The truth is that Aaron Stewart is a liar.
You wouldn't think so, at first glance. He makes sure of that. He is always wearing a genuine smile and is quick to double down if challenged. He has years of practice of walking without a sound and can make a meal last longer than it should. He is friendly, but not enough for people to feel the urge to get to know him. He is inobtrusive, but not enough to be deemed "antisocial" or "weird". It is a very slippery rope to walk on, and he has fallen down both sides more than once. It hurt every time. So he learnt to be better.
Aaron Stewart is a liar. He may not look like one, but that is what makes him so good at it. Because in truth he is sad and he is hurt and he is angry. He is so unbearably angry all the fucking time. He is angry when he sees another homeless person on the streets and he is angry when he sees a kid his age holding the hands of both their parents and he is angry when he sees more and more unpaid bills mounting on the kitchen table and knows that he will be losing the temporary roof over his head soon. (Again.)
(Sometimes he gets so angry he hears the wind howling in his ears and feels the pavement crack beneath him. He quickly learns to hide that, too.)
He learns to hide it, but he doesn't learn it fast enough.
Someone in the orphanage found his hidden stash. Someone found the food he has been hiding away for months, and they stole it. Aaron does not know who it was, but it is probably better if it stays that way. He already can feel the hot ugly anger rising inside of him and he knows he won't be able to hold it down this time.
So he does the other thing he has learnt to be good in. He runs.
He runs behind the orphanage and leans against the grey concrete wall and - for a single moment - allows himself to be honest.
It happens without his say. He has as much control over the flying dirt and thundering air as he has over his feelings. The ugly ones. (Anger against his father who abandoned him and hatred against the families who never take care of him like they are supposed to and defiance against the universe for daring to take away his mother from him before he ever got the chance to know her and-)
He doesn't notice the girl until she is shaking his shoulder. He slowly turns his head towards her and she takes a nervous step back. She knows Aaron in the same manner most other orphans do: friendly enough, keeps to himself, always docile and obedient. Seeing how his features contort themselves into a mask of hatred and fire seems almost obscene in comparison. Like something she wasn't supposed to see. (She probably wasn't).
He takes a deep breath and everything stops. The air is silent, almost eerily so. When he turns to her again, the deep-seated fury is gone. For a moment she wonders if the cracks she can see behind his smile are only in her imagination, or if they've always been there and no one's ever bothered to look. She wonders if her memories are exaggerating the deep-seated sadness she saw in his eyes.
So she tells him about the Magisterium. And for the first time she realizes that the smile he is always wearing isn't as genuine as everyone liked to believe. For the first time she realized how beautiful his eyes were when he laughed.
@ashpkat hope you like it?? never wrote for magisterium before but Aaron is so fascinating, so have some pre-canon <3
80 notes
·
View notes
⋆ ⁺ ‧ ₊☽ ◯| Shadowheart |◯ ☾₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆
Idk, I think it looks good, hope the ladies will get as much love as boys or I cry. enjoy ;)
⋆⭒˚ .
Shadowheart | Lae'zel | Karlach | Minthara
Wyll | Asatrion | Gale | Halsin
⋆ ⭒˚.⋆ ˚ ⋆⭒˚. ⋆
Commissions: Open
1K notes
·
View notes
Prompt 126
You know what would be hilarious?
Constantine comes into one of those meetings as he sometimes does every blue moon. Though the proper word would be storms into a meeting and practically slams a whole stack of papers down.
“Can someone bloody explain to me why the American-fucking-government is trying to go to war with the fucking Infinite Realms?!”
The Justice League is of course alarmed and confused- and also John weren’t you in Hell?! Yeah, he was, where the fuck do you think he found out about this?
Now if you’ll excuse him he’s going back to the House of Mysteries with his now haunted trench coat. John, John Constantine what the fuck do you mean by that? No don’t just leave, don’t leave this mess just for them- JOHN!
2K notes
·
View notes
“… so basically just about everyone in my life has tried to kill me at least once, it’s kinda become my go-to way of making friends, just striking up a conversation with anyone who shoots me. It’s worked with just about all of the rogues in my hometown, including my clone-turned-sister who I had brunch with just last week. Even my parents used to shoot at me, but that was only for like a year or so and in their defense they didn’t actually know it was me, haha. It’s kinda funny, the only person who ever managed to actually kill me was a friend of mine who didn’t technically kill me the first time, and then only did it a second time to fix some rewritten timeline stuff, and I still dated her for a while after that. Oh, speaking of dating, my first girlfriend tried to kill me WHILE we were dating, but again, in her defense, she didn’t know it was me haha. But yeah, that’s kinda why I kept talking to that guy while he was pummeling me, just a bit of a pattern I’ve wound up developing. Anyway, what was the question again?”
“… How did you get in my safe house, and do you need medical attention.”
“Oh! I crashed through the window, and probably. Also, I’m gonna pass out.”
And then Danny passed out.
2K notes
·
View notes
odyssey noun
a long series of wanderings or adventures usually marked by many changes of fortune and filled with notable experiences and hardships.
876 notes
·
View notes
the rise of AI art isn't surprising to us. for our entire lives, the attitude towards our skills has always been - that's not a real thing. it has been consistently, repeatedly devalued.
people treat art - all forms of it - as if it could exist by accident, by rote. they don't understand how much art is in the world. someone designed your home. someone designed the sign inside of your local grocery store. when you quote a character or line from something in media, that's a line a real person wrote.
"i could do that." sure, but you didn't. there's this joke where a plumber comes over to a house and twists a single knob. charges the guy 10k. the guy, furious, asks how the hell the bill is so high. the plumber says - "turning the knob was a dollar. the knowledge is the rest of the money."
the trouble is that nobody believes artists have knowledge. that we actively study. that we work hard, beyond doing our scales and occasionally writing a poem. the trouble is that unless you are already framed in a museum or have a book on a shelf or some kind of product, you aren't really an artist. hell, because of where i post my work, i'll never be considered a poet.
the thing that makes you an artist is choice. the thing that makes all art is choice. AI art is the fetid belief that art is instead an equation. that it must answer a specific question. Even with machine learning, AI cannot make a choice the way we can - because the choices we make have always been personal, complicated. our skills cannot be confined to "prompt and execution." what we are "solving" isn't just a system of numbers - it is how we process our entire existence. it isn't just "2 and 2 is 4", it's staring hard at the numbers and making the four into an alligator. it's rearranging the letters to say ow and it is the ugly drawing we make in the margin.
at some point, you will be able to write something by feeding my work into a machine. it will be perfectly legible and even might sound like me. but a machine doesn't understand why i do these things. it can be taught preferences, habits, statistical probability. it doesn't know why certain vowels sound good to me. it doesn't know the private rules i keep. it doesn't know how to keep evolving.
"but i want something to exist that doesn't exist yet." great. i'm glad you feel creative. go ahead and pay a fucking artist for it.
this is all saying something we all already knew. the sad fucking truth: we have to die to remind you. only when we're gone do we suddenly finally fucking mean something to you. artists are not replicable. we each genuinely have a skill, talent, and process that makes us unique. and there's actual quiet power in everything we do.
7K notes
·
View notes