#i need to get in the habit of posting more art

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 14!!!

Happy Birthday to regular reader and commenter @ritz-writes !! :D

Here's the sculpture mentioned in the fic: https://noma.org/collection/history-of-the-conquest/

You'll notice that the poll at the bottom isn't anything suuuuper important. There's just some plot things that I want to get running in the next section, so I'm gonna be writing it up and posting it tomorrow. But I promise you that it's still an important choice to make (also idk what to pick so that means you all get to pick lol ).

Okay! Here we go! Back to New Orleans with The Anti-Apocalypse Crew!

Beginning || Previous || Next

*************************

Now that you all were in the city, it only took Anathema the next morning to hone in on her signal. To Aziraphale's delight, it led you all to the sculpture garden at the New Orleans Museum of Art. To your delight, it led more specifically to a sculpture of a person riding a snail (to victory no doubt).

"I think this might be my favourite statue ever," You say aloud (because this author is assuming you would agree with her opinion). There is a person you don’t know standing in front of the statue. He gives a dissatisfied huff.

"It's called 'History of the Conquest,'" he tells you, despite not being asked, "The ever-slow and over-confident march of the entitled towards a future where they're in charge. Everyone else suffers while they promise glory and prosperity."

Your jaw drops open. This person looks like a 'surfer dude,' but is talking like someone who's spent most of their life in a cubicle changing 1s to 0s for 8 straight hours a day.

"WOW! That is BLEAK," is what finally comes out of your mouth. "Proper ray of sunshine, you are."

Okay, that sounded really British. You briefly wonder about the effect of spending so much time around Crowley and Aziraphale before Surfer Dude starts to laugh.

"I've seen a few things, human. Been 'round longer than you've been alive, will be long after you die. You're no more than a moth in my eyes."

"Wow," You can't help but repeat yourself, "Again, bleak." Also rude, but priorities.

"It is what it is," Surfer Dude replies. You shake your head and turn to Aziraphale and Crowley.

"You're up," You concede. You have no idea who this is, but he called you "human," and compared you to a moth. Whoever this person is, they’re probably the one Anathema’s had you looking for. He doesn’t look like Jesus, but maybe he will know where Jesus is. Either way, Anathema doesn’t get things wrong. If her work brought you to this person, then he’s the person you need to talk to.

That being said, whoever this is, he's the Ineffable Husbands' department and not yours. Sometimes you just gotta tap out and let the celestials handle their own kind. Now, this doesn't mean that you're not going to sit back and watch. Oh no, you want to see how this plays out.

"Can I have some popcorn?" You stage-whisper to Crowley as you pass him.

"Piss off," Crowley stage-whispers back. Despite his complaint, you notice a tiny Michael-Sheen smile on Aziraphale's face, and you return to Anathema, who looks surprised and is holding two small cartons of popcorn. You gratefully take one and have a seat on a convenient bench that is located conveniently within earshot. This is gonna be good.

"Hello," Aziraphale begins as he approaches, "I'm Aziraphale."

"Right," Surfer Dude says with a roll of his eyes, "The Angel of the Eastern Gate. I'm so honoured."

"Here I thought manners were important to angels," Crowley replies, sidling up next to Aziraphale. Surfer-Dude-Who-Is-Apparently-An-Angel takes in Crowley and raises an eyebrow.

"And here I thought demons didn't make a habit of hanging off angels' arms," Surfer Dude scoffs in in return.

Crowley snarls.

"Yes, well, each of us seems to be an anomaly in our own right," Aziraphale says with an appeasing smile, "This is Crowley. Might we have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"No."

"Ah, right. Well, that is to your own discretion I suppose."

"Rude is what it is," sneers Crowley.

"Regardless, we've come to this garden with the guidance of our friend here, hoping to find, well, Jesus as it happens."

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person throws his head back and laughs outright.

"You're looking for who now? JESUS? HA! Bit of soul-searching for you, is it? Spiritual journey? Pilgrimage to the Holy Land? You're in the wrong place for that!" He keeps laughing.

I mean, you get the laughter. It definitely sounds weird to a third party. Crazy even. But if this guy is an angel, then shouldn't it sound perfectly reasonable?

"Oi," Crowley interrupts, clearly impatient, "We're trying to save the world here. And since angels don't normally take holiday time, I'd think helping us might be in your best interest."

"You think you can stop the Second Coming? Ha! There isn't another technicality that you can throw around this time. This one's it. Enjoy the giant snail statues while they last, because it won't be for much longer."

"You know an awful lot," You call from the bench, "And you like to talk. So just get to the part about Jesus so we can leave you to be miserable on your own." You popcorn is already almost finished, and you frown into your carton. If only you could do miracles. You'd refill it yourself.

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person laughs again.

"Yeah, okay, I like this one," he says, nudging a thumb in your direction. He turns away from Crowley and Aziraphale and strides towards you. Suddenly your popcorn carton is full again, so you look up. Okay, maybe he's not so bad. He reaches out a hand to you.

"Call me Sardis, Little Moth."

After a moment of hesitation, you shake his hand. He turns back to Crowley and Aziraphale.

"I can see why you've adopted this one," he says, then turns his attention to Anathema, paying no mind to the garbled protests coming from Crowley. "And since we're doing introductions...?"

"Anathema Device," says Anathema with a nod. She would probably shake his hand, but between her equipment and her popcorn, her hands are full.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Anathema," Sardis nods at her before finally looking back at Aziraphale and Crowley. "You won't find Jesus here. But meet me for drinks later and I'll tell you what you need to know to find him."

"You're unnecessarily cryptic, Sardis," You say with a raised eyebrow and a mouth full of popcorn. He laughs again.

"Well, Little Moth," his eyes have a sparkle in them now as he looks at you, "Gotta keep myself entertained somehow."

Sardis insists on giving you all a tour of the sculpture garden, but refuses to say anything more about Jesus, or how he knows about Armageddon, or why he isn't in Heaven, or anything else that you actually WANT to talk about. He insists that such talk isn't for a quiet garden full of art. It isn't until he lays a cryptic finger beside his nose and winks at you that something clicks in your memory.

Remember, back before JK Rowling turned out to be an awful person, back when everyone read Harry Potter? EVERYONE, RIGHT?? Perhaps, dear Reader, you remember the chapter in book 5 where Hermione calls a meeting at The Hog's Head because it’s less crowded. Hermione figures the sparse crowd means that there are fewer people to see them together. Perhaps you also remember when, later in the book, this action comes back to bite them, and they are told very sternly that they should have met at the Three Broomsticks precisely BECAUSE it was busier. A busy pub meant they would have been less likely to be overheard.

Suddenly you look around the garden and notice the sparse, but very much there, collection of people. Just the right number of people that could listen to your conversation if they wanted to without you being any the wiser. Oh.

Oh.

Maybe the cryptic is a little bit necessary after all. He’s still overdoing it in your opinion, but whatever floats his goat.

You part ways after his tour, agreeing to meet at a local bar at 9pm. There’s enough time to go back to the hotel, freshen up, and get something to eat before you make your way there.

“Well,” Aziraphale says back at the hotel, “This Sardis certainly is a character.”

“I know the name from somewhere,” You trail off in thought. Where have you heard it before? Sardis…Tardis…Sardine….You’re not sure, but it rings a bell.

Anathema is already flipping through notebooks. Aziraphale has picked up his copy of the Bible, and Crowley is on his phone. You figure everyone else has it covered, and sure enough, it’s Crowley who finds it first. Google, no doubt.

“Ha! Found the sod! He’s in Revelation.”

“Oh!” You practically jump as recognition finally hits. “He’s one of the seven angels! The ones we didn’t think were here!”

“You didn’t think any of them were here?” Anathema asks, “Did you even check, or did you just assume?”

“Well Muriel said…” You go quiet, before clearing your throat and trying again. “We didn’t look into it far at all, no.”

“So exactly what work did you do before you called me?”

“Umm…….” You say.

“Nnngggh” Crowley adds.

“A great deal less than we thought at the time, apparently,” Aziraphale finally admits with a sigh.

“You are all really bad at saving the world.” Anathema shakes her head.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[garbinge]

Not Much To Tell

Jess Mariano x Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I've been rewatching gilmore girls and I'll always be a team jess girlie <3

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of pregnancy and toxic ex who suggests “taking care of it.” *Want to clarify we are pro choice in this house!!!* All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989kmc1

“So, Doose's Market is right downstairs across the block, the post office is on Peach Street, bookstore is on Plum, and the bakery is on Apricot Ave.” 

As you stood in what used to be Luke’s apartment which used to be a hardware store office surrounded by your luggage and all your personal belongings, you rested your hand on your stomach which was showing your obvious pregnancy. 

“One more fruit street name and you’d have a salad.” Your voice cracked at the awkward joke but you quickly smiled at Jess’ response. 

“Well I did forget to mention the gas station and Gypsy’s Auto repair which is on the corner of Cherry and Walnut.” 

“Walnuts in a salad, my God Mariano, the years have changed you.” You teased your old best friend.

It brought you back to being 16 in New York and teasing each other, spending all of your free time together. In all honesty, where you were at in life you wished you could just go back to that simpler time. Where your biggest issues were getting Jess to actually show up to school and not mark up all of your books, But seeing how that was impossible, you’d have to make due with what was in front of you. You supposed it wasn’t all that bad, Jess had swooped in and come to your rescue. But when you spoke the words “the years have changed you”, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes move down to your stomach for a millisecond before coming back up to your eyes. 

Yes, the years had changed you as well, although it was more like the months did. You were 6 months pregnant with no where to live, no where to go, no job, just $500 in your bank account with no expectation of anymore deposits to be made. But in this moment none of that mattered because Jess took one worry off your plate. A place to live. 

“You know I remember that one time I came to visit you here.” Your hand cupped your stomach instinctually before moving to look out the window. “You met me at the bus stop,” you pointed to the bus stop in view, “and then took me to the diner and made me a burger.” With that, you turned back to him. 

“Old habits die hard.” Jess shrugged since it was exactly what he just did. Picked you up at the bus stop and brought you to Luke’s. 

“Caesar made me my burger this time.” You corrected him. 

“And with no ketchup smiley face, I have to add.” Jess tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows. 

“Really changed the whole experience.” You nodded in agreement and then the booth of you laughed. 

“So, there really isn’t any food here, and I think the only soap Luke has here is an Irish Spring bar from 2002.” Jess was going to the linen closet to look for anything that resembled a toiletry. “But we have sheets.” He pulled out a blanket and a sheet from the closet on the side that used to be his. 

“Jess.” You interrupted him, you could have given him a funny sarcastic response but you saw how much he was scrambling. 

He was placing the linens on the bare mattress and turned to look at you, tucking his long hair behind his ear. 

“I can go to the store, it’s okay.” It was then when you were grabbing your bag from the kitchen table. 

“You want company?” He was asking, grabbing his keys. 

“Would love that.” You smiled and with that, you were off walking to Doose’s. 

The market was cute and had everything you could need in a off-brand label. Jess was holding the basket for you as you added in food and shampoo. As you two stood at the frozen food section, debating the art of the perfect hot pocket, Luke appeared. 

The whole interaction was short, less than 2 minutes but it felt like eternity. He was talking to Jess about his mom and TJ, something that honestly was too complex for someone who was new to the conversation to understand, but for someone like Jess who not only knew TJ and Liz but also was privy to information regarding their current distress the answer seemed pretty simple to him despite Luke’s clear frustration. His frustration soon turned to fluster because his eyes moved to your stomach. 

It was obvious, he did a full double take. Mid-sentence he looked at you, smiled, greeted you because he remembered you and then went back to talking in a distressed manner to Jess before his brain caught up to his eyes. His eyes moved directly to your stomach and then went wide as his stare went directly to Jess for an explanation. 

It was obvious what Luke was thinking despite his lack of ability to say it outloud. The stutters that left his mouth were incoherent but obvious. It was then clear that Jess was related to him because he matched his uncle’s fluster with his own. Trying to explain the situation in stutters, grunts, confused noises and head shakes while Luke similarly flailed around. 

When Jess told you Luke was willing to give his apartment up for super cheap every month, you had assumed he was aware of your situation but leave it to Jess to leave out any and all crucial details. 

“It’s not Jess’” You interrupted the two men with a neutral voice. “He’s just helping me out in a tough time.” 

Luke stood up straight, confusion still littered on his face but relief starting to wash over it. “Oh, uh, it wouldn’t have mattered, I just– kid doesn’t tell me much you know, never has and still doesn’t…” Luke pushed Jess awkwardly with a smile on his face. “I’ll uh,” He brought his hand up to scratch behind his neck and then brought his thumb out to point behind him and just turned to leave. 

A chuckle left your mouth as you turned to Jess who looked equally frustrated and embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry, he uh, is–” 

“So much like you.” You finished the sentence for him and smiled before turning to the freezer section and grabbing the pint of ice cream. 

Jess looked at you grabbing the mint ice cream and smiled. 

“Toothpaste ice cream really?” He grabbed it from your hand and placed it into the basket. 

“Always been my favorite, you know this.” You moved to the check out lanes. 

“I thought maybe pregnancy would have altered your taste buds to realize the true disgust of it.” He started to place all the items on the belt. 

It was honestly his first time really acknowledging the pregnancy. He obviously was aware of it, but even when he ran into you in New York a week ago he never really said anything about it. He just realized you were struggling and knew he was in a position to help. 

“You don’t really talk about it.” You passed him items from the basket as he placed them down. 

“I figured you’ll tell me when you want.” He wouldn’t make eye contact with you. 

“Not really much to tell.” You shrugged and moved to the cash register as he unloaded the rest of the items. 

“$72.56” The cashier spoke as they dropped the items into multiple bags. 

As you went to grab cash from your bag, Jess moved and handed the person a large bill before you could even get the zipper open. 

“Jess.” You said it calmly, but clearly feeling some way about it. 

“I wanted to do this for you before you got here but I got caught up in Philly.” His eyes were genuine, and you took a minute to decide if you were going to continue arguing or not. Ultimately you raised your hands and stepped back and let Jess pay. 

As you stepped outside with the bags in your hand, Jess immediately came from behind you and took them out of your arms. 

“I don’t want you thinking I’m a charity case.” 

“Do you not remember that you paid for everything when we were kids? Pizza, refilling my metro card, my CDs.” 

“I didn’t pay for your CDs, just lended you the ones I bought for myself.” You corrected him. “Plus, I had a good job making stupid good money for a 15 year old.” 

“Well I have a good job making stupid good money for a 30 year old.” He shrugged. 

“His name was Glen and he was in a band and decided touring was probably more important than this. Gave me $500 to take care of it.” You blurted out the sentence while both of you were crossing the street, although you stopped to let the words flow out of your mouth so when Jess turned around he was a few steps ahead of you. 

“Glen is a really lame name.” He said it so soft, and you knew what he was really saying with that sentence. 

“It was the name of his band, too, The Glen.” You felt the tears in the back of your eyes but you didn’t let them escape. 

“Even lamer.” He nodded. 

“Thank you.” You stared directly at him. 

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m ordering Thai food for us tonight and we’re watching Almost Famous.” Jess was turning around to keep walking towards your new place. 

You picked up your pace to keep up with him and called out, “I don’t know if you want to give the pregnant lady Thai food!” 

[hjeojeo]

Previous reblogged post (link) (quick summary: people online in creative communities don't interact with each other as they used to, don't share their thoughts and feelings of what art makes them feel, everything is content fodder they reflexively scroll through)

And this post on twitter (link) (quick summary of this video: someone expresses they always feel overwhelmed by messages, and someone else explains humans can't handle being available 24/7 bc this social change was only within the last 20 years so the current social expectation of prompt response is impossible, humans haven't evolved fast enough to handle this kind of stress)

Got me thinking about how everything really is backwards to what would help nurture a genuine community.

We're both too present and demanding of others' presence in the arbitrary ways, but also not present enough with the actual parts that matter like vulnerability with sharing yer thoughts to someone else.

I know that we all know that it's cause of capitalism, but i feel like there are some things we collectively could do about it instead of waiting for capitalism to eventually crumble.

I know that for myself it helped a lot to budget my time online, bc i know my brain can only take so much info before it's just stuck in scroll mode without processing anything (gotta accept that yeah yer gonna miss like 99% of what's going on, but you'llbe able to process yer 1% of what you experience better imo). And i try to remind myself to not just anger respond to ppl when theyre weird/rude to me bc ppl Get a certain way online when they can't experience the irl experience of a whole ass person in front of them (i just ignore those ppl tho bc i don't have the patience or energy to try to interact with those rank vibes).

I think the hardest part is being vulnerable and talking to ppl openly, but i can't tell if that's cause of growing up in an abusive home or bc internet social atmospheres have become so stagnant and moldy, probably both; but i am trying to put some active effort into being more vulnerable and genuine as often as i can even tho i gotta do it with gritted teeth sometimes

Truly, current day is the scifi dystopia of surveillance state government, weirdest social expectations and norms, active modern colonialism and genocides, slavery reskinned as prison system, and probably more I can't remmeber at top of my head.

But i guess like those scifi dystopia genres, all the individual can do is collective efforts as a community, and also fight tooth and nail to nurture yer humanity and human experience...starting with seeing past the usernames and profiles to the actual human being that sits behind the screen..

Cause if you start there, it may naturally lead to the actions that you might want to do but feel that you can't- like showing up for other people/community/people in need/etc, i think when yer in a frozen state everything will feel impossible to you, but i think if you get moving it'll slowly become more obvious to you what the next steps can be, and then i guess that's how you gradually become the person you want to be (you never start off knowing yer full path, sometimes you don't even know yer next step, but you might have some inkling of a thougut of what to try that might help you get information for the next step)

Hm...Idk i have bad habit of trying to neatly summarize stuff for my small brain, this is all stuff for me to digest in the long term

[cometzz]

shoutout fantasy high friendships & moving in place by shauna dean cokeland

[isjasz]

The brainrot continues (Blame @vesperionnox and @cherrysherin we are dragging the whole server down with this au)

Part 1

[deeva-arud]

Deeva Årud - Club Wear Voice Lines

When Summoned: Lights dimmed, tension building up… Are you ready to feel our rhythm? Summon Line: Playing music with friends is fun, I’m glad to be here even though I’m starting to feel a bit nervous.

Groooovy!!: We’d be delighted to see you at our next show. Spotting a familiar face among the crowd is always nice. Home: “Let’s rock and roll”, as some would say. Home Idle 1: I joined the Pop Music Club on my second year. Perhaps it’s quite a drastic change from my previous club but… it’d be a lie to say I’m not enjoying my time here. Home Idle 2: Most of the time I’m the one suggesting we should practice, but somehow Lilia, Cater and Kalim always distract me with all these unknown snacks and gadgets. Sometimes I have the feeling they do it on purpose… Home Idle 3: I need to warm my hands, it’s hard playing an instrument when they’re cold. Home Idle – Login: *humming Piece of My World* Ah- sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something? Home Idle – Groovy: I’ve been playing violin and other instruments since I was a kid. My family has always had a connection with music and I’ll gladly continue this legacy. Conveying your thoughts and feelings through sounds is quite satisfactory. Home Tap 1: My first concert with them? Since it was the first time I’d be playing in front of many people, I knew I’d have a hard time trying to look at the audience. Cater noticed and told me to look at him so I could feel less overwhelmed… Let’s say I didn’t expect him to be so literal. His clones substituted the audience because no one came to see us. Home Tap 2: Hm, my violin? Indeed, it’s not the same one I use at Mostro Lounge. An electric violin is more suitable for the club’s activities. I’m surprised you noticed it. That means someone’s been paying too much attention to the musician playing ambience music… That was a joke. Home Tap 3: Kalim and I joined the club in the same year so I got to see how much he’s improved his drumming technique. It’s impressive. Certainly, Lilia’s been an excellent teacher to him. Home Tap 4: I like the idea of having customized masks for our performances. Maybe I should mention it once we have enough funds. Home Tap 5: I recently accepted to do some vocals just for our club sessions. You can come see us, but please refrain from telling everyone else. At the moment, I only feel comfortable singing for a few people. Home Tap – Groovy: When it comes to a band like this many wouldn’t think of a violinist, but that actually gives songs an interesting feeling, don’t you think? Duo: [DEEVA]: Ready for a shocking performance, Cater? [CATER]: Ready as ever, Dee-chan!

[tytoalbatross]

god damn i do not post often but can i talk about intentionality for a second?? one second please

i'm gonna be talking about bg3 but this really applies to any fandom space. people will, surface-level, agree that a Black character is not getting enough content compared to their white counterparts because it's. obvious . take wyll, who is several hours behind on voiced lines compared to other origins despite being one of the original five (before they added karlach and whiteified her too but that's another post). it's hard to deny cold hard facts

but then instead of engaging in content that uplifts Black characters and creators, they'll go right back to pumping out more and more content of just their white faves. on its own, it's not actively harmful, but here's what the implication is, whether they acknowledge it or not: yes wyll has less in-game content, yes his writing didn't get the attention it deserved, therefore i don't like him as much. it only perpetuates wyll's lack of content by contributing to his sidelining in fandom spaces

what i would love for fans who claim to be allies to do is to step out of the comfort zone of their initial favorites (which can, in fact, be biased!) and start pursuing content centering Black characters with intentionality. like all things, anti-racism (actively pushing back against racism rather than simply "Not Being Racist") takes practice and effort. you can't really agree with us that wyll needs more content, then in the same breath say that it's because of that that he's not interesting to you . the point was right in front of you doing a jig and you still missed it

[icewindandboringhorror]

a quite simple outfit, trying to use the little blue and white apron thing (which is actually a dress I think, that I just leave un-buttoned in the back and added an apron-like tie to lol)

[iinmysights]

must not be as rusty as i thought bc this is just shy of 3 hours of work. anyway here’s caedes :3

[bmpmp3]

ive been having a lot of fun incorporating embroidery onto paper drawings in school recently (inspired by a printmaking teacher i had once who sometimes stitched her prints, it looked really cool!) but one thing that has kind of been bugging me is how my instructors have been talking about the gendered aspect of it. i know using any form of textile practice in contemporary art is gonna get some kind of thoughts about the historical concept of "women's work" and i dont mind that thats chill thats like normal. its not what, i, the artist, is focusing on personally, but death of the author and all that, as an interpretation its an interesting thing to think about and equally as valid as my intention. also a good topic for essays and such

BUT today my instructor tried to convince me that i can embroider directly on printer paper instead of the thicker papers ive been using and i was like ABSOLUTELY NOT maybe YOU can but I have BIG CLUMSY SWEATY HOT MITTEN HANDS and i Destroy printer paper by looking at it funny. the second a photocopy reaches my skin its already wrinkled. gloves dont help my sweat is too powerful. im CLAMMY leave me ALONE hfkjrwefhjegrfe

and there is an unconcious bias ive been noticing of a lot of very progressively minded artists assuming that i can do this shit delicately. listen. embroidery can be a very delicate and masterful skill that people hone over decades. but not everyone who does it is that skilled master. some of us just like to clumsily sew string through stuff so they can feel the texture. and some of us are really sweaty.

[macrumbs]

first kiss things

[mittysins]

Send some prompts for some messy, zero effort preg doodles!

[hakaiart]

i looked through my art folders today and i have some (read: like 5) drawings from last year that i never posted bc they were too sketchy or not even coloured but i still like them and uni means i wont be able to post anything new for a while so hey. i may as well queue them

[nabaath-areng]

I keep returning to the same places in my dreams? One of them being a cold, faraway planet where it’s always dark, and where I always land in the same cave/valley that is empty except for a worn down signpost with nothing written on it and the sound of the whining wind. I’ve only ventured outside this cave one night, though I don’t remember there being anything but more ice and water.

Before coming here this night I had jumped between several planets looking for something??? And I kept wondering “How can I find myself again among all these rocks?”, and I thought this usual place would be my last resort. Found nothing before I woke up.

It’s kinda weird but it’s also one of my favorites? Among with a citystate on a boat out in the middle of nowhere, and a hilly small town with people and shops and restaurants everywhere.

[dadbots]

To do what I want and to do what makes me happy.

[v4nnyzzz]

.