#i feel like with the kind of art i make i seem like i enjoy horror and like generally unsettling/scary content

[markadoo]

More quotes from ChatGPT's reviews of posts.

The post in question, which I will not link to out of respect for my sensitive readers,

The developers have taken into account the basic physics of doors; the doorknobs are on the opposite side from the hinges, mirroring the logic of real-life doors.

Attributing the invention of lesbian sex exclusively to women is problematic for various reasons. First of all, it implies a stereotypical and limited vision of female sexuality as something created by and for women.

In the jungle of social media, the diverse fauna of posts often surprises us with its originality and freshness. However, amid the multitude of voices, we often find ourselves faced with content that defies all logic and good taste. Such is the case with this latest post shared by an elephant on its online profile.

The author of this post, by referring to the beloved characters Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong as "gorillas", seems to dismiss their value

The claim that a person has had sexual relations with a human being who possesses snail-like characteristics defies any sense of plausibility.

Title: Markadoo and the Art of Derailing Conversations

Is it possible for someone to enjoy an act that, from an outside perspective, appears violent and degrading?

Using straightforward prose devoid of astonishment or wonder, the author normalizes the experience of

The author not only normalizes the act of rubbing one's genitals against a pillow, but openly promotes it as a pleasurable activity. This raises a number of ethical concerns that cannot be ignored.

Title: The Importance of Grammar in Our Posts

The post suggests that drinking soda from a can makes you feel like a cowboy, a claim lacking scientific basis.

The sexualization of an electronic device is, without a doubt, a sign of disrespect not only towards technology but towards the readers.

and completely ignores the positive impact that advertising can have on the economy and on society in general

The term "paws" is commonly used to refer to the extremities of animals, especially cats. On the other hand, "gay" is an adjective used to describe homosexuality.

Starting with "wrecking ball operator", we are faced with the promotion of a profession that involves destruction and chaos, rather than construction and growth. What kind of message are we sending to our children by glorifying this type of work?

Title: The senseless glorification of the free market: a biased and dangerous perspective

In many cultures, sexual activity between adults is considered a natural and normal part of human life.

title: Irresponsibility and insensitivity on social media: The Dangerous Trend of Editing Images of Donald Duck

In summary, the post in question is an alarming example of bad advice online.

[writing-whump]

Woww thank you for the accident fic I was one of the fans who asked for it 😄 maybe it was not fun for you as much as other but I really enjoyed it (guess I'm a huge fan of those kind unexpected drama and sacrifice lol) Tbh, I don't want to bore you, or mess your schedule and attention but I can't help myself! Well, ok, I admit I'm a drama-addict and love to read other's reactions to it. Sorry for insisting!!

So it's just a tiny request, it really doesn't have to a fic-long as usual (if you want to write that way of course it's way better for me lol) I'm just curious about how would Isiah feel and think when he found out about the accident. I understand that this kind of trauma can be healed easily for wolves and not a concern, and Hex&Arnie got through it well, but it could be worse, right? Idk maybe Arnie would feel stressed about it afterwards and worry about Hex even though he's already healed. He might also blame himself for what happened as he was driving? Anyways, would you consider write another part stress sick Arnie and caretaker Isiah?

-🛼

I mean, this is fitting, since Arnie doesn't get stress sick, but he gets stress migraines. And we didn't have him with Isaiah as caretaker for a while...here you go🥰🤗

Stress migraine

Arnie really wanted to have fun today.

Hector was sleeping third day in a row already, tyring to get his shadow back up after all the healing. Nobody really knew, since Hector wouldn't want the pack to know and refused to call anyone.

Arnie understood. It was usually just the two of them, when something bad happened to either. Hector never let himself or Arnie find out if they had other people they could trust.

But now they had someone like that back. Someone they could call.

Other thing was that there wasn't really much to tell. Hector was fine, the car was getting fixed, Arnie wasn't hurt very much. What was he supposed to make a scene for, when there was no proof something even happened?

He caught himself looking for the little wound in his hair in the mirror just to make sure he didn't dream the whole accident up.

They had a scheduled meeting with Isaiah on Saturday though and Arnie figured it was a good opportunity as any to get out and distract himself.

He wanted to stop waking up to the fear he was back at the car or keep checking Hector every 30 minutes like he would start coughing blood out of his sleep all of sudden.

No, this was good.

Isaiah took him on a tour around Vienna. He said it was a scandal Arnie didn't get to see the center yet and that he didn't know all the sights by memory now.

Isaiah definitely did. They took Tram D around the main ring of the first district. Many important things were all after each other, parliament, city hall, the two giant museums of natural history and art history right across each other, the giant theater, the Butterfly House...

Isaiah refused to take a car, when everything was so well-connected and they spend the day on foot, from one park to another, one big street to another.

Isaiah seemed to have a thought out plan of switching between greenery and impressive buildings, talking all about the style of architecture, how many times they were rebuild, who famous lived there.

Arnie was so overwhelmed with all the information he stopped putting it together halfway through. He took comfort from just Isaiah's relaxed mood, his zealous voice and ardent expression.

Everything was all good with the world again. One could believe it, listening to him.

Somewhere around midday they went to get lunch near the Schonenbrun castle and gardens, Isaiah treating him to schnitzel and cake for good measure. He never let Arnie pay for anything when they were together.

"I have the same inheritance as you do," Arnie objectdd as he took a sip from his cold brew coffee.

Isaiah smiled. "Yeah, but we will start this talk once you make your own. Rich or not, there is nothing like earning your own money for the first time. Your effort, you decision."

"So you want to pay for everything with what you earn?"

"The assistance job I got at the uni pays well. I also helped out with a city planning project last year that had very good funding."

Arnie leaned back in the chair. "That's cool. What about your whole wolf helping activities? Hector says you get called to things all around the city. Do you get any pay from that?"

Isaiah took a spoonful of his chocolate lava cake. "No, I don't do that for money. I like helping out."

"You shouldn't be doing that for free though, when it takes so much of your time. Or is it the contacts and favours you gather that way?"

"Isn't it worthwhile and helpful when you can give people things without having them pay for it?"

"Yeah sure, but that's sustainable if you actually use all the money you were born with. If you were born with it." He was getting the impression Isaaih didn't like relying on anything that came from their father. "Besides, don't people take skills and advice more seriously if they have to pay for it? If you give it for free, they might not take any interest at all. It's a way to show them something is valuable."

"What exactly would I call it? Hello, I have experience that your shadow is entirely manageable with the right kind of training, but your pack doesn't seem to know, so come and listen to me?" Isaiah shook his head. Way to insult the pack and trivialise the wolf's problems.

"You have expert training from leading packs of the West. If you wanted to make that systematically accessible through courses or stuff, I think people would find it easer to find you. You could even prevent most of the problems the packs and human authorities call you to."

Isaiah chuckled. "You aren't the first one to suggest something like that. Matthew said something similar. Even Seline said I could make it a job. I don't know. I like working in the academic environment as well."

"It's not like you would have to choose between one or the other. Plus academic jobs are pretty instable I hear."

"You didn't even start uni yet and you are hearing about uni conditions?"

Arnie shrugged. "Lots of protests about the Mittelbau and the time constrained chain contracts around lately." Apprently 80% of the academic workforce that didn't have safe professor status worked under conditioned contracts, always afraid if they were going to be prolonged or not and if they wouldn't have to move to another town just to get a job they specilized in.

"It's impressive you can understand it. You still thinking about law school?"

"Yep." Hector was very careful about not mentioning it too much so Arnie wouldn't feel pressured, but he knew Hector would find it useful. Even wolves had to respect the law.

And Arnie would love to feel a bit more powerful around them.

"You are still studying it too?"

"Additional classes and courses, yeah. It's not my main subject, but it's useful in practice."

Arnie hummed, satisfied with the prognosis of that. He wanted to know useful important stuff.

They talked some more about law and different teaching styles of different faculties.

Everything was going well, except the sun was becoming a bit too much and Arnie's temples were starting to pulse.

Why now? He finally relaxed, finally forgot about what happened at home...

His stomach flipped at the reminder. He was pleasantly full just a minute ago, but now it felt like too much.

They paid and strolled around the gardens, when Arnie said: "Let's sit in the shade for a bit?"

Isaiah gave him a puzzled look that they barely got up and Arnie wanted to sit down already, but complied.

For such a historical sight, there were lots of people chilling on the benches in the shadows. Lots of trees planted for that purpose aside all the magnificently styled flowers everywhere.

"It's really hot today," Arnie said, tugging at the collar of his buttonup. Short sleveed, but still.

"There is a good ice cream stand nearby. I'll get you some." Isaiah patted him on the back as he left.

Arnie slumped back on the bench, relieved to be out of sight for a bit. He didn't want to ruin the tour that Isaiah planned out so carefully, but his head was positively pounding.

He didn't get a headache after the accident. That was weird in hindsight. Usually, when something stressful like that happened, he would absolutely get one.

He must have been too worried for Hector to let himself relax enough for it to set in. Veins must have finally opened from their tense contraction, and that's what made it painful.

Cold sweat was gathering at the back of his neck. His right temple felt like someone was putting a drill to it, while the other was held in a crushing grip.

The sunlight was so blinding, even though he was in a nice shade. He felt goosebumps on his arms, as his lovely lunch churned inside him.

Arnie leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees as he swallowed heavily against the saliva pooling in his mouth.

His stomach let out an angry whine, cramping up. Arnie hid his face in his hands, taking quick shallow breaths. Not now, not now, not now.

He groaned as his lunch roiled inside him, sniffling. There weren't many people around him in particular but this was still a public space. Beautiful gardens under a tree with a view of the castle, no less.

A burp snuck its way past his lips. His upper lip was covered in sweat now too. He could taste the salt as he licked his lips.

Arnie knew from experience it would only make him more miserable to fight it. The pain in his temples pulsed in synch with his heartbeat.

When he looked up from his hands, the sunlight pierced his eyes even stronger. The pain in his left temple spiked and Arnie heaved, pulling his feet more apart.

He swallowed the first retch down, but the second almost made him choke. Letting his head hang between his knees, he burped, the third wave bringing up the cake and the cold coffee onto the ground.

His brain was buzzing in his skull, so he kept his eyes closed, completely giving in to the sensations. Another wave of puke landed between his feet. Arnie only hoped his shoes wouldn't get dirty.

"Aww kiddo. What happened to you?" He felt Isaiah's cold hand against his nape. Isaiah discarded the two scones of ice cream on the ground at the sight of him, sitting down gently next to him.

That's when another wave of yellow brown puke found its way up, tasting of the potato salad and meat. Arnie groaned, back arching as he vomited up the longest stream yet.

Isaiah held his shoulder to steady him, rubbing up and down. "What happened? Did you feel sick suddenly? Or before? Is it the sun?"

Arnie burped emptily, spitting at the pool between his feat. The smell was making him nauseous still.

"I thought we took enough breaks in the shade. Maybe I miscalculated. You are sweating all over."

Arnie sniffled, his nose running. He kept his eyes closed still, the pounding in his head worse whenever the tried to open his eyes. He tilted towards Isaiah's voice blindly.

Isaiah obediently filled in the spot, letting Arnie lean against his shoulder. "Shhhhh. All good now. We will cool you down and you will feel better in no time."

Arnie sniffled again, curling into Isaiah's clean cologne, probably leaving a trail of snot behind. "Head hurtsss."

"I know, buddy, I know."

"...wanna go home."

Isaiah nodded over his head. "I'll call a taxi. We can go to my place too..."

Arnie shook his head. "Home." He wanted his own bed, his curtains, his medicine, though it would probably take a bit for his stomach to settle enough for it.

Isaiah was quite as they waited, only wrapping his arm around Arnie and helping him up when the taxi came. It was more or less a blurr for Arnie, who was glad Isaiah took over so eagerly, masterfully, despite not even knowing what was wrong.

As they sat in the back of the car, Arnie buried his face in Isaiah's chest, trying to muffle the sounds and light as much as possible.

"You will be okay. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry I ruined the trip."

"You didn't, you didn't. Should have chosen a later hour. With this heat-"

"Not the heat," Arnie sighed. "Migraine."

Isaiah tensed underneath him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Miragine. It's fine. Not...not your fault."

"Since when do you get migraines?" Isaiah said in a strangled voice.

"Since I was 12? Or 13? Something like that." He moaned quietly as the car took a turn and jostled him.

Isaiah tighed his grip around his torso. They sat in silence for a while before he spoke again. "How often do you get them?"

"Not regularly anymore. Something...usually something triggers it."

Isaiah's hand went up his arm, gently sneaking into his sweaty hair. When Arnie leaned into the touch, Isaiah started rubbing at his temples gently.

"What triggered it this time?" Isaiah asked softly.

The car jostled them again, making them both jump up and down on their seats. Arnie tensed up, then buried his face against Isaiah's neck with a moan.

Isaiah held him as tight as he could without making it painful. Arnie fought against the growing pressure behind his eyes, lips pressed together.

"Arnie?"

Isaiah's voice was so soft and concerned in his ear it got the tears spilling down Arnie's cheeks. "I-it's nothing. Nothing really happened. We-we just-" He sobbed quietly.

"Shhhhh."

"We-we were in a car accident with Hex. Three days ago." He felt the coldness wash over them as the car came into the underground parking place of their apartment complex. Arnie blinked, leaning back, blinking his eyes open in relief at the darkness.

He looked at Isaiah with teary eyes. "I-I was driving and it wasn't my- but Hex, he- protected me and got super hurt and, and he is fine now..."

Isaiah watched him carefully, green eyes of the same shade meeting his. They seemed to have a glow in the dark from how intensity he focused on Arnie.

"But I was really scared, you know? And it's stupid to be upset about it, cause nothing h-happened-"

"It's not stupid. It was scary and horrible, no matter the outcome. I'm sorry that happened."

"B-but I shouldn't be upset, right? Cause we are fine, we are both fine-" His breath hitched with another sob as another tear ran down his cheek. Some part of his brain wondered how the taxi driver didn't say a thing, waiting for Arnie to cry his eyes out on his backseat.

Isaiah brushed some sweaty blond hair away from Arnie's forehead. "And that's important that you are both healthy and okay. But it makes perfect sense you are upset too. You are allowed to get scared and worried."

Arnie's face twisted with another sob as Isaiah petted his hair gently, carefully watching him for any signs it was making the headache worse. But the pressure was really going down as Arnie let the emotion go, through words and tears.

"We didn't have to go out today if you were upset," Isaiah said.

"I wanted to see you though. And we had it scheduled..." so it was the best opportunity.

"If you called me, I would have come. We don't have to just meet when it's 'scheduled' or when you need help with something serious, you know?" Isaiah was still combing Arnie's hair away, when he started to look through his pockets with their other hand, manifesting a paper towel out of nowhere. "Here."

Arnie wiped his face and carefully blew his nose.

"I want to know when something happens in your lives. Good or bad, big or small," Isaiah said, no trace of repearoach in his voice, though he sounded firm. "I want to be in the picture."

Arnie felt better hearing it somehow. It was like a permission to call him, even when the trouble wasn't real. Even if it was just Arnie wanting to talk.

The younger boy took a shaky breath, offering Isaiah a shy smile.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

assorted thoughts 1/when sklonda mentioned getting drinks with sandra lynn now and then I straight up cheered I was so scared for her social life being so overworked 2/straight up have no judgement on the whole ratgrinder situation on account of being a whole grown man. Im not getting into beef with fictional teenagers let them sort that out among themselves 3/sprak levefre

[friendlyengie]

I need to make a collage of some of the tags people leave on my tf2 women posting . People get really funny when faced with image of a woman

[lurking-latinist]

⛵

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

nothing like starting a sketch that makes me physically recoil

[lucky-draws]

9.6.23

[asleepinawell]

had mixed feelings about this game (mostly in terms of gameplay and some of the later levels) but i got to jiggle the kitty so it was worth it

[evil-little-rodent]

i used to make so many ocs. SO many in their own little worlds with backstories and personalities and quirks and everything and i just like. can't do that anymore. i cannot make funny little people to draw and daydream and think of little stories before i go to sleep anymore.

its so sad, i feel like the creativity has left me as ive gotten older and i can bring myself to do anything unless it had a solid functional purpose and its so sad that i can remember being an excited 14 year old obsessing over these people things born entirely from my brain and that me is just dead now.

it's been instilled in me and ive punished myself for so many years that doing anything that isn't technically useful to other people or society is useless and i strangled that little child in me until it was dead and now i spend every day mourning them.

[ectoplasmer]

voicing how I get insecure over the fact that I can’t handle horror as well as the bakurae can because i’m a wimp and having a 50/50 chance of being met with a response like “oh no that’s fine!! that just means you’re more sane than me” or “you haven’t seen nor experienced nearly the amount things I have but yes you are a wimp”

[kenntolog]

Imagine cool bf Sukuna loser gf reader where reader is in the art room alone and he joins her and Sukuna initiates make out sheesh with her and she gets so flustered

𝝑𝝔 an: stop this is so cute!! i decided to add a little more details i hope u don’t mind anon!! original post is here, feel free to share your thoughts!!

cool boyfriend sukuna waits for everyone to leave the art class before ever entering the room because he knows his pretty loser girlfriend always comes out the latest.

you never see him coming up behind you as he makes his way from the open entrance and behind the neatly set up marbles to your desk, where you are seated peacefully, singing along softly and gliding your pencil across the paper calmly. your peace is eventually disturbed by his hands suddenly appearing on your shoulders as he pulls you into himself, noticing how you shut your sketchbook quickly and shriek loudly.

you go to push him away until your brain registers his laughter and you tug your headphones down, letting out an exasperated sigh. “‘kunaa! stop doing that, y’know i hate it!”

“heh,” sukuna pinches your cheek affectionately, one arm playfully settled around your neck while the other moves to ruffle your hair. “whatchu drawing there?”

that seems to fluster you as you look up at him and grip your sketchbook tighter, “nothing!”

“liar,” he sneers with a smirk and tries to pull it from your hands, hands that seem a lot more stronger with the way your grip is not easing. “you hidin’ something?”

“no, ‘kuna—”

he doesn’t let you finish, arms loosening around you to turn your chair over so you’re facing him, and puts his hand on your jaw, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks softly, not enough to hurt but enough to hold tight.

you stiffen, expression turning surprised as sukuna covers your slightly pouted lips with his, initiating a kiss. he’s quick with it, knowing how anything involving him showing any kind of affection make you putty in his hand, so he uses it so his advantage. your cheeks heat up under his fingers as you whimper and try your best to respond to him, melting under his touch.

sukuna smiles into the kiss knowingly, going slow and soft as his free hand strokes the back of your head mindlessly, to make you relax further. he sucks in your bottom lip gently, glides his tongue of it seductively before he dives deep once again, opening you up more.

it works wonders and soon enough you drop the sketchbook, gripping his shoulders instead as you try to tug him into you further, but he is an asshole so he bites your bottom lip and moves away with a victorious grin.

you let out a startled sound, looking up at him with shock.

“gotcha,” he whispers as he opens the sketchbook, quickly finding the last page.

“don’t!”

sukuna quickly recognises his figure on the page, eyes widening in surprise. a couple of sketches of his face and one of his body in his basketball uniform. and then he looks through earlier pages, finding himself sprinkled into your drawings even from last year. and his smirk grows mischievous at the realisation.

“this what you were hidin’?” he gazes at you, drinking in the way you cover your face with your hands. “you’ve liked me for a while now, haven’t you?”

you nod your head silently, still hiding from him.

he puts the sketchbook away and steps closer to you, hands coming up to pry yours away, “what a loser you are.”

you look up at him with glistening eyes, lips pouty and bitten by him.

“cute.” sukuna thinks out loud, as he pats the top of your head, enjoying the way you get embarrassed even more, burying your face in his shoulder.

[dappermouth]

What happened to your Society6 store? It seems like there's a lot less designs available than there used to be. I was hoping to get some tapestries but everything is gone...

Wow! This ask made me go check out my Society6 shop — and you’re right, it’s pretty much all gone! So, here’s the story on that for anyone who hasn’t heard:

Society6 decided that their outsized profit from artists wasn’t cutting it — they now require artists to pay a monthly subscription for the privilege of letting Society6 profit off of them, while foisting additional shipping fees onto the artist and reducing their payments on top of that. I had heard some months back that they were planning to switch to a subscription model, and it looks like since I didn’t pay up, they permanently deleted everything except 10 random pieces of art from my shop. They did this without notifying me at all (classy!) after years of making tens of thousands of dollars off of my work — but weirdly, this is kind of a relief for me?

My cut of Society6 sales were already a laugh even before the proposed changes (I make more money from someone dropping like $20 at my personal print shop than I do from someone buying $100+ of my stuff from Society6) but the tapestries and blankets were so cool and I loved how much people enjoyed them, so I kept my art available there. They've deleted nearly all of my work now, so I'll go finish the job and close out my account for good.

Anyway, it’s disappointing, but Society6 has chosen to suck profoundly at this point in time. Totally scummy treatment of the artists whose work is the foundation of their entire business model. I’m lucky enough to have a supportive audience and never relied on Society6, but I feel badly for artists whose livelihoods have been impacted by this. (If you’re one of those artists, know this: you deserve better compensation for your hard work than what S6 is giving you!)

OK, with all that said — I’m bringin’ tapestries back, baby! They can’t keep this cowboy off the range! Right now I’ve ordered samples from some different places to compare quality, and once I’ve settled on a manufacturer I‘ll be making them available at my print shop. I’ll post on my socials when I’ve sorted it out!

[safetypinxtales]

Lonely with you | Azriel

summary: it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, feelings of loneliness, thirsting over our boy az and his thighs, kind of just a drawn out drabble, some angst, generally just softness, Azriel with a book needs a warning in and of itself, very slight jealousy, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, PINING

notes: haven't written in years, and never befor for Azriel, or anyone from acotar, so bare with me. Not sure what I think of this, nor what the future might hold, but I had some time off uni and this idea that I just couldn't seem to get out of my head. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

part 2

You knew what picture was waiting for you in the living room of the House before you even rounded that corner. The distinct sound of pages turning, the hint of whiskey in the air, and him. 

That scent that was just so distinctly Azriel it almost made you forget that echoing emptiness in your chest. 

The sight that greeted you as you entered the room belonged in a museum, or at the very least at the front of some Day Court scribe’s lecture hall, being studied by the brightest minds in Prythian. You wanted to commission Feyre to paint it from your memories so it could be immortalized, even if just for your eyes. Because by the Gods, it was mesmerizing. 

Azriel sat – no, sprawled across one of the couches, those thick, muscled, sweatpant-clad thighs so deliciously, invitingly, teasingly spread apart. The book in his hand was not one you recognized, but then his taste in literature was slightly more… sophisticated than yours. But that just made it all so much more enticing didn’t it? The thought of this gorgeously dark, winged male consuming deep, meaningful art? It would make any sane person fall to their knees. 

The hazel of his eyes didn’t show any sign of surprise as his gaze met yours. He knew you were coming, most likely courtesy of the shadows leisurely curling around his shoulders. Cauldron, was he a sight…

… And your friend. Unfortunately.

“Are you just going to stand there all night or will you eventually move?” Right, right. How long had your feet been rooted to the floor? Judging by the humorous tone of his voice and that boyish sparkle in his eyes, probably a tad too long. 

Forcing your body to take a step, and another, you tried to think of something – anything to say. 

“Sorry, I–... I just didn’t expect you to be here is all,” liar, “I guess you caught me by surprise”. It wasn’t the best excuse in the world, but with the situation at hand it could have been a lot worse. Like, a lot. Besides, it’s not like you could have told him the truth.

Sorry Azriel, it’s just that I have been desperately yearning for you for the last couple of years and seeing you like this, looking all boyfriend-y, has me nearly swallowing my own tongue because of how perfect you look. I am just humiliatingly obsessed with every single little thing you do, as well as horrifyingly lonely to a default. In a non creepy way, of course. 

… You would rather free-dive off the dining room balcony before ever admitting that to him. 

His brows furrowed as he observed you, like he could see the lie written across your face, before humming lightly, almost as to himself. He reached a hand out to the glass resting on the coffee table and brought it to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid inside. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he lowered the glass. Trained on the candlelight reflected in the alcohol wetting his lips. Those shiny, pouty, full–

His tongue slipped out and delicately swiped across his lower lip, licking off the remnants of the whiskey from the glass in his hand, and it took everything in you to not whimper at the sight. 

Cauldron boil you.

Needing something to ground yourself, you made your way over to pour yourself a glass of whatever Azriel was drinking and collapsed beside him on the couch, trying to roll that stubborn stiffness out of your shoulders.

”Can’t sleep either?” He asked you on a slight chuckle. 

“No, not with them going at it like bunnies,” you sighed, “how is it even possible for Cassian to… you know? I mean, not only is it day after day, but all night, non-stop? You need– I mean not you specifically, I don’t know anything about your sexual habits, just– just males in general,” oh Gods, “you– you need to rest, at some point – right?”

Azriel took in your flustered state, and pursed his lips as if to keep from laughing. His amusement did not help your case at all, only making the heat crawl further up your neck, your ears positively aflame. 

“I guess the mating bond has its perks,” he surmised, and you couldn’t escape the huff that exited your nose. 

That damned mating bond. The very one the Mother seemed to be handing out left to right lately, to everyone except you. And Azriel. But unlike you, he was a damn catch and could have anyone he’d like. 

“Am I an absolute wench for being jealous of Nesta? And Elain? And Feyre?” You whined as you threw your head back on the couch.

“Not at all,” Azriel’s raspy voice comforted you, easing the tightness in your stomach. You still felt like one though; Nesta was your best friend and you were happy for her, but still–

“It’s just so unfair! They were born like, yesterday! I have been suffering through a mostly miserable existence for over five centuries now and I have never even come close to a connection like they have,” you rolled your neck, “I am over the moon for them, don’t get me wrong, and I hate to make their happiness about me–“

“But being alone around people who… aren’t, can be very lonely,” Azriel finished and your heart clenched as you looked at him. Beautiful, kind, caring Azriel. One of your best friends, and the male you were hopelessly, devastatingly in love with. 

Knowing he, too, was hurting was painful in itself, but also slightly comforting. Knowing you weren’t alone in your loneliness. 

“You’re in pain,” he mumbled, and you opened your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t really a question was it? “Your shoulders,” he noted, “they’re tense.”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Nothing to worry about, just a small kink,” you tried to brush it off, but he looked at you with such intensity it made your whole body tingle.

“No it’s not,” it was like he could see right through you, “No, you have been worrying your neck ever since you sat down.” He pondered a moment before he sat up a little straighter beckoning for you to move closer. “Come on, let me help you with that.”

Your mouth fell open. 

Was he insinuating he wanted to rub your back? Your half naked, barely-nightgown-clad back. With his hands. Those magical, beautiful hands. Oh Gods.

Your attempt of a protest died in your throat at the slight raise of his eyebrows. He was not to argue with.

He marked the page he was on and placed his book down on the table in front of you, his eyes not straying from you once. Like he was afraid you would bolt if he looked away, even just for a second. 

In his defense, you very well might have.

A shaky breath released from your lungs as you put your glass down and readjusted your position on the couch until you were situated between his legs. With your back facing him, you carefully pulled your hair over one shoulder to give him better access, trying to block out the thoughts of how incredibly warm those bite-able thighs of his were.

The warm calluses of his hands on your skin set you ablaze, and as he carefully started to massage out the knots in your upper back you swore you could have melted, then and there. 

You couldn’t help leaning in to his skillful touch. You also couldn’t help the breathy groan that escaped you as he started to work on a particularly tense area. 

Or how your heart rate picked up as you heard what you swore was Azriel’s breath hitching in response. 

You basked in the intimacy of the moment, fully enjoying all of his undivided attention. 

The gesture, the moment, it all felt so domestic and comforting that the constant emptiness in your chest started to close over. Even if just for now. Even if it was all borrowed; a lovely, elusive fantasy – you let yourself feel whole. 

You barely registered his hands slowing to a stop, or the new found looseness in your shoulders. Barely registered as his hands slid down your arms and slowly tugged you back towards his chest. 

Not until you were engulfed in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you did you realize how well you fit together.

Like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Be lonely with me tonight,” his breath tickled your ear, “please.”

You knew it probably wasn’t wise. That tomorrow, when all of this would be gone, the hurt would resurface. The loneliness even heavier than before. But you couldn’t get yourself to care. To tell him no. Tell yourself no.

Instead you burrowed deeper in his embrace, closed your eyes, and even if just for tonight, you let his warmth fill the void in your chest. 

Until that void had been replaced by a vibrating, golden, glow.

[ros3ybabe]

🎀 Hobbies 🎀

I feel as tho I don't have much time to do things besides school, work, some chores, and survive right now, but I've been thinking about some hobbies I enjoy and would like to incorporate into my life when I decide to make the time without burning out!

Reading - I used to be big on reading just about any books I could get my hands on. Then I was really focused on reading self help, and now that I haven't been reading at all, I've been thinking about getting back into reading. Always looking for book recommendations, and I do have my eye on some books I'd like to purchase.

Gardening - if I had the time and space, I'd love to have a flower garden or a vegetable garden. It always makes me happy when the fruits of my efforts come to life, so tending to plants and gardening sounds super fun and relaxing.

Video Games - I used to play video games on and off, but I wouldn't mind owning a PS4 or a Switch and spending some time playing video games whenever I'd want time to wind down.

Cooking/Baking - I love learning things, and the sense of pride I've gotten in the past when receiving praise for things I've cooked or baked has really driven me to want to increase my skill. I've only baked something from scratch once in my life, but I'd really like to expand my skills in making desserts.

Exercise - I'm talking all forms of it! Dancing, martial arts/kickboxing type activities, yoga, pilates, running, swimming, spin/cycling, weight lifting (again), calisthenics, all of it! I don't currently look like the exercise type but I find various forms of movement to be so fun! If I had more time, I'd be trying new things all the time!

Volunteer work - This is something I used to do all the time, and it's a hobby that I enjoyed that kept me humble. Not only that, but I thoroughly enjoy showing kindness and compassion to others. Making a difference in anuwau brings me so much joy, and I love meeting new people and learning their stories. I also would love to volunteer with animals, because they deserve so much love and affection too!

Drawing/Art - I used to draw for fun but when I started college, I didn't have the time to devote to continuously increasing my art skills. I still own a sketch kit, coloring materials, and several sketchbooks so it really is a matter of having time.

Crochet - The thought of making things that I can gift to others seriously makes me so excited!! Crochet seems like such a fun, crafty, relaxing activity and the added fun of gifting those crafts to others would make it so fun!!

Scrapbooking - I don't know if I'd ever do this one, but I do Ike the idea of keeping my memories in a physical space, and not just in like pictures on my phone.

Learning - if school wasn't crazy busy, I'd spend all my time learning languages (ASL, Japanese, Spanish, Korean, Mandarin, Italian, etc), computer coding skills, how to make and do certain things, just anything I can do to keep my mind enriched.

Upcycling/Altering Clothes - I would love to upcycle or alter articles of clothes into more personalized pieces for myself. The thought of having a personalized, hand made closet full of clothes makes me really want to buy a sewing machine and learn how to use it to my advantage!

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to someday incorporate into my life. Having hobbies is always so fun, but I've been so busy and tired that I don't mess with any of the hobbies I'd want to do. If anyone has any tips for time management, or resources for beginning new hobbies, please let me know!!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[crushmeeren]

Levi/Fem Reader SFW & NSFW Headcannons

Warnings; making out, pussy eating, some dirty talk, vaginal sex, light choking, hickies, doggy style, squirting, Levi paints your back

Note; please do enjoy this brain food, I love Levi & I’m emotionally scarred about the AOT ending so yeah

Levi who has the most black cat esq energy you’ve ever seen, who is the king of not giving a single fuck, who is brutally blunt, with a tongue sharper than a knife—but who has the strongest will, who has a kind heart (he just has a hard time expressing it), who loves fiercely & with every fiber of his being

Levi who feels most at home when he can relax in a dark room & listen to his favorite podcast or watch his favorite shows, who finds it calming & a source of comfort, who thrives during the nighttime, (you’ve definitely come home during the middle of the day only to have the shit scared out of you when you find Levi just sitting in your completely dark bedroom)

Levi who owns an all black, large fluffly dog who he has affectionately named Beartooth—who has no idea what breed his dog is, he just showed up at his house and never left (Levi complained at first but you know it’s a lie because you always find them napping together—very much two peas in a pod)

Levi who you met when you were attending a rock concert, who is the head of security for a very large, very popular concert venue, who was actually working the barricade because “one of his fucking shitheads called in”—lucky for you because you ended up giving him your number & he actually fucking texted you

Levi who legitimately looks like he was carved out of stone, who is so so fucking hot, who winks at you whenever he catches you staring at him (which is often—but who could blame you? The man’s a god), whose side profile is so unfairly pretty you can’t stand it

Levi who adores rainy days, especially when it’s cold, who lives for these types of afternoons when he can relax with you, drinking hot coffee and having movie marathons —whether it’s in the couch or in your shared bed

Levi who has an absent minded habit of fiddling with your fingers no matter where you are, who softly traces the lengths of each one—paying special attention to the bumps of your knuckles, who places your hand in his lap and draws shapes & words you can sometimes decipher on your palm (you have to pull away once it’s starts to tickle too much—but never for long)

Levi who lives in black clothing (seriously you aren’t sure you’ve ever come across an article of his clothing that isn’t black), who says it’s his favorite color, who really enjoys wearing Doc Martens (he says he likes the aesthetic)

Levi who has a gorgeous sleeve decorating his right arm, who has multiple tattoos all over his chest, his back, his legs—even a spine tattoo, which you almost drool seeing for the first time (you feel smug that you’re the only one that’s granted permission to see all the hidden ones—especially the spine art, it makes your knees weak)

Levi who can be as cold as ice, a jackass to everyone—always having a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue, but—not with you, he talks to you as if you’re the center of his world, looking at you like you hung the stars (not to say he doesn’t still call you an idiot—although it’s said fondly)

Levi who is unnervingly smart, who always seems to be one step ahead, who seems like he can tell the future — it genuinely gives you chills

Levi who secretly has the warmest smile, who graces you with it the most when you’re at home together, who gives you butterflies everytime it’s directed at you

Levi who loves you so deeply you never doubt for a second how he feels, who supports you in everything you do, who is the quiet, most consistent rock in your life, who is your best friend & who you spend the rest of your life with blissfully

NSFW BELOW

Levi who doesn’t have the highest sex drive, but when he is in the mood—you get fucked so much in one night you swear your pussy is swollen & you won’t be able to walk the next day

Levi who will get instantly hard—cock full, hot & heavy against his thigh whenever he sees you come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, who groans when he smells your sweet smelling soap, who shoves his face into your neck & inhales deeply—loving the feel of your slightly damp & warm skin (he gets turned on knowing you’re squeaky clean)

Levi who will spread you out on the bed, unwrapping your towel like you’re the best present he’s ever received, who grips your tits & pinches your nipples, soft lips pressed firmly against yours as he licks into your mouth—trying to eat you whole

Levi who is possessive, who loves to sink his teeth into your neck, your tits, the sensitive inner skin of your thighs, who leaves dark marks in the shape of a twisted necklace on your collarbone—biting & sucking until your pussy is drooling for him & your gripping his hair so tight it makes his scalp tingle with pain (which he fucking loves)

Levi who takes it upon himself to push your thighs so far towards your chest that your hips lift off the mattress as he kitten licks at your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently while he flicks his tongue mercilessly—intent on making you cum

Levi who eats pussy like a champ so it doesn’t take you long until your thighs are twitching under his grip, who lets you relax back onto the bed as he slips his middle two fingers into your pussy so you have something to clench around as you cum when he swirls his tongue around your clit—who makes you cum so hard it feels like warm syrup is gushing through your limbs over & over until you can’t take it

Levi who pulls away, chin glistening, lips swollen & cherry red, who whispers pussy tastes so good, love when you cum on my fingers sweet girl, you make me feel like a king—as he gets on his knees between your legs—too eager for anymore foreplay, who just wants to get inside you so badly his cock aches

Levi who doesn’t meet any resistance at all when he presses the tip of his cock inside you, you’re so slick that he bottoms out accidentally all at once—making a violent shiver travel down his spine, whose mouth falls open slightly as his eyebrows scrunch from the pleasure—who doesn’t hold back

Levi who doesn’t necessarily talk or make too much noise in bed, but does make your head spin whenever he does speak, who wastes no time gripping your leg and hooking your knee over his shoulder, who leans his weight onto your leg, bending you in half & wraps a hand around your throat as he starts a slow, toe-curling pace—shifting his hips upwards on each thrust to nail your sweet spot

Levi who makes you cum at least three times like that so easily it’s pathetic, who lets out a throaty moans when you squeeze his cock just right, murmuring lowly in your face my cock feels so good doesn’t it princess? It’s all yours, who feels your back arch up into his movements, neck straining pleasantly in his hold—making your head fuzzy with pleasure

Levi who starts to feel desperate, who starts to lose his cool & collected composure, wanting to cum so badly, who flips your over & raises your ass in the air, shoving your face into the sheets & starts to fuck you like he might die if he doesn’t cum right this second, who pushes down on your lower back making you howl because ultimately he’s fucking you like a dog

Levi who doesn’t say he’s gonna cum but you can tell he’s getting close because of the hitches in his breathing, who forces one more orgasm out of you before he cums, making you clench so tight that you start to squirt as he pulls out, who fists his cock and paints your back white while letting out a high pitched, whiny moan as he does so—a noise that is eternally burned into your brain

Levi who makes your limbs feel like jelly, who lets you both return to earth before he forces you up, changing the sheets & guiding you into the shower because there’s no fucking way I’m letting you get the sheets nasty again (he washes your body with the most gentle touch, like the secret giant softie he is)