#i want to spend time improving my art and making it look good but i struggle to focus on anything with it taking hours to even start

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

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[vilelittlecritter]

You ever just try to finally study art but every time you try it ends up looking nothing like what you were studying and you barely got anything done and you feel like your running out of time to do anything and that you're wasting it and ultimately this hobby which brings you joy is slowly being consumed by a mountain of stress and anxiety and you feel like there's no point in even trying to do anything at all at this point?

Ha ha ha! Couldn't be me!

[evilwizard]

I do want to say, my views on AI “art” have changed somewhat. It was wrong of me to claim that it’s not wrong to use it in shitposts… there definitely is some degree of something problematic there.

Personally I feel like it’s one of those problems that’s best solved via lawmaking—specifically, AI generations shouldn’t be copywrite-able, and AI companies should be fined for art theft and “plagiarism”… even though it’s not directly plagiarism in the current legal sense. We definitely need ethical philosophers and lawmakers to spend some time defining exactly what is going on here.

But for civilians, using AI art is bad in the same nebulous sense that buying clothes from H&M or ordering stuff on Amazon is bad… it’s a very spread out, far away kind of badness, which makes it hard to quantify. And there’s no denying that in certain contexts, when applied in certain ways (with actual editing and artistic skill), AI can be a really interesting tool for artists and writers. Which again runs into the copywrite-ability thing. How much distance must be placed between the artist and the AI-generated inspiration in order to allow the artist to say “this work is fully mine?”

I can’t claim to know the answers to these issues. But I will say two things:

Ignoring AI shit isn’t going to make it go away. Our tumblr philosophy is wildly unpopular in the real world and most other places on the internet, and those who do start using AI are unfortunately gonna have a big leg up on those who don’t, especially as it gets better and better at avoiding human detection.

Treating AI as a fundamental, ontological evil is going to prevent us from having these deep conversations which are necessary for us—as a part of society—to figure out the ways to censure AI that are actually helpful to artists. We need strong unions making permanent deals now, we need laws in place that regulate AI use and the replacement of humans, and we need to get this technology out of the hands of huge megacorporations who want nothing more than to profit off our suffering.

I’ve seen the research. I knew AI was going to big years ago, and right now I know that it’s just going to get bigger. Nearly every job is in danger. We need to interact with this issue—sooner rather than later—or we risk losing all of our futures. And unfortunately, just as with many other things under capitalism, for the time being I think we have to allow some concessions. The issue is not 100% black or white. Certainly a dark, stormy grey of some sort.

But please don’t attack middle-aged cat-owners playing around with AI filters. Start a dialogue about the spectrum of morality present in every use of AI—from the good (recognizing cancer cells years in advance, finding awesome new metamaterials) to the bad (megacorporations replacing workers and stealing from artists) to the kinda ambiguous (shitposts, app filter that makes your dog look like a 16th century British royal for some reason).

And if you disagree with me, please don’t be hateful about it. I fully recognize that my current views might be wrong. I’m not a paragon of moral philosophy or anything. I’m just doing my best to live my life in a way that improves the world instead of detracting from it. That’s all any of us can do, in my opinion.

[hermajestyimher]

This Is How We Will Own 2023:

We're less than a month away from the New Year, and as such, it is important that we begin to set the foundations and plans we have to not only succeed, but make 2023 a memorable year.

Regardless of how 2022 went for you, regardless of how many goals you were able to achieve, a new year marks a new beginning. Do not beat yourself over how things went, focus on how you can improve them moving forward.

In 2023 we're:

Spending less time being passive scrollers online. The pandemic is over, the world is back in action and so must we. It's time to stop letting our minds be consumed by the opinions of thousands of people on the internet. More often than not, the things we read online come from the psyche of mentally unwell individuals, and given social media's tendency to prompt out the voices of the most unhinged, it gives people that shouldn't have a platform a false sense of authority. In 2023 we're getting off the grid as much as we can and reconnecting with the real world. We will not allow this online façade to swallow us into its void any longer.

Spending more time learning and engaging in high-end activities and hobbies that can elevate our social circle and our taste. Things like polo matches, pilates, ballet, opera, piano classes, poetry, political forums, martial arts, and high-intensity sports, among other things. It is crucial to cultivate a persona that engages in a variety of fulfilling activities that can bring us joy but also help us grow as individuals.

Prioritizing our health and fitness. No more excuses, it's time to cut down on added sugar and refined carbs, time to eat more nutrient-dense whole foods, drink plenty of water daily, invest in vitamin injections every other month, take supplements to improve our body's collagen production, and overcome feelings of laziness by pushing ourselves through fitness goals. 2023 we will make of the gym our sanctuary.

Living below our budget and investing as much as we can. If you haven't already, get a financial advisor, develop long and short-term financial goals and get organized with your income. It doesn't matter if in the past you've felt like your financial habits have not been the most adequate, it's never too late to take control of them and be responsible. We owe to ourselves to spend wisely to have the peace of mind financial security brings. Never go broke trying to impress others.

We're no longer entertaining inadequate men. I must admit I'm guilty of this myself. After years of not dating, getting back into the dating scene has felt extremely disappointing and tiring. Most prospects are simply not up to par with the standards I have and what I want out of my life partner. Sometimes we allow ourselves to become desperate to build these types of romantic relationships that we begin to overlook the things that we really want deep down. In 2023, we're refocusing our attention on living our best lives and being as active as possible in real-life events as touched upon previously, and trust that the right dating prospects will present themselves when we least expect. We attract, we don't chase.

Finally, we're overcoming negative self-talk patterns that hinder our growth. We're investing in therapy, we're unlearning the limiting beliefs that keep us in bondage to people, routines, and views of the world that are not good for us. We have to put an end to the insidious lie of the scarcity mindset, overcome past traumas, and look forward to the good things that are yet to come.

There are many more things I could add to this list, but for now, these are the things I and I know many of you will find helpful on improving on for the year to come. These lists can come out as intimidating to some people, but we have to remember that we are not expected to become the ideal version of ourselves overnight. Growth is a marathon, not a sprint, and it requires consistency. Each day that you wake up and choose to do one or two things differently you're making stride towards that better you. No improvement is ever too little.

Let's make 2023 a memorable year, and every year afterwards.

Daphne.

[petite-madame]

just so you know, it’s very obvious to actual artists that you’re posting AI and then lying that you’ve done it all by hand. kind of embarrassing, and more than a little fucked up.

Hi anon

This kind of nonsense usually ends up in the trash with a laugh but as it's my first "your art is AI", let's go! (It was just a matter of time, as practically all my artist friends got this kind of messages at this point)

it’s very obvious to actual artists...

Actual artists ? You mean, like me, a professional illustrator in her 40s, who has started drawing at the age of 8 and who has been drawing with a consistant art style for the past 15 years (with some improvements, thank god 🤓) ? People like you have accused me of tracing using tracing paper when I was a kid, tracing in Photoshop 15 years ago when I started to post on the internet and now my art is "AI". I should be used to it by now: when I posted this one 14 YEARS AGO, people told me it was traced and that "I wasn't a real artist, actual artists could tell"

I've consistently posted step by step, WIPs, vids, reels, gifs, shown the number of layers I use by art (sometimes more than 100) but apparently, it's never enough. And my art is AI generated ? Which one ?

So much for the Loki one, I apologize for the 0,3%…

Which is also funny is that fans of Supernatural, Good Omens, Sherlock, etc…have been able to say exactly which reference pictures I used for each drawing, not only for faces but sometimes also for the pose and the clothing (because yes, omg, I use reference pictures, the horror 😲)

However if you want to talk about my technique, and I've never hidden it, I sometimes use photos or 3D models for backgrounds because I hate drawing backgrounds. For instance the background of the Superwholock one is composed of a couple of stock pictures (a pub).

Same for a "Sherlock Harry Potter AU" I'll post in a month or so: some parts oh Hogwarts are screenshots from the movie because I didn't feel like drawing a room full of students.

Also, is there sometimes mistakes in my art that don't make sense ? Yes, nothing new, I make mistakes, I've been doing it for years and I still do it, particularly when it comes to anatomy. I want to pull my hair out when I notice them weeks (sometimes months) later but here we are.

Anyway, people like you who throw "it's AI" accusations all over the Internet better think twice because the result is this.

Don't get me wrong, I get the AI paranoia but instead of sending messages to artists like this one, ask kindly about their process, their technique, etc…and also, have a look at their archive, it could help.

I'm leaving you now, I have AI art to generate (= spending 10 hours per drawing using reference pictures, finding inspiration from classical painting, using about 100 layers and stressing about the art not being good enough).

Have a great weekend!

[pachimation]

redrawing my very first chiscara comic/art i ever did for chscr day!!

old comic under the cut!!

lol a bunch of sappy semi serious stuff below bc i cant help but be a bit genuine about this ship today :’3

i cant possibly put into words how important this silly little ship and its community mean to me haha,,,, this comic was made in 2021 but i didnt really get serious about chscr until late 2022 after a bunch of pretty bad interpersonal stuff happened and i needed an outlet,, COINCIDENTALLY a certain someone was announced to be playable around then and i was already thought chscr was Pretty Neat™️ so i ended up diving headfirst into the ship. it also gave me a good excuse to work on more comics too!! i’d done a pretty big zhongven comic earlier that year in the summer, but in terms of lore there was only so much i could have worked with at the moment.

childe and scaramouche have that perfect combination of silliness and angst and violence that could be explored or expanded in so many ways and i love love love seeing other people’s interpretations of their dynamic and relationship. they’re so complex,,,,they’re narrative foils,,,they’re narrative parallels,,,they’re trans allegories,,,they’re flies in the spiderweb of the games lore,,,they’re my stupid little meow meows,,, they’re just two losers i want to see make out,,,

in a nutshell, they’re everything to me. well, i hope i get that kind of sentiment across in my own comics,,,,

and i cant get started on all the people ive met through chiscara or the way that having something i can call “my thing”, as in, the thing that i like and that i will spend a lot of time and effort (and money, but lets not talk about that) to surround myself with because it makes me smile. its stupid to say, but being a nerd about these two stupid guys who have never had a single canon onscreen interaction in some random game has made me a much happier and confident person that i could have ever imagined back in my freshman year of college,,, when i say i dont know who i’d be if i hadnt gotten into chiscara, i really do mean it lol

i’m actually surprised i’m making it to over a full year of regular-ishly making art, especially for the same game and ship! thats never happened before and my art has improved so much over this past year!! more than anything else, i’m happy! i get to be excited talking about these characters with my friends and i love to see art of them pop up on the tl. i make stickers of them and decorate my phonecase with them and have little figures of them in my room that i look at when im up late at night working on schoolwork. sometimes just the thought of finishing a comic or daydreaming about a scenario or seeing what my mutuals are up to are some of the few things getting me through a tough day.

,,,,so believe me when i say, to both childe and scara and to everyone else as obsessed with these pathic losers as i am, thank you! i’m having a lot of fun!!!

(also i just found out tumblrs copy/paste doesnt work on my ipad??? idk if this ends up legible i may or may not have deleted smth by accident and im not in a mood to proofread haha)

[dreambunnynotes]

my current glow up goals!

in order to grow and improve it is essential to have clear and easy-to-maintain goals! after a lot of procrastinating thinking i have finally narrowed down my main glow up goals so that i have something tangible to work towards. i have also written down the necessary tasks to accomplish these goals so that i can return to them whenever i feel stuck or demotivated.

1.) appearance and confidence:

one of my biggest glow up goals is to become confident in my appearance! i have never consistently felt good about the way that i look and i know that there are many lovely steps i can take to change this. i want to learn how to love myself and put in the work to show my body and face that i love them! ♥︎

shower + wash hair every morning to start the day off confidently

maintain a skincare routine that works for my skin

save up money to build a wardrobe that i love and feel confident in

learn pilates to improve my core strength and fix my posture

work out 3x a week and get to my preferred weight

put on makeup every day and learn what looks best on me

stretch every morning and night so that my body feels healthy

2.) studying and career:

having a career in something that i adore is absolute essential to me. i would ideally like to manifest financial freedom so that i can spend my days helping people through lifestyle blogging, coaching, and art creation under a trauma-informed/LOA/nondualist lens. i would also love to be a renowned musician who works with my absolute favourite artists in their projects, and be beloved in my music community. my main tasks in this category are studying guitar and piano to become the musician i know that i can be (which will be the "studyblr" part of my blog, and i'm so excited to figure out how i will track my progress with this)! i will also be focusing on manifesting financial abundance so that i can go to school for art therapy, which involves developing proper saving / spending habits until that sweet, sweet windfall of money comes in hehe ♥︎

practice guitar for at least an hour a day to start, and build this up to at least 4 hours a day once my guitar goals are more refined

practice piano for at least an hour a day, working on the same songs i am learning on guitar and working on technique

develop healthy spending habits until i have an abundance of money; focus on repaying my debts and saving for school

find a way to make more money in a way that is super enjoyable for me until i am able to manifest financial freedom

maintain a consistent manifesting routine and self-concept so that i can truly live my dream life and have my dream career!

3.) mental health and wellness:

it is sooo important to me to use my time in ways that are actually fulfilling and enriching. to become my dream girl, i must get rid of mindless activities and replace them with joyful and expansive hobbies and projects. i also must fix my sleep schedule to make sure i am getting enough rest, and learn how to overcome isolation through making new friends and nurturing the ones that i have! ♥︎

replace mindless scrolling with enriching activities and hobbies that i actually enjoy; create a meaningful + exciting list of projects

maintain a consistent sleep schedule and make sure i am getting at least 8 hours of sleep each night until my body adjusts

create a friend group that makes me feel loved and supported; nurture my relationships and nurture myself with socializing

get my drivers license so that i don't have to waste time on public transit anymore!

4.) self concept and self love:

deep down i know that i am worthy of good love, good friends, and an abundance of success and praise. however, it's time that i really internalize those feelings and learn to love myself the way that i deserve by changing my feelings of shame into feelings of love and compassion! ♥︎

journal about my feelings more consistently so that i can work through the shame and guilt spirals that come from RSD

learn more about "parts work" and "internal family systems" so that i can create a lovely library of all my beautiful parts, building them a home that they all feel safe in and where i have easy access to resources when i need them

learn how to be my vibrant and beautiful self around everyone without fear and without compromising my needs, so that i can figure out who i actually enjoy spending time with

continue practicing listening to my body, heart, and mind when something or someone doesn't feel right or safe for me

follow through on my goals and routines and adjust them when necessary so that i can build trust in myself that i can accomplish anything that i put my mind to!

thank you for reading lovely friends, i am so grateful for your encouragement and support and i can't wait to make you proud! hehe. if you have similar goals and want an accountability buddy, please feel free to dm me and we can encourage each other to do our best! love you lots and believe in you so, so much ♥︎

[morganbritton132]

okay so i picked up beaded bracelet making as a hobby recently after your post about eddie doing the same and literally spilled pony beads all over my work desk today 😂

if you have any other stories about eddie and steve’s hobbies i’d love to hear them!!! (like has there ever been a time when their hobbies overlapped?)

What’s funny is that I made that post after I bought pony beads to make a beaded frog keychain. I didn’t spill them, but I did really enjoy sorting the beads out by color.

Most of the time if they have a ‘hobby’ that overlaps, it means that Steve signed them up for a couples class. He’s pretty good at finding things that they’d both like to do or at least, is interesting enough to keep Eddie’s attention. Though, sometimes it doesn’t keep Eddie’s attention for good reasons.

Their brief stint with indoor rock climbing nearly gave Eddie a heart attack.

Eddie is very creative so when Steve sees that the community center nearby is hosting Paint and Sip classes, he signs them up for it. Steve’s no artist and he hates having that put on display, but he likes wine and he likes spending time with his husband. And honestly, it is a fun thing to do even if the art teacher doesn’t know what to do with Eddie’s painting of a Ringwraith.

They drank so much wine, they had to Uber home.

After that, they did a pottery class together. Eddie was unnaturally bad at it so he did not sign up for the next class. Steve did.

They tried an improv class together, but Steve hated it so much that he only went to one class. He did go to cheer Eddie on when they put on a show for the public.

The one thing they’ve discovered that they like to do together is swimming.

Max actually recommended a water aerobics class to Eddie to help with his body pain so when Steve saw that there was one at community center, he signed him up for it. Eddie initially refused, just not wanting to be around other people and having to explain his scars, so Steve signed himself up for it too, “Now, if someone asks, I’ll be there to tell them to mind their own fucking business.”

And it’s actually fun.

Most of the people in the class are old ladies that are sweet on Eddie and Steve immediately or other people with disabilities and chronic pain. No one even asks why Eddie wears a shirt to the first couple lessons and no one would dare ask about his scars when he doesn’t wear a shirt. Not with the way that Steve looks like he’d drown someone if they did.

They do, of course, have some overlap that cames naturally with being together for as long as they have. Steve will play D&D on occasion and Eddie complains, but he likes going hiking. And even though they don’t share a lot of the same hobbies, they are hobby adjacent.

They will sit in the same room and work on their own stuff and just be happy to be there together.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @min-play​

I’m Min! I’m an animator and storyboard  rti t who also posts comics and fan art online. So far, I have worked on the Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and LEGO Monkie Kid. I run on AAA batteries.

Check out our interview with Min below!

How did you get your start in animation and storyboarding?

Fanart! My hyperfixations kept me drawing and posting online since I was around 16. Later I dropped my Computer Science degree to study animation. After graduating, I worked as an In-between Animator, Key Animator, and Storyboard Artist. My fanart of a couple funny skeletons played a big role in getting hired.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating content that you know now?

It’s ok to make mistakes. All the flaws in a drawing make it look much more interesting. Also, it’s a lot more fun than spending ages perfecting one line.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

I always get 3 different flavors of art block (that I remember):

Art block from perfectionism

Sometimes there’s this self-enforced pressure that what you make has to be of a certain standard. Gotta loosen up and forgive yourself for not meeting an imaginary quality. Do it for the fun of it. Instead of thinking’ needs to be better,’ think ‘eh good enough lol.’ It’s cool to strive for improvement! Just don’t do it to the point it becomes self-deprecating.

Art block from burnout

Art hibernation! It’s ok to take breaks. Not every waking moment needs to be productive. Treat yourself to something yummy, hang out with people you’re comfortable with, or pick up a new anime series. Take the time to get some well-deserved rest.

Art block while drawing as a full-time job

WELL DANG.

Switch your ‘drive.’ If you’re running off on passion or interest as a motivator for work, that’s great! I do too! But also, it’s finicky. Set up routines for when that high runs out. I have a ‘Do task’ mode where I play a song or a movie I already watched on loop in the background (sometimes for weeks on end). I don’t know why but it helps me concentrate. Last week, it was the movie Cars.

These are personal methods and may not work for everyone, but I hope it helps!

What are 3 things you can’t live without as a creator?

Music + Noise-canceling headphones + Big blanket = Comfort force field

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Does blacksmithing count as a medium? I’d like to try it out at least once, though.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

To connect with other creators more. Especially writers. They are so powerful.

Warm tones or cool tones?

Cool tones! Especially this one particular blend of blue and green.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So maaaanyy. At the top of my head, though: @northpen​. I am obsessed with their vivid-imagery writing style, and immaculate characterizations. Their character banters always have me in a gigglefit. They have this fic I binged in one sitting and left me crying and empty in a good way.

Thank you for such amazing answers, Min! You can check out more of Min’s creations over at @min-play​!

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

------------------------

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

------------------------

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

------------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[geekwritersworld]

Little Artist

Pairing: Peaky Blinders x you (more mentions of Tommy and you though)

Warnings: fluff, one liner angst at the end (I am incapable of not adding angst to everything I write)

Summary: As stated below in the request. @anne-17890

Hello, I could ask one in which the younger sister of the Shelbys, maybe she is 14/15 years old wants to be an artist and she has a lot of talent but the family does not know but the art teacher one day calls the Shelbys at school to talk about her sister and they discover her talent and that she received a letter from a private school in London to study on full scholarship. Thank you for your time

A/n: I've taken forever for this request and I am so sorry about that. My only defense being that ADHD is an absolute pain in the rear :)

Do let me know what you think ❤️

You weren't much of a reader, you didn't care much for music nor did you like being stuck around your siblings all the time. And of course they didn't let you anywhere near the business so you spent most of your time by yourself. You tried out new things, hoping something would stick and become a hobby. And on a whim one day you decided to try your hand at art.

And at some point it stuck. You began frequently drawing, improving yourself each day. And it was becoming more than a hobby. So to escape you turned to art; to the one thing you found almost calming. To express your emotions and to sketch what you pictured the world beyond small heath looked like.

And you were exceptionally good too, you realized. You were grateful for that, of course. Your siblings occasionally noticed your work at the table where you'd forgotten them on late nights and ensured to compliment your skills when you woke, but lately you made sure to conceal your work.

Despite your classmates keeping their distance from you knowing you were a Shelby, you managed to make one good friend-Nancy-to whom you'd grown quite close.

You both found common ground in your love and flair for art. So you'd both spend time at Nancy's house, making mess of her living room floor with all the art supplies. Sometimes you left your sketch book with her, not wanting your brothers fussing over your art.

Taking up an art class at school without the knowledge of your siblings you found solace in the art room. You weren't sure what was keeping you from letting your family know of your art skills. Sure they knew you could sketch and create art, but they never knew the extent of it. They never knew of your capability to create hyper realistic images on paper with mere pencils everyone used everyday.

Of course, Nancy was sworn to secrecy to never reveal to your family. But it wasn't through Nancy that the Shelby's ultimately found out of their youngest sisters talent.

It all began on a particularly dreary morning. When you were relieved you'd left your sketch book with Nancy due to the rain drizzling down on the way to school.

That damp afternoon you walked home knowing something you hadn't that morning and you avoided walking home with Nancy aware that she'd ask you questions about why you'd been pulled aside that morning in school by the head.

"Now Y/n" The professor sat you down with the head on the other side of the table listening intently. Sitting down, hesitating at first, you wondered what you'd done.

"We wanted to talk to you Ms. Shelby" she paused " about what you plan to do once you've finished school" You almost wanted to laugh, if you didn't know any better, you'd assume she was literally sitting on the edge of her chair with how intently she waited for your response.

"You mean for university?" you asked confused.

"Yes" she nodded

"well I don't know really, I haven't given it much thought seeing that I have a few more years to go" you said, nervous.

Your professor smiled kindly and looked at you. You still wondered why you arts professor was here, talking to you when you were due in math class.

"Thing is, your art" she cleared her throat " your artistic abilities are admirable. It's very rare to see such talent" she continued "and we've ..er.... communicated with one of the universities in London, and they're want to offer you a full scholarship in arts, should you chose to enroll at that university, we've received a letter from them as well, for you"

You stared at her, your mind blank. You expected to see John burst into the room laughing at you for the joke they were played on you. Surely itwasn't...it couldn't be.

"what" you rasped, throat drying.

Smiling wider, the head this time, pushed an envelope towards you "here"

Reaching forward with a hesitant hand, you slipped open the envelope and began to read the letter that resided inside.

Once you'd scanned the letter and read the words over and over you held on to it.

"could I keep this?" you mumbled

"of course" both women said unison.

"can i think about it? if that's alright" you looked at them.

Nodding the professor responded "of course!"

So you took your time. Or rather you avoided your professors. Rushing out the moment school was done, reaching at the last possible moment- making sure to take an extra long route to school; you did everything you could to avoid your professors and best friend.

You made excuses and tried avoiding Nancy as much as you could.

You wouldn't tell your family. They didn't need to know.

Of course Aunt Pol noticed your sudden odd behavior. She noticed you were home more often than usual, you didn't sit in the living room as much you used to, and coming home earlier from school than normal and you'd been avoiding your family; barely talking to them anymore.

Pol and Tommy knew you were a shy kid, you had been your whole life. However you were never this quiet with you family, especially with him and Arthur.

Frustrated Tommy slammed the pen down on the table making one of the men in the betting shop to flinch. He couldn't stop wondering what was wrong with his youngest sibling. He didn't get it. Were you in trouble?

Why were you more closed off than usual? Tommy knew you were too much of a Shelby to directly tell them even if they asked you what was wrong.

He got up and decided he needed some fresh air- and a cigarette.

Tommy wasn't sure where he was heading until he got there.

Exhausted, not to mention surprised that your arts professor had walked right past you that morning, you thought it was odd since you'd been avoiding her for over a week; deciding not to dwell on it too long you put your things together and got ready to leave.

You looked forward to going home and getting some sleep and perhaps even meeting Nancy later on.

Once classes were let out, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder and bolted for the door but stopped short when you spotted your older brother standing near the gates looking straight ahead at you.

Standing still as the rest of the children rushed past you- some even knocking into you, you remained still until Tommy tilted his head at you releasing a puff of smoke from his lips.

Taking in a deep breath trying to push through the mist of confusion in your head you walked towards him "what are you doing here Tom?"

You occasionally called him Tom instead of Tommy, and sometimes it bugged Tommy but in a way it was endearing plus if there was one person he'd tolerate referring to him as Tom it would be you.

"No reason" the look in his eyes told you different.

Rolling your eyes, you moved past him, intending to walk home "why didn't you tell us?" Tommy's footsteps were slow behind you against the wet gravel.

"what?" you snapped your head to look at him, your fingers turning cold despite the humid air.

"I think" Tommy caught up to you slowly, staring ahead "you know what."

"so she fucking tattled" you snorted suddenly "how mature for a grown woman" you were infuriated but nervous at Tommy's reaction.

"she didn't have much of a choice considering I asked her how you were"

"Why the fuck are you asking my professors how I am ?!" you looked at Tommy like he was deranged. Maybe he was, you didn't know. All that smoking and drinking was probably catching up.

"Because you won't talk to us" your brothers nonchalant attitude was beginning to frustrate you even more.

"Well you never asked did you?" you sassed.

Tommy stopped walking and you stopped a few steps ahead of him turning to look at him "would you have told us if we asked?" Tommy raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes "no" you mumbled "fuck off" and continued walking.

Tommy let out a mirthless chuckle.

The rest of the walk back home was in silence, you could feel your brothers eyes boring in the back of your head and you did your best to bite your tongue and not snap back at him.

Shutting the door behind you Tommy spoke with an uncharacteristic soft tone "y/n"

letting your shoulders drop, you took a deep breath to avoid crying then turned to look at Tommy.

"Look, Tommy, I'm not going so leave it alone" you walked into the kitchen and picked up a glass to pour yourself some water.

"Why not?" Tommy leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

Instead of responding you stared right back at Tommy with unrelenting gaze that you knew your aunt held so often with your brothers too.

After a minute of the two of you standing and staring at each other in silence you said " 'cause I don't want to go. Now let it go will you" Pushing past him you went up the stairs to your room.

You didn't see Tommy again that day until the next morning when you opened the door with your school bag in hand and almost walked into him standing right outside your door.

"morning y/n" sarcasm laced your brothers words.

"What?" you narrowed your eyes looking at him.

"You" he reached forward and pulled your bag off your shoulder " are coming with me today" he shoved your bag onto your bed and put his hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes widened "where" you looked at him

He didn't respond rather he nudged you out of your doorway and downstairs.

"There's the bloody artist!" Arthur shouted when he spotted you coming down the stairs.

you immediately turned to glare at Tommy and caught him rolling his eyes at Arthur.

"Where ya goin' Tommy?" Arthur ignored the obvious annoyance his siblings felt toward him in the moment.

"Nowhere" Tommy mumbled

Taking his distraction from you as an opportunity you ducked from under his hand on your shoulder and bolted back up the stairs.

"Y/N" Tommy yelled bolting after you. Arthur laughed watching Tommy run after you.

Rushing into your room in time, you slammed the door shut and locked it. Ignoring Tommy's knocking on the door.

Grabbing your bag you slid open your window and threw it out. And then slipped your left leg out the window and securing it safely on the edge you ducked and climbed out completely, still hearing Tommy ordering you to open the door.

Managing to climb down safely, you dusted your clothes and turned around and walked right into Aunt Pol standing there arms crossed watching you, not impressed, and Tommy stood behind her smirking.

"might want to take the front door next time " John snickered walking out to where the three of you were.

"Right" Aunt Pol moved forward while guiding you back into the house- through the door- she continued "you're going with Tommy, I don't bloody know where he's taking you but he's told me it's important".

"But I have school!" you fought back " for which I'm probably late thanks to Thomas" you exclaimed.

"well then you better go along with him quickly so you don't have to skip another day" Pol smirked.

Truth was, Tommy knew, that Pol of course had noticed the change in your behavior as well no doubt, and when he told her last night that he was going to pull you out of school for the day for something important, she didn't argue knowing her nephew must obviously know something and if he wasn't telling her now he would later.

Tommy didn't tell her cause he wanted you to tell them yourself. He didn't want to push you away any further by revealing something you still preferred keeping to yourself.

You knew it was hopeless fighting back if Aunt Pol was involved and siding with your brother.

Grumbling, you let your bag fall of your shoulder, put it on the sofa and turned to Tommy "fine" you stomped outside.

Tommy, who had a cigarette in between his lips, let out a puff of smoke and then walked after you.

Slamming the door shut to the car, you sulked. Your frustration grew stronger the more you kept thinking about Tommy doing this because of yesterday. You didn't understand why he couldn't just let it be.

Tommy didn't speak at all on the drive, he juts looked ahead. And you didn't bother asking him where he was taking you. You were too stubborn to ask. Instead, you leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes.

Having fallen asleep you didn't realize how long the car ride was, and only woke when Tommy nudged your shoulder calling your name.

Looking out the window yawning, you felt your breath hitch the moment your eyes adjusted on the massive building in front of you. The red bricked building stood in front of you with a field of grass stretching wide in front of it. The grass was greener than you'd ever seen grass to be. You opened the door and got out standing still, afraid that if you moved you'd wake up back in your damp room in Birmingham. The air, it was-clean- it wasn't damp with a lingering smell of something stale, like in small heath.

Tommy watched you take in where he'd brought you. His chest tightened noticing the disbelief in your eyes. He felt a sudden rush of pride and love. He wanted this for you. He wanted you to be able to get away from small heath. He wanted you to have this, he knew you deserved it more than anyone.

You'd kept to yourself your whole life. Content with the little you had, never asking for anything.

And god, Tommy knew you were so smart and capable of making something of yourself. He didn't understand why you didn't want this -or rather- why you were refusing it when it was being handed to you.

He so desperately wanted you to go here. Moving to stand next to you, he put his arm around your shoulder.

"What do you think?"

You were too struck with amazement to actually speak aloud, instead you whispered "I don't know"

And you didn't. You wished so desperately to go here now that you'd seen where you had the opportunity to come. But the same questions haunted you in the back of your mind, how would your family be able to afford financing your stay. Just finding a place for you to live would be a big expense.

You couldn't ask this of them. You couldn't move to live such a life in London, when your family would still be breathing the toxic fumes of small heath.

Tommy could almost feel your longing. To come here, to make a life for yourself. But he couldn't figure out what was holding you back, why you were adamantly refusing, why you hadn't told them either.

He couldn't understand it.

"Would it be selfish Tommy?" you whispered, shifting your weight on your left leg.

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows "no it wouldn't" he said softly.

He didn't think his heart was capable of breaking again, but apparently he learnt that it was the moment you asked him that question. It broke his heart to think that you were willing to let your future go just because you thought it would be selfish to ask this of your family. Because you didn't want them to spend their money on your education.

"I want to come here Tommy, I really do" you couldn't help it anymore. You turned to look at Tommy, tears brimming your eyes and you slipped your hand in his and held it tightly.

He wasn't expecting to see the tears in your eyes, so when you slipped your hand his, a few seconds later he let go and instead slipped his arm around your shoulder again and pulled you into his side.

"then you're going to come here eh" he rubbed your shoulder.

"How are we going to afford it?" you hiccuped.

"you're the first Shelby to be offered a fuckin' scholarship and that's what your worried about?" Tommy chuckled.

You were always the more grounded Shelby, but it never occurred to him just how far your selflessness went.

"Listen to me" he made you look at him "we'll afford it alright, we've got more money now than before and by the time you have to leave we'll have even more, plus I've got Ada a place you could stay with her, after she finds out I've got her a place of course"

"Tommy-"

"It's not for you to worry about money, you leave that to us" your brother clarified.

You said nothing further but continued leaning into your older brothers side until he finally asked you if you were ready to leave.

Watching the building fade past you, you turned back around looking in front "they know then?"

"Only that you've been told you've got exceptional art skills" he gave a small smile.

You were grateful he hadn't told your family of your scholarship opportunity yet "thank you".

You spent the trip back to Birmingham wondering how you'd tell your family. You were beyond nervous and the bundle of nerves only worsened as Tommy turned into the familiar streets of the Small heath.

When the car came to a halt you almost refused to get out but you had to get out at some point. So you did. With shivering legs and a pounding heart.

Only when Tommy nudged you into the pub did you realize that you'd never told Tommy that you were going to tell your family today. But somehow he knew you'd agree once you'd seen the place you were being given the opportunity to go to. And seeing your family gathered at the table when you entered the pub only confirmed this realization.

"Ada will be here soon" Tommy walked over and sat down next to Arthur-a decision he knew he would regret the moment you told them.

The chair scraped against the dark wooden floor as you took one from another table and sat down. In the same instant that you sat down, Ada strolled into the Garrison, taking off her hat.

Once she'd sat down grumbling about how this better not be a meeting revealing one of Tommy's fuck ups.

But Tommy had rolled his eyes and clarified "we're here 'cause Y/n has something to tell us"

You sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling, and then looked back at the unflinching gaze of your entire family focused on you.

"right-um-well" you cleared your throat and shifted slightly in your chair. "I-um" you began bouncing your knee.

You realized in that instant that the only way you'd be bale to tell them was if you didn't look at them directly and avoided the look of disappointment they'd inevitably express at your selfish-ness of asking something like this of them.

So instead you looked at your fidgeting hands and came out with it in one breath "I've been offered a scholarship to a university In London for-um-art and I've decid-thought of taking it"

There it was. The heavy disappointed silence. Your heart dropped at the silence. Even Harry it seemed had stopped wiping the bar behind you.

You could hear everyone's breathing in the loud silence, more so you could hear your own heart beating quite rapidly and were sure everyone else could too.

"A shelby going to bloody university!" Your head snapped up to meet Aunt Pol's tear brimmed eyes. She was beaming, and you realzied you'd never actually seen a smile on her that actually reached her eyes- before this that is.

The relief washed over you like a wave, you could physically feel the relief in your skin, your shoulders felt lighter and you felt as htough you were giong to start fully sobbing at any second.

Arthur sat stunned for a few more minutes while Ada and John hugged you, raving about how proud they were of you. Finn congratulated you Arthur seemed to come to and started literally bellowing out of happiness. You were pretty sure he was just making noises and not even shouting proper sentences, "little one's going to fookin' University!", Tommy instantly took a deep breath looking at the ceiling standing up.

Chcukling, you said "I'm not litt-oh" Arthur hugged you tighter than he had before, unable to contain his happiness for you and you had to tap him on the shoulder letting him knowing you couldn't breath.

Once he let go John, Finn and Ada continued talking excitedly making lists of things you'd need for university, and you leaned your head past Arthur and looked at Tommy who was now leaning against the wooden beam; smiling at you.

"how come you got a scholar-whatever-it-is and I didn't?" You heard Finn say behind you.

"Maybe cause you never fucking went after the first day of 6th grade" John laughed, making Finn roll his eyes.

You however walked to Tommy and engulfed him in a hug. Squeezing him as tight as you could. And Tommy did the same.

He looked up at Pol who and gave him a nod. Tommy knew it was his aunts way of letting him know he had done the right thing in doing whatever he had done to convince you to get away to a better life.

"hang on" Ada said then "we've all been here talking about how fuckin proud we are of you for your scholarship, but we've barely seen your bloody art"

So of course the next thing you knew you were being dragged down to watery lane to show them your art book. Which you didn't have, seeing as you'd left it at Nancy's so John then accompanied you to pick it up and watched you tell Nancy you'd explain everything later.

John was itching to grab your book from you and take a peek on the way home, but he also knew you would chew his ear off for it and decided against it.

The moment your family's eyes glimpsed the first page, they proceeded to compliment you, but Ada made it a point to let you know you were a downright arse for keeping your work from them.

Tommy and Pol stayed up that night, long after everyone else had gone to bed- after Tommy had carried you to your room.

Sitting down next to his aunt with a drink, he leaned back on his chair.

"y/n's going to have a better life Pol" Tommy sighed, smiling a little.

"god knows if there's anyone that deserves it more than anyone, it's that child." Pol nodded.

And he knew it was true. He doted on you from the moment you were born. When you opened your eyes and looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, Tommy swore he would kill for you.

And not once since did he take his job as the older brother for granted, if anything he always went the extra mile to make sure you were safe.

Of course the rest of your family protected you too, but Tommy like always, went beyond what was necessary sometimes. But he would rather do too much than too little and end up having you hurt.

A few months later, it was this very habit of Tommy's, the one that kept you safe for 15 years, that made the new Irish Inspector in small heath, watch you from the alley as you walked home one evening.

[sadlynojellybeans]

Please, imagine a post-TOA scenario in which Apollo manages to become Co-Director of CHB.

He can now spend as much time as he wants with the kids. Better even, he can share his passions with them, unbury his teacher abilities (coughGodofKnowledgecough) and combine his desire to share what he loves with his desire to help the demigods improve their lives. I bet he would introduce new music, art and poetry courses. He would help with archery lessons, but he could also help with other things. He is over 4600 years old. That is a lot of time to get good at or at least knowledgeable about things, even if they are not strictly part of his domains. Furthermore, I think he would simply be delighted to listen to the kids share their own passions.

Apollo would ask Harley about his creations, starting a passionate rant that ends up with the both of them in the forges and Apollo maiming a piece of metal, because he might be the god of arts and crafts but metalworking is not his thing.

Apollo would hear by chance the kids from the Aphrodite cabin either complaining about fashion or gossiping with each other and would not be able to resist joining the conversation. I imagine him and the kids having "girls' night" kind of meetings where they put on make up, nail polish, try on different outfits and complain to their heart's content about the silliest things.

I imagine Apollo, theatre kid supreme, deciding there needs to be a theatre course in CHB, and butting heads with Dyonisus because "What do you mean you what to teach them theatre, theatre is MY domain!". I imagine Dyonisus finally agreeing to co-teach because like Hades he is leaving Apollo in charge of a theatre production. I imagine Dyonisus seeing Apollo teach the kids for the first time (because of course up until then D tried to stay as far away from the demigods) and being shook to the core by how much Apollo cares, by the passion and attention he puts in everything. By how close he let himself become to the mortals (so stupid, he of all gods should know how it ends, how it always ends, even when tragedy does not cross their paths but their life just makes its natural course).

I imagine someone suggesting a musical for the next production and Apollo literally lighting up because that is a fantastic idea, all the while Dyonisus complains he will not stand for it (but is secretely pleased to see his brother so incandescently happy, especially after the difficulties of the last few years).

I imagine Apollo, sooner or later, coming up with the idea of adding philosophy classes (because apparently that's also part of his domains) and he starts all of them with apparently inane questions ("what is the best shape for potato chips?) that then devolve into deep discussions about the meaning of beauty, individuality and life once he keeps pushing the kids to explain themselves and their opinions.

I imagine the Hermes kids realising that Apollo has a tendency towards starting tangents and making up a game of seeing how far they can make him stray from the original topic of the class without him noticing. Once Dyonisus happens to pass by and asks why the hell they are talking about the cut of women's dresses in the 1400s when they were supposed to be learning beginner guitar. Apollo just stares at his brother for a moment, completely baffled, then looks at the kids around him, down at the guitar in his hands, and you can hear the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out what happened. Even after he figures out, he keeps falling for it, because they are asking, it wouldn't be fair not to answer, especially when it's such a simple little, question... Eventually someone (probably a child of Athena) is put in charge of keeping him on track, to the great displeasure of Cabin 11.

Just imagine all of this. He is happy. He is with the people he loves, doing what he loves.

Life is good.

[jmdbjk]

This is my bias...

Help me figure out what's happening here... is this the big dick energy I was talking about or just an optical illusion with the mirror?

Jimin was relaxed and seems like he has certain specific things he wants to accomplish and he's going after it in his usual Jimin-like way. He laughed when talking about what he's been doing and why he's not come to see us live. He said "Do you think I would be doing nothing?" and laughed:

Our Jiminie, through and through.

He addressed his busted up knuckles several times during the live.

Ok, here me out... if he's dabbling in martial arts again... what if Jimin is practicing breaking cinderblocks... because I feel like there are a few blockheads out there that need breaking...yes? But seriously, what if...?

One of the things that I love about Jimin is his self-awareness, his humility and his unpretentiousness. About attending the Dior event prior to this live he expresses how he views himself:

Nervous amongst people in those circles, he says he's a little uncertain and awkward. Though he might feel out of place because of how he views himself, we all know the impact he brings whenever he (or any of the other members) makes an appearance at events like this, no matter how briefly. Fans just want to see him.

One of the things he spoke at length on was how he's been assessing himself, saying it as if stepping back and evaluating what he was doing in a "cold" way, as in clinically critiquing himself.

He said he was able to learn a lot from his Face album activities and promotions and he is improving the way he does things from now on.

He felt like there were a lot of areas where he was lacking and instead of just working on fixing this or that, his mindset is to "start from scratch".

Looking back at it, the excuses are not acceptable to him... to say he was lazy and didn't practice enough or that equipment malfunctioned.

He heard the antis and the criticisms. I personally want to smash their heads in two but I digress with my violent little thoughts.

In order to feel confident while performing onstage he wants to change the way he approaches things.

Overall, Jimin seems like he's got his shit together. He knows there's a time crunch...

😭

He has been thinking how to spend his remaining time with us...

😭

But because he's re-evaluating himself, its taken a long time and I think he's still working on it.

😭

Other things he's mentioned during this live: he's composing new music, shooting a few things, working out, studying English.

He said if he doesn't force himself to take lessons he won't do it. Same, Jimin, same.

He mentioned that he goes out alone in the middle of the night to run along the Han River and when he does he sees Namjoon:

There was other stuff on his mind but he wouldn't share it.

He's been thinking deeply about his future. He is facing his own Chapter 2 (they all are and collectively we are calling this BTS Chapter 2) and he says starting anew is not easy. He's thought a lot about it and still considering how he wants to live his life and future.

You can understand more of his attitude as soon as someone says "Don't forget there are many people cheering for you, Jimin."

His reply is: If there were no people supporting me in my job then there is no need for me to do it.

This is his job. He is the artist. We are the fans. He is not going to forget that there are people cheering for him. He is not worried about fans disappearing as long as he delivers a good product to us.

He is reinventing Park Jimin. And he is taking time to do it and that's why he has not come to see us.

His goal is to change and he's fully confident he can do it. He feels a responsibility as a member of BTS and the man is out to conquer so I say watch out for future Jimin. He just asks for time to make it happen.

I said in a previous post a while back that Jimin – and the company – are not perfect. Speaking only about Jimin: after Face promotions were over and everyone was criticizing him and the company, I said he will evaluate what he's done and if he sees mistakes, things that could be done differently or better, he will fix them going forward. I told y'all this. This is exactly what he is doing.

He mentions that he cut his hair today... and described how long it was (to his chin) before he cut it and I'm crying. I hope he shot photos or video for something before he cut it so we can see...[cry]

His brief mention about Jungkookie's birthday:

My interpretation of his body language: The wheels are turning as he glances around, he is thinking about everything he knows that Jungkook is up to and matter-of-factly tells us "Jungkook is really busy." (Because I know what he's working on).

"I talked to him on the phone yesterday too." Too as in talked to him today as well since this day of Jimin's live IS JK's birthday.

He pauses a moment, thinking about what they spoke about/what he knows about Jungkook's activities and repeats "he's really busy," glances around again, still thinking about what Jungkook is up to and with an intake of breath and looking directly at us says he hopes Kookie-pookie takes good care of his health. He didn't say Kookie-pookie, that was me saying Kookie-pookie.

We know when Jimin is working intensely that he sometimes overdoes it. This is what Jimin implies when he says "he's really busy" and "I hope he takes care of his health" because Jimin can relate to the intensity of JK's activities.

Then asks us to please send his Jungkookie many birthday wishes.

Taking care of his Jungkookie, as he should.

And ending with his own thought about Jungkook's birthday: "It's a wonderful day, right?"

Awwwww.... so sweet. And then that little smirky smirk that I had to edit off because he smirked for another six seconds until someone else asked him AGAIN about his beat up knuckles.

Does he mean scroll back later after the live and look for his explanation about his scraped up hands or is he saying we'll find out later (in future content) why his hands are all beat up?

Then he scoops us up AND WALKS THROUGH HIS APARTMENT SJSKSKSKSJKJMOMFGWTFBBQ????!!!!

He's embarrassed his apartment is dirty or he'd show us. Ok, this is ALREADY A DIFFERENT PARK JIMIN.

My first reaction was NO SHIT, JIMIN! But he meant what he was about to show us was unusual for him. He wanted to show us his solar system mood light (my whole self burst with love for him when he did this).

He's laughing at himself the whole time he's setting it up, telling us his friend made fun of him, a 30 year old man with a mood light.

In bed with Jimin:

Versus in bed with Jungkook:

This is one of the ways I see Jimin transitioning himself. I don't know what the specific catalyst is/was but he's pivoted from being a total privacy freak to now walking around his apartment and showing us various rooms.

His dad's room when he comes to visit:

Jungkook has stated how he grew up learning from the members. You can see that he's learned a lot specifically from Jimin. Well, I think it's Jimin's turn to learn from Jungkook how to show another side of himself in this less inhibited way. I don't expect a naked-in-bed live from Jimin anytime soon but just the fact he showed us even a glimpse of his bed:

And then actually laid down on his bed and did this:

It's fitting he has a realistic solar system mood light. He was into astronomy in school, right? And as I said in a previous post, it makes sense now why the moons on his back look realistic.

He responded to a few comments and one about his earring, he's wearing one in his left ear but the right one got infected so he took it out.

When asked what his plans were for activities he said this:

[he said something that translated to "pondering" and I love him]

When asked to show his seven tattoos (behind his ear, his back, left elbow, right elbow, chest, wrist, finger) he said he posted it yesterday and he looked like an anchovy:

That's my bias, a skinny little anchovy with a heart as big as the universe and a smile that rivals the sunniest day.

I just want this man to be happy in his life:

Jiminie seems to be in control and thriving. I'm excited for him and my heart will break in a billion pieces when he leaves for enlistment. I know I will need to take the day off work (HOW CRAZY IS THAT??)

But sounds like he's going to show us/give us more before he goes and I feel very blessed that this one is my bias.

[lakesparkles]

MORE MR PEANUTBUTTER!! Can you tell I like him?? The worst part is that it's all very new art, I drew all of this in... 3 days? Idk

So, this one is very self indulgent. I wanted to explore his relationships with some characters in my AU (the one he dates both Diane and Guy, it all happens after the finale of the show). One of the reasons I love creating this AU (I even just finished writing a fanfic about it!!) is so I can develop PB more.

If you want an explanation about his relationships, it'll be under the cut!

Bojack: they spend way more time together now that they live together in California - PB has two houses, so he travels there to Houston all the time. His relationship with Bojack… Is improving, just like showed in the doodles. Some people even mistake them as a old married couple, but nah, they didn't even kiss once. Maybe once. Bojack doesn't want to talk about it. One day, years later, Mr Peanutbutter will make peace with his own sexuality, look back and realize that things make way more sense now.

Guy: talking about his sexuality, Guy plays a big role on it. I created a whole backstory for him, but it's a story for another day. He's way more comfortable about being bi than PB is - who is now having a lot of questions: "what if he's wrong about it?"; "what if he's too old for that?"; "what if all media reacts very badly about it?" It's a little easier when he's not alone. Their personalities go very well together and, other than that, PB is having the time of his life having a husband now <3 Guy usually calls him "dog" and PB isn't sure if he thinks it's cute or the opposite.

Pickles: I have a lot of thoughts about Pickles tbh. Some of her scenes made me think that she seemed so lonely. Years after dating and breaking up with PB, she realized that their relationship… Was kinda messed up, yes. But she was never angry, even being happy seeing how different his life is right now. When she meets PB again and finds out that, not only he felt guilty during all the time they dated, but also *still feels that way*, she thinks it's a little funny. She has a good life now, he didn't ruin anyone like he thought he did. They end up in good terms and message each other often enough.

Diane: PB calls her his "ex ex wife"! Coming back together has been a nostalgia trip for them and this comes with a bunch of complicated feelings. What makes all different is exactly what Diane herself said in the show: "if they met as the people they are now, things would be totally different". And they surely are different now, even more after spending so many years apart. But different doesn't mean perfect, this they would never be. They still have a couple of fights out of nowhere that Guy is confused about. What changes is that it's, in fact, better. And now they have hope. And they're enjoying finding out once again why they were in love in the first place. It's such an old feeling that they were tricked into believing it's new~

[seven-meds]

Hi!

I love your art and I am extremely enamored by the beauty of your writing !

That being said, I am an artist as well and I feel like I have been stuck in a creative rut and I don’t know how to get to out ? Do you have an advice on breaking out of the hole and as well do you suggest drawing everyday as a method to keep up with skill?

Thank you so much <3

Thanks so much! I considered this for a while. Giving artistic advice, whether broad or targeted, is always difficult. It's too nebulous of a process for rules but everyone still has such a strong opinion on what the rules should be. 

In my experience, lulls are beneficial when seen from the correct perspective and then taken advantage of. Endless production is antithetical to all art that is not corporate in nature, and lack of inspiration means you will benefit from something often overlooked: new experiences and engagement with new things. Though if you do want to feel productive, take a sketchbook and a pen to a public area and draw what you see for an hour or two. You likely won't be inspired but you will feel accomplished.

Historically, artists took extended periods of time away from creating in order to experience life and take in the world, its people, and themselves. Not always willingly; some were torn away and sent to war, fled their homeland, or were imprisoned, enslaved, or institutionalized. And there are those who spent long periods of time bedridden by illness or injury. But whether their experiences were gained by choice, by force, or by nature, their time away from art is what ended up shaping what they made. Drawing in isolation will sharpen a skill, but it's through repeated use of that skill to translate your experiences that your art improves.

An artist's goal is communication first and foremost. This is why drawing daily on its own cannot make anyone a better artist. It will eventually lead toward some sort of technical prowess, but technical prowess with no voice is fairly pointless and very dull. Ideally, the development of voice will precede the development of technical skill and the two become honed in tandem. What you want to say should define what you need to learn. If you are developing an understanding of your own intentions then you are already a step ahead of the artist who is focusing solely on their ability to draw a head from every angle. 

It's beneficial to conceptualize art as a series of choices rather than a display of objective prowess. The more experiences you have and the more educated you are, the more sophisticated your choices become. You'll also find that you're able to analyze and appreciate (or criticize) the choices of other artists, increasing the enjoyment of engaging with art as a whole. You'll then be led toward more complex and unique work as you become bored with things that salivate over their own palatability. You may also find that art you've passed over before suddenly begins to speak to you.

Spend time exposing yourself to new art, ideally from large swathes of eras, places, and forms, including art that communicates things uncomfortable, disturbing, or offensive to you. Delve into the history of the artists and works you enjoy (or hate) in order to fully understand what's being said and why. If you currently find yourself interacting solely with contemporary art delivered largely via algorithm or advertisement that elicits feelings of familiarity and comfort, you should recognize that as a limitation. You are certainly free to work within it, but you will stumble into inspiration more quickly through exposure to different ideas.

It's also a good time to interact with others, if possible (even from a distance), and to look into topics completely divorced from art. Enrich yourself in many ways. The world is so vast and full of so much. What can you experience and learn that will make you yearn to communicate again? 

Try not to waste years studying aimlessly. Develop an interest, a concept, an idea, an experience, and then work toward communicating it effectively. You will learn as you develop new pieces (because you will put effort and energy into targeted research and study), and those pieces will become more complex in both substance and technique. 

Good luck!

[lynxgriffin]

Sorry to bother you again but do you have any tips on improving my art?

I always imagine stories that I can't animate or draw because I'm not skilled enough and I always feel discouraged.

Thanks!

There's a couple of different things you can do, depending on what angle you think suits you best! Although the truth behind all of them is that the way to improve your art is to do it, and just to keep doing it. Time and practice will always get you closer to where you want to be!

If there's something specific that you feel needs improving, spend a few weeks focusing just on that. Whether it's something like faces, hands, expressions, backgrounds, values/grayscale, or what have you, actually buckling down and studying just that thing for awhile can help you take a big step forward with it. The downside is that it can become tedious, and requires a lot of actual study and focus, which can be hard to maintain on your own.

If there's not anything in particular you want to improve, honestly just doing a completed comic or animation project (especially a short one) from beginning to end will help a lot. Doing any kind of sequential art forces you to tackle a lot of different things at once, but also teaches you how to handle them all, and to do so coherently. Even finishing a five-page comic or a 10-second animation can do wonders for the next thing you do!

If what you're worried about is how people will perceive your art, especially online or with social media, remove that aspect from it and just make something you don't plan on sharing. It can be very freeing to make something for just yourself, and can help lessen any discouragement you may feel.

When in doubt, you can always go back to the well...see comics or animation that inspire you, since for me that's often a good kick in the pants to want to try and create myself. Instead of comparing yourself, see it as a sort of thing where you go, "That looks really fun! I want to have fun, too!"

Hope that helps, and good luck!