Art Atrosities

Current Obsession: James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender, XMFC, Harry Potter, Transformers, James McAvoy, Animals, art, fanart, did I mention James McAvoy? Now also featuring Welcome to Night Vale .
Feel free to ask me anything.
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Asker Anonymous Asks:
do you know of any literature either on your blog or outside of it regarding how to publish a zine/get it printed professionally?
seitou seitou Said:


More often than not, to get published; you’d need an agent unless the magazine is freelance or even self-publishing your own work outside of things like NaNoWriMo. 

However: Do not lose hope, my friend.

Here are some links from various writing blogs on being published professionally (as well as a link a few links to self publishing sites; trust me, all these links I’m giving you are extremely important):

Self Publishing tag on The Writing Cafe

Literary Agents tag on The Writing Cafe

Copyright Tag on The Writing Cafe

Publishing Tag on The Writing Cafe

Query Letter Tag on The Writing Cafe

Synopsis Tag on The Writing Cafe

Agents Tag on Write World

Industry Towel Tag on Write World

Publishing tag on Write World

Self Publishing tag on Write World

My advice and words of encouragement: MAKE SURE YOU RESEARCH! Always weigh your pros and cons with anything you do. You may find you’ll do better with self publishing than being professionally published. Or you might find an agent and publisher that has your best interest.

No matter what, always remember: it’s your baby that’s being put out. And be proud that you created something from your own head and through your vision for others to read!

Good luck, my friend! And I wish you the best!

Asker keire-ke Asks:
Fic prompt: diving! :D Someone goes diving for the first time. Friendly non-bitey sharks could be involved.
seitou seitou Said:


Charles twists the valve on the top of the tank with a soft hiss, turning it all the way open before giving it one half-turn back. He leans down to check the pressure gauge clipped to his buoyancy control device, watching as the little red arm swings all the way over to 3200 psi. He grabs the main regulator, clearing it a couple times in two harsh bursts of air, testing to make sure there are no leaks in the hose, and grabs the BCD inflator and gives that a couple presses as well, filling the jacket’s air pockets a third of the way.

It’s a beautiful day, the air warm and salty, the breeze only blowing at five knots out of the southeast, making the red and white dive flag flap softly overhead. The water is crystal clear and pool blue, almost neon where white sand covers the bottom and turquoise where the reef begins, small silver flashes indicating the presence of fish. Here and there on the surface orange clumps of sargasso float past on the current, and Charles makes a mental note to scoop some up in a net to dump in a bucket before they leave, if only because it’s fun to examine the tiny shrimps and fishes, and if they’re lucky, a seahorse or two, that live amongst the spindly stalks and leaves.

The boat bobs gently up and down, riding the short swells of waves and unbalancing him a little as he struggles into his wetsuit, the fabric dragging against his legs as he yanks it up. It won’t be any easier getting it off later after the dive—if anything, it’ll cling more once it’s wet. He overcompensates and has to catch himself on the edge of the boat’s gunwale with a yelp, grabbing onto his tank too before he knocks it over.

It can be argued that everything about scuba diving is a struggle, but in the end the hassle is more than worth it.

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I am a Pretty Good Artist. I have worked professionally since 2006. I have worked on properties like G.I. Joe, My Little Pony, Transformers, and a host of others. You can see my work everywhere, from toy packages to comic books to DVD covers. I currently work for MinoMonsters,…

Marvel Sequels: No One Ever Gets a Haircut

(via pangeasplits)


On a scale from 1 to Samsung how much do you hate Apple?

Could have been worse, they could have sent Pennies

(via kaz-in-the-impala)



dads snuggling with chubby freckled babbs (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)

David won’t sleep when the rest of them are awake.

That’s not entirely true. He tires himself out of course. At three months old, he can’t keep going as long as he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He’s incredibly social for a baby, his wide blue eyes always following them around the room, tracking conversations, trying to be a part of things. It’s sweet, Erik thinks—he even babbles at them while they’re talking, like he’s trying to join in, though he’s reacting to the sound of their voices more than anything, and shrieks with delight when something pleases him. That makes Charles happiest of all. He’d been worried since the start, trying to walk the line between embracing David’s telepathy while nurturing his language skills as well, and Charles doesn’t have to do more than smile for Erik to know what a relief he finds it that David vocalizes with them, even if he’s too little to have any comprehension of what they’re saying or for his baby talk to have any real meaning.

Still, as endearing as it is to watch him watch them, it very quickly leads to a cranky baby or a cranky three year old or cranky parents or, more than likely, all three. They’ve gotten used to stealing naps where they can get them, trading off herding the kids and five minutes of sleep on the couch.

Today, though, Charles has announced that they’re all going to sit together. Quiet time, Charles calls it, and Erik is skeptical, but once Charles moves from the wheelchair to the couch and wedges himself into the corner, Lorna doesn’t hesitate to abandon her toys to join him, scampering up into his lap.

"Are you going to read a story, Dada?" she asks, which is a fair question. This does tend to be where Charles sits when he reads her stories.

"We’re going to listen to someone else read all of us a story," Charles says.

"Daddy and Davey too?" she asks.

"Daddy and Davey too," Charles confirms, and gives Erik a Look. Erik shrugs and does one more circuit around the room with David, who’s struggling to keep his eyes open but refuses to give into his nap, and then sits down on the other side of the couch. Charles reaches across and hooks two fingers into his belt to pull him closer. Erik takes the hint and slides closer until he’s pressed up against Charles’ side. David is still curled up against his chest, blinking sleepily at Lorna and Charles, and Lorna strokes his hair with almost comical gentleness.

"He has so much hair," Charles murmurs.

"Did I have that much hair when I was a baby?" Lorna asks, peering up at Charles.

"You didn’t," Charles says. "You had very, very pale blonde hair. It was almost white and just peachfuzz on your head." He strokes her hair for emphasis, long and green and curling at the ends, an indicator that she carries the x-gene sequences, even if she has yet to manifest any specific abilities or physical alterations. "And then when you started to get older, it started coming in thicker and green."

Lorna yawns loudly, and instead of covering her mouth, presses her whole face into Charles’ shoulder.

"Green is best," she says. "You said there was a story."

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“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!”
"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

This is one of my favorite scenes with Harry, and I have never forgiven David Yates and the replacement writer for taking that away from the films.

I mean he wanted to commit fucking suicide and they never address this!

McAvoy: When I was trying to convince them that I should have long hair, there was a bit of humming and hawing. We got a hair extension person and I spent 15 hours with her, and we got it all dressed for the day I was going to film with Patrick. 

(via cygnaut)