#im normal and well adjusted and I think about them a normal amount!

[shyaringan]

i went through all of my various saved files to count how many times i drawn/doodled/sketched each member of the mechanisms and..

my own blatant favoritism sickens me… TS im so sorry its just that your hat is so hard to draw 😭

[admiringtheskies]

okay, so The Hyperfixation Is Hyperfixating, clearly, and honestly im just gonna continue going with it bc THEM— *screams* ANYWAYS @frownyalfred uhhhhhh hope you enjoy this as well! without further ado, another idea inspired by the incomparable ✨borderline✨ that just would NOT leave me alone until i got it all down into actual real words:

at some point further in the timeline of borderline'verse, when they've finally got the whole situation mostly under control, the batfam (whenever they accompany bruce, or multiple kids go together by themselves so they're in batclan mode, to do jl/other crossover shit) sort of ends up just doing the whole Bat-Danger-Aura thing, like, Constantly; somewhat unintentionally, but also with not much effort really made to rein it in, bc they do think the reactions are hilarious lol. and like, the thing is, they were ALREADY doing it pre-bond, pretty much right from whenever dick, jason, or both made their first appearance w bruce outside of gotham and first established the existence of mini-bats for the outside world — i mean, that sense of leashed power, as well as the eerie synchronicity and ability to communicate in the tiniest of gestures, was really just a natural consequence of the crime-fighting codependency and the training bruce put them through, originally. (as you may be able to tell, i have an Extremely Normal Amount of Feelings about the concept of cryptid batfam <3). but WITH the bond?? i mean, the kids are all connected to each other, yes, but their primary connections are all to BRUCE, and once they've had time to adjust, and set + actually semi-consistently enforce some basic boundaries, they absolutely take pride in using that to it's fullest advantage (that they're capable of while not intentionally compromising anybody's autonomy, anyways).

and like… OP's already touched on this in earlier chapters briefly a few times, but i NEED a thorough exploration of the idea of bruce seeing this change in them, seeing them subconsciously incorporate even just these little subtle mannerisms, and feeling so fucking guilty about it and spiraling bc he's terrified that all of his self-destructive qualities [that he's painfully aware of in himself] will transfer over to the children, who somehow never seem to realize that how proud and grateful they make him when they demonstrate their DIFFERENCES from him in those regards. and he's just so scared that he'll somehow ruin the few parts of them he thinks he's miraculously managed to avoid 'tainting' with his mentorship/fatherhood until now… …and meanwhile the kids are about to start crying because dad no what the fuck,,, but also facepalming a little bit bc jesus CHRIST, B, did you never even stop to consider the fact that you're just… really fuckin smart and skilled and know how to do a frankly ungodly amount of Cool Shit that we all share an interest in, and we were excited to have the chance to copy more of that shit too?! just, even beyond the great mental image of the Danger Walk, what really got me about that scene was just... his two oldest boys, who are already so much like him, not hesitating for a SECOND to gleefully take the chance to match his behavior even MORE perfectly, and wanting to know where he learned something as (relatively, by their standards) simple as the Serious Business Walk, and wanting to share that memory because it's just fuckin cool, y'all! like, to be clear, i absolutely respect the fact that, at least by the time that they're entering adulthood/in the prime of their mental and physical youth, any of the batkids are pretty much on, or definitely rapidly approaching, the same level as bruce in general badassery — and they probably each have 1 or 2 specific skillsets in which they can and do surpass him. but at the same time, you CANNOT convince me that, at any given point in the established DC timeline, there exists a non-bruce batfam character who can really look at bruce (like his personality, his aforementioned ridiculous skillset, i mean everything about him) and not see at least ONE quality in him that they aspire to. maybe it's something they already have and just can't see in themselves, maybe it's more a projection of something one of their other siblings has and shares with bruce, maybe it's just some skill, some random combat move, that he doesn't need very often, and so when he does use it, it briefly reminds them that "holy shit, he's The Fucking Batman" — but there's always SOMETHING there, some reason that even when they're having trouble communicating or arguing or emotions are running high, they'll never truly lose that respect for him that compels these ridiculously independent, self-sufficient people to willingly follow him: to listen to him, to trust him, and to keep themselves ready to unite under his lead. because nobody can argue that they are a clan, whose purpose comes from being first united under the guidance and protection and love of the bat.

[hanzajesthanza]

"controversial opinion" 👀 ? do say…

(the tag for context; the subject being parasocial relationships)

well. i just don’t think that parasocial relationships are that bad. i haven’t looked into the scientific publishings on it or anything, but…

contrary to the popular opinion of moral panic, sound the alarms, the children are thinking they’re friends with streamers, i knew twitch was the work of the devil…

it seems to me that people have always been attached to people they don’t know in close ways. even if you hear a story about someone, some mythical being, that draws you close to an individual that you’ve never know IRL, but whose “presence” gave you comfort. people have liked and felt familiar with the ideas of people without actually knowing them, from like, day one.

and then, when writing, and later, radio and television, became widespread, ideas and communication did too, with people being fond of and comfortable with the presences of radio personalities and actors in their homes.

i think we’re just seeing parasocial relationships more prominently now, because technology has advanced to the point where, to share your opinions, ideas, artistic expression, while also attaching your face and your voice to it, has become ubiquitous. and this was happening before the concept of the influencer existed, there were bloggers and internet personalities in the 2000s and early 2010s.

we (gen-Zers) were the first generation to have grown up with such technology—maybe not “with a phone or iPad in our hands” (as gen Alpha has) but certainly from a young age—so we grew up with these video platforms, and thus, communication with and absorption of various personalities. and all of this in a time of when our social development is the most intense, i.e., childhood, then teenhood, young adulthood.

and at the same time, we are experiencing a growth in loneliness (“an epidemic of loneliness”), and also an actual pandemic, and other shifts in social environment, such as dating moving online…

so i think it’s only natural that parasocial relationships have risen as a phenomenon, and are more visible and more prominent than, perhaps, what it was like pre-smartphone, pre-blog or vlog days.

my controversial take is this.

i think parasocial relationships only become a problem when it leads to harm: to either the person as the object of the relationship, as in (at the least) rudeness, like assuming you’re actually friends IRL and treating them as or demanding their attention as such, or (at the worst) obsessive or violent behavior like stalking. or, to the person having the parasocial relationship, in being detrimental to their social skills over time.

but i think that, if you’re just looking at your phone and watching a video from a youtuber you’ve watched videos from since you were eight years old, chilling and not being harmful to them or yourself in any way… i ask, what is the harm in not just feeling entertained, but feeling a certain familiarity on an advanced level, feeling like you’re friends—as long as you are cognizant and comfortable with that you’re not actually friends, and that the relationship is one-sided, what’s the harm? i think it’s even kind of normal amongst people who grew up with that kind of technology in their hands, which connected them to such personalities.

in the coverage of parasocial relationships, i feel like it has been a little blown out of proportion by the media, through conflating the (shall we say) “well-adjusted, normal” crowd, with sad and ugly stories of stalkers and worse—because “creepy stalker fan” is a well-known archetype by now in pop culture, so it drives more engagement and outrage.

(edit: stalking and harassment are really bad and scary—im not denying theyre not—my thought, rather, is that the amount of “normal” or even “positive” parasocial relationships probably outweigh the creepy, harassment ones, but the worst outcomes are whats reported on the most)

and i feel like this conflation also happens because the people writing these sensationalized articles did not grow up with such technology, so it’s absolutely weird and alien to them to have such a familiarity with someone they don’t know IRL (like youtubers, streamers, whom are often objects of parasocial relationships), because they basically just didn’t grow up with it—television being different than online video platforms because online video allows you to share a lot more unedited, casual moments (like playing a video game, going shopping, even eating breakfast—you can livestream anything, or vlog anything really, even the most mundane things). and these are (i’d guess) the same people that don’t understand how you can make friends via the internet, and (maybe) believe that all social interaction via the internet is sinister or insincere in some form.

they don’t understand how a parasocial connection could be a normal thing, because they’re unfamiliar with the normalcy of such content which forms the relationship, which makes it bizarre and creepy to them; however, such parasocial relationships are becoming more normal, and are hardly worth fascinating oneself over for people who grew up forming them—so much so, that they didn’t even have to think about it as being abnormal. they (we) were able to form them and at the same time rationalize them, so it never occurred to us as being something to morally concern ourselves with. this also explains why such coverage of it only occured years after such a phenomenon was even occurring.

tl;dr my take is that the concept of parasocial relationships itself is somewhat of a non-issue, and only becomes an issue when individuals conduct unhealthy or harmful behavior, or when we want to talk about parasocial relationships forming as a symptom of larger societal issues (like the loneliness epidemic). but the moral concern with parasocial relationships i think stems from a generational divide around technology and constantly evolving social norms and landscapes :p

[not-poignant]

hi pia i just wanted to respond to what you said in your tags about the burnout w chronic illness. and i dont mean to condescend or blame but i think your burnout came about because you are an absolute beast of a writer!!!!! the amount of words you were pushing out consistently had me wondering what kind of spell you must’ve been on. (in a good way, except it turned out to be harming you) you worked really really hard for a long time, i think harder than many healthy people even (my chronic illness could never). i know you also enjoyed writing (we enjoyed it too!), but that workload honestly never looked sustainable. the astounding part is not that you burned out, but that you managed to push for so long, despite your handicaps and hardships. want to be careful not to sound like im praising/blaming you. but you’re really just build different than a lot of folks. i hope you had time to recharge so far and keep taking it easy. i do miss your updates but i can assure you im fine waiting, as are your other readers! its really okay! get better soon 💐🐀💓

Hi anon,

This is very kind of you to say, but tbh, I don't think many people know how much some writers can, well, write.

I might seem like an over-achiever, but there are writers out there who easily write around 6000-10000 words per day, and release a book per month. I have met successful authors who aim for 150k or 200k at NaNo, because 50,000 words is 5 days of work to them.

It's hard for me to comprehend, because I know I can't do that. But likewise, I think many folks don't realise that I actually used to write a lot more than I do now!! For some years it was normal for me to write 50-80,000 words every single month. NaNo was a joke. That caused burnout, and so I adjusted down to a 25,000 minimum monthly wordcount which sometimes felt so easy that it was absurd. I now have a maximum which I have to adhere to per month (50k), because it's too easy to go past it.

For me, writing is relatively easy. It's still work, yes. I still need to put time into it. But I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who hasn't done it for thousands and thousands of hours. I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who can only touch type at 80 wpm, when I touch type at 120-150 wpm.

The amount of stories is an issue, and the number of chapter updates is an issue, but the actual output re: words themselves really isn't. In fact I've written more words this month than I did last month already, and will very likely hit my monthly minimum with the next chapter.

The things that contributed to my burnout are multifaceted. Getting a puppy. A death in the family. Not having access to the mental health drugs I need to function for a long period of time. Friendship disintegration. These things can cause burnout in anyone, even if they are working very sustainably, because they all require separate labour on top of the labour that someone is doing for their job.

When I come back from hiatus, I will not be writing less. I don't believe the wordcount is the issue and haven't for a long time. I will be scheduling out less chapters, because admin is overwhelming to me. If you told me that my job wasn't writing anymore, but I had to schedule + figure out when to post twice as many chapters, I'd fail, lmao.

So I will be addressing admin stuff! But the amount of words I was pushing out, anon, was completely sustainable, and in fact a highly reduced number compared to what I was pushing out 6/7 years ago. Anon, I have been pushing out this many words or more for 5 years without stopping until now. It's felt comfortable. It's been so much less than what I used to make myself write.

So yeah, again, it can be hard for people who don't do this professionally to imagine writing at this level. And all professionals are different. I couldn't write 150k for NaNoWriMo, but the people writing 100k a month find that extremely easy to do. How I feel about their output - that it's impossible (because it is for me) is not how they feel about their output. For them writing 50k a month to make it easy might be extremely laughable to them, like, 5 days of work and then they get 25 days off. That's sometimes how I've felt about 25k (though it's more like 10 days of work to me - which is great, because I have chronic illness lol, so I need a lot of rest days and periods).

The amount of words I was pushing out consistently will be the amount I go back to because that is truly the most sustainable part of my job. I don't expect folks who haven't plugged in as many hours into writing, and who haven't written millions of words to understand, but the fact is the more you do something, the faster you get at it. The more practice you have, the more competent you become.

That was actually how I knew the burnout was so bad, because the easiest part of my job - the words + the writing - was impossible last month, and I only ended up with 14k for the first time in 5 years, and had to make a call.

The reason the hiatus is so frustrating is that so much of it is being caused by external factors, and not actually the job itself. Like yes, I am working on too many stories, and I can address that, but I was actually doing much higher wordcounts when I was working on less stories.

It's all the extra stuff that becomes very overwhelming! But I'll get there anon, and my wordcounts aren't going anywhere.

[psittacined]

this is only guessing, and doesnt solve the issue lol, but i wonder if she was ignored a lot in a previous home, that the more normal amount of attention and affection youre giving her is stimulating her a lot more by comparison? - that is, possibly with time she'll get used to the level of attention and settle down a bit? i don't know, most of interacting with parrots is guessing. im wishing you the best either way

-pennaraptor

This is kind of what I’m thinking. I don’t know a lot about Rhus background other than she has been in a severe neglect situation that was life-threatening 💔 she was at the rescue for almost two years recovering.

While the group is amazing, I imagine the daily interactions w the caretakers in a room full of other birds was vastly different and lesser than a home, but even they had a problem with her being hormonal with them.

I know she must have been loved - one of the only things she says is I love you and she’s very gentle and kind. Im trying to adjust as well from zukki (my previous companion) being very affectionate and not hormonal at all.

Thankfully none of her behavior is really problematic, just frustrating, so hopefully enough adjustments should work it out. I’m hoping once it gets warmer outside time will use up a lot of that energy safely being outdoors.

[undead-potatoes]

i was gonna send you an ask about one of your bg3 character's but you've answered so many i don't even know where to start. they sound amazing btw. you're making me wanna do a proper durge run. and im in love w jay. so my question now is, are there any other character concepts floating around in your head that you wanna play? any classes you're curious to try?

YES please do a Durge run! It's so fun whether you resist or give into it, great stuff (although not for the squeamish).

And I do! I've had this idea for a bard that's a drag queen, something I would never be able to pull off in a live tabletop setting, but could feasibly do as a game character like Tav.

I'd love for them to just be painfully normal and well adjusted. No real trauma or family issues or shitty gods, just some poor soul who got squidnapped on their way to/from work who is having the worst few months of their life. They have 2 moms who run a florist business, a half-elf and a half-orc. They like to paint in their spare time. They have big pretty city boy vibes, hates camping but has a surprising amount of knowledge of surviving in the woods bc their moms would take them out there all the damn time as a kid.

It's very early stages tho, like I don't have a name (real or otherwise), and I only have a very basic outline of their personality. They're some flavor of non-binary/genderqueer, and I think maybe ace.

Gonna keep cooking them in my head for a bit, see where I go with it, if they actually get anywhere. Probably just have to make them in the character creator and it'll be all downhill from there.

Also wizard is really fun to play, but I just live vicariously through Gale so I'm good :^)

[my-castles-crumbling]

Anon Advice Asks - March 1

14 anon, the anon (tw-mention sh), midnights anon, best friend's sister anon (new), junior anon

14 anon

Im so fucking hungry and my mum is being an arsehole againnnn.

See I have very few foods I eat and one of them is potato waffles. Usually I have 4 for dinner and im full, but I had another 4 and my mum is saying “no. You should never eat that much.” And that pisses me off because she has no issue with ordering me more food than that with a takeaway. I told her “yk that’s less than what you get me with a takeaway” and she just made some sort of noise and now I’m really hungry and she says I can’t eat until later unless I want fruit and I’m sick of the only fruit we have because strawberries are too sweet.

Also she finds it totally normal to eat a massive stack (8 ish pieces) of thick toast with nothing but butter and cream cheese. I balanced my meal with a salad and I’ve just come home from school. All she does is sit around.

It’s the third day back after the week off so I’m adjusting from doing basically nothing to quite a lot (even if that’s barely the normal amount for other people, I’m autistic and have bad knees. School takes a lot from me) so I don’t know how to feel. Like I know my picky eating is bad…

Reading through this I feel like I’m in the wrong but it’s my body and I’m still hungry. She can’t just stop me from eating can she?? I’m scared to send this one because it makes me feel more insecure about my eating than normal.

Honestly, if you're hungry, you should eat. And as far as being 'picky'...I think as long as it doesn't become a money or health issue or something, who the fuck cares? The thing is, if you want to live on potato waffles, it's not hurting anyone. And if your mom is worried, she should take you to a doctor to check your levels, rather than forcing societal standards on you that are so fucked up and untrue and could lead to MUCH scarier eating habits. Because I'm gonna guess that you're probably just fine. But let's say you get your levels checked and you have low iron or something, you can literally just take iron supplements and STILL have your waffles. And then...nobody is hurt.

People tend to get so upset about food other people are eating when it's not that deep. You have a right to eat what you want as long as you look out for your health as well. And you might do that in different ways than society expects, but that doesn't make it any less reasonable.

So yeah, I'd tell her next time she brings it up: 'if you're worried, we should go to the doctor and check my levels. because then I can talk to a professional about my food and if I need to do anything to supplement my food.'

I understand parents worry, and she's probably had societal ideals forced on her for her entire life as well, but you're allowed to respectfully challenge that.

_______________

the anon (tw-mention SH)

Heyoo, the anon once again :P

Relating to the idea of my partner feeling insecure, I know they do.

It’s a common thing actually, me constantly reassuring them I’m not leaving and such. And honestly? It gets draining. They’ve had a number of people leave them in the past, so I get why they’re worried. But also, it seems like they dwell on things for far too long.

One of our mutual friends (or ex-mutual friend ig), they were only friends with them for not even a full year. But they ‘fought’ and haven’t talked in literally two years now. Yet I’m constantly reassuring them it wasn’t their fault for the fight. Some people dwell for a while, yeah. But I just… I was friends with this person for three years before my partner was, and I hardly even care about said ‘friend’ not talking to me anymore.

I just… I don’t know anymore. I’m tired, they make me feel like crap for actually having a bond with my family and if I don’t talk to them one day they think I hate them. It’s a lot.

Additionally, this has nothing to do with their insecurity stuff. But around a year and a half ago, I SH’d. Great, cool, word. So, it’s been a year and a half since then. But they still joke about it and tease me for it. Tease me for it. Yeah, I’m pretty chill with jokes and shite. But the teasing doesn’t make my brain any better. Normally, I’d be alright with just telling them to stop. But since it’s them, I’m worried that if I say something they’ll shut themselves off for a week and feel like crap.

So yeah, that’s me and my brain :P

Hi!

Okay I think you really need to explore the idea of setting some boundaries then. It's okay for your partner to be insecure, and it's okay for them to need reassurance. But it's also healthy for you to have a bond with your family and for you to spend time apart from your partner.

So next time you go with your family, you need to firmly say: "I care about you, I'm not leaving you, things will be okay. I'll call you at x and I'll be back at x. But I'm allowed to spend time with my family, just like you're allowed to spend time apart from me if you want. I promise I'll be back soon." And even if they get upset, you go. Do NOT break your boundary or cave if they're upset. For you, make sure you keep to your promise. If you say you'll contact them, make sure to do it. If you say you'll be back at a certain time, be back then. But don't cancel. And if they are mean to you, then that's a red flag. Again, it's okay for them to be sad, but it's not okay for them to treat your poorly because of that.

Same with the jokes. That's NOT okay. So you need to set a boundary: "I don't like it when you joke about this, please stop." And if they don't, or if they get mad, that's another red flag. I know you're worried about them getting upset, but your feelings are important too. Don't sacrifice them for someone else.

And if they continually break your boundaries, you need to consider that this might be a reason to stop the relationship. I know you said your partner talks about people always leaving, but people are going to leave people who break boundaries, because they SHOULD leave.

You don't deserve disrespect or someone that breaks your boundaries.

Sending love <3

____

midnights anon

Hi! It’s midnights anon

I just really want to apologize. I’ve been sending in so many asks, I’ve been taking up space and it isn’t fair for me to be so dramatic and stuff in your inbox

It isn’t fair for me to complain about my mental health, it isn’t fair for me to ask for help in this incessant manner, it isn’t fair for me to push this onto you

So I’m gonna be better! I just want to thank you so much for your support and apologize for how I was acting. And I’m gonna be less of a bother. If I can’t even manage to talk to people irl without feeling awful, I shouldn’t be telling someone who has their own life to deal with about my issues or wanting to relapse or whatever my brain freaks out about

I’ll only come back with good news, and I’ll stop with the long depressing asks, and I’ll stop sending in asks so often.

Thank you for being such a wonderful and kind listening ear. I hope you have a lovely day :]

Hon, please don't apologize. You are MORE than welcome to send whatever type of ask you want. If I wanted you to stop, I would tell you so. You are not taking up too much space, I promise. I welcome your asks, positive or negative, frequent or infrequent <3

___

best friend's sister anon

hi

i’m like sorta new to tumblr and very new to asks so just bear with me if i fuck this up

ok first of all your fanfics are awesome, loved cladenstine & all the microfics <33

so i really like this girl, she’s one of my best friends and also like the sister of my best friend??? (and also im a james kinny and i think it’s really ironic that i have a crush on my best friends sister) BUT ANYWHO i do and i like really really want to tell her i like her, but ik she’s aromantic (or somewhere on the spectrum?? like idk if she *can* like people) but pansexual so if she does like people gender wouldn’t be an issue. but like i don’t want to make it awkward, and more so i don’t want her to think that im only friends with her because i had a crush on her which i feel like she might think because she can be like that sometimes

also she lives in another state so if she wanted to date me in the first place idk if it would even work

anyways i’m just sorta panicking over this, any advice would be appreciated but it’s also helpful just to rant <33

ty!!

Hi!

This is definitely a tricky situation but I think if it were me, I would focus on getting to know her more. I think if you do, you can talk to her about her being aromantic and find out where on the spectrum she is, see if you have enough of a connection that a long distance relationship would be feasible, show her that you care about her as a friend as well as a potential partner, etc. So yeah, give it time <3

_______________

junior anon

Hi junior again

I'm sorry. It's me again. I'm just super stressed rn bc of academics and. My junior is uh showing off the camera in front of my face even though she knows my friend that got her the camera didn't get me anything.

aaaaa.

sorry for sending another ask in such a short time but anyways have an amazing day <333

Hi!

I'm sorry you're having a hard time <3 that sounds so frustrating. I'm hoping the weekend will help you have a little space? You're welcome to vent in my inbox whenever you want, you don't have to worry about it being too much.

[nohara-rin-dot-mp3]

@ava-likes-fanart some fanfic recs

Araived on ao3 has some rin fics that are pretty darn good imo! i have. no idea what counts as depressing but i'll give it my best shot???

in the end is an amazing character study that has. *squints* a melancholy tone throughout? and it does end with rin dying. but like. idk. she does tend to do that. really really good fic though.

crack me open pour one out is an edo tensei fic where kakashi is trying to save rin and bring her back for real, and rin does not want to be brought back which. might be depressing???? literally i have to clue lmao its some really fun kakarin though. characterization is completely on point.

to the heart (but we beat on) is a rin-gets-reincarnated-into-bnha fic. probably the least depressing out of all of these??? maybe?? by my admittedly skewed standards?? idk it leans towards hurt/comfort mostly i think. so. yeah??

all the things we will become by ringwil is a very nice and sweet infiltrator!rin fic about rin learning to love and be loved. and she does die at the end (it's technically canon compliant as is 90% of rin fic cuz you cant contradict whats not there babyyyyyyyy) but i think its not too sad??? idk i like it.

six degrees of separation by OneshotPrincess is a general team seven roleswap fic that doesnt focus on rin. but i think she just gets some really nice characterization here even without being the central character. im also just a sucker for rin-sensei aus T_T really fun alternate worldbuilding in this one.

she never made it to the ocean by OpensUp4Nobody is depressing even by my standards but my god is it worth it if you can stomach it. it's a really cold depiction of root!rin (awesome take on rin in general) that doesn't pull any punches. quite literally the rin fic of all time WILL rip out your heart and stomp on it in a terrifyingly detached way. iirc the author also posted a companion comic with it that goes hard as hell.

bracelets. by Mothervvoid is some really cute rinko (rin/anko) that mostly focuses around the absence of rin which might be depressing???? i just thought it was kind of cute

reaching for something without knowing it's there by chadsuke takes place entirely after rin's death and is about shizune trying to find closure + understand it. happy ending! also some fun kakashi + shizune interactions.

"is it wrong to want more?" by childsoldier is some short + sweet prose about rin. great rin masks, great morally-dubious minato, just a fun read overall. i mean she dies at the end. but its rinfic i feel like thats a given for most of these lolll

the nohara rin-centric tag in general is a great place to start, cuz there's not a ton of fics in it. so it's pretty easy to scroll through and pick up some favorites. if you scroll through her main character tag make sure you put on filters. because there's a lot of junk where she only has a few lines and exists only as a plot device. T_T man i wish people would tag properlyyyy

and uh ive personally. written. some rinfic

normal amounts.

the most non-depressing ones??? as far as i can tell?? are probably. uh.

we’re gonna be well which i KNOW is just pure untouched fluff because i wrote it specifically to be that. tenzo + rin bond while making banana bread. mostly just an excuse for me to write idle chatter.

fellas, i think this goes beyond simple mis-remembrance is peak comedy. to me. rin also tells obikaka to kill themselves multiple times so millage may vary but i personally find it hillarious??? so.

a handful of teeth is my take on a rin survives au. and possibly the happiest and most well-adjusted rin i've ever written. she's getting better here!!! a little depressing at times but overall hopeful??? i think??

throwing fuel to the fire of that greco-roman dream is pure self indulgence in that i locked rin-sensei kakashi-sensei and obito-sensei from their respective universes in a room and studied them like bugs. they're so funny. i don't think this is depressing?? although the ending is a little downer?? maybe? idk i thought it was funny.

mating dances (and other strange sights at cafe minato) is a modern coffeeshop kagurin (kaguya/rin) au. pure crack. literally just me putting them into situations for fun. they're very silly here. NOT DEPRESSING EVEN A LITTLE BIT!!!! told entirely though obito's pov as he does his best to understand the strange mating rituals of nohara rin in her natural habitat.

[acethatlovesdinos]

Tw: vent, female body dysmorphia? (Idk I don't have an official diagnosis). description of feminine anatomy (boobs). I'm not asking for pity, I'm just spitting words out because I feel the need to make them known. A confession, of sorts. And maybe it'll help some of you feel less alone in your own journey.

~~~~~~

I'm not pretty.

I'm aware of the fact. Never really have been. Not exactly the textbook definition of "attractive" when I look in the mirror.

I dont feel unloved, I think that's a different thing. I know i have caring friends and family who have my back, but it's still not quite what Im getting at.

I hate mirrors. Specifically the big ones in the bathroom before I shower. I look at myself, my eyes taking in every flaw.

I used to be bigger, you see, and I do feel much better having lost a significant amount of weight but that in itself brought upon an entirely new type of insecurity.

At least when I was a larger size my shape was "normal," per se, in that i expected and understood that physique well.

I had gotten a gastric sleeve surgery (make stomach smaller so you can absorb less food, thus losing weight in a more "natural" manner). Considering my morbidly obese state at the time, it was a necessary adjustment for the sake of my own health.

Dont get me wrong, I'm happy with what I've done. It's been a massive change and I feel so much better from both a physical and mental perspective.

but oh boy, I never could have expected the kind of insecurity that accompanied rapid weightloss.

it was incredible for a while, watching my clothes fit looser and feeling like I had more energy. my mental health improved drastically. truly, this was one of the best decisions I ever made, and I dont think Id change it if given the chance. I do want to make that clear, my current feelings are just a bit of a side effect.

quickly shedding pounds means that your body doesnt really get a chance to re-absorb that loose skin. what once was round, fatty pudge has now become loose, dangling flab. it hangs over my waist, accentuating my gut and making it still look larger than it is. Unfortunately, the weight I've lost isnt enough to properly constitute those surgeries to remove the loose skin that exists, so I'm sort of just...stuck with it. Im still certainly not skinny by any means, but I feel as though I'd be a size or two smaller if that extra flab wasn't there.

My hips and thighs didnt change a whole lot, so I remain with a bottom-heavy, pear shaped form with a waist several inches behind my hips. pants are a struggle to find a comfortable fit as a result.

It doesnt really strike much thought at first, but I was pretty quick to remember that breasts are composed mostly of fat and soft tissue. One of the first places to start showing a decrease in size? yeah. My chest wasn't particularly huge in proportion to my body anyway, and they only got smaller. that's a blow to the self-esteem if ive ever seen one. ever try shopping for a 40A bra? they aren't very common.

Oh, and what I said before about loose skin? that applies there too. there's no shape, it just sort of...sags pathetically. it could almost be compared to the "boobs" of an obese man with the way they sit, and the thought disgusts me.

all in all im sagging, loose, and not what someone would call a pretty sight...ever. It makes me fear the longevity and even possibility of future relationships, because who would want something like this?

my only saving grace is when I take a closer look at myself. Look closer in the mirror, look at my face. that seems to be the only part of myself im mostly okay with.

I've got a soft, round face, dusted with a natural blush and a gentle chin. my ears arent too big, and ive got a little dimple when my mouth moves the right way.

pale blue eyes provide the only pop of color on my otherwise pale, boring body, a cloudy shade of slate with a ring of green around the pupil. I dont want to sound basic, bit they really do seem to change under the sun. hooded eyelids occasionally cause makeup to be frustrating, but i only wear the stuff on special occasions anyway so it's not exactly a huge deal for me.

My glasses help to frame my face, a cute but necessary prop(bc i am blind lol), with the added bonus of helping to hide the tired circles under my eyes.

A lot of people seem insecure about their noses, but mine has been mostly unproblematic throughout my experience with it.

I've had a surprising number of people comment on my "perfect lips" (a few ladies who helped me with makeup), bringing up the defined Cupid's Bow and naturally plump shape, a soft pink hue that exists all on its own. I never really thought much of it until someone told me.

My hair has always been a fickle thing, and I've had a bit if a love-hate relationship with it until fairly recently. I've found that I like it bobbed at my chin, where its light enough that the natural curls can have a strong effect. the most product I tend to use is this nice-smelling leave-in conditioner, which just helps to tone down the frizziness. I love the way the curls frame my chin and jawline, and it coils into these thick, beautiful springs after it dries from a shower. it's so soft and I love to run my fingers through it when it's been freshly cleaned. The current color is a dark purple, that looks almost black indoors, but it nearly lights up when the sun hits it. its natural color is a deep brown, and i still do like it, I just thought a bit of color would be nice for once.

Ive got moles and marks everywhere, but that's never bothered me. the little brown spots are fun, and a few of them on my arm can even be traced into a perfect arch.

the most unique aspect of my appearance is this...little patch of tiny moles in the center of my throat. The patch is only about a centimeter in full area, and it's covered in little raised brown bumps. Oddly enough, this part of my body has never been something I felt ashamed of, as the little patch of marks were one of the many things that made me, me.

So maybe my body isnt perfect. it's not the ideal shape, nor size, nor whatever else, but I guess there's some things about it that I dont mind so much.

[bogkeep]

Do you have any advice or resources on pricing commissions/commissions in general? I've been thinking of starting comms

I hope this is an okay thing to ask lol

PS: luv ur art!

for resources, there's this video (subtitled but not transcribed sorry) which lays it out really well! there used to be a really good twitter thread by yoshi yoshitani, but it seems to be deleted.

here's some general experience/advice:

- IN A PERFECT WORLD we would all price our commissions well and fairly and comparable to industry standard, buuuuuut i get why most of us don't. compared to industry standard my $130 character portraits are also underpriced, and while i AM steadily upping my prices (my first comms were $40 for a fully colored and shaded fullbody. oof) 1) i need to consider what audience i have and who will be able to commission me, and 2) i mostly do commissions for some extra pocket money, not to make a living. i think my prices are comparable to many fellow internet artists in the same sphere.

- the way i price my commissions are that the MINIMUM amount needs to be the amount i have to be paid to feel like a commission is worth doing (taking into account my limited amount of time and energy to work on art, if i take paid $50 but then spend several days to complete it i will grow resentful and stretch myself too thin for too little), and the MAXIMUM is "at what point will the price paralyze me because i feel like I don't feel like i can make something worth that amount."

- working on a commission WILL take longer than just working on a Fun Piece For Yourself, both because you're putting in extra effort trying to make it worth the money you're given, and because you will spend time communicating with your client. you will get a better grip on your timeframe after you have more experience doing commissions.

- you're not just taking paid for the art itself, but client communications, your experience and expertise which has taken years to build, revisions, tools, etc.

- something they JUST told us in clock school: sometimes you get clock repairs that cost less than your quote and you might feel bad about this, but you will definitely do clock repairs that cost a lot more than your quote. THIS IS HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE, THIS IS HOW YOU BREAK EVEN. when you give a quote at the beginning you don't know how much the work is going to take and estimates are always rough, but you're using your time and expertise to offer a service and you need money to live.

- your prices/quote can have wriggle room like "will cost X amount but Y for Extra Detailed Stuff Like Wings/Fancy Outfit/Background Detail"

- don't offer commissions you don't wanna do! i used to offer a wide range of styles and price categories, including some really cheap sketch options, and i don't Regret doing those per se but nowadays i only offer a narrowed down selection. I don't have time to do fullbodies with full backgrounds, so even if it's something i CAN do and people WOULD pay me for, I don't HAVE to do that.

- its okay, encouraged even, to adjust your prices as you go along and get more experienced at doing commissions. it's pretty normal to start out with low prices to get the hang of it (tattoo apprentices do tattoos for lower prices unil they're done with their training, and doing commissions is its own skill)

- if someone thinks your prices are too high, you don't want them as your clients to begin with. dealing with shitty commissioners is rarely worth the pay, and higher prices tend to result in better and more respectful clients.

i hope im not forgetting something hope this helps

[enderwoah]

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

[awkwardkindatries]

Kinktober Day 3: Uniform

Have I ever said how much I genuinely love Celebrimbor? best boy.

Celebrimbor/reader

NSFW

Words:2347

Elves in Eregion didn't really have uniforms outside of military forces, they did however, have a standard of dress for their meetings in court. This dress code typically consists of a high collar shirt, a button down tunic, full length trousers followed by high polished black boots. One's hair must always be done and braided back and most jewelry is kept to the minimum at a circlet and possibly a ring. All fabrics are embellished in elaborate embroidery and buttons polished to a lovely shine, not a hair or stitch to be out of place.

These court sessions aren't exactly frequent so within your time there you hadn't had the pleasure of catching him in his authoritative garb until today. You caught sight of him walking back to his quarters, his shoulders weren't square they were dropped in exhaustion, his eyes were tired and his brow furrowed in stress. You couldn't help but to follow him a few paces as he walked past you before grabbing ahold of his cuff, softly calling his name.

He whips around to stare at you allowing you to take full advantage of your close proximity. He's tall and broad as he towers above you, his clothing makes him look sharp and important, as if he could command a room of people and they listen without hesitation.

In contrast, his disposition was soft, worn down by politics and stress bearing down on him with the weight of Arda. Though you couldn't relieve him fully of this weight you could at least make the load seem lighter.

You offer him company on the rest of the walk back to his chambers, the halls oddly empty as the hour was not yet late. You suppose this was for the better as the added traffic would only have exasperated his condition. Chatter was relatively light between the two of you, and though you two had grown close you didn't want to wear him down further with topics of importance.

When you had made it to his door, he hesitated frna moment before allowing you to follow him into his room. It wasn't something new to you however, it was deemed inappropriate by the court for an unmarried individual such as yourself to follow a member of said court into privacy, let alone while he was still in his professional attire. He opens the door and before you enter you glance to both sides once more and follow him on, lightly shifting the door behind you. You turn in search of him and find that he has fallen backward in a large splayed-out lump on top of his bed, legs draped over the side and head inches from the wall.

His arms rest bent over his head, hands atop his eyes as he lets out a deep sigh, letting the stress of the day leave his body as well as he could on his own. You couldn't help the light snort that left you as you took him in, yes he was tired, stressed, more than likely overworked but he was an up and coming leader and you understand that there's an adjustment period to these things that your partner might still be adjusting to.

While he mulls about with his head in his hands and thoughts elsewhere you take the moment to look around his room. It's neat, like normal but there are still things out of place that feel like disarray in the normally spotless, “not a hair out of order” Feanorians room. Books are pulled from their spots and left about on the table in the center of the room, discarded after reading. A half-empty cup of tea remains beside it. The towel he had used earlier in the day has not made its way back to the bathing chamber and sits in a little pool on the floor at his footboard. And lastly, the circlet he had been wearing earlier now rested on the floor, more than likely having been aimed for the table and not bothering to pick it up after hearing it drop to the carpet below. Odd, it was his fathers. He only ever wore it for formal occasions and typically treated it with more care.

You make your way in front of him before bending down to pluck it from the carpet, setting it in its intended place. Once finished, you turn to him.

His arms and hands slide from his face before his eyes reopen and he stares you down.

“Thank you, though you could have left it. I'd have gotten it eventually.”

You give a kind smile in return

“I couldn't possibly leave something so important to you.”

The smile he gives in return is tired and barrel there but it exists and you cherish every moment. Reaching out your hand you offer help, and say “if we hurry then we might still be able to catch supper, I heard they're serving stew tonight.”

It is his favorite after all.

He grabs your hand and attempts to stand before his knees give a weak wobble and he plummets back to the mattress. His body was obviously much closer to shutting down than the two of you had originally suspected.

He drags you down with him as he reconnects with the bed, you landing on top of his broad chest, subconsciously to the expensive fabric beneath your fingers, eyes shutting in anticipation of impact.

When it comes, the impact isn't too bad. The Ellon beneath you is as firm and solid as a wall below, opening your eyes you look up into his and you're surprised. His face is flushed a soft pink as he stares down at you, mouth suddenly filled with cotton neither really capable of speech. You're just about to get up and awkwardly excuse yourself to the hallway in order to take your embarrassment elsewhere when you feel it.

You're resting on something that grows hard against your stomach and as a result, are probably much redder than you were a few seconds prior. Since your eye contact stopped the next few moments would almost be comical as he realized the very moment you figured this situation out. You in turn realize you'd been found out and look away is embarrassment, not entirely sure what your next move should be.

He sits up, slightly shaking as anxiety begins to rack his body.

“I-im so sorry!” he quick to apologize

As you still rest in his lap, fingers tightly holding his velvet tunic you begin to consider a few things. How tired he has been lately, his body probably reacting in many ways due to this. How hard he has been working to do better for the people, his constant commute back and forth from the dwarvish colonies to improve relations, how on top of all of his duties he still manages to do the bare minimum to take care of himself and still sacrificing what little personal time he had for you.

You wonder when he gets time for care, he spends so much of his time caring for others, he does he receive any back.

Perhaps you could do this for him.

Taking the chance, you brace yourself against him and push back, grinding against him. His hands shoot to your hips holding you fast, looking all the more like a deer in sight.

“What are you doing?” he asks

You clear your throat and attempt the best steady voice that you're capable of at the moment.

“ Could I- if it's okay, uh. Help with that?” you ask, gesturing slightly down with your head.

You broke him, you're convinced of it, he hasn't blinked or moved in possibly a whole minute and at this point you're certain that you've just embarrassed yourself enough for the rest of your lifetime, you've ruined all of the time you put into forming this bond with Celebrimbor. You make to get off but his grip on your hips holds firm and he speaks, it's low and soft, barely there at all.

“I couldn't possibly ask..”

Immediately you perk up and backtrack your last thought process.

“You aren't!” you insist “I'm offering, I’d really like to help”.

Another moment passes and he nods in approval turning his head away, possibly embarrassed himself “Alright, if you so wish it..”

After receiving his permission you suddenly feel much more authoritative as you have this powerful looking Ellon below you, wanting your touch.your hands glide up from the fabric of his tunic to his neck stopping at his jaws, forcing his face in your direction his eyes meet yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question is simple but his reaction is almost like it was more intimate a request than touching anything below the belt. The answer isn’t as firm as the last one but he consents. Leaning in you apply soft pressure taking your time to make this count, to make him feel loved, appreciated. This cycle repeats until you slide your tongue along the seam of his mouth, asking for further permission. He shakes a tad but relents and squeezes your hips harder as you suck his tongue into your mouth and give a firm suck, the grunt that leaves him is intoxicating. Pulling away he already looks slightly out of breath and frankly you’re impressed with yourself.

You gently pull his fingers away from your body and move to kneel on the floor in front of him.

His hands now clench onto the fabric of his bedsheets as you take your time dragging up and down the sides of his thighs hoping to bring him more comfort. With a little more confidence your fingers trail over the fabric above his crotch, receiving a sharp inhale in return. Moving to the laces, unlacing them is quick then you make for the hem of his trousers. Looking up, he then understands and lifts up his waist allowing you to pull them further down to his thighs.

He's full and standing at attention, you glance up to him and you don't think you've ever seen his face any redder as he bites his lip in anticipation.

Taking him in hand you give a light kiss to the underside, his head falling back as a gasp leaves him. Continuing to watch his face, you grasped him tighter and began to stroke him up and down, a shudder leaving him at the motion.

In no time you've collected a fair amount of saliva and put it to use, giving a firm lick to the length of him. His breath chokes up for a second as he experiences this for the first Time. You repeat this a few times before taking a breath and wrapping your lips around his head. You hear the sheets stretch on either side of you as you work. Sucking in your cheeks as tightly as you could you swirl your tongue around the head, every so often flicking against the slit across the top.

Now that his noises have worked up to breathy sighs you take this as a sign to kick it up a notch. Bracing your hands on either thigh you push yourself up a little to give yourself a better angle. Tightening your hold on the bottom of his cock you took as much of him in your mouth as you could, barely making it to the top of your hand. Continuing your work and pace with determination you had barely noticed his hips following your pace chasing after the heat of your mouth.

His head is still tossed back as he breathes deeply occasionally gifting you with a groan and now you've given yourself a new goal. You want to make a mess of this man.

Removing your hand from his base you take a much deeper breath and begin to bob your hands as shallowly swallowing with every other bob. His hands shoot to your hair as a moan forces its way out of his throat. You have to try your hardest not to gag as tears prick your eyes and your jaw begins to ache at the size of your task. But you can do better, grinding the head of his cock against the back of your throat you begin to hum, alternating between bobbing and grinding your head in his lap occasionally scraping the tip of your nose against his pelvis.

You can feel his hands trembling in your hair as he doubles over above you, groans and moans trickling freely from his throat as he tries to contain himself from thrusting into your mouth and causing you harm. His feet can't seem to keep still as they slide against the floorboards below and his toes curl tightly under the polished black of his formal boots. The heat in his gut begins to bubble, ready to boil over as he gives a weak effort to warn you of his untimely end

“D-darling I *groan* I don't have much l-longer..”

Doubling down your efforts, you're determined to make his world crumble around him in rapture. Mere moments pass and relief washes over you and your jaw as his body locks, keeping your lips pressed firmly against his pelvis as he throbs out his finish down the length of your throat, a deep moan choking it's way from his depths .

Letting out a shuddered breath he lets go of your body before dropping back to his sheet, trying his damndest to regain his breath. His body feels like jelly and his head empty of all of his previous troubles as he basks in his euphoric high.

Pulling yourself from him you lick your lips in satisfaction as your loved one pants across from you. You make to grab his trousers hoping to help remake his decent before his hands gently cradle and hold onto yours. Sitting up a soft blush has resurfaced to his skin and he looks deeply into your eyes, you can't help but to feel warm as your arousal shoots back up.

“So then is it my turn?”

[necro-hamster]

do you have any advice for digital artist who is just getting started with digital? i have a cheap tablet (wacom) and i use photoshop. thank you!<3 sorry for bad english

ok first of all your english is really good, dont apologize <3 second of all yeah i can give some advice! keep in mind that i am not a professional by any means, im just a 20 y/o who's mostly self taught. took a couple of classes in high school but honestly they didnt teach me much beyond what i already knew unfortunately. still, self taught is something, and clearly my art is decent enough that people enjoy it and are coming to me for advice, so! here's a list of advice i can think of.

stop using photoshop. this might be a bold one to start out with, but don't use photoshop for drawing, man. i know how to use photoshop REALLY well, i'm like taught in it. and that program is ASS even at editing photos, much less drawing. it's outdated and overpriced and really needs to stop being an industry standard. it's one thing if that's the program you've been using for years and you're comfortable with it, but if you're just starting out? ditch that shit. i personally use both sai2 and clip studio paint, but both of those are paid programs. not that i paid for them, but yknow. if you don't want to pirate or pay, some good free programs include krita and sketchbook pro ! also most programs come with a free trial you can test out.

the deform tool is ABSOLUTELY your friend, especially in the sketching phase. the face looks a little off? adjust it a bit instead of redrawing it. make it look perfect. leg not in the proper place? grab it and move it! just keep in mind that you should generally do this before you line/paint/etc. it's best to make these adjustments to the sketch, because oftentimes deforming something will reduce the quality of it. this depends on both the program and the amount of adjustment being done, but as just a general rule best to get this out of the way early on.

flip your canvas. a lot. this will REALLY help you. say you're drawing a guy standing up straight, and you're like huh, this looks kinda weird, but i can't tell why. it just looks super off for some reason. flip the canvas, and i can promise you that that drawing will be leaning all sorts of ways that will be immediately obvious to you once you're looking at it from that angle. make it look good from that angle too and it'll look WAY better from the normal angle.

on the same note, rotate your canvas! it'll really help you out just like rotating a piece of paper when you're drawing traditionally. a lot of people seem to just... not want to do this for some reason? but it's really a big help.

using references isn't just okay, it's something you should ABSOLUTELY be doing. idk why people online used to constantly cry about how using references is cheating, but it's not. using references is a great aid and will drastically improve your art.

use clipping masks !! say, you want to put some sparkles on your character, but you only want them on the character, not the background. instead of tediously going around the character and erasing the leftover sparkles from your brush, you can just make the layer of sparkles a clipping mask above your character layer, and that's it. no cleanup necessary, it'll only be on your character. this is a HUGE help.

experiment with shit!!!! play with brush settings, layer effects, textures, anything. get to know your program, and use everything you have at your disposal. nothing worse than finding out about a feature and thinking 'awh man i wish i knew about this three year earlier' but you just never found it because you never bothered clicking on that button.

i don't have much else at the moment, but if yall have any specific questions go ahead and hit me with em i guess

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[colinzabel]

That evening had been fairly normal, Austin might say. The rain pattering on his abundance of large windows isn’t abnormal to Provincetown, and neither is the robe he adorned along with the glass of red wine he’s swirling within his grasp. He’s spread across his black sofa, back nestled against the armrest and head tossed back, admiring the intricate, wooden ceiling of his den. He should be working — of course, he should. He has a deadline coming up, and no amount of Muse could get him out of this one. It’s just that, well, Austin has other things on his mind. And he isn’t just being lazy for the hell of it, for once. Austin is getting sloppy. Belle is sure to remind him of it. With several winters spent out here, this winter surely is Austin’s hungriest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, honestly. It was always easy getting hold of a junkie, someone forgettable. And Austin is sure he can get back to having that patience, but lately… once he pops one of those suckers, he simply can’t resist. He’s not the sloppiest there’s been out here, no. He still has some sense behind those beady eyes when his stomach growls, but it hasn’t been just those who won’t be missed. And he knows he’s on police radar now. Which gives him an idea of who might be rapping on his door this evening, breaking up the monotony of the rain. He takes a sip of his wine, cherishes the way it slides down his throat with ease, and finally gets up to answer. The stairs creak as he makes his way to the foyer and the door sounds a similar ache as he opens it to reveal a man. A detective, no doubt, but not one he’s seen around. He smiles, and jokes, “oh no! A rogue fan, I presume? Sorry, but I don’t divvy out autographs to stalkers.” His laugh booms in the frigid air, harmonizing with the rain. “I’m only joking, sir. How may I help you this uh,” he looks out at the clouds and then back at the officer before him, “lovely evening?”

@bloodsuckinsommers

It was bizarre. In all his years working on the force, Colin had never seen a case like this one, as stereotypical as it is to say. And he hadn’t been expecting to be called in to assist with this investigation in the first place. A slew of victims, their throats ripped out in a way that he could only describe as animalistic— a rabid dog maybe, something, if not for the lack of any signs of one at any of the crime scenes, nor any sightings around town. Every hint pointed to human involvement, and he couldn’t wrap his head around how. Maybe he didn’t want to, didn’t want to think of what kind of person could be so inhumane, but either way, he ended up doing some digging, landing on a prime suspect— the one and only, Austin Sommers. There was plenty of talk about him around town, though Colin never paid much attention to it, never thought to. in retrospect, maybe he should've— sitting in front of the writers house, he fiddles with his coat before pulling it tight around his torso in a lousy attempt at protecting him from the frigid air and rain as he steps out of his car and makes his way to the front door. It's lavish even from the outside, though it holds a definite amount of charm and uniqueness, what you’d expect from someone like Austin, he supposes. Before he can appreciate it too much though, he’s at the front door, and what he’s met with is a loud personality, one he can’t help but admire, paired with a handsome man, and he can’t help the awkward smile that makes its way across his features. “No stalkers here Mr. Sommers, I promise!” He starts, straightening his spine and adjusting his posture before thrusting his hand out between them as an offer, for Austin to take in a handshake if he chose to. His fingers are cool to the touch, and trembling slightly due to the worsening weather, a shiver coursing through his body as he continues. “I’m Detective Colin Zabel. I’m just, uhm,, Im here to ask you a few questions, if possible. I understand it’s late and all, but I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift Part 4 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Chapter summary: Cute work things (sorry im very hungover and i can't remember what i actually wrote)

Warnings: maybe a bit of second-hand embarrassment, masturbation

W/C: 1.5K

Part 1 Part 5

Monday night, Frankie arrived before you. The day cook, a grizzled old woman named Annette, gave him a toothy grin.

“Evenin’ hotshot,” she said. “You here to make all my dreams come true?”

“Only for a night, darlin’,” Frankie said.

“All you men are the same,” Annette laughed and handed Frankie the spatula. She gave him a to-do list, which was significantly shorter than the one on Friday night had been, bid him goodnight and hightailed it out of there, saying something about dinner with her husband.

Frankie watched the window out of the corner of his eye, waiting for you to arrive. There weren’t many orders up, so he could manage the task of cooking and having his head whip up every time he heard the tinkle of the chimes above the door.

It was almost forty-five minutes after he arrived before you came in, red faced and breathing heavily.

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Riss,” you panted. Marissa shrugged and patted you on the cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, sweet, I had some good company,” she winked at Frankie. “Have a good night, guys, don’t get into too much trouble!”

Frankie watched as you leant over the counter and caught your breath. “Do you want some water?”

You nodded wordlessly, straightening up. Frankie handed you a glass, a shock of electricity surging through him as your fingers briefly touched.

Fuck. He had it bad.

“I had to run here,” you said when you had your breath back. Frankie nodded, waiting for you to continue. “I found a kitten behind a dumpster, all wet and shivering and crying, so I had to take her to the vet.”

“What kind of kitten?” Frankie asked, having a soft spot for cats. He had had one, until he and Portia broke up and she took the cat with her. He didn’t hold it against her: Anthony the Great was technically hers.

“A black one. I’m not good with breeds,” you said.

The conversation was broken up by a pair of old men calling out your name. Your genuine smile was back as you greeted them. Frankie adjusted his cap and smiled to himself.

Occasionally he would glance up at you while he worked, catching the occasional glimpse of your side profile or the back of your head. You seemed a little lighter today, like you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. It was nearing 1 in the morning before he decided to attempt a conversation with you.

“So, how was your weekend?” He kept his tone light, nonchalant. You shrugged, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“It was okay, nothing special.” You stirred in the sugar as you spoke, avoiding his gaze. “My boyfriend has his stupid friends over so I spent most of my Sunday cleaning up after them.” Frankie deflated just a bit. Of course you had a boyfriend. Of course. Someone as beautiful as you . . . he’d be more surprised if you were single.

“But uh, I saw Manny on Sunday,” you continued, oblivious to Frankie’s disappointment. “You remember Manny, right? He was the night cook before you, you met him I think.”

“Yeah, I did. Nice guy.”

“Uh, yeah, so I saw Manny for lunch on Sunday and he suggested making a night shift lunch group.” You wiped down menus, deftly avoiding Frankie’s gaze. “And um, well, if you wanted to come this coming Sunday, that’d be cool.”

“You’re inviting me to lunch?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah,” you said, finally looking up at him. You flushed slightly. “If you’re interested, that is. You don’t have to, obviously, but Manny and I thought it would be nice. We could all get to know each other outside of this place. Make friends, you know?”

Frankie smiled, happy at least with the prospect of a friendship with you. “That sounds great. What time?”

“Midday, if you want you can give me your number later and I’ll text you the place?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Oh, and it’s just us three. So don’t invite the weekend crew, or your wife or anything.”

“I’m not married, so no problem there,” Frankie grinned at you. You nodded quickly, turning away before you could see the smile you were trying so desperately to fight off.

~*~

You didn’t know why it excited you so much that Frankie had said yes to Sunday lunch. Maybe it was because he wasn’t married, not that it made a difference.

Still, it gave you a slight thrill that Frankie had said yes.

You worked with a renewed vigor for the rest of the night. You weren’t sure any amount of rude customers or spilled drinks or broken plates that could bring you down. At one point you found yourself humming along to the radio, some song you hadn’t heard in years by an artist you couldn’t place. You knew it would bug you until you figured it out

“You like Prince?” Frankie asked, making you blush furiously at being caught with your guard down.

“I-uh-I-yeah. Yeah a bit,” you said, “actually, I haven’t listened to him in years. But I like a few of his songs.”

Frankie grinned and began to sing along in a terrible falsetto, making you snort with laughter. You danced along, allowing yourself this moment of freeing yourself of any embarrassment. After all, if Frankie was willing to put on the falsetto, it wouldn’t kill you to dance. The entire thing was ridiculous, but you were having a better time than you had had in months.

Frankie ended the song with a kick and a flourish, taking off his cap to bow dramatically.

“Have you ever thought of auditioning for one of those talent shows?” You grinned at him, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Actually, I’ve won several of them,” Frankie winked, “I just work jobs like this when I’m not on sold out world tours.” You laughed again at his joke, almost shocked at how easy it was to laugh with someone. How freeing it was to dance like a fool and not feel embarrassed or like you were in on the joke and not the butt of it.

The rest of the shift passed quickly, the night peppered with jokes between you and Frankie. At the end of the night, instead of rushing out the door as soon as your relief was there, you waited around a few minutes.

Your phone was mercifully free of messages from Kurt, pushing your mood even higher.

Frankie met you outside by the back door, and looked shocked to see you still there. You held up your phone as a way of explanation. “I still gotta get your number.” You handed your phone to Frankie, already open to the new contact screen. Frankie punched it in quickly and handed it back to you.

“What’s with the emojis?” you asked, squinting at them.

“It’s my nickname, Catfish. My buddies and I all had callsigns in the military and that was mine. Except for Benny. He was just Benny.”

“Catfish,” you repeated. “Well, I’ll see you tonight, Catfish.”

“Yeah, see you tonight.”

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You were too busy thinking. About him. Frankie. His dark, warm eyes that when you looked into them you felt like you could melt. The way his soft looking curls stuck out under his ever present cap. His smile that felt like safety. His hooked nose that led to lips you could only imagine kissing. His hands. You felt yourself warm as you imagined what you wanted his hands to do to you. You let yourself imagine what the rest of his body might look like.

Before you could overthink it and stop yourself, your fingers slipped between your folds and began to rub. You were wetter than you could remember yourself being. You moaned softly as you thought about him doing things to you that you didn’t even realise you wanted. Within minutes you were to your climax, legs stiffening and back arching. Sweat dotted your brow and your heart slammed into your ribcage. You hadn’t orgasmed in almost a year, always too exhausted to masturbate, and it wasn’t like Kurt gave a shit about you finishing when he fucked you.

The thought of Kurt immediately turned you sour. The burning feeling of betrayal knotted itself in your stomach. Kurt didn’t even let you have a vibrator. He had huffed and become scornful when you tentatively brought up the subject a few years back. He didn’t want anyone or anything but him to make you cum. It was a man's job to keep his woman satisfied, even if he struggled with the whole keeping you satisfied part.. You knew Kurt would practically have an aneurysm if he knew you were touching yourself to the thought of another man. But the thought of Frankie touching you gave you a thrill you hadn’t felt in years. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel truly guilty for it. Surely that was some kind of sign.

Eventually, you fell asleep a few hours before your alarm was supposed to go off. Normally, you dreamt of being in your own private space station, as far away from the apartment as possible. That night, you dreamt of Frankie.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 let me know if you'd like to be added <3