss on out of this deep shame in me. I'm more than a man, but at the same time had masculine ideology hammered into my head. If I wanted to be accepted as one, how could I freely explore something like that?

Around the same time Leopard came into fruition, it felt like I started loosening up. I vaguely spoke to my partner about makeup, and inspirations, how I wanted flare to it. Thhat if they wanted to do mine, I'm fine with it. That if I were to wear anything, I want it to halt a room. I wanted uniqueness. They were in so much support when I expected mockery. Not because they've ever treated me that way, just because my biggest enemy has been myself.

There's such a cathartic feeling in the idea one day I'll get the guts to really go all out in the drag I want. I read a post from you about all the parts being what abusers wish you left at the door. That speaks to me, all of it did. But I think there's an appeal behind this because I can just be someone else, even if only for a night. Masking someone else over the insecurities underneath. I'm not sure if I'll get there one day, but you are massively an inspo for me. Not even just in drag, art in general. The way you compose and color things I've been trying to grasp and put towards my work since, god. 2017? It's insane the progress you've made. Keep kickin it, tiger you're doin great things.

Sorry I took a sec to answer this, I feel insane about it. Leopard's been completely huge for me, both for body image reasons and trauma processing. There's no normal way out of what happened to me and my body, this is the only way to navigate it and accept it. I love hearing your perspective, I so deeply relate to wanting to be something that Halts a room. Some kind of loud, abrasive, large and off putting feminine monster, that line where sexuality repulses people because you're not desireable in traditional ways. I hope you can start playing around with things if you haven't already, I don't know if I'll ever have the guts to perform or really go full out either. But making art, making horror tropical, making Leopard and doing makeup in the dark has completely changed my life. It's given me a future I want to get to. And those small tastes have only made me hungrier for it, more sure that drag is inevitable for me. Thank you so much for taking the time to write this, it means the world to me. ❤️‍🔥

[trans-axolotl]

some of Eli Clare's writing about diagnosis feels very relevant to discussions on tumblr right now:

"It’s impossible to grapple with cure without encountering white Western medical diagnosis—ink on paper in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders and the International Classification of Diseases, a process in the hands of doctors, a system of categorization. I want to read diagnosis as a source of knowledge, sometimes trustworthy and other times suspect. As a tool and a weapon shaped by particular belief systems, useful and dangerous by turns. As a furious storm, exerting pressure in many directions.

Simply put, diagnosis wields immense power. It can provide us access to vital medical technology or shame us, reveal a path toward less pain or get us locked up. It opens doors and slams them shut.

Diagnosis names the conditions in our body-minds, charts the connections between them. It holds knowledge. It organizes visceral realities. It draws borders and boundaries, separating fluid in the lungs from high blood pressure, ulcers from kidney stones, declaring anxiety attacks distinct from heart attacks, post-traumatic stress disconnected from depression. It legitimizes some pain as real; it identifies other pain as psychosomatic or malingering. It reveals little about the power of these borders and boundaries. Through its technology—x-rays, MRIs, blood draws, EKGs, CAT scans—diagnosis transforms our three-dimensional body-minds into two-dimensional graphs and charts, images on light boards, symptoms in databases, words on paper. It holds history and creates baselines. It predicts the future and shapes all sorts of decisions. It unleashes political and cultural forces. At its best, diagnosis affirms our distress, orients us to what’s happening in our body-minds, helps make meaning out of chaotic visceral experiences.

But diagnosis rarely stays at its best. It can also disorient us or de- value what we know about ourselves. It can leave us with doubts, questions, shame. It can catapult us out of our body-minds. All too often diagnosis is poorly conceived or flagrantly oppressive. It is brandished as authority, our body-minds bent to match diagnostic criteria rather than vice versa. Diagnosis can become a cover for what health care providers don’t understand; become more important than our messy visceral selves; become the totality of who we are.

...

It is impossible to name all the ways in which diagnosis is useful.

It propels eradication and affirms what we know about our own body-minds. It extends the reach of genocide and makes meaning of the pain that keeps us up night after night. It allows for violence in the name of care and creates access to medical technology, human services, and essential care. It sets in motion social control and guides treatment that provides comfort. It takes away self-determination and saves lives. It disregards what we know about our own body-minds and leads to cure.

Diagnosis is useful, but for whom and to what ends?"

-Eli Clare, Brilliant Imperfection pg 41-42, 48.

[mousegard]

You write first person getting fucked up scenes so good, you put a lot of detail into it and I was wondering if there was any particular reason?

Like the multiple scenes in your fics whether it be Adrestian Tail or Eagle among Lions of specifically Edelgard being met with an untimely demise and being saved by a byleth rewind are some of my favorite scenes.

Like in EAL the arrow scene it could have just been something like a cut to the rewind but you put in the effort to make us imagine what getting an arrow through the eye and slipping towards death would feel like alongside Edelgard. You go that extra mile, you want us to experience that for a reason and I love it about your writing!

thank you! i'm so glad you enjoy that aspect of my writing because those sorts of scenes are some of my favorite to write!

when i write, i have a very clear mental image of what's going on playing in my head like a movie, and the way i do prose is to try to capture those images with as much detail as possible. and because prose isn't as suited to describing how something looks as drawings are, the most effective way to capture those images is to translate them into how things feel.

so with scenes of people getting fucked up, whether it's grievous wounds and fatal injuries or body horror, i try to channel something like jojo's bizarre adventure where the the details of what's happening really sit with you in a very visceral and pulpy way. except obviously i can't draw like araki, or at all. but remember how it felt reading jojos and seeing things like jolyne ripping off viviano westwood's toenail in part six, heavy weather turning people into snails, or damo using his stand to melt the higashikatas in part eight? especially from part three onward, jojo's bizarre adventure has always reveled in people getting fucked up in a way that can genuinely make your stomach churn, and i wanted to write stomach-churning prose to capture how it feels for araki to depict and linger on the human reactions to seeing or experiencing those sorts of things.

remember that part of rohan kishibe's introduction in part four where he cuts open a spider and then tastes it to "understand" it better so he can capture its essence more effectively in his manga? well i haven't eaten any bugs but i think rohan's exaggerated actions convey. obviously when you're writing action and adventure stories, let alone sci-fi and fantasy, you don't have the luxury of trying some things out for yourself, but then again, i don't think araki eats bugs either, regardless of how his delightfully unhinged author stand-in behaves.

(with lizard boot camp, i might have succeeded in depicting edelgard's experiences too well, because i had one reader tell me it made them vomit. i think it was the bit with the pin feathers. they make me queasy too!)

in eal, one of the things i really enjoyed was trying to get as deep into edelgard's head as possible, since she's the sole pov for the entirety of the first act and the vast majority of the second. you're stuck in her head and you are going to get intimately acquainted with her—with her philosophies, with her romantic side, with her loneliness and grief, with her long-standing trauma, with her ratcheting paranoia as the situation around her intensifies, and with the terror and horror that comes with all the shit i put her through. i wanted the reader to feel everything she felt. especially because, like—she's edelgard, and one of the central problems with the fe3h fandom is that not enough people make the effort to understand her in the first place. and because over the course of an eagle among lions she feels so many things i doubt many people have felt before* (like how it feels to get shot in the eye, turned into a dragon, and blown out of an airlock like the xenomorph queen in aliens) i wanted to make sure the reader received enough detail to experience all those exciting, novel things along with her. and also get a new perspective on the things that are exciting and novel to her but mundane to us, like radios, computers, guns, and pizza.

i think a review of eal i got from LordXamon on the parahumans fanfic subreddit earlier this year captured everything i set out to do better than anything else i could say:

I read the story because this El is such a great MC. Not only is she super cool (again, time traveler leftist revolutionary queer empress), but the writing really makes me empathize in ways not many fanfics can. When El cries, I cry. When El is furious, I get furious. When she hurts, I wince. When El laughs, it puts a smile on my face. When she messes it up, I feel bad for her. When the body horror happens, it makes my stomach sick. When she delivers one of her speeches, it makes me want to vote for her.

in terms of my fic writing, eal really took the "people getting fucked up"-ness to the next level though, and in addition to the above reasons, part of that probably comes from pandemic madness and also me binge-watching re:zero, which delights in fucking its hero and his allies up in increasingly elaborate and gruesome ways while playing with time loops. so far, aria of the black eagle is pretty tame by comparison, so maybe i've worked some of it out of my system?

thanks again for your question and comment, i had so much fun talking about writing and this story with you!

* p.s. if you or anybody else reading this know from firsthand experience what it feels like to get tfed into a dragon, please tell me how you did it/how it happened to you

[hands-of-fate-ocs]

Well, @taryn40k (or Selemina) got me thinking about my boy evryl again, so I wanted to draw him snoozing after doing some reading. Of course his Warp eye likes to wander while he's not conscious. Wonder what hes dreaming about!

"TARYN!-"

The name claws it's way out of the navigators throat as he jumps up, the image of his distant friend's contorted jaws dug into the throat of the warband member were still vividly burned into his warp eyes. It takes him too long to suck air back in, shaking as he wrenches one of his hands from the death grip on his desk to wipe the tears running down his face, settling back in his chair. The nightmares were nothing new, he usually had unpleasant dreams, one of the few horrors of the warp he was not spared from, but never this...visceral. He knew Taryn had been acting strange, and refused to talk about it...but there was no way something like that could be the issue. Taryn detested using his powers, so him forming those wicked jaws made no sense! And the soldier he attacked looked nothing like any of the soldiers he had managed to spy through the camera's in his personal servoskull.

It had to just be his wandering mind making the worst of his attachment to the closet-psyker. That's what he would tell himself, even as he came down from the adrenaline rush akin to being hunted for sport.

...But he'd definitely add an extra prayer for him tonight, just in case.

[thevoidofwinter]

this is SUPER late bc its been A Time lately and i also kinda forgot for a while oops. BUT. a little bit of rambling about my cccc/hms designs + interpretation as requested by @keruukat :]

so first off, all three of them in my "main" designs for them are incredibly creature coded. this is literally just because i wanted to and enjoy that type of theme. mind is dragon themed, heart is... bird creature thing. themed. and soul is cockatrice themed which was actually not my idea and a big brain suggestion my friend @atticustimestwo came up with (thank you forever atticus btw. probably never would have thought of that myself sLJFKSL) !!! as a result of this, they're all incredibly instinct driven and highly reactionary. yes mind hates this.

side note, i also have different names i like using for them! mind is helios, heart is lunaris, and soul is anularis. this was mostly just to separate them when doing rps with friends but i've come to really enjoy these names :]

but with that out of the way! i'll start with my mind design bc i'm biased towards blue and dragons oops.

originally, he started out being the least creature coded of the three, both in terms how i was messing around with design and actually in how i read the "timeline" of the album, as it were. in character wise, he absolutely hated being "inferior" to the other two. he didn't have any claws to speak of, no scales, no feathers. he was the most human looking and he didnt like that. so what does he do? oh yknow.

design wise, i realized i liked leaning more into the robotic theming like a lot of people do bc idk! it's fun. why not. and then my dragon bias hit when i heard that One Line in RoE while drawing one day and the gears started turning. i still haven't ironed it out 100% drawing wise, but here's what i have so far:

a good part of the left side of his face is a screen! its default is just an eye, though it can be just about anything. it definitely turns to a clock during RoE and i do imagine it becoming super animated during TME. also glitchy from Be Born into TME as well.

his floating crown is a hologram he keeps up at most times, but the sun halo is just kind of. always there.

there's a lot of metal. like. a LOT. his neck is plated + his modulator is built into that. his entire spine is reinforced with metal. metal arms, probably some metal patches elsewhere too. and yknow the robotic dragon tail

he glows ominously in the dark. you can see that here- just kind of an aura type thing along with the glowy robotic bits on him.

he has irises and pupils, though most of the time they aren't visible bc he is. Tired. they snap into visibility when he's focused or angry though. (i have a very vivid mental image of them snapping into focus during the intro of TME)

he has mechanical wings! they're retractable and mostly are just there because, again, he couldn't bear to be "inferior" to heart and soul, who both also have wings. he can fly with them, though most of the time they're literally just for threat display. also yes, there are slits in the back of his jacket for the wings i just forget to draw them lol

he has an innate need to Be The Tallest. they're literally all the same height but this bitch wears heeled boots with metal on the soles to make himself taller.

the sun patch on his right jacket sleeve was put there by heart; the crown on the left he did himself.

he kinda??? has electricity abilities that he gained over the process of turning himself more robotic. this is important to note for a later note with soul :)

...that's all i can think of for now but i'm sure there's more i'm forgetting. its fine! onto heart :D

heart has always been the most creature coded to me, as the representation of emotion. and yknow. emotions can be pretty damn innate, instinctual, and visceral. or maybe that's just my take on it cause mine sure are lfsdkjhdfjk

i couldn't choose between black and white wings so his are both! a gradient from white into black with white speckles and purple heart-shaped markings on a few of the primary feathers :] he also has a lot of feathers in other places, such as covering his ears, his neck, chest, arms, legs, and of course tail.

his eyes aren't actually physically damaged! his near-blindness and extreme light sensitivity are actually a result of mind glowing blindingly bright (something something don't stare at the sun) after the shot, and then later the harsh red glow of soul's trident when he got the scars on his face.

his halo is a crescent moon most of the time, though it can change to different phases either on command or in reaction to his emotions. i haven't quite decided which phase stands for what yet, i'll figure it out eventually...

he loves loves loves putting patches on things, especially different textured ones. the heart patch on his hoodie sleeve is soft!

his blindfold has the phases of the moon on it! they weren't initially there as the blindfold was given to him by soul, but mind later embroidered the phases onto it during a concord loop.

his tail is actually kinda prehensile and really strong- he can totally use it to hang onto stuff and even hang off a branch upside down.

he used to be able to fly easily, but after getting his wings broken one too many times in scuffles, it's a lot more difficult to do so now. theoretically he still could with enough adrenaline, though.

he slouches a lot because of his wings, so he usually appears to be the shortest of the group. he can and will stand up straight for threat displays, though.

guy really doesn't like wearing shoes most of the time. socks it is.

aaand i think that's all i have for heart atm!

soooo, soul moment :] soul is such an intriguing guy to me. we really don't see (or hear, ig) a lot of him for a good part of the album, so tbh even to me he's still kinda an enigma. i do adore him a lot though. this guy is SO tired and done with heart and mind's shit, please let him have one (1) nap.

i went back and forth on this guy's design a whole lot before atticus suggested the cockatrice idea, and even a little bit after that i debated it for a while. should he be the most human, or appear so far disconnected that he's barely recognizable? WELL. turns out i went kinda midline with that lmao.

he has both scales and feathers to mirror heart and mind's respective features. i love a symbolism

he has a mane of feathers going down his spine, though it's usually only visible on his tail cause. yknow. clothes.

his wings are summonable, and he doesn't usually have them out cause they're HEAVY. they're a mix of draconic and feathered wings as well. he can also fly with them, though it's usually too much effort for him to even consider.

he has four red diamond-shaped lights hovering above his head at all times, like heart and mind have their respective permanent halos.

when under extreme stress/emotions, he has three light horns that manifest, reminiscent of his trident. he also glitches the fuck out

^ the visual glitching is actually a result of mind. what happened during the shot was that heart shot at mind (and missed, but the fact that heart even tried was the problem) -> when he finds out, soul unintentionally snaps and freaks the fuck out, attacking heart and mind -> mind panics and absolutely electrocutes soul, causing his form to glitch and go black and white -> ever since then, extreme emotions causes him to start glitching again!

the shadow half of him is also reactive to his emotions, though is there more often and easier than the glitching. it's pretty much his default, especially during cacophony. (i have a pretty vivid mental image of it fading into view during dream)

the back of his jacket has a trident, crown, and heart embroidered on it, something that all three of them worked on together :]

this is literally just for comedy reasons, but soul's shirt is usually a basic t-shirt, but sometimes it has text on it and the text can change at will

also have a few misc notes that i think are fun :]

while i do adore these creature-esque designs, i also want to do more abstract designs (that they're probably liable to shift to under extreme stress/it being their "true" forms), as well as closer to human designs :]

same thing with clothing designs. i'm so indecisive help. i think im gonna do all of one or two color designs, and then some alt designs where they mix and match colors some!

i do like to imagine heart is physically the strongest out of the three, mind mentally the strongest, and soul the strongest overall. just in relation to each other, of course.

...and i think that's all! at least all that i can remember right now lol, i'm likely to come back and edit this or reblog with additions when i think of more things. it's kinda intimidating to finally be posting this bc im usually so quiet on this front, but i hope whoever manages to read this giant wall of text enjoys! :D

[sunnys-aesthetic]

bunny oc!! and married too??

yeAH HES MY BABY BOY EVER also anon i wanted to draw him showing his ring finger but i had such a visceral mental image of him flipping someone off by accident in order to show his ring and he looked so proud and happy but hes so stupid and it looked like this

(yes the ring on the wrong finger but its ok he's getting the hand of marriage/j )