#kind of a work in progress but I dunno how long it’ll take to draw the background

[thatmooncake]

He won the no-bell prize ⭐️

#fnaf #fnaf ruin #moondrop #sundrop #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf ruin dlc #fnaf ruin spoilers #fablesketches #get it? #kind of a work in progress but I dunno how long it’ll take to draw the background #so instead have this joke

[handthigh]

Soooo I may or may not have gone crazy and gone stupid and wrote a whole ass one shot fanfic of Tianshan in the office AU

ETA: this is now also available at AO3! (ETA 2: This is now a multichapter fic!)

Big thanks to the people over at Tianshan discord for taking a read and giving me the feedback. The fic follows right after this paragraph, with notes at the end of the fic.

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, pass me a stapler (6:35pm)

Frowning at the message notification, Mo Guan Shan wordlessly takes the stapler lying on his desk and wheels his chair out of his cubicle to pass to his next door neighbour who grins upon receiving the stationery from the redhead. The reciprocity is not returned however, as Guan Shan wheels back into his cubicle to complete a report the supervisor had dumped onto him 15 minutes before the time he ends work. It is already bad enough that he is working overtime on a Friday while being the only one stuck with He Tian, the last thing he needs is for the annoying colleague to interrupt his progress.

The report turns out even more taxing than expected, further souring Guan Shan’s mood. He glanced at the time displayed on the laptop, “6:55pm”. Great, the report’s barely done and closing time sale at the nearby sandwich shop is already over. So much for a “quick task”, he scoffs bitterly at his supervisor’s words.

As if He Tian can read his mind, comes another text:

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, are you cursing out the boss in your head again? (6:57pm)

Damn it, not another interruption. Glancing at the new message, Guan Shan cringes at the accuracy of the guess. Guilt quickly turns into irritation however, as he glares at the cubicle separating him and the culprit of these messages. This has been going on for about 3 months now, ever since he was assigned to be seated with He Tian at the corner of the office. The reason? The supervisor claims that only the short tempered Guan Shan is immune to the raven haired’s hunky looks while workers of all genders in their department are too busy admiring He Tian to work productively. Guan Shan tries to suppress his gag upon the memory.

First of all, Guan Shan does not appreciate being called short tempered. He just has little patience and a lot of irritation for mindless small talks and forced formalities, that’s all. Second of all, seriously? Of all words, hunky? While Guan Shan admits that He Tian is a looker because after all, he has eyes; but that is certainly an exaggeration. Sure, He Tian has the physique and face for the magazine covers, but he’s not that good looking. Especially not when he assigns Guan Shan that stupid nickname and constantly texts him for no justifiable reasons despite already repeating many times that he only wants to reserve the texting to a minimum and keep it strictly to work matters.

Wait, what the fuck? Why is he thinking about him again? Ugh, this is why he emphasises on keeping social interactions to a minimum! The report and the constant texting must have really gotten to him, because the next thing he knew, Guan Shan picks up his phone and types at his source of annoyance.

Me:

Yes, genius. Since you’re so smart and volunteered to OT with me, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me out with the report then you chicken dick! (7:05pm)

Normally Guan Shan tries to keep his temper in check, wanting to believe he is no longer the moody middle school boy that he was. Besides, this is the first job he managed to get right after graduating university 6 months ago, just in time before the recession. Thus, he is not trying to screw up an opportunity just because he got involved in some petty office drama. However, the combination of working overtime, growing hunger and unnecessary buzzing of his phone followed by He Tian’s unnecessary messages is making Guan Shan throw both caution and formalities out the window. 

He is not the only one surprised by his own outburst however, as He Tian guffaws and rolls his chair out of the cubicle to meet the redhead, currently glaring at him and asking what’s so funny.

“Chicken dick? What kind of insult is that? Also, I dunno, I just thought you’d never asked me for help.” He Tian replies with a shrug and his signature grin.

He Tian is not wrong - Guan Shan seldom asks for help, believing that it’s better to be self-sufficient than to rely on someone else. Furthermore, it allows him to avoid having to keep up with forced interactions with others. But it’s getting late and the report doesn’t seem to be finishing soon, and there is someone in the office right now, might as well right?

“So are you going to help me or not?”

“Sure, anything for you Little Mo~”

“Stop calling me that! Give me your email, I’ll share the document with you on the cloud.”

So, here they are at 7:30pm, working in a shared online document together - cubicle to cubicle. Guan Shan mainly typing out the content of the report while He Tian formats, elaborates and adds any figures and charts where appropriate; explaining his rationale to the other while he works.

As Guan Shan sees the report transform before his very own eyes, he is now confronted with the thought he’s been trying to will away for 3 days, ever since he overheard the company executives discuss whether to promote He Tian. 

As much as he hates admitting it, He Tian is talented and hardworking when situations call for it. Not only is he able to easily handle the tedious formatting that is typically required of such reports, he also goes the extra mile of further perfecting any tasks assigned to him. It also helps that he has great social networking skills to accompany his equally great looks, not only charming the other coworkers around them, but also clients and other company staff alike in network events. 

Attempting to ignore the ache of admiration growing in his chest, Guan Shan wonders why is someone as good as He Tian working at an entry level job like him in a medium sized company when the latter can easily negotiate for a much higher salary in a conglomerate. What he heard about his raven haired coworker isn’t helping much with his curiosity either.

While Guan Shan prefers minding his own business, he also doesn’t live under a rock. He has heard the rumours - that He Tian had interned for various big names while he attended an Ivy League business school and graduated a valedictorian. He was also rumoured to be taking over his family’s multinational company branch in China while his older brother gets based overseas to look over their international branches. Yet somehow, here he is, working overtime in a too small cubicle with an aloof coworker who has nothing to boast for. After all, Guan Shan’s resume mainly consists of mediocre grades in a local university that is far from being a C9 League, one proper internship experience and multiple part time odd jobs to help him pay his student loans. 

He Tian has everything going for him, and yet, why? Guan Shan is so lost in his own thoughts that he does not notice an arm reaching out to his laptop and folding it down, clasping his fingers that are resting motionlessly on the keyboard.

“Ouch! What the fuck?!” Guan Shan stands up and yelps in shock, spinning around to glare at the culprit. This proves to be a mistake as he realises he is face to face with He Tian, barely an inch away. 

Suddenly, the room feels hot and all Guan Shan can hear is his heart rapidly beating in his ears as he sees a totally different expression from the latter: lips twitching up, high cheekbones raised making them even more pronounced, coupled with a pair of grey eyes sparkling and curving in childish amusement. Even though he knows that He Tian is laughing at his expense, somehow, Guan Shan could not bring himself to break eye contact, wanting to look as long as possible until he commits He Tian’s genuine smile to memory.

“Earth to Little Mo, I said I was done with the report and had emailed our supervisor, and was thinking of treating you to a sandwich as a thanks for your effort.” He Tian replies, amusement laced in his voice as he breaks the silence.

“...How do you know I like…” Guan Shan dumbly replies, still feeling overwhelmed by the close contact to even retort He Tian as he feels his face getting even hotter.

Breaking eye contact, He Tian steps to the side and fishes out his car key, hooking the key ring to his finger. As much as he finds his flustered colleague both amusing and endearing, he makes sure to give Guan Shan some space in case the other gets too stunned and passes out. “Well, who else in this office eats those except for you? So what do you say, it'll be my treat and I can drive us there.” He Tian says as he leans back on the cubicle wall, spinning the car key around.

“.... Uh… mm” Guan Shan nodded, feeling too light headed to speak properly.

“Let’s go then.” He Tian steps out of the cubicle, making his way out as he turns off the office lights.

Guan Shan’s mind is reeling as he follows He Tian from behind. Why is he suddenly reacting like this? Why did he agree to have dinner with him? Most importantly, WHY IS HE SUDDENLY HAVING SUCH THOUGHTS OF THAT ANNOYING CHICKEN DICK?

God, he hates working overtime.

Notes:

If you made it here, thanks for reading! I’ve been wanting to write a fluffier, slice of life office romance with Tianshan for quite awhile now - an AU with no mafia drama, no She Li being a creep, just coworkers dicking around and relatively normal problems here and there. I only committed after getting reminded of this official Tianshan art by Old Xian on the discord. Aside from 19 days, I also draw inspiration from a webcomic called Senpai ga Uzai, Kouhai no Hanashi. I’m a huge sucker of slow burn fluffy Tianshan where Guan Shan is initially annoyed at He Tian and slowly and reluctantly falls for him. Hehehehehehehehe *continues to laugh in fujoshi*

Not going to lie, I do feel nervous posting it. However, after seeing many Tianshan fics (they are good! don’t get me wrong) that doesn’t have a workplace AU, I thought I’d manifest it onto the internet space! Do let me know what you think, as I am considering expanding this into a multi-fic once I stop being lazy. 

#19 days #he tian #mo guan shan #tianshan #fanfic #office au #oxian #old xian

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Sirius on anaesthesia from a muggle surgery (needed for something his parents did or his incessant smoking) with lots of care fluff 🥰

((A/N: Mentions of child abuse, serious injuries, and recovery, and mild homophobia))

It was hard to find Sirius appropriately cute being all doped up because of the circumstances. James would like to make one thing quite clear: Sirius was adorable. At all times and in all ways. 

But the situation was... well, utter shite. It proved how much it was utter shite that when James accidentally used that exact phrasing in front of his parents, they agreed instead of telling him to watch his language. Sirius hadn't said (yet) what set it off, but his parents had gone completely mad. Beat him so bad he ended up in hospital, and the Potter parents had been granted temporary custody. Sirius was old enough that he'd probably become an adult before they finalized his custody with anyone. 

The cute part of this-- if there was one-- was how Sirius acted when he was all loopy from pain medication. James tried to enjoy the way Sirius would go full puppy eyes, and then he'd see the stitches on his head and have a hard time feeling good about anything. 

"Jaaaames," Sirius whinged, pawing half-heartedly at James's arm. His depth perception was buggered up with one eye covered, so he ended up a few centimetres short. And slightly to the left, but it was hard to say if that was an injury thing or a meds thing. 

"Yeah, Si?" 

"'m bored."

No screens, no moving... yeah he was real sodding bored and James couldn't blame him for it. The music Sirius normally listened to was punk, which Mum and Dad had declared too grating for his current state. That Sirius didn't fight them on it was proof enough that they were right about it. Sirius could sort of play games right now, but sometimes sitting up for too long was taxing, and again, depth perception was an issue. They'd tried to play Monopoly the other day, but he hadn't been able to put the money in the bank without fucking up and he got upset. All of this was to say that Sirius was bored, and while James was sympathetic, he didn't really know what he could do about it. "Alright. What- er, what do you want to do?" 

"What I really want to do is go got a malt from Fortescue's. Or have a smoke. But I'm guessing you're not going to let me do that." 

"Fuck no. I didn't like you smoking before, I'm sure as hell not going to help you do it now." 

Sirius gave a forlorn sigh. "Yeah, I thought not. What've you been doing?" He was pretty coherent right now, which was rare. His words were still a little slurred, but the doctors had said that would last for a while with everything going on. (They hadn't phrased it quite like that, but it's what James had taken from it.) 

"Staying with you? Your memory might be shite right now, but what did you really think I'd be doing?" 

"Hm. You're getting boring in your old age, Prongs." 

"I've gotten halfway through that series Remus was going on about," he offered. 

"That makes me more old, not less." 

James blinked at him. "Alright. Whatever." 

Sirius waved his arm at him, managing to hit his leg. "'m bored." 

"I can read to you?" James offered with a slight grimace. It's not like Sirius hated books or summat, but it was the only thing available to them right now and he'd always been more on the active side. 

"Can I pick the book?" 

"Sure." 

"Do we have any Seuss books here?" 

"Y'know, when you said you wanted to pick the book, I thought you were going to force me to read the history of punk or summat." 

"I want to hear you bugger up your words as much as I've been doing. Get one of those tongue-twister ones." 

"You haven't been that bad," James protested. 

Sirius tilted his head just to look him in the eye and give him a flat look. "Memory's shit, but I can hear what I sound like." 

"Your sentences are perfectly coherent." 

"Yeah, now. Didn't used to be." 

James didn't really know what to say to that, so he went off to find some Seuss books-- he knew that Dad had some around here somewhere-- with a careful pat on Sirius's shoulder as he left. 

*

"What'd your parents get in such a snit about anyways?" Peter asked. 

Sirius was healed enough that Mum and Dad had let Peter and Remus come over. "Told them I was queer," he said casually. "Well, technically I told them I was dating James, but like, same outcome for grandchildren. I guess they found it horribly offensive." 

James tried to remember how to breathe. He'd known that the Black parents were bigoted pieces of rubbish, but he hadn't realised just how bad they were. That they'd do this to Sirius at all was bad enough, but over something so trivial as who he liked to sleep with? 

"You're dating?" Remus asked. If he hadn't known about them, he was the only one. 

"Yeah mate," Peter said, doing everyone a favour by answering. "For like three years, where've you been?" 

"I-" Remus blinked. "Well I dunno. I knew they fancied each other, but I didn't know they'd actually done something about it." 

"How are you the dumbest bloke I've ever met," Peter asked flatly. 

"Practice?" 

James snorted, rubbing at his face. "Yeah, well maybe stop practicing. I think you've perfected it by now, Moony." 

"I second that," Sirius added. "Time to call it quits and make fun of us for being all sappy." 

"You're not the sappy sort," Remus said dismissively. 

Sirius and James shared a look. They kept things mildly toned down around their friends, but they were definitely the sappy sort. And even then, James was pretty sure they were more sappy in front of Remus and Peter than either of them really cared to see. "We'll see what you say at Hogwarts in a couple weeks when we're all stuck in the dormitory together again," Sirius said. 

"You gonna be better by then?" Peter asked, surprised. 

Sirius opened his mouth to give a customary answer that of course he'd be fine, nothing could keep him down, but then he stopped. He wasn't going to be going back to school with the rest of them. He was doing the work at home for the first month, and then they were letting him go back to Hogwarts if nothing else went wrong. The cut on his leg from surgery had started to get infected, and it had set back his recovery time. Originally though, he should've been able to go back for their final year of Hogwarts. "I meant you two having to watch James stare at his phone all moody and pining for me," he said with half a smile that none of them believed was real for a second. 

*

"I hate that you're leaving," Sirius muttered. 

"I hate it too," James said glumly, squeezing him carefully. He wanted to be comforting, but he also refused to hurt him just because he wasn't paying enough attention. He'd already asked his parents if he could stay here and join the term late like Sirius was doing, and the answer had been a firm no. 

"Don't get your phone taken away." 

"Wouldn't be the first time it's happened." 

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have anyway of talking to you. Or showing you my progress with liquid eyeliner." 

"Is that really what you're going to be doing while I'm gone?" 

"Gotta do something with my time. Homework doesn't take but, what, two hours?" 

James hummed in agreement. He knew it wasn't like that for everyone, but school was boring as all hell. And he wouldn't even have Sirius to help distract him this time-- not for a while, at least. "So what am I supposed to do while you're busy doing your makeup?" 

"Hone your doodling skills?" 

"There's only so many times I can draw Slughorn running a furniture store before I get bored." 

"Then draw a comic, you lazy bastard." 

"What if Grubbyplank takes it away?" 

"Ask for it back. After class, of course." 

"Of course," James repeated, rolling his eyes. 

"That sass is not going to help you." 

"Aw c'mon. By this point, all the teachers know what to expect from me. Whether or not you're there," he added, because it seemed like the kind of loophole Sirius would try to use. "But fine. Comics about us and our epic love." 

"We're already living that. You should make one where I'm a dog." 

"Are we still in love when you're a dog? Or are you my pet? Or am I a dog too?" 

"How should I bloody know? I just think being a dog would be pretty relaxing." 

"Unless you're one of those dogs that has to pull a sled." 

"Then make me a house dog that lays around in the sun and goes for walks twice a day. That sounds nice." 

"Going for walks?" James asked. 

"Laying in the sun." 

"You realise you can do that now, right?" 

"Every time I lay on the floor, you think I'm hurt and freak out." 

"You did fall once," James pointed out, because it was important that Sirius remember there was a reason to him panicking. 

"I tripped. I didn't fall." 

"Does it matter?" 

"Meh. Not really." Sirius sighed, grabbing James's arm and repositioning it so he could hug it. "I just hate that I'm not gonna see you for so long." 

"Maybe you can visit on a weekend." 

"Yeah," he said neutrally. "Not sure Mum will let me. She's more paranoid than you are." 

"I'm not paranoid." 

Sirius scoffed. 

"I just want you to be healthy, is that so wrong?" 

"Saying yes would make me sound suicidal, so no, I guess it's not so bad." 

"Just- I dunno. Send me lots of snaps." 

"Course. Can't keep this beautiful face all to myself. Hell, by the time I'm back at school, it'll probably be safe for you to kiss me again." 

"Here's hoping," James said, pressing his lips lightly to the top of Sirius's head. 

#fanfic #marauders #prongsfoot #james potter #sirius black #filled #hogwarts time #established relationship #no magic au #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 43: Tea Can Just Knock Over Joey Wheeler With Her Index Finger

Guys guys guys, my favorite Character is back. That’s right--the storyboarder!

So this episode looked helllla nice for a Yugioh episode (again, this is Yugioh, it will win no awards.) It wasn’t as nice and fluid as the episode where they temporarily killed off Joey Wheeler, but I give it a good 2nd place.

You can tell we’re getting to the climax of the season because they’re throwing down their most entertaining art people onto the screen, giving us about 5 zillion dutch angle fashion close-ups of Marik’s cabbage face, and a whole lot of zany and hard to very hard to draw fish-eye lens angles of Pharaoh.

Also, everyone wears flared bell-bottom pants now. New stylistic decision, as decided just now. Everyone in pants now has flares. Even if their pants are cargo pants. How very 00′s. (my pants were flares from like birth until 2006, it was a good trend, super comfy, bring it back.)

(read more under the cut)

First off, Evil Marik decided to rewrite Marik history a little bit with some hilarious retconning that only the most evil Marik would think is legit.

I mean I was there when Marik was introduced and was a complete asshole all of S2. I remember when Odion considered murdering the hell out of his little brother because this Marik guy was such freakin tool and his Dad was an evil cultist bastard. I...I’m gonna go on a limb and assume that calling Marik a “loyal servant” is a freakin stretch. Marik made his choices. Yes, his bad side killed his Dad, but they have made sure to indicate that yes, this is the evil inside of Marik, something that he himself caused--but most of the things that Marik has done (with the exception of killing his own Dad) is still Marik. He did that.

The fact that his evil side can’t quite connect that his good side and evil side are at all the same however, is fitting for an evil Marik to think. More and more, Marik and Marik are becoming 2 different people, and this game is the deciding factor to finally give this guy full autonomy of his other half.

We’ve seen this type of contrast before with Bakura and Ryou--where Ryou and Bakura don’t really get along but have always been clearly different people, so the culpability of what they do tends to fall on Bakura. (which is a pretty GRAND assumption, I still think Ryou is a precious but absolutely still shady little bastard) So, it’s a little different that Marik considers himself two completely different people when it’s just...not the same. Marik’s alter ego is just an ego. More like how Yami was in Season Zero but a little bit more evil. Both Marik’s have the same upbringing and the same source.

It’s been kind of an interesting progression now I can look back on it, where slowly the two have been clashing to the point that they are in fact different, disparate people now. The fact that Marik points out how his situation similar to Yugi and Pharaoh being a host is almost like “well yeah, it would have been nice to see how the whole Season Zero Yami evolved into more of a separate person over time, I’m glad you inferred that, and I’ll never get to see it, thanks” But again, all that is inferred. Whether Yami Yugi eventually became Pharaoh over time or whether Pharaoh is a big retcon of Yami Yugi for the new series in order to keep the culpability for what he does off of Yugi Muto was never directly spoken in the show so it’ll be left to your fanfictions.

Meanwhile, Yugi has decided that they’re going to try and purify the Marik situation and save the good side. This is sort of the Yugioh thing, to dispel the bad forces from people and leave behind hollow husks, so yeah...it tracks. I mean...there’s very little Marik left to save, but it’s better than a husk, amiright? Better than what happened to freakin PaniK, RIP. I’m sure erasing over half of your identity will go over real well for Marik and be absolutely painless.

And then we had a lovely scene that, for those people doing scene redraws from anime, as has been a popular trend on art blogs lately--this is your episode for Yugioh. This episode’s got moody lighting, we’ve subdued all our weird ass colors into one concrete palate (remember how green the carpet used to be?) we got interesting elements of Marik being here despite being chopped into pieces. We got so many ellipses drawn in perspective (y’all I could write an entire posts just about ellipses but I’ll spare you). It’s like Yugioh gave itself a redraw.

I can’t believe this shot came out of freakin Yugioh.

Also, this guy was an ASSHOLE for the past 2 seasons but the show was like “time to make him likeable” and so they dropped some good ass cinematography and sung that sad backstory tune on the trumpet and you know what? It works.

+++++++++++++++RANT ABOUT REDEMPTION ARCS FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS MASSIVE WALL OF TEXT++++++++++++++++++++++++

Now I think the arc of Marik is pretty simple and people are pretty chill with it. But, I’m gonna talk about villain redemption arcs just in general--gonna sidetrack a little from Yugioh for a moment. Partly because I watched 6 seasons of Once Upon a Time, which is basically Villain Redemption Arc Controversy: The Show.

It bothers a hell ton of people when TV shows have to make a villain redeemable, but there’s only one episode left so they put their hands up and say “but I swear the good side of him was always good” But, does that mean Marik’s going to make up for all the murder and sending people to the shadow realm? No. He never will. Even if Marik was completely his bad half the whole time, it still wouldn’t make up for the damage done. Dead people are...DEAD.

Marik can’t actually make any choices right now to redeem his character. All he’s doing is accepting he will never be a full person ever again. Hence why he is in slices and pieces, and in several shots is trapped either in an empty glass or a window. The choice to redeem him is entirely on other people.

And that’s the thing about redemption arcs that I want to bring up--how much of a character’s redemption relies on what the villains do to “Make up for what they did”, and how much relies on everyone else to redeem them. I think the tendency is for people to assume that the villains should be doing 90-100% of the redeeming, but unless they have a time machine--they can’t do any. Even if they freakin die to sacrifice themselves it’s still like “that character was basically little Stalin, right?

I’ve seen like a million ways to write a redemption arc, but none of them, not a single one that I can think of, can ever truly make up for the things the villian has done. There’s no way that Darth Vadar was suddenly going to become a good Dad, no matter how many Palpatines he can toss into a...whatever that was at the end of that movie. That’s the riddle behind what makes redemption arcs so engaging--By all cultural standards these villains should always be tagged a “bad guy” but, we, the audience, are being challenged to ignore those standards.

And I know a lot of people see redemption arcs as a quasi-religious sort of adventure into atonement, where we’re supposed to see ourselves as the villain searching for some type of forgiveness from a higher, most-likely-a-reference-to-Jesus-power, but I don’t really see them that way. Maybe it’s because, I dunno, I haven’t killed anyone recently or possessed other people’s minds or strung them up to anchors and dropped them into the ocean. But if you see yourself as a Marik, then go for it, I won’t stop you.

But, to me, a redemption arc is more of a question posed for us as viewers. Since it is impossible for the writers to ever fully redeem a character, the only ones doing the redeeming are the people watching it, who’s reaction will differ wildly from person to person, and that’s what makes it fascinating.

And like, that’s my thesis here at the very last paragraph of this long meandering rant. Redemption arcs aren’t about “hey is this person good enough to be redeemed (because that will never happen)” it’s “are you too good to redeem that person?” It’s a large scale experiment on the viewers watching and that’s why it makes people so freakin pissed and uncomfortable. Every redemption arc calls them out directly, and for some people it’s just like--the world ends or something. I have seen actual internet mobs develop over...a villain redemption arc. Which is weird.

And so I’ll leave it with my other spicy take that...you don’t have to redeem every villain when the question is asked. I mean these aren’t real people. The questions of “would you redeem this person” is asked entirely hypothetically. And that’s what makes up stories, not just the interaction of the people inside the stories, but when it affects the moral structure of the readers directly, and seeing how for some people, that can be a very intense and deep reflection. (which usually leads to a hell ton of either retconning fanfiction or a hell ton of really, really angry posts)

bro’s just told me that Yugioh is just a redemption arc for season 0 Yami Yugi. Bro and his spicy headcanons. This one holds some water though, lol.

++++++++++++END OF A SUPER LONG RANT ABOUT VILLAINS THAT I HELD IN FOR THE ENTIRE 6 SEASONS OF ONCE UPON A TIME, WOW A LOT OF PEOPLE HAD OPINIONS ABOUT CERTAIN CHARACTERS THAT THEY JUST EXPECTED EVERYONE ELSE TO HAVE, AMIRIGHT????+++++++++++

Anyway, back to jokes.

Again, Storyboarder just...nailing these weird ass shoes that are somewhere between a dress shoe and a boot. Shoes are hard to draw, y’all. This storyboarder. And they even made sure that the shoes looked very small and precious the way Yugi shoes would be. Little Cinderella size 5 Yugi shoes.

Oh finally.

So it was only a matter of time before the people who actually care about being possessed noticed this situation, it just took like...a season longer than I thought it would. I’ll be honest it was quite cathartic for them to actually address for the first time in what feels like a long time “SHOOT, GHOSTS!?!?”

Although it was kind of funny that the biggest reaction to all of this came straight from Joey. Yugi still doesn’t care, Tristan’s decided to just accept this, and Duke is just slowly backing away. But Joey’s going to try and do the work that Yugi should have done last episode.

HOT DAMN.

So, lets go over the Yugioh power chart here. Tristan can punch out Bakura. Tristan can also defeat Seto Kaiba with a broomstick. Joey can kick Tristan, even when Tristan is armed with a broomstick, so hard that Tristan flew through a metal door and bent it completely over backwards. Tea, however, can knock Joey completely over with one single index finger.

How has this girl ever been abducted? Was she just bored?

Bro wants to bring up that she once incapacitated a man with her butt. Just falling on top of a guy and hitting him with her butt of steel. Was she even in danger from the shipping container when she could just bat it away? She once choked out Season 0 Yugi Muto. She was always fine.

Credit to Joey, he keeps trying, and it gives us, for the first time, a sneak peek into what it must be like for Yugi and Joey to hang out on the offtimes that Yugi switches over and Pharaoh hasn’t quite gotten the memo.

This is in fact, the second time that she’s done this.

(meanwhile, sitting next to Odion, is one single cargo pocket floating in the air, gently smoking a purple haze like incense)

Welcome back Odion! I only now just realized how freakin jacked your neck is.

Like y’all his neck is wider than his head, hot damn.

Anyway, this show is secretly all about the power of big brothers, so I assume he’s going to start the mile long crawl to the top of the tower and then just...walk in...just walk right into a shadow game...?

...no one thought to stay with Odion? Like not even Serenity? Or at least leave him a weelchair? what the hell?

Odion always gets the worst wrap, this poor guy.

Anyway if you just got here, this is a link to read these recaps in chrono order from the beginning and watch my progression of knowing nothing about Yugioh to knowing a lot about random facts about Yugioh but still knowing absolutely nothing at all just like Socrates.

And here’s that shot of Marik for y’alls anime scene redraws, knock yourself out.

#Yugioh #ygo #episode recap #photo recap #S3 ep 43 #Yugi Muto #Marik Ishtar #Tea is possessed again #Tea Gardner #Odion ishtar #Ishizu Ishtar #Joey Wheeler #Duke Devlin #Tristan Taylor #Seto Kaiba #man alive why do I list all the characters all the time there are so many characters #guest appearance by this wonderful storyboarder

[hailsuzalulu]

The Cute Quirk Analyst

I took way too long to get anything at all out and I want to apologize to my Giftee @rvkiakuchiki, for having to deal with the fact that I am a horrible Santa. I’m hoping to make this a several parter because everything in life just seems to hate me. But so far this is what I have and I’m planning to update every chance I get the time

I am so so so so sorry for posting so late, but I hope you enjoy what I have.

“ I swear to god round-face, if you ask again about that damn secret santa i’m going to blast you sky high and not wait for you to float your ass down.” Bakugo growled, sending a signature glare to the shorter girl walking by his side.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud Blasty, it’s a holiday tradition! There’s just something thrilling about not knowing who’s going to give you a present, it’s fun to see what people think about you.” Uraraka teased, jabbing her partner in the side with her elbow. Her grin could only be described as shit eating, to think she used to be the sweetest person that he knew. Being partners since UA really had changed her, maturing her from someone who was polite to everyone and overly bubbly, to someone who wasn’t afraid to throw sass and get tough when she needed to.

Bakugo huffed at the jab, focusing his attention on the scenery below him. People hustled around the streets, buying gifts for the holidays and going on window shopping dates. Snow slowly fell, a flake showing itself here or there. Ground Zero eyed the alley ways that were sure to be littered with villains just waiting for something sparkly to cross their paths. And today was their lucky day. A scream emanated from across the street where a jewelry store was getting robbed. The villain dashed out of the door, knocking people over as he ran down the street. A wicked grin spread across Bakugo’s face, the two heros shared a glance before taking of into action, jumping from roof to roof of the buildings, watching the movements of the villain. He was clearly an amature, his movements through the streets and alleyways were erratic, like he was making up where he ran on the fly. Ground Zero and Uravity followed him closely, hoping to trap him before he hurt anyone. They had practiced this maneuver several times, chasing low time villains throughout the abandoned alleyways until they reached a dead end. It minimized fighting, damage, and the possibility of civilians getting caught in the fray. He fell for it easily, skidding to a stop when Bakugo chased him to a wall, effectively trapping the villain.

“Geez, and I was really hoping for a real fight today.” Ground Zero spoke as he approached the villain, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to take the guy in. Uravity floated down beside him from the rooftop.

“Don’t be mean Zero.” Uravity sighed. If she was being honest she hoped for a fight too, but if that wasn’t the case then it meant far less paperwork, and that she was fine with.  The villain took steps back as the heroes approached, the bag on his side jingling with the stolen jewelry. He was sweating buckets as the heroes came closer, distressed and cornered, he backed himself into the wall and then he froze. Now he had only one option, the one any cornered animal would use.

“Look out, he’s about to use his quirk.” A voice came over their coms, one that neither hero had heard before.

“Who the fuck-” Ground Zero began to ask, before he was cut off by being pulled violently toward the villain by his gauntlets. Instantly Bakugo set off explosions, splitting from the guy’s hold.

“His quirk is Magnetism. He can attract the metal in your gear.” The voice spoke again through the coms.

“Zero!” Uravity yelled as the guy pulled her towards him, her belt buckle the source of the magnetism, Bakugo leaped into action before she could fall into his hold, shooting forward with an explosion. He reared back to aim a punch at the villain, before getting stopped by the villain’s quirk. The metal of his gear was held in place by the magnet, stopping Bakugo from moving away to toward the villain.

“Ground Zero, distract him somehow. It’ll stop his quirk.” The voice said in his ear again. Bakugo let out a growl.

“I dunno who the fuck you are but you damn well better not be wrong about this.” He was out of options, not being able to move his body to attack left him with few options, the person on the other end of the communicator voicing the best option that came to mind. Ground Zero let off a loud explosion, catching the villain’s attention enough to break his concentration and let his quirk’s grip loose. Uravity used the chance to punch the villain and put him in cuffs. She stood up, the villain lying on the ground below her, and let out a relieved sigh. The heroes pulled the man to his feet, leading him down the alley towards the police sirens going off in the distance. After dealing with turning the villain into the police, the hero’s checked the time to realize their patrol shift was up. They both headed back to the agency, and unfortunately, had paperwork waiting for them both.

“Hey Bakubro, are you ready for the secret santa?” Kirishima asked, leaning his body weight against the hero sitting at his desk. Bakugo straightened his posture under the weight of who he could only call his best friend.

“I’m not doing it.” He grumbled, reading over his progress on the report before sighing and turning in his chair to face Kirishima, he needed a break anyways.

“How come? You gotta do it, it’s part of the holiday fun!” Kirishima exclaimed, his smile blinding.

“Because I don’t want to.” Bakugo responded nonchalantly. He reached back to pick up the coffee cup from his desk, a plain white mug with the words ‘Fuck off’ on the bottom, displaying his mood to any bitch that watched him take a sip. Bakugo downed the rest of the caffeinated liquid, scowling at the taste of cold coffee.

“Strange, I thought Uraraka told me that you were doing the secret santa this year.” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Bakugo’s back cracked as he stood and stretched, moving his head side to side to pop his stiff neck as well. ���I need more coffee.” He groaned, heading for the employee lounge to make another cup. Hopefully one more would be enough to get him through the day.

“You should probably get something else man, that much caffeine will keep you up all night.” Kirishima insisted, following Bakugo through the office. It was late already, maybe an hour and a half before everyone started to go home. The sun outside the large office windows was close to beginning to set, the sky a nice yellow color.

Bakugo responded with a grunt, knowing that Kirishima was right, but he was too tired to care. Who would have thought that paperwork could make someone so tired, way more tired than the several small time villains he took down over the day. There weren’t even any damages or casualties for any of them! If that was the case the paperwork and reports would have doubled, maybe tripled in size. No one ever told him in UA that being a hero required so much awful desk work.

Tiredly Bakugo took the kettle off the stove and filled it with water, setting it back on the burner, he turned of the flames and leaned against the counter to wait for the shitting thing to go off. Damn office didn’t even have the good kind of coffee, not even a coffee maker, just that instant crap along with shitty powdered creamer. It was annoying, such a high time hero agency didn’t even spend the little bit of extra money on a fucking coffee maker? Fucking cheapskates. To the side he could hear Kirishima digging in the fridge for something, probably a snack that he brought that someone had taken or moved without his permission.

“Oh, Bakugo there you are!” A bubbly voice broke the mild silence in the room.

“What do you want 3D printer?” Bakugo asked, greeting Yaoyorozu as she walked into the room. She didn’t even react to the nickname, used to what Bakugo called everyone at this point.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You need to pick your person for the secret santa.” She explained, a basket with folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m not doing it.” Was his simple answer. The kettle began to scream, signaling the boiling of the water. Bakugo turned off the burner and poured the hot water into his mug, reaching for the coffee powder on the shelf above.

“Your name is in the drawing.” Yaoyorozu pointed out, holding the basket out to Bakugo.

“I didn’t put it in.” He growled, beginning to get pissed at how much people were asking him about this fucking event. Then it clicked, “Fucking round face.” Bakugo sighed and turned back to Momo. “I’m dropping out then.”

“You can’t, then that leaves someone without a gift.” Momo pushed the basket closer to Bakugo’s chest. “ Just do it Bakugo?” She pleaded, giving a small smile in hopes that it would get the temperamental hero in front of her to give in.

“Do it man! It’s fun!” Kirishima encouraged, holding up his own slip of paper between two fingers.

“Fine! I’ll fucking do it. A gift card should work just fine for anyone right.” Bakugo grumbled, shoving his hand into the basket and pulling out the first slip of paper he grabbed. Unfolding the slip revealed the name “Who the hell is Izuku Midoriya?”

“T-That would be me.” A small voice stuttered from the doorway, a mass of green hair and star like freckles making its mark on everyone in the room. Mostly Bakugo, because damn was he cute. Fuck! No! Stop thinking like that! You don’t even know him!

Uraraka peeked from behind the other, her face like the cat who caught the mouse. And Bakugo was the mouse, because he fell right into her clutches, and that pissed him off.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re gonna regret it.” He growled, but the threat was met by snickering from the bubble faced girl who knew she was won the fight for now.

“Oh c’mon Blasty. Put the aggression in your pocket and meet our new team member!” She exclaimed, patting the nervous looking man on the back.

“H-Hi.” Midoriya stuttered, smiling nervously and giving a little wave.

“He’s a quirk analyst! He’s the one that warned us during that one fight.” Uraraka smiled, pulling Midoriya closer to her in a friendly side hug. Midoriya flushed at the contact, fiddling with the name tag that hung around his neck. Several pens and pencils were clipped to the lanyard, along with a few hero buttons, among them being All Might, Ingenium, Froppy, and Ground Zero. This guy was a nerd wasn’t he. Bakugo turned to finish making his coffee, scowling at the water in his mug that had cooled significantly by this point. He glanced at the jar of coffee powder in his hand and finally decided against it, putting the jar back and instead grabbing some green tea. Cooling tea at least tasted better than cooling coffee, that shit just tasted nasty.

“What’s a quirk analyst?” Kirishima asked, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s someone who analyzes quirks and figures out how they work. Most of the time people in the profession have analyzing quirks that can help them better understand what’s going on in a person’s body when they use their quirks. I’ve actually been very eager to learn more about all of your quirks, more than I already have that is.” Midoriya explained, still playing with his name tag. He seemed a bit less nervous now, good, people who were constantly nervous got annoying real fast.

Bakugo took a sip of his tea, throwing out the used tea bag. Thank god the water was still warm, anything as disappointing as cold tea would throw off his already teetering mood even more.

“More than you already have?” Momo asked, setting the basket of names on the table and taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“Um, I’ve kinda already studied them quite a lot. I watch several news feeds and just about any footage of uses of your quirks that I can find and then I figure out whatever I can from those bits of information. I know the basics at least of how your quirks work.” Midoriya muttered in response.

“Oh! Oh! Do me! What do you know about me?” Kirishima jumped at the chance to see what Midoriya knew about him. Damn eager idiot.

“Let me see…” Midoriya trailed off, reaching behind him and pulling a worn notebook from his back pocket. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the one titled “Red Riot, Quirk: Hardening. You can harden your body to withstand almost any attack, and very few singular attacks have knocked you off your feet in that state let alone got the chance to harm you. Prolonged use of your quirk weakens your ability to use it, and over time of taking multiple hard hits it will begin to fail. Your body becomes very sharp when you use your quirk and that itself can be used a weapon. Hand to hand combat has been growing better and better since UA and by now you’re a very hard hitter that can be useful in both defense, rescue, and attack positions as a hero.” Midoriya read off, drifting into a bit of a muttering state.

“Wow, you really do know your stuff!” Kirishima said, amazed at just how much this guy knew about his quirk.

“It’s not really much, I just observe what I can and write down what I see.” He flushed, closing the notebook and shoving it back into his back pocket. “ I hope that I can help all of you, especially when it comes to villains. Thank you for allowing me to work with you all.” Midoriya bowed, smiling before taking his leave.

“He seems cool.” Kirishima commented enthusiastically

“Seems like a nerd to me.” Bakugo retorted, taking another sip of his tea, using his other hand to rub his aching head.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Uraraka interjected. “He’s so nice though, and super nice. You could learn a thing or two from him hot head.” She smirked. Her shitty bubbly face pissed him off, but he didn’t feel like doing anything about it now, he was way too tired.

“Shut up rosy cheeks.” Bakugo retorted, wanting nothing more than to be home right now. “I need to finish that last report, but mark my words, tomorrow I’m gonna kick your ass in sparring.” He passed a light glare at Uraraka as he passed her.

“Just try it Fireworks!” She called out the door toward Bakugo’s retreating form.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakudeku #bakugo katsuki #izuku midoriya #this is so bad! #i lowkey hate this

[thoughtsfromthegm]

Prophets in the Promised Land - Design Journal 1

Intro and Explanation

I’m working on a Jewish Dogs in the Vineyard hack, one that let’s the players take up the roles of traveling Prophets or Rabbis going from community to community, rooting out sin and corruption, delivering divine judgement, and possibly performing miracles. This journal is to track my progress working on the game and to hold my thoughts and questions for me between game dev sessions.

Summary of Work So Far

This is my third day (non-consecutive) of working on this game. I’m counting any day that I write out a DitV-sized section of text as a day that I have worked on the game. Obviously I’m going to be churning through thoughts about it when I’m not sitting and typing but people can’t play a game made out of thoughts (yet). Any day where I work on the game I want to write a journal post about it.

Day 1

The first day that I worked on the game I just made a to-do list. It was 2 pages long, and 1.5 of those pages are devoted to just endless questions about when and where to set the game. Jewish culture isn’t one thing in one place at one time, and I didn’t know which setting I wanted to put the game in. The time of the Patriarchs? Of the Prophets? The Judges? The Jewish diaspora in the Islamic Golden Age? An eastern European town a la Fiddler on the Roof? Literally Deseret but Jewish?

I was especially not looking forward to was tackling gender roles.

Day 2

I think I’ve settled on the idea of incorporating all the different parts of Jewish history into the same setting. It’ll take some hand waving but I like the idea of Rabbis (Prophets? Judges?) being able to interact with and pass judgement on Jewry through history. I’ve also decided that my Deseret is going to just straight up be the Promised Land of Israel, but without any of the specifics. I’m going to claim the geography, climate, and mythopoetic significance the place and completely strip away all of the literal, historical, or Biblical markers. No famous historical cities, no places of biblical significance, no Temple, no Jerusalem, nothing that players can grab onto and say “but it means this because that happened here!” This is the the land of potential that God promised us, not the land we actually got.

I’ve also found that a great hack for productivity so far has been to just take a section of the original DitV book, put the same heading in a gdoc, and then rewrite the entire section. Having a concrete starting point that I need to break away from an change really helps me get my thoughts in order.

Output of Day 2:

Chapter 1: How to Play

I: How to Play

The land I imagine follows, very roughly, the climate and geographic contours of Israel. In the south you have a desert something like the Negev, a western coastline along something like the Mediterranean Sea, hills and mountains and to the east a lush, water-giving valley something like the Jordan Valley. The summer is long, hot and dry, and the winter is short, cold and wet.

The setting imagines a Jewish people plucked from the various times and places of the diaspora and placed in a fantastic version of Israel.

This section could be renamed “What I know about Israel”. I am Well Equipped(tm) for this project.

Chapter 2: A Land of Milk And Honey

II: A Land of Milk and Honey

I will bring you to a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

Setting

I’m just making stuff up! I have an image in my head, a picture of what the characters look like, what the towns and landscapes look like, and my thoughts in this chapter follow from it.

As you play the game, you’ll form your own picture of its world. Make up details to fit your picture, don’t worry about sticking to mine.

It’s especially important to note that everyone playing will form a slightly different picture, leading to slightly different details. That’s fine! As GM, it falls to you to draw the other players’ details into the confirmed, consensus “reality” of the game. When a player asks you, “is there a [whatever] here?” you should either say yes outright, or turn the question back to the group: “I dunno, does it make sense to you all that there’d be a [whatever] here?” Similarly, if you think that a detail you’re introducing might be at all surprising or controversial, take it to the group: “I want there to be a [whatever] here. Does that make sense to everybody?”

This bit is quoted straight from OG DitV, with a little bit left off the end. I’ll probably rewrite the bit I left off in my own voice later.

The Regions

In the south, baked and weathered by the desert sun, tent-dwelling nomads still wander the wilderness, and ascetics embark on journeys of spiritual discovery; along the western coastline, prosperous, cosmopolitan port towns bustle with trade, civil intrigue, and culture clash with foreign visitors and immigrants; in the eastern valley region, military tensions and territory skirmishes simmer around the valuable natural resources; in the northern mountains, the Chosen People live under the oppressive regimes of foreign powers; and in the central hill lands people live among the ruins of the Temple Cities, reminders of holier days.

This is my rough dream for the setting, a bunch of different pseudo-historical settings all somehow existing in proximity to, but separate from each other. I want to carry some of the philosophical baggage of each into the game but leave out the set-in-stone history. It also gives lots of license for the players and GM to play in a bunch of different scenarios: war-time, peace-time, “peace”-time, pogrom, prosperity, etc.

I use too many semi-colons;

Day 3

Day 3 output:

Chapter 2: A Land of Milk And Honey

The Times

The diversity of locations in the Promised Land means you have a chance to visit pastiches and facsimiles of communities from times and cultures across the span of Jewish history. A given town or community will have its own local flavor, whether that be bronze-age tent dwellers and sheep herders or tight-knit enclaves that seem lifted out of (or rather, still somehow located in) an eastern European town at the beginning of the industrial revolution.

There are only three restrictions on this panoply of choices: first, the time of the Bible is past and even though you may seem to be interacting with Jews from times long gone by, they are not contemporaries of any scriptural or historical figures; second, the Holocaust has not happened and nowhere is post-WWII; and third, no matter the seeming time period, the Temple and Jerusalem have been destroyed, although whether it was razed by enemy armies or demolished as divine punishment is unclear and somewhat mysterious.

Got specific about my ideas for how to make all these times and places coexist, and what kinds of setting(s) I want in the game. I think it implies the right amount and kind of hand-wavey-ness. I might need to explicitly specifiy in the “creating towns” section that these anachronistic elements don’t appear next to each other, each place is a unified setting. Your Prophets are the only things that are out of place but that’s the point. You’re here to unsettle some shit.

#game design #prophets in the promised land #dogs in the vineyard

[acadieum]

Do you have any tips or advice for someone looking into digital art?

Mmm, I dunno if you’re asking as in software, products (tablets), or the process of actually doing art but? I’ll give you a couple tips for all of them, but if you want tips on something specific, feel free to ask!

Also, this is kind of just my input on it? So don’t feel like everything I’m saying is an absolute MUST, y’know? It’s just suggestions and whatnot. But anyways, I’ll put it under the cut since it’s a bit long!

For software, I’d try out the free programs first. That way, you’re not paying for a program you don’t like when there might be better programs for you out there that are free to use. (Regardless if you’re downloading a “copied” version or the original software, always make sure you’re downloading from a reliable source! Verify that the website is safe and check what it plans to install so you don’t get viruses!) 

Over my art experience, I’ve tried multiple art programs, but Paint Tool Sai has always been the best one for me. A few other programs that I’ve tried are Fire Alpaca, Krita, Medibang, etc. and they’re all free and work fine! I’ve also tried Manga Studio, which is a paid software, and Photoshop, which I didn’t pay for, and they work great also! It has plenty of tools and extras on the program so it was definitely worth the money! Though, for drawing, I still heavily prefer Paint Tool Sai because of its setup! However, every artist is different and there are plenty of digital art programs free and available out there, so try ‘em out! See which one’s work best for you! Just make sure it’s safe.

For products/tablets, I would only suggest buying a tablet if you see yourself actually using it and frequently. If you’re uncertain how frequent you’d use it, I’d suggest buying a less expensive tablet. There are plenty of drawing tablets that are under 50 USD and they are perfect to use as starters. (If desired, you can buy better quality tablets in the future as you become more comfortable with drawing digitally. You know, like upgrading your setup, but I wouldn’t go super expensive right away.)

If you’re getting your first tablet, DO NOT go over 100 USD. This is just in case because you may end up not liking digital art and that’s totally fine! It’s not for everyone. Some people prefer traditional and that’s completely okay! But if that’s the case, it’s better to have spent 50 USD vs 100 USD on something you won’t use. 

Regardless of which you choose, just make sure that the tablet you buy is compatible with the drawing software you desire to use! The description of the item should tell you if it’s compatible or not. If it’s not compatible, it will either not work on the program at all or just won’t have pressure sensitivity.  (My first tablet wasn’t compatible with PTS so my pressure sensitivity never worked but I could still draw on it. Some people can still make great art without pressure sensitivity but I am not one of those people. orz)

If you see yourself using it often, I’d suggest getting a more reliable tablet - one that will last you a while. Just like drawing softwares, drawing tablets can vary in preference from artist to artist. 

My first tablet was around 40 USD and while it was bigger, I occasionally had problems with it. Sometimes, it would have problems connecting, etc. I can’t speak for others, but the tablet I currently use is a Wacom Intuos Draw and I heavily prefer it to my first one. I think it was 80 USD when I bought it and it works super great! Though, it’s a bit on the smaller side, so if that’s not your thing, it’s probably not the product you’re looking for. 

But, I’ve never had any problem with it so I’d highly recommend it! I personally don’t have a tablet size preference but I’ve had it for a couple of years, and thanks to commissions, I’ve already paid back its cost multiple times over the duration that I’ve had it. So while a bit more expensive than other tablets, it was a great investment, esp if you plan on doing commissions!  

For the art process, I don’t really have tips for this one because everyone does art differently? So here’s a few maybe not-so-obvious tips?

USE MULTIPLE LAYERS. 

Designate linework and color layers! (Unless you’re a daredevil and wanna do it in one, go for it.)

ABUSE THE TOOLS OF DIGITAL ART. 

Traditional art is great and all! But the difference between traditional and digital is immense. Take advantage of using clipped layers, preserving opacity, layer options, hue/saturation, etc. (If you don’t know what those are, hmu and I can explain.) 

FREQUENTLY SAVE YOUR ART.

I don’t know how many times I’ve been working on a drawing and it’s just hours and hours of progress lost because I forgot to save. PLEASE remember to save your art.

TIP: Some programs have a setting where it automatically saves every set amount of minutes, so if it does have that setting, I highly encourage to use it.

IT’S OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK.

Sometimes, I have not-so-great art days and I get upset that nothing I draw comes out right. This especially happens when I come back after a huge art block. 

Dealing with Art Block.

It’s okay if this happens. At this time, don’t overwork yourself and don’t focus on perfection. It’ll probably get you more stressed.

Just breathe and try doodling small things to get you back into the groove of things. Again, don’t strive for perfection. Just make little meme scribbles so that your hand can re-learn the movements and then along the way, you’ll hopefully get inspired and go back to making the beautiful art you had been before! But it takes time, so don’t rush anything!

REMEMBER TO STRETCH AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

I often draw for hours on end without getting up, stretching, or hydrating. As a result, I have many frequent health issues and wrist problems. 

Please take care of yourself! Every now and then, remember to get up and do stretching exercises. Take a drink of water, breathe, walk around, etc. It really prevents the strain in future scenarios!

If you have any other questions, feel free to lmk! Hope this helps somewhat???

#adrien replies #th0t-topic

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Alex

Today I have the delight of introducing Alex, better known to aro-spec Tumblr as @arotaro and @mutant-jojos!

Alex is a bisexual, half-Puerto Rican multi-disciplinary aromantic artist and creative with severe ADHD. You’ll find her prolific fanworks on AO3 as EmeraldTrash666, writing primarily for the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure fandom. Her bold, colourful art for the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hetalia, Pokemon and Vocaloid fandoms is also available on Redbubble under the name StellaHagane.

She writes, she creates digital art and she dabbles in music, sewing and fashion design, single-handedly proving that there’s no such thing as too much creative awesome for any one aromantic!

With us Alex talks about finding the word aro, the power of fandom and creative fanworks, her love of aro Jotaro, the challenges of creating with ADHD, the struggles of being an aro gen writer in fandom and the importance of expressing our aro headcanons. Everything she says is absolutely on point, so please let’s give her all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

I guess in some ways my “story” starts out pretty typical. Got older, kept waiting for my First Crush™, never got it, started worrying and trying to force myself to develop crushes. I actually was in a relationship with another girl on a forum I was part of as a teenager, but eventually I realized that I didn’t really like her romantically, and the relationship started to become really unpleasant for me. I eventually felt so miserable that I didn’t even want to talk at her at all, even though we were close friends, but I didn’t want to break up with her - partly because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, partly because we were everyone’s “OTP” and I didn’t want my friends to hate me for ruining that. But eventually I did break up with her, and I’m happy to say she took it with grace and we’re still close friends today! (She’s ace and a great writer/artist herself, too!)

I was part of a very nice LGBTQ+ group as a teenager, but I could never figure out my identity. I felt really ashamed and alone. Whenever I brought up how messed up I felt because I’d never had a crush on anyone, everyone was like, “Oh, sounds like you must be asexual!”, but I knew I wasn’t, and that was the worst part. Even though I knew aromanticism was a thing, nobody ever talked about it. It was only ever in the context of aroaces, so I didn’t know I was aro. I thought I must have had some sort of mental illness or something, but certainly not a legitimate orientation, nothing to be proud of like everyone else.

During that time, I found myself connecting on a deep emotional level to characters like Alphonse Elric, Fujiwara no Sai, the X-Men in general (although I’ve been an X-Men fan since I was literally a baby), basically anyone who was somehow “different” from the rest of humanity, even though I never understood why, since I was a fairly privileged kid who had never experienced much bullying or anything. Weirdly enough, it was Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure that helped me realize I was aro and come to terms with it; I saw an interview with Hirohiko Araki, the author of JJBA, where he was asked what type of girls Jotaro Kujo likes, and replied that he didn’t think Jotaro liked girls. The obvious interpretation would be that Jotaro’s gay, but somehow, one way or another, I decided to go with the idea that Jotaro’s aromantic. Jotaro also happened to be a character I really related to for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, so around the time I was 18 I put two and two together and was like ... oh shit…

Please click keep reading to continue Alex’s story!

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

I’ve always been weird in the way I’m very creative, but tend to kinda bounce around from hobby to hobby. Other people draw, or write, or sing, while I draw for a month, and then write for a month and sew for a week and play video games for a week, and then I draw some more, and then I try out something completely new, and then I write again. I think it must be an ADHD thing, idk. In any case, I’ve just always been really passionate about making stuff, whatever that stuff happens to be.

I’ve also always been very much fandom-oriented. Ever since I was a toddler, I used to dictate fanfiction to my mom (back then it usually involved Winnie the Pooh, the Powerpuff Girls, Godzilla, and my dog). I mostly draw fanart. I find that I’m not really capable of writing original stories, but I’m great at getting fanfics in character, and I love writing them. I love taking stories I already love and reinterpreting them, seeing what it would be like if the characters were put into different situations, etc.

Because of my ADHD, I really struggle with actually finishing things. I try really really hard, I really do, and I’ve been trying to push myself even harder these past few years. I’ve made progress, but it’s still extremely difficult, so I’m very sorry for all the projects I’ve abandoned over the years. Sorry I still haven’t finished the fic that was supposed to be done in early March. I’m trying, really. I promise I’m working on the next chapter of BLaD, too.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

Of course, pretty much everything I write is gen. Even if I include romantic relationships in my fics, I never write about romance, just stories which also happen to include some characters who might be dating someone. And obviously I always write Jotaro as aro! That’s really important to me. No matter which AU I’m writing, he’s always aro. (And autistic, but that’s off topic.)

I’m also not really into shipping because of my romance repulsion, but I ship Joseph Joestar and Caesar Zeppeli. The thing is … I’ve always viewed it as a unique relationship, sort of difficult to define as being strictly romantic or platonic or sexual, just kind of their own thing that defies words. That’s how I’ve always written it. I had the sudden realization recently that this strange view on the only ship I really actually like (at the moment, anyway) is probably due to my being aro, lmao.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

People don’t read gen fics, and people aren’t interested in aro stories. That’s just the way it is. I do have some dedicated readers, whom I love deeply, but in general… I could post something with a deep plot, something funny and dramatic and witty and touching, something I poured my heart and soul into for months, and it’ll get very few hits/comments/kudos, while someone else could post the same generic 2,000-word romance fic everyone’s seen a dozen times over, with no editing or anything, and get twice the amount of traffic my fics do in half the time. It’s really crushing.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

I dunno… The aro community feels so small. Online, I have a small circle of aro mutuals who all kind of vent collectively, and I’m part of Arocalypse and a few aro/aspec Discord servers, but I still feel like there isn’t really much of a larger community to be part of in the same way that there is for other orientations. Offline, I’ve never met another aro, or even anyone who actually knows what aromanticism is prior to me explaining it to them.

I also don’t feel like there’s a very unified “aspec community”. As an allo aro, I feel very rejected by the ace community - not to say that I feel like I should be part of the ace community, since I’m not ace, but I feel like they throw aros under the bus a lot. I mean, we’ve all seen the “asexuals can feel love, just like anybody else! … oh, except for aroaces, I guess. But the rest of us are normal, so you should accept us!” rhetoric. Both within and outside the aspec communities, aros are rarely treated with the same priority as aces, even though we’re arguably in a much more difficult position than your average allo ace.

That being said, I’m glad there is an aro community at all. I don’t know where I’d be now if I were still questioning. Probably not in a very good place.

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

As I mentioned, there’s a general lack of interest in gen fics or sympathy for romance-repulsed people in general. It’s really difficult being romance repulsed in fandom spaces, because nobody cares about anything other than ships. There are very few gen fics, and even less that are a decent length, not abandoned, or cater to my specific interests, so I have to write my own. I don’t often have anything good to read; most of the big fics, the ones with cool plots and long word counts and ongoing updates, are ship fics. If I’m lucky, maybe two gen fics will be posted in one week, and maybe one of them will be longer than a few thousand words. Maybe one might even have my favorite characters. But usually genfics are few and far between, and kind of random in terms of what you’ll get. Sometimes I get so bored that I read ship fics anyway, and then I always wind up feeling really awful afterwards.

I’ve written, over the course of the past two years alone, over 20 gen fics. But whenever I vent that sometimes I’d like to actually get to read something, I always get someone telling me, “Well if you want gen fics, write some yourself! You have to make the change! You can’t demand people write stuff for you!” And of course, at the same time it’s totally acceptable to request ship fics from your favorite author, and if you complain that there aren’t enough fics for your rarepair, it’s seen as relatable and totally valid.

Fandom is just … really, really amatonormative, tbh. I hate it. I’m trying to make a difference (I did organize Gen Jojo Week along with my friend Rachel last year, and hopefully will again this year), but there’s only so much I can do.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

Aside from reblogging my art and promoting my fics? Talk about stuff. Talk about aro stuff in fandom. Seriously! I know it seems obvious that aro people would like aro headcanons and gen fics and all that, but we need to talk about them more. Nobody outside the community gives enough of a shit about us to have aro headcanons, so let’s get them popular. Talk about your favorite aro headcanons. Talk about your favorite gen fics. Talk about how such-and-such character is totally aro; talk about how excited you are to see aro characters in fics. My dream is for aro headcanons to become just as common and popular as any other type of headcanon.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

This is old news to most of the people who already know me, but my current big project that I’ve been working on for several years now is Between Life and Death, a drama/horror/supernatural JJBA fic.

(WARNING: PHANTOM BLOOD AND STARDUST CRUSADERS SPOILERS BELOW.)

The plot of the fic is that Dio wins at the end of Stardust Crusaders, and after realizing that he has no hobbies other than harassing the Joestars, he decides to bring Jonathan back by sticking his head (which… we’ll just assume Dio preserved for plot purposes) onto Jotaro’s body. Obviously, Jonathan is NOT happy with this arrangement, but it also turns out that Jotaro’s still alive, just not in control of his body. He can still use his stand, so he essentially uses Star Platinum as a sort of proxy for interacting with the environment around him, even though he only comes out when Jonathan’s alone since he doesn’t want Dio to know he’s alive.

Basically, it’s the story of a depressed vampire and a traumatized ghost. It’s a very introspective fic; most of the story consists of conflicts between Dio and Jonathan, and Jonathan and Jotaro struggling to come to terms with their new existences - Jonathan being unable to reconcile vampirism with his personal morals, and Jotaro having one hell of an identity crisis while also mourning the deaths of his friends and family. The plot is picking up, though, and there is an end goal in mind, as well as an eventual sequel!

As for where the story-in-progress is at right now … well, the next “stage” of the plot is hamon training for Kakyoin and Avdol, which will be fun. This chapter also includes several dream sequences, including an extended appearance by Mary Joestar (Jonathan’s mom), and a very serious and dark scene which I almost ruined by having dream!Will Zeppeli refer to Jonathan as his padawan. Yeah.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

As mentioned, I’m working on chapter 9 of Between Life and Death! And working on and off on some stuff for the mutants AU. Most recently, on a whim I rewrote the lyrics to Handbeat Clocktower by MOTHY to be about Jonathan Joestar. Somehow this went far enough that I’m making an actual UTAU rendition of this “parody”, and hopefully it’ll be done sometime in the next few weeks. I’m really having fun with it and I hope people like it!

#aro spec artist profiles #arotaro #emeraldtrash666 #mutantjojos #text #undescribed #artwork and visual #fanwork #fanfiction #fanart #long post #very long post #aromantic #support our aro spec creatives if you can #aromantic and bisexual #alloaro #ao3 #link #amatonormativity #arospec community #amatonormativity in creativity #redbubble #stellahagane

[whatsabriard]

That Kind of Boy

Lucien x Jean. A whim. 1600 words. Unedited. Pre-wedding. It had a plot for like 2.7 seconds and then descended into filth. Eh - tasteful filth. Smut-lite maybe? I dunno. Anyhoodle. Lucien is exactly the kind of boy your mother warned you about. (X)

The studio was, to put it rather bluntly, something of a wreck. Boxes were strewn over every available surface, in various stages of packing and unpacking. However it was late and both Jean and Lucien were simply worn out. They’d made a great deal of progress, but the mess of the previous few days put them wildly behind in their moving schedule.

They crashed onto the sofa - the one space not cluttered with their mingled lives - and slumped into a heap.

“We should have started this ages ago.” Jean reminded him, for roughly the 73rd time. She’d been after him for weeks after the new year to begin the process - a box at a time - to spread the job out and make it less daunting. However Lucien always found an excuse to put it off, citing all different manner of inane reasons before Jean finally cornered him and accused him of not wanting to share a room with her.

He was horrified to realize what conclusion she’d drawn. Late one night, by the fireplace he had pulled her beside him and confided in his still-complicated relationship with the room. He knew that it being their bedroom would mean new, lovelier memories would eclipse the haunting atmosphere. However he still tried to avoid the room whenever possible and did not feel particularly inclined to shuffle through his parent’s lives once more.

Touched and saddened by the injuries he’d suffered to his heart when he was still too young to understand, she drew him beside her on the sofa. Her fingers cupped his neck and he turned his lips to her cheek, her nose, and her eyes before she redirected him to her lips.

She was determined to help him re-christen the room with happier associations.

And so, over time, it became Their Place. They retired to the studio to work slowly at reconfiguring their lives into a cohesive picture, but also at laying to rest the spirits that still resided in the cavernous space. Some nights they merely sat together, too tired from a busy day to do much work, instead sitting in one another’s arms.

Other nights, they were too energized from the day and spent their time in other, more pleasurable pursuits.

At least those they’d permit themselves in the weeks before the wedding.

“We’ve not much more left to do.” Lucien stared up at the gold-flecked ceiling and reached for Jean’s hand beside him on the sofa.

“Yes, but we’ve run out of time. I’ve got to go to the club and help Cec with the decorations over the next few days and…”

He tugged her closer. “It’ll get done. We’ll manage.”

She curled her legs up beside her, content to slip firmly against Lucien’s side.

“We always do.” With a palm to his cheek he turned him to face her and tugged, just a little, until his mouth was slanting over hers.

She wondered - somewhere in the back of her mind not occupied with the delicious things Lucien was doing to her mouth - if the little flutter that accompanied his touch would ever go away. Would her skin cease to bloom into gooseflesh as tingles worked themselves across her scalp and down her back.

She chased a line from his lips to his ear and then down his neck, enjoying the salty tangy of his sweat before nibbling just lightly.

She was rewarded by his own shiver and she chuckled against his skin. Unfolding her legs she fell back against the arm of the sofa, dragging him over her. His hands were not still, sliding beneath her sweater to brush feather-light over the sides of her breasts. She arched her back to encourage him, and slung her hands lower to his hips.

Lucien groaned when she shifted her hips and came in contact with him, drawing back his lower half while focusing entirely on her chest. With her palms, she pressed him towards her again and she felt the tell-tale heavy firmness touch ever so briefly against her thigh. Lucien jerked away again and she dropped her hands, frustrated.

“Lucien, will you stop?”

“I know, I’m sorry Jean. I just…” He tried to shift further from her, while busying himself with the delicate skin on her neck. She reached up a hand and pushed him away from her, his mouth hanging open and his gaze still clouded over.

“No, will you stop apologizing?”

“I...of course?” He was utterly confused, requiring a few long breaths before he shook his head.

“I mean, you act as though it isn’t a compliment to know you desire me.”

“Oh.” He glanced down to the obvious bulge in his trousers and reddened. “Yes but…”

“And it’s perfectly natural? I mean, you are a doctor. You do know this, right?”

“Yes, but....”

“And it’s not as if I’ve never felt one. I have had two children.”

“Jeannie, I’m sorry.” He winced when she opened her mouth to reprimand him again. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured into something you’re not ready for.”

“Bloody hell.” Lucien looked scandalized and Jean waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not as if you’re the kind of boy my mother warned me about...well, you are exactly the kind of boy my mother warned me about. But you’re not-- I’m not 15 anymore, Lucien.”

“Right.” He nodded, but obviously still had trouble following her thoughts.

“You don’t have to be so careful all the time. I trust you.”

“Yes, I know you do, Jean.” And it meant the world to him that she did, which is why she knew he guarded her integrity so closely. He would not be the one to tempt her into something she would regret, now matter how much he desired her.

“Then trust me, love. Trust me.” She drew their lips together again but this time she clambered to her knees and hovered over him, forcing him back against the sofa. She was thankful she’d chosen to wear slacks herself and moved to straddle his knees, wrapping his arms around her back.

“Of course I do. Of course I do, my darling.” He was wide-eyed with an armful of very wicked-looking Jean. He’d heard tell of Catholic girls but he’d never bought into the myths. Now as he watched her search his face carefully while running her hands down his chest - he wondered exactly how much of those myths had been based in reality.

She rubbed soothingly over the muscles in his chest, taking time to kiss him slowly, pressing her behind into his palms. He might have been somewhat skeptical of the situation she was creating, but he was not an idiot. He curled his fingers around her bum and massaged. She let loose a little noise of pleasure and he doubled down on his efforts.

So busy was he attending to her, letting his fingers map over the delicate muscles of her thighs, that he very nearly yelped when her hands found their way into his lap. She brushed gently over his erection, although her touch was firm enough that he knew it was no accident.

“Jean, I…”

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered against his neck and drew delicate skin between her teeth to suckled. This time when she touched him it was with more intention, pressing her entire palm over him and squeezing until his hips jerked in her touch.

He was about to stop her again, say her name, beg her to let him go. But she swallowed his protest with her lips, drawing his tongue between her teeth.

She moved gently and rhythmically, matching her thrusting hips to the actions of her hands.  Lucien gritted his teeth and clutched at her sides, desperate that she should stop. Terrified that she would stop.

When her fingers gripped him through the material of his pants, he groaned. “Bloooooody helllll…..” drawn from his lips as both a curse and a blessing.

“Jean,” He panted as her hand moved faster, touching just so. “Jean if you don’t stop I’ll…”

“You’ll….” She whispered against his cheek.

“I’ll…”

“Yes.” It was barely a breath that ghosted over his overheated skin. Tinders of desire burst ito sudden flame and his skin bloomed with a flush and his brow furrowed with the strain of holding himself together.  She pressed and squeezed again, undulating in his lap, coaxing his climax gently but firmly. He was absolutely unable to resist. His hips jerked against her hand, thrusting. “I love you, Lucien.”

The strong, corded muscles in his neck contracted and he threw his head back, warmth spreading over the front of his trousers. Stars burst, thousands of colors shimmer behind his clenched-tight lids.

Minutes - hours? - later he opened his eyes to Jean peppering light kisses over his face.

“Jean.” He was still panting and his heart raced..

“Hmmm.” She pulled back lazily, contented, and her eyes were drowsy dark.

“You didn’t.” He shrugged helplessly. It was silly that he couldn’t talk to his future wife plainly, especially when she’d encouraged him to spend in his pants like a teenager. “You didn’t...ah...climax.”

Her grin turned cheeky. “Why, Lucien Blake. I’m not that kind of girl!”

“Saving yourself for your wedding night, are you?”

She nodded and, surprisingly, she felt tears gather. The reality of their lives starting, really starting, was an emotional pop in her gut every so often and emotion welled uncontrollably.

“Yes.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, swallowing back the tears. “For our wedding night.”

“Lucky man, your husband.” He hugged her, burying his nose against her throat. Sated though he was, he only felt his longing for her more keenly. Soon. Soon.

“Yes. About as lucky as your wife.”

“My wife.” Miraculously. Against all odds. In his arms. Smiling beatifically.  

Yes. His wife.

#lucien x jean #fic #on-top-of-the-clothes fun #jean is a saucy wench #lucien is so in love #and so galant #and jean has experience #i love these two sfm

[pikapegasus]

Star-Lord’s Journal

Day 40: AGH!!!! Gamora drives me so crazy!!! I like her so much and I don’t know why!!!!!! We’ve got this weird thing going on where we argue a lot but still…get each other? I think I told her about David Hasselhoff when I was drunk the other day? And now she’s a little nicer to me because of it…the tension is CRAZY!!!

She catches herself just in time before bursting out with a laugh at his writing, so she doesn’t wake him up.

(Alternatively, the one where Gamora can't help herself and skims through Peter's journal, looking back on the beginning of their relationship.)

Starmora Week 2017, Day 7: Unspoken

(read on ao3 or ffn) // (read prev. starmora week 2017 works here!!)

Gamora wakes up with a shiver, trying to pull her blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She takes in her surroundings for a moment; she’s in her bed with Peter, though all of the blankets are wrapped around her (admittedly, this is usual; she can’t help that she gets cold easily) and he’s not actually lying down with her. She then realizes she’s not even sleeping on a pillow, but Peter’s lap, and when she looks up at his form slumped back against the wall adjacent to their bed, he’s snoring softly.

She shifts a little, causing his hand to slide down her arm. Over the soft sounds of the distant machinery in the Milano, the horrifyingly heavy rain outside makes itself apparent, filling Gamora’s ears quickly. She sighs, settling her head back on Peter’s thigh. The downpour had started while they were in the middle of their errands that day, and once Gamora had finished getting what she needed with Peter, they decided to return to the Milano to get out of the crazy weather while the rest of the team finished their own errands.

Thanks to her body mods, she doesn’t really get sick, but she’s never been particularly good in low temperatures, especially when moisture is involved. Sure, she can handle it enough to get whatever job she’s tasked with done with no complaints, but it’ll take her a little longer to warm up afterward than other species—even Terrans.

(Peter likes to hold it over her. She pretends to hate him for it until he offers up all of their blankets to her; then, he is suddenly not completely insufferable.)

Somehow returning to the Milano to dry off—they’d been soaked enough that her hair stuck to her face while Peter’s hair turned a much darker shade all together—turned into cuddling in bed, which quickly turned into sleeping.

She considers grabbing her comms to check in with the others, because she’s not really sure how much time has passed, but when she hears Rocket yell from the other side of the ship, followed by Mantis shushing him, well, that answers that. She then debates waking Peter to let him know they’re clear to leave, but even just another glance up at his face drowns the willpower from her. He’s sleeping a little too nicely for someone who’s sitting up, in her opinion, but her attention is then grabbed by something else.

Peter’s journal. It’s sitting on the bed on the other side of his legs, beside his free hand, along with a few pens he’d recently picked up on their last supply run. Ever since their fight against Ronan on Xandar, she’s noticed him pull out the small, leather-bound book (from Terra, he’d told her) every now and then, either doodling or writing a few things down.

They’ve long since crossed the border of keeping secrets from each other, given their close friendship and relationship. She’s sure he would give her permission to read it—he never bothers hiding it from her, sometimes even shows her things in it or just discusses the content inside with her. He doesn’t keep it very close to his chest, so she’s sure he’d allow her to read it. If she actually asked.

But she can’t help the curiosity clawing at her, so she picks it up and flips it over—it’d been sitting face-down and open—to at least look at the page he’d left it on. Her eyes widen for a moment, blinded by the absurd amount of content on the page.

The two pages are completely covered in drawings, mostly sketch-like in nature and loosely colored with his different colored pens. There are a few small notes here and there, too, accompanying each drawing, but all written in Peter’s native Terran language, so the words are lost on her.

She settles instead for looking at the drawings, smiling to herself at the comical depictions of them dancing together, and the way he draws Terran heart symbols, which mean love, around him and her in each drawing. Everyone else from the team is included as well, even Nebula, and two shadowy figures, one with notes that have since been crossed out and another with notes highlighted in purple, beside a drawing of herself, Peter, Rocket, and Drax with what appears to be the Infinity Stone in the middle of them.

Once again giving into her curiosity, she flips through the rest of the yellowed pages, surprised to find things written in the common written language they all could read and write. By the looks of it, they’re all accounts of different adventures the team’s gone on or simple reflections about each member on the team.

Of course, naturally, she stumbles upon an entry about herself, and she can’t stop her eyes from poring over his words.

Day 16: I think Gamora’s starting to like me more, she reads to herself. She didn’t really trust me at first, and she’s not really very trustworthy herself, but something changed when we held the Infinity Stone. I dunno. It’s been a couple weeks since Ronan and I think we’ve at least become friends now.

She’s almost ready to stop reading then and there, because how far they’ve come is almost too much for her to think about. It’s been years since Ronan, and they’ve long since passed the “tentatively friends” stage.

But then she flips ahead a few more pages.

Day 40: AGH!!!! Gamora drives me so crazy!!! I like her so much and I don’t know why!!!!!! We’ve got this weird thing going on where we argue a lot but still…get each other? I think I told her about David Hasselhoff when I was drunk the other day? And now she’s a little nicer to me because of it…the tension is CRAZY!!!

She catches herself just in time before bursting out with a laugh at his writing, so she doesn’t wake him up. His struggle continues a few pages later.

Day 50: I’m so done for, I REALLY like Gamora…she’s literally the deadliest woman in the galaxy and is the daughter of a homicidal maniac, but something about her just…I dunno. But I swear, she acts like she likes me back, because the tension has only gotten WORSE!!! There’s DEFINITELY some unspoken thing here.

By now, she’s just moving automatically, flipping through the pages until she catches the next entry about the development of their relationship.

Day 84: We’re on our way to Ego’s planet and Ego says he’s my dad, but I’m a little nervous. I’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life and even though it’s here now, I’m…not even sure I want it? I feel horrible, but I love the Guardians as much as I’ve ever loved a family. They’ve become my new dream, in a way. Also, GAMORA MIGHT KNOW I LIKE HER????? This girl named Mantis used her empathetic abilities on me and read my mind and just BLURTED IT OUT!! I can’t even look at Gamora right now, I feel so awkward…

She’s the one who encouraged me to check out Ego and his planet, though. Even brought up that dumb David Hasselhoff story. Unspoken thing being mutually reciprocated or not, she’s at least kinda become my best friend, in a way…I would only share that kind of story with her. We’re kinda like Kimmy and DJ from Full House, except Gamora’s the more organized and reserved DJ while I’m the disaster that is Kimmy Gibbler…if Kimmy had a crush on DJ.

DAY 84 UPDATE: I DANCED WITH GAMORA I DANCED WITH GAMORA I DANCED WITH GAMORA

…..then we got into a bad argument. I should go talk to her. But I don’t really want to and she probably doesn’t want to, either.

That might have been our first…and last…dance.

That hadn’t been a highlight for either of them. She’s glad Ego and his planet are long gone now.

Day 87: It’s been a few days since everything went to hell on Ego’s planet and Yondu died…I still can’t get over what happened. I went from realizing I’ve had a father all along to having no parents at all, just in the span of a few hours.

The team’s being really supportive, though. We’re all grieving. Gamora’s got her own shit with Nebula—oh, and Gamora and I are…*together* now? She acknowledged the unspoken thing the other day, but things are heavy these days. We still haven’t really talked about our argument on Ego’s planet either.

Day 90: Things are getting a little better. Gamora and I finally talked about the argument. Then of course I had a freaking nightmare and showed up to her bunk like a loser in the middle of the night, but she didn’t seem to mind. She helped me feel better. I hope I can do the same for her.

Day 100: We danced again!!! It was pretty romantic, considering it was in the kitchen in the middle of the freaking night, but at least it was a dance. Gamora is SUCH a dancer. Sorry, Drax.

She remembers that night; somehow, deciding to conquer nightmares through food had turned into dancing, but she’s glad it did. The privacy and intimacy of the few stolen moments had aided in her feelings progressing greatly, which freaked her out at the time. Little did she know they’d end up where they are now—comfortable and happy.

Day 105: WE ALMOST KISSED….but then Rocket ruined it!!! He came into the room looking for something and Gamora nearly backed into a storage unit when she tried to jump away. Rocket still figured it out, though. Stupid trash panda.

Rocket’s laughter from that day fills her mind for a moment and she rolls her eyes.

Day 120: WE FINALLY KISSED!!!! We both stayed home while the rest of the team went out for the night (sans Groot, who was asleep) and it was AWESOME! I’ve kissed people before, but there’s something different about actually being in a relationship with someone that makes doing that kind of stuff way more meaningful, y’know???

They’d been taking their relationship slowly, which is why it took over two weeks just to even attempt to kiss again, but she’s finding herself relating a lot to Peter’s reaction. She smiles.

Day 143: ……I fooled around and fell in love. Goddamn it. Way to go, Star-Lord, in too deep as always.

Oh, if only Peter had known she’d definitely fallen in love by this point as well… She glances up at his face for a moment, debating waking him just to remind him how much she loves him, but she knows the big moment shouldn’t be too far off in his journal now.

Day 145: Anniversary of Mom’s death. It’s not as sad as usual because I don’t feel as alone this year, but, man, I just wish Mom could’ve met Gamora. She would’ve ADORED her.

Parents will always be a painful subject for both of them, but Gamora has to admit, it’s somewhat reassuring to know that she isn’t alone in losing her parents at an early age similar to how Peter lost his mother. She wishes she could’ve met the infamous Meredith Quill, who Gamora believes played a large part in Peter being the person he is—selfless, enthusiastic, optimistic, and a great leader.

Day 172: It’s official: Gamora and I are roommates. Literally sharing the same room. And the same bed. Hey, she’s as much of a captain of this team as I am, so she stakes some claim to the captain quarters, too. At least post-nightmare comfort cuddles will be easier now.

They’d been “unofficial” roommates for a while before then, gradually spending more and more nights in each other’s beds. Her moving into the captain’s quarters was just a formality, really.

Day 198: Groot is getting so big!!! Gamora and I are pretty sad about it. He was such a cute baby. Hell, he was OUR cute baby. And now he’s almost all grown up…

Now he’s big and grumpy. Not as cute. (Though, to be honest, he’ll always be somewhat cute to her, because that’s what happens when you raise a child, she thinks.)

Day 201: Gamora and I finally tried to go on a REAL date, just the two of us, away from the chaos of everyone else…we lasted about an hour or two before Kraglin called to inform us that Rocket stole something. I’m not even sure Rocket stole it just to steal things or just to mess with our date. Stupid trash panda.

She’d glared at Rocket when they returned to the Milano that night, but, again, he’d just laughed. Then Drax smacked him upside the head.

Day 211: I CAN’T KEEP MY DAMN MOUTH SHUT ANY LONGER!!!!! I AM IN SO MUCH LOVE WITH GAMORA!!!!! BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TELL HER!!!! I LOVE HER SO MUCH THAT IT HURTS SOMETIMES!!!!!! SHE’S SO PERFECT!!!!! HOW IS SHE SO PERFECT????

Day 212: I was drunk up there on the previous entry sorry

She’s smiling again, and leans her head lightly against Peter’s stomach, as if to convey her love through the gentle touch. He’s more perfect than he realizes.

Day 234: IT’S DONE WE DID IT!!!! I SAID “I LOVE YOU” AND SHE SAID IT BACK!!!!!!!! I’VE NEVER BEEN THIS HAPPY BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE PATHETIC LIFE!!!!! I wish Mom was here so I could tell her! And Yondu would probably laugh at me, but I wish I could tell him, too!

Her heart flutters inexplicably at his enthusiastic description. She’s torn between continuing to read and giving it up so she can hug him for everything she’s read so far, but ultimately, her burning curiosity wins out.

Day 251: Well, the honeymoon phase is over. Gamora and I had a pretty heated argument earlier. It was bad. Apparently being in love with the people you actively work to save the galaxy with is a real gamble, ‘cause neither of us can handle the other one getting hurt, so we don’t make the most tactical decisions on the battlefield anymore…when we argued on Ego’s planet, I was sure that was the end of us before we even became a thing, and though I’m feeling pretty shitty about this one, I think we’ll make it through.

Day 253: We both just needed a day or two to cool off. We talked it out. We’re good. It’s probably far from our last argument, but if we keep trying to work together, I think we’ll be ok.

Day 278: I almost died on a job today and Gamora’s pissed…I guess I can’t blame her because I’d feel the same way if she ever almost died, but still. This is something we’re always going to have to deal with because of our lives, which really sucks.

Even now, years later, this is still the typical subject of their worst arguments. It truly is something they will always have to deal with.

Day 280: What if Gamora and I just settled on some random planet together and never did any more jobs or missions? Am I selfish for wanting that? We’d never have to stress about each other’s safety ever again.

She’s considered it before herself, and they’ve even talked about it, but the consensus is always the same at the end: the team needs them, the galaxy needs them, and, frankly, they need this lifestyle, because they get anxious without work.

Day 307: Gamora got hurt really bad today and I’m so scared. It’s usually the other way around because her body mods protect her a lot, but she’s been asleep for a while and even though the doctors said she’d probably be fine, I’m really really really nervous. My hand’s shaking a lot so this looks like shit but I just really want Gamora to wake up soon so she can find something to lecture ME about.

It takes her slightly longer than usual to decipher his scribbled writing, but given his anxiety at the time of writing this, it makes sense. She clenches her jaw against the tears that are suddenly pinching at her eyes, because though this was, indeed, a scary time for them, it’s not now.

(But she can’t recall the last time anyone had worried so much over her, before Peter and the Guardians, so she has to rub the tears away with her hands.)

Day 310: Back on the mend! Gamora’s body mods work miracles or something because she’s healing super fast. She’s almost nearly back to normal, but I can’t help but feel nervous about her going back to doing everything she normally does, like sparring with Drax or practicing with her blades. I don’t want her to hurt herself more.

Day 345: I just need to say that I fucking hate Thanos. I don’t even know what his deal is but if he ever comes near Gamora (or Nebula) again I will personally kick his ass to the opposite side of the universe. I hate the things he’s done to Gamora and how it’s impacted her so much. She deserves SO MUCH better. Like, everything GOOD IN THIS UNIVERSE is what she deserves. Ugh. Fuck Thanos. Fuck evil dads. Go burn in hell with Ego.

Her tears from the entry about her injury have yet to completely fade from her eyes, and this one is definitely not helping, because no one’s ever denounced Thanos for her sake before. There are many people like Drax who want to see Thanos perish because they’ve lost loved ones to him, Gamora included, but no one’s ever specifically wanted to avenge her, until Peter came along. She gives a quiet, watery laugh, because Peter’s view of Thanos is comfortingly simple—a bully, an abuser. She’s not sure how much good she really deserves, but Peter’s already much more than anything she could have ever wanted to find in life. She curls into his lap a little more tightly.

Day 394: Man I still can’t believe Gamora loves me back. I’m not sure what she saw in me because I don’t really see THAT much myself, but ugh I just love her so much.

She’ll have to remind Peter how great he is when he wakes up.

Day 446: Ran into Nebula today. Gamora finally broke the news to her about, uh, “us,” I guess. Nebula usually threatens us whenever we see her, but she directed a special one to me—ripping my guts out through my throat, which I doubt is possible, but I’m not about to give her the chance to show me. Her eyes seemed a little softer, though.

Gamora knows how Nebula thinks. She knows when Nebula trusts and distrusts people, likes and dislikes them.

Nebula considers Peter family as much as he acknowledges her place in their mismatched family through her adoptive relation to Gamora. Nebula would never tell Peter this, though, but she does punch his arm a little more softly now than she used to whenever they cross paths.

Day 499: GAMORA SECRETLY LOVES CUDDLES A LOT YOU’VE READ IT HERE IT’S REAL

The entries specifically regarding just herself and Peter fade out after that, the pages instead filled with more general stories about the team as a whole. Gamora’s rubbing at her eyes by the ridiculous “day 449” entry, because it’s strange to believe it’s been years since they’d first met, first hugged, first danced, first kissed.

Time, as Peter says a lot, really does fly.

She skips to the last few pages of the journal, of which Peter only has a few blank ones left, so she makes a mental note to pick up a new journal of some sort for him the next time they go on a supply run. She turns to the last page with writing, surprised to find the most recent entry a bit longer than the previous ones.

Day ????: I lost track of how many days it’s been since I last wrote, but I know I haven’t written much about Gamora in a while. We’re doing awesome. We went on a supply run on this planet with really shitty weather that just completely kicked our asses with rain, so we packed it in early to warm up before the rest of the team was done, since she tends to run a liiiiiiittle colder than the rest of us.

She’s actually asleep on my lap right now, wrapped up in nearly every blanket we own. It’s a little ridiculous, but she looks cute. Did you know the deadliest woman in the galaxy is also the cutest? Well, now you know.

Gamora reminds me of this quote from good ol’ Winnie the Pooh. It went something like, “Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” Mom and I used to really love that one when we’d read about Pooh-bear and his friends. Gamora cares a lot more than people realize because they get so caught up in all the wrong things. Sure, she did bad things in the past, because she was forced to, but she cares so freaking much sometimes, I can’t believe ANYONE can care that much. She definitely cares too much about me sometimes, but it’s ok, because I love her, too.

And…my heart’s beating a little faster just thinking about it, ‘cause I’m so woefully unprepared, but I think, maybe before the next time we go to Xandar or somewhere with like legit government records and stuff that doesn’t have a bounty on either of our heads, I’m gonna ask her to—

Gamora jumps when Peter suddenly shifts in his sleep, stretching his arms out with his eyes half-open. She holds the journal to her nose as she holds her breath, waiting for him to either wake or return to sleep. He slumps over rather gracelessly toward her, until he’s draped across her back, his own body contorted in a strange position as she’s still lying over his lap.

Taking mercy on him, she places the journal back down as she’d found it, face-down and open, beside his pens, then pulls herself up slowly, taking his upper body into her arms and pushing him down onto the bed, until he’s lying down properly. She unwraps the blankets from around herself and drapes them over both of them before settling down beside him, throwing an arm over him and resting her head beside his on the pillow.

Then the sound of the journal and the pens all clattering to the ground overtakes the sound of rain filling her ears for a moment, but she’s too settled in to care, especially when Peter turns on his side and curls in more closely to her.

And, besides, though she hadn’t quite finished reading the question in his last journal entry, she’s already got her answer figured out, for whenever he decides to ask her. She presses her forehead to his, closing her eyes with a soft sigh.

“Yes.” 

look at the part of peter’s journal gamora couldn’t read here!!!!! ;)))

#starmoraweek2017 #starmora #gamora #peter quill #star lord #guardians of the galaxy #mcu #fanfiction #WE OUT HEERRREEE and we done #this is suuuuuper late but #i couldn't let the week go unfinished! #:)))

[luwha]

Do you have any tips on how to get started as an artist? What websites, how to get exposure, or even how to set up and actually do commissions?

All right! This is something complicated to talk about because every artist will have an different experience, but the hint is: almost all social medias work in similar ways.

So i’ll answer one by one!And my friend, it’ll be a journey.

Note: Every artist/professional have different views and different experience. I’m not specil or the holy grail, it’ll be based on MY experience on the field and i don’t speak for other artists! Don’t forget to ask more than once person, and more people on the same field (comic artists, freelancers, MArvel/dc, animators, charter designers, etc).

Ok there we go:

What websites

Depends on what you will show, i’ll suggest tumblr because here is where i succedded, but we have Deviantart, Twitter, Hentai-Foundry(18+), Drawcrowd, and even facebook. Ill suggest Tumblr and Twitter for you who draw like me, random pieces, some nsfw, fandom; and mostly Facebook/Deviantart if you’re going to promote your art in general, with only super polished stuff, if you want to launch comics, etc.

The websites can be all done at once tho, depends on how much time you will work on! I personally can’t work with many, i have ADHD and it’s a little harder to me to work with many, but i’m sure you can pull it out!

I cannot say much of Instagram, so i hope my followers can help me with more! Please comment!

Exposure

The exposure depends a lot, and you can do it in many ways, but the first i suggest is FANDOM. Many people see fandom as the crushing evil who destroy all (i’m talking about the popularity of the games, not the community), but it’s an amazing way to get your art to be seen and shared, because people love the characters and feel closer, you connect more with them.

If you want to refuse and start with OCs and personal works, it may get harder because on Fandom the characters are already emotionally linked, while you’ll have to build it from 0. From this, i suggest you to be funny, making memes or stuff, because this gets your job spread. Don’t feel ashamed or frustrated and don’t give up, always take a LOT of work to pull it!

And INTERACT. Save some hours on the day to talk to other artists, draw some fanart, make trades, the before/after art thing, find artists who draws the same content that you do because you can learn a lot and have a friend with the same interests! I’m a very shy person and personally i’m afraid of interacting, but don’t let it stop you, you have more than this option if you’re not comfy with it!

Giveaways are a good way to be seen, to be known. Never think you’re drawing for free, wasting your time, you’re building up a field, you’re interacting with people, it’s not an ‘free‘ art for you: It’s being paid, trust me.

Commissions

First of all: Having a huge fanbase (followers, shares reblogs, dunno) isn’t the only thing you will need. You know that friend that loves you as heck? Always support you?  Always talk to that friend. They’ll be probably your first clients, because they know and trust you, and believe in you. They’ll build your confidence, because it’s not easy dealing with all sorts of clients. It’s a good chance to make a friend happy and learn a little about profissionalism!

If you don’t have many of those friends, make ‘ghost client‘ commissions. When we deal with Logos and Design, we create fantasy companies to create a portfolio. A pizza place to create a mascot, etc. It works here too, it’s a way to show how the commissions will turn out, the product you’re offering, the time you spend.

DON’T BE AFRAID OF TALKING TO THAT ONE POPULAR ARTIST WHO DOES LOTS OF COMMISSIONS. They started like you, they were a personal shitpost blog too. They have experience, and they know the rules you should set, how to make the commission page readable, and avoid scams. And more, they’ll know PayPal and other plataforms to help you to set up! They may not be able to help you to the bones, but know THAT FRIEND? They’ll be the one that will help you to be familiar with the plataforms you can use to pay. Trade 1 dollar, then refund, then see how it works, to avoid future problems.

Dealing with people may seem hard, but there are stuff that are the basics that shouldn’t even need to be mentioned, but i’ll do it because i’ve seen professional artist to do it:

Be always kind. It’s like a job interview: not everyone likes lots of jokes/emoticons, neither everyone likes to be threated coldly, but kindness is the key.

Patience: Sometimes the client never commissioned before, you may have to teach and guide them, and sometimes the even you beg for the client to make it short they’ll send a 20 pages fanfic. You must know how to reply the email and ask again for them to NOT do it. Kindly. Sometimes you’ll deal with people who were scammed/dealt with bad commissioners, and they’ll be a little suspicious of you, you must understand where they came from but don’t bend over either, since they can ask different kinds of payments you may not be familiar. Sometimes it won’t happen, and it’s ok!

Know yourself. yes. KNOW YOURSELF. How many time takes you to finish the piece? And what if something bothers you, you find an struggle? In how much time you can solve and still deliver the commission in time? Every artist have a time to finish a piece. I studied animation so i have an habit to draw really fast, but artists who work with digital painting like oil on screen need more time because our styles are different. You need to know so you can offer the client a time. It’s scary paying and never hearing of the artist again. Make ways for them to see that you’re working, post progress if it takes longer, make a Queue page for them to see why it’s taking so much, if you’re working on someone’s else art. LET. THEM. EMAIL. YOU. to make questions, let them know that they CAN talk to you, that it’s not an annoyance.

Be communicative! You pen is messed up, a shark invaded your house? Let they know. Some wont visit your blog daily, so you may have to email. You have to be patient. And KIND. You’re afrad of artists you love? Some of your commissions are afraid of you. It’s natural to feel afraid to be closer to those who we admire, that’s wy we mess up talking to the crush, so let them know that it’s fine, that you’re here for them as well.

The clients ARENT ONLY YOUR MONEY GIVERS. They’re people, they can be easy or hard to deal with, but they’re people who support you or like your job. NEVER mock their requests, never make fun of them, don’t share their personal information (such as gender when it comes to paypal). The client pissed you off? Annoyed you? Didn’t pay/scammed? if MUCH, tell it to your artists friends IF THEY ASK, but don’t go on making callouts. You don’t know, I already happened to have a client who didn’t pay and i never finished the piece, and after months they explained what happened.

Protect yourself. Don’t finish pieces withot being paid. If much send a very basic sketch that can’t be used for anything. Will happen that scammers will try to get the sketch and don’t plan to pay. Well. Anyway.

And finally: The fanbase. You will need some followers, that’s why the other steps came first. You wont get fanbase if you’re passive agressive, or threat them badly. Be kind, trust me. It’s a daily job interview.

Commission system is A JOB and must be done like it. You have to take it seriously, if you don’t plan on doing it properly, it may not be what you want. It’ll take you time and skills you will develop. Long time to work? Let the commission open. Short time? Open 3~5 slots and close while you work. It’ll depend on you how you will deal with it.

EXTRA: Don’t underprice yourself. You will HARM BADLY other artists, people who need it seriously will be forced to down their prices. Know the currency, know dollar if it’s your first, if not, learn. You’re on X country but selling on dollar? Prince on the dollar, base it on the hour system, the wage so you don’t mess up with others. If you need help, ask your friend or the sempai, but please don’t harm us, we already work too cheap :/

Well, this was a long travel and long ass text i bet, but yeah i don’t even know how to put a period i talked so much omG HOPE IT HELPS!!!

#Anonymous

[mindfulwrath]

HTCIC: Orbital Mechanic

"Dr. Vereen?"

"It's just Cameesha," Meesh said, for the millionth time. "I've put a sign on the door and everything!"

"Can I—sorry, Cameesha, can I speak to you for just a moment?"

Rubbing her temple, Meesh looked up. There was a handsome, round-faced latino man standing in her doorway, sweaty and flushed and looking far too excited.

"Come in and shut the door," she said. "Because whatever you're going to say to me, it can't possibly be any good if you're that excited about it. What was your name?"

"Raúl," he said, coming in and shutting the door. "I'm from xenolinguistics."

"Oh, goody goody," Meesh sighed, swiveling her chair to face him. "I heard you've all gotten busy of late."

"Yes, the messages," said Raúl. "We need you to help us plot a trajectory to send a message to Akaste that doesn't look like it's going to Akaste."

Meesh stared at him. "Shouldn't you ask somebody who, I dunno, does that for a living?"

"Everybody in telemetry is a snitch," said Raúl. "Can you do it or not?"

"I don't faff about with communications," said Meesh. "Trajectories, yes, I can plot you any trajectory you like, but I don't do bloody relays."

"Couldn't we—bounce it off of something, or something?"

Meesh opened her mouth and then her brain kicked in.

Akaste's moon was too close. Rhodea was nicely reflective, but there was no reason to be transmitting at Rhodea, and it would certainly come under suspicion. There was a giant molecular cloud not too far off, but by the time the signal got there and back it would be so attenuated it would be useless. Bouncing, therefore, was not an option, but there were more tricks you could pull with geometry than just that. . . .

"Bouncing, no," she said slowly. "But there's a satellite just installed at Akaste's L4 that'll be in line with us in about—what, thirty-six hours? Let me. . . ."

She dug into her notes, muttering to herself.

"L4?" said Raúl, rather helplessly.

"Lagrange point," Meesh said. "Gravitationally stable. Stupid to put a satellite there, because of the asteroids, but it's there. Now where did I—ah!" She pulled up her schematic of the orbits, which was now three months old. It took her about forty seconds to draw in the current planetary positions, and another ten to plot the L4 Lagrange point outside of Akaste. Raúl, bless him, stood quietly while she did.

"Right, so," she said, pointing to the L4. "That's what you're aiming for. In about thirty-two hours, you should be able to transmit something to wherever on Akaste you like whilst looking like you're transmitting to this satellite."

"What satellite is it?" said Raúl, coming a little closer to peer at the schematic.

"Fuck if I know," said Meesh. "I just put it there, I've no bloody clue what it does."

"Well—thank you," said Raúl. "Could you—explain all of this again? To our communications officer?"

"Got a commie in on the mutiny, have you?" Meesh asked.

"It's not—mutiny, we just want to send a message," Raúl objected.

"Without anybody knowing about it, sure, just a message."

Raúl glanced back at the closed door. Meesh had to restrain herself from bouncing up and down in glee. He leaned in even closer. He really was very good-looking.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked, his voice low.

"Absolutely," Meesh answered, just as conspiratorially.

"We think the messages are unauthorized," said Raúl. "They're being sent by Akasteans without the sanction of their government."

"So you want to return the favor," said Meesh. "Person to person, like."

"Yes! Yes, exactly."

"And what's the benefit in that?"

"The people in command censor us constantly," said Raúl. "They think the Akasteans are trying to scare us off. They're angling to get other information, they don't think the solar flare is real."

"You do?"

"Better safe than sorry," said Raúl, shrugging. "This is all very, very against the rules, but it's the only way we're going to make any progress."

"Worse things have been done in the name of progress," said Meesh. "Are you going to keep on sneaking messages to them?"

"I—don't know," said Raúl. "Maybe? If they answer?"

"Well, then I suppose you're going to need more calculations, aren't you," she said, sitting back in satisfaction. "Probably increasingly complex ones, as you struggle to avoid getting caught."

"Oh, God," Raúl said, putting a hand over his eyes. "We don't have much to offer you, I'm sorry, but I'm sure we could scrape together—"

"Offer? I thought this was the offer. Of course I'll do it. I'm bored out of my bloody mind over here."

"You could get—we could all get sent home!" Raúl said, staring at her.

She shrugged. "Makes things exciting! When do I get to meet the rest of the sneaky renegades?"

"...Now?" Raúl guessed.

Meesh leapt up from her chair. "Now is perfect."

The poor linguists looked like they hadn't slept in a month.

Someone had brought in a pot of coffee, which was nearly all gone. There were papers all over the table and drawings all over the single whiteboard. One woman, tall and broad-shouldered, was staring out the window with her hands clasped behind her back.

Raúl cleared his throat, standing aside as though to present Meesh to the room.

"Everyone," he said, "this is Dr. Cameesha Vereen."

"Just Cameesha," she said. "I hear you're plotting a mutiny."

"It's not—" Raúl began, and broke off in a helpless sigh.

"If Bhattacharya doesn't tell us not to do it, it's not a mutiny," said the woman at the window.

"What she said," one of the linguists muttered.

"So who, might I ask, the hell are all of you?" Meesh inquired.

"Sorry," said Raúl. "That's Xander—" the only other black person in the room— "Ji, Liu, and Sam."

He pointed to them in order, ending with the tall woman at the window. Meesh went around and shook all their hands quickly, then deposited herself in an empty chair.

"Everyone uses she, her except Ji, who's a they," Raúl added. "And—me, I'm a he."

"Sure. So who's the commie?" Meesh asked.

"The—?" said Xander, frowning.

"Communications officer," Raúl said. "It's Sam."

"Hey hi," said Sam, dropping into the chair next to Meesh's. "So here's the problem: we can't encode the outgoing message."

"That's not my problem," said Meesh. "That's your problem. I'm only here for trajectories."

"Yeah, well, actually it is kinda your problem," said Sam, "because it means we can't use the main antenna."

"Ooh," said Meesh, and sucked her teeth. "That is a bit of a problem. How much of a message is this?"

Ji pushed a piece of paper across the table to her.

"That's what we have so far," they said.

  Hello Berserk, Eigenvectors, and In-Recent-Years,

We read you. This is Xander, Ji, Liu, and Raúl. We are transmitting without the permission of our commanders. Please do not transmit a response to this message.

We believe that the M-class solar flare is real. We cannot evacuate. We have magnetic fields that protect us from ordinary solar ions. Will our distance from the star protect us? We are much farther away than you, which may greatly reduce the ion flow.

Please tell us how you are translating our language. We want to learn your languages so that we can communicate better, and so that we can understand your cultures.

Thank you for the warnings.

End of message.

  "Coming on a bit strong, aren't you?" Meesh said, raising an eyebrow.

Ji snatched the paper back from her, scowling. "You're not a linguist, you wouldn't understand."

"No, I probably wouldn't," Meesh opined. "But I do know you sound like lovesick teenagers."

"Aren't you a teenager?" Raúl said.

"Oy, sod off," she snapped.

"All right, enough," said Sam, irritated. "That's how much of a message it is. We have four other antennas we can use. I figure the best one is the backup Earth antenna, since it has the highest amplitude and it's the least lossy."

"Sure, if you want to blast their bloody ears off," Meesh said.

"They don't have ears," said Xander. Meesh waved her off.

"If we were bouncing it off something, the Earth antenna would be fine, but that's not what we're doing. We're—look, I'll just draw it for you."

She got up and, again, doodled the respective orbits of Akaste and Rhodea, the bean-shaped oscillation of the satellite around the L4 Lagrange point ahead of Akaste, and the approximate orbital vectors of both planets.

"So in about thirty-six hours, you can shoot a signal at Akaste and it'll look like it's headed for the satellite," said Meesh.

"Then we'll need to use the mid-range antenna," said Sam. "Okay, sure, I can make that happen. How long before we slip out of line? What's our timing look like?"

"I'd say about . . . eight and a half hours?" said Meesh. She considered the relative velocities and angles, the probable position of the satellite, then nodded to herself. "Eight and a half hours, yeah, give or take a bit."

"That's way less than an Akastean day," said Sam, frowning. "What if the wrong side is facing us?"

Meesh shrugged. "Then I s'pose you'll have to find some other way. You could always wait 'til the L5 comes round in . . . a few months."

"We don't have that kind of time," said Ji. "This solar storm they're talking about is happening in a week."

Recoiling, Meesh exclaimed, "And we've not done anything about it?"

"Welcome to the military," Sam drawled. "So what're our other options?"

"If you've got less than a week, then not many," said Meesh, rerunning a whole host of calculations in her head. "Honestly, I'd say your best option is to say hell with it and transmit directly."

"Let's . . . save that discussion for if this doesn't work," Xander said. "Sam, we can get the right antenna, right?"

"I can make it happen," said Sam. "I'm gonna need to know where to point it."

"I can get you detailed coordinates, if you want them," said Meesh.

"That'd be great, thanks."

"Sure. Are we paranoid enough that we're not doing emails?"

The assembled looked around at each other. Raúl made a face like he'd just seen someone bellyflop off the high dive.

"Okay, I'll be that guy," said Xander. "Yes, we're that paranoid."

"Fantastic," Meesh said, grinning.

"You're enjoying this much too much," Raúl said.

"You're just not enjoying it enough," she countered.

"Yeah, woohoo, breakin' the law," Sam said flatly. "If Iyoda finds out about this, my ass is grass."

"What, is she going to chuck you out an airlock?" Meesh asked.

A very, very uncomfortable silence fell. Raúl cleared his throat. Xander fidgeted.

"What?" said Meesh, looking around at all of them.

"Don't—don't make jokes like that," said Xander. "They're . . . really not funny. Here."

Meesh's jaw dropped. "D'you mean to tell me someone actually got chucked out an airlock?"

"Look, someone can tell you later, can we just—get on with this?" Sam said, irritated.

"Er, yeah," said Meesh. "Yeah, sorry. So . . . coordinates."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Coordinates."

#HTCIC #original writing #ocs #im trying to post these weekly just to make sure i keep writing

[cumbersome-apparatus]

(Also, it kind of just makes me think of Tom Lerher and National Brotherhood Week.)

Last week, my SO ran into the room with an extremely concerned look on his face, because I shouted/wheezed “OH MY GODDDDDDD” and then proceeded to roll around on the bed laughing until I cried.

I’m sure, like him, you are wondering what the fuck happened.

I found out about “Hate Week,” is what happened.

Well, kind of. I did a little digging, and I apparently actually did read up to the part where this was mentioned, but I didn’t remember it. I remember very little of the very little I read of 1984. Because as soon as I hit the concept of “this gaudy belt broadcasts how you feel about fuckin’,” my brain shorted out. I couldn’t go on anymore. I politely stuck an expendable (translation: “nothing with planets or dragons on it, probably”) bookmark that I knew would never be retrieved between the pages, closed the book, and set it down forever, because WOW WHEE. That is DUMB.

I was around the same 14-15 age I was when I first read The Handmaid’s Tale, and I’d like to point out that I actually finished that one, even though I hated every single page. I don’t know if that says 1984 was even worse, or just that a) as I’ve mentioned before, I REALLY REALLY WANTED TO READ ABOUT THOSE RADIOACTIVE TRASH HEAPS WHERE YOU WORK UNTIL YOUR NOSE FALLS OFF, and b) I generally read any text placed in front of me until there’s no more left to read, even if I hate it, except for the times I can count on one hand where I found an idea so stupid that my frontal lobe shut off.

...Younger me had high hopes for herself. She was gonna be SMART, and smart people care about POLITICS and can discuss books like THAT. Is this true? I dunno. All I know is that I turned out to not be very smart, and am mostly just relieved that I don’t feel like I have to subject myself to these things anymore. Brains ain’t happening. Politics ain’t happening. I grew up to be an offputting knucklehead who reads Chuck Palahniuk, draws a lot of shitty cartoon gore, and only knows the bare minimum about current events because her partner leaves MSNBC on in the background sometimes, and a few scraps or speech somehow manage to drift through even the most godawful auditory processing, if the TV is on long enough. I think 15 year old me’s thoughts on this would be something like “OH THANK GOD.”

ANYWAY! The point is, “Hate Week” is even dumber than “big red sex belt.” It might even be dumber than “and her name is Of[OMG, it’s a MAN name, see what I did!?],” but that’s a stretch. I’m surprised I didn’t even notice it back then.

Anyway, when I regained my breathing ability, I explained what happened, and he was just like “well, it probably sounded less dumb at the time, and besides didn’t get famous for story, it got famous for the depiction of government. (My SO is a smart person who understands politics, and he did manage to read that whole book, on his own volition and everything, and somewhat enjoy it no less, but I don’t know if they’re related.) And I was just like “if the story isn’t great, why the hell would you want to read it?” He didn’t really have an answer. I don’t think there is one.

But this did make me realize why I hate the “Didactic Dystopia that isn’t factored as genre fiction somehow” genre so much, besides a general aversion to anything that even smells like preachiness. It’s that, even if I’m not sure why people keep reading them, I know why people write them, and it’s for the lesson. And I knew this before! But I don’t think I ever figured in how much it actually affects the worldbuilding. Like... If you’re just trying to make something work as an allegory, as opposed to taking a good long time to think about how the setting would actually work, you’re free to a) put any old dumb thing in there, as long as it parallels something you hate about the gubment or whatever, and b) portray any fucking thing you think is terrible or great as terrible or great without caveats. “Form follows function” is great for tools and household items, but terrible for narratives.

(Like... Part of why I’m writing “Solarpunk” as “passive-aggressive ‘fuck Mars, we got FARMS!’ Art Nouveau Hell where your every move in life is unofficially regulated by the soft authoritarianism of social mores, unless religion is involved, in which case we ‘Respect Your Beliefs,’ to the point of letting sects progress into outright death cults, so long as they’re polite in public” is that I like being contrary, but also? This is what I think it would actually be like to live in a Solarpunk setting as people describe them. It’s the “I like cool buildings and utopias, so this world with cool buildings is utopian because I say it is!” factor that makes standard Solarpunk strike me as kinda dippy, and, honestly, creepy as hell under the surface. Like, I didn’t add in the goddamn Situs Inversus Mormon Vorta War Boy Youth Group to say “see, Solarpunk is bad!” The Situs Inversus Mormon Vorta War Boy Youth Group was hidden in the source code all along. I just took the time to find them, instead of sitting in a circle full of people repeating “aquaponics will save us, lookit this tower!” at each other all day.)

So, yeah, this is a book I doubt I’ll ever restart and finish (unless I eventually want to do something really dumb to myself, like start a “liveblog all the big-name Totally Not Sci-Fi Dystopian Political Tract Novels” project), but I guess I’ll say something nice about it anyway? Okay! “This engineered linguistic shift, allegedly for convenience, is actually an attempt to intentionally alter how people think and see the world” is actually a pretty fucking great story element and Big Plot Reveal. I just think I’d prefer it packaged in a book where the Themes(tm) were more along the lines of “existentially uneasy mediation on the nature of language, the nature of consciousness, and the instability of the sign-referent relationship,” as opposed to “...And this is how you Gubment Bad! I suggest we Gubment Good, or it’ll happen to YOUUUUUU!”

I dunno. Like I said, I don’t really think in politics, so maybe trying to find the point in these books is like trying to appreciate a painting that includes four primary pigments. A lot of it just looks like grey mush and makes my eyes squint and my brain hurt.

[cheezlogerratum]

The Grand Slam

           Eddie Baxter is dreaming right about now, about what is up in the air. He's sleeping right now, 8PM, a little strange for a boy at 16. It's a Thursday night, too, on the eve of Christmas Eve, and his mother is even deeper in slumber than he, also kinda strange. At night the house becomes a decoy of something quiet. Everyone in this neighborhood is asleep. You could only describe this place in the night as a ghost town where the ghouls' mortal forms haven't passed on yet, so a neighborhood of lingering presence, and that's all we know.

           Christmas Eve! And it's a Friday, and school is still in session for some twisted reason. Cars line up the side of Golden Lantern, starting and stopping into kids and jaywalkers hustling to class. Eddie is taking the sidewalk, surrounded front and back by parties of twos and threes, and they're walking so, so mercilessly slow, and he can't brush past without the chance of falling into the street... but he's feeling reasonably groggy today, so he takes the chance with little regard. "...uled by an intergalactic government run by John Travol..." And now the pace picks up. The crossguard gives her usual double-take of the traffic and steps into the street with her whistle and reflective octagon with a handle, and with this comes the definitive feeling of death to kick off the day...

           Eddie catches himself dozing off in Gov and eyes the room he's in and swears he wasn't here a second ago. He spots Samir up in the front writing on the board and wonders, "what the fuck". Samir stops writing at the other end of the board, strikes a pose, and walks back to his desk buddied up beside Eddie. "What were we talking about?" Again with the what the fuck, and now Eddie's foot is bouncing.

           "I don't even know."

           "Why're you so tired? Didn't you go to bed at like 9?"

           "... I dunno."

           It's lunch now, and Eddie downs some mac 'n cheese as kids pour in from entrances and stairwells on all sides of the cafeteria. He's looking around at the noise and eventually makes off to the parking lot. He looks over at the front office to see ungodly amounts of kids faking stomach flus and parents faking scheduled dentist appointments to enjoy Xmas Eve how it ought to be enjoyed, and the quasi-nurses figure they don't get paid enough for this and play along with their schemes, almost in spite. Eddie does a 360 peering through windshields and fences and walks out the back gate, and the air feels crisp further down the hill.

           The score is 3-1 and Eddie's attention fades to the doorbell, followed by a rhythmic knock. Eddie goes AFK, opens the front door, and whaddya know... "I brought it over is that alright?" Samir plops his G3 in the kitchen before helping himself to a drink: OJ, extra pulp. Samir looks up from his glass and Eddie's gone. "... Eeeddiee!"

           "WAIT."

           Samir follows the voice upstairs and finds Eddie utterly glued. He reclines on Eddie's bed and watches... which turns out to be the worst seat in the house. He gets up and half-sits on the hamper. He's only getting an angular view of the screen, but he's tired of moving around and settles the best he can, and waits.

           Come night time as the cul-de-sac settles back into ghost-mode, Ms. Baxter, or as some still mistakenly refer to her as Mrs. Baxter, opens the garage door. Both the boys' stomachs sink with a shot of adrenaline, and the mechanical hum whizzes on for what might as well be days. Samir's body flips through fight or flight and, as always, chooses flight and unplugs his Mac mid-game, his player model disappears just as quickly as he does. He somehow miraculously escapes parental confrontation and lugs the computer and himself back home under the lights strung on trees on the sides of the streets. Eddie, bracing for impact, scrambles to shut down the system. Once it obeys, he rips open his backpack and finds some vague scholarly-looking notes he took half-lucid in class to give off the appearance of hardwork. The front door sounds up to Eddie's room at the same time visceral taps of high-heels walk into the house, shutting the door. Holy shit. Holy shit.

           It turns out, luck of the draw perhaps, that Ms. Baxter never checked in on Eddie. In fact, this was almost worse, not only because he couldn't sleep due to Xmas Eve jitters, but also in anticipation of a motherly barge-in that never ever came. Thank God? And his mind wouldn't shut up, so Eddie logs back on and sees what's new in the news. Not much else other than a church shooting in Oregon... "and a happy new year!" He thinks, followed by a tinge of shame. Eddie connects to a Quake III server, where he's "auto-balanced" onto Red Team, alone, against two players on Blue. He spawns and picks up a shotgun, and out of fucking nowhere gets fragged. Now he's just pissed, so he logs off and walks downstairs to the eerie serenity of the Christmas tree, fake mind you. It takes him a minute or two of rumination to realize there are no presents under the tree... Oh mother. Eddie, desperate for slumber at this point, nukes some milk in the microwave. He tries chugging but never succeeds, so he takes his time sipping his warm milk looking up at the gray sky out the window. A nimbus of gray parts and reveals what Eddie thinks is an airplane but is really venus twinkling through the smog, which he later realizes on the fence of consciousness and slumber.

           Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano blasts Eddie back into reality, a song he always seems to forget plays on repeat on the radio almost all Christmas Day every damn year... but he's not complaining, necessarily. Eddie's body gravitates to his Gateway and logs in almost by autopilot. His mind drifting off around his room and out the door while his fingers check his e-mail and clicks around some images he found online a while back... what the... when did this...? Eddie doesn't even wanna know and just goes downstairs for Christmas time and... jesus christ. No presents, no relatives, no mother. He peeks around some corners and employs some half-assed investigation tactics such as leaning in a little bit towards a mug in the sink and considering how ajar a door is than usual in hopes of a lead revealing itself, but his mind comes back to his mother once his body starts climbing the stairs towards her room. What is going on? Why can't I be somewhere else? He asks. The sheets on her side of the bed are dog-eared and the lamp is still on, not illuminating much now. Eddie gets that supernatural feeling of being in your parents' bedroom, which he finds exhilerating, actually. The closet's open, the bathroom's open, a drawer's open, and her purse isn't where it should be. Eddie's heart starts pounding, but it'll take him a few minutes to catch on to that.

           Eddie's out on the sidewalk again and it's something like 90 degrees outside. His legs just sorta follow the path and adjust to the divets as he attends to matters in his mind which seem to be foggy. He's thinking and doesn't even know it. There's not a single soul out on the street except the occasional sudan racing either to their family, the hospital, or worse, work. He looks up for a moment and notices the white, searing glare of the ocean, and if he looks long enough he sees tiny individual glares appearing and disappearing at once, and he's okay. He's looking off to his right as he passes houses with families post-gift exchange hanging out inside. After ten minutes or so, Eddie just so happens to witness the moment when a little kid unwraps a Dreamcast, nearly ripping apart the whole package itself. Eddie couldn't see the kid's parents, probably behind the tree, undoubtedly real mind you, but he imagined how happy they were. Eddie's now nearing an intersection and notices the absence of clouds aboveohshit... is that...? That's his Mom. She's at the light oh fuck. Is she on the phone? Eddie turns around and brisk-walks up the hill... he thinks he saw her crying... he doesn't know necessarily why he's walking back to the house but he can't help it. Why does this happen, Eddie thought. His Mom's car catches up to his periphery and vanishes over the hill, but it's like she's waiting there. Why do I do this, Eddie thought. I don't know, Eddie.

           Eddie's almost home now and he hasn't looked up the entire way. He knows what's about to come but can't calm down no matter how much he convinces himself he can do it. Only four houses away and he just wants to explode so his body can stop flipping out. Now he's three houses away and starts to breathe-in breathe-out, since he figures he's been walking for a good half-hour but probably because he can't keep it in any longer. Two houses left and he's feeling primal and lightheaded at this point. One house to go and a car skids past him. He looks behind him and around a truck parked on the street and sees his Mom heeding no speed bump in sight. Eddie doesn't know if he's releived or even more afraid. One thing's for sure, he's gotta take a shit.

           In Eddie's absence from cyberspace, he received an e-mail from [email protected]. It reads:

Merry Christmas ed man!!!! i'm missing you buddy.. i'd love to see you today if you can? i also need to give you your gift i think you'll like it! let me know where you want to eat and i'll be free around 11:30ish. love you eddie, we're so proud of you! :)

Jeffery M. Baxter Marketing, FirstContact Fax: [phone]

A new species of fear took over Eddie, but it was much less menacing than the kind he felt at home. It was subdued somewhere in his body, but he responded quickly and left for the Denny's down by Doheny Beach.

The place was literally overflowing, so much so you couldn't even see the framed print of Java Dreams on the wall nor hear Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree blasting throughout the joint. Luckily, using a combination of tippy-toes and craned neck to look above the line, Eddie spotted his father sitting over in the back corner of the restaurant by the kitchen. Making any progress down the aisle whilst dodging waiters balancing pounds of various slams and specials on their fingers was a feat worth mentioning, and mentioned it was, "Aaaand HE'S SAFE!" with the umpire pose and all. Eddie chuckled a little and sat in the booth holding off the eye contact for as long as he could, which ended up being barely two seconds. His Dad started, "... Well!? What's this? Doesn't look like Christmas to me!"

"Heh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay it's okay. Well how goes it? You walk?"

"Yeah."

"That's a nice walk. Good to see ya, buddy... OH! Why didn't you remind me?"

His father pulled out a gift from what seemed like thin air and gave it to Eddie. He didn't realize how weak his hands felt until he started unwrapping it. A few trembles later and there it was, a framed photograph of Eddie and Jeffery in a bowling alley two or so years ago. Eddie didn't know what he was feeling or even thinking, he just kept looking at it with the tape hanging off the sides of the frame.

"Remember that?"

"Uh huh."

"Found that one a few weeks ago in one of the boxes in storage and thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"Yeah yeah, for sure. Thank you."

"Yeah no problem!"

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"Nah I don't need anything, don't worry about it!"

"Okay, thanks Dad."

And everything was wrong. His father started up again, "I gotta use the can, but-"

"Hey there! What can I start you guys off with?"

"Well there you go! I'll have a Coke to drink and... can we order now?"

"Absolutely!"

"Okay I'll get the uhh Grand Slam, eggs overeasy, and how about you Eddie?"

"Uh I'll just get the same I think."

"Two Grand Slams and two Cokes, is that all for you guys?"

"That does it!"

"If you need anything else just holler!"

"Well, ma'am, if you don't mind I'd rather hoot!"

He laughs back and forth at Eddie and the waitress who's laughing along with him, Eddie smiles a bit. Jeffery's still laughing, "Alright I'll be right back." The noise in the place came back to Eddie as he realized they were playing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer through the speakers. Eddie doesn't know what to do. All he can do is feel his fingers which are still holding onto the picture frame as his legs bring him out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

Mom still isn't home, and Eddie supposes Samir's Xmas festivities are wrapping up right about now, so he heads on over. By the time he arrives the sky is orange and gently shining through windows and rooms of neighboring houses, which feels weirdly comforting. Samir's family has one of those fancy melodic doorbells, which was almost immediately answered by a tall man with a hell of a beard. He eyes Eddie for a second then turns to the mass of chatter coming from the entire house, "SAMIR!" Somehow Eddie heard Samir's footsteps stomping through the house and could make out exactly where he was. Eddie thanked the man and Samir took over door duty to sneak his buddy inside. Eddie took a look around and saw dozens of relatives talking around and watching movies and cooking dinner and playing cards and taking pictures and cracking jokes and... "Oh man". Samir's room upstairs was filled with six or seven cousins all chatting and drinking and paying no attention to Eddie much at all.

"So what do you wanna do?"

"Let's go down there!"

"Nononono we can't you'll get kicked out, we could play something up here if you want."

"No one would even notice me?"

"C'mon dude I don't wanna get in trouble."

"... I don't even have my computer."

"You can use my sister's probably."

"... Alright... alright. I gotta go to the bathroom though."

"NO I don't trust you, I'm coming with."

Eddie just wanted another look. Now there was music and dancing and kids running around and babies around their Mom's shoulders trying to process what's even happening, and he felt okay. Eddie bent over with elbows on knees while on the toilet and looked down at the tile floor and ruminated towards the indented corners. A knock on the door snatched Eddie from his head and got him wiping, washing, and proceeded to open the door to yet another tall man, wider this time. It wasn't until this man spoke that Eddie recognized this man was Samir's father, "What are you doing Eddie?"

"I just needed to-"

"You need to go."

"I didn't-"

"Please."

Eddie hesitated for a second then sprinted into Samir's closet spilling some beers in the process, "HEY WHAT THE oh" and Samir's father came in and grabbed Eddie from his hidey-hole and pulled him out of the room, leading him with an armpit grip down the stairs, and out the house, people staring and everything. Now the sky was really fading, and Eddie, feeling that fizzy bodily sort of sadness all around, picked himself up and walked home, never looking up.

The house was as it was except everything seemed to have a buzzing fog around it. Eddie logged onto his computer and booted up Quake to find servers full again, and he played through the night until he conked out drooling into the keys and kicked from the server. He woke up in his bed for a second all disgruntled and lost. Eddie's body shuffled around under the sheets until it hit the right spot then fell deeper into sleep, eventually noticing waves coming up ahead of him and the silhouette of Catalina blocking the last of the Sun.

#big