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acorviart · 5 months

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made myself a little porcelain latios

the clear glaze sadly crazed but it adds a little ✨ pizzazz ✨

#latios #pokemon #ceramics #ceramistakes #pottery #porcelain #this was my first time working with porcelain so if anyone has tips on what clear glaze can be used that won't craze #hmu lol #I don't even know what kind of porcelain it is bc this was just a small lump the studio owner gave me to try out

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reallybadblackoutpoems · 1 year

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finnegan's wake (1939) - james joyce

"penis war: (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawanskawntoohoohoordenenthur -- nuk!)"

submitted by @say-duhnelle

#poem #blackout poetry #submission #slay #sorry #for not being active #i am once again busy #and tired #saw scream vi #i am very normal about it #if anyone would like to discuss #the direction in which the franchise is headed #am very open #hmu lol #anyway #thank you so much for your submission!!

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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wherever you want to go with this but i trust you -- prompt: blood

[uh @unicyclehippo & i are writing joan of arc themed lil fics bc … hello ava 👀 & mine is undoubtedly the more deranged of the two but ... here u go lol]

//

ava comes back gentle; ava comes back covered in blood.

‘i came back,’ she says, in the middle of the night when neither of you can sleep, after she’d stood in the shower until the water ran cold, scrubbing red from her skin, in the middle of a beautiful valley in france that has crumbling wine caves and a slow river, covered in reeds, currents that remember its history, the rot and death and face-down bodies.

‘i came back,’ she prays into your skin, her fingers tracing the curve of your ribcage like she’s remembering a church she worshipped at centuries ago, an organ and its pipes; your heart and ventricles and your own blood, faithful. ava touches you like she’s lived a thousand years; maybe she has. her eyes are the same brown as they were when you met, when she’d only been resurrected once, when she had cried at the marvel of the ocean and her own hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’re worthy of a strength like this — worthy of sacredness and consecration and your mother’s voice — i’d rather you take your own life than be gay — and maybe for so long you had taken your own life and shoved it down into the hollow of your throat, into the spaces between the bones of your wrists; you had discarded your want and offered up your slow-beating heart in its place.

ava kneels before you and scrapes her teeth along the inside of your thigh, the skin there pale and soft. it’s dark until she brings her mouth to your center and moans, and then the room glows: gold and blue — ava, ava, ava: life; some kind of god, some kind of — i am begging you to touch me; oh, i’m on fire, oh, i’m on fire; history and elegy are akin; you are my sweetest downfall, i loved you first. the holiness in ava is not of this earth — the metal, the burn — but she is, dirt under her fingernails when she came through the portal, blood coming out of her ears, covering her face. ava’s tongue is soft and she holds your body in the palms of her hands and the room is blue and gold, a room where you get what you want: crosses held before you while you die and eternal salvation and her name like a goddamn hymn and fuck, fuck, baby and your hips grinding down on her mouth and your hands tangled in her hair — hair that you had cut when you had wished for a home amidst the mountains and the tender press of her spine in the morning blue and hair that you had cut again a few days ago, trembling hands both times because she was beautiful, a blade at her neck and curls floating to the floor. she had asked you to, and now she asks you to do something for her again — to come, to come, to come. you hold your breath when you do, consecration.

the holy and the horror — the light comes in the name of the voice — and ava comes back ready to dance with you and laugh and ava comes back with enough power to detonate bombs with her hands. you kiss her and she tucks a flower behind your ear, waiting for your next battle at a convent in the countryside. ava eats without apology, whatever she wants, and drinks wine that stains her lips red, and kisses you in front of everyone; she is hot when you touch her, when her walls flutter and curl around your fingers and you touch her. sometimes you don’t know what to say so you just tell her what you know: primeval forests are so remote that humans don’t belong there, that people die when they go there, that there are wolves and moss and weather so cold humans can’t feel their hands. ‘what do you think our past lives were like?’ she asks, one day as you spar, divine powers aside, and you wonder: were you always her protector? have you always been by her side? have you watched her die, every time? ‘one,’ you say, like you remember it in your hands, ‘we were happy; we lived on a farm and we were poor, but we had milk and eggs and bread you knew how to make. i’d go out in the morning with the dog and you spun wool and it was quiet, and green.’ she sits against you, the halo and the divinium in her back against your front, enough to kill you, and her, many times over. ‘verde, que te quiero verde,’ she says, ‘we grew old. who died first?’

‘does it matter?’

‘no.’ she’s quiet; a ship slowly goes by. ‘we’d wake early, for breakfast and you rested your head in my lap when you were tired.’

‘i have loved you a long time.’

she traces a pattern along the lines of your hand, a scar straight across the passes right through them.

the days move on and ava heals and ava bandages your cuts and bruises and a broken wrist when you don’t, when you are human and frail and strong; ava falls asleep, too wild and small and lonely and beautiful, her spine curled against your chest. she wakes you with coffee and once, after a particularly bad battle, where you can’t move the next morning, a blow to your head too hard, she stays with you all day in bed, reading and running her fingers through your hair. she wears a soft sweater and socks with little dogs on them and says you’re a miracle, you’re such a miracle, i would destroy the world before i lose you and it’s true; it’s scripture it’s sacred it’s heresy it’s a blessing. a promise from a god, while you feel woozy and nauseous and your neck aches — a promise from a god, weighty and beautiful and sighed into your skin in the afternoon rain.

ava comes back in love with you; ava comes back —

there’s an explosion inside the sepulchre and everything is on fire; you have not been scared for so long — forgive us, we lived happily during the war; but on the wild nights who can you call home? only the one who knows your name — and you wonder if ava died staring at a cross; you wonder if you will grieve in this life, as you had before. you wonder if ava knew, if ava has always known, if ava was tired.

but then ava comes back — again, again — sooty and with torn armor and a gash across her face that hasn’t healed, blood streaming down. she walks through fire, unburnt, a smirk, even, on her face. ava comes back and kisses you and you taste blood and ash and dust to dust and the strawberry chapstick she had put on in the van before the battle, tucked in into her pocket with a wink. you have seen many miracles but this is one of an order you will never understand, one that will stop people from killing each other, one that is catastrophe and heaven.

‘let’s go home, bea,’ ava says, and you search her mouth for a sacrament and find it in the press of her tongue on the backs of your teeth. ‘let’s go home.’

and you do — the ocean, and in bed weeks later, the cut across her face red and shiny and healed, the edges pulled together taught, the burn on the palm of your hand a webbed scar right in the middle —

‘did you know,’ she says, in the moon and the quiet, ‘that joan of arc was put to death for wearing men’s clothing? she was so theologically clever that they could only order an execution if she relapsed into heresy; the guards at the prison she was at only gave her men’s clothes, which they eventually used to convict her.’

you kiss ava’s temple; her skin smells like lavender. she presses her lips to your pulse point.

‘being a girl,’ she says, her brow furrowed, your bodies stretched and tangled under the sheets. ‘she burned at the stake for being a girl.’

‘do you — do you remember?’

she turns toward you, different than you remember but still the same, still exuberant about the sea and ice cream and books she loves, texting and movie theaters and petting every dog you pass on the street; ‘sometimes.’

‘okay.’

’there are days —‘ she laces your fingers together — ‘that i feel a call backward, in my palms, in my knees, in the back of my skull. to understand, to see. there are days when all i know of this life is to love you.’ she presses a kiss to the divinium tattoo on your forearm that glows blue in the dark when she’s near. ‘this is how i know you. you are what i know.’

‘i will never watch you die again.’

‘i’m not sure i can.’

‘well then i’ll join you, wherever we go next.’

‘yeah,’ she says, so sure, prophetic, ‘you will.’

ava comes back for you —

what did the voice tell you when you returned to your room? it told me that i should answer you bravely.

#ollie i literally do not know i need to go drink a beer or something #this happened bc i spent like 2 hours reading through joan of arc archives but it's not even my fault #listen i know it's insane but it's like an atmospheric river in southern california we are all a little squirrely rn here lol #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #ANYWAY they are happy by the beach forever lol #also there’s so many references in here & it’s just a prompt so lol if u want to know any of them & can’t find them on google FIRST #hmu lol

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sweetsweetbumblebee · 1 year

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gonna make a playlist just 4 songs that feel like theyre abt running one of these blogs

#🍯#if u have any suggestions #hmu lol

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cinematechno · 2 years

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listening to Kids and screaming, crying, throwing up, etc. from season one nostalgia and fear of the absolute hell some characters we’ve spent six whole years with are gonna go thru...i’m not ready

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #byler #lumax #if anyone wants to be friends in advance of the suffering we're abt to endure...#hmu lol

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quasieli · 2 years

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Random thought: I went to a concert the other night (my first in at least 5 years, prob a bit more) and had a really nice time. The place was really nice, the set fucking slapped, and I even chatted a bit with people I met in line/in the crowd. One person in particular, however, caught my eye. I'm really regretting that I didn't talk to them more but I got big butch/masc queer vibes from them and they were very sweet and attractive and funny and they waited for a few after the set ended cause they thought I was having a hard time and offered to help me out (I was fine, just a lil tipsy and uncoordinated lol). I didn't even get their name 😭 Well, at least I had a nice time.

#Eli Speaks #NSP #tagging that on the very very very very slight chance that they're here and would check the bands tag lol #but yeah if you were the cute person at the NSP set at irving plaza the other night #who kept cracking funny jokes with our small group that was shoved into the far left corner of the floor #hmu lol #*right corner not left #i swear i know my left from my right lol

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lobstersinmyhouse · 2 years

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Some of you people have a really strong thing for Elliot Gould with a beard. Not pointing fingers, y'all know who you are.

#hmu lol

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slowcuss · 7 months

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dm

i

need

new

friends

lmaoo

#nah fr tho #hmu lol

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kunigiribigbang · 1 year

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Yes, you can submit a work in spanish! Official communication for this event will be in english, but if you need help/clarification at any point, feel free to reach out to the mod team! We have a couple spanish-speaking mods that are always willing to help out~

#mod gato speaks spanish ayyye #hmu lol #kunigiribigbang #kngrbb #IC questions

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nevesceramics · 1 year

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Home is a People - 2021

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This series is part of my BFA thesis, focusing on the mundane and 'boring' parts of transmasculine life. I love these boys! If you attended NCECA this year, you may have gotten a peek at my bathroom t-shot fellas.

#feel free to hmu to discuss these guys #theres a lot of descriptions I could do but I dont want a huge post LOL #trans #trans pride #trans art #transmasc #trans joy #sculpture #art #ceramics #clay #queer #queer art

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dontbelasagnax · 5 months

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@codywanfirstkissbingo: kiss of life

It shouldn't be like this. He had plans. Dreams.

He'd thought of a gentle kiss shared one late night when the hum of companionship and longing looks spilled over. Lips tasting of herbal tea and ration bars.

Or, hidden away in a dark corner of Coruscant on a rare shore leave, they'd find comfort in giving into what they've both wanted for so long. Hands tangled in hair, remnants of their meal licked from blisteringly hot mouths, not a care in the world.

Perhaps they'd wait till after the war. Reach for one another amidst cheers and find joy and relief in their embrace and long awaited kiss.

Instead, he presses his lips to Obi-Wan's for the first time and does his best to breathe life into unresponsive lips and lungs. He can't ignore the acrid taste of blood and ash. There's nothing but terror and heartache lancing his chest.

'Not like this', he thinks, a hot tear running down his cheek. 'Please, stay with me.'

(bingo card under the cut)

#codywan #star wars fanart #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #cwfkb2023 #my art #this is the only whump you guys are ever getting from me 😂#also literally every artwork i make has a story behind it. hmu if you want to heard about them lol

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luckylolabug · 7 months

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Cross posting here too. I got a new tablet pen that I think actually works better than my old one so??? Heres a test sketch of Locklyle just so I could mess with pen pressure and stuff.