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androgynousblackbox · 3 years

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Sorry i just needed to vent but creepshows video about a trans csa survivor artist who drew porn of an underage FICTIONAL character was so fucking offensive like the video itself dismisses the abuse that the artist went through despite her saying she uses it to cope and the fact that the comments were full of idiotic antis saying "lmao the lgbt community dosent claim this pedo" and albeists making fun of her mental illness and her LIKING the comments makes me so fucking angry man!

Crapshow is a garbage person so of course she is going to have a garbage audience. It wasn’t not even just that, but the wave of pure hatred that Aggy recieved because of that video was so big that you couldn’t blink a second on her profile without finding people tagging the FBI, putting in doubt her abuse, putting in doubt her gender identity, putting into doubt. When I tell you all those comments were VILE I am not exaggerating. Of course there was also a lot of support too, not only from pro shippers but people who knew the law, people who saw that art was OBVIOUSLY cathartic of something fucked up and others who genuelly enjoyed her art style. She went from a pretty fucking humble artist with less than 1000 followers to 2000 and more, which is still humble but a lot bigger than what she had before Crapshow ever looked on her direction. Her influence would have been minimal if not for that video. But the harassment continued, people tried to take down the comics Aggy was selling in other sites, they succeeded in taking her Etsy shop and finally she had enough so last I knew about her, she had abandoned social media. Before that she has aldo tweeted about recently losing her job because of Covid. Who knows where the fuck she is now or what she is doing in order to have food on her plate. So all those fuckers, instigated by Crapshow herself, who had no qualms to call her a predator with no evidence of any real victim, the worst artist on twitter despite being the same platform where fucking SHADMAN is in, went to a completely unkown trans woman artist obviously working through some traumatic experiences on her art clearly tagged, clearly marked for an adult audience (which didn’t stopped Crapshow to share it to her underage audience, of course, even though herself had made sensual drawings on the past on the background of her videos and there was NEVER any warning) and took away one of her sources of income just after she had already lost her job, putting every single part of who she was to be scrutinized by people whose thirst for moral superiority made it all the more cruel. I think I heard too that she has been doxxed so, hey, maybe that means that the cops were called on her and god know what could have happened. Maybe she doen’t even have a house anymore, who knows! I don’t! I fucking despise Crapshow. I hate the people who did that, but she can go to hell for all I care. She saw this artist that she KNEW hasn’t done anything to anyone. This artist who NO ONE would have know about if it wasn’t because of her. This artist that wouldn’t have any kind of support when things went wrong. This artist whose only crime was to use HER art to cope with trauma and Crapshow blasted her with all her influence, all her support and never even blinked. Countless people tried to reason with her, mind you. People far more compassionate and understanding me than me tried to reach out to tell her about none of that bullshit was at all necesary, and all she had to say about it “uwuw i am tired to argue about why pedophilia is bad uwuwuwuw”. What a fucking piece of shit. That is not even the single one thing she did. She also made public donation request on her twitter asking people to post their paypal so she could send them money, making a bunch of her UNDERAGE fans to post paypals that positively revealed their personal information. She has been so flippant and so fucking irresponsible on the way that she handled the Vanity’s situation that one of her fans ended up trying to catch a REAL LIFE PREDATOR, which could have ended terribly bad for them, because they tried to be cool and hip like Crapshow when treating those issues. And you better believe t that she is a verygood reason why there were later minors on twitter publishing CSEM on twitter as it were fanart to “denounce it” and, if not, at least I have no doubt that she didn’t helped AT ALL with the mentality that real life pictures = fanart and therefore they can be treated on exactly the same way interchangeably. If their favourite youtuber was publishing barely censored “cp” on the thumbnail, then they could do the same when they found CP with real children, right? Shitting all over the victims because god knows is not about them. It was never about protecting anyone. It was about them. Them and their fucking clout. I am right there with you, anon. These people were vindictive, cruel and stripped everything away from someone who didn’t had much in the first place. And for what? FOR FUCKING ART. Crapshow ruined someone’s life who hasn’t done anything to anyone and I hope someday comes back to bite her in the ass, I really fucking do. I will not shred a single tear for her.

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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years

Text

those blessed days

C H A P T E R 2

author’s note: fanart at the end of this is by me. lyrics are still from So It Goes by Robert Hallow and the Holy Men.

94 days after

A month passes. They’re two states away from the coast, away from Florida. Jaskier has written two more songs from his stories, learned four more songs by heart from the band he loves. Geralt falls asleep with Jaskier in the backseat of the truck more often than a bed in a hotel, skips more meals than eats them, doesn’t tell Jaskier. He only has to make it to the coast, then he and Jaskier can build their lives together.

At Jaskier’s insistence, Geralt uses his skill at picking locks and disarming alarms and breaks into an ice-skating rink at night. They spend hours skating - Geralt isn’t particularly graceful, but he can skate, and he finds that watching Jaskier dance on the ice, illuminated by the lights and glowing, is far better.

His chest aches.

Geralt sits in the backseat of his truck, falling asleep, listening to Jaskier sing his favorite song from his favorite band in a quiet voice, guitar strings echoing in the silence. “ Another silent spectre that you’ll keep at bay, while I stand raging at a silent sea,” he sings.

They spend three more nights watching the sunset, two of which end up with Geralt carrying an unconscious Jaskier to the backseat of his truck, one of which ends up with Geralt falling asleep right in the truckbed and Jaskier beside him. All three end up with them curled into each other.

Geralt watches Jaskier, spends the days in a pulsing haze of want. His chest aches.

43 days before

“Why are you sad?”

Geralt looks up as Jaskier slides to a sitting position beside him. He stretches his legs out, throws aside the half-shredded green leaf. Finds he doesn’t know what to do with his fingers after that and leaves them awkwardly in his lap.

“Did a DNA test,” he says roughly, less forthcoming than usual, even with Jaskier.

“And?” he prods. Geralt pauses, continues after a beat of silence.

“My biological family has a history for illness.”

“What kind of illness?”

Geralt sighs. “Don’t know. Vesemir wouldn’t tell me. He said I don’t have it.”

Jaskier slides his arm behind Geralt. Geralt envies the easy affection Jaskier gives, wishes he could give it back so freely.

He doesn’t know how, but he leans into Jaskier and wants to learn.

113 days after

“What do you think, Geralt? Green, or blue?”

Jaskier holds up the two silk shirts - one a deep, rich shade of emerald green, and the other a navy, midnight blue. Geralt doesn’t understand why he needs silk shirts, of all things, but it’s Jaskier and the extravagance fits him, somehow.

“Either works,” Geralt says simply.

Jaskier sighs, rolls his eyes. “You’re absolutely no help.” He holds the emerald green up to himself, glances down and puts the blue shirt back on the rack. “I’ll pick for myself then.”

Geralt waits until they’re both back in the car to say, “Would’ve looked better in blue.”

Jaskier groans and smacks him on the arm. “I’m never going clothes shopping with you ever again.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Jaskier sighs, dramatic and defeated. “Yeah, I am.”

38 days before

Geralt really should’ve known that of all the malls Jaskier could have taken him to, of course this one would have the extravagant sweets shop, and of course he should’ve known that Jaskier would drag him into the store as soon as he caught the scent of cinnamon beneath the smell of pretzels and fries.

“Geralt, fuck, there’s a Cinnabon here,” Jaskier says excitedly, pulling Geralt into the store, “do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had one of these?”

The entire store smells like cinnamon and sugar, almost sickeningly so. Geralt always had a stronger sense of smell, more sensitive senses, than anyone else. If it was up to him, he would’ve turned tail right out of this store, let alone come anywhere near it.

But, it’s up to Jaskier, and Geralt would do more things than he liked to admit for Jaskier.

“Geralt, share one with me,” Jaskier pleads, “they’re absolutely huge and I can’t finish one by myself. Well,” he amends, “I can, but I only did once and I severely regretted it after. They should put bathrooms closer to this store, honestly.”

Geralt fights the smile tugging at his lips listening to Jaskier ramble. He rolls his eyes. “No.”

Jaskier groans. “Come on, Geralt, just once? You never eat anything sweet, indulge me this time? It’s Cinnabon!”

Geralt sends a flat look at Jaskier. “I’m not going to indulge you once because then you’ll ask me to indulge you every time after that.”

Jaskier’s mouth drops open in offense. “I do not ask you every time.”

Geralt simply crosses his arms, leans back against the wall. His lips quirk up against his will and he gestures at the register. “Well?”

Jaskier, upon the realization that Geralt can’t be shaken in this, huffs and glares without heat. “Someday I’ll get you to actually do something fun, like a normal person.”

“Someday you’ll go up to that register and actually buy what you came in here for,” he retorts.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and turns to the register. Geralt lets himself smile and watches Jaskier spend far too long choosing a delicacy.

121 days after

“You know what I never told you about my Witcher stories?” Jaskier says, completely irrelevant to the conversation they were having. Geralt looks at him; Jaskier looks back. There’s fear in his blue eyes, and something softer, fragile like glass. “Jaskier loves Geralt.”

Geralt wishes he could run. Knows Jaskier wouldn’t let him, somewhere in him doesn’t want to.

“I love you, Geralt,” Jaskier repeats, softly, like the wind in their hair when they sit in the fields on the side of the road watching the sunset.

And, Geralt has never been good with words. He’s better at actions; better at leaning slightly down, tilting his head just so, swallowing Jaskier’s noise of surprise by slotting their lips together.

Jaskier’s lips are soft. Geralt’s hands curve around his waist, hovering, touching, fingers skimming beneath his shirt. He pulls away when he can’t breathe, drops his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. Breathes in the scent of lemongrass and dandelions and honey, is intoxicated by it.

“Love you,” he growls finally, roughly into Jaskier’s skin. Feels his chest ache again.

Soft lips press against his. “I know.”

23 days before

“Jaskier?”

Geralt picks up the phone, fear and panic shooting through him as Jaskier’s voice, rough and broken, comes through the other end. He sounds suspiciously like he’s been crying.

“Geralt,” he breathes, sobs.

Geralt’s whole body tenses. Eskel appears in the doorway to his bedroom, concern on his face despite the fact he’d only met Jaskier once. All four of them knew Jaskier’s house was less than welcoming to him.

“Jaskier,” he repeats, firmer. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you distract me?” comes the response, too fast. It’s followed by a quiet hitch of breath.

Geralt frowns, stands up. His body itches, he feels the adrenaline rushing through him, wants to fight or flee and can’t do either because this isn’t a problem he can touch. “Why-“

“Just distract me, please,” Jaskier replies, cutting him off, voice pleading and frustrated beneath the tears.

Geralt lets out a breath. Meets Eskel’s eyes. Keeps his voice steady when he responds.

“Okay. Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

136 days after

Jaskier leans back against the seat with his guitar. Geralt takes a drink from the soda can and listens to Jaskier’s voice fill the car, rising and falling on every note, feels his chest ache.

“But now and then I dream, so should this could be, another silent spectre that you’ll keep at bay while I stand raging at a silent sea-“

Geralt lunges forward and cuts off the singing with his mouth, kissing Jaskier softly yet insistent, feels him smile against the kiss. Geralt pulls away, keeps his face close to Jaskier’s chin, breathes the next lyrics of the song against the pale skin.

“Those blessed days I’ll keep,” he tilts his head back up and recaptures Jaskier’s mouth in another fleeting kiss before pulling back and meeting his wide blue eyes, “those blessed days I’ll keep.”

Jaskier’s cheeks are flushed a pale red and Geralt thinks he sees something shine in his eyes. He’s too focused on the way Jaskier’s fingers skim lightly over his hips, though, the way his voice comes out soft and breathy and awed, as if he couldn’t believe he had someone like Geralt.

“Fuck, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

Geralt lets Jaskier kiss him again, lets his arms curl around his back and follows Jaskier’s guidance down to lay on the seat with the musician above him.

Jaskier’s eyes light with mischief and adoration and love, hands smoothing under Geralt’s shirt and over the hard muscle, lips curling up in a smirk. He leans down and kisses Geralt again, nips his lip with his teeth and smiles when Geralt groans.

“Can’t believe I have you,” he whispers against his skin.

before

Geralt hesitates, dials the phone number he knows almost as well as Vesemir’s, Eskel’s, and Lambert’s. He holds the phone to his ear and leans back against the seat of his truck.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier sounds confused - perfectly normal, they never call each other in the middle of the day. Geralt’s eyes flick up to the hospital sign in front of him and he lets out a breath.

“Geralt? Why are you calling? Is something wrong?”

Geralt’s voice is steady. “No. There’s nothing wrong. Just- just wanted to.”

It’s silent. He hasn’t convinced Jaskier, he knows, but it doesn’t matter. By the time Jaskier figures out where he is, there truly won’t be something wrong, or there will be. Geralt hopes there isn’t; he checks the clock.

“I have to go,” he says.

“Wait, Geralt- this is- what is this? You don’t seem like yourself- you know you can tell me if there’s something wrong? I really hope you would tell me if anything was truly wrong-“

“Jaskier. I’m sorry. I have to go,” he interrupts, and hangs up before he can stop himself. He looks up at the hospital sign, lets out a breath.

He gets out of his car and starts walking across the parking lot.

237 days after

They make it to the coast. Jaskier makes a name for himself as a local musician, a poet, an artist. Geralt makes a name for himself as a handyman, smart and quiet but friendly, able to do the jobs that need muscle.

They still watch the sunsets, sit on the cliff by the sea with the wind howling and the waves roaring in their ears. Jaskier buys a Polaroid camera with the last of the money from his parent’s credit card, says they might as well give me something I actually like with their money. It’s cheap, and used, and has more than a few scratches and chips, definitely isn’t up to date with technology, but it prints out pictures of the sunset, of Geralt - of Jaskier, when Geralt feels like it. Jaskier dates them meticulously in blue pen and curving numbers, keeps them in a box with the old, worn notebook containing his Witcher stories and ideas (and some of Geralt’s notes with the doodles), and the first music journal he filled up.

Geralt comes home from stacking wood for the neighbors, surprisingly slightly out of breath. He doesn’t find Jaskier in the living room, doesn’t find him in the kitchen when he calls his name and looks.

Finds him in their bedroom. He looks small, in his navy blue sweater and black jeans, kneeling on the bed with a familiar torn, stained, folded piece of paper in his hand, lined with black ink. Blue eyes look up to meet his, filled with so much betrayal and fear and pain.

“Geralt,” he says, quietly, flatly.

Geralt’s chest aches. He stands in the doorway. Wants to run, wants to curl up in Jaskier’s arms. Does neither. Swallows.

“When were you going to tell me?”

It’s a whisper, barely a whisper, but Geralt hears it, hears every emotion in that musical voice.

“Wasn’t,” he says quietly.

“You weren’t going to tell me,” comes the flat response. There’s no yelling, nothing of Jaskier’s usual dramatics, and somehow that’s worse. Jaskier stands up, sets the paper aside on the bed.

Fuck, Geralt’s chest aches.

“I called you at three in the morning. Laid myself out bare to you. Trusted you to be the one I could count on,” Jaskier says, walking closer, voice so, so calm and almost shaking with unrestrained… fear. Pain, anger, betrayal, hurt, despair. Geralt can’t keep track of them all.

“Three months,” Geralt says to the silence.

“You’re my boyfriend, who rode with me across half the country to go buy a goddamn house on the coast and spend our lives there,” Jaskier continues, ignoring Geralt. “And you knew you were a dead man walking the whole time. I was looking forward to spending years with you, Geralt. Not- not some, some selfless heroic parody of those years, either, where you slowly waste away with fucking lung cancer and I don’t know until it’s too late.”

Geralt is silent. He’s always silent. Jaskier is silent for a long moment, breathing heavy, but he continues; he always continues. He’ll continue for the both of them like he always has, when Geralt goes truly silent.

“Well. You have three months,” Jaskier says, quietly, anger gone as quickly as it had come. “I can get treatment for you in that time. It’s not entirely incurable, right? We can-“

Jaskier’s voice is worriedly bordering on the edge of hysterical. He chokes off his sentence, tries again with a shaky voice.

“We can save you. I’ll make a deal with my parents.”

Geralt looks down. “I’m more likely to die,” he says quietly. “More than half do within a year of diagnosis.”

Jaskier sends him a glare. “Dammit, Geralt, that doesn’t help!” He pulls out his phone and starts dialing a familiar number. Geralt can see the sheen of tears in his eyes, reaches out and catches Jaskier’s wrist, lets it drop when it falls limp.

“Don’t call your parents for this,” he says. “There’s nothing we can do.”

The hand holding the phone drops to Jaskier’s side and he looks up at Geralt with an emptier look than he’s ever seen on the musician before, blue eyes hollow. Geralt hates it. “Then what are we supposed to do? I can’t sit here and watch you-“

He shakes his head, walks over to the bed. Wipes his eyes and sits down.

“You can,” Geralt says. Jaskier laughs, harsh and bitter and clipped.

“You’re not the one discovering the person you’ve loved for eight years loves you back, only to have them ripped away from you,” Jaskier retorts.

Geralt growls. “You think I’m not that person?” he asks, voice harsher than it’s ever been. Jaskier’s eyes flick up to him in surprise.

“You think it’s not hard for me too? You fall in love easily. Instantly. I don’t. For me, it’s slow, gradual. I don’t know I love them until they’re either gone, or I’d do anything to make them stay. Usually they’re gone.” He stops, pauses. Forces down the emotion, the tears threatening to spill over. “Then you go up on that fucking stage in fucking high school, singing and playing guitar, and then you keep fucking talking and won’t fucking leave and you-“

He stops again. Jaskier is silent, waiting for him to continue. His voice is quieter.

“You don’t leave, you aren’t scared of me, you don’t think I’m a freak.” He gives a short, humorless laugh. “You even fucking got along with Lambert.”

Jaskier laughs at that, too, clipped and just as lacking in humor. Geralt looks at him, feels like he’s swallowing shattered glass.

“So we’ll fade from each other. And we’ll make the best of it.”

He ends his rant on a surprisingly soft note, finding a different ache in his chest when he thinks about dying slowly, thinks about watching his future with Jaskier drain slowly along with his life.

“Okay,” Jaskier says, shaky, and then tries again, steadier.

“Okay.”

243 days after

Jaskier takes a picture of Geralt in the light of the sunset, sitting on a rock, white hair illuminated by the fiery reds and golds. He dates it, tapes it to the inside of the top of his photo box.

273 days after

Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert all hear about Geralt’s diagnosis. Vesemir tells Jaskier he knew he was hiding something after the trip to the hospital he took just before he ran away with Jaskier.

They have a small wedding. Vesemir, surprisingly, has a marriage license and officiates the wedding. Geralt dances with Jaskier until he’s out of breath and Jaskier leads him away from the dance floor, out to their cliff by the sea and kisses him for hours, soft and sweet, and Geralt carries Jaskier back inside when he falls asleep, curls up with him in their bed. They wake up tangled together in the morning.

Jaskier tapes the picture of the two of them at the altar with the sunset picture of Geralt in the photo box.

282 days after

Geralt stops taking jobs a week after the wedding, spends his time closer to home, doesn’t work as hard. He comes up short of breath anyway.

298 days after

Jaskier pretends he doesn’t see the tissues in the trash can covered with blood, forces his smile to be brighter when Geralt starts coughing.

304 days after

Jaskier himself sleeps fitfully, wakes up in starts and moves his hand to Geralt’s to feel the warmth thrumming through the skin. Breathes out his relief, falls asleep. Wakes up two hours later and does it again.

316 days after

“And when it comes back, love, that deep exhausting dread. Your matchstick warrior’s here to carry you up to bed,” Jaskier sings to Geralt, sings to his still form, sings to the honed chest that rises and falls evenly still, sings to the rattle in Geralt’s lungs when he breathes.

319 days after

“Stay with me, Geralt.”

321 days after

“No wonder now, no ghosts, no subtle scented smoke, no crowded trains or crossword puzzles, shows or stupid jokes.”

322 days after

Jaskier wakes up at three in the morning. He keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Moves his hand so his fingers brush against Geralt’s.

Cold. Still.

Jaskier closes his eyes and cries silently, shaking in the bed.

after

He wakes up hours later with dry eyes. Sits up, doesn’t look to his left. Faces the wall as he changes, walks out of the room after without looking at the bed.

Eskel finds him three hours later, sitting on the floor with the shattered remains of his coffee mug and the liquid itself pooling around him, mixed with the salt of his tears and the frantic, nearly hysterical way he tries to clean it up, broken, frustrated sobs leaving his throat as he fails.

“I have to clean it up,” he says, “can’t just leave it there, that would be messy and-“

Geralt doesn’t like it to be messy, he doesn’t say.

“Jaskier,” Eskel interrupts, gently. His fingers curl around Jaskier’s wrists, pull him away from the mess. Jaskier struggles against him, shaking his head.

“No, I have to clean it up. Let me- please- let me clean it up,” he repeats. “It’ll hurt. Ceramic. It’s- sharp, dangerous, I have to clean it up. What if- what if someone gets hurt.”

Eskel bites back a sarcastic comment and a bitter laugh at that. They’ve all already been hurt, he doesn’t know what a broken ceramic mug would do.

“Jaskier,” he says, sharply. He listens then, blue eyes widening as he stills. Eskel reads the helpless fear and sharp pain in the man’s eyes as he looks at Eskel, sighs. Pulls him close and sinks to the floor with him, arms wrapped around him.

“So much fucking coffee,” Jaskier says quietly, almost normally several moments later, finger flicking in the light brown puddle. Eskel nods, stays silent as Jaskier gives a short, hysterical laugh and drops his head back into Eskel’s chest.

“We’ll clean it up. We’ll fix it,” Eskel says.

They don’t move for several hours.

after

Geralt leaves almost everything he owns to Jaskier, gives some things to Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir. Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t think the other three do either.

after

They cremate Geralt, give the ashes to Jaskier. He offers for Geralt’s actual family to do the honors - they were much closer, anyway. All three refuse and say that they went through their grief, they don’t need to prolong it. Jaskier is the one who needs the closure. They all do, but that goes with the things left unsaid.

Jaskier holds the bag of ashes, holds his happiness, stands on their cliff alone.

after

The next picture taped to the inside of the photo box is taken by Vesemir.

Jaskier sits on the rock on their cliff, illuminated by the scorching hues of the sunset, black silk shirt and jeans highlighted honey-gold. The wind howls around him; the waves crash against the rocks below. Jaskier’s guitar sits in his lap, head tilted back as he sings out to the sky and the sea, voice rising and falling, cracking and breaking. Geralt’s ashes drift on the breeze, carried out to the ocean by the wind.

“Lay me down my friend for so it goes. See the waning of a grace I’ve never known, know that you will always find a home in me. So no sorrow, no. I cannot wait to see you…”

#geraskier #the witcher netflix #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanart

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swore · 4 years

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why do u like sakuatsu? just curious :3

this answer could be a lot more complicated but i dont have enough sakuatsu brainrot for that. to be “brief”, i both like and mislike sakuatsu for a variety of reasons

i like sakuatsu because theyre both relatable as individuals — atsumu is self centered, insecure, emotionally unavailable, a libra like me (we even share a birthday) etc and sakusa is critical of everything, weary of touch, ambitious and antisocial, etc also like me. theyre a libra/pisces couple and as a libra dating a pisces i truly understand. but also see: a shitton of neurodivergent lgbt teenagers and young adults picked up this pairing real fucking quick and formed an entire subculture surrounding it because its different + hits home + easy to project onto. speaking of projection, someone on twitter made a hefty analysis on why people project onto sakuatsu so much. i recommend reading it if you want a good perspective into this whole subculture esp sakuatsu hqtwit

now why i mislike sakuatsu: lack of canon substance. these two have a total of 8 panels together (approximately) and yet theyre arguably one of if not the most popular post timeskip pairing. theyve amassed a large variety of fanarts and over 1k fanfictions on ao3 iirc in a short amount of time (theyve been introduced for less than a year in the same team). their widespread popularity irks me when they dont have many interactions together and one could conclude that people just want to see the two hot dudes from msby black jackals together, since hinata and bokuto are already ‘taken.’ part of me believes in that viewpoint, but another part of me understands that the interactions that theyve had, however few, have all been meaningful + explosive of their own personalities as individuals, but also creating and displaying the interesting dynamic between the two of them. their dynamic combined with a bunch of mentally ill, emotionally unavailable and covid-coping people projecting onto them is what makes them so popular imo, even if it is also their downfall because it can also seem like nothing compared to, say, kageyama/hinata because they were fated to meet re: kageyamas grandfather telling him he will meet hinata someday before he died, giving the pairing a “soulmate-like” quality

this was probably a longer answer than this topic warranted but yeah, if you like sakuatsu: great, i understand. if you dont like them: yeah, i get that too

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toothpaste-dragon · 4 years

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I know for questions, you're probably talking about Far From Home, but what about William, the fish guy? What was he like in the early days of character development? How has he changed since you first thought of him? And I guess, same question for the FFH folks. Thanks in advance.

I was honestly so excited to receive this question because I LOVE my boy William! Plus it’s fun to talk about character origin stories.

Buckle up. This is gonna be a long answer.

Up until 2014 my art largely consisted of fanart or fan characters, so I had never produced content that was truly original. During spring of that year, I stumbled upon and quickly become enamored with some original characters on deviantart, many of which were ‘monsters’ (vampires, mermaids, werewolves, etc.). Seeing these characters inspired me to create my own story with characters that catered to my own interests.

William is the first original character I ever created, so he has a special place in my heart. This is my very fist sketch of him! (Sorry for the low quality.)

My initial idea for his story was disorganized and had a lot of missing pieces. In the early days of character development, William was nothing more than a character I liked for his design and personality. I had very little experience with character creation, so I put a lot of myself into him. He was shy and timid and anxious at times, but he also had low self-esteem and didn’t feel like he fit in anywhere. And for good reason — his backstory was one of confusion and grief. Originally, he was an orphan that had been kidnapped by scientists and genetically modified to resemble a fish, all while retaining his previous characteristics and a humanoid shape. The scientists raised him and were training him for some unknown task, of which I never decided before changing the direction of the story entirely.

William and his story turned six during March of this year, and both have changed A LOT since then! He’s no longer a chemist, nor does he have any experience in the sciences. I also gave him some glasses and a nice argyle sweater (which now serves as his classic look, haha), and I’ve decided he’s of Asian descent for reasons explained in a few paragraphs. Not only have I refined his story to be more practical and understandable, but I’ve also given William a purpose, something to pursue. He’s still anxious and feels like he doesn’t belong, but he doesn’t stay that way forever.

I always liked stories about monsters, in the sense that something not-quite-human longs for a place among normal people. Society views these ‘monsters’ as unnatural or potentially dangerous, and yet the monster displays more humanity than the humans themselves. I really want to lean into that idea as I tell William’s story. He may not be your typical monster, but he certainly feels like one. Different, unnatural, out of place. Yet he has a kind heart and a childlike fascination with the world. The road is difficult, but with a bit of help he eventually finds his niche.

Here’s my most recent sketch for comparison, and a lovely depiction of William by my pal HareSoup!

Besides the few changes mentioned above, Will hasn’t changed much design-wise. He has fins in place of ears, gills on his neck, scales scattered across his face/trunk/limbs, and a bit of webbing between his fingers/toes. He can breathe underwater and on land, but his scales and gills have to receive moisture every 1-2 hours or he’ll develop health issues/fall ill.

I don’t remember when I decided I wanted to write a full-length book telling Will’s story, but it’s still a goal of mine! To give you a brief synopsis of the current story, now titled “Fish Out of Water”, it takes place some years after the signing of the Conventional Forces in Europe treaty, which officially brought the Arms Race to an end. During the Arms Race, nuclear weapons were tested without concern for radiation and the effects it had on nearby civilians. In one particular scenario, Asian civilians were evacuated from a small town-turned nuclear test site, but they were not properly protected. The offspring of these civilians developed unnatural deformities/features, such as extra limbs or feathers, as a result of exposure to unhealthy levels of radiation. Worried that this development would mortify the public, the government hid the children in a science facility stationed in a secluded part of the ocean, and they remained within its walls for years. After 28 years, William escapes the facility with the help of his guilt-ridden caretaker and is found unconscious on the shore of a coastal city by marine biologist Martha Collins. The story follows Will as he attempts to shake his government pursuers, but it’s really a story about friendship, self-worth, and discovering what it truly means to be human.

Though unfinished, William’s story is very special to me, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with the world someday :>

As for the Far From Home folks, they came from simple beginnings. It all started with a sketch — this one to be exact!

Back in the spring of 2017, I was stressed and tired and frustrated with school, so I thought it’d be fun to create some new characters. Specifically, comfort characters that fit my favorite tropes. I took a lot of inspiration from the movies “Ernest & Celestine” and “You Are Umasou” when it came to personalities and character dynamics. I loved the idea of a tough, grumpy man who is completely unqualified to be a father stumbling upon and eventually adopting a small, bright-eyed child. There’s just so much you can do with that concept!

I specifically remember sitting in the library at school and just…drawing. I had no initial designs in mind besides something big and sharp, and something small and soft. Two opposites that would become a makeshift family.

I liked the designs enough to digitalize them, reworking aspects of their designs in the process. This was the first ‘accurate’ drawing of Baz and Toko. (I don’t like it too much anymore, but it’s a good color reference!)

I never like leaving a character without a story, so I eventually came up with a couple ideas that adequately described their relationship. In fact, my first idea presented Toko as some sort of child princess and Baz as her assigned bodyguard! That one obviously didn’t stick, but it did allow me to gain a better understanding of what I wanted.

Over time, I did a bit of world building and expanded upon the FFH universe, which opened and closed doors for potential storylines. I realized I wanted to add more characters too, leading to the creation of Gerdie and some other important figures. Gerdie looked quite a bit different than he does now — in fact, he was originally supposed to be an android! I played around with that idea for a while before eventually discarding it.

Here’s my most recent size chart featuring all three main characters!

I honestly never expected Far From Home to expand beyond a simple idea, and yet here I am, thinking I can turn the story into a trilogy someday. There’s still a lot of work to do if I want to reach that goal, but I genuinely enjoy these characters and their dynamic is really fun! They’ve grown very dear to me over the past three years. So I think that’s reason enough to try, anyway.

To give a bit of background on the story itself, it’s set in a fictional version of outer space where humans don’t exist. Intelligent, technologically-advanced aliens from neighboring planets/galaxies have established contact with one another, leading to the gradual formation of an intergalactic government and melting pot mega-society. Due to the unforeseen complexity of this endeavor, strict rules were put in place to regulate the selling/purchasing of certain goods and services, transportation between galaxies, and other related activities. This system is not without complications.

Baz and Gerdie work as intergalactic merchants, but that’s just a cover for their job as smugglers. Together, they travel to different galaxies and exchange goods for the designated currency, as well as deliver illegal substances to specific planets. Baz is the captain and pilots the ship while Gerdie is an engineer and works as the mechanic. They’ve known each other for quite some time when the story first begins. Baz has quite the interesting history, much of which ties into important aspects of the story.

Toko is a young alien who gets separated from her family and wakes up in the storage unit of Baz’s ship, with no memory of how she got there. Baz finds her and suspects she’s a thief, but she quickly explains her predicament and asks that he help reunite her with her family. Baz is reluctant at first and denies her request, only to discover there’s more to her story than he originally thought. Unintentionally dragging Baz into a frightening adventure full of old friends and all-too-familiar foes, Toko eventually inspires a change of heart in the smuggler. The story explores themes like forgiveness, what it really means to be good/bad, and the idea that family isn’t defined by blood.

I know that was a lot, but I hope it was at least somewhat interesting! Thanks for asking about my characters and sticking with me through this <3

#ask #ihavebeencalled #Far From Home #Baz #Toko #Baz and Toko #Gerdie #Fish Out of Water #William

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sights-on-the-scifi · 4 years

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The preservation of art.

The importance of maintaining and restoring art for future generations cannot be overstated. Something I think people tend to forget when they watch or play media nowadays is the simple fact that it will outlive all of us, yes... Even your own art.

Preserving the past and present for the future is vital.

In the personal brand obsessed culture we now live in, wherein time seems to stand still and artistic worth is measured by numeric values on social media sites... More and more has media become a commodity rather than a symbol of time and cultural expression. Little do we realise that the art we consume now will one day be a part of our shared human history, once we are all long dead and buried... This goes for anything you can imagine be that games, movies, books and even comics (Yes even the obscure stuff). All of it is valuable and worth preserving in its original or restored form!

Videos created by Hello Greedo.

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This important reality really hit home for me once I saw just how butchered the original versions of STAR WARS were... To this day the only way you can watch the original films exactly how they appeared in cinemas during 1977 is through acquiring technically “illegal” fan made 35mm film print restoration projects. The availability of which is entirely dependant on access to torrent apps, rare magnet links and scarce file seeding.

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Because of George Lucas’s and even Disney’s refusal to release the theatrical cuts of STAR WARS in HD blu ray format. Future generations have been robbed of an experience that defined a generation of movie goers. The special editions for these films are not just bad because of their awkward pacing problems, they are also bad because they destroy the art, tone and cover up all the hard work done on the original special effects. They are an insult to talented individuals and history.

Why I write about MASS EFFECT in such a specific way.

The format I write my posts about MASS EFFECT in can be viewed as a little purist, matter of fact and author directed to most fans of this franchise who value their singular personal interpretations/transformations of media more than the original text. But I dont do this because I want people to see things my way.

I write like this because there is a specific way these games were written and presented, that regardless of my or your own personal opinions and feelings on the matter cannot be changed. For good or ill these games will be consumed by an entirely new generation someday removed from contexts like tumblr, youtube or whatever fandom outlet... Since it was not the thousands of pieces of fanart and fan writing that survived the test of time, it was the catalysing media itself that spawned it.

Those new generations will see these games how they were, just like how those before did so for the first time in 2007 and judge them fondly or poorly accordingly.

These screenshots you see here are exactly how the games should look.

As these games have aged, dedicated fans have done an incredible job to ensure that the fidelity of the textures are preserved. They are making sure that the image of these games is crisp and clear to be enjoyed by future audiences free of charge, and it is an incredible thing to see.

These preservation efforts have also extended to the technical side of this media, as post support patches and fixes are created. With the possibility of an official faithful remaster on the horizon being extremely low, the work done here is the only way to ensure these games stand the test of time!

#star wars #Mass Effect #Art preservation #preserving #art

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yimmygee · 6 years

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sorry if you've been asked this before but do you have any advice/tips for people doing digital art for the first time? i'm completely clueless lol, but i'd love to be on your level someday

no its ok! uhh tbh i really cant articulate any tips very well LMAO

i got p serious about drawing digitally back in like 6th grade and i started off by saving up for a cheap tablet and using whatever painting program i could get my hands on for free (i settled on like..photoshop elements or something cuz it came with my tablet), honestly before that i built myself up jus by like..making fake anime screenshots with a mouse in ms paint when i was like 8. LMAO. i think ive answered asks about the programs i use but tbh its just basic sai painter stuff at this point–there are a lot of tutorials and tips that artists share that you could check out that will help with learning certain foundations and skills if you ever find yourself stuck

it also helps to play around w whatever program u have! i got to learn sai pretty well just by fucking around with the control bar and brush settings lol. get intimate w it

other than gathering the uh Essentials to be able to do digital media in the first place..i mean im jus a hobbyist? really jus draw whatever you want, n the more you draw, the more u improve. all i do is fanart and tbh a lot of the skills ive developed over the years have come from building on pretty simple foundations (like copying fire emblem art when i was in elementary school lol) and just noticing what kind of art i personally like

i get bogged down a lot by how insecure i feel about my art tbh and a few years ago, depression really stressed that to the point that i was drawing maybe like literally once a month; nowadays i jus kinda try to push myself past that by understanding that i dont have to validate myself by comparing my shit work to others so now ill literally just like….draw whatever i want. that sort of started with “i wanna draw this character” and has developed into “i wanna try out this painting style,” im just enjoying what i do a lot more and thats a way healthier drive to improve & learn

also..omg the “your level” comment is really flattering but tbh youve never seen my art process or the shit doodles i do most of the time!! the stuff i post on tumblr is a scratch on the surface of what i draw?? and imo most of it is mediocre LMAO you dont have to aspire to any standard of quality, i feel like you should just try to have fun with it and produce things that you enjoy. if you choose to start doing digital art i really hope you find a way to really like it and id love to see your work

#not art #Anonymous

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fanfictionrecommendations-com · 7 years

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On the Controversy

Recently we've been getting some buzz on tumblr - some good, some bad, some ugly - and it put into relief some things we want to be really transparent about. We want to only ever be an addition to the fanfiction world and community we love so much and we'll work hard to make sure that happens.

So let's dig in, starting with - what happened? On Sunday the 18th Ronnie and I decided that our content output for fanfiction recommendations was slower than we'd like and we wanted to bring a third person into our team. So, on Monday the 19th we started working with the r/sherlock commmunity to find some superfans that could help us out. We've found some amazing people and started discussing the kind of blog posts and rec lists we could make with their help. So far, so awesome. However, to show them what we were working on, we made an early version of our Sherlock recommendation list live, to give an example as to what we wanted to be doing. So far, so big mistake. That got shared, went public, and got us in hot water quick.

That fic list had author blurbs on it - nothing private, all basic information already linked from author's public fanfiction pages, but not yet okayed by the author - and information about a writing course we'd been hoping to gauge interest in. We'd also messed up some (fortunately not many) of the podfic links, so they didn't redirect to the podficcer's download pages but to the downloads themselves. As said, a rough draft, but that rough draft looked Very rough when suddenly in the public eye.

<Note: The more complete (but still unfinished) Sherlock Rec List has been posted with author blurbs and podfics hidden until we receive appropriate permissions. >

Most of the concern comes down to two points: will we/do we post author/podfic information without permission and how do we make money?

To the first question: No, of course we won't. That post was not meant to be in the public eye. Until we have all our author blurbs okayed by the authors in question, that part of the rec list will not be made live. We will absolutely not post author information on our rec lists without a prior okay.

Alright, now let's talk money.

Where did the money come from? Ronnie and I funded this personally, out of love of fanfiction and love of the work it's given us. We've done well enough in our lives to be able to fund this out of pocket for the foreseeable future. I'll talk about why the heck we'd do that in a sec. First, let's finish out that answer. So the money came from us. Let's talk profitability.

As said, we're financially well off enough to not really need to know if it'd ever be profitable nor where we'd allocate that. We discussed that with each other at the start. We don't need it to make money. Personally, however, I want it to sustain itself; I have a dream of that like a child learning to crawl, coming to walk. I want fanfictionrecommendations to stand on its own feet, independent from us, because I think it can be a real force for good in bringing new readers to fanfiction and we can't support it forever - but we don't know if that'll ever happen. We've discussed a couple ways fanfictionrecommendations could come to pay us back someday, or at least expand enough to support the blogging jobs we're currently supporting on our own. I get most excited about the idea of a writing course, so it's the first thing we looked to gauge interest in, to see if it'd be able to bring in enough to at least support the rec lists' sorting tool designs and site hosting in the future.

Where would profits from there go? What if this is something fanficcers really want, really support, really help grow? - I don't know. That sounds like a dream. Ronnie has suggested charity (A03 being something I'd really want to support, for example, or writing scholarships if there would be enough money there for it to be viable) or back to the authors (but we'd have to talk to a copyright lawyer to see if it wouldn't screw people over to be indirectly making commissions/money off their fanfics being listed with us). The simple answer is I don't know what we'd do; we don't even have a way for it to pay for itself yet (if it'll ever have one). I do know we want fanfictionrecommendations to support fanfiction writers in every way possible - by encouraging new readers to new fandoms, by giving another platform for podfics and fanart covers to be brought together with their reference content, and by supporting the community it's all born from.

So now the personal question: Why the heck would we throw money and time into this? Let me introduce myself a bit. I'm Gwen. I'm a Romance and Sci-Fi author that secretly likes fanfic a whole lot better. It didn't even matter what hit me – I've been crippled and chronically ill, lost friends and family members to suicide and disease, and spent years battling loneliness and anxiety; I always read and wrote fanfiction, even when it meant my originals got pushed aside. Fanfiction has gotten me through a lot and I'm passionately, sometimes embarrassingly, attached to it. Ronnie saw the results of that. He's seen me unable to stand, writing anyway. He knows what fanfiction can do for people, what it's done for me. So when we hear people say they don't read it because there's so much out there they don't know where to start, we want to fix that – we want to say 'hi, start here. Go everywhere'.

I hope you'll help us make that happen. Check out the recommendation list we made for Sherlock - it's not done yet, but we still think it's kickass. We'll be reaching out to authors and the fanfiction community for feedback - please let us know yours!

Gwen and Ronnie

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