#brain no worky how do i do this

[theloveinc]

trying so hard not to take a nap

[hypxb]

are they. yknow. business partners

[stonerzelda]

I lost the post but the one thays like "$20 impulse purchase....save me $20 impulse purchase" me rn lying to myself abt how i am going to use the 12 mini tiny notebooks i just ordered to create my own strategy guides for my viddy games

[redwinterroses]

bad brain day bad brain day bad brain day I need to sleep and eat protein and play with my stupid block game and experience some kind of fictional catharsis not necessarily in that order

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

need a wikihow article on how to tell my therapists that I take psychic damage prior to and during the actual therapy session and that is why I cannot go to therapy more than once a month otherwise I will simply be so fragile during daily life I will cease to function

[becca-is-not-well]

Hi pretty!

So I have a super cute idea that won't let me rest

So basically how do you think chase davenport would react to the reader stealing his clothes

Like pajama pants, one of his flannels, a tee shirt

Id yoyu don't wanna write if you totally don't have to🩷

NAH HE WOULD BE SO FLUSTERED AT FIRST AND THEN BE LIKE "Wait why is this kinda-" LIKE HE'D GO 🤨😲😳🥺😏

Chase Davenport x reader

Warnings: fluffy, a little cheesy, and gets suggestive at the end (im sorry I couldn't help myself I love him sm sobbb) 2nd person (you/yours) also I didn't specify how the clothes fit cause I'm a big girl and I know for a fact Chase's clothes would be tight on me if I even managed to squeeze in lol so it's hopefully as inclusive as possible :)

"Hey, has anyone seen my blue flannel?" Chase asked the living room full of superheros.

"You have, like, a hundred blue flannels. Care to narrow it down at all?" Bree responded with her usual amount of attitude. Chase sent her an unamused look.

"Then have you seen my sweatpants? I'm staying with my girlfriend tonight and I can't find any of my clothes," he says exasperated.

"I bet Oliver stole them. He had a history," Kaz looks away his best friend with an amused smile.

"For the last time, I didn't realize they were your underwear! I wouldn't have touched them with a ten-foot pole if I had realized," Oliver shuddered at the memory while Bree and Chase both rolled their eyes.

"Oh! Skyler, have you seen my blue flannel and/or my sweatpants?" Chase asked the alien as she walked into the room.

"You have about a hundred blue flannels, how am I supposed to know which one you're looking for?" Skyler replied immediately. Bree pointed at Skyler dramatically while looking at her brother.

"See?!" She said triumphantly, happy for the unexpected validation. Chase rolled his eyes so hard, it was a surprise they didn't get stuck looking at his brain.

"And this is why I'm going away for the night," he said with a sarcastic smile before turning around and leaving the room.

After almost a half hour of searching, he still couldn't find his missing clothes. But Chase was nothing if not punctual, so he ended up just throwing some random clothes in his bag and heading out the door to get to your apartment on time.

Soon enough, he was right outside the familiar door that led into a small apartment. The man let out a content sigh as he opened the door and took in the familiar sights and smells of the place, happy to finally get away from his own home and spend the night with his love.

"Honey, I'm home!" Chase called out, only half joking.

A blur of blue and gray suddenly came full speed out of the bedroom, colliding with him in a tight hug. After taking a second to regain his balance, he chuckled and hugged you back just as hard.

"Hi, baby," he said, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply. It had been a rough week for him, but all the tension in his body left with a simple hug.

"I missed you~" you said in a slightly whiny tone, holding onto Chase even tighter.

"Missed you too, bug," he chuckled at your enthusiasm to see him, warmth and love rising in his chest. No one had ever had a reaction like this to simply seeing him before- and it was definitely a boost in confidence.

After a few more moments in each other's embrace, you both pulled away slightly, smiling at each other. Silently, you met each other's lips for a sweet, slow peck.

"Wait- what are you-" Chase pulled away again, his big brain processing what he had seen you wearing in the split second he had looked down. "Is that my flannel?"

You just nodded with a sweetly oblivious smile, stepping back to show the whole outfit.

"And your pants- and this might be your t-shirt," you told him happily. Chase just stood there in confusion- and a little bit of awe. Sure enough, your entire outfit consisted of his clothes.

"Is- that okay?" You asked after a moment of silence from Chase.

"Uh- yeah! Yeah, of course," he replied, a smile working its way onto his face.

It was cliché, but he decided quickly that seeing his you in his clothes was the best thing that would ever grace his eyes. You just looked so cute standing there, a shy smile on your face as you presented the clothing that used to belong to him. Obviously, though, he thought you looked much better than he ever did in the clothes- he would never dream of asking for them back.

Soon, the innocent adoration turned into something a bit less innocent. A surge of possessiveness and pride swelled in him as he looked you up and down again.

"You look so pretty, I don't know if I want to take my clothes off you or just keep looking," he said, the surge of confidence overtaking him as he stepped closer again.

You let out a giggle as he took your waist in his hands, pulling your body closer.

"I may or may not have a preference," you told him, subconsciously biting your lip.

"Oh really? Why don't you show me which one you want, then?" Chase said with a smile, meeting you for another kiss.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUWST YOU HAVE NO IDRA HOW HAPPY I AM

[slxsherwriter]

The Big Wheel Groans

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: None, hints of future Rusty x female reader

Word count: 3, 127

Warnings: Mentioned of parental death

Author's note: Rusty has taken a permanent residence in my brain. Waffled back and forth a few times on how innocent the reader would actually be. I think Rusty would do well with this polite, naive little thing. Bonus points to anyone who gets the title reference. May explain how I'm viewing these two.

Cigarettes, stale coffee, and greasy bacon. The scent was an immediate assault as soon as the door opened. Most would find it off-putting, but to you? To you, it brought up fond childhood memories of getting to tail along with your father; early morning drives out into the beautiful countryside, interspersed with stops like this. He always let you get some pancakes with whipped cream. The nostalgia washed over you like a crashing wave, and for just a moment, your chest tightened. As good as those memories were, the pain felt just as fresh as it had been two months ago.

Giving a polite smile to the woman that came and greeted you, it was easy to pick your way through the tables as she found a space against the wall on the opposite side of the tiny truck stop diner to set you.

"Passing through, honey?" You settled down and kept up with the kind smile. You damn well knew that she didn't always get the respect she deserved. Just the nature of the job and the location. Truckers? They could carry their own and knew well enough to be mindful. At least the generation that your father belonged to did. Yours? Not so much.

"Yes, ma'am." She seemed surprised to hear the response. "Not in any hurry, though. I'll take a coffee when you get a moment, please." You could see someone, definitely not one to frequent stops like this, was trying to get her attention.

"Well, ain't you a polite young thing," she offered with a soft laugh. "I'll bring your coffee right up." She headed off with an almost lazy step to her gait, clearly not in any sort of rush to take care of the demanding customer. The action was enough to force you to stifle a laugh behind your hand. Eyes had fallen on you when you had first entered and now? They had mostly returned to their own doings and business. That could have stemmed from the fact that you dressed sort of like you fit in amongst all the workers who spent their hours on the road. The beat-up Carhartt around your shoulders had belonged to your father. It had seen far better days, but it was the one thing you hadn't been able to give up.

Your father had been your rock, your steady shore, the one who had been there. He had raised you alone, did everything right. As much as he could. Older now, you realized the man had his flaws, but he cared for you very much and had done a hell of a job on his own. When your grandmother came into the picture when you were fifteen, upheaval and chaos reigned. She had managed to petition the courts to gain custody. That was what happened when one side had money and the other hadn't. A single father on the road for work versus the woman whose name meant something and had connections. It was a losing battle.

Playing in that world, high society, had always felt wrong. You had longed for the simple days in the rural home you had spent your childhood in. Money hadn't meant shit. Social events and gatherings were torturous at best, painful proceedings that you were forced through over and over again. All because you carried a name? Or well, supposedly did. A name you has forsaken as soon as the old woman passed away.

Sure, she had left everything to you, and it would be a hell of an easy life. But that wasn't what you had wanted. Selling her house, all the shit in it that you didn't need, you had found a beater car and headed right back to see your father.

It was only a few years later that he fell ill. All the money in the world couldn't beat out the consequences of smoking two packs a day and a life spent in a rig. Now, you were working on spreading his ashes cross country in the spots you visited as a kid. At least the money was being used for something.

In the blink of an eye, your meal, pancakes with whipped cream of course, and coffee were all done. All in all, it was a meal under 15 bucks. As discreetly as you could, you wrote out a note before shoving several large bills in the little folder. Enough to leave a healthy tip for the kind waitress and pay for the meals of the six other people occupying the bar space. Standing up, you stopped the waitress on your way out.

"Keep the change." It was all you offered before you stepped outside. You didn't need to see the results of your small act. You didn't do it for recognition. Hell, once you were done with this, you were retreating from the world to your fathers house and not leaving for a few weeks at minimum.

Sitting in your car, you were studying the map. GPS was good, and while you used it, it was always good to have the route planned out. Technology could shit the bed easily. At least reading and following the map was a sure thing. Mostly. Roads occasionally changed but not enough to end up lost with no knowledge of how to unstick yourself. A tap on the window caused you to jump, pressing the paper downwards for a moment.

A man stood outside your window, tall enough that you couldn't see his face right away, having to shift closer with him leaning his head down. Even so, his hat obscured his eyes. Scruff lined his chin, slightly peppered. This man was definitely a trucker. Quickly, you rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"That was an awful kind thing you did there," he spoke softly, his hand jerking back in the direction of the diner. You blinked, processing the words but reacting far slower than it should have been. That voice. Deep with that drawl. You could listen to it for hours. "Things like that don't happen too often." Was he looking for an explanation?

"Oh, it wasn't much, really." His eyes were running over the car. You knew how it looked. First impressions wouldn't scream that you had money. Which, maybe to a degree, it was a good thing. "What good is an inheritance if you can't put a little good out into the world? Would it be safe to assume that one of those rigs is yours?" You motioned towards the line of trucks not far from where you were parked.

"S'pose you could."

"My father was a trucker. The job isn't easy, and I respect what you do. The least I could do was pay for food and coffee. A good meal and some caffeine are important. My attempt to make up for all the bad that you have to deal with, at least in a small way." He seemed to mull the words over for a moment, almost as if it wasn't what he expected you to say. Then, a soft chuckle, a deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine, came from the man. His fingers drummed against the hood of your car for just a moment before he stepped back.

"Well, it's appreciated."

"It's really no problem at all. Happy to do something so small. Stay safe out there."

"You do the same, sweetheart."

****

The meeting stuck in your head, leaving a little smile on your face as you drove the long, mostly desolate stretches of highway for the next two days. There was one final special stop that you had to make, where the remainder of the ashes would be spread. It was off the beaten path, near an abandoned warehouse. The same little isolated lake that you and your father had always spent your birthdays. A little fishing, some deer watching, and the sort of peace and calm that didn't come from anything but a lack of interaction with the outside world. A place just for the two of you, away from the outside world and distractions. There was no work, there was no school, no one to bother and no one to interrupt.

The spreading of his ashes had been both painful and cathartic. A final goodbye that in a lot of ways you had not been ready for. But, there was no other option. Reality was what it was, and you couldn't hold on to him out of selfish reasons. Being back in that place brought back nothing but fond memories, some that you hadn't thought about in years, and some that you had forgotten.

You hadn't driven more than a couple miles off the road that led to the abandoned warehouse when steam started coming from your engine. Pulling the truck to the side of the road, you killed the engine and let out a small huff. Out in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't a chance for cell service, and nothing was within walking distance to be able to find a tow truck. Hopefully, it was something you'd be able to fix on your own, but you wouldn't know until you got out of the car and popped the hood. The heat coming from the engine was uncomfortable, and you had to pull your hand back twice before being able to lift the hood at all. Waving smoke out of your face, you waited for just a moment longer for things to clear before appearing into the engine to see if you could determine what was causing the problem. At the same time, you tried to keep a careful ear out for any cars that might be passing by. There wasn't a lot of traffic on the road, so you could only get one chance at flagging a car down if you were lucky. You didn't know all that much about engines, just the basics that your father had taught you when you were young. You hadn't had a chance to learn much more, unfortunately. Now would have been a great time to have that knowledge.

The rumble of a semi filled your ears as you cursed and pulled back from the engine. From what you could tell, it was possible that the head gasket blew. Which meant that there was not much you could do with the car. You would have to have it towed and fixed by a mechanic. Stranded. You are absolutely stranded if this truck didn't stop for you. Before you even had the chance to stand up and pull back fully from the car and stick a thumb out, the sound of the brakes being hit filled the empty area around you. The trucker was coming to a stop before you would even ask for help. Hopefully, that was a good thing.

It took a second from the time the truck stopped for the door to open. In that time, you watched curiously, perhaps a little too relaxed, but it was in your nature. The few friends you had always said that you always thought of people as too good. But it hadn't caused problems yet, so what did they know?

"Ya broke down?" The distinct voice was familiar, even after only encountering it once. He was leaning over from the driver side, peering out through the open passenger door.

"I'm not the best with engines, but I think the head gasket went. So, it might be a lost cause." You wiped your hands against your pants for a moment, trying to clean them up a bit.

"Judging from the smoke, don't think you are going anywhere, any time soon. Why don't you hop in and I can give ya a lift to the next town." You glanced at the car for a moment before moving to grab your bag.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you. Or your run. I know things can be time sensitive." You glanced at the trailer that his rig was hauling, almost instantly feeling bad that he had stopped. You could remember your father complaining about eighteen, twenty hour shifts at a time to cover the necessary ground, when he thought that you couldn't hear that was.

"It isn't out of the way. Come on, get in." Any more hesitating would be time wasting. One step up, and you had to grab the bars to take the next step and keep your balance before swinging yourself into the passenger seat. Quickly, you closed the door.

"Thank you, really. I thought I was going to be there awhile." Your eyes bounced around the rig, unable to help it as you took in the inside of the cab or the way that a smile came without warning. "I haven't been inside a truck like this in forever. She really is gorgeous. Peterbilt, right?" He was already getting the truck moving again.

"Gotta say I'm impressed. Ain't too many that don't drive and know their stuff. 359, 1986."

"My mechanic skills may not be the greatest, but I like to think I know my trucks." It was a light tease, any and all pride lacking from the words. In the look around, you have spotted a few places you could leave him some cash for the ride. It was the least that could be done. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been terribly rude." You had never introduced yourself, which you quickly remedied.

"You can call me Rusty." Probably part of a CB handle, but it hardly mattered. You had a moment where you struggled to decipher if he preferred quiet or if he wanted to chat. Talking wasn't something that you would push. If he wanted to, sure he would initiate, and if not, you didn't mind being silent.

It went on for a little longer, the silence and atmosphere of the cab comfortable. Miles seemed to pass under the large wheels within the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" The question was bound to come eventually. You paused for just a moment before glancing away from the road finally and towards the man.

"Spreading my Daddy's ashes." His eyes tore from the road the same way yours had, this time as if trying to judge if you were being honest. "Stopping at all the places that we had visited when I was little. He raised me. First couple years of my life, I practically lived in his rig with him. A couple miles back? Off Whitey close to that abandoned warehouse, about a mile off there is a little secluded lake. We would spend birthdays there. Fishing, wildlife watching, me playing hooky from school. It was the last stop." Your voice softened as you neared the end of the explanation. A pang in your chest. One that wasn't as strong as it had been the last few months.

"I'm sorry to hear he passed." The words had been repeated by a few people, that sort of unsure what to say but needed to offer something for condolences. It was an awkward situation to try to maneuver around. But you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "Ya mind me asking how ya came into all that money then? Can't say I got a stash laying around like that." The question brought a slightly bitter sound from your throat before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to do that. It's just…not the best of memories. My maternal grandmother. Never knew my mama, not entirely sure what happened to her. But when the older woman found out, she petitioned the court for custody. The usual foul rhetoric spewed about my father and his occupation. Not being suitable for children and such. Helped that she had money and connections." You paused as the rush of memories washed over you. Hands unconsciously tightened against your bag before you let out a shuddering breath. "She was one of those folks who always looked down their noses at everyone who didn't come from the so-called elite. Better than everyone else. Couldn't stand to be around her and that life. People like that? They ain't any good. Aren't honest, don't know a day of hard work in their life." You could hear the slight crink of leather, likely from the steering wheel but paid little mind.

"I didn't want anything to do with her or that life. She passed right before I turned eighteen, thinking she had gotten what she wanted with me being molded into her image. Left everything. I couldn't sell the house and business off fast enough. Got my name changed back, legally. Went straight back to the small country home I had grown up in. Never wanted the money and don't have too much of a need for it. It's a silly idea, but I try to counter all the negative, nasty things that she did by giving it away where I can." You had always been an open book to everyone. Oversharing had never gotten you in trouble yet. A habit that your grandmother had tried to break you of but had never been successful. Ever.

"Ain't all that silly, sweetheart." There was a different note to his voice. Something soft, something that made you feel a swell of some unknown emotion in your chest. Your cheeks felt a little hot. At least someone didn't think it was silly. Your friends indulged you, of course, but you knew occasionally they spoke about it behind your back. "World would be a better place with more people who thought like that."

Again, a few minutes of silence passed, as if the exchange was being digested and determinations were being made. Well, you were more content to just enjoy the rumble of the truck and the passing landscape.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you get some shut eye. Next town is still about sixty miles out."

"Are you sure?" You couldn't deny that the rhythmic rumble was lulling you into that relaxed peaceful state. But you didn't want to be rude either.

"Hun'red percent. Ain't gonna bother me none. I'll wake you when we are getting close, okay?"

Was it smart to fall asleep in the rig of a man you didn't know? Hardly. You weren't that naive. But, at the same time, you didn't feel a single sense of danger from the man. Shifting a little and pulled the jacket around you to act more like a blanket, you settled your head against the window.

"Thank you, Rusty." Eyes closed, it didn't take long for sleep to take a hold, leaving you unaware of the eyes that had turned to take you in, or the shift in intent in the truck.

[bomberqueen17]

oops

lol yet again i missed doing my friday update schedule. in my defense, a lot's been going on. before I say anything else I should also say-- DMs on Tumblr currently do not work for me, the message thing shows me the preview but if I click on it, I absolutely cannot open the window, it will hang for literal days. I have the square blank in the corner of this tab as I am composing and no longer remember what I was trying to get it to open. So if you send me an IM on Tumblr I will only be able to read whatever of it is in the preview! So don't be offended if I never respond, because I can't write back because the window literally never opens. I got one to open yesterday but it was about 45 minutes and a lot of window reloading. I think it's safe to say that feature's just gotta be dead to me. RIP.

Anyway what's been up! my BFF from high school came thru Thursday night with her kids to stay in my cabin and i was a bit frantic getting the place ready, as it's not exactly listed on AirBnB. (She was like "oh wow this is a lot bigger and nicer than i thought" girl you were going to cram your children and yourself into a tiny half-finished shack with me? what??? jeez) and at the last minute Dude was like "oh i'm coming too" which, fortunately, I had put myself into a full-size bed on the pull-out couch so there was room for him to be there too but if this were any smaller a tiny house that would not have been possible. see, this is why i didn't actually build a tiny tiny house, it wouldn't have worked.

Anyway they left friday and i spent the day making sausage as fast as i could, and then in the afternoon dude helped me package it and then! i had! two full days! off! (ok i'm in the second of those days rn) so

saturday being My Birthday I made a snap decision that we were going to go see some art, so we drove over to the Clark Institute in Williamsburg MA (like a long half-hour away, it's not far) and saw some of my good buddies in the permanent collection.

(Mom used to take us kids there when we were little, and there are a lot of Renoirs and John Singer Sargent and some Frederic Rembrandt and Winslow Homer and whatnot, many of which I have seen so often as to consider old friends. (This Bougereau, Mom had a poster of on her bedroom wall, and I have always loved it. Apparently, my grandpa upon seeing it-- not the letters grandpa, the other one-- exclaimed of the one whose back faces the viewer "Oh Betty, it's you!" Betty being my grandma.)

I discovered quite by accident, while fucking around on my phone, that there was a Pokestop out in the courtyard, and the Pokestop was titled something about Jenny Holtzer, and i was like wait what and sure enough. There's a set of four white granite benches out there with Jenny Holtzer engravings on them.

This one is fucking brutal, as her shit tends to be:

[image description: a white granite bench engraved with the following text, somewhat darkened by pooled rainwater: "BY YOUR REPONSE TO DANGER IT IS EASY TO TELL HOW YOU HAVE LIVED AND WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO YOU YOU SHOW WHETHER YOU WANT TO STAY ALIVE, WHETHER YOU THINK YOU DESERVE TO, AND WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IT'S ANY GOOD TO ACT."]

There was also a temporary exhibition of paintings and woodcuts/lithographs/prints by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, yes including a lithograph of That Painting. Fairly stunning! Running thru October, I recommend it if you're in the area!

ok idk what else has been happening. i am so tired. i might play some pokey mans today but i also might just. not. really. do much of anything. which is boring and dumb and won't make me feel better next week when i have to go back and do more work and have achieved none of my personal goals. but sometimes brain no worky, and that's that.

[verecunda]

Want to write stories, but my brain no workie. :(

No, really, I just had to default on an assignment for a frickin drabble-fest and I’m feeling shitty as hell about it. I liked that assignment! A couple of hundred words should not be that hard to write!! But I’ve been sitting with it for over a week and... nothing.

There are other exchanges coming up that I was looking forward too - RMSE, and the TRSB gallery just went live last night - but right now I’m sitting here just feeling a bit blank about them all. :\

I’ve not touched any of my regular WIPs in I don’t know how long, and I have been doing research for my novel, but I feel like I’m just kidding myself on about that one more than anything, and this has all been going on so long now and I’m genuinely a bit worried.

[kawaiikai80]

I'm hoping I can make more friends and maybe find a partner soon I think I'm lonely and honestly it's fueling my (possible) Ed cause I don't think anyone would want to be with me how I am now. I feel like if I was skinny people would like me ? Idk. I feel so ugly all I feel I can do is lose weight. I felt so much better when I was at my lw. Also the backwards thing is I think at any weight people r beautiful but for me it's a hard no. Idkkkk brain no worky

[amuseoffyre]

#Love this meta#Also he knows fancier words#On a pirate ship there's no need to know or use the word perverse but he uses it anyway#It's a very specific word and he must come from at least a more literatued background#The idea that he wasn rich or something sucks i don't like it at all because he takes being a pirate seriously it's not a game for him like#For stede where he can indulge without experience#Coming from navy yess!!#He might have been in contact with higher class people talking fancy words#Also love the tag from id. Remember but they point out how it wouldn't make sense for izzy to watch the book with bb if he didn't know it w#A book about pirates#ofmd#izzy hands#Ofmd meta#Big brain op#Big brain everyone

 @laststandx3 your tags got me thinking again!

So okay. I’ve already babbled about Izzy as Navy. The more I think about it, the more likely I think he was inching up the ranks because look how buttoned-down his clothing is. Most general workie-sailors were more casual in their dress because they didn’t need to impress anyone. But look to the officers and you will see them dressing up, collars closed, cravats tied, groomed and polished up. He also has skill with a sword that suggests at least some degree of training, especially his stances.

If this is the case, this definitely nudges Izzy into being educated enough to get himself into the upper ranks, even if he had to work many times as hard to get there than the fancy pants gentlemen who were just handed their ranks. Plus let’s not forget that when he contacts the Navy to sell Stede out to them, he is able to make direct contact with an Admiral. He is not only able to negotiate to get Blackbeard - most infamous pirate in the Caribbean - released to his custody but is given the rank of Captain of a ship. Why would they give a First Mate captaincy if he didn’t have known credentials?

I’d dispute the fact that knowing the word perverse means he’s educated because honestly? Churches up and down the country would scream about perversions at any time of the day or night. I’ve read so many church records detail perverse and licentious lusts and things like that. Depending on where he came from, people may have been slut-shamed in front of the church because some of them did that to keep their folk in line.

HOWEVER

However, the way and location that he uses the word just donked me on the head with a thought. Something or someone Stede-shaped did damage so significant to Izzy that he would willingly sell himself into the service of the Crown to prevent the same thing happening to Ed.

At first he simply sees Stede as an embarrassment and a joke, but I just realised how much more visibly murdery Izzy becomes when they have their confrontation in Jackie’s, when the ‘Gentleman Pirate’ had his regional debut.

It got me thinking that if Izzy did previously have someone who he cared about - the owner of that ring - it would have been a hell of a problem in the Navy. Yes people did get away with liaisons but if this was something serious, the people in charge of handling it would have been the officers, most of whom would have been Gentlemen of some sort or other.

It makes me think that somewhere in his past, someone - who probably considered themselves Izzy’s ‘better’ on account of breeding, standing and education - used that word to describe the owner of Izzy’s ring. Who used his books and laws and education and clever little words in his fancy room to destroy someone Izzy cared about.

Him calling the library perverse is not just a reflection on Stede, but on his wealth, his class, his privilege, his stupid words in his stupid books. It’s hate by association because he’s seen what those kind of people can do without even stopping or thinking about it.

And Izzy is damned if he’s going to let some other twat just like those people do the same to Ed.

[motivationlessmaniacexhausted]

HEADCANONS ON PHILLIP GRAVES n John Price/Phillip Graves Ship :) [Scroll down if you're not interested and believe me when I say this post are just rambles with un-understandable sentence]

I know not all people like Phillip Graves from cod, don't even talk about shipping John Price with Graves

Like, when I first saw him, I was like "Sonovabich how dare you betray the 141 >:("

But like, after learning and seeing his personality (and reading my first Price/Graves fanfic), I realized that Price would be the right one for him :3 Tee Hee~

(I am unable to find them right words cuz my brain no worky worky rn but hear me out)

Hate me all you want but like, Price's calm, collected and gentlemen personality leveled Graves's broad, confident personality.

I don't think Graves as a person who's proud of themselves like "I am superior than you, I can do much better than you that you felt bad >:)" but rather, I see him as someone who's very independent, very confident of the choices he make, won't stutter even if he knew his opinions are wrong. (I bet he told others he could take down 10-20 people by himself in which I quite doubted) He's probably even more intelligent than what he looks like [I mean if he wasn't he wouldn't be the leader of the Shadow Company]

When I first saw him, something about him just screams leader material like loyalty, heavily caring when it comes to their teammates, precise planning and rarely wrong when comes to decisions

Other than that, they both quite have the same thing in common like they both lead a team/group/whatever it is called ~cuz my brain don't work rn~

Plus, they both(probably Graves) took care of their people well. Like when they're under attack and some of Shadows are injured, he'll probably checked on them by himself one by one like asking are they okay or if they need something else and such. I think Phillip would take the Shadows as his family, as his children[like how I think Price would with the tf 141]

It is quite sad to see that he betrayed the good for the bad :( but the plot must go on

Regarding the ship, other than leveled personality, I think they're suitable to comfort each other (like hurt/comfort but no hurt). I know that makes doesn't make hell of any senses but like, when one of them are having a bad and such they would both comfort each other, understood the things they're going thru as a leader(at least that's what I think).

Price sweet-talked Graves, maybe give him a squeeze on the hand and tell him that he has done more than enough or such; Graves would stood up and loudly give Price a pep talk when he's not fulfilled with his missions, probably messed up some small things while planning.

I just think they're suitable for each other y'know, I've never had a stronger urge to write about a character and giving away my headcanon to others in the fandom than this.

I just think Graves picked the wrong side and misunderstood not sure about this part :|

Anyway thanks for coming to my 'Ted talk' about Phillip Graves :3 and the John Price/Phillip Graves Ship, I pour this out from my heart with the last 2 and a half braincells I have so it's quite wacky and the points are not that good :(

Bye :)

Bravo six, going dark

[fuckyeahhiccannamonth]

HELLO HICCANNA NATION

So ah. As you can see, I am. A bit behind on reblogs.

What is my excuse, you ask??? Did you make an event and then fall behind on your OWN EVENT??? Did you know you are going to fail at being a Hiccanna month administrator, tumblr user fuckyeahhiccannamonth, something that is both fair to fear and possible to achieve????

So, in no particular order, here are my three very flimsy reasons I will give when sternly asked why I am So Very Behind on my own event:

I spent a whole-ass month-long event working on Week 1 prompts. Y'know. Like a terrible planner?

I fell victim to a terminal case of Brain No Worky. I wish I knew why! My neurodivergent brain simply went "time to do prompts extremely slow!" and despite all my protests of how I Did Not Want To Do That, it was to no avail. Brain No Worky is a very serious condition, you see. I do, however, feel like this is in keeping with the spirit of a ship that is so insanely and ragingly ND4ND. Like this is something that could and would happen to both Hiccup and Anna and I have to respect that.

IT TOO DAMN HOT OUTSIDE. Climate change my beloathed. I get home from work and collapse onto my bed with the AC on and there goes like an hour or two. I've been running on like 60% battery since the stupid heat dome got here. I also work outside, which!!! Does not help!!! Call me an astrology bitch the way I blame the stars for my problems (or one star in particular. Hey sun can you tone it down a notch. Please)

SO. Because I acknowledge this is mostly my fault (although a solid amount of blame falls on oil executives, my natural brain chemistry since birth, and celestial bodies), I'm determined to make it up to y'all. Since many of you have not yet gotten the adoring comments you deserve on your submissions, we're going to pretend that Hiccanna month is on a month-long time loop!!! That's right--y'all now have until the end of August to get in any prompts you didn't get to, or wanted to expand on!!! In return, I will reblog all of your lovely submissions by the end of August, or be extremely Cringefail.

I myself will probably not get in any more submissions than what I originally had planned (which is still a few more, don't worry!) because I'll be busy with another writing event in August. BUT I will still do my very best to look at and reblog all of your lovely submissions as they come in <3 <3 <3

Happy Hiccanna Month Part 2: Electric Boogaloo!!! Y'all have done so great so far, and I'd honestly be content if we capped off at what we already have :3 But I'll give y'all some extra time because you deserve it <3 Reblogs are coming your way very soon!!! Just remember to tag any new posts with #hiccannamonth23 or #hiccannamonth2023, and @ this blog for any new submissions :3

Your extremely ADHD event planner, fuckyeahhiccannamonth

[slkmbyart]

About Illustrating Emanata's 2022-23 Cover

Hello again! Click read more to read through my process, thoughts, and visual development for my illustrated cover of Emanata's 2022-23 comic anthology RUIN.

Before I get into it, I just want to say that I spent a few hours working on the first draft of this blog post and it got accidentally wiped. That version of this post had a lot more to do with my mental space during the production of this piece in regards to how I felt as an artist post-graduation from Art School. Because all those typed up thoughts are now not typed up, I will be making a separate post eventually that goes into that more. I'll update this post with a link to that when I can. :)

Anyway.

RUIN.

Here's a little thumbnail diagram thing that kind of shows my thought process during this stage.

The general direction I was given when asked to do this project was something like, "more about emotion instead of action," as well as "no reds and purples." So immediately I set my brain into thinking of blues and greens and scenes that I could paint with those colors.

My first idea can be seen top left corner: I imagined an ancient, magical ruin portal standing in a field at night. It was cool, but frankly, didn't make sense and I quickly ditched it. I went back to my blues and greens and was really squeezing my brain for any ideas and that's when I came to top center.

I thought of a lone house, on a precarious cliff, being slowly torn apart by the strength of a raging sea-side storm. I honestly still think this is a good idea as a stand-alone painting, but it didn't really strike me as the cover of this anthology.

However, I really enjoyed the storm concept and began thinking about tornadoes and how deathly afraid of them I am, and the fear humans experience when confronted with the reality of the destruction caused by tornadoes! I looked at lots of beautiful photos of large tornadoes ravaging the country side - the images were very blue, green, yellow... the concept was perfect. I began developing it with a few color thumbnails...

...and immediately fell out of love with it. Har-har.

I still loved this concept of a sprawling yellow grassy plain clashing against a deep, stormy blue sky though! I thought about grassy plains and that led me to thinking about the American Midwest and old, falling-apart houses abandoned in these fields. The culmination of those thoughts led to the final thumbnail you see up there.

It was approved so I got to work! I knew I wanted to do this traditionally and started working in oil pastel. But after a few days of working on it, I realized something: I did not have enough experience in the medium to do a full illustration like this. This is about where I stopped:

It's not bad, but I knew there wasn't any saving this piece as it was. I got too loose with my color choices and in many spots, just muddied my color. It was really disheartening honestly; I felt so stuck.

I had to start over.

Using that oil pastel painting as a base, I moved to Clip Studio Paint. Working digitally is something I'm very comfortable doing and decided that the ability to fix things easily would be a great advantage for myself with this piece. At this point, if I remember correctly, I had just less than two weeks left to finish this project.

I still wasn't feeling it at this stage though and took a few days, despite my approaching deadline, to simply think about it. I felt stuck: even in the early stages, this piece didn't scream that it was made by me. Sure it would have my name on it, but as it stood, I had zero connection to it as an artist other than the fact it was an assignment I was working on. I asked myself, what did I want my work to look like? And I thought back to my time at school and to the pieces I felt most connected to and that's when that spark lit up in me again!

I darkened the sky, made it more foreboding, and it really started clicking then. I carved the shapes out, alternating between working on the clouds to working on the little abandoned house.

I continued building depth and form by layering my values until everything seemed just right.

The house was a doozy though, but I finally figured that one out. DETAIL SHOT!

I hope the detail comes out well on the cover!!

And here is some bonus imagery for you:

The first one is what we went with for the title's type - hand drawn in the final as well by the way!!

Anyway, here's the finished piece again to remind you of where I ended up!

Closing thoughts: I'm proud of how this turned out. I think this cover complements the previous years' well. This illustration (painting?) feels like me and it jump started new artistic growth within me too! All in all, very happy with it.

Thanks for reading!

[ash-isnt-writing]

Whumptober 1, 2023

Characters used:

-Mason Transvolski (OC)

-Kiana Athens (OC)

A/N: Chose to just use the dialogue prompt for this one. Brain no worky because it is very early in the morning

=====================================

“Hey! Hey, come on, stay with me, fucking damn it! I didn’t come all this way for you to fucking die on me, fuck’s sakes!”

Kiana groaned at the familiar voice, hazily looking up as they opened their eyes, blinking a couple times to try and adjust to the sudden brightness.

“Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?!” The familiar voice yelled. It was less anger, though, and more concern. Genuine, fear-fuelled concern.

They blinked a couple times again. Fuck, why wouldn’t her eyes focus-?

Yet, just as she had that thought, they did, seeing her boss’s worried face above her, bright red, messy hair hanging in his eyes as his feline-like ears twitched in worry.

“…uhm.. 3..?” They responded tentatively, Mason sighing heavily in relief and, after slicing through the restraints, gently helping them to their feet.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed, “you had me worried for a second. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

They nodded, trying to step forward, but their knees buckled under the weight, Mason quickly reaching forward to steady them with concern in his eyes. He didn’t quite know what Tycen had done to them, but quite frankly, he didn’t think he wanted to. Not now, at least.

“Hey, hey, easy” He said, in a tone similar to reassuring a horse. “I don’t expect you to be doing anything in this state, just let me help you.”

Kiana sighed heavily. Mason was right, as much as they didn’t want to accept it. They’ve never been good with accepting help, they knew that. But Mason, again, was right. They were in no state to be making their way around on their own feet without support.

“..I hate this” Kiana sighed, exasperated.

“I know, it’s only until we can get you to hospital, I promise” Mason reassured, beginning to lead Kiana out of the cage they’d been kept in for the last month or two. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”

“It’s not that. I just..” They sighed. “I hate being restricted like this.”

“…I know, Kiana.” Mason said in a solemn, understanding tone. He’d been through the same frustrating feeling with Vanté.

“…I know..” He repeated, as final solace.

=====================================

[sweetlesson]

{Hhrnghh. Guess what? ;~; Brain no worky. I sit and I look for memes and idk it's like I can't focus. I wanna pass out. So like, like this for me to go digging through your memes? How many of y'all actually want me to send you something? It'll take me forever and a day, but I'll get to them eventually.}

{Maybe I'll focus on scarvi for a while. still gotta get good at those 5 star raids sdkls. My brain just can't do the thing atm.}