Alright Yall Lol. (warning: Anger, Stupid, Stupid Fandom Bs)

My secret santa gift for @pinkflipphonez ! Merry christmas, god jul!

sorry for not posting and just lurking like a fckin weirdo. I am once again in a dry spell and I've been all over the place now that I don't have school. building my professional portfolio is.... rough bcuz I've been drawing nothing but fanart for the past 10 years lmaoo.

to keep it cute, I have a bad habit of using fanart as a form of artistic validation. as you can see, it's not a reliable form of artistic exposure. nor do I think anything will be unless I get my act together and do something original for once- but that's where my head has been. there's one piece of alfred f. jones I intend to put my focus into, so there is something to look forward to, but I do want to develop original ideas more now

okay, so I've been seeing some folks in the RusAme Country Club and Yacht Society say they don't see Ivan and Alfred together romantically nor do they see them having a healthy and/or romantic dynamic at all..... and I'm here to tell you that you are not seeing the VISION!

get a goddamn glass of your finest bourbon and/or vodka and put this record on your turntable, 'cause I'm about to ramble (CW: heavy-handed headcanons lmfao, foking long as hell too)--

Let me put it this way..... these two immortal beings met during a time of revolution and revolt. They met through a plead for help and a petty need to drive a third party crazy, and within that realm, found that they admired each other greatly. They revered their intelligence, their ambitions, their resistance, their people. Both beings were open and excited to learn from each other, and in that excitement, grew fond of each other at breakneck speed.

These two juxtaposed beings became best friends- despite the long distance, despite the difference in linguistics, and were bonded by a love for music, food, culture, and knowledge. They were uña y mugre; inseparable, always writing and visiting whenever possible. These two beings had their own inside jokes, their own gossip, their own humor. They even learned to speak in their respective languages in order to better understand each other!

Through this inexplicable connection, one of these beings is suddenly thrust into a civil war. Is it unlike anything they have experienced in their relatively young life. While others around them stay at a distance, their best friend of some odd years now immediately rushes to their side and helps in every way. They never leave their side, watching them break apart, seeing their health deteriorate, feeling helpless, seeing a flawed side of them like never before. Despite it all, despite the ugly irrational and hurt person they they know now, they care about them so much more. The feeling is mutual, as the war torn being holds nothing but utter appreciation for the other for staying through it all.

Simply knowing they could have ceased to exist with the war only serves to strengthen the bond they have. this transforms into something that takes both of them by surprise-- this deep love overtakes feelings of comradery and now they are just as inseparable, more so than when they were just friends. Now they know words of romance, they tear pages from love stories to send to each other, their embraces last much longer, they often get lost with each other at parties, they wake up later than everyone else. No one knows why. No one knows. These being truly live in their own world of pure, raw, unadulterated love. Their love is passionate, energetic, intense, engulfing, erotic- it's love at its best.

Once again, out of the blue, the climate around them changes. Suddenly, the older being is thrown into a revolutionary war kilometers away from the other. The younger beings' friends and allies disapprove of their alliance. In an unexpected turn, the second being's overseers also disapprove of their alliance as well, because their alliance only makes ridicule of the policies they must now abide by.

Then a world war distracts them from ever solving this issue. Then a second world war. Then a third war, where they are now the main contenders, and are now so apart, they have not seen each other in years. Not one word. They didn't even get to formally finalize their relationship. it just ended. As quick as it had started, now all they feel is anger. Anger that aims at their respective policies, their regressive societies, their ideologies. That anger was not born from those things. The anger stems from unfinished business; no closure, agonizing and guttural heartbreak. The frustration from what was left unsaid is what speaks for them and it comes out in physical brawls, in competitiveness, in slander, in unruly hatred.

Within this cloud of despise, there are glimmers of hope. Elbe Day, Van Cliburn, the space race, the Moscow-Washington hotline, the Olympics, worlds fairs, music, celebrations, US-Soviet soldier reunions, magazines, books, movies, joint ventures: they notice all of it. Slowly but surely that seething hatred just becomes a numb feeling of indifference.

As the decade comes and goes, they are both on separate paths. One being is suffering from socioeconomic and political turmoil, and the other... hates it. Despite the half-century they spent hating each other, seeing them in disarray is unsettling. Something they aren't aware enough to recognize is how much they care. There is care in the fact that instead of feeling schadenfreude of an ex-friend/ex-lover/ex-enemy's plight, they feel upset to see each other a mess. The more well-off person helped the other without a question. Their helping hand wasn't and is not used as artillery, it is just cut-and-dry help.

Now they are acquaintances again. They see each other at conferences. They say 'hello' to each other as they walk by. They share coffee and a cigarette here and there. They banter. Most importantly, they are equally disliked by most. This fact in itself leaves them with a weird thing to relate to. Sometimes it leaves them drinking together, complaining about tedious things others around them don't care for and would laugh at them for complaining about. Through that strange comradery, they find inside jokes, mutual interests, and "bonding time". Their bonding time is often just small talk or getting drunk- but funny thing, it will often push them a bit closer. Sometimes it will lead to a dinner, or a symphonic performance, or may just land them at the other's doorstep. Or in the other being's room. Or their bed. Once. Maybe three, four-- teen times? When did it start up again? Nobody knows. Hell, they don't even know.

What they do know is that when they're around each other, they cannot keep to themselves. They can be themselves. Something about sharing intimacy together is nostalgic in itself, but not only that. It's remembering what each other's favorite color was/is, it's remembering how the other prefers their tea, remembering the curves of their calligraphy, remembering the way they smile, retelling old stories as if they're new-- it's them falling in love, all over again!

Their romance is very unconventional, as they don't choose to label it, but they remain exclusive to each other. When they crave, they run to each other. If they're angry, they run to each other. If they're happy, they run to each other. They still remember their languages, they still have their letters and portraits in a storage unit somewhere, they remember where their hands go during an embrace, they know where to tilt their head during a kiss-- god, they remember everything! All that beautiful, breathtaking romance did not die with the years, it was only stored away. Just now are they allowed to unpackage it together. After years, they are able to talk about what they left behind. About "what if?" Yes, they talk about it inebriated mostly but that's a start! They have so many loose ends with each other, it may take them years to label themselves-- but they do care for each other.

In their own tired, worn, timid way, they show love. They yearn deeply. Much more than they'll ever admit.

HWS Cuba smells like cinnamon. He looks like what you'd imagine Mother Earth to be if she was a man. He laughs brightly and it lifts up a room. He smiles big with all his teeth. When he speaks it's like hearing the spirit of the wind and when he holds your hand it's like everything in the world stops just to watch.

edwardian & victorian era women

shower thought: hot native boy alfred f jones invites his tall asf tundra-acclimated co-worker ivan braginsky to a sweat lodge ceremony and he dies of heat exposure at least three times

alexa, play 'playboy of the western world' by connie converse pls

I truly wonder if white fans are even capable of understanding how hard it is just being in a fandom space when you're not white. How alienated you feel every other day. How often you're told "it's not that big a deal" or "it's just a fantasy game get over it" or "it doesn't matter" or "go save the rainforest instead of crying over a game" or etc. etc. etc. to the point where you yourself start to question if there's something wrong with you... that it's your fault for being hurt all the time. Because it's never just about one racist mod, or one piece of whitewashed art, or one offensive post... it's all of it. Together. All the time. It's so fucking exhausting and it's why POC quit fandom spaces a lot.

I was starting to get self conscious about being the only one with a huge ass device in the casino I’m at- but lo and behold, a person just came in with a laptop

brother in christ, we steal this casino’s free drinks and wifi as a team 🤝🏼

This weekend about 2 billion people will celebrate Christmas across the world, and the birth of their religion in Palestine. Today the only remaining 700 Christians, the descendants of the first followers of Christ, are being wiped out in Gaza and their churches bombed to pieces. [@/ Hanine09 on X. 12/23/23.]