#am i healing

[sncrly0urs]

I had LnD as the least app I used for this week.. is this character development

[ryuuna]

“hey we saw you from across the mountain and we hate your vibe”

[mournfulroses]

Maria Shriver, from her book titled "I Am Maria: My Reflections, and Poems on Heartbreak, Healing and Finding your Way Home,"

[random-cockroach]

My brain striked me at 4 am with mimics and spellbound (by Keferon *puts a fire around their page affectionately*) and I was actively feeling guilty by drawing random scenes to heal soul instead of work

Low quality skribbles down with... whatever this is...

[nikkipettt]

F̸̝̑ḯ̶̢l̷̙͠i̴̙̒u̴͝ͅš̶̗ ̷̖̅Á̶ͅu̴͇͠r̸͇̓i̶̟͛

[drgnflyteabox]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...

[the-meme-monarch]

just a lot of the axolotl :] and that bitchass triangle

[curyote]

2024 art fight attack for @canisalbus !!

[lucistfu]

I stopped guessing what people think about me. I am free and whole.

[ro-bee]

part one of a little thing i was doing like idk 2 months ago? i forgot... anyway

Jovan first bishop kill aftermath was a bit complicated to deal with

maybe i'll finish this one day but i have so much stuff in my head is hard to think

[awearywritersworld]

okay, what if the situation at moonrise towers was reversed?

the trader is a vampire and they offer you the potion to permanently increase your strength, but only if you let them feed from you.

astarion would try soooo hard not to let his emotions betray him. you haven't defined your relationship. the decision is yours to make. he's just using you, anyway...

but gods, does the thought of someone else's teeth in your neck make him sick to his stomach. no one else should be able to taste you, to hear the way your breath catches at the first draw of blood, to feel your hand grip their bicep if it gets to be too much.

you decline the offer, much to the pale elf's relief, and he finds himself in your tent that night. he joins you even before the other party members have gone to sleep for the evening.

his desperation quickly becomes apparent. he litters your neck with bites before moving to your chest, then your abdomen. he hardly even feeds, too busy marking what's his.

making his way back up your body, he laps at the blood he's spilled while the warmth of his breath fans across your delicate skin.

once he finds your lips, he leaves a lingering kiss there before pulling back. his expression is almost sheepish, though the sentiment is gone the very next moment.

he settles beside you wordlessly, opens a book, and pretends not to see the look on your face— knowing and amused.

bg3 masterlist

[prlssprfctn]

Batfamily get tired of Bruce and Jason's insanity and as true hypocrites buy them monthly sessions to the therapist that they cannot ignore, like, at all. That ensues some troubles.

Jason: *sprawled on the couch in the Batcave* Bruce: *brooding around* Jason: What's up with you? Bruce: I am dreading over the upcoming therapy session. Jason: Oh, lmao, they forced you, too? Bruce, irritated: That's a ridiculous waste of time. I don't even need it. Jason: Yeah, same. Wanna tip, though? Gaslight the shit out of your therapist. Bruce: ...What? Jason: Lie to them. Forge fake stories. If they are a good therapist, they will catch you. But you know what? Mine believes me. Can't wait to find out just how far it can go. Bruce: That's wrong on so many levels. Bruce: ...I'll try.

Of all things that could mend Bruce and Jason's relationship, this makes a trick. They start discussing their therapy sessions all the time. But not because they receive some kind of useful feedback, but because they keep giggling about gaslighting their therapists.

Bruce unleashes his full Brucie Wayne potential on that poor therapist. Like, yeah, he will discuss his traumas... No, no, not his parents' death! He, of course, meant that one incident with Oliver Queen, when they were seventeen and drunk, and-

Bruce: I think I genuinely didn't have so much fun since forever. Therapists truly can help. Jason: I have an amazing idea how to make it even more hilarious. This one is a little insensitive, but hey. Whatever makes it funnier. Bruce, squinting: ...Jason. Jason: Are you in or not? Bruce: ...

*a few hours later, in the living room of the Manor, with all family members gathered*

Bruce: Jason and I asked you to come since we have news for you. As you know, we had been visiting therapists for a while, and it was an immense help to our mental health. As it was expected, in the middle of the sessions we came to the topic of our relationship. Jason: Yeah, uh. We kinda decided to get a separate therapist for this. Like, family one. For us to go together. And fix things. Bruce: Yeah. We just wanted to update you on this. All support would be appreciated. Dick, wiping his tears away: Guys. Guys, I am so proud of you. Jason and Bruce: *high-fiving each other behind their backs*

Do they actually go to the family therapist? Yeah! Do they still continue creating fake ass stories to test their doctor? Yeah! Do they actually by the accident start oversharing their own emotions during acting by an established scenario and actually get a whole mental breakdown in front of terrified therapist? Yeah...

Therapist: So, uh... *checking scribbled notes of a messy drama that Bruce and Jason rehearsed a night before* ...H-how about we think about where it brings us now? Mister Wayne, do you feel guilt about what happened? Bruce, answering automatically, out of prepared lines: Of course, I feel guilt. I always do. Therapist: Okay, why won't you try to apologise before your son? Bruce, stammering: I-I don't know, I am a prideful person Jason, also abandoning their script: Oh, wow, and I am not?! Therapist: O-okay. Uh, mister- Jason: Like, not saying, but it would be nice to see you discarding some of your pride, when all I do is to stomp on my own to please you! Therapist: Okay, okay, how about... Jesus Chirst, mister Wayne, mister Todd-Wayne, are you crying? Jason and Bruce, sniffling: NO!

[gludgenbell]

Hi I'm still alive btw have some disciple ver. bingyuan

found little binghe in the woodshed with a ruined hand :(

[inkskinned]

despite pages of poems and the entire book i wrote you - you only ever wrote me two songs. the first has the lyric coming up on 7.13, the date we first started really flirting. it's been three years from then, and my life has been utterly ruined. we haven't spoken in a month. i oscillate between being a wreck and being wildly, manically happy. i go long periods without thinking of you - and then i keep myself up, tortured by memories.

i think it's important to note we had been friends for years first. that i had learned to trust you, to think better of you. that you knew who i was - and you still fucking broke me. you knew all the ways i had worked to be okay with myself. all my independence, my hobbies. you could have left me alone, is the thing. you could have let me just keep fucking living.

i keep writing paragraphs on paragraphs about what you did, what you said - who you were. how it escalated so slowly. how i am still scared to admit the truth of things, fearing your response. you taught me that fear. it's only been a month, but still - already, how strange to think of who i was while i was with you. that was a husk-girl, cowering, servile. i can't believe let you in my fucking house.

three weeks before you discarded me; you took me ring shopping. you would tell me so many times i was the love of your life, someone that you "couldn't live without."

the last thing you sent me was that second song - a new one, finally. it's about how i'll never get what i want. about how miserable the idea of a life with me is.

my mother was furious. i had to call her - i was sobbing on the floor of my bathroom about it. She knows it kills me that i can't have kids, i said, breathless, silver and shaking with anguish, Why would she make a fucking song about how sad that is.

you know her, and you know how gentle and forgiving she is. how rare her anger is. her response was slow, deliberate. sweetheart, she said, she can write any song she wants. i know my girl. you are going to write a book instead.

i hiccupped a laugh, but she was still talking. she dropped her voice low, almost scraping through the phone and onto the floor with me. it was a strange tone, almost like feeling a storm coming when there's nowhere safe to be.

i want you to rip her apart, she said. do you think you can you do that for me?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The dog days are over.

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