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future-boi · 7 months

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Doctober 2023 Summary

Completed 24/31 prompts!

List of all the prompts I did for Doctober 2023 below

So happy to be done 🥳🥳🥳👏👏👏

1. Sunrise: Tbh I don’t feel any which way about this one and I think it’s because I created it to be a companion piece to Sunset. So its like lowkey half-assed but also far from it. I’m very happy with how that turned out so that’s something…

2. Desert

3. Gun Fight😜🤧☠️: Ah, the first meme post. I felt shaky posting this. Cherry, I hope you know I did it for/because of you

4. Light Blue😈: Ah yes, the first Hell Valley angst post. I’ve always been super proud of it and I’m really happy that others are still liking/reblogging to this day! Almost a month later

5. Alarm Clock😜☠️: AH YES, the first post to really give me anxiety about posting. I was like this ain’t a SIMPLE meme anymore, ITS GOT COMPLEXITY.

6. Ticking Time Bomb

7. Family😇: This one was super wholesome and the first time in a long while drawing Jules and Verney!

8. Outatime😜💛: This one was a fun one! There was a moment where I wasn’t sure if I should do a background… I’m glad I still had fun with it, it took a lotta work hahaha

9. Zipline

10. Nuclear

11. Briefcase😜☠️: We back doing goofy shit again… but I really liked this one and had a lotta fun with it. definitely up there with Rear View Mirror.

12. Train Tracks

13. Photo Album😜: This one was fun and gave me a break from drawing (aside from the days I didn’t do anything…)

14. Coffee😇💛☠️: This one’s so wholesome. But Im biased af

15. Invention😜🤧: This is the first certified half-assed art piece LMAO im sorry to admit it but I gotta speak the truth

16. Stage

17. Einstein😜: This was really fun, I love poking fun at Biff but who doesn’t?

18. Letter

19. Memory 😇😈: Didn’t like the linework on this one I think that’s why I was feeling so negative about it… or maybe the composition… overall, I think I can do better.

20. Rearview Mirror😜💛🔥☠️: This one’s definitely the funnest one I’ve worked on and still makes me giggle.

21. Improvement😇: I was stressing over trying to finish it so I don’t have the happiest memories of working on this one…

22. Constellation😇💛: This one’s special to me so I was gonna love it no matter what lmao. I really enjoyed working on it even though I wish I had more time.

23. Nostalgia😇💛: One of the faves and always will be. The vibes are on point.

24. Record Player😈: The return of Hell Valley angst

25. Café😇: I’m happy with the color palette. I want to revisit this one some other time cuz I feel like I could do more if I had more time. Not sure if I should categorize this under half assed attempt or not.

26. Anniversary😇🤧: Yeah this was another half assed one, sorry

27. Thunderstorm😈: Angst and Hell Valley are synonymous at this point. I really liked this one, especially how it transitions from colored to black and white

28. Metallic😜☠️: Nimona. That’s all I gotta say. Nah jk I wasn’t going to do this but the no pines timeline was really interesting to learn about… and by interesting, I mean scary. But hey, it gives us another angle to the bttf storyline.

29. 2023😇😜🤧: Talked about the musical. Drew a few doodles. Hair style reveal?

30. Sunset😇⚡: Gives all the warm fuzzies, how could you hate it? Very happy with my use of color here.

31. Free Day (Halloween)😈🎃☠️: We don’t talk about this one… It’s the number one rule of the club 😉

What the emojis mean:

🤧 Half Assed

😜 Funny/Meme

😇 Warm Fuzzies

😈 Angst

☠️ WHO LET ME COOK

💛 Top 5

🔥 Funnest Prompt

🎃 Spookiest

⚡ Personal Fave

My goal for this prompt list challenge was to focus on quality over quantity. There’s a few half-assed art pieces that snuck in, but it could have been worse. By quality, I wanted clean line art, backgrounds, and if I have enough time, color!

What drove me to create art: Showing other people that are in this fandom (most notably ⚡@cheriboms). I’d love to interact with other mutuals on here. Shout outs: 💛@bttf-dork 💛@synthsays 💛@alex-a-fans. I feel like I’ve been doing that more towards the end of the challenge, but yall give me motivation! And sometimes, inspiration!

What I learned:

🤔 I can actually draw backgrounds if I actually try [wowowow who'da thunk] It’s much easier to draw a background from a reference rather than coming up with one on your own. So I need to keep that in mind whenever I feel discouraged.

🤔 I feel like my work is very dramatic. Like melodramatic fr. Or at least it can be... I blame watching those tv dramas with my mom when I was a kid. But then again, if you want to incite emotion out of an audience, you gotta know how to frame stuff and do all the fancy cinematography work. So you gotta be dramatic to an extent. I got really really bored with my ideas that weren’t telling a story(or rather a more interesting story…). And that effected my motivation.

🤔 Looking back at the list, I noticed that my top 5s are all either silly or wholesome and I’m glad and relieved about that. I said that I’m really dramatic and there’s quite a bit of angst in there, but ig I’m not THAT edgy (or maybe the prompts didn’t allow me to be🤔👀)

Things that I want to improve on: COLOR THEORY. Brush theory/line weight. I’ve been experimenting a tiny bit with this throughout the month, but I want to delve into it. Since I didn’t work on something for more than a day, I felt like I was throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks.🤪I didn’t get to really study what colors work well and why and experiment with it.

A lot of the ones that I’m not very proud of could be chalked up to not having enough time to work on it/make it better, so that’s an interesting dilemma.

TL,DR; I talk too much. Gotta work faster smh git gud 🙄

#doctober 2023

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weasleydream · 3 years

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unfairness

here it is, my participation to @omgrachwrites writing challenge! once again, congrats for 1k love, so happy for you!!

the prompts were “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” ; “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.” and “This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

TW: the end can be a bit violent

masterlist

We had realized our relationship wasn’t as bright as we had thought when an umpteenth rumor about us had spread between Hogwarts’ walls, at some point during our sixth year of school. It wasn’t the first, far from that, but it was definitely the worst because it also involved this Ravenclaw guy whose name was still unknown to me at the time. As far as I could tell, there had always been jealous girls that had tried to get Fred to dump me, and plenty of boys that wanted to convince me that they had more to offer than the Weasley boy. The only difference with this rumor was that Fred kinda despised said Ravenclaw boy because of a Quidditch match the year before, and he had turned his nervousness into a burst of anger I hadn’t anticipated. Problem is that, at the same time, I had heard Angelina telling Katie that Lee had told her that George had implied that Fred was seeing someone else, and just everything that had happened that year had gotten the best of me.

Our first break up had occurred a week after we had heard about these rumours, and during the rest of our sixth year and most of our seventh until now, we had ended our relationship twice more.

The worst in all of this was that I loved Fred. So fucking much. I loved him and I was ready to do anything for him, and I knew it was the same for him, but it was just not possible to keep a relationship as ours was. We didn’t have the same interests at all, Fred was obsessed with his shop project and me with the learning of defense against the dark arts (through Dumbledore’s army, of course). He was nonchalant and sometimes forgetful, I was fussy and very sensitive. When one of us was too busy, a date planned was quickly forgotten and the fight very likely to happen.

That’s why, as I was in my dorm trying to choose what to wear, the main question in my mind was to know if it was worth it. A few clothes were scattered on my bed, and two pairs of boots were thrown on the floor. It had been almost half an hour and I only had twenty minutes left before having to join Fred who would probably be waiting for me in the common room. I had hoped this little preparation session would help me ease my terrible mood but it seemed that it was a fail. Finally opting for comfortable jeans and one of Fred’s sweaters - even though we were almost in June, the week had been a bit cold - I spent the rest of my time reading again some transfiguration notes. I headed downstairs exactly twenty minutes later only to find the common room completely empty.

“Of course…” I muttered.

As soon as the portrait opened, the noise in the corridors broke the silence I had been plunged in for an hour. Some people were talking about the coming exams, others about the next class they would have. Not once did I hear my name in a conversation, which had become quite rare with the time. I had learned the hard way that people always had something to say about my relationship with Fred, and if there wasn’t any tasty gossip, then inventing one wasn’t a problem.

I found Fred in the great hall, sitting with George, Ron and Harry. They were all talking about something that had to be classified as a defence secret considering how they suddenly became interested in everything that wasn’t me. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who was sitting at the table behind them, and George patted Fred’s shoulder before nodding at me and leaving without a word. It was usual, this taciturn behaviour George had when I was here; we had never gotten along that well, and if I was being honest, it was probably another problem between Fred and I.

We headed outside and took the road to Hogsmeade. We were walking next to each other, our hands brushing every now and then without ever really touching. The distance had become natural, touches were rare now and it was in moments like these that I hated it the most. Hating on the happy couples we saw on our way was easier than trying to find something nice to talk about, so that’s what I did. Fred looked like he was lost in his world and he only gave me some attention when he pushed the Three Broomsticks’ door for me. We found a table against a window, which provided a nice warmth, and Fred put his jacket on the chair.

“Butterbeer or hot chocolate?”

“You know the answer.” I said, playing with my sleeve.

“So it’ll be hot chocolate with chamallows for the damsel.”

He left with a smile to order our drinks, leaving me alone for a good five minutes. When he came back, a pint of butterbeer in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, I had had plenty of time to ruminate over everything I had decided to talk about with him during the past two days. However, the chuckle that shook his shoulders when he told me about the guy who had just tripped with three bottles of butterbeer in his hands stopped me. It could be a good afternoon, and these were too rare for my liking. It happened of course, our relationship wasn’t absolute hell, but it had definitely worsened with the time.

“Y/N, you okay? You look quite pale.” Fred was looking at me with concern in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me: I bet a galleon you’ve been working on your potion essay until very very late at night. How right am I?”

“Very right,” I muttered before passing a hand on my face. “I don’t get it. How can you spend so little time on your work without being at least a little bit nervous?”

“You know I don’t really care about all of this. I’ve got other priorities and bigger ambitions.”

“I know, but you’ll need this knowledge, won’t you?”

Fred was keen to avoid another argument, and he sighed loudly.

“We’ve already talked about this Y/N, George and I can do without all this scolar stuff. Plenty of people have done that already.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sorry we’ve spent all that time arguing.” added Fred after a pause. “It’s not time we can gain back.”

“Maybe we can’t,” I began cautiously, “but we can try to do better. Try not to lose more time.”

“It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway.” Another pause. “Do you want to take a walk? Looks like it’s getting warmer outside.”

We got up and exited the pub. Indeed, the sun was higher in the sky and its rays weren’t hidden by clouds. The warmth on my face was more than welcome, and the pleasant sensation made me forget Fred’s last sentence.

This time, he grabbed my hand and we exchanged jokes on the way back to the castle. We bumped into a few friends and even one or two professors, but most of the time it was just Fred and I. Until the moment we arrived near the castle entrance, that is.

“Hey Y/L/N, how are you?”

A Slytherin guy stepped in front of me, obliging me to stop and pull on Fred’s hand. The least I could say was that he didn’t look pleased at all with the interruption. The Slytherin didn’t look like he gave a care and kept smiling at me.

“I was thinking, we could go to Hogsmeade together one of these days. I mean, I guess you want to cover your back, so I’m here if-”

I wanted this pretentious git to shut up, and it looked like Fred had read in my mind because his fist collided with the nose of the guy with a disgusting noise of cracked bone.

“That’s what you get for trying to ask my girlfriend out.” he muttered before grabbing my hand.

I should have said something, whether thank you or are you crazy? but in all honesty I was trying to calm my heart, which was beating like crazy. It was rare to hear such words from Fred’s mouth or so it had become, but hearing him calling me his girlfriend, punching a guy that was hitting on me, that gave me hope for our couple.

And it made it even more painful when, a few weeks later, Fred left Hogwarts with George on his broom without a word to me. Without something as simple as a glance behind. All I could do was watch helplessly as he saluted Peeves and flew away and try to process the fact that he was giving up on me. Did that mean that we weren’t together anymore? That he had decided on his own he had enough of me, that I wasn’t worth the effort? It’s right here, alone in this crowded corridor after the most crazy departure from the castle we had witnessed, that I understood the meaning of what Fred had told me back at the Three Broomsticks, during our last date. It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway. What an idiot I had been! Here I was, thinking he was talking about the war, persuaded that he was just being extremely pessimistic, when he was in fact confessing that he was going to leave the castle and basically dump me without having the decency to assume it in front of me! I got back to my dorm, trying my best to keep a neutral face as I knew most of the students I would bump into were going to search for the slightest ounce of pain on my face. I only let my walls crumble when I got to the common room, and the first sobs left my mouth when the door of the dorm was closed.

I threw myself on my bed and grabbed the pillow that I wedged underneath my chest. The anger would come later; for now, I needed to cry as many tears as I had in stock. I stayed in my bed the rest of the day, did surprisingly well in faking sleep when the dorm filled, and spent an agitated night. When I got up the next morning, my first thought was to wonder why my head was so heavy and painful, and when I remembered, my second thought was that it was time for anger. I grabbed my prettiest shirt, slipped in a particularly fitting pair of jeans, and watched myself in the mirror, hoping to fool people enough to avoid questions. At the sight of my dull skin, my eye bags and my glossy eyes, I realized the most beautiful clothes in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, so I sighed, grabbed my bag, sighed again and left the dorm with one goal: forgetting Fred Weasley, my love for him and the pain he had caused me.

_ _ _

A few months later, it had become very obvious that I had failed that goal. I was still full of resentment toward Fred and what he had done, and I was able to get really irritated when someone reminded me of him in any way. The fact that I had gotten involved completely in the Order and that most of his family was in it too didn’t help at all and it had led to a few encounters I would have given anything to avoid. Fortunately, he was busy with his joke shop and we never saw each other long enough to say more than hello. Well, that was before Mrs Weasley organized a diner at the Burrow with a few members of the Order, me included.

She had been particularly pleased to see me, and Ginny had confessed it was because her mother was persuaded I would run away.

“You know, because of the git I have to call my brother.” she had added with a disapproving pout.

Ginny had been very disappointed in Fred when he had left, not because of school because she would have done the same if she could but because he had left me on the sidelines. She was a good friend and confident, and even though family was everything to her, she had assured me she would never forgive Fred for what she used to call “a very stupid mistake”. However, as I was squeezed on the couch between her and Tonks, all the support she could provide me wasn’t enough considering the fact that Fred was only a meter or two away and his eyes were fixed on me. I was repeating myself that it didn’t matter, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but his gaze seemed to be getting heavier as the minutes passed by. It took me a good quarter of an hour to gather enough courage to look directly at him with the idea of making him understand he was annoying me, but the strange sparkle in his eyes intrigued me more than it should and I found myself looking away faster than what my ego could accept. A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder.

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny’s elbow hit my ribs repetitively until I sighed. I got up without a word and lifted an eyebrow, which Fred interpreted as a positive answer and apparently as an authorization to grab my hand.

“Don’t go too far.” I warned before removing my hand and walking toward the stairs.

I didn’t know how this would turn out as we hadn’t had any proper conversation since he had left months ago. All this rancour I had built up was ready to resurface at any moment, and I wanted to do my best to avoid the disaster. That’s why I decided it would be better if this conversation happened on a ground as neutral as possible, which would be complicated considering the fact that I was in his childhood home, but not impossible. I settled for a room I was sure wasn’t the twins’, maybe Bill’s, and if he wondered why this choice, Fred never questioned it out loud. The door closed behind his back, and I was surprised to notice that it didn’t cause me any anxiety.

“You look tired.” he finally said with a certain hesitation when he understood I wouldn’t speak first.

Quite honestly, I had imagined a lot of things, but certainly not this.

“I’m- what? What does that mean?” I added with a grunt.

“It means I think you look tired. Is it that surprising?”

“That you’re concerned for my well-being? Since you left school without telling me and didn’t give me any news I have to admit that yes, it’s surprising!”

It was too late to contain my anger as it seemed, and I decided the best I could do was leave the room before exploding. It was without counting on Fred though, who visibly didn’t want me to leave.

“Get out of the way Fred, there’s nothing left to say.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, there’s everything to say.”

We looked each other in the eyes for quite a long time, and I eventually sighed before looking away, too afraid of the heartbeat my heart missed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but things weren’t great between us and… I don’t know, I didn’t think that much.” I scoffed and took a step backward. Fred’s eyes were filled with what I had a hard time admitting was sadness - or regret, maybe? - and they followed every movement I made to sit on the bed. “Listen Y/N, back then I really loved you and I still love you now. But this thing between us… It turned out not good at all, it wasn’t healthy for us to keep it the way it was.”

“So you think you only had two options? You decided by yourself you had to choose between staying with me and keep suffering or leaving without a word?” My voice was maybe a bit louder than intended, but it was too late to keep my heart closed. He wanted a discussion, he would have it. “You never for a second imagined we could make it work again? Fred, what you did was breaking my heart, nothing else!”

“And I broke mine in the process.”

“I- I don’t believe you. You’re the one who made the decision, you are the responsible. You are responsible!”

Fred looked away, and I could have sworn he was tearing up. All the words he could have come up with wouldn’t have changed my mind, but the tears that were now threatening to run down his face made my anger falter. It wasn’t pity but comprehension; these tears, they had covered my face so many times these last months and even before that I could recognize them undoubtedly. I was blaming Fred for leaving me, and even if I wouldn’t forgive him for the way he did it, blaming him for wanting a true breakup would be hypocritical. After all, hadn’t I thought about it myself? The only difference was that Fred had been brave enough to end it, not me. But that didn’t make the abandon any less painful, or these last months any less hard to think about.

“Why now? It’s been months, why do you apologize now?”

Fred sniffed quietly and passed his hand on his face, wiping away a few tears in the process.

“Would you have let me apologize before?” Of course not, I would have punched him and left. “We were both hating me for what I did Y/N, and… I know I’m not pardonable, I just want you to understand that I regret and that no matter what happened, I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“I’ll be too Fred, trust me. But you’re right, you’re not pardonable.”

And I left without saying anything else, closed quietly the door between Fred and I, and it felt like it was the definitive end for us.

_ _ _

Something like three weeks later, the situation of the wizarding world had worsened exponentially. Attacks from death eaters were getting more and more common, and this toward muggles, blood traitors and members of the Order. Two weeks ago, I had participated in my first real monitoring mission with Tonks, and that had made me a veritable member of the Order with all the dangers that it implied. My relationship with Fred had become a bit better after our conversation at the Burrow and he had been the first to show worry about me. An hour or so before my departure for the mission with Tonks, he had left the shop to find me and tell me to keep the Dumbledore’s Army galleon so that he could know if I was in trouble. I had accepted because I wanted him to leave but with time, I had concluded that having it with me was reassuring. I would have never admitted it in front of him though.

A few days ago, Fred had invited me for a special evening at the shop that was organized for the presentation of a new product. He had refused to tell me anything about it and had assured me I would find it hilarious. I wanted to go but the thought of spending an evening with him still made me uncomfortable. Finally, I had accepted on the condition that Ginny was coming with me.

The first thought that crossed my head when I apparated in Diagon Alley is that never in my life would I have thought it possible to see it so empty, so lifeless. Almost all the boutiques I had visited so many times were closed, some because the owner had stopped their activity for a question of security and others because of much darker reasons. My eyes found the only bright light of the alley and I picked up the pace to reach the twins’ shop quicker. All the customers were hurrying inside, they probably felt as oppressed as I did.

“Here you are!” exclaimed Ginny when I reached the door. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind. Glad you didn’t though, George told me what the new product is and it really seems fun.”

I hummed absent-mindedly as my eyes left the floor to wander around me. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t looking for Fred would have been stupid and a loss of time, so I just grumbled once more at my weakness and asked Ginny where her brother was.

“Probably in the back shop preparing his grand entrance. Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.”

If she didn’t make any comment, I didn’t miss her smirk as she grabbed my hand to drag me through the crowd of customers. We finally reached the stage that was occupying all the space in this part of the shop, and I found an empty spot somewhere on the left. On the stage was a huge white cover that was hiding what looked like a board and a table one behind the other, and I barely had the time to think that it was a very simple installation before the twins made their appearance. Everyone cheered and especially the younger ones and Ginny. For my part, I adopted a small smile that widened when Fred winked at me - against my will, I promise.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Fred.

“Dear customers,” continued George.

“Let us present to you our latest product.”

“It is the result of a long work of research and development-”

“And your future darling, it’s a promise.”

George waved his wand and the cover disappeared.

At first, the silence seemed very heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in their heads to create such a thing in times like these. Then, a kid in the audience giggled, and it seemed to relax everyone; laughter burst and some were already shaking their wallet. Ginny was applauding and shaking her head. The twins’ smiles widened and they got off of the platform to reach out to their customers.

It was fun indeed, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they truly measured the impact of what they had just done.

_ _ _

“U-no-poo Fred? Really?”

Fred giggled as if I had just told him a very good joke he had never heard before.

“You have to admit that’s pretty clever!”

“That’s not clever, that’s stupid and not fun at all and- and that’s dangerous Fred!”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t let go of that cocky smirk.

“Y/N, would you happen to be worried?”

“No, I was just thinking your instinct for survival was better than that.” My averted eyes didn’t mislead anyone though. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this Fred, that’s all.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He hesitated for a second, and our eyes fell on the hand he had lifted and stopped above my shoulder. I didn’t say anything and he squeezed it gently. “These laughter earlier, that’s why we’re taking the risk. You have your way to fight the darkness, I have mine, that’s all.” I didn’t find anything to reply to that. “You know, I didn’t think you would come tonight, even Ginny was doubtful. And given the look on your face when I told you about it I thought you would refuse, really.” Fred paused and his fingers clenched lightly against my shoulder once more. “Why did you decide otherwise?”

That was a good question. Why? I had spent the last few days trying to figure out why the first answer in my head had been immediate and positive, why my heart had first beaten like crazy at the thought of seeing Fred again instead of aching as it used to, why I couldn’t hate him as much as I thought I did, as much as I thought I had to. Suddenly, some customer’s shoulder collided with my back with enough strength to make me lose my balance. The position we ended up in felt natural, as if Fred’s torso had always been there for me to rest my head on it and his hands were meant to be on my back.

“I had missed this.” I murmured, and I felt his agreement through the vibrating of his body.

I timidly encircled him with my own arms, and the feeling was so unhoped for, I had craved it for so long, that I found myself unable to move away from him. The more time passed by and the tighter our embrace was until it became almost difficult to breathe.

“Maybe I should…” muttered Fred before loosening his hold, but without letting go of me. “Never again,” he added with a smile, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what it meant. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And as cliché as it could sound, I read the truth in his eyes. The pain, the regrets, the way he had been hating himself everyday for what he had done, but also comprehension because he knew I had been feeling the same. The Weasley sparkle was here too, bright and vivid and loving, and his smile was wider than every smile I had ever seen. I was probably looking the same, and if I wasn’t, I was definitely experiencing this euphoria that was shaking every cell of my body and making my heart beat so fast.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Fred’s voice was low, but it was the only thing I heard.

“Do it then.”

“Let me finish darling. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you. Give me some time to earn it, okay? We’ll make it work again, I’ll make it work again.”

I nodded, torn by two completely opposite emotions. I was grateful because Fred wanted us to become a loving couple again, and disappointed because I needed him, so much that it hurt. But after all this time, it wouldn’t have felt right, and after all maybe it was for the best. Suddenly, I became aware again of the noise in the shop: dozens of customers were still talking happily about their purchase and congratulating George.

“I should go back home. It’s… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Fred smiled and kissed my hair. I gave him my back and took barely two steps toward the door before he grabbed my hand. “Wait Y/N, I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home. It’s dangerous outside and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your little party, Freddie. Don’t worry for me, I’ll apparate as soon as I can, okay?”

“You have the galleon, right?”

“Yes Fred, I have it, and yes I’ll warn you when I’m home.”

He nodded and let go of my hand. I sneaked through the crowd of customers and reached the door. I was on the verge of opening it when Fred’s voice echoed.

“Are you going to leave without a U-no-poo Y/N?”

“Who told you I needed one?”

Fred chuckled, and I only looked away when the door closed. The alley was still somber, and the same dying feeling was floating in the air, but my heart was lighter than it had been in months. I was so happy that nothing could have tarnished my joy, or so I thought.

It’s my training as a new Order member that kicked in and made me dodge the first curse. As the only remaining window of Ollivander’s shop exploded, two dark silhouettes made their appearance between the twins’ shop and I, making it impossible for me to reach any safe place on this side of the alley. What I feared was confirmed when at least two other death eaters’ feet hit the paving stones.

All of this had happened in a second, and I reached for the magical galleon in my pocket before anything else. An instant later, I was forced to dive to the ground with my hand still stuck in my jeans. I got up quickly and drew my wand. It was too late. Something burnt my back with such intensity that the heat spread to the core of my body. Through the excruciating pain, my dizzy brain noticed that there wasn’t a sound that left my mouth, and soon my knees hit the ground. My arms refused to obey and I found myself falling forward without anything to shield my head. The shock was brutal as the rest of the scene. The death eaters left without anything else, word or curse, and soon the noise made by their footsteps disappeared. It felt like an eternity before someone else arrived whereas it had probably been less than two minutes. Time definitely seemed to stop when I realized it was Fred.

“Y/N, what’s- oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still with me… Y/N!”

His arms slipped underneath my limp body. Even the heat he gave me as he was hugging me against his torso wasn’t enough to dissipate the icy cold in my bones. He was calling for help, desperate to be heard as it seemed like we were both glued to the paving stones.

“Please Y/N, tell me- tell me I’m dreaming. This- This is all in my head, it’s all happening in my head... Right? Y/N, say something, please!” I wished I could have reassured him, but my strength was leaving me. “I still have to gain back your love, Y/N you can’t leave me… You can’t…”

Fred was almost sobbing now, shouting to whatever cruel god was watching him that he couldn’t live without me, screaming pleas and crying at this unfairness. His arms were still holding me, and even this feeling was slowly vanishing; soon, I wondered if I had ever felt it and the only answer I could get was the aching in my body that had nothing to do with the curse.

Death wasn’t that bad, after all, less painful than life, and I wished Fred could read it in my mind.

#rach's1kcelebration #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #tw death

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betweentheracks · 3 years

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LGBTQ+ and Queer Operated/Founded Brands

A composite list of some of the notable brands I have worked with or been in contact with throughout my time as a stylist. Rooted in queer communities, founded by LGBTQ+ designers, and dedicated to pursuing gender inclusive styles as well as providing an uplifting community committed to showcasing the talents of LGBTQ+ persons. A number of these also have a deal of activity in supporting POC or black owned and operated fashion brands and design studios.

Otherwild: Los Angeles, California.

Queer identified and woman-owned, Otherwild was established in 2012. It is a store, design studio, and event space. They offer apparel and accessories, as well as lo/no-waste home cleaning products and personal care products. Very grassroots and have a foundation of ethics and sustainability, working in earnest to establish a countercultural relationship to exploitative, extractive, and excessive consumer capitalist culture. They’re quite cost-effective with fair pricing on their range of products.

Rebirth Garments: Chicago, Illinois.

Entirely gender non-conforming, Rebirth Garments caters specifically to all non-binary, trans, and disabled. Their clothing line is custom made upon order, touting a distinct lack of standard sizes since part of their mission and manifesto is to tailor their styles to exactly the consumer’s specifications regardless of body type. Their party line is “Radical Visibility” and have a zine under the same name; their manifesto expressed as a desire to establish and nurture a community of people that have been excluded from mainstream fashion but are still deserving of an outlet to feel confident in expressing pride in the intersections of identity. Their materials are all vibrant and wild, bold and exuberant as a means to challenge the ableist and sizest ideals of mainstream fashions which still centers on gender and binary conforming styles. -- They also offer virtual lessons on accessibility, entrepreneurship, and much more.

Automic Gold: New York City, New York.

Queer owned and queer operated all inclusive jewelry, Automic Gold promotes their products as the most comfortable and versatile jewelry available. The founder is genderqueer and makes a point to create truly genderless accessories and does so with designs that specifically mix and warp the essence of masculinity and femininity, bringing together that which is both outside and inside to form that which is beyond. Sustainable and eco-friendly, all of their jewelry is made from reclaimed gold and 100% recyclable material. Automic Gold is the only known jeweler that carries rings in sizes 2 to 16 and utilize this point to shade the fashion industry for being so constrained by sizing standards.

Wildfang: Los Angeles, California/Portland, Oregon.

Women found, women run, women oriented. Wildfang is seated in the belief that women can and should wear whatever they want and be whatever they want. They give much of their profits to charities and organizations that center on the rights of the oppressed communities, namely queer, reproductive, and immigrant activism. Their collections offer full suits tailored to a female body, workwear made of truly durable materials to outlast even the worst of working conditions, and button ups that won’t gap at the boobs and are not super form-fitting. They promote the sort of modern feminism that holds no underlying toxic ideals of woman’s superiority, and works in the name of women having their rights unrestricted so that they can live their fullest lives with a true sense of self and self-worth alike.

STUZO CLOTHING: Los Angeles, California.

Steeped in the ideals of love, people, and life STUZO celebrates existence without emphasis on identity. Women owned and black owned, STUZO offers apparel with no gender bias with designs meant to invoke thought and feeling; an experience of the self, expressed without boundary. STUZO looks at clothing as being without life and therefore cannot be limited by borders of gender; textiles worn and filled out by consumers breathing life into them.

PYRAMID SEVEN: Chicago, Illinois.

A niche brand; they provide boxer briefs for periods, not gender. Their philosophy and belief is that regardless of where you fall on the gender spectrum or identify yourself as, if you menstruate you should be wearing their briefs. Designed with comfort and protection in mind, PYRAMID SEVEN briefs offer assurance that there is no longer a need to worry about leakage or bagginess - discomfort does not exist in their brand. These briefs are made to be used either in tandem with menstrual products of all kinds or even for free bleeding, it’s all at behest to comfort during an uncomfortable time. They are also advocates of privacy and neither reveal themselves too freely nor make comments on their consumer base, only expressing the validity of their representation being that of all who menstruate.

Fluide: Brooklyn, New York.

Beauty brand founded by a mother’s goal to establish a gender-expansive beauty line to celebrate under-represented faces and voice, supporting young people’s self-expression and creativity. Fluide is queer oriented and offers a full range of vegan/cruelty free cosmetics for all skin tones + types and gender expression. Their belief is that makeup is joyful, transformative, and meant to be inclusive of all with a wish of being expressive and to invent themselves as they want to be seen. They are a platform of queer voices showcasing queer beauty and work with many LGBTQ+ non-profits and advocate for revolutionizing the world of fashion and all of it’s mainstream conception of beauty standards and create a style space of authenticity.

Official Rebrand: New York City, New York.

A unique brand founded by a non-binary artist, Official Rebrand revives discarded clothing and remakes designs by breathing life back into what was unwanted. The mastermind behind the concept paints or otherwise alters (rebrands) items that have been cast aside and turns them into works of art which in turn proposes an anti-waste alternative. The rebranding process strips clothing of their proposed gender categories and promotes the fluidity of identity. Official Rebrand dominates the medium where art and fashion overlap, reintroducing his pieces without any sense of today’s arbitrary societal constraints.

PHLEMUNS: Los Angeles, California.

Black and queer owned/operated, PHLEMUNS is a non-binary all inclusive brand that seeks to merge elements of nostalgia and modern contemporary fashion. With a goal of bridging the gap between high fashion and every day communities, this brand takes what is called a slow-fashion approach to their designs and crafts meticulously and intentionally on styles meant to be seen as accessible, inclusive, and wholly unisex. This is a brand which exists in the grey areas of society, fashion, and thrives on the idea of intersecting identity.

NO SESSO: Los Angeles, California.

The brand name itself is Italian for “no sex/gender” and the fashion it produces truly encompasses this meaning. This is a fashion house that cranks out collections specifically targeting conventions of art, fashion, and culture. Their lines offer ranges in color, fabrics, prints, and reconstructed materials but their true signature is hand embroidery. Much of their collections are made from upcycled fabrics and materials found at flea markets and make use of patchwork designs as a motif of their community-based foundations. Think streetwear but couture, and this is what NO SESSO is defined by.

gc2b: Maryland, USA.

Trans-owned, founded, and operated. gc2b produced the first chest binder and snapped off transitional apparel and established themselves as the first gender-affirming company in the industry. The credence of the company is comfortable, safe, and accessible binding options designed by trans people for trans people and to accomodate the vast spectrum of humanity. gc2b has donated over 6000 binders to those in need and sponsors over 100 LGBTQ+ organizations while working extensively with LGBTQ+ communities and charities to raise funds and awareness.

Likely I will revise this post from time to time and update the listing.

I really like being able to use my position as a platform to provide notice of undervalued communities within the fashion industry and world of style. I have often purchased outright and incorporated many key pieces of some of my most notable styles and ensembles from LGBTQ+ brands that deserve recognition and think of it as a soft promotion of their talent and falls within the conduct my company expects me to abide.

Originally I did intend to have links in this post to make checking them out easier, but I was having some issues with tumblr being crotchety and had to forgo them sadly. Still, I encourage anyone interested to take a peek at their online sites or social medias - they’re all very lovely and inspirational!

#racks chats #lgbt fashion #lgbt brands #style

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patchworkpuzzle · 3 years

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Hello again!!

My precious Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) has made another writing challenge; this week on Myths! And. much like what happened to Stevie Nicks, I had this overwhelming urge to write about Rhiannon (though probably very loosely). And though she said it had to be 1K words, it took the SOFT part of that rule to heart (its about 1.3k)

I hope you all like it and enjoy it!

Bakugou x f!Reader (i guess?)

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night

Wouldn’t you love to love her

You had many names, many incarnations, that the mortals would call you. As well as many titles they would attribute to you; never fully deciding on what exactly your claim was. All they knew for sure was that you were a goodness, something devine and worth worshipping.

Worth worshipping you indeed. Though you were not like the others, with strong claims and ties to the mortals; able to assist them in things like winning a bloody war, or gaining infinite knowledge, or providing grain and hearth to keep prosperous; you were something that no one could quite put a name to.

You were everything and nothing at the same time. That was probably why the mortals didn’t know who you were, not to the same extent. There was no scripture dictating your birth, not of any that would tell tales of excellence and adventures. You simply just were.

And though they could not place you with the other Gods, they still loved you. Wished you were the beautiful creature that they may stumble upon when they entered the temples they dedicated to you. The one that would appear after bells would chime so merrily through the air. The one that would bless them should they ask for your charity. The one they prayed to when all hope seemed lost.

They wanted your love. No matter the consequences.

Even some of the other gods were confused as to who you were exactly; through their pride would mean they would never ask you in fear of embarrassment. But that didn’t mean they were not intrigued as well. The mystery around you made many enraptured, unable to resist the curiosity that was you.

All your life you’ve never seen

A woman, taken by the wind

That mystery, those stories, all of it was the core essence of who you were. A goodness not known for much power, but who was to say that creativity was not powerful. It could be, if wielded properly; and when the mortals created art and built monuments, you radiated power and grace.

Like the wind you would walk amongst the heavens; like a divine creature one had never seen before. And their eyes would never drift from you. Almost as if they couldn’t, wouldn’t, look away in fear they would never see it again.

Even those that were hailed for their beauty, Gods of the like of Mina and Aoyama, would envy you as their jealous glares would try and pierce the back of your head; scoffing whenever you would greet them with a kind smile.

Those that ruled above them all, Gods like Toshinori and Enji, always seemed to feel small when you walked by them; afraid of the power you held, afraid of what might become of them if the mere mortals gave you more.

And those who had never seemed to notice you before, the War God Bakugou and his ally born of fire Kirishima, would start to look in your direction; never wanting to before as you seemed to be weak, power seemingly wasted, but now lusting over you.

Most other Gods didn’t mind you much, the muses like Kaminari and Jirou enjoyed reaping the benefits your power created. And those that laid in the underground, like Tokoyami and his bird that would guide lost souls, never cared much for those trivial things; simply enjoy your presence whenever a chance could be given.

She’s like a cat in the dark

And then she is the darkness

Because much like the bright light creativity may bring, causing vitality and innovation to prosper and be enjoyed, to bring happiness, there was always a catch.

It was not always there all the time; your name would be forgotten most. And where was one to go when there is seemingly nothing? To where all the forgotten go, into the darkness where all the other lost and trying creatures go.

The power you gain from being there is dark, and feral, and primal; it was fear. the kind that always made skin crawl and the brave weep. Stories and fables that tell children of the dangers of the world, mythical creatures that would howl at the moon and cure those to be like them, the eerie silence that would almost deafen the weak and make their skin crawl whenever they looked into the same darkness.

As much as you were that beautiful light, one that many wish to chase and bed, you were also the darkness that made their stomachs twist in knots and wake up from in a cold sweat.

Though because your life held no restrictions, no limits or struggles that kept you fixed in one position for long, you were free to do what you wanted. Gods, like most mortals, were stuck within one realm of life; to do the one thing they were born to do, and be responsible for it.

She rules her life like a fine skylark

When the sky is starless

Bakugou had to create and win wars, Yaoyorozu had to give wisdom to those that asked for it, Mina had to grant those love when they desired it, and Toshinori had to make sure the sun rose day after day.

You were not bound to these limitations, as creativity was an endless pool; one constantly circulating and maintaining itself by the natural and real curiosity held within the hearts of every single mortal; though some held more strength in it, it was always there.

And so, you were to rule your life how you saw fit. And some years it was filled with kindness, donating all your resources and time to mortals in order for them to create and invent things that would never be forgotten. Other times it was spent in agony and anger, allowing the world to run in confusion and chaos; allowing the mortals to create in that same fear and anger you felt.

Most of the time, however, you stayed out of it all. When the skies were bare it was clear to see where one must go; where you should and wanted to go. A blank canvas to guide you to where destiny may be.

There were times you fell in love; a feat impossible not to do when you have lived through all of time; when you had watched others do it time and time again.

Would you stay if she promised you heaven

Would you ever win

Many deities, like yourself, had many lovers over their lives. Some of them were great, while others were great tragedies. And you sadly could never say that you had a great love, only tragedies.

You promised so many things to them, unable not to when in the throws of love. Rose tinted your sight, and all you could see was bliss and wonder; blind to the jealousies of others. Blind to see that you had won the heart of a mortal that another had laid claim to; or to those that had tried to claim yours.

Those Gods, like Bakugou, whose jealousy got a hold of them and used their red hot fury to smite down those that you tried to love; those that you promised to give all the wonders of the world and heavens to. In their fit of rage to want to win your heart, all they did was make you hate them more; foolish actions that would mean you could never real love again, no matter how hard you tired.

You could never win love. After the few that died from the kind you tried to give, you realized the fact that you were never going to be able to obtain it; so there was no use in trying.

That no matter how powerful you were, no matter how much strength you wielded within the hearts and actions of every mortal, you were nothing but a forgotten name. One that would come into the minds of others every now and then, one that would cause another piece of beauty, you were simply nothing.

And everything.

Dreams unwind

Love’s a state of mind

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higuchimon · 3 years

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[fanfic] Osiris Red Hot Springs

i"Come on!" Juudai dragged on Manjoume's coat. Manjoume tried to pry him off but he wasn't having a great deal of luck with it. Juudai seemed more like an octopus than anything else, grabbing and insisting that Manjoume come along with him.

"What are you talking about?" Manjoume grumbled. He'd intended to stay in his room and get some rest. Unfortunately, he'd needed to go out and get food since Osiris Red didn't offer room service like a reasonable dorm. He'd barely started to eat what they'd served him - did it really count as food? - before Juudai popped up, babbled something about showing him the "hidden wonders of Osiris Red" and dragged him away.

"Didn't you hear me?" Juudai's eyes twinkled at him. Manjoume didn't think anyone's eyes could have twinkled, but Juudai's did. Not a single bit of brains in there, but plenty of fluff, and more than enough strength to haul him along to wherever Juudai wanted to go. "We're going to see the hidden wonders of Osiris Red! Have you ever been to the hot springs?"

"Of course I have!" Manjoume snorted. He would have crossed his arms over his chest if Juudai didn't have a grip on his arm. "The Obelisk Blue hot springs are some of the best hot springs ever!" He would know. He'd been to some of the most fantastic hot springs in all of Japan. Obelisk Blue's springs ranked in the top five in his opinion.

"Not those!" Juudai waved his free hand dismissively, as if the Obelisk Blue hot springs weren't worth his time. Clearly he'd never seen them. "I mean the Osiris Red hot springs!"

There were several springs on the island. Two for the Blue dorm, one for the Yellow dorm, and Manjoume guessed it wasn't such a strange idea that Red also had one. There were plenty of them on the island in general. There was even two in the main building itself, one near the infirmary and one somewhere else, for the teachers. The other hot springs were reserved for specific dorms. The one near the infirmary could be accessed by anyone at all, regardless of dorm. He'd visited it once or twice, but he'd always preferred using the Obelisk Blue hot springs.

But right now, Manjoume's lip curled faintly. "What's so special about that?" He could imagine what it would be like. Just because it was a hot spring didn't mean that it would be what he was used to - a beautiful work of art, with polished statues and spigots emitting a variety of lovely scents and soaps and lotions, with many helpful attendants who'd scrubbed his back, scrubbed between his toes, and offered a vast array of snacks and drinks to choose from while he'd enjoyed himself, as well as soft, heated, and scented towels. He'd spent many lovely hours in there, soaking up water and sunlight alike. It was even better than at home. He was going to miss not being able to go there.

What would the Osiris Red springs be like? Small, he decided, and probably dark. Busted light bulbs and it probably hadn't been properly scrubbed in a while. He'd seen the Osiris Red showers and they were tolerable. Someone clearly went to a lot of effort to keep them clean, though Manjoume had no idea of why. They were Red. No one would care if it all piled up. Someone probably just didn't want to go to the extra effort that would result by ignoring it.

Juudai kept on dragging him through the trees. Manjoume tried to get his arm free but nothing he did actually worked. He probably could have tried harder, but the farther they went into the woods, the harder it was to see where they were going. He didn't have the faintest idea of where they were going and unfortunately, Juudai's grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from being utterly lost.

"Where are you taking me?" Manjoume finally snapped out the question. He wasn't sure if he expected a proper answer or not. "This isn't where the hot springs are!" Though to be fair, he didn't really know where they were. He just sort of knew they existed. But he did know they weren't half an hour’s walk into the woods!

"I told you!" Juudai declared. "It's the Osiris Red hot springs." He made a face, something like what Manjoume thought he looked like when Juudai turned up at his door. "Not those tiny ones, though. That's boring."

Oh, no. Manjoume groaned quietly. Juudai was taking him somewhere else. No one else knew they were out here. Marufuji was busy studying - he needed all the help he could get - and Maeda was drawing or something. Manjoume wasn't at all sure why he was drawing, but because he was, it was just the two of them out here. That wasn't how Manjoume looked forward to spending any amount of time.

Before he could stop long enough to express his distaste for that, Juudai lifted a branch out of the way and Manjoume could see clear space beyond. After grass tufts catching his feet and twigs and branches lodging themselves in his hair, bugs helping themselves to his sweat and trying to do the same to his blood, he couldn't have been more glad to see a clearing. Instead of holding back, he surged forward, going past Juudai and stumbling to a halt.

"Here we are!" Juudai declared, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the whole area, and even worse, as if he'd invented this entire place out of whole cloth. "This is the official Osiris Red hot springs! At least as far as I'm concerned."

Manjoume slowly looked around. The hot springs on Duel Academia that he knew something about were all enclosed in buildings of various sorts. They had windows and doors. Obelisk Blue had rugs in the antechamber.

This place didn't. This was a wide pool set beside some moss-covered cliffs. He could hear water falling from somewhere out of sight. Large rocks rose out of the steaming water and there was a spread of sand on one side that would do for a beach.

There were several rocks close enough to climb on and still be in the water. Manjoume looked all the way around as slanted rays of sunlight arched into the area, sending up sparkles from the water as they struck it. If he hadn't known better, he would have actually called it beautiful. But he wasn't going to call it beautiful if Juudai liked it. Juudai didn't have taste. If he liked it, there was clearly something wrong with this place. Manjoume just didn't know what it was yet.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, gripping onto the towel Juudai had tossed to him when first taking him on this wild ride. He knew his luck wasn't that good, though, not when Juudai merrily tossed his clothes off and died into the wide pool - perhaps more accurately called a lake. He looked as if he were actually happy doing this, instead of being in a proper hot springs! Had Juudai ever been to a proper hot springs? Probably not.

There wasn't any soap that he could see. The only towels were the ones that they'd brought with them. Certainly not a single attendant to wash between his toes or wash his hair or do anything. He'd been getting more used to doing things himself and he rather liked the feeling that came with learning to do for himself. His brothers would never approve. Yet day by day he cared less and less what they thought. There wasn't much that they could do regardless. Try as they might, they couldn't even cut him off from his share of the money. Their parents' will made sure that was impossible.

He could have bought all those cards that they'd wanted to give him. He could have bought virtually any card that he wanted - he tried not to think about their ill-fated attempt to purchase the legendary Gem Beast deck - but that didn't make a good duelist. He'd learned that the long, slow, and hard way. What made a great duelist was the ability to forge winning combos from nothing at all.

He was getting very good at that. He was a good duelist. He was going to be a great one. He would be better than they ever dreamed of, and they would beg for his help instead of assuming that they would get it no matter what. Even better, he might not give it to them.

"Come on, Manjoume!" Juudai waved at him, pulling Manjoume out of his thoughts before he could fully be absorbed into his fantasy of his brothers begging for his talents. "Come on in, the water's fine! We can wash each other's back later! I haven't seen the bear around here in ages!"

Manjoume snorted as he headed towards the water. As if he'd ever wash Juudai's back or let Juudai wash his own. One good bath and that would be it. Maybe a little sunning afterwards. He'd gotten a little paler on his trip up north.

But nothing else. He could learn things in Red, but this was only a single stopping point on his way back to Blue.

Then he stopped. "Juudai? Did you say bear?"

The End

Notes: No, Manjoume didn’t get eaten by the bear. Neither did Juudai. The bear is friendly.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #gxmonth2021 #manjoume jun #yuuki juudai

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art-now-india · 3 years

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ETERNAL CIRCLE-GOLDEN FORTUNE TREE, Baljit Chadha

LEARNT BASICS OF ART IN JAPANFROM RENOUNED ARTIST MS OHTA MIYOKO.The Eternal Circle .Circle is an old symbol. The earliest humans looked up the sky and found the orb of fire giving them light and warmth. Sun for them was a mystical power, a god. They saw its movement from morning in the east and to the west in the evening. Next day again it came up in the sky. They regarded it as an omnipresent power that repeated its emergence with cyclical regularity. There was no beginning or end to the sun for them. It was the sun that allowed their imagination to look in the circular form endlessness, infinity. Thus quite early circle became a symbol of completeness, eternity and also rejuvenation. Circle also denoted the Nature. They found seasons changing and then again re-emerging with regularity. The seasons became the circle of Nature. In winter all greenery vanished and then when Spring came life stated flourishing once again. The great Mohenjo daro-Harrappan civilization had a script as yet un-deciphered. They often had a symbol of a circle with six spokes inset. What it represented is not known. From prehistory to history circle gained greater importance and came to symbolise the cycle of birth and death and also the soul�s eternity. In the rainbow spectrum of Indian philosophy, religion and culture, circle has been used as a varied symbol. The cycle of birth and rebirth is broken only through moksha. King Ashok propagated Buddha�s path to enlightenment through Dharm Chakra�a wheel with eight spokes of a chariot. I feel the wheel was invented with inspiration from sun or moon. Hindu philosophy talks about chakras. It is believed that there are seven chakras or source of light located within the subtle body. The Tantra cult uses the concept of chakras for awakening kundalini. The chakras were illustrated with images and this lead to the development of tantric art. Ajit Mukherjee in his seminal book The Art of Tantra helped to create in early sixties a movement of tantric art in India. But it did not last very long being bound by a strict and regulated expression as per dictates of Tantra iconography. Baljit Chadha is an artist with deep roots in Asian cultural traditions which includes India and especially Japan. Long years spent in Japan drew his creative interest to Japanese style painting. With great felicity he paints Nature and flowers. That is but only one aspect of his creative forays. Here I am concerned with his spiritual focus on the circle as a means of artistic expression. To paint with spiritual symbolism requires an inner search, equanimity, and a feel for the timeless. Paintings without this kind of attitude will not carry the dynamics of the spiritual; they will be like empty shells. Baljit paints with the inner dynamics. His present works are an effort to capture the metaphysical. His creativity unfolds through the circle in a kind of inner automatism. You have to understand his oeuvre in the context of his personal search for righteousness. I wish to bring to your notice the spiritual umbilical of his personal search. It is pertinent to know the Indian philosophy of life and Beyond. In Sikhism karma or kirat is seen as the vehicle to free us from the cycle of birth and death and to have mukti. One has to free oneself from pride, lust, anger, greed, self-centricity, maya and moh (attachment) and to devote life to sewa�service to mankind. Bhagavad Gita 2.27 also says, "One who has taken his birth is sure to die, and after death one is sure to take birth again. Therefore, in the unavoidable discharge of your duty, you should not lament." Thus cycle of life, death and rebirth are essential parts of thought process in India. Baljit�s paintings have varied moments of inspiration. In some works the circle is a serene quiet peaceful disc emitting soft tones and leading you to a feeling of inner joy. This you find in his work 2380. This work has a churning of the inner space and a rotation suggesting the cycle of the world or universe. The core of the painting appears to be a mystical kernel beyond human mind and intellect. In yet another work there are concentric circles and the core is a black bindu. Here the circles appear to symbolise the simultaneous working of different cycles of worldly activities and attachments. You get out of one circle and you are caught in another and so on ad infintum. (2486). You must notice the use of free moody lines that cross the circles and daubs of congealed colour. Baljit use this inner automatism where he does not seem to guide his hand or brush consciously. A lurking desire to be free of the material, bodily, intellectual and to allow the magic of anhad to take over is what I see in his use of these Zen like child�s scribbles. Baljit has used these idiosyncratic free floating lines in most of his works. These lines seem at times to �obstruct� your view of the pure circle. The eternal spiritual that the circle represents is often made hazy by our infatuation with the maya. At other times he uses tumbling interacting images in embellished gold reminding of the drama of life that has its own breathtaking charm. In yet another painting there is a linear window-like overlay through which you see the circle of the infinite. Here you become aware of the beauty of the spiritual that shines in cosmic blue colour (2376). Spiral is another important symbol that is our journey to a higher reality of being. Sometimes the luminescent circle has a spiral running over it�the desire to reach the ananata through our soaring spirit (2471, 2476). The subconscious doodles that are used sometimes have a rhythm that seems to evoke the universe and the movement of stellar constellations. Many painting have a centre or a kernel of the circle that seems to enter infinity and mystical Beyond. Observe that the centre of the circles is always full of light to make you think of the spiritual aura and awe of unknown. Baljit has his spiritual awakening in the world and in the flowers that he so lovingly paints. On an art related visit to Singapore I found the overflowing joy that he felt while visiting the botanical garden with different exotic flowers in bloom. This you see in the beautiful painting of an ethereal blooming blue flower. He paints the golden yellow stigma of the plant reminding you of the mystical centre in the circle. The flower opens with immense energy straight in your face, it mesmerizes you, holds you in its clasp and if you focus long on its centre you are drawn in it. In a different way his painting reminds me of Van Gogh�s intense sunflowers that emit a spiritual intensity. You find in the world what you want to see in it and not what it has. Baljit finds what he is looking for in the circular forms�be it a round flower, sun, or the eternal soul or the cycle of life death and rebirth or the planets and stars in the universe. Baljit looks at the eternal drama of the universe through his symbolic circle. I may here quote from a poem from the great Indian saint and poet Kabir that is also apt for Baljit�s art� I have known in my body the sport of the universe: I have escaped from the error of this world. The inward and the outward are become as one sky, the Infinite and the finite are united: I am drunken with the sight of this All! This Light of Thine fulfils the universe: the lamp of love that burns on the salver of knowledge. Kab�r says: "There error cannot enter, and the conflict of life and death is felt no more." Viktor Vijay KumarI LOVE PHOTOGRAPHY. I TAKEPHOTOGRAPHS OF FLOWERS AND CONVERT THEM IN TO MY PAINTINGS I have created a new technique called (FLOAT ON COLORS) .Using mix media on paper. I evolved a style of art that has minimal gap in feeling and expression. Rapidity and quickness of expression in my art comes from the well of inner spirituality. My art is not planned, thought-out and cerebral it is based on spontaneity. Abstract Expressionism is a wider term and my art follows it in variegated dimensions. My journey in art continued and I experiment with different painting instruments and techniques. My dependence on brushwork is rather limited. I frequently and freely use spatulas, wooden sticks, masking, and sand-mix, push bottles and what comes handy in the moment. I use acrylic with mix media. I have developed acrylic based glazes that were possible earlier only with oil paints. The glazes impart a charm similar to enamel glazes. My art journey finds depth and width in continuous experimentation, forays into the unknown and choosing challenging metaphors of expression. Where my art journey will take me next I leave to higher forces . I did an installation (Wall of Divine flowers) with 12000 painting on 12-12-12-12hrs-12mnts-12sec at Zorba in New Delhi and CREATED A WORLD RECORD The exhibition with the most paintings of flowers in the world www.baljit-chadha.artistwebsites.com http://www.youtube.com/edit?ns=1&video_id=fCTt1B51fJA http://www.1wra.org/index.php/Worldrecord/detail/id/1241 This certificate is given by WORLD RECORD ASSOCIATION donated entire collection to Smile Foundation New Delhi, for a girl child education. original colors may wary little from photographs

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-ETERNAL-CIRCLE-GOLDEN-FORTUNE-TREE/392880/2499147/view

#baljitchadha #abstractexpressionism

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crocodilenialledfics · 4 years

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You’re all I need (the air I breathe)

Two - in which Niall and Stella study, plans are made, and secrets are not shared

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The love-at-first-sight, falling-too-fast, uni au that will make your heart ache (in a good way)

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“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked from across the table.

Stella sat up, blinking as she adjusted to something other than the fine print of Faulkner. It was Niall. Stella smiled, shaking her head.

“Faulkner,” he commented, sitting down across from her. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep reading his stuff.”

“William just rolled over in his grave,” Stella laughed, eyebrows raising. “You can’t talk about him like that.”

“I would say I didn’t mean it, but it’d be a lie,” Niall chuckled, pulling his book bag onto his lap. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you a favor- well I guess it’s not really a favor. A proposition, maybe- that didn’t sound like the right word either.”

“What is it?” Stella laughed, amused by his ramblings.

“Well I’m in this art history class and I’m really not doing too well. The exams are really hard but our professor has given us extra credit opportunities,” he explained. “We can go to the museum and write a reflective paper. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I figured museums were right up your alley.”

“They are,” Stella nodded. Smiling she said, “I would love to go with you.”

“Aces,” Niall grinned. “We can go whenever you’re free.”

“What about this weekend?” Stella asked. “I work here in the evenings the next few days.”

“Saturday?” Niall asked.

“Sounds good,” she nodded.

Stella tried to fight the smile off of her face but the longer that Niall had his on his face, the harder it got. Until Niall laughed, looking away. Stella’s cheeks ached.

The next few moments Niall got situated with his books in front of him. Stella read a little bit from her book but it was decided that Niall was a distraction.

“You know anything about impressionist art?” Niall asked, eyes focused on the book in front of him.

“I’m afraid not,” Stella mumbled, leaning on the table.

“Me either,” he mumbled back, lifting his head to look at her. “I have an exam tomorrow. Think I’m gonna fail it.”

“With that mindset, probably,” Stella agreed with a curt nod.

Niall laughed, a loud one, much louder than probably what’s acceptable in a library. Stella couldn’t help her own laugh, one of surprise at the volume of his.

“We’re in the library,” Stella emphasized, laughing along with him.

Niall shook his head, containing his laughter. “Stop being funny, then.”

“Stop laughing like a crazy person,” Stella retorted, challenging him with her eyes.

It was unfair, the chemistry they had. Stella thought it was a waste. Niall started telling her about the classes he was taking, asking about hers. It was the boring kind of conversation she had every time she met someone knew but listening to Niall was riveting. Maybe the most interesting thing she’d ever heard.

Only when Niall’s stomach growled so loud that the walls nearly shook, did they leave. No homework was done. Niall didn’t study. He left knowing less about impressionists than he did when he walked in. That was all thanks to Stella and her infectious smile.

Stella stood in the food line beside Niall, looking over the dinner options. It looked only half appealing. They’d been in uni for nearly a month and she felt like she’s eaten everything a million times.

Niall got pasta while Stella got a quesadilla. They sat across from each other at a table in the back and Niall told her what it was really like living with Louis.

“He wakes me up all the time,” Niall told her. “Middle of the night he’s kicked his shoe halfway across the room, fallen over before making it into bed. When he’s high, he’s absolutely useless.”

Stella was amused at that, nodding, she’d known him well enough to know first hand what a terror he was. Niall wasn’t complaining though. Louis was easygoing, didn’t care about much.

“I talked to Nadia,” Niall told her, voice a bit rough. He cleared his throat.

“How’d that go?” Stella asked, trying to sound concerned but not eager despite the way she felt.

“She uh...” Niall trailed off, holding her gaze. “She’s moved on. Of sorts. Has a new... boyfriend- or at least someone that she wants to be her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Stella murmured. “I’m really sorry. Is that what you wanted to happen?”

“No,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head. “Like. I guess on some level I knew it’d happen. Just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

“I bet,” Stella agreed, watching him closely. They’d only talked about it a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t that long ago.

“I didn’t really feel anything,” he admitted. “Maybe just guilty that I didn’t feel anything. I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “A three year relationship ending is kind of a big deal, I’d think. A part of your life is over and another one is starting.”

“I guess,” he agreed with a nod. “Truthfully I thought I’d be the one to end it. I respected her too much to get invested in someone else while we were still together-ish.”

“Right,” Stella nodded. “Were you planning on breaking up with her or was your heart still in it?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed, shrugging. “I have no idea what I was going to do. What I wanted. What I felt. No idea.”

“Well that’s okay,” Stella chuckled. “You can’t name every single feeling or thought.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“This other person...” Stella began slowly. “You’re still thinking about them?”

Niall nodded, looking away, “I think that’s why I didn’t know anything- still don’t know anything. Can’t really read her.”

Stella hummed, declining to comment. Her curiosity got the best of her. She felt guilty for asking, though she wanted to know more. Everything about what he was thinking.

“Anyways,” Niall chuckled, checking the time. “We should get going. I still have to fuckin study. You did nothing to help me.”

“I have to read ten chapters for class tomorrow,” Stella argued, laughing. “But all you wanted to talk about was how you thought all the artists were visually impaired and didn’t know it.”

“It’s logical,” Niall argued with a smile.

“Glasses were invented in the 1300’s,” Stella told him.

“And what was the quality of glasses in the 1800’s?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Stella shrugged, standing up.

“Wow so there’s something that Stella doesn’t know,” he murmured, standing up too. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I don’t know lots of things,” Stella sighed, shouldering her bag.

“Like?”

“Like...” she trailed off, thinking it over. “I don’t know what happens to fish when water freezes. And I don’t know why there’s the temperature and then the real feel temperature.”

“All very good questions,” Niall agreed. “I don’t know the answer to either of them.”

“I also don’t know who this mystery person is that you just can’t stop thinking about,” Stella added on, tactfully at that.

Niall laughed, nodding, “that’s a secret.”

“Well maybe I have a person that I can’t stop thinking about too,” Stella shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulders.

“Who?” Niall asked, head tilting to the side.

“Oh it’s a secret,” Stella laughed as they began to walk outside.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “You just made it up to get back at me.”

“I didn’t,” Stella shook her head. “There is a person that I can’t stop thinking about.”

“One day I’ll get you to spill,” Niall told her, very confidently. Stella believed him, too.

“Only if you tell me yours,” Stella said with a shrug as if the thought didn’t make her want to vomit anyways. It was a very stupid deal.

“Is it Zayn?” He asked.

“I’m not saying,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “My lips are sealed.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, eying her skeptically.

“Besides,” Stella murmured, looking up at him. “I’ve got my person and you’ve got yours.”

Stella and Niall stood side by side, eyes on Renoir’s La Grenouillère. Niall’s face was scrunched up and Stella tried her best not to laugh but she did, hand over her mouth.

“What?” Niall laughed. “I’m trying to look at this painting.”

“Well why are you squinting?” Stella asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s blurry like,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“And squinting would make it more blurry, right?” Stella asked, looking back to the painting.

“I don’t know,” he laughed, slouching. “Help me.”

“So just look at it,” Stella told him, voice soft. “Think about what you see. How it makes you feel.”

“I just don’t know,” he repeated, shaking his head. “They’re having a party.”

“Yeah,” Stella nodded.

“Is that right?”

“There’s no right answer to impressionist art,” Stella told him, turning to face him. “That’s the point. They’re open ended, like. That’s why they’re blurry so there isn’t any specific details, you can imagine or feel your own.”

“Fuck,” Niall whispered. “I got a whole section wrong on my exam.”

“Jesus,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “Okay let’s keep going. Maybe there’ll be one you can... feel.”

“I like history,” Niall muttered. “Where there’s just facts. That-that this is what happened and you don’t have to imagine your own version of events.”

Stella shook her head as they continued walking down the row of art hanging on the walls. She could admire the beauty in art. Literature and art went hand in hand. History went along with them too, Stella just didn’t want to be the person to tell him that.

They stopped in front of Monet’s Sunrise. Niall let out a disgruntled sigh, rubbing his eyes, “This is quite literally a mess I..”

“It’s a sunset,” Stella told him, pointing toward the setting sun.

“Stella, I have to tell you something,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m like colorblind. I have trouble with the greens and blues and yellows.”

“Niall,” Stella laughed, rubbing her head.

“I didn’t think it’d be a problem but since impressionist art is erm...” he trailed off, looking up respectfully. “Blurry?”

“I think that this effects your ability to write a reflective piece on art, wouldn’t you think?” Stella asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes trailing over the paintings in front of him. “Can you help me? I’m so desperate, Stel. This impressionist shit is so hard. One bad grade and I lose my scholarship. I’ll have to go back to London and get a fuckin’ job the last thing I want is to-“

“Okay,” Stella cut him off with a gentle laugh. “I’ll help you. You’re doing all the writing, though. And you have to try.”

“I will,” he nodded. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I really appreciate it. I’ll buy you lunch. And coffee. And dinner!”

“That’s really not necessary,” Stella laughed, nodding toward the next painting. They began walking. “But of course, I’ll take you up on it.”

They must have stood in front of twenty different paintings. It was an obvious struggle, but Niall tried. With Stella’s help he’d settled on the one he’d write about. It was Les Déjeuner sur l’herb. A non complicated piece by Édouard Manet about eating lunch in the grass.

Niall and Stella found themselves on the futon in his room, two coffees between them and lunch on the way. Niall had his laptop on his lap, eyebrows scrunched up as he worked on his reflective piece.

Stella was there for what seemed like moral support, and maybe possibly revisions. She zoned out looking at the ceiling, thinking about how romantic museums really are. She thought about how she’d love to be kissed in front of Les Printemps by Pierre-August Cot. Or to hold hands in front of The Kiss by Auguste Rodin.

“Okay,” Niall said, pulling Stella from her thoughts. “I think I’m almost finished. What do you think?”

Niall passed her the laptop. She set it on her lap, sitting up. Stella read his work carefully, admiring his writers voice. It was detailed for the length of it. Surely, an extra credit worthy piece.

“It looks good,” Stella told him with a nod, looking up at him.

“You think it should be longer?”

“No it’s a good size,” Stella shook her head. “Especially because you’re just writing a one piece reflection. If you were comparing two paintings, or reflecting on Manet’s work as a whole it’d be a bit longer.”

“Okay,” Niall nodded, letting out a sigh. He looked up at her, taking the laptop back. “You know we’re doing this once every unit, you know.”

Stella laughed, shaking her head. Niall’s phone rang as he smiled, sitting up. He answered it, already standing up. He slipped his shoes on, grabbing his wallet off the table. “I’ll be right back,” he mouthed, nodding to the door.

Stella nodded, slouching down on the futon. She took a sip of coffee as the door closed behind him. The door swung right back open and Louis walked in, a grin on his face, “Stella Bella. What’s going on here?”

“Helping Niall with some homework,” Stella chuckled, looking up at him.

Louis sat down beside her, shoulders bumping into hers. “Tomorrow we’re all going to Whitworth to play a bit of footie. Like everyone’s coming. You should too.”

“Is veda going?”

“Yeah.”

“Zayn?”

“Yeah.”

“Niall?”

“Yeah.”

“Heather?”

“Stella don’t worry about it,” Louis laughed.

“Just tell me so I’m prepared.”

“By prepared I hope you mean you’ll leave your cat claws at home,” Louis chuckled. “She’s coming.”

“Great,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“She’s bringing Liam, Danielle, and this new girl Eleanor. I guess she’s like incredible looking. And smart and funny and- just play nice, okay?” Louis nearly begged, sitting up.

“I always play nice with everyone except fuckin’ Heather,” Stella mumbled almost begrudgingly.

Louis went over to his desk, pulling out some books to shove into his book bag. “I’m going to the library to work on this math shit with Veda.”

“Have fun,” Stella mumbled.

“Yeah you have fun too, Stella,” Louis grinned, walking toward her. “Have I told you recently how much Niall just loves you.”

“Go away,” Stella laughed, putting her foot out to nudge him away.

“We’ll talk later,” he promised with a wink, hearing for the door. “Hands stay above the waist, you hear me? No funny business on my futon.”

“Fuck off,” Stella shot back, shaking her head as he walked out. It made her cheeks flush, just the mention of that. She didn’t think about it, or didn’t have the time to because Niall came back with their food.

He set the pizza down on the table in front of them, sitting down on the futon beside her. He sighed, turning the tv on. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Anything,” Stella shrugged, sitting up. She opened the box, picking up a slice for herself.

“Thanks again for helping me,” Niall told her as the Netflix logo appeared on the screen. “It means a lot.”

“Of course,” Stella smiled, watching him grab his own slice of pizza.

“You ever need help with history, let me know,” Niall told her, flashing her a smile as he sat back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stella nodded, eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary. She wanted to take him all in, the smile on his face, the way his eyes shined. Niall let her, holding her gaze. Stella was beginning to feel that there was something unspoken between them. She was dying for Niall to say it.

taglist: @niallsguitarsthings @exoticniall

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1256

surveys by taco-tuesdays

What steps would you take in order to track down a thief? Not too far, honestly. I accept things pretty easily so if I’ve processed that I’ve been robbed, I am most likely to just let it go. I’ll feel like shit, of course, but I would just let it go and scold myself for failing to be attentive.

What is something that one of your family member collects? My mom used to collect printed table napkins from different restaurants, but obivously she hasn’t been able to continue that for the past year and a half. My dad and brother used to collect magazines but both stopped a few years ago.

What would you do if you were able to have lunch with the queen? The journalist in me will probably just ask her questions about her everyday life, how she spends it, what she’s into and what she’s not into these days.

If you got to create a new flavor of ice cream, what would it be? This is a little hard considering there are a lot of small businesses out there already getting creative and quirky with ice cream flavors so it’s just hard to tell if a certain flavor has already been invented or not. One thing I haven’t seen, though, is curry. I’d buy a pint of that in an instant.

What are some questions that you would ask your favorite celebrity? His latest vlog finds. He once shared a video of this smaller content creator, so I’m guessing that’s what he likes doing in his spare time and I’m sure he would have a bunch of other just as interesting recommendations.

If you were able to set up a stand, what would you sell? Street food.

Would you like to go deep sea diving? Why or why not? Yeah. I’m always willing to try daring, not-the-safest-thing-in-the-world activities haha.

What would life be like if you lived on a cloud? The realist in me just wants to say I’d plummet straight to the ground.

What would you find at the top of a magic beanstalk? Idk, my creativity can’t be bothered to be challenged.

What is one food you would not want to have rain down from the sky? Durian. It would hurt and stink like shit.

Which animal's characteristics are similar to your own personality? I don’t really assign sets of personalities to animals.

If you were in a department store, which aisle would you check out first? I personally still go for the toys/video games section first HAHAHA

What are some of your hobbies? They include going to museums, exploring new food and restaurants, traveling to different cities and countries, and reading about history.

You've opened a store that only sells purple items - what do you sell? BTS merch hahahahah duhhhh

What is something important that you've lost, and did you ever find it? I lost a rosary that came straight from the Vatican. No, I never found it again. I feel bad about it not because it’s a religious object, but because it came from my grandma.

Have you ever moved to a new school before? If so, how did it feel? I mean, I had to change schools when I was moving up from high school to college, but I’ve never changed schools within the same chapter of my studies, like in the middle of elementary or high school. But to answer the question, it had been a very liberating and empowering experience. I hated the rules in my Catholic school and there were so many elements from that place that made me hide so much about myself. The fact that I could wear shorts and curse and attend rallies and cut class and make my own class schedules in college felt incredibly freeing and satisfying.

What would've happened if Cinderella never went to the ball? See magic beanstalk question.

If you had one day to do anything at all, what would you choose? I would drive to Tagaytay and find a cozy restaurant and eaaaaatttt awaaaayyyy.

What are a few of your favorite songs? I really really like Singularity by V, Over the Hills by Hayley Williams, and So Far Away by Agust D and Suran.

Have you ever legitimately forgotten to do homework? All the time. I never wrote down homework.

If you were a witch, what kind of a spell would you cast? On who? I don’t care about casting spells on people. I just want my cravings to show up in the snap of a finger hahaha. Can that be part of a witch’s scope of work? Kjdgfhsdfskjfhs

Do you enjoy autumn leaves or spring flowers more? Why? I wouldn’t know. I experience neither over here.

What is your favorite sport to play? What about watch? Table tennis. Favorite to watch would be either tennis or pro wrestling.

Have you ever gone on a cruise before? To where? Yeah. It was an East Asian cruise so I traveled to Shanghai, Jeju, and Fukuoka.

What would you do if you were invisible for a day? Probably go to the bigger houses in the village and see how fancy they get.

Depending on where you live, why might a day of school get canceled? Typhoon, floods. A lot of places are incredibly prone to flooding, so as long as it’s been raining super hard the chances for a class suspension will get high.

What types of transportation do you think we will see in the future? I dunno. It seems like we’re at that point where everything is in the process of being invented or perfected already.

What were some of your toys you always played with when you were little? I liked kitchen sets and anything with lots of buttons, so like toy telephones or cash registers.

If you were a movie star, what would a day in your life be like? I have no clue apart from the fact that I’m just glad I would assumedly have more than enough money to buy whatever I’m craving whenever I want hahaha.

If you invented a time machine, what year would you like to go to, and why? Realistically I wouldn’t change a thing; but if I had to answer this question I’d go back to 2016 and never ask out Gab a second time, so that the next four years wouldn’t end up being such a waste of my time.

What is your favorite holiday and why? I don’t have one. I’m not a big holiday ~celebrator.

What is something that you like to do while on vacation? Try food I’ve never tried before. The more unconventional or obscure, the better.

If you could meet any fictional character from a book, who would it be? Eh, don’t really have anyone in mind.

What are some common places that people tour when they come to your city? There’s the waterfalls in the upper part of the city – I’m just not sure if it’s still a popular spot but it certainly was when I was a kid. There’s also an art museum that I’m certain is a lot more frequented now.

What's one food that you did not enjoy as a child, but do as an adult? Curry.

How would having no electricity affect your daily routine? I wouldn’t be able to attend work, at least not for the whole day. It would also feel a lot warmer without the electric fan, which would in turn make me cranky.

If you had one wish, what would it be? A renovated room with a dedicated corner for all my merch.

Say someone gives you a magic sweater. What happens when you wear it? Idk.

If you built a new city, how would you convince people to move there? I wouldn’t.

What is one of your favorite movies? Why is it one of your favorites? Two for the Road. It has Audrey Hepburn, it’s a realistic rom-com, and the chemistry between the two leads is superb.

If you were given a certain amount of time to live, would you want to know? Yeah for sure, I would want to know in a heartbeat.

What would you do if you were able to stop time? I don’t know what I would do, but that would be a nice...opportunity, I guess? to experiment with or try out certain decisions and see how well or unwell they would work out to be. So that when time resumes, I’d know better on how to best handle a situation.

Do you think that long distance relationships would be for you? I wouldn’t actively go for it, but I’m not shutting down the possibility either.

Is there a popular social media platform that you don't have an account for? I have one for all the main ones, I think. Even Instagram, I made an account not too long ago to finally join the platform.

How old were you when you found out about Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc? I never knew the Easter Bunny was a thing until I started taking these surveys at like 14. I never really believed in Santa either, and the only figure I was super disappointed to learn that it didn’t exist was the tooth fairy.

Who is your favorite Disney Princess? Rapunzel.

Which freaks you out more - clowns or porcelain dolls? Porcelain dolls. They look more innocent, which somehow makes them creepier.

What was the last mistake that you learned from? Hm, just a minor work thing that would be too complicated to explain here.

Do you prefer "regular pencils" or mechanical ones? Why? Regular. I always break off the tips of mechanical pencils.

What is one little-known music artist you'd recommend? Andi made me listen to The Drums recently and I’ve been loving their sound so far; they would be perfect on a road trip. I’ve only listened to one album, though.

What is your favorite Pixar film? Toy Story!

Who was the last person to send you any sort of message on social media? Angela sent me a video meme.

Where were you on September 11th, 2001? I don’t know...probably already being put to bed. Either way I wasn’t fully conscious yet as I had only been 3 and living on the other side of the planet.

Name your favorite green vegetable. Broccoli, spinach, bell peppers, or asparagus. IDK I love veggies hahahaha

Could you handle a friends with benefits type of situation? Not for me. I’m not even into sex.

Do you prefer using a brush or a comb on your hair? Comb.

What's your favorite flavor of potato chips? SALTED EGG. I’m obsessed; I had like five bags this week alone.

Would you rather build a snowman or a snow fort? Why? I dunno; I’ve never tried making either.

At what age do you believe children should begin having screen time? I’m not too sure at this point, but I do know I don’t plan on being too strict with my kids. I’d let them watch stuff on an iPad from like age 3 or 4, but one thing I would change from how I was raised is putting a limit on their screen time, maybe half an hour to an hour a day.

If you had to give a speech, what would it be on? I’d be down for any topic as long as I was given ample time to research, honestly. I like public speaking.

#survey #surveys

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mcrmadness · 3 years

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Gosh I have a TERRIBLE urge to post some die ärzte fanart content or other creations here RIGHT NOW but the thing is: I should create that before I can post it!!!

I just spent some time editing a few art behind-the-scenes posts and idk if those interest that many people so it’s not really the same as posting actual art - all of those drawings or comics I have already posted here before anyway. And my comics are not really that liked here anyway so I guess I’ll keep drawing for myself and those... idk, 5? 6? people who seem to find them even relatively interesting. I still have 3 more comics waiting to be drawn out there. I mean, I did the lines for the panels and I should just get to sketching whenever I just get on that mood again.

I also have this other drawing process I’m very excited over and want to start working on asap BUT. There’s this one big but. My current pencil WIP. I usually never start a new project if I haven’t finished with the previous one because that reduces the chances for ever getting motivated for continuing the WIP in the future.

And I figured that I really love the part where I am drawing, blending and erasing and seeing the drawing to come alive and turn into 3D image BUT I hate the fact I can never get the lines perfect at one go and I then spend days on polishing some fine details and I still don’t get anywhere. I just feel that I’m trying to run in deep snow and all I do is to either walk backwards or simply just be stuck in that snow without being able to move forward at all.

With the current WIP I’m at that phase where I’m stuck to snow but just can’t get forward. There’s things to do and fix but I just absolutely hate it because no matter how hard I try, I cannot achieve what I try to achieve. Sometimes I don’t see what’s wrong (90% of the time), sometimes I do but I feel almost helpless because no line I draw will be the way it should. It’s like I can’t control my hand and I don’t understand why. I think I’m drawing the correct looking line but then I compare it to the image and it’s like from a different world and I wonder if I have even been looking at the same photo as what my hand is trying to copy.

So I really want to start the next project because it involves lots of drawing and blending and erasing - but I have the WIP, too. And I don’t want it to be WIP any longer. I want it to be finished. But I am too stubborn to call it a day because it will bother me forever if I now leave it like it is because it CLEARLY ISN’T FINISHED.

I still look at the previous pencil drawing I did and altho I really like what the technique looks like, it still bugs the heck out of me because it isn’t perfect. There’s so many things wrong with so many things, mainly the eyes, but there’s nothing I can do now because I already used fixative on it. Partially just to prevent mysef from ever touching the drawings again! But now I’m already having trouble looking even at my icon because I drew it but I feel more like I would have butchered that image instead and now seeing my icon will remind me of the bad decision I made and how much I hate the little mistakes in that drawing. Even when I told myself that it’s over now, we’re not gonna touch the drawing anymore, time to move on.

I always get the most angry and frustrated at this part when I try to get everything to look good. Like, I don’t mind if it doesn’t look exactly like the photo, as long as the people in the drawing are recognizable. But the longer I stare at my drawing, the less I recognize anyone from them anymore. I think my partial face blindness really steps out when I see a face for so long I stop... seeing it. Like, I see details but I can’t connect the details to a big picture any longer.

This whole “I can’t see” thing is my biggest flaw in arts. When I say that I can’t see, I really mean it. It’s not that I’m blind or even partially blind, it’s more like I mentally can’t see? It’s not aphantasia, I think I actually have the opposite aka hyperphantasia, but it just feels like my eyes are not connected to my brain correctly. The information that comes in gets partially lost on its way to my brain and my hand only gets half of that information it needs and it can only draw from what I can SEE instead if what is actually there TO BE SEEN.

That’s why I can’t do perfect drawings and that’s why it makes me sad that the comics, that are perfect or almost perfect in my eyes, because I can see them fully in my mind and draw from there what I see; are not appreciated anywhere. Be it fanart or self-comics but especially self-comics are not appreciated here at all. Those might be simple but I like doing them that way. There’s a reason for them to be so simple: my old perfectionism. I needed to invent something very simple to draw so that I don’t need to drive myself crazy with all unnecessary details in everything that eventually always led to me abandoning a comic because it was just way too much work for me to do every time and I was worn out. By my own comics.

Anyway, I try to find that energy and motivation for the current WIP at some point so that I can finally start with the next project sooner or later. Preferably sooner because I really am looking forward to that and can’t wait to get to work on that one! But it might be a good decision to do some or at least one of the comics first. It’s always a bit different process and much more free and easier to make “perfect”, but at the same also challenging and super fascinating learning process.

#mcrmadness' art talk #(die ärzte)

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jackmichaelstudio · 3 years

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Juror’s Statement, Lees-McRae College Student Art Show, Spring 2021

Last week, I had the pleasure of serving as juror for the annual Student Art Show at Lees-McRae College in Banner Elk, NC.

If you’re an art student or young artist and you’ve ever wondered what goes into a juror’s decision-making process for a show - whether it’s for basic inclusion in the show or for awards - please read on.

JUROR’S STATEMENT Lees-McRae Student Art Show, Spring 2021

Jurying a student show is a difficult task. Submitting to a student show is equally arduous, so first and foremost, I want to congratulate everyone for having the courage to submit your work.

By nature, the jury process is neither kind nor an exact science. Evaluating artwork is, in many ways, a subjective exercise mediated by personal taste. But it is also a skill honed by experience, research, and by regularly considering artwork from ancient eras to the present day. As an artist and educator, I’m old enough to have developed a time-tested approach to evaluating craftsmanship, aesthetic quality, and cultural thoughtfulness. However, I’m still young enough to remember the undergrad-era sting of having my work – which I (wrongly) felt had singular vision and emotional importance – overlooked for awards and inclusion in shows. I remember asking myself “Why me?”, not knowing then what I know now: that a juried show is not only about the artwork; it is a relational exercise between artists, artwork, and the juror.

Ideally, a juror’s initial decision – the making of “the first cut” - is based on a combination of objective factors such as craftsmanship, presentation, technical skill, and attention to composition. If these are lacking in an artwork, then the work cannot hope to be a vehicle for greater meaning. At best, artwork with a dearth of craftsmanship and skill is mere decoration; at worst, it is a weak monument to an artist’s inability (or unwillingness) to commit their time and energy to their own ideas and personal potential. Young artists often struggle with this truth, making halfheartedly-crafted work that bounces around between mediums and themes, never pausing long enough to develop the technical expertise necessary to be a truly good artist. In the great quest to know what their work is “about” and how to make it, art students often make the mistake of looking for an idea that is “worth believing in” or seeking a new process – usually a novelty-based one that they feel is unique - before they really believe in and commit to their work. To those young artists, I say this: you think that commitment to your work is an elusive feeling that will finally grace you if you find some idea/process worth believing in…but you have it backwards. Belief does not pave the way for commitment; if you wholly commit to your work in both idea and process, you will create things worth believing in.

Aside from attention to craft and technical skill, it is this commitment to ideas and methods that guided me in making “the second cut” to select the award winners for this show. Ultimately, I was looking for artworks that answered “yes” to the following questions:

Does this artwork successfully convey a mood or message without being trite or didactic?

Aside from basic technical proficiency, does the work evince a developed sensitivity of material handling?

Does the work go beyond mere observation/decorative quality to compel the viewer with a question or deeper attention to an idea? Does it invite me to explore it further?

Does the work successfully avoid cliché?

Has the artist pushed boundaries, broken rules, taken risks, or at least tweaked the conventions of this medium’s typical subject matter?

Does the work resonate with me in some way, either stylistically or ideologically?

Is the work creative, free from derivation, and in possession of a sense of inventiveness and original thinking?

Does the artist un-self-consciously embrace a style that is markedly his/her/their own?

Would I like to see more work by this artist?

Is there a harmonious marriage of form, subject matter, and content?

Does the piece exhibit the potential to grow into a broader, more mature body of work that seeds new, kindred artworks in the future?

Does the work take an unapologetic critical or investigative stance in relation to a specific idea of contemporary relevance, or at least to our culture at large?

And Does the combination of ideological specificity, emotional vulnerability, and attention to craft & content indicate that this young artist might on the verge of truly committing to addressing the ideas in this work for the sustained near future (the next 1-3 years)?

I want to emphasize that every submission I reviewed had positive attributes; there were several of solid merit that did not receive an award. There were also many works that answered “yes” to some of these questions, but fell short of award due to craft, presentation, or technical issues. There were just as many works that displayed adept material handling but fell prey to cliché or to being mere observational decoration. To those of you who did not receive an award: please continue (or start) to believe in your ideas and commit to technical expertise and attention to craft. If you do, good things will happen.

To those of you who did receive an award: I wholeheartedly congratulate you! I, as your humble juror, did not give you an award – you earned it.

Ultimately, the pieces selected for award in this show (some to a greater extent than others) positively addressed the above questions in a way that marked them out from the crowd while also evincing technical proficiency and attention to craft. Even in the case of top awardees, however, the aforementioned questions should be embraced as consistent guidons to propel further improvement. I encourage you to copy these questions out and keep them in a place where they will confront you every day (whether you like it or not). Look at them, strive toward them, and internalize them until your own work resoundingly and consistently answers “yes” to each and every one. There is always, always, always room for improvement. People in other professions may have the luxury of someday “arriving” at penultimate expertise but as artists, the only thing we can get comfortable with is the fact that we will never “arrive” – we will (if we are smart and lucky) always be seeking, evolving, pursuing.

I encourage all of you – awardees and others alike - to continue to submit your work to shows such as this one, and to juried shows and calls for proposals or residencies on a regional and national scale. Exposure to the judgments of a wide variety of arts professionals (in addition to your stellar faculty) is the most valuable and surefire way of challenging and maturing your own ideas and skills. This is true even – and perhaps especially – when things don’t go your way.

Above all, I hope that all participants of this show remember this: thick skin is important. As an artist at any stage in your career, many of your best efforts will result in disappointment, but the number of disappointments is a downward-trending arc over time: the longer you do this wholeheartedly, the more sublime, elating wins you will achieve. Rejections are not a reason to quit; they are reasons to lean in and commit to your ideas, skill development, and professional growth sooner rather than later…or get out of the way of those who are doing that and find the path of expertise and interest that is truly for you. As a student artist, if you are successful at only 10% of your pursuits, you are doing well. So cultivate patience, perseverance, skill, and a thick skin. Happiness isn’t a function of chance – it is the result of ideological commitment and technical expertise exercised over time, resulting in somewhat-consistent success. Start today.

Finally, I want to thank Lees-McRae College and the Art Department for your genuine hospitality and for the invitation to jury this show – it was truly an honor. I see deep promise in a healthy selection of this work. That is no doubt due to the Art faculty doing the energetic, dedicated, and often emotionally-taxing work of molding young people with ideas and feelings into young artists with mature ideas, considered feelings, and – above all – work that expertly carries the resultant messages and investigations. Thank you for your service to the future of art and artists in our region and beyond, and thank you again for having me.

Warmly,

Jack Michael Art Instructor, Blue Ridge Community College

#art #artist #artists #artstudent #artwork #gallery #exhibit #kunst #artschool #makeart #makeartdaily #illustration #painting #drawing #design #photography #sculpture

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lovelyirony · 5 years

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Made up fic title: i keep praying all day (all day long)// I'm Alive, Ain't That Enough?//you complete me// (I'll send more when i think of em)

Bruce Banner doesn’t really pray, hasn’t since he was around eleven and prayed to whoever would listen to take him away from his family. Then the police came and there was a funeral for his mother and he had to lie on the stand and say that his father was a very nice man, yes he was!

Prayer doesn’t solve anything. He supposes he knows that that is not the purpose, it’s supposed to help, but he just...doesn’t. It’s not the kind of help that he needs. Professional help is what he needs, but his insurance won’t cover it.

For a while, life was actually...okay. He was a grad student all alone at Culver, working on science projects. Working on that high of a level means you meet other people like you. You bond over having train-tracks for braces when you were in high school and relentless bullying by kids who thought they were better than you.

It’s kind of uncomfortable, how friendly people are when they know your circumstances. It’s weird that Bruce can ask someone if they just want to get lunch and there’s no double-edged sword hidden.

This is how he meets Betty, who smiles and laughs like she’s enjoying every minute of life. She is. He asks her about that, how she’s so kind and nice.

“If you can’t maintain kindness, how do you maintain anything else?” Betty asks. “I know what it’s like to have people make fun of me, and I don’t want that for anyone else.”

Bruce loves her for that. He loves her anyway, like the way her eyes light up when their team plays Trivial Pursuit on Sunday nights and she knows the answer to the obscure pop culture trivia from the seventies. He loves her when she asks for an obscene amount of sugar in her coffee and makes little snacks for the middle of the day.

He loves her when they’re lying in bed together and he can feel like his life is working out.

There’s a ring planned. He hasn’t told anyone about that. Ever.

Not since he got too confident and tried to harness a little power of God. Then he turned green, and that was enough.

He couldn’t love Betty. He wouldn’t let her try to be nice and sacrifice what her life should be for what it would be.

She wouldn’t like that he’s making that decision for her, but she would also probably say he was right.

So he’s alone in the world. The government keeps trying to find him, but so far they’ve had no luck. They’re starting to get frustrated, and Ross can’t keep his task force on for very much longer.

It’s sometimes fun, Bruce thinks. Sight-seeing with all this adrenaline and fear in his system. He finally makes it to Rome. He told Betty he always wanted to see the artwork.

She told him about the chemical analysis work she did, and the little coffee shop underneath a tiled building that served the best espresso she’s ever had.

He doesn’t find it. He’s not sure if that means anything. But he sits on a balcony and watches the sun rise and watches a guy give him a look that’s a bit too odd for Italy, and he knows he has to leave.

Not a lot happens, until he makes it back to New York. Or rather, a redhead spy convinces him to help find a magic cube and promises that the Hulk isn’t the primary reason for having him on-board.

On a gigantic, air-borne ship with pressurized air pressing in all around. Fucking great.

He meets new people. Natasha Romanoff, known as Black Widow. She looks at him like he’s a brand new species, nearly. He’s seen that look before. But he also thinks that it’s different, because she can’t kill him and it’s known that Black Widow can kill just damn near about everyone.

Captain America, a man so out of his depth that he can’t help but be the odd one out. He looks at everything and he’s confused, maybe by all the buildings and people and the fact that nothing is the same and it won’t be. Ever.

Not gonna lie, Bruce is kind of glad that for once it’s not him that’s the Very Odd One Out.

Tony Stark is a headache and a half, but Bruce finds himself not minding that so much. Tony doesn’t give a fuck about Hulk.

Bruce knows why.

It’s not because he’s a billionaire who thinks he’s immortal. No, Tony Stark knows that his mortality is unbearable.

But he’s also of the type that would give his life if you casually asked him to. He smiles the way Bruce does when he needs to just get through something. It’s painfully familiar.

Bruce thinks that maybe Tony Stark, if he had been at Culver, would’ve been invited to Trivial Pursuit Sundays.

And then Thor. A giant man--a god, some say, but Bruce isn’t really keen on actually saying that--who is...different.

He handles Hulk like a damned pro. He’s not easy to take down. And Bruce is a bit interested in his perspective of things, if they all survive the imminent alien invasion that’s set to take place.

He really wishes he could get drunk. Or maybe just slightly buzzed. It would make this transformation shtick so much easier.

But after everything, turns out they’ve won. Hulk is even tired. This has been the first challenge for him since...ever.

They eat food together at a restaurant that really should be closed, but he’s too tired to care about it and sits next to Tony, who’s still contemplating his own “small death” and a guy named Clint, who is apparently very good at shooting things with a bow and arrow.

He catches Thor’s eyes, and he smiles.

“You did well, Banner.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Because, you know. Eloquence. That’s exactly what Bruce has when faced with the king of Asgard and supposed god of thunder.

But he doesn’t have to worry too much about that when he hops into Tony’s ridiculous-and-loud-sporty-vehicle and heads to a lab.

“It’s gonna be Candy Land, trust me,” Tony says.

“I don’t trust you, but I do trust that,” Bruce says with a laugh. Tony grins.

“I think I’m gonna like you hanging around.”

Bruce then figures out that Tony’s heart is about the size of the gigantic tower he’s built, because Bruce doesn’t have to go apartment-hunting. Or pay rent.

“I can handle it,” Tony says. “Just try not to hulk out in the living room, there’s a custom art piece that was gifted to Pepper. She’s fond of it, but I hate it. So I guess in a roundabout way, as long as Pepper thinks that it’s an accident, feel free to destroy it.”

“Noted,” Bruce says, bewildered. Tony talks extremely fast, hands making gestures to emphasize certain points. If he wasn’t so dedicated to inventing and building the future as the present, Bruce is almost certain that he would be quite a celebrated actor.

After some time, it seems the Avengers drift together again. Natasha shows up for breakfast one morning, as if she’d been there the whole time.

“Pass the preserves, Bruce,” she says. He does and goes to find Tony to ask when she got here.

Tony yelps, rushes up, and scolds Natasha for not telling him.

“I’m not done painting your room!”

“What color?”

“Olive green.”

“Oh my god, no.”

“It suits you! Pepper approved it and everything! So did Bruce!”

“I did?”

“Well, not really. I think you were in a science-induced haze and said yes to everything I asked. You said your favorite era was ‘yes’ so I thought that meant you liked all of them.”

“Oh. It’s the seventies.”

“Figures,” Natasha says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bruce questions.

“I guarantee all you have in your wardrobe is maybe four casual t-shirts and maybe one pair of jeans.”

“I have two pairs of jeans, thank you very much.”

“A man full of surprises,” she remarks, smiling coyly. “Tony, Clint’s coming at the end of the week. He’s finishing up a mission in Iran. Something about tracking down a woman for a gift.”

“Well, best of luck to him and all that,” Tony says. “Do you think he’d liked striped pillows?”

“Vertical or horizontal?” Bruce asks.

“Horizontal. I’m not a heathen.”

“Tread carefully,” Natasha says. “More than two is a no-go.”

“Got it. Jarvis, be an absolute dear and put that in my notes?”

“It should be common sense, Sir,” the AI responds, a bite of sass. Bruce smiles. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that.

Clint trips out of the elevator, says he’s finding a bed, and Bruce doesn’t see him again until he goes to his room to change into one of the four casual t-shirts that Natasha says he has and finds the archer on his bed.

“Well okay,” Bruce says. “Might as well.”

Clint comes down for dinner and announces that Bruce has a very comfy bed, but should invest in more pillows.

“You have, like, two.”

“I don’t really sleep with pillows.”

“You don’t?” Natasha asks, surprised. “That’s...bad.”

“Why? Can’t handle that I don’t require pillows?” he teases.

Steve comes next. He brings a nice old-fashioned suitcase, the kind that begs for stickers to be plastered all over it. He doesn’t have any, not yet. He tells Bruce that New York has changed, although the only real thing that he truly hates about it so far is the subway system.

“Used to just get on,” Steve grumbles. “And security wasn’t as tight.”

“You still manage to get around it?” Bruce asks, amused.

Steve’s cheeks turn red and they find out that “America’s Darling” hasn’t gotten a MetroCard, doesn’t like paying for it. He’s been finding different areas under construction or charmed certain officers into letting him pass.

“Please tell me you used your lack of technological information,” Tony begs. Steve blinks.

“No, I haven’t. But I’ll use that for next time! That’s a good idea!”

They fool Steve into trying wasabi that night. It’s the hardest Bruce has heard Natasha laugh.

A couple of months go by. They get comfortable with each other, close in a way that Bruce has never been. Clint gets him snacks without even asking. Just comes up to his room, sets the hummus and pita chips on the bed and asks if they can watch the cool documentaries.

Then Thor comes back. He’s been dealing with a lot of ruling technicalities, although his father has regained strength.

“He seems more active,” Thor says, grinning. “I think he’s going to try and interact with the community more.”

“That’s nice,” Bruce says.

Thor is...different. Not just because he pretends he doesn’t know what a microwave is because he wants to hear Steve’s rantings all about how “the microwave is the absolute best thing the twenty-first century has done, are you kidding me?! Who cares about anything else?”

Not just because he speaks with a lilted accent and sees with eyes that are older than they actually know. He talks about meeting humans thousands of years ago, talks about how no one could have imagined what would come for the future.

It’s because Bruce pays more attention to him. To his arms, the way he says things, and everything else.

But it’s fine. Things are fine. He’s focusing on doing some of his lab work and trying to make Tony see that a Rocky Horror Picture Show movie night would be beneficial to the team.

(And not just because he bet Natasha forty bucks that he could get Steve to dress up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter for Halloween, but mostly because of that.)

The days get shorter, the nights get longer, and the weather is colder. Bruce can’t say he really likes it. He’s been living in the cold a long time. Tony, arguably, handles it the worst.

“I have decided I think we should all move to the west coast,” Tony announces, shedding four of the six layers he’s put on himself.

“And what, become the West Coast Avengers? Sounds lame as fuck,” Clint says with a snort. “Who would want to make that?”

Bruce nods.

“You’ll be fine, Tony. Get some blankets and some hot cocoa.”

Thor is the Avenger who loves the season the most, arguably. Steve’s more a Christmas fanatic, and has been blasting Bing Crosby ever since the end of Thanksgiving.

(Natasha has been a Christmas Music Purist, and this was getting on her nerves until December first, when she rolled into the kitchen blasting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”)

But Thor loves seeing snow, loves walking out to get a hot chocolate and seeing the city during the cold. He thinks the jackets are intriguing.

He also doesn’t really need one. He just wears a long-sleeve sweater and calls it good.

Bruce thinks he looks great.

“You want to get some hot chocolate with me?” he asks Bruce one afternoon. It’s been slow today, and Bruce hasn’t been able to focus on anything.

“Why not?” Bruce says with a shrug. “Let me get my stuff on.”

Bruce prepares well for the trip. He gets his boots on, a heavy jacket, and a hat and gloves. Thor smiles.

“I like the hat, Bruce.”

“Thank you,” Bruce says. “Present from a cousin.”

They walk out into the freezing cold, and Bruce can feel his nose immediately turn red from the air blowing wildly. It’s the kind of cold that cuts right to your bones.

“I wish I was like you,” Bruce says, sighing. “It’s too cold.”

“I like it,” Thor says. “Reminds me of how much my brother and I loved the cold. We had a holiday during this time as well. The cold.” Bruce nods.

They get to the shop, frequented by over-stressed college students and a pair of old men playing checkers in the corner, books tossed aside.

Bruce orders cocoa with Thor, and they sit down.

Thor is a surprisingly good conversationalist. Well, not really surprising. Bruce has seen him mingle at parties, able to talk to anyone with no sense of nerves. But what he is surprised about is that Thor can follow along with the work he’s doing, even going to suggest his own theories or knowledge from Asgard.

“When did you get an interest in all this?” Bruce asks. Thor smiles.

“I have to be well-rounded to assume the throne. To not be knowledgeable is to be a foolish king. But I like knowing about life and it’s creation. Our scientists are also very...interesting. They make the best drinks.”

“Chemists here,” Bruce responds, laughing. “I had a couple of friends like that.”

Bruce learns about Asgardian drinking games, the kinds of food they have for their holidays, and what Thor misses most.

“I do like earth, however,” Thor says. “Your people are less--oh damn, I can’t think of the word.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce says. “I get it.”

And he does, to a certain extent. Thor grew up as a member of the royal family, his father a legend even to other people.

Hot cocoa trips become a regular occurrence, until it starts to get a bit repetitive and Bruce offers to show Thor some breakfast meals that are good, like peanut butter and banana-cinnamon toast.

They cook for each other. Bruce shows him some meals.

The thing that makes Bruce realize Everything is when Thor brings some kind of fruit from Asgard.

“You have to try this,” Thor says excitedly. “It’s the best fruit ever.”

And Bruce realizes that he loves Thor. That he wants to take him to dinner, to kiss him breathless, and to go on romantic dates that involve candlelight and soft laughter and and and--

Oh shit.

It feels complete, somehow.

Bruce smiles at Thor, and thanks him.

“This is special,” Bruce murmurs. “I appreciate that you went all the way there.”

“No big deal,” Thor says, smiling. “Not when I care about you so much.”

There’s something else there, but Bruce thinks his bias might be showing. He brings Thor into a hug.

“Well unfortunately for you, I have no magic ability to summon myself to any other part of the country to get you a specialty, so making black bean soup tonight will have to do.”

“My favorite!” Thor cheers.

“Exactly why I’m making it, a favorite for a favorite,” Bruce teases.

Thor smiles at him, and Bruce knows that there’s no going back.

He helps chop the celery and strain everything for the soup. Bruce hums to an old song that Thor sometimes sings on rainy days, when everything is gloomy and comforting.

“You hum beautifully,” Thor says, sweeping the vegetables into the pot. “I enjoy hearing it each time you cook.”

“Then I’ll cook more often,” Bruce says, smiling. “I think Pepper requested a chicken dish from us tomorrow.”

“Who knew we’d be such a great cooking team?” he teases.

Bruce turns on music, and Thor sways to the beat. He likes the older music more, including the old-school love ballads.

It’s Nat King Cole, one of Bruce’s favorites.

He sings “L-O-V-E” in the most ridiculous voice and prances about the kitchen, and this is what this song is for.

They dance together, soup be damned. Bruce laughs as his socked-feet slide on the floor, pushing his body more towards Thor’s.

The song ends with Thor dipping Bruce low, breathing only a bit faster. He looks up, and decides to go for it.

“You gonna kiss me?”

Thor is an excellent kisser, Bruce decides.

“Been wanting to do that for ages,” Thor says. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go on a date Friday.”

“I would love that,” Bruce says. “What time? I have a meeting at lunch.”

“Dinner then,” Thor decides. “The burger place we went to a couple weeks ago? You liked their sauces.”

“Ooh, good choice,” Bruce says, smiling. “I would love that.”

They smile at each other as they dish out the soup. It’s nice, honestly. Thor lingers a little bit closer, and Bruce holds on for a bit longer.

He may not believe in prayer. But he doesn’t need to, not when he has this family that’s come together and a love that’s unmatched.

#holy SHIT this is long #i spent all day on this one oops #lovelyirony writes #thorbruce #betty ross #bruce banner #thor #avengers as a family #natasha romanoff #tony stark #steve rogers #clint barton #listen they BOND okay

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jenner-benjamin · 4 years

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Seen as Read

Parietal Poem written with acrylic paint on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

Seen as Read was a seven week online course hosted by SJ Fowler and offered the chance to explore a variety of visual poetry processes. Each week we were sent a presentation of source material, ideas and inspiration for the week ahead. We would then use this as a basis for investigation and offer our thoughts, outcomes and works in progress on a blog forum for everyone to share and comment on.

The course introduced us to the study of visual poetry which I found extremely enlightening. There were aspects of the history of aesthetic linguistics that I had not considered until starting this course. On offering a definition of poetry Fowler explained that it was ‘language referent which doesn’t posit communication or information as its primary purpose’ - therefore a haiku and a scrawled note on the back of a receipt are both forms of poetry.

In the first week we were taught about the difference between phonograms and logograms; phonograms use individual written characters to represent sounds, whereas logograms are written characters that represent whole words. Examples of logograms would include; ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphics and Mayan scripts. I found the historical detail of this week to be very beneficial. I was not naive to how widespread visual poetry is around the globe, but had not considered how far back in time one could come across it. We were introduced to a plethora of artists and reference points that included the likes of Henri Michaux, Cy Twombly, The Voynich Manuscript and the Rosetta Stone (as well as some more obscure points of interest).

As an ode to the parietal poetry on cave walls, the first activity I indulged in was making my own poems with my finger tips. I explained how there was an acute closeness to the material when applying it directly with your fingers. This way of working mirrored the close-to-hand ethos that I explored during the three month lockdown earlier in the year.

Parietal Poem written with an ink stamp pad on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

After this exercise I chose to make my own sequence of logograms, taking inspiration from things found in my bedroom. I wrote these on exercise book paper and began practicing my invented glyphs. The rhythmic repitition of scrawling the glyphs over and over reminded me of my childhood when I was learning to write the alphabet on lined paper. The reiteration of writing the same character allows for delicate differences inferred by it being handwritten that the eye becomes drawn to. I intended to compose these glyphs in to poetry during the week but for now I quite enjoy them as they are.

An example of a repeated logogram on exercise book paper.

The second week was beneficial in encouraging me ask questions about the nature of writing. I do often fear that the work I make runs the risk of becoming relentless and contrived so this was particularly useful.

We were asked to ponder what is the visual character of writing? What is writing without semantic meaning? What is the capacity for an imagined language to mean beyond the representational or referential? This served as an excellent starting point for the week ahead. With reference to what Fowler posited in the first week’s presentation I would reiterate that writing without semantic meaning is pure poetry - it does not seek to communicate information as its primary purpose. I would also argue that an asemic written language can still ‘mean’ despite it being non representational or referential. The meaning might be entirely aesthetic, or it might be emotionally expressive, it might even exist as a means of translating a pre-existing language.

As a printmaker I have wrestled with where the process fits in the world of printmaking. Is asemic writing to be drawn or written only? Would repeating the writing through a print process detract from its agency as a handwritten process? I was stimulated by the prompt in the slides about formulating an alphabetical system that is pictorial or logogrammatic. Encouraged by this and my previous research into typography I decided to make my own asemic font. I felt the exercise would be a good way of marrying asemic writing with printmaking - my thinking being the font could be physically made and printed in a typesetter.

A translation of the first five letters in the first draft of my asemic typeface.

My starting point was going through my sketchbooks and portfolio to locate certain asemic characters that I had repeated over the months. It was this set of characters that I then digitised on my phone, attributing each character form to existing letters, numbers and punctuation marks.

Overall I found this exercise to be very successful as my first attempt at digitising my asemic language. Now that I have the app saved to my phone I can experiment with it further and design a cohesive body of abstract letterforms to print from when university reopens. I feel that this is the first step in potentially creating publications and artist books that find a common ground between asemic writing and printmaking.

‘Pangram’ - a sentence that uses every letter in the alphabet - first draft of my asemic typeface.

A selection of letters written in the second draft of my asemic typeface.

There is much scope for experimentation and a playfulness around the idea of the typeface being decoded. I could explore the dialogue between asemic writing being solely abstract and yet decipherable. I might be tempted to play on this in the same way Luigi Serafini did in his Codex Seraphinianus. With the existence of caesar cyphers and cypher wheels there is a wealth of opportunity for further consideration.

I came across weeks that I struggled with more so than others, in particular those based on art poetry and concrete poetry. I think that because the lines are so blurred between the subjects of each week I found that I was a little unsure as to how to approach them for fear of what I make not falling under the ‘correct’ umbrella. In hindsight I think the most fruitful approach would have been to read and research more and put less emphasis on creating, after all this was a learning experience and not a deadline for the next great work of art.

I took a selection of lyrics from Enter Shikari’s most recent album ‘Nothing is True & Everything is Possible’ and made a series of monoprints on newsprint that I initially thought could be pasted on to a wall but in actual fact work quite well as a poem in book form. The lyrics work as individual loose leaves but when coupled with the repetition of the word ‘meanwhile’ they become quite powerful and moving. The poem reads as follows:

Meanwhile,

Masking weakness, masking woe.

We'll disobey our Frankenstein.

Meanwhile,

It's primal, it's tribal.

And I'll die.

Red sky at night, a shepherd's flashlight,

This isn't what I planned.

We orbit fast.

Meanwhile,

Search and seek,

I'm gonna track you down,

Search and seek,

A cosmic dance.

Now I see you,

I can't walk away.

Meanwhile,

I wish this was over, after dark.

Meanwhile,

Nothing is true,

You're not really here.

Meanwhile,

Give me a sign,

Why?

Meanwhile,

I no longer want to hide,

I am the judge,

I can hear alarm bells,

A crisis of creativity.

‘You’re not really here’ - monoprint on newsprint.

‘A crisis of creativity’ - monoprint on newsprint.

‘A cosmic dance’ - monoprint on newsprint.

‘We’ll disobey our Frankenstein’ - monoprint on newsprint.

Concrete poetry found me very much outside my comfort zone, my work tends to be more loose and free and I found myself thinking a bit more rigidly. I am used to working with a bit more expression and gesture, so this was quite the challenge. Nevertheless I made an attempt at some concrete poems of the many plants I have dotted around the place. These were made whilst isolating at home, I found that in times where I felt unsettled and uneasy it was good to have some positive growth in the form of plant-life keeping me company. These ideas are very basic and leave much room for improvement, should I wish to return to this method of working.

‘Plant Pot’ - letraset on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

‘Cactus Pot’ - letraset on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

‘Ivy Ivy Ivy’ - letraset on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

‘Cactus’ - letraset on Moleskine sketchbook paper.

One of the later weeks of the course prompted the notion of scale. What would be the consequence of making poetry for a billboard wall? I have briefly discussed how my work tends to be quite intimate, typically taking the form of smaller tactile prints or books. The prospect of poster art seemed a bit daunting at first. What sentiment would the text offer when not only enlarged for all to see, but also in the public domain as opposed to the sometimes solitary book format?

I composed some poetry earlier on in the year as part of an artist residency at Bower Ashton Library that will be bound in to small poetry anthologies when the university studios re-open. For the purpose of this week’s prompts I made an installation in my bedroom studio, projecting these poems and corresponding drawings on to the walls at various angles. The results aren’t quite as I’d hoped or imagined but the chance to experiment with the concept was a welcome one, I am keen to return to this and develop it further. This week highlighted that there a multitude of ways we might interact with our audience and the value of looking at your work with fresh eyes.

‘Your Mouth’ - poem projected onto an interior wall.

‘Black, White and Grey’ - poem projected onto an interior wall.

‘Two Men’ - poem projected onto an interior wall.

The final output I made during the course was an edition of artist’s books inspired by monostich poetry. I hadn’t heard of it before and wondered how I could make a book with just one line of text. I made monoprints of a line from the Spin Doctors' song, ‘Two Princes’ that reads, ‘if you would like to talk for hours, just go ahead now’. This varied edition of concertina books is a dialogue of sorts between the ‘two princes’, each side being a line spoken.

‘Two Princes’ - accordion folded artist’s book with monoprinted pages.

Participation on the Seen as Read course has been extremely beneficial. I have been tempted out of my creative comfort zone on more than one occasion, which is always a valuable tool as an artist. It teaches you to not rest on your laurels and even though you will most likely return to your favoured processes, you might bring with you a method of creating that you had not before. The most worthwhile aspect to take away is the contacts I have made. A handful of participants have agreed to continue our correspondence beyond the confines of the seven weeks and will proceed to critique and support each other on a similar online forum to that which we have used for Seen as Read. I hope that this is the beginning of an active role in joining in the global conversation regarding visual poetry.

#practice #poetry #visual poetry #vispo #asemic art #asemic #asemia #asemic writing #concrete poetry #book art #abstract art #artistsbook #artists book #monoprint #printmaking #masters #mamdp

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parti-pooper · 5 years

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I think tweek and craig are both logical/creative, but in different ways and in different times. They’re creative on their own but with logic they take turns depending on whose acting ridiculous at the time. I wonder what happens when it’s both of them.

I agree! I mean, they say that a messy mind is a creative mind, and just look at Tweek’s room! Clothes falling out the drawers. Toys all over the floor. Legos all over his desk. Coffee cups everywhere. It’s madness! However, though this be madness, there is method in it. He is building a crazy, interesting structure with those Legos! His coffee cups have been stacked into these orderly, challenging towers on his window sill! He has snapped together this amazing-looking roller-coaster thing on his floor! Like, just look at this!

Gosh, his room is just so colourful and exciting! And I will bet his mind is exactly the same. He seems to have this very inventive, almost architectural creativity. In fact, I would not be surprised if our little Tweek grew up to be an engineer, or an architect, or something like that. I believe in him!

Tweek’s so good at acting as well though, which is very much a creative art. He could grow up to join the theatre! And he’s probably pretty musical too, because it seems he plays piano. Like, Tweek?? Since when could you do that, Tweek??Where did you learn to do that, Tweek??! Tell me your secrets, Tweek!! Tell me!!

Craig, I’m not so sure about. If someone could offer instances of his creativity, I would be appreciative. Because I’m coming up dry, pfft! I mean, come on. Look at his fucking superhero outfit. What even is that, Craig? Did you even try, boy? You even called yourself Super Craig. Super Craig. You couldn’t even come up with a cool name, could you?

Granted, Tweek was not much better here, for all his creativity. He called himself Wonder Tweek and stuck some letters to his shirt as well. But at least he made a bandanna, too, and bothered to put on gloves and a different shirt. Also he wrote approximately one (1) more letter than you, Craig, so he automatically gets more respect. (But you both get bonus points for your cutesy couple costumes. Bless!)

(I love Kenny’s ghost creeping in the background, pfft! Afterlife photo-bombing!)

Okay, so neither of them are artistic in that way. They aren’t going to grow up to be designers and open up a boutique together. Still, check out Craig’s bedroom in comparison to Tweek’s! Like, yeah. Okay. He likes space, robots, and making his bed. And?

(Sidenote: I’ve just noticed “SPACE TREK” and it’s tickled me real bad. *Snort!*)

Everything is just so neat. His closet and drawers are shut tight (unless New Kid interferes). There is not a speck on his floor (unless Stripe interferes). That bed must be taking anti-ageing cream because it is wrinkle-free. The poster above it is the only thing off. His room is straighter than he is! It’s so different to Tweek’s room. (Which is probably why they go together so well. Opposites attract, man.)

So, he’s not artistic. He’s not inventive. He’s not architectural. Maybe he’s, um… musical? He played that violin once? Or is it a viola? Or a fiddle? (Can someone who knows the difference between these instruments tell me what it is? Thanks.)

Although that was kind of just for school… Um… Oh! But he also played the pan flute that one time! (And that guitar- or ukulele-looking thing. Musicians, help me again!) Remember Peru, Craig? ‘Member?

Although that was kind of just for money. While Tweek whipped out the piano for a song he did. Which suggests he could already play it. Like, I wouldn’t learn the piano just specifically to play a song in a school assembly. I’d ask someone who already knew how to play piano. Or just make it into a speech instead of a song. The fact Tweek did this just further makes me think that playing the piano is just something he does. For himself. While with Craig, it’s more related to obligation, or gain. So maybe not too musical after all…

Urgh, I’m really coming up dry here. Everything around Craig is nice and boring, just how he likes it. Yet, I still refuse to believe that there’s no creativity in him at all! There’s got to be something… Perhaps intellectual creativity? The insults he comes up with. The ideas he has. They come from some sort of creativity, right? Maybe there is creativity in his logic. And he is definitely very logical. Robotic, I dare say. Almost as much as that robot he loves enough to put in his bedroom. Do you see yourself in it, Craig? Is that why you keep it? Is that why you gave it pride of place on your nightstand?

His room is evidence of his logic. Everything has a place, and everything is in it. Neat. Tidy. Plain. Organised. Straightforward. His thoughts will obviously be the same. And I also think he can be quite emotionally logical. That is clear enough in Put It Down, where he spends nearly the entire episode trying to rationalise everything Tweek is fearing, only to realise it is not helping, and be able to step back and come up with the most logical solution, where he validates everything Tweek is feeling. He likes reason and rationale. Things that do not make sense, he cannot compute. Irrationality invokes irritability.

(To be fair though, really, why the fuck would you? Are you okay, Dr Mephesto?)

Logic is where I may struggle with Tweek though, and again, I would appreciate instances of Tweek being logical being offered. We have seen, however, that he can come up with logical solutions to his problems when he is calm enough, ala Put It Down again. Also, there is, as I said before, a method to his madness. He is able to create structurally sound features, like his Legos and coffee cups and roller-coaster. That takes a little logic. Most of the time, however, he’s panicking over crazy conspiracies, paranoid and inconsolable. (Granted, sometimes those things do come true. I mean, underpants gnomes? Huh. Who saw that coming?)

Ah, I don’t know! Maybe the secret to them is that Tweek is the creative one and Craig is the logical one and that’s, again, exactly why they work so well together. They balance each other out. If anyone could offer a different perspective on this post, though, then I would appreciate it! It’d be interesting to hear other thoughts.

#south park #craig tucker #tweek tweak #creek #sp creek #thanks anon! <3 #i just spent like literally an entire hour writing this post instead of my essay #and it's due in two days #boy am i in trouble lmaooo #these damn other boys #guinea fucker #coffee addict

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art-now-india · 3 years

Photo

ETERNAL CIRCLE-9, Baljit Chadha

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-ETERNAL-CIRCLE-9/392880/2499152/view

#abstractexpressionism #baljitchadha #abstract

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tazzmanien · 5 years

Text

The Tian Guan Ci Fu (Heaven Official’s Blessing) Review

Okay I’m doing it finally. Sorry if it ended up way too long, but in my defense the novel itself was huge so…

First of all I will not be comparing this novel with any of the other MXTX novels, but I just want to tell you this is definitely my new favorite for several reasons, but mostly its love story. If you want to know more write me I will gladly talk more about this.

I read in many posts everywhere that Hualian invented love. Well you know what, there is really no lie there. Theirs is one of the most beautiful love stories out there.

So, before I go into the details, please just go and read the novel!!! NOW!

The good:

Usually I would like to say a few words about the writing style and quality, but as I’ve only read a translation of the novel I don’t think I can tell you much about it. The translation was very easy to read, so I’m guessing the novel can’t be too extravagant or bad either. BTW thank you everyone who is doing translations for FREE. You all are angels!

The novel was quite long, but the moment you step into the world you would wish it was longer. Every character has their own story and they needs time to evolve, so I really liked its length, but also not so much. Check out the bad for more information.

I liked how the story took place in three realms and different times. I know some get confused by such switches, but I tend to enjoy them very much. I think the heaven and the ghost city were so diverse, that I can’t wait to see them play out in whatever visual adaptation. I feel like this time around MXTX finally explained the actual world with more detail, which made it easier for me to imagine myself strolling through the ghost city market buying sum forbidden rubbish, or watching the moon up close while seated in a garden in heaven. I could see, smell, feel, hear and sometimes unfortunately even taste many things and that is what I think good writing should be about. The things that weren’t described in detail made it even more fun, as one could work with their own imagination (this might be a bad thing for visual adaptations, just saying). And some of you might remember I complained before that if one has no prior knowledge about the whole cultivation, eastern religion and xianxia stuff, then you might have issues reading MXTX books, well this did not change, but I guess I’m starting to appreciate it, as my own imagination created a whole new version of what this whole thing was meant to be. Still, I should have probably listed this in the bad part as well.

The main plot was very interesting and at times even slightly surprising. Mostly it was quite predictable, but I think writing does not have to invent itself every time again, but it has to give some sort of satisfaction at the end. If a story is predictable deep down to every little detail, this is not a huge issues if the story has other strengths. And this one had a nice mix of both.

It did have some parts which appalled me, but you know what, this was actually a good thing. Like I felt a lot of things, even though I really didn’t want to. The things that were disgusting, really actually disgusted me. The things that were supposed to make you angry, made me go nuts. The things that should have made you happy, made my grin like a maniac. But worst of all, were the things that existed to hurt you, they ripped out my heart and shredded it in front of me while I was still conscious. So all in all, yeah even the bad parts about the plot served a purpose. If you are good at keeping track on the main plot while diving into hundreds of subplots, then I would say it was easy to follow. I think this was okay, but the other way around (remembering the subplots) I would argue differently (more in the bad). Nevertheless, some of the subplots were so beautiful that I think they might have deserved their own novel, but isn’t that the case with all good stories?

On a side note, I don’t know if that was intended or if I just saw things that weren’t there, but was the hidden plot actually about how wrong idolizing people is and how it feels to go through post traumatic stress? I might write some more on this in a separate post, I just wanted to get it off my chest here.

Now my favorite part of any MXTX novel: the characters. Honestly, I can’t remember many stories where I loved every character. But MXTX did it again, I loved all of them, even the ones I hated. Once again the way the side characters were introduced, involved in the main story and the main guys, had their own very individual nature and lifes and fought with their own challenges was beautiful. Every character had their own aura (for the lack of a better word). Yeah I like to make fun of this but it’s true nevertheless: most of them had sad histories or were living their nightmares while the plot evolved, however, this was good as it made me appreciate the few sunreys that were able to shine through the clouds even more. As I said, I hated quite a few of them, but either they had their moment one had to love them for or they served another purpose, like propelling other characters to become what they were meant to be or drive the overall plot. And none of this felt forced. So to make it short wow!

And last but no least, the main characters and their love story.

Xie Lian, our protagonist, my angel my only god the life of my love (yeah I used this one already, sue me), is an adorkable martial arts badass/nerd with the worst luck and cooking skills and spiderman reflexes. He is a true neutral, treats everyone with the same respect, just the way a god should be. He is so genuine in every aspect of his being. He is fully aware of all his shortcomings and all the wrongs he has done, but he still hasn’t lost the good in him and the will to act righteously. He is just so so human, that each of us could learn a little from him. I mean he even warns the freaking demon king to not think too highly of him, because he might disappoint him. And what does Hua Cheng do? He calls him his hope! So XL gives the cruelest of all the demons hope. This shows how perfectly imperfect and inspirational XL is. The world does not deserve him, yet still treats him the worst it can. He lost everything, EVERYTHING! Still he somehow came out to be this beautiful being. The only consolation we get is that at least he gets to have Hua Cheng in his life.

And Hua Cheng, he is the only man out there! Towards Xie Lian he is gentle, loving, understanding, supportive, patient, strong, funny and all sorts of beautiful things. With everyone else he is everything you would expect of a demon king to be and none of it a the same time. He is unpredictable in all things that are not Xie Lian. He does so many good deeds that one would forget that he is a demon king, but he hates, is cruel, intimidating, has killed and is mischievous through and through. Even though we don’t get to see everything about him (see the bad), we know him to be the perfect grey character. Also he proves to be the realest of them all, he stands by everything he says and does and I respect that a lot. He shows his anger and love equally and acts upon both equally. And is so freaking intelligent, handsome, sensual, seductive and cute, that I am actually fearing of being in love with a fictional character. The butterflies are a nice touch btw.

Yes, you are right, we all tend to praise almost every main couple, when the love story is good, but please hear me out. Both of them individually are just perfect in their own imperfect way and together they are the definition of true love. Their first encounter was magical to say the least. Without having any prior knowledge about the overall story or how their love would come to be, I was bewitched from the first moment they both shared the “screen”. I could feel the air stilling, just so I could give my full attention to them falling in love (yeah I know one was already head over heels before that meeting, but that is beside the point). And boy, the way they were falling. It was so realistic and yet hopelessly romantic, that I will use them as the perfect example to show people what it feels like to fall and be in love.

The bad:

The length and some subplots… Yes well it was quite strenuous to follow the happenings, as every character had their own huge side story. While I loved to know every single bit of their stories, sometimes it took me a while to get back on track in the main story and many many times I totally forgot about some subplots later in the novel and was like “where is the other character now? why don’t we see them anymore?”. Despite its length, some characters stories were either only told from the view of the protagonist and lost a lot of what was going on deep down, or some characters stories had huge gaps even. Sure, it was not their story and we can be happy we even got something, but at some point I was kinda disappointed to be teased about a character and never get to find out what happened or how they felt. So I would have enjoyed an even longer book even if the one now was too long. Do you get what I mean? At the end of the day I can actually forget and forgive all except the fact that we never got to see some sides of Hua Cheng and had to read between the lines to understand his motives and feelings a little better. I need a whole book about him only to be honest.

So my next bad thing, might actually be inaccurate if I’d knew more about Hua Cheng. This part is probably highly subjective, but I feel like Hua Cheng was not demonic enough. You know, in my head I pictured him to be a real demon, including the looks and what he is doing. How else would he become a demon king? I mean the looks were pretty much on point, I just feel like all the other characters either ignored it or didn’t care and the fandom just makes him look more like a human being. And yes he treats many badly, but in my opinion not bad enough. It feels like all his good deeds got more screen time and his bad deeds were either justified by something good or not really shown.

Not sure if it was only my short attention span or if that was the case, but I felt like the living world was not described as good as the heaven and ghost city.

Conclusion:

I would recommend this novel to everyone who wants to feel love, but is not afraid to hurt a LOT. If you are searching for a story with some human or heavenly goodness, good friendships, good families, just decent people, then this is not a book for you. Xie Lian is the only exception of course and he is worth every tear you are 100% going to shed.

Just go and read the book! Please. And come back to me and talk about it with me :)

#tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #heaven officials blessing #tgcf #hob #xie lian #hua cheng #hualian

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