Original Content - Blog Posts
Cyclist.
Lumos.
People.
Walk in the evening.
Lumos - VI
This awesome nature's abstract art just happened right infront of my eyes.
Trek Series continued.
Lumos-III
Though @abstract-challenge wanted lights, triangles and circles I got hearts and horizontal lines or to be precise curved lines, I hope that instead of triangles hearts will work for the challenge
.
That circular hole you see on the humangous rock wall, don't know how it was formed but there's a vertical climb for going and sitting in the same.
It's like a giant spy hole or a peephole.
Flowers and trees were photobombing everywhere, but none of the pics were spoilt by them.
I existed
In your presence.
Now I have ceased.
My words
Turned into action
They now linger
For your ear.
Wait,
Wait,
Am not tired
Not at all,
Tired of running in your thoughts.
You are paying attention
Oh!
To a new attraction.
Skills of taciturn
Stifle me day n night.
Repetitive heedless conduct
Halts to be constant mistakes
Even when
Your eyes saw me in agony.
Couldn't you fathom my affection?
Were they so enigmatic?
Memories will never end
But
Float in the Clouded thoughts.
Just a random collection. I'll call it Emotions of Nature.
The shadows.
Also, how the smaller flowers are closer n look like a crown then the crown slowly slides away, at the end it disappeared totally.
The petals lose their colour n elasticity and then they crumple.
Nature is awesome!!
World of Illusion
World of Illusion
Black and white.
Withering away.
Odd One Out. Nah Nah Be Out Than Odd.
Kaputaş Plajı, (09.2020)
Hey beautiful people! So I’ve been writing some pretty sad shit lately and decided to cheer up my work...what do y’all think?
Thralls of Skuld - Chapter 3: Blood and Yarrows
Read on Wattpad and AO3
The Danir had advanced through Scania quickly, aiming to invade Götaland, the land of the Geats, from the southeast and catch the army unawares. King Gorm’s troup was large but moved swiftly. Svidland was still scattered across jarldoms and smaller kingdoms, and the Geats were the first frontier towards the larger, northern powers of Svidland. King Gorm had brought thousands of warriors from the land of the Danir. They had been unleashed with fury onto the Geats, who indeed were taken aback. But the Geats quickly gained their composure, and retorted forcefully. After months of Danir raids, the Geats had known a storm was coming, and they met them bravely in the early morning hours, finally given a chance to avenge themselves.
The gilded halls of the afterlife would see a rare feast tonight. There was no doubt the valkyries soared high in the sky that day, divine warrior-maidens who picked the strongest of fallen warriors and brought them to Freyja and Odinn. The heath was littered with prospects on this day.
The smell of blood was foul and sweet and intoxicating. The air was thick with clanking of axes, the loud thudding of shields blocking deadly blows. Grunts, shouting, someone screaming loudly, and the wet gargle of someone drowning in their own blood at Eira’s feet. A javelin was singing through the air. The woman to Eira’s left did not duck fast enough as it pierced her layered woolen tunics and threw her on the ground. The dead woman had afforded herself only a helmet, but it had not helped her. Eira thanked the Gods for the spoils of previous battles, as she moved fast through the crowd, protected but unhindered by her leather vest.
Where Gorm had found all those berserkers, she did not know. They were wild warriors wearing bearskins and driven by Odinn’s bloodrush to perform carnage unlike anything Eira had seen before. It was clear that the Danir King’s first and foremost goal was to strike fear in the entire land of the Sviar. The concise, well thought out formations and shield wall advancements Eira knew from Geir’s leadership style in smaller battles were nowhere to be found on the heath that day. The berserkers were awful beasts. They screamed as they advanced, their voices deep and growling, their minds not in this world any more. Like vølur performing rituals, their eyes were blankly floating in another realm, but their flailing arms and fast feet had a presence, a divine knowing of where to strike, that couldn’t be learned. Eira understood now why people said that berserkers were said to be blessed with Odinn’s seiðr, because they were not of this world.
The Danir were gaining ground, moving forward through the hordes, one foe at a time. They moved more collectively, shoulder by shoulder, suffocating the scattered opposition. In a fleeting moment of air in their advance, Eira took in the scene around her. Geir’s enormous person cleaved the way ahead, wielding an axe that most people would not even be able to carry. On his flank was Magnus, as always, never leaving the great Thorian warrior’s back open. To her right stood a Danir warrior with an exceptional sword, a great feat of iron which was rarely found in the ranks of the common men, who mostly wielded axes and spears. The warrior was uncommonly unscathed for someone who had fought alongside them for hours. Wiping blood off her own brow, Eira did not know whether to respect him or disdain him. He must be either an exceptional fighter, or an exceptionally cowardly one, to look untouched on the seventh hour of fighting.
Her eyes shifted back to the Geat in front of her, knowing a wandering eye on the battlefield could mean death in seconds. Her enemy had made that exact mistake, and Eira charged at him, shield first, smashing his helmet to his brow, her axe whispering through the air before it reached the soft tissue of his chest. When she looked up again, the unscathed warrior had disappeared from the brigade. Maybe his fate had finally caught up with him.
It was chaos, but it was somehow effective - each side fought with awestruck inspiration in a way that made blood rush to Eira’s ear and left a slight smile on her face as she placed her axe between a young man’s eyes. This was the way to live, and this was the way to die. There was a unison in knowing that. It transversed Danir or Sviar, enemy or foe. Drunken on the bloodshed, every warrior on the heath that day felt that they were fighting for a spot in Freyja’s hall Folkvangr, or Odinn’s hall Valhalla, and each enemy was but an aide on the way to that glorious afterlife.
That, of course, was not the whole truth. They were not there to enter Valhalla in a fury of blood and glory, but because King Gorm had a self-serving vision, in which he ruled over all the men of the northern lands. He was more than willing to sacrifice the lot of them to make it happen. Eira had not seen the famed Gorm, did not know the face of the man she was fighting for. Ingmar, Thorstein and the other jarls, who had travelled north with them on their grandiose longships, were also nowhere to be seen. But all of this was easy to forget in the overwhelming confusion and roar of adrenaline.
Maybe the stark absence of their own noble rulers was the reason something across the battlefield stood out so boldly, distracting her momentarily from the life and death scene unfolding in front of her. Far across, in another battalion of warriors, stood a man in the midst of the common men, who looked anything but common. Strong, swift and frightening, the man towered over his surroundings. Wielding a highly adorned iron sword, and clad in a hauberk the like of which Eira had rarely seen on the battlefield of commoners. His presence stopped her in her tracks. This man was not supposed to be on this heath. Had the Geats made the unlikely move of unleashing a high ranking magick wielder on the commoners?
Something caught in her throat, harsh and violent. Maybe her body knew before her brain that she had made a fatal mistake. She did not see the Geat before he was above her, planting his axe deeply into Eira’s clavicle with a squelch and a crunch. Hard and precise. A perfect blow, her leather armor helpless against it. Eira fell to her knees, her eyes wild as she tried to orient herself. The sky was gray, harsh above her. The ground was cold. The air sang with clangs of iron on wood. Thunder, or maybe the waves of a stormy ocean, welled up in her ears.
In seconds she was soaked by thick, warm liquid, each pulse drawing out her lifeforce. She began to whisper, desperately, the only prayer of galdr she could think of for strength to face what was coming. Give heed! For I did not creep behind a shield. For I lived sworn as a blade of the Æsir. By Tyr! Ask first Eir for mercy… Her voice failed her, and the forcefulness required of galdr was just a croak that eventually waned. She had never tried dying before, but knew this must be what it felt like. The hands of Skuld grabbed her, cold palms twisting her heart. She was thrashing, looking for a way to wield off the enemies closing in on her to deal the final blow. If she could only muster a swing of her arm, a signal for help. Something. Anything.
In a crack of fire, the air around her seemed to explode. It was like the spark of a blacksmith’s hammer on the forge, but booming loud and forceful. The Geat towering above her flew through the air, as if grabbed by an invisible valkyrie. An exclaim of pure shock and fear escaped from someone close to her as they were propelled through the air. From the corner of her eyes, she saw other people land with hard thumps on the earth around her. Unmoving. She wanted to look for the source, to understand the change in the air, but she could not turn her head. She thought she might have lost the last of her life’s blood. The pain dulled, but it did not vanish. Skuld’s hands loosened as the gaping feeling in her chest dissipated. Two ravens circled above her in the sky and she knew surely, with Odinn watching, that this was it.
…
When she woke, she felt like she had not existed in months. There was a pressure on her chest. She knew Geir was somewhere by her shoulder, and she told him the last thing she had thought of before she had closed her eyes, eons ago: That this was it. She felt like he ought to know that she was leaving him. But instead of Geir’s face, she saw another person lean over her. Light blue eyes, dark hair. Someone she recognised faintly, a resemblance of someone she had only seen briefly the battlefield. An unscathed warrior with a great sword. But she couldn’t stop herself from leaning backwards into the shadows, a swooping feeling in her stomach of falling into a void, as everything disappeared around her.
…
A stabbing pain from her throat and chest jolted through her, telling her it had not been a dream. Was she home? She couldn’t be. Her bed was moving. The sharp herbal scent of yarrow and comfrey poultice rose from just below her nose, stinging her and overwhelming her senses. It smelled like Unn’s hands. The wet dressing on her clavicle was a cooling contrast to her burning skin.
She listened to the sounds around her for a while before they began to make sense to her. She heard the waves first. The chatter and clanks, thumps and scuffling of people around her. Then, seagulls. They must be close to shore. Slowly, as if the muscles around her eyes had weakened completely, she blinked her eyes open. The sky above her was a light wash of grey with streaks of blue peeking through, a smatter of fluffy clouds dappled across. It must be the early hours of the morning, Sól not having ridden onto the sky in her chariot yet. Eira’s bed swayed gently up and down. If it was not for the pain, she might think she was flying. She blinked a long, slow blink, trying to lift a cloud from her mind. When she opened her eyes again, Geir’s grey eyes were staring down at her, a frown on his face, his ginger hair falling wild and uncombed towards her.
He did not say anything for a long time. She was not sure if her sense of time was off, or if he was really just standing there, inspecting her. Eventually, he reached for something at her side, pulling out and opening a small leather pouch. “‘Reckon you’ll want this” he mumbled gruffly, stuffing small pieces of willow bark into her mouth. She did not fight it.
Her jaw felt slack, but she chewed meekly anyway. At least the stiffness of tetanus had not set in her jaw. The bitterness of the bark made her wince. The line between Geir’s brow deepened. He still had not spoken, and it was unnerving. He was a thinker, yes, when it came to strategy and the ways of the world, but words always came easy to him and he was never quiet for long.
“What…” she began, her voice hoarse like grainy sand. He turned his head stiffly, holding out a large palm to cut her off. He knew what she wanted to ask, and he did not want to answer.
listen
I have a so far 20 chapter original content book in my google drive
It’s about magick in the Viking age. It’s low/mid fantasy, involving many references to actual myth, legends and stories from the sagas and eddas of the Viking age. The gods (not marvel but OG Norse gods) occasionally join the story in Midgard.
It also has a Manacled-style enemies to lovers (or maybe lovers to enemies), slow burn and with a hopefully unforeseeable, gut wrenching twist. Definitely dark at times. Not smut and no non-con tho.
I’m plucking a flower. Do I post it, do I not, do I post it, do I not. I think I’m gonna post it.
Women Healers vs. Science
NO. 1
From the 16th century women were seen as healers, or the nurses, abortionists, counsellors, and midwives, whereas since the 19th century and onward male professionals have taken over the role. These roles today are seen as jobs, where the service is being paid for; before, under the tutelage of women, these roles were as a way of life. In healthcare, women are the majority, of course. But they are considered workers, (clerks, dietary aides, technician, maids), whereas the bosses of these industries are usually men. So what changed? What occurred for this major switch?
NO. 2
Women healers have always been the standard, history can attest to that fact. But unlike male doctors who care for the rich, and clung to untested doctrines, it was woman healers have cared for the sickly and the poor, and therein lies the problem. ‘‘The suppression of female healers by the medical establishment was a political struggle, first, in that it is part of the history of sex struggle in general. The status of women healers has risen and fallen with the status of women. When women healers were attacked, they were attacked as women; when they fought back, they fought back in solidarity with all women. It was a political struggle, second, in that it was a part of a class struggle. Women Healers were people’s doctors, and their medicine was part of a people’s subculture. To this very day women’s medical practice has thrived in the midst of this rebellious lower class movements which have struggled to be free from the established authorities. Male professionals, on the other hands served the ruling class—both medically and politically, with interests with advanced by the universities, the philanthropic foundations by the law.’’
NO. 3
So the change began when the terminology changed. When healing the sick was seen not as a testament to their abilities, but as witchcraft. In the age of witch-hunting, from the late early fifteenth to early sixteenth centuries, from Germany to England, which was also the age of feudalism and well lasted into the age of reason. Witches symbolized the political, religious and sexual threat against the Catholic and Protestant Church, as well as to the state, so the witch hunts were all a well organized and financed campaigns of violence against the female peasant population. ‘‘Women made up some 85% of those executed—old women, young women, and children. Their scope alone suggests that the witch hunts represented a deep—seated social phenomenon which goes far beyond the history of medicine. In locale and timing, the most virulent witch hunts were associated with periods of great social upheaval shanking feudalism at its roots—mass peasant uprisings and conspiracies, the beginnings of capitalism, and the rise of Protestantism. There is fragmentary evidence—which feminists ought to follow up—suggesting that in some areas witchcraft represented a female-led peasant rebellion.’’
NO. 4
Witches were seen as a rebellion not just of the Church, but from God himself. You see, witches consorted with the devil, and were therefore evil, and in the eyes of the Church, was derived through sexuality. Sexuality was always associated with women, and pleasure in sexuality was sin and evil, and her power was from sexuality. Even those who were good, and used her gifts of healing to help, were deserving of death, just as all witches deserved death. ‘‘Witch healers were often the general medical practitioners for a people who had no doctors, no hospitals, and were bitterly afflicted with poverty and disease. In particular, the association with the witch and the midwife was strong. When faced with the misery of the poor, the Church dogma that experience in the world fleeting and unimportant. The wise woman, or witch, had a host of remedies which had been tested in years of use. Many of the herbal use remedies developed by witches still have their place in modern pharmacology. They had pain killers, digestive aids and anti—inflammatory agents. The witch—healer’s methods were as great a threat( to the Catholic Church, if not the Protestant) her results, for the witch was a empiricist: She relied on her senses rather than on faith or doctrine, she believed in trial and error, or cause and effect. She trusted in her ability to find ways to deal with disease, pregnancy, and childbirth. Her attitude was not religiously passive, but actively inquiring. In short, her magic was the science of her time.‘‘
My comic "The Eldrich Journal" has been finally updated so please check it out on Webtoons!
Let's all give Lilly a warm welcome to the story for her birthday
Happy New Years
First major art piece of 2021
Here’s the speedpaint of it up till the part where I put the leaves and lighting effect (forgot to record that part)
I’ve been working hard the past few weeks and I finished the cover!
This is just a preview (if the quality isn’t as good its probably because i had to shrink it to use as a thumbnail on webtoons)
I’m now working on the prologue page and when I’m done with that I’ll be posting it on webtoons as well as here so that you guys can also have a little preview of it
Ok! So now that I've made the cover page i can feel right in scanning in the intro and first chapter to give the finishing touches
EDIT: i didnt like the way the guy in the back was facing so i adjusted it
His head is a lil off to the left but that will be much easier to fix in Krita
Serious Query
So I just took like an hour to think up and draw the chapter page for chapter two of my comic
Meaning that along with the one page intro, chapter one is complete
So i ask you all:
Should i start the finishing touches to the completed chapters for release and post them?
If i keep to my own schedule (which is like around nine to 3:30 every weekday) i should get it done fairly quickly as the completed content is pages 1-6
I haven't made the cover page yet because i really need to brainstorm on that shit
I also need to think of a general series title....
Christmas Comic Update!
Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that the comic has not died, I’ve been spending a lot of time working on it. Just finished the line art over the original hand drawn copies after i scanned them to my laptop, and so far it’s doing great. Next step after adding the dialogue bubbles is to color.
but right now my face hurts so I’m going to take a little break before i get back to it.
Look forward to midnight on Christmas Eve!
Illy out
Happy Thanksgiving everybody!
I’m visiting family for the holidays, but I’m still thinking about my comic projects
On one side is The Eldrich Journal, the first arc in my (as of now) unnamed comic series. I’m very very passionate about this project because it is based around my personal beliefs and has characters that I’ve lovingly made and hold dear to my heart.
On the other side is a Legend of Zelda Fan Comic called Follow Till the End featuring the classic Link x Dark Link ship, but in Breath of the Wild! This one was requested to be made when I posted a similar pic joking about how I wish there were more Link x Dark Link fanworks set in BotW. I’ve already got a general story and plotline written out in my head, the trouble is gonna be drawing some of those amazing background settings in the game, since I’m more suited to drawing characters, but I’ll do my best!
So let me know what you guys think! Which ones are you more interested in, any questions you have about them, or any other requests you may have