#so i just learned to draw really really fast as like a stress thing

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello. I was wondering if you could offer some advice for me even though it's a common topic :) I used to write all the time and had a huge flow of ideas that kept overlapping each other which made me super creative both in writing and in drawing. But for the past few years (vaguely stopped at the beginning of 2020) I've had no desire to write at all. A cynical part of me has convinced me that it won’t matter to even begin as I don’t finish and barely write the stories and so I don't achieve the satisfaction of deeper immersion into my stories. I know I’m not a bad writer but that my writing suffers when I have no passion.

Previously I would brainstorm/rant with my friend (vice-versa) who was also a writer but we've drifted apart since (and my other friend has no mental energy for writing anymore because of life). I find it very difficult to keep and maintain any growing passion when I'm alone and unable to share with like-minded people - my passion/motivation seems to die when I can't share it. So how do I regain and maintain it? (Obvious answer is to find someone to share ideas with but... how...? And how do I learn to motivate myself when I'm alone?)

It might be a common topic, but each individual situation is still unique. You're going through a lot, anon, and I'm glad you reached out to get some support 💗

Let's start by looking at the factors you've identified that make it difficult for you to write:

Possible burnout - 2020 makes me think of Covid, stress, uncertainty, constant change, perhaps other factors that are more specific to you as an individual. All of these things are exhausting both mentally and physically and can lead to burnout

Limited support from your community - 2 friends are less involved in your writing than they used to be

Limited empathy for yourself - your frustration is turning into self-blame where you're focusing on the fact that your stories aren't finished rather than on the fact that you lack passion for them

I'm drawing some pretty big conclusions here based on two paragraphs of text, so please do push back against anything that feels like an unfair reading of what you wrote. But it seems to me that you've been through an emotional wringer over the last few years between 2020 and your friendship drifting and not having the same supports in place that you used to have.

I think the thing you need to focus on right now is giving yourself the love and kindness you're not currently getting from others. You're beating yourself up for not finishing a story, but you say that your passion comes from immersion in it. Immersion doesn't require an ending. It just needs you to find a way to get deeper into the characters and/or the plot and/or the world.

You used to be able to find that immersion by talking about your stories with your friends. I agree that you should seek out people again since that's clearly really important to you, but while you do that you should also try to identify ways that you can immerse yourself without someone to talk to.

Try stepping away from the idea of writing the story down and instead allow yourself to just daydream about it. Think about the story. Imagine what might happen next. Play with scenes and explore the possibilities instead of deciding for sure what will happen next. When the story isn't written yet, you have an infinite choice of ways that it could go. Perhaps leaning into those myriad options will help you find the fun in it again.

As for finding a new community of people you can talk to about your writing? That's going to take some time and some work. Finding a discord server of like-minded folks. Commenting on the works of writers you find interesting. Replying to comments on your own stories. Posting ask games on tumblr and sending asks when other people post them too. Making friends online isn't always easy or fast, but those are some possible ways to go about it.

But also consider seeing if your local library has a writer's group. Join a local hobby group unrelated to writing where you can find people you enjoy. Your community doesn't have to revolve around fandom. It can also just be people who like you and who you like in return and you all feel comfortable sharing what you love.

Since you sent this ask in, I reblogged a post about rehab for writing injuries. I think you might want to take a look at that too. I think you might find it helpful. ❤️

[squidpedia]

What was it like for you starting out as a beginner artist? How did you improve?

I mostly just incessantly practiced, experimented, and observed a lot for as long as I can remember. I grew up on a lot of videos going over tips and techniques for beginner artists and mostly just observed their processes and would try to bring them into my art. Othertimes I would just constantly experiment with my artstyle (what if I made the shoulders more defined, what if I changed the size of how I draw eyes, what if tried drawing different body types, what if I tried a pose with a lot more foreshortening etc etc). I tried to push myself a bit further everytime like maybe spending more time on the overall piece, adding backgrounds, drawing multiple people interacting. Drawing challenges also helped a lot I think since they pushed me out of my comfort zone or forced me to approach my art in different way than what I was used to. Things like “draw something using only one line and not lifting your pen from the paper”, or “create a bunch of random shapes using a colored marker and then turn them into characters/objects”, or even just dtiys challenges were great for this. A lot of the drawings I made from these didn’t really end up being things I was super proud of after finishing them, but thats fine since I still learned a lot and they still helped with improving. A lot of it was honestly just not being afraid to draw something I might not be happy with later in the name of getting that practice in and trying new things all the time.

I hope this is helpful, but I’m not too sure so I’m sorry if it isn’t, this is the best way I could think of summarizing it!

[redbleedingrose]

What do the batboys do for hobbies in your opinion

Hobbies for Bat Boys!

Rhysand

Okay so to be honest, I feel like Rhys is constantly stressed out being high lord and having to make all these heavy decisions, so his hobby would be something super relaxing and something you wouldn't expect.

First off, Rhysie is such a fashionista, just like his mother. He is absolutely going out with you to pick out all your outfits for the season. You are probably the best dressed female in Pyrthian and it is all because of him. He goes out of his way to custom design outfits for you, often playing a role in hand tailoring dresses that don't fit you perfectly so that it fits you like a sleeve. He knows different styles that look amazing on you, even when you don't think so. All the ladies of Valeris follow your fashion sense, not knowing that it is actually Rhys who is the trend setter for the night court.

Okay, this is kinda out there, but!!! I feel like Rhys would also just love flipping homes. He didn't realize this until after the attack on Valeris, but when he began to help with rebuilding the homes that were destroyed, he realized how much he enjoys the intricacies of designing a home, and surprisingly, he loves the handiwork of it too. Maybe it is the Illyrian in him that finds satisfaction in building something from the ground up. Once the homes of Valeris are rebuilt, he is really bored and can't figure out why until he decides to create a vacation home for just the two of you, and then he realizes what he has been missing out on. Now, he likes to build vacation homes for you and your future children and grandchildren from the ground up.

Cassian

For our daddy Cassian, I think he would pull a fast one on you and be really good at baking. You would think for a big, burly, hunk of a male he would be into wrestling or training as a hobby, but I think he sees it as more-so a job than a hobby. It comes to him when its nearing your birthday, and he is tearing the house apart to find the old recipe book his mother used to create birthday cakes for him when he was just a babe. Finally, he finds it with all these recipes that have tiny handwritten changes inked into the pages, and he realizes that his mum poured her love into her cooking and baking. So he tries to do that for you. Because he loves you more than he can possibly describe. So he bakes a five tiered black forrest cherry cake, with marachino cherries he hand picked from Summer Court (which he had to sneak into and out of with the help of a certain spymaster) and fudge imported from the Autumn Court. It turns out to be the best cake you and he have ever eaten, and thus begins his journey as a home baker. Cass becomes extremely good at making pies, cakes, and macrons. He never shows up to a family dinner without some form of dessert. At this point, even Elain can't complain because the sweets he brings are just too good.

Another hobby that I think Cass would have would be going to nursing homes or daycares where he can interact with the elderly and little babes. He always brings a dessert in tow that has the children literally climbing on top of him. He listens to the stories that the elderly have for him, taking note of all the lessons that he learns from them about love and life, sometimes sharing the stories with you in the deep of night like the little gossip he is. And he likes to play games with all the little babes, encouraging them to join him outside so they can play hide and seek in the woods behind the daycare. Sometimes you tag along because the babes love story time with you, complaining that Cass doesn't show the drawings for long enough like you do.

Azriel

The shadowsinger is indeed a singer.

He spends a lot of time in his private office with you lounging on the couch nearby reading, taking the time to develop different song lyrics and hymns for you. It is the one thing that he inherited from his father that he is willing to accept, is his musical creativity. He likes to collect different musical instruments and uses them to create different toons that he will only ever play for you. Sometimes he puts on one male shows just for you, playing the piano while softly singing you a song that he wrote with you in mind. He could spend hours trying to figure out the different keys and notes that he can achieve just to formulate something that might put into words how he feels about you.

I think Az is also the kind of male who is really interested in learning dead languages. He would find this ancient book in the libraries beneath the the House of Wind, and could spend days if you let him, trying to decode the meaning of the books. He likes the phenotics and analyzing different poetry and trying to make sense of what fae in the past felt and thought.

To expand on the last point, Azzie is def the history buff of the bat boys. He loves learning about the history wars and times of depression in the past, and how the world came together to make something better. You think that he thinks it brings him hope, and teaches him lessons that he can't get from anywhere else. He tries to apply them as spymaster of the night court.

Plus his reading glasses make him look incredibly sexy so you aren't complaining.

Masterlist

What do we think the hobbies are for the Vanserra bros?

[suethesocks]

Egyptian Ben 10 AU!!

A long while ago i got the idea of making an au where ben is an Egyptian Orthodox Christian (the idea entirely spawned off a joke my friend made about a hypothetical ben like that having to explain his fasting to rook)

At first the idea was gonna be that his parents are Egyptian immigrants and he was born and raised in Bellwood, but last second before finishing his character bio i decided to flip everything over and make this AU *in* Egypt

The timeline i have in mind for these bios are all at around right after the highbreed arc, but also before season 3 straight up starts. I feel like thats a good jumping-on point

In terms of aliens mostly i just get to explore what the aliens would look like as teenagers since uaf and ov didnt really do much with that (they didnt even bother giving wildmutt a tail) and have fun trying to make his flannel into outfits for the aliens. Hoever if i get any cool ideas for entirely revamping aliens id definitely do it

I tried to make fourarms darker skinned not sure if its showing. Id have done the same with stinkfly but the uniforms colorscheme wouldve crashed. I wanted to try giving wildmutt black fur because this ben has darker hair but nothing really quite worked hsjhds wildmutts obnoxious orange is just too iconic

Prep school is mostly an american thing, here the closest equivalent for the early 2000s would be an international school. Also i changed lawyer to doctor as thats the sort of "go-to" job that makes a lot of money, lawyers in egypt arent usually as fortunate

Here she doesnt wear her uniform this is just how she dresses. I tried to fit the cat motif like OS but i couldnt really think of something that fit. If i were drawing UAF or OV gwen in my own take id have given her cat imagery but i think for Jwanas personality it actually makes more sense for her to be boring and lose the cat

Jwanas also a lot more angsty about her magic (and it is magic) since her parents and basically entire surrounding community both Muslim and Christian are very against magic and consider it sin. Shes also a lot more angsty in general because like the bio says shes under alot of stress and is very jealous of ben, which is conflicting because ben is also her best friend and she doesnt wanna feel this sort of animosity to him. She also doesnt realize how much he looks up to her as someone who is a lot more intelligent and disciplined than he'll ever be (for example the concept of jwana having the spark isnt here, ben just can never learn magic because he doesnt have what it takes)

Kevin much like ben is more or less the same as he is in the show. With jwana i went with my own take but Ben and Kevin are more of, culminations of what i think are their best parts in the series and then just fleshing that out more

I felt like the outfit he has in earth-prime works best with a few touchups. Prime kevin has consistently had that rugged guy-who-lives-in-a-garage look so despite being the most basic outfit it works the best with a few touchups

I did change his anatomy, i wanted to make him look like a mutant freak. I gave him this sort of frankenstine's monster posture (a small reference to him being an amalgamation in os). He also has these stretch marks all over his body since his material absorption doesnt just create a coat around him but also alters his skin itself (so these markings arent there for os-era kevin) He also has a lot of weird bumps over his body

This kevin is 100% mutant no alien shenanigans. If i do aggregor i'll uhhh think of something else for him to be. His transition to the lightside is a lot longer and for the majority of the highbreed arc hes not even there hes more of an occasional ally if he feels like helping

Was his dad a plumber or not im not sure tbh, im leaning towards not though

Next post is gonna be a bunch of villains for funsies

[discountenancer]

Here’s why Jasnah and Hoid is a great ship:

It’s not a ship.

It’s a stopgap.

I think Jasnah and Hoid do, on a personal level, enjoy each other. I do not think Brandon is writing them to last, and that’s intentional.

Jasnah finds Hoid to be an intellectual equal—“after all this time” implying she has never encountered someone who could be on her level before. She finds him “fascinating”. She needs his knowledge to save her planet and people. She doesn’t trust him. The text says this directly.

Additionally, they’ve been ‘together’ for what can’t be more than a few months. I don’t remember how long between Oathbringer and ROW, but it’s not long. People don’t fall in love that fast, and both Jasnah and Wit are too smart and risk-averse to let themselves do such a thing. They are not in love. They are doing a very strange form of dating, on top of which they are facing down Odium. No walks in the menagerie for them, just a constant barrage of stressors on all sides. They are under a great level of stress and not doing anything remotely close to courting or dating, physical affection from Hoid aside. Jasnah doesn’t even call him Hoid, so it’s unclear if he’s divulged that name to her despite telling Dalinar and Kaladin, who forgot or refuse to use it. The text is clear that he has told her some things about himself, like not being Alethi, using some power of physical transformation, and being immortal, but she’s stymied on anything else. I don’t think she’s the sort of woman who would insist on calling him Wit in private if she knew a more personal name, but I could be wrong.

So: Jasnah needs Hoid as an ally, needs his vast knowledge of all things Odium/Rayse, and perhaps fancies him as a future partner (“curious how the relationship would develop”). She doesn’t seem to be betting on Hoid 4 Life, but is enjoying the comfort it provides in the moment.

What does Hoid get from this?

First, he gets his dick wet. Jasnah’s canonically very beautiful. The benefit there is obvious.

Secondly, he gets to influence her decisions. He is shifting the boulder to roll in the direction he wants. Hoid is after something, and we don’t know what it is. I do genuinely believe he wants Odium contained—having a God roaming around the universe who wants Hoid specifically to die would doubtlessly be a big ol’ wrench in whatever his plans are. Hoid can do his work much more effectively at Jasnah’s side than on his own. He gets into the Big Important Meetings and knows all of the Plans being made. He gets to cast his vote. Jasnah takes his opinions into consideration.

They are both deriving an immense benefit from their relationship. Don’t let the sex fool you into thinking it makes what they have deeper than it is—as an ace person, I believe Jasnah sees sex as a necessary compromise in maintaining the relationship (“she could provide the intimacy he desired….this was not a new experience for her”). This is unsurprising. Sex is a small price to pay for, uh, saving the planet from an enemy you only recently learned exists and also happens to be the god of hate incarnate.

Brandon has said of the pairing "Wow, that's a really great and a really terrible match all at the same time, and that's what I'm looking for, in a lot of ways.”

Great match for intellectual brains and snark. Terrible match because something is being set up under the pretense of what we are assuming is a sloppy last-minute ship randomly set up in the second half of ROW.

There’s a WOB about how Jasnah and Hoid perceive power—I cannot find it, so here’s the paraphrase I’m drawing on:

“we should be concerned about how both Hoid and Jasnah view power and that’s what drew them together”.

Jasnah and Hoid are creatures of philosophy. Jasnah values the masses over the individual and Hoid values the individual over the masses (“[he] is legitimately empathetic to the individual”; telling Dalinar he would watch Roshar burn to get what he wants while devoting time and risk to helping various characters through rough spots). This is where their attraction to power and how they subsequently use it will put them at odds. They do not have the same goal, though they don’t know it—or perhaps Hoid does already, but is playing the game. Jasnah wants to save Roshar. Hoid wants to save Roshar, but more importantly, as he’s said, he wants to save his own interests.

Jasnah is brilliant, but I do think Hoid is conniving enough to manipulate her. “Yes, he did seem genuinely fond of her. He said it had taken him by surprise as much as it had her” (ROW 99)—this does not mean romantic relationship. It could. It could also mean a general fondness, like a dear friend. We have not seen Hoid or Jasnah exactly palling around with anybody on their own. We don’t know if they’re awash in good judies. They are two very smart people burdened with difficult tasks. Jasnah didn’t like Wit when we first saw them interact. Now they get along and playfully banter. That’s some unexpected fondness for sure. Trauma bonding, baby! It’s a hell of a drug!

Jasnah and Hoid are not fated to be together. They’re not supposed to be convincingly in love, because they aren’t. They are together purely by circumstance and their time is largely consumed with trying to stop Odium or Jasnah picking Hoid’s brain for her scholarly pursuits. Their relationship is, for now, enabling them to tackle the task in front of them. They are together for now, to save Roshar for now. After the battle of champions in SA5, it’s anyone’s guess—mine is that Jasnah will use what she’s learned against him somehow, and he will oppose her directly in pursuit of his own unnamed goal.

There will come a day where they realize the next obstacle they face is each other. They are locked in an embrace with knives in their hands.

TL;DR: Jasnah and Hoid are not in love and it’s okay if you don’t think they’re a good match, because they aren’t, and Brandon has said as much. Their relationship is setting up a mighty, mighty plot point in the back half of Stormlight.

[iraprince]

do u have any advice for those that want to run a quest?

it feels a LEETLE silly answering this when all my own are currently on hiatus bc i got busy (SORRY TO CALLIST0 READERS LOL) BUT!!! yes i do. i have only ever run quests/interactive comics on the site questden, so i guess as a baseline this will kind of all be geared towards that, but i think most of this should translate to any hosting situation

you have to be cool with your plots branching and mutating in unexpected ways, and you have to be willing to play ball with your readers. quests are a collaboration between the author and the audience. it often feels a lot like gming a tabletop campaign (and that's the origin!! questden, specifically, was originally an offshoot of /tg/.) -- we've all had or heard about bad GMs who view their position as that of a narrative dictator who exists to punish and prod a captive group of players thru their own personal novel, but a good GM is interested in telling stories as a group. u have final say and have to stay true to the important stuff abt ur story, but if u get mad or frustrated when ur readers want to explore something "off topic" or aren't following the threads of ur narrative the way u expected them to, u don't actually want to run a quest, u just want to make a webcomic w mandatory comments. (the flip side of this is: consider if the story u want to make is the right one for an interactive quest. if it is REALLY important to u that the plot beats of a story go a certain way, maybe save it for a medium where u have more control!)

keep it loose and fast. the art does not matter. i am rly guilty of not following this one, but i still think it's really important! one of the things i like best about quests is the barrier to entry is very low and you SHOULD be able to start and maintain one very quickly. if i were better at keeping my art scrabbly and sketchy and loose, my stuff would not go on hiatus as often as it does. draw fast! it's NICE if the art is gorgeous to look at and definitely will draw readers, but it's way better if the art is simple enough that you can update frequently and without much stress. the quality of ur writing + character building, and whether u are telling a story that's engaging and that ur readers feel meaningfully involved in, is 100000x more important than the art.

on the more nitty gritty side: try to have a hook in each update. one of the most common reasons suggestions die off is readers being unsure of what they're supposed to do next. sure, too much spoonfeeding could end up feeling like railroading, and you don't have to end every single update by getting right in their faces and yelling "WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT??", but when you finish an update try to take a second to put yourself in a reader's shoes and see if there's an obvious next step. is there a course of action to decide on/debate, are there clear questions they can ask an npc, etc -- i can't think of a great way to describe it, but you want to avoid ending an update on a note where the player character and readers are basically sitting there looking at each other like "um... okay. that's that, then." some ppl even just end all their updates w multiple choice options, which is a super simple way to keep things moving if it fits the style of what ur doing. if you don't want it to be that overt but you still can't think of a way for there to be a clear hook, you can at least try to leave a little nudge in the narration that invites the readers to try to tie whatever they've just done/learned back into the pc's main goals/motivations or current tasks. (on this subject, VERY useful for your main character to have a very specific goal or end destination that everyone is on the same page abt. it's harder for your plot to lose momentum if you can always point at what your readers are supposed to be moving toward!)

finally: KEEP UPDATING EVEN IF YOU GET VERY FEW/NO SUGGESTIONS. it's a niche genre. questden is a small website. it's hard to get people to read something new, especially if it's in a new and unfamiliar format (and especially especially when it's on a website that looks like a chanboard lmao). picking up readers takes a long time, and a lot of people lurk without suggesting (ESPECIALLY if it's a difficult/plot-important decision, and also especially in the opposite, if it's a very obvious next step and someone else has already commented what most ppl would say). it's very tempting to want to wait for more suggestions bc u "only" have one or two, and then that wait becomes stagnation, and then you're frustrated and u end up dropping the quest bc "nobody cares." instead u just have to push thru!!!! u only have two suggestions and u wish u had more? maybe next update u'll get more. u have NO suggestions and u feel like that means ur quest is dead in the water? NOPE! the solution is to update again, bc maybe ppl with latch on more and have something to say in the next scene. the more u update ur quest, the more u'll be able to talk abt it (and maybe get more readers), and specifically in the case of questden the more ur thread will be bumped to the front page. think abt how many times you've seen ppl talking abt a webcomic or a book and thought "i need to check that out eventually...." but it takes months for you to actually do it. 99.9999% of the time, ppl need to see something MULTIPLE TIMES before they check it out!! most readers do not come from clicking something the very first time they see it!! i know it can feel lonely and discouraging, but u owe it to ur art and the stories u want to tell to keep trying, even if engagement is very low at first, otherwise you're killing it before it's even had a chance. like, get shameless about it. ask your buddies to comment on your quest. but give that horse a few really good whacks before you decide it's dead!! i think that's my main thoughts. if you have any more specific questions i'm happy to help if i can! but also i think you'll learn the most by just jumping in and fucking around. quests are easy to pick up and easy to drop, and imo do really well as a playground where u test different ways to draw and tell stories, so might as well just get messy.

[quinloki]

humble requests for buggy, killer, and robin for marking with their lipstick (i know robin isnt drawn with any but just for fun), hella softcore femdom, and praise (not for killer i know u already did him and i.. go back regularly to read it and get all flustered and coo and adhjsfldkf) thank yoU!!!

Awwwww ♥ I'm glad you like it that much. Hm... maybe I'll expand on it for this post. Let's see how it goes.

Buggy and Robin - I think this is firsts for both of them \o/ (Oh wait, I've gotten Buggy once before, first for Robin!)

Also, I apologize, I'm laughing at "hella softcore femdom" - I don't know what to do with that, but I'm going to try my best. I'm assuming the qualifier is there because I tend to go pretty hard core, and you're trying to get me to put the mittens on and tone it down a bit.

We'll do this by character as is becoming the norm, and we'll just go in the order you've listed \o/

Buggy:

Marking w/lipstick - Yes - Buggy likes to give you his "look" in the bedroom - not the big red nose, but the exaggerated lips and the blue lines. There's just something quiet and intimate about it and he refuses to let anyone else see you like that. Generally, in the course of the night, the makeup on the both of you is ruined all to hell. Red and blue smears of paint blotched along skin.

You've even "marked" him more directly before, drawing a couple lazy hearts on his chest with the lipstick one time and he found he really liked it. He told you it was flashy and even left it in place until normal daily life wore it away.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Oh god you don't even know - Buggy can be pushed into being dom, he can even be one on his own, but he's a very stressed clown man. Handing over the proverbial reigns and doing your bidding is a tremendous stress reliever for him. It doesn't even have to be sexual in nature. He'll rub your shoulder, massage your feet, bring you snacks and feed you fruits (and/or let you feed him fruits too.) He even enjoys being made to clean or organize things.

Praise Kink - FUCK Yes - You cannot praise him too much, he cannot praise you too much. Buggy is a affirmative words kind of guy. (He likes having degradation thrown at him, does not like dishing it out). He loves to hear he's doing well, and loves to praise you for taking him so well at the same time. He's very talkative when he's with you - not in the screechy kind of fast-talk he has with other people. It's much calmer than that, maybe a little flashy still.

He'll talk a little less as things progress - once you've both learned what the other likes there'll be less instructions and questions and clarifications, but he'll still be singing your praises, and reveling in you praising him.

Killer:

Marking w/lipstick - FUCK Yes - Killer loves to mark you, and honestly the more temporary those marks are the better. As a general rule at least. The best part is how accurate he is with it. He's put lipstick on your lips without getting any outside of the lines, and he didn't use the lipstick on your lips directly. It was some of the best kissing you'd experienced with him.

By the time all is said and done it's often hard to tell what marks on you are passionate bruises, and which marks are Killer's lipstick. At least until you get cleaned up.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Yes - I don't think you'd ever actually truly dom Killer. Even softcore style. He's delighted to let you fill that role, but there's no point in any of it where you're fully in control. He just doesn't have enough "sub" in him for that sort of interaction. Much like Kid though, he's into pretty much all kinks, from all sides, and he'll happily play at being you're good darlin' without complaint.

Plus it's not bad for him to just relax and let someone call the shots for a little bit. Killer's usually non-stop on in that category. So it's refreshing for him to let someone else take the lead.

Praise Kink - Oh god your don't even know - Killer will praise you and accept your praises. But mostly praise you - how well you take him, how sweet you sound, how beautiful your laughter is, how delicious, and warm, and tight and perfect you are. Killer loves to lavish you with praise. You are his good little one, and he'll make sure you never doubt it. He'll even praise you while he's punishing you - especially if you're accepting your punishment without complaint.

It's also easy to tell that praise effects him positively as well. You can hear his soft moans shiver when you praise him, feel him twitch inside you, the flex in his fingers as he works to control himself. He doesn't really need or want anyone else to tell him he's doing a good job, but something about the way you say it, hits him at his core.

Nico Robin:

Marking w/lipstick - Sure - I think Robin wouldn't have much of an opinion on it until her partner marked her with lipstick. The quiet action of it, the subtle intimacy, the ease with which it can be removed and reapplied. Something about it will click with her and she'll be positive toward it more than neutral.

As a general rule I don't think she's one for marking any more "hardcore" than lipstick. Marks maybe from passionate kissing, but considering her past I don't think she'd want to have a show of ownership over someone. I almost think freedom is more important to her than it is to Luffy.

Hella Softcore Femdom - Oh god you don't even know - This is like, Robin's natural state. It's almost how she is just as a person existing. Everything I can think of to describe it are canonical moments in the show. She just very casually and skillfully moves the crew to her desires, and praises them when things go how she wants. It's almost motherly with, say, Chopper, but there's certainly a dom vibe with the rest of the crew.

It's subtle though - "hella softcore" is a good way to describe it. That said, it's something I see her doing to someone quite easily, but I don't think it goes in the other direction. Subtle as it may (or may not) come across in her relationship, she is most certainly the dominate partner.

Praise Kink - FUCK Yes - Degradation is not Robin's default setting. She's 100% someone that's going to praise you for a job well-done. The hardest part of being her partner is that she'll praise you for cleaning the room in the same cadence and tone that she'll praise you for taking her strap. Or hand. Or with you pleasing her.

There's nothing wrong with it, but when she thanks you for something in front of everyone else in that same tone she used in the bedroom perhaps just moments earlier. Well. To say it has an astounding effect is a bit of an understatement (and I'm certain she does it on purpose too.)

Get your asks in, I'm not taking more after tomorrow.

[gayleafpool]

Hit me with some Hugo and/or Varian headcanons

u got it boss

hugo:

-his nose is crooked from being broken and then not healing properly like 3 different times

-his vision is ASS im talking like running into walls without them. velma where are my glasses type of shit. what a loser

-has a habit of hiding injuries or illness bc he doesn’t want to show weakness or vulnerability

-has a really hard time accepting help from people bc he doesn’t wanna feel like he owes anybody anything

-he likes animals but the idea of being responsible for keeping a little creature alive stresses him out so he built olivia

-doesn’t actually know how to dance but knows how to fake it from sneaking into so many royal parties and events for various jobs and trying to blend in w the crowd. like he just makes up steps as he goes and it’s never an actual real dance that exists but he just pretends he knows what he’s doing and people buy it. this actually applies to a lot of things he does. fake it till u make it babey

-he did all of his own piercings

-he never uses those spiky googles he has bc they don’t fit over his glasses and he can’t take the glasses off bc then he can’t see. he has no idea why he still has the googles. none of us know. what is wrong w him

varian:

-if he actually went and saw a therapist he’d be diagnosed with bpd two seconds after stepping into the room

-short king. srry but that guy is never surpassing 5’3

-uhhhh prison was shall we say not a good time for him

-likes to write about things he did in a day or thoughts he has w little drawings to go along w the thoughts. it would read kinda like the journal mae from nitw has. just a bunch of goofy ass things

-i think he’d be super into learning new languages and would pick them up really fast. he probably can speak like 4 languages at least

-type of guy to chew on pens and then accidentally bite it so hard the ink explodes everywhere

-major sweet tooth he loves sugary stuff

[astrowaffle]

Wow you guys really seemed to like the steampunk AU, that post got way more attention than I was expecting, so here's some more information and stuff:

-The world is still like a videogame that they got trapped in but now it’s a steampunk adventure-y type game with circus elements 

-The adventures are probably a bit different

-They’re probably more like, fantasy adventure video game style things with like puzzles and fighting? Idk I'm not a big gamer I've never actually played any steampunk video games. What are those like?

-Instead of circus tent, there is a big wagon thingy that I'll draw eventually

-there's still not much of a story and I'm not sure If there'll ever be

-I'd also kinda want to make some mini comics for this au but I suck at coming up with ideas :/

Pomni:  

-She likes to craft things

-friends with Gangle and Ragatha

-still very anxious but less anxious then normal Pomni?

-has a very logical mind and is good at puzzling things together but also doesn’t do well under pressure and typically panics in stressful moments where these skills might be useful

-She can play the flute because flutes are good, they are the best instrument. (I am totally not biased just because I play the flute in marching band)

-My headcanon for regular Pomni is that she’s less anxious than she initially is in the pilot after getting used to things, like, beyond the anxiety, her actual personality is very cheery and friendly, also very logical, because idk it just fits her somehow? So yea, that headcanon also applies to this au 

-but of course she is still an absolute nervous wreck because yes

-How else is she supposed to react in this situation

-also look at those fingerless gloves I want those

-the gears in her eyes turn when she is thinking

Gangle:

-Also likes crafting things

-friends with Pomni, Zooble, and Kinger

-she often borrows  sewing needles from Ragatha to sew her comedy mask back together when it’s torn, and also constantly tries to craft new ones

-She really likes her boots

-I don’t blame her those are some nice boots

-Ok wait a minute what if that little wing bow thingy on her head is actually a pen/quill that she can use to write stuff?

-ooooooh yes I like that

Caine: 

-✨monocle✨

-He can control the time of day with the clock that’s on his hat

-It’s a lot harder for him to heal injuries in this world, he can’t just instantly fix anything anymore it requires a bit more effort

-I’m doing this because I like when injury and pain and suffering

Bubble: um- idk it’s just bubble but now they’re a robot I guess

Kinger:

-ok but what if he had a collection of mechanical insects? Omg designing mechanical insects would be so fun-

-The clock that he wears is broken but he doesn’t notice. And Time is irrelevant anyways

-damn those gloves are fancy

-they probably feel really silky

-and his robe is also very silky because mmm good texture

Zooble:

-They are a robot now

-also a mechanic/inventor because nobody else is and somebody had to learn how to make new robot parts

-their right arm can go s t r e t c h

-bonds with Gangle over their hatred of Jax

-they’re also kinda protective over her

-I lowkey ship them (this ship is so underrated)

-No but seriously why do see zero art of this ship

- Zoob’s in denial about their feelings and still pretends not to care because they’ve had such a “I don’t give a shit about anything��� attitude that suddenly developing feelings for someone has caught them off guard cause they suddenly are giving a shit about something and they don’t know how to handle it, But if Jax does anything to Gangle they will rush in to protect her in a heartbeat and just try to play it off as it just being because they don’t like Jax BUT WE ALL KNOW THE TRUTH ZOOBLE JUST CONFESS ALREADY-

-ok that got way too rambly let's just move on now

Jax:

-MY FAVORITE

-he likes shiny things

-He will collect those shiny things

-He also very fast because look at those LANKY RABBIT LEGS

-I mean technically that’s already cannon, did you see how fast he ran away after seeing abstracted kaufmo? He just z o o m e d outta there

-those keys on the chain are only a small portion of his collection

-his room is definitely full of weird steampunk knick knacks because yes

-He uses them to prank people

-the centipedes he has to scare/annoy Ragatha are mechanical

-I’m so excited to design mechanical centipedes I love bugs so much guys you have no idea I finally have an excuse to draw insects and maybe people will actually care because it’s fandom related now

-He does not like getting wet. At all. (this is also just a general headcanon for him but especially in this au)

-floofy

Ragatha:

-the seams of her fabric are prone to tearing so she always carries a needle and thread to sew herself back together. she's good at sewing

-My main headcannon for normal Ragatha is that her button eye is a parallel to an eye injury she had in real life before joining the circus, but in this AU she probably acquired the injury in this universe.

-she’s good at using tools and weapons but not in like, a mechanic sorta way like Zooble but in a defense sorta way

-like, she’s very kind and caring but also sorta tough and even though her body is good at falling apart, she knows how to use strategy to fight and um wait what would they even be fighting-

-idk I haven’t thought about that yet

-Gloinks?????

-do those exist in this au???

-wait it’s my au why am I asking this

-overall she is very, “tries to help everyone else and seems very tough on the outside but is prone to falling apart both physically and mentally but just gets good at quickly patching it up and ignoring it until it become too much for her to bear”

-pls help her she needs therapy

-they all need therapy

-I’m pretty sure we’ve all established that at this point

-but I’m just making sure you know that it’s still a consistent factor in this au

[happysadyoyo]

I wrote this last night but I still kinda want these to have their own posts. No writings tonight; my head aches from irl stress.

@pillowspace

It's... after.

You had funny little names for the loops before, jokes for yourself to deal with the ever increasing dread that you would never figure out the trick to get out of them. You don't name this one. The creeping dread you feel when you remember is enough.

You almost don't go that first day. You love them, you know them, you know that couldn't be their default, and it's only the bright, fragmented memories of that first meeting that drags you out of bed and getting there nearly an hour late. No one really cares that you're late. You're a warm body, and that's all Fazbear Entertainment cares about.

It's easier when the kids are around and awake. You don't think Sun notices you avoiding them, avoiding the dark spaces where he might change. Avoiding those long, delicate, powerful fingers that make your throat close up without ever touching you. Despite the lack of bruises you're driven to wear turtlenecks, close fitting layers that can't be grabbed. You think about trying to get in shape but what's the point? It'll just reset.

You'll just reset.

He had warned you, you reason with yourself during naptime. You're hiding behind the security desk. It's still early, Moon is still allowed to come out if you're there, and he's checking the children. You are pretending to be on your phone, but you are uncomfortably aware of where he is at all times. But you must've dozed off, just for a moment, because there's a sudden tug on your hat as it catches on your hair. You open your eyes and recoil.

They're not supposed to be able to reach you back here.

Moon doesn't know how to react when you move out of pure panic, shoving away from the security desk, the chair catching on some phantom nothingness so it falls over backwards and none too gently tips you out. You crawl back, against the wall, staring at Moon as your heart beats rabbit fast, and it's panic, panic, panic, cold and hot and you need to run.

"It was a joke," Moon says, and he puts down your hat and backs away, hands up. Long, delicate fingers, made for storytelling and puppets and changing soiled clothes.

Your throat hurts. You close your eyes and cover your face with your hands, willing the panic to go away.

---

It's after.

You're sitting in your bedroom. The curtains and blinds are open, letting sunlight pour over you and the nest you've created of blankets and pillows in the middle of your bed. There's mugs on the nightstand with your phone and a small day by day paper calendar, the days past torn and crumpled and scattered on the floor. You don't have your hearing aid in. You've barely left bed since the loops broke.

Sun enters, and if you were yourself, you might've laughed. He looked silly, wearing an oversized shirt with a photorealistic kitten on it and his striped jester pants. He's carrying a new mug, and you can smell the tea, chamomile and cinnamon maybe. He offers it to you and you take it mechanically, sipping and scalding your lips and tongue. You feel the heat sliding into your belly, but there's no taste.

Sun sits next to you, the bed shifting, gravity drawing you into them. They weren't built for this world, of human sized rooms and doors, and already there were little scrapes and scars in the ceilings and trim from Sun's rays when he would move without thinking. It wasn't the daycare anymore, and he looked as out of place here as you had felt over and over again.

It's hard not to flinch when he reaches out to you, and you can see it hurt him, hand held midair before it lowers to his lap to fidget. You ought to comfort him, but it's hard to move. Like you're swimming through molasses.

We're sorry. Sun is signing. The one good thing about the loops was you'd finally learned more sign language beyond fingerspelling or hello. Of course they were fluent. We've been remembering and the times we, Moon...

You don't let him say it. You grab at his hands, squeezing them, movements clumsy as you stretch and overexert yourself. You're off balance, painfully stretched, but they catch you, adjust you until you're in their lap, a hand between your shoulder blades, the other held in your own small hands against your chest.

His fingers rest mere inches from your throat and there's still a dull panic, somewhere deep, deep down when you still felt things beyond exhaustion and whatever it'd been driving you forward. But mostly there's comfort. These hands that'd taken care of children, that'd killed you who knows how many times... now they held you so gently, bringing you close to their chest where you can listen to the quiet hum of their mechanics, closing your eyes as fingers curl around your hands.

The sun shines through the window and Sun cradles you in his arms and you know you're safe, you know those hands will protect you until you come back to them.

You'll come back to them. You will.

[postmodernbeliever]

lifetimes and lifetimes - fox mulder x fem!witch reader

not every witch needs spells and stones to relive the past, or predict the future. in your opinion, the craft is much simpler than that- what is meant to be yours comes to you, at the right time. and the right thing does come, in the shape of a tall, curious fbi agent. it doesn't take long to learn just who fox mulder is to you- and that it seems you two always find each other, in every lifetime.

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this one is dedicated to @spookybasementboy bc they asked for it :))  i took some creative liberty because i’m not much of a witch myself- i was inspired by the past life situation in the season 4 ep “the field where i died” but also wanted to make sure i made it mystical, so i used a sort of invocation/prayer and vision experiences. but really i wanted to have an amalgamation of a witch and a regular person, who truly is a product of “coincidences”, run into our handsome little fox. i think it came out kinda cool. unlike anything i've written. ok ill stop explaining and let you read. <3

my ao3 | word count: 5,041

content tags: wicca, not too witchy but has spiritual experiences, mentions of bodily blood/gore, past lives, flashbacks, idiots in love, stress, fear, anxiety, slow romance, you both fall hard FAST but it’s gotta be slow!!!!!!!!!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

special agent fox mulder believes in everything. he doesn’t know how not to, not with everything he’s seen in his lifetime. because of this blind faith, he gets himself in constant trouble. it was the first thing you noticed about him as he handcuffed you to the chair in the police station bullpen, that he was trouble, but in a good way. in the way that without having said a word, you felt he could turn your life upside down. even in a state of shock, you could sense that.

you sat like a prisoner, eyes shut as agent mulder settled into the desk chair opposite you. behind your eyelids, you relived flashes of moments from not even an hour prior. there was blood and bullets; you tasted wood, glass, screams, more blood. you remembered the red eyes, and the way bodies flooded beneath the pews, the sound of skulls cracking against the cold tile. you remembered reciting the only prayer that you could remember, the first one you learned when you left the church at 18. you felt the wiry carpet burning your elbows as you crawled away. you heard their voices repeating, “baruch hashem, baruch hashem, baruch hashem…” you remembered being chased, and after that, nothing else. as you awaited what surely was to become your interrogation you began to pray again, because it felt like you had no other means of safety. the earth is my mother, i shall not want…

“so, you like to run, huh?” the man teased, easing into his questioning. 

agent mulder’s authority was practically dripping from him- tailored suit, slack tie, blue and white badge screaming from his pocket. the print of his gun pressed against the black holster which flashed enticingly behind his coat. you saw power in his eyes, and a boyish attitude in his smile as he awaited your response. he was an understated kind of handsome. the kind that snuck up on you.

you winced as you shifted in the chair, and the man watched you tremble, suspicious of your state. maybe it’s drugs, he thought, but he quickly rescinded that. you just didn’t seem like the type. to the naked eye, you were healthy; plump arms and legs, round cheeks, secretive eyes. you were an intriguing sight, and not just because of your clothes. chained to a chair, your curling tendrils of hair and berry lipstick looked so out of place in a dirty, bustling environment like the one in which you both sat. he saw a girl adorned in earthy colors both muted enough to communicate a soft darkness, and bright enough to draw people to it. the beat-to-shit brown boots on your sleepy feet showed how long you’ve been drifting by, living alone. silver ornamented your neck and ears and poised hands, and agent mulder liked how it contrasted the tarnished handcuffs. you were battered from the events of your evening, with deep cuts in your hands and knees, and bloody scrapes all over your body, taking turns sharing skin with the bruises. you were a dichotomous girl, giving him every reason to be curious; yet all personal inquiries aside, agent mulder had a job to do. he had caught you fleeing a crime scene, after all. 

something in his gut wanted to release you, to let you float right out the front door and back to wherever you came from; but in his chronic open-mindedness, he couldn’t be sure if you weren’t tricking him some way into feeling that. so he kept you locked tight and facing him, eagerly awaiting your statement. 

“running is for the guilty, agent mulder.”

“well, i had to chase you down, didn’t i?”

“who says you decide what i’m guilty of?”

the agent turned to the computer and opened a statement file, deciding to take yours himself. “what’s your name, miss?”

“which one? i have a few.”

“whichever one i can find in an official file somewhere in this pigsty,” he grinned. 

“well, that’s not gonna be much help,” you shot the man a wink, “they know me by a handful, too.”

“well, come up with one, then.”

you sat for a moment, already settled on the name you wanted to hear him repeat, but wanting to tease anyway. when you offered it up, the sound rang in his ears like angel’s bells. 

agent mulder simply couldn’t stifle his curiosity. as he typed your chosen name out, he asked, “what does it mean?”

“well, my last name is an old name. for us wiccan, it means old friend. and i like to think of myself that way- familiar, constant, when the world is always moving.”

“and your first?”

“my favorite shakespeare character.” you admitted. the man’s face flooded with color, and you could hear him thinking, is she fucking with me? so you tacked on, “you know, just because someone’s a witch doesn’t mean they’re an isolationist. i read.”

“i didn’t say anything!” agent mulder chuckled awkwardly. your intuition had him drawing nervous breaths. “so, you’re a witch. is that why you were at the church? did you plan to invoke, or just poke fun?”

“i’m not that kind of witch, agent mulder. not all witches are mean-spirited. i was there because i had walked past the church a few days ago, and i saw the stained glass windows from outside. they were so beautiful, i wanted to see them up close. i’m not a fan of what happens at churches, but i do love their art.”

for an accepting person, agent mulder didn’t realize how many preconceived notions he held. sat before him was a girl who pledges to be a witch, but visits catholic churches in her free time like museums. a girl who chose her name according to the day. in what little he knew, there seemed to be not one solid fact on which he could build a realistic profile. tight-lipped, the man asked for your age, place and date of birth, and address.

“i’m not sure exactly how many lives i’ve had, but in this one, i’m 29. arlington, d.c… um, october 31st, 1964… oh, and right now, i’m at 2632 hegal place, alexandria. apartment 42.” 

as you spoke, a wind blew through the station. it ruffled the papers on agent mulder’s desk, and it whistled through the links to your handcuffs. the hair stood up on your arms as the wind whispered, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. you felt it in your gut. 

“2632?” agent mulder swallowed thickly, his curious pupils inflating almost cartoonishly. you saw his goosebumps and smiled.

as if you’d known all along, you asked, “you live in the building next door, don’t you? 2630?”

agent mulder didn’t respond, but the blood in his cheeks did for him. you shifted in your seat again, feeling a burning in your stomach. you hadn’t felt that hot intuition for a long time. there was a haunting quality to his face that was drawing you away from your defense; you couldn’t keep up the mysterious act, because something about him made it impossible to hide.

“s-so, what were you doing at the church?”

“you already asked me that, sir.”

you were surprised that even in the chaos of the police station, you weren’t alone. you felt alone. agent mulder seemed to look at you like his eyes didn’t recognize another thing, like the world was unfamiliar to him aside from your face, your eyes. and all those years of sitting in meditation, of attempting to regress, to see who you were before and who your soul was tethered to were useless. you should’ve known by now to trust in your world, in its karma. it always comes when it’s meant to. 

 “you can call me fox, if it’s easier. sir is so… formal.”

fox’s eyes sparkled. you’d seen that shimmer before, but in water, and in shifting light. you looked into him, and wiped your clammy palms against your pantyhose-clad thighs. for the first time all night, you felt your barrier coming down, the shield you raised back at the church, against the cops and the world. the fear you stifled to survive was finally flooding through your veins, and the tears in your eyes followed like dominoes. 

fox instinctively abandoned the report and took your palms in his own, passing his calloused thumbs over your trembling knuckles. “hey, hey, it’s okay,”

“i-i”m sorry,” you hiccuped, struggling to speak. “i’m- m’over… overwhelmed,”

“catch your breath,” he whispered, running his palms up and down your arms. his touch was seraphic, and by it, you knew you’d felt it before. lifetimes and lifetimes of it. “take it easy, i’m here.”

when you calmed down, he began again, “can you tell me what happened?” 

“well… i went into the church. to look at the windows, like i said. i was alone, it was maybe around six o'clock by then. they were just finishing mass, and everyone stood up to leave, a-and then they came in,” you stuttered, “the, uh, the shooters. they were- they were in all black, and wore red masks, like ones from the halloween store. they were chanting, they said, baruch hashem. it sounded like hebrew, but i think it was different, i’m not sure. it sounded old. and they were chanting, and they knocked so many people down in the aisles to get to the alter. they fired a few rounds off at the windows, glass fell on my head… i saw a lot of people fall, so i dropped to the ground and pressed my face to the wall. i prayed over and over, to the earth, it’s the only prayer i could remember. i just wanted to hide, y’know? a-and when- when they got up to the altar, they-”

the agent stopped you to ask, “what prayer?” 

“why does it matter?” you sniffled. 

“because it might have been what got you out in time.” 

his eyes were so pleading, and the fire curling around your bones stood to remind you he was to be trusted. so you recited the prayer, a slightly juvenile one that in your newness you cut down to the meat of: “the earth is my mother, i shall not want. she restores my body and awakens my soul. although i walk in the shadow of changing seasons and passing time, i will not fear death, for the essence of life is within me, the peace and beauty of earth comfort me. as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

the man marveled at how the words spilled from your tongue, so ingrained in your muscle memory that they were second nature. you kept a cadence, and each word was its own. he saw now you were not one to sit surrounded by potions and symbols to cloud your focus; you simply let the power of the world pass through you, and hoped to harness it and be protected as you yielded to it. you repeated that mantra like it was all you had left- he could tell. he’d never met such a modern witch. to him, you were a brand new kind of x file, with subtle powers he has yet to comprehend. 

“that’s beautiful,” he complimented as he squeezed your palms. “alright, now breathe. you're safe. keep talking.”

shutting your eyes, you tried to reimagine the horror. you’d never dreamed of seeing anything so inhumane, but maybe these details would be useful. you can’t have just seen them for nothing. 

“they, um, they took the priest. one of them shot him, and then another laid him on the table, and- and he used a knife to cut him open. there… there was so much blood,” you swallowed thickly. “they took his… y’know, his uh, insides. they dragged them out, and they chanted, and anyone who stood up was shot. i- i watched them take it all and, uh, they put it in the tabernacle, of all places… and their eyes glowed under the masks, bright red, and they never stopped chanting. once they started taking people from the pews with knives, i crawled out the side door, because i had th-this feeling, like, like it would be me next. i felt it everywhere. and when the cops showed up…”

“you didn’t want to get stuck. and you thought i was one of them, coming to take you, so you ran from me.” fox finished your thought, a resonant pain shaking his ribcage at the thought of making an innocent girl just try to outrun the danger. “you saved yourself, you know. i don’t know how your prayer worked, but you did something, summoned something that saved you long enough to get you out.”

“and it made you follow me.” you sighed, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. “why?”

fox’s eyes traveled across your face, inspecting every detail, wishing he had a microscope. his hand raised deliberately to brush a lock of hair from your face. “i don’t know.”

“what is your gut telling you?”

“its…” the man felt like his lungs were going to pop, two balloons over-inflated, under siege by a swarm of butterflies. “i wanted to follow you. to find you, not arrest you. but you kept running, so… y’know, logic took over.”

fox took a moment to fish the handcuff key from his pocket, and he unlocked your wrists, rubbing softly at the red marks. the agent winced, guilt-ridden for fastening them too tight. “does it hurt?”

“no, m’okay,” you muttered. your head was pounding, and when his fingertips grazed your pulse, you felt somewhat weak. 

fox let you rest for a few minutes while he typed up your account. he remembered every word. as he worked, his leg consciously shifted out to knock against your knee, and the two of you sat that way for a while, touching bones. when he was done, he leaned back in the borrowed desk chair and sighed, dragging his big palms down his face. 

“can i ask why you’re investigating this?” you brought one leg over the other, suddenly a bit conscious of the length of your dress. you saw his eyes follow, and you flushed. 

“oh, well, my partner and i- scully, you met her- we’re, uh, we’re investigating a string of ritual murders. we’ve followed these guys through the state, they shoot up masses and do what they believe to be sacrifices to jesus himself. that- that chant you mentioned, baruch hashem, i recognize it. it’s aramaic, the language jesus spoke. means “blessed be the name”. we’ve gathered they chant that over and over and they, uh,” the agent paused, seeing the discomfort on your face, “you don’t want to know the details.”

“no, i do! it's just a little raw is all,” you flashed a meek smile, gesturing with a nod for him to continue. 

“well, they seem to be taking people’s… entrails, the priest’s first, and offering them up by putting them in the tabernacle. my theory is they seem to think that if they offer holy blood, and let it be anointed with the eucharist, it'll reward them with god’s love and immortality. as far as we know, they belong to a cult that moves across the country, sacrificing lives to win god’s favor. and what you saw tonight- what you suffered- it’s going to help us stop them.”

“really?”

“yes, really,” he grinned. “listen, i’m not going to hold you here. you’re a victim, you don’t deserve to keep reliving this. you need to go home, get some rest.”

there was still that fire in you, churning and hissing within your throat, reminding you not to ignore it. you never did. in your practices, you always bended to the will of your fire. every invocation, every motion, was deliberate. it all came through you. you didn’t adhere to the rules of everyone else who believed like you did; you belonged to no wiccan circle, no congregation. you just made your way in the world, a ritualist by nature, working with this life and world while understanding your diversion from it. you let your selves be your guide- every version of you that has lived wisely for your benefit. 

thinking of what you are, and what you’ll become now you’ve met fox mulder, the flames licked your tongue, making you honest again. “i’m scared to leave. i… i don’t want them to come for me.”

fox’s comforting grin fell. he saw how you made yourself small in the chair, and he wished he could switch places. in an instant, he’d be the one interrogated, judged, the one seeing guts and blood when he closed his eyes. he couldn’t let that be what you turned into.

“i can bring you. i can get you security, protective custody, anything you need. i’ll protect you myself if i have to,” fox swore, “i won’t let them get to you, okay?”

a sad little laugh bubbled in your throat, and you reached for the hand that rested on the computer mouse. you adored the feeling of his tired skin beneath yours so sensitive. “i guess i don’t really know what’ll feel safe just yet.”

“then let me take you home, at least,” fox offered. “i do live next door.”

“you do.”

you stood up, feeling a bit achy in the knees. fox offered you his arm and you wrapped your palm around it gratefully. you watched him motion across the station to the pretty redhead you’d met in cuffs, who nodded softly. his partner. there was a smart look in her eye, and you knew she had the answers- to what, you couldn’t be sure, but she held a truth within her. it glowed golden against the pink of her skin.

the agent ushered you to a small car outside the station, opening the passenger side for you to slide in. you giggled at his old-fashioned ways, enamored by how he shed his suit jacket and laid it across your nearly bare legs in the car. “so you don’t get cold,” he explained, but you couldn’t care less about why.

the drive was silent. fox went slowly, although you had the feeling he tended to speed. his hand rested on the gear shift out of baseless habit, even though the car was automatic. he was tense, anxious, aware; the muscle at the curve of his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was keeping time, and a stubborn slice of hair kept falling against his forehead no matter how many times he blew it away. you admired him from your side of the car, seeing how traffic lights reflected in his eyes. all it took was for fox to deal a soft glance your way, with just a slight tilt of the head, for you to feel yourself in this car before, within this exact moment some other lateral time. a second wave of goosebumps riddled your body. 

show me, you begged in silence, willing to be heard by whatever force was showing you new versions of the man behind the wheel. show me who he is. show me who he is to me. 

a sudden burst of rain smacked against the windshield of the car, causing both of you to jump. there was no storm following- it was as if a squall came down, just momentarily, to rinse the car. when you blinked, you saw fox driving a first-edition ford in a tweed coat and flat cap, a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he asked you about your day; then, he was jostling atop a cart, hands on worn horse reigns, singing some folk song you’d never heard. another blink revealed him as a boy, holding your juvenile hand and speaking middle french as he passed you a flower, with that same concentrated head tilt and gaze as all the other visions. you’d been here so many times, protected by him, going towards a life with him. you knew he felt it, too, because the beat of his heart was loud enough to hear how it synced with yours. not a piece of you both was out of time, now that the world had removed its wedge. you rested your hand atop his on the gear shift, and the muscle in his mouth loosened. 

when fox pulled up to your building, you waited for him to come around and let you out with a teasing smile. he took your hand gingerly and led you down the sidewalk. he helped you through your building’s door, up the stairs, and he swiped the keyring from your shaking hands and unlocked your apartment for you. the familiar smell of cinnamon air freshener eased your nerves as you switched on the lights, and you saw fox get a glimpse of your life for the first time. he smiled at your home where you lived in the same room, on the same floor, in the same layout one building away, as him. your living room window looked like his. your television was in the same place. you had far more books, and your desk was littered with drawings, but everything was reminiscent of his apartment. and you saw his home now as you looked around, like you had three-dimensional lenses on- you in the blue film, and him in the red. he had no trouble finding the sink and filling a cup for you while you drifted to the couch and sat down. after having time to settle, your body ached. 

“i can't believe this,” was all he could say. 

you took the glass from him and sipped it greedily, falling out of shock and into need. you patted the cushion beside you, and he took a seat.

“you’re familiar with past lives, right?”

“well, yeah,” he confirmed, “i know different theories and cultural views of reincarnation. it's an interesting concept, to be born again but always the same, an amalgamation of the people you were before.”

“i think so, too.”

“but you’re wiccan, so you know all about that already, right?”

“well, i think you should know that things for me are different, fox. i mean, i tell people i’m wiccan, so they call me a witch, and i go with that. i guess i’m spooky to other people. i lean into it because it does them less harm to simplify me and me less harm to just live how i want in private. if i could create a whole new kind of practice, i would, but sometimes its easier to just let people see you how they do and move along,” you elucidated. “what you might think wiccans believe isn’t always what i believe, y’know? it’s just the closest label. works better than deist or freak or whatever. and being here with you, and all these visions, these memories i’m having… i don’t really know what i’m getting at. this is all to say that yes, i believe in past lives, and i’m not so much wiccan as i am just myself.”

“i get it. you follow your own rules. you have an instinct, just something that kind of… burns in you, right?” 

all the words he could’ve used, and he chose burn. because love burns, pain burns, life burns. this entire night has burned you. and he’s burned, too, branded with the belief you share.

“yeah.”

“so, did you know me in your version of past lives, then?” the agent inquired, bumping your knee with his knuckles playfully.

“i know i did, because i asked the world to show you to me, and now i see every version of you. four, maybe five of you, in the same exact moment. you don’t change. and you’re always with me, always a force. this gentle, ferocious thing, keeping me to yourself. and i think in each one, i love you.”

fox’s brain was swimming in confusion while his body buzzed with want. distractedly, he wondered, “how can something be gentle and ferocious?”

softly, you recited, “it’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body. the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. it means you have a body, too. you will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”

fox beamed, “if beale street could talk. you are well read.”

you set the glass of water down on the coffee table that looked just like his, and you said, “i know you, fox. not in this life yet, but i’ve known you in every one before. coincidences aren’t just coincidences.”

“i never thought so,” the agent nodded thoughtfully. you couldn’t tell what was in his head this time, and you wanted so badly to know. when he did reveal a question, you didn’t expect it. “what was the part of that prayer you said for me earlier? something about the universe?” 

quietly, you recanted: “as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

fox’s face burst into a wild smile, one that used every tooth he had. he thought of how his entire life, he looked up to the stars, worshiped them; hoping they’d be benevolent enough to bring his sister back, to save his life, to make all of his pain worthwhile. and there they were, divine within your oldest prayer, the very same prayer that guided him from the church in your direction in the first place. you could believe it was the earth, or the spirits you confided in all you liked, but to him the stars had made it all possible. maybe he was a witch in his own way, too, if he played by your rules. 

fox sat in silence with you for a while, refilling your glass while you collected your nerves. the man offered to patch a few of your cuts just so he could pick apart the details of your life in the apartment. with the cover of looking for a first aid kit, he flipped through your books, searching for your copy of james baldwin. he admired your records, finding music he’s loved for years and some he’s never heard before. he studied your little jars of herbs that coexisted alongside tylenol bottles. he saw the parts of your window that you colored with magic marker, because of how you longed for true stained glass. he frowned, thinking what a shame it was those bastards destroyed the art you’d gone to admire tonight. 

as he looked, he learned again what it is like to feel your presence, to be surrounded by you. he felt a sudden gap mending in the space within him, and he didn’t need magic to know why. falling in love was magical enough. 

you spent some time allowing fox to nurse your bumps and bruises (once he stopped fake-looking for the first aid kit), and admired how he childishly placed bandaids all over your arms and legs as if they’d heal all. it was more about letting him care for you, and feeling his hands in places you’d only hoped they’d touched before. he hummed softly to himself all the while, and you were a puddle by the time he finished; when you were the center of his focus, he was nothing but a big sap, muttering soft praises and showering you with smiles. you couldn’t believe it took you so long to find him, or rather that the world took so long to bring you his way. you had so much to make up for now.

when it was time for him to go, you followed him to the door like a puppy. you didn’t feel the discomfort anymore, or the fear of your death. you only felt the doting hands of karma, proving to you the night was simply a means to a much greater end. (un)coincidentally, karma’s hands felt just like his. 

fox leaned in your doorway, his tie undone and his authority stripped. “i’ll come by to check on you in the morning,” he assured. 

“i’ll be here.”

“where do you work?” fox asked, and when your lips melted into a helpless grin, he pushed, “come on, where?”

“i’m a receptionist at the national archives.” 

the believer before you fell to the mercy of his faith, picturing the building on the same street as his job. he imagined how many times you must have walked past him to go to work, all those days spent believing in a love he was missing. his ageless eyes folded on themselves with disbelief, and his laugh rattled deep in his chest.

“jesus. are you sure you’re not something else? a genie, a spirit? an angel?” 

“nope. just a witch. and a bad one, at that.”

you pushed onto your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, finding his scruff so familiar to your lips. he sighed softly at the touch of your hands, feeling embers sparking in their wake. 

like it was a secret, he murmured, “i have one more question.”

“hm?”

“why do you choose me? if you’ve lived all these lives, why me?”

you settled back onto your heels and smiled. your palm rested against his jaw as you replied, “you know, i don’t think i ever had a choice.”

he wanted to kiss you, but you both know he’s too much of a gentleman. so he only gazed at you for a while, pressing your hand flush to his face, before letting it fall and stepping into the hallway. and as you watched him leave, you imagined every time he’d come back to save you, to love you, to tilt his head and realign himself as the lover you’ve kept for lifetimes.

“you know where to find me,” you called after the man, and he looked over his shoulder with enough love to shatter the sky.

“i guess i always do, don’t i?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

prayer altered for story, sourced from this website

quote used from novel if beale street could talk by james baldwin

[ganondoodle]

I just wanna say firstly that i adore your artwork and takes6on Zelda in general! Secondly, much as I wish you never had to deal with the frustrations of creating (especially when you tack on the stress of being on any kind of social platform), I'm glad you talk about your struggle. I've heard people talk about art block every day since I learned what Art was, but nobody ever mentioned "painting oneself into a corner". It's such an apt description that is so infuriatingly relatable that I had to stop eating to thank you for putting it into words. I really appreciate that you're willing to talk about your setbacks in a place like Tumblr, and still share your arts and thoughts. All the best from US of hellscape A, i hope you're doing well.

Thank you!

i used to call it artblock as well, its the most normalized term i guess; i randomly started calling it painting myself into a corner when i got stuck or frustrated on a painting bc welll, it sure feels like it, you painted the walls all around you and dont know how to get out now

it usually happens when i stop having fun and just draw what i want and instead keep subconsciously forcing myself into arbitrary rules; in my case its usually trying to be too perfect, i try to adhere to the sketch, i try to make every block of color have a perfectly clean edge, separate the drawing into way too many layers and am afraid to delete or erase anything, i tense up my whole body as frustration builds bc of impatience as this method of painting does not work for me at all and in the end lose motivation on it all and my nerves are stretched thin (i work best when i think as little as possible, just kinda loosely letting my hand do what it wants on few layers and no specific plan, after losing that its hard to get it back)

having those low moments with your art is normal as your skill grows, but even knowing so, and having gone through it countless times, it never stops making you feel like shit, and its especially frustrating when it happens when you just got enough time to work on stuff or have alot of ideas but you cant get it to work

(and funnily enough it also tends to happen after another work of mine got more attention than i thought .. even worse when it was just a sketch bc now i got the pressure on me to actually finish it and the fear of it doing worse once done looms over the whole thing- which doesnt mean i dont want people to interact with my wips, bc that also has an extremely demotivating factor to it bc it makes me think no one cares or it sucks and doesnt deserve the time i would need to spend on finishing it; also .. alot of my wips stay wips forever, which is fine, but like .. you cant always expect a finished tm version to happen)

i do find it a little funny you praise me for talking openly about it bc i am notoriously unable to shut up ever and only recently got better at NOT talking as much about it when i feel as shitty as this bc it doesnt really help anyone and gets annoying really fast xD (im also notoriously unable to not post absolutely everything bc i got no one to show it to and otherwise it will just collect dust on my harddrive so i might as well throw it out there no matter how much i might hate it, someone else might still enjoy it anyway)

and greetings back from the -not really much less of a hellscape- that is germany o/

[tomurasmoleunderhislip]

Tomura with goth s/o that practices witchcraft:

I mostly see fics and hc's of him with cute short sanrio/gamer girl, and I never saw one of him with goth s/o so I had to make it.

I just know he would think that you look so cool and hot and he'd secretly want to try the way you do your makeup and even dress up like you. Loves it when you wear these platform shoes/boots and when you get taller than him, he finds it attractive and cool.

One day you begged him to do his makeup and he rolled his eyes and accepted, but he wasn't annoyed at all it's just that he didn't wanted to look like he was waiting for you this whole time to ask him something like that.

He would let you sit on his lap while you do his makeup, or even lay down if it takes a bit longer. His heart would beat so fast and he would get really shy and blushy while you do it for him though . Omg but let's talk about how he would look so fine with gothic makeup 😩. (I was planning to draw it for this hc for like months but I don't have will and forgot how to draw so fuck it ig)

And I just know he would attack anyone on streets that would look wrong at you, anyone that pointed out the way you dress and do your hair/makeup and laughed about it, they would end up getting turned into dust. He doesn't want anyone to ruin your happiness and just wants you to feel like yourself.

Watches you admiringly on other side of room while you style your hair and put accessories, he just thinks you look so cute when you are focused like that. If you need help with brushing your hair later since you put lots of hairspray and comb your hair backwards he will gladly help or at least try.

HE ALSO LET'S YOU PICK OUTFITS FOR HIM, AND SOMETIMES BORROWS YOUR COOL SPIKEY CHOKERS AND ACCESSORIES.

When you teach him more about goth culture he'll gladly listen, I can picture him always being interested into it.

And I can also picture in my head that when he would pass by some stores and notice some jewelry that you would like, he'd either buy or just steal matching necklaces for you two:

You two like to be in eachothers bedrooms in slight darkness with candles burning only and just vibe to songs playing in background. Plsss imagine him holding your waist and you wrapping your arms around his neck while you two are dancing lazily and your noses are touching 🛐.

Tomura likes to listen to: The cure, Sisters of Mercy, Christian death, Bauhaus, The 69 eyes, Vandal Moon, The damned, Type o Negative but will vibe to other's too ofc.

He likes to make playlists for you and will listen to your all playlists you made for him <3.

Ooohhhh and I can't forget about learning together about gothic dances, you two would look funny as hell but hey y'all would at least have fun. Just don't let other's know what's their boss like when he's alone with his s/o. Only you can see that side of him 💋.

He loves you, your scent, your room, all these candles, incense sticks, these sick dark paintings you did yourself, your pet spiders 💀, the platform shoes/boots in the corner of your room, crystals/rocks on the shelf and bedside, those cool decorations and animal bones that you collect and your other witchy stuff. -THIS SHIT IS TRUE VIBE FR- Your room is his now too he jokes around like "this is our room now" He comes to visit you there all the time and can spend his whole day there. It's just that he feels a lot better when he's there, it's like all the stress and exhaustion went away, let's just say he feels brand new, so relaxed and like he's at home, and he just wants to be with you. But he'll say any other excuse than admit it.

He'd be pretty weirded out when he would see you practice witchcraft but still curious and interested about it. You would make him those necklace little spells jars, for self love and one's that help with anxiety. Tomura would be like: "What is this shit now?". You say: "that thing you called shit is supposed to make you feel a little better, but if you don't want it you can give it back I don't mind." "Nah I'm keeping this shit".

He wouldn't take it seriously and think there's no way this thing works until he wakes up other morning without these raw scratch marks and without his face and neck itching like it usually does, even his face skin looks less rough now. And he felt less tired as well. That was pure shock for him he didn't know if he should be terrified or amazed, maybe even both.

From now on he would always brings these things you give him everywhere he goes it's like his lucky charm. Minerals, crystals, spell jars, candles anything you give him is now his lucky charm even if you give him stupid leaf or simple rock.

Since I mentioned crystals you also give him amethyst, clear quartz and selenite to help him calm down and clear his mind a little. And you make these little charm bags so that he can put it under his pillow when he goes to sleep, it helps him a lot to fall asleep easier and keeps him from getting all these awful nightmares.

You also make him these special herbal teas for healing and mental health. He doesn't like to drink tea really but likes it when you make it for him. It's just that yours hit different he doesn't know how to explain. But yeah they help him feel better 100%.

He's really grateful that he has you in his life <3. You are special and mean to him so much that he can't describe it in words. He loves you for who you are

Likes to annoy you when you practice these things but knows when to stop. Sometimes he goes through your books to learn a little bit more about witchcraft, and he's too scared to touch your altar, he feels all that energy around it, and you go crazy anytime someone pokes anything that's on it but hey he's respectful still and will ask for your permission first of course. Babygirl

Ran out of ideas so let it just stay like this I guess, hope it won't get ignored like music taste hc lol

Hope y'all like it ig, sorry for not posting much 🦇

[insertsomthinawesome]

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but how do you… art? Like from looking at your art, there’s just so many different fandoms and it’s all fantastic!! How do you not stick to one or feel like you *have* to stick to one? Sorry

Aw Friend! No need to apologize! :D You asked your question plenty politely! That's a really interesting question actually, and I'm fascinated to be asked it! Because I actually do know the kinda thing you're talking about! or at least I have experiences that feel like they line up with what you're asking. A lot of its... growing up? I guess? And not in the sense of like. becoming an adult. but the non-stop process of growing and learning more about life. When I was younger, an actual child, I just Did it. I drew whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I didn't question hoping to a new interest or drawing different fandoms. I just did it. But the older you get the more complicated a lot of things get right? 😔 That was true for me.

I actually spent several years terrified, of moving on. Of leaving old fandoms behind. There was one fandom I actually forced myself not to leave for like... 2 years? Because I was afraid of all the projects I wouldn't complete, all the stories I wouldn't tell, all the art i wouldn't make. But honestly that was a horrible decision? It burnt me out of the specific fandom SO BADLY. Its only been around this last year that I've been able to enjoy things around it again without an overhanging shadow of stress.

I was still scared to fandom hop after that incident tho. Despite having gotten burned by caving to my own fears. It wasn't until I got into Trigun that I actually started to get less scared. A friend I met in that fandom, someone who was older than me, told me that... things have a way of coming back around. If you know the song "Everything Stays" From Adventure time? She said it was like that song. You will inevitably get older. But these things won't be gone. And you can always come back to them :) That clicked in my brain... and it took a bit longer, a bit more time of accepting that fact for me to find peace... but honestly? I kinda have now. At least for this moment in time. I wouldn't be surprised if the fear comes back around again, fear is funny and insidious like that. But I have the tools to beat it now :) The other two things I would mention are these: For starters: this might be obvious? But I'm a hobbyist artist. I don't make money off of my art, I don't sell it, I don't need numbers or clout in order to pay my bills. I'm completely free to do my own thing! Ain't nothing wrong with making a living off of your artwork and if that's the path that you want to walk GO FOR IT. But that path does have its own challenges. Because I don't walk that path, I am free to make whatever I want, without worrying about how it might reflect on my finances. The other thing is...

PERFECTIONISM...

THIS, NASTY LITTLE VILE COCKROACH, WILL RUIN YOUR ART LIFE SO BADLY ITS INSANE. It will ruin your NORMAL life super fast too 😔 it is an insidious little shoulder devil telling you, that you will be happier if you just do it the "perfect" way. IT IS SO SO SO SO SO SO WRONG. That is the key to the door of endless procrastination and broken dreams. SFLJSLF to get less metaphorical about it though: If you're always waiting for the perfect moment to make art for a fandom, to leave a fandom, to join a fandom (in this case i just mean "Get into the thing that interests you" when I say "Fandom") or create literally anything, you will be waiting forever. I know because i have been :') And its made it very hard to draw both in my past, and right now this very day.

Truthfully i'm still working on that one??? I've had some epiphanies recently that have helped a lot with my perfectionism... but I haven't tried drawing since having them? (drowning in the new Honkai Star Rail Patch WHEEZE) So uh. Not sure If I'm over that hill yet xD But yeah, if that's one piece of advice i could give you to take seriously, its don't chase perfection, in ANYTHING. Especially art. It will never be enough for you. And if you're doing it for other people, it will never be enough for them. Art is wonderful and messy, and human. And that is okay.

Its taken me a lot of soul diving and thinking and a lot of help from outside influence and kind people for me to figure this stuff out too. So don't feel bad to ask for help kay? We all need help. A lot xD I'm still not like, the king this stuff either. There are a lot of smaller, more niche, fandoms, I want to draw for, but still haven't, because of my own anxiety and embarrassment. There are fandoms I haven't drawn for because I don't feel like i have the adequate amount of information to be, ""allowed"" too (which is totally a fake standard btw, there is no barrier to entry for when you're "allowed" to draw something). I'm working on these problems every day.

Oh actually one last note: People can influence how hard it is for you to draw for a bunch of fandoms too. If you know you'll get made fun of for drawing something, its hard to draw. If you know you'll get praised for drawing something, sometimes that makes it easier to draw. Both of those things can mess you up BAD. Constantly drawing for other people (when its not a deliberate gift) can make you feel really upset and angry, and dissonant with your artwork.

But it can be equally as hard to realize nobody will share your enthusiasm if you don't draw what they like. That's not a judgement against anybody's friendships, we all got our own interests, and nobody can be 100% Invested in everything their friends enjoy. But It can make it a bit more emotionally challenging sometimes. And it can be hard to like?? Emotionally deal with that? in a way it makes art that you know will perform well, either with your friend group or online, like... "Candy". Its tastes good, but it doesn't give you long term energy (ie there's nothing wrong with it, but its not sustainable as your only form of sustenance) Meanwhile making art that is purely self indulgent is like eating a full and healthy meal. It gives you that long term energy of personal satisfaction, and your enjoyment and happiness also doesn't inherently hinge on whether or not other people appreciate it like you do. Obviously there's no issue if what you genuinely want to draw would also do well online/with your friends!

ANYWAYS, yeah, I'm still maturing and learning and growing with a lot of my opinions and perspectives and emotions on this stuff? Its definitely easier said than done, and while from the outside it looks effortless... I understand why you'd be struggling anon. I hope you can figure it out for yourself too! Best of luck :D also i could go on and on and on about this topic for years because alsjdfaksjdflJSDJGSD ooohhhhhhh boy I have learned and witnessed and thought many a thunk.

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 14th 2023

"Sticky": Tiger Skin Egg with Sauce.

(Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, Gouache Blender, Airbrush tool. 10 colors, 45 minutes.)

Cripes, I almost forgot to post this one. Been a busy bee the last few days.

The first time I made this dish it was all going perfectly until it came time to caramelize the sauce. It goes from runny and thin to thick in what feels like 30 minutes and then from thick to CHARRED AND AWFUL in 0.5 seconds. I'm not a stranger to syrups and sugary sauces! Maybe it's the soy sauce that's dangerous because the color can't indicate early signs of caramelization that I can see? But I make brown sugar glazes for fruit all the time. And my standard stir fry sauce has soy, brown sugar, and gochujang in it, which are all dark, and I've never burnt those things. Anyway, first time I made these was a disaster. The eggs were overcooked because the sauce took too long to thicken and then I burnt it so it tasted terribly perfumey. But I remade the sauce by itself much more carefully later and it really is tasty! I just had an awful first attempt. Speaking of which, I need to do a proper study of craggly, crackly fried things. I can get away with a lot here because the rendering is a bit stylized and it's a shiny sauced egg, but trying to replicate that almost-breaded looking fried exterior from my reference was hard. I think we've established I'm fairly effective at drawing smooth things with all my shiny eggies of late but I need to learn how to draw coarser, rougher textures. Maybe more pencil tool next time.

Anyway, here's the speedpaint and the shoutouts. @lady-quen, Another gravity defying eggy for you to draw your precious brebbugs on. Take your time of course. The breadbugs need time to eat all the eggs they stole already!

Thanks as always to @quezify for all the inspiring fried eggy art.

Despite the unfamiliar textures being a challenge, it was fun. And of course I got to make it deliciously shiny. The speedpaint makes it all look so competent and deliberate and my ass is sitting here like "Past me has the competence of a god, or at least seems like it, but I know that bitch personally and I know for a fact there was internal screaming for part of it. "It's bumpy in the reference! There's texture there! But how do I do that? AUGH!" And then it turned out fine anyway, despite faffing around. Gotta get better at trusting my process and actually treating these as LEARNING experiences like last year. Self mantra of "It doesn't need to be perfect. It needs to be an egg. If it's hard, that mean's you're learning." Actively squash that little voice in my brain that doubts. Making art is about the making. The art is just a coincidence. It can be a product later if I decide so, but that's not the objective. The objective is to turn 1s and 0s and funny little lights on a funny little screen into things that look like eggs and manifest something that didn't exist anywhere before except my brain. No doubts, no stress. Only eggy. Plus at the end I can stare at past me making egg very fast like magic. I do like that part. Bless CSP for having a native timelapse capture feature. I just get to click a button and share with you all my magical process.

[halliescomut]

Tadaima, Okaeri Ep 5

Sorry I was a bit late watching, and then I wanted to kind of digest the episode and organize my thoughts. And I gotta tell you I am still so fascinated by this show. This week...it's freaking anime Bluey. If you're not aware of what Bluey is, it's an Australian-made (and set) kids cartoon series about a family of Blue Heeler dogs that is syndicated by Disney. It's been creating a lot of really interesting conversations among parents regarding how the show portrays parenthood, and specifically about how often the lessons are for the parents watching with their kids, and not the kids themselves. (This is a good recent article about the show). While I have no children, I do have a niece and nephew at the prime age for enjoying the show and have seen all of the first two seasons multiple times (I'm still working through the recently released 3rd season).

I'm drawing the comparison here, because while Tadaima, Okaeri has up until this episode focused mainly on the adults of the Fujiyoshi household, with Hikari and Hinata being more cutesy side characters. This episode really centers around both Masaki and Hikari, with Hikari starting to fully start to recognize what being a big brother means. While ages are unclear in the show, it seems like Hikari is supposed to be somewhere around 4, an age where both his psychological development and the cultural standards would be encouraging him to become more independent.

But, in the end Hikari is still just a little kid, and in his very endearing way takes his big brother responsibilities a bit too seriously and kind of overextends himself.

From the Masaki side, we see him dealing with the struggle of watching Hikari growing up before his eyes. There's a saying that the days are long, but the years are short when it comes to kids, and that's sort of what Masaki is dealing with this episode. He's watching the contrast of Hikari, who it feels like was just a little baby like Hinata only days ago, now being so much more independent and driven. They're morning the 'loss' of that stage of Hikari's life, while also being so proud of how he's grown. His determination to be helpful, to help take care of the house, of his sister, to help Masaki, these behaviors they want to encourage, that will help Hikari learn how to be a good person as an adult. And they also recognize that tendency that all children have of sort of trying to grow up too fast, because they're to young to conceptualize that they shouldn't give up their childhood, because it is so fleeting in the long run.

Masaki struggling with the unique challenges of having a second child, and just the stress that comes with having to split your attention between multiple young children, they're feeling guilty over not being able to give everything they had before to Hikari, because Hinata requires more direct attention. And they can see the Hikari is struggling to adjust to no longer being an only child, not being able to climb in Ma-chan's lap whenever he wants, or be the sole focus of attention, but they also know it's one of those moments of growth that you just have to let kids go through. You can't really help, you can just be there.

But there's this pretty universal experience of good parents constantly being worried about whether they're good parents. And you may have heard that if you're worried about it, it means you are, because it means you are actively trying to be the best parent you know how to be. And that lesson is the one we kind of see Masaki learning over the course of the episode. I don't know that Masaki's accepted really that they are a good parent, and that doubt seems to be rooted in a lot of things we don't have knowledge of yet.

We don't know nearly as much about Masaki's family as we do about Hiromu and the Fujiyoshis, outside of the fact that Masaki's parents have passed. Though it seems next episode we might met their uncle, which I'm betting will give us a lot more insight. But there's a couple of possibilities, one being that Masaki's home life was a traumatic beyond just the loss of their parents, and that there's a bit of a 'breaking the cycle' storyline happening. Something supported by the behavior we've seen from the Fujiyoshi's and their valiant effort to reconnect with their son and forge a truer bond with Masaki as their son-in-law. I particularly enjoyed the interactions between Masaki and Grandma Fujiyoshi, because you could really feel the desire to connect from both sides. While I continue to have issues with the intentional feminization of Omega or bottoms in BL, I was touched by the symbolism of wanting to pass down the kimono to Masaki. Especially because it was clear that this wasn't a case of 'I want you to have this to pass on to Hinata', but very much intended to indicate acceptance into the family.

Overall this show and this episode is a lot of food for thought for a BL. The veneer of the show is quite fluffy, but they've shown every episode so far a commitment to telling an impactful story within the bounds of BL anime and the omegaverse, which I applaud.