#I know they reblog to show support to artists and it's perfectly ok. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suntrastar · 4 years

Text

abstract: chapter 2

chapter 1!! chapter 3!! you can also find this fic on ao3 :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word Count: 7500 exactly. i am so lame.

Author’s note: hello!! when i was uploading ch 1 on here it never once crossed my mind that i should probably add ch 2 as well ... but oh well! it’s here now. hope u all like it. reblogs and likes and whatever else are very much appreciated. also i forgot to say last time- i paint a little but i am NOT a professional artist! i’m making all of this up as i go! if i’m wrong with something do NOT tell me. shh. but ok now enjoy!!

A blank canvas stands before you, as big as your torso and propped up on an easel. White, unmarked, clean- pristine and teeming with potential.

You hate it.

In your lap sits your sketchbook. Pages upon pages of rough, half-baked ideas, each more mediocre than the last. You thought that maybe you could churn something decent out if you came to your studio, soaked in enough of the atmosphere to coax out some sort of productivity.

Well, you were wrong. It’s the opposite- the empty canvas is slowing your thoughts down, muddling them together, disorienting you.

You stare at it for the better part of an hour, white searing into your vision, shoulders sagging with each passing minute.

There’s something there. You have something, a rough chunk of an idea in the back of your mind that could be great, but you can’t figure out what it is. And it’s not something you can just google- you can’t search up how to think a thought you haven’t had yet- so you sit on your own, unproductivity festering, oozing out like the orange from the skylights.

You’re not doing too well. The sun sets before it’s five, it’s Monday, you have a fifth adult class to teach, yesterday you only got to a third of your chores. It sucks- you should be better than this! Put-together, neat, confident, creative, actually able to do something.

You wallow freely, feeling no satisfaction when you reach forward and push the side of the canvas with one finger, tipping it off the easel and sending it clattering to the floor.

The warmth of the sun burns into your back. You don’t like wasting time like this, never have. Maybe you needed to, though, to help get you back on track.

You heave out a sigh and crack too many joints as you stand up, folding up your easel, picking up the dreaded canvas, shoving your sketchbook into your purse. The drawing pencils you set out on the table are neatly lined back up into their metal tin, the kneadable eraser kneaded for a few frustrating seconds before it’s put back as well.

You zip your coat all the way up to your chin. It’s still freezing outside, and the walk from your studio to the subway, from the subway to the other studio, is always a cold one.

***

At least you can move on from the watercolors.

Oil pastels! Still not a very desirable medium, but for today, you’ll take it. At least it’s saturated, at least you don’t have to worry about the whole thing coming apart with a spare drop of water. The way it stains your fingers and blends unpredictably is kind of charming, too.

You run through your demonstrations. You gesture to where the paper is located. You make a few suggestions for what people could draw: trees, landscapes, birds. Then you remember a box of handheld mirrors the studio owner keeps in one of the storage closets, and run over to get it.

“You can use them for self portraits,” you say, and then a particular man in the back scowls, and then you add that it’s optional.

But Steve takes two mirrors.

You don’t have time to analyze all of that. You walk around, offer a few words of advice. Shonna lays the preliminary sketch for a heron, and you’ve never seen grey and yellow look so nice together. Your favorite couple, Marcie and Ahmed, draw each other, but neither of them can draw. They laugh at themselves as they misshape each other’s noses, miscalculate the distance between each other’s eyes.

It’s cute. You stop at them and laugh a little, before continuing your round to the back of the room, to Steve and Bucky.

“Everything working out okay?” You say, while Steve frowns into a mirror.

“I feel kind of stuck-up doing this,” Steve says, and brings the mirror even closer to his face, right up to his eyes.

You laugh a little. “Don’t worry,” you say, and peer down at his sketch, which is already looking uncannily like him. “It looks just like you! You even got the nose right.”

Steve nods, still bothered by the apparent narcissism of this activity. He pulls a peach pastel from the set. “I guess,” he says, unconvinced, and streaks the pastel over the side of his drawn face, and you quietly marvel over how well he understands shadow. “Are you okay?”

The question catches you off guard.

“What?”

Steve sets his mirror down.

Next to him, Bucky glowers at you, like he wasn’t smiling at your bad jokes in the cafe, like, two days ago. He’s so vehement- you’re starting to think that you dreamt up the entire encounter.

“You look kind of stressed,” Steve says, and then winces. “Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, and hesitate for a second, before thinking what the hell, and deciding to just let it out. “I am stressed. I’m so stressed- Steve, I’m, like, this close to losing it.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

He’s so sincere. Always so nice, and you don't even care that Bucky’s glare deepens when you pull out the seat and sit down in it, because you are dying to tell someone.

“I have this show in the summer,” you say, and clench your hands, because just the thought of the show makes you want to wring your own neck, “but I still have no idea what to do. I mean, I do, but it’s like, I have point A and point B, but I don’t have the line connecting it. Does that make sense?”

“What are the points?” Steve asks, and takes up the mirror again, to analyze the lower portion of his face.

“Okay,” you say, and lean back in your seat, and maybe it’s a little unprofessional, but you’re cool enough that it really isn’t, “Point A is that I want everything to be busy. Lots of patterns and fabric and plants. Like, I don’t want there to be any resting space for your eyes, because that’s boring. And point B is that I want to use people- and this is where the problem comes in, because I don’t know what people to use.”

You’re talking kind of fast, but Steve seems to still be understanding what you’re saying. “Why not?”

“Because I want it to be personal. For my previous stuff, I would just post ads on Instagram whenever I needed models, and take pictures of random people and paint them. But I don’t want to do that again, but I don’t know what I want to do. I want people to look at the people and say ‘wow, that’s personal,’ but I don't want them to be able to tell how personal it is. Like, personal at an arm’s length.

Steve stares at you like you have definitely lost it.

You pointedly don’t look at Bucky.

Then he reconsiders, and gives you a supportive little smile, and you can feel your stomach sinking further and further down.

“I don’t fully understand that,” he says, and reaches not for the orange or red pastel, but the pale blue one. “But I’m sure you’ll get it. Just give it some time.”

You watch him outline his chin, the left side of his nose, little strokes of his eyebrows. Blue and leaving little smears and flakes of color, and creating this swirling pattern with one of the streaks of peach, like ocean and sand upon each other, so pretty and bold.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, and he grins into his mirror, still adding blue. It looks amazing. “Also, would you ever consider switching careers? The art world is missing out on you.”

He blushes.

“Use people you know.”

You and Steve turn fast to look at Bucky, still glaring. His red oil pastel, held tight in his gloved hand, looks ready to snap.

At least you’re sitting diagonally from him, instead of directly across. At least you don’t back down from looking him in the eye.

“For what?” you say, like you aren’t following, even though you are- you just have a feeling that he won’t tell you what he’s thinking unless you ask for it.

“For your painting thing,” he says. “Because it’s personal. To you.”

You stare at him like he’s crazy for a second or two, and he looks into his own mirror, set flat on the tabletop, without peering at his face. You glance over at his paper, at half a page full of perfectly identical red boxes, and realize that he’s drawing the ceiling panels.

Okay- lame.

But also, like, funny.

Then it starts to click.

“Wait,” you say, and you feel bashful, because he’s been listening to you this whole time, and in his silence he must have been thinking of you, and the thought of that is just too satisfying for you to let go of. He’s been thinking of you.

Or maybe he just wants you to leave.

“That works,” you say, and then you suddenly have the connecting line. “That works perfectly. It’s, like, not personal, but…”

“Familiar,” Bucky says, and you are half a red box away from leaning over the table and throwing yourself into his arms.

That’s exactly it.

“Thank you,” you say, and your brain is running a mile a minute, and he’s just staring at you. “Thank you so much. That’s exactly it, oh my god.”

You don’t even realize how far you’ve leaned over, hands balanced on the table, craning your head towards him. And you don’t even care- pieces are shifting and everything makes sense, and the weather outside isn’t cold, it’s beautiful! And this class is wonderful. Bucky himself is wonderful.

You float through the rest of the class. The clarity of your thoughts is jarring, the way you understand what you’re trying to do now. Flowers, fabric, and then you have an idea with a pair of earrings. You ache for a pen and sheet of paper to write it all down, but if you started doing it now, you don’t think you would be able to get up once the class ends.

Once, you smile at Bucky. He doesn’t return it- and you’re too in over your head to care.

***

He’s not genuinely interested.

This is a precaution. Bucky takes lots of precautions- he sleeps with weapons at his bedside, goes out with knives strapped to his body, always sweeps unfamiliar rooms before sitting, doesn’t tell anyone anything. This is just another thing thrown on top of his already exhausted routine, necessary to his safety and sanity and-

To his basic peace of mind.

He’s not a very good typer, so he asks JARVIS to look it all up instead, and transfer it to his overpriced, Stark-issued laptop.

There’s relief in that action itself- he tells JARVIS the wrong name twice, because that’s how personally disinterested he is. So disinterested that even something as simple as a name eludes him.

He doesn’t care.

The information gets transferred to his laptop. Bucky takes his time, carefully scanning the screen, preparing to tuck away anything concerning, for future reference.

There is a lot of information.

Articles- too many articles. Editorials, interviews, reviews. And pictures, and even videos, and he wonders if Steve ever brought this up to him, this level of renown that apparently you possess, and Bucky just wasn’t paying attention. But no, that couldn’t have been true- he’s been genetically enhanced to always be paying attention.

He’s a slow reader, and whenever the fonts are too small it gives him a headache, so rather than reading an article, he goes to the pictures tab.

Your art shows up first. He clicks on the picture to enlarge it, and it takes a long while for him to fully comprehend what he’s seeing.

A woman dancing with a cow in the background, a woman with butterflies on her eyelashes. Two men wearing crowns of pearls, but when he zooms in closer, they’re birds. A figure in a dress, wearing sleeves that resemble fish, with a halo of koi fish circling her head. Everything has to do with animals, and there’s so much movement, and he doesn’t like art, but he does have to admit that it’s all so pretty.

And there’s lots of yellow.

And as he scrolls further down, there’s pictures of you. In some, you stand with people who look ridiculously pretentious, with weird hair and odd clothes and thick-framed glasses. Other artists, he guesses, who have to let everyone know that they’re artists before they even open their mouths.

Then there’s pictures of just yourself. You, unsmiling next to a half-finished canvas, in the middle of twirling a paintbrush between your fingers. You, unsmiling in a white-walled photography studio. You, smiling while wearing a ridiculous sequined dress, which confuses him until he reads the description, and learns that the dress itself is an art installation.

It makes his head hurt.

He looks some more, even though he’s not really learning anything. Or maybe he is learning, just nothing concerning like he was hoping for. Something that would justify this search in the first place, but all he’s found is that you have pretentious colleagues and wear ridiculous dresses and deserve Steve’s admiration the way you’ve been receiving it.

Eventually, he coaxes himself into clicking a link. An article with a big publication, too big for just an art instructor- but you’re not just an art instructor. you’re, like, good. The article is an interview, which could have just been recorded and uploaded, but for some reason, it was transcribed and written in article format anyway.

The twenty-first century is stupid like that.

When it was written, you had just had your first solo exhibition, and it was more successful than anybody ever anticipated. The interview is meant to be a little off-the-wall, charmingly eccentric, asking about favorite foods and then your future aspirations in the same sequence, and then debating different colors and some political situation within the same question.

Bucky stumbles through a paragraph or two, not really comprehending anything but getting the gist, and his head hurts more, but he’s blissfully relieved of it all when Steve barges into his room without knocking.

He shuts his laptop screen so hard that the screen nearly cracks.

“Woah,” Steve says, and puts a hand up, but doesn’t take any steps back. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, and stares at the laptop with fury, as if he’ll be able to close the tab that was still open through telekinesis alone.

“O-kay,” Steve says, totally unconvinced. He hoists the bag on his shoulder- his gear bag, with his supplies. He’s headed out for an indefinite period of time, anywhere between three days and two weeks. In the bag is his suit, in its patriotic spandex glory, his other supplies, bandages and a gun and a sketchbook.

To pass the time, if he gets bored on the flight.

“Are you leaving now?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods his head. “Yeah. Just came to say bye.”

“You mean see you later,” Bucky corrects, because those two things mean different things, and the difference is enough to matter to him.

“See you later,” Steve says, and he shifts, one massive wall of muscle leaning from one foot to the other. He’s uncertain of something- like Bucky can’t handle himself on his own.

He can handle himself.

Bucky lifts one silver hand and waves.

***

He doesn’t need to go.

Steve hasn’t returned, still somewhere in South America, away on a mission. It’s not like anyone is going to check, either, if he attends or not. It’s not like this is required, like he has some sort of moral or contractual obligation to show up.

Still, it’s become part of his routine, and deviating from routine makes his skin itch. As Monday strikes again, he slides into his seat in the art studio. At least he’s not too early; he doesn't know how he would be able to handle any pre-class conversation without Steve being there to do the actual conversating.

You start right on time. Always so prompt.

“We’re going to be working with oil pastels again,” you say, and make a big gesture with your hands. You wear chunky gold earrings that wink under the lights. “But I’m going to let you do whatever you want. Draw whatever. I’ve got out a few different types of paper, and some different tools for creating textures- I’ll show you all how to use them really quick.”

You scrape a sheet of paper hastily colored purple with something that looks like a plastic knife. Then you use something that looks like a plastic-toothed comb, and then some other pointy plastic objects to make lines and whirls on the paper. Texture. He watches the paper, some, but mostly you.

You look over at him two times. No more than you do at anyone else, but he still notices- as a precaution.

“Okay, I'm done. You all can get to work,” you say, and set the purple sheet down on your own table, at the front. “Have fun. Get crazy with it.”

Bucky looks down at the paper he’s set on the table, yellow-white and slightly textured. He looks at the oil pastels, sitting so dejectedly in their little cardboard dish, a product of low budget and disuse.

He takes the yellow one.

You come over to his table some time later, after getting to everyone else. He’s always last, he’s noticed- because he sits at the back, and because you like to take your time talking with Steve. But Steve isn’t here today, which means you won’t linger, which means he can continue on sitting in peace.

“How’s it going?” You ask. One of your hands comes to rest on top of the chair across from him.

“Your shoe is untied.”

Your smile falters as you look down, at your red sneaker- you wear hot red sneakers- but reaffirms itself a second later as you slide the chair out, and prop your foot up on it.

Bucky suddenly feels off. Your knee rests slightly above his head, and your head is tucked down but still looming high over him, cast in shadow. He’s beneath- under. And you’re double-knotting the laces of your shoe.

“Thanks,” you say, and it’s awkward to thank someone for something so little, but you don’t say it like it’s awkward. “I probably would’ve tripped on the laces. Anyways, again, how’s it going?”

He considers the question. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you repeat. You take your foot off the chair and tuck it back in, and then lean- loom even more- over him, looking over at his piece of paper.

He glares at you, even though you’re not looking at him.

“Wow,” you say, and your eyebrows are creasing, and he thinks that you’re struggling to come up with something to say, and after seeing those paintings online, he can’t even take offense at it. “Those lines are so… straight. How are they so straight?”

Because his metal hand has an internal stabilizer.

“They just are,” he says.

You look at him. Everything suddenly feels stuttered and slow, drenched in honey. He’s expecting some type of joke, and praying for the ground to open and swallow him up, bury him under six feet of tile. Has silence always been this unbearable?

“Awesome,” you say.

Then you look away and he’s able to breathe again, and you’re turning away, ready to flounce back over to someone else. He looks back down at his paper and picks up the pastel again, fingers pressing over the paper wrapper, so that he doesn’t get anything on his glove. He draws another straight line.

“Wait, one more thing.”

You turn around and his head snaps up, fully alarmed.

You take in his expression and look like you’re about to laugh. But you stifle it back, bite on your lip as you pull the chair back out again and sit down, across from him. Steve isn’t even here- Steve isn’t even your motivation for being here, today, and all he’s thinking about is you in that ridiculous art installation of a dress.

Floor-length. V-neck.

“So,” you say, and Bucky can’t look at you. In his peripheral vision he sees you curl your hands together, resting on top of the table. The glass on the watch flashes. “So, you know the idea that you gave me last week? With painting people I know? I started this painting of my mom- and all of these ideas in my head make sense to me now- wait. Let me show you, first.”

He keeps his eyes dutifully trained on his paper. Still, he can hear the smile in your voice as you pull your phone out of your back pocket, tapping away at something before turning the screen around for him to see.

Your arm is stretched all the way across the table. Bucky leans in a little bit, to see the picture you’ve pulled up.

A partially painted image of a woman that looks like you but not you, with almost the same face as you, but with hands mottled with age and a mouth starting to droop at the corners. Your mom, apparently, sitting with her hands clasped the way you’re clasping yours. She wears earrings that look like huge flowers, lilies, or something, and in a white dress that looks halfway like a swirled illusion.

“Nice,” he says, grudgingly, and you keep your hand outstretched. He wonders if you want him to take the phone from you, if you’re waiting for him to say more. “I like the dress.”

You beam at him. He’s been looking at you without realizing. “Thank you. I actually got the idea or the pattern from Steve- I’m just stealing ideas, aren’t I- but did you see the thing he did with his self-portrait last week? The swirls? It was so pretty- I couldn’t help myself. Anyways, where is he today?”

“Out of town.”

Dread curls at the pit of his stomach.

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he has the heavy, stone-cold realization that he does not want to be talking about Steve right now.

It must show, because you’re in the middle of opening your mouth to say something, and then abruptly close it.

“Oh,” you say, and you shift. He realizes that he doesn’t want you to leave yet, either. “Nice.”

You’re getting out of your seat. You must be feeling it too, the heaviness, the atmosphere so overwrought with polite dislike, because he still doesn’t like you, even though he knows your name now, but-

“What’s your next painting going to be?” he asks, so quickly that it comes off as a little frantic.

Your eyes widen and you’re carried back down, drifting back into your seat.

“I’m so glad you asked that,” you say, as you settle in. For a second, you’re frighteningly put together, shoulders straight, hands neatly folded, earrings glinting. “I’ve been wanting to tell someone about it so bad.”

You want your next painting to be of your dad. A portrait of just his face, close enough to add little, inconsequential details. You have this idea where you create patterns that look like flowers out of his wrinkles. He has teeth that are always yellow, because he drinks so much coffee, you say, a habit you’ve picked up, but you want to paint them almost neon, bring as much attention to it as you can. His hair is thinning and you want to make it all blue, like a receding tide.

It devolves, and his grip on the pastel loosens as you fall into something more and more jumbled, divulging other ideas you have, about things that aren’t directly related. You want to go big- much larger than life. A canvas as big as your body, just to paint a head. You make your own canvases, too, and you show him your palms, skin beneath your fingers raised and bumpy, with a ropy pink scar on your right hand. It’s from an incident with a saw, you say, even though you know your way around a saw. He almost wants to touch it.

Bucky thinks of his own right hand, with as many scars as it has lines. What does that mean, in terms of fate? He knows his way around a saw, too, and many other bigger, dangerous things, but you don’t know or don’t care about it. It devolves further, you sink lower in your seat, shoulders curving forward, and you’re telling him something else about nothing, and you aren’t minding that he’s mostly focused on just listening.

You’re laughing when someone behind you clears their throat.

You turn back, to see Shonna, looking uncomfortable as she fiddles with the strap of her purse.

“I’ve got to go,” she says, and, for whatever reason, gives you a look. “I finished my drawing, so I’m taking it with me. See you next week.”

“Have a good night!” You say, and cast a spare glance at your watch, to see how early she’s leaving.

She’s not leaving early.

You’re running nearly twelve minutes over.

“Oh my god,” you say, quietly, and pull away from Bucky. You have to pull this back together, quickly, you stand up and clear your throat.

“Hey, everybody,” you say, and so many people older than you turn to look at you, but the situation you’ve put yourself in doesn’t let you appreciate the thrill of it. “I wasn’t paying attention- we’re running past time. You all can go ahead and head out. I’ll clean up today. I’m sorry.”

Bucky is ignored, and it’s funny how quickly you’re able to slip away from him, him and unrelenting blue eyes and a stoic silence to bounce all of your thoughts off of. You keep your back to him and head back to the front of the room, standing and exchanging pleasantries as everyone heads out, apologizing with smiles and chastising yourself for being so careless.

Nobody berates you, though. You keep on expecting them to. There’s a sudden, sharp pain in the back of your neck. They all leave, and then it’s just you, standing by the entrance and staring at all the tables you have to clean, all the unfinished art projects you have to slide on the art racks, alongside the sticky poster-painted houses and clouds and corner-suns drawn by the kids in your Wednesday and Thursday classes.

All by yourself.

Or not.

Bucky lingers, putting his pastels back in the tray. He’s so silent that you missed him the first time, even though he was standing right there. Isn’t he some type of spy?

“Bucky, I got it,” you call. Without anyone in the room, it's like everything you just said to him didn’t happen. There’s no buffer and it’s just you and just him, and it's so empty. “You don’t have to clean up.”

Something in his gorgeous face shifts. You wish he was a little more expressive. His eyes hang dark underneath the brim of his dorky hat.

“I can help you,” he says, and adds, after an impossibly long second of hesitation, “I’ll make sure you don’t break any jars.”

You laugh out loud, but you’re confused. First listening to you talk on and on, now offering to help you and trying to make a joke- he doesn’t like you enough to be doing any of it.

You know you like him, or at least find him intriguing enough to disregard his douchiness, but, like, still. Something’s off.

But then again, how do you deny him after that joke?

“Thank you,” you say, so formally, and you want to grimace. “That’s really nice of you.”

He blinks slowly, and you think that he’s going to smile, catch a ghost of it in his eyes.

It vanishes too fast, as he slides the cover back on the tray of sad oil pastels. You’re about to make some cynical comment about the lack of funding for the arts, just so there’s something to occupy all this new space between you and him, so you don’t accidentally lessen the space by doing something dumb, like moving closer to him.

“Where do I put these?” He asks, holding the sad tray up.

***

Steve returns for the seventh Monday class! You’re so happy when he walks in through the doors, abandoning your stacks of paper and speed-walking toward with a smile and a bouquet of paintbrushes.

“Hey, Steve!” you say, and he spooks, a little, but relaxes when he sees it’s you. No Rina today- she’s been leaving early lately. Maybe there’s some residual fear in her, just from that stare she was subjected to, all those weeks ago. “It’s good to see you.”

You get those stares every week, multiple times an hour, are getting one right this second- she needs to get over it.

He smiles and comes further into the classroom, meeting you over one of the tables. “It’s good to see you, too. Sorry I missed class last week.”

You wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. Here, take these for a second.”

In his massive hands, the paintbrushes look silly. Like dandelion stems, but it’s Steve, so he holds them gingerly, at a distance, like the wood might snap if he applies even the tiniest bit of pressure.

It’s not a good thought that you have next- it’s a deplorable thought- but you wonder if all super-soldiers have hands like that.

Behind Steve, there’s Bucky, standing in his usual black ensemble and glower. You know, now, that if you asked him to help, he would, but your mouth suddenly goes gummy and you trail off to the shelves instead, talking yourself up as you try to find a container for the brushes.

There, on the top shelf. How did it get all the way up there? You swipe it off and turn around, cheery and hopefully composed enough to not let any of your deplorable thoughts slip, and-

He’s there.

Not there, not all up in your face the way you would not want him to be, but closer, next to Steve instead of behind. His cheeks are rosy. You look out the window, to see if it looks cold. His face is pink, but he looks cold. Winter Soldier. You’re running hot, hot, hot.

“Hey,” You say, and politely smile, like while cleaning up last week, you didn’t spend an extra twenty minutes just talking to him.

“Hey,” he says, and does nothing, like the impassive brick he always is.

God.

You can’t be like this. This isn’t… it’s not cute. It’s embarrassing.

“Help me find the palettes,” you tell him, and place the container on the table for Steve. “I’ve been looking for them, for, like, ten minutes, and I can’t find them. And we’re painting today, so we need palettes.”

Steve dumps the brushes into the container. Bucky nods. He understands the importance of the palettes.

“Okay,” he says, and in the time it takes you to turn back to the shelves, he’s already standing behind you, surveying the shelves with you. Steve is probably giving you a look- he and Bucky seem like the kind of friends that tell each other all of their feelings, paint each other’s nails and read each other's diaries- he probably knows what’s going on.

If he does, you would like for him to tell you. All you know is that you’re really liking this.

Bucky finds the box of palettes wedged in the back of one of the shelves, in between thick pads of watercolor paper and glass cases of craft knives.

“Thank you,” you say, as he hands the box to you, as his fingertips just barely brush against yours. “Thank you so much.”

You catch another ghost-smile. “You’re so welcome,” he says.

Behind Bucky’s back, Steve gawks at you in disbelief.

Acrylic paint- the love of your life.

“It’s best for me to just let you guys loose,” you say, in your spot at the front of the room. Even now, your hands are itching, humming with energy, humming for a paintbrush. “If you need help, ask me, of course, but it’s more fun to just try and see what you can do.”

That’s part of why you love it- for its ease. Quick-drying, not water-soluble once dried, saturated. What is there even to explain? That you apply it with a brush? That you can blend with it? All of that is, like, obvious. All of it can be learned from trial, and any error can just be painted over.

Expression is so simple, with acrylic paint.

It’s messier, too, but nobody’s perfect.

You walk around. Shonna sketches out more birds- finches, yellow and mid-flight. Marcie and Ahmed start by painting without sketching first- one going for a sunset, the other palm trees. Classic. You catch a few others, silhouettes, some flowers, some abstract paint splatters.

Then, of course, you head to the back.

Steve is something out. You can’t tell what it is, yet, but you know that it's going to be beautiful. It’s already beautiful. He looks up and gives you a wordless smile, then gets right back to work. One of his hands is splayed over the sheet of chipboard, the other drawing quick, light lines with his pencil.

You wish that you could give them canvas. But canvas is expensive, and again- funding is bad, and you want to save the few you’ve scrounged up for one of the later classes, when everyone is more confident in their abilities.

Bucky mixes paint on his palette. Red and… black.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say, nodding down at the sad maroon. He looks up at you and you ball your hands into fists, placing them on your hips, not because you put your hands on your hips, but because you feel like you should be doing that right now, with how he’s looking at you. Gutting you.

He acknowledges you with a nod, and goes back to mixing the colors.

Good grief, how much more is he going to mix?

You’re suddenly searching your mind for something interesting to say.

It’s awkward, and you’re even more mad at yourself- how can you be awkward in your own class? You’re so off today. Even Steve is solely focused on his canvas, and you’re happy for it- he’s drawing and really getting into it, but now you have no reason to linger!

You stay, for another awkward, insufferable second, before moving on to somewhere else.

It’s whatever. You want to think about it, but you push it out because there’s so many more important things to consider- like the painting of your mom nearly finished in your studio, the sketched-out canvas of your father, the dozens of other little ideas pushing up through the cracks in your thoughts, like delightful weeds.

You want to paint Rina. If her hair is still red when you see her, you’ll draw her upside down with poppies, wearing whatever crazy outfit she wants. You want to paint another friend, who’s constantly travelling but might be in New York next month, draped in gold jewelry and marigolds. You might even- you might even draw a few people you don’t talk to anymore, or people you don’t talk to enough, draw them with pansies and chrysanthemums.

Flowers. First, you were fixated on animals, but now it’s flowers- but it’s wholly unsymbolic, because symbolism gets trite, and you just want to make something that looks pretty.

Nobody asks you for help. Acrylic is fun like that- it’s a medium where you can help yourself. The class gets loud- lively, even, and you just sit in your chair at your table and take it all in.

Bucky, in the far back, works on his painting with concentration that rivals Steve’s. You look for too long.

He can probably feel your eyes on him. You wonder if you should look him up, but that’s weird. Really weird, and what would you even search for? A Wikipedia article? Pictures? An interview?

Maybe you should, but you like the hot-and-cold mystery just how it is.

The class ends on time. You’re extra vigilant today, showing people how to lay their paintings on the drying racks, showing them where to dump their paint water.

You say that you’ll wash the brushes. Bucky can tell that you don’t trust anyone else to do it properly. You say that you’ll wipe down the tables, too, and you’ll move all the supplies back to the shelves. All you want is for everyone to put their paintings away and wash their palettes.

The work is done, and everyone files out, spurred by you wishing them all a good week. Steve lingers, as usual, and Bucky follows behind him.

You didn’t talk to him that much, today.

“Did you figure out your painting yet?” Steve asks.

“I did,” you say, and tell him exactly what you told Bucky, but more clearly, more well-articulated.

And less… elaborate. No talking about the idea for the second painting, no mentions of the canvases you make yourself. You don’t show him your palm.

Steve chats with you for a few minutes, until the conversation fizzles out. He shifts his shoulders and tells you he’s going to go.

“Have a good week,” you say, smiling, looking back at Bucky.

Steve gets to the doorway, and Bucky stays right where he is, and his stomach does a flip, because he can’t believe that he’s really going to be doing this.

“You coming, Buck?” Steve says.

“I’m going to stay back for a minute,” Bucky says, while looking at you.

He’s not a confident person, but he’s also not not confident. He just does what he has to do, without thinking, without sitting on it long enough for it to morph into anxiety, because when you've been impassive for seventy years, it’s hard to turn the faucet back on.

Right now, though, he might be getting what they call butterflies.

“Why, is there something you-”

Steve cuts himself off. He understands.

“Nevermind,” he says, backtracking. “Okay. See you later.”

He leaves.

“What’s up?” You ask, as you head over to the sink. You’re so nonchalant, and he doesn’t know if he’s resenting it or grateful for it, so he just watches you pull cleaning supplies from the cabinet underneath. “Are you here to help me clean up?”

No, but he’ll do it, if...

“Yeah.”

You reach out and rip a wad of paper towels from the dispenser.

“Great,” you say, and he’s just thinking, No, this is not great. You hand him a spray bottle and the paper towels. “Wipe down the tables, please. I’m going to get started with these brushes.”

He starts to wipe down the tables.

You get the sink running.

The streaks of paint on the tables haven't dried yet, so it all comes off with no effort. He gets through it all pretty quickly, one table after another.

Then he’s at your shoulder, tossing the wad of paper towels in the trash, setting the spray bottle precariously on the sink’s edge, since your legs are in front of the cabinet.

What else could he do? Sweep? Turn off the lights? He doesn’t know if you would trust him to do either of those things. He could close the blinds, but the sky is in transition, from grey to blue to ink, and he likes the way the dark seeps into the room.

It sets up the atmosphere.

You give him a quick smile, rub your thumb over the bristles of another brush. “That was fast.”

He shrugs.

It’s a dead conversation- he’s not used to this. Maybe he should be chatting you up, but he doesn’t chat people up, ever. You’re supposed to be the one that talks first, says something for him to go off of. He’s not good at this, but he suddenly wishes that he was.

“Cleaning brushes is such a painful process,” you say eventually, trying to sound exasperated, even though you’re clearly not. “Takes forever- oh, wait. Not painful, paint-ful. Get it? ”

He gets it.

“You’re funny,” he says, and it’s not much, but it’s something. He wants to laugh but doesn't.

You add another brush to the growing pile of clean ones, laying on a bed of paper towels. The sink water drains slowly, dirty grey-brown.

“I know,” you say. “But anyways, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Is Bucky your real name?”

The fuck?

You’re genuinely asking, brows drawn close together. He wants to reach out and smoothen it. And also tug the strings of your apron loose, and hook a finger inside the hoop of your earring. He’s wanting to do lots of things- all crazy, irrational things.

“No,” he says, and he sounds weird saying it, when all that’s weird is you having asked in the first place. Your frame of reference for him is so poor- which is better for him, better for everything. It’s almost flattering. “It’s a nickname.”

You open your mouth for the next question, but he beats you to it.

“My real name is James.”

You abruptly look over at him in disbelief. “No way. Really?”

“Really.”

You’re on the last brush. You run it under the tap and the bristles send streams of purplish paint water over your fingers, and turn your head, looking over at him. He meets you back, glare icy, even though inside, he’s burning up.

“You don’t look like a James,” you say, and grin at him, and keep yourself looking at him as you finally shut off the sink.

He knows he doesn’t- that’s why he doesn’t go by it. But he’s going to indulge you, because he wants to.

“Don’t look much like a Bucky, either.”

“It’s a cute nickname, though,” you say suddenly.

His heart leaps to his throat.

“You think it’s cute,” he says, and he shifts over and leans, against the wall, crossing his arms. He’s been standing too close, feels so unnaturally light. He can’t even pretend to dislike you anymore, not when you use the word cute to describe him, not when he likes it. Not when your name is rattling through his head over and over, a mile a minute.

“It’s so cute” you start, nodding along to yourself, “It’s like… nevermind. I don’t even remember what I was about to tell you. Can I get your number?”

That was not smooth.

At all.

But it still works, doesn’t it? You’re not trying too hard, so he doesn’t have to try too hard, either.

“Yeah,” he says, and smiles at you- and takes extra satisfaction in the way you light up. Yellow and radiant.

“Okay.” You wipe your hands down on your apron before pulling out your phone. Its case is glittery pink. The tips of your fingers have pruned.

Before, this would have all been so easy. Bucky could have you beside him the day he met you, turned you over in a whirlwind, in a flurry of milkshakes and dancing to music nobody listens to anymore. He wonders if he should miss you- and then tries to imagine you in a red lip, peroxided curls and a modest day dress, and gets the answer for himself.

He doesn’t miss it.

“Here,” you say, and hand him your phone, and he takes it immediately, he’s so over in his head.

He types his number in with his right hand. When he hands the phone back, the question is already burning in his mind.

“When will I hear from you?”

He shouldn't ask. But he needs to know, always needs to know things. Things can only be so irrational, it has to start making sense sometime- and anyways, it doesn’t seem to bother you. You stare at his number, type something in and put your phone away, and the whole time you’re grinning, and he realizes.

You’re pretty.

“Sometime.” you say, and you reach behind your back to untie the strings of your apron. As you bring the neck of it over your head, you wink.

Sometimes, parts of him still feel frozen, trapped in ice, like he wants to smile but can’t remember how, like he’s forever moving too slow, falling too far behind and below.

Right now, he’s all thawed out.

“You’re gonna keep me waiting like that?” He says, and he takes a daunting step forward, cocks his head to the side. He’s on autopilot, reacting on muscle memory alone- this is flirting, this is charming like it’s ‘38.

You nod, adopt a mock seriousness. “I am,” you say. “I like to keep a little bit of mystery.”

“Mystery girl.”

“You know it.”

His heartstrings loop over themselves, tying into in a double-knotted bow.

45 notes · View notes

nbapprentice · 6 years

Photo

there’s so, so, SO much nonsense surrounding this game that i’m gonna do my best to separate it into digestible bits, with its own categories. even then this is... wow. it’s big.

Warning tags will be added at the start of every section, but the general gist is: incest, pedophilia mentions, fetishization of rape and abuse, fetishization of mlm, fetishization of people of color, racism, ableism, nb erasure and transphobia. aside of the warnings, this post will also touch upon Scummy Business Practices

let’s get going

Dana Rune’s and Elle’s lack of moral fiber: #incest #pedophilia#rape and abuse fetishization #homophobia

tl;dr: dana loves incest porn, elle loves guy on guy rape, and the both of them are friends with at least one pedophile

dana rune has run, is still running an incest zine (please visit my faq on what i think about “thats not really incest” and “it’s just fictional!”). The Arcana, as a dev team, clearly does not care, as shown in their e-mail responses.

dana also very much doesn’t care and has reacted to any criticism on this by dismissing people and blocking actual incest victims who tried to contact her about it claiming it was for her “mental health”

in some tweets she claims she “interprets” the characters as not siblings, but she never really cared enough to cover her ass when it all began (she happily admits she’d “cross the incest line”)

dana has commissioned artists who also ship incest, draw near-pedophilic art that’s supposed to pass as acceptable because the character involved is supposedly not a minor despite looking like a child down to wearing pigtails (the character is also wearing a racist-ass belly dancer outfit), AND even made white-washed fanart of The Arcana.

dana follows twitter user kapymui who also produces incestuous Fire Emblem art

dana has retweeted omocat long after it came out that omocat is, at the very least, consuming pedophilic content (on “omocat didn’t know what shota meant!”: yes they did)

moving on, elle has a long, long, LONG history of fetishizing mlm and the rape and abuse that comes with yaoi and had a rich, RICH “yaoi” tag before they deleted their tumblr

they curiously deleted their tumblr right after i made this reblog

shortly after that, tumblr user thalassiq remade and started attacking and insulting any blogs criticizing them - even people providing support in IMs. Since this doesn’t match Dana and Elle’s normal pity parties I’m personally willing to believe they were just a person wanting to start shit - but it’s so telling how Elle used this chance to dismiss everyone who disagrees with them by calling them “children” and did not even bother to offer a kind word to people who were harassed and even had their trauma mocked by this person. It costs 0 dollars to say “that was not me but I’m sorry about people who were hurt.”

Dana and Elle are close with Ava’s Demon creator Michelle Czajkowski aka that one person who endorses child porn of her characters, and even had her draw a promo image for the game. Michelle has been creating highly sexualized content of her minor characters for a while now.

ok so elle and dana are gross freaks, how is that related to the game?

oh it’s very very related

Dana Rune’s and Elle’s lack of moral fiber that’s Actually Inside The Game or The Game’s Blog: now with more #racism #fetishization of poc and mlm #whitewashing #fat hate #pedophilia #nb erasure #transphobia

tl;dr: the arcana is filled to the brim with racism! so much of it! haha holy shit! and that’s not even where it ends!!!

their game is rated PG-13 but includes incredibly sexual situations such as Julian making this fucking face while getting off on pain. This isn’t the only time Dana and Elle use their videogame aimed at young teens to showcase their kinks and fetishes. I have no issue with NSFW or titillating content, as long as it’s rated accordingly. This content is NOT and it’s a blatant disregard for their audience just to have a larger, more pliable demographic and have more money sent their way.

if you start your argument with “well, teenagers look at porn” 1. shut up 2. theres a HUGE difference between teenagers going after adult content aimed at adults, and adults creating content they know will be seen by kids barely starting puberty

as pointed above, dana has 0 qualms literally commissioning people who make whitewashed fanart of her own fucking game that’s supposed to be all about the inclusivity and safe spaces

thearcanagame blog has a pattern of reblogging whitewashed fanart (before you come in swinging with the good ole “ITS THE LIGHTING”: 1. no it isnt 2. the artist should’ve picked better lightning then 3. i draw and post shit online too so dont come telling me i just dont understaaaand),

fanart of their fat characters showed skinnier than they are in their sprites (although to be real for a moment - Portia is curvy at most and them behaving she’s fat rep is HILARIOUS).

going back to NSFW content: nadia and asra are overwhemlingly sexualized in the game, and were the first to have sexualized CGs and sprites introduced.

CGs: Asra’s here, here aND HERE, Nadia’s here with a NSFW warning because she’s just got her whole fucking ass out. Sprites: Asra’s thank god for whoever compiled it all in one image, Nadia’s and once again, NSFW warning lmfao!

Julian’s sprites on the other hand are noticeably tamer, including the one where he’s fucking strapped in leather. His only sexual (NSFW warning because its literally softcore tentacle porn WHICH, ONCE AGAIN, SHOULDN’T BE PUT IN A GAME AIMED AT 13YOS) CGs were also included months after Nadia and Asra received any of theirs.

Through all of the updates, people have constantly requested that Asra and Nadia’s sexualization be toned down, and time after time The Arcana just churned out fetishistic, hypersexualized content at an absurd rate, especially when compared to the one white love interest.

Oh, speaking of the one white love interest: Julian is based off of Jeff Goldblum (this is not spectulation - they p much bring it up at any given time) but like. If Jeff Goldblum was white. They base their favorite love interest off their supposed favorite man in the world but casually leave his skin tone behind. Lmao.

they also play favorites very obviously - in the prologue, Nadia and Asra have a romance paid scene each. Julian has a scene... that requires no coins. Julian was also the first LI to receive three CGs, two of them requiring no coins, while both Asra’s and Nadia’s first CGs were behind a paywall

Dana and Elle have been notoriously skittish about confirming or denying their characters’ ethnicities. After hyping for weeks on thearcanagame that they would confirm the character’s races they basically made a post that amounted to “well they’re not white lol!”

they only relented after the perfectly understandable outrage... and posted a thread about it on Elle’s twitter. Nothing on the actual thearcanagame blog. Anyway, here’s the thread. Note how there’s mention of Julian being Jeff Goldblum... but nothing about him and Portia being Jewish (or “fantasy Jewish” as it were).

The one time they did confirm their jewishness dana then backpedaled and said she shouldn’t have done that lol.

another fun tidbit of how well The Arcana handles race and how much it cares about feedback from fans: an ask was sent about an anon begging for Nadia to step on them. The blog, with the finesse of a bunch of horny dumbasses, didn’t just publish the ask, but approved of it (even though the fans of color had long, long, LONG been telling everyone not to fetishize Nadia into a “step on me kween” wet dream). People were outraged, of course, and the blog ~apologized~ and said they were still learning.... then a new chapter included a scene of Nadia stepping on the Apprentice. 🙃

not to mention elle, on their twitter, made a passive aggressive “women can be doms?” tweet, trying to twist it into a “yr oppressing women” angle (when the issue is that women of color are always constantly portrayed as aggressive and domineering)

Now for a wombo combo of racism and Elle’s fetishization of mlm:

the devs have spoken at length of how Julian’s and Asra’s relationship was quite unhealthy. In a paid scene in Asra’s route, they’re depicted as Asra being disgusted w Julian touching him+Julian following Asra to his shop when Asra refused his offer to go with him (aka julian... stalked him lmfao).

.......... this scene is promptly followed by a highly sexual scenario where Julian’s pain fetish is played up. Remember how this game is rated PG-13? Me neither. Asra’s previous disgust with Julian is also forgotten, for some reason (and by some reason i mean Elle wants to make them fuck w/o buildup or logic).

Then Asra’s route has yet another paid scene dedicated to Asrian, even though he’s supposed to not even like Julian! And be head over heels with the Apprentice! But Elle just has to make these two be entangled despite insisting their relationship was not good for either of them!

Now here’s the kicker: Julian doesn’t have any paid scenes related to his romance with Asra. Note how it’s one of the brown LIs whose route is highjacked by the white LI, but not vice versa. Hmmmmm.

Now, on the topic of Asra: thearcanagame has said repeatedly that he’s nb and uses he/him pronouns, and promised (since last year) that there would be dialogue where he speaks about his gender

as of the making of this post such dialogue still does not exist

so basically asra is the nb to dumbledore’s gay: anyone who just plays the game w/o keeping up with the official blog has no idea of what asra’s gender is supposed to be.

aka he’s not nb. he’s just a cis guy. the arcana just doesn’t want to put its money where its mouth is, i dont care if elle is nb themself. the team made a promise which has not been fulfilled yet and i suspect will not be.

instead, our introduction to canon nb characters is... these two.

By “these two” i mean neither vulgora nor valdemar are even fucking human, and stick out like sore thumbs with their monstruousness.

so our nb rep is... non-human villains. a few books later one of Nadia’s sisters with they/them pronouns shows up, but that’s too little too late on top of the fact that we should’ve known Asra was nb from the first to begin with. It’s a fucking embarrassment and an insult.

at least two villains are visibly disabled (Lucio’s missing arm and Volta’s blind eye+intentionally asymmetrical face). Julian’s eye doesn’t count because, spoilers, he’s not lacking an eye and even if he was it’d still be hidden behind a dashing eyepatch instead of grotesquely displayed as a sign of his lacking morality.

BUT WAIT! IT DOESN’T EVEN END THERE!

The Arcana Exploits The App Business Model To Price Their Full Game at $500, $1000 if the three extra routes make it out, and they never delivered their Kickstarter rewards:

tl;dr: you heard me

the original price per route was planned on being $1.99

they took that “subject to change” really seriously, it seems, because now each route, once the game is fully out, is estimated to cost around $170 each.

both those screenshots are taken from this post which explains in detail just how truly scummy all of The Arcana’s business model and decisions are: https://mysticmicrotransactions.tumblr.com/post/174308723344/dishonesty-from-the-arcana

the tl;dr is basically what’s listed in the beginning of this section, but other highlights from that post are: the use of addictive gambling mechanics such the Wheel of Fortune, and the dazzling calls to action in the new mini-game.

something that The Arcana supporters forget (or choose to ignore) is the fact that for a long, long time the game did not have the mini-game or the log-in rewards for coins. Players depended only on the gambling of the WoF or paying absurd amounts of money for the new chapters.

the devs went from playing the victims who were unable of controlling prices to (as spoken of in the link from mysticmicrotransactions) saying the making of the game (a pathetic little app game backed by a studio and a kickstarter) justifies the prices

they also gave people false hope about maybe changing the prices in the future, all while bleeding money from loyal players in “micro” transactions

the arcana literally added a $99.99 coins option on their latest update

in case it hasn’t sunk in yet: you can pay a hundred dollars upfront to the arcana, and you still will not have access to the whole game

there is no defense to this

none

“it’s free stop whining” let me explain:

“spend months on end accumulating fake currency or pay hundreds of dollars up-front to be able to play” is a scummy business model no matter how you look at it

if i can spend $60 upfront to play an AAA game there’s no excuse to demand more than that for a game with much smaller and, honestly, inferior content

the combination of there being already far and few games featuring lgbt characters and characters of color AND the little cult of personality set up by Dana and Elle makes people feel that spending money to support them is an acceptable expense.

it’s not

manipulating people into spending ridiculous amounts of money and then claiming “it’s their choice” is just scummy business, baby, and thats all the arcana does

the devs are brats who instead of admitting $500 is absurd for a game instead write petty little caricatures into their game - like, lbr: dana, elle, if i could afford diamonds in my hair i wouldn’t have even bothered with your shitstain of a game

despite bragging that ppl would get the full story w/o needing to pay, the paid scenes are pretty much required - the first few books of julian’s route have no romance without accessing any of the paid options. you dont even get so much as a kiss in without handing coins over. many, many people were baffled when julian had a teary break-up scene when from their perspective they hadn’t even started building a relationship.

wow that’s more than i ever thought it’d be

and i’ve been aware of their bullshit for near a whole year now!

i don’t have much of a note to end this on, other than: the arcana just isn’t even that good. it suffers from weak writing, pathetic character development and above all actually harmful content. do not try to argue with me on any of these points unless you’ve read all of that, because whatever you have to say i’ve likely mentioned before. if you still are that determined to yell at a me on the internet, please preface your argument with the phrase “I’m a pee pee poo poo man” so I know you’ve read everything in here. thank you!

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #count lucio #asra #HAHA HOO BOY

4K notes · View notes

zimsrightantenna · 5 years

Text

Reblogs feel awesome but no reblogs is OK too

Okay so I know a lot of artists say they get hurt if you only like instead of reblogging but I want to say you absolutely don’t have to reblog my art!

Like. If you run a Goth Metal Death-core Vent blog and like my pastel fluffy Steven Universe fan art instead of reblogging it, thank you so much for showing your support that’s absolutely valid you aren’t obligated to make some side blog to promote random art you think is cool

And if you’re in the same fandom and just happen to think “I’ll queue that for later” or “I want to show support of this/give it attention but I don’t necessarily want it on my blog” maybe it’s a doodle maybe tumblr butchered the quality maybe it is adult content maybe it’s a topic you’re iffy about maybe it’s just not your taste it is OK to just like my post instead of reblogging if just didn’t want it on your blog

And if you don’t want it on your blog but still want to share it? Just send the post to people, it’s okay to share in a way I can’t see it even if seeing it being shared makes me happy

And if you don’t ship a ship I’m making fan art for but still want to like or reblog? Go for it! You get to tag it as “I don’t ship it but the art is cute” some people think that’s rude but I think it’s awesome and if you want your followers to know what you ship and don’t that’s perfectly valid I wouldn’t want people to think I ship ships I dislike either tbh?

And if you reblog my Funy Meme text post with 1000+ notes but not the drawing I worked hard on, go ahead! Sometimes people just want to share a laugh, and sometimes my art isn’t funny or their taste or what they came to the fandom to enjoy

Any support is good support and when I create something you don’t want to see it’s okay to be Looking Away (“I do not see it”)

Thanks for reading my essay I don’t know if this counts as discourse this is just what goes for My Blog where I Make The Rulez

1 note · View note

agentofship · 5 years

Text

Fandom Appreciation Day

There's already been so many wonderful things posted for today and I can only agree with everything that's been said and hope I'm able to express how much I love this fandom!

I hadn't been such an active part of a fandom in years and even though I started watching the show in season one and been a fan ever since, it took me a long time to engage in fandom. Even though I started writing fics a few years ago and got lovely reactions, I was a little too shy to come and talk to people other than through comments on Ao3. But I finally did and I couldn't be happier for it ❤️

It might sound a little cheesy but I love that it brings together people from all over the world who have this one thing in common (and often many others) that we would never have met if it wasn't for AoS. It's a wonderful to have this place filled with amazing people who understand better than anyone in real life what this show can make us feel, who understand how incredibly happy we can be over a specific event or devastated by another. To me, it's also a safe place to share all my thoughts about it but also whatever my mind comes up with, wether it's art or fics. And it's great to know that only people will not judge me for it, but they will enjoy it and it might even make their day better. And on the other hand, when I feel down, I can only count on the fandom to have just the right fic or gif or funny that will comfort me and make me feel better 🙂 Ok, so this is the stressful part because I want to give shout outs to my favorite blogs, people and artists but I don't want to forget anyone because this place is so full of lovely people! And I love you all as much as Fitz loves Hunter <3

So, to begin with, I want to give a special shout out to @libbyweasley for being an absolute angel ❤️ When I say I finally decided to come here and talk to people, I should say that she's the first one who came to talk to me and gave me the confidence I needed to fully join the fandom ❤️ Also, not only is she a wonderful writer whose stories never fail to give me all the feels, but she is also incredibly supportive of all the writers here. I mean, I always feel like a story isn't really complete until Libby has commented it, right? 😄 She helped me so much by beta-reading all my stories and my writing and English have both improved so much because of it 🙂 And for all this, thank you so much ❤️

A big thank you to @sunalsolove for her wonderful stories who have made this hiatus much more bearable and is such a wonderful, supportive friend in this fandom 🙂 With Heathens, she introduced me to this wonderful ship that is Sci & Spies, but above all, it was wonderful to work together on it <3

A big thank you to all the wonderful writers here who always produce beautiful and incredibly original stories and who have made this hiatus feel much shorter than it could have been 🙂

@blancasplayground for her beautifully written stories either alone or with Libby (I hope season six gives you the Steampunk Iain content of your dreams)

@ritalara for her beautiful stories of fluffiness and smut, the delicious Iain content and her support

@robotgort because A Season Away was magnificent and Operation Aloha has been a balm to my heart after such a horrible season finale.

@mrsleopoldfitz for her gorgeous FitzSimmons stories, especially the one she wrote for me for the Christmas exchange and which was gorgeous.

@ughfitz for her lovely stories and the beautiful edits and gifs.

@jemmafitzsimmons for her gorgeous gifs and keeping the Fitzsimmons fandom especially alive with the FitzSimmons appreciation week and Secret Santa exchange

@bunnykaye for her perfect and beautiful gifs I have shamelessly been reblogging all week because they just perfectly express what I feel about this show.

@fitzsimmonssource for keeping us up to date with all things FitzSimmons and creating beautiful gifs

@agl03 for taking so much time on metas, news and analysis for this fandom @whistlingwindtree for being very sweet and bringing out the kinkiest side of us all with the kink bingo (which had been a lot of fun too of course :D) @agentpolarbear and her gorgeous moodboards making us all want to write AUs we didn't even know we wanted to write

@2minutes2midnight because she's the sweetest and a very positive part of this fandom and as a writer an artist, her comments always put a huge smile on my face :)

@romanticmum @agentmanatee and @bwozzler for being very sweet and supportive :)

@aospositivityweek for having this wonderful idea and giving us an opportunity to spread the love <3

@aosdrunktexts @incorrectfitzsimmonsquotes and @incorrectagentsofshieldquotes for being completely hilarious and often painfully accurate :D

And a last shoutout to TomatoBookWorm if she happens to be around reading this. Your comments are always a delight as are your stories (I'm terrible at leaving comments, but I swear I will comment on your stories I read lately)

I might have forgotten a few people (I'll still have tomorrow to catch up though :D) but know that I'm very grateful for everyone in this fandom making such a wonderful, special place <3 Edited to add the wonderful people keeping the @aosficnet2 alive and @weareagentsofnothing for being a lovely part of this fandom :)

#aospositivityweek #fandom appreciation day #love you all

25 notes · View notes

hpconsentfest · 6 years

Text

That’s a Wrap!

It’s been nearly 7 months since the idea of a consent themed fest was born from a discussion in the Drarry Squad discord. It’s been said before, but it bears repeating: when we the mods first began planning the fest in earnest we discussed how 5 ficlets would be a success (and that’s with two of us writing!).

After just over 6 weeks of posting, the HD Consent Fest AO3 collection hosts:

-55 different writers and artists, including 11 who identified themselves as writing in a fest for the first time

-56 submissions

-50 fics

- > 800,915 words (words embedded in comics and graphic novels not counted); average word count = 16018

-6 beautiful works of visual art, including 2 comics and a graphic novel

And these stats don’t even account for all the HYPE that followers of the fest shared—keeping the fest buzzing on AO3, tumblr, and discord via recs, chat, comments, kudos, likes, and reblogs.

Needless to say, mates, we are chuffed. You have done more than blow away our wildest hopes; you have strapped them to a rocket and shot the rock into outer space.

To everyone who submitted fic or art or both, we are staggered, humbled, and beyond grateful for all of the thought, energy, time, love, and sweat you poured into your submissions.

To everyone who read along, whether you read something every week or looked at even 1 work—thank you.

Finishing posting feels not unlike crossing the finishing line after a marathon: we’re high on fandom endorphins, elated, excited about what this community accomplished together and how much fun we had doing it, but we’re also ready for a nap!

Below is the Reveals Master List. We encourage everyone to lavish these fan work creators with love!

ART:

Breaths Against Skin by @carpemermaidtales/ carpemermaid, Mature Summary: Harry has picked up a habit of breathing "May I?" against Draco's skin.

Can I Kiss You? By @ano-ka-ba /anokaba, Mature Summary: can I kiss you?

Harry: *staring longingly at Draco's thighs*

Draco: *raises eyebrow, reaches for Harry's glasses*

Harry: *finally drags eyes up*

Draco: *pulls towards and wraps legs around*

Harry: *grabs bum*

Suits and Serenity, by @illuminatedweasel, Teen Summary: “You looked hot out there today.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Mhm, can I kiss you now?”

“I thought you’d never ask”

Worth In the Wait by @sailorslash /SailorSlash, Teen Summary: A short comic about the night of Harry and Draco's wedding.

You're the only exception and I'm on my way to believe it. By @mea-momento/mea_momento, General Summary: While stuck in a convoluted fake dating plot, the boys have to keep checking with each other for consent to do things like pretend to kiss in public for the sake of their ruse.

ART & FIC:

It's a Plan by @torrancelim /Marshview, Teen Summary: Harry and Draco are in a relationship, but Draco was raped in the past, and cannot kiss Harry on the lips or have sex. He does enjoy forehead kisses, cuddles, and showing affection. Harry understands, and gives Draco the kind of love and support Draco needs.

The Shetland Demon by @owlpostart/Owlpostart (Charlotte_Bird), Mature Summary: Draco Malfoy of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has been sent to a remote Scottish island to handle the post-mortem and clean up of a washed up magical beast. The Scottish Auror office have also sent one of theirs, Harry Potter, somebody Draco hasn’t seen in several years, but with whom he shares a romantic history. Draco quickly finds himself slipping back into old habits while struggling to maintain his own agency and professionalism. Is it the beast’s malevolent influence or genuine yet long buried affection for Harry that’s behind their slide back into physical and emotional intimacy?

FIC:

5A by @neveranygoodupthere/neveranygoodupthere, Mature Summary: It’s his twenty fifth visit to the flat. A posh spot in midtown Manhattan with updated appliances, rooftop access, and a snooty doorman. A spot that five years ago would have been inconceivable to its resident. But war and death and time all wreak their changes.

About Time by @reginaagr0na/LadyOfTheAttic, Teen Summary: Harry opens his big mouth and must pretend to date Draco Malfoy to keep things from blowing up in his face even further.

Arseholes by@postjentacular/postjentacular, Explicit Summary: In which words and actions don't mean the same thing.

Asking For It by @gold-from-straw/Lynds, Teen Summary: Fill for post 109 on the Consent Fest: Draco tells Scorpius about his own experience of sexual abuse when teaching him about consent, and becomes involved with helping other parents teach their children about consent, and dealing with lad culture.

Beautiful Eyes and Dark Blue Skies by @foularcadebanana/Yesimawriter, Teen Summary: Everybody knew about the rivalry that brewed between the two kings living in neighbouring kingdoms and not much changed after one of them died. This surely meant that when their children met at the age of sixteen, both princes and heirs to their respective thrones, they would develop a deep all-consuming hatred for each other as well. Surely they would not happen to like one another. Surely not.

Bed Music by @lower-east-side/LowerEastSide, Explicit Summary: The new call-in sex advice show on the WWN is Very Inappropriate, Harry thinks. But he finds himself spending more and more time with Malfoy anyways. Will Draco be able to convince him of the necessity of open discourse on sex, consent, and intimacy? And what are the Greengrass sisters plotting? Caller, go ahead!

Bloody Tease by ENCHANTED_JAE, Explicit Summary: Draco wants to be sure that Harry is willing. Very, very sure.

Brick by Brick by @agentmoppet/agentmoppet, Explicit Summary: There’s something between the two of them, something that builds beneath the smoky lights of the club and grows stronger during midnight conversations held on a rooftop high above the streets of London. But Draco wants to wait.

Cherished by @acciotomriddle/leontina (Leontina), Explicit Summary: Ever since Draco was turned into a vampire he hasn’t touched Harry, and Harry desperately wants to know why. When they finally turn, surprising revelations are made.

Cold Like Fire by @queenofthyme/QueenofThyme, Mature Summary: Head Auror, Harry Potter, had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch.

Come Inside by @vaguedisclaimer-ao3/VagueDisclaimer, Explicit Summary: “Can I come inside you?" Harry asks, his voice a breathy whisper.

And Draco nods, just once, ever so slightly, biting his plump bottom lip and looking deeply into Harry's eyes.

At least, that’s how Harry imagined it going.

Communication Is Key (For A Happy Ending) by @articcat621/articcat621, Mature Summary: Draco can tell that there's something on Harry's mind.

A Day in the Life by @unadulteratedstorycollector/unadulteratedstorycollector, Explicit Summary: Harry and Draco have been together for years. They have a great sex life. Great and perfectly normal. Sometimes they have sex, sometimes they don't. Sometimes it takes a little persuasion... but not really that much. Ok, barely any.

Everything That Happens is From Now On by @thusspoketrish/trishjames, Explicit Summary: After surviving a brutal assault, Draco tries to navigate the tumultuous waters of his mind, and embrace a bit of love and trust in his life. After all, the smallest steps forward can begin to heal the most fractured of souls.

A Gift for Draco by @norelationtoatticus /SquadOfCats, Explicit Summary:Though their new relationship is going well, both Harry and Draco have trouble communicating and are holding back from taking things to the next level–both emotionally and sexually. When Harry decides he is ready for more, he stumbles over how to start the conversation, but figures out a plan with the help of his friends. He comes up with the perfect Valentine’s Day gift to show Draco trust, commitment, and desire: sexy pictures of his naked arse. Thankfully, Pansy Parkinson has a camera and is willing to help…

A Hag, a Hex, a Tale of Redemption by @aibidil/aibidil, Explicit Summary: A fuck-or-die fairytale in which Draco Malfoy lives a despicable and unapologetic life — that is, until he’s cursed to die unless he can fall in love with and fuck Harry Potter.

Have Me Then by crazyparakiss, Explicit Summary: In Draco’s world, women are expected to be demure, non-lusting creatures. They are expected to be devoted while their husbands cater to base desires with women of the evening. All passions they are permitted lie between dusty, well-worn pages of romance novels. Draco doesn’t want to be that woman, but as she spends her days—unfulfilled—in the arms of a boring lover she dreams of more. Potter is so much more than she could imagine.

Highly (in)Compatible by @callingdrarry/gracie137, Explicit Summary: Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it?

I Don't Want This to Be a Mistake by @maraudersaffair/maraudersaffair, Explicit Summary: Consent can be tricky when Harry is Scorpius’ professor.

In the Ways That Matter by @FleetofShippyShips/FleetofShippyShips, Mature Summary: Falling asleep with Harry Potter mid-argument, while completely pissed, was something Draco could never have predicted happening when he returned for his repeat seventh-year at Hogwarts. But it happened. And then it happened again. And again. At some point the alcohol was gone, and they were just falling asleep side by side night after night, escaping nightmares together.

It isn't anything more than that, even if sometimes it really feels like it is.

It's Been Draco For Awhile by @oceaxereturns/oceaxe, Explicit Summary: What harm can a love potion do if you're already in love?

In which Harry finds out that it's not a love potion but it can do quite a lot of harm, and Draco finds out how fiendishly difficult it is to fend off his flatmate's advances when all he wants is to give in to them.

just drink this and we can do whatever you want by @must-love-drarry/Juh_Nunes, General Summary: Harry was tired of people trying to dose him with love potions, so he decided to create a charm to counter it. Now he only need to test it, unfortunately (or not) it doesn’t work as he was expecting.

Kiss Me on the Mouth (and set me free) by @nerdherderette/PalenDrome (nerdherderette), Explicit Summary: Finding a partner to sate his needs has never presented a dilemma for Draco. That is, until he encounters the fit and willing Head Auror.

Luck Is What You Make It by @starlillie/starlillie, Teen Summary: Liquid Luck. Warning! May cause giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence.

Draco should really read the labels on these things.

The Magic Cat by dot_the_writer, Explicit Summary: When Harry sees Draco Malfoy with painted nails and wearing an oversized jumper covered in cat fur, his obsession from school comes back in full force. Featuring supportive friends, cute cats and lots of Harry figuring out what he wants.

Malfoy’s Anatomy by @novareblogs/Novaa, Teen Summary: Healer interns are nothing short of a bunch of little children running around with wands and severed limbs, having inappropriate sex in inappropriate places. What's the worst that could happen, really?

Missing-him-thing by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion, General Summary: "Did you miss me?" Draco asks.

He’s teasing. Teasing and amused, and he doesn’t mean it, doesn’t expect a serious answer, or an answer at all, so Harry feels quite within his rights to shove Draco away, scoffing. Draco laughs, and it’s not the snide, mocking sound from their childhood, the laugh that used to make rage bubble in every delicate vein, as fierce and forceful as dragon-fire.

Did you miss me?

Every damn day, Harry doesn’t say.

(Harry and Draco teach their kids about consent, and fall in love along the way.)

Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by @korlaena/ korlaena, Explicit Summary: Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything.

Oblivious by @gregqoyle/lealamalfoy, Explicit Summary: One potions class leaves Harry questioning everything. And it seems that there is only one other person that seems willing to question it too.

Orbit by @henrymercury/HenryMercury, Explicit Summary: "The classical problem of celestial mechanics, perhaps of all Newtonian mechanics, involves the motion of one body about another under the influence of their mutual gravitation."

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

Perfectly Imperfect by @astronomicalblaise/pansypxrkinson, Teen Summary: What is going on with Potter? Draco doesn’t know. He’s too busy worrying about Salazar and choking on Pansy’s cucumber sandwiches. Now Potter’s owl is out for blood and Blaise has to be stopped.

All things considered, it’s hard being an investigative journalist and a crazy person at the same time.

Proper by @violetclarity/violetclarity, Explicit Summary: Draco sighs. “What kind of absolute twit has the chance to have sex with the Chosen One and can’t go through with it?” // In which Draco studies with Gryffindors, learns a new spell, and navigates the difficulty of being in a not-so-casual secret relationship with his childhood nemesis.

Purity Control by @frnklymrshnkly/frnklymrshnkly, Teen Summary: In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about is unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

Say The Words (Say Them Out Loud) by @goldentruth813/GoldenTruth813, Explicit Summary: When Draco gets assigned as the Auror to guard Harry Potter day and night, he is sure nothing good will come of it. But as the days go on Draco is forced to evaluate himself and things he thought to be true about Potter and relationships. Sometimes it's not love at first sight. Sometimes, first, it's miscommunication and misunderstanding. A story in which Harry and Draco learn to accept the things they want from themselves and from each other.

Show Me by @bangyababy/bangyababy, Explicit Summary: On Harry and Draco's anniversary, they decide to try something new, but Draco won't do anything he isn't 100% sure Harry wants. So Harry tells him, every step of the way.

Silenced by the night by @parkkate/parkkate, Mature Summary: After a spell goes horribly wrong, Harry has to deal with the loss of his eyesight. It’s such terrible timing, too, because how is he supposed to find out what Malfoy has been up to in the Room of Requirement? It’s not like he can ask the git, not only because it’s Malfoy, but also because the Slytherin has suddenly lost his voice. While they’re both trapped in the hospital wing, however, Harry discovers there’s so much he didn’t know about Malfoy, and it’s highly intriguing, but also a bit alarming. Where did all these confusing feelings come from all of a sudden? And what is Harry going to do about them?

Start a Revolution (From My Bed) by @untilourapathy/untilourapathy (gwendolen_lotte), Teen Summary: Harry’s coming of age starts at breakfast. A peek into the lives of the Eighth Years as they become bona fide feminists over jam and croquet. Featuring the fear of growing apart, Blur and a pink cravat.

the strength in letting go by @candybarrnerd/icarusinflight, Teen Summary: Some relationships will end. This is something that everyone should be aware of, and there is no shame in ending a relationship. These things happen, and certainly, no one should stay in an unhappy relationship. We don’t want to have people learning to maintain their suffering here—only fix what can be fixed.

In which Harry and Ginny seek counselling when their marriage is on the rocks—it just doesn’t work out quite like Harry’s wanted it to.

Teach Me by @xxthedarklordxx/XxTheDarkLordxX, Mature Summary: "If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

No. All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.”

"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can't guarantee he will teach you, especially considering your... past."

"You don't mean Malfoy, do you?"

Team Slytherdor by @gingertodgers/GingerTodgers, Teen Summary: Rolanda Hooch takes the Slytherdor Quidditch team to the Sheffield Central Travelodge for some team bonding.

Tell Me How You Like It by @phd-mama/phdmama, Explicit Summary: It's a beautiful sunny day, and when Ron is laid up in the common room with a broken ankle, he gets more of a glimpse into his best friend's private life than he ever might have wanted!

Ten Thousand Reasons Why Not by @lqtraintracks/lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), Explicit Summary: Harry and Draco are stand-ins for the usual witch who gives the workplace harassment and sexual consent talk to the Auror trainees. Or, a little tale in which Harry consents to be sexually harassed by Draco Malfoy.

That's What You Get For Waking Up by @alpha-exodus/alpha_exodus, Explicit Summary: Draco wakes up in the morning hungover and with someone in his bed. He never could've dreamed it would be Harry Potter.

To Hear You Say It by @drarrymylove/jeni_andtheafterthought, Explicit Summary: Hogwarts has put together an eighth year in order to allow all students a chance to complete their N.E.W.T.'s. Harry and the other "eighth year" students come back to a much different Hogwarts. Harry could get used to a new dormitory, harder classes, even his new roommate. He could even get used to all the new rules and expectations. Making is bed? How hard could it be?

Trapped by @foularcadebanana/Yesimawriter, Mature Summary: Harry was stuck in an enclosed space with no way to get out, and he just happened to have been stuck in there with Malfoy.

Treat Your Body Like A Temple by @rose-grangerweasleyisbae/donnarafiki, Mature Summary: It hadn't been easy, and it hadn't been fast, but after many years Harry had finally gained Draco's trust. Now he woke up next to him every day, and he knew just the way to show the Slytherin how grateful he was for that.

We Sleep In Pairs by @protegototalvm/darkestbliss, Mature Summary: We do not blame flowers for their death. But when Draco’s magic dies after the War, he struggles to forgive himself, and it’s going to take far more than striking up a companionship with Harry Potter for him to heal.

When Nightmares Lead to Day Dreams by @drarryismymuse/Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn), Explicit Summary: Harry Potter didn’t want to return to Hogwarts for 8th year, concerned that the castle held too many terrible memories. Lacking any other plan, though, he agreed. He soon discovered how right AND how wrong he was.

Wing It, Baby! I Want to Fly with You by @sliceosunshine/ SliceOSunshine, Teen Summary: Harry finds him in a ditch. He never expected the life of a Superhero to be easy. But showing your enemies mercy is so hard

Still looking for more great HP fanfic? The following fests are or will soon be posting:

HP Horror Fest/@hphorrorfest (Posting April 30 - May 13)

HDS Beltane/@hdsbeltane (Posting starts May 1)

HD-Remix/@hd-remix (Posting starts May 28)

#wrap up

1K notes · View notes

tsubi-uru · 7 years

Note

Is there a difference between being inspired by someone else's work and copying? Where do you think that line is drawn?

This is an interesting question to answer. This was something I learned in college a few years ago with regards to mainly the artistic world. My instructor stated that because art has been around for so long, it’s nearly impossible to create anything completely original. That if you see something, its ok to want to draw it, or recreate it, as long as you attempt to make it original as you can…try to make it your own. I think she even stated that its ok to keep roughly 40% of the original work in the piece, but the last 60% needs to be yours. This also falls into the ideal of referencing, tracing etc. Many artists struggle with whether its ok to reference or not, whether its ok to trace. Sadly as of late I’ve seen many people respond or post ideals that I do not find truly healthy for any artist at any stage in their career. Or I’ve seen one artist post a piece, then a week later another person posts something eerily similar. Or artists that YEARS AGO hopped on band wagons harping other artists for tracing, then for w/e reason are now suddenly ok with it. While it’s ok to see something you like and want to recreate, I honestly feel there needs to be some sort of mutual respect for the person you are inspired by. But this is where I feel a bit conflicted. I see artists will pay ‘higher respect’ for a well-established artist. They’ll make a note in their piece stating “I was inspired the great yadya so I recreated this piece.” But when it comes to, let’s say, a not so popular artist, the same respect isn’t there. I believe all artists of all skill level if, inspire another, have the right to be let known that they are doing so. While I don’t think you need to state in every piece everyone time, if you find yourself heavily inspired to the point of recreating a piece instead of attempting to changing that 60% of the work, you need to let said artist know or mention the piece somehow in your piece. It’s the right thing to do. With that said, this brings up the argument…is referencing really ok? But it requires so much work to just pay homage to an artist…sometimes its hard for people to bite their tongue and either a) mention they are, or b) allowing yourself to accept that referencing is ok.Referencing is perfectly fine, I myself reference a lot. Hell, I have a personal sideblog where I reblog a lot of stuff I like, whether it’s a certain artists painting style, or how they drew a character a certain way etc. Don’t hold yourself back from the idea that it is bad, we all have to learn and looking at references helps us do so. Just try and make it your own, try your best, show the world how awesome can be in YOUR STYLE. Change up the pose a little, the color scheme, the character portrayed, ANYTHING to show that you are attempting to showcase your ability and capacity that could potentially become something better than even the original itself. Now going back a little to paying respect to someone you reference, especially if they are the same community, is well, honestly not only beneficial to the artist, but to yourself as well. Don’t think people won’t see what you’re doing…most of us keep our traps shut because we don’t wish to rile up drama, but you are being judged, and eventually it come back to bite you. Whether its constantly copying pieces all the time, tracing every single part of your piece or what have you, you’re not only hurting the person you are taking from, but you are hindering your growth to even fully evolve as an artist yourself. Why would you want to do that to yourself? Don’t you want to become better? Stop holding yourself back and let yourself GROW. The whole subject is a very sensitive topic for me. While pursuing my associates, I dealt with my own share of plagiarism. While not art related, it had to do with a personal short story I had wrote over a semester. I made the mistake of giving a copy to a classmate, and the said person showed/posted it on facebook. It was my mistake, and it’s with anything being shared, you have that risk of having your work taken. The whole incident for a long time (and still does) deter me from pursuing my writing beyond just having my ideas and publicly sharing them. If anyone reads this, please take what I’m saying and try to understand. I’ve had many strong feelings on this subject as of late, and while I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut, I felt the need to saying something. While I love this community dearly and have met some of the most amazing and beautiful artists ever, there is always so much discourse between us that it makes me sad…always trying to go after the other, saying crude and rude things, discrediting, its so sad. Some of it is based off personal relations, which can’t be helped, but I wish at times we could all just try and stick together and support each other.I’m very sorry for the rant. I personally hate talking publicly about my feelings, as I prefer sticking to those I trust, but I felt I’ve held these feelings in far too long to not be honest. I myself am not innocent in not saying I don’t reference, I traced when I first started drawing back in HS, I use brushes made by other artists and a few of my own in my pieces, and I get how hard it is to draw in general. My journey as an artist has been struggle both mentally and physically, but I keep going because I wish to continue to grow and hopefully become something great, and share my feelings through my work. I believe I’ve done many great things, and I hope to continue to do so, I want to keep creating things that make not only others proud, but myself. I believe the rest of us also wish to do this, deep down. I want you all to succeed, and you all have the capacity to do so, but respect each other on your journey. It will only help you, not hurt you.If anyone wishes to speak with me privately over this, or wishes to respond my door is open. Once again, sorry to flood your dashes with rabble, but I needed to say it. -Tsubi/Choobi

24 notes · View notes

iamshadow21 · 8 years

Text

Questions and Answers: a conversation about privilege, fandom, representation, and boundaries

#diversity #representation #fandom #media #straight privilege #actually queer #queer representation #bad behaviour #homophobia #questions and answers #check your privilege #fyi #tinhatting

2 notes · View notes

hpconsentfest · 6 years

Text

Weekly Roundup 2

We can’t believe we’ve been posting for a fortnight! We’re so pleased to be sharing these wonderful creations everyday and equally delighted to see the love everyone lavishing on the MAs in the form of Kudos, comments, likes, reblogs, and recs.

Thank you to everyone participating!

ART:

Title: Can I Kiss You? Artist: Anonymous Prompt: # 42 Rating: R Warnings/Content Notes: kitchen kiss, resolved pining, nonverbal consent Summary: can I kiss you?

Harry: *staring longingly at Draco’s thigh* Draco: *raises eyebrow, reaches for Harry’s glasses* Harry: *finally drags eyes up* Draco: *pulls towards and wraps legs around* Harry: *grabs bum*

Medium: Digital Artist’s Notes: I chose this prompt because it seemed like the simplest way to show consent - a question and an answer.

Can I Kiss You?

FIC & ART:

Title: It’s a Plan Author/Artist: Anonymous Prompt: #67 Rating: T Warnings/Content Notes: mention of past rape/noncon Summary: Harry and Draco are in a relationship, but Draco was raped in the past, and cannot kiss Harry on the lips or have sex. He does enjoy forehead kisses, cuddles, and showing affection. Harry understands, and gives Draco the kind of love and support Draco needs. Word Count: 2,546 Author’s Notes: This is my first time participating in a fest. When I read the prompts, I got an immediate image in my head that I wanted to draw. I wasn’t planning on writing the story, too, but before I set pencil to paper, the words just fell out and insisted on being written down. Many thanks to the incomparable A for the above-and-beyond beta. Your input vastly improved the story. I couldn’t resist messing with it further, so any remaining mistakes are all mine.

It’s a Plan

FIC:

Title: the strength in letting go Author: Anonymous Prompt: #4 Rating: Teen Warnings/Content Notes: no content warnings apply Summary: Some relationships will end. This is something that everyone should be aware of, and there is no shame in ending a relationship. These things happen, and certainly, no one should stay in an unhappy relationship. We don’t want to have people learning to maintain their suffering here—only fix what can be fixed.

In which Harry and Ginny seek counselling when their marriage is on the rocks—it just doesn’t work out quite like Harry’s wanted it to.

Word Count: 6,149 Author’s Notes: Many thanks to S for beta'ing for me and turning my jumble of words into a story

the strength in letting go

Title: Silenced by the Night Author: Anonymous Prompt: 21 Rating: Mature Warnings/Content Notes: None Summary: After a spell goes horribly wrong, Harry has to deal with the loss of his eyesight. It’s such terrible timing, too, because how is he supposed to find out what Malfoy has been up to in the Room of Requirement? It’s not like he can ask the git, not only because it’s Malfoy, but also because the Slytherin has suddenly lost his voice. While they’re both trapped in the hospital wing, however, Harry discovers there’s so much he didn’t know about Malfoy, and it’s highly intriguing, but also a bit alarming. Where did all these confusing feelings come from all of a sudden? And what is Harry going to do about them? Word Count: 55537 Author’s Notes: I never thought this day would come. I can’t believe this thing is finally finished. There are no words to describe how much I love my friend, who let me rant and freak out for hours, who helped me through this without complaining once. I love you so much! Thank you to my beta for your dedication, the time and effort you put into helping me with this disaster of a fic. I don’t know how to thank you! You’re not only the best beta I could have wished for, you’re an incredible friend and I love you so much! I feel so lucky to have you guys in my life! Lastly, I wouldn’t have written this fic, if it weren’t for this great fest. A big thank you to the mods for organizing it! This was an amazing idea!

Silenced by the Night

Title: Team Slytherdor Author: Anonymous Prompt: 53 Rating: Teen Warnings/Content Notes: Underage, Harry and Draco are both 14. Summary: Rolanda Hooch takes the Slytherdor Quidditch team to the Sheffield Central Travelodge for some team bonding. Word Count: 8844 Author’s Notes: This is my attempt to give Harry James Potter some of the fun, awkward teenage experiences that he missed out on in canon. It’s set during Harry and Draco’s Fourth Year when for Authorly Reasons there are no Death Eaters and Voldemort has not been resurrected.

Thank you to the mods for organising such a fantastic fest! Thank you to everyone on the Drarry Discord for talking through ideas with me, especially F, G, G, G, S, C and A.

And thank you to NH, a beta with the enthusiasm of a Gryffindor, the work ethic of a Hufflepuff, the sly humour of a Slytherin, and the comma herding abilities of a Ravenclaw.

Check the end notes for a glossary of all the Muggle snacks mentioned.

Team Slytherdor

Title: Teach Me Author: Anonymous Prompt: Prompt 35 Rating: M Warnings/Content Notes: No warnings apply. Summary: “If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can’t guarantee he will teach you, especially considering your… past.”

“You don’t mean Malfoy, do you?”

Word Count: 34,490 Author’s Notes: I would like to thank my beta Dean and Cas for helping me look this over after editing. I appreciate you both so much. And also J and R for listening to me and helping me mentally. I needed all the support you both gave me.

Teach Me

Title: A Day in the Life Author: Anonymous Prompt: # 51 Rating: Explicit Warnings/Content Notes: Established relationship, switching, Anal sex Summary: Harry and Draco have been together for years. They have a great sex life. Great and perfectly normal. Sometimes they have sex, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes it takes a little persuasion… but not really that much. Ok, barely any. Word Count: 5,597 Author’s Notes: For prompt 51: Established relationship: Harry and Draco have been together for years and it’s series of vignettes of regular days. One of them really wants to have sex and the other one is busy working or something. Where is the line between acceptable and unacceptable persuasion? In some cases they end up having sex, in some they don’t; in some Draco’s the one who wants to have sex, in some Harry is.

Thank you to my wonderful friends, F, K and J for letting me bounce ideas off you, for looking over things, for being amazing. I love you all.

Thank you to the brilliant mods… I can’t tell you how awesome I think you are. Thank you to everyone reading.

A Day in the Life

Title: Cherished Author: Anonymous Prompt: Own Prompt Rating: NC-17/Explicit Warnings/Content Notes: Vampire Draco, established relationship, light bondage, rough sex, biting, bottoming from the top, background Ginny/Luna Summary: Ever since Draco was turned into a vampire he hasn’t touched Harry, and Harry desperately wants to know why. When they finally turn, surprising revelations are made. Word Count: 2700 Author’s Notes: For my take on the theme of consent, I wanted to look at an established relationship where the needs of one of the partners had changed, and how a couple would communicate that. I thought turning into a magical creature was a good option for a couple of wizards together, plus I can never get enough of vampire Draco :)

Cherished

Title: Beautiful Eyes and Dark Blue Skies Author: First-time Fest Participant ⚡⚡⚡ Prompt: # 95 Rating: T Warnings/Content Notes: None applicable. Summary: Everybody knew about the rivalry that brewed between the two kings living in neighbouring kingdoms and not much changed after one of them died. This surely meant that when their children met at the age of sixteen, both princes and heirs to their respective thrones, they would develop a deep all-consuming hatred for each other as well. Surely they would not happen to like one another. Surely not. Word Count: 5,720 Author’s Notes: This is my very first time participating in such a huge fest, a Drarry one at that, and I truly hope that everyone who reads this story really enjoys it.

Beautiful Eyes and Dark Blue Skies

Title: Proper Author: First-time Fest Participant ⚡️⚡️⚡️ Prompt: # 48 Rating: E Warnings/Content Notes: There is a very short part of this fic that could be interpreted as dub con - please see fic endnotes for more details if you are concerned. Summary: Draco sighs. “What kind of absolute twit has the chance to have sex with the Chosen One and can’t go through with it?” // In which Draco studies with Gryffindors, learns a new spell, and navigates the difficulty of being in a not-so-casual secret relationship with his childhood nemesis. Word Count: 8721 Author’s Notes: Thank you so much to the mods for running this fest - I’m so excited to participate and to see all the other entries :D Huge thank-yous to S and J for beta reading - you guys rock! I loved my prompt, so I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with it.

Proper

#weekly roundup

142 notes · View notes