If you have struggled with hobby motivation, you are not alone!
We all have days where we can’t seem to muster up the energy to hobby, or days where our favourite hobby makes us feel stressed and sad instead of happy and relaxed. That’s normal, but what do you do when it lasts weeks, months or even years?
I've been stuck in a painting rut recently and haven't been inspired by any of my current projects, so when I saw my friend Cat post a painting challenge to kitbash a model in one day, I decided to give it a shot! :)
A hint of a smile played at the corner of the Commissar’s lips. She looked up at the brooding eagle and then back down at her sergeant. “Do you deny the accusations of disorderly conduct levelled against you?” “No, Commissar.” The words hung in the air, so simple and yet so significant. The Commissar seemed to breathe them in, taste them, savour them. “Begin.” “I have…. overlooked…. so many infractions.” “Overlooked?” The crop pushed her head back, gently but insistently exposing her throat. She gulped against it and pushed out a single word. “Encouraged.” “Tell me.” And gazing up at her commanding officer, the Sergeant finally found her words. She spoke of long nights after hard battles, blood singing at...
Standing straight and tall in her long dark coat and illuminated only by the flickering candlelight, to the breathless Sergeant the Commissar appeared to be an inhuman figure sent by the Emperor himself to punish her sins. In the shadows behind her the eagle loomed menacingly, glittering golden in its blood sky. The Commissar’s gaze locked on her frozen Sergeant and slowly began to open her heavy coat. “You will confess.” The thick folds of fabric separated, dark shadows concealing her uniform inside. “You will tell me the truth. You will tell me… everything.” With a deft sweep of her hand, she flung her coat roughly down onto the bed. “You will confess your crimes against the Emperor! You will...
A heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with distant crashes and the far-off rumbles of ordinance. A long inhale as the Commissar turned away, hands on hips, served only to make the silence seem louder to the nervous Sergeant. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow and she licked her lips nervously, not daring to speak. It was true that her unit was… high spirited. But their fighting prowess! They were the best in the field. And now more than ever, now with the uprising raging like a wildfire all around them, surely the most important thing was their ability to kill. Surely with cultists screaming over the walls, surely killing mattered more than uniform and the occasional...
