#unseen layers in art

[jonathanmoya1955]

The Art that Stayed

I was expecting giants—brushstrokes that shaped history, colors that conquered time. But the walls whispered absence, their icons carried elsewhere, lent to hands that bear their weight. Only the quiet ones remained, anchored in the still air, aching to be adopted, longing for eyes to grant them meaning, a gaze that wholly loves their frail existence, to be taken in—cradled, fed, held close to…

[fossilfueleater]

that one scene in ocarina of time where you defeat phantom ganondorf and he starts fucking melting

[theskywithin]

Birth Chart Breakdown- Pluto in the Houses: The Phoenix Within

Pluto does not whisper, it pulls you into the fire, strips you of illusion, and demands your rebirth. It is the shadow that follows you until you turn to face it, the destruction that clears the path for something greater. It rules the unseen forces of life, power, fear, control, surrender, transformation, and wherever it falls in your chart, that is where you will be undone and rebuilt, not once, but again and again.

This is not an easy journey. It is one of deep pain, soul-stretching lessons, and the courage to lose everything you thought you were, only to rise stronger. Pluto’s gift is not gentle, but it is profound: true power, the kind that cannot be taken, because it is born from within.

🌑 Pluto in the 1st House You are not who they told you to be. You have spent your life walking through fire, burning off the masks, shedding the layers of expectation, standing in the ruins of who you once were. Pluto in the First House forces you to confront yourself, raw, unfiltered, unbreakable. Others may fear your intensity, sensing the weight of your presence, the depth behind your eyes. You have walked through the storm of identity crises, of feeling unseen, of being too much and yet never enough. But this journey is about self-sovereignty, about reclaiming every fragmented piece of yourself and forging a presence so undeniable that even silence speaks your name.

💎 Pluto in the 2nd House What happens when everything you built your security upon crumbles? You have known loss, not just of money or possessions, but of self-worth, of believing you had to prove your value. Maybe you grew up feeling that love was conditional, that your worth was measured in what you could give, do, or achieve. Pluto in the Second House strips you of false securities, forcing you to find your foundation within. The world may take your riches, your titles, your comforts, but what you build from within is untouchable. True power is not in what you own, it is in who you are when you have nothing left but yourself.

🖋 Pluto in the 3rd House Your mind is a battlefield, thoughts that haunt, words that wound, truths that refuse to stay buried. Maybe you grew up silenced, told your ideas were wrong, or that your voice was not meant to be heard. Maybe your own mind has been your captor, replaying the past like an unbreakable loop. But Pluto here asks: What if your words are not chains, but keys? Your thoughts hold the power to create, to destroy, to shift reality itself. When you stop fearing your own voice, when you speak the truth no matter how it shakes the room, you will understand, language is magic, and yours was never meant to be quiet.

🏚 Pluto in the 4th House The walls that were meant to shelter you may have instead imprisoned you. Pluto in the Fourth House means home was not always safe, that family left wounds too deep for time to erase. You may carry the weight of generations, unspoken pain, inherited fear, patterns repeating like a song you never meant to sing. But Pluto does not let you stay trapped in the past. You are meant to break the cycle, to be the one who chooses healing over history. The home you came from does not define you, the home you create within yourself does.

🎭 Pluto in the 5th House There is a masterpiece inside you, a passion so deep it terrifies you. But do you dare to show it? Pluto here makes creativity a battlefield, maybe your art, your love, your joy was once criticized, stolen, or made to feel like it wasn’t enough. Love may have been a battlefield too, intense, intoxicating, but always leaving you breathless and burned. But the truth is, your essence was never meant to be hidden. Pluto asks you to reclaim your voice, your art, your desire to be seen, not for approval, but because you exist, and that is enough.

🛠 Pluto in the 6th House You cannot run from yourself forever. Pluto in the Sixth House makes the body a mirror, every unhealed wound, every suppressed truth manifesting as exhaustion, as illness, as the feeling that no matter how much you do, it is never enough. You have lived through cycles of burnout, pushing yourself to the edge, thinking that to be worthy, you must be useful. But Pluto demands transformation, not through overwork, but through healing. Rest is rebellion. Nourishing yourself is power. Your purpose was never to be consumed by labor, it was to rise, whole and radiant, into the life that was meant for you.

🤝 Pluto in the 7th House Love, to you, has never been gentle. It has been intense, consuming, the kind that leaves you altered, the kind that feels fated. Pluto in the Seventh House draws you to relationships that feel like mirrors, showing you your shadows, your fears, your deepest wounds. But this is not a punishment, it is the path to learning true intimacy. Not the kind built on power struggles or control, but the kind where you stand fully in your truth, unafraid of losing those who were never meant to stay.

🌑 Pluto in the 8th House You have met the abyss and survived it. You have seen endings that came too soon, trusted hands that later betrayed, felt the earth shake beneath you only to realize you were the earthquake all along. Pluto in the Eighth House forces you to face death, not literal, but the kind that leaves you forever changed. It asks you to surrender, to let go of control, to trust that loss is not the end, but the beginning. You were not meant to live on the surface. you are here to dive deep, to understand the hidden, to emerge from every ending stronger than before.

🚀 Pluto in the 9th House Once, you thought you knew. Then Pluto came, and tore down every belief you had, leaving you stranded between the past and the unknown. Maybe it was a crisis of faith, a journey that changed you, a mentor who made you question everything. Pluto here forces you to seek your own truth, not the one given to you, but the one you discover in the wreckage. This is the path of wisdom, not certainty, but curiosity, the kind that never stops asking, never stops seeking, never stops growing.

🏆 Pluto in the 10th House The world sees your ambition, your drive, but what they don’t see is the weight you carry, the sacrifices made, the moments you almost gave up. Pluto in the Tenth House makes success a trial by fire, careers lost and rebuilt, reputations shattered and restored. You were never meant for an easy path, you were meant to forge a legacy, one built on authenticity, not just achievement.

🌎 Pluto in the 11th House You have stood on the outside, searching for where you belong. Pluto in the Eleventh House forces you to leave behind shallow connections and align with those who truly see you. Betrayals may have taught you that not all friendships are forever, but they also led you to your true community, the ones who stand beside you, not for status, but for truth.

🌌 Pluto in the 12th House You carry worlds inside you, dreams, intuition, secrets buried so deep even you forget they are there. Pluto in the Twelfth House is the final surrender, to the unknown, to the divine, to the parts of yourself that cannot be controlled, only embraced. Let go. Trust the darkness. You are not lost. You are becoming.

[robsheridan]

Hard to believe Nine Inch Nails' classic The Downward Spiral is 30 years old today! Here is some detail photography I took of the original album cover painting by Russell Mills for the 10th anniversary deluxe edition release, which I had the unique honor of designing, and somehow that is now 20 year old.

Everyone has that one album that hit at just the right moment of adolescence to change their perspective on music and get them through their teenage angst. The Downward Spiral was that album for me, released as it was in 1994, when I was a freshman in high school (and an absolute banner year for music/films/games all around). I must have stared at the artwork for hours over those years, without even much detail to draw from on its tiny 5” CD slip case. So five years later, when I found myself inexplicably working for Nine Inch Nails, it was surreal to see the actual original painting in the flesh, hanging as it was at the time in Trent Reznor’s office at Nothing Studios, New Orleans.

I was struck by how much dimension and texture there was in the artwork that never translated on that tiny slipcase printing, how much detail was happening in the physical materials of the art: Flies, moths, wires, blood… I had been staring at this “painting” for so long, yet suddenly it was like I had never seen it before. I also noticed that it had aged - the wires had wilted over the years, drooping down from their original position as captured in the original album cover (interestingly, judging by the photo posted today by NIN, the piece has since been restored); a tooth was missing from the other main piece.

That experience stuck with me and it was the first thing I thought about when the task of re-imagining the album package fell upon me in 2004. I wanted to re-photograph the artwork, subtly updating the cover to show that ten years had changed it physically, much like our perceptions of art and music and memories change over time with perspective. I also wanted to dig into the previously unseen details of the work and explore it with my macro lens, so that fans like me, old and new, could have new layers of texture to pore over for hours while listening to a legendary album.

Happy birthday, old friend.

[dark-corner-cunning]

Honoring the Spirits of Home: Creating Sacred Spaces for the Unseen

Welcome back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we are journeying through the mysteries of Spirit until Winter Solstice. Today, I introduced the art of crafting Spirit Houses, and I thought it would be fitting to share a bit of that here. I like to keep these crafty posts simple and open-ended, leaving space for the practitioner to add their own touch. The best magick often arises from just diving in and letting your intuition guide the way. May this inspire you to connect, create, and explore! 🌙✨

As witches, we work with spirits every day, whether we realize it or not. Our homes, like ourselves, are steeped in the spirit world, alive with layers of unseen inhabitants that have their own roles, wisdom, and stories to tell. For many of us, it’s a quiet understanding that a witch’s home should be haunted—not in the fearful sense, but filled with life that pulses in harmony with our craft. From ancestral guides and house spirits, to the land’s ancient beings, these entities weave themselves into the very fabric of our spaces, enriching them with energy and presence.

Regardless of whether a home is newly built or weathered by decades, each dwelling becomes imbued with spirit. There’s an existing ecosystem of energies that connect to the land itself, the history of the area, and the layers of life that once lived or passed through. These spirits, sometimes subtle, sometimes profound, thrive within the space we call home, coexisting with us and enhancing our magick. But it is up to us to nurture a balanced and harmonious relationship with them.

Why Connect with the Spirits of Your Home?

Developing a deep, reciprocal relationship with the spirits of your home doesn’t just benefit your craft; it offers blessings for everyone under your roof. When these spirits feel acknowledged and respected, they offer protection, lend strength to your magickal workings, and create an atmosphere of peace and nourishment. A home can truly feel like a sanctuary when the spirits that dwell within it are in harmony with those who reside there in the flesh. This connection turns your space into an anchor—a place of personal power, healing, and resilience.

Building Friendships with Spirit

Nurturing relationships with spirits requires time, care, and a commitment to reciprocity. Just as with human friendships, there is a cycle of giving and receiving. Spirits respond to sincere attention and intention, as well as the gifts and gestures we offer them. One meaningful way to foster this connection is by creating a spirit house or a dedicated space where spirits can feel welcomed and honored.

A spirit house is both a physical symbol and a spiritual anchor. It becomes a place where offerings can be left, and it serves as a gateway for interaction with the spirit world in a respectful and clear manner. It’s a way of saying, “You are welcome here, I honor your presence, and I seek your guidance and protection.”

Creating Your Spirit House

Designing a spirit house is a creative, personal process. It need not be elaborate; sometimes, the simplest gestures carry the deepest respect. You may choose a small altar, a shelf, or even a discreet box placed in a peaceful corner of your home. Consider using natural materials—wood, clay, or stone—as they tend to resonate well with spirits of place. Personalize it with items like stones from your land, soil, dried herbs, or even water from a local stream. Each addition builds a bridge between your energy and the spirits you invite into your home.

When crafting your spirit house, remember that offerings and gifts can strengthen this relationship over time. Spirits, like friends, appreciate time, energy, love, and tokens of appreciation. Remember, spirits are aware of intention as much as they are of the physical offering, so approach this creative expression with reverence and sincerity.

For my spirit house, I’ve chosen to weave in unsea, or “old man’s beard,” gathered lovingly from my mother tree, a sacred link to the ancient and wise energies of the land. I've placed birds within the space, their forms standing as messengers and symbols of spirit, guiding and connecting with the unseen. Mushrooms, too, find their place here, embodying my bond with the natural world—grounded yet reaching into hidden realms. They carry the magick of spiritual growth, reminding me of the mystery and connection to realms beyond. Each piece breathes life into the space, deepening my relationship with the spirits I honor… and I placed a bell at the entrance, placed with the hope of hearing it softly chime as the spirits pass through.

[internet-rat]

Illumi x wife!reader

Just a bit of fluff because my scary boy needs some love

No warnings~

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You had been sleeping when you felt silky hair graze your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw the pale figure stare down at you with his large dark eyes. To anyone else it would seem like a scene from a horror movie. A pale being with long dark hair hovering over someone who was sleeping. But you smiled, because you knew your husband was home from a contract. You reach your hand up and stroke his soft cheek.

Illumi's large, unblinking eyes continued to bore into yours, yet no hint of malice or aggression tainted his gaze. It was almost as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, understanding every nuance of your being. His stoic visage didn't change at your touch, yet the slightest softening around his eyes might indicate that he welcomed it, appreciated it even.

"Missed me?" Illumi's voice was a quiet murmur, the words a velvet whisper against the silent backdrop of the night. It was difficult to tell if the question was rhetorical or if he was genuinely curious about your feelings.

His hand, slender and almost ghostly pale, reached up to where your hand caressed his cheek. His fingertips brushed against yours, a surprisingly gentle touch from someone so skilled in the art of killing. He seemed to contemplate your hand for a moment before bringing it to his lips, pressing a chill kiss to the back of your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

His soft kiss sends the good kind of chills through your body. He was strange, your husband. It was like he was more like a creature than a human. He was the kind of person who would dig a hole in the ground to sleep in if he needed rest on a mission. He could use his needles to turn people into puppets, and he could use needles to transform his appearance too. He was unnerving and uncanny, but you loved him for it.

"Of course I missed you... I always do when you are gone," you softly reply. It was the truth too. You did always miss him.

"I see," Illumi responded, his voice maintaining that same monotone yet carrying an almost unseen layer of warmth within its timbre. The idea that you missed him seemed to lodge itself in his mind, a concept both foreign and intriguing.

He slowly withdrew his hand from yours, his touch lingering like a ghost as he moved. Then, with movements that were methodical and deliberate, he allowed his long body to hover just above yours as if he was cautious not to disturb you more than he already had.

His inky black hair, a stark contrast to the softness of the pillow and the pale moonlight spilling into the room, fanned out as he lowered his head closer to yours. "When I am gone, do you think of me?" he questioned, the pupils of his eyes swallowing the irises, making them seem like endless pits of curiosity.

As he asked the question, his hand moved to rest against your cheek, almost as though he was memorizing the feel of your skin against his own. His closeness was both intimidating and intimate, a duality that only Illumi could embody so perfectly. "Because when I am away, completing contracts... I think of this. Of returning to you." The notion seemed to please him, a sliver of satisfaction hidden beneath layers of his enigmatic facade.

His gaze remained locked with yours, as if trying to see beyond the physical, to understand the essence of the emotion you had expressed. It was a silent exchange, one where words were cumbersome compared to the volumes spoken in the silence.

You could not help but to blush and smile at how sweet he was being. "I think of you all the time when you are away, and when you return to me it makes me so very happy," you reply earnestly.

The faintest trace of a smile seemed to threaten the corners of Illumi's stoic mouth at your words, though it never fully manifested. His expression remained an almost impassive mask, yet there was a subtle change in his eyes – the black pools that might have been cold in another context now appeared deep and contemplative, as if your happiness had become a puzzle he yearned to solve.

"Happy..." he echoed your word, as if tasting it on his lips, considering its meaning. His hand shifted, the long fingers threading through your blonde locks, a faint sense of wonder lacing his movements as he explored the silky texture of your hair. "Your happiness is... important. I understand that now."

He leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from yours, the cool breath from his words brushing against your skin. "I will continue to return to you. Each mission, each assignment... they are but interludes. You are where my path concludes."

Illumi's gaze bore into yours, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he was peeling back the layers of his calculated exterior to reveal a glimpse of something raw, something undeniably human. "I am not skilled in expressiveness, but know that your presence... it anchors me."

And with that rare admission, Illumi's lips found your forehead in a tender kiss, an action devoid of any nefarious intent, simple yet profound in its sincerity. It was clear that, in his own way, the assassin who could manipulate others so easily was, in turn, wholly affected by your mere existence.

[n0cturnnymph]

CRIMSON VEIN TRACK 00: the ones worth ruining your life over

TRACKLIST TRACK 00 | TRACK 01 ▷

⟢ NANAMI KENTO x FORMER MODEL!READER  You were once the darling of the fashion world, statuesque and unreadable, the kind of woman whose face sold a fantasy and whose silence made people fill in the blanks. You weren’t warm, but you were unforgettable. That all changed after a scandal, a supposed affair with a married designer that turned into a media frenzy. You never confirmed nor denied it; you simply disappeared. Years later, you live like a myth, low-profile and fiercely private. You take on styling work selectively and only create when it feels right. The clients you accept are few and carefully chosen. The circles you move in are even smaller, one of which includes a beloved actress.

He doesn’t look twice at you, not at your name’s weight or the rumors. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, his attention already on the file in his hand. He is efficient and dry, a man who measures his words and moves as if every second must be earned. But over time, you start existing in the same spaces. Not talking, exactly. Just breathing beside each other. You notice how he makes time for people without trying to be liked and speaks to interns like he does to executives, firm, fair, unbothered by hierarchy. There’s no arrogance in him, only discipline.

⟢ SUGURU GETO x SOLO ARTIST!READER You aren’t just another solo artist; you are a storm dressed in velvet. Your music walks the tightrope between sacred and obscene, every track a slow striptease of lyricism, layered in innuendo and aching restraint. People can’t tell if you’re crooning about God or your last lover, and that’s the point. You don’t explain your art; you let the world misinterpret it and stay untouchable.

Suguru noticed you long before you noticed him. He called your voice "a temptation turned into sound" and half-joked in interviews that if you ever collaborated, he would ruin his life over you. He knew he wanted to sing with you when he started working on a deeply personal solo project, raw and cinematic, stripped of Crimson Vein’s usual rage and swagger.

⟢ RYOMEN SUKUNA x ACTRESS!READER You are the industry’s golden girl, beloved, brilliant, and always in demand. Your range has earned you awards, and your restraint has earned you respect. You smile when it serves you and stay silent when it doesn’t. You are grace incarnate to the world, elegant, enigmatic, and unreachable. You didn’t climb the ranks; you walked through doors as if they were always meant to open for you. People whispered, admired, and assumed. You let them, because no one ever saw the version of you that wasn’t performing, and that’s exactly how you liked it.

He plays like a god, daring the world to return his gaze. With a bass in hand, he commands the stage with a presence that makes people forget how to breathe. He doesn’t flirt; he provokes. He doesn’t chase; he circles. And when he finds something that doesn’t flinch, he never lets it go. He will never let go of you.

⟢ TOJI FUSHIGURO x STAGE MANAGER!READER You are the stage manager, the person who ensures that the shows run smoothly. You are not the band’s babysitter or their manager. You don’t plan the tours; you execute them. This includes load-ins, tech checks, cue calls, and venue coordination. Every moving part is your responsibility, from lighting rigs to last-minute costume changes. You don’t have time for egos or excuses.

And Toji? He’s the worst of them all. He struts into soundchecks as if the drums were made to be punished. With bloodied knuckles, a busted head, and a thousand-yard stare, he only softens when you are in the room. He irritates everyone, but he listens to you. Only you.

⟢ CHOSO KAMO x STYLIST!READER  You are the band’s stylist—the unseen architect of their image, wielding a sharp eye and skilled hands. Every fabric you choose, every cut you tailor, and every accessory you add is a deliberate stroke in a masterpiece only you can see. You know how to balance rebellion with refinement and chaos with control. You are why they look like they do, providing protection, expression, and identity.

He’s quiet and almost unreadable to most, but with you, something shifts. He notices how you move behind the scenes, the care in your hands, and the calm in your presence. He trusts you like no one else, allowing you to see the edges he hides from the world. Without words, you’ve become his anchor, the steady pulse beneath the noise. Your touch and patience ground him when he’s lost in the chaos of the stage and the tour.

author's note: this is just an overview of the characters, specifically how the readers for each of them were inspired. ➜ suguru's part where he is working on solo work is inspired by Atsushi Sakurai from Buck-Tick. ➜ the band itself, how i envision them, is inspired by DADAROMA and JILUKA. ➜ the actress!reader is Yuri Kosaka/Asami Matsumoto from NANA. ➜ the former model!reader is Miu Shinoda from NANA.

taglist is open since the posting schedule for this would be irregular. pls comment to be added!

taglist: @humeysaga

[dxrlingluv]

hihi, can I have Hermes x reader where reader outricks and suprises him half of the time(I have no idea how reader does that) and he's just there with shock pikachu face but at the same time with the heart eyes and he's DEFINITELY going to get the reader back next time

A Challenge

A/N : Eek! Now this is something. Heart dividers belongs to @cafekitsune ! Hermes art belongs to Zieru, from yt ! Thank you so much for requesting <3 Lemmie tell ya’ll a little secret. I don’t know where I’m going with this especially since there’s no major plot(like a series fic) so I literally just went like- “Yeah whatever, throw this, throw that… Yeah good enough.”

WARNING : Remember, I imagine Hermes’s design as Zieru’s but I don’t think I’ll ever be mentioning his appearance in my fics other than what he wears so this should be a warning! You are still free to imagine him as anything you desire. GN!Reader implied but no gender was mentioned. This is platonic, but if I were to make a part two, that’s where I will establish their rs.

The halls of Olympus were alive, as they always were, with a symphony of divine activity. Gods and goddesses rushed about their business, celestial music drifted through the divine halls, and the scent of ambrosia wafted from unseen kitchens. Among this vibrant chaos, you moved with an air of quiet confidence, a subtle smirk playing on your lips.

You were a divine being of considerable power and even greater cunning, a fact well-known – and perhaps slightly dreaded – by some of your more mischievous counterparts.

Especially Hermes.

The messenger god, with his lightning-fast speed and even faster wit, considered himself the trickster par excellence. He reveled in elaborate schemes, cunning deceptions, and the sheer thrill of outsmarting anyone who dared to challenge him. But you, with your own unique brand of subtle manipulation and unpredictable strategies, had become his favorite — and most frustrating — opponent.

It had started small, a playful game of one-upmanship that had quickly escalated into a full-blown divine rivalry. Hermes would devise an intricate plan to, say, "borrow" your prized artifact — perhaps a celestial object of immense power, only to find you several steps ahead, having replaced it with a remarkably convincing replica made of enchanted stardust.

Or you might "accidentally" redirect his deliveries, sending a shipment of ambrosia to the Underworld or switching the lyrics of his latest bardic composition with a series of increasingly absurd limericks.

The best part? You always managed to maintain an air of innocent detachment, a serene composure that drove Hermes absolutely wild. He'd be left sputtering in disbelief, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of shock, grudging admiration, and a healthy dose of competitive fire.

Today's challenge involved the theft of his Caduceus, the symbol of his authority. He'd been particularly smug about its security, boasting of layers of enchantments and a particularly nasty sphinx guarding its resting place.

You had, of course, taken that as a personal invitation.

The plan had been meticulously crafted, a delicate dance of misdirection and illusion. It involved a fake distress call, a strategically placed illusion of yourself, and a rather persuasive argument with the sphinx — who, it turned out, had a soft spot for riddles about particularly dense clouds.

Now, you stood before him, the Caduceus casually resting on your shoulder, its twin snakes hissing a greeting. Hermes, predictably, was a picture of stunned disbelief.

His jaw hung slightly open, his usually sparkling eyes wide with an expression that could only be described as a "shocked Pikachu face" if such a mortal concept could be applied to a god.

He stared at the Caduceus, then at you, then back at the Caduceus, his mind clearly struggling to process the sheer audacity of your actions.

"H-How..." he finally managed to stammer, his voice a bewildered croak. "But... the sphinx... the enchantments... I even put a self-replicating ward on it!"

You tilted your head, your expression the picture of innocent inquiry. "Oh, that? I found a loophole in the ward's temporal displacement matrix. And the sphinx was quite reasonable, once I offered her a riddle about the migratory patterns of thunderclouds."

Hermes blinked, his brain clearly overheating. A faint blush began to color his cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and something else... something that made his heart pound a little faster than usual.

"You... you outsmarted me," he said, the words slowly dawning on him. It was a statement, not a question, and it was laced with a strange combination of annoyance and awe.

You inclined your head in a gesture of acknowledgement. "It would appear so."

A slow grin spread across Hermes's face, replacing the stunned expression with something much more... mischievous. His eyes sparkled with renewed determination, and there was a definite glint of... dare we say, affection in them.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, his voice regaining its usual playful lilt, though with a slightly husky edge. "You win this round. But mark my words, this isn't over. I'm DEFINITELY going to get you back next time."

He took a step closer, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary. There was a warmth in his eyes, a spark of genuine admiration that transcended the usual competitive fire.

"In fact," he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've already got a few ideas brewing..."

He didn't elaborate, but the look on his face promised a challenge of epic proportions. And you, with a matching smirk, knew that you would be ready for him. After all, the thrill of the game was only half the fun. The other half was the undeniable pull you felt towards the infuriatingly charming, endlessly inventive, and surprisingly captivating messenger god.

“Alright, Hermes,” you challenged with a chuckle, “Let’s see what you have in mind.”

[empyrealoasis]

۶ৎ The Alchemy of Shadow Work, Self-Concept, and Unyielding Confidence 𖹭.ᐟ

The art of breaking free from societies' shackles

We are not born fractured. The world carves into us, shaping our beliefs with every glance, every word unspoken, every wound we were too young to name. From the moment we first looked into a mirror and felt the quiet unease of not belonging, the first seed of doubt was sown. Over time, we became mosaics of what others believed us to be: pieces of judgment, echoes of disappointment, remnants of expectations never our own; or what we assumed to be our own.

And yet, the truth has never changed. Beneath the layers of conditioning, beyond the scars of what was done and what was withheld, there exists something untouched, something whole. The journey back to our purest, happiest and abundant self it is what we call shadow work.

The Art of Confronting the Forgotten Self

To engage in shadow work is not to wage war against yourself, nor is it an exorcism of all that is unwanted. It is an act of reclamation. It is standing in front of the mirror and meeting your own gaze, unflinching, as you ask:

"What do I believe about myself, and who taught me to believe it?"

Shadow work is often mistaken for suffering, a descent into wounds with no promise of return. But it is not suffering that transforms, it is understanding. "The shadows do not exist to torment us, they exist to be acknowledged." To be given form so that they no longer wield control from the depths of the subconscious.

Begin with reflection. Write without censorship. When you hear yourself say, "I am not enough," ask why. When the thought arises, "I will never be loved the way I want," trace it back.

Where did it begin? Who was the first to make you feel unseen? You are not to relive the pain, only to recognize it, to let it be known so that it no longer dictates your story from the silence.

And when you have unearthed these roots, you must ask yourself: Do I still accept this as truth?

If the answer is no, then you have already begun to break the chains that were never yours to carry.

Why the Mind Clings to Limitation

The mind is a creature of repetition. It does not differentiate between what is true and what is false, it only knows what it has been told most often. Limiting beliefs are not facts; they are merely thoughts we have entertained for too long.

And the brain, in its efficiency, builds neural pathways that reinforce these patterns, making them feel inescapable. But here is what most forget: Neural pathways can be rewired. With conscious effort, with new affirmations, with repeated and deliberate thought, the mind reshapes itself.

Studies in neuroplasticity confirm this, thoughts sculpt the brain, the same way rivers carve into stone. And so, when you declare, "I am confident. I am radiant. I am magnetic." Not once, not twice, but over and over, your mind adapts.

The old beliefs weaken, the new ones take root. You are not changing yourself; you are revealing the self that has always been waiting beneath the rubble.

The Shift from Seeking to Knowing

True confidence does not beg to be seen. It does not search for proof, nor does it ask permission to exist. It simply is. To rebuild self-esteem is not to seek validation, but to realize you never needed it to begin with.

It is no longer asking, "Am I enough?" but stating, "I have always been enough." It is the shift from performing worthiness to knowing it. Look at yourself. The world has tried to break you, and yet, you remain. There is strength in that.

There is power in every breath you take despite the past whispering that you should not rise. You have endured. And if you have endured, you can become anything.

The Unwavering Self-Concept

A self-concept is not something you force; it is something you assume. You do not wake up every day questioning the sky's color—you simply accept it as blue.

In the same way, you must accept who you are without hesitation. If you desire to be radiant, assume you already are. If you wish to be captivating, assume it is a truth beyond doubt.

Speak it until your voice no longer wavers, until the world has no choice but to reflect it back to you. This is not arrogance; this is alignment.

This is recognizing that the universe does not resist certainty, it bends to it.

You Were Never Broken

You were never meant to be at war with yourself. The struggle was never between you and your potential, but between you and the illusions you were given. And now, you are free to release them.

Affirm. Persist. Trust. The mind is listening. The universe is listening. And soon, the reflection in the mirror will no longer feel like a stranger, but like the powerful being you were always meant to see.

You are whole. You are limitless. You are already everything.

[astra-ravana]

Labradorite: History And Use

Labradorite is a semi-precious feldspar mineral known for its exquisite iridenscence. It is characterized by vibrant flashes of color, which ranges from deep blues and greens, to vivid purples and pinks, to fiery oranges and golds. The enchanting play of colors in labradorite has a scientific explanation that's as fascinating as the stone itself. It's known to exhibit 'labradorescence', a phenomenon that occurs as a result of the stone's unique internal structure and the interference of light.

Labradorite's mineral composition primarily consists of a type of feldspar called anorthosite. What makes this feldspar so distinct is its lamellar structure. Within these layers, there are thin, closely spaced structures that act as barriers to the passage of light. When light enters a labradorite stone, it interacts with these structures in patterns that are necessarily parallel, producing is distinctive flashes of color, the striking display that labradorite is renowned for.

The colors produced by labradorite are not due to pigments within the stone, but rather the dispersion of light. This is similar to the way a prism splits light into its various colors. As a result, the hues in labradorite can shift and change as you view it from different angles, giving it a dynamic and captivating quality.

Understanding the science behind labradorite's iridenscence adds another layer of appreciation for this otherworldly gemstone. It's a testament to the marvels of nature and how it can create something so aesthetically stunning and intriguingly mystifying.

History

Labradorite boasts a history as enchanting as its radiant colors. While it earned its name from the Canadian province of Labrador, where it was first officially documented in the late 18th century, its roots in human culture run deep. The discovery of labradorite was a moment of awr and wonder, as early observers were captivated by the stone's iridescent flashes. However its use and significance extend far beyond its namesake region.

In ancient cultures, labradorite was considered a magickal stone with connections to the unseen world. Inuit tribes who inhabited the region where labradorite was initially found, revered it as the powerful stone that captured the Northern Lights, trapping them within its depths. The association with the Aurora Borealis gave labradorite a sacred status among Indigenous people.

As time progressed, labradorite began to make its way into other cultures' spiritual practices and traditions. It was prized by shamans and mystics for its metaphysical benefits, healing potential, and ability to enhance one's spiritual connection and insight. Labradorite was often used for divination, channeling, spirit work, crossing the veil, and more, believed to bring about a deep understanding of the Universe, spirit, and the inner self.

Labradorite's history also intersects with the world of art and jewelry. Artisans and jewelry designers recognized its captivating beauty and incorporated it into various creations. The stone was believed to ignite divine creativity in those who worked with it.

Metaphysical Uses

Labradorite is more than just a stunning gem;  it is also revered for its metaphysical properties, making it a beloved stone among mystics and those who delve into spiritual realms. These profound effects include:

• Enhanced intuition and psychic abilities- One of the most commonly attributed labradorite traits is its ability to open the Third Eye, honing one's intuition and enabling psychic ability. It is referred to as the "Stone of Magick" or the "Stone of Transformation" due to the profound experiences it can facilitate. Labradorite opens the doors to unseen realms beyond perception enabling individuals to tap into internal and external sources of wisdom to gain insights far beyond the ordinary. For those who practice psychic readings, divination, meditation, astral travel, or any kind of spirit work, labradorite makes a valuable companion. It heightens spiritual awareness, amplifies inner knowing, and aids in past life recall. This improved intuition can aid in decision making, problem solving, and understanding complex situations.

• Spiritual transformation- Labradorite is regarded as a profound catalyst for spiritual transformation and growth. It supports individuals on their spiritual journeys by deepening their connection to higher realms and expanding their spiritual awareness. This expansion can lead to profound personal and spiritual transformation. Labradorite's energy encourages introspection, inner exploration, and a heightened sense of purpose. Those who work with this magickal stone become intuned to the subtle energies of the Universe, inspiring a sense of wonder and creativity and curiosity regarding the mysteries of existence, motivating them to seek a deeper understanding of their own soul. It is a guiding light on the path of spiritual enlightenment.

• Increased synchronicity- Labradorite holds a fascinating connection to the concept of synchronicity, the occurrence of meaningful coincidences in our lives. It acts as a beacon for recognizing and interpreting these important events, offering a deep understanding of the interconnectedness of the Universe.

• Protection and aura cleansing- Labradorite is also associated with protection. It creates a shield around the aura, the energetic field that surrounds the body. This shield acts as a barrier, warding off negative or unwanted energies and influences. Furthermore, labradorite cleanses and purifies the aura of these attachments, restoring a sense of balance and harmony.

• Inspiration and artistic expression- For artists abd creatives, labradorite is a wellspring of inspiration. Its fluid energy encourages thinking outside the box and pushing the boundaries of conventional ideas. The transitioning hues within this beautiful stone evoke a sense of enchantment and wonder, igniting one's imagination and boosting creative ability.

• Relationship harmony- Labradorite is associated with fostering relationship harmony by nurturing understanding, empathy, and effective communication between people. Its energy creates an atmosphere of openness and emotional connection, which helps resolve conflicts and strengthen bonds in any type of relationship.

• Confidence and communication- Another remarkable facet of labradorite is its potential to boost self-confidence and improve communication. When you harness the energy of this stone, it empowers you to express your thoughts and ideas with clarity and conviction.

• Focus- Labradorite is a valuable tool for those seeking to elevate their focus and concentration levels. The enchanting gem clears mental fog and grants clarity making it easier to engage in tasks that require undivided attention. It assists in sharpening your mental faculties, allowing for more precise and sound decision making.

Characteristics

Hardness: 6-6.5

Mineral family: Feldspar

Crystal system: Triclinic

Sun safe: Yes

Water safe: No

Correspondences

Planet: Uranus, Moon, Neptune

Element: Air, water

Zodiac: Aquarius, Sagittarius, Scorpio

Chakra: Third Eye, Crown, Throat

Numerology: 6, 9

Herbs: Lotus, mugwort, frankincense, sage, lavender, morning glory, eyebright

"A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

[regal-bones]

”A carcass. Decaying, and grey. The guts of the creature spilled across the landscape, rust eating at the metal pipes, and thickets of grass growing thick between shards of fallen debris. It sat at the centre of a great crater, the impact shifting the earth itself to a great ring of stone. Like a ripple in a pool of water set forever in unmoving rock. At the edge, a stranger looked outwards. Past the crash site, to the lush valley, the dense forests. Deep, rich lakes reflecting the sun, and stoic mountains looming in the distance. They wore a purple robe, tattered and old, and underneath the faded garb the gentle mechanics of their body ticked and whirred. Old machinery, forgotten machinery. The gentle beat of their processor in their chest was the only sound in the still land. Like a heartbeat - slow, steady, each pump pushed hot blood through the intricate web of piping that ran through their system. They shifted slightly, the sound of metal on metal could be heard, of glass vials clinking together from within their robe, and pistons compressing and extending. Even the subtlest of movements made a noise, unseen gears clicking and servos firing within their cold, steel bones, their metal fingers resting so softly in the grass. They looked outwards, and from under their weathered mask, a shaky sigh left the stranger. Such a human expression, they thought. How long had they been sitting there? They looked down to one of their legs, stretched out in front of them. Dandelions knitted themselves in between the intricacies of the sharp metallic shape, and tall grass sprouted from the motionless knee joint. A pale fungus, thin, with button-like caps, poked out of an open compartment. Within, a set of salvo missiles slept, a gentle blanket of spores dusting the warheads and lichen creeping over their ancient casings. Above them, it began to rain. The stranger looked up at the sky as the flecks of rain fell. Fat beads of water trailed down their steel mask, each lit with the brilliant blue light that leaked from the mask's visor and following the sharp geometry down to its chin, where they fell to the eager grass below. With a careful movement of their arm, the figure moved back their cloak to reveal something. Underneath the purple fabric, nestled within the robe, was another machine. The lifeless body of another robot. It was far smaller than the stranger. It had a small, spherical torso, two arms, and two boot-like legs. But, most notably, was its head - it looked just like a flower pot. Within the pot was neatly packed soil, and, softly, the rain fell on the coarse layer of dirt. The two sat, and the rain fell. The clouds churned above them, writhing, worming through the sky. Always moving, dancing, an endless parade across the vast stretch of sky. Far away, an eye opens. A wet, chesty cough, blood flecked phlegm working its way through a strained throat. The same rain falls on its hot, raw skin, and strained eyes gaze at the clouds. Over the distant canopy of trees, the sun dipped below the horizon. Night fell on the quiet carcass, and the stranger enjoyed this moment of silence. Who knows how long this peace might last?”

Watch the trailer for Last Sprout: A Seedling of Hope at this link! 🌱

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and see concept art, assets, and snippets of story for the game!

[maybe-im-dark]

Liev Schreiber’s Sabretooth: The Perfect Victor Creed

Liev Schreiber’s portrayal of Victor Creed (Sabretooth) in X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009) is widely regarded as superior to Tyler Mane’s earlier version in X-Men (2000). Schreiber brought a nuanced mix of intelligence, menace, and depth to Sabretooth, elevating the character beyond the one-note brute seen in 2000. His extensive classical acting background enabled him to craft a complex villain true to the comics, making a compelling case that Liev Schreiber is the perfect actor for Sabretooth. Below, i examine Schreiber’s qualifications and performance in detail, and contrast it with Tyler Mane’s portrayal to understand why Schreiber’s Sabretooth stands head and shoulders above.

Liev Schreiber’s Classical Acting Background

Liev Schreiber is not a typical action movie actor – he’s a classically trained thespian with serious theater credentials. He earned a master’s degree from the Yale School of Drama and even studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. On stage, Schreiber has tackled Shakespearean roles like Hamlet and Henry V to great acclaim. In fact, The New York Times called his performance in Cymbeline “revelatory,” pleading for “More Shakespeare, Mr. Schreiber”. He was soon starring in a Public Theater production of Hamlet (1999) and as the titular Henry V (2003), where critic John Lahr praised Schreiber’s “swiftness of mind” in delivering Shakespeare’s language, noting that his speech “feels lived rather than learned”. Such classical training honed Schreiber’s ability to portray complex characters with gravitas and emotional truth. It’s no surprise that he’s been called “one of the best classical actors of his generation,” a pedigree he brought with him to the role of Sabretooth.

This background meant Schreiber approached Victor Creed not as a flat cartoon villain, but as a layered character with motivations and psychology. His theater experience playing nuanced, often conflicted figures gave him the tools to find the humanity (and inhumanity) in Sabretooth. Whether voicing Shakespeare’s eloquence or Sabretooth’s snarls, Schreiber has a knack for imbuing lines with intent and subtext. In short, he had the chops to elevate Sabretooth from a mere henchman to a truly memorable antagonist.

Schreiber’s Performance as Victor Creed in X-Men Origins: Wolverine

Sabretooth (Victor Creed) in X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009). Schreiber’s portrayal gave the character a cunning intelligence and brooding menace previously unseen in the films. He transformed himself physically and mentally for the role, creating a Sabretooth that was as calculating as he was ferocious.

Schreiber dove into the part with total commitment. Despite being known for playing cerebral, refined characters, he “threw himself” into Sabretooth’s feral persona – even bulking up by an extra 40 pounds of muscle through intense training. Co-star Hugh Jackman noted that Schreiber possessed a competitive intensity perfect for Creed, with both actors egging each other on to perform their own stunts. Schreiber himself described Victor Creed as the most “monstrous” role he had ever played. To channel that monstrosity, he didn’t just rely on makeup or fangs; he altered his posture, movement, and voice. Schreiber, who had studied fight choreography and even dance in his past, uses that physical expertise to make Sabretooth move like an animal on the prowl – prowling, stalking, and pouncing with lethal grace. In fight scenes, he’s fluid and predatory, circling Wolverine with a sadistic gleam rather than charging mindlessly. This physicality, combined with Schreiber’s commanding 6’3” presence (augmented by his new muscle mass), made his Sabretooth both intimidating and believable as a top-tier villain.

Beyond the brawn, Schreiber brings brains to Sabretooth. His Victor Creed isn’t a mindless beast; he’s cunning, articulate, and wickedly self-aware. Throughout X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Schreiber delivers lines that reveal the cold intelligence and psychological depth behind Creed’s brutality. For example, in his introduction skit he says: “I'm not your friend. I'm an animal, who dreamed he was a man. But the dream is over. And the beast is awake.”

In this moment, Schreiber’s calm, almost proud delivery shows that Creed fully embraces his primal nature – he sees himself as the ultimate predator and wants Logan to acknowledge it too. In another chilling scene, Logan demands Creed explain why he murdered Logan’s girlfriend. Schreiber’s Victor smirks and quips, “You don’t call. You don’t write. How else am I supposed to get your attention?”.

The dark humor in that line – effectively saying he killed her just to provoke Wolverine – underscores Creed’s manipulative streak and perversely sadistic mindset. Schreiber delivers it with a mocking lightness that makes it land like a punch to the gut. These are not the words or tone of a dumb brute; they’re the taunts of a villain who enjoys mind games as much as violence.

Schreiber’s subtle facial expressions and vocal inflections further elevated the character. He often has Creed speak in a low, almost polite tone that barely conceals the menace underneath. Plus instead of his natural New York accent he uses a transatlantic accent, one that can't be placed anywhere certain and makes Victor even more mysterious. This contrast – a civilized voice uttering savage threats – makes him far more unsettling. When Creed does unleash his rage, Schreiber lets it erupt in controlled bursts. A curl of the lip, a flash of predatory teeth, a glare in the eyes – he conveys Sabretooth’s bloodlust with small touches so that when he finally roars or lashes out, it feels earned and terrifying. By giving Creed a personality (cruel, arrogant, yet at times wryly amused), Schreiber made him a fully realized antagonist. As one analysis noted, Schreiber’s “strong performance” and his dynamic with Jackman’s Wolverine were standout elements in an otherwise mixed-reviewed film. Many viewers and fans came away feeling that Schreiber’s Sabretooth was the highlight of X-Men Origins: Wolverine, thanks to the charisma and complexity he brought to the role.

Comparing Schreiber’s Sabretooth with Tyler Mane’s Portrayal

In stark contrast to Schreiber’s nuanced Creed, Tyler Mane’s version of Sabretooth in the original X-Men (2000) was a largely one-dimensional interpretation of the character. Mane, a 6’8” ex-wrestler, certainly looked the part – his Sabretooth had the hulking physique, wild hair, and animalistic growls. However, the 2000 film gave him almost nothing to work with beyond physical appearance. Sabretooth was depicted as a mostly mute, growling henchman who served as Magneto’s muscle. He had maybe a line or two of dialogue in the entire film (famously snarling “scream for me” at Storm), and no backstory or development. Critics and fans often note that in X-Men (2000), Sabretooth was essentially “a one-dimensional henchman that serves little purpose other than grunting his way through several action scenes.”

In other words, the character was reduced to a generic brute – a far cry from the cunning nemesis in the comics. Mane’s Sabretooth functioned as a minor obstacle for the heroes, lacking any personal connection to Wolverine or any insight into his motives. Once defeated in the finale, he’s simply gone and largely forgotten in the film series.

Schreiber’s Sabretooth, on the other hand, restored the character’s identity as Wolverine’s arch-nemesis and injected much-needed personality. X-Men Origins: Wolverine reimagined Creed and Logan as half-brothers, which immediately gave their conflict deeper emotional stakes. This fraternal rivalry is true to the spirit of the comics (where Sabretooth often acts as a dark mirror to Wolverine), even though the brother angle was an invention of the film. Director Gavin Hood and Hugh Jackman compared Logan and Victor’s relationship to the famous Borg–McEnroe tennis rivalry – bitter enemies who nonetheless need each other. Schreiber ran with this concept, portraying Creed as both jealous of and obsessed with Logan. Throughout the film he needles and tests Wolverine, always pushing his brother to unleash the animal within. This is very much in line with Sabretooth’s comic portrayal as well: in the comics, Victor Creed is a psychopathic predator who lives to torment Wolverine, trying to break his spirit. He revels in ruining Logan’s life to prove that Wolverine is no better than him. Schreiber’s Creed embodies that manipulative cruelty – he doesn’t just want to beat Logan physically; he wants to psychologically dominate him. By contrast, Tyler Mane’s version never went beyond “attack Logan because Magneto said so.”

In terms of comic accuracy, Schreiber’s take captures Sabretooth’s sadistic, intelligent nature much more faithfully. Sabretooth is traditionally a gleeful killer who taunts his victims and strategizes to exploit weaknesses. Schreiber gave us glimpses of that savvy killer – from the way his Creed expertly hunts down mutant targets for Stryker, to how he outwits and overpowers various opponents (he dispatches Wade Wilson and others with ease), all while maintaining a smug sense of superiority. Even in conversation, Schreiber’s Sabretooth is calculating: he lies, tricks, or brutally speaks the truth as it suits him. This is far closer to the comics’ Sabretooth, who has always been a “gleeful sadist” and a “habitually manipulative” foe to Wolverine, rather than a mindless beast. Tyler Mane’s Sabretooth, lacking dialogue and agency, felt more like a generic videogame boss. He was physically imposing and feral, but had no discernible intellect or personality on display. The difference is night and day – it’s essentially the difference between a true villain (Schreiber’s Creed) and a faceless heavy (Mane’s Creed).

It’s worth noting that even Tyler Mane himself wished he could have explored Sabretooth more. He wasn’t asked back for X-Men Origins, in part because the filmmakers wanted to cast someone who could believably play Jackman’s brother. The result was a recasting that benefited the character greatly. With Schreiber in the role, Sabretooth suddenly had gravitas. Viewers finally felt the long-standing Logan–Creed rivalry come to life on-screen. As one fan succinctly put it, X1’s Sabretooth was background muscle, whereas Schreiber’s Sabretooth was a real character. Indeed, many fans and critics regard Schreiber’s version as the definitive live-action Sabretooth, easily outshining Mane’s portrayal. The dynamic between Schreiber and Jackman – two skilled actors sparking off each other – gave us the Wolverine/Sabretooth conflict we had been waiting for. Their brotherly hatred felt real and earned. It’s no wonder that Schreiber’s performance is often singled out for praise despite X-Men Origins: Wolverine’s other flaws. His Sabretooth had an impact; he left an impression that Tyler Mane’s version simply did not.

Conclusion: The Superior Sabretooth and Hopes for a Return

Liev Schreiber’s turn as Sabretooth in X-Men Origins: Wolverine remains a high point of the X-Men film saga’s villains. By leveraging his classical acting skills and committing to the role’s physical demands, Schreiber crafted a multidimensional antagonist – one with ferocity and finesse. He delivered memorable lines and imbued Victor Creed with a sinister charm, making him a far more compelling and frightening foe for Wolverine. In contrast, the earlier Tyler Mane portrayal, while servicable as a visual spectacle, lacked any real characterization and ultimately felt hollow. Schreiber’s Sabretooth had the presence, personality, and faithfulness to the source material that the character deserved. As a result, many consider Schreiber’s version to be vastly superior – in fact, it’s often said he was “the best part of X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” and his absence in later films like Logan was seen as a missed opportunity.

Even years later, there is a strong fan desire to see Liev Schreiber reprise the role of Sabretooth. His performance struck a chord, and audiences know that with better material (and the X-Men possibly joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe), Schreiber could do even more with the character. He has expressed appreciation for the fans’ enthusiasm, though scheduling and the physical rigors of the role have been challenges. Nonetheless, if the question is who should embody Victor Creed going forward, the answer from this analysis is clear: Liev Schreiber. He understands the character’s dual nature – both beastly and intelligent – and can convey the threat of Sabretooth on multiple levels. Schreiber’s Sabretooth is the rare villain portrayal that elevates the film he’s in. Bringing him back would instantly add dramatic weight to any future X-Men story featuring Wolverine.

In summary, Liev Schreiber proved himself the perfect actor for Sabretooth by giving us a Victor Creed with classical depth and animalistic intensity all at once. His superior performance not only eclipsed Tyler Mane’s version but also set a benchmark for how complex comic book antagonists can be on screen. Schreiber’s Sabretooth was brutal, cunning, and unforgettable – exactly what Sabretooth should be. If the X-Men franchise is wise, it will find a way to let him (and those fearsome claws) return for another round.

[artofmaquenda]

These pins 'Get Out' carry so many meanings for me. Today, as I reflect on my time in art school, they feel especially resonant. The pins depict canines desperately trying to escape a box, a box that might be self-made, imposed by society, or both. After all, one rarely exists without the other.

When I started art school, I was a different person than I am today. Looking back, I wonder how things might have been different if I had the skills and self-awareness I’ve gained since then. As a highly neurodivergent person, I struggled with invisible walls, barriers within myself that made it hard to express or even fully understand who I was. These struggles weren’t new. Even before art school, in high school and other environments, I often felt isolated. I couldn’t communicate or express myself in a way people seemed to understand.

That persistent loneliness led me into unhealthy situations, ones I’m still untangling and accepting. When I was very young, I became involved with an older, neurodiverse adult who was also deeply damaged and alone. I struggled to connect with people my own age because of how isolated I felt as a neurodivergent person, and his love seemed like something I couldn’t find elsewhere. In many ways, it was real. But it wasn’t good. It wasn’t right. It’s a complicated mess that no one seems to understand beyond the surface-level reactions: “That’s gross” or “That’s wrong.” And while those things are true, the situation was far more layered. It was born from two deeply lonely people trying to fill voids they didn’t know how to face.

While this feels like a detour from the topic of art school, it’s all part of the same thread: a lifetime of feeling misunderstood and unseen, and the complicated ways I tried to navigate that pain.

Art school, in many ways, amplified these struggles. It’s not that I want to blame art school entirely. It was mutual interaction, between me and the system. But I came in with certain hopes. I longed for a place that felt like home, where I would meet like-minded people and be embraced for who I was. Instead, I found an environment where intellect, pretentiousness, and an obsession with dissecting art seemed more important than passion, joy, or the raw drive to create.

Art, to me, has always been a refuge, a space where I could be authentic without needing to justify myself. In art school, I was met with something entirely different. The teachers seemed locked into their own boxes, continuing the rigid structures of the schools and galleries they’d been shaped by. It felt like they couldn’t see or value anything outside of that mold.

I struggled because I couldn’t explain why I made the art I did, I just did. And yet, there was relentless pressure to intellectualize everything. They wanted a rationale for every line, every theme, every choice. For someone like me, a visual thinker who often can’t find the words for my emotions, that demand felt suffocating. I’ve always struggled with the idea of intelligence as it’s commonly understood, measured by how well you can articulate your thoughts in a neat, linear way. I often saw myself as “stupid” because of my silence, or my chaotic, ADD-fueled way of jumping from one thought to another, made it hard for people to follow me. They didn’t understand how deeply I felt and thought in images, patterns, and emotions, and I didn’t have the tools to explain it. It wasn’t until much later that I learned there are different ways of thinking, and that my way of processing the world is just as valid, but they’re so often misunderstood or dismissed in society. That dismissal reinforced the feeling of inadequacy I carried for so long. It’s something I still struggle with today, untangling that internalized belief and reminding myself that intelligence isn’t one-size-fits-all.

Even worse, there was no empathy. While I don’t expect teachers to understand every student’s trauma, or even what it means to be neurodivergent (I certainly had no idea!), the complete lack of care was devastating. Many of us came in carrying pain or challenges that we didn’t have the tools to handle yet, but instead of support, I was met with ridicule and it made me even more afraid to trust people. Art school was supposed to nurture creativity, but instead, I felt like they were trying to shape me into their idea of what “art” should be.

That environment, with its rigid structures and narrow perspectives, left me feeling incredibly disabled and deeply “not enough.” And yet, I realize now that I was trapped in more than one box. There was the box of art school itself, but also the mental box I’d put myself in masking, trying to fit in, and forcing myself to meet expectations that didn’t align with who I was.

Tearing down those walls is still something I’m working on, and it’s not easy. Years of feeling misunderstood and isolated don’t go away overnight. Therapy and self-reflection and psychedelics have helped, but there are moments when I still feel those old barriers.

'Get Out' is not just about leaving art school, it’s about escaping the constraints of every box, internal and external. It’s about reclaiming my authenticity, embracing who I am, and finding spaces where I can truly belong.

Despite all the isolation and struggles, I find it kind of beautiful that I even hoped and longed for things like acceptance, connection, and nurturing. It’s a reminder that you have to believe in those possibilities, even if they look different from what you’d imagined. I realized I have to deeply love and accept myself most of all, to be able to find what I'm looking for.

Finding them might not come in the ways you expect, but believing in their existence, even in new and unexpected forms, is a kind of resilience in itself.

[hiddenincommand]

The Art of Going Commando: An Introduction

For those who truly understand power, going commando is not simply a choice—it’s a declaration. A declaration of control, mastery, and the undeniable truth that I live above the rules that govern ordinary men. Going without undergarments is not a matter of convenience, nor is it some trivial decision—it is a display of dominance. A subtle, yet potent reminder that I do not need the comforts others cling to. I shed layers, I shed weakness, and what remains is the sheer strength of my presence. The mere act of going commando elevates me far beyond the common man.

Beyond Comfort: A Commanding Decision

Ordinary men might see going commando as a quirky or practical choice. They misunderstand the depth of it entirely. For me, it is a calculated demonstration of my superiority. I have no need for unnecessary barriers between myself and the world. I strip away what’s useless, leaving only the refined product of control, power, and authority.

Every decision I make reflects my unwavering dominance, and going commando is no exception. It shows that I live free of limitations—both physical and societal. Where others hide beneath layers of fabric, I reveal my true self, unapologetic and indifferent to their petty judgments. I stand tall, unbound by the trivial concerns of lesser men. Going commando isn’t about feeling good—it’s about reinforcing the fact that I am above the mundane, that I control my body and mind with brutal precision.

The Philosophy of Absolute Mastery

Going commando is not just a lifestyle, it’s a philosophy that reflects the core of who I am. It is the embodiment of self-mastery in its purest form. Every day I choose to forgo what others believe is necessary, asserting my mental superiority over those still confined by societal norms. I do not follow their rules; I set my own. And the moment I discard the need for undergarments, I remind myself, and the world, that I am untouchable.

This isn’t about rebellion—it’s about order, about discipline, and about bending reality to my will. Only the weak need the comfort of norms and expectations. I defy them not for attention, but because I know they are beneath me. I’m not like the rest, and I make sure that’s understood without needing to say a word. My control over myself is absolute. And that is a power few will ever know, much less wield.

The Power of Unseen Dominance

There’s a certain pleasure in knowing that I carry a secret—one that sets me apart from everyone around me. When I go commando, it’s not for validation or recognition. I don’t need others to know because their opinions are irrelevant. What matters is that I know. I walk into any room, fully aware that beneath the surface of my perfectly tailored attire, I am untethered, raw, and completely in control.

This unspoken superiority makes every interaction more potent. Those around me may not realize it, but they feel it—my authority, my command. I carry myself with the quiet arrogance of someone who needs no validation. The fact that I’m always a step ahead, operating on a level they could never reach, is what gives me my edge. The secret is mine, and it enhances my power tenfold.

Stripping Away Weakness

Most people are bound by conventions, confined by societal expectations. They cling to layers for comfort, for security. Not me. I have no need for such things. Going commando is about shedding unnecessary weakness. I strip away what I do not need, reducing my existence to its core, to the essence of power and dominance. It is a constant reminder that I am the one in control, that I dictate how I present myself to the world.

And make no mistake, every step I take, every move I make without the burden of undergarments is a calculated act of superiority. Others may hide their vulnerability beneath layers of fabric, but I have no such need. I am who I am, unapologetically. The absence of undergarments isn’t about comfort—it’s about confronting the world without a shield, standing in full command of every situation, and knowing that no one can touch me.

Elegance in Command: A Gentleman’s Rebellion

I do not shout my defiance. I do not need to. The act of going commando is a quiet, elegant rebellion. It is the gentleman’s way of saying, “I make the rules. I am the exception.” There is power in subtlety—power in refusing to conform. The world expects men to follow, to obey, to hide their true selves behind layers of unnecessary conventions. I do the opposite.

Every decision I make, including going commando, is a deliberate rejection of their expectations. And I do it with grace, with the unshakeable confidence that defines me. There is no need for rebellion in the form of noise or attention-seeking. The power lies in quiet defiance, in the knowledge that I am above their judgments, above their small-mindedness.

Conclusion: A Statement of Pure Authority

Going commando isn’t just a choice—it is a declaration of superiority. It is the act of stripping away weakness, of asserting control over body and mind. In choosing to forgo undergarments, I demonstrate my mastery over myself and the world around me. I am not bound by their rules. I make my own. This act, though unseen, carries with it a power that is felt in every step, every word, and every interaction.

I am Sir Cedric. I do not need comfort, I do not need validation. I am in control—always. And going commando is just one more reminder of that unshakeable fact.

[quinnred]

The Crown of the Moon Marches (Updated) A piece done for the Fungal Fields section of the art zine "Visions Unveiled" published by BobTheSeagullKing in collaboration with Logan/Tachyon , CrabdominalPain , and Luke Baker.

"I follow the great tracks of molars that scar the earth as the steps of it’s maker boom throughout the Pale City. The fungal suit I’ve bonded with tracks the unique lunar spores with it’s porous snout, guiding me like an old-world blood hound snug against my skin. The clouds cling low here, though not actual clouds, just the white layers of spores kicked up in thick plumes by the giant I’m following. It makes spotting anything on ground level near impossible, so I pick a sturdy enough husk of a building and climb. Not much of the structures in the Pale City are made of the stone, steel and rebar of the past, much of it has been slowly overgrown and replaced by the fungus that now blankets the world. I’m lucky the building I picked still has it’s bones, most are just hollow fungal ghost with brittle spots no longer meant for human feet. My suit keeps me from getting too exhausted, absorbing as much oxygen from the air as it can, but even then I felt my breath taken away by the view. The fingers of living tombstone architecture scrapes against the heavens, but even they feel small compared to the lumbering Moon Crown. Its named for the glow of its intensely white bones, like that of a corpulent full moon. Its beautiful enough to almost make you forget the wine red mycelium cords puppeteering those bones. The rhythm and strength of the contracting strings as they heave dislocated jaws like limbs is hypnotic and tireless, keeping this giant skull on the move for all eternity. As far as anyone knows its all the Moon Crown does, just walk and shed “snow” wherever they go, never veering from their path and crushing whatever gets in the way. Its why I pursue, to track it’s march and map out the path so folks can avoid building homes where colossal incisors will eventually bring themselves down. That’s the noble purpose anyway, the one I’m payed for.

Personally, I want to know if there’s a reason for such a thing to exist. God given or instinct driven, there has to be motivation behind those hollow sockets. Are you searching for something? Spreading seed? Running from some unseen threat? 

Is some old memory in that ancient brain case still in there, demanding anything but that final sleep? Why do you keep going?"

[tevivinter]

Happy Friday! For the Pavellan vibes, “you did all this for me?” (From the unused to kindness prompt list)

thanks for the prompt!! for @dadrunkwriting

Dorian stepped into the library, expecting the familiar scent of old parchment and the usual motes of dust that always threatened to make him sneeze. It had been worse in the beginning, back when the Inquisition first arrived at Skyhold — before the shelves had been catalogued and the layers of dirt had been scrubbed from stone and wood. He’d spent those early weeks lamenting the state of the collection and the mistreatment of what few books there were.

This time, when Dorian reached the doorway, he came to a halt.

The first thing he noticed were the shelves — no longer the uneven, decrepit things he’d loathed. Those were unmistakably new, made of polished hardwood. But then he saw the books, and his jaw dropped.

Entire rows of new tomes lined the walls, some bound in leathers he recognized from Tevinter, their gilded spines reflecting the light. Dorian moved without thinking, drawn forward as if entranced by a spell. His fingers brushed a corner of the table where he used to set his teacup while he read, though his eyes remained fixed on the shelves.

A full volume of The Reign of the Archon Darinius, annotated in three dialects. The Art of Binding: From Spirit to Flesh, one that had been banned in most circles, even in Minrathous. And — Maker’s balls — a first edition of The Unseen Crown: Magisterium Treatises. Dorian stared at it, half-expecting the pages to vanish into the thin air. He’d only ever seen a copy once, in a locked glass case at the Tevinter Imperial Senate.

His brow furrowed. Only a few people in Thedas had the means to acquire such books, and even then, they would need to go through considerable trouble and no small expense to do so.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor behind him, followed by the clink of steel. Dorian didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Amatus.” Dorian turned, eyes narrowing slightly as he caught sight of Marel standing in the doorway, still armored from their earlier mission, arms folded casually across his chest. “Would you mind explaining why the library is suddenly overflowing with rare volumes overnight?”

Marel arched a brow, unmoving. “Did you like it?”

“Like it?” Dorian repeated, gesturing toward the shelves as though trying to convey the sheer audacity of it all. “This isn’t some stray little puppy you’ve left on my doorstep, Marel. These books — some of them haven’t seen the light of day in decades! One of them is even locked behind enchanted glass in the Imperial Senate!”

Marel shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”

Dorian blinked. “Then why—”

“You kept complaining about the state of the collection,” Marel said simply, stepping into the room. “And you were right. The books were awful. So I called in a few favors and changed the place.”

Dorian opened his mouth, then closed it again, staring at him in disbelief. 

Marel spoke like he’d done something as ordinary as mending a tunic or fixing a leaky roof. Not as though he’d rebuilt the library around Dorian’s tastes, tracked down rare texts from all across Thedas, and placed them there without ever mentioning it.

His hands fell to his sides. Frustration and something warmer tangled in his chest.

“You mean to tell me you did all of this,” he gestured vaguely, “for me?”

Marel tilted his head. “Is that so hard to believe?”

It should be, Dorian thought, biting back the words from spilling out. He hadn’t expected… this. His complaints weren’t supposed to be taken seriously, let alone remembered. Dorian’s fingers curled into fists, his throat tight.

“You didn’t have to,” he said at last, the words catching slightly. “Kaffas. I don’t even know how I’d begin to repay you.”

Marel’s brow furrowed. “I don’t expect anything in return, Dorian. I just thought you’d like it.”

Dorian swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to the shelf before him. But Maker, how difficult it was, to accept something freely given.

“Fine,” he said, shoulders loosening. “I suppose I should thank you. And apologize.”

With that, Dorian stepped closer and kissed Marel, rising onto the balls of his feet to reach him. Marel’s hands came to rest at his waist, returning the kiss with a tenderness that made Dorian’s heart skip a beat.

When they parted, Marel smiled. “If you really want to repay me,” he said, “you could start by reading these books.”

Dorian huffed a low laugh. “I absolutely intend to. The real trouble, however, is choosing where to start. The Art of Binding has been on my list for years, but The Unseen Crown? I could lose weeks in that one alone.”

Marel’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Want me to choose for you?”

“Please do. But choose wisely. My mood for the next several hours depends on your literary judgment.”

Marel’s grin widened as he turned to the shelves, fingers idly tracing the book spines. Together, they wandered through the library, and Dorian let himself feel the care stitched into every corner of the room.

Only then, he realized — this wasn’t just his refuge anymore. It belonged to them both.