#I am so incapable of only doing a sketch for art fight

[crowzenyogurt]

art fight attack for @tropinano 🎪

#character sheet #art fight #art fight 2023 #team werewolf #team werewolves #my art #I am so incapable of only doing a sketch for art fight #it was so hard to restrain myself to not render this so I HALF rendered it #I must put my whole ass into everything I do #or ill DIE

[obeymeaskme]

Obey Me: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: You can find all the chapters pinned on my profile!

Chapter Three: Bonds mending (1/3)

Word Count: 1,563

Rating: 18+

“The best way to prevent this is to not back down. Don't give anyone else the ability to scare you, or get what they want.”

Satan's words reverberated in Noelle's head throughout the rest of the morning, quickly letting her settle down back into her normal happy-go-lucky persona. She gave herself the motivation to sit at the dinner table for breakfast. Though she didn't make eye contact with Lucifer, or Levi, she could feel the tension from that morning's situation rise. Everyone else around the table seemed to realize it as well, as no one talked. The only sounds that played in the silence was Beel's loud chewing, and the occasional clatter of cutlery. But Noelle's drama wasn't the only thing stirring up the atmosphere. Ever since the argument between Satan and Lucifer, there was a silent humming. It slowly got louder and it would usually go unnoticed in the household, but due to the silence, the humming could be written off as an almost low growl.

Lucifer had taken the final sip of his coffee before clearing his throat, and leaning back in his chair. He turned to the girls and began to converse with them.

“I'm inclined to ask you two about how you're both adjusting to Devildom, and your academics.”

Bella, having missed the earlier encounter, looked up with enthusiasm, happy to help change the uncomfortable silence she didn't quite understand.

“I think we're doing good. I mean, neither of us are failing our classes. I have more time to do other things when I'm in my room thanks to my study halls at RAD!”

The growling grew slightly louder as Lucifer turned to Noelle, his eyes demanding an answer from her as well. She could feel her confidence waiver, even after her talk with Satan. Something inside of her still managed to cling onto her confidence. Taking a quick glance at Satan she realized he wasn't at all interested in her response.

“Well... I can agree with Bella on that much. I'm not failing any classes... yet...”

As soon as Lucifer gave a disappointing scoff, the dead silence was replaced with an audible gnarl. Noelle and Bella had to follow the brother's faces as they all whipped their heads towards Satan. It became glaringly obvious that a verbal fight was about to breakout. There were silent pleas on everyone's faces. Mammon had even attempted to redirect the attention by telling Noelle she 'Just needed a more positive attitude'. Yet that didn't stop the second lower rumble mixing with Satan's growls. There was an unspoken argument between Wrath, and Pride and the air became physically warm, and humid. Lucifer was first to break the silence, startling everyone avoiding his glower.

“Is something the matter Satan? Perhaps you have more insight on just how 'well' you think Miss.V-”

He was cut off by a sparingly calm reply by the addressed.

“It seems that I, for once, do happen to know more than you. Scary isn't it?”

Noelle had started to calm down, the focus now off of her. Still she shook her head, wondering why this frayed her nerves in the first place. If only she was a tad bit stronger like Satan. Maybe then she could face Lucifer and his threats. That's when an idea popped into her head, and she took the conversation into her own hands. A Deathwish at her doorstep.

“It's nothing too important to you Lucifer. After all, what would a demon of your stature want with my own well being?”

The remark caught everyone off guard. A few coughs and a gasp or so tried to fill the in between. Lucifer looked back at her. Noelle's eyes and face seemed almost playful. He took a second to compose himself before answering.

“It's not me who wants to know. This is the fourth year the Devildom held it's student exchange program. Lord Diavolo wishes to keep close tabs on the students, so I will ask the questions and then create a report for him to examine”.

Noelle nodded in thought. Then another idea developed in her head, and she gave a rather large smile.

“Well, since you're not all that interested... I guess I could tell Lord Di-dia-”

A few chuckles were shared as she struggled to get Diavolo's name right before ultimately giving up on it.

“-The Demon Prince myself. You shouldn't have to stress out over me so much. I have no problems giving him a report if that's something he wants. After all it's the least I can do for you.”

Everyone's eyes widened as Noelle stood up from the table, ready to partake in getting the hell out of the room. But it seemed Lucifer wasn't quite done as he called out to her. Standing up and straightening out his jacket.

“Are you implying that I am incapable?”

Noelle gave a sheepish shrug, but voiced her disagreement.

“No. Why would I? I'm just saying, as the Avatar of Pride, and the future Demon King's right hand man, I can imagine you're up to your eyes in other paperwork. Paperwork that is much more important than writing some report on how well a human exchange student is doing. Especially so early in the week? I think Both me, and Bella can handle that so you can impress Lord- Ya' know, with your more complex work. The Prince must get terribly bored with academics he's probably the master of already. Then again it's just a thought.”

Stunning Lucifer with her speech gave the others a chance to pick up their empty plates with their own excuses to leave the room. Bella had given Belphie a look before they left, and he just shrugged in response.

A handful of minutes passed and Noelle was already far into unpacking the rest of her belongings in her room. She had ordered a bed and couch to fill some empty space as she sketched out floor plans for her room. A knock was heard and a groan was given in return.

“Come in, but only if you dare~”

Satan could be heard chuckling as he just about waltz in. After tripping over a few boxes, he recovered his saunter and stood by her side at a small artist table in the corner. He had come to ask her about how she handled the situation, but was quickly distracted by the delicate drawings that scattered her desk, and decorated her walls. She had looked up at him as he silently asked to pick them up and look. She nodded in return. He lightly traced over the graphite lines, and dried colored water of morbid monsters, and cute creatures. The blaring contrast intrigued him. They spent the next few hours bonding over the arts, and her own creations. They were all but done talking as someone out in the hall walked by. Taken aback by a rather loud laugh given by Satan at another one of Noelle's inside jokes.

Lucifer had actually wanted to make his way to his study to work on paperwork, ironically enough. He'd never heard the fourth born brother laugh in that way. Listening in through the door he caught a glimpse of Noelle's true personality. It was young, sometimes barely innocent, but knowledgeable. Satan had taken to her like it was nothing. Though it left a searing pain in his head to admit it, he had come to the realization that he was in fact wrong about her. He made false accusations based on her interactions with the brothers. And up until then they weren't the most uplifting. It dawned on him further as to why. She had foolishly chosen Leviathan as her guide through the program. Lucifer silently scolded himself knowing full well that Levi had a hard enough time socializing let alone with anyone he deemed as being normal.

Mammon and Asmo had seemed to avoid her this whole time, and the only time Belphegor and Beelzebub had interacted with her was when the two girls wanted to hangout. It seemed that Belphegor and Noelle barely got along, and Beel seemed to not pay much attention. Lucifer dragged himself away from Noelle's door and made his way to his destination. Even behind his large desk that he felt the most peaceful at, his mind was still boggled. He knew logically that she was bright. Her grades showed it, and the more he thought about it he found no true reason to dislike her so much.

Her display at breakfast was proof that even though he had threatened her that morning, she was planning on killing him with kindness. Satan was correct. Noelle's survival in Devildom was going to be based on how tough she was. However, she was too soft and emotional for the demon world, and Bella had no problem with it due to her constant interactions with the twins. Lucifer soon realized that if Noelle were to make it in their world, he'd need to change his mocking attitude. She needed to become more confident, and more willing to listen to him and his brothers. So how could he make that happen if they were all so cold to her. At least for now she had Satan. That in itself was dangerous but for now it was something.

#obey me: human and demon hearts #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levithan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphagor #obey me fanfic #obey me oc

[megmahoneyart]

why did you draw michael who is white as looking more remorseful and human on half his face than helen who you depict as a black woman who appears angry with both of her eyes spiraled? even despite michaels vocal insistence that he is wholly an inhuman monster and his cruel actions you draw him looking more innocent and human than a black woman who has not done anything nearly as monstrous as him and held onto her human identity more strongly?

Okay!  So, I use this blog to draw and not to talk, but I’m suuuper long-winded when I write.  And to spare the general public, I’ve put this answer under a read-more.  But it’s a good and valid question!  And I appreciate anon’s concern; I thought the question deserved as good an answer as I could give.  So that answer is below:

That’s a totally valid question!  I didn’t intend to convey “remorseful” so much as, upset, with Michael.  Angry wasn’t necessarily what I was going for with Helen either--so it sounds like my expressions overall aren’t reading super well. Helen was meant to be more, I think enthusiastic, is the word I’m looking for.

The big difference between Helen and Michael isn’t one of them being more innocent or more guilty than the other.  The difference is the amount of conflict.  Helen has repeatedly brought up how much better she is at being The Distortion than Michael ever was.  Michael had a lot of knowledge about the Fears, and The Spiral, in particular, before becoming The Distortion than Helen did.  And, along with that, he brought the baggage of being taught that his job was to fight the fears, and the baggage of being scarred by The Spiral before working for the Institute.  He kind of sucks at being The Distortion because his job was to stop The Distortion from performing The Spiral’s ritual--and that leaves both The Distortion hating Michael for fucking up its purpose, and Michael hating The Distortion because it’s the embodiment of what he hated and feared as a human.  Everything Michael Distortion does is double-minded--because part of him is like “Hey I used to work here, and these guys are technically my co-workers, and I kind of want to hang out with them, but I also hate this place” and part of him is “I want to Fuck Everything Up, and I hate All of these people and would be happy to see them dead.”  

Helen, on the other hand, doesn’t have the baggage of foreknowledge or hatred.  She’s Michael Distortion’s victim, at first.  But the second she has an opening to turn the tables, she jumps on it.  And the reason she had an opening is because Michael and The Distortion were at odds and schisming and in Conflict.  She’s set up in season 4 to be a kind of narrative foil for Jon--as they have both become avatars without really meaning to (like the majority of avatars that have showed up on the show).  In Season 4, Jon is constantly agonizing over what exactly he is now, and futilely circling around the morality of his continued existence.  Helen, in season 4, is beyond this point.  She has already accepted the Way Things Are now, and she’s dealing--constantly telling Jon he needs to deal with it (the reality of being a “monster” too).  By season 5, she’s not just dealing, she’s Thriving.  And in seasons 4 and 5, at any opportunity, she (Helen Distortion) is always down to remind Jon (and co) that she is So Much Better at being what she is (The Distortion) than Michael ever was.  

I think Helen Richardson probably had a stronger character than Michael Shelley did, as humans as well.  Not saying that one was better than the other. But Helen was a successful career-woman.  Michael started at the institute as a scared kid, who was then groomed by Gertrude and psychologically experimented on by Emma.  I could never see Helen Richardson ever being someone Gertrude Robinson could emotionally manipulate, or convince to “sacrifice” herself.

And all of that informs how I characterize these two characters’ personalities when I draw them.  And that doesn’t touch on the race issue.

Unfortunately, TMA doesn’t explicitly describe many characters’ race or ethnicity.  A Lot has been said about the few negative vs positive characters who are explicitly characters of color.  It’s kind of a black-and-grey-morality podcast.  But on the side of the protagonists/positively-portrayed you’ve got Oliver Banks, Adelard Dekker, Basira Hussain, Mikaele Salesa.  On the enemy-aligned side you’ve got Jude Perry, Tom and John Haan, Manuela Dominguez, and Annabelle Cane.  And those on the positive side are pretty flawed (aside from Adelard Dekker who is an anomaly on this show); and those on the negative side usually have at least some alternate-character-interpretations and can be viewed as sympathetic (lookin at you, Annabelle).  A lot of discussion has gone into their characterizations and how that relates to their respective races--and the problems therein (Jude Perry is startlingly devoid of family concerns--when culturally a large part of being a successful businesswoman would usually relate to how it benefits or affects her family; Mikaele Salesa’s setting up an Apocalypse Bunker without the crew he cared for is peak White behavior; bastard cops that are WOC (like Basira) absolutely exist--but should a story about a WOC bastard cop be written by a white guy?; the Haans being avatars for The Flesh is straight-up racist; etc).  

But again, the list of characters that are explicitly characters of color is Short.  And the fandom filled in some gaps.  Almost all of the characters get a variety of designs, and some characters don’t have a Uniform Fanon Race (like Melanie).  But some characters are almost always portrayed as a certain race (Jon is almost always portrayed as Desi or Pakistani, Georgie is almost always portrayed as black, Helen is almost always portrayed as black).  I came into the show late.  By the time I arrived, Desi/Pakistani Jon and black Helen were the only Jon and the only Helen I saw when I showed up.  (The first sketches I did for the show, I did before seeing any fan art, and before hearing any canon descriptors.  As such, Georgie would be unrecognizable to most of the fandom--because I drew her white the first time I drew her; and Martin is Too Small in my first sketches--because they were drawn before I got to episodes that described him as tall and chubby and before I saw the fantart--which gives us the Big Martin we deserve).  So that’s why my Helen is black.  (My Michael is white because he is physically described early in the show--and is one of the confirmed white characters).

That said, I accepted the generally-agreed-upon fan depictions of Helen (and other characters) without a whole lot of critical thought from Me.  I’ve since read a lot of good takes on why Jon is depicted as Desi and why his characterization has resonated with certain Desi listeners.  I haven’t read any dissertation on why Helen is black.  My guess is that, where there were no canon physical descriptions (like with Taz Balance before the graphic novels), the fandom Made representation because they wanted it and because they could.  Maybe there was discourse, back in the day, on why Georgie and Helen are usually depicted as black; but I didn’t see it.  My (completely uninformed) guess is that people liked Georgie.  And people liked Helen.  And if they could make the cool lady with a great cat that is incapable of being afraid black, and if they could make the cool lady who has sharp hands and set up her house in the Institute basement for fun black, why not do it?

If you, anon, do have strong feelings that Helen shouldn’t be black and why, feel free to pass that on to me.  I am Not the authority on Helen’s characterization or her appearance--especially as related to race--as I’m 1) white and 2) just another listener of the show.

If I were to start drawing Helen as white, she’d probably be unrecognizable to people that are looking through the tag for their sharp-handed wife.  And I like Helen.  So without additional information, I’m unlikely to change my depiction of her.  But!  If you (or anybody else) do have additional information, I’m happy to see/hear it, and will take any concerns raised with me into consideration.

#tma #anon #ask #characterization #race #long post #readmore

[angsteraser]

Clarke Griffin Modern AU

Reposting from my Instagram @allthings_.books

• Almost all the Clarke AU’s I read have her as a doctor – but I prefer thinking of her as an artist. I feel like yeah, ofc we saw her as a medic on the ground but that’s because she was the only one out of the 100 with the knowledge and background. And on the ark it’s not like artists were needed – she was the daughter of the head medic so it was her natural root. But that doesn’t mean it was a passion.

• But she definitely volunteered at hospitals in her spare time.

• she started out doing a med degree because that was what Abby wanted, and at the time she thought it was what she wanted to. But as she grew up and experienced life outside of the Griffin household she realised art was what she wanted to pursue. So she decided to major in it, and that’s when her mum stopped talking to her. She ended up finishing her medical degree to, because she only had two years left and did enjoy learning everything.

• So if you want to get a rough idea about how I imagine her life to be, maybe picture Lorelai Gilmore – but her incentive to leave wasn’t because of a baby but her degree.

• Coming to how she met everyone. I think during her childhood, she only had Wells as a friend, but then Jaha moved out of their small town and she lost Wells when she was in highschool (they reconnected when she moved out, and he would come to meet her whenever he could and vise versa because GUESS WHAT, no one dies in my world.).

• except Jake, idk I just can’t imagine her dad being alive in my world and her still doing half the things I write. So yeah, he died in a car crash in my head when she was in highschool.

• Throughout highschool she had friends but no one she could depend on. You know the whole ‘we will walk together to the washrooms and sit at the same table, but god forbid we share any valid life detail.’

• Then one night she went to New York to look at universities, and met Murphy at a bar. He was about to get his ass beat but she helped him out and they ended up getting drunk and he let her crash at his apartment.

• Idk I like the idea of her meeting Murphy first.

• She went back home the next day and forgot all about that night.

• So then she gets accepted into university, and for the first few years is doing her med degree, but lives at home and barely interacts with anyone.

• Then when she decides to do an art degree, she gets into a fight with her mother, and ends up moving out and into a dorm.

• THEN she meets Jasper, Monty and Octavia who go to the same university – but she never saw before because they obviously werent in the same department as her and Clarke never hung around the university.

• They helped her settle into the independent life and get her own space and through them she met Raven, Bellamy and everyone else.

• She ofc saw Murphy with them as well and they hit it off again

• Okay now random headcanons that I thought of.

• I can only picture her in like a studio apartment, with BIG windows, a huge living room space. Wood and neutral colours. One bedroom, and a small kitchen that’s apart of the living room.

• And her work EVERYWHERE. She would paint and decorate all her furniture. Design all her pillow covers. She was an artist and proud of it.

• Her living room is her art studio, and has easels and paint and canvas’ everywhere.

• Definitely a night owl™.

• TERRIBLE puns and knock knock jokes.

• Plus she has terrible joke timing.

• But she got really excited when she told a joke so everyone laughed anyway.

• She was ALWAYS cold. Always. Her feet were like ice cubes. But she never wore shoes because they annoyed her feet. And she wouldn’t turn up the heat because it ruined her ‘vibe™’

• big snacker, she’d be the one with all the unbranded, weird ass snacks in her cupboard like idk squirrel shaped onion rings or whatever. Basically my girl took full advantage of the freedom she got after leaving Abbitch.

• But she was always forgetting to eat actual m e a l s.

• sleep schedule? I think the fuck not. The sun came up and went down it was all the same to her.

• She loved animals, especially dogs – but didn’t trust herself to take care of one. Neither did Wells, not after her fourth grade Hamster™.

• She would research about the most random things, just so she was always prepared and well informed for a Debate (Heated Argument*) at anytime.

• Loved board and card games. And was super competitive which goes without saying. She was an UnO chaMp™.

• A tumblr girl™ – either you know what I mean or you don’t. Like yeah she had all the socials – her private school friends back home made them for her. But she didn’t know their usernames or passwords. Her instagram bio still her highschool name in it. But then she could spend hours on tumblr because they were Her People™.

• Loved painting her clothes. Especially her socks. All her socks had her favourite characters on them, ranging from the Bananas in Pajamas and Pippi Longstocking to Monica in FRIENDS.

• Speaking of characters. She had two extremes while watching shows – either she would immerse herself fully in them, analysising every character development, researching every plot hole, ranting about every character on tumblr, or she wouldn’t watch it at all. No in betweens here maam.

• She loved crime shows, and would try and guess the end result before the episode ended.

• Also loved rewatching movies and commenting about how dumb everyone was.

• Physically incapable of turning down a dare ?? rumour has it she’d break out in hives if she did.

• Like she was sensible and practical, she had to be after leaving home when she was like 19 (idk im not good with working out ages) and the only money she had was the cash her dad left her, because Abby is a bitch and cut her off. The money was enough to pay for her art degree (Abby had already taken care of the medical one) – anyways getting off topic.

• Basically she was smart and sensible but say the word Dare™ and she would bunjy jump from her flats window..

• Claustrophobic. Good thing her apartment had that window, huh? (I just really like the idea of Clarke painting in front of a big ass window with the view of New York beneath her. It’s my whole brand rn)

• Coming back to apartments, poor thing never learnt how to lock a door. She was always leaving her door open, and Bellamy (look I have so many Modern Bellarke AU’s but Im running out of room so i’ll give us all just one) would come in with food (because her friends had to feed her if she wouldn’t herself.) and have to shout at her.

• She just kept loosing her keys under her shit so it was either leaving the door open or being locked out all night.

• So ofc, she left the door open.

• had a pillow army™. The fluffy ones, ones shaped as penguins, and doughnuts and various other food items. You couldn’t see much bed, all it was was pillows.

• Her life goal after moving out of her mums and getting an apartment was to keep one (1) potted plant alive (‘that cactus was fa u l t y’)

• has a really old tattered leather journal that was filled with sketches and ideas and reminders she would never remember to check.

• S t i c k y n o t e s on fridges kinda girl™. But all her friends were convinced it was because they looked pretty, because it’s not like she ever CHECKED what she wrote.

• She loved those honk if you’re __ stickers. she’d constantly switch the one on her jeep. (YES the jeep made it into my headcanons, don’t fight it)

• was a ‘blast your music loud and proud kind of girl’

• indie music when she was worked, or painting something that required concentration and a steady hand. Rock when she was jamming out and cooking

• speaking of cooking, my girl can’t cook, okay?. She was a master at breakfast foods and could whip up pancakes that tasted like fairy dust but that was I T.

• because yes, she would follow recipes. To begin with at least. But halfway through she would get bored and *merge* steps and it would all just be a mess.

• She drunk dialed Abby once and said ‘no mum, i’m giving up YOUR dreams’ because she would be damned if she couldn’t live out her Disney fairytale when the opportunity was r i g h t there.

• As for work, she had a part time job in the book store near her flat at night. In the day she would paint, and a lot of her work sold for top dollar. Her parents circle were her first few clients, and as they spread the word she found her career taking off.

• She hated being still and not doing something. So when she wasn’t painting, or hanging out with her friends, or at work, she would volunteer at the local hospital.

• But no matter how hard they tried to get her to actually w o r k there, she wouldn’t.

But like, she would also *volunteer* all night if need be, and all the staff treated her like she was actually working there idk lol this probably makes no sense but it’s clear in my head and I love it.

• The Delinquents (yeah, they call themselves that. Octavia is a softhearted rebel™) always ended up crashing at her apartment (because her door was always unlocked) and she loved painting them while they had movie night together, or stayed up late baking.

• All their apartments were full of paintings she did from their time together that they liked.

• OH THEY DEFINITELY WATCHED THE VOICE OR AMERICAN IDOL OR S O M E T H I N G LIKE THAT TOGETHER –

• wait I can see this so clearly. NONE of them could sing except Harper

• but that didn’t stop them from rating everyone elses voices and shouting at the judges for their decisions.

• now I am having group flashes oop -

#clarke griffin #the 100 #the 100 au #clarke griffin au #clarke griffin modern au #basically angstless clarke #a concept we all need #i have SO many more ideas #like all their friendships and shit #my headcanons arent e n d i n g

[inforapound]

Ease the Dawn Chapter 5

A/N - Thank you for reading. Let me know if you would like to be tagged. Another chapter being posted tonight.

Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith

Chapter - 5 of 18

Many weeks had passed with no change in her captivity. Aethelswith had begun to feel numb to the monotonous routine of the day.

Informed, one morning, by Brana that Ivar would allow her to move freely in the camp as long as she stayed under guard, her elation bubbled over causing her to jump to her feet and pull Brana into a clumsy embrace. Finally, she would be able to stretch her legs, breathe the fresh air, perhaps, speak English with Brana more often. Not daft, she knew she would not be able to escape but still, she was excited to leave the confining walls of the tent, even, for a short while.

Required to be chaperoned at all times, Aethelswith was introduced to her guard. Gussr was his name and he was a tower of a man and Aethelswith remembered him well from the day of her capture with his long grey hair and beard. Perhaps passed his prime fighting years, she had witnessed his strength that day from the carriage and had, no doubt, he was an experienced warrior and one who was obviously trusted by Ivar. Although massive, he moved with ease and his eyes seemed patient. Not feeling as though he was a threat, she was somewhat disappointed to learn he could not speak a word of her language. Any outlet for communication would have been welcome. Within days hand signals and head motions were introduced between them allowing for the a little back and forth. Always, he kept a small distance and moved behind her, and as a result she secretly, to herself, pet named him her shadow.

Gussr earned Night in Shining Armour prestige the morning he entered the tent, heaving in Aethelswith's heavy wooden trunk. Astonished, she rushed to open the lid, finding her belongings still neatly packed by Ardith's careful hands. They had not been rummaged through and not a single thing seemed to be missing; even her few pieces of jewelry were there. Running her fingers over the soft fabrics of her clothing, her mind stilled wondering if this wooden chest represented the only belongings she would ever have again. Closing the lid, she rested her hands on the decorative carving of a rising sun over figures bent in worship. Turning to look at Gussr, she bowed her headed in gratitude. Responding with a simple shrug, the message was clear; returning her trunk was not his decision. None the less, she was grateful.

------

The sun began to dip in the sky and the shade, cast by the surrounding forest, slowly crept over the camp's west side. Aethelswith sat on her bed, plate on her lap, eating venison and potatoes when the tent flap opened. Not having to see his form coming through the door, she knew it was him. There was something in the way the flap was held open for a moment that told her it was not Brana, who was simply incapable of not rushing.

Stepping in, he paused and looked at her and her eyes instinctively widened. Quickly putting her plate and utensils down on the bed, she stood, straightening her back and met his heavy stare.

"Why do you sit on the bed to eat?" his voice was curt.

Her eyes darted to Ivar's table and back to him. "I did not feel it appropriate to sit at the table."

Glancing at the desk, he shuffled back to the tent door, opening it and calling out in Norse. Returning to where he had been standing, he waited, his eyes flicking around the tent as if avoiding eye contact.

The flap opened and Gussr ducked through carrying a stool carved from a tall stump of wood. Dropping it onto the grass opposite to Ivar's side of the table, he nodded quickly and left. Looking back to Aethelswith, Ivar shifted his head awkwardly, clearing his throat.

"Princess, dine at the table. I am eating here tonight."

"Yes, my Lord," she replied quietly but did not move.

"Now," he jerked his head, lifting his hand in the direction of the table.

Cautiously, she bent down and collected her plate and cup of water. Walking past him towards the table, she almost expected to see him, in her periphery, lunge and strike. Setting her plate and cup down on the desk, she turned back to him and he nodded impatiently ushering her to continue.

Sitting stiffly, with her back to him, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and waited. Rounding the table, he plunked down and began unlatching his braces, shooting her a glance after he winced. Averting her eyes, she reached for her cup and drank, not wanting to exacerbate his obvious discomfort of being watched undoing his leg supports.

Dropping his braces to the ground, he sighed in relief as the tent flaps again opened and Brana rushed through, placing a plate of food in front of him. Filling his cup, she left the jug of ale on the table and grabbed his braces from the ground, carrying them with difficulty over to rest against the table beside his bed. Casting Aethelswith an indistinguishable look, she quickly left, slipping out through the tent flaps.

Picking up his fork he began to eat, again, jerking his head for Aethelswith to begin. The food was suddenly void of flavour, her mouth was dry and she finished her water to help swallow it down. The tense atmosphere was nearly unbearable and Ivar's loud chewing and drinking was all that filled the silence. Sitting perfectly still, Aethelswith could feel his eyes continually flicking up to look at her.

Lifting the jug, he filled his cup hesitating for a moment before filling Aethelswith's. Surprised, she looked up and realized that she had not seen his face that close before.

"Thank you," she uttered quietly.

"She speaks your language," Ivar replied without looking up from his plate. "The slave."

Pausing, Aethelswith wondered if Brana would be scolded for conversing with her. Clearing her throat, she took a chance, feeling somewhat desperate for conversation, even if it was with her captor.

"Yes."

"I have seen you in the camp the last three days."

It was a statement and Aethelswith assumed it was a warning that she was being watched.

"Yes, my Lord."

Looking up from his plate, their eyes met and she used it as an opportunity to, perhaps, ease the strain.

"Thank you for allowing me to move freely."

"You are not free." His voice cut over hers and his expression again looked hard.

She lowered her eyes and looked down at her plate giving Ivar time to study her more closely and notice the curls that framed her delicate face and the way her loose braid hung over one shoulder nearly touching her lap. The soft candlelight warmed her smooth skin and reflected a glint in her nearly grey eyes. His eyes settled on her small hands and slender fingers with unbroken nails and he knew her pale perfect flesh had never endured the cold elements or a day of hard work.

Curious, he looked up and wondered how and why she had developed her steadfast composure; her diplomacy. Here she sat, a captive across the table, sharing a meal, and to his eyes, appeared only mildly uncomfortable. But then his mind drifted back, as had many times, to the night he had seen the puffy scars on the skin of her back and he was reminded that her life must not have been just morning prayers and fancy balls. Regardless, he wondered at what point he would reduce her to what she was, a weak Christian. Beautiful, but still a weak Christian.

"Is there a problem with your meal?" he asked.

"No, not at all." She looked up from her drink, smoothing the puzzled look from her raised forehead. "Thank you."

"Why do you look like you are trying to see through the bottom of your cup?"

"What is this?" She lifted her cup slightly.

"Mead."

"Mead," she repeated to herself. "It is new to me."

"What are you used to drinking?"

"Wine and water, of course... milk with breakfast." Her eyes darted to his, and she hoped she did not sound as if she was complaining.

"Princess," he crooned sarcastically, "how ever will you survive captivity?"

Aethelswith's mouth lifted into a smile and she looked down at her unfinished meal, raising her cup and taking a sip to conceal her reaction.

Shocked by her smile, his expression fell and he stared at her. He had seen it, her face, lit by something he had said.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at him. There was no smile but his eyes were beaming. The face of both an angel and a devil, she thought, shifting awkwardly on her stool, deciding that it was quite possibly the most expressive face she had ever seen. Thinking, in this light, he looked far too young to be a heathen warlord.

Brana returned and cleared their plates, refilling their cups before leaving.

"I have seen your drawings," he said with a playful lift in his tone.

Aethelswith's eyes shot to his but she remained silent. Concern was clear on her face and she glanced toward her wooden trunk that concealed the markings on the canvas.

"Ravens have an important meaning in my religion," he continued, taking a drink from his cup.

She did not say a word.

"My favorite is the fox though," he grinned, clearly pleased with himself for catching her off guard. "Is this how princesses pass the time in their castles?"

"The arts are reserved for men, I am afraid. I cannot openly sketch at home."

Dropping his head to one side, he frowned, "And, why?"

"It is just what's so," she said gently taking another sip of mead.

"Hmm. That is stupid." He tilted his head to the other side, his eyes fixed on her face, savoring the pink colour of her cheeks. "In Kattegat, women can do anything men can. Be shieldmaidens, even rule. Christians really are ridiculous people. You should be glad I took you."

Her eyes widened and she glanced up seeing he was smirking.

"My lord?"

"Yes," he leaned forward, placing his forearms onto the rim of the table.

"May I be excused?"

"No!" his tone was sharper than he had intended and she looked back down at her cup. They sat quiet for some time and he felt compelled to break the silence.  "Do you know the game tafl?" he motioned to where it sat at the end of the table.

"Chess?" she asked looking at the board with pieces set in place.

"Yes. Chess," he mimicked her accent.

"Yes, I can play."

"Good." Moving his cup to the side, he slid the board over. "Do you have any skill?"

"Yes. You might not be glad you took me," she glanced up, doing her best at keeping her chin strong.

Ivar's face morphed into a broad smile.

"Youngest goes first, Princess."

.

@fangirl-nonsense @flowers-in-your-hayr @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @justanothershelby @medievalfangirl @allvikingsfanfic @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @ill-skillsgard @lol-haha-joke @yanii-the-hippie @dreamwritesimagines @jacksonroth

#ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #Ivar and Aethelswith #ivar's heathen army #ivar romance #ivar vikings #frennemies #slow burn #eventual smut #ivar x princess #ivar ragarson

[withinthescripts]

Season 2, Cassette 4: Bardo Museum (1975)

[tape recorder turns on]

Welcome to the international Bardo Museum of Tunis. I am Ama Cudjoe, director of curations. We are proud to present this audio cassette guide of “Unfinished Nightmares”, the new sketches of Claudia Atieno. These drawings were discovered two years ago in a previously unknown crawl space below Atieno’s Cornwall home. This audio guide will be narrated by historian and expert in Atieno’s oeuvre, Roimata Mangakāhia. While Atieno’s whereabouts remain a mystery, these sketches give eery insight into her last creative thoughts before her disappearance. This special exhibit is located on level 2. Works with audio guidance are numbered and begin on your left, moving counter-clockwise around the room. Each narration will be followed by a tone, so that you may pause the cassette between pieces. Please return the cassette player, headphones, and shoulder strap to the member services desk on the ground floor.

[bell chimes]

Sketch One. “Untitled Figure with Hat”.

This drawing is of the society’s secretary of trade, Vishwati Ramados, wearing a wide-brimmed fedora. You can see a wry smile on Ramados’s face, like in reference to the brown western hat juxtaposed against her soft blue sari. The staff at the Bardo disagreed with my identification of Ramados. Rather, they do not believe the figure is meant to be anyone in particular, but I know her face well. Ramados was a frequent visitor to Atieno’s Cornwall home, as well as her Mwanza apartment. I knew Ramados, and while I was not close to her, I know she greatly respected Atieno’s artistic talents.

Ramados also greatly resented Atieno’s constant critique of the societal council, her frequent jibes about Ramados’s capitulation to bureaucratic strictures. Ramados, like most of Atieno’s invited guests, was an avid art collector and ardent fan of Atieno’s work.

Ramados had a technically perfect smile. One that is vibrant and beautiful, regardless of her intentions. Look at her smile in this sketch. What are Ramados’s intentions? What are your intentions?

One of Atieno’s most notorious paintings, “(-- [0:03:26] Madurai”, currently part of Manhattan Museum of Modern Art’s permanent collection, featured a verdant ravine covered in ferns. In the center of the gully, a single camera held by two seemingly disembodied hands literally suggesting a nature photographer, but figuratively critical of the council’s surveillance scandal of 1958 where staff members, under the oversight of the trade commission, kept secret and extensive records of international merchants, including artists such as Atiano.

Placing the subject of the painting in Ramados’s birthplace of Madurai was a particularly harsh jab at a powerful and, it has been rumored, vindictive woman. The surveillance records were unearthed by four journalists from Vancouver, but they could not prove Ramados directly authorized the surveillance of these merchants. Ramados was publicly (-) [0:04:20] for this direct violation of the Citizen Espionage Act of 1951, but never faced a tribunal for these crimes. In “Untitled Figure with Hat”, Atieno did not detail much of Ramados’s surroundings, just her face, smile, hat, and shaded eyes. But notice the pencil stroke in the upper left, suggesting the flat horizon of the ocean.

I believe this was drawn on the patio of Atieno’s Cornwall home overlooking the sea. Ramados’s contagious charms are made vivid in this drawing, and were likely her salvation in the congressional hearings on her scandal. Ramados was friendly with Atieno for the most part, and they had lively conversations about everything except politics. But in the time I spent with Ramados in Cornwall, I sensed she was always planning every word, every gesture. She was carefully choreographed, her intentions were complex and hidden.

[bell chimes]

Sketch two. “Untitled Automobile with Driver”.

Scholars at the Royal Cornwall Museum noted that it was a 1950 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith, a vehicle which was owned by late president of the Bank of Western Europe, Archie McPherson. In the sketch, however, the man standing next to the vehicle is not Archie, who was a large man, broad-shouldered and tall, with a round belly and young face. The man in the sketch is small, barely taller than the vehicle itself. He is wearing thick-rimmed eyeglasses and wearing an unbuttoned shirt.

Look carefully inside his jacket. There appears to be a pistol on a shoulder holster. Although this is a small debate among critics. Notice the shape? The handle of the supposed gun is longer than seems ordinary for a pistol. How long is a pistol?

This man also does not bear any of the uniform elements common to the International Police, who are the only people legally allowed to carry firearms. So either it is not a pistol, perhaps an unfinished umbrella or poorly drawn driver’s gloves, or this unknown man is a guard/driver for a wealthy non-political individual such as McPherson.

Look in the windows of the car. Do you see the outline of a heavyset banker? What does wealth look like?

Hiring armed private guards would also be a criminal offense, but one which money or influence could help alleviate. McPherson owned a large collection of private works by Atieno, Pavel Zubof and Cassandra Reza. He underwrote an exhibit of Atieno’s work at the Tate Modern in 1971. He was one of Claudia’s supporters in her critique of the new society. McPherson believed Ramados and other high-ranking members of the society were covertly constructing an institute in the former United States to imprison violators, the Family Dissolution Act of 1955. He claimed the institute kidnapped and tortured adults who sought to reconnect with their birth families. 

Archie and Claudia did not just enjoy sharing conspiracy theories, they actively believed them.

McPherson was found dead outside his home last year. The official statement claimed he died of a heart attack, and this is not an appropriate forum for speculating about the honesty of official statements.

Look again in the windows of the car in the sketch. Who else was in the vehicle? Do you see yourself inside the car?

[bell chimes]

Sketch three. “Untitled Waves”.

Atieno had drawn a cross-section of waves crashing upon a rocky shore. Look closely along the top of the water. She has masterfully depicted the turbulent force of sand and seaweed caught in an undertow, using only a pencil. She has colored darkly the sky, ostensibly just bad weather, but also symbolizing the nightmare of being dragged out alone into the ocean.

The markings are boldest near the rocks. Look at the rocks and follow the lines out into the sea. See how the pressure of the pencil lightens significantly? The charcoal sky dissipates, not into light but into nothingness. Fear of the void. Of loneliness.

The cliffs of the Cornwall home were always my favorite scene to sketch. Sitting on Claudia’s patio deck overlooking the cliffs, I would often practice shading gradients. Claudia asked me once why I drew this scene so often. I explained to her it was a relaxing way to pass the time, particularly when I needed to keep busy but lacked motivation to create new work. It wasn’t long after that before her sketch pad was filled with drawings of the same scene. You can see here in “Untitled Waves” that even with pencils, Atieno was masterful. I hated her for that. I hated that about her.

Look again at her gradients. Don’t they make you mad? Think about everything you are incapable of achieving.

[bell chimes] [tape recorder turns off] [ads] [tape recorder turns on]

Sketch four. “Untitled Dinner Party”.

Dinner parties were common at the Cornwall house, with visiting artists and dignitaries. I say “dinner parties”, but due in part to the remoteness of the house and in part to the untamed nature of parties, they ran through the night and into the next day, when people could more safely make their way back to land. On occasion, the parties bled through to the next day and further. Atieno was well known for her social events, and many of these were wild engagements with drinks, music, dancing and gregarious unpredictable personalities who sang, or told stories. Or in the case of several dancer friends, stripped naked and performed improvised dance routines on tables.

In this drawing, though, the party seems subdued. Look at how the well dressed figures gingerly hold their glasses of wine, standing stiffly about cocktail tables, with little sign of the debauchery I associate with Atieno’s get-togethers. It is difficult here to discern specific identities, but it is likely that these are representatives from the Council. I believe Atieno was attempting to capture the Council’s trepidation about what they had interpreted as political art. I am not so sure of this interpretation, especially given the source. If you’re looking for dissidence, you’re likely to see it, whether or not it’s really there.

She welcomed friends and enemies alike, and in the case of World Council and Architects of the New Society, she would have happily invited any of her well-appointed detractors into her home, as long as they told good stories and didn’t ruin the fun. The Council were happy to attend the parties, as long as they could mentally know who was there, and what they said.

Atieno’s home country of Tanzania was dissipated during the creation of the society in 1939. The founders of the society removed national bonders in favor of the nine united regions. While this gave way to an eastern Africa independent of English imperialist rule, it stole away the agency of the smaller Tanzanian officials fighting for their own governance. The sub capital of Dodoma now reports to the regional seat in Nairobi. Europeans no longer govern the former Tanzania, but the open trade enabled astronomic growth in several reasons of Africa, and the European population grew there in two decades following the war. Atieno felt disconnected from her homeland and family in Mwanza, as well as with the dilution of the [Ipo] population by the English-speaking Europeans. Still, as a globe traveling artist, many of her childhood friends dissociated from Atiano, feeling she had abandoned her home. Perhaps she had. It would not be the only time she had abandoned her home.

In “Untitled Dinner Party”, we likely see a room full of politicians watching and recording Atieno subtly, as Atieno subtly watched and recorded them in return, in her own way. Look at the revellers in the sketch. Or is “revellers” an appropriate word to use? Which of these people do you think last saw Claudia?

[bell chimes]

Sketch five. “Untitled Artists at Work”.

This meta-sketch of a sketch is quite indicative of the occasions when guests would work together to develop new work. Someone would paint, as you see here in this sketch, a painting on an easel, three artists gathered around discussing the work. I used to believe that one of the figures was Claudia herself, as the painting on the easel, the art within the art, appears to be her, and appears to be her work, “Sunshine Afternoon”. But “Sunshine Afternoon” was painted in 1968. This sketch, while not dated, is likely from the early 1960’s if not late 1950’s. This painting is someone else’s entirely. It was not uncommon for artists to work together to share ideas and paint similar concepts, but an oft-had discussion with other artists in Atieno’s circle was: when does inspiration become theft? I have no proof that another artist originally created “Sunshine Afternoon”. In fact, Claudia might have created it first in this sketch, only to realize it fully in oils years later. But one of the artists in this work, so you see the woman with the long dark hair, I’m certain is Vanessa Wynn. The more I think about her signature rays of light, I think that “Sunshine Afternoon” was certainly her original idea, or at least I had my suspicions.

Look at the sketch in the sketch. Do you recognize that as an early study of “Sunsine Afternoon”? Does this serve as proof, of anything? Are all affirmatives true, until they are successfully debunked?

[bell chimes]

Sketch six. “Untitled Rope and Parrot”.

This, of all the newly discovered sketches, disturbs me the most.

As a sketch, it is simple and beautiful. It is the least suggestive of sinister guests. As you can see it is just a square knot lying atop a wooden table. Next to the tope is a bird. The curators at the Bardo have called this bird a parrot, but it is specifically a kea. Note its long narrow beak. I argued with the curatorial staff about this, and they noted it was more likely an African grey parrot, a bird Atieno would have seen in her parents, as opposed to a kea, native in New Zealand, a place she had never been.

I know this bird to be a kea, even if Atieno had never seen one in person. First, the bird is missing the patterns of the grey parrot, but there is a more significant reason for my certainty. Second, I had an identical painting: a kea on a table, next to a knotted rope. It was one of my earlier attempts to capture wildlife stills. I was fortunate enough to have a friend who worked in nature conservation in the south Ireland, specifically maintaining the help of native birds. She’d taken in an injured kea. She had nursed it back to health. But it could no longer fly. I remember clearly the bird had a small plaster rap, almost like a cast, at the base of one of its wings. My friend allowed me to paint the immobilized bird, and it was a good subject, as it held perfectly still.

Notice in Atieno’s sketch the shoulder area on the bird’s left side. Do you see where the pencils are absent in a horizontal swathe? Is that an unfinished section, or merely Atieno playing with light and shadow, or is it a plaster band?

I brought the painting with me to London early in my career, hoping to get a showing in a gallery. At the time, I thought it captured a unique perspective and approach to still lifes. But over time, I began to feel the painting was not satisfactorily executed, so I left it with other early studies and incomplete paintings in a trunk in my closet.

Atieno rarely came to see me in my small flat in Plymouth, because it was so far from her home. For all of her love of world travels, she detested long commutes to others’ homes. Plus, as I said it was a small flat. But a few weeks after her last visit to my flat in 1970, I noticed that my trunk was open and a handful of my papers and drawings were missing. Since I did not check the trunk regularly, I thought it had perhaps broken open in transit and I’d just never noticed. But upon seeing these sketches, this year, I recognize the sketch of the bird and the rope, and I suspect Atieno had found my old painting. She not only stole the picture, but bettered it. Even without the richness of color and the depth of oil on canvas, Atieno captures shadows and light so well, even the kea, without the motion blur of a realistic photograph, Atieno.. [chuckles] using only a pencil, shows the bird’s lack of attention spam, its nervous energy sitting next to a human. Even the chips and dents along the table’s edge, where the bird had bit away the wood. I don’t recall ever including that detail in my original painting.

What is most maddening about Atieno is her talent. Even in plagiarism, she makes it perfectly her own.

[bell chimes]

So this concludes your audio tour of “Unfinished Nightmares – the New Sketches of Claudia Atieno”. Before you turn in your cassette player at the members desk, I’d like to say a word about Claudia’s absence. She may never return to us, but I believe she’s not dead. Just as she left her home in Mwanza, she left her home in Cornwall. Perhaps she will continue to make art and we will find her once again.

Her former partner Pavel Zubov told the staff at Bardo Museum that he found the sketches for this exhibit in a crawl space in Claudia’s home. I’m not certain what he was doing in her home recently, but I’m weary of the idea that the simply found these in one place no one had ever looked. I admit to looking thoroughly through her home when she wasn’t there. I never saw these. I’m hoping his claims are false, and that Claudia gave them to him to put in the Bardo. It’s possible she simply doesn’t want it known that she’s still somewhere in the world making art.

I expect more exhibits of newly discovered works by Claudia Atieno. [softly] I hope, anyway.

[tape recorder turns off]

“Within the Wires” is written by Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson and performed by Rima Te Wiata.

With original music by Mary Epworth. Find more of Mary’s music at maryepworth.com.

#within the wires #within the wires transcripts #season 2 #sesaon 2 cassette 4 #bardo museum (1975)

[beautifulhaus]

Journal -  2017/06

I made a journal post with drawings and thoughts that happened last week.

Check it out if you want :)

I was staying up late and the sun started to come up...ha but it was so beautiful so I tried to capture it. This drawing happened and I thought this could be a cool layout for a short film. No plans to make it but maybe I will take it out again one day.

Ideas and Ego

I started to watch a lot of interviews of all different kinds of artists and I found there is an interesting pattern when great artists talk about their ideas.

'It's like this spooky universe picks the day and gives it to me.' 

'My ideas are beyond me, they are not for or from me'

'Just sit down and either something great happens or not'

'We reinvented the wheel by accident'

Ideas as relevant universal gifts that have nothing to do with you as a ego but are just using your body as a door to the world. Have faith in some kid knocking on that door and be kind and not judgmental to that kid. You should listen carefully what she has to say and maybe you might even want to help her with her concern. But also note that you might not get visited for a long time. You might want to put out a nice new welcome matte tho or decorate a little ha.

I like that thought because it takes away the judgment you put over yourself. There are no bad no good ideas, they just are and it's your job to help them come to live and that is it. Help them as best as you can and once you did that, don't judge them. Let them be and wait for the next kid. And if that idea is to write a song about cheeseburgers even though you have never written a song and have no clue about it at all, do it because it is not about you, it is about that song trying to make it .

haha dang so dramatic

Louise Wilson

I discovered her through a Kanye Interview and just want to collect some things I kept from her. She was  probably the most influential fashion professor of our decade – unfortunately passed away in 2014

She said something like 'Sometimes when I talk about the work of my students I would ask them 'Would you show that to Tom Ford?' and they would say 'Oh no, I would have to do that and that better'...

Well then why don't you do it?? 'BE YOUR OWN TOM FORD'

I love that mindset so much and I tried it. I watched some Disney making of videos and then pretended I would work for them and did some sketches...haha. That really opened my eyes on becoming better at something. It is not about the craft itself. It is not about practicing for 231786 years in the sense of exhausting hard work. It is all about you mindset. It is about how you prepare mentally before you put that pencil down and what you allow your body to perform! If you do that you also get a feeling of ultimate self confidence because you get into a state where it's not even questioned that you couldn't do something. And if something does not come out the way you wanted you just do it again.

And again. Again.

'Our students would go to Paris Fashion Week and see how many shows they could get into. They pretended to be the make-up artist. That was actually a class project!'

Just wow I have nothing to say to that. I start tearing up reading this what is wrong with me haha

About students starting her course

'And if Professor Wilson sees herself fighting a crusade, it's not against what students don't know, but what they do. "Their previous education has rendered them incapable. When they come here, it's like rehabilitating them. Because they've been in education since they were five. That's longer than if you'd been in prison for murder. And when you left prison, you'd been given a social worker to rehabilitate you.'

I feel like that is what is happening with me now. The school system is so so so deep embedded in me because I was all about doing great and reaching expectations. I got out when I was 18 and it took me 5 years to just get an idea of  how I have to set my mind in order to survive in the ways my mind and body is supposed to perform.

Great Lady, just by reading and watching her interviews I felt really connected and got a good idea of her approach on life.

Sources

Kanye Interview https://youtu.be/4Rn0hDB6Z8k?t=25m24s

Louise Wilson https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2010/feb/07/central-saint-martins-louise-wilson https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2014/may/19/louise-wilson-seven-insightful-fashion-quotes#img-1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Li1ty85B_vs

I noticed I keep telling myself the same things haha

People always talk about their passion and how it makes them do amazing things but what is that? Tell me about it because I dont knooow haha.

I do know that feeling of really wanting to do something and getting all these ideas for it but it would never stay for a long time and most importantly on the same thing to do... ha

Is it something we have to look for? Is it something that comes in the act of doing something? Is it something we choose? Is passion a choice? Idk I have always been all over the place with the things I enjoy and have an initial love for but it would eventually dim down and come back and down. Haven't I found the right thing yet or do I have to choose a path and commit to it even in times I don't have any love for it anymore? (Usually the next day ha) Here is something that comforts me in that regard tho.

To have faith in the unexpectedness of life.

We can predict, plan, prepare as much as we want but what is clear is that we don't have a clue of what's going to happen next and using that as a tangible fact that we can rely on brings me back to the present and to what can or has to be done now. So I end up not overthinking and just make random stuff. Like this post :>

I also had to think about my dad who used to spend the whole day in front of his monitor doing paintings in paint... Haha That's all he would do and eventually he printed the ones he liked the most and hang them in the house. What's that feeling? He enjoyed looking at images so he tried all day to make the ones that strike him the most by himself? He did what he wanted to see just for the enjoyment of looking at them? Because he didn't show his work, never talked about it. He just made them.

Fashion has always been something that I found interesting and having my own collection is a Kid that has been sitting in my brain for the longest time. While I thought about some concepts I found out about this fashion brand Comme de garcon and I felt connected to their vision in a weird way. I then got the idea to make concepts for them and send it to them. ‘Here take that and now hire me’ kinda like that haha

I feel very weird about showing it all so maybe I will after after they have ignored it for a few weeks. (Also in case I ever finish it)

Everyone can do something great, everyone has a gift. It's about finding the right mindset, the right vibe that let's your body flow and make all the amazing things it is able to make. What will keep you away from that state are 'wrong intentions'. Doing it for the money, doing it for the fame won't be a healthy engine for the long run.

Is that true tho?

Btw this is the way I tell myself things so even though it might be total bullshit, I just pretend it's true (for now).

Have faith in the unexpected. Have faith in something amazing happening at any given moment.

(All these ideas and thoughts are not my work, I kinda feel this 'body as a vessel' thing. All I am doing is pretty much watching and experiencing on what journey it is on.) I never did anything for my thoughts to come out, they just do. What that mindset leaves you with is a ultimate sense of validity in your existence and everything that is connected to it. (sadness, laughter, embarrassment, uninspiredness, excitement, 'failures' or things that just didn't go as expected/hoped.

Have faith in the unexpected. Don't force it, don't stress it.

I am feeling a very strange feeling of peace right now and I am absolutely cracking myself up inside because all I can think of now is this video where Beyonce is in awe because of everything but I totally feel it too right now aaahaha. Also why am I sounding all spiritual now what is happening?? wth. And do I think I am Beyonce or what? Am I just high on coffee or something???

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O63dea1U33g

Rereading this is the funniest thing, what was going on haha. (random older stuff)

Don't feel whatever was happening yesterday anymore ahaha but what's new.

Life is so extremely short. Everything that seems like the most important and eternal thing is only a blink of an eye, really. Soon we and everything that is our world won't mean anything anymore. There is no excuse to 'waste' time on things that don't feel important to you. Do the things you want gurrrlll

  You already can do anything you want. You just have to have faith in your abilities and get rid of this sense of bad and good. Whatever you do just is, and that's it and that's good. (in the sense that good is all there is) The only thing that stands between 'everything I can do' and  'me at this given point of time' is me doing it.

So have that same sense of 'I can do everything' in all aspects of life.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXsQAXx_ao0

It's not about you, it's about the art getting it's chance to exist so get over yourself and let all the babies out. And you don't judge your children, you just let them be, maybe guide them.

(Rereading this makes me cringe hard ahahahaah  I still mean it but at the same time I am thinking like 'Who are you and why does everything sound so spiritual motivated and dramatic ahaha. I wrote that stuff just days ago but it feels like I found an old journal of me as a kind trying to figure things out hahaha oh man anyway...)

I looked at what I wrote and I basically repeat myself again so nevermind haha.

But today I found out about Rupaul and how amazing he is so I watched a lot of interviews again. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSchZdbdWYU

‘ We are an extension of the power that created the entire universe ‘

Again this sounds very spiritual which I am kinda uncomfortable with but it is so true at the same time. I don’t believe in free will. We can not want what we want. We just want things and we just think certain things and get certain ideas and these things are a result or part of the chainreaction of happenings after the bigbang if you will or the creation of the universe. So we are an extension of the power that created the universe. Maybe all this spiritual talk of this week really is just standing really really high on solid facts.

“In fact it was good for me to go back home because I got to recharge my battery and understand what it is I wanted to do in the first place”

Totally what happened to me in the last two weeks??? I was sick and got the chance to just recover and think which braught me to this crazy long post.

Also found out he has a podcast with over 100 Episodes so I know what I can listen to when I draw around now.

http://www.stitcher.com/podcast/rupaul-whats-the-tee-with-michelle-visage

So weird... I came across this songwriter called James Fauntleroy  and he talks about how he wanted to become a comicbook artist, then he got sick which braught him to songwriting and now he is into animation.... That is literally me because I have been recording so many song sketches the past few days and really found a love for it and the drawing thing is given. I used to write songs and always wanted to make music but back then my mindset was all in this ‘this is bad, I am such a beginner, I dont know anything about this’ - mode which I am kinda over with now (not totally but we will get there) and now it’s just fun doing it.

https://youtu.be/EGY0rROcvRQ?t=11m5s

Ok so I was Beyonce, Rupaul and now this guy haha. I don’t know... so weird I really got a sense of ‘a bigger power’ this week though, which I have always heard people talk about but I never really understood or felt it the way I did this week.

Sunday is almost over now and I am thinking about this journal thing. I don’t like that it is packed with so much text, I am also not sure if it’s a good thing that I spend so much time into going back and recalling each day. Even though these texts are only days old it feels like they were written from this super old version of myself because I wrote them in a state of mind which was very specific to that moment I wrote them in. You know when you get sentimental and have all these thoughts you normally don’t have but the next day you wake up and feel totally different and just forget about it. Now I have that stuff written down and reading it 2 or 3 days later is like....This guy needs to chill. Also having to actually lock the things down that go through my mind like I am doing right now is weird because some things just don’t really matter like this stuff right here but since I am writing them down I have pay extra attention to what is going on in my brain haha maybe I should just cut in down extremely for the next time? Maybe only drawings? I don’t know, let’s see if I make another one next Sunday.

Have a good one  :)))

#journal #Illustration #animation #june

[republicstandard]

The Ballad of Count Dankula & The Nazis

Ash Sharp Editor

God save the Queen, the fascist regime.

As it happened, it appears The Sex Pistols were 40 years early, and about 400 miles too far south with their assessment of the undemocratic nature of Britain. The fascism in the United Kingdom lives not in Buckingham Palace, nor even in the hearts of the bin-bag wearing Mosque door-steppers, Britain First.

It lives in the mind of a petite scotch lady with a penchant for power suits. A microcosmic tartan-clad Clinton. Fascism lives in Scotland, under the regime of a political party that is both Socialist and Nationalist at once. What could go wrong with such a combination?

The cry of humans yearning for freedom is intrinsically tied to the Scottish experience. This is partly thanks to the descendants of Scottish emigrants around the world, and also to the popularity of a certain movie featuring a particularly red-pilled Australian playing William Wallace. Even the anthem Flower of Scotland dubs the Scots as brave fighters for liberty, ready to see off the encroachment of cheeky wee English devils from the south.

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All the more interesting then, that one of the most curious explorations into the modern understanding of freedom of speech has taken place in this country. The curious case of Mark Meehan, a pug named Buddha, and Adolf Hitler, transcends merely the price for transgressing polite public conduct. Meehan and Buddha have found themselves built into a bête noir; ironic, as Buddha is tan in color.

I'll describe the gist of the tale in short, in case you are not familiar. Mark Meehan makes YouTube videos as a hobby, under the name Count Dankula. Yes, he doth smoke the Devil's Lettuce. His girlfriend owns a small pug, named Buddha. Mark likes the dog very much. Mark's girlfriend likes the dog very much. She thinks he is very cute. Meehan -being quite the joker- decided to change this reality slightly, for comedy effect. For a giggle, Meehan has trained Buddha to behave like a Nazi. A Nazi pug. An Uberpug. Buddha now responds to phrases like 'Jews' and 'Do you want to gas the Jews' by turning his head, thinking a treat might be coming. He is a dog, let it be said again for clarity. He is utterly unaware of what a Nazi actually is, just as he is incapable of reading Mein Kampf- or Das Kapital, for that matter.

Buddha will also imitate the Roman Salute with better accuracy than most Neo-Nazi Live Action Role Players when given the command, 'Sieg Heil'.

Incredibly, you cannot even share the original video from Meehan's channel. YouTube have removed the ability to do so, even going so far as to remove the ability to embed the video in articles like this one.

When Meehan made the video, his channel audience was small. As happens with funny videos, Buddha being a Nazi went viral, and Meehan found his YouTube channel growing apace. The video also came to the attention of the Scottish Police.

Arrested for violating hate-speech laws, Meehan has been subjected to multiple court dates, the most recent of which have carried with them the possibility of Meehan not returning home and being sent straight to jail.

He lives in a country where the state will take an interest in a video of a dog performing tricks. We can admit the humor is risque, but what is at stake here is curious in the extreme. Who, exactly, is the butt of the joke in Mr. Meehan's video?

It is not Jewish people. It cannot be Jewish people unless we are now to say that to mention the word 'Jews' is offensive. Is the word Jew offensive? Is it only offensive when spoken by non-Jews? Perhaps it is the phrase 'Do you want to gas the Jews' which is the problem. If this is the case, then it can only be the case that regardless of context, the words 'gas the Jews' is always offensive. In many cases, this will be an offensive phrase, particularly if it is said with venom, in public, to incite people to carry out violence or promote anti-Semitism. It cannot be so, that to say 'gas the Jews' is always offensive. If that is the case, then I may be arrested (were I in Scotland) for writing these words down, as should the writers of all the other articles about this case. Context has to matter, or nothing makes sense at all, and we live in a society without meaning.

Is training a pug to respond to 'Do you want to gas the Jews' anti-Semitic?

The butt of Mr. Meehan’s joke is not Buddha the dog, nor is it his girlfriend (who no doubt has the patience of several saints). The butt of Meehan's joke is the Nazis. It is called irony, the Scottish court should look it up. Incidentally, so should the Mirror, the Telegraph And the Mail Online.

This is definitely what we should focus on. Not context. Context is for Nazis.

It requires an uncharitable reading of this comedy sketch in extremis to extrapolate anti-Semitism. The title of the video should be enough to indicate the comedian's intent; Mate, your dog is a Nazi. (Translation from Scotch- mine.)

There exists such a concept as dog-whistling, which is to say that there is a hidden subtext to a piece of art, or an article or even a tweet, which secretly conveys another meaning to other extremists. This allows you to accuse someone of just pretending to not be a Nazi while mocking Nazis, because really you are a Nazi after all.Irony; a sketch featuring an actual dog is accused of being a Nazi dog-whistle. Hitler loved dogs too, you know.

Does your dog want to build the thousand-year Reich?

I will go further, and argue that Meehan unintentionally presaged the leftist lunacy of 2017 with their punch a Nazi rhetoric, and is mocking the hysteriical Antifa activists and other proponents of violence too. Although the video in question is now over two years old, watch it again and remember that people have been assaulted for the suspicion of being a Nazi.

The concept of the joke is that Buddha the pug is a Nazi. Pugs are very silly dogs indeed. They look silly. They act silly. Therefore Nazis are silly. The people who want to punch Nazis are also silly. Silliness begets silliness and now, stupidity, as Meehan is facing jail for making edgy jokes. As a writer who enjoys a joke as much as the next guy, I am most annoyed at having to explain a joke. Imagine how Mr. Meehan has felt, for the last two years. Imagine having to go to the same party over and over again, where the same boorish prigs demand you explain a joke you made two years ago.

The curiosity is not that the state is too humorless to spot that Meehan is mocking Nazis by training a pug to imitate their salute. The curiosity is that the state is making an example of Mr. Meehan. Not out of revulsion against anti-Semitism or opposition to the Nazis; oh no. Mr. Meehan will be the example to show what can happen to you if you step out of line.

The whiff of religious bigotry is easy to find in some parts of Scotland. Sectarianism between Catholics and Protestants runs deep. This long-running blood feud has not been targeted with the same level of resources as has Meehan and his evil Nazi dog. Occasionally the police will denounce anti-papist songs of the fans of Glasgow Rangers. We must ask, what is the motivation here? Scotland has no history of Anti-Semitism, beyond the support for Palestinian rights among the supporters of Glasgow Celtic Football Club.

I contend that this court case contains a hidden message. A dog-whistle to all citizens, if you will.

The longer this case drags on and the more notorious and misreported it becomes in the press, the greater the impact of Meehan's sentence will be; should he be found guilty and jailed. Such a case will send a message to all Scotland- don't speak about any other religious or ethnic group; no matter what. There will be a new crime on the books. You will be charged with being white while in charge of an edgy sense of humor. Meehan is far from the first Scot to be a comedian on the cusp of taste and decency. Frankie Boyle to name but one has made a career from offending sensibilities at will, with jokes about cot death, incest, rape – the list goes on. What separates Boyle from Meehan is that Boyle is overtly politically left-wing, with a column in The Guardian newspaper to espouse his views, whilst Meehan has resolutely ignored inquest into his political leanings and was, up until now, a private citizen.

As we see today, this is a damning indictment of Scottish society that to be protected from the state, you must be a tribalist of some variety. If Meehan had performed his sketch while having previously declared his allegiance to a group- almost any group- then he would have had the support of that interest group to fight his case to the press, to the public. As it stands, Meehan is, like most people, merely a citizen. A citizen who wanted to make his friends laugh. There is nothing more tragic to my mind, that a supposedly free society is punishing individuals when they have done no harm- although as we see, the Scottish state is claiming that words are literally harmful in this case.

But who benefits? Politically, The Scottish National Party (SNP) is a separatist party with pro-European Union leanings and a pro-immigration stance; as most leftist parties are in Europe. Benefitting as the Democrats in the United States do from a strong base among migrants and descendants of migrants, Meehan and his dog represent a great opportunity for the SNP to forge a weapon with which to purge the land of those who would dissent against their policies. There can be no other explanation for the obsessive pursuit of Mr. Meehan by own government. The motive is not to protect any group from evil men who wish to incite bigotry. It is about control. It is a public flogging on the altar of modern multicultural society.

Two Jews, The Ayatollah Khomeini, and Caitlyn Jenner's lawyer walk into a brothel.

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If you are unable to make jokes, you are unable to speak your mind.  If the state is able to interpret this comedy video as a hate-crime, then you may not speak against, for example, disproportionate crime rates among migrant populations. That too will be a hate crime. You may not speak about the predilection of Pakistani males to rape white children. This is a hate-crime. This case is not concerned with a man saying the word 'Jew'.

This case is the state of Scotland against the idea of being offensive itself. Being offended is no longer possible, as all offensive behavior is against the law. You are not offended. You are the victim of a crime- even if you are not the target of a joke, you can be offended on behalf of your conception of the alleged target of the joke. Though I am averse to bringing up the topic of race, we would no doubt see a different response from the state if Meehan was an ethnic minority. A sad thing to say. Worse, that it is undoubtedly true.

If the Scottish legal system fails Mr. Meehan and jails him for the crime of mocking Nazis on the internet, the Flower of Scotland no longer will represent the land of the free. It will become a symbol co-opted and perverted by a fascistic state, just as the Third Reich co-opted and perverted the swastika. No one will be able to crack a joke in Scotland for fear of being misunderstood, misrepresented or taken out of context.

In an effort to purge herself of bigotry, Scotland will become what she claims to hate the most.

I think that's what they call ironic. Good luck, Count Dankula. Good luck, Buddha. Thanks for the laughs, and long may they continue.

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