#whatever i spent to long on it not to post it

[hellodropbear]

like she used to

alexia putellas x sister

i have been writing this for ages and it has just sat in my documents folder since january. i don't usually post stuff i write so this will probably get taken down at some point. i've written 13k words so far but this is just the first 4k.

~~~~~~

I hadn't expected to get the call up, not at all really. But Mapi tore her meniscus and apparently the first team found themselves in need of a backup centre back and I was the best option from the B team. It's a compliment, really. Mami is very proud of me and she is excited for me and my sister to play together in a few weeks, even though she is still recovering from her surgery and I will probably not make it off the bench. I am only 15 and 10 months, usually they wait until you are at least 16 and a bit before you can play. 

But, I don't really know how to feel. Thankfully Alexia won't be in training with me for now and I try to avoid thinking about what will happen when she eventually gets better and I have to face her again.

Alexia is my older sister by a lot. There's a 14 year age gap between us and I used to completely and utterly idolise her. She and Alba were two superheroes, always by my side when I needed them. I put them on a pedestal like they were the greatest human beings to ever walk the planet. To me back then, they were. 

I was only four when my father died. All I remember from that time was the big black invisible sheet that hung outside his study and the dark and scary emotions that swallowed our house whole. Alba and Alexia would argue about who got to cuddle me at night and I was so unaware what was happening that I would happily agree, wiping away their tears when it all got too much. 

The death of our father made our family unit stronger. Mami, Ale, Alba and Elena - it was all any of us needed and we supported each other in whatever ways we could. 

Mami had to pick up more shifts at her job, so she couldn't pick me up from school. Alexia had just got her license so she would come in a break during training and pick me up in her training gear. 

Alexia didn't have time to drop me off at home so I would sit and watch the training with whoever wanted to give me company when they were injured. 

Most days, Alba would come and pick me up and take me on the bus all the way home. She would play cartoons on the TV as she sat at the table and did school work. Some days, when she had the time she would sit with me and watch Alexia's training and we'd all go home together. Alba used to say she enjoyed the training. Looking back, I think she just wanted a free ride home and an excuse to not do her homework. 

As I grew up, everything just worked. Alexia and Alba were still living at home as a support to Mami and everything was perfect. My sisters were my idols, my Mami was my shining star. She still is. She would do anything for her daughters, as long as it meant we were all happy. 

That is why it has been so hard for her over the past two years. 

I have not been happy, not really. My football has been thriving, I have represented my country in the under 17 age group and I am a consistent starter idol the Barcelona B team. I spent two years in La Masia before they sent me to the B team last year and I have only been improving since. Everything is going well. Mami says I have had a better start to my career than Alexia did. 

Maybe that is why Alexia hates me. Maybe Mami is just saying that to make me feel better about it.

Alexia and I, despite the 14 year age gap, were always inseparable - for the first 12 years of my life. She was at every single school event, football game, she picked me up from trainings when she could and would train me herself in the garden. We shared a common passion that Alba was not interested in at all - we both love football, we eat, sleep and breath it. Football is everything. She was the one who gave me that mentality. 

"Football is life, Lena, you are lucky you are so good because now you also get to live football and hermanita, it is the most incredible thing." 

She had whispered that to me when I was 11. We were sat on the beach, a place we visited frequently throughout my childhood, both of us staring out at the reflection of the moon on the sea. Alba was fast asleep, her head in Alexia's lap as she snored lightly, completely oblivious to our conversation. 

It all fell apart over three years ago, although I don't have the first clue as to why. 

It was not an explicit event that ruined everything, more my older sister growing up and flying the nest that was so secure and established over years and years of shared success, happiness, failure and grief. She moved out of home long before that, but her split with Jenni upset her, I think, a great deal. I wouldn't know because she didn't really tell me anything - that was strictly Alba's business. 

I didn't even know they had broken up until 5 months after it actually happened. 

"Mami, why does Jenni never come over any more?" 

It was an innocent and normal question, but the look on my mother's face told me everything. Everything about Jenni and everything about my sister. 

I think that was the first knock. She hadn't done anything wrong but I had loved Jenni and Jenni had loved me. I would have thought that she would have told me they broke up. Maybe she didn't want to, maybe she just forgot. She does a lot of that these days. 

Before she and Jenni broke up, she still came to all of my games. She never missed one game before I transferred to La Masia and would insist on taking me out to ice cream after every one. She would tease me for not scoring like she does, even though I play as a centre back. 

"You need some training from Mapi, she is a centre back and has the most lethal free kick, hermanita! She is the best defender I have played with, but don't tell her I said that. I think you will grow up to be better than her." 

She was excited that day, I had made a few good saves and I think that was the first time she really saw that I had the potential to be great. 

I remember the first game she was late to. I noticed immediately but we both pretended she was on time - she only made it to the last 10 minutes but I put it down as traffic or being caught up at training. She was busy, it takes a lot to be La Reina. 

I remember the first game she missed entirely. She wasn't there at the beginning and she wasn't there at the end. I was 13 and I didn't have a phone yet so I couldn't call Mami and ask her to come pick me up because Alexia was too busy. I told myself it was because she was too busy. I didn't want to say she had forgotten because that was too hard for me to handle. 

I remember vividly sitting outside the stadium as the sun set. My coach had asked where my sister was, I was a bit stuck with what to say but I managed to convince her I was fine and she could go home. 

Alba came and picked me up after work that night. It was dark and she looked sad but when I asked if she was ok, she just shrugged her shoulders and said everything would be fine. 

I found out from Mami a few weeks later that Alba was sad because I had never once been forgotten anywhere. Alba saw that as the destruction of our strong family. I suppose she was not wrong. 

Alexia never said anything about that game but she was at the next. She didn't take me out for ice cream after, instead patting my head and telling me she would drop me off at Mami's work. 

"I have things to do, Elena, I am very busy. Hopefully soon Mami will let you catch the bus on your own. Maybe Alba can take you soon so you know the correct routes." 

Her words hurt more than I could admit to myself, I told myself to stop being pathetic. Mami asked why I was crying when I walked into her office. I told her I had played terribly and she comforted me. I think she knew I was lying. I think that is why she had tears in her eyes when she released me from her grip-like hold.

Since that day, Alexia has been to 3 of my games. She went to one more of my old club games but she was sat beside Alba, her eyes glued to her phone the entire match. I was so unfocused that the ball deflected off my face and we conceded. I was taken off with a bleeding nose but when I looked up in the stands, my sister was still staring at her phone. Alba had run down the stairs and was by my side when I entered the little sick bay. 

I cried then too. Most people thought it was because of the bleeding nose or the conceded goal. Alba knew that wasn't the real reason. 

The penultimate game she watched was the final of the under 15s Catalonia cup. I don't know what she did during the game because Mami told me not to look up. She said she didn't want me to get distracted but I think she meant to say she didn't want me to get hurt. 

I think I still idolised Alexia at that point in time. She was still my older sister and she was still the best player in the world. She still had weekly dinners at home, although she wouldn't sit next to me and sneakily take all the food I didn't want off my plate anymore. She stopped staying to watch a movie after dinner even though my favourite part of the week was falling asleep in her lap as her hands combed softly through my hair. 

I remember when I was accepted into La Masia, Mami held a nice big dinner. It was right in the middle of covid so it was technically illegal, but we had a lot of my family over. Mami invited a few of the Barcelona girls as well and Mapi and Leila reminded me of what it used to be like before Alexia stopped loving me. 

The reminder of the before was more painful than I liked to admit, and the night ended when the tears that had been burning in the back of my eyes finally spilled out as I was talking to Mapi. 

She immediately pulled me into her arms and asked what was wrong and I struggled to find a lie that would be believable. 

I settled on saying I was upset about everything changing - which I suppose was true. 

I remember Alexia looking mortified and breaking eye contact as soon as I looked at her. She told me off that evening when Mami was in the shower and Alba was talking to someone else. She told me I needed to be grateful for everything I have been given and that she paved the way for me. 

It was even worse when she said I would never achieve the things she has. She said it was because I didn't have the mentality that she did, that I had it all so easy. 

It hurt the most when she told me she was disappointed in the person I was. 

"I hope we never share a shirt, Elena, because the day you play in the first Barcelona team is the day that we have run out of players. It will mean that football players are week and female footballers can not be weak. You do not have it in you to be like me, to do what I have done to get to where I am."

The venom in her voice sent a cold shiver down my spine and I felt like I had been stabbed. I didn't cry that time. I waited until I was in my bedroom to sob my heart out. 

The last time she ever watched me play was the next day, but she didn't have an option not to. I played terribly, my first game as a La Masia student, my sisters words repeating over and over in my head. 

That was really what tipped the relationship I once shared with Alexia on its head. The pedestal I had put her on was destroyed and suddenly she was just another player. I barely saw her as my sister any more. She couldn't love me, you wouldn't be able to hurt someone you love so much. 

I have barely seen her since. She still comes to our family dinners on Thursday nights - she still very much loves Alba and our Mami. But I tell Mami that I have training with Barcelona B late on Thursdays. It finishes at 6 and dinner starts at 7, but I just organise to go to my friends' houses for dinner instead. 

Sometimes we both have dinner together at home, but it is awkward and I hate it. I think she has probably forgotten about what she said to me in June of 2021, but I don't think I will ever be able to. 

She doesn't like me, but it's ok because I have learnt to accept that. But I will never not love my sister because she was once everything to me. 

~~~~~~

"Pequena Putellas!" Patri's excited shriek is what welcomes me into the dressing room on my first day. She tackles me into a hug and squeezes me tight. "It has been such a long time, mi favorita!" 

The last time I saw Patri was only last year at the champions league final. I had sat with my whole family but I went to the bathroom when everyone else went and spoke to the players. I don't think Patri would have seen me. 

I can only smile as she continues. 

"I remember you as the little 8 year old who would sit and watch our training sessions after school! I was so confused by you when I first arrived here, you know. I remember the first time Ale let you play a game with us and you were so good!" 

"Nobody doubted that you would be on this team one day!" A new voice entered the conversation.

"Marta!" I hugged the brunette closely. She was always one of my favourites. 

"I am proud of you, pequena putellas." 

Her words are familiar as I have heard them out of my mothers voice time and time again my whole life. But they seem foreign coming from Marta and it is an unwanted reminder of my sister. I don't know why - maybe it is because I have always associated this Barcelona team with her. I don't remember the last time she said she was proud of me. 

I don't remember the last time she said anything to me, really. 

"Gracias, Marta, I have missed you." I bury my head into her neck and she holds me closer. 

"You have not been around as much since you transferred to La Masia. I wanted to come and watch but Ale never extended an invitation and I didn't want to overstep." I shake my heads at her words and she frowns. 

"Alexia doesn't have time for my games, she hasn't for a while. It takes a lot to be La Reina." 

Marta's frown deepens at my words and the attention of a few spanish players is captured. I should have spoken quieter, I forgot how many people in here speak catalan. 

"It is ok, she is very supportive, but she just can't come to my games. She makes it up in other ways." I am lying through my teeth but Marta will never know. 

"I am sure, she must be very proud of you, being selected in this team for the first time, it is a big deal, you are very young."

All I can do is nod, my energy is all being put into holding back my own tears. I don't know if Mami told her. I don't know if Alexia even knows that I was selected. 

"Get changed now, I am sure Jona will want to talk to you before the session, especially with the game tomorrow."

I nod again as Marta pats me on the back and walk over to the cubby that says my name. It feels a bit surreal, really. 

I never really thought I would see my name on a Barcelona cubby, accompanied by my new number that I chose in the meeting a few days ago. It was always a dream, but I never thought it was achievable. Alexia always seemed like a superstar, a superhuman of sorts and I would never reach that kind of level. 

But here I am in the team that I always wanted to be in - in no way am I anywhere near my sisters level but I am on my way to being like her. I just wish she cared. I wish she was proud of me like Marta is. 

Her cubby sits across from me and I try to tear my eyes from it but it sits and stares right back at me. I feel like an intruder in Alexia's space, this is not for me, she would not want me to be here. 

I tie my laces quickly after that and head out onto the pitches to begin training. 

I have trained with the first team twice before, but the Barcelona Bs were always slightly seperate and we could keep our distance from the first players. Jonatan is a familiar face and I feel comfortable as he smiles and me and motions for me to follow the others to the gym. 

It is weird, being promoted within my own club. I am not so much a new signing, but a replacement - I am not good enough to be in the first team but they had no other options when Mapi injured herself. 

I used to worry that people would say I only get opportunities because my last name is Putellas. When my sister told me I was weak all those years ago, that idea sort of cemented in my head, I suppose. 

I never told my Mami what her daughter said to me because it would upset her. I told Alba half of it when she found me crying in my room a few days later but made her promise to not tell anyone. She couldn't say anything to Mami, Alexia, anyone at all because it would only make Alexia think I was weaker. 

She was furious and tried to tell me it was untrue but it had already been said. I believed Alexia's word more than anyone else. To me, she was a superhuman. 

But when I spoke to Jonatan a few days ago he made me feel like I was wanted within this squad. He made it clear that he wants me to integrate completely into the squad in the next few years and that he can see me playing soon even though I am only 15. 

I told him I didn't want anything special because of my surname. 

He told me that he chose me because of my first name. 

"Elena Putellas,"  he said with a grin, "you may be as good as her, but you are not your sister. This is a professional environment. As long as you perform, which I know you will, nobody will care what your name is."

It was a big boost to my confidence. 

Aitana Bonmati caught up to me quickly as I walked to the gym. 

"You are big now." I chuckled but did not look over, I didn't need to really. "But not that big. You are only 15, si?"

"Yes, I am 15." 

I met Aitana when she first joined the club. She always used to say that she would steal me and take me home with her because she thought I was adorable. It is strange that I am now sort of in the same team as her. 

She started playing for the first team when I was 8. I was older then, I played my own football and liked staying with Alexia so I could kick a ball around with her teammates when they were done. 

Aitana was one of the few who would stay every time I was there. When Alexia didn't want to wait she would drive me home herself, all the way to the other side of Barcelona. We would always stop for ice cream on the way home. 

"I have not seen you in too long, Lena. I have missed you a lot but you have been doing very well in the B team. I am very proud and I take credit for your abilities." She spoke in such a dead pan voice but it was somehow still filled with emotion. 

"I have missed you too, ABC." It was a nickname I gave her the first time she drove me home. I had been learning about the alphabet in English class and had the little song stuck in my head when she told me her full name. I used to sing her initials in the tune of the song but it quickly merged to me just saying the three letters. 

"I have been to a few of your games, you know?" 

I look at her in confusion, I have never seen her there. She just nods. 

"Alexia never invited any of us but she was never at the ones I went to so I would sit in the stands with a hat and glasses so people wouldn't recognise me, but I was there. I went to your La Masia games as well. You have become a phenomenal player, Lena."

She has always spoken with such sincerity. I have missed her a lot. 

"Maybe you can drop me off at home again tonight? I have missed you."

She chuckles and pulls me into a side hug. 

"I was waiting for you to ask, little Lena. Oh you are not so little any more!"

I chuckle as well and let my head fall onto her shoulder as we enter the gym. My eyes scan the room, looking at all of the players on their equipment, nerves quickly settling inside me. 

"Don't worry, it's all easy." Aitana seems to read my mind. "Just come with me and I will show you how to do everything. It will become second nature in the next few days."

The gym session went quickly as I was taught all the different exercises. I was familiar with most of them, having done a very similar program in the past with the B team. 

We went out onto the field to do some drills and I played well. Jonatan was impressed and so were the first players. My teammates? Maybe, not quite, I don't think. I still haven't been in a team list, so I suppose I'll be their teammate when that eventually happens. 

It wasn't until we reached the ice cream shop that Aitana started asking me all the awkward questions. I should have seen it coming. 

"Why do you never come to our games anymore, Lena?" I was very grateful for the scoops of gelato in my hands. Eating it delayed my response as I tried to come up with something to say. I shrug as I eat.

I can not say it is because I do not get along with Alexia. It is too hard for me to say now, even after all these years. 

"I'm not sure. I suppose I got busy with my own training and school. I have been to a few but I usually go home with Alba pretty quickly after they finish." It is only half a lie but she just shrugs, apparently not believing my words. 

"And why is it that I am driving you home from your first ever first team training? I thought Alexia would have wanted to." I anticipated a question like this but that does not mean I wanted her to actually ask it. 

"Alexia is busy." I hope that Aitana understands I don't want to talk about it. I haven't spoken about my broken relationship with my sister to anyone. I think she can sense something is wrong though, because she puts her spoon back into her ice cream and grabs my arm so I am staring right at her. 

"If you ever want to talk, I am right here, Lena. I know you don't like people knowing what is going on inside that crazy head of yours but it is good to release your feelings." 

She definitely knows something is wrong so I appreciate her not pushing. 

"I have outlets, I play football, I play the piano, I am ok, aitana, I really am." 

She eyed me as if to say she didn't believe me but dropped the topic anyway. 

"When did you get so good?"

[jaeharu26]

Bro, I want to cry. I saw some other artists were posting about Cara.App, a site that's currently in Beta rn that's set up a lot like Instagram/Twitter/Artstation that's trying to focus on adding Glaze to artoworks so AI can't steal it when you upload and focusing on having regular first come first serve feed again instead of ones driven by algorithms and the social medias' money-hungry incentives. Anyway, I figured it probably wasn't going to turn into anything much other than another waste of time that would eventually tank. Vero tanked, lots of others have already tanked, either way INsta and Twitter are fucking useless for artists these days and honestly most EVERYTHING is and is being overrun by AI-Generated spam posts now anyway, so I figured I'd give it a shot and just waste an hour of my time today whatever. It's still in beta. It's still very new, but I spent like an hour uploading some stuff setting up an account and posting and I've already got fucking 64 likes, comments, shares et cetera on my pieces on there. 64 in an hour compared to the past RECENT YEARS since the algorithm killed everything and I got nothing but radio silence everywhere! There ARE people on there. There are other artists interested in art on there. And your stuff very much IS being seen right now! This was what the internet USED TO BE LIKE. This is what social media used to do for you, it used to show your shit to people! Please please please if you're interested join and help this site out. Social Media and AI have ruined so fucking much for artists. I doubt YOU even see half the stuff people you follow post anymore either. I hope this site stays around. And I hope it fixes and restores the ability for artists to get seen again and build community again. There's actual engagement with my works on there. I actually have motivation and a reason to WANT to make stuff and post it on there again. So much of the state of the internet these days has just fucking killed that for me until now. After a little longer of a personal test run with this site, If I like it I will add it to my link tree for others to follow. But yes, for now, I could fucking cry going from 0 notes on shit for months on end to posting something and immediately getting some again. It's been.... so fucking long....

[spicymotte]

How fandom culture killed my creativity

hi. I have some thoughts about my time in a huge fandom and how it changed me:

First of all, I would like to say that these are my personal experiences in a large anime fandom. I have made very good friends with whom I am still in contact today - and I was exposed to a kind of brain rot that has changed the way I deal with art forever. However, this does not apply to every fandom/every person.

this - essay? - is way longer than I thought it would be. More under the cut:

In 2020, after a long break, I was able to get excited about One Piece again. Until then, I had always considered art important to me and I had never been able to do it professionally. (maybe someday...!)

The One Piece fandom is huge. There are now over 1000 manga chapters and anime episodes, which is gigantic; and the fandom itself is just as huge: millions of fans love this manga/anime and exchange ideas about it on the internet. I was previously very limited to tumblr, but then I ventured into OPtwt, the One Piece community on Twitter. There is a lot of fan art, fan fiction and small cliques that like the same character. There is something for everyone. It was great! I had a hyperfixation phase on OP before, in 2017. Now it came back - so violently that I realized very quickly that I could hardly think of anything else but One Piece.

Hyperfixations involve two major factors: an intense obsession with a character (or theme/media/whatever), which often brings with it a bottomless well of inspiration and motivation for artists – and a strange influence on brain chemistry. Neurodivergent people are prone to difficulties with the release of happiness and rewarding hormones anyway, and even though I am in no way qualified to make grand statements, as a person living with AuDHD, hyperfixations are both a blessing and a curse.

Often, the neurodivergent niches in the fandom communities are very lively. On extremely interactive social media like Twitter, TikTok and Instagram, you are flooded with posts of fan art, discussions and also escalation. It quickly becomes stressful for the brain to keep up with it - especially if you manage to accumulate a large number of followers. (also a blessing and a curse!)

I started posting fanart and OC x canon in 2020. I spent most of the last three years on Twitter and I have to say that it set me back in some ways. At first, I was slow to get to know people through fanart, but then I got to know people very quickly: fellow artists that I am still good friends with today and, unfortunately, people who have also succumbed to an incredible, destructive brainrot. I had chosen a character (or rather, my brain did) who plays almost no role in One Piece. All the better, so I pretty much had him to myself and I could do whatever I wanted. The OC x canon community is generally very friendly and respectful, so I found quite a few people who liked what I drew. Cool!

And then it started. With fanart and a small fan club for my OCs, I got more followers and more likes. More retweets and comments, more notifications. The algorithm started to like me and the growth increased steadily. My fandom (OP) account grew, as did my reach.

I checked Twitter more and more. Every free second I took my smartphone in my hand and checked my notifications. I reloaded the page until I had a new notification. I repeated this on Instagram and tumblr. Sometimes I catch myself doing it today, even though I haven't been active in this fandom for over a year!

Likes were good, retweets better. Every notification of an interaction with my art was a push on the feel-good button in my brain. It's very addictive, even if I talked myself out of it at first. The pandemic was at its peak and the internet was the only way to meet friends anyway. All this shit was fast food for my brain.

Then I started drawing fanarts, even though I didn't feel like it. But the likes had to come from somewhere, didn't they? I drew favorites from manga, characters that I didn't even like that much myself. But they were popular, so that promised likes and reach! Every single day, really every day, I drew fanarts. I was disappointed with myself if I didn't.

As of today, my two One Piece art folders have 80GB of data in it! what the fuck!! That's not normal!

I learned a lot during that time and was able to develop my art. I was able to participate in projects, to draw for several zines and also had a lot of fun – but I treated it like a job. Making fan art your job is very difficult – and has a lot of consequences. If you run a merch shop (as I did for a short time), you always have to follow the hype and draw what's in style. You switch fandoms because the hype has just burned out and the next new thing is already in style. If you're one of the first to offer keychains and stickers - or plushies - you make the big money. That brings profit, but in my opinion you can very quickly step on the wrong foot in this jumping around and slip into burnout. (Or stagnate to such an extent that you lose all motivation to refine your artistic skills and become better at your craft.)

I see friends of mine, many of them, who are trying to live off of fandom merch. They all have one thing in common: their skills in art have remained absolutely the same over the past few years or have even declined. If you have to churn out a new batch of merchandise every week, you have to cut corners. There is no time for experiments and crazy studies when you can hardly live and have to produce merch/fan art that sells 100% well.

I don't mean to offend anyone - it's just that I've been thinking a lot about my own setbacks as an artist since I've been dealing with them so intimately. And I've definitely made some setbacks!

In 2021-2023, fandom life continued and got worse and worse. Checking my smartphone, drawing something every day to post it - just so that the algorithm doesn't sort me out. Posting daily is the number one rule on all Social Media, unfortunately. But I did it, no matter how burned out I felt.

And then there were the dramas on Twitter: internet puritans, antis and proshippers were screaming at each other and tearing each other to shreds (a trap I almost fell into myself! anti and pro are the biggest bullshit ever and I'm lucky enough to have reached a point where I can say: I don't give a shit lol). Callout posts, vague tweeting and aggression instead of simply blocking and moving on. Harassment that I myself experienced: I blocked a few people because I found them strange and unpleasant. They posted explicit things that I did not want to see on my timeline. This triggered a wave of harassment that was simply disgusting. These are people who hate their own lives so much that they can't do anything but feel miserable and stalk strangers online. Admittedly, this made me paranoid: a group of people had chosen me as a target. They passed around screenshots of many of my tweets and made fun of me, copying and stealing my art 1:1. They lied and cheated to make me look like an asshole – and this went on for years. It made me paranoid and was the first step away from fandoms, as it escalated more and more.

So, I was successfully bullied out of the fandom and my hyperfixation was over. It left a terrible void that I am still trying to fill today. Neurodivergence sucks, I'll tell you.

That's when I honestly asked myself for the first time: What the fuck am I doing here? When did I become a content machine for strangers on the internet? Why the hell do I feel so bad when I don't draw for a day? And why do I care what strangers think about me?!

Then I realized that I can't draw anymore.

Without references or the 3D models from Clip Studio Paint, I'm lost. When I try to draw something without any help, I sit in front of an empty canvas. My hands don't do what they're supposed to do and my brain blocks the thought of how drawing even works. My eyes only see the mistakes I make. Everything I draw looks bad to me.

I realized I have a problem.

So I try again and learn it all again from scratch: Anatomy, perspective, color theory, everything. But every time I sit down and try to put something on paper, there's nothing there. I've been drawing things every day for the last four years. Now my hyperfixation on this character and this manga is over and there's nothing left. I've been burning the candle at both ends and I've broken something in the process. Art is no longer something I enjoy. I need art to live and breathe, no doubt, but… the barrel now has a bottom again and it's empty to the last drop.

The little motivation I can muster goes into my webcomic, which is my everything. It's just mine, not a fandom. I feel honored that so many people read this comic. At the same time, I'm afraid that it's not enough; in my eyes, my art doesn't look good. Being surrounded by perfect illustrations on social media all day long distorts one's own perception of art, like the beauty industry that gives you body dysmorphia. On top of that, I haven't had any financial success with my comics in recent years, none at all. The dream of being an independent comic artist has receded so far into the distance that I can no longer see it. Bummer.

The constant stream of content that I gave during my fandom days has set me back incredibly. I can no longer enjoy the process of art, but my brain constantly pushes me to finish it, to have a finished product - because then I can post the drawing and get the virtual handshake that my weird brain likes so much.

Social media detox, of course, is the first thing that comes to mind. It's actually bullshit that we're all so addicted to these apps, but here we are. It's uncomfortable for me to admit, but I have hardly any friends in real life. I'm very introverted and many people find my autism very unpleasant (I can't blame them, I often come across as rude), so I only have 1-2 friends. I would like to have more friends, but maintaining social contact is terribly exhausting. It's hard enough to reply to my mutuals in the DMs (sorryyyyy if I forget sometimes………).

And what if I just take a break for a while and don't draw so much? Recharge my batteries? Right now I'm taking a 6-week break, partly because my jaw surgery is coming up soon. I'll be sick anyway, so why not put the webcomic on hiatus and take a break for a while? I don't know if it will work out, but I have a hunch that it won't, because I always have the fast-paced internet in the back of my mind. How can I be a freelancer if I don't do fanart? How can I make money with it to help my partner, who is currently financing our lives, financially? How can I, as a disabled person, find a job that I can do and at the same time build my career as an artist? As an independent comic artist, I have to do the job of so many people (artist, author, manager, taxes, work organization), how am I supposed to do that?

I have no answers to these questions. Original works don't go nearly as well as fanart! So you have to work ten times as hard and play by the vague rules of the algorithms, which is exhausting enough. Nowadays, you can only be lucky and ride the viral wave if it falls into your lap.

But reflecting on my time in a huge fandom has made me realize that I was going down a very wrong path and am now experiencing the consequences. I'm completely burnt out and no longer know why I'm even making art anymore. I don't know if I want to make art much longer. (I think shit-life-syndrome plays a big role here, but not exclusively.)

As I said, I don't have any answers - but I would at least like to warn those who are having difficulties with distancing themselves from the internet and are quickly losing themselves in this maelstrom of social media.

I have since deleted Twitter from my smartphone and, fortunately, have hardly ever used TikTok (dodged a bullet there!). I try to get back into traditional art and get away from my computer. I am all the more grateful to the people, my community, so to speak, who do nonsense with me on tumblr. They read my comics and are extremely nice to me, which I really appreciate. Thank you!

I don't know yet if and how it will continue, but I would like to finish Berserkir in the next few years. I'd love to find a way to finish all the short comics I want to make, even though it's just me and not a whole team. Maybe I'll find a way, maybe I don't. Anyways, thanks for sticking around!

[corneliushickey]

#furiosa: a mad max saga #furiosa spoilers

ok i've spoken to a few friends about this but i wanna put my thoughts together more coherently in a single posté, so: furiosa (2024) removes any significance in furiosa's story arc in fury road (2015) by removing her complicity + culpability

in fury road, furiosa (like nux!!!) is a cog in the immortan's war machine. he calls her out by name to the crowd at the citadel. she drives the war rig, a machine so totally her own and so much a part of her that it bears her mark on the driver's side door. she enjoys a place of relative privilege and safety as an imperator, a position in which she carries out the immortan's orders and advances his cause of domination over the wasteland.

yes, she was taken from the green place as a child, separated from the vuvalini through no fault of her own. yes she was doing what she had to do to survive. but she was still culpable. her survival was still built on a pile of corpses. her survival was instrumental in the subjugation + opression of the citadel's citizens.

AND!! CRUCIALLY!!! rescuing the wives from the vault was not her idea!! it was angharad who rallied the wives together with miss giddy and begged for furiosa's help in escaping. she agreed to try the desperate mad dash for her lost homeland because angharad, dag, cheedo, toast, and capable recruited her for the job. before that, she had given up on returning home. she had lost herself in service of the war machine. this is why it also makes sense that capable would reach out to nux with sympathy and compassion, because she's already seen one war boy find redemption and rally for their cause, why not another?

that is why when furiosa learns that the lost promised land of her childhood is gone, it is meaningful that she, the wives, nux, and the remaining vuvalini can turn around and choose to change the citadel instead. because she goes from being a part of the war machine, to running from it and taking five of its victims with her, to turning around to dismantle it.

but in furiosa (2024), furiosa is kidnapped as a child and handed to one mad warlord who murders her mother, then handed to a second mad warlord who means to keep her locked in a vault until she is of a more appropriate age for him to rape. then she understandably makes a daring escape (for which she faces. zero narrative consequences. but whatever that's another post) and sort of hides out as a scrawny silent blackthumb until praetorian jack takes her under his wing and gives her the tools she needs to escape (tools she... would have already learned from the vuvalini and dementus and her life as a blackthumb but, again, whatever, that's another post)

throughout all this furiosa's only motivation is self preservation. she is a child trying to survive kidnapping after kidnapping, seeking revenge against the men who are doing this to her, and then once she proves to dementus that she is nothing like him she just sort of hangs out for a few years until she takes the impetus to bring the wives a peach as evidence of a possible return to paradise. and then she saves them.

but the whole point of fury road was that... the wives saved her. through them furiosa came back to herself. came back to her vuvalini values. came to find values of her own. decided to take a stand against the human suffering she had spent so long enabling. got the chance to build anew.

furiosa is not the protagonist of fury road if she is a blameless victim on an equal footing with the sex slaves she's rescuing. if she were totally uninvolved in the citadel, eeking out an existence as best she could until she had the opportunity to save five fellow innocents..... she would be max rockatansky. uninvolved but committed to helping those he meets in desperate need.

her story is more complex than that. it carries more weight. and unfortunately furiosa (2024) takes that away.

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 2

Hey everyone! I’m glad that you liked that first chapter! I’ve tried to add everyone who asked on my last post to my taglist, if you are interested in being added comment below, and let me know if it works or not. The updates will be pretty random depending on my work schedule but I’ll try to get them out once they’re written as I’m having fun writing again!

I hope you guys enjoy!

Trigger warnings: power imbalance, manipulation, Mean Aemond (like mean mean), and blackmailing (he threatens her job)

Dividers are from @firefly-graphics (all of their work is amazingggggg)

You spent the rest of that night tossing and turning in your small bed remembering what had happened. Gods you were so stupid. You never did know when to stop talking when your anger got the better of you.

At least the family was more preoccupied with Aemond’s outburst which caused a scene so soon after the death of Vaemond Velaryon.

As the sunrise peeked through the curtains you dreaded leaving your bed, but followed the lead of your roommates and started to prepare for the day. You found yourself falling into the easy routine that you had established since starting at the Red Keep.

After a long stretch you hastily made your bed, tightly tucking the sheets into the frame before tending to your hair. It had been awhile since you had worn your hair down as it was considered improper for a servant so you had found multiple braided updos that fit your hair. With each twist of your hair you mentally took stock of what the day would bring as if it were a checklist. Hair and cap done? Check. Uniform on? Check. Apron pressed and clean? Check.

When you were satisfied with your appearance, you and your roommates: Daelia and Wendelyn made the short walk to the Red Keep together. Although you enjoyed their presence you wouldn’t exactly call the two girls your friends. Daelia was prone to petty gossip and would alway have a rumor to spread whenever you talked to her. Wendelyn; however, was the opposite. She detested idle chatter and kept mostly to herself when at home. You supposed you were somewhere in between the two.

“I heard that Princess Rhaenyra only wedded Daemon because he impregnated her before their wedding.” Daelia whispered into your ear as the three of you entered the Keep and headed towards the kitchens.

“Did you hear it from Mushroom?” You asked dryly, referring to the fool that ran around court with wildly fabricated stories.

“Well-“ Daelia stuttered. “He is close to the Princess-“

You groaned heavily as she spoke. “Daelia what you speak of could get you killed. And besides Mushroom isn’t exactly a trustworthy source. We’ve talked about this.”

Wendelyn nodded sagely as you spoke but added nothing to the conversation.

“You stupid girl.” You heard some hiss in front of you as you crossed the doorway into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry what?” You asked in disbelief as Naerys stormed over to you.

“She does not look happy.” Wendelyn said softly before patting you back supportively and walking away.

Daelia said nothing before finding the cracked stones very interesting and walking over to check them out.

“You had one job. One duty. To pour the royal family’s wine and not bring attention to yourself.” Naerys grabbed you tightly by your arm and dragged you out of the kitchen.

“But I did!” You said defensively.

“Not well enough apparently.” Naerys shook her head, obviously irritated with you. “Prince Aemond requested you by name to attend to him.”

You froze at her words and felt your face pale.

“Whatever insult you did or offense you committed, apologize. Profusely.” She gripped you tight enough that you felt her fingers through your long sleeves.

“I- I didn’t mean to say… it just came out…” You felt your hands grow clammy as Naerys looked at you deeply.

“Well ensure that no other insults come out.” She slowly released you. “Prince Aemond is currently training with Ser Cole but requested that a bath be ready upon his return. Now go. Perhaps he will tire of you soon enough.”

You nodded quickly, trying not to show your nerves. Out of all of the Targaryens to upset Aemond was not the best choice and you should have known better than to provoke him. You remembered reading about the atrocities he would commit against House Strong all because they shared the same blood as Rhaenyra’s children. Perhaps you could put aside your pride for once and grovel if need be. You bit your lip as you found yourself walking to the laundry rooms to fetch fresh linens and towels.

The smell of soap invaded your senses while you grabbed what was needed. It was impossible to guess his motivations for seeking you out, but you tried to anyway. Maybe he just wanted to humiliate you more for daring to smile at his sister and nephew dancing. But how did he learn your name? Naerys said he knew your name.

The way to his chambers was similar to the one to the dining room as they were in the same wing of the Keep. You struggled to hold the smooth sheets and blankets as you attempted to open the door. The handle clicked slightly as the door swung open revealing an empty room. He must still be training with Cole.

Prince Aemond’s chambers were about what you would expect for a prince. The furniture was opulent with a large four posted bed in the middle of the spacious room. You had never been in a room that belonged to the royal family before so you found yourself gawking at the private balcony and golden detailing that decorated the walls.

Looking around the room you noticed another entrance to what must be the bathroom that you slowly walked towards. Better to get this over with quickly. Perhaps you might not even run into Aemond at all.

His washroom was much smaller than the rest of the rooms, only containing a large brass tub in the middle of the room and some cabinets near the doors that had a woodsy smell.

You were fortunate that others had brought in large buckets of water that already filled the tub. All you needed to do to prepare was light the fire underneath to warm the cold water.

Humming slightly, you opened the nearby cabinet and rummaged around looking for the flint and steel. You missed music. Real music that you knew and grew up with.

“I’ve never heard that song.” A deep voice spoke behind you, causing you to jump and slam your hand into the drawer.

“Fuck!” You grabbed your throbbing hand and shook it slightly as you turned to see Aemond in the doorway. His long hair was slightly tussled, probably from sparring with Criston Cole.

“You really are an impudent little thing aren’t you?” He quirked his good eye’s brow as he sauntered over. “You are supposed to acknowledge me with a nod of your head when I enter.”

He was standing too close to you as he spoke with a smug smile as you hurriedly did as he said. “My apologies, my prince.” You whispered softly. Remember what Naerys said. Put aside your pride and get him to forget you.

He hummed slightly, deep in thought before stepping back slightly. “Well? Get on with it.” He waved his hand over the tub impatiently.

“Of course, my prince.” You mumbled out kneeling next to the tub and striking the two metals together. You were surprised as you got it on your first try with your shaking hands. If they were from anger or fear you couldn’t tell.

The man said nothing as you stood up and gathered the needed linens to remake his bed, only watching you with that smug smirk as you focused on your task. You roughly grabbed the sheets from his bed and practically ripped them off of the bed before remaking it harshly and trying not to pay attention to his sharp gaze.

“You are not from Westeros.” He said simply from behind you.

You felt sweat drip from your temples from his statement. “I am not, your grace.” You agreed as you finished smoothing out the top blanket. One more task done and the faster you worked the faster you could leave.

“You’re not from Essos or Dorne either.” His voice sounded closer than before and you heard his shoes thump across the floor as he walked. “Your accent is from somewhere I have never heard of before. I could not place it last night and cannot even now.”

Your mouth was dry as you scrambled to think of a response. “I am from somewhere very small, my prince. It’s no wonder you haven’t heard of our accent before.” Just be agreeable and perhaps he’ll forget last night.

He hummed again thoughtfully as you checked on the water before adding the oils that looked like they were used the most. “Everything you need for your bath should be prepared, your grace.” You nodded your head to him as he passed you back into the small washroom and peered at your work with a discerning eye. “Will that be all for now?” You added at the last second remembering the protocol that you were taught before being assigned to the kitchens.

Aemond reached behind his head and quickly pulled off a small tie that kept his hair in his signature style, letting it fall freely. “Hmmm. Nothing else to add? No more clever quips?”

You blushed at his words. “What happened last night was a mistake, your grace. I’m truly sorry that-“

“I will require your help in undressing and bathing.” He said as he threw the hair tie to the floor without a care in the world.

“I- that’s not… I really shouldn’t…” You stammered out feeling your face turn from a light pink to fire truck red.

“What you should do is obey your prince.” Aemond cocked his head at you and held his hands out expectantly. “Although I suppose you could always find some other way to make some coin, perhaps on the Street of Silk.”

You felt your lungs start to expand rapidly as he brushed the side of your arm softly. “My brother tends to frequent those streets but perhaps with you there I might have to make a habit of it as well. ” You couldn’t move as his hand started trailing under your apron. “I do think my mother would be very interested to hear what you said about her favorite son.”

“Please…” You begged weakly, fighting the urge to slap him across the face. “I can’t afford to lose this job.” Your voice creaked as his caress turned into a sharp grope on your ass.

“Then we’re in agreement. You’re here to serve, so serve.”

Tag list

@dixie-elocin

@shari-berri

@ka1afbr

@sepherinaspoppies

[lostinvasileios]

Hello silo! :)

I was wondering if you have any advice on trust and stuff when it comes to deities?

Welcome to my hive, sweetheart! Thank you for sending in your ask. 🌷🐝

I've seen a few people come into my asks and wonder about the process of trust and faith in their path. And, a practice that helped me was - really just... Asking myself things. As simple as that sounds, it can take time to truly hear yourself. Not the anxiousness, the learned functions, hear you.

What is trust? What is faith? Call me a lunatic wizard or whatever you may please, but, I believe language is gibberish. Word meanings are make believe. There is no set in stone way to define things of faith and trust - no guidebook to emotions and mindsets. Especially when it comes to interacting with the spiritual realm, something our brains are conditioned to beware of, and not believe.

When starting out, it's important to try and make time to define these things for yourself. And the meanings can change, as time goes on. Define what faith is to you, since, that is like a twin to trust. What religion and worship is. What makes you feel comfortable enough to trust.

Sure, you can base it off of the dictionary meaning &/or what someone else sees it as, but, that's for them. For others. They won't ever experience your path as you do. They won't fit in your footsteps. So why try and force yourself to follow theirs?

Do you trust yourself?

That's something that I, like many others, have had to ask ourselves thoroughly. Because, mainly, if you cannot trust yourself, you will not trust the results, answers, or experiences you gain throughout your journey. This particular subject of trust, faith, and so forth, takes a long time. Or it may feel like a long time, depending on some people and their differences. Overall, this a process that cannot be rushed.

If rushed, it isn't truly authentic. Officialized. And, no, you are not expected to have over 1000% of trust in yourself, that's quite frankly a bit impossible for humans to do with anything. It's a part of our nature. So, there's no shame in it. In how long it may take. In the styles that help you, ect. As long as you aren't harming someone else, or further damaging yourself in the process, you have the freedom to exercise this however you see and feel fit.

Can you listen to yourself?

I know I brought this up earlier in the post, but let me expand on it, since it's a very crucial step to trust and comprehension when it comes to spiritual realms.

Listening to yourself comes in oceans of different variants. It can come in emotions, images, tingles, slight bodily movements... Really just, whatever happens for you. Listen to your body. To your intuition. Yourself.

That's vague, yes. And this process can be difficult as well. Trust, in itself, is a difficult thing for most, if not all, of the population.

Listening to yourself in any of the formats that come to you (which, I do encourage to do some research on clairsenses and chakras here. Research and Experiment. That type of thing. For, there's no point in researching if you will not put it to use and put your own spin on it to make it work for you.) will be hard if they have not been previously trained.

Images and visualization / clairaudience came to me pretty easily, since I wrote many, many stories and poems as a child. I spent my days soaked into literature and living it out. Daydreaming it, fantasizing it, feeling it. Practice makes progress. And eventually, you'll find what is perfect for you. However, perfection takes time. Perfection takes defining what perfect is for you. Perfection takes realism. Not harshness, not coddling, but real. What is real to you? What does real mean? So on, so forth.

Really hearing yourself can be hard. Especially if you suffer from mental illness, or a type of disability. And to that I say, as someone who struggles with both, don't discourage yourself for it. Don't push yourself beyond your limits. Yes, I applaud and heavily encourage you to get out of your comfort zone. Because comfort zones aren't growth, from what I have learned. But, limits, boundaries, ect - have those with yourself. Overworking, pressuring, and so on? Those will not help you progress. You will burn out, just as if you water a flower too much, it shall drown. Treat yourself like a plant. Starting out as a seedling, then sprout, and over time, the flimsy stems of you shall grow strong and beautiful. Give yourself pollen. Not more pain.

I have a motto for this, and its: If I am lost, I am simply between chapters. If you feel confused, or- insecure of yourself and your path, there has never been a rememberable, heart touching story, that does not come with some form of trial. Some form of confusion and pain. Ect. The point is too keep flipping those pages. To finish the book. Maybe pick up the next part of the series if you wish. But skipping to the end page never leaves a satisfied reader. Does that make sense??? I feel like I messed up the point a bit there, lol.

Now, most of the questions here may be hard to answer. And that's alright. They were for me too, and still can be at times. They may not even work for all of them. Generalization here is not the key. Simply, take my words as a blanket. You can sew your own imagery into it and turn it into something of your own, that you personally enjoy and can find comfort when swaddled into.

I hope that could help a bit, honey!! Plain and simply, just believe in yourself, and everything else will follow accordingly. Have a great rest of your day, bee! Here's some honey for good luck. 💛💛

[over-rated-cheese]

I drew something…

And it was Maroon

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

It's bunny season

[paimt]

shrike is like that highly throwable imp to me.

[emergencyd4]

tried a new coloring style

[invertedspoon]

i can't believe they dedicated a whole week to ace attorney

[thelassoway]

Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Season 3 » Casual Sweaters/Jumpers

[pocketgalaxies]

listen. idgaf whether fearne wanted the shard or not. this isn't about fearne saying ashton should have the shard. this is about ashton taking the shard without telling the rest of the party! this is about ashton (nearly) killing themself because of a misguided assumption about what the party needs, without any actual discussion about it! this is about ashton's persistent inability to let people speak for themselves instead of presuming to know what's best for them! do you hear me!!!!!

[marcmorrigan]

@fenglianweek day 6: memories/growing up

the best thing thats ever been mine

[adamnsey]

adansey / come over - noah kahan