#[ don't get me started again on the sizes of ]

[dduane]

I just received a copy of a book I've been very much looking forward to by a favorite author, but the quality of the book itself is... not great. Cheap paper, weak binding, even a weird illustration of the main character on the cover that I'm having trouble believing the author approved. Obviously, I don't want to leave a bad review on Amazon or GoodReads or anywhere, as I'm 100% certain the content is as excellent as her other work. But how can I best let the publisher (Baen) know I'm disappointed without threatening to never buy her books again? Because, well, if this is the only option, I'm gonna keep buying them even in my disappointment.

Well, the first thing I thought when I read this was "Wow, I'm really glad I don't have anything in print from Baen at the moment except a couple of anthologized short stories." :)

As for the rest of it, let's take it point by point.

Adding a cut here, because this will run a bit long. Caution: contains auctorial bitching and moaning, painful illustrations of cases in point, and brief advice on how to complain most effectively. (Also links to paintings of cats.)

Cheap paper: This has been an accurate complaint since well before COVID—and it's often been worse since, with supply chain issues also being involved. That said: one way publishers routinely save money on printing books, especially the bigger ones, is by going for thinner/cheaper paper. I remember one of our UK editors going on at great length and with huge annoyance—during one of those late-night convention-bar bitch sessions—over how the only way they could get some really good books published (because Upstairs insisted on reducing the per-copy production costs) was by reducing the paper quality to the point where you could nearly read through it. Sacrificing decent text size(s) also became part of this. Nobody in editorial was happy about the result: but there wasn't much they could do.

Bad bindings: Similar problem. Sewn bindings used to be a thing in paperbacks... but not any more: not for a good while, now. These days, it's all glue. Even hardcovers are showing up glued rather than sewn. Don't get me started. :/ (This is why I so treasure some of the oldest paperbacks I've acquired, which are actually sewn.)

Crap covers: I've had my share of these—though my share of some really good ones, too. And one of the endless frustrations of traditional publishing is that the writer routinely has little or even no influence over what the cover will look like... let alone how much will be spent on it, or (an often-related issue) how good the execution will be.

There are of course exceptions. If you're working at the, well, @neil-gaiman -esque level or similar in publishing, a lot more attention is going to be paid to your thoughts. You may even be able to get "cover veto" written into your contracts, so that if you disapprove, changes will get made. But without actual contractual stipulations, the writer has zero legal recourse or way to withhold approval. (And I bet even Neil has some horror stories.)

The normal workflow looks like this. After a book's purchased, its editor and the art director discuss what it's about and what the cover should look like. The art director then hires an artist and tells them what to do. After that, the artist executes their vision and gets paid. It is incredibly rare for a writer to have any significant input into this process. And as to whether or not they approve of the final result, well... the publisher mostly just shrugs and goes back to eyeing the bottom line, muttering "Who told them they get a vote?"

Now, I've been seriously lucky to occasionally be an exception in this regard. In particular, my editors at Harcourt (when Jane Yolen and Michael Stearns were editing Harcourt's Magic Carpet YA imprint) would ask me what I thought would be a good idea for the next Young Wizards cover, and I'd think about it a bit and send them back a paragraph or so about some core scene. They'd then talk to their art director, and after that send their notes and mine to Cliff Nielsen (who started doing the covers for the hardcover and mass-market paperback editions of the series in the mid-90s) or to Greg Swearingen (who was the artist on the digest-format editions). And the results, by and large, were pretty good. ...I also think affectionately of the UK artist Mick Posen, who insisted on seeing pictures of our cats before painting the covers for the Hodder editions of The Book of Night with Moon and On Her Majesty's Wizardly Service (the UK title for To Visit The Queen).

But this kind of treatment is a courtesy—not even vaguely suggested in the books' contracts, and very much the exception to the rule. And for every writer who's midlist, there are times when the luck runs out. For example: one time I wrote a book that was an AU-Earth-near-future fantasy police procedural, thematically pretty dark—dealing with issues of abuse of megacorporate power, institutionalized bigotry, and (explicitly) attempted genocide. And the cover, done by an artist who's a good friend and some of whose fabulous art hangs in our house, came out looking like this. It was... let's just say "not ideally representative."

So I was glad, when my local workflow allowed it, to recover the current, revised version of the book with something at least a little more apropos. But the original cover's not the artist's fault. He did what the art director told him... as a cover artist must do to get paid, and (ideally) to get hired again. At present, that's how the system works.

...So. You've got a badly-built and -presented book on your hands. How best to make your feelings known in some way that might make a difference down the line? (As you make it plain that you'll keep buying this author's books this way if you must.)

First of all: when (as part of my psych nursing training) we were taught how to complain most effectively, we were told that the first and most basic rule of the art is this:

Only Complain To Someone Who Can Actually Do Something About Your Problem

So I salute your desire not to waste your time taking the issue to the reviews on Amazon, or the pages of Goodreads... because they can't do anything. The odds that anyone from production at Baen is reading the comments there strike me as... well, not infinitesimally small, not being hit-by-a-meteorite-while-in-the-shopping-center-parking-lot small... but really low.

So: write to corporate.

In your place I would go online and rummage around a bit to find out who's on record as the publisher at Baen. I would then write them a letter on paper. And I would lay out the problem pretty much as you laid it out up at the top.

The tone I think I'd choose would be the more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger approach. I'd say, "I write to comment about your recently published book by [X Writer], whose work I love. I have to say, though, that I don't think the cover on [X Book] is terribly representative of the quality of the prose inside. And also, the construction and production quality of the book itself was a disappointment to me because [here spell out why].

"I'd really like to see [X. Writer's] books succeed with you, and I'd like to buy more of them without wondering whether I was going to be disappointed again. But if this is typical of how they're being produced, I'd also be concerned that the state of these books is setting up a situation in which the author's sales will be damaged, and you would stop publishing them... which would really be a shame. Whereas on the other hand, better production quality could keep previous purchasers coming back and buying, not only more books by this author, but books by others whom you publish."

This phrasing, as you'll have seen, walks a bit wide around the issue of your further purchases, while directing attention toward the bottom line... which will routinely be what the publisher's looking at from day to day. And—being, one has to hope, in possession of the wider picture as regards what's going on with their production costs—maybe they can actually do something about it.

Anyway, nothing ventured, nothing gained, yeah? It's worth a try. All you can do is hope for the best.

And finally: please know that I admire your commitment to the author: whoever she is, she's lucky to have you. It's a terrific thing to have readers who'll willing to spend the time to hunt you down, and who're willing not to judge a book by its cover. :)

[your-internet-bf]

Thinking about showing everyone what a whore you are.

Hanging out with friends, everyone is having a good time, you're sitting next to me on the couch. I turn to the group and say, "hey, watch this." I look you in the eyes and tell you to spread.

Obediently, you open your legs for the whole party to see, smiling so prettily at me. Just the way I trained you. Everyone's laughing, but you're so drunk, you don't really understand why.

I reach a hand between your legs, rubbing so sweetly, and say to everyone else, "come on, come feel how wet she is!"

So our friends gather around, chuckling and teasing as they all lean in to feel you for themselves. I rest one hand on top of your head - you're doing so well for me.

Your whole body is suffused with warmth, now. From the booze and weed, sure, but there's another warmth, isn't there, building inside you. You barely even notice as I help you out of your clothes, but you certainly notice when my cock slaps down on your tummy.

"Hey, wait," you laugh, and as your mouth opens fingers find their way inside. They're not mine. You aren't sure whose they are. There's a raw attitude building in the room, and more and more hands are on you every second, more lips, more probing fingers.

With a jolt, you feel me push inside. You've never quite gotten used to my size, and it feels so fucking good as I stretch you out inside, pressing in every direction, and you can't help but moan with my strong, deep strokes.

Another cock is by your mouth, pushing at your lips, then another. Someone grabs your wrist and puts your hand on their cock, and someone is riding your other hand, now. I press down on your tummy as I fuck you, and hands caress your hips, your moans obstructed by the cocks in your mouth. You're such a good girl that you try to focus through the pleasure to stroke what's in your hands. People are laughing, aren't you proud to be the heart of the party?

Abruptly, the cock in your hand spasms, and you feel the hot, sticky cum shoot onto your bare tummy. Your breath catches in your throat, and with three quick, perfect strokes inside you, you cum, cum for me, writhing beneath the hands and attention of all your friends, and as you contract around me I can't help it either. You hear me moan something, indistinct over the noise of the party, over the noise of your exhibition of lust, and you feel it shoot deep inside you, spraying your womb, dripping out as I continue to thrust into you.

I pull out, slapping your aching cunt, watching you flinch. You're begging now, you need more, don't you? I half pull, half carry you over to the coffee table, and push you down on one side.

I lift one leg up, and as I force your tight little ass to spread for my thick, veiny cock, I grab your hair and pull your head back. You feel pressure as someone else, you don't even know who and I won't let you see, slides their cock inside you, my cum still dripping out. Their cock isn't nearly as thick, but it's long, long, long. You gasp as our friend pushes your cervix up into you, fucking you quick and deep as I impale you on my cock.

You start crying, hands covering you again, kisses on your neck, your shoulder blades, your spine, your fingers, and you cum again, intoxicated by the attention, losing yourself in the hedonism of it all...

After you don't know how long, you feel me pull out. You're not even sure if I came or not, but the space is filled soon enough. As you feel the warm wetness of a tongue caress between your legs, you overhear me on the phone.

"Yeah, man, get over here. Bring everyone. Oh, don't bring any condoms. You're not gonna believe this..."

[chamomiletealeaf]

Based on a True Event

So a few months ago my family went to Busch Gardens and I wanted to see the penguins before they closed so my family and I went back in but our tickets wouldn't scan. We got the tickets from my dad since he was working there. The people were super rude and wouldn't let my mom in and told her to go all the way to the back of the line and it took us forever to get in.

But imagine this with Simon, and he makes it all better.

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to hate on customer service workers. I am a customer service worker myself, this is just my experience with the Busch Gardens people lol.

Warnings: none :) just a bunch of fluffiness and Simon being in love with you.

You convinced Simon to take you to an amusement park you've been dying to go to. When he finally said yes you were ecstatic and couldn't wait to have fun with him in one of your favorite places.

"Si come on! Hurry before the line fills up!" You pull him along, wanting so badly to get into the park.

"Alright alright I'm coming." Simon grumbles, but he can't help but smile at your giddiness.

"They have penguins here! Can we go there first? Please? I want to see them so bad they're so cute!" You beamed up at him in the line to get into the park.

"Of course love whatever you want." He says with a smile.

You two were next in line to have your tickets scanned by the workers who looked like they'd rather be anywhere but there.

Not wanting to upset them further, you quietly held your phone out to scan the ticket.

Beep

The scanner makes a chiming noise and a big red "X" comes up on the reader.

"Ticket's no good." The worker says emotionless, not even looking up at you.

"What?" You ask panicking, looking at Simon for help.

"Here try mine." Simon says, stepping in front of you to scan his ticket.

Beep

The scanner dings again, but this time it was a happier tone and a green checkmark shows up.

"You're good, have a great day sir. You miss are gonna have to go to the back of the line and try again or leave. NEXT!" The worker says, and you raise your eyebrows in shock.

"Wait so he can go in but I can't? Can't you try again? Please we've been waiting all day to be here." You plead with the worker, sadness filling your eyes at the thought of not being able to see the cute little penguins you've been dying to see swim and waddle around.

"Sorry miss, you can try buying another ticket for another day or you can leave. You're holding up the line." The worker says, scanning other people's tickets and not looking at you.

Your eyes start to fill with tears of frustration and sadness knowing that Simon was going on deployment soon and you don't know when else you would be able to do this with him again. You look up at Simon looking devastated and he can't take it.

That's when he steps in.

The worker senses his presence and looks up at him. Simon crosses his arms and looks down at him, intimidating the guy so much that he actually makes eye contact with you two for the first time.

"Listen mate, the missus here has been waiting ages to get in here, and I'm never one to leave my woman unsatisfied. So you're either gonna let her in with me, or I'm gonna have to find a way to get her in myself." Simon stares down at the smaller man, who is now showing a fearful expression instead of a bored and uninterested one upon seeing Simon's scars and tattoos let alone his towering size.

And without another word the worker opens the turnstile and rushes you two through.

"Have a nice day you two!" He says, as if he wasn't shitting his pants right now at Simon's threat.

"Yeah that's what I thought." Simon grumbles under his breath.

You jump with joy and kiss Simon's cheek.

"Yay! Thank you honey!" You chime. "Let's see the penguins!" You say, practically pulling Simon's arm off rushing him along.

"Ok sweetheart I'm coming." He laughs.

"That was really hot." You say, leaning into his arm.

"What was?" He asks with a smirk, wanting to hear you say it.

"Sticking up for me. You're hot when you're all big and scary." You say with a giggle.

"Well of course, like I said, I'm never one to leave my missus unsatisfied. In any way." He whispers into your ear with a smirk while he squeezes your waist and you blush at his innuendo.

Then you spot the penguins and you squeal with excitement.

"Simon look! the babies!"

You run up to the tank to admire the little penguins. They were African penguins. Small and cute.

"Oh Simon, look at their little waddles! How cute are they!" You coo at the penguins watching as they waddle and swim around in their tank.

"Funny little blokes aren't they." Simon says, but he's not looking at the penguins.

Simon is watching you.

Simon stands next to you and admires your joy and how much you glow when you're happy like this. It's something he lives for. It's why he risks his life out on the battlefield every deployment. So you can have a fulfilling life. Everything Simon does is for you, and he can sleep better at night knowing that even though he's murdered, even though he's done heinous things, you will always be the one good thing that keeps him from falling into the darkness.

As Simon gets lost in his thoughts and love for you, a penguin waddles it's way up to you behind the glass.

"Simon! baby get a picture! Look at this little sweetie!" You say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to pull his phone out to snap a picture of you and the penguin.

The penguin flaps his wings playfully and you lean down to it's level and turn your head, making a kissy face pretending to give the penguin a kiss on the head.

Simon takes the picture and immediately makes it his lock screen and home screen.

You walk up to him to see the photo and smile.

"It's perfect! He's the cutest, sweetest little baby isn't he?" You ask and Simon just nods and smiles, thinking that you're actually sweetest thing.

Then, a penguin waddles out with a feather pattern that looks like it's wearing an eye mask. The penguin was white with black splotches of feathers on his body, but it's head was black, with a white mask around the eyes.

You notice it, and you gasp.

"Simon! It's you!" You excitedly exclaim and tap his arm getting him to look.

"It's a Ghost penguin!" You say, and he laughs out loud at that.

"Oh baby c'mon you gotta take a picture with it. Please? For me? It'll be so cute!" You plead, and how can Simon resist your glittering eyes and the crinkle in your nose from your smile.

"Ok ok. Just one picture though." And he walks up to the tank to pose with the penguin and you snap a picture, immediately sending it to Johnny and making it your lockscreen and homescreen as well.

Simon comes back to your side and you show him the picture, which earns another laugh out of him.

"Thank you honey." You tell Simon.

"For what?" He asks.

"For doing this for me. For being the best boyfriend in the world. For showing me what real love is like." You say with a smile, and Simon looks down at you.

Simon isn't one for PDA, but there was something about you in this moment that he couldn't resist kissing you right there in front of the penguins and all those around the exhibit.

"You're welcome my love." Simon whispers and smiles against your forehead after breaking the kiss.

You two spent the rest of the day walking around the park, forcing Simon to go on rides with you, and occasionally passing the penguins again where Simon buys you a little stuffed penguin that you named "Ghost", after the penguin that looked like Simon with his mask in the exhibit.

And that night, you two fell asleep in each other's arms with little penguin Ghost between you, exhausted from the long day of walking and fun, knowing that tomorrow you would both awaken in the morning seeing the one thing you both live to see:

And that's each other.

[mpregandproud]

The man of my dreams

Getting pregnant was the best thing I've ever done in my life. I used to be the invisible kid in class. I was skinny, unattractive, nobody noticed me. I never had a boyfriend, and I had a hard time finding a guy to fuck. But sometimes life has surprises in store.

One night at a fraternity party I got drunk and woke up the next day naked on a bed. I didn't remember anything that had happened the day before, but something in me felt different.

It took me a couple of weeks to figure out what it was. That night I don't remember I got pregnant. I was carrying a baby.

A month into the pregnancy, my belly was already showing a little. My skin glowed, my hair looked better than ever and my body grew. Something clicked with my fellow faculty members because from that day on I started getting visitors in my room or they would offer to accompany me to the bathrooms every time I had to leave class to pee. And it only got better as the months went by.

Frank, Isaak, Daniel, David, Aaron, Scott, Bruce, Bob… there wasn't a guy who didn't approach me since I got pregnant. Tall, muscular, blondes, brunettes, attractive, and with huge dicks. My ass had never had such a good time as it had these past few months.

But there was only one problem. The one guy I'd always liked, the one I'd been talking to at that party nine months ago, George, was the only one who hadn't paid any attention to me. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Tall, athletic, intelligent, dark hair and beard. Someone mysterious, but successful. The man of my life, even if he didn't know it yet.

These last few weeks, on the other hand, my sexual activity has slowed down quite a bit. My huge belly, I am expecting triplets after all, prevents me from going to class every day. The doctor has recommended me to rest, so my encounters have gone. My pleasure lately is to eat like a pig, while lying in my underwear on the couch watching episodes of Friends.

One of these days, while I was devouring two huge pizzas, the doorbell rang. With great difficulty I got up and approached the door. I had to stop a couple of times, because for the last couple of days the contractions have started. I'm about to give birth, it's nothing unusual.

When I opened the door my water almost broke. The man that was waiting only lives in my dreams. George was standing there, wearing a tight white T-shirt that showed all his muscles. I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to say, I was speechless:

- "Hello, handsome" - He said to me with a perfect smile.

- "H... h... hi. What are you doing here?" - I answered with a blush on my face. Was that a dream I was seeing?

- "I think you have something that's mine… ours. Don't you?"

- "What do you mean?" - I was speechless again. What would I want to say.

- "Nine months ago we were together... don't you remember? I was scared after fucking you, it was my first time with a man and I never felt that good with someone. I was stupid, I ran away and I haven't dared to come back here".

- "You? Was it you? Did you get me pregnant?"

- "Yes, I think I did. I spent the night with you, we were together all the time and after many drinks you took me to bed."

- "Thank you. I couldn't say anything else..."

- "Thank you?"

- "Yes, thank you for giving me the greatest gift of my life." - We were both crying and smiling at the same time.

- "Get the over here!" - He grabbed my face with his two strong hands and kissed me with a passion I had never felt before.

We kissed and went to the bed. He helped me take off my boxers and ate my whole cock. Fuck, what is this, I've never been so hard. If I didn't cum four times I didn't cum any, and this had only just begun.

With the same confidence with which he appeared in my house he grabbed my belly on both sides and kissed every inch of my skin and sucked my breasts that were already a considerable size with milk. My body was filled with an electricity that I had never experienced before. I was in heaven. This is real love.

When I thought it was all over, he opened my legs and pushed his penis in. A slow, gentle movement. The gentleness, the pleasure, the rhythm. Again, this man is a sex god, and the father of my children. He is mine. He is mine. HE IS MINE.

And then... the waters broke. A whirlwind of water rushed out of me. The three little people who united us forever were coming. In the end I will not give birth alone, George is here with me. Dad and daddy, finally together.

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

Ooof, Benedict with a breeding kink? Bestie, thats SO TRUE! If you have more on this, please please please share

Bestie this goes for you nasty <3 - Part of the E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ Series

To be Here

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: +18 topics, very explicit imagery stuff

Notes: More of married life! Solid storyline but with nasty stuff too. I am already making a general Maserlist and this story's ML. Thank you for reading! Who is ready to see Benny baby heartbroken bc of Tilly Arnold? Don't worry, Sophie is coming!!

WC: 5.7K

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 @ravenwtfbro @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dollarstore-lydia-deetz @mmmunson

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. It seemed only yesterday he was a rebel of society's rules, a hedonistic gentleman between the crowd, the funny joke amongst the Bridgertons and the forever seeker of what his siblings were finding.

But now as he took one teaspoon of sugar and dropped it into a tea cup and avoided the milk at all costs he wondered how he got so smitten. He made sure to twirl the spoon with all his energy, he wanted you to drink it and beam at the flavour and as he looked through the window he spotted your curious stroll outside.

Your hair was loose, beautifully curved by the ends and your blue dress with its straight skirt and your short sleeves with a squared neckline made you look so tranquil as he always knew you needed to feel. He snorted however at your insistence; you walked again to the rose bushes and started picking some flowers that fell into a basket by your arm.

He silently stared at your figure as you took more flowers from a corner and then you laid by a blanket spread by the grass and laid the roses over them. You were creating something. The wind was playing with your hair as you moved, Benedict knew that even without a paintbrush he could spend an eternity looking at you.

He saw the way you took the flowers and split the petals, you organized them -by size, he learned- and then you took a small mortar and pestle and started crushing them. His mind went immediately to a few weeks ago, the day when he was painting in his studio and you entered with your smile and giggles telling him you might have dropped some of your pigmented materials in your dress and oh my when he turned... your complete chest was damped in whatever mixture you concocted and the violet water was spreading through your skirt.

He solved it by taking your dress off. It was the most beneficial mistake he could ever think of.

He looked down and "Damn it" the tea grew cold so he took it for himself and made sure to make another one only for you

When he stepped outside he breathed the humid air of Wiltshire and squinted at the sunlight.

“That dim studio of yours is damaging your eyesight” you mumbled not even staring up at him

Benedict smirked and sat in front of you, laying the new tea cup beside you. You were still focused on your flowers but the smell of the chamomile reached your nose.

You looked up and met the clear eyes of the loveliest man on Earth “Hi”

“Hello. Drink now before it gets cold again”

“Again?”

“Never you mind” he gave you the tea cup and waited until you sipped the warm liquid and he felt proud of doing it good for you as you smiled “Good?”

“Yes, thank you”

“What do you get here?”

“Nothing special”

“Tell me”

You shrugged “I never got my hands on any type of cosmetics, and now I want to see if I can do my own”

“Cosmetics?” He smiled seeing your dedication to your cause “You can get cosmetics rather than produce them”

You gave him a stoic face “By now you should know I enjoy mixing things… husband”

Benedict chortled “Forgive me I do know, my alchemist”

“And more with the fact that when I used to go to the Cowpers, me and Cressida took Mrs Cowper’s cosmetics and something smelled bad”

“You mean…?”

“Whatever is in there smelled like lead”

“Oh”

“Or ammonia” you nodded “Should I put it in my face? I believe not”

“I believe not too” he took the mortar and saw the crushed petals “My herbologist wife”

“Shush it” you took it from his hands “How is your paint going?”

“It is” he hummed next and looked at the sky “I wonder who wants a painting of a pond when you have the sky looking like such” Then he turned to see your hair falling to your face and you staring intently at the mixture of petals “or this view as well”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Sir Richard will come tomorrow to take a view at the painting”

“Sir Richard is the one whose daughter is getting married to the man with the weird moustache right?”

Benedict nodded “And I have heard something about that weird moustache man”

"Oh please do tell"

Sipping the tea and enchanting words of upper-class London Benedict you could quite put Lady Whistledown out of business. It was after dinner when you two parted ways for the late night. Benedict often despised the new routine he had after getting married. He felt the pressure of working most of the time with airs of copying Anthony's lifestyle. Oh he knew his brother would love the new him of glorious morning and tedious late-night work.

"At least I am not the first-born" he mumbled as he passed the brush over a missed spot by the corner

Yet, he might not be the firstborn but he sure still holds the Bridgerton name. Why on earth does he feel he must work and work? He does have a fair good amount of money to last through his lifetime and his future children's as well.

"Pffff" he groaned and let his hand drop the brush into the easel he looked around his studio and then up to the clock, 10 pm.

Wherever those nights go when he just stood still by the loveseat in front of the vanity and he watched as you performed such a delicate night routine? Wherever those moments of you naturally letting your gown fall over your naked body?

And now as he stepped surely but slowly inside the room, he now was greeted with your sleeping figure wrapped under the blankets but not his arms. He pouted and walked towards the bed, sitting by the edge and seeing the moonlight falling on your hair. He brushed your locks behind your ear and you shifted a little.

He stared for a while and answered his own question. People request painting of ponds and dogs and wars because they haven't met you yet.

By morning you let your open-mouthed of a husband sleep until he could wake on his own terms and you managed to arrange all the necessary things to host dinner for Sir Richard. You scratched your temple for the thousandth time as Mrs Crabtree explained the dinner service and how a proper nibble can be served during the painting exhibition.

The millionth time you have hosted these events and you still do not like them. You smiled however at the help brought by the Crabtrees and took a glance at the painting Benedict left almost done during the night.

And when noon came and you already taken your usual spot by the garden and started writing in your journal while stealing the newspaper that was laid for Benedict’s eyes.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss breakfast again”

You turned to the side and saw Benedict walking out with only a robe and his hair completely dishevelled.

“If I say no would that help?” You smiled and held a glass of fresh juice for him to drink. He gladly took it and drank until the last drop as he sank to the blanket on the grass.

“I just loathe this. I feel like I am waking up after a party”

You shrugged not knowing the feeling he expressed “How was that?”

“Full of unprocessed Brandy through my veins” he mumbled and saw the tea set by your side. A slight pinch in his chest made him feel so bad “Anyhow” he took your hands and kissed them smelling the rose water from your pores “How are you this morning?”

“Tired”

“Then you should have been with me in bed”

“And leave Mrs Crabtree alone for tonight?”

“I forgot how proper you are” Benedict rolled his eyes and rested his head on your lap and you automatically caressed his scalp. You were reading the paper once again and he tried to read it at your pace but somehow you have started the day with loads of energy compared to him.

“Love,” he said out of nowhere

You removed the newspaper from your sight and looked down “Yes?”

“…Nothing… I’m restless”

“I’m sorry to hear that” you replied and your hands trapped his face and you went down to place a kiss on his forehead

“Keep on”

You chuckled at his response and continued to kiss him all over his face. You loved how he would sigh at each kiss, it was a silent praise.

It was when you reached his lips that any tiredness he was preaching to have disappeared.

He sat down and turned your body towards his. You kept on kissing until he pushed you to the ground and the newspaper was completely forgotten.

“I thought it was me trying to comfort you,” you said

Benedict arched a brow. He might not be tired anymore, he could -oh he could- keep it up until he has you underneath him with your breasts exposed and the tea cup freezing cold by the corner and yet the beautiful smirk you have with your teeth biting your lower lip and the natural beauty of your face made him understand you really wanted to comfort him.

“Forgive me” he smiled and pulled apart “Please carry on”

You saw how he laid on his back and you followed him, your lips met his and a small giggle came from him. He was the most endearing man on Earth as he waited with his blue eyes widely opened.

You kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose and you bit his jawline making him hum.

Then your lips found his once again and this time he deepened the kiss, his tongue met yours and he could have sworn his soul left his body for a moment. Biscuits, tea, and juice. The flavour of this day.

Your “comfort” reached his neck while you kissed his skin, your hands played with the robe and the knots tied together. Whatever you want to do he is yours.

But then he opened his eyes at the absence of your touch and then you were swiftly tugging your dress. Your arms contorted as you expertly removed the buttons from the back and then let your dress fall to your hips.

Benedict was in a trance as his eyes roamed your form. He wondered if he did anything to deserve your touch or your presence at all.

You just smiled, sweetly yet provocatively when you showed your bare chest. No more petty coats, no more rib-breakers, only freedom in this Wiltshire cottage.

“My God” he licked his lips wanting to taste your skin

But you went to the knot and untied it, his robe fell apart and your hands went to his chest, pushing him down and you climbed him.

Your kisses trailed over his torso and he felt himself growing harder.

His eyes went to the heavens above, a sky full of white clouds... No. He can't just stay, he needs to do something. He sat down and his hands travelled down to your hips, his lips went to your breasts and your head went backwards as he sucked on your nipples and he grunted when he was pushed from the latch he had on you.

He gave you a stern look that faded with the force of your own eyes. You silently told him to stay on his back.

“Fine” he murmured to you

Your fingers found the hem of his night breeches, the ones he never wears. You found the thin cotton fabric easy to remove from his lower part and you were greeted quite happily with his arousal.

Benedict was watching attentively your actions and he gulped as you bent down and kissed the tip of his member.

A hiss came from his mouth as you wrapped your lips around him and started moving slowly. The once-dried skin slowly turned into a glistening shade of pink with your spit.

Once, twice, that head of yours bobbed to a perfect lazy rhythm and he was fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth. His hands found the back of your head and tangled themselves in your soft hair.

His grunts filled the air along with the sounds of you sucking him and the wind rustling the leaves and branches of the trees.

"You are so good to me," he said as he moved the stray hair from your face

Your mouth moved up and down and up again and you moaned in response making Benedict sigh in turn. He closed his eyes and you increased the speed. His member touched your palate and went further to the back of your mouth and as you pulled back your tongue tried to lick it further.

Benedict looked down and he had the most beautiful view. His cock disappeared in between your lips and you were so dedicated, the sounds were so wet and the feeling was so hot. He could explode just by looking at it but he couldn't.

How many times you have swallowed his seed? He couldn't count them anymore but he was sure to enjoy every single time too. He relishes the moment his cock pumps inside your mouth and you, loyal to the moment, keep taking his member while your tastebuds tingle at the warm bitter fluid. He loves and admires the movement of your throat when you swallow him and your lips stay most of the time clean.

Today? No, he doesn't need that view. He needs the one that makes him go to heaven and come back. He needs, he craves to see your core contracting with the remains of your orgasm while his seed flows out of you. He requires to see it again and again.

However, while he was picturing such a carnal moment in his mind, your mouth -full of energy- had the upper hand. Your breasts bounced with your fast movements and your mouth kept giving too much spit for you to glide up and down.

Lo-" he grunted as he felt the tensed muscles by his stomach "Y/N-"

You didn't stop and Benedict was quite undone by the blanket that made you feel such pride. You went again and again until it seemed his hands tried to stop you.

It was too late.

Benedict saw how you drank him fully, a small drop landed by your upper lip but apart from that, you did so well and still Benedict after the shock of his release, was not satisfied. Not because of you but because of his lost fantasy of coming inside of you. This day was not starting as he expected and he predicted it would be long before he could change it.

Hours after what happened you two prepared for the arrival of another client. The Crabtress returned from town with a special order; a cake Sir Richard enjoys (according to Violet Bridgerton) and you took your precious jewels and gave a final touch to your appearance. Not having a lady has made things far better in your opinion although your mama still finds it quite "offensive".

"You look splendid" Benedict said as you reached the end of the staircase

"And you look quite handsome" You gave an unconscious brush to his tailcoat and waited for the carriage to arrive

Sir Richard, with unwashed blonde hair and a subtle beard, made himself present in My Cottage. His beige tailcoat made him look so monochromatic and his pale complexion so bland but you have met him a few times to say that he was far better than other clients Benedict has invited for dinner.

"Mr Bridgerton" he happily said and shook hands with Benedict "Good to see you well"

"Sir Richard" Benedict smiled and nodded "It is a pleasure to have you"

"Thank you" his eyes drifted to your side and smiled "Mrs Bridgerton, radiant as always"

"Thank you, Sir Richard. I hope you will enjoy the dinner we have planned"

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it between his own "Just Richard, my Lady. Formalities" he sighed looking at Benedict "Are well forgotten back in London, no?"

With his laughter, the evening began. Still, the image of Benedict as someone who throws a dinner for a client and you by his side seemed out of your mind as if this was too much of a tryout for you both and still, protocols and politeness were still very present.

"Tell me" Sir Richard started "Is it true?"

"I'm afraid not to know what is true, Richard"

"That my future son-in-law has been seen roaming at night through the streets of London?"

Your wine got stuck in your throat, this is what you and Benedict were gossiping about yesterday so you locked eyes with your husband who blinked away with aim of diverting the talk.

"Oh, I wouldn't know Si- Richard"

He turned around and looked at you as he passed the tray of vegetables "What say you, Mrs Bridgerton?"

"Well" you tried to remember what else Benedict had told you "I haven't heard of that"

"Please, it is all over that dubious pamphlet... Mr Alvey spotted lurking around London" he shrugged "I told my daughter about it but she is, well, adamant"

"If I may," you said leaving the tray away "I have seen that pamphlet and is not like Lady Whistledown"

"No, it is not"

"Perhaps we can take whatever source and words are inked there with a grain of salt, can we not? Lady Whistledown has written things that by the end of the week can be verified but this pamphlet I believe has failed to do so"

Sir Richard nodded and brought a string bean to his mouth "Mr. Bridgerton, you got a gem"

"Oh, I know"

"Tell me, do you write?"

Your fork was forgotten on top of your plate as you blinked at the man “I-“

“Forgive me for the questioning. I recently talk with your father and he told me you wrote constantly. Now, I just wonder if you recall your days or you write about different things?”

“I do have many opinions” you admitted and gave a quick glance at Benedict

"And do you have a lot of time to write them down? I Believe so, this house is not yet filled with children, which don’t get me wrong they are lovely but free time can be used otherwise to spread solid sentences. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You tried to smile as your cheek grew hotter with each second that passed and the food was turning colder.

"Indeed" Benedict replied "And what are you trying to suggest, Richard?"

"You could give her a chance, write under the pen name Mrs Bridgerton and we could all know the wife of the second son; the painter. After all, my newspaper is known not for being traditional and I have employed plenty of women and not for cleaning the presses may I add”

"It would be an honour but I do not have the knowledge"

Benedict was first to give a smack with his lips at the absurdity of your comment “Nonsense”

“I mean” you smiled at him “knowledge of writing professionally. Although Eloise once blamed me for being Whistledown and that was a high yet ridiculous compliment, in reality I know nothing of publishing my thoughts”

“you always publish them with me” Benedict smiled lost in how the conversation was directed “and you do it superbly”

Sir Richard -sorry, Richard- laughed loud and strong “There you are. What do you think, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“And write about?”

Richard took his glass of wine and drank, his throat was dry after such a laugh, his cheeks flushed red and he took a minute to reply as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Write about the things no one wants to discuss" he leaned closer to the table, the candles illuminating his face and his green eyes were now focused on you "Facts, stories, good knowledge but also centred in your own opinion and tied to the readers”

You chuckled at the blurriness of his motive “Care to give me an example?”

"There were some household machines people around in London were patenting. Write about it, give your opinion, and ask the readers whether they like it. Would they use them?”

You fastly blinked at the proposition “S-Richard, that is quite an offer. I wonder if you got the right au-“

“I don’t mean to intrude in what seems to be a fruitful talk” Benedict said “But before you downgrade your knowledge which I know surpasses mine. I would say you could start small, no? Just write something simple, no need to be a machine or a new invention. What would you love to write about, darling?"

You sighed and took a sip of wine, thinking for a moment. Then an idea was formed in your mind.

"The importance of a full education for women… I might ask the readers” You looked at Sir Richard “ what do they think about it” you puffed "I'm sorry you said simple" You referred to Benedict "I ju-"

"That word doesn't fit into your vocabulary" your husband smirked

“I enjoy it now. We must talk about logistics. My press is in London and Wiltshire is not Surrey if you know what I mean”

Benedict saw your barely touched dinner and smiled at the man “We ought to but please let us eat something before I faint"

Dinner was a success, the cake was served and a new friend was made. When it was time to leave the men alone inside the art studio you waited by the tea room with your journal on the table. The inked words kept piling up forgotten in each page. If Sir Richard is right, you could be the next Lady Whistledown but then the consequences would be different.

"No such thing" you whispered to yourself

Employment. You laughed. What is this about? A pound per column published? Is it truly worth it when your name is known because you so desperately tried to make your opinion known?

The day already proved to be long and heavy. You waited for the men to finish without any activity to occupy yourself. It would have been different if the guest brought his wife, just like previous meeting you would offer her to talk or play cards if she looked high-spirited.

When you heard the doors creaking open you stood up and put your journal away to join the men. Pleased faces both of them as Benedict took the man's tailcoat by the entrance.

"Ah Mrs Bridgerton. It's been a while since I don't have such a nice evening"

"Thank you, Richard"

"We should have done it before" he looked at Benedict "I should have done this with your father, but oh well. Benedict, we must stay communicated this month and you Mrs Bridgerton I will send you some information this week that will make you change that puzzled look in you"

"I'll receive it gladly"

"Very well. Full stomach, good hosts I will sleep well tonight. Mr Bridgerton, I will see you later"

"You will. Have a good trip back home"

You followed him to the door and bid farewell to the man, his carriage was already outside and he was ready to depart and when he did you sighed long and steady until you saw Benedict's face.

"So?"

He shrugged "He needs a second one, just smaller but he loved it. Quite the mood he was seeking for his office he said"

You smiled and your cheek fell to his warm arm "There you go then"

"Thank you for today, for last night, for everything," he said in a soft voice and placed a kiss on your head

"What a day"

"You go upstairs I will thank the Crabtrees for preparing dinner"

"Uhum" you said mostly dazed and tired, you followed the stairs and turned to walk to the main chamber.

The candles were lit and the bed was made and ready for you to lay down and what a fall you had against the duvet. You exhaled and closed your eyes, feeling the soft fabric caressing your skin. Minutes later your ears took the noise of the door as Benedict's presence. You rolled and saw how fast he took his clothes and landed by your side.

His hand took your hair and caressed it, his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

"I must confess something" he whispered

"What?"

"I am... not content"

You frown and try to prop your head up with your hand "You're unhappy?"

"No, it's not unhappy just not content"

"Isn't that the same?"

"No" He sighed and turned his face to look at the ceiling "I am quite happy with you, with my family, with this place... with you and with you"

"Alright"

"But I..." he scratched his brow "I don't enjoy whatever I built of myself as an adult in terms of my profession" he saw your listening face and continued "It is a good living, it is a good business I can't complain about that. However, I feel off. Not here, not there but most of all not here"

"Not here?"

"Not with you. Fully and I know it's not as if you need my constant presence by your side-"

"Who said that?"

Benedict gently smirked "What I mean is that I must pause this work. We have enough money to last our lifetime..." he paused, his eyes dancing "And... perhaps one kid's lifetime"

"And if we have two?"

"Alright, two kids' lifetime but not for our grandkids"

"Hmmm. Then our kids will have to work" you laughed while Benedict joined you seconds later "I understand what you mean"

"I do will leave money. I will work at some point" he justified

"I don't mind that" you confessed "I know you don't enjoy rushing things and clearly you feel you rushed into this work-for-commission task when you feel you should be here with me"

Benedict's chest tickled in warmness as he heard his thoughts coming from your mouth "My dear, you just get me don't you?"

"You were never difficult to read for me"

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, his lips kissing yours softly, his nose brushing your cheek, his heart racing. He was not sure what he would do if you were not by his side.

"You know," he said "If you are truly tired I will understand but" his hand pressed your arm and traced down at your waist "I want to be here tonight with you"

"Depends on how you want to be here" you murmured

"Let me tell you" he kissed your hand and then hovered on top of you "Let me show you" he kissed your lips, sweetly and locked eyes with you "I want to find my way in you, in your open hands," he said merging your fingers with his, tightly "and that you feel like a woman only with me" his free hand caressed your breast through the fabric and then his lips took yours "Today and tomorrow and the days after I want to be here. Today I want you" his hand reached for the bottom of your dress and he slowly pushed it upwards, the skin of his legs brushing yours as his knee opened your thighs.

"I want to be here with you," you said between a murmur and a kiss, his weight was on top of you and his eyes were bright in the light, the shadow of the candles making his face look sharper and the blue of his eyes deeper and darker.

Benedict licked his lips and pulled apart only to hastily remove your stockings. He put his arms behind your back as you arched it, his fingers undid the buttons and pushed the sleeves down. He did not wait and grabbed the dress and threw it to the side.

Your breasts tempted to move out of the corset and Benedict exhaled as he removed it and it reminded him again how unnerving these pieces were and how good is to have you not wearing one daily.

"I want to be here, now" he repeated with each kiss he gave you, his tongue tasted you and his hands touched your thighs "I want to quench this thirst" he moved down to your nipples and licked once, licked twice "This thirst of my soul on your lips or-" he gulped seeing the absence of your pantalettes and the readiness of your core

His tongue attacked your folds and licked in slow, steady motions that had you trembling. Your head was buried on the duvet and your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh my-Benedict" you moaned as his tongue flicked

Benedict sucked and slurped as he pushed a finger inside and turned up to see your wanton eyes and parted lips "Oh my Y/N" he mimicked and resumed his movements

A second finger joined while the pace was increasing; he sucked your nub and pushed his fingers up. His tongue played with his fingers as they slid in and out and he moaned against you with the real juices only you can produce but he knew he was owing you so many orgasms already. He has not let you set free in his face for almost a week and knowing you, you are counting.

He pulled apart and removed his fingers, his thumb rubbed the sensitive spot while his mouth kissed his way up to your neck.

"Benedict"

He moaned and bit your earlobe "Y/N"

"More"

"I will give it all," he said "I promise"

Swiftly, his wet fingers grabbed his member and he stroked himself before pushing it into your folds.

"I love you" he kissed your lips

"I love you more"

"You're all mine" he thrusted only once "And I am so yours" he pulled back and slammed until you were only one

Your hands were holding his sides as he pounced into you, his hot breath heated your cheek as he groaned and growled with each push. He was so strong and so hard and yet so soft. Your lips brushed and kissed as your walls tightened.

"Oh, dear god" he moaned as his pace slowed down "Are you close?"

"I..." you softly snorted "Is too much" You felt your navel tensing "Almost"

"So fast" he whispered and kissed your bottom lip "I am praised for that" Benedict groaned and pushed in and out, in and out. He could feel the build-up inside his navel and the pressure was too much already.

Wait. He thought. Just make it last a bit more. Be here. Be here.

And he saw you underneath against the olive duvet and how glorified you looked with your pink cheeks and parted lips. With your breasts bouncing with his pace and your nipples getting hard then turning soft. And as he caressed your stomach while slowing the thrusts he knew that to be here meant something else.

Six months after you got married he has wasted time trying to find where he fits but he now sees he has always fit with you -no jest intended- six months and he hasn't had it right until now. He wants to be here and give you his kids. He needs to see you swollen with his child, your breasts filled with milk and oh dear get you aroused looking like that.

Yet first things first. He needs to have what he got denied this morning.

"Benedict"

He groaned with your moans and his thrusts sped up only to become more erratic, his hand went down and massaged your nub and you were doing so good trying not to come fast and that only gave him time to organize his lewd thoughts.

His eyes went to your wrapping folds around him and he imagined the moment his cock will spur his warm white seed inside of you. How good will you take him? Will your contracting walls push his essence deep within you?

He licked his lips and his groans grew louder as the tension was too much and the feeling was almost unbearable.

"I can't" he grunted "Oh no, I can't."

He fell forwards as he hovered and his hips thrust faster making you arch your back at the intense fight between you. He felt how you were welcoming your orgasms and he kept focusing on your open mouth and tensed jaw muscles. He pushed his cock inside. All the way inside, he ordered himself.

He moaned and softly exhaled your name as his stomach became hard with his release. He felt his seed being milked out of him and he stayed there acting as the barrier for his seed not to flow out of you.

His hand dried the sweat around your forehead and his body felt heavy but he couldn't move. Not when he had such a beautiful view. He saw how your breathing started to regulate and your legs stopped shaking. He moved out of you and somehow his eyes took a long glance at your core and how beautifully marked it was with his thick seed coming out of you.

He smiled and looked up at your pretty face "Let us rest" you responded n a soft hum and Benedict enjoyed as you moved inside the linens and how his fluids were still dropping across your inner thighs "Sleep, my love" he whispered

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. From the boy who was so desperate for freedom to the man who found a purpose. And he has found the explanation. He has reached here thanks to you and how good it feels. How full he feels when he has you near and when he reflects that he is loved by you. To be here, he thinks.

No onelse, nowhere else.

To be here.

[turtlesandfrogs]

So, here's the problem: the longer I work in gardening and landscaping, the more I care about the ecological impacts of native plants, and the less I care about aesthetics. Which is a problem, when most clients' primary concern is that their yard looks nice. Which, fair, I just don't care as much about it as they do and I feel like I could be making a bigger impact than I currently am.

So I'm thinking of quitting this job and going one of two entirely different directions, and for some reason it's rather hard to choose.

Option A is starting my own native plant nursery, which would focus on small (4 inch and gallon pot sized) native plants, with a focus on plants that are most important for native pollinators (especially those that are endangered or threatened where I am). There's some competition, but mostly at selling-to-landscapers level and not retail, and I'd want to focus on retail sales.

Option B is to get a job with the state doing some kind of ecological restoration work. The problem with that is my bachelor's degree is over a decade old and I don't actually have the kind of experience to put on my resume that would likely convince them that I can do the work (unless a combination of teaching and being self-employed as a gardener that helps people incorporate native plants and removes invasive species counts, which maybe?). So I'd probably have to take a lower level job and one that's further away to get in, and then work my way up.

Option A has the upsides of: completely setting my own schedule, getting to work with plants most of the time, getting to work with my partner, flexibility to decide I want to start teaching classes again or something. It has the down sides of having to do taxes multiple times per year, and not being guaranteed to work, and either needing to take out a business loan to get started or work at a day job to fund starting it up. Also if it fails I'll have to get another job without have professional references again, which yikes.

Option B has the upside of once you're in state work, it's way easier to get other state jobs so if I burn out of one job, I can hop to another relatively easily, will almost certainly make more money, comes with health insurance and retirement savings, and is likely the more stable option. On the down side, it would mean working 40 hours a week without getting to pick my schedule and it would be harder to take time off than it is now, I'll have to work my way up to a comfortable salary, and there's a lot less autonomy than when self employed. But I'll also have professional references out the wazoo, so finding new jobs should be easier?

One of the things that concerns me is I have ADHD and up until teaching, the longest I ever stayed in one job was almost 2 years. I taught for 4 years, then was self-employed as a gardener for 4 years, and now I've worked for this landscaping company for just over a year (and am grumpy about a) not making much money and b) aesthetics and only providing services to people who can afford us, rather than say, improving the environment for everyone). So I'm actually kinda afraid that if I started the native plant nursery, I would get sick of it after less than 5 years and be starting from scratch again. Whereas with a state job, I can pop over to a new job fairly easily. On the other hand, maybe I'm just doubting myself too much because all of those other jobs were actually really bad matches for me.

Anyway, my brain is going in circles over this. I mean, really, part of me thinks I should stay at this job even though it doesn't pay much compared to what I could make elsewhere (I have learned a lot though, which can be transfered to other jobs) just because it's so low stress compared to any other job I've had in the last decade & because the people are great and the work isn't bad. It just galls me that occasionally clients have ideas that I strongly disagree with, like cutting down a very nice magnolia tree because "it's too big" and I just have to do it because I'm an employee now. Ugh.

[dogtoling]

oh tumblr user dogtoling, blease, impart unto us your wisdom of drawing really good fat cephalopods

I think i've answered this exact question before and it's kind of a tall ask... the best advice I can always give is to just study how to draw fat people first (granted, easier said than done in regards to finding references). Once you have a hang on how that works and how fat sits on the body and how it usually accumulates, that basic knowledge goes a pretty long way when drawing non-human characters too. for people who are completely new to drawing fat, the best off-the-top-of-my-head tips i can give are:

1. don't just draw A Circle. you won't get very far with that most of the time. if you really want to start with a shape, i'd recommend a rectangle and working out the shapes from there (more balanced than a circle + you're less likely to mess up in the gravity part)

2. fat =/= JUST the belly. I think this is pretty commonly talked about but a lot of people that are new to trying to draw fat people will just try to add a belly to an otherwise thin frame. And don't get me wrong, that IS also a body type that exists, but especially when you go higher in weight it's about filling out the whole body. add some width. study which areas accumulate more fat and which don't!

3. DO NOT BE AFRAID OF THE DOUBLE CHIN. Skinny Face on Fat Body is pretty common to see and again while you can also have a body type like that, it just seems like a lot of people are scared to draw double chins or not sure how they work. Don't be afraid to give fat characters fat faces, it makes a huge difference!! (though, also pay attention to not go overboard with this part, because it can also end up looking really off.)

4. remember that fat has weight, so if you think you've done everything correctly but the drawing still looks off, it's often because the GRAVITY is off. Fat Has Weight. So while you draw, try to visualize where that weight rests organically. (also this specific step will come back to haunt you every single time you draw a fat character sitting down or in any non-standing position)

5. Fat can change shape in different positions (for example rolls can appear or disappear depending on how the torso is bent). consider this when doing different positions - but don't go overboard here. Fat still usually has a general shape, it's not some kind of freely shape-shifting jello with the consistency of some goop. And again, body type matters here, some people are more firm than others.

6. At bigger sizes, pay attention to subtle differences in positions and posture that both the weight and the space it takes up might cause. For example, with bigger bodies you'll often see the arms angled slightly to the side rather than straight down the sides (collision with chest/upper body fat = arms Cannot just go straight down). you probably get the point. The keyword most of the time is SUBTLE, but also if you skip this part, the results might look strange and again you have no idea why.

this list is Not comprehensive because as i've added a disclaimer in like every part, there is a huge variety of body types. So the best way you can learn in the end is, unsurprisingly, just seeing and drawing different body types! but i tried to think of and include a lot of common pitfalls that people (including me) tend to fall into when learning and how to Skip the extremely frustrating "why does this look Wrong" part to at least some degree instead of having to stare at the art for 5 hours and just try to work it out.

anyway NOW TO THE CEPHALOPODS PART - if you draw Inklings with human anatomy you're basically done already. Just, doubly study real-life fat people in that case. But in the case you don't, practicing on real fat bodies is still useful because as I said before, understanding the basic rules is widely applicable even for other creatures! My approach to inkfish is that they're generally pretty human-shaped, but because they have no joints or bones, I try to avoid rigid segments in most areas and thus make them generally more smooth. that means less rolls (pretty much none until actually larger sizes) and more just, idk, smoothness.

This is more or less the mental map i work off of:

While you'll usually look at the inkfish torso and view it as mostly A Singular Cylinder, it becomes more obviously segmented with more weight. The arms, legs or tentacles don't have any shape other than Noodle, so they just get thicker overall for the most part. Go above a certain weight threshold and you start seeing more texture and rolls. In humans you would definitely have to consider stretch marks, but I omit those from Inkfish because that's scarring that I feel wouldn't occur in a species that's got flexible enough skin to drastically stretch and change form unscathed all the time anyway.

I have to point out that fat tentacles are a game changer in my opinion! They're a part of the body too, so as a very inkfish-specific tip, just add weight to the tentacles if you have a fat character. It adds a significant amount of immersion and just looks more sensible I guess. I'll use Engel's old hairstyle as an example because he's a very good example of this specific aspect...

yeah i feel like that illustrates my point.

(This isn't really relevant to DRAWING fat inklings, but someone is probably going to wonder about it so I'll answer it: i'm ignoring the logistics of a fat inkling being able to stand or walk without any kind of internal support structure. It's definitely notably difficult for them because as opposed to humans with skeletons, they have to support the weight mostly using JUST muscle. However from a realism standpoint, inklings being able to stand or walk at their size EVEN WHEN NOT FAT wouldn't work in the first place, and Splatoon is full of creatures like Cohozuna or the Great Zapfish, or even Mr. Coco, which would crush themselves and suffocate and die under their mass if they came out of the water... and they're constantly out of the water, so TL;DR no one in Splatoon gives a shit about the laws of physics anyway. If you can have the suspension of disbelief to accept Crusty Sean walking on two legs as a whole ass bipedal giant prawn, that should be able to extend to a fat inkling.)

I don't really know what else to write so hopefully this helped somebody. Lol

[buglaur]

[my-drama-heart2406]

Lee Jae Wook's proportions are so wild.

Like you look at him, only him, and he's just this tall, lean, lanky dude.

Then you put literally anyone beside him and he suddenly transforms into a monster.😂

[deweyduck]

@pscentral​​ event 22: 2023 wrapped

↳ DISNEY CHANNEL IN 2023

[dreamlogic]

musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"

[midnightactual]

Physical Constraints in Bleach

I've said for a while that Bleach has exactly two known and quantified physical feats in 1. Gin's Bankai speed being given as Mach 500 (chapter 400), and 2. Rukia's Shikai and Bankai achieving absolute zero (chapter 567), but it turns out there is a third in chapter 582:

For the record, per Wikipedia:

6 gigajoule is about the chemical energy of combusting 1 barrel (159 L) of petroleum. 2 GJ is about the Planck energy unit. One megawatt-hour of electricity is 3.6 gigajoules.

and

The terajoule is about 0.278 GWh (which is often used in energy tables). About 63 TJ of energy was released by Little Boy.

So, if you do some simple math, 63 TJ is 63,000 GJ, meaning Candice is using 1/12,600th the power of Little Boy on a decently serious attack. Little Boy is best estimated to 15 KT of explosive yield, meaning Candice is using a little over 1 ton of TNT, and indeed a TNT equivalent is calibrated at 4.184 GJ.

Even if we're extremely generous and assume her later Electrocution fired at Ichigo in chapter 583 is 10,000 times stronger than the Galvano Javelin cited above (100 to 1,000 is probably more accurate), she's only getting to 10 KT of yield, which is a small tactical nuke. Even very strong Bleach characters are generally using attacks with absolute powers measured at the low-end of the tactical nuclear scale.

(I have had someone on Reddit argue with me that the Bambies are "mid-Espada level" based on their combat performance in CFYOW as compared with Grimmjow and Luppi, apparently wholly ignorant of the fact that Grimmjow and Luppi are much stronger by then than in HM Arc, as Kisuke explicitly states souls power up after near-death experiences [chapter 60] and Grimmjow has had at least 2 or 3 near-death experiences and Luppi actually died. They are likely much stronger than Starrk in HM Arc was by then, given Robert Accutrone in TYBW quite casually does much better against Shunsui than Starrk did. The Bambies are not weak. Also worth noting here that Bambietta is by Kubo's own admission stronger than Candice without Blut, unclear if Vene or Arterie. In short their attacks should be taken as quite high-end here, not low-end, especially as they just finished beating down a [substantially] weakened Kenpachi with all of 3 hits in chapter 580.)

As I've said before from just visual estimation, we can maybe say that Mugetsu Ichigo and Ultrafragor Aizen were in the 1 MT to 10 MT yield range and managed to get to the level of strategic nuclear weapons, but it's worth noting the largest bomb ever tested was Tsar Bomba at around 50 MT (209 PJ), or 5,000 times stronger than our extremely generous estimate of Candice's Electrocution, and it was a 100 MT design that had been partially disabled. (Nuclear weapons can be made arbitrarily large through staging.)

Anyone wanting to put Ichigo head-to-head with Goku, Saitama, or even Naruto, is on the basis of canon figures, an idiot. The series simply does not scale that high. Even Naruto does things that are on the order of gigaton or teraton nuclear weapons if not more.

Likewise, that neither Ichigo nor Aizen could dodge Gin's Bankai, and Gin's peers and contemporaries remained relevant into TYBW, means that Bleach's speed scaling likely never breaks Mach 1,000. For the record, the powerscalers want you to believe that Cero and Negación are lasers because a translated databook called them "light" and Bala are stated to be 20 times faster than Cero, and therefore even Lieutenants are moving at 20 times light speed... which would be Mach 17,480,600. Yet nobody can dodge Gin's Mach 500 attack. Sure, that makes perfect sense.

In other words, when powerscalers try to tell you that Bleach has continental or planetary or stellar or galactic or universal or dimensional feats, and is superluminal, they're full of shit. Bleach is an extremely small and constrained setting when it comes to both power and speed.

The Cold War nuclear forces of the USA or USSR could absolutely sweep Soul Society through sheer saturation, no diff. (And that includes Yamamoto, because his 15 million degrees Celsius Zanka no Tachi, Nishi: Zanjitsu Gokui is pretty weak compared to the 100 million degrees Celsius or higher fireballs of strategic nukes. This explains why Bazz-B could literally fight fire with fire against him. Maybe Mayuri could survive through trickery if he knows enough about ablation. And yes, those nuclear forces would eventually saturate speedy Shinigami with tens of thousands of nuclear warheads, they couldn't cut them all down, especially as they wouldn't perceive many of them coming from both the speed of reentry vehicles and the lack of reiatsu or reishi. And yes this does also mean that human nuclear weapons development should've concerned Shinigami greatly, even beyond the possibility of megadeath and gigadeath overwhelming the reincarnation cycle. And yes you can probably make the equivalent of a Naquadah-enhanced nuke from Stargate SG-1 using reishi or reiatsu to improve fission and fusion yields or just straight-up make the equivalent of an antimatter-catalyzed fusion bomb. Humans post-Trinity should be treated as being spooky if their governments learn about souls. Yes, this should have been considered the main reason to stop Yhwach and Tokinada's plans, as if the realms were merged, even the US of 2003/2004 would indisputably have military power over the Gotei 13.)

[throughpatchesofviolet]

OMG a new OC for your Mer AU? I would like to hear more ✨️w✨️ (if you get the time/energy to talk about it)

@thedragonlover Yeah, a new OC for the Mermaid AU!! I'd be happy to talk more about him, actually! Putting it under a "read more" because I typed a lot--

I've been thinking of my Mermaid AU on and off since last May because I am super invested in it--I mean, I drew Heathcliff's Mer form and poured hours into his scales, so of course I'm invested--and one of the things that was holding me back from actually writing more was the lack of characters I had to work with. Ishmael is obviously the first mate of the Evangeline (the logic there being that she's grown since the Pequod was destroyed by the White Whale, but didn't lose her way like in canon Limbus), Sherry's a passenger, and Heathcliff is our Mer, but three characters does not make a crew! This ship's going to flounder if we don't get her some proper sailors.

So, to remedy this, I spent the last couple months looking into other classic novels that involve seafaring. I actually found three that were in my parents' collection: Gulliver's Travels, Treasure Island, and Robinson Crusoe. My OC is inspired by the last one!!

I have yet to draw him properly, so I hope this L. Corp Picrew icon suffices ... the left (or top) is when he was younger, and the right (or bottom) is how he'd appear in the AU (at least, with what the Picrew can do--I want to sketch him out, eventually)!

Anyway, allow me to officially introduce you to the Evangeline's second mate, Robinson Crusoe--or Crusoe, as he's usually called.

I read through his entire source novel, and while it certainly has some issues, I don't regret it (fun fact: I tried to read it as a preteen and couldn't get past page one, so this is a grand achievement for me).

For his lore, Crusoe takes a lot from his counterpart: from an early age, he wanted to sail, but his parents wanted him to become an attorney. However, he stole away one night to join a crew disembarking, and experienced a shipwreck pretty much immediately. He was saved by a passing vessel (as was the rest of the crew he joined), and for a time he debated returning home--but, because he was ashamed of going against his parents' wishes, he chose not to, and instead kept on sailing.

He learns a lot from a captain who takes him in, so he isn't a terrible sailor by any means, and he has a number of misadventures--most of which end up with him being captured by a Syndicate known as the Twinhook Pirates, and most others ending in shipwreck.

His last shipwreck of course lands him on the island he ends up surviving on for 28 years--in the book, anyway. He gets off it a bit earlier in my lore, but he's got scars and scruff and gray hairs (not in the Picrew options, sadly) that show he's been through it.

Even now, well over a decade later, Crusoe refuses to return home because he's afraid to face his family (this ties into the theme in Ishmael's Canto about how those who join ships that hunt Whales are all fleeing from something), so he keeps sailing--that's how he ends up on the Evangeline.

He has a dog and a parrot in the source, but I fused the two pets so Crusoe has a dog named Poll (pronounced Paul ... it was the name of the parrot) who has a taste for Mermaids ... I like imagining the awkward dynamic the animal has with Heathcliff.

Anyway!! Crusoe got a lot of experience fending off Mermaids while on his island, so he is certainly in favor of killing them on sight (Heathcliff is just walking--or, perhaps, swimming--right into a place where everyone wants him dead, huh--).

Also, because of (almost) every ship he's sailed on meeting misfortune, it's become a running gag to blame any problem a crew encounters on Crusoe. He takes it well enough, though.

And that's pretty much it? The only other thing is I imagine Crusoe is the one who leads most of the shanties! He and Ishmael have an interesting dynamic, as well, but that's for another day--

Crusoe is one of those OCs who, once I had a name for him, he just manifested in my brain and began filling the role he felt fit for. Very fun character, and I have a soft spot for him since he's existed in my brain for a while, but he didn't have lore or a name until I read Robinson Crusoe.

[weedle-testaburger]

sometimes i get reminded how much anorexia profoundly fucked my sense of what's normal about clothes

[sysig]

The time for regrets has long passed (Patreon)

[theinfinitedivides]

LAPoem's Mirotic cover................ Cassies wake up this is our Forestella moment