#i gotta get more creative with how these colors are used
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most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.
i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.
sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.
repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.
but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.
it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.
i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.
my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.
back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.
hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.
it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page:
outside it is sunset and
my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy
out of his left paw.
or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.
the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.
i love you, keep going.
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Ooh, Gentle Princely Caretaking or Fake Cryptid Real Romantic for WIP Wednesday? I gotta request more feral Kon getting domesticated by a handsome tiger, but also I can't NOT ask for more Fake Cryptid xD
gentle princely caretaking:
A good half a dozen laps of the courtyard later, Tuftan manages to herd the boy into a corner and tackle him to drag back to the bath. Humans, apparently, can run beyond any reasonable length of time. Tuftan knew they had endurance, but the boy’s is just ridiculous.
“Brat,” he growls in exasperation, and the boy snarls viciously and attempts to kick him a few more times as he claws at his back with his nonexistent claws.
Well, he knew he was getting a mostly-feral human here, Tuftan reflects resignedly as he lugs the boy back across the courtyard and nearly gets knocked over twice in the process. If he’d gotten an already tame one, that wouldn’t be much of a prize to present to Tawna. After all, he’s trying to prove he can tame a wild thing–specifically, a strong and clever and notably difficult one.
So now he’s dripping with bathwater and getting bitten by an absolute brat of a human, because of course he is.
At least he knows Tawna appreciates wild things.
a fake cryptid and a real romantic:
“Robin’s so cool, it’s gonna be awesome going hunting with him!” Superboy rhapsodizes happily, beaming in obvious delight at the idea. Clark wonders if he should’ve tried to encourage Superboy to make friends sooner, given how happy he clearly is about the idea of just hanging out for one patrol. Or . . . “hunt”. Dick used to call patrol “hunting” too, so no surprise Tim’s picked that habit up. “Do you think I should bring him another diamond? I don’t really know how to make anything that’d match his colors yet, I’m working on rubies but they’re still not good enough. I can never get the color right, you know?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Clark says, a little perplexed. Well, he supposes making gemstones is . . . technically a creative hobby? Not much different than a human making lab-grown gems or making something out of clay, for them. It sounds odd, but Superboy would just be “firing” and shaping the stones, really, so . . .
Well–Superboy definitely needs hobbies that aren’t related to either superheroics or media attention, so Clark decides to leave it for now. As long as the kid doesn’t accidentally destroy the diamond industry, it’ll be fine.
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hi hi! can I request some headcanons about the ninja (+pixal, if you're up for it) having an artist s/o? okay thank you, also I love your writing!
Oooh yess!! Where my artist ninjago enjoyers at⁉️ I’ve come to nourish you <3
Ninjago - Ninjas (+ Pixal) with an Artist s/o
Jay
Immediately asks if you can draw/paint/etc him
If you agree, he will ask again in the future
….honestly he’ll probably keep asking even if you say no
What can he say? He wants to inspire you ;)
If you have art block, he immediately jumps to pose dramatically or arrange a bowl of fruit or something
He’s equally enamored with the quality of your work and the fact that it came from your hands
He loves all your work, even the pieces you decide to scrap/re-do
“What are you doing?? That was perfect!”
“Jay? How long have you been standing there-”
On that note, he loves to watch you work
Even when you don’t know he’s watching… (he’s a little obsessed)
But the plus side of this is that he knows the exact products you use, and he can see when you’re running low
He makes sure to replenish your stocks for you :) so you won’t ever have to worry about running out mid-project
He also makes sure to flaunt your work as much as possible, especially the pieces he “inspired”
He truly thinks you’re the best artist in the world, and he WILL fight someone over it
Cole
I see Cole as a pretty artsy guy himself, so he’d be thrilled to have an artsy s/o
You might not expect it, but he’s really in tune with his feelings, so to me it makes sense
He’s not quite as artsy as you, but he knows how to appreciate it
He’s more into the performing arts himself, but he has no less respect for other types of art
He’ll totally arrange work sessions for you both, which vary depending on the vibe you’re working with
Feeling like doing something a little dark or moody? Dramatic piano. Candles. Wine/grape juice in wine glasses.
Feeling colorful? Open windows. Flowers in vases. Candy and fruit. Maybe some cartoons playing in the background.
Point being: he knows how to get a vibe going
He really loves to work alongside you, even if you’re not doing the same thing
Sometimes he tries to sketch or paint, but more often he’s just watching you work or practicing moves
(You guys totally have a shared studio btw; wood floors and barre for him, easel/supply cabinet/whatever you need for you)
You guys definitely help each other out too
He’ll teach you a few moves so you can be his dance partner every now and again, and he’s more than happy to be your muse in return
He doesn’t really do performances or anything (dance is just a side hobby), so he has all the more respect for you if you publicize your work
He loves all your work, but he’s also a great source of constructive criticism
“I like this one. It’s darker than your other pieces, though, isn’t it? More drab.”
“Yeah, that’s kinda what I was thinking. I think I was just in a mood when I made it.”
Kai
He’ll make requests, but mostly for things he thinks would be cool
“What if you did one with, like, a car shooting flames from its exhaust pipes? Oh! And the driver is super handsome with a flaming cape and swords and sunglasses that are made of pieces of the sun!”
“That is insane. …I’m starting right now.”
He really admires your art, and he’s honestly a bit jealous of your skill
He actually has a pretty creative mind, just not the means to express it
So he’ll be shy about it, but eventually he asks if you can give him some pointers
He doesn’t want to keep asking you to bring his sharks flying in jets over volcanoes to life forever, after all
He’s gotta learn to be independent!
So he’ll quietly join you while you work, watching you closely and trying to follow along
He gets frustrated when he isn’t instantly as talented as you, and you have to laughingly assure him that skill takes time
He only gains more respect for you as he tries to stay calm
He learns to truly admire your work this way
And with his admiration came a tenfold increase in support
However you share your art, he’s the #1 supporter
Posting online? He’s already liked, commented, and shared on 7 different platforms. At a showcase? He’s dressed sharply, stationed not-so-inconspicuously in front of your piece(s) and getting others to talk about them
Zane
He also has a deep appreciation for art
He doesn’t always understand non-logical things, but art has a way of resonating with him
So to have a partner who makes art…
It adds a whole new level of emotional depth to your relationship
You already make him feel complex things, so seeing art that’s from you is truly an experience
The wistfulness he gets when looking at normal art is only amplified when he remembers that your hands produced it
He likes to be with you when he admires it, squeezing your hand while he takes in the little details
He’s a quiet admirer, but he’ll absolutely attend any events you’re featured in/support any online presence you have
He never gets tired of looking at your work; or looking at you work, for that matter
If you let him, he’ll watch you work
He’s dead silent, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on how easily you get creeped out
Eventually, when you finish, he’ll stand up and join you at your side, admiring the final product
You know he likes it when he reaches for your hand with a smile, letting you rest your head against him
The most you’ll get verbally is “it’s beautiful,” but trust me, he feels so much more deeply about the piece (and you <3)
Lloyd
Lloyd is more curious than anything when he finds out you’re an artist
What kinds of art do you do? Can he see your work? Have you always liked art?
He’s eager to see your work, but he’s not sure he can “appreciate” it properly
You have to reassure him that there’s no one way to “appreciate” art, and however he feels about it, that’s just how he feels
Your response only increases his interest
He ends up getting more into art because of you
The art of appreciation, if you will
He wants to be able to understand your work more so that he knows how to support you
He mostly spends hours just staring at your work, trying to notice the little details
He’d love to watch you at work, too, if you’ll let him
He asks questions all the time, but still tries not to annoy you
He’s actually already a natural at “appreciating” art, but the fact that he’s always trying to learn only makes him better at it
So you can do nothing but smile while he tilts his head, carefully formulating his next question
They’re surprisingly deep at times:
“Do you think this piece uses smoother shapes because you were feeling relaxed, so you moved more slowly? Or perhaps you were just emulating your calmness subconsciously..?”
“That could be it. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Oh, sorry, am I overanalyzing? Sorry-”
“No, no, you’re totally right.”
You’ll ruffle his hair affectionately, and he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder while he continues to examine your piece :]
Nya
I’m gonna be honest, I don’t see Nya as the type to get all deep over the meaning of art
Like, if it’s pleasing to the eye she’ll appreciate it, but she doesn’t think about it too much
It’s just too abstract for her tastes; the pseudo-reasoning of art critics gets on her nerves
But for your work she makes an exception
Well, not really an exception—she doesn’t take to pseudo-reasoning
She knows you, she knows your feelings, so when she sees your work, she sees a piece of you in it
It’s something she doesn’t see in other art pieces; she doesn’t know the artist, so it’s nothing more than a visual piece for her
But with your pieces, she can dig deeper because she knows deeper information
That’s why she loves your work, and why she loves watching you work
You’re the only artist that makes her feel like she really understands art, and for that she appreciates you
(She still thinks that most critics talk out of their asses though)
On that note, she will fight your critics. She will hunt them down and make them regret ever trying to “understand” your work
“Tch, look at this idiot. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about! He doesn’t know you!”
“Nya, he’s complimenting my work-”
“But he doesn’t understand it!”
Honestly you think it’s a little funny how she’s unintentionally become one of those critics who argue about a piece’s meaning
Only for you though ;)
Pixal
She has a vast trove of knowledge, but feeling is something she often struggles with
There are few things that actually give her profound emotions
Your art is one of those things
The fact that it came from you, that your hands crafted it…
It stirs something in her, and suddenly the shapes and colors come to life
She asks you about it often, trying to understand
“Why is it… calming?”
“Well, I suppose I used some pretty muted colors, and the imagery is kinda peaceful… I dunno, does it calm you?”
“Yes. It makes me feel calm.”
Obviously you’re proud of her for better recognizing her emotions
And she’s proud of herself!!
Your art helps her understand a part of her that she’s only beginning to explore
And, since it comes directly from you, she credits you with the help :)
She loves to see your finished work, but she also finds herself mesmerized by your creative process
Watching the piece come together, each motion bringing it closer to completion, helps her understand the art itself
She tells herself that it helps her understand her feelings, too
Even though she knows that not every piece is dedicated to her, she always thanks you for showing her your work <3
Thanks for this request!! And thank you for reading, take care you little rockstars <33
(divider by saradika)
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago headcanons#ninjago x reader#kai smith#kai smith x reader#kai x reader#cole brookstone#cole brookstone x reader#cole x reader#jay walker#jay walker x reader#jay x reader#lloyd garmadon#lloyd garmadon x reader#lloyd x reader#zane julien#zane julien x reader#zane x reader#nya smith#nya smith x reader#nya x reader#pixal x reader#pixal borg#pixal borg x reader
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How can you improve your finances?
Pile 1-(Page of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Page of cups, 7 of cups, Knight of swords, 3 of swords, 4 of wands rx, 9 of swords, Death) *angel answers: You're ready! ; communicate clearly with others
You've gotta do some self-improvement babe. Get focused and figure out what career path fits you best. Now is the time to hustle! Separate your needs and wants. Figure out your likes and dislikes. Stop being so unsure of yourself. You've got this! Set small goals, and then move to the bigger ones. Life is not a race. Pace yourself. Stop searching for the "perfect" thing and realize the potential that already surrounds you. Everything you need is right in front of you. Literally at your fingertips! You've got to change your negative thinking and eliminate your fears as well. It seems like you had some type of falling out with someone or maybe there was some drama at a past workplace. It feels like this has caused you to turn cold and not be as receptive to others. You need to connect and put yourself out into the world more. Closing yourself off like this will only create more blockages.
Pile 2-(Temperance, Wheel of fortune, 6 of pentacles rx, Queen of swords, King of swords, The Moon rx, Ace of swords, 8 of cups, 8 of swords) *angel answers: Don't stop! ; Ask your angels
It's time to pour into your own cup for once. Do something nice for yourself. Even if it means a solo date/vacation. Practice discipline with people and certain habits you have. This could include smoking, etc. Learn to say no! Stop hanging out with that certain friend/lover when you know you shouldn't be. This could even be people that come and ask you for money often. Don't be so over extensive to others. Not everyone deserves your time and energy. You need to start seeing people/situations for what they really are. Take your rose-colored glasses off pls. Your environment/whoever you're choosing to spend time with is literally holding you back. You're too distracted and over giving to others right now. Go into hermit mode and focus on yourself for a while.
Pile 3-(The Star, The High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, The Sun, 2 of swords, 5 of wands, Queen of cups, Knight of cups, Page of wands) *angel answers: It's up to you! ; Ask for help from others
*angel # confirmation: 555
You need to stay true to yourself and do what you feel is right. Follow your intuition! It's stronger than what you think. I feel like sometimes you let opinions of others affect you. This may cause you to get in your head a lot about whether or not you're doing the right thing. These people could never reach the success that you're meant to reach in this life. So stop giving their opinions so much weight. Stop caring what others think. Stop telling people about your ideas. Just follow your dreams! Whatever creative ideas you have right now, put them into action. Maybe you've been wanting to start a small business or something related? DO IT! I'm also feeling like you don't enjoy a lot of attention and may like to remain in the background. You're meant to be in the spotlight babe! You've gotta get used to it. I think there's actually many people that would want to collaborate with you. You have to express yourself more. BE WHO YOU ARE!🤣 Seriously tho, you need to get comfortable in you own skin. Let people see the real you. You're way too amazing to keep yourself hidden the way you do.😘
*channeled song: Human nature by Madonna
Pile 4-(8 of wands, The Lovers rx, 3 of cups, 2 of cups, 2 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 6 of cups, 6 of swords) *angel answers: Wait! ; Romance
*angel # confirmation: 888
You need some balance in your life. I'm feeling in your relationships mainly. This could be with family. Maybe there's some loose ends from your past that still need to be tied? You've gotta balance your work and play as well. It's okay to let yourself have fun, but not to the point where the party life controls you. For others, you need to go out and have more fun! Stop keeping yourself so wrapped up in work. Practice having more control in situations and standing your ground. Stop letting others walk all over you. Travel would benefit you as well. Even if it's just an hour or so away. I feel like seeing different walks of life will open your mind to new possibilities. Lastly, you need to go with the flow of life more. I know you're probably tired of hearing that.🤣 Everything will happen as it's supposed to tho. You are right where you need to be. I promise babe.
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About Rafayel ❤️
Mainly things i gathered from the mini conversation we got from the miracle voyage event mixed with my thoughts 🫶🏻
*we* is used to refer to us the readers/players, hope you don't find that weird 😗
The word "home" is a person to him, He believes that we are his home
We are his most important thing, will take us along with his painting tools and canvases
He pays attention to what we like when we go out and keeps them in mind
Will buy us those things just because we liked them, *also let's not forget the knowledge he has and how smart he is in general, like knowing about the flower here and the different languages he speaks that was mentioned in one of his memories, my boi is so smart and well educated 💕*
He enjoys listening to our silly thoughts and memories, *Will add his artistic vision to the topics and might get inspired by that*
Would never get mad at us, even if we happened to ruin one of his paintings by mistake, aka the most important thing to him. *i think he will call it a happy accident*
He will sign our names on it *our special art collab 🫶🏻*
*i just know that he would be the greenest flag when it comes to him teaching / doing art with us, i think that he would be so open-minded and extremely supportive to the point of even if we paint/draw nothing but one chicken scratched line or a blob of paint, he will appreciate and treasure it, will also use his creative artistic vision to explain how that one line/blob of color "is not only just a one line/blob of color it's way more than that, it's unique because it was created by you"*
He got a little red fish called reddie, he's so caring of it, got a starfish to keep the little fish company *he also makes sure that the fish tank feels like home to them*
We are his comfort person, He feels better when we are around him. Our morning texts makes him feel happier
That's all, thank you for coming to my ted talk and feel free to add your own thoughts 🫂💕, now i gotta go and bawl my eyes a little because this man is so perfect 😭❤️
#*Please excuse any incorrect spellings or grammars. english isn't my main language 😗*#help i have fallen for this man and i can't get up#love and deepspace#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#♡
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Mike Murdock's Sunglasses: On Character Design and Autonomy
I've written a little in the past about character design in regards to the translation of zany alter ego 1960s Mike Murdock into slightly-more-grounded, at least 85% more real 21st century Mike Murdock. Specifically, I talked with artist Phil Noto about Mike's outfits in Daredevil #606-612, and analyzed the clothing choices made by the creative team in the 2020 Annual. However, one specific detail that I find interesting in Mike's transformation from Matt's hyperactive id to his own autonomous person that I haven't really written about yet is his sunglasses-- when he wears them, when he stops, and how this shift may or may not align with his journey.
Matt: "Let's see now-- I'll just muss up the mop, to give myself that carefree tousled look! A fella like Mike wouldn't be caught dead with a simple Ivy-League hair comb! And, I'll have to give my specs a coffee break for a while, as I cover my sightless eyes in a more colorful way-- If the attorney-at-law business ever gets slow, I might just decide to open a school of method acting! Yessir! Stanislavsky had nothing on me! Now, all I've gotta do is change my personality! I figure a clown like Mike Murdock is sure to be on all the time!"
Daredevil vol. 1 #26 by Stan Lee, Gene Colan, Frank Giacoia, and Artie Simek
Matt and his dark glasses were inseparable in the 60s-- literally, to the point that he even apparently wore them under his Daredevil mask (fortunately, he doesn't do that anymore). The clear hesitance of DD artists in this period to draw their blind protagonist's uncovered eyes is likely one of the reasons that when it came time for Matt to invent himself a fake sighted twin, the sunglasses stayed on. This has not always been the case. In the years since, Matt has taken on several sighted identities in which he does not wear glasses at all-- notably, con artist Jack Batlin in the 90s. Of the two approaches, the former makes slightly more in-universe sense. As someone with no vision at all, who was blinded in a physically damaging accident, logic suggests that Matt's eyes would look different from those of a sighted person-- most likely due to chemical burns/scarring, but at the very least from things like a lack of eye contact. Thus, the choice for Matt to simply switch up his style of shades for the Mike look, rather than taking the risk of foregoing them entirely, feels logical (even if it doesn't always match up with the way Matt's eyes are actually depicted, but that's a topic for another post).
As it turned out, the oversized, colorful shades ended up tying perfectly into the loudness of the rest of "Mike's" outfits, becoming a memorable staple of the look that Matt crafted for his fake twin-- a look that was as distant from the classic Matt Murdock suit and tie (and simple, dignified shades) as he could manage. These shades were iconically, undeniably Mike's. However, they were still born from the use of sunglasses as a visual shorthand for-- and Matt's in-character response to-- his blindness. A Daredevil reader in 1968 might have looked at ol' Loudmouth Mike and asked the question: If this guy were a real person, independent of Matt, with his own backstory and reasons for dressing the way he does-- would he still choose to wear dark glasses?
Mike: "Well, as I live and breathe! You're Daredevil, right? Friend of my brother, if I don't miss my guess. Real pleasure to meet you at last."
Daredevil vol. 5 #606 by Charles Soule, Phil Noto, and Clayton Cowles
("As I live and breathe" is such a funny thing for him to say in this scene.)
Enter: Fragment-Boy Mike, and the beginnings of an answer.
When it came to transforming the concept of Mike Murdock into a fully realized character of his own -- not to mention pulling him out of the 1960s and into the 2010s-- some core Mike Murdock elements were dropped by the creative team, both for the sake of streamlining the narrative and in order to match the tone of the contemporary comic. Fragment Mike is no longer Daredevil's alter ego; in fact, he claims in his first appearance in Daredevil #606 that he has never even met DD before. Gone are the loud clothes, the primary colors, the waistcoats, the fedora with the feather in it. Curiously, all that remains of his original Look(TM)...is the sunglasses.
Foggy: "That is...correct. How did you...?"
Mike: "Because I ain't him. I'm me. And now, Foggy...you need to call my brother."
Daredevil vol. 5 #608 by Charles Soule, Phil Noto, and Clayton Cowles
Fragment Mike existed in a kind of limbo that neither he, nor Matt, nor even his "creator" Reader really understood-- a tortuous state of both being and non-being, in which he believed himself to be real and then had his worldview shattered by learning that no one else saw him that way. Mike claimed his autonomy and fought for his right to live throughout that story arc, but the simple truth was that he was born out of Matt-- specifically, out of Matt's case files, from which Reader accidentally spawned him-- and the memories he possessed of being anyone/anything else were false. He was nothing but a twisted, reanimated echo of an identity his brother had created, dark glasses included; Matt but not Matt, physically separate but still bound to his brother.
Mike: "I'm Matt Murdock's twin brother, but...but I'm not. I've got some fake memories. I'm like a shell of a thing...but inside...I can tell I didn't live through anything...and I think...I think it's driving me crazy."
Daredevil vol. 6 Annual #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Le Beau Underwood, Chris Mooneyham, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles
But! Fragment Mike, just like Matt, maybe because of Matt, is a fighter. He does not take being fake lying down. Through some Norn Stone magic, our fragment became a Real Boy, with real memories of a real backstory. And if we take a look through that backstory, we finally receive an answer to that 1968 DD fan's hypothetical question, because...
Daredevil vol. 6 Annual #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Manuel Garcia, Le Beau Underwood, Chris Mooneyham, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles
The moment Mike Murdock becomes a real person, the sunglasses vanish.
Look back through Daredevil volume 6. Once he is officially, cosmically real, the only time we ever see Mike wearing dark glasses is when he is dressed up as Matt (ohhh, the poetry of it all!). He is wearing them, standing in Matt's apartment, when he dies in Matt's place-- fated, in the end, to never entirely escape his brother's gravitational pull-- but what matters is that the sunglasses tied Mike to his origins as his twin in a costume, and the loss of them indicates fully and utterly that Mike has broken away and become his own person. We even get this fascinating scene at the beginning of volume 7:
Matt: "...It was Matt. He came back from rehab, went to his apartment... I don't know what the #$@% Fisk was thinking, but I know they've got history and... Ah, Butch. He killed my brother."
Daredevil vol. 7 #1 by Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto, Matthew Wilson, and Clayton Cowles
This is Matt Murdock, in the year 2022, once more pretending to be Mike...post-Norn Stone reality rewrite. And this time? No sunglasses. In fact, Matt claims that the key to a foolproof Mike Murdock disguise is in the eyes: "Not just making sure they faced the right direction...but that no matter what, he had kindness in them..."
Do I love Mike Murdock wearing smarmy shades? Of course I do. But I love a good piece-of-clothing-as-allegory just as much, and I love peeling back the layers of identity to discover who Mike really is when he is not his brother.
#Mike-ing like I've never Miked before here...#Daredevil#Matt Murdock#Mike Murdock#Mike Murdockalypse#Adventures in Continuity#ID in alt text
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ur art is crunchy /pos !!! how do you have the confidence to use stuff that isnt pencil and cant rlly be erased if mistakes are made?
make more mistakes
ACTUAL ANSWER BELOW because it got too long. oops lol
anyway. i wrote “DO IT ON PURPOSE” because when it comes to doing a whole drawing with ONLY a pen- you gotta force your brain get creative- at least practice. in other words- work with what you have. it’s basically like solving a problem every few seconds-
because sometimes my hand eye coordination glitches for a split second. or maybe my hand shook or maybe the line is actually shit looking. but instead of scrapping the thing entirely i gotta to try and make it work. ok so if my line looks like crap here maybe i can make it a Part of the drawing by making everything look messier. OR maybe i can even just. hide it!! by coloring a thicker line along it too!!
you can actually HIDE a LOT of mistakes with a pen without erasing anything. and sometimes the mistakes are part of the art- like when i see the most beautiful art online and i see an uncolored pixel. what matters is your final output not the things you cant change now or mean nothing in the big picture
honestly going from sketch to lines and rendering with a pen is about weight control (like with a pencil- sketching yk) and not beating yourself up. in order to gain the “confidence” you gotta absolutely ANNIHILATE the need for 200% perfection. because theres beauty in a mess.
anyway so. when you get the basic stuff down like “in order to to make less mistakes with pen stuff- make sure youre used to what youre drawing already!!!” or “draw/doodle stupid shit with your pen and make it (pen) a PART of you and not some scary beast (pen)
i think it all stems down to forgiving yourself and just having fun. having fun is always my motto. if you ever go “oh no i made a mistake!!!” imagine me yelling “WHO CAAARRESSS!!!!!!!! (#love #positive)” in your EAR
#deltarune#susie deltarune#myself#ask#susart#GAHH SORRY ITS SO LONG OR SOMETHING#we have chronic ‘if you ask any of us a question ill literally take 5 paragraphs to answer it bc idk detail and context or shit’#ok bye how this helps????#mintyblitz#i would include more of our pen stuff but idk whats worth showing lol#bc we sketch with pens a lot. actually fucking hate sketching with pencils sometimes because ughh#when youre studying fine arts and have 500 black drawings ???? um. yeah. no. i dont want to touch a pencil everr AGAIN!!!!#GOD GRAPHITE EVERYWHERE!!! on my shirt on my FACE!!!#of course we still do painting and drawings with pencils and then line them after#but if im gonna doodle?? yeah. pen#also not to be a pen apologist but when a sketchbook ages the pencils fade#but pens are fucking awesome because water and air wont let it fade away#we actually use waterproof BALLPOINT pens (our fountain pen oviously is not waterproof)#(Not aponsored but buy panda oens theyre so cheap and you can paint watercolor on them girls)#anyway so the worst our penned sketches get is like. a lottle bleeding but thats cool ask in a sketchbook#pencils?? gone. blank canvas.#pencils are great but i need people to understand how convenient oen is#also pen for filling in form?? but can be used to draw? versatile. she can do anything
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2023 writing gif-making round up
Rules (adapted for fic, gifs, art, etc.): Share what you made this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you made or just the projects you're most excited about.
tagged by @victoriaspriing thank you!!!
2024 is just around the corner, so unbelievable to me. it feels like no time has passed since the beginning of 2023. i was thinking, hm it doesn’t feel like i’ve made many gifs this year, but then i went looking back at all my favorite gifsets i made and i was pleasantly surprised to see quite a significant amount. my goal for 2024 is to create more gifsets, to share with the fandom and most importantly to let the creativity flow. okay, but i’m here to reflect on my gifsets from this year, so let’s get into that shall we? i’ll share some fun statistics and then my top 5 gifsets from this year, and totally copying joana here but i’ll also give a shoutout to my favorite creators who not only inspire me but make this fandom wonderful with their creations <3
fun statistics
in total i made 188 gifsets in 2023
99 are about louis (*pretends to be shocked*)
50 are about harry
10 are larry
4 are ot5
1 about samia
1 about soyoon
the rest are 911 lone star, stranger things, only friends and first kill
28 (!!!) are elaborate gifsets
44 are or include purple
4 are about faith in the future
top 5 gifsets (in no particular order)
louis birthday gifset this has to be my favorite gifset i’ve made this year. i had so much fun making it, from trying a different color i’m not used to, to using new effects i hadn’t had the chance to try. everything came out as i had envisioned and it makes me so happy. i gotta say by the end of it i was tired. i think i spent a total of 10 hours on it, but it was so worth it
faith in the future anniversary gifset okay so this one was originally going to be blue and yellow, but the first gif (the one with the tv) wasn’t looking good, so i just did what i do best, make it purple and yellow. i’m glad i did, because not only do i love that combo, but i think it looks great. i had this vague concept of what i wanted to do. i knew i definitely wanted to include the spotify template. from there i just did what i felt in the moment. the edit with the tracklist was originally going to be in the form of a google search, but it looked so bad, so i just went for something more simple, which ended up looking so much better. the last edit was the second to last one. i was thinking, how can i include fitfwt into it? that’s when i realized i had a combination of one gifset, one edit, one gifset and one gifset, so i added one edit in the middle of the last two gifsets to create that pattern. i took my favorite louis picture from tour and just did a quick edit. with this one, less was better, and i’m very proud of how it came out
hlholidayexchange gifset i absolutely adore this one. the prompt was anything with 2014 larry. i had a very clear concept for this one. polaroids showing them together. while looking for videos i just gravitated towards their night changes performance, especially the prince and little one with the cheekbones, so that’s what i did. i was apprehensive about the blending, as it’s something i struggle with, but personally i think i did good. there’s always room for improvement, but i’m satisfied with it. the colors came to me right at the end, a combination of some of my favorite colors that are close together in the color wheel, so they look good together. it’s simple, but effective :)
louis tomlinson tinder this one was so fun to make. i especially loved coming up with hobbies and activities that describe louis. i knew i wanted to include numerology because this boy is obsessed with numbers and you can’t tell me he isn’t into numerology. as for the matches, i included his husband people who he’s potentially had a crush on based on interactions and interviews. i also love how the colors came out, i think it looks very pretty
harry’s house anniversary i love this one so much. i had a very clear concept of what i wanted to do. the cutout of the pictures plus the lyrics looked so much fun and i had a great time putting it together, and i just love the spotify template. i think everything about it is very pretty. the colors, the scenes, all of it. the only thing that makes me sad is how the video for daylight came out way later so i couldn’t include it, but other than that i love it so so much
bonus!!! this is louis tomlinson a very fun, very pleasant edit. i remember just wanting to do a gifset highlighting some aspects of louis and his career. i wanted something semi simple and visually appealing, so i did the google search overlay and from there just basic layouts. i had a lot of fun making it
shoutout to my faves!!!
@delicatepointofview @heroeddiemunson @wylanvannecks @505louis @anxiouspunk @ricky-olson @vinmauro @raypakorn @victoriaspriing @birthdaysentiment @robin-buckleys @perrieedwards @margarethcarter @neil-patrick @bobbiedebruyn @braverytattoos @justthinkingaboutlouis @loustyles @kiwikiwiandkiwi @finexbright @zourried @seatawinans @mcbride @jdeanmorgan @morgana-pendragon @niccolofares @sci-fi @benoitblanc @saw-x @binariesuns @oliviairodrigo @annacoleman @aliecenthightower @nelsonnicholas @curlyhairedprince @padme-amidala
sorry if i’m forgetting anyone. if you’re a gifmaker assume i love your gifs. tagging the people above and anyone else who happens to see this and wants to do it. no pressure!!!
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Little Peter Parker hc’s!!
General:
•He either regresses to 0-3 or 4-6
•His caregivers are Tony,Ned and aunt May
•But he also has other people that take care of him a lot when he’s small,like Mj,Happy,Steve & Wanda
•Pretty much all of the avengers will not hesitate to take care of him tho
•His favorite stuffie is a monkey and he carries it with him absolutely everywhere
•The only people that know about him being a regressor are in his closer inner circle.It’s something he likes to keep private
•Before he told anyone about him being little,he used to absolutely neglect his sleep for it.At night he’d already be outside spidey-ing,and instead of napping in the afternoon he’d use it as his little time and watch cartoons and play
•But he told people and they helped him get a healthy schedule for it
When he’s 0-3:
•Absolutely obsessed with dinosaurs.
•The Land Before Time is his absolute favorite movie
•He’s fussy with food a lot.He drinks up bottles and eats food he’s familiar with without making much of a mess and behaving really good,but the second someone tries to feed him something he doesn’t know,he will be a mess.He closes his mouth shut,cries,and if he keeps being pressured he’ll throw a whole tantrum.It could even be food he already knows just in a different shape,nope,nuh-uh,he’s not eating that (in the end he’ll think it’s yummy and eat even more off his cg’s plate)
•Sometimes sleeping is very difficult for him.He needs lots of reassurance,kisses,cuddles,a warm bottle,a nightlight,a bedtime story or lullaby and his stuffie
•He also gets lots of bad dreams,so often less than half the night is spent in his own bed and the most of it in his cg’s
•He’s a curious baby,whenever something happens he’s gotta be there and see
•Sometimes walking can be a little hard for him,but he crawls absolutely everywhere (luckily he doesn’t know how to use his spidey powers when he’s that young…)
•He loves the ocean sooo much,so aquarium trips are a must!!
•Playground trips are always great too,that boy could play in the sand for hours in pouring rain and he’d still be all smiles
•Wherever he goes,his stuffie Monkey has to come with.It’s not a want,it’s a need.If it doesn’t come,he doesn’t either
•Loves Bluey!!His favorite episodes are “Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound” and “Sleepytime” (Seriously tho,Sleepytime is the best episode)
When he’s 4-6:
•He’s a very creative kid,give him some legos and he’ll build an entire castle
•He likes to color!!Especially with crayons
•Still obsessed with dinosaurs.Although with this age range,he prefers to watch the jurassic park/world movies over the land before time
•Loves loves loves superheroes so much!He has an iron man Halloween costume that he wears like every day
•He’s a good kid,he doesn’t break rules…but he does like to push them a bit (a lot)
•Will randomly drop fun facts all the time,like “Did you know that Australia is wider than the moon?”
• And how could I forget,he is OBSESSED with Star Wars (Me too,Petey,me too)
•Has multiple lightsabers (thanks to Tony,these things are so expensive),his room is full of Star Wars posters,he has a massive R2-D2 pillow,and on Halloween he likes to dress up as Chewbacca
•Will also reference Star Wars at any chance he gets.Does anyone (but Ned) get it?No.Will he still continue?Absolutely
•Also,MOVIE NIGHTS.Like,every movie night it’s a decision between dinosaur movies and Star Wars,and believe me when I say that is a very hard decision.Sometimes he’ll just sit in front of two dvds for half an hour just to decide which one to watch
•Discovered that he can stick to things.Luckily he doesn’t know about the webs,but every now and then his cg will just hear giggling above them and when they look up he’ll just be chilling on the ceiling
I have so many more oh my god
#age regression#agere community#agere little#agere positivity#fandom agere#safe agere#sfw agere#agere boy#agere blog#agere caregiver#agere post#agerespace#age regressor#peter parker#marvel#marvel comics#marvel mcu#mcu peter parker#headcanon
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lifetimes and lifetimes - fox mulder x fem!witch reader
not every witch needs spells and stones to relive the past, or predict the future. in your opinion, the craft is much simpler than that- what is meant to be yours comes to you, at the right time. and the right thing does come, in the shape of a tall, curious fbi agent. it doesn't take long to learn just who fox mulder is to you- and that it seems you two always find each other, in every lifetime.
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this one is dedicated to @spookybasementboy bc they asked for it :)) i took some creative liberty because i’m not much of a witch myself- i was inspired by the past life situation in the season 4 ep “the field where i died” but also wanted to make sure i made it mystical, so i used a sort of invocation/prayer and vision experiences. but really i wanted to have an amalgamation of a witch and a regular person, who truly is a product of “coincidences”, run into our handsome little fox. i think it came out kinda cool. unlike anything i've written. ok ill stop explaining and let you read. <3
my ao3 | word count: 5,041
content tags: wicca, not too witchy but has spiritual experiences, mentions of bodily blood/gore, past lives, flashbacks, idiots in love, stress, fear, anxiety, slow romance, you both fall hard FAST but it’s gotta be slow!!!!!!!!!!
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°
special agent fox mulder believes in everything. he doesn’t know how not to, not with everything he’s seen in his lifetime. because of this blind faith, he gets himself in constant trouble. it was the first thing you noticed about him as he handcuffed you to the chair in the police station bullpen, that he was trouble, but in a good way. in the way that without having said a word, you felt he could turn your life upside down. even in a state of shock, you could sense that.
you sat like a prisoner, eyes shut as agent mulder settled into the desk chair opposite you. behind your eyelids, you relived flashes of moments from not even an hour prior. there was blood and bullets; you tasted wood, glass, screams, more blood. you remembered the red eyes, and the way bodies flooded beneath the pews, the sound of skulls cracking against the cold tile. you remembered reciting the only prayer that you could remember, the first one you learned when you left the church at 18. you felt the wiry carpet burning your elbows as you crawled away. you heard their voices repeating, “baruch hashem, baruch hashem, baruch hashem…” you remembered being chased, and after that, nothing else. as you awaited what surely was to become your interrogation you began to pray again, because it felt like you had no other means of safety. the earth is my mother, i shall not want…
“so, you like to run, huh?” the man teased, easing into his questioning.
agent mulder’s authority was practically dripping from him- tailored suit, slack tie, blue and white badge screaming from his pocket. the print of his gun pressed against the black holster which flashed enticingly behind his coat. you saw power in his eyes, and a boyish attitude in his smile as he awaited your response. he was an understated kind of handsome. the kind that snuck up on you.
you winced as you shifted in the chair, and the man watched you tremble, suspicious of your state. maybe it’s drugs, he thought, but he quickly rescinded that. you just didn’t seem like the type. to the naked eye, you were healthy; plump arms and legs, round cheeks, secretive eyes. you were an intriguing sight, and not just because of your clothes. chained to a chair, your curling tendrils of hair and berry lipstick looked so out of place in a dirty, bustling environment like the one in which you both sat. he saw a girl adorned in earthy colors both muted enough to communicate a soft darkness, and bright enough to draw people to it. the beat-to-shit brown boots on your sleepy feet showed how long you’ve been drifting by, living alone. silver ornamented your neck and ears and poised hands, and agent mulder liked how it contrasted the tarnished handcuffs. you were battered from the events of your evening, with deep cuts in your hands and knees, and bloody scrapes all over your body, taking turns sharing skin with the bruises. you were a dichotomous girl, giving him every reason to be curious; yet all personal inquiries aside, agent mulder had a job to do. he had caught you fleeing a crime scene, after all.
something in his gut wanted to release you, to let you float right out the front door and back to wherever you came from; but in his chronic open-mindedness, he couldn’t be sure if you weren’t tricking him some way into feeling that. so he kept you locked tight and facing him, eagerly awaiting your statement.
“running is for the guilty, agent mulder.”
“well, i had to chase you down, didn’t i?”
“who says you decide what i’m guilty of?”
the agent turned to the computer and opened a statement file, deciding to take yours himself. “what’s your name, miss?”
“which one? i have a few.”
“whichever one i can find in an official file somewhere in this pigsty,” he grinned.
“well, that’s not gonna be much help,” you shot the man a wink, “they know me by a handful, too.”
“well, come up with one, then.”
you sat for a moment, already settled on the name you wanted to hear him repeat, but wanting to tease anyway. when you offered it up, the sound rang in his ears like angel’s bells.
agent mulder simply couldn’t stifle his curiosity. as he typed your chosen name out, he asked, “what does it mean?”
“well, my last name is an old name. for us wiccan, it means old friend. and i like to think of myself that way- familiar, constant, when the world is always moving.”
“and your first?”
“my favorite shakespeare character.” you admitted. the man’s face flooded with color, and you could hear him thinking, is she fucking with me? so you tacked on, “you know, just because someone’s a witch doesn’t mean they’re an isolationist. i read.”
“i didn’t say anything!” agent mulder chuckled awkwardly. your intuition had him drawing nervous breaths. “so, you’re a witch. is that why you were at the church? did you plan to invoke, or just poke fun?”
“i’m not that kind of witch, agent mulder. not all witches are mean-spirited. i was there because i had walked past the church a few days ago, and i saw the stained glass windows from outside. they were so beautiful, i wanted to see them up close. i’m not a fan of what happens at churches, but i do love their art.”
for an accepting person, agent mulder didn’t realize how many preconceived notions he held. sat before him was a girl who pledges to be a witch, but visits catholic churches in her free time like museums. a girl who chose her name according to the day. in what little he knew, there seemed to be not one solid fact on which he could build a realistic profile. tight-lipped, the man asked for your age, place and date of birth, and address.
“i’m not sure exactly how many lives i’ve had, but in this one, i’m 29. arlington, d.c… um, october 31st, 1964… oh, and right now, i’m at 2632 hegal place, alexandria. apartment 42.”
as you spoke, a wind blew through the station. it ruffled the papers on agent mulder’s desk, and it whistled through the links to your handcuffs. the hair stood up on your arms as the wind whispered, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. you felt it in your gut.
“2632?” agent mulder swallowed thickly, his curious pupils inflating almost cartoonishly. you saw his goosebumps and smiled.
as if you’d known all along, you asked, “you live in the building next door, don’t you? 2630?”
agent mulder didn’t respond, but the blood in his cheeks did for him. you shifted in your seat again, feeling a burning in your stomach. you hadn’t felt that hot intuition for a long time. there was a haunting quality to his face that was drawing you away from your defense; you couldn’t keep up the mysterious act, because something about him made it impossible to hide.
“s-so, what were you doing at the church?”
“you already asked me that, sir.”
you were surprised that even in the chaos of the police station, you weren’t alone. you felt alone. agent mulder seemed to look at you like his eyes didn’t recognize another thing, like the world was unfamiliar to him aside from your face, your eyes. and all those years of sitting in meditation, of attempting to regress, to see who you were before and who your soul was tethered to were useless. you should’ve known by now to trust in your world, in its karma. it always comes when it’s meant to.
“you can call me fox, if it’s easier. sir is so… formal.”
fox’s eyes sparkled. you’d seen that shimmer before, but in water, and in shifting light. you looked into him, and wiped your clammy palms against your pantyhose-clad thighs. for the first time all night, you felt your barrier coming down, the shield you raised back at the church, against the cops and the world. the fear you stifled to survive was finally flooding through your veins, and the tears in your eyes followed like dominoes.
fox instinctively abandoned the report and took your palms in his own, passing his calloused thumbs over your trembling knuckles. “hey, hey, it’s okay,”
“i-i”m sorry,” you hiccuped, struggling to speak. “i’m- m’over… overwhelmed,”
“catch your breath,” he whispered, running his palms up and down your arms. his touch was seraphic, and by it, you knew you’d felt it before. lifetimes and lifetimes of it. “take it easy, i’m here.”
when you calmed down, he began again, “can you tell me what happened?”
“well… i went into the church. to look at the windows, like i said. i was alone, it was maybe around six o'clock by then. they were just finishing mass, and everyone stood up to leave, a-and then they came in,” you stuttered, “the, uh, the shooters. they were- they were in all black, and wore red masks, like ones from the halloween store. they were chanting, they said, baruch hashem. it sounded like hebrew, but i think it was different, i’m not sure. it sounded old. and they were chanting, and they knocked so many people down in the aisles to get to the alter. they fired a few rounds off at the windows, glass fell on my head… i saw a lot of people fall, so i dropped to the ground and pressed my face to the wall. i prayed over and over, to the earth, it’s the only prayer i could remember. i just wanted to hide, y’know? a-and when- when they got up to the altar, they-”
the agent stopped you to ask, “what prayer?”
“why does it matter?” you sniffled.
“because it might have been what got you out in time.”
his eyes were so pleading, and the fire curling around your bones stood to remind you he was to be trusted. so you recited the prayer, a slightly juvenile one that in your newness you cut down to the meat of: “the earth is my mother, i shall not want. she restores my body and awakens my soul. although i walk in the shadow of changing seasons and passing time, i will not fear death, for the essence of life is within me, the peace and beauty of earth comfort me. as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”
the man marveled at how the words spilled from your tongue, so ingrained in your muscle memory that they were second nature. you kept a cadence, and each word was its own. he saw now you were not one to sit surrounded by potions and symbols to cloud your focus; you simply let the power of the world pass through you, and hoped to harness it and be protected as you yielded to it. you repeated that mantra like it was all you had left- he could tell. he’d never met such a modern witch. to him, you were a brand new kind of x file, with subtle powers he has yet to comprehend.
“that’s beautiful,” he complimented as he squeezed your palms. “alright, now breathe. you're safe. keep talking.”
shutting your eyes, you tried to reimagine the horror. you’d never dreamed of seeing anything so inhumane, but maybe these details would be useful. you can’t have just seen them for nothing.
“they, um, they took the priest. one of them shot him, and then another laid him on the table, and- and he used a knife to cut him open. there… there was so much blood,” you swallowed thickly. “they took his… y’know, his uh, insides. they dragged them out, and they chanted, and anyone who stood up was shot. i- i watched them take it all and, uh, they put it in the tabernacle, of all places… and their eyes glowed under the masks, bright red, and they never stopped chanting. once they started taking people from the pews with knives, i crawled out the side door, because i had th-this feeling, like, like it would be me next. i felt it everywhere. and when the cops showed up…”
“you didn’t want to get stuck. and you thought i was one of them, coming to take you, so you ran from me.” fox finished your thought, a resonant pain shaking his ribcage at the thought of making an innocent girl just try to outrun the danger. “you saved yourself, you know. i don’t know how your prayer worked, but you did something, summoned something that saved you long enough to get you out.”
“and it made you follow me.” you sighed, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. “why?”
fox’s eyes traveled across your face, inspecting every detail, wishing he had a microscope. his hand raised deliberately to brush a lock of hair from your face. “i don’t know.”
“what is your gut telling you?”
“its…” the man felt like his lungs were going to pop, two balloons over-inflated, under siege by a swarm of butterflies. “i wanted to follow you. to find you, not arrest you. but you kept running, so… y’know, logic took over.”
fox took a moment to fish the handcuff key from his pocket, and he unlocked your wrists, rubbing softly at the red marks. the agent winced, guilt-ridden for fastening them too tight. “does it hurt?”
“no, m’okay,” you muttered. your head was pounding, and when his fingertips grazed your pulse, you felt somewhat weak.
fox let you rest for a few minutes while he typed up your account. he remembered every word. as he worked, his leg consciously shifted out to knock against your knee, and the two of you sat that way for a while, touching bones. when he was done, he leaned back in the borrowed desk chair and sighed, dragging his big palms down his face.
“can i ask why you’re investigating this?” you brought one leg over the other, suddenly a bit conscious of the length of your dress. you saw his eyes follow, and you flushed.
“oh, well, my partner and i- scully, you met her- we’re, uh, we’re investigating a string of ritual murders. we’ve followed these guys through the state, they shoot up masses and do what they believe to be sacrifices to jesus himself. that- that chant you mentioned, baruch hashem, i recognize it. it’s aramaic, the language jesus spoke. means “blessed be the name”. we’ve gathered they chant that over and over and they, uh,” the agent paused, seeing the discomfort on your face, “you don’t want to know the details.”
“no, i do! it's just a little raw is all,” you flashed a meek smile, gesturing with a nod for him to continue.
“well, they seem to be taking people’s… entrails, the priest’s first, and offering them up by putting them in the tabernacle. my theory is they seem to think that if they offer holy blood, and let it be anointed with the eucharist, it'll reward them with god’s love and immortality. as far as we know, they belong to a cult that moves across the country, sacrificing lives to win god’s favor. and what you saw tonight- what you suffered- it’s going to help us stop them.”
“really?”
“yes, really,” he grinned. “listen, i’m not going to hold you here. you’re a victim, you don’t deserve to keep reliving this. you need to go home, get some rest.”
there was still that fire in you, churning and hissing within your throat, reminding you not to ignore it. you never did. in your practices, you always bended to the will of your fire. every invocation, every motion, was deliberate. it all came through you. you didn’t adhere to the rules of everyone else who believed like you did; you belonged to no wiccan circle, no congregation. you just made your way in the world, a ritualist by nature, working with this life and world while understanding your diversion from it. you let your selves be your guide- every version of you that has lived wisely for your benefit.
thinking of what you are, and what you’ll become now you’ve met fox mulder, the flames licked your tongue, making you honest again. “i’m scared to leave. i… i don’t want them to come for me.”
fox’s comforting grin fell. he saw how you made yourself small in the chair, and he wished he could switch places. in an instant, he’d be the one interrogated, judged, the one seeing guts and blood when he closed his eyes. he couldn’t let that be what you turned into.
“i can bring you. i can get you security, protective custody, anything you need. i’ll protect you myself if i have to,” fox swore, “i won’t let them get to you, okay?”
a sad little laugh bubbled in your throat, and you reached for the hand that rested on the computer mouse. you adored the feeling of his tired skin beneath yours so sensitive. “i guess i don’t really know what’ll feel safe just yet.”
“then let me take you home, at least,” fox offered. “i do live next door.”
“you do.”
you stood up, feeling a bit achy in the knees. fox offered you his arm and you wrapped your palm around it gratefully. you watched him motion across the station to the pretty redhead you’d met in cuffs, who nodded softly. his partner. there was a smart look in her eye, and you knew she had the answers- to what, you couldn’t be sure, but she held a truth within her. it glowed golden against the pink of her skin.
the agent ushered you to a small car outside the station, opening the passenger side for you to slide in. you giggled at his old-fashioned ways, enamored by how he shed his suit jacket and laid it across your nearly bare legs in the car. “so you don’t get cold,” he explained, but you couldn’t care less about why.
the drive was silent. fox went slowly, although you had the feeling he tended to speed. his hand rested on the gear shift out of baseless habit, even though the car was automatic. he was tense, anxious, aware; the muscle at the curve of his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was keeping time, and a stubborn slice of hair kept falling against his forehead no matter how many times he blew it away. you admired him from your side of the car, seeing how traffic lights reflected in his eyes. all it took was for fox to deal a soft glance your way, with just a slight tilt of the head, for you to feel yourself in this car before, within this exact moment some other lateral time. a second wave of goosebumps riddled your body.
show me, you begged in silence, willing to be heard by whatever force was showing you new versions of the man behind the wheel. show me who he is. show me who he is to me.
a sudden burst of rain smacked against the windshield of the car, causing both of you to jump. there was no storm following- it was as if a squall came down, just momentarily, to rinse the car. when you blinked, you saw fox driving a first-edition ford in a tweed coat and flat cap, a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he asked you about your day; then, he was jostling atop a cart, hands on worn horse reigns, singing some folk song you’d never heard. another blink revealed him as a boy, holding your juvenile hand and speaking middle french as he passed you a flower, with that same concentrated head tilt and gaze as all the other visions. you’d been here so many times, protected by him, going towards a life with him. you knew he felt it, too, because the beat of his heart was loud enough to hear how it synced with yours. not a piece of you both was out of time, now that the world had removed its wedge. you rested your hand atop his on the gear shift, and the muscle in his mouth loosened.
when fox pulled up to your building, you waited for him to come around and let you out with a teasing smile. he took your hand gingerly and led you down the sidewalk. he helped you through your building’s door, up the stairs, and he swiped the keyring from your shaking hands and unlocked your apartment for you. the familiar smell of cinnamon air freshener eased your nerves as you switched on the lights, and you saw fox get a glimpse of your life for the first time. he smiled at your home where you lived in the same room, on the same floor, in the same layout one building away, as him. your living room window looked like his. your television was in the same place. you had far more books, and your desk was littered with drawings, but everything was reminiscent of his apartment. and you saw his home now as you looked around, like you had three-dimensional lenses on- you in the blue film, and him in the red. he had no trouble finding the sink and filling a cup for you while you drifted to the couch and sat down. after having time to settle, your body ached.
“i can't believe this,” was all he could say.
you took the glass from him and sipped it greedily, falling out of shock and into need. you patted the cushion beside you, and he took a seat.
“you’re familiar with past lives, right?”
“well, yeah,” he confirmed, “i know different theories and cultural views of reincarnation. it's an interesting concept, to be born again but always the same, an amalgamation of the people you were before.”
“i think so, too.”
“but you’re wiccan, so you know all about that already, right?”
“well, i think you should know that things for me are different, fox. i mean, i tell people i’m wiccan, so they call me a witch, and i go with that. i guess i’m spooky to other people. i lean into it because it does them less harm to simplify me and me less harm to just live how i want in private. if i could create a whole new kind of practice, i would, but sometimes its easier to just let people see you how they do and move along,” you elucidated. “what you might think wiccans believe isn’t always what i believe, y’know? it’s just the closest label. works better than deist or freak or whatever. and being here with you, and all these visions, these memories i’m having… i don’t really know what i’m getting at. this is all to say that yes, i believe in past lives, and i’m not so much wiccan as i am just myself.”
“i get it. you follow your own rules. you have an instinct, just something that kind of… burns in you, right?”
all the words he could’ve used, and he chose burn. because love burns, pain burns, life burns. this entire night has burned you. and he’s burned, too, branded with the belief you share.
“yeah.”
“so, did you know me in your version of past lives, then?” the agent inquired, bumping your knee with his knuckles playfully.
“i know i did, because i asked the world to show you to me, and now i see every version of you. four, maybe five of you, in the same exact moment. you don’t change. and you’re always with me, always a force. this gentle, ferocious thing, keeping me to yourself. and i think in each one, i love you.”
fox’s brain was swimming in confusion while his body buzzed with want. distractedly, he wondered, “how can something be gentle and ferocious?”
softly, you recited, “it’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body. the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. it means you have a body, too. you will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”
fox beamed, “if beale street could talk. you are well read.”
you set the glass of water down on the coffee table that looked just like his, and you said, “i know you, fox. not in this life yet, but i’ve known you in every one before. coincidences aren’t just coincidences.”
“i never thought so,” the agent nodded thoughtfully. you couldn’t tell what was in his head this time, and you wanted so badly to know. when he did reveal a question, you didn’t expect it. “what was the part of that prayer you said for me earlier? something about the universe?”
quietly, you recanted: “as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”
fox’s face burst into a wild smile, one that used every tooth he had. he thought of how his entire life, he looked up to the stars, worshiped them; hoping they’d be benevolent enough to bring his sister back, to save his life, to make all of his pain worthwhile. and there they were, divine within your oldest prayer, the very same prayer that guided him from the church in your direction in the first place. you could believe it was the earth, or the spirits you confided in all you liked, but to him the stars had made it all possible. maybe he was a witch in his own way, too, if he played by your rules.
fox sat in silence with you for a while, refilling your glass while you collected your nerves. the man offered to patch a few of your cuts just so he could pick apart the details of your life in the apartment. with the cover of looking for a first aid kit, he flipped through your books, searching for your copy of james baldwin. he admired your records, finding music he’s loved for years and some he’s never heard before. he studied your little jars of herbs that coexisted alongside tylenol bottles. he saw the parts of your window that you colored with magic marker, because of how you longed for true stained glass. he frowned, thinking what a shame it was those bastards destroyed the art you’d gone to admire tonight.
as he looked, he learned again what it is like to feel your presence, to be surrounded by you. he felt a sudden gap mending in the space within him, and he didn’t need magic to know why. falling in love was magical enough.
you spent some time allowing fox to nurse your bumps and bruises (once he stopped fake-looking for the first aid kit), and admired how he childishly placed bandaids all over your arms and legs as if they’d heal all. it was more about letting him care for you, and feeling his hands in places you’d only hoped they’d touched before. he hummed softly to himself all the while, and you were a puddle by the time he finished; when you were the center of his focus, he was nothing but a big sap, muttering soft praises and showering you with smiles. you couldn’t believe it took you so long to find him, or rather that the world took so long to bring you his way. you had so much to make up for now.
when it was time for him to go, you followed him to the door like a puppy. you didn’t feel the discomfort anymore, or the fear of your death. you only felt the doting hands of karma, proving to you the night was simply a means to a much greater end. (un)coincidentally, karma’s hands felt just like his.
fox leaned in your doorway, his tie undone and his authority stripped. “i’ll come by to check on you in the morning,” he assured.
“i’ll be here.”
“where do you work?” fox asked, and when your lips melted into a helpless grin, he pushed, “come on, where?”
“i’m a receptionist at the national archives.”
the believer before you fell to the mercy of his faith, picturing the building on the same street as his job. he imagined how many times you must have walked past him to go to work, all those days spent believing in a love he was missing. his ageless eyes folded on themselves with disbelief, and his laugh rattled deep in his chest.
“jesus. are you sure you’re not something else? a genie, a spirit? an angel?”
“nope. just a witch. and a bad one, at that.”
you pushed onto your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, finding his scruff so familiar to your lips. he sighed softly at the touch of your hands, feeling embers sparking in their wake.
like it was a secret, he murmured, “i have one more question.”
“hm?”
“why do you choose me? if you’ve lived all these lives, why me?”
you settled back onto your heels and smiled. your palm rested against his jaw as you replied, “you know, i don’t think i ever had a choice.”
he wanted to kiss you, but you both know he’s too much of a gentleman. so he only gazed at you for a while, pressing your hand flush to his face, before letting it fall and stepping into the hallway. and as you watched him leave, you imagined every time he’d come back to save you, to love you, to tilt his head and realign himself as the lover you’ve kept for lifetimes.
“you know where to find me,” you called after the man, and he looked over his shoulder with enough love to shatter the sky.
“i guess i always do, don’t i?”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°
prayer altered for story, sourced from this website
quote used from novel if beale street could talk by james baldwin
#Spotify#fox mulder#x files#spooky mulder#dana scully#sculder#msr#the x files#msr fanfic#fox mulder x reader#fox mulder x you#domestic fox mulder#soft fox mulder#fox mulder x reader fluff#fox mulder fluff#witchcraft#witch character
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what do you think a phil lester movie would entail
i feel like it would be somewhere in the sci-fi horror realm, kind of alien-esque? or maybe jordan peele-esque comedy horror? either way its a horror flick, but like way more focus on the unsettling psychological thrill rather than jumpscares or even gore, like a threat that you cant even see. for the sake of keeping with the 'phil likes bright colors' thing, it would be cool if it was kinda hyper-saturated but somehow the saturation is unsettling instead of fun and bright. or maybe tactical use of bright colors in an otherwise dark movie, kinda like phil adding a splash of color everywhere in the phouse. this is just me being fully self-indulgent but disasterpeace would do the soundtrack (composer for hyper light drifter and, more importantly, it follows).
as for a narrative, idk i do think it would be sci-fi in nature like i think dapc demon stuff specifically was dans influence although obv phil loves some "classic" (read 90s) horror as well. in terms of phils personal fears he's mentioned home invasion?
ok im literally whipping out tabinof for this and his fears listed here are horses, burglars, and the sea. so maybe like an horse-like underwater creature thing??? with like marine biologists working on figuring this shit out, idk how burglars would fit into this but idk phils gotta pretty creative mind if we've seen anything from his old experimental snokoplasm shit. but like more short films i would also be fine with like start small before getting to 90 mins and some concepts only require 10 mins on youtube IDK I WANNA PICK AT PHILS BRAIN FOR HOURS
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Rusty and I walked into the bustling bar, the sound of live music and laughter filling the air. The aroma of whiskey and beer hung thick as we made our way to a cozy table at the back. Rusty casually held out the chair for me, a small smile gracing his lips as I took a seat across from him.
As I reached for the menu, Rusty’s deep voice rumbled through the chatter, “Order what you want, Darlin’. I’ll pay for it.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as he added, “It’s on me tonight.”
I chuckled softly at his statement. “Any drink I want, huh? Might take advantage of that offer, Rusty.” I teased, flipping through the cocktail list. The vibrant colors and creative names of the drinks made it hard to choose just one.
Rusty leaned back in his chair, an easy grin on his face. “Don’t take too long now, Darlin’. You know you can always count on me to spoil you.”
I finally made my decision and signaled the bartender for my choice. “I’ll take the house special cocktail,” I told Rusty with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve treated myself to something fancy.”
Rusty’s eyes lit up in approval. “Good choice, Darlin’,” he said. “I’ll go with a good ol’ whiskey, neat. Can’t go wrong with that.”
"I'll be right back, baby, gotta hit the can," he said with a sly smile, causing a playful twinkle in his eye. I watched as he sauntered away, the muscles in his back and the shape of his well-defined ass catching my attention. I couldn't help but lower my gaze, appreciating the view as he made his way through the crowd.
As if sensing my gaze on him, Rusty turned around and caught my eyes lingering on him. With a smirk, he called out to me, "You coming, darlin'?" His playful tone and inviting grin drew me in, and I felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of joining him.
I offered him a coy smile and replied, "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting." With that, I followed Rusty to the restrooms, the heat of the moment lingering in the air as we shared a brief, playful exchange amidst the din of the bustling bar.
As I followed Rusty into the bathroom, I could hear the click of the lock as he quickly closed the door behind us. I raised an eyebrow at him, a little surprised at his urgency, and couldn't help but chuckle as I said, "Wow, privacy just to go pee?"
Rusty smirked and walked over to one of the stalls, leaning against the door as he replied, "Well, you never know who might walk in." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he added, "Plus, it's nice in here, isn't it? Quiet and secluded."
I couldn't deny that the bathroom did offer a certain level of privacy, but I wasn't quite sure what Rusty had in mind. I watched as he turned to me and asked, "How about you sit on the sink and strip for me, baby?"
I felt my cheeks flush as I stammered, "Rusty, we can't do that here. Someone could hear."
But Rusty just grinned and shrugged, clearly unfazed by the potential risk. "Come on, it'll be exciting. No one will suspect a thing, and I can't resist the thought of having you all to myself."
I hesitated, torn between the thrill of his suggestion and the rational fear of getting caught. But as Rusty continued to gaze at me with those captivating eyes, I found myself unable to resist his charm. With a nervous laugh, I relented, "Okay, but just this once."
As I sat on the sink, I could feel the anticipation building in the air. Rusty stood before me, his eyes fixated on my every movement as I slowly began to strip. His gaze was intense, and it sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he was devouring me with his eyes, making me feel both vulnerable and desired at the same time.
I caught his gaze as I unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His expression was almost hungry, and it made my pulse quicken. I could feel the heat rising between us, and I knew that this was going to be more than just a casual encounter.
As I slid my panties down my legs, Rusty leaned against the wall, still watching me with a hunger that was undeniable. The intensity of his gaze made me feel exposed in the most exhilarating way. I could sense the tension in the room, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before things escalated.
As my last piece of clothing hit the floor, I looked up to see Rusty reaching down to unbutton his pants. I couldn't help but gasp as he slid his hand inside, his own desire mirroring mine. It was as if he couldn't resist the temptation any longer, and the sight of him touching himself only fueled my own desire.
"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I can't wait any longer."
As I watched Rusty pleasuring himself, I couldn't help but feel a familiar desire building within me. I leaned back against the mirror, feeling the cool surface against my skin, and let out a small, teasing laugh. "Rusty, are you just going to pleasure yourself? What about me?" I asked, wanting to be included in the moment.
Rusty's eyes flickered up to meet mine, a mischievous glint in his gaze as he pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing for me to be silent. "Shhh, don't speak," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Just sit pretty for me." His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I obediently complied, remaining still as I watched him continue to stroke himself.
As Rusty's movements became faster, I could see the tension building in his body. His head tilted back, his breath coming out in soft gasps as he fought to hold himself back. "You are driving me crazy," he finally gasped, his words a low growl that sent a surge of heat through me.
I watched as Rusty's movements quickened, his hand moving faster and I couldn't tear my eyes away. The desire swelled inside me, and I bit my lip to suppress the yearning that threatened to spill over.
"Rusty, you fucking tease," I blurted out, my frustration and desire merging into a single, breathless confession.
Rusty's dark eyes met mine, and a wry smile played at the corners of his lips. "You ain't seen nothing yet, darlin'," he drawled, his voice low and heated. "But I promise, you'll get your turn."
His words only fueled the fire burning inside me, igniting the need to be more than a mere spectator in the symphony of pleasure unfolding before me. As much as his teasing roused my impatience, there was an undeniable thrill in the anticipation of what was to come.
I watched as Rusty let out a low moan, his hand coming to a stop in his pants. I couldn't help but notice the heat rising to my cheeks as I caught a glimpse of his raw desire. As he let out a soft chuckle, I hesitated for a moment before finally asking, "Are you okay?"
Rusty pulled his hand out of his pants and flashed me a mischievous grin. "Yeah, I'm fine, darlin'," he replied, his voice low and husky. It sent shivers down my spine as he approached the sink, turning the water on and washing his hands before reaching for me. Without warning, he grabbed my legs and spread them apart as he pulled his pants down, the smirk never leaving his face.
"I'm going to make you sing like a canary so everyone in the bar can hear you moan my name," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Before I could even process his words, he pulled me forward by the waist and urged me, "Don't hold back."
My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to gather my thoughts, but a surge of desire overcame me. His boldness and confidence were both intimidating and alluring. As his fingers traced the contours of my skin, I found myself unable to resist him any longer.
As Rusty Nail continued to thrust into me, I couldn't help but moan loudly, the sensation of him filling me up sending waves of pleasure through my body. His pace quickened, and I found myself gripping onto him, desperate for more.
Suddenly, he lifted me up in his arms and pressed my back against the wall, causing me to gasp with surprise at the sudden change in position. Looking into his eyes, I could see the intense desire burning within him. And then he spoke, his voice filled with passion and lust, "What's my name, baby?"
I couldn't help but shiver at his words, the commanding tone sending a jolt of excitement through me. I looked into his eyes and with a breathless whisper, I replied, "Rusty Nail, you're Rusty Nail."
He smirked, his grip on me tightening as he continued to move with relentless force. "That's right, baby. Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough with desire.
I gasped and repeated, "Rusty Nail, oh god, Rusty Nail," my words turning into a series of breathless moans as he continued to claim me as his own. The sound of our bodies coming together filled the room, and I knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with erotic pleasure and intense passion.
As his hips slammed harder into mine, I could feel the intensity building between us. His breath was hot against my neck as I gripped onto him, lost in the moment. Suddenly, he growled, his voice deeper and more intense than before. "Say my name louder," he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. "I want everyone to hear it."
I moaned louder as he continued to thrust into me, the pleasure overwhelming my senses. I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge, and his demand only pushed me further. "Rusty Nail!" I yelled out, my voice filled with desire and need. The sound echoed around us as he continued to move against me, and I could see the effect it had on him.
"Fuck, that's it," he moaned, his own voice getting louder as he brought us both closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. "Say it again," he demanded, his movements becoming more frantic. I complied, not caring who heard as I called out his name once more, feeling the tension release as we both reached our peak.
As we lay tangled together, catching our breath, he looked at me with a satisfied smirk. "That's right," he said, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Everyone should know who you belong to." And in that moment, I knew that I wouldn't have it any other way.
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I really love your fashion choice for your characters!!
How do you design the outfits on your oc, and what are your tips in character design?
Ooof~! I answered this one HELLA late (○ ⋏ ○)…
But here's the answer for anyone interested!
Read More ⬎
Tip Numero 1:
Have a clear description of your character’s personality and fashion sense. I guess this is pretty self-explanatory lol, but it’s very helpful! If you understand enough about how your character acts, you can get a pretty good idea of what type of clothes they’d wear~!
For example, my monster girly Amour and Peacock!
For peacock, I knew I wanted a bubbly cropped street look to match her personality. And adding rips and tears to give that quintessential zombie look added to how explosive her style and optimism can be.
Then we have Amour. She’s….. something alright! As a fallen cherub, I thought it would be cute if she wore a blazer to match the pure nature of where she’s from. But…. She is anything but pure. Despite this, I still gave her a cutesy pastel love core-esqe look, so it can be a bit of a subversion of expectations for her character. The type of person who looks like they wouldn’t hurt a fly, yet then proceeds to smash said fly into the ground with her weapon and keep beating it with a smile on her face even though the fly is far gone past tense- Ooop, got a little distracted there.
Tip Number 2:
What if you’re just character designing on the fly, and don’t have a concrete idea for this character yet? You know what helps? Drumroll please *drumroll*
PINTEREST~!
Now you gotta be careful with Pinterest since it’s notoriously known for taking people’s art and not crediting them. So if you’re using another’s artwork as REFERENCE (we’ll get back to this later) for an outfit, make sure to at least find them and give ‘em a follow. You can even put the artist’s name in the pin’s comment section.
Now back to the Referencing thing. When taking ANY pins from Pinterest, be sure you’re not straight up copying or tracing it, that’s not cool! What you want to do is find specific things that you’d like on your character, and very loosely reference it which means you’re gonna have to use that noggin and be creative~! I believe in you. Using color palettes online can also help spark inspiration
When you get your references, I usually put them in one place, using Milanote, which is an app on the AppStore. (If you can’t use that, just put the references on another canvas in your art program of choice). Here’s an example of one I made for my character Cyan:
Chippu Bango 3:
Trial and error. Look, you’re not always gonna get the winning design first try. Even to this day, there will be characters I made in middle school that I’ve redesigned 5 or more times to get it right. I mean… look at Peacock’s first designs:
Just don’t be too hard on yourself, character design is fun, but if it gets too frustrating, walk away for a bit and come back with fresh new eyes. You’re not gonna satisfy everyone with your design, but if you can satisfy yourself, that’s what counts~!
——————————————————-
That’s all I can say for now, let me know what you think of my techniques!
Byyyyieeeeee~! ( ꈍ ω ꈍ)ﾉ~ *:・ﾟ
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After seeing so much Limited Life angst, I decided to make some fluff. Especially for Scarian. In this the life series is just a game they play for fun where no trauma is had and no problems are gained. After each session there’s a small break for everyone to relax for a bit. This takes place after session 7.
(Also it seems that Tumblr fixed the issue with the text not changing color)
—————
Grian peers out of the Nosey Neighbor’s tower at the sound of a horn. He startles when he sees Scar perched on the wall, smiling brightly, horn clutched in his hand. Grian isn’t sure if he’s amused or concerned.
“What is he doing?” Pearl says, mirth in her voice.
“I have no idea, I’m just glad he didn’t enter and trigger the trap.”
“What would happen then?” BigB asks joining them.
“With the timers paused? It should do nothing to him. Hopefully.”
“Hopefully?”
“Not like we tested that scenario out. I’ll go see what he wants.” Grian descends the tower, knowing exactly what Scar wants. He approaches his partner, careful of the pressure plates. “What are you even doing?”
“I wanted to see you!” He says cheerily.
“There’s an opening?” Grian replies, humor and confusion mixing in his voice.
Scar studies where Grian stands, in the center of a cluster of pressure plates, “and step on one of those? I don’t know what’s under any of them.”
“I wouldn’t invite you in if there was a trap,” Grian bluffs. The trap is hidden for a reason, a temporary truce won’t change that.
“Doesn’t matter now, let’s go!”
Before Scar can move, Pearl exits the tower, “bring him back by sundown!”
Grian shoots her a glare, but Scar chuckles, “will do!” Grian quickly heads to the entrance in the wall, stepping around the trapped pressure plate.
Scar meets him on the ground on the other side, “where to?”
“Down here, unless you want to go somewhere more secluded,” Grian replies, heading towards the drop-down to the river.
“Nah, it’s good, we only have a little time after all.”
Grian nods, sliding down the edge to sit by the waters edge. Scar joins him after a moment, leaning back against the stone. “Things are getting crazy,” he murmurs after a moment.
Scar hums, “yeah, the end is near, huh?” He stares down at his arm, the red timer blinking.
Grian glances at it, only a couple days remain for Scar. He quickly tears his eyes away, focusing on the water. He picks up a stone and skips it, eventually saying quietly, “yeah, I don’t think we’ll have another chat here.”
Scar doesn’t respond for a moment, Grian doesn’t meet his eyes, choosing to skip another stone. “Are you okay?”
Grian looks over in surprise, “huh?”
“With Jimmy and Joel dying, I mean.”
“Ah, yeah,” he replies after a moment, looking away again, “kinda jarring, but this is just a game, y’know?”
“Doesn’t change anything.”
Grian slumps back, unable to hide from his partner, “okay, yeah, I’m bothered.” He glances over, “maybe it has something to do with them not being on Hermitcraft. I mean, most of us here will see each other again just a few days after someone dies. But with them… I guess I can talk to them when we get out, but I don’t see them in person all too often.”
Scar bumps their shoulders together before leaning against Grian, “maybe you should do that when we get back.”
“Maybe,” he sighs, skipping a stone. Grian shakes his head, “anyway, how are you doing with… everything you have going on.”
Scar laughs, “oh, the usual. I killed dad, dad killed me, Bdubs tried to stop me. You know how it is.”
Grian opens and closes his mouth a few times, “I- I really don’t.” He lets out a surprised laugh, “I still don’t understand what you guys have going on.”
“Gotta be creative in how we have allies,” Scar gives him a look from the corner of his eye, “you know how it is, I’m sure.”
Grian huffs goodnatured-ly, “I guess.”
Scar leans closer, throwing an arm over Grian’s shoulders, “how are you feeling about the rest of this game?”
Grian glances at him to see him looking down, he follows the gaze to his arm. Grian traces the red numbers, the time he has left. “In terms of winning, hopeful. Worried about Scott, though.”
Scar gasps, mock-offended, “not me?”
“Nah,” Grian gives him a cheeky grin, “you’re not that scary.”
Scar sits up, pulling his arm back and leaning over Grian. He his hands on either side of him, pinning him against the stone, his voice drops when he speaks, “oh yeah?”
They stare at each other silently for a minute before Grian laughs, pushing Scar back. “Fine, you’re just not scary to me. There’s no way you could be, anymore.” Scar hums, but a beeping stops him from responding. Grian pulls out his communicator, “we only have a few more minutes before the game continues.”
“Ah, I guess this is it then,” Scar stands up, reaching down a hand to assist Grian up.
Grian nods as he stands up, “we’ll probably talk next like this back home.”
Instead of a reply, Scar leans down and pulls Grian into a kiss. It only lasts a couple of seconds before he pulls back. Grian tries to follow, but Scar just grins. “I’ll see you on the battlefield, then.”
“Yeah,” Grian murmurs, not able to hide his disappointment.
They climb back up the river bank and bid each other goodbye before returning back to their allies. They need to prepare for the final session, after all.
~ ~ ~ Bonus ~ ~ ~
Pearl watches the pair run off, “they act like teenagers sneaking out to meet together in the middle of the night.”
BigB laughs, “except there was nothing sneaky about that.”
YEEES FLUFF- we desperately need fluff for traffic Scarian. And this is just AMAZING. Hanging out on break, Scar checking in on Grian making sure he's fine.. I love them qoq
Imagine this- once Grian gets back to the tower both Pearl and BigB ask how his date went. And Grian just stutter and punches Pearl in the arm(lovingly) before saying it was nice
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hi!! i love pearls they r my birthstone, would you mind explaining your job a little more? It sounds rly interesting!!
Congrats, your birthstone is the only one made by a creature instead of the earth!
I work for a specialist company. It's like a regular boring office job except that I'm staring at pearls under a bright light instead of doing whatever it is other people do in offices. I match size, shape, color, and lustre, put them into size order, and knot or restring. Most of the work I do is for other jewelers because the wide range of pearls makes doing pearl necklaces in-house very expensive. You gotta have a lot of pearls to be able to match a lot of pearls, it's cheaper to have a specialist do it.
The way pearl necklaces differ from other gemstones and such is that traditionally you build them over time. High quality pearls are very expensive, so you start with one or a few string onto a chain. Then you add new ones, typically at milestone events like birthday or good grades or whatever, and you get it restrung with the new pearls added and have the length of the chain shortened. So gradually over time your necklace stays the same length (or gets longer if that's your thing) and it gains more pearls and less chain until complete. We use silk thread which does need to be restrung every once in a while, probably at least once every ten years if you wear it often, so adding pearls also takes care of the restringing.
It makes a very expensive necklace more affordable by building it over time and the finished product is elegant and can be passed down. But this is also completely customizable, you can do different sizes of pearls together, lengths, you can stick to one or just a few pearls. There's really no rules and you can make it what you want it. It's actually pretty freaking cool how creative some people get. I like when they have a complex idea that can only be explained by a lil hand drawn diagram.
If you have pearls from family, heads up there are very old and very convincing fake pearls out there, people have been making fake pearls for hundreds of years. If you're not sure you can get them checked by an appraisal. Other tells are to look along the hole, typically the film wrapped glass beads peel around the holes. Real pearls are a bit translucent in bright light and they're a bit sandy inside, not hollow or plastic-y. Natural pearls tend to be smaller and more valuable, cultured tend to be bigger and rounder, and freshwater tend to be lumpy. Worth getting someone to take a look if you have some you think might be real. Pearls are natural so don't ever put them in anything acidic, you can dissolve them.
#pearls#no i wont check if a pearl is fake or not i am asked this sometimes and its just not something im gonna do#pay someone who checks them for a living
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Omg I love your art so much I'm more of a proof and numbers person so I really struggle with the freedom of art when I try to make it any tips you can give me pretty please?
omg thank you??!? 😳
hmmm i'm assuming you meant numbers like, social media numbers? it's hard to deal with that in this current state of the internet, especially when you want to pursue art professionally the non traditional way, or to use online space to get to the traditional routes. the creative industry is a bit cooked rn.
i gotta admit it was easier when i was pursuing a different career and my income didn't hinge on how my art is doing online!! you just draw for yourself and draw whatever you like.
it's in the name itself, when it comes to freedom of art, you gotta let it go wild, be free, experiment with medium, try new compositions, new concepts, try what the others are doing, put random things together, they don't even have to make sense or have a specific meaning. but of course it won't always do well, especially when it comes to "proof" or "numbers".
you can chase numbers. however, you won't grow as an artist if you don't get out of your comfort zone, or out of what is liked and expected from you. professionals who are hiring artists want to see fresh and unique work.
it's easy to say "don't worry about what others think" but the reality is, to make it out there, you need an audience, and a substantial amount of people have to like your work for your to take off and reach the right people.
my tip is try to find balance. try pushing yourself to try something new in one or two aspects of your drawing. let's say you know people would like the piece if you draw a fanart, or from a art challenge, then try something new in other aspects of it, maybe try a new color palette, experiment with brush and textures, try different angles, lightings, style, add your own twist to the concept, etc. whatever it is, push yourself to try something new, one at a time.
MOST IMPORTANTLY THOUGH, remember and internalize this: this silly social media numbers game is not indicative of the quality of your work. these numbers depend on so many factors, while skill and ideas are part of them, there are also networking, marketing, presentation, consistency, and lots of LUCK.
so if a piece you're proud of "flops" don't nitpick it, don't be scared to do it again. it's discouraging, yes, but your overall growth as an artist is more important than just online numbers in the long run. others might not see it instantly, but if you are proud of it, that means you are going into the right direction!
#anonymous#art tips#idk if you wanted a lengthy answer but i couldn't make it shorter without getting the idea across#i do make art professionally in the fine arts scene too and went to school for it#so they drilled more about the why of art making into our brains so i have pretty solid foundations on why and what i wanna make#watching my illustration only peers was rough because the ego of some professors and industry professionals is CRAZY#especially on young and aspiring illustrators#it's easier said than done but at its foundation.. it is about what you want to make and show to others
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