#either way‚ i should try to practice rendering

[bitchboi-gogurt]

Alrighty!

poll results! thank you to everyone who voted on this!

admittedly, when I saw at one point the total votes got to 66, I got a bit worried it would end in a three way tie (kinda the reason I reblogged this poll like three times, eh heheh...)

then let's see...

to the 42 of y'all who voted for Jeremy congrats!

to the 19 who chose Clint, I see the vision, but y'all got outshined

and to the 7 of you who voted Duke, mhm mhm very much "he's babygirl" vibes, such a shame y'all got rare taste in men

now then, time to conceptualize this new project

stay tuned!

[smalls-words]

Memories

Summary: Early morning training sessions are fun, right?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (close friends/'something' by nature and history), Avengers x Reader (accquaintances).

Warnings: Nothing over the top but some dark concepts such as mental confusion/brainwashing.

It was a good idea. At first. Maybe in hindsight, the Avengers should have thought about letting you train with them after only leaving the Red Room for four months.

You were stood across the mat from Natasha, the only opponent who could really match you. Steve had specifically designed today's training challenge that way; to make you push yourself to the maximum.

"Ready, Romanoff?" You grinned, watching her take her stance with a smirk on her face.

"Ready as ever."

When Steve blew his whistle, unlike the others, you two were trapped in a circling dance. Neither attacked, neither lunged, nor did you do much of anything - you analysed.

Natasha watched how your arms moved when you breathed. You watched how her legs moved her around in the circular pattern.

Then, you struck.

She glanced you away, using your momentum against you to try and trip you but she missed since you did a little jump. You turned and faced her just in time to block a kick to your side, hitting it back down to the floor with the base of your palm.

"Harder, Y/N. You know I can take more." She chuckled, going to kick you again but you caught her leg and spun her around.

She tried to grab your waist with her lower legs but you twisted out of her grip. Hands up, ready for anything as you faced her again.

You'd already built up a sweat beforehand, small beads on your forehead that you weren't distracted enough by to render a wipe. You didn't have time, either.

Natasha went again, going low this time, but you anticipated and stepped back like a fencer's retreat. Then you came back, hoping to elbow her ribs, but she caught you and pinned you down.

"Ha. Got you." She grinned. "You always fall for that."

You let out a huff of annoyance. "You don't have to say it every time."

"Go again!" Steve distracted the two of you.

Natasha climbed off and you stood, brushing off the sweat from your brow as you got into your readying stance again.

"Come on, Silanova - don't hold back."

Oh, how the turn tables.

You went again at her, this time with a certain tenacity she liked. This was the Y/N she liked to spar with, the one who didn't care much for injuries. The one who withstood the bruises, the mat burns, the carpet burns, everything.

"Xорошая маленькая Bдова. (Good little Widow.)" She teased.

You let out a huff through your nose, annoyed.

Natasha pinned you to the ground again with her thigh move, chuckling after. "Oh come on - you practically let me have that. Get up, let's go again."

You got to your feet, kicking off your shoes and socks to the side. Natasha raised an eyebrow before chuckling. "If you think the stench of your feet is going to help you, you're wrong - doing your laundry on my days has built me some immunity."

Strange... you didn't reply to that.

You put your hands up, ready to go again. Though... you didn't attack first. Natasha had to make the first move.

Every move you made was calculated. Every piece of force, every angle. Nothing was by accident.

"Damn, Y/N, alright. Who's pissed you off this time, huh?" She chuckled as you went to kick her face, something Steve had said was a no-no before training.

"Y/N - warning one. Don't." There he went. Ever the diligent soldier.

Natasha looked at you, confused at your unchanging expression and absence of apology. "Y/N?"

You kicked again at her side, making her block it but the force still pushed her arm into her side. "Jesus, Y/N, take it down a notch. This is training, not an actual battle."

Then, she saw your eyes. Open, yet empty.

"Y/N. Speak." She said firmly, confused before you threw three punches which she had to quickly defend.

"Y/N, answer me. Stop playing with me here."

She quickly pulled you into her and locked your arms against your chest. "Snap out of it, right now."

You pushed her out, kicking her stomach hard enough to wind her. You spun, ready to one-two kick-punch her in the face which would be enough to knock her out.

"Y/N, enough!" Steve growled, raising his voice and capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

You glanced over at him, his expression stressing. Natasha went to her knees, trying to catch her breath as she looked at you.

"Hey, hey. Don't... Don't look at him. Look at me." She coughed out, standing after a few seconds.

"Natasha, she's..." Wanda tried to explain but the expert Widow just put her hand up to silence her.

Your head cocked to the side, terrifying her when your playful smile didn't match it.

"Y/N... You're not there. You're here, with me." She cooed, taking a few steps towards you. "Take a few breaths now, krasivaya (beautiful)."

In a flurry of movement, your hand was wrapped around Natasha's hand, the slam of her body hitting the mats echoing around the gym. "No!" Wanda's magic reacted, shooting out of her like a missile and seeking you out until you smacked into the opposing wall.

Natasha coughed as she regained her lost air, staring up at the ceiling whilst others watched the carnage. You laid in an unconscious mess of sweat, the wall having a considerably large crack in it.

"Maximoff. A little overkill there, but well done." Steve coached before jogging over to Natasha, checking on her.

"Nat. Nat, are you alright?" He asked.

"Y/N. Get... Y/N." She said through a few breaths.

He looked up, noticing your groans as you stirred. He looked at his fellow Avengers, people he knew and trusted, and then compared them to you.

You were nothing compared to his family.

"Get her in a containment cell. Now." He ordered but Natasha let out a huff of frustration.

"She's scared. Do not put her in a cell."

Natasha stood, shuffling over to you. She had a bruise showing on her leg from your harsh kick and smaller yet more frequent bruises were forming on her neck. "Hey. Hey, Y/N. Look at me."

You hazily looked around, confused as you were on the floor and far away from the mats. "Where... What... How am I... the floor?" You glanced down, seeing your sweat-soaked tank top sticking to you.

"Oh gods..."

You shuffled away, struggling to as your shoulder had dislocated upon impact with the wall.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, no. Come back here, krasivaya. It's okay." Natasha cooed, watching painfully as tears began to well in your eyes.

"I thought I had it under control. You said I could do it. I-I had control this very morning, what the hell happened?!" You said, fear seeping into your words one syllable at a time.

"You... Y/N, it's okay, but-"

"You lost control. That's what." Steve said firmly, folding his arms in an annoyed stance.

"I... I lost it?" You murmured, confused.

Natasha sighed, your attention going back to her. Then you saw it - the damage done to her neck. It was getting clearer by the second. Dark semi-circles were dug into her skin, clearly marked around her airways in deadly manner.

"I... I did that?" You muttered gravely, holding your dislocated arm but hardly feeling the pain as your ears began to ring.

"You did, yes, but it's okay. Just stay calm for me, detka, okay? Let me fix your shoulder, Y/N." Natasha tried to keep you calm.

You flinched. Of all the people in the room, you - the damager, the cause, the very problem - flinched.

"No. No, get- get away from me." You stammered, shuffling away until you stood on two legs and bolted out of the gymnasium.

"Y/N, wait!" She called out, trying to catch up to you but the damage you'd done had made her compromised.

"Leave her be for now. We'll check up on her later." Steve murmured. "You need medical attention, Natasha. That whip onto the mat would not have been good for your head."

Natasha nodded and walked with Wanda to the medical office with a heavy heart.

It wasn't your fault...

A/N: Wow, it has been a long time since I wrote something on this account.

[lazy-ahh]

DAMIAN WAYNE SKETCH/ART PROGRESSION

just woke up at 3:45 pm, and no regrets—that was literally the best sleep of my life. my brain feels so reset, it's kinda wild. anyway, i doodled this little sketch in, like, 10 minutes? it was one of those random bursts of motivation, y'know? now i'm debating whether i should actually colour and render it (but ugh, that’ll take forever lolol) orrrr just keep sketching and draw him from different angles. i do need more practice with head angles, so maybe i’ll challenge myself and try a few more poses first. either way, i’ll keep updating this post with every little progress i make—consider it my sketch dump zone lolol.

sketch ; 3:55 PM

[turtletot]

A Rock to Hold

Basically, Aizawa finds a partially regressed Kaminari hiding in his dorm after a bad morning.

Words: 2170

A/n: I think that there needs to be more Aizawa and Kaminari fics. Not just in age regression, though Kaminari is lacking in that area too, but just in general. My boy needs dadzawa too.

I want to make this a series of oneshots. I've got a few ideas kicking around in my head. I'm typically a really slow writer though so we'll see.

When Aizawa walked into the 1-A classroom, his students immediately abandoned their conversations and rushed to their seats. They sat silently, waiting for him to start class. It was a far cry from their first days at UA, and the changes certainly didn’t stop there. Every student had grown so much, both in academics and maturity. Many would have crumbled after facing the challenges this class has suffered through, but his students took those experiences and turned them into strengths.

It wasn’t until he got to the podium that he realized there was an empty seat. “Where is Kaminari?”

Based on their expressions, everyone else was wondering the same. Well, most of them were. Bakugo was staring daggers at Aizawa for wasting his time, though he had spared a brief glance at Kaminari’s desk. Aizawa figured Bakugo had as much information as he did. The kid was good at keeping secrets, but it was always obvious if he knew something.

The only two students that seemed to have at least some knowledge of Kaminari’s whereabouts were Kirishima and Sero. They shared a look before Kirishima raised his hand. “He told us that he wasn’t feeling well.”

Concern began to rise. Aizawa once had to practically drag Kaminari out of class to the Recovery Girl’s room as the kid kept trying to reassure him that he was fine. There had been a massive thunderstorm a couple of days prior which apparently, unbeknownst to everyone else, rendered Kaminari unable to sleep for multiple nights. It was upsetting to see how much he was willing to neglect his health for the sake of not falling behind. Aizawa knew the school’s motto, “plus ultra,” literally meant to go beyond what you can do, but not at the expense of your wellbeing for Christ’s sake. Especially when it was just to avoid missing classes.

Though he always talked about avoiding schoolwork and complained about it, Kaminari was one of the most determined to be there. If it wasn’t for his attention span (Aizawa really needed to talk to him about getting an ADHD diagnosis), Kaminari probably would have been one of the top students.

There was no way that Kaminari wouldn’t show up to class just because he “wasn’t feeling good.” If it was that bad, he would have asked for the Recovery Girl or someone. He wasn’t one to isolate. Kirishima and Sero knew this too, and the worries on their faces matched Aizawa’s.

He sighed. Whatever it is, it would have to wait. He trusted Kaminari to go to either him or another teacher if there was something truly serious or urgent happening. For now, he had to focus on his class. “Thank you, Kirishima. Now, today you all will…”

---

After Mic had taken his spot in the classroom, Aizawa headed towards the dorms. Kaminari still hadn’t showed up. Aizawa shoved his growing anxiety out of the way and think of explanations. The most plausible idea was either a breakdown or panic attack, but he would have reached out to Kirishima and Sero when they checked on him. Besides, if that was the case then he should have gotten to class by now.

Another explanation was the involvement of a third party, forcing Kaminari to skip class and lie about it. It wasn’t likely though. Who would keep him from going to class? Another student couldn’t possibly stop him without it ending up in a fight, which would alert security. And what would even be the point?

It could be a villain, someone whose threat should be taken seriously. But how would they get into the dorms? God forbid if the League of Villains-

Before Aizawa could follow that train of thought, he found himself at Kaminari’s door. Carefully placing his ear against the door, he could barely make out sniffling. It was tiny and would be near imperceivable to anyone else. But after years of working underground and fine tuning his senses, it was like shattering glass.

Aizawa knocked on the door. “Kaminari, is everything alright?”

The sniffling immediately stopped. After a moment of silence, he could hear the rustling sounds of someone moving. Then a few rushed footsteps. Then silence again. He sighed. Aizawa had taught him how to conceal his movements better than that.

“I’m coming in if you don’t respond. Student safety policy.”

Nothing.

Holding back another sigh, Aizawa pulled out his teacher’s ID and unlocked the door. He opened it slowly, acutely aware of the shuddered breathing that was now audible.

The lights were turned off and the curtains pulled closed. Kaminari was nowhere to be seen. Aizawa stepped into the room, quickly following the breathing to the closet. The door was only half closed, and he could see Kaminari sitting against the wall, arms loosely wrapped around his legs. Carefully, he pulled the door enough to the side to fully see Kaminari.

The kid looked wrecked. His eyes were red and puffy. Tear tracks that streaked down his cheeks were drying. The worst part wasn’t the anguish that was clearly written on his face, but his resignation to it.

Aizawa sat on the floor across from him. Watery eyes followed him. “Can you hear me?”

Kaminari nodded.

“Can you speak?”

He closed his eyes and thought about it for a while. Aizawa was about to move on to a different question when Kaminari responded with a small, “yeah.” His normally strong and loud voice was quiet and hoarse.

No longer bound to yes/no questions, there were a lot of ways Aizawa could proceed. Why didn’t he go to class? What was bothering him? He quickly analyzed what he knew about the kid, how he handled stressful situations, and the internal struggles Aizawa was aware of. Aizawa hated dancing around topics. It wastes time that could have been used to work on the problem at hand. His questions had to be effective and get him to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.

“Why didn’t you reach out to anyone?”

Kaminari’s eyes snapped open, and his body tensed. “I-I um…” he looked down in his lap. “…Didn’ wan anyone seeing me like this.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. He knew for a fact that he has had multiple breakdowns around close friends. In fact, he often sought them out when it happened. Usually way past curfew when everyone was supposed to be in their own rooms. Aizawa always let them be. God knows that his students needed those moments.

His friends weren’t the only ones he was emotionally open with either. He’s had pretty deep conversations with Mic. Deep enough that Mic doesn’t share them with Aizawa to respect Kaminari’s privacy.

So, what was it about this time that made it different?

Aizawa looked at Kaminari more closely. He was still in his pajamas and had a fuzzy Raichu blanket draped over his shoulders that made him look small. Something was in his lap. Aizawa shifted a bit to get a better look. It was a stuffed animal, though he couldn’t make out what it was beyond that.

That sent off a few signals in his mind. Though…he couldn’t be sure. Stuffed animals didn’t have to mean anything. Especially not when one of your best friends is the embodiment of positive masculinity. A vivid memory of him clutching a stuffed cat as Oboro found him hiding in his room resurfaced.

He replayed Kaminari’s response in his head. Originally, Aizawa had chalked up the slur and partially formed words as byproducts of a breakdown. Now he wasn’t so sure. Glancing behind him, his eyes narrowed in on the crayons and coloring book on the floor. A couple of stuffed animals were there as well. He hadn’t paid much attention to the room when he walked in, just that Kaminari was nowhere to be seen.

Something had been nagging him about how he heard Kaminari move to the closet. It seemed…clumsy. Aizawa has seen the kid in action. He’s capable of sneaking around.

The clumsy movements and the horrible attempt at hiding…the crayons and stuffed animals…Aizawa had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Turning back to Kaminari, he asked, “how old are you?”

Kaminari stared at him, stunned. He supposed that would be a normal response. Age regression wasn’t a well-known topic and had a lot of misunderstandings surrounding it. It would certainly explain why he avoided going to class.

When Aizawa asked again, Kaminari snapped out of his thoughts. “Um…I don’ know…somewhere in between…both small an big.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Aizawa hummed in acknowledgement.

“How d’you know?”

He couldn’t help but snort. “Kid, you’re not what I would call discreet.” He gestured behind him. Kaminari nodded but Aizawa could see him shrinking away. “And, as a regressor myself, it’s easier to pick up on.”

Kaminari opened his mouth, then closed it. This repeated a few times as he struggled to organize his thoughts. Aizawa let him take his time.

Finally, the kid settled on, “you’re a regressor? Like, you’re not jus saying tha?”

He nodded. “I’m a flip. I don’t regress often but it does happen.” As mortifying as sharing this with a student was, he needed Kaminari to know that regressing was okay. He needed the kid to know that this was a safe place.

“Makes sense…’bout the flip…you did kinda feel like a dad.” Kaminari’s eyes widened and he slapped his hands against his mouth. His face burned bright red. As if realizing that covering his mouth brought more attention to what he said, he dropped his hands only a few seconds later. “Uh, I mean like a mentor way o-or like um-“

Aizawa cut him off from spiraling. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” He was definitely taken aback by the comment. He knew that this year’s class 1-A was strangely attached to him, but he never would have expected anyone to consider him a father figure. That felt like it went against the laws of nature. However…he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him melt a little on the inside. Not that he would admit that.

Kaminari, though embarrassed, was looking much more stable. Aizawa redirected the topic back to the situation at hand. “Could you tell me what happened this morning?” He had a rough idea, but he wasn’t going to act on assumptions. Aizawa was smart, not psychic.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kaminari shared what was actually an ongoing problem. He often regressed to deal with the stress of school and all of the attacks on UA. But, he started pushing away many coping mechanisms, including regression, to make more time for studying and training. His stress continued to grow, but he still continued on because he wanted to improve. Aizawa made a mental note to address that another day.

The past week had been especially hard. There were multiple nights where he was too exhausted and burnt out to resist the urge to be small. Kaminari didn’t go into details about how those nights ended, but Aizawa figured it wasn’t pretty.

When he woke up that morning, he was already slipping into his little headspace. Efforts to fight it were failing. He had woken up late, as he normally did, but that also meant that class would start soon. Not knowing what to do, he began to panic, which spiraled into a full-on breakdown. All the while being partially regressed.

By the time Kirishima and Sero had come by to check on him, Kaminari had calmed down enough to respond without alerting his friends to the situation. He was aware enough to realize that the best course of action was to just let the regression happen. At one point, he was able to start coloring and things seemed okay. But eventually, something triggered him and caused another breakdown. Once again, Kaminari didn’t go into details and Aizawa didn’t ask.

He wasn’t sure what to say after the kid had finished. This seemed like an emotional support moment rather than a fix-it one, which wasn’t really his forte. At least that’s what he thought. Hizashi always argued otherwise. Opening his arms, Aizawa opted to offer a hug.

Kaminari hesitated for a moment before practically lunging into Aizawa. He was a little shaky, so Aizawa ran his fingers through the kid’s hair to hopefully get him to relax. He was probably super dehydrated from crying most of the morning, but they could get water later. He needed this first.

Considering his massive emotional release, Kaminari should be able to get out of his littlespace and go to his classes. They could finish talking about this later when he is in a better headspace for serious and personal conversations. Hopefully, they’ll be able to talk about Kaminari’s regression more and ways they can make it easier for him while at UA. Maybe even discuss Aizawa being a caregiver.

For now, he’ll be a rock for Kaminari to grab hold on until he can stand on his own.

[kan-be]

Hii!! Um I’m just curious about how you draw anatomy :D I absolutely LOVELOVELOVEEE your artstyle along with the coloring!! If you’re fine with it, can you give a breakdown how you draw anatomy? Or maybe how you suggest learning how to draw anatomy better- DW I UNDERSTAND IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SHARE THAT‼️ Either way it’s nice looking at your art and learning from it!!

hii!! ty ty that’s very sweet of you to say 😭💕

I’m actually not that good at anatomy myself and if I have to draw parts of naked body I surround myself with references 🥴 in any other case I just use blocks to make a rough sketch which I then dress up like a doll, so it’s not so much about anatomy as it is about proportions and shapes (which I suggest to learn first thing bc that’s what we started with at art school :p)

I really don’t think you need to know the name and exact form of every bone from the bottom to the top to draw people well enough, IMO all you need as a core except for named above are the very general things like the way leg bones connect with pelvic bones, or the rib cage shape and how it can differ, or, for example, those anchor points where the bones are practically not hidden by anything, like the collarbones or upper anterior iliac spine and etc etc. what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to memorise skeleton and all the muscles in all details, especially in the beginning 🤓

in terms or advices I probably won’t say anything new: when I get an annual urge to learn anatomy more or need a reference I go through Anatomy for Sculptores since everything is very clearly shown there or straight to youtube and watch channels like Proko. he actually has a very useful practice in homework to find muscles or bones on a photo and draw it on top/separately. I myself rarely do it and I’m ashamed bc when I actually did it was so helpful for understanding 😭

I also have a few pinterest boards for anatomy and love to look at pics like these, gives me a better understanding of volumes and the way shading should go

I tried to read Bammes too but it has A LOT of (not so necessary on practice IMO) info (and a lot of typos in russian version) which is too much for my one and only braincell and I can’t remember a single thing for a dear life of mine from there 😭😭😭 schemes are good tho 🤓

heard good things about Figure drawing, Design and Invention by Michael Hampton and Morpho series (especially Simplified Forms) by Michel Lauricella but haven’t gotten my hands on them yet

I actually have this recs from someone on IG, can’t remember who it was sadly

and ofc looking at and drawing real ppl helps not only to understand how anatomy works but also how our body parts can hugely differ, even if it’s the exact same muscle

anyways sorry for a lot of letters, here is an edit of different sketches I have in timelapses, you can see how I usually do them 👀 I also tend to be lazy and sketch things without refs just to get confused on a rendering stage and redo anatomy on top with refs so I added one full timelapse just to show it 🤓

[johnnyshrine]

Hello, just wanted to say I'm a huge fan, and your work has inspired me try out making a shrine of my own for a character. Do you have any tips and/or guides on what it takes to start a shrine like yours? Anything helps. Thank you ^^

I am glad I can inspire you! These are the five major tips I have for anyone who wants to start their own shrine. :]

★ FIND YOUR NORTH STAR

// The most crucial component to have a NORTH STAR; a fixed, guiding light you can always call upon, especially when things get difficult and you question why to keep going. Chances are the devoted character is North Star material; perhaps their personality is admirable, or they make you feel warm when you think about them, or maybe you've made a pact to keep on living so you can see the next part of their story release. It could be something else entirely, unrelated to fiction and perhaps taken from lived experiences. Anything can be noble and sacred, so it's up to you to decide your reasons to carry on, but it must mean something important to you personally, and you must be willing to grab it by the horns and sink your teeth into it. You must hunger.

★ CREATE WITH PURPOSE

// It helps to have PURPOSE for your offerings. The purposes can change day to day, but ideally when you make art, at least half of the time you draw there is an attempt to learn something or try something new, even if it's minor. Maybe you want to learn certain anatomy, or want to try out different brushes. Don't be afraid to shake things up or bend rules. I find that with having a daily challenge like this, you have the perfect opportunity to try a whole bunch of things; see what you like and what you don't. Even if you "fail" or don't like the outcome, there's always tomorrow to try again. I find that if I go too long drawing without PURPOSE, I get bored and lost.

★ MEET YOURSELF WHERE YOU'RE AT

// Not every day can be a win, and that's a pill best swallowed early. Some days I just want to sketch a headshot of Johnny looking to the left without thinking at all, and other times I want to plan a fully rendered multi panel comic; both are fine and valid offerings. Do what you can with the time and energy you have, refuse to beat yourself up for anything, because it'll just slow you down.

★ HAVE FUN, BE FREE

// The commitment might not always be easy, but remember this practice is by your choice. Since this is something you do for yourself, first and foremost: it should be fun. If it no longer is fun, something's gotta give. Either switch up how you draw, vent your frustrations, or make extra sure you're taking care of yourself in other life areas.

The way I run my shrine is with maximal levels of freedom; there's no restriction for what works I can make. To some this might be the ideal situation and I'd recommend following suit, some might need more restriction in place to keep the practice grounded. There are no hard rules, except whatever works for you. Impose time limits, restrict your tools, do what works. You might not figure out certain rules or limits until you're 50 days in, even that's fine. Just get started and see what works.

★ AND LASTLY... DO IT FOR YOU

// A shrine might seem like a celebration of a character, an idea, a light, but the real secret is that it's actually a celebration of yourself.

YOU show up every day, YOU create something of someone you love, YOU share it with others. Whether intentional or not, the shrine becomes a diary of daily living, proof that you existed each of these days. The best thing you can do is to follow your heart. Draw what you love, how you love, how you feel. Do everything for you. Love yourself as much as you love the character you're drawing. Become the very light you see in them. 🌟

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 22: [IT2] diavolo, mammon / on fathers

ao3 link

note: it2 is my new clever abbreviation for the 'it takes two' au and this starts around the asmo arc (i.e. during the retreat at the castle)! also i got a little in my feels while writing this so if you'd like to play a game with me, try to spot which parts of the venting came from a place of experience lol

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

It’s been a long while since Diavolo last wanted to hide from a gathering, and longer still since he lacked the self-consciousness to duck behind his father’s wings when things got overwhelming. Upon spotting IK’s tense little figure from the opposite side of the ballroom, however, he remembers the feeling just as sharply.

He keeps a genial smile on his face as the demons in his company continue chattering, interjecting a remark every now and then so as not to cause suspicion. When he notes that the Demonus in their glasses has drained enough, he dismisses them under the guise of inviting them to refill their drinks, and quickly sidles away.

It’s hard to move inconspicuously, but Barbatos - timely as ever - melts out of the crowd to efficiently ward off any would-be approachers, directing them instead in the direction of some of the R.A.D. faculty hovering by the buffet table. Hopefully the good professors won’t mind picking up the conversation in his stead.

IK is all but hiding behind a pillar. He ducks down and, keeping his voice low, says, “Hello. How are you doing?”

She jumps, then relaxes when he recognises him. “Uh— hi. I’m alright, thanks.”

“Are you sure? You’re all on your own over here.” He looks around the ballroom, but fails to spot any of the brothers on his first sweep. Which is a little alarming, actually, seeing as they usually stand out so much. “I think I’d better keep you company for a while.”

“You don’t need to do that,” IK says, but looks relieved all the same. “...there’s so many people here.”

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? I’m never as used to it as I think I am.”

She casts a glance around the room, then shrinks back and makes an attempt at melting into the wall. “...they’re staring.”

“They are,” He agrees, and sidles a little closer to the wall, flaring his wings as if stretching, and then closing them again with IK carefully hidden in their folds. “There! Is that better?”

“They’re going to stare more now,” She mumbles, but she does look a little pleased.

“In our direction, perhaps. But I can assure you that they won’t be able to see through me.”

“...thank you.”

“Of course.”

She hovers awkwardly for a moment. (Maybe he should’ve gotten a chair.)

“Where’s your father?” Diavolo asks finally.

IK shifts. “...dunno. He was talking to Lucifer last time I looked.”

“You didn’t stay with him?”

“Didn’t want to.”

Diavolo decides to forgo looking for Zhao first - he’s plain enough that he’s rendered practically invisible among demons - and instead scans the ballroom for two distinctive pairs of black-feathered wings. Lucifer, unusually, is out on the dance floor, and teaching IK’s father the intricacies of a traditional Devildom waltz.

They don’t seem to be having a bad time, at least, but Zhao still looks vaguely terrified. Then again, Diavolo’s fairly sure that that’s just what his face is like.

He decides to leave them to it. Attempting to wave either of them over would only attract more undue attention. The only issue with their current arrangement is that none of IK’s other friends will be able to spot her, either…

Or so he thinks. A few moments later, Mammon finally fights his way out of the crowd and makes a beeline straight for Diavolo - who, by all means, should be the only figure he sees by the wall.

But it isn’t Diavolo he addresses when he gets there. Eyes fixed firmly on the dark crevice in his wings, he ducks down and hisses, “I thought ya’d gotten lost! Tell me next time ya decide to play hide-n-seek!”

“Don’t be upset, Mammon,” Diavolo interjects mildly. “IK was only waiting by the wall. I was the one who offered to hide her.”

Mammon barely even gives him a cursory nod, let alone the customary bow. He withdraws a little, though, and looks less irritated. “...well, ya shouldn’t be wanderin’ around on your own, neither. I told ya to stick with the others.”

IK, uncharacteristically, does not respond. After a moment, Mammon deflates a little, then sighs.

“Let’s go outside, eh?” He asks, softer now. “We can take a walk around the gardens, where it’s quiet.”

A brief silence. Then IK says quietly, “Okay.”

Diavolo withdraws his wings, and offers what he hopes is a warm smile. Mammon spares him a dismissive wave, but IK makes an effort to smile back before she’s led away.

It isn’t long before he’s pulled back to the party, but the whole matter stays on his mind through the rest of the retreat. That same night, a certain unruly group of demons and humans get trapped in the underground catacombs, and he’s there to greet them when they finally stumble out.

He watches Zhao gently push his daughter in front of him once they say farewell to Henry and step back through into the castle. IK, on the other hand, doesn’t look at her father at all, and speeds up to walk with Leviathan at the front of the group, staring straight ahead even as he continues to watch her anxiously from behind.

Two days later, as he sees the guests out as they head back to the House of Lamentation, he stops IK briefly. Mammon stops as well, but remains a good few feet away - not eavesdropping too obviously, but evidently unwilling to leave them unsupervised.

“Feel free to come over whenever you like,” He says with a smile. “It gets a little boring around here sometimes, you know?”

“...sure.”

——

“You know, I’m beginning to think that you aren’t coming here just for my company,” Diavolo says when Mammon shows up with IK for the fourth time this week.

“Eh? What makes ya think that?” Mammon ushers her into the entrance hall and glances surreptitiously behind himself before following. “We’re just havin’ so much fun. Ain’t that right, kiddo?”

IK looks mildly anxious and doesn’t reply. A moment later, Barbatos arrives to greet the guests - wearing a hospitable smile that has begun to look rather quizzical the more he has to use it.

“Welcome… back,” He says after a moment - allowing himself to exchange a look with Diavolo. “Would you like anything?”

“Oh, we were thinkin’ of just going around the gardens again.” Mammon coughs and gives IK a hard pat on the shoulder. “Ya don’t mind, right?”

“Certainly not. We can take an extra long walk today - I’m rather in want of things to do.”

“Then I shall clean in the meantime,” Barbatos says - notably not reminding Diavolo of the extra deadlines he could be preparing for with the free time. “Perhaps you would like to take tea afterwards?”

He glances at the back of IK’s head, then gives Diavolo another look. He gets the message; his butler, in a somewhat quietly bewildered way, is concerned.

“That would be lovely, Barbatos,” He says with a smile. “What do you say, IK? I seem to recall that you liked the shortcake last week.”

She doesn’t respond until Mammon nudges her. “Um— sure, thanks.”

Barbatos bows and retreats back into the castle. Diavolo turns to his guests with a smile. “Well, to the garden we go!”

It doesn’t escape his notice how the two of them keep their conversation to a whisper. Diavolo’s well used to not understanding inside jokes or keeping out of the fluent arguments the brothers have with each other, but this is different. Mammon is doing roughly all of the talking; IK only gives half-hearted shrugs and shakes of her head in response.

He keeps a count from the corner of his eye, and by the time they’ve gone in a full circle around the hedgerows, IK has laughed exactly once. That’s the sharpest dip there’s been in any of these visits, and by the looks of it, the number isn’t about to go up.

“I’m feeling a little tired,” He lies as they come to a pond. “Would you mind if we sat down for a while?”

He invites IK to sit by the water with him. He still hasn’t gotten around to adding any fish, but IK seems happy to just watch it ripple.

Mammon is watching him unusually closely from IK’s other side. Diavolo’s known for a while that he can be much more observant than he’s given credit for, but it feels odd to be the subject of his scrutiny. Clearly he’ll be reprimanded if he goes about this the wrong way.

“You’re not actually tired, are you?” IK asks after a moment. “You want to talk to me about something.”

…and clearly he isn’t very subtle. Diavolo admits it readily. “You’re right. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

The speed of the response only makes him worry more. A look at Mammon’s face says that he feels the same way.

“It’s starting to feel like you spend more time here than at the House of Lamentation.” IK looks up at him blankly, and he panics a little. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, of course!”

IK stares at him for another long moment. Like her father, she avoids meeting anyone’s eyes - but when she does, it’s so intense that it almost burns.

“Uh, we should go,” Mammon says uncomfortably, starting to get to his feet. “Thanks for the—”

“I have to insist you stay,” Diavolo interrupts, and even Mammon can’t refuse a direct command from him. “It’s my duty to ensure your well-being. Whatever it is, I’d like to help.”

“You can’t,” IK says forcefully. Though she doesn’t say it, her voice silently adds, You wouldn’t get it. 

It’s a sentiment that Diavolo’s grown accustomed to, whether spoken or implied. His position is one-of-a-kind - most demons don’t believe they have much in common with a crown prince, and the demons that might consider him a friend don’t believe they do, either.

In most ways, it’s a fair assessment. He doesn’t live like most demons, and he’ll never know what it had been like to fall. He does, however, know what it’s like to have a father.

“It’s not easy to put into words, is it?” He asks softly.

IK looks at him for another longer, then turns her head stiffly to the side, and goes back to staring into the water. 

Mammon is watching her with the same expression that Zhao had worn as they left the catacombs. He’s seen it before on Lucifer as well, when he thinks no one is looking, and one of his brothers is in an unusual amount of trouble.

“They’ll always worry,” He says. “Not always in ways that are helpful - sometimes in ways that hurt. Even if you don’t want them to.”

IK sighs. “...he never worried like that before. He wasn’t around to worry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“He loves you a lot.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t change things, does it?”

“...no.”

They listen to the splash of the pond.

“My father loved me,” Diavolo says after a while. “I’m sure of that. When I was born, I flew down to meet him, when most young demons still don’t know how to use their wings. He was proud that day. But I didn’t grow to be a perfect son - nor a perfect heir. I never found out which he wanted more.”

IK glances at him through the reflection in the water. He continues, “I still loved him, as most sons do. It was enough for a time. But then I grew up - and I’m not sure if we ever liked each other after that. I’m not sure if I loved him more than I feared him, either.”

“If you hadn’t flown,” IK says, “Do you think it’d all be the same?”

He smiles ruefully at her. “...I don’t know. But I think I’ve made peace with that.”

IK nods. She knows exactly what’s going through his head.

“Man,” Mammon mutters a few moments later. “What am I even s’posed to say about that?”

Diavolo jumps a little. To be honest, he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh…”

“To be honest, ya never really think about what ‘Father’ means when you’re an angel,” Mammon adds, and Diavolo wisely decides to stay quiet. “He’s just there. He’s just ‘Father’. I mean, you’re meant to love him or somethin’, but I never saw him, did I? So when Lucifer told us he was startin’ a rebellion, I joined in, and I never missed him. Father, I mean.”

“But Lucifer did. That was the weird part. He took Michael real seriously when he was younger, and I reckon that’s why - he believed in all that stuff about Father lovin’ us all so much. But I never thought about it that hard, ‘cause it never felt like anythin’ real, you know? He was ‘Father’, but he wasn’t really a father. At least, I never felt like it.”

He pauses to consider it. “...it’s like that with Lucifer, sometimes. You know he loves ya, but sometimes you just don’t see it, no matter how many times ya remind yourself. But he’s tryin’ his best, y’know? He doesn’t know how else to do it.”

IK stares silently at the pond. Diavolo does the same, and suddenly spots that exact same worry from before on his face as well.

“Uh... your dads are a lot worse than mine.” She makes an attempt at an ironic smile. “We’re just regular humans. There isn’t a lot to say.”

“I think that’s precisely why there is,” Diavolo replies. “Humour us, won’t you?”

“...fine.”

IK folds her arms and ducks her head in earnest, using her hair as a shield for her face. On the surface of the water, Diavolo regards the dull defeat in her eyes.

“My dad’s the best,” She says suddenly. “He works harder than anyone. I’m glad he’s here because he gets to rest. But he isn’t resting. He thinks I still need taking care of. But I don’t. I don’t need him to worry about me, I don’t need him to look after me. I know how to do that by myself.”

She swipes her sleeve fiercely across her face, then continues forcefully, “I used to make him carry me around everywhere. It was the first thing he did when he got back, no matter how tired he was. Sometimes he just fell because he didn’t have the energy, and we'd just lie on the floor for a bit."

“And I was always waiting for him to come home. I was always waiting for him to pick me up again. Because I needed him, and sometimes he wasn’t there when I looked for him, but he’d come if I waited long enough. But now he’s just there. He’s just there and he’s—”

(—she looks just like him when she’s about to cry—)

“—he’s the best and I hate him. I was tired, too. I didn’t know how to make my bed or tie my shoes or anything. So I had to learn everything by myself. He kept telling me to leave it all to him, but then I could only go back to waiting, so what else was I supposed to do?”

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need his help anymore. Why couldn’t he have taught me in the first place? I just wanted my dad. He fought to have me, but he couldn’t fight to stay with me, and I know why, so I can’t even get angry.”

She tosses a rock into the pond. The splash breaks the reflection of her face into hundreds of rippling pieces. Mammon chews anxiously on his lip and places a hesitant arm around her shoulder.

“I’m probably making him sad,” She says finally. “But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

A moment passes. Diavolo knows better than to try the same thing as Mammon. Instead, he takes a breath, shifts form, and curls a wing around her instead.

He glances into the pond one more time. The cool water makes his eyes look more yellow than gold - just like his father’s.

Diavolo doesn’t recall ever being folded into his father’s wings like this. He only remembers hiding in them by himself. But his father had never told him not to, either.

“I think… this is a decision only you can make,” He says after a moment. “There isn’t a right or wrong answer. But, for what it’s worth - you’re still young. Nothing is irreparable. And I think your father will wait for as long as it takes.”

“No rush,” Mammon adds with a supportive nudge. “As long as you’re happy, okay? We’ll be alright.”

“Sure,” IK mutters. If she believes them even a little, then Diavolo is happy with that. “...can we talk about something else now?”

“I think Barbatos will be done with his sweeping by now,” Diavolo says, and gets back to his feet. “Let’s go have some cake, shall we?”

[zoropookie]

hi this is something i wrote in 2021

By all means and by all accounts, you are an exceptionally adept human being. What else is there to expect being born and raised in Liyue? Your extensive knowledge branched out into other categories and subcategories related to the likes of Teyvat's advanced agricultural needs and expositions. The proficiency you carry of mass flourishes into honor and pride for yourself.

With that being said, when it comes to unfamiliarity, there was only so much you could do as a local delivery person. Social interaction has never been your forte either, making you extremely agitated in the process. Perhaps maybe the only environment you could get used to was your home. Maybe that was okay.

You carried full acknowledgement on your coward persona, holding equal respect for patrollers and ther Millieth. Knowledge never equalled to willfulness, willfulness accentuated your price, and bold of anyone to assume your pride wasn't able to stem from elsewhere.

So when your own father practically fed you to the wolves (term used loosely— as if the wolves would eat someone as bitter as you) … you had to admit, your pride fell gobsmacked.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but…Qingce Village is two, almost three thousand kilometers away and you expect me to walk? On my hind legs?” Your eyes rose quizzically. “Why can’t you do it? Since you’re so eager for the seeds to get there.”

Your father sat there in mild disbelief as you examined his inability; he was still waiting for his broken arm to heal. “Uh, I don’t know, (Y/N). I could just be unwilling.”

“That is a very good observation! You are unwilling because of your incapability! It makes me certain that I must be at your aid in these trying times,” You grinned, proudly. “It looks to be an inconvenience, but what can we do?”

“If I didn’t pay close attention to your cheek, I’d fall for your manipulation.” The older male’s eyebrows furrow, until they started showing fatigue. “Except I am your father, and I know who my child and what their rotten ways are.”

Your face twisted instantly to a scowl. “Perhaps you should invest in mind reading rather than specializing in delivery, you seem capable.”

“I am choosing to ignore your qualms for your own safety.” He interrupted you, sitting in the wooden seat of his logged and bricked interior.

The conceptual probability that you would believe the fireplace serves in the home is concerning— let alone when it is set alight. “This is an easy feat for you, given that you only have to walk across the bridge and take the path. Complications are limited, I’m unsure as to your hesitance.”

“Father,” Your harsh voice added emphasis to your tone. “There…are scary things out there.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N).”

“I’m not being ridiculous, I am actually being completely rational about it.” You ground your teeth together.

You settled your wooden cart filled with imported seeds and other sorts of processed jams stored in as a gratuitous gift. There was no other further complication that could’ve combat your inert torturous loop than also having to pull the many cartridges of imported seeds within a single cart. A cart that rendered your feeble arms useless. Everything was heavy, and because of your impeding zeal, it’s practically resulted in your strength being latent and quiescent.

“Brilliant.” Frustrated, you looked at the bundles of comfortable fabric placed neatly on top of some of the boxes. In accommodation to the chilled breeze that only proves to become worse annd haste of sudden petrichor surrounding the thick air, you hastily pulled the cart.

In immense struggle, you weren’t surprised when you started to feel cold pellets drip on your head. The rain began initially as a light and soft drizzle but it quickly turned into a violent, raging downpour. The path instantly becoming muddy and slick, making it impossible to pull the cart.

You were in a chill, the breeze cutting through your layers of clothes and it led you to curse under your breath as you trudged forward.

But even with the digressions you were complaining about silently to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel like something was ominous in the wind. A sharp, unnatural chill cut through the air around you with such ease that you wondered if you were growing looney.

Something materialized behind you, and even though you were a fool to look, you also knew that you had no choice. That...thing, that mage's eyes glowed malevolently. With an intent as bitter as any crook, it began chanting in a language you couldn't decipher.

“Watch out!” A voice shouted towards you.

Though, you hardly had time to react to the unknown voice before a barrage of ice shards was sent hurtling toward you. Feeling your own body be sent into pure adrenaline, your breath caught in your throat as you ducked behind the cart, feeling the impact of the ice stabbing relentlessly against the wood.

Its laughter echoed in bowels of enjoyment, "Pathetic mound of a human," it hissed. "Survival is the farthest from you."

You scrambled to your feet, unruly looking while the nagging adrenaline surged through your body. You were frozen in place while the mage wasted no time launching another attack. You were in for it until you hardly recognized the blur that appeared in your vision for a split second.

A figure leaped out of the trees, landing rather gracefully between you and the Abyss Mage. "Now, now, you really need to leave the villagers alone before I start kicking you around. You're like a little ball to me!" He drawled slowly, a playful glint in his eyes. He began laughing at the thought of it, before piping down once it was silence. "Haa...I get bored easily."

The Abyss Mage hardly found any humor in it especially, eyes narrowing in anger as it hissed. It launched another attack, and another, and another.

But even with the valiant efforts, he moved with fluid grace, effortlessly continuing to deflect any attacks that were attempted. His movements becoming more eager, and happy. "You're going to have to do better than that! Try actually landing your shots!" He taunted.

Once he closed the distance between them, his eyes paired with his smirk began to look a little conceived with power. Bloodthirsty, as his eyes lost the youth they had and was replaced with a carcass of that same glee. "Well, I guess it's kind of too late for that now. Good run, now it's my turn."

The ginger had that mage on the defensive in seconds, rendering all the efforts that mage made to be useless. It was unable to keep up with his relentless assault, and he shattered the icy shield, driving his blade through the core as it let out a strangled and helpless cry.

You watched it dissolve into frost, eyes narrowing awkwardly towards the man who was flicking the liquid-like blades of his clean before turning to you. His expression was still void, sizing you up before a softer expression dawned on his face.

"You know," he paused, sheathing his weapons. "You really shouldn't go without at least a weapon if you're thinking about being a delivery person."

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't exactly plan on getting ambushed every time I do this, thank you."

"You're welcome! Man, finally someone who's actually grateful for my services around here." His eyes widened, waving off your sarcasm casually. "I'm Childe!"

You hesitated for a moment, remembering that the reputation of the Fatui was nothing you want to be around according to your father. And by the looks of this guy, you couldn't be sure whether he's saving random villagers to talk them up or not. "I don't speak to strangers."

Childe's mouth twitched. "Ha— what?"

"I have to go," You pulled yourself up with the cart. "Very important seeds to sell."

As you started to push the cart with the lack of strength you had, the man who had previously saved you from an Abyss Mage watched you push it with so much nothing...that he started to feel bad. Especially since in the five minutes that you were lugging that heavy cart, did you only make it two singular meters forward.

"Listen," He couldn't keep his laugh in. "I'm starting to feel bad for you. At least let me get you there, and I'm gone. Okay?"

"And what about this makes you believe I can't do this on my own? Enlighten me." You stood up straight to face him after putting the cart down, demanding him as you put your hands on your waist, awaiting him to speak.

He puffed his cheeks out to keep himself from laughing in your face. "Can I make an educated guess?"

You stared at him in disbelief, a scowl on your face before you huffed in defeat, crossing your arms. "To Qingce Village, and that's it, Harbinger. No funny business."

"Scout's honor!" Childe saluted, grabbing the cart with both hands and effortlessly pulling it out of the steep, muddy hole you trapped it in. You ground your teeth again from how easy he made it seem maneuvering it. "Can I knit you a sweater too?"

"I do not want to be associated with you."

[starflungwaddledee]

do you have any tips for leaving compliments on other people's art ?? your tags are always so well phrased !

oooo oooooooooooooo uuhhhhhhhh hmmm!

firstly, thank you!! i'm rather glad to hear that! i try quite hard to leave meaningful comments so it's nice when folks notice or appreciate it!

outside of commenting on the work, i first consider the tone of what i'm saying and who i'm saying it to.

i always try to make sure that what i'm saying will be appreciated by the person! that's the point. for the most part i leave comments to bring joy to the op, and thank them for their hard work, for being here and sharing art that made me happy! if i'm speaking to a mutual or friend, there's gonna be inside jokes and probably an amount of casual yelling. possibly even a little friendly roast, if i know them well enough. if i'm speaking with someone i don't know as well i try to keep it a little more professional, but i keep in mind that this is a fandom so an amount of yelling and screaming is expected. i tend to think about what i would like from someone else.

also if i notice that a caption or a blogs about is not in english i double check. if english is not the first language of the artist i make sure to construct tags that are easily translated and i use only and exclusively positive phrases. saying things like "delete this!!!! /pos" or "eating my own hands" can be totally lost in translation. i also keep in mind the age of the OP. don't tag as though you're Looking Disrespectfully at the art of a minor, even if that's your favourite blorbo.

as for how to comment on art or storytelling itself, this is indeed a learned skill, and it can be helped by training your eye to understand different things in artwork. but it's easy to start practicing! this is intuitive to me now, but an easy way to begin is to pick out one or two things that really stand out to you on a piece. (examples could be line quality; is it smooth? neat? textured? full of emotion?, shading: is it crisp? atmospheric? realistically rendered?, or colour choice: is it vibrant? is it moody? is it perfectly on model?) and draw attention to them and how the artist successfully used them to make the piece work.

if the piece includes design-work, pick something of that which you like as well. (clothes, colour choices, abilities, parallels to other characters, totally new or unique concepts that you haven't seen before. if you see your favourite colour combos or notions, let them know, but if it's a stranger remember they made the design for themselves, and you just share (good) tastes!) if you really want to make an artist/designer/storyteller's day, try to find the Little Thing that they've snuck into their art or design that ties into the story or lore that they are telling. even guesses to this end tend to be appreciated!

generally useful things you can also comment on are how well an artist has utilised a medium for its strengths, especially if the medium is a little unusual. if someone @'d me in particular i make sure to acknowledge that too because they probably read me for something and i should acknowledge the effort!

another thing i also always, always encourage, is to try to periodically share and comment on the work of people who are either less experienced or who have less visibility than you. especially if you have more of a platform! if you want to keep your blog clean of too many reblogs for aesthetic or professional reasons you can even go through and remove them later, but sharing the work of smaller accounts- even temporarily- makes such a huge difference! and encouraging + supporting younger or beginner artists is something we should be endeavouring to do as much as possible!

at the end of the day, i always just try to be very earnest in my tags.

there is generally no reason to withhold any praises i can think of, because it's usually nice to have your work perceived and appreciated! i personally loooovvve long rambling tags, screaming tags, stuff like "AAHH NOOOOOOO (THE BLORBO)" and so on. i try to leave the kind of thoughtful comments that i like (and am lucky enough) to receive, and i try to share artwork from a wide variety of people!

[yupuffin]

If anyone's trying to come up with tangible ways in which amatonormativity disproportionately harms aroace people -- more generally, people who neither have nor desire a committed life partner -- housing situations are a great example.

The widespread societal expectation that someone will inevitably not only "pair up" with a spouse but also transition to cohabiting exclusively with said spouse leaves aroace people at a singular disadvantage when it comes to housing stability. Under this amatonormative pretense, unpartnered people are expected to cohabit only with other unpartnered people, and the potential -- indeed, the eventuality, under amatonormativity -- for cohabitants to find a spouse and subsequently move out renders an aroace roommate's living situation particularly precarious.

And when it does come down to securing housing, the presence of a spouse under amatonormativity offers benefits such as shared income and the option to inhabit a smaller, and therefore cheaper, living space, as spouses are typically expected to share a bedroom rather than assign each individual to a separate room. Additionally, cohabiting with a spouse eliminates entirely the task of finding a suitable roommate (or perhaps multiple). Conversely, these expectations serve as obstacles for aroace and unpartnered people in changing or establishing stable long-term living situations.

Of course, this is even more evident when considering the ongoing housing crisis in the U.S. and elsewhere under late-stage capitalism, highlighting the relevance of intersectionality; the option to live alone should one desire is often extremely difficult, if not impossible, to afford. And amatonormativity is so widely and deeply entrenched that the idealistic solution establishing a non-amatonormative living situation with non-amatonormative cohabitants is, more often than not, just that -- an ideal, a practically insurmountable task, rather than a reliable option.

As a real-life example, I'm an aroace person only in my twenties and I'm currently facing my fourth instance (three of which have occurred in the last five years) of an immediate family member who was previously unmarried, and also either jointly or fully responsible for my living situation, marrying and subsequently deciding to forgo said responsibility in favor of moving out with their spouse. That's a lot of moving, which involves repeatedly dealing with the obstacles I've previously described (in addition to personal obstacles, like having to get rid of belongings I would very much rather keep). It's exhausting, and I shouldn't have to feel like mimicking alloromantic/allosexual people and establishing a lifelong partnership with another individual is a prerequisite, or the only viable option, for enjoying the privilege of long-term housing stability.

[girderednerve]

it's true what they say: small town libraries are different

at present i am like, wow, they might be worse! everybody keeps telling me that we don't have enough problems to bother developing a policy for things, and then when we have problems we're all just supposed to make a judgment call without ever having talked about our values in any detail, so it's a huge mess

in my larger urban library, we knew our patrons & had some background on our regulars, but we mostly tried to consistently enforce a clear set of rules, & i spent a lot of time getting into arguments (usually productively) about what our ethical orientation towards those rules should be (whose needs are we prioritizing, how & why; what are the trade-offs to interpreting this rule generously, &c &c) & sitting through training discussions about how to enforce rules with patrons in a practical way (what kinds of problems do we tend to run into & how can we mitigate them; tone & body language stuff; scripts). genuinely i think library behavior rules are extremely important & getting staff buy-in for a shared vision of what experience we're trying to make sure that patrons have in the library is vital. i think about this all the time because i worked in libraries that had real safety threats (e.g., brawls; bomb threat) & spent a lot of time arguing what i thought of as the liberty interest, insisting over & over again that people who break rules in the library should not be barred from our services unless they are truly preventing others from accessing the library. a written set of rules gives people a strong guideline for what to expect in the library, if you do it right.

this is why i am all the time banging on about it, because most of these rules are VERY BAD! they do not promote patron understanding of library services; they are either vague ("be respectful" oh okay great thanks? what does that mean? seems pretty fucking arbitrary, but i'm sure you'll be evenhanded about it, captain 'i-solved-racism-with-my-black-history-month-display') or they're ridiculously detailed & include terrible rules (notorious, common no-sleeping rule; limits on how much stuff you can have; rule against 'staring' at others, on & on). a bunch of these rules are obviously intended to bar not disruptive behavior but ""disruptive"" persons. in the united states, the legal precedent to which public libraries refer when they write their rules & impose restrictions on their patrons, kreimer v. bureau of police (1992), was about the library's right to prevent an unhoused person from being in the library because of his body odor. super common rule btw & it sucks shit! either the library is for everyone, & we're happy to make resources available to everyone (unless they are literally in the process of rendering the library unusable for other patrons) or it's nothing & who fucking cares. all this to say that i did not like it very much when the library staff meeting had a whole section devoted to our one (1) unhoused regular, featuring a bizarre & unpleasant amount of detail on his personal history, with the outcome that everyone except for him is allowed to use the library's phone for brief calls. 15 minutes of my colleagues jumping in to tell us all that they know which church he goes to. urban libraries have their own problems but this shit is ridiculous. why must we either be like angels descended from upon high to tend to the unfortunates or pompous little cops. can't we just be like you know a public service

[osodemielstudio]

i wasn't sure what i wanted my first post to be on here but i decided on posting my artwork from my basic drawing class !! ( ill be posting my final in another post )

i finished my first semester and this drawing class was honestly my favorite one and ive definitely learned a lot and did things i never thought i'd make tht im really proud of. my main medium is digital art but ive been wanting to tackle more traditional art and this was a fun way to do so, we mostly used graphite, charcoal and prismacolor pencils ( mostly in black, terracotta and red ) for our work !! ill put under the readmore what each piece is abt so if yr interested, feel free to keep reading underneath !!

i made sure to put these in the order we were assigned to do them but if yr ever curious abt one particular piece, feel free to send an ask!

Perspective

This was our very first assignment! We learned abt 1, 2, and 3 point perspectives during class and were assigned to take or choose a photo in one of these perspectives, pick a minimum of 3 things and then draw boxes in the proper perspective in place of the chosen objects !! i ended up choosing my mess of a workspace to do for this one !!

Imaginary Space

This one was another perspective focused drawing but we were assigned to choose a perspective and then draw a variety of shapes of our choosing to create a space we could theoretically have a difficult time walking through. I actually had an idea of make it look like claws were coming out but simplified it cause the original concept was not working too well!

Rendered Objects

This is where we started learning about shading! We were assigned to pick 3 different shapes and simply render them with a medium of our choosing! Since I was doing a lot of graphite work, I decided to use a blue prismacolor colored pencil for this and really like how it came out!!

Grid Method

During this time, we actually began working on our first still life but next to that, we learned about the grid method which then became our next homework assignment! We had to choose and take a picture of an object ( preferably something small ) and then use the grid method to scale it and draw it onto our big 18x24 drawing paper !! I ended up on simple scissors that I have because I actually did this last minute and felt horrible but my teacher still really liked it !!

Overlapping Objects

This one was very interesting! So originally this assignment was supposed to be two different ones assigned at different times but because we missed a day of class, my teacher gave us the liberty of choosing either one or if we wanted to, combine them which is what I ended up doing. The original two assignments were to do a personal still life on toned paper using charcoal and white chalk or pick an item and draw it in different angles and sizes to make it look like objects floating in space! I really wanted to do the overlapping object one but i wanted to try out the toned paper too so that's what I did and my teacher really loved this one!! ( also it was absolutely a mess to work with lol )

Still Life

This was my very first ever still life I actually did and I'm so happy abt it !! This was an in class assignment that we worked on for about 3 weeks and were allowed to finish at home on the last day and turn it in as our next assignment ! I am so so happy with how it came out and i'm very proud of myself for going out of my comfort zone with this !! Realism is definitely not my style but poking at it in this assignment definitely made me feel a bit more comfortable with it and maybe one day ill do another still life to keep practicing !!

Drapery Study

This was our next " still life " assignment !! This was a nice change of pace because not only was it just one " simple " object but i decided to work in color for this one and use a red erasable prismacolor pencil ( it was also very messy and smudged but it was still fun regardless ) !! Learning how to render the folds and how deep the shades should be at certain areas was so fun and my teacher really liked the result as well !!

[missacidburn928]

Was Feeling Some Type Of Way

So I sat down and this flowed out...(attach whichever fictional man you desire)

“Why are we like this? Why do I feel like I have to walk around on eggshells when you’re actually home? When did the raging fire inside me settle into smoldering ash? Was it when I could tell your mood by the sound of your steps coming down the hall? Or did you slowly beat it out of me with every hand you raised in anger? I never thought I would be in this situation. Swore I would never be that girl. But I was blinded by your façade of the perfect gentleman. The mask you hide behind in your day-to-day life. Like a true sociopath you mirror emotions with practiced perfection. A practically flawless performance. Hell, you had me fooled and under your spell. So much so, that I thought I deserved every unkind act you did to me. Every bruise, every fatigued muscle. And I begged for any crumb of affection you would bestow on me. Your good girl. Your perfect little whore.”

The look on his face is one I have yet to see before. It’s a mix of his usual mild annoyance when I speak my mind and the eyes of a man primed for the kill. To render my flesh from the bone.

But I’m no longer scared. He fucked up when he left me bloodied on the floor while he disappeared on business for weeks. The longest he has ever been away. While my body healed, so did my resolve to leave. But I wasn’t going to skirt away in the night. Oh, no. I was going to say my peace before I left this life behind. Knowing full well, I may not make it out of this house alive.

“I’m done riding this merry go round of delusion. I’m well past enjoyment and just full on nauseated. If I don’t attempt to remove myself now; I know that I will succumb to the ultimate escape. For like a butterfly captured in jar I only have so much air before your either free me or place me under glass for display.”

“You’re talking in riddles and nonsense. You love me. And you know how insanely in love with you I am. It’s how you’re able to drive me to do such crazy things. I have only ever hurt you because I get overwhelmed by my emotions, and I lash out. But I always make it up to you. I always come back. I would never turn my back on you. And you’re telling me that you’re what…leaving me? Like somehow, I’m just going to let you out that door without a fight.”

His eyes darken. “You. Are. Mine.” He takes a step in my direction. “I will chase you down to the ends of the earth if I need to and drag you all the way back kicking in screaming because the only place you should be allowed, is by my side.”

Unbeknownst to him, when he took the rather large step to try and intimidate me into submitting to his whims like in the past, he left a wide enough space behind him that lead straight to the partially opened front door. It was my one and only chance to break free.

Before I could think better of it, I cut to my left to make it around his large frame. Barely making it past the birth of him and the wall. With no time to waste I made a mad dash for the door. Wanting to be as far away from his reach as possible. As I crossed the threshold, I felt a finger slip into the back loop of my jeans…

[nameless-brand]

Well, I guess the world hasn't ended yet after I fell asleep, so it can't be that bad. Still have that feeling of foreboding though.

Anyway, a coalition of Japan, China, and Korea have been pressuring me to sell ALTIMIT at a fraction of its cost.

Japan especially - through KaibaCorp, which needs good PR since it's been alleged that Legendary Heroes, their game, was the vector for the Pluto's Kiss virus that knocked down most of the electronic infrastructure there.

Luckily, ALTIMIT is an American asset, though situated in the Free States, not the actual USA. The companies though are largely unaffected by the separation of North America.

I can feel like I'm going to be eminent domain'd soon by either the Free States or the United States. As an OS that's virtually immune to all viruses and malware - even though logically it should only be a matter of a time that it's cracked - it's a very good bargaining chip for diplomacy to Japan which is trying to recover from its losses and scared of a second Pluto's Kiss.

So in my self-interest, I've made use of our screwed-up government. Most billionaire companies nowadays have a direct line to the President's staff, the equivalent of concierge service. And as soon as I offered ALTIMIT, the Presidential staff jumped on it. The specifics are laborious to list, but I get a lump sum equivalent to a quarter of the company's value (which I paid practically pennies for it initially), a way to get Lillian unofficially out of the camp - and I've given a lot of latitude in regards to developing in the Nameless City.

Seems like I missed the meeting where all the major companies were divving up the remnants of the United States. Maybe because I wasn't a billionaire then.

Problem is with Lillian's case. I've seen the news about the animal attacks - seems like the animals are being displaced because of that large eagle capable of wind-based mana attacks. Though admittedly, some of those animals seem to be making it a point to attack human settlements. Luckily, the mana modifications for most of the animals doesn't render them invulnerable to hot weapons...yet.

I am also pretty sure that the reason why the fort she's in hasn't fallen is because she's there. Which means if Lillian leaves, it might make her anomalous nature obvious - not to mention several hundred kids dying is a pretty bad outcome. The army is being stubbornly machismo, being desperate for a win and have moved a lot of their firepower to protecting this particular fort - instead of properly retreating and just letting the animals have it.

What a mess.

[analog-horror-arg-blog]

Prehistoric Emergence Is Bad Part 1

So I have came across a few people promoting a analog horror series called Prehistoric Emergence as a good piece of analog horror or dinosaur horror, without putting any actual criticisms in and ignoring glaring issues. So I decided to do it myself. Keep in mind the information in this post should be used to harass the creator of said series.

So first off the most major problem with this series is it uses "ai." When watching the videos it clearly use images that can be found on the web. Said images are moving a bit but not really and have a certain uncanniness to them. This is because the images were placed into one of those "ai" programs that turns a image into a "animation." While of course not letting it last long enough to hallucinate. The voice over might be "ai" but I can't tell all the way.

That being said aside from being lazy for just using "ai," it is lazy in another way. It doesn't go through any effort to create any original images, art, or models of these creatures. Instead opting to just use other people's hard work and basic Jurassic Park renders. And since it is not actually animating anything and just using images, it is on the lower end of analog horror with the lowest level of effort. In comparison you have The Invasion of Godzilla by Jacob Animations which actually goes through the effort of hand drawing and at least animating the kaiju. Or Godzilla Found Footage by Lost Utopia Films which to my knowledge is using their own animated models. Or even Weird Birds by Archesuchus which is done in the style of a unfiction blog making updates and photos of dinosaur done using practical effects.

Some while there is some video footage, it is all taken from other people's video such as Sea Monsters Dangerous Dives.

Now for the main part, scientific inaccuracies and bad world building. So while the concept is interesting and plays off of the idea seen in Journey to the Center of the Earth, but it executes it poorly.

For starters, you have several different animals coming out of the same location, each of which not only come from different periods but different eras. For example, Mosasaurus from the Mesozoic Era, Dunkleosteus from the Paleozoic Era, and Megalodon from the Cenozoic Era all coming out of the same hole. How did all the creatures all end up in the exact same location.

On top of that how did they survive all this time? what were they eating? Because there is no mention of things like sharks, ammonites, and whales also coming of the Blue Hole? So what have they been eating this whole time?

It also seems like these 3 were only chosen because they are popular and well known, as opposed to what would make logical sense. For example, Megalodon would not make sense as a threat to humans to the point where we would have to avoid the waters. Sharks already don't attack(shark accidents don't count) let alone eat humans in the current day. So why would a shark that primarily fed on large marine life such as whales have any interest in eating a human. On top of that most animals don't really try to eat humans let alone would waste the energy to try to if they very large. So why is Mosasaurus a problem? The only one I could see possibly trying to eat humans is Dunkleosteus. That being said why not opt for a smaller species of Mosasauridae or other prehistoric marine creatures? The answer is obvious and that is because the other species aren't as well know so they opted for the more popular one rather than what would make sense.

Speaking of Mosasaurus Hoffmannii, due to them just using random images they have several conflicting depictions of Mosasaurus either like their tail fluke, counter shading, chunky body, or smooth scaly skin. I also recall Dunkleosteus has been found to have skin over it's teeth which makes sense. Note, I am not going to go over every single inaccuracy.

Part 2

[tickly-giggles]

So the obvious pro versus villain tickle fight I think we should start with: Dabi vs Hawks. Who would win?

Amazing first start, but! It doesn't have to be villain vs hero. You can submit villain vs villain or hero vs hero, as well! With that said, onto the tickle fight~

Dabi vs Hawks

Both Dabi and Hawks are insanely ticklish. It kinda depends on who grabs onto the other's weak spot first. All Dabi would need to do is sit on Hawks and focus on his back or his wings. And all Hawks would need to do is open Dabi up enough to get to his belly button.

Dabi doesn't only have one weak spot, but he has very few because of how scarred his skin is. Hawks has windows of opportunity, but he needs to be able to get to them while avoiding the giant target on his back.

Dabi is a merciless ler, and playing fair isn't exactly his strong point. Once he gets his hands on Hawks' wings, there is no hope for the pro hero, especially if he's pinned down.

Hawks is more of a playful ler, only being "merciless" because he likes to focus on the lee's bad spots due to their adorable laughter.

Dabi gets a rush of power from being a ler, and Hawks just finds it fun.

So a question to ask is, does Dabi's desire for power outweigh Hawks' desire to have fun?

Dabi doesn't really mind being a lee, but he prefers being a ler because of the aforementioned power dynamic. Hawks, on the other hand, loves being in either position. If he ends up tickling Dabi into submission, then that would be awesome! But if he ends up being tickled into submission, he would love that just the same. It's been established that Hawks is in love with being tickle tortured, so he honestly faces a win-win situation.

Both of them are skilled in combat, and both of them are very intelligent. I have no doubt they would practically predict each other's movements, and they'd probably make a full-on battle out of a tickle fight like the dorks they are.

That being said, Hawks is not the number two hero without reason. I believe he would win their tickle fight despite having few windows of opportunity. He would try giving Dabi a fighting chance at first, but as things get more intense, he would eventually go in for the kill.

He would want to send his feathers out, but they had established at the beginning that quirks wouldn't be fair in a tickle fight if only one of them could use them. So, he would instead squeeze, knead, and grab at any tickle spot that exposed itself. Dabi may not have many death spots, but his healthy skin is extremely ticklish. While Hawks widdled Dabi down, he would try to think of a way to completely incapacitate him. When he settles on a plan, he'd set it into motion.

He would try putting as "little effort" as possible into his tickle attacks to throw Dabi off. Dabi isn't stupid. He would expect some kind of mind games from the pro hero, but with how ticklish he is, his mind would be a bit clouded with anticipation.

When Dabi would eventually lunge at him, Hawks would pull out the pro moves and completely render Dabi immobile. He would hook his legs over the villain's thighs, and his arms over the villain's biceps, with Dabi hugged tight against his chest and his tummy fully exposed and helpless, and even stretched out a bit thanks to the angle from the hold Hawks had on him.

From there, Dabi would struggle like a madman, so Hawks would be forced to pull out the big guns. He would use his wings to attack Dabi's poor, defenseless tummy, especially his belly button. With the awkward angle, Dabi would have no way to fight back, and the hold Hawks has on him would be tight. The only way to get out of it would be to tap out.

Winner: Hawks!