#tried doing that thing where i make art solely for myself

[pigeonkitsch]

on again off again on again

[sol-aranea]

Card Spring

gambit x nonverbal! reader

WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, extreme spoilers for episode 2, badly written dialogue for Remy, grief, the reader goes nonverbal, not proofread, complete fluff, self indulgent, I needed comfort.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!

After Storm leaves, a nonverbal reader sticks to their room, playing with old cards she’d given them. Gambit decides to teach them some tricks to try to cheer them up.

My eyes focus solely on the cards in my hands. The red and black letters and numbers flash as I try to spring them from one hand to the other. At least one always finds its way on my blanket. My legs crossed, they fall into the space in my lap, semi-contained until a knock forces me out of my daze. The cards fly from my hands, scattering on the mattress and falling to the floor. I sniffle, climbing down desperately to gather them as quickly as I can. The door opens as I find my favorite card, one that Remy had painted. The Ace of Hearts is painted over, the black paint hiding the original art. A bright red heart is centered, an anarchy symbol in the middle. I tucked it into the deck silently, my chest tightening as I find the Ace of Spades, the one Ororo had painted. The light blue is combined with white lightning that intersects to create an ‘A’. Her line work was made up of words she wanted to convey to me. She spoke of our friendship, our sibling-hood, the reasons why she gave me the deck. Tears fell for the fourth time that day when I saw the card.

The Ace of Clubs and the Ace of Diamonds both lay on the bed, unpainted. Logan and Rogue were supposed to paint theirs, but never got around to it. Logan’s had a thin white base coat, the letters still seen through the first and only coat. He’d gotten bored, and got up and left Remy, Ororo, and I at the table where we were painting. 

“Cher?” Remy’s voice shocked me out of my thoughts. I looked up, finding him in my doorway, a concerned look on his face. He must’ve saw my red and puffy eyes, and decided to enter. I finished gathering my cards, and nestled myself back into the nest of blankets I’d made. He sat down on the edge of my bed tenderly, his usual joking demeanor gone. “Jean says you’re not talkin’?” I didn’t look at him, instead opting to try to spring the cards again. I tried with my hands closer than before, being more careful to not let them fall. I still failed.

“Like that nonverbal thing you was talkin’ about?” He tilted his head, trying to see my reaction. I nodded, semi-successfully springing in the meantime. I lost a few cards, but not nearly as many as the previous attempts. Remy’s eyes fell to my hands, recognizing the deck immediately. He watched me struggle for a minute before scooting closer to me. He used some spare blankets to make himself a nest, and leaned in to watch my “technique.”

“Mon ami, what is this hand doing?” He sighed, pointing at my left hand. I demonstrated how I was catching the cards with the hand, and he shook his head. “You want your pinky out like this,” he stuck out his own hand, showing how he would hold the deck himself. “That way, the cards can’t fall out your hand.”

When I tried the way he showed me, I lost less cards. I smiled a little, testing the new hold. After a minute, he nodded. “Good! Now, that other hand? Needs work.” He pulled his own deck from his pocket, explaining how to hold the cards so that there was air between each card, making it easier to make each individual card spring on it’s own. “This makes the cards not go all choppy. Makes it smooth!” I nodded, observing his hands closely. 

Half an hour passed, and my tears were dry, and I had a decent deck spring under my belt. I smiled at Remy, and he grinned back. “On the road to becomin’ me!” He went quiet for a minute, watching me practice before he spoke up.

"It's gonna be okay." He said quietly. "We're gonna get 'er back." I looked down at my cards, nodding sullenly. "She's gonna be okay." I wiped my tears away and sniffed. She would want me to be strong about this. Remy smiled when I tucked my cards into their box and removed myself from my nest.

"You want some beignets?" He grinned when I nodded, and threw his arm around my shoulder. As he led me out of my room, I tucked my deck into my pocket, deciding to use it as a reminder of who I was fighting for in the battles to come.

[solitary-traveler]

Heya :)

Im not sure if you write angst but I was wondering if you could do Scara with a reader that puts others health in front of her own, so when she gets injured in battle she won't even notice because she'll be worrying about Scara and not herself. <3

Echoes of The Past

The wanderer is left behind, with regrets and diminished hope swirling through his thoughts

Wanderer x gn!reader

Notes: Hiiii thank you so much @i0fty, I'm so sorry it took this long to write it 😭. I hope this makes up for it. Again I'm really sorry🙏—

Also, the italicized texts are the things that he writes in his journal

Art: @waternaeng on danbooru

Warning: Angst :)

You died yesterday.

The wanderer recounted as he sat on the wooden stool. His fingers ran through his indigo locks, a few strands escaping his grasp and falling back down to frame his face. With a pencil between his porcelain fingers, he could only stare at the empty notebook in front of him.

My…beloved, my Y/n passed away yesterday after being so stupidly reckless.

He sighed, the pen twitching within his grip. The further he puts his thoughts into writing, the more the uncomfortable feeling grows. It still hurt; it always hurt to think of you. He garnered at the page, forcing himself to resume staining the paper with lead.

You always placed the health of others above your own, a fierce guardian even amidst the chaos of battle, where your sole focus was my safety. It was maddeningly foolish—I was no fragile mortal, impervious to death’s grasp. Yet you pressed on, undeterred. I watched as you brushed aside your injuries, treating them like insignificant shadows. Even in your final moments, it was that boundless selflessness—the unwavering devotion that burned brightly within you—that ultimately cost you everything. 

Wanderer gripped the pen tightly, almost snapping it in half.

Why did you have to be selfless?

Why did you have to die?

If I had been the one to notice your wounds, would you still be here? If I had been there to prioritize your safety, to shield you from the pain, would fate have been kinder to us?

He took a deep breath. This was supposed to be a relaxing activity, but somehow it just heightened his stress even more. His eyes darted outside the window, overlooking the bright lights of Sumeru city.

Not that it matters anymore. I can’t change the past. I know; I’ve tried.

In any case, the view from outside my window is as repetitive as always, the same flickering city lights twinkling like distant stars against the inky night. But I know you love it. You always had a strange fascination with city lights under the night sky. But I guess it is pretty. A strange beauty, one that whispers secrets of life and longing. I can somewhat understand why you found solace in its shimmering embrace.

He heaved, his shoulders slumped. They felt heavy as the burden of his loss creeped in once more. Embrace huh…Oh how he wished you were here, stubbornly hugging him from behind. He’d kill to live in that memory over and over again. To stay there forever, with the comfort he grew to miss. 

Sometimes I wonder… What exactly it is you like about me? I… I never saw myself as someone worthy of love, let alone someone capable of it. Like a marionette, I moved through life, cursed to feel without ever knowing how to truly grasp those emotions. Yet somehow, you saw through the tangled strings of my hypocrisy, unraveling the quiet ache of my need for affection, hidden deep within my hollow frame.

His eyes darted towards a photo, one you stubbornly pestered him with until he succumbed. It was during his first day at the Akademiya and you had dropped by to tease the fuck out of him. Imagine him, a war criminal, domesticated and sent to school. It was excessively embarrassing. You had the cheekiest grin plastered on your face, your infectious laughter ringing in his ears. Your left arm slung around his shoulder. It was all so infuriatingly endearing. Wanderer can’t help the subtle twitch on the corner of his lips.

You were always a mystery to me, an enigma I could never fully grasp.

I wonder, sometimes… why me? What did you see in me that made you want me? I am undesirable, like a rusted tool left forgotten in the rain—only acknowledged when needed, only useful when used.  Yet, you—  You saw worth in me, even when I was at my weakest, when the cracks began to show, and when my facade crumbled. You knelt beside me, gathering the scattered shards of who I was. You pieced them together, making me whole once more.

I had been an enemy, a blade once drawn against you, yet you saw me not as a threat, but as a friend broken by my own battles. 

Wanderer let out a bitter laugh. The memory does little to alleviate the tension in his “heart”, the twinge of misery that courses through his skin. That runs through his blood. It doesn't fully hinder the burn, it doesn’t prove to distract. 

I was never one to believe in fate, but I'd dare call our meeting destined. I’ve never been one to bow to the gods, but I find myself thanking them—begrudgingly—for bringing you into my life. You’re an infuriating thorn in my side, with the wit of a fool. But you’re my thorn, my beautifully vexing pain in the ass.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sighed, his lips twitching into a frown. It was tiring. It was almost ironic how he can write essays upon essays about various topics without breaking a sweat, but he can barely fill the page when it’s about you. Reaching to pick up the pen once more, he scribbled a few lines that would end his entry for today. 

Fate was a spider, weaving its web with cunning precision, drawing unsuspecting souls like us into its intricate design. Like two flies ensnared, we became entangled in the twisted, yet oddly rewarding, threads of destiny. The harder we fought, the more we intertwined, until I could no longer tell where your fate ended and mine began. But perhaps that wasn’t such a terrible thing. Perhaps that was the spider’s gift, not its trap. It threw me in the ocean of your love. I was dragged to the deepest depths, with no way of finding my way to the surface. I was expected to drown. And that’s what I did. I let myself be consumed by the waves of your tender touch and lose myself in the tides of your loving embrace.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm soooo sorry you're under the weather and dealing with crappy stuff! I hope things get better for you, physically and mentally 🙏 Get lots of rest if you can, and drink all the fluids!

Headcanon requests, is it? How about the OPLA men (Shanks & Mihawk, but also take your pick, etc) with a multi-tasking reader who delights in various hobbies to keep busy, and occasionally drags them into getting involved? Whether it be container gardening, knitting, baking, sewing, artwork, etc.

Bonus if they're also contending with where exactly reader stores all of her crap when it's not in use, not at all guilty of this myself 🙈🤣

Thank you so, so, so much. It’s been a really bad day and this has honestly helped a lot.

Like I feel this hard. There’s guitar picks and tuning peg winders and little notebooks full of story notes and recipes and origami scattered all over my house.

Just gonna do Shanks and Mihawk this time, because they very much are my main comfort characters right now.

The fact that one of my comfort characters is so murdery probably does not say good things for my mental health but whatever

Hobbies

OPLA! Shanks and Mihawk x Reader

Cloyingly fluffy, here is a spoon with which to gag yourself, just in case c>===

Shanks

He is absolutely so game for all of this.

Such a child about it, if you’re trying to do anything new he’s just so excited about it and needs to know everything.

Completely in your business, asking ten thousand questions, along with the inevitable starry-eyed, “Can I help?”

And you’d have to be heartless to turn down those puppy-dog eyes.

It might not turn out to be his thing, and he might get in the way more than he actually helps, but he’s going to enjoy the experience with you regardless, and his enthusiasm is just so precious that it makes it more fun for you as well.

The exception here is knitting. Knitting can get fucked. He tried, holding one needle in his hand and the other between his teeth, and somehow ended up nearly giving himself a tracheotomy.

But if you knit, sew, or crochet something for him, he’s going to unironically wear it everywhere and brag about it to anyone who will listen.

Baking, though, turns out he has something of a knack for it. And now his go-to solution if you’re sad or upset about something is to bake you cookies, because “How can anyone be sad when there are cookies?” And, well, he’s not entirely wrong.

The captain’s cabin is just completely cluttered with arts and crafts supplies, with so many signs and knickknacks of your many and varied hobbies, and he sincerely loves it because there’s just so much of you everywhere he looks. He’s always felt at home on the sea, but this just makes it feel even more like home.

Mihawk

Not quite as perceptive to participating. He might if you ask him, but some things might take convincing.

He’s an utter perfectionist about everything, so if you do convince him to try anything, he’s probably going to fixate on it until he’s a certified expert and compete with you over who’s better at it.

More refined and traditional artistic endeavors definitely appeal to him more—you could probably convince him to try painting or drawing pretty easily, but things like sewing or crocheting are going to be a little more of a stretch.

Gardening in general is honestly fine as well, container or otherwise.  The more you can grow on the island or around the castle, the less he has to concern himself with leaving to deal with other people. And it is fairly convenient to have fresh herbs growing right in the kitchen.

Fairly adept at cooking already—he’s spent most of his life in solitude, so cooking for himself was something of a necessity. Baking isn’t exactly his forte, but he will partake if you ask him to.

He acts like the clutter of your supplies irritates him, but really only so he can give you a room or two of the castle dedicated solely to your hobbies. No point looking a gift horse in the mouth, and you know he’s just being surly to protect his pride.

You know because even if he isn’t interested in it himself, he does enjoy watching you work, sitting off to the side with a book and a glass of wine, glancing up every so often to see your progress.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS* Scene part 26

Warnings: aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family, rejection

"That's not my father," he growled with such venom it made Whumpee want to wither away and die.

Miranda's brow furrowed in confusion, but Atlas plowed onward.

"That thing cannot possibly be my father," he hissed, "I've seen and heard what it can do. How many people it's killed. All the experiments it went through to make it into this brute. And last I recall, it was Leader's war dog. What's it doing here, if you have truly escaped Leader? Is this a trap, or a baited ambush?" He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Miranda, awaiting an answer.

Miranda dipped her head sadly. "Leader brainwashed and tortured Whumpee into obedience. It took awhile for him to break free of the cycle of conditioned violence, but once he did he switched sides and helped put an end to the war with Leader. Leader is no longer an active threat thanks to Whumpee, though a few of his supporters still roam free.”

Atlas barely acknowledged her, his attention fixated solely on Whumpee, gaze roaming over the bare skin where his clothes didn't reach.

"Is that how you got all the scars?" He growled.

Whumpee winced at the vicious memories that accompanied the topic, but nodded stiffly.

Atlas studied him with an unreadable look on his face, eyes scanning him up and down.

“I guess I can see a slight resemblance,” he grumbled bitterly. “Is that why Miranda had to give me up? Because I was your offspring, and you were a weapon? Did Leader plan on turning me into one too?”

Another nod from Whumpee.

“Leader still managed to put you through a few smaller experiments before I got you out,” Miranda spoke up. “I can see how it's affected you. The evidence is there. Have you learned how to control it yet?”

Atlas shrugged with a tense smile.

“Control myself? Yeah. Through a lot of trial and error. Why? Are you scared of me or something?” his grin turned sharp – challenging – testing the waters.

“No,” Miranda said confidently, “I'm not. I was asking because Whumpee could teach you how to refine your strength and wield it if you desired.”

Whumpee nodded enthusiastically, but Atlas's face wrinkled. “You can't just barge into my life like this and control every aspect of it,” he snapped, abruptly going defensive. “I understand that there is lost time between us, but I already have a life here. With Henry and his wife. I'm… reluctantly willing to let you be a part of it, against my better judgment, but you do not get to boss me around like your own kid. You didn't raise me. Henry and his wife did. And I'm the kind of person who can stand up for himself just fine without intervention. I already have a partner-to-be and everything.”

Miranda and Whumpee both blinked in surprise. But it was Miranda who blurted, “you have a girlfriend?”

Atlas narrowed his eyes at her. “I do. A lot can happen in fifteen years. And no, you cannot meet her.” His gaze flicked to Whumpee, almost apologetically. “She is the best thing that's happened to me, and I don't want her to be… scared off by a certain someone.”

Whumpee knew what he meant, but it still stung. Even if he was peaceful now and his days of war and bloodshed were over, the evidence of it was still there – written all across his body, permanent scars a gruesome work of art, a testimony to all he'd endured and survived. He still looked terrifying, and that was all that often mattered to people, and made them steer clear of him.

But he nodded slowly, understanding. “I know,” he rasped, voice nearly cracking. He would never be normal, no matter how hard he tried to be. Missing out on joyful parts of his son's life like this was just one more sacrifice he was forced to make. Would there one day be a wedding? He probably wouldn't even get to attend, lest he scared everyone away including the bride.

But Whumpee knew. And understood. And accepted.

And a small part of him appreciated Atlas setting a clear boundary from the start, so he wouldn’t get false hope.

And rules. Whumpee could follow rules, right? It’s what he'd been doing practically his whole life. Atlas could draw a dozen lines not to be crossed, and he would never even come close to stepping over any of them.

“Soooo… fun family reunion? Yay?” Max awkwardly piped up to break up the tense silence in the room. He nudged Flint with his shoulder, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Do we have a dinner party or something? What's the tradition with these things?”

Flint rolled his eyes with a smirk and gave him a light shove. “Alas, no dinner party.”

“Bummer,” Max chuckled. But it was enough to dissolve the mounting tension, and Atlas even cracked a small smile.

“Well, I think this will take a lot of getting used to, but… I think I’d like to get to know my birth parents,” Atlas said with a sigh. He raised an invisible glass of wine. “Here’s to the strangest family reunion I've ever heard of?”

Flint laughed good-naturedly and did the same, followed by Whumpee and the others, all lifting invisible drinks in the air.

“Here’s to our weird family and a lot of awkward conversations yet to be had,” Whumpee chimed in.

Atlas was right. It would take a lot of change and getting used to, but… maybe the future wouldn't be as bleak as Whumpee had expected after all. And Whumpee looked forward to healing one shattered piece of himself at a time… with both the family he'd once lost and the loyal friends he’d made along his journey.

Whumpee broke out into a cheerful smile of his own making for once as he lifted his nonexistent wine glass above all the others, whispering to himself in his mind.

For Myra. For Flint, Max, Miranda, my son, and all the others. I’ll do them all proud and take back what joy leader stole from me. One day at a time.

This series is finally finished! Yaaaaay! This was the last chapter I had planned! I made it such a bittersweet ending for Whumpee. It took forever to finish this story, but I'm glad its finally completed.

⏪️ Back

Masterlist

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

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @i-dont-know-sal

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

@theforeverdyingperson @dragongodryss

[geniemillies]

Yearning For Spring | Ch. 2 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 2 - The Lighthouse

<<Ch.1 ||◇|| Ch.3>>

✧ masterlist

Ch. Warnings: brief mention of murder (no one important), King of Hybern is a warning on his own.

For years I slept only to dream of spring and an eternal field of flowers. For years I lived in daydreams where I dared break free from my cage, to spend my days without a mask or a glamour on myself. Living in my thoughts seems to be the only remedy to the cruel reality I wake up to everyday. I tried my best to hang on to the memory of that golden haired boy at the terrace, I cling to it every chance I get. And yet no matter how much I burn his face in my mind it fades through the years that slip by me.

The last I saw him he had been crying, his hands bloody while emerald eyes pleaded to me. His face is all but blurry in my head. But his voice..

His voice still plagues my thoughts.

Four hundred and fifty years have passed, I've grown into something unrecognisable. What used to be the meek little girl who served as the King's servant has now climbed the ranks in his Court. Throughout the years I grew tired of always running to him, filling his cup and holding his wine and sought something greater. I was not spared from military training. I trained and bettered myself alongside the many children that wished to serve the King with a greater purpose. My first kill was a Lord in his Court. Lord Galdiir, the sleeze who'd always make advances at me. I can still remember how the King’s face twisted in cruel satisfaction at my bloodied state, on a bed, with the Lord's head limp on a pillow before me.

“Red suits you.” He once said.

That is when he first realized that there was more to me than just his cupbearer. I was invited to his tower where he worked. He taught me how to wield dark magic and cast spells without needing the Mother's gifts to do so. He taught me until I felt my hands melting off my bones, my power seeping out of me, clawing to be free.

He awakened something in me that even I am terrified of. He said it is a good thing to fear one's self. One must know the monster to properly unleash it.

The King has always been a student of the dark arts. Everyone knows of his experiments and more often than not he shares that hobby with his people in the most cruel of ways. My resilience in both physical and magical training sparked a curiosity in him and I became a subject to his experiments.

Those experiences are ones I try to forget the most.

Meanwhile I entered competitions and duelled soldiers of varying ranks, my strength ever growing thanks to countless hours with a sword and on the floor writhing from his experiments. In Hybern, the only way one can get what they want is by taking it by force. By winning. So I took and I won a million times over. My many triumphs lead me to a seat in his Court serving as another commander of armies. While I still do run to him at every beck and call, at least now I don't have fill his goblet.

I worked my ass off earning such a title. The last battle I won for something I wanted, it was Amarantha and I who clashed blades in a ring. She was his second in command and I wanted that title. I won it in exchange for her hatred. Not like she didn't hate me before but now she just despises me with every fibre of her being.

And now she's gone, turned her back on Hybern and while I do not miss her, the duty of keeping armies in check now falls into my hands alone. The bitch. The nerve of her.

The King seethed for days. His throne room is a disarray of broken furniture and tattered tapestries. Amarantha hasn't sent us back ravens with word of her progress with her mission in Prythian. Turns out she has abandoned her duties and crowned herself High Queen in light of her success of manipulating the entirety of the Prythian Courts. Now I hear she's trapped all the Lords in a cave somewhere.

Matters concerning the neighbouring islands never reach me as my duties are solely in Hybern so I can only rely on Court rumours and gossip of what she might be doing over there. And even then, I cannot trust their whispers.

“Welcome back, Commander.” Two voices said in unison as I walked into the castle, the large doors opening at my presence.

“Brannagh. Dagnan.” I nod to them as they welcome me back. My heart swells with an aching I try to ignore. They used to hug me back from my travels, prying my pockets for any sign of a gift. But they've grown too. And while the King favoured me when it comes to testing spells and experiments they were not spared from that particular hobby.

And they were not as resilient as I was.

I can scarcely recognize them. For there's nothing left in those eyes. They might as well be strangers to me. And I will forever mourn their souls.

Where ever they might be now.

“How is he?” I ask.

“Better.”

“And the throne room?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

As we reached the doors to the throne room, “Your Grace—” I bow–no. I duck and I feel the twins do the same behind me just before I feel a vase thrown to my head.

“Ah, great you're here.” He breathes deeply before running his fingers through his crownless head. “Leave us.” He orders and the twins immediately disappear and the door behind me shuts closed.

“My King.” I step forward, examining the ruined throne room. The twins either lied or he threw another tantrum.

“Little dove.” I cringe at the nickname.

I bow slightly. “At your service.”

“The ‘High Queen’ of Prythian does not wish to speak with her King. She rejects every attempt at a negotiation. She has cut ties with Hybern. The little...” He trails off, struggling to maintain his graceful front before letting out a half laugh.

I walk towards the round table at the centre of the room, my eyes skimming past the many scrolls spread open on the dark marble. “It is difficult to tug on a dog’s leash when it's put a crown on its head.” I look up at him as he walks past, returning to the dais and back on his throne, menacingly slow. “Shall I fly to Prythian and seek her out? I will gladly rip her head and return it to you. Maybe then she'll remember where her loyalties lie.”

“No..” He breathes out. “No. We do nothing. Nothing. For now.” He collects himself. “This is not a loss.” He whispers to himself, a smile forming on his face.

“If my Amarantha seeks to play games I am.. more than happy to indulge her. Let her play Queen a while longer.” He stands again only to walk towards a window overlooking the sea, where Prythian lands peak at the horizon.

The balcony doors open and he calls me to follow behind him. The open sea greets us, the air a smell of death and rot from the bones and cadaver that lay beneath the castle and onto the cliffs below. Failed experiments. I try not to look down but their stench seems to claw their way up to me even at this height.

As I approach him, I speak up. “Amarantha is a fool to challenge you, my King. If she thinks that a crown atop her head is enough to save herself from Hybern's wrath.”

He hums. “She is a fool. A clever, cunning little thing but a fool nonetheless. I always knew she would falter after her countless requests to invade have been denied. Too impatient. Too driven by anger and a desire for vengeance. She lacks clarity. Even more when that sister of hers died. Yet another embarrassment.” He turns to me.

“Tell me, little dove. If I had sent you to overtake Prythian, what would've happened instead?” His question takes me off guard but I do not show him not a flinch of surprise.

“While I may not be as cunning as she, I would make swift work of the island. Bring the courts to heel without unnecessary bloodshed and bring them right before your feet. Amarantha has always been distracted by other pleasures on her conquests. Pleasures that are irrelevant and therefore, useless to our cause. If I had been sent instead of her I would've done the job by now. And we would’ve found the Cauldron and the books.”

“Hm. Precisely why you are my second in command. Not her. But I needed you here so she was the secondary option. A poor choice I will not commit again.”

“The poor choice was committed by her. Not yours.”

“Do not attempt to coddle me, child.” He hissed and I almost flinched at his tone. “I know where I've faulted.”

I close my eyes. “Apologies.”

“I have decided. We will indulge in this little game of hers. A.. sort of experiment if you will. I wonder how long until the High Lords break under the pressure and rebel against her. Or if she surprisingly succeeds my expectations and brings them to heel– hm. I'm rather curious now. Excited even.” I force myself not to cringe. His experiments have always been brought to the most extreme ends. Even when such games are losses to him, he is not affected much. In fact, he is amused by all results whether or not they turn out to be failures. The subjects of said experiments however… suffer all consequences.

I raise a brow. “You will let her do as she pleases?”

“Why not? See if she can actually be of use for once. I consider myself a very, very patient male. I will wait..~”

“That you are.” I look down. “What if they rise against her? And this experiment fails? What of our own plans for the mortal realm?”

“It is no consequence if the experiment succeeds or not. If she manages to control the seven courts then it's a win. If she does not then I will have the pleasure to trample them myself. Either way, I will be happy with the results.”

“I see.”

We stand in silence, our gaze never tearing away from the island that pokes out in the horizon. Spring. Autumn. And for a moment I hesitate to ask him. “Has she.. gained control of all the Courts?”

“The winds return with word that she has. But they prove to be unreliable these days. She has ways of turning the Attor completely to her side so they do not. Return. To. Me. Anymore.”

“If you wish for a messenger I am available.”

He smiles, a cruel and wicked smile. “Eager to visit Prythian are we?” He asks. I avoided his gaze and swallowed the lump in my throat. “You have never set foot outside Hybern since.. that little expedition I sent you all those years ago, haven’t you..?”

“No, my King. I have never. But visiting foreign lands is of no importance to me.”

“Surely you've been… Curious?”

“Perhaps. But Hybern is my home. I'm well content here.”

“So you are.” He looks at the sea then to me. He shrugs. “Why not? I shall send you as a messenger. Tomorrow you are to step foot in whatever hovel she has made her castle and tell that traitor that if she does not kneel before her King then she will break. Scare her a little.”

I nod. “I will see to it done immediately.” But before I leave the balcony he stops me.

“And another thing?” His voice echoes, louder than the waves below.

“Yes?”

He approached me slowly, his body relaxing and he breathes deeply. And as his black eyes stared into mine I saw a softness in them that I once longed for.

He flicks his wrist and my mask disintegrated into glowing embers, revealing my face in its entirety to him. He cups my cheek with one cold hand, showing his illusion of affection that could only make my stomach turn. I wish to flinch away at his touch. “You are my second in command. Amarantha is a fool who lets her emotions control her. Her sister is the same. They are my greatest embarrassment and no longer will I tolerate such failures in my Kingdom.”

His gaze is intense, his eyes a gateway to a hellscape I no longer wanted to look into. My shields are up immediately, like an iron wall of defence, showing him only what he wants to see. My blind devotion.

“See to it that you won't disappoint me either.” His head tilts ever so slightly, his thumb caressing my cheek, his voice soft even as he threathens me.

“I would never betray you, my King.” I held my head high.

“I know you wouldn't, daughter.” He grins, using that word on me. Daughter. As if it held meaning other than that I am a most beloved possession and nothing else. My blood boils beneath my skin.

“I am not Clythia. I am not Amarantha. I have no use for emotions. Feelings are useless but I offer my love and devotion to you and you alone. And my strength and power, all but yours to wield like the sharpest of blades.”

Something flashes in his eyes that is akin to pride. Prideful he is, no doubt. He's made me into his image. Forced me to glamour my silver hair to his onyx black locks and forced a mask on my face at all times just so he wouldn't see my mother's eyes when he looks at me. Through his experiments he's moulded me into a soulless, obedient little thing, always waiting for his command.

And for four hundred years I worked to the brink of death to convince him that he's truly broken me.

I am not broken. Not yet.

Not yet..

— —

I return to the Lighthouse, the smell of rot and decay never reaches this place. Not since I took over it. While the skies above were still tinted and foggy and the pine forests nearby still lifeless and dull as always, it is.. home. A safe haven as opposed to the rest of the island, anyway.

A great estate is built around the lighthouse, a gothic styled piece of architecture in the edge or the cliffs. It used to belong to a rather vicious priestess belonging to the King's Court. The old crone was in charge of taking in orphan children and drilling their heads with religious nonsense. Though, that was before she became a victory of mine and the estate passed down to me. No longer did I wish to live in that horrid palace for a moment longer.

The children she kept.. stayed. And.. additional orphans came soon after because, much to Father's dismay, I still do possess emotions. Sympathy amongst other things. Though, unlike the priestess in charge before I did not push outdated teachings into their little heads. In fact, I taught them nothing at all. They just.. live here.

Most of them..

To avoid the nightmare that is the King finding out that I take in orphan children, I challenged him to a duel to keep the Lighthouse strictly my business and whatever happens in these lands are to be turned a blind eye on by anybody. Granted, I lost the duel. But to a dramatic turn of events he commended me for my confidence and sheer audacity to challenge him. He let me have my privacy, claiming that whatever I do in my off time is none of his or anyone's business and we never spoke of the Lighthouse ever since.

“The children are awfully obedient today. Not one child missing from lessons. Most of them can read two full sentences.” I heard Vel behind me as she undoes my braids and brushes my hair. The Lighthouse is the only place where I can drop my glamoured hair and the mask, the only place that I can ever be someone else other than High Commander or Princess or little dove. The duel with my Father to keep this place private was a bloody one. I still have scars from his sword from that battle. But it was worth it to keep these people close to me.

I don't know what I'd do if he gets his hands on this place. The children. Vel.

If anything happens to them I might actually break at last.. They’re the reason I haven’t yet faltered.

“You okay..?” Vel asked me as she continued to brush my hair. “Has something happened?”

I shook my head and looked down at my hands, a small, green fabric in my palms. The handkerchief the golden boy gave to me all those centuries ago. I rub it in my hands, as if touching it would make me remember his face that's all but fading in my mind. I never lost it. Never let go of it, not even for a second. It's always nestling inside my pockets, tied around the leather of my armoured wrist, on my head serving as an accessory– Never.

It's the one thing I have of him. The one thing that keeps me from forgetting just how green his eyes were that night.

I close my eyes. My mate..

“I'm going to Prythian.” I declare and I feel her shift behind me. “Negotiate with Amarantha. See what she's up to or if she's willing to return to Hybern.”

I look up at the raven-haired girl, her expression twisting into a sickly one. “Will you..”

I nod. “I will confirm it for you.” Her shoulders soften a bit as she thanks me before she turns around, pacing the room. She looks even more at unease.

“She will kill them. I see what she does in that throne room, what she encourages.”

“I know. I know..” I look away.

“I'll try my best to lessen her damage. No matter how light my efforts might be. Though I doubt she hasn't already traumatised the people.” I breathe deeply, and looking at Vel now, with her face filled with dread, I know she's thinking of it too.

“Please.. make sure she doesn't hurt him.” She pleads. “Please, Niamh.”

“I cannot guarantee that. Amarantha has always been a spiteful little creature. If the King cannot control her, what hope will be there for me?”

I can see the hope die in her eyes almost instantly and I falter. For her I falter.

“While I cannot guarantee your brother's safety..” I sucked in a breath and stepped closer. I cup her face and touch our foreheads together, an act of reassurance.

“I'll try my best, Velaria.”

— —

A/n: cough. Iykyk. Also a little bit of math here. Last chapter was set two years after the Treaty/War and we know the war lasted for seven years. And we know Tamlin was born just around the beginning of the War. So during that party Tamlin was nine years old. Niamh is around his age, maybe younger. They were both just babies :') if I'm not mistaken.. And if I'm right then canonically Tamlin's father has been bringing him to Hybern around that age. Amarantha when I catch you..

[educatingmerlin]

Hi and thank you if you answer this one!

Is it just me or does any content with Gwen/Elyan/both of them gets so much less attention from fandom?

ArWen is much less popular than Merthur, despite it being canon. As an artist, who loves drawing Gwen, it's sad to say that Gwen/ArWen arts don't get as much likes and reblogs than Merlin/Arthur. I don't even want to start on Elyan.

And I wanted to know what if it's about art quality? I tried many different stuff with Gwen. Fast and lively sketches, full rendered arts I spent hours and hours of my life, etc etc. Many experimental things to see if there's any difference. But a simple sketch with Merthur gets much more attention in just minutes :/

I can't understand if that's racism towards the character? Or people in fandom just generally love gay characters, absolutely ignoring one of the main characters who IS a female? ://

It really is frustrating to see. As an artist I, of course, love attention (there aren't much who doesn't). But I also don't want to be stuck drawing two same white dudes just to get more likes&reblogs, considering that I myself AM NOT a white man and I do want more diversity in art.

And there's this dilemma in what should I draw to satisfy fandom's needs or should I draw for myself only and suffer from no attention

Thank you for your submission and for sharing your experience.

I am sorry that you have had to go through this, especially with working countless hours making artwork only for it to go unappreciated.

First of all, it is important to know that this is not due to you personally or the quality of your artwork, but it is an issue with the fandom and how they interact with certain content. So please do not blame yourself!

What you have said is right. The fandom is largely dominated by fans of the white characters or non-canon ships (who are mostly white themselves). Whilst there are fans of Arwen/Gwen/Elyan, there are not nearly as many fans for characters such as Merlin, Arthur or Morgana.

Of course the racism has affected the situation too.

It is likely a mix of both things. As there are more fans for the white characters, they are only interested in seeing content of the people they love. This is not a bad thing, but it does impact the way they interact with content. And with racism they usually do not want to see any content of the Black characters.

With the fandom being majority Merlin/Arthur/Merthur fans it is pretty easy for them to gain a lot of interactions with their content and it has often led to certain posts becoming viral (or at least semi viral with thousands and thousands of reblogs).

It is a really difficult situation to be in when you are constantly trying to get your work out there and appreciated. The fandom needs to be a lot more welcoming to content which celebrates a wider part of the show and the characters.

I have a post about this planned which I will share soon but I am striving to do this within this page. It is so important to support creators and artists of color in the Merlin fandom.

For now, there are a few things that I would suggest:

Try to follow and interact with artists who also focus on Gwen/Elyan. Finding a circle where you are on the same page as other fans may be helpful in building up your page and interactions.

No doubt you are doing this already but make sure that you are tagging correctly. For example on Gwen artwork, do not solely tag Gwen related things. Often the hashtags for Black Merlin characters get bombarded with non-Gwen related posts. Many fans follow Gwen tags to see Gwen content but end up unfollowing as posts about her are usually lost in a sea of white Merlin characters.

Make sure you are on different social media platforms. I have spoken about this before but on each site, the fandom is different. One site may be more welcoming and supportive of your artwork than another.

I know this is difficult as this is something which is out of our control and we have to rely on others to support us. It would not surprise me if you have already tried these things, but if you have not, I hope that they do help.

I also hope that other artists share their own tips about this!

My future post will be asking artists what this page can do to help other artists (of color) in supporting them so please look out for it or feel free to submit something here.

[thechaotictheoryy]

Unravel | 1. Over and Over

summary: What if you had chains around your heart but you were the one who put them there? If you took a look at Parker’s heart, you would see a nice beating heart but Parker felt there were heavy metal chains wrapped it. After years of a disconnected relationship with her parents and a hard break up with her boyfriend of four years, Parker Williams made her heart mentally chained. Declaring to never fall in love again but what happens when she meets a witty musician who is all about seeking love?

pairing: main character x hongjoong ft. ex! Yeosang

genre: (18+ minors dni), romance, fluff, lots of angst, coming to age, college au, smut, strangers to lovers, self discovery

word count: 3,872

chapter warnings: intense emotional breakdown, slight scene of self harm, cussing, basically just an introduction to Parker crazy ass

song rec for chapter: Complications by Junny ft. SOLE

a/n: Parker is a pansexual black woman who goes by she/they pronouns. Most characters in the story are Black or Korean except Sarah who is white. Story takes place in Los Angeles, CA. All of this is fiction and does not portray the real personalities of Hongjoong and Yeosang (and any other kpop idol who will appear in this story). Enjoy! :)

Have you ever heard of that quote that said all great love stories end in tragedy?

Romeo and Juliet, The Titanic, The Great Gatsby, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the West Side story. What do all of these stories have in common? You would say that it was unrequited love or two lovers that are head over heels for each other but end up dying. 

But you’re wrong. The most common thing about these stories is that being selfish either leaves you heartbroken or it causes you to die. Love is a drug, a deadly drug that I never wanted to experience again. 

I was running like my heart depended on it, not really acknowledging the fact that I have asthma and I have a mask on. I swear this pandemic has made my health go in circles and my ability to keep up with classes at a low point. It didn’t help the fact that it felt like death outside. It was fall and the only type of wind that was blowing felt like the devil was breathing in my face. My heavy book bag filled with my art supplies and two sketchbooks was pulling more weight on me and I didn’t have time to pick up my canvas. 

 I finally made it to the building I was supposed to be at and ran up the stairs, almost falling. My dorm being across campus didn't make my situation any better than it should be. You could hear the squeaky sound of my beat up retro 12s on the tiles. One thing about me, I would buy one pair of shoes and wear it till it was going to fall apart if it was my favorite. 

Once I saw the door, I stopped running and tried to catch my breath. Checking the time on my watch, I was fucking 30 minutes late.. for the third time. This was one of the most important art classes I need to graduate from this shitty institute. I looked in the window and saw my classmates drawing on canvas. I opened the door and everyone's head snapped into my direction.

"Nice for you to join us Ms. Williams'" Mr. Cook said, crossing his arms.

"I know I'm late again but I have a good reason"

"You overslept..again" The class laughed at his comment.

"Okay you know the reason but I'm here" I took a seat at my station.

"Where's your canvas?"

"Funny story about that too"

As you could see, I'm kind of a class clown. I didn't mean to be this way but it's been my thing since I was in high school. Making people laugh just made me smile but getting myself in trouble was always the punishment for my goofiness. College was different though, you weren't sent to in school suspension or in a time out area. You and your professor would just argue till one of you got fed up. Mr. Cook knew my ways though so he was one of the best teachers in my eyes.

Mr. Cook was a middle-aged white guy with a nice ginger beard while having no hair on top of his head. He dressed like he was still in his 20s but his style wasn’t bad at all.  He used to go to this university years ago. You could say that he was still fresh out of college because of his looks but it had been well over a decade since he crossed that graduation stage. We would hear all his stories about how he was a free spirited art student who wanted his paintings plastered in the galleries in New York City. He dreamed big which inspired me a lot because eventually when he turned 30, he had his first art show in the Pace Gallery.

I want to be like him one day. 

"Just have a seat Parker and this is my last time giving you a canvas"

I sighed and nodded. I put my head down on the table and listened to the sounds of brushes and the birds speaking to each other. I loved art with every bone in my body so just listening to people paint or draw could make me fall asleep like a baby.

"Always late," Sarah said, laughing at me.

Sarah was like my classroom best friend, I could talk to her about the most random things and serious things in my life. I didn't tell her everything but I did to an extent.

"I was really late" I lifted myself up.

"Another one night stand"

"For your information, it wasn't that this time" I stuck my tongue at her.

"You always get the best sleep though so what kept you up this time?"

There was a pause and she looked at me, raising her eyebrow. I did it back at her and nodded.

"Again?"

"Again man"

"I told you stop messing with crazy girls Parker"

"Look, I just like sex. These girls always want something else"

"You better stop leading them on, I know how you can be sometimes"

I rolled my eyes playfully and put my head back down on the desk. To think that I didn't used to be like this. I was all about just being with one person and couldn't even think of myself messing around with different people honestly. But here I am, doing the thing I wish I didn’t start doing. I’m not addicted but it felt like I was filling a hole in my heart that I felt always growing bigger. 

I guess that's what a broken heart can do to you. 

"Maybe you should try the blind date thing that happens downtown every Friday"

"Blind dating? Me? Come on now", I looked at her.

"You never know till you try, they do it in a unique way"

"How so?"

"The two of you sit between this wall with your back facing it and just conversate with each other. You won't know what the person looks unless you both want to go on another date"

"Sounds like another way for me to stack up on my roster"

"There is no hope for you", she went back to the painting.

I laughed and took out my sketchpad and started drawing random things that popped up in my head. She is very right though, there is no hope for me to settle down again. I just didn't have it in me anymore, I was good with what I was doing right now and had no shame about it. Love just...isn't for me and I don't want to go through such hardship again. Every now and then I think about my past relationship, it really affected how I treat women and men now and how I go about the idea of dating. I see couples sometimes around school and get a little sad just because I used to be like them, I used to love someone so hard. Doesn't even help that we go to the same university.

I wondered would my heart ever be mended. The only thing holding it was the chains I had locked around it. It would take a fucking mircale for me to open up to someone in that aspect again. Love is a dangerous thing in this world. Feelings are things that can be manipulated and emotions are like glass that can be broken and shattered into a million pieces. I didn’t want to feel that again. 

After an hour passed, class was dismissed and I walked out with Sarah, just having a random conversation. I got a text on my phone and started responding.

"Parker, maybe we should go the other way"

"Why?", I looked up.

I stopped walking and my feet felt stuck to the ground. Walking in my direction, talking to his friends was my ex-boyfriend Kang Yeosang. I haven't seen him since we broke up because I've been trying to keep my distance. My throat felt like it was closing and I could throw up at any second. All the blood in my body felt like it was rushing to my head. What was this feeling? Why was it happening? Why did he make me feel this way?

I didn't want to think about everything that happened between us including... the night we broke up. I felt someone pull my arm and I watched her walk past with friends. I felt Sarah wipe my face.

"What was that for?"

"You're crying"

"Shit", I wiped my face

"Parker"

"I'm okay, can we just head to get some food please?"

"Okay"

We started heading back to the cafe and I was just trying to process everything. Why was he on this side of campus? Isn't his department on the other side? Doesn't he live off campus now? I had so many questions in my head and I wanted them to stop because then I'll get into a mood where I'll think about her constantly for a few days.

I turned my head to still see him talking to his friends. His silky shoulder length black hair swung as he let out a laugh. His smile used to brighten my day when I wasn’t myself. It used to bring me happiness because I knew he was all I needed and more. When I was with him, I felt like I was an incomplete painting and he was the right color to come fix the disaster that I was. 

He made my biggest fears fade. The sky looked so blue when he was with me and if I felt like my world was falling apart, I knew he would be right there to catch me. That was only in my head because none of it was real to him. 

Behind the smiles and laughs, Yeosang was such an evil person. He didn't care how anyone felt except for himself and I didn't realize how toxic he was until our first year of dating but.. I never left. I stayed because I loved him, I still love him which is the sad part. I'm almost over the break up but I still love him. He was my first everything and the first person to understand me, which is why I hate that if he ever came back into my life.. 

I would fall right back into his hand.

"Parker, are you sure you are okay? You've been in deep thought", I heard Sarah say.

"Yeah I will be"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Since our break up"

"Damn, it's been that long?"

"I just wanted to avoid him and he was texting me after the fact so I blocked him on everything"

"You think he came to look for you"

I shrugged and I guess she took it as a sign to stop talking about it. I didn’t mean to close people out of my mind like that but it just happens when I don’t want to go deeper into how I feel. My vulnerability is definitely messed up. I  scratched my scalp a little and sighed, I wasn't expecting my emotions to react like that. They were just spiraling out of control and I needed a shot or something to calm down my nerves. We finally made our way into the cafe. I felt myself bump into someone and I tripped a little.

"I'm so sorry," The person said.

"It's all good"

I looked at them and my eyes widened a little. He was… beautiful, it felt like his dark brown eyes were staring into my soul. His tan skin matched well with the mole that was right on his neck. His  straight split dyed hair stood out to me the most. He was breathtaking and I don’t think I ever saw him before. He looked like he could make anyone melt at the way his eyes took you in. He slightly smiled at me then walked off, my eyes followed him and I felt my cheeks heat up.

"He's way out of your league" I heard a familiar voice say.

I turned and saw my cousin Jessica. Jessica was a senior here and she has always had my back since we were kids, she has seen me at my worst and my best. She was one of the few people I could run to and count on. She was annoying as shit though when it came to my love life.

"Shut up" I rolled my eyes.

"Just saying, I haven’t seen you date anyone as handsome as him"

"Now you know,” my mind drifted to Yeosang.

"I'm fucking with you, lunch on me"

We decided on what we wanted to do, then went outside to find a table. I enjoyed sitting outside and eating sometimes, it helped with finding inspiration for paintings for me to create, especially seeing the different faces on campus. Some people I see all the time, some of them I don't ever see again. I think it just depends on the person and what they are here. 

I did hope I saw that guy again..

I picked at my salad a little, I can't believe seeing Yeosang again is messing with my head so bad. It was like my brain cells were bumping around each other and my conscious was screaming at me to forget about him. He was an annoyance to my emotions and a pain to my heart.

"Why are you not eating?" Jessica said.

I was quiet and continued to pick at my food.

"She saw that douche"

"Sarah!"

"That shit face, where did he go so I can knock him out?"

"I don't know, me and Sarah was coming from class when we saw him"

"Parker shedded some tears too", Sarah said, biting into her burger.

I glared at her and she shrugged at me.

"You still not over him Parker? It's been like a year"

"I was with him for four long years, you think I can just heal that fast?"

"I mean you been fucking other people so I would think so", I heard Sarah say.

It was all just to keep my mind busy. I didn't want to sit in my room and think about my ex all the fucking time. This was my way of coping but I didn't want them to know that because I knew I would get lectured. I know they wouldn't judge me completely but I didn't need them telling me that what I was doing wasn't a good idea.

"I just wanted to get back in the game, I don't need him and I don't ever want to again" I finally took a bite of my salad.

"That's my bitch" Jessica smiled at me.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed.

I walked into my room from the shower and took my hair at the bun I had it in. I turned on My Hero Academia on my TV, just to give my room some sound. I checked my phone and saw I had some messages to respond to. I had a missed call which caught my eye, the number wasn't saved. I shrugged it off and started putting some lotion on. One of my flings was coming through tonight so I had to make sure for when they just pop up. I checked around my room to make sure it was clean. I hated when everything wasn't organized.

I heard my phone vibrate and I saw it was the number that I had a missed call from. I hesitated but I picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"..Parker"

My eyes widened at the voice. Why now? Was I being played with?

"What?"

"I just want to talk to you"

"I have nothing to say to you Yeosang, what could you possibly want to talk about?"

"You never let me explain what happened that night, you just immediately cut me off. I was looking for you earlier near your department"

So he was looking for me. No wonder he was on that side of campus, the only time he ever came was when we were together and he met me there before we went to lunch.

..Or when he would watch me paint, he said he loved watching me in the zone. He told me before that my paintings belong in someone’s gallery. That was the goal I wanted to reach. Not just for me but.. For him too, since he was my lover and I wanted to share my happiness with him. 

"Yeosang you cheated on me and not only was it that night, it was through half of our relationship. You made me look like an idiot! Stop calling me and don't talk to me ever again!"

“Parker!”

I hung up the phone and blocked the number. I felt tears roll down my cheeks and I quickly wiped them. Why now? Why did he have to call me? Why couldn't he just leave me alone like he's been doing. I went into the bathroom and wiped my eyes. I looked in the mirror and I don't know what came over me but all I could feel was anger.

Next thing I know I punched the mirror... multiple times. I hit it so many times, the feeling in my hand was becoming a little numb. It probably was from all the adrenaline that was coursing through my body. 

"Parker!" I heard my roommates yell.

I was so angry that I didn't even hear them run into my room at that moment. I felt them both grab my arm and I looked at them. They had sad looks on their faces and the tears kept coming down my face. I dropped to the ground and just cried. I felt arms wrap around me and hands rubbing my back.

I was such a fucking mess. I wasn't over it, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself. I wasn't over him, I was heartbroken. I was angry, I was sad, I was so hurt because how could she do that to me? Someone that he supposedly loved? Someone that he said he would marry someday?

He kept feeding me false fantasies and bullshit.

All of it was a fucking lie and he knew it the whole time being with me.

I snapped out of my breakdown and saw them holding a towel on my hand. I looked at them and they looked at me with such fear in their eyes.

"I'm fine guys,” I wiped my face with my other hand. 

"What happened? We ran in and you were punching the mirror", My suitemate Kayla said.

"I just had a moment"

"Parker, we know when you have depressing moments but this was different,” my other suitemate Nicole spoke.

"Something set me off, I don't want to talk about but my hand really hurts"

"You may have glass in it, let me go get my first aid kit," Nicole got up and ran to her room.

"Let's go sit on your bed" Kayla helped me up and we walked to my bed.

I felt pathetic that they were helping me and embarrassed that they had to see me like this. I don't hide my feelings but I don't like showcasing them like this. It makes me feel weak and I don't like looking weak in front of other people, especially since I'm the strong friend. I like being there for others and not wanting to be a burden to others.

Nicole came back in and together, they both cleaned and wrapped my hand up. They kept worrying so I finally told them about my day and what was on my mind. They just listened to me and listened. I have known Nicole and Kayla since my freshman year. I didn't consider them my best friends but they were somewhat like sisters that I wish I had. They were people I wished I met when I was growing up.

"Sounds like an eventful day," Nicole said.

"I guess, I just wished he would not contacted me at all"

"I think you should try the blind date thing, you never know you could find someone who wants to take it further with you" Kayla rubbed my back.

"I don't really want to date right now"

"Y'all could just vibe, doesn't necessarily have to take you out of the game completely" Nicole laughed.

Our heads snapped when there was a knock on the door. They both looked at me with their eyebrows raised, I did a slight smile and shrugged.

"You always have company" Nicole said

"Maybe they can relax me" I stood up.

They laughed and shook their heads at me while heading out of my room. I quickly cleaned up the broken glass in the bathroom and then went to the door. I opened and there was Danielle Strickland standing there with her arms crossed. Danielle was leader of the school’s dance team. She was kind of at the top of my list, I have sex with her the most out of everyone that comes over.

"What happened to your hand?" She walked inside and straight to my room.

"Had a little accident" I shut the door and followed her. I closed the door to my room and she sat down on my bed.

"I could have came tomorrow"

"I need this, I'm a little stressed" I sat down beside her.

Shee smirked at me then kissed me. Me and Danielle were fuck buddies but we were also friends so I guess you could say friends with benefits? We didn't really label, we just knew we were just two people who wanted to have sex with each other. She came onto me first and I took the bait. She told me that she had wanted me since the first time she saw me our freshman year.

Crazy, right?

Yeosang always kept me away from her and didn't like me going to basketball games because of Danielle. They even got into a really bad screaming match each other after one of the games and here I am having sex with her after we break up. Danielle wanted to be with me and she wanted more but I couldn't give her what she wanted right now.. I don't know if I ever will.  It wasn't like she wasn't my type but it was just something about her that made me not want to be in a relationship with her.

I don't know if it was my conscience or the constant voice I had in my head telling me not to do it. I tried to not look too much about and enjoy the moments that we shared together. Also, I just realized how young I am and I shouldn't be ready to settle down so early. I have a lot of time and I don't feel the need to rush it anymore. I wanted to enjoy my last two years here in college and enjoy my youth.

I want to try new things. I want to experience things that make me feel uncomfortable.

I wanted to have those memories I could play over and over again and never forget when I get older.

Taglist: @hwaslayer

a/n: thank you for reading the first chapter! If you would like to be on the tag list just let me know :)

next.

[reduxreminisce]

State of Future Uncertainty

Hey everyone, it's been some time since I've used Tumblr as a blog post. But I want to share this here as I am uncertain about my future.

Throughout my time making art in Blender, I've slowly started losing hope in the passion of moving forward. A big part of the reason why I treated myself like this is the fact that 3D art in general has been in a state of constant underappreciation. Most of the time, I look at my work as if it is worthless to the public when it comes to sharing through social media. I've always been under pressure to compare myself to others based on digital art, knowing how significantly different I am when solely making 3D art. It came to me as if my work was just trash, or the number of times that I tried to invest in something memorable that would be meaningless to people in the end. All of these things altogether started becoming the reason why my passion started to dwindle over time, or in this case, just quit art entirely and rather focus on college. If my work was simply unappealing or rather less interesting to begin with, then I would not be here in the first place, to share with you all the things that I've done with Blender. And if I did drop art just to focus on college, I would be a fool to consider how much time and effort that I wasted overall to 'accomplish something'. I would be laughed at by everyone to think of the fact that I'm nothing unique to consider.

The truth is, I'm not having a good year. There would be times where I wanted to delete my artwork if no one saw it or felt like I was intentionally avoided by people. No matter how hard I wanted to try, I didn't feel like I did something good enough for people, rather than only satisfying myself as a hobby. Even if I wanted to delete my entire presence on social media, I would only realize that I lost everything in a futile attempt to escape the problems I had. And sometimes, I wished I was gone out of disappearance, never to be seen again and forgotten. The world doesn't owe me, so there's no point of people giving the same reciprocity of love back.

If I, at some point, pulled the cord like this, just know I tried to do something, even if it may cost me to throw my entire life away. Know that I appreciate every, single, one of my followers, people, and those who have stuck with me, who have liked my posts, and who have sent kind and supportive words to encourage me to keep going, everything I've come up to this point. I'm sorry that I've set myself down and those who saw me as an inspiration for my works, but my current mental state continues to deteriorate and progressively worsen over time.

I'm still trying to push myself out of this unconscious state. Please give me some time.

[jaelaxies]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐡

fluff; wc: 1.5 k.

Sunghoon x fem reader! friends to lovers!; college au!; Art club president au!; tw: mentions of stalking.

Song recommendation: Mine— Taylor Swift.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

—Are we both looking at the same thing?

Jake said as he spoke closer to my ear in a whisper like tone. We were sure this wasn’t the first time it happened but this was definitely our first time seeing it. I nodded and instinctively brought my hands to shush him out before he could call her out as he was about to do so. — We need proof first, Jake. Hoon isn’t going to do anything unless he sees what she is really doing.

I was fuming, but I tried my best to keep my cool; since Sunghoon became president of the art club, we went from zero to a hundred in all cases: from having no members to almost 20 request per day and in some instances, there were people who had little to no interest in art: they were just fascinated by Park Sunghoon. It was quite normal to find two or three people in for him and then when they noticed that he wouldn’t approach the same way, they would stop.

But this was different.

This girl was completely harassing him and taking pictures and videos of him in “secret”, to no avail also, because Jake and I caught her but still, the sole idea of somebody taking advantage of Sunghoon’s kind and calm personality put me in a totally different state of mind and since I knew the man like the palm of my hand, I also knew that he would want to avoid any sort of conflict but the way his eyes pleaded to mine when we found each other’s eyes told me something that was for sure: he also wanted help.

—Okay, everyone! — I stood up with clasped hands and a big smile, pretending not to know anything. I strode up to where Sunghoon was standing and linked arms with him, bringing him closer to myself a little bit; enough to make distance between himself and her. I almost felt bad at how she seemed to stretched her hand out to grab his sleeve, but I also wanted the best and comfort for my friend. — Time to pair up! Search for somebody and as I did, once you found your partner, link arms and start working on ideas for the exhibition of next month! Quick!

Once she felt out of place between his tall figure and mine, she walked away slowly while sending daggers in my direction trough her eyes. Like he was her possession and I just took him away from her, quite literally. But the thing was, Sunghoon was never mine, because I never considered him “something” but someone close and someone I…

—Are you okay? — I said in a whisper while tugging him out of the classroom. He didn’t oppose, rather, I felt his body relaxing and his footsteps became less heavy.

—I don’t know why… — He started, a frown forming in his delicate features; scrunched nose showing his frustration. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet I know he was blaming himself so I stretched my hand and softly pinched his cheek.

—Stop it, Hoon. — I retracted my hand and then brushed his locks away to soften the same lines that formed in his forehead with a light smile forming on his lips and almost like magic,  on mine too. — I guess it’s my turn to protect you.

If I wanted to capture something in my mind forever was Sunghoon’s dimpled smile and rosy cheeks laughing at my selfish comment. I wasn’t strong nor I was the smartest but I liked him, and if I had to put myself first this time I would, because there were dozens of past times were he had done it for me. Sunghoon could be awkward, shy and even too boring for some people; but I just liked him the way he was. I didn’t need to sit in an imaginary rollercoaster while being with him, it felt like we were puzzle pieces when together. Different but still fitting. He reached out and tentatively locked our hand together, his face painted dusty rose and his sweet smile still from ear to ear. — I never knew it would made me kind of happy to hear that.

—She would do anything for you! — Jake screamed out, startling both of us and in the process, making him break the sudden contact. — But I will too! This isn’t a good thing at all, man.

Jake showed Sunghoon proof of him being recorded and the photos that were circulating trough a group chat where that person was distributing them. — We can…

—No. — I said, snatching the phone away from him; this was like a catalogue for a human and it made me sick to my stomach to see it. How could anyone think like that? — I will take matters into hand.

I gripped the phone and my hand and sighed, looking up again to see the boys with a confused look on their faces. Jake was expectant but Sunghoon… he seemed a little bit hesitant. Those puppy eyes looking into mine were not working this time, we could no longer protect this type of actions but I still reached out and squeezed his hand quickly, locking our eyes together. — I promise this will be over soon, Hoon.

Friday reached over and I was waiting down the hall for Sunghoon when I noticed a familiar figure standing next to the door of his classroom. Oh no, not again. I started walking with so much fire in my chest that I almost could feel that if I didn’t calm myself while walking down the next few steps, I would most definitely lose composure.

—What do you think you are doing? — I said while standing in front of her, my voice becoming so stern an icy, I didn’t knew I could speak like that. — You’re harassing him, you know?

—I’m not! — She screeched out so loudly that people started gathering around; I crossed my arms in my chest and sighed. No remorse at all.

—You are. — I pointed out to her phone and then at the classroom. — You’re stalking him. I would not tolerate it.

—There it is! That fucking nasty attitude of yours — She dug her nails into her palms as if wanting to punch me in the face wasn’t evident enough on the way she talked. — You think he’s yours only!

—He’s not a thing, for God’s sake! He’s a Human! — I pointed out to her and then the classroom door opened.  A concerned Sunghoon appeared looking at me and then at her; he put his hand on the back of my shoulder and squeezed it a little, knowing it would calm me down but I still kept going. — He’s not mine! He’s not yours! He’s just himself!

When she was about to respond, Sunghoon stood in front of me and took my hand; locking them in place while intertwining our fingers. — This conversation is over. Stop bothering my girlfriend from now on, please.

Yeah.

What?

With ease, Sunghoon parted the crow and started guiding us trough it. In a hushed voice and with rushed steps, I could finally hear his calm tone again this time laced with something even more intimate in it. — Hold my hand tighter if it makes you feel safer.

When we reached out the art salon that was designed to be our club, we almost collapsed behind the door but we allowed ourselves to just close our eyes for a moment and feel our shoulders brushing, our hands sharing warmth and we let out a small giddy laughter from our chests. I could hear the echo of his words from earlier but this was still nice. Just feeling him close to me. But then he spoke with a grin showing his pearly white teeth and half-closed eyes, pure happiness seeped trough his expression. — So… I said something out there?

Yes, you did. — I also smiled widely, not caring to hide my interest in him anymore and that seemed to be the case too for him as his eyes sparkled up at the sight of my own smile.

Are you okay with that? —He said while biting his pretty plump lips and trying his best to contain a tentative smile; It was his first time being this brazen and if I didn’t knew him, I wouldn’t have notice his blushed ears and neck.

—I do. — I said while squeezing his hand, dropping my head on his shoulder as his lips kissed the crown of my head with care. Sensing a smile forming in his lips, I continued my speech a lot more relaxed this time. — I’ve been waiting to say it but I’m just so happy that you did too, I’m just…

When his lips touched mine, I could only let all of the emotions I wanted to put on speech on that kiss. We moved our lips carefully to a vals that didn’t exist yet but was perfect for us two and when breathing was necessary, our selfishness got the best of us; wanting to feel closer than ever, we separated out of breath, foreheads touching each other and contagious smiles adorning both of our expressions. He engulfed me in a big hug and I basked in the scent of his cologne, feeling the rush of this fuzzy feeling in my whole body.

This was being in love and being reciprocated and there was no better feeling in the whole wide world. Because now, it was you and me and that’s my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Oh how i love my sweet little fluff, i tried to not focus so much on the stalking part but i did wanna show that even men can be victims to that; so regardless of any gender, race or orientation if you found yourself in a similar situation it's best to call for help asap.

How are we doing everyone? Happy 1st of December!!

Thanks to everyone who has been loving my writings, i know i say it every single time but it really keeps my own spirits up and if i can communicate my gratitude i will: so thank you everyone, my little stars (❁´◡`❁)

I really hope everyone is in the spirit and if not, let's enjoy this moment; the seconds that we are here in this universe are so precious🤍❕

As always, feedback is really appreciated and I’ll love if you could reblog or comment if your really liked this one!

With love, *°࿐Stella🤍

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

[augustsappho]

Goldsmiths Centrists and Palestine: How To Ignore A Genocide - by August Sappho

On some unfortunate Tuesday in October 2023, I was sat shoving a piping hot cheese toastie down my throat in between morning lectures and sat idly with 2 other people in the refectory. Creative Arts students I'd met in the freshers chat who, whenever I had tried to share the contents of my lectures excitedly, had shut me down on the basis of politics being complicated and uncomfortable table talk. Desperate to make friends and coming from a family of people who typically get headaches at the dinner table caused by my ramblings and ravings, I understood and obliged; after all, I want to build bridges, not be the scary monster underneath them. That is until the curious question of Palestine came up, and I stayed quiet. Surely, these self-proclaimed apolitical progressives would be sensible. “I just think it’s all so complicated, really! People need to read up more before they come to broad conclusions!*” Yes, they absolutely should. What a rational take to have formed in the face of a sudden media flurry. In my own opinion, education, and more importantly, history, is the cornerstone of enriching one's ideas and understanding. The same way you use butter in a stew, and like butter, the professionals use a lot of it. And, like butter, it fattens me up, nourishes me and brings me a great deal of comfort. 

Mid-way through the summer term, I was struck by pure delight that I am living in a time where I can access any and every book I could ever dream of accessing either via the internet or a library or simply buying it. I sit, live and breathe in a country where the tuition fees are, yes, expensive but far from American and where people take great risks on their whole lives just to brush it with their fingertips, arm outstretched over a chasm of hope. Unfortunately, my table mates had decided not to utilise any of this incredibly accessible research and immediately followed their statements up by berating and shaming a lecturer in the media department for wearing a pro-Palestine jumper. They alluded very heavily that he should face some sort of consequence or simply not be allowed to wear it. After all, what does Palestine have to do with Creative Arts?  I continued chewing very slowly and very tense. I did think about saying something but decided against it. Months later, I blew up at them because these same apolitical progressives had one too many times scoffed, played devil's advocate and questioned people, including myself, into an uncomfortable corner over political meet-ups, rallies and open letters. Questioning tactics, phrasing, aims to no avail beyond being arseholes - have we tried just being really super duper nice to management guys? I almost laughed when I’d seen one of them had started learning Hebrew out of the blue on Duolingo.

Unfortunately, those self-proclaimed progressives aren't anything new at Goldsmiths University of London. It has a real troubling culture of letting people only engage in what they are comfortable with and not think much beyond that. Gay rights are legal in this country and, therefore, not controversial and, consequently, easy to support. Racism is illegal in this country and, therefore, not controversial to speak up against and easy to publicly oppose. Feminism has had many successful waves here, and so it is not out of the ordinary to call yourself a feminist (without being able to explain much theory behind any of what makes these ideas up or what distinguishes them). Unfortunately, these are also easy things you can add to your social media bios with no further thought, with the sole intent of virtue signalling and repelling conservatives online. While I am grateful for all these comforts and people's ability to declare themselves as such openly, they are often done on a very face-value level and do not always mean you're a particularly good anti-racist or a good ally or a good feminist. They often trick people who have done their homework into a false sense of security. No,they use these words in a way where the thinking has been done for them. You do not have to fight; you just have to pick the glaringly obvious option. They do not have to form moral opinions on the suffragettes bombing mailboxes, the Stonewall Riots or violent plantation liberation attempts from the likes of John Brown. They can simply sit and enjoy the luxury of not ever having to deal with the hard-hitting stuff and pretending they would have come to those conclusions anyway. 

Palestine, then, has acted as an axe, splitting whole student bodies around the world into two general camps. Between those who will occupy, sign letters, donate money, raise hell in the name of justice. In the name of what is good. Between those who will learn and listen and between those who will rattle on the same few talking points, claim to see both sides and claim things are just oh-so-complicated when they simply are not. Those who swear themselves by ideals of liberty and freedom and yet cannot muster a grain of sympathy to fight for those who have none. Those who will even go to the extent of the disenfranchisement of their peers and bullying if it means maintaining close contact with their comfort zones, and Palestine makes them very uncomfortable indeed—hearing chants and seeing flags and skirting around the videos of the bodies and the rubble, having to relocate your lecture or walk past a very obvious liberated zone. It makes it an unavoidable topic, puts politics in the face of those self-proclaimed progressives, and asks them, “Do you care enough to make a change?”. And the answer is a simple no. Instead of engaging with the reading they promised themselves publicly as a show of intellect, they choose to occupy their hours sending secret complaints to the warden, huff in frustration at marking boycotts, and get uncomfortable while swearing they're involved in all this and fully supporting it. Yet following lists, open letter signatures, and the things they mutter to each other paint a different picture. It is as if they know they are on the wrong side. They look left and right to see predominantly white middle-class faces like their own and prime ministers of conservative governments and think of it as some bizarre coincidence. They know they are wrong not to be reading, learning or keeping up to date which is why they maintain their opinions and feign progress until they are awkwardly called out or the simplest of questions peels off the scab.

“It’s [the occupation of the library] hindering students who have every right not to join the protest to do well in their end-of-year assignments!”—a message sent by one of the beloved October centrists. In a conversation that blew up into me confronting them for how they have treated several people, they hammered in that the student occupation of the library was unfair on themselves personally and other students like them. However, the occupation wasn't situated anywhere near the exam rooms nor on an exam day and was solely in the bottom floor front section of the library, where students are allowed to make as much racket as they want already, and people frequently do group projects there for this explicit reason. Anyone who has been to any library knows the bottom floor is always designated as the loud floor, and the higher up you go, the quieter it gets. Our library is quite impressive in size, so while unavoidable on the ways in and out, once you are inside, it was never going to be hard to find a spot to block them out. They did not know this, however, as it had never impacted them beyond hypotheticals in their head, and their argument wasn't dependent on having actually kept their eyes on what students were doing but rather finding anything to scream inconvenience at. All I could think was how funny that a student occupation of a library could be deemed as some unforgivable act because it impacts them directly, but a genocidal occupation in which their university has a hand in just isn't worth the time of day. The warden herself referred to the library occupation as something that ‘threatened’ students.

Let me conclude them with a different quote from the fictional Robin Swift from R.F. Kuang’s ‘Babel’ whose words perfectly encapsulate this ordeal.

“Across the town, students were fast asleep. Next to them, tomes by Plato and Locke and Montesquieu waited to be read, discussed, gesticulated about; theoretical rights like freedom and liberty would be debated between those who already enjoyed them, stale concepts that, upon their readers’ graduation ceremonies, would promptly be forgotten. That life, and all of its preoccupations, seemed insane to him now; he could not believe there was ever a time when his greatest concerns were what colour neckties to order from Randall’s, or what insults to shout at houseboats hogging the river during rowing practice. It was all such frippery, fluff, trivial distractions built over a foundation of ongoing, unimaginable cruelty.”

*the first conversation is paraphrased as best as I can remember it, as I do not record my conversations with people

[limeinaltime]

This is in response to the recent drama that arose in the fandom recently. For context, here's the post and the response (had to borrow it from another blog because the poster has me blocked). Please read through all of it for context.

I don't usually do this, but I want to state my case on the matter. Note that I will be addressing both callout posts in this, and my contact with both ProjectAnomaly and the unnamed person who sent the DMs was limited. Putting this under a cut because I have some things to say.

Do I support the things mentioned in this post? No. Never. Not in a million years. But this is something that happened two years ago, and I never wanted to be involved in it to begin with.

For starters, let's cover the people I am in contact with.

River (now going as Lizzy) is a friend of mine and someone I've talked to ever since MD's first episode aired, and I can say for a fact that this conversation of adoption and letting them move in with them has played out. At the time, I felt hopeless and wanted to help as well, but Lizzy doesn't owe me anything. A then-13 year old doesn't owe me anything, especially if it's for something like basic empathy. That mindset is a pretty fucked-up thing to have, especially when someone comes to you for comfort. I don't think Juno's intentions were bad, but their reaction to Lizzy cutting ties was.

"I was never that close with them anyway" is a very flippant thing to say about someone you seemingly cared for enough to try and offer help.

Waayix and Belle, I didn't get into proper contact with until after this had passed, but I was aware of what was going on through what Juno and the unnamed person told me. Waayix, I had been contacted by a few times due to similar interests. Do I agree with what they did in the past? No, I don't, but I'll get to that later. I also don't think a minor should go poking around in 18+ spaces, either.

And saying that Waayix was "covering their tracks" when they deleted their own account once all of this started happening recently feels kind of hypocritical. This is a very "what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament" kind of situation"

Waayix doesn't even say she likes it. She says she stays away from it at the point of those messages being sent. I am not defending past actions, but if someone's trying to fix a mistake, you don't just say "Yeah, they're just doing it to cover their tracks" you don't come out and admit stuff if you're trying to cover your tracks. The account was taken down, it doesn't exist anymore, Waayix expressed that they regretted it and it doesn't need to be a whole thing. There was no need to make this a thing.

I was 19 when this happened, and not active on the server where this took place, so my contact with Juno was pretty limited. I had no idea what was going on, and what I said in the post was based solely on what I knew from what I was told by the people I was messaging. I said what I thought based on what I knew and wanted nothing of it. I won't take it back, but I wish I handled it more maturely. When I learned about what happened, I was shocked and blocked Waayix and Belle for a while. I took everything Juno and the other person mentioned here said as fact, and solely based my reactions around that.

What happened was wrong and I won't take back my initial feelings. I was upset and confused because while I didn't know Belle, Waayix was someone who I had admired for their art a while, having only talked to them on sparse occasions. I blocked them because I wanted nothing to do with something I genuinely had nothing to do with. I blocked the unnamed person to tried to contact me because I didn't respond well to sudden mentions of conflict, something I regret in the present. I wish I had made myself more clear, and I wish I had told them. The reason I cut contact was because I wanted nothing to do with this, and I don't want to be connected to someone who reacts in this manner to conflict.

Time passed. The people owned up to it and I decided to give these people a second chance because I wanted to trust that this was a mistake instead of malice. If they did it again, I would've cut ties and left it behind without a second thought, accident or not. But they didn't. The incidents mentioned here never happened again. The choice I made was a conscious one, and one I made long after the incident itself died down.

You can form your own opinions on what this makes me in your eyes, but I want to put how I feel out here before everyone takes what I said in the post as the only way I feel.

I was upset at the time. I'm not anymore, and I don't like that I was used as evidence. The thoughts I had then do not line up with the thoughts I have now. I am not a good source of proof, and I don't want to be proof. I let my own opinions on them form, and I consider them friends that I can trust as of now.

I believe that people should be held accountable for their actions and that all mistakes have consequences. That's how we learn and grow as people. I believe that people are capable of remorse and changing their minds. A bad person feels no pain of their actions and an apology is just words, a good person makes active attempts to be better and push towards amends. If someone says sorry and does good on it with active attempts to be better and rectify what went wrong, then I will forgive them with time. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. But the words I said two years ago do not reflect the words I would've said now, nor should they have been used in this manner. These people have admitted to what happened, owned up to it, and have changed from who they were back then, and for that, I am willing to move on as well.

TL;DR (and I say this to both parties involved): I was upset, and said those things, but I'm not anymore and have forgiven these people and gave them a second chance. No one's obligated to do what I'm doing, but don't put these people on blast, either. Accept that people change and grow, mistakes are admitted but will not always be forgiven, and go on living.

[as8bakwthesage]

Let me teach you something about learning how to draw poses

So I decided to try and draw a more dynamic and action pose. I tried to do it from my head but I couldn't really visualise it properly, so I took a photo of myself for reference.

my room is a mess, I know shhhhh

With this in mind, I tried to just look at the reference and draw, getting me my "oof" attempt.

Now, this looks sloppy. It's a decent first attempt, but the proportions are significantly more wonky and not very good. So then I decided to break down my original photo reference.

I traced over the original photo, and then moved the sketch to have a clearer image of what exactly I was drawing with the shapes. I focused solely on the shapes and where they went.

Which got me my "better" attempt.

Mind you, it's still a bit wonky and not perfect, but because I broke it down and tried again, I have a better idea of the perspective of the image with the shape language. I can now look at this and think "hm, the back foot looks like it's facing sideways when it should be facing more towards the camera. And that same leg should be curving downwards and not upwards."

Which got me this

This time I paid more attention to the details I missed, and got a much better result.

My point is, when you practise your art skills, and try to do more things outside of your comfort zone, practise smart, not hard. Use technology to help make it easier for you. There is no shame in tracing a photo reference to understand how the form works.

Fucks sakes, I frequently trace my own poses just to get shit done. It's not against the law to use what resources you have. And make sure you practice. Do several sketches, you'll improve more and more.

If this tutorial helped you at all, please reblog it, so others can see it!

[anna-doll]

For the longest time…

I’ve come across reblogs of TheGrandHorizontal’s tumblr posts on other tumblr’s pages and in doing so, was continually reminded that I, for some reason, got blocked…

And for the longest time, I’ve asked myself WHY..?

And for some reason, it has eaten at me like a parasite chewing on my flesh… Mainly because I couldn’t figure out what I did to be shut out in such a premeditated way…

And then I discovered THIS…

…and that “THIS” really pissed me off..!!!

So… indulge me this rare rant if you would like to, or just keep scrolling down to my next post 😜

First off, Mr or Mrs (but definitely A MISS) “Grand” Horizontal… Your Highness… You are anything BUT grand..!!!

You’re more like The Grand Wizard of Was…

You present yourself as though you’re some great curator of an online museum, wherein the truth is, all you’ve done is taken other (more interesting) people’s works of art (like EVERYBODY else does and has, since the beginning of the internet) and posted them as though you’re some amazing professor of art history that’s due all the credit…

But you’ve done so in a most ungracious way, you pompous pile of platitudinous purloining puss.

Bahhhh..‼️

Your ridiculous pinned post says it all… A round file of righteous rhetoric, written solely to make yourself sound intelligent and omnipotent…

TAKE THIS you talking head… you’re nowhere close.

You write “my posts don’t necessarily reflect my sexual predilections” and AGAIN, “Posts are not endorsements of the philosophies communicated in them”…

What a true coward are you… (rhetorical question).

“You’re not here for conversation”, yet you need everybody who has the “fortunate luck” to see your blog to know what doesn’t, but obviously does, turn you on… True babble from a boring bumbler.

You don’t advocate what you post..? Yet you post what you do…

Why..?

…It’s obvious… You post other people’s creations because you DO endorse their messages…

Or is everyday “opposites day” where you live (in your mom’s basement)..?

The ONLY thing I do agree with you on is that YOU DO REPEAT YOURSELF… to a fault.

But the very worst thing about how you portray your grandiosity is that you’ve set up a dynamic that is so very contrary to your own words. You come across as a downright scary person who judges those who are, and aren’t, worthy to view works of art that you did not create.

You equate half of America and Americans, and everyone else on earth, to being Nazis… Republicans = Nazis..?

I’m not defending either group, but that’s not true. Republicans are Republicans… and Nazis are Nazis. It’s two different things… Duhhh..!!! You do history a disservice but idly throwing around partisan catch phrases in order to make yourself sound better than everyone else.

You’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem… Everyone is entitled to their belief systems as long as they aren’t hurting others… Who are you to judge who’s worthy and who isn’t, ESPECIALLY using art as your gavel..? If anything you should try and enlighten people if you disagree with them and not use your self fulfilling platform to disparage others…

You’re the emperor with no clothes.

Personally, I’m neither Republican or Democrat… It may be obvious to some that the only “2 Party System” is the Haves and The Have Nots, and The Real President is CASH MONEY… But you’ve taken the tactless tact of alienating instead of including… A cheap parlor trick that’s popular with the people you claim to dislike… Conquer and Divide..? Judge, Jury and Executioner..? “Because ALL you people are impossible”..? “Do US all a favor”..?

Who is “us”..? And who are “you people”..?

From where I’m sitting, it’s just YOU, you weak minded uninteresting DICKtator.

You ban Nazis huh..? How many real Nazis from 80 years ago attempt to follow your blog..? And really… how many white supremacists, skin heads, neo-nazis, klansman and bible thumping conservatives have tried to follow your tumblr, for that matter..?

Is it 75% or 50%..? You brag that you’ve blocked 75% of the people who have tried to follow you, but clearly 49% of Americans voted Republican.

30 people in one morning..? …And you’re proud of that..? What a complete CREEP..!!!

Follow THIS professor… Math isn’t your strong point, and now YOU’RE being graded.

F+

You don’t let “Nazis” follow you huh..? Yet, interestingly enough, you post images with real nazi regalia in them… Shame on you.

Case in point…

You’re a complete hypocrite, a carpet bagger, a fraud and a charlatan…

You “shouldn’t have to make dumb posts like ‘this one’ yet…”

Well GENIUS… You shouldn’t have, but YOU DID.

The ONLY redeeming quality about YOU that I can see NOW, is that you DID block me.

Thanks JERK..!!! 😛

[natsmagi]

Do you ever feel bad about your art? I've tried drawing before, but it never looked good so I just quit

OUGH SOMETIMES TBH....... though id kinda say thats part of the drawing process 💔💔

for me theres two types of "feeling bad" abt my art; the first being more imposter syndrome-y where i just kinda feel guilty over the amount of recognition i get when theres so many artists that i think are better and deserve it more than i do and other things along that line

the second one (and probably more universal) is, ofc, the feeling that ur art kinda sucks sometimes. honestly its very rare for a drawing to turn out the way i had originally envisioned because i simply do not have the skills to pull it off, which sucks!! and honestly, alot of the time i just try pushing through despite me hating the way the drawing looks. usually ill still post it even if i hate it, because in a way i think its kinda important to let myself be bad at art, and my blog was never meant to be used as a portfolio anyway, so why not post the things im less proud of aswell? especially since the communities im part of are rather niche, and i feel as though even if the quality is bad, someone might still be happy to see it!

so i let myself not be perfect with my art, as i feel being stuck on the same piece is only going to stagnate my growth and make me frustrated. not to mention the drawing usually only ends up looking Worse the more i try to fix it, and me posting a drawing is basically me putting a full stop to working on the drawing, forcing me to move on to something else and try again

art doesnt always look good!! and it most DEFINITELY is never perfect, but i also kinda find beauty in that yknow?? especially when uve been drawing for a while, its always fun to look back and see ur progress! its fun to see ur missteps and how u managed to improve! ive mentioned it before, but the sole reason i even created this account was so that i Would improve my art. i didnt really have much going on so i thought id genuinely try my hands at art again, which i had grown less passionate about the years prior. this blog is me sharing what ive created, no matter how amateurish it is, no matter my ups and downs, because i believe that will help me grow in the end! ive posted numerous attempts at various styles (moreso rendering styles) to see what i think suits me and what i find most pleasure in, aswell as my art style in general being rather stylized (the simplistic faces for example), figuring out what ways of drawing made me happy and what didnt through trial and error!

the first step is always the hardest, but its better than no step at all! so if you wanna draw, just go for it! its ok for it to look bad! keep trying various styles and methods until you find one that makes you happy!! its ok to be inconsistent!!

[haldora]

20 questions for fic writers

Got tagged by @inkpot-demigod! Took me a while to get around to it, but it was fun to fill this out, even if I'm not much of a writer anymore.

how many works do you have on Ao3? 13

2. what’s your total Ao3 word count? 122,503

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Most of my fics are Babylon 5, but the latest fandom I wrote more than one fic for was Pathologic.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Despite most of my work being for B5, my top 5 fics are mostly for other fandoms, probably because of differences in overall fandom size. 1. Postprandial (Gotham) My sole fic for the fandom and probably the most indulgent thing I've ever written. I'm gonna be real here and say that I have a conflicted relationship with this fandom because I, uh... do not like the show and have little to no interest in DC media otherwise, but it was one of those things where a certain ship grabs me by the balls heart and pulls me into a deeply cringe obsession. But being cringe is the only way to make art, especially the kind of intensely gratuitous, unselfconscious, and joyful art that this turned out to be, and I'm still very fond of this fic and happy with the reception it got. It's my most popular work by far despite being a niche kink, which has contributed to me feeling a lot less self-conscious about my interests in general. 2. Shadowshow (Pathologic) A compilation of fics written for the Pathologic Kink Meme featuring a bunch of different characters and ideas. While I have no way of knowing which fic most of the kudos are in response to, I have a feeling that the fic with the most broad appeal is probably the Burakhovsky sex pollen twyre fic, which was a lot of fun to write. With porn tropes like this, I have a lot of trouble keeping a straight face, so I tried to lean into the silliness while keeping things broadly in character and I still like the result. It ended on a sequel hook, too, which I'm still surprised that nobody on the kink meme grabbed to follow up on. I'm generally very fond of these fics because they're symbolic of a really fun time in my life and the best fandom community I've ever participated in. <3 Patho Blocklist alumni 2020 represent 3. Suffer Your Excess (B5) This was the first B5 fic I'd ever posted and my first serious attempt at fanfiction in a long time. I still have a lot of nostalgia attachment to it and I see why people like it, but ultimately I think I explored similar themes a lot better in subsequent fics. But this was still vital practice in getting my bearings in a new fandom. 4. A Golden Autumn (Pathologic)

Ah, my tragically incomplete Burakhovsky longfic that I still have all outlined and plotted out and just never continued. I always have lots of ideas for long multichapter fics, but almost never allow myself to start them because I almost always burn out or get distracted by other things and then it haunts me for the rest of my life. Maybe one day I'll continue it, but I've come around to feeling like it was a product of the early Patho fandom and a lot of the themes and ideas in it have since been thoroughly explored by much better writers than me, which puts a damper on my enthusiasm, alas.

5. Every Shining Thing (B5)

Always happy to see this one breaking the top 5 because although it's one of my older fics, it still holds up for me. The fandom being as small as it is means that I can keep up with the tag pretty easily and while there's amazing stuff still happening, I can't say I've seen another fic with similar themes crop up in the fandom and while I of course would love to see other people exploring these ideas, it's kinda cool to be the person who wrote the definitive fic on this topic. When I'm feeling down on myself and wondering whether I'll ever manage to write substantively again, this is one of the fics I look to to remind myself of what I'm capable of.

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love getting comments and try to respond to all of them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I tend not to go for unambiguously happy or sad endings. I prefer something more bittersweet. A speck of light in the darkness or a note of unease in an otherwise harmonious resolution. But I think Open Wound, a Londo centered character study during one of the darkest periods in canon, has a pretty bleak ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

False Dawn, probably. A Londo/G'Kar fic that takes place in a happier fix-it AU. The closest I ever get to writing fluff. An objectively low stakes material problem with somewhat higher emotional stakes that ends on a pretty feel-good high note.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Never directly on my fics, thankfully, but I've been sent a few death threats and attempts at suicide-baiting for writing some of the things I do and supporting others who do so. I take it as a point of pride. <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Most of my work has some erotic undertone even if it's not explicitly sexual. I'm open to a lot of things and while I do have very strong interests in certain kinks, what I'm drawn to when writing tends to be more related to a certain character dynamic and the unique possibilities it offers. So basically, I write the smut I think is the most IC for whatever characters I'm writing and whatever serves as the best vehicle for the ideas I'm trying to get across. Which isn't a very interesting answer, but it's true.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I prefer really diving into the specificities of a certain world and trying to deepen and intensify the ideas that are already there rather than trying to combine it with other things to make new ones. If I ever get to thinking that elements from different canons would be really interesting to see combined, that usually ends up as a launchpad for original worldbuilding rather than contemplating crossover possibilities.

11. has any of your work been stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had a few of my B5 fics translated into Russian by some wonderful folks and posted on FicBook! I always love going there and google translating all the comments. <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really? I used to do a lot of RP, which is a similar activity, but not quite the same thing. I guess the closest I've come is some collaborative kink meme stuff where different writers build on each other's work. One of the fics in my Shadowshow Patho compilation is a kink meme fill that's framed as a sequel to a fill that someone else had written (and I'm still super flattered they liked it <3).

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Man, I have a new one like every month. Judging by my fic output, though, I think Londo/G'Kar (B5) is still my ultimate OTP. Love that toxic old man xeno.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

See Question 4 :c Aside from that, I've got a couple half-finished Patho kink meme fills I'd been working on that just never got done and they sit in a folder on my computer taunting me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Voice. Character voice is often what makes or breaks a fic for me and it's a skill I consider especially vital for fanfic specifically. I care a lot about it and, according to the comments I get, it pays off. Character dialogue is where most of the action happens in my stories and it's something I put a lot of effort into, both in the sense of 'would they say this?' and 'how would they say it?'

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing :)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Is there controversy about this? If you're writing a multi-lingual character who speaks multiple languages in canon, then part of writing them IC is going to be replicating that, so yeah, break out your dictionaries and put out calls for fluent beta-readers. AO3 actually has some great tools for implementing this. I used hover-text for translations when doing some conlanging for a B5 fic and it worked really well.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ooh, tough question. I started writing Sailor Moon fanfiction in paper notebooks in elementary school way back in dinosaur times. Never posted any of it, though.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ahh, this is hard! I'm gonna be a shameless shill and mention the favourites I think are underappreciated, both B5.

First is The Sayonese Affair, which is the longest fic I've ever completed and am still very pleased with. It's a post-canon fix-it AU political comedy-of-manners. Porn with plot. If you can stomach the tags, I'd highly recommend it.

Next is Accidents of Gesture, a lengthier one-shot that stands as the fic that gets to the heart of what I love about this canon and this ship. It's got some painful conversations, some hurt/comfort, and musings on the nature of forgiveness. I tag... @ibenholt, @emblazonet, @wescravings, @strangestquiet, @gloriousmonsters and whoever else wants to do this!