Internal monologue: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ *Don't fuck it up* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ *Oh don't fuck it up*
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a random draft where i was ramblingg about witch hat & art to myself for myself :)
rare time i feel like actually going off about the thing i’m having fun with right now in more detail ... but not on twt where strangers might try to discuss back at me lol sorry but that is scary. (not that you even have the room to soliloquy on there)
i love how there's characters for varying types of artists to relate to. people like agott who have been adept at drawing from a young age but feel overwhelmed by feelings of not meeting their expectations. and are driven mostly by feelings of wanting to prove their worth..
people like oru who have always been around the art but now are burnt out from commissions and wondering just what they're drawing for... and ones i relate to the most personally like coco and qifrey, who started drawing at an older age to the skilled people around them. like coco i'm so happy that i'm in the world of drawing(/magic) now and excited every day but also weighed down by fears that i'll never get to what i where i need to be after starting at this late stage and also whether i'm really cut out for this....
and like qifrey i only started drawing after a narrow escape from trauma... i started drawing to make sense of what my life is now, just as he was invited by beldaruit to become a witch because it was the only safe path he could take. (although i've not been through anything quite like what he's been through... ouagh)
and there’s tetia who just wants to draw to make other people feel happy about what she’s made, to have fun, and spread hope and happiness and gratitude. who feels so happy whenever someone thanks her for what she’s created - i understand now how it feels to want to thank them for thanking her and how making art, when you get a meaningful response, can be a truly warm communal type experience. but you do need that response - her overwhelming happiness when the dragon thing was happy and she said it was the first time she’d ever felt fully appreciated for her magic and it made her soooo happy. she had been drawing until then, but it was the last puzzle in place to make her realise the breadth of what magic can be for her.
and riche who is determined to not lose the “her”-ness from her art, doesn’t want to learn new techniques and become more regular and orthodox in style if it means she feels she’s losing something... i get that!!! precious autistic-coded child... the ways we feel about our art differ depending on our own mental landscapes. hahhhh... shirahama said she began this series because she was having a conversation with artist friends about how it feels like drawing just really is magic. i mean..... it is.
i think writing feels like magic too, and i’m glad i can do both now. any creation is total magic. i’ve drawn scenes that were in my head and that’s let other people see them and if i can trust their comments about it, has moved them in some way or at least let them imagine a scene or a situation that they wouldn’t have imagined otherwise. but it’s different from just telling someone about it. when you draw something, or write something it really exists now - outside of you. THAT’S SO WEIRD.
i liked drawing a lot of takarazuka things (before i realised i got kind of burnt out drawing all this transcore stuff that people were not exactly responding to because it’s so niche and weird lmao) but drawing fanart for something that also ONLY exists in art is so special. it’s not acted by real people. like.. they’re just little people that someone drew and now i draw them too. total magic. and she gets up and draws them every day the same as me...
i love that a manga isn’t just art, it’s storytelling too. doing both writing and drawing at the same time - it feels like such a perfect and fascinating combination of skills and facets of creation. i’m better at writing than drawing, so i don’t feel like i can express my original stories well enough in comic form just yet. but i might just get there.
the world is so confusing and overwhelming and terrible every day. only creation is something i can understand. sometimes i can’t understand it - when i feel REALLY bad, it’s definitely like, what’s the point. and i wish i had more things to experience at present than just creation - i want to be outside and just feel and be as well as create. and at some point i’ll definitely stop posting my creations online. but creating has become something that i don’t need to understand the reason for it - so at those times when i wonder what the real point to any of this is.... lately, i usually still create anyway. just as you’d still breathe and sleep even though you’re hurt and confused by the horrors of the world. it’s becoming how i express myself. i find myself drawing pretty much every day because it’s part of how i make sense of shit now and i naturally want to do it. not doing it is painful.
i hope this magic continues. i hope it becomes far more wonderful than i can even imagine from here.
and i won't lose.
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have you seen the gojo gym boy figure 👁️🕳️👁️
not only have i seen it but it's been sitting patiently in my cart...
(did you see the detail? those veins? whoever made this put their whole entire being and then some into crafting this...horny doesn't begin to describe it, this is replicating life, it's art really. but on a sidenote it actually got me writing something so horrendously nasty and debauched after the longest dry spell, the intense distaste for the erotic and lewd now i say give it to me, i'll take a bite out of a gojo that's insatiable, glutton for attention, put on display and craving my desire for him...i wanted sweet ol gojo, tender gojo telling me his fears, releasing him from his burdens, and what about it? i abhor all the ways he's made into something he's not)
(and its funny how much one can get done when inspired and filled with purpose, the adrenaline had my brain boiling, i mean why wouldn't it, it's gojo in grey sweatpants taking gym selfies...tacky, gaudy purple jacket hung loosely off the shoulders, teeth gripping into a white tank, fucking in a gym? sounds terrible until it's those same teeth biting down on your neck, sweat drenched hair turning gray under the lights of a locker room, hard, muscular abdomen against your back, his strong forearm curling around you, binding, locking you in place, muffled moans into his palm...)
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