I like cakes and asparagus. But I like coconut cream pies the most.
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Current Fandoms: Doctor Who, Supernatural, Torchwood
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Commissions: closed
Society6
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Please do not repost any of my art. Reblogging takes a lot less time and a lot less clicks than reposting. Or at least, give credit where credit's due.
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fanart of one of my favourite good omens fics ever! sunlight by thewritingotter. its a wonderful little post canon story that i love with all my heart!! it's so warm and lovely
timelapse under cut
had fun with this! tried a new colouring style and played around with a new brush. no idea how the water came out so well. this was a fun little doodle that i did shortly after rereading the fic for the fourth time. the imagery man... i love sunlight i love the word the idea the way its used in this fic. it really feels like coming home and being warm and all good things
My toxic fandom take is that I think that it's awful how much we can talk to creators and get answers from them word of god style. We should be out here in a godless place rooting for scraps of lore in the media like truffle pigs out in the fields
(Excerpt from an Ilya Rozanov character study I'm noodling with. Warning for Ilya's childhood and all that entailed.
Also: usage of Russian diminutives - Aloysha/Aloyshka is Alexei. Ilyusha/Ilyushka is Ilya.)
Summers went fast at the dacha.
There was no rink, but with no boys his own age around, Aloysha would play football with Ilya as long as he wasn't a crybaby.
Aloysha played dirty: tackles that sent Ilya crashing down onto the lumpy grass, leaving his knees bruised and his palms aching. Ilya learned how to clench his jaw, so any noises stayed trapped behind his teeth.
Mama had tried to stop it once. "Aloysha! He's younger than you, play nice!"
"Boys play rough, so we can grow up strong," Aloysha had shouted back, hands on his hips. Father's words coming out of Aloysha's mouth, and Mama had sighed and closed the kitchen door.
Father only came to visit at the weekend, driving out from the city each Friday evening and leaving late on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes he didn’t come at all.
Those were the best weekends. Just Ilya, Mama and Aloysha.
*
Father turned up late, on a Saturday evening, smelling of smoke. His suit was creased and crumpled.
“Your father is a liar,” Mama muttered to Ilya as he watched her brush her hair in the mirror.
"Why?" Ilya asked.
Mama's eyes met his in his reflection. "He pretends that—" She shook her head then. "Ignore me."
Mama and Father argued that night, after Ilya was sent to bed. He should have been asleep. But it was too quiet. In Moscow, there was always the sound of people: the hum of traffic, voices drifting up to their apartment through windows the maid left open in summer. In the countryside, after night fell, silence did too.
"You've taken everything from me," he heard his mother say, "and even that is not enough. You can have your women; you don't need me. You could let me leave with the children and—"
An echoing slap. A cry.
"You will stay. The boys will stay. You will not shame me," Father said.
Something hit the floor. Muffled sobs.
Father's heavy tread in the hallway and the click of the bedroom door.
Silence again.
*
Some days, the bad days, Mama didn't get out of her bed until the afternoon. Aloysha would feed him then. Kasha in the morning, whatever could be put on bread for lunch.
Today, Ilya could hear Mama humming and moving around the kitchen when he woke. A good day, the Mondays after Father returned to Moscow were always good.
There was strawberry varenye on his kasha when Mama put it in front of Ilya.
Aloysha appeared when Ilya's bowl was nearly clean and kicked the leg of Ilya's chair. It creaked and lurched. Ilya stuck his tongue out at Aloysha as he sat down across from him.
"Good morning, Aloyshka," Mama said.
"I'm hungry," Aloysha replied. His voice was just starting to drop, crackly and deep in the morning. A couple of hairs on his chin. More spots than hair on his face, though. Ilya liked to point them out. Mama didn't like that.
Mama said brothers should be nice to each other. But Aloysha wasn't nice to him first, so it was only fair. Mama grew up with a sister. It was different with brothers. With boys.
"I'm making kvass today, " Mama said as she set a bowl down in front of Aloysha, "want to help?" She looked at both of them.
"No. I'm not a girl," Aloysha huffed.
Aloysha ate quickly and when he was finished, left the kitchen without a backwards glance, leaving the door to the garden open.
It wasn't long before Ilya heard the slam of the football against the wooden siding of the dacha.
"I want to," Ilya said, and watched as Mama smiled, small.
"Iluyshka, c'mon!" Aloysha shouted.
"I'm staying with Mama!" Ilya called back.
Aloysha didn’t reply in words, but the next slam of the wall against the dacha was louder.
"Bring me the bowls, and we can start," Mama said.
Toasting the bread came first. It was hard to tell when it was ready. The rye made it dark brown to begin with.
"Use your nose," Mama said.
Mama cut the bread into neat squares when the bread was done and put it in a large bowl. Hot water over the bread, then a cloth to cover it all.
"Now, we wait," Mama said. "Come read with me."
*
Friday again. Father was home, sat at the head of the table as they ate.
He poured a glass from the bottle of kvass Mama had placed in front of him.
"Is it good? Ilyushka helped," Mama said. "He remembered to open the jars every morning."
Ilya looked up from the herring he was poking on his plate.
"Any idiot could do that," Father said.
Ilya looked back down. He really hated herring. He listened as Aloysha and Father talked about the cadet training that Aloysha would start when they returned to Moscow.
When Mama picked up the plates to take them to the kitchen, she squeezed Ilya's hand quickly.
He understood why Mama liked the dacha. There was no one to cook and bring out their food, so even when Father was here, she could escape into the kitchen.
It prioritises skating, passing skills and team cohesion (if you score but don’t help another player get an assist you aren’t a good player).
So Ilya, raised in this environment, gets drafted into MLH.
It’s more physical, there’s no team cohesion at first, he’s trying to fit in, but these aren’t the people on the national team he came up with. He’s the first pick draft so he will be a target, but puts further on himself target by saying he’s gonna score 50 goals.
That boy was getting boarded to hell and back in his first season. And his team are new to him, so yeah they’ll protect him to allow him to score, but they’re not his people, his friends.
There’s no one who’s Russian on his team (as far as I know). No one to spend Novy God (Russian New Year) with. He’s just alone, watching the celebrations on tv when his brother calls, not to wish him a Happy New Year but to demand money.
No wonder he asks if Shane can join in the advert filming.
Because yeah, there’s the mutual attraction from the gym after the draft, but Shane is the only person who knows a little about what he’s going through as a rookie. Someone who he’s connected with.
(I’m not discounting Svetlana. She’s obviously a provider of love and care in Ilya’s life. And vice versa. But although her father played in the MHL she is unlikely to have had the kind of aggression directed towards her playing hockey —if she was even allowed to play! — that Ilya experiences. Nor the pressure of being a first pick draft.)
No wonder Ilya also goes out and parties and sleeps with women. It’s loneliness, the need to get out of his own head. Sex with these women and Shane are affectionate, non-violent touch in a life that is otherwise all male aggression.
Just, bruised and alone Ilya in his first season 😥
I know I just reblogged this but I think the really important takeaway here is that this techbro is not genuinely asking “how can we improve fanfiction?” What he’s asking is “how can we tap into this massive market?”
I keep thinking about how many of these chat bots are free—for now. And of course they are! It’s a classic marketing technique when you’re trying to get your foot in the door with a novel product: let folks use it, let them get used to it, then start charging for it. You don’t have to look any further than streaming to see a very recent example of how this happens.
And it’s going to happen with AI.
There’s nothing these assholes love more than making money off of other people’s hard work. But you can’t legally charge for fanfic! So how do you get around that? You charge for a chat bot (which you trained on other people’s fanfic). You can’t charge for the content, but you can charge for the thing that produces the content.
AI is theft, and there are a whooooole lot of people gleefully looking to make a buck off of our hard work.
Don’t use AI, don’t feed AI your favorite fic writers’ and artists’ work, don’t read AI fic, don’t engage with it. And if you do, well, I can’t force you to give a shit about other people, but AI is a paywall being built, brick by brick, between you and the things you love. Stop slathering on the mortar.
every time two male characters that the fandom ships don’t get together people say “we thought we were, for once, getting good rep” and every time I’m like. It is 2025. There are gay people on tv. Why are you going “for once.” “For once” watch Queer As Folk or Torchwood or Schitt’s Creek or Our Flag Means Death or Black Sails or, notably on tumblr these days, Heated Rivalry, and maybe you’ll calm down. Not even naming the canon gay characters people consider bad rep like Glee. If you were willing to care about women or experience non-TV media there are some more even!
I know stuff is pretty sucky right now, and we're all stressed - but I just wanted to share a few doodles from a thing I'd like to make because this show legit helped my stress levels and it's super nice to have something new to enjoy right about now! 🏒💗
It was also ridiculously hilarious to hear my cat Illya's name said all the time- I've had my own Illya running around the house scratching my carpets for over 10 years now and being a lil' asshole, so that's very on brand XD They must share a braincell...
i think the most upsetting thing about american-flavor puritanism is how fucking patronizing it is. it's 2026 but the whole world still has to deal with a cultural hegemony grown from the gnarled vestiges of victorian-era paternalism. tax-paying adults with passports and the right to vote are treated like wayward children because of the antiquated idea that authorities must protect the weak minds of the unwashed masses from depravity and corruption. the average american can send a fellow citizen to the chair, but they can't piss in a ditch without being declared an outlaw. american entertainment media is saturated with sex, but you can't talk about it online without getting your account suspended. it's such blatant censorship at a universal scale, but because sexual content is framed as inherently dangerous, this restriction on basic adult autonomy, this blanket denial of moral and intellectual adulthood, can be reframed as protection, an expression of care, a moral duty. "won't someone think of the children!" I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN! I AM A GROWN MAN!
thank god that the video game that features slow motion animations of graphic gunshot wounds and is rated 18+ has a profanity filter in single player offline mode. thank you for protecting this 33 year old mind from the corrupting influence that is a horse named apple slut
I drew this for the Catwin Zine! I’ve been drawing a bunch of tarot cards and thought I’d draw a card for The Cat King and Edwin. Do check out the zine, it’s insanely gorgeous and the fics are beautiful!
janainaart
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
dededos
