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maireadralph · 8 months

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Entrapdak Zine 6 - Festive. Submissions OPEN!

Apologies for the delay in getting this open Please feel free to check out the Entrapdak Secret Santa event I’m also running at the moment (links are in my pinned post)

Anyway this is the post for Entrapdak Zine 6 - Festive!

The deadline for this will be Friday DEC 1st 2021 at 9AM GMT. What’s that in your timezone? Click here for a Handy Dandy Countdown:

I am flexible on this Deadline so anything that arrives on this date or by my 9am the next day is allowed (I’m in the GMT timezone BTW)

I am LESS flexible on the Extension Deadline

The Zine will be out before Christmas. The actual date is flexible and dependant on when all the Submissions come in and my own personal work schedule.

So most of this is the same as the last few - really if it ain’t broke don’t fit it! Also a polite reminder I am only one person running this and I am a part time Barista. It may take me a little time to reply to emails/comments especially after the deadline time (when I have the most amount of work to do on this project) so please be patient with me.

Our basic guidelines are the same as before, with just a few minor updates:

This will be:

A Digital Zine containing content created by the fans for the fans

A 100% Free Zine

Preferred Language is English

SFW content suitable for a Y7-PG13 age range (same as the show’s age rating)

You may notice I run this different to other zines as there is no sign up period, just submit work before the deadline - I’d rather people have more time to work on their pieces

Anyone can submit regardless of age or skill level - this is not a job application - just follow the guidelines and email in your work

Submission can be Fan Writing (poems, fan fiction, character analysis, eassys etc), Fan Art, or even photos of your Entrapdak IRL content (cosplays, fancrafts etc)! You can submit an older work that you have published online previously if you wish - or even update a work you submitted to the last Zine! Just have fun!

Guidelines applicable to all work:

Content Age Rating:

Like the show this Zine will contain content rated Y7 and PG13 rated - so please no swearing

There WILL BE NO NSFW or 18+ content - where possible let’s keep this suitable for all ages please

Sub note on character minimum clothing requirements:

for male presenting characters to be speedos/underpants

for female presenting characters to be a bikini/bra and underpants

if not sure please use the female presenting criteria

Theme:

This issue’s theme if you wish to use it is:

“Festive”

This theme is a suggestion and if you’d rather make an Entrapdak piece without this theme please feel free to do so. I want you to have fun!

Allowed Characters:

As long as both Entrapta and Hordak are the main focus and the piece follows Age Rating it will be allowed.

Other allowed characters in the Entrapdak family include Emily, Imp and the Clones (also known as Spacebats)…yes weirdly this also includes Horde Prime.

Other She-Ra characters will be allowed but Entrapdak is to be the core element.

Phew that’s a lotta text sorry about that - now on to the fun stuff! What sort of stuff is allowed?

Sex Swap AU, Species Swap AU, Furry AU, Toony AU, Anime AU, Fankid AU, Coffee Shop AU, married AU, Spacebat AU, just besties AU just to name the few that pop into my head! Oh yeah Canon Lab Partners Entrapdak too…hehe nearly forgot about that one XD. Make something Entrapdak related that’s PG13 rated and have fun!!

Fan Writing guidelines:

This includes fan fiction, analysis eassys, poetry or whatever else you’d like to write about. I would ask this content to be between 1k-10k words in length, it’s not a big deal if the writing is over 10k or even if it’s 20k - write whatever your story needs. If you’d like to write Chapters then please do!

Written work can be emailed in the body of text, sent as pdf attachment or as a link to a Google Doc - I can work with any of those.

Please include you name/username somewhere as it helps. If there’s no name on the piece I’ll add one at the start with the title.

Fan Art guidelines:

Fan art can include rough sketches, screencap redraws, comics (appox 1-10 pages length), coloured sketches or full colour pieces.

Fan art can be in the digital or traditional medium.

Traditional fan art can either be submitted as a photo or scanned, which ever you prefer.

Preferred sizing for Digital art is as follows, my aim to to have everything on International (UK) A4 paper sizing where possible*

2480px x 3508pm DPI 132

Portrait layout is preferred**

PNG is preferred but I will understand if you only wish to send a workable JPEG

The aspect ratio (width:height) of A4 paper is 1:1.4142 (1:√2)

If you need a template here’s one -> Here’s a prepared A4 Canvas PSD File (2480pm x 3508px 300DPI) if you’d like to download it and use it <- Template

Notes:

*Images outside these sizings are still okay but may end up with a white border on the edges due to the PDF publishing settings.

**Images in the landscape layout will get boarders when posted on a portrait page due to the PDF publishing settings, however if I receive landscape art I will make some extra pages at the end of the Zine and attempt to turn landscape art into a two page spread (which does look awesome!).

How to Apply:

Make your content and email it to entrapdakzineisluvd[at]gmail.com by JULY 1st 2023

Please make sure to include your Social Media contacts and which name or username you wish to be identified by. If you forget to include social media details and have been a part of a previous Zine I’ll use the details I have on file

I will reply to confirm I have received the content and that’s it I take care of the rest!

Please note I DO NOT KEEP any records of anyone’s email addresses. When the Zine is out I batch delete all emails sent to the email address (this is usually done a week after the Zine is out) and I keep no further records of these address. I respect your email privacy at all times.

The only records I keep on Zine applications is a private Google Sheet that has the following details: Submitter’s name, rough description of the item submitted and their social media contacts. I’m the only person with access to this Google Sheet as I use this as a Master List reference when compiling the Zine

FAQs:

Why no Application form?

I don’t want anyone to feel like they are applying for a job here, this is supposed to be fun.

Will there be Guest Artists or Guest Writers?

If they apply sure, I’m not advertising who applies to be a part of this Zine until it’s ready to be published. I don’t want anyone to feel intimidated just because a certain person has chosen to participate.

Can I submit more than one piece?

If you’d like to certainly! If you’d like to submit up to three pieces of art and 3 fan writings, sure go for it! I’m certainly not going to stop anyone having a good time

May I post a preview of my work to my Followers?

Sure! Bonus points if you link them to this post so that they can take part if they wish

May I post my work online?

I would ask if you could please wait until the issue featuring your work is published. Of course this does not apply if you are chosen to submit and older work - in this case may I ask that you edit or add to said post to mention the work was also used in the Zine?

Is this only for people with a [insert certain social media account here]?

Nope, this is for anyone who wants to take part. I only ask for a social media contact so that others who like you work for the Zine may follow you on your preferred social media platform.

Can I send an update to a piece?

Of course! Just let me know which piece you want to use and I’ll update on my end

Can I send another piece on later?

Of course that’s not a problem!

Ah I can’t get this done before the deadline - it’s almost ready!!! I need another day!!!!

Contact me, either through the submitting email over via my Tumblr or Twitter DMs or just emailing the email address. There is extra time allowed for an extension for anyone who needs it with no questions asked to why it is needed. Just get in contact, I'll put you name on the Extension List and that extra time is yours. Once all names come in (or the deadline is reached) I will finish up my work and get the zine out. I will not be sending out a further reminder (because I’ll forget sorry 😅).

Why don’t you make the Extension time public?

Because I can’t finish up the Zine if extra stuff comes in at the last second - I get jittery enough with final deadlines so this is how I manage my stress

More Entrapdak Zines??

Sure why not? If the community still wants them I’ll keep compiling them ever three or so months. I’ve seen what us nerds can do!

Where can I find the finished Zine?

All finished Zines are all hosted on a shared Google Drive folder https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1My_hDY8NmOWV7v6z0sYi0TSvxv07WowX Please share it with your other Entrapdak friends when it is ready.

Thank you for making it all the way to the end of this WALL of TEXT. It’s pretty much exactly the same as the Zine 4 and 5’s but with a few minor changes.

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #spop #fanzine #fandom #fandom event #entrapdak zine #upcoming events

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emcscared-whumps · 8 days

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No pressure on these but maybe for the oc outfit asks, 🔥 for Pete and/or 🚓 for Johnstone bc he needs to go to JAIL

From this post!

Thanks for the ask, and also for your patience ^-^'

It's been sitting in my inbox for months now and I promise I never forgot it lmao

🔥 - Pete in What He'd Wear on a Very Hot Day

I looooove the idea of this one, the mental image of him sitting slumped somewhere overheating was lovely, thankyou >:)

the poor boy really is not used to, or built for the """hot""" weather :) devonhurst is brutally cold, and also miserable and wet, with very short summers. those summers, however, can get to a top of a whole 29C! how suffocatingly hot (LOL) (i'm from the armpit of queensland, those are baby numbers, and he's not even above 26 haha)

not only is pete straight up unacclimatised to the warmth, he has thick, insulated skin, and no ability to sweat, which means when the temperature rises, there's not much he can do to cool off except have a swim or take a cool bath :) neither of which are an option uwu

🚓 - Johnstone (and Pete) in a Prison Uniform

ALSO, I CAN'T FUCKING READ SO HERE'S 🚓 FOR BOTH OOPS (lying across my desk laughing)

I have no idea how Pete would end up in a human prison, but I DO know that he'd be losing his mind with fear, and that he wouldn't fare well for long :))

Update: it's been months and this actually gave me huge brainworms that sparked a whole au scenario with a friend and it was so fucking good <3<3

You can read more about Pete [here] and more about Johnstone [here]

Taglist

@a-crumb-of-whump

@dang-i-like-whump (a treat for you lmao)

@nowjustanothermain2notjudge

@painful-pooch

@pigeonwhumps

@whumplovers-collaborate

@whump-cravings

@willowtreewhump

If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know <3

(also im stupid and realised too late i didn't tag anyone when i posted the zine piece! oops, that's a thing, it's linked [here] if you wanna check it out/haven't already)

#emc's art #emc answers asks #whumpblr #ask game #oc #whump oc #oc art #whump art #Pete Spencer #Sorrel Johnstone #characters #sketch #oc outfit ask #oc outfit meme #original characters

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hypnag0g · 1 year

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Do you have examples of your web/graphic design-ish art on hand? I've caught glimpses and it's some REALLY excellent stuff

howdy! thank you so much for this wonderful ask, i very rarely get the chance to talk about my web/graphic design stuff, so seize any chance i can get! you'll have to forgive me for how scattered this everything is, my graphic design stuff normally ends up as a smaller part of illustrations, so a lot of it is gonna be cropped, haha.

my hypnagog header is probably the thing i'm most proud of, it was the first custom font i ever made that felt like i captured what i saw in my head. kind of a clunky way to put it but before this i'd change my header logo and general "branding" like once every three months, yet this one has stuck around for like 2ish years!! here it is in my classic colorway and my new green/orange one.

here are a couple of my older logos for a bunch of random projects (a comic about evil horses, a defunct community project, a bunch of little glyphs for hypnagog before i settled on my current aesthetic, and one for story about evil clones)

here are three posters i did for a couple of classes, they're more illustrative than graphic design but there's still elements that feel close enough to gd for me to post lol (a pitch poster for ANOTHER comic i was working on, an editorial piece about the recent HPAI surge, and a quick zine about my experiences with internet horror)

and FINALLY. here's my web design stuff. full disclaimer, i learned how to code on neopets, and i've never been able to break free of it's pull, so p much everything i've ever done for web design has all been on neopets, or on clone sites that emulate it pre-2007.

i'd love to link you these two but they're unfortunately behind a login screen on my current petsim of choice, so i hope the screenshots will do! these two are pet lookups coded from the ground up to look like social media profile pages (fun sidenote: Butch has a normal profile, Ransom is a silly hacker stereotype, and he had no choice but to "customize" his profile when faced with the insanely unsecured back-end of LUNET.)

aside from that, my other most recent web project was developing a really sleek character directory for my toyhou.se. i made all the graphics on this page and i'm super proud of it, haha.

oh i almost forgot. i also have a bunch of really dumb banners that my friends and i use in discord in tandem with a bot that posts them on command - most of them are intentionally designed to look bad, but some of em (especially the data "webba" banner) were made with a lot of care, haha.

i think i might be forgetting some things, but that's pretty much it! my next big project is building out my neocities - i'll definitely post about it when its finished because i wanna use it as a secondary posting location for all my stuff :o]

thank you again!!!!

#my art #artists on tumblr #askagog #graphic design and web design are like. the only form of art that i do that feels like a hobby to me #everything else is super intense work stuff #but building a silly little webpage? always fun. always exciting #i hope tumblr doesn't eat the quality on these

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tenspontaneite · 3 years

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Pigment

Callum discovers the wonders of elven pigments.

(The first of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine, which is now having leftover sales!) ('Future' chapter; takes place post-s3, naturally not canon to TTM. Oneshot. 4k. Ao3 link)

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The first time Callum was introduced to the concept of elvish pigment was, ostensibly, by Rayla’s skin. He’d noted the marks under her eyes in the same hurried, panicked glance that picked out the horns, the ears, the alarming points of the weapons in her hands…

He wondered about them, of course, but in the first frantic two weeks of their acquaintance, there really wasn’t a lot of time to ask about it. Not until the Storm Spire, when he sat mulling over the flight-runes on Ibis’ wings, and how they might have come to be there.

“…So, I’ve been wondering,” he said to Rayla, apropos of nothing, while she was tending to her equipment. She looked up as he began to speak, the armour momentarily forgotten. “Those…markings you have, the ones on your face—and the ones a lot of other elves seem to have—what are they?”

She blinked, and for a moment, her fingers rose to her face, as though only just remembering the marks were there. “They’re pigment?” She offered, squinting at him a little. “…Is that a trick question, or…?”

“No, really, I have no idea what they are.” He assured her. “I was never sure if they were tattoos, or…weird elf birthmarks, or something. But—pigment? Does that mean it’s like…ink? How do you get them on?” Tattoos, as he understood them, involved needles. He hoped elven pigment didn’t involve needles.

For a moment, Rayla stared at him, looking decidedly nonplussed. “You…paint them on?” She offered, still thrown. “With a brush? And then they stay there for a while. Half a year, maybe. Depends on how good your pigment is.”

“Huh.” Callum mused. For a moment, he was tempted to press further, to ask about the intricacies of various pigments and the application thereof…but he’d been asking for a reason, after all, and his attention remained there.

If they were painted on...then that boded well. That meant that it was something that he could do, if only for the presence of the pigment and a brush.

It wasn’t much later that, after a guilty rummage through Ibis’ things, Callum stood at the pinnacle of the Storm Spire and painted flight-runes onto his skin. That was his first true introduction to the pigments of elves. As an artist, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. The pigment was white, yet it entirely obscured the darker colour of his skin with only a single, easy stroke. Only one layer, and it was solidly opaque. It glowed a little—then settled utterly dry, clean, and steadfast upon his arms.

For a moment, he spared a thought to wish that his paints could be like that. He’d dabbled in every form of art medium he could get his hands on over the years, and he’d never worked with any pigment like this one. It would be gorgeous to paint with.

But then he was too distracted trying to fly to think about art any longer, and that was the last mind he paid to pigment for a while.

After the battle of the Storm Spire, he prevailed upon the use of a finer, neater brush, and filled in the edges of his flight-runes until the shape of each was perfect and immaculate. Ibis watched him with a critical eye, and nodded.

“The spell will come easier if the runes are tidy.” He said, approvingly. “You’ll need to re-apply the pigment every three months. Any longer than that and it will begin to fade—which isn’t so great an issue when the marks are merely aesthetic, but with runes…”

“I can see how you wouldn’t want these fading, no.” Callum said ruefully, and accepted the little bottle of white pigment with a murmur of gratitude. He tucked it into his things for the next time he and Rayla went travelling, and she smiled at him.

“Packing your pigment for the journey, Callum?” She remarked, a little teasing. “Think we’ll be gone that long, do you?”

He laughed, and shrugged, glancing down at one of his arms. “I guess it’s just in case, really. I shouldn’t need to touch them up again for months, but…you never know. Wouldn’t want to end up flightless for some reason.”

“I suppose you are a tad obsessed with flying, now.” She agreed, as if she wasn’t always finding excuses for him to sweep her up into the sky for another flight. She reached out, absentminded, and trailed a fingertip around the curve of one rune with the trace of a smile on her lips. “Still, if it came down to it, you could always borrow mine.”

He glanced up at her, startled. “Your pigment?” He checked, eyes settling on the marks beneath her eyes. “I didn’t know you had any with you.”

“I don’t. Need to pick some up from Ethari, when we visit.” She said, succinctly, and he supposed that was another reason for their stopping at Silvergrove on the way to Katolis. How long had it been, since she last refreshed her pigment? Did she need to do it again soon, or was she just planning for the future?

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating her, feeling his heart flutter with a familiar warmth. If her markings had faded at all since he met her, it wasn’t immediately obvious to him. They looked as clear and lovely as ever; a natural part of her face. It was strange to think of what she might look like without them.

Rayla eyed him, when he’d stared a little too long and smiled a little too softly, and huffed at him. Her cheeks pinked a little, the colour darkening her markings. “What are you looking at?” She muttered to him, a touch self-conscious. Rather than look away, he smiled at her all the wider, and captured the hand she had on his arm to plant a kiss on its fingers.

“You.” He said, very contentedly, and watched with pleasure as her face coloured and her fingers twitched beneath his touch.

“Dumb prince.” She sighed, a smile spreading unbidden and affectionate across her lips. It was beautiful, so of course he kissed that too. He felt the widening of that smile against his mouth, and lingered there for as long as she’d let him before she prodded him away to finish packing.

She gave his arms a strange look, though, when he next bared them. Appraising, almost, with a narrow-eyed sort of consideration. “…What?” He asked, when she’d been staring long enough to warrant the question.

“Your runes are…neat.” She said, tone as considering as her eyes. “Tidy.” She shook her head then. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with all the art you do. Of course you’d be good at painting skin-pigment.” He eyed her, because there was clearly more to this observation than just surprise that he’d managed some tidy brushwork, but all she said when he asked was “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t believe her, obviously. Not with the way she kept shooting half-considering looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he didn’t press her, and she didn’t mention whatever was on her mind. In time, he forgot about it.

Until they were back in the Silvergrove.

Rayla asked Ethari, and within the minute he was pressing a small dark bottle and a fine brush into her hands. “I did wonder if you needed any.” He said, as she turned the glass over and the indigo liquid swirled around within. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She agreed, pocketing the vial and the brush both. “It’ll start fading soon. So…thanks.”

He nodded at her, all warmth and familial affection. “Not a problem. Did you want me to help with that while you’re here?”

She hesitated, then, and for a moment…for a moment, her eyes slid to Callum, who’d been watching them idly over the top of his sketchbook. “…I’m good.” She settled on, eventually, and if there was anything particularly knowing about Ethari’s smile then, Callum didn’t notice it.

He kept drawing, content in that she was content, and happy to be in her home under happier circumstances than the first.

But then, later: “I wanted to ask you something.” Rayla said, abruptly, when it was just the two of them in what was ostensibly her childhood room. It had been adapted over the years for a growing teenager, but still maintained hints of the past lingering within its walls. He spotted a child’s doodle of a shadowpaw etched into the grain of the dresser, and suppressed a smile.

He turned to her, eyes crinkling a little at the thought of a tiny rambunctious Rayla who scrawled over the walls and furniture. “Yeah?” He responded, a little distracted, as he wondered if there were perhaps any baby or childhood portraits in residence somewhere. He should ask Ethari. If there were any to be found, surely he’d know.

That distraction fled the instant she spoke. “Will you paint my pigment for me?” She asked, directly, and his eyes shot to her at once. At his expression, she added, “You don’t have to. But it needs doing soon, or it’ll start fading faster.” She paused, looking a little more tentative as she said, “If you don’t want to, Ethari can—”

“No,” he blurted, clumsy, then scrambled to say “I mean, yes, I mean—I mean I’d like that. To help. To, er. Paint your pigment on.” He felt his face heat, in part from how he’d stumbled over the words, and in part because…well. He might not know a lot about elven pigment and elven markings, but he was fairly sure that they were…personal. That painting someone’s markings for them was personal.

His reply settled her, and she huffed, lips twitching with familiar fondness. “…Good.” She said, in the end, and surprised him by leaving the room without further word. He blinked after her, uncertain whether he was supposed to follow, but then she returned a bare few moments later with a towel and a wet cloth that she was already wiping her face with.

“Er,” he offered, perplexed, as she dried her face off and set the towel and cloth both down. He didn’t understand until she plucked the bottle of pigment from her dresser and pressed it into his fingers. “Now?” His voice was something of a squeak, and she rolled her eyes.

“When else?” She asked, procuring a brush and giving him that too. “We’re setting off tomorrow. Now’s best.” She paused. “…That okay?”

Her voice had gone tentative again, and his chin jerked up, fingers tightening around brush and bottle as if worried she’d take them away. “No, yeah, it’s okay,” he assured her, and then laughed, a little nervously. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He cleared his throat, and took a closer look at the brush. It was like the one he’d filled his own runes in with, fine and delicate and short enough that it didn’t seem liable to flick off in weird directions. “…So I just…paint this onto your face?” He asked, after a moment, feeling his cheeks heat for reasons he couldn’t quite put to words. It felt special, in a way that was hard to describe.

“That is how it works.” Rayla answered, dryly, and then tugged him by the rune-adorned arm until they were both sitting on the floor, towel and cloth at close remove. He supposed those were there in case of spillages, though considering how quickly elvish pigment took hold, he wasn’t sure how much good a towel would do. He wondered if there was some sort of solvent, magical or otherwise, that was up to the task of dissolving pigment like this.

“What happens if I make a mistake when I’m putting your pigment on?” He wondered aloud, only half directing it at her. “Do you just have to walk around with it on your face for months?”

She snorted, and shook her head. “Nah. There’s pigment-remover for that.”

A little tension eased from his shoulders. “Oh, good,” he sighed, relieved. “That’s much less pressure, then.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Just paint my face, Callum.”

He chuckled at her, a little nervously, and uncapped the bottle. The liquid inside was so much darker than the pigment he used, and bizarrely true in its colour. Usually, inks tended to look much darker than their actual colour when they were in the bottle. It was only when you painted them onto a page that you could see how light and bright they were. This, though…it was just solid, liquid indigo, as if someone had distilled the concept of the colour of Rayla’s markings and spilled it into a bottle. “This would be amazing to paint with.” He murmured, somewhat distractedly, watching the pigment shimmer in the low light.

Rayla didn’t answer that, which was unusual enough that his eyes darted to hers, and found her looking strangely thoughtful. She shook her head, though, as if to dispel some thought, and started giving the pigment bottle and the brush some very meaningful looks. He laughed, softly, and obeyed the unspoken command; he dipped the brush in, drained off the excess, and then lifted it. It was dyed the same solid, true indigo—a colour that he was about to put onto her skin.

It hit him then, or at least started to; he looked between the brush and her face and felt his breath catch at—at something. It felt a little like panic, a little like wonder, a little like the breathless infatuation she always managed to inspire in him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, and just…stared at her, heart beating wildly at—at the trust, and the honour, that he couldn’t help but feel she’d given him.

She was looking impatient by the time he finally moved, and likely would have spoken if not for how he shuffled closer, until their knees were touching. Her mouth closed, watching him, eyes settling on his own as he reached towards her. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, feather-light, as tentative as he always was when he remembered that someone as amazing as her had deigned to be with someone like him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his hand, thumb tracing tenderly along a cheek that warmed beneath his touch.

He cupped her face in his hand, then, unable to resist the impulse, and she leaned into it without even thinking. Her eyes fell half-lidded for a moment, the smallest smile twitching at the edges of her lips, and he wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, but—but he wanted to, and she was smiling at him, and her eyes were soft and warm in the quiet and low light of the room—

So, he kissed her, and she huffed an amused breath against his lips, lifting a hand to trail affectionate fingers along the side of his neck. “This doesn’t feel like face-painting to me.” She murmured to him, fond and teasing at once, and he wouldn’t have been surprised for a moment if his heart stopped beating for the strength of how much he loved her. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

He laughed, a little breathless, and the warmth of it spilled between them. “Yeah.” He agreed, helplessly, drawing back with her fingers still warm on his neck and his hand still cupped to her cheek, and paused for a moment to treasure the sight of her looking at him like that. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever believe it. “I’ll just…get on that.”

She withdrew her hand, and watched him. Waiting.

His fingers shifted on Rayla’s face, moving to press his thumb gently to the side of the marking under her left eye. Pulling at the skin, ever-so-slightly, to allow for painting it more evenly. Another urge struck him, but this time he suppressed it. He could kiss her cheek-markings later. For now, he was supposed to be painting them. And so…

With an almost reverent care, he lifted the tip of the brush to her face, hovering just above her skin with a heady mixture of breathless wonder and breathless trepidation. He exhaled, softly, and felt her eyes upon him. Watching, warm and fond and expectant.

Finally, with the utmost care, he touched the brush to her skin.

She flinched a little at the touch so close beneath her eye, but he’d expected that. He held the brush steady and traced a slow, perfect line down her cheek, along the edge of the extant marking, like a dark border to the fading colour. And it was fading; he could see that now. It wasn’t noticeable on its own, but with the contrast of the fresh pigment beside it, it was fully obvious that the old colour had begun waning.

With the brush to her skin, Callum’s hushed awe fell in step with the breadth of his skill and practice. He’d never put brush to someone else’s skin before, but that did nothing to diminish his skill. He knew brushwork, and he knew the delicacy needed for fine detail, and…and, in the end, this was easy. Just tracing around an existing marking, and filling it in. There could be nothing easier.

He drew the pigment across her skin in smooth, effortless lines. He traced the borders of her marking and then filled it in, up until when the brush began to run empty, and he had to go for the bottle again. The colour settled fast, immediate, and perfect upon her face, with that gorgeous fidelity he’d never seen in any other pigment or paint or ink in all his life. It was a pleasure to use it, and all the more that he was using it for this.

Callum fell half into an artist’s trance for the remaining minutes it took to finish. He filled the left marking in, stark and perfect, then shifted his fingers tenderly to her other cheek, and repeated the process. When he was done, there was nothing but perfect lines and perfect colour upon a face that he loved.

He smiled, small and satisfied, and set the brush aside. “Done.” He murmured, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, cradling her face in both hands. It felt strange, to risk touching her skin when he’d only just painted it. But that was the wonder of elvish pigment; it dried the moment it was applied, and permitted no possibility of smearing whatsoever. He stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes and felt more happy, more tender, more loving than he’d ever known. “Perfect.” He murmured, reverential, the words meant for more than the pigment.

Her eyes blinked across from his own, and he loved them. Loved her. She brought her arms up and drew him closer, one hand splayed on the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll have you do me some new markings, someday.” She murmured to him, in the end, a small and secret smile at the edges of her lips. He stared at her, spellbound, for the three beats of his heart that lingered between her smile and her movement. She leaned in and closed the meagre distance between them, the kiss soft and sweet and all the more perfect for how dearly he adored her.

He imagined, for a second, drawing that ink-brush again along her skin. Imagined it between her fingers, along her arms, casting indigo whorls about her shoulders. He thought of new pigment, new markings, and the sheer delight of being the one who got to put them there. His heart fluttered. “I’d like that.” He said, against her lips, and she kissed him again.

“Good.” When she drew back, the markings were still stark and beautiful beneath her eyes, where he’d painted them. The sight of them left him a little breathless, even now, unable to shake the sense that he’d been afforded an enormous privilege, a gift of worth beyond measure.

Someday, he hoped, she’d afford him that gift again.

Callum saw the fruits of Rayla’s thoughtful consideration and furtive glances a while later, when July came around and he was startled from thinking about her birthday by the arrival of his own. She cornered him with palpable satisfaction, and gave him a parcel that she very clearly expected him to be delighted with.

She wasn’t wrong.

He unveiled an array of small bottles; thirty-six hues of true and perfect elvish pigment, distilled for the purpose of painting. He beheld them all with a nearly breathless joy, finding the little parcel of pigment-brushes, the bottle of solvent, the masking-fluid….

“You like it?” Rayla asked, with a broad and decidedly smug smile on her face. She clearly already knew the answer.

“I love it.” He pronounced, and set at once to trying them out.

The very first thing he painted was her. She watched him, and huffed as she saw the familiar lines of her own face taking form on the page, pleased and exasperated all at once. She never did seem to understand why he drew her so often, but that was okay. And, with these pigments…

The colours were spectacular, brighter and more intensely pigmented than anything he’d ever seen. He found himself utterly swept away in the delight of using them, and hours later, emerged from his artist’s trance to the completed work: Rayla in the early evening of the Silvergrove, her hair and eyes gleaming softly with the gentle illumination of the lights and moon-moths around her. It was one of the finest works he’d ever produced, and at the sight of it, he concluded the process of falling helplessly in love with Elvish pigment.

Rayla, for all her embarrassment at being painted, seemed to approve of it too. “You picked that up quickly.” She noted, handling the edges of the thick paper with the delicate care it deserved.

“These pigments are my new favourite thing.” He declared, arranging the bottles a little more tidily beside him. His eyes rested, a little consideringly, over another wide sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, growing quiet and solemn, and eventually reached out to take it.

He had his birthday traditions to observe, after all.

The second thing he painted with the elven pigments was his family portrait, atrophied and truncated by tragedy. There was no Sarai there, and hadn’t been for years. No Harrow, and that was a new pain. He felt the ghosts of their absence in the lines he didn’t draw, in the colours that never fell upon the page, in the voids of grief that they left in his life.

But there were new faces now, too.

With quiet, exquisite care, he drew himself. He drew Ezran, older now, wearing a mantle that had come for him too soon. He drew Bait in his brother’s arms. He drew Aunt Amaya. And, tenderly: he drew Azymondias and Rayla. The outlines took form, and as the hours passed, elvish pigment filled them in.

In the end, he had his family portrait again. Changed, and echoing with its empty spaces, but…

Quiet, from her place beside him, Rayla slipped her hand into his own.

“Come on,” She said, with the small but tender smile that he loved. “Zym has a present for you too. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t give it to you today.”

Callum exhaled, and let her fingers tighten around his, pulling him up to his feet beside her. His own smile slipped onto his lips. “Then we’d better go find him.” He said, casting a last glance at the portrait on the table. He didn’t resist it when she tugged on his fingers, pulling him away.

With a strange, quiet serenity, he followed her out into the light.

---

end.

This is word-for-word what was published in the Rayllum zine 'Falling For You'; I have made no changes. It’s the shorter and less impressive of my two pieces, but I hope you liked it anyway.

I’ll potentially be making some minor edits to the second piece before posting, given I intend to continue it - in fact, I’ve already got like three extra chapters of it written, though small ones. I’m considerably more excited about that one, so stay tuned!

#rayllum #rayllumzine #tdp fic #tdp callum #tdp rayla #seriously though the soulmate au piece is good times #looking forward to everyone being able to read it #had to do word count negotiations to get a piece that long into the zine lol #the mods kindly granted me a couple extra ks #and then I decided to reduce my word limit for this first piece by 1k so I could shift that to the more exciting piece too #it deserved every word I could give it #this one is nice don't get me wrong #i'm just not made for short decisive pieces #and the soulmate AU's ending is VERY MUCH open-ended #and inviting follow-up #which I then wrote and shared with my closest cohorts #awaiting the day it could be published #looking forward to seeing the comments on my baby

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nightglider124 · 3 years

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2020 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza/Creator Tag Meme/8 Favorite Works

Tagged by @tarisilmarwen - Thanks for the tag, gurl! <3

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Well, shit. I have uploaded practically nothing in 2020 LOL. Like... I’m cheating with my answers but hey, we’re gonna count my favourite robstar week oneshots as individuals cos otherwise, I don’t even make half of the 8 lmao.

1.) Subscribe

Ahh, my current main multi-chapter AU fic that I actually started in August 2019 but I reckon it has seen most updating this year, tbh. It’s honestly one of my favourite AU concepts that my brain has ever birthed. A YouTube AU with Gar as the channel owner just feels like such a Gar thing and I’m so excited to keep going with it in 2021.

2.) Nova

I actually love this oneshot that was completed and submitted as part of my involvement in the dickkory zine that was created early 2020. I only posted the excerpt on tumblr which you can find by clicking ‘Nova’ as I thought I’d keep the whole thing just as an exclusive thing for the zine. But, I really loved writing that and felt my final piece was pretty great considering there’s a word limit and a specific theme to follow and it was such good fun, all in all so loved that one.

3.) Simulation

I actually forgot about this oneshot until I was scrolling through my tumblr tags like ‘wtf did i even write this past year??’ and I remembered the atrocity that was JLD: Apokolips War and how the burning need to write a fix it fic for all my dickkory pals was literally overwhelming. I was actually pretty happy with the final product, despite it’s length. And also, it gave me the dcamu dickkory ending that I wanted lmao.

4.) Robstar Week - Day 1: Star-Aligned/Destiny

I think I was actually pretty negative about this when I initially posted it for Robstar week but since then, I have come to appreciate that writing anything during this last shit show of a year is a miracle so y’know, we’ll take it as a win lmao. I actually really did enjoy writing a oneshot that’s mostly between Dick and Wally and talking about Starfire cos it makes me smile.

5.) Robstar Week - Day 3: Tamaran

Another addition for Robstar week that I actually really enjoyed reading as I love writing little moments such as these between the two dorks. Anything that is remotely adorable and intimate in a fluffy way is like heaven to me; whether I’m reading it or if I happen to be writing it XD.

6.) Robstar Week - Day 4: Fantasy AU

My absolute faveeeee for Robstar week, to the point, I am now in the midst of planning a whole AU multi-chapter fic around it. I fell in love with the idea of Dick basically being akin to a Witcher and being paid to ‘deal with’ Kory, a magic user which is prohibited in the lil made up world. I honestly vibed with the idea so much and even now, I love it. There’s so many more details and plot I wanna add into it so it will eventually be a whole fic but... it’s been shelved for a little while til I get Bound and Subscribe updated to where I want them.

7.) Robstar Week - Day 6: Wedding Bells

I may start to sound like a broken record but this happens to be another submission from robstar week that I really smiled at whilst writing. It was great to take a fairly common prompt and just do an actual wedding so it was fun to slightly spin that around for how I wrote it instead.

8.) Robstar Week - Day 7: Constellations

I already mentioned how I love writing Robin and Starfire in these little cute and intimate moments that are filled with sugary fluff. This is kind of another one. I really do believe they would have these little games or things between them such as a game revolving around constellations and guessing. Idk I just really enjoyed this one as well.

________

I honestly did not think there were gonna be 8 to list lmao. I wasn’t overly active in 2020 due to... *gestures around me* the state of the world for the majority of the year. I’m hoping 2021 will be a more productive year for me in terms of updating current projects as well as bringing some new things to the fic table.

I taaag: @fireflyxrebel-writes @loubuggins @stefanotis @ships-bynoa and @spaceprincessem + anyone else who wants to jump in on this!! <3

#dickkory #fanfiction #robstar #teen titans #nightglider124

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blacknovelist · 3 years

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Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

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angst-in-space · 3 years

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october ‘20 writing progress

total words written: 14.9k

most words written in a day: 1,371

least words written in a day: 78

current yearly total: 183,411

projects worked on:

- sylvix dreamscape fic - finished first draft of long live zine piece - started sylvix christmas fic for the sylvix advent calendar event! - worked on kl hotel au - did some original story planning - worked on altea rising recap summary

october goals: - continue working on sylvix dreamscape fic - *sweats* edit/post chapter 15 of altea rising?? and if time maybe start editing the remaining chapters and/or work on writing the last few scenes…? - open fic commissions before the end of the month… - finish first draft of piece for long live zine - perhaps plan the sylvix pacific rim au some more november goals: - win nanowrimo?? lol - finish/submit final draft of my piece for long live zine - finish a draft of the sylvix xmas fic - work on the sylvix dreamscape fic - finish (or at least work on) the kl hotel au?? - uhh at least finish the recap summary thing that i’m writing for altea rising? maybe if i feel extra spicy i’ll actually work on the actual fic lmfao - perhaps do some more planning on my original story idk

notes:

*steeples my hands together* well...i didn’t do super hot during october in terms of meeting my goals although at least i did some of it, i.e. i got a lot of work done on the sylvix dreamscape fic and submitted the first draft of my long live zine piece so that’s something.

also!! i was invited to write a fic for the sylvix advent calendar event (linked above) so i ended up putting a lot of time/effort into that as well! it’s gonna be a really fun event where there will be one art piece & one sylvix fic posted a day for every day in december leading up to christmas, and everything will be winter/holiday themed (and have happy endings) so yAAY it’s gonna be really cool and i recommend following the event twitter account if you like sylvix and want to see a lot of quality content next month!

so yeah on that note, i’ll probably be putting a lot of effort into my fic for that event for most of november since obviously i have a deadline haha. i’m hyped for the whole event and for the fic i’m writing so i’ll be really excited to post that in december!

my other big priority will be submitting my final piece for long live zine, although at this point it’s very close to being done––it’s just waiting on feedback from the mods and doing a bit of editing based on that. but yeah that’s also a project i’m very excited about! and i will definitely post updates about when the zine itself will be released!!

other than that, a lot of my energy this month will go towards the sylvix dreamscape au. i’m almost done writing the third chapter and i’m hoping to write like five chapters or so before i start posting it....so i’m estimating i’ll post the first chapter in maybe december or january but we shall see.

my klance wips....as always are kind of a toss-up where i’m working on them when i feel like it dkfldsj BUT i’m really almost done with the hotel au and i’m hoping i can maybe get a draft of it done by the end of this month since i really only have a few scenes of it left i’ve just been too lazy to finish it. i also have been working on writing up this recap summary of altea rising so i can post that before i start putting the new chapters out. however it’s....really time consuming so i have no idea when that will be happening and then idk if people will even care enough to read it but lol i would ideally like to (finally) get another chapter of it posted before the end of this year....that’d be great.

i’m also trying to do nanowrimo this month aka “working on a million fic wips plus brainstorming an original story and hoping the numbers miraculously add up” so we’ll see how that goes!!

oh yeah i know last month i was like “i’m gonna open up commissions” but that was...a lie..... i started a new job and what with that plus all the other wips i have, i think i have way too much on my plate rn. but i think i will shoot for opening up commissions in january maybe unless some other big project comes out of left field.

....and oh yeah the sylvix pacific rim au i like totally forgot about during october, and again since i have so many other things to work on i’m not sure if/when that will be happening, but if so it probably won’t be for a few months buuut i might continue brainstorming some stuff for it at least.

anyway holy fuck apparently i cannot shut up so i will stop rambling now and yeah peace out

#brigidposts #writing updates #writing progress 2020 #text

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viktormaru · 5 years

Note

What is the link for Kakashi zine?

I cant believe i forgot to link it

https://feastevil.tumblr.com/post/185120126178/teamwork-a-kakashi-fanzine-is-now-available-for

Heres some info about it! Ill add the link to my piece as well when my internet allows

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shesdangerace · 5 years

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The Long Winter

Happy Holidays! This is the full piece I wrote for the @aftgholidayzine which I still URGE you to check out and buy for Lost-N-Found Youth. So many wonderful contributions were made, and everyone involved made me feel so welcome. So please please support the zine, and I hope you enjoy the tale of Andrew Minyards’ first winter post-NeilPalmetto

(also available on AO3)

He’s standing in Boston Logan International Airport at some terminal or another. There’s snow outside the windows and Christmas everywhere else. Andrew has his noise cancelling headphones on again, and the silence is as effective as usual.

It’s December, obviously, and he feels it in his bones where the cold leaks through the glass surfaces of window and skin. His eyes feel it too, held open and vulnerable by the winter. Standing inside the airport doesn’t help much. His body always did have trouble letting go.

Someone a few feet away starts to scream, a child. Shrill enough to break through the noiselessness and Andrew wonders not for the first time if he wasted his money, then if he wasted his time making his money, then why he’s wasting his quiet thinking about it at all.

The child is still screaming but it’s a dull sound in the background of Andrews' own dullness, staring out the window with his hands in his black coat pockets.

He’s preparing himself for feeling. For fear. He doesn’t have time to scream. Never has.

In the corner of his eye he sees a woman, with a bag full of Christmas presents at her feet as she sits speaking into her phone. She looks like the past. She reminds him. So he keeps her hidden in the corner of his eye. Before him is the airplane he will soon be boarding, and there’s a man in a flight attendants’ uniform and a Santa hat. He reminds Andrew too.

So instead he stares at the snow, at the white white white and the footprints and the bare dark ground where it’s been shoved away. He stares at the window itself, where the winter has crept along the glass like spectral fingertips, pleading.

He remembers why he’s here.

He’s not quite prepared yet, but the fear is nearing anyway, and the woman and her presents are gone. The dim reflections in the glass are melting together as they move. Andrew lets the noise back in, follows the mass.

He keeps his eyes firmly closed, his fists tightly clenched, and his memories auburn and orange. By the time Andrews' feet touch dry South Carolina ground, he’s ready to face the fear.

Neils' eyes when he opens the store wrapped camera box are cliff edges over an open ocean.

---

It’s just turned January, there are Foxes yelling, and it’s all rather excessive. There’s silver and gold confetti in the air and booze spilled onto the pavement outside Fox Tower. On Neil’s face are a giant pair of metallic pink glasses, a quiet grin, and lipstick stains the colour of Allison and Dans’ laughs. Andrew is relatively sure he has glitter in his hair.

It’s something like a reunion, new Foxes not included because frankly who cares. Robin would have been the only exception if it weren’t for the flu she’s currently bedridden with. Kevin is neck deep in a bottle of something, Nicky is attempting to lift Aaron and spin him, and Matt is running around the group in circles hollering. Renee stands quietly next to Andrew, watching him watching Neil being crushed by the dual embrace of Allison and Dan.

It’s almost like going back in time.

Andrew lasts another half an hour with his bottle of whiskey. Someone brought speakers with them, and the noise makes it easy to hide. He’s thinking about his flight today, about Aarons' right before his, about Germany and Exy stadiums and distance. He’s thinking about how much he doesn’t want to think. For once, Andrew would rather feel.

All it takes is one finger linked through another and through those stupid glasses Neil looks at him and smiles. They leave those glasses behind.

Andrews' new year starts at 1:00am on the rooftop, when Andrews' hands smear with lipstick and Neils' sigh bleeds into Andrews choked breath, and Andrew feels feels feels.

---

‘I miss you.’

It’s still January, and Andrew is knee deep in bitter snow outside his building.

‘I’ve never had to miss someone before.’

He watches his exhale hit the air, watches it spread like a cloud of smoke.

‘At least not like this.’

Andrew reaches his hand in front of his face to watch his gloveless fingers turn red.

‘I think I hate it.’

His eyes close with the heaviness of his lashes, and he lets the snowflakes fall from them as they please.

‘It’s just…not the same.’

Maybe he should have worn a coat.

‘I think I’m lonely Andrew.’

He definitely should have worn a coat. Boston winter is so unforgiving.

---

The snow is falling into Andrews' hair and it’s early February. His team issued practice bag swings at his side, reminding him with every nudge against his body that this day has been long enough already. He catches his reflection in the glass of a bookstore and sighs.

He doesn’t particularly feel like doing this.

There’s a balloon drifting past him, lost by a slender young hand as its owner wraps her arms around her new fiancée. He finds himself caught by that balloon, watching it fade into the open night sky, forgotten.

The air is biting at his skin and there are no stars out tonight.

He really doesn’t feel like doing this.

He listens to the crunch of his boots in a fresh snow bank as he passes, stares ahead of him at the patches of dusty white on the sidewalk. Everything in the winter is so bare.

A gust of wind parts around him, leaving tiny icicles in Andrews' lungs. He can see the sign up ahead.

When he opens the door the ice on the ground blows in with him, and when he sits down opposite a steaming hot chocolate he looks up into his own reflection.

It’s not like Andrew doesn’t already know, it was obvious from the phone call, Aaron’s voice saying ‘I need to tell you something. I think it should be in person’. He still feels though.

‘She said yes.’

And he looks happy and scared and defensive all at once, but Andrew can only say:

‘I’ll be there.’

The silence that follows is as fragile as the look on Aarons' face.

It’s been a while since the last time they did this, just the two of them. Since the last time they looked each other in their hazel eyes. There’s still snow in Andrews lashes. The ice in Aarons' has already melted.

‘Do you miss him?’

Andrew’s not sure why Aaron even bothers asking when he doesn’t seem to want to. He has that sharp turn to his lips. He must be looking for something. Andrew doesn’t deign to answer, and the next words that come seem to be more resented than the last. More fearful. More longing.

‘Do you miss me?’

What an interesting, stupid, pointless question. Andrews' reply comes with a slow blink of his eyes and a twitch in his right hand under the table.

‘Do you miss me?’

‘No.’

There’s something to be said about being twins. Because for two brothers raised apart, they have remarkably similar tells when they lie.

---

Mid-February finds two young men, one blonde one burned, buried in the snow. They’re not making snow angels because they don’t believe in them.

It’s a Saturday morning, and Andrew spent the day before watching Neils' face change. Sometimes his smile would match the bright glare of the snow. Sometimes his eyes would match the frost. Sometimes the turn of his lips would match the dark winter sky.

Today, nothing about Neil matches the world. His presences disrupts the stillness of the cold like a blazing sun.

‘Shouldn’t you have practice this weekend Captain?’ Andrews' voice is muffled by the snow, but they’re so close underneath it all that it doesn’t matter.

‘Not exactly.’ Neils' voice says the words while the set of his sharp jaw says a little bit more.

‘Why?’ escapes Andrew like a breeze.

Neil doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Andrew with something terrible in his eyes that looks an awful lot like a feeling echoing somewhere in Andrew.

The winter is awfully long in Boston. At least compared to South Carolina.

There are thick black gloves on Neils' hands, a gift from Nicky himself this time. Andrew was the one to throw them at Neils' head this morning though before they left. Now, he studies the thread of a fingertip.

He must have fought to be here, fought those young Foxes and Wymack. Even then, it’s not for much longer.

‘Neil.’

It’s almost a whisper, it’s almost angry, and they push that slightest bit closer through the snow till their noses brush together.

When Andrew closes his eyes he feels their lashes tangle.

---

March arrives and the winter is refusing to die. There’s glass in the air of Boston Common.

Andrew is sat on a bench covered in frost, feeling it seep into his coat, watching the brave skate on Frog Pond. The wind is missing, the sky is blindingly blue and bare, and there’s a voice in his ear.

‘So yeah that was my week. Oh except that I forgot to tell you that um, Erik says hi. And um, how was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘Andrew come on, how was practice?’

‘It was practice.’

‘Andrew seriously. Last time we talked remember, you promised? You promised me you would actually talk more.’

Some bird is valiantly trying to sing through the cold, nestled in the branches of a leafless tree overhead.

‘I promised nothing of the sort.’

‘Okay well I took your silence as agreement.’

When will birds learn when to stop singing.

‘That’s not how promises work Nicky.’

‘I know Andrew. I know.’

Maybe there is a little winter wind left, Andrew thinks he saw some branches move. A dead leaf stirring on the ground.

‘Hey Andrew, have you talked to Kevin recently? Neil said he wasn’t sure when you guys last talked.’

No, it’s just a dead leaf.

‘We’ve spoken.’

‘Okay well, maybe speak again? Soon? I just think it’d be nice. For both of you. Also has Neil gotten taller? Or maybe he’s just gotten cuter. It’s hard to tell over Skype. You saw him recently right?'

‘In February.’

‘Oh. I miss that kid.’

By the time Andrew leaves Boston Common the sun is already setting on the frozen surface of Frog Pond.

Now, he’s sat with his bag rattling along on the number 7 to City Point, almost there. The wind is still absent but the chill batters the bus anyway, and by the time it jolts to a stop Andrews' bones are sore.

As soon his feet hit the icy ground he begins to walk, slowly, through the ache. He watches South Boston pass by in shades of grey and black and white, the grey of his demeanour, the black of his coat, the white of his skin passing through it all silently. It takes six minutes and he’s there.

For a building full of semi-wealthy inhabitants, its’ elevator still feels like a slow death, so Andrew takes the stairs all the way to the top. The snow breaks off his boots a little more with every step, and the last remains get left to melt on the mat inside his door.

His coat he hangs up next to the side table where he throws his keys, and as he crosses briefly to the open living space for the remote, the TV begins to play.

‘Tonight’s game is one we’ve all been waiting for…’

His boots come off next, replaced by charcoal slippers because Neil knows better then to give him orange. The kitchen light floods the counter-tops as Andrew reaches up to the cupboard. The cocoa, cinnamon, and vanilla all meet quietly on the granite.

‘Do you think the crowd is ready…’

From the fridge Andrew grabs the milk, and he measures it out in a mug with Nickys' face on it.

‘…He’s the greatest striker the sports ever seen!...’

It heats on the stove, and Andrew leaves it to close the curtains and turn up the thermostat.

‘…I’m just excited, I don’t know what to tell you. I get chills every time...’

Andrews stands there and stirs. The room starts to warm, the ingredients start to mix.

‘…Okay here we go, the teams are about to step onto the court…’

Andrew grabs a handfuls of marshmallows and drops them in until the mug near overflows. The steam rises up past the white, and Andrew allows the heat to burn his hand as he settles on the couch. His body always wants to hoard the cold.

‘Are you ready to see Kevin Day in action?’

---

The winter in Boston is long. The cold of it reaches where cold never should, and it sets white fire to the hollows of Andrews' chest.

Everything is ice and snow, wind and hail, chill and white white white. Andrew could disappear in the snow if he wanted to.

It lasts until early April. That’s when the ice starts to thaw, when the snow starts to shy away. A few leaves start to appear on the trees of Boston Common and no one is skating anymore.

When winter ends, Andrew has learned to survive it.

---

He’s standing in Boston Logan International Airport. There’s snow outside the windows and Christmas everywhere else.

It’s December, obviously.

There’s still snow on Andrews' boots that hasn’t melted off yet. It’s dusting his black woollen hat too, drifting down from it into his eyes just a little bit. He’s still cold, hands still shoved in his black coat pockets, but it’s ebbing away ever so slightly.

He waits.

He stares at the busyness surrounding him.

The snow that clung to him before melts away.

And Neil is here.

He’s just staring at Andrew, because of course he is. And he’s so present, so blue and grey and auburn, one bag slung over his shoulder and one hand reaching out from his side. Andrew moves because of course he does.

Their fingertips meet, then their fingers, then their palms, then their eyes. Andrew tugs and Neil follows and they’re both caught.

---

‘They’re still not Foxes.’

‘They don’t need to be.’

‘I know.’

There are three blankets and a Neil keeping Andrew warm. The blankets rest around his shoulders, and Neil rests his hand on Andrews' ankle. Neils' camera has taken four pictures already, and it rests on the arm of the couch.

‘Have you ever considered a Christmas tree in here?’

‘I have one. Several actually.’

‘Those marshmallows Nicky sent you don’t count.’

‘I don’t care.’

Neil is smiling, quietly. He doesn’t seem to notice. Andrew knows that Neil has missed him.

He rests his head against Neils', watches those bright eyes blink slowly closed. He feels Neils' sigh against his skin, places a kiss over the subtle parting of his lips. When Neil opens his eyes again, he looks proud and happy and stunned like he always does these days.

‘Neil.'

It’s almost a whisper.

Neil just looks at him, body held still. Those bright winter eyes.

‘I missed you.’

This is Andrews' second Boston winter, and he knows how to survive it better this time.

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mssaltyanchor · 6 years

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Servamp Zine Vol. 2 : Reach for the Stars

Hey MsSaltyAnchor here~ Sorry it took me forever to actually post this, I've been so preoccupied that I pretty much forgot *Welp So here's my piece for the Servamp vol2 zine. I tried out a different style for the coloring... I think it came out pretty good. 🤔

And here's the link to the Tumblr post which includes the free downloadable PDF of the zine:. Also don’t forget check out all the other wonderful fellow artists who participated with me.

-> Servamp Zine Vol. 2 : Reach for the Stars

#servamp #servamp zine #servamp fanart #fanart #zine #free #servamp zine vol 2 #mssaltyanchor #mssaltyanchor fanart #mahiru shirota #kuro #sleepy ash #mahiru

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magick-socks · 4 years

Text

This blog post is about the third mask, Golden Solar Plexus Swan created for the Prismic Vision NYE event hosted by the Body Earth Collective in Longmont. Read the previous posts in this series about Rabbit & Skunk and other posts about the beginnings of the process as a whole and the success of the actual event. There will be four more posts, one for each mask. Be sure to Follow my blog to catch all the updates. I am looking forward to sharing more deeply about the process I went through with each mask.

The Beginnings

When I began working on the Swan mask I couldn’t fathom a way to clearly signal that it was in fact a swan mask with the face of the animal alone. And so I ended up creating a whole Swan headdress, with the elegant neck and powerful wings in full view. After the Rabbit Mask, the Swan was the largest of the masks. Creating the armature for the head, neck, and wings was extremely satisfying, although it took a lot of trial and error to determine the best course to take.

The Head and Neck of the Swan were made out of cardboard and tons and tons and tons of masking tape to secure all the pieces together. It took several attempts at construction and reconstruction before I was satisfied the silhouette was correct. The body of the Swan was from a balloon. Using a balloon to create the base for Papier-mâché is a tried and true method. I used it for several of the masks, including the snake, rabbit, and skunk. During the drying one of the balloons popped before the process had completed. My carefully crafted globe of wheat paste and newspaper was a floppy mess. After a brief moment of devastation I salvaged as much as I could of the deflated mass. At first I thought these salvaged pieces could become the wings of the Swan, but in the end they weren’t the correct shape and I pivoted to using them for the snake. To create the wings of the swan I instead used copious amounts of tinfoil, which I then carefully encased in masking tape, and then sealed in Papier-mâché.

The Primer-less Swan

Sara Trying on Her Mask

Late night studio session to paint over all the newsprint.

The Swan was one of the first masks I started and ended being the final mask I Papier-mâchéd; it took forever to dry. In my haste I forgot to paint the mask in primer before attempting to spray paint the base color of yellow. I learned very quickly that the primer of white was fairly crucial. Pressed by the deadline I soldiered on, but I ended up using way more spray paint and acrylic to completely cover the newsprint on the Swan. Despite the complications and setbacks the Swan mask became one of my favorite, and Sara, who aspected the Swan in the Opening Procession wore the mask beautifully.

Working with Swan Medicine and the Energy of Yellow Solar Plexus

I was so ecstatic when Swan appeared as the animal ally for the Yellow Shrine and Solar Plexus Chakra. My partner in conjuring the allies wasn’t convinced at first, as we already had a bird for the Indigo Shrine, Hawk. However I felt that Swan and Solar Plexus were a delightful pairing. Swans are a bird for the Warrioress, and as the Solar Plexus is the seat of will in the world, creating a new story of Feminine Power in relationship to this Chakra was extremely evocative for me. The Chakra Mantra for the Solar Plexus is I am Strong, and Swan’s are certainly a powerful bird.

Golden Swan – Solar Plexus Altar Sketch

Over the course of the project Yellow morphed into a more Golden aspect. Gold is a luxurious and royal color. It glows like warm honey and the shining sun. It radiates a sense of wealth, success, and shining optimism. Stories of the Swan linked to the Golden Egg and Valkyries heavenly armor continued to weave a web of mythic meaning around the Golden Yellow Swan Mask. I especially wanted to capture the sense of the Woman Warrior by evoking the iconic imagery of the Valkyrie’s winged helmet in the placement of the Golden Wings on the Mask.

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The Mask in the Space

The Altar for the Swan was in the entrance hall to the event. After transcending into the space through a prismically rainbow stairway the Swan Altar became the first piece of the even participants encountered. It was one of the most stately shrines, and to continue the desire for welcoming and invitation supplies to write New Year’s wishes were provided at the base of the Altar.

Photo Credit: Jack Jameson

People wrote the most beautiful wishes, resolutions, activations, and manifestations on the giant mural provided by the Swan Altar, and I enjoyed revisiting the opening hallway as the night progressed to see how the mural continued to evolve.

Photo Credit: Ethan Green

For the Opening Procession we circulated the energy of the event, briefly traveling outside and then up the Rainbow Stairway into the main space, gliding like a flock of elegant Swans and whispering our Swan Mantras. “Listen to your intuition”… “Find power through graceful and beauty”…”Only through the feminine will we find our revolution”… and so on. It was so beautiful to whisper such meaningful affirmations while witnessing all of the people who had come to enjoy New Year’s Eve at the event.

The words on the Altar were as follows:

Yellow – Solar Plexus – Swan

I will surrender to the flow of the spiral

and trust what I am shown

Beauty, Light & Grace.

Beautiful, Majestic, Powerful, Loyal Swan! Remind me of my own inner grace and beauty. Share with me the wisdom of time and change. To reflect inward, as the water ripples out across time, on how to connect my mind to my heart, my inner landscape to my outer appearances, and my self love to the partnerships in my life. Be here now. -Excerpt from 52 Feathers Zine by Khiri Lee

Through the Feminine will we find our Revolution

Stay in Touch

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Prismic Vision - Golden Solar Plexus Swan Mask Beautiful, Majestic, Powerful, Loyal Swan! Remind me of my own inner grace and beauty. This blog post is about the third mask, Golden Solar Plexus Swan created for the Prismic Vision NYE event hosted by the…

#2019 #2020 #birds #Colorado #Eve #Masks #Sacred

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