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villiedoom · 2 days

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Fragments and memories. My old personal artworks of Koties, fantasy felines, depicted in the surreal world. Some of these artworks are edited to make the anatomy a bit better and the colors more clean.

I'm trying to go back to my old art and give it a new life, editing some of them and trying to continue the stories of my old characters that I gave up on back then. To find a way out of my internal conflicts and fears associated with these artworks and creatures. To find a love for them that still lives in me. Each of these artworks was born in very deep feelings, and I tried to give these feelings to them again ~

#digital art #digital painting #painting #drawing #fantasy #fantasy art #surreal #personal art #original art #original characters #original species #feline #space #koties #villiedoom #old art #memories

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kybercrystals94 · 2 days

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Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.”

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!”

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.”

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says.

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.”

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.”

“That is not true.”

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.”

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.”

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start.

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter.

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise.

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.”

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.”

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs.

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas.

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.”

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin.

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops.

Tech rolls his eyes.

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says.

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.”

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks.

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?”

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.”

“How?”

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter.

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath.

He’s not turning back now.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way.

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity.

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.”

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.”

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out.

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.”

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes.

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil.

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.”

Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech.

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.”

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese.

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.”

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red.

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says.

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!”

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.”

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want.

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries.

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks.

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully.

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says.

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces.

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet.

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him.

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over.

If they all make it back.

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 🥳 I can't believe we've only got 4 more stories/chapters each to go!

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leavemeslowly · 2 days

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I dreamt about him again. After a very long time.

It wasn’t even during the night. My alarm rung and I fell into a slumber. It was 15, maybe 20 minutes long.

Then, he appeared. He saw me in the corridor and seemed surprised, as he always used to be. Never had any idea that I always anticipated those meetings. You know, sometimes dreams get blurry, but his smile, it was as sharp as in reality. He asked what I am doing here. Honestly, I had no idea. Wanted to tell him that but I also remembered how it was, that I really couldn’t tell him the truth. I miss him but what good would it make to say it to a ghost of a person who most probably has already forgotten me. He is gone and so am I.

I wanted to hear that I will be alright. He told me that once and I clung to it even through my worst times. I miss him terribly even if it is only a projection of him, a fantasy that I miss.

Those dreams appear when it gets tough. They feel like a betrayal but they also remind me that I am still myself. That I haven’t change that much and there is still hope for me. I am not a stranger to myself. I know who I am. More or less.

I miss him. I never told my mum but she sometimes mentions him knowing that he is always on the tip of my tongue. I can’t ask about him, of course.

I couldn’t love him. I did anyway. Hoped that I could be at least dear to him. That he would remember me in ten, maybe fifteen years. God, he was a good person. Good to me.

Maybe I will meet him again. Maybe I will not. Doesn’t matter. I still miss him after all this time. I miss the version of me that I was next to him.

But he is gone and so am I.

#heartache #quotes #except from a book i'll never write #spilled ink #poetry #heartbreak #aesthetic #dark academia #light academia #love #unrequited love #feelings #spilled thoughts #writers on tumblr #writing #dreams #once upon a dream #literature #memories

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photographybyalyssa · 21 hours

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ᴮᶦᵒᴾᵃʳᵏ, ᴬˡᵇᵘᵠᵘᵉʳᵠᵘᵉ, ᴺᵉʷ ᴹᵉˣᶦᶜᵒ

#photo #photography #photographer #photographers on tumblr #photoblr #my photo #places #landscape #adventure #explore #memories #street phootgraphy #urban photography

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lucianjablonsky · 2 days

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Just like any other day

And this day, like any other, seems, When happiness lingered in my dreams Family moments, a nostalgic view, Sensitivity returns, emotions anew Cherry blossoms I'd pick each morn, Greeting the world as a new day is born Today's sun and air, reminiscently, Echo the past's familiar glee Even the lit cigarette in the crowd, Among those I once avowed, Like a twist of fate and joy it seems, All remembered in tranquil dreams A pinkish glow, reminiscent and tender, Recalls serene days in splendor That beautiful summer of old, Though now it makes me feel cold And when night falls, as it must, All turns into memories, lost in dust To forget, such is my fate, Living through the lens of forgetfulness, innate ~ Nihil Novi

#poems and quotes #poem #poems #poetry #poets on tumblr #original poem #writers and poets #poems on tumblr #poems and poetry #poetic #aesthetic #literature #quotes #past #thoughts #my thoughts #memories

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pinkfai · 2 days

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#barbie #barbie Jet #memories

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lilacsleeps · 2 days

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Memories...

Memories, they're like treasures stored in the attic of our minds—fragile, yet precious. Whether they're of a friend's laughter, an enemy's scorn, or a loved one's embrace, those moments slowly lose their clarity as the sands of time trickle by.

It's akin to sketching messages in the sand at the beach; without a proper guard, they gradually wash away with the tide, leaving behind only faint traces of what once was. As sands cascade from the palm's gentle hold, so do memories, swept by life's relentless flow.

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amarevera · 2 days

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In the stillness of a tranquil night,

Memories drift, like whispers light.

Once held close, now far away,

A love lost, yet lingers to stay.

In dreams, I find her gentle grace,

Her laughter echoes, a cherished trace.

Though time has woven paths apart,

Her image stays within my heart.

She found her solace in another's arms,

A choice made amidst life's charms.

Yet I, in longing, still search anew,

For someone to love, pure and true.

Through the ebb and flow of life's dance,

I seek a love, a second chance.

With quirks and flaws, imperfectly whole,

Yearning for peace to soothe my soul.

May fate guide me to the one unseen,

Whose love ignites a tranquil scene.

In every heartbeat, in every sigh,

I'll find my peace, beneath the sky.

- Written by me.

#quotes #words #thoughts #quote #writing #poetry #love #life quotes #motivation #personal #poem #poet #writings #memories #memory #past

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reesestshirt · 4 months

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When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

#crochet #grief #prose poetry #love #memories #yarn #knitting #creative writing

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