#i never know what triggers it

[sandflakedraws]

Hi! I have been a huge fan of your art for a long while now; I hope this isn't terribly, horribly rude but do you know when/if commissions will be open again?

It's totally fine if the answer is "not for a long time/ever", I'm just curious because I would love to commission you one day.

Have a lovely day or night, whichever! I will continue to enjoy your art like a delicious soup :)

Don't worry, I don't think this is a rude question! Hopefully the response isn't more than u bargained for.

Alas though, the truest answer is also the vaguest: I'm not??? Sure??

Rather, I'd like to open them again, but I need to be thoughtful about how and when I do it.

recently, the internet landscape has helped shed some light on the subject of ADHD, how it affects people, what forms it can take, and i have had some revelations regarding my relationship to it.

namely that i very . very likely,,, have it.

not sure why it never occurred to me despite having siblings and cousins with it, but either way.

What matters here is that sometimes, my brain constructs a wall of agony around doing a commission. Seemingly at random, it'll hit me with a constant button press of "not gonna! wrong! stop!" I never understood why. I had previously thought that I'd just been having some sort of temporary funk, and that one day I'd wake up and it would just. not be there. Y'know, like my executives would function.

So... it has been common for some very patient, sweet, compassionate commissioners to have waited months, even years before they received what they'd rightfully paid for.

... I hate that I'm capable of that. I don't want to be That Guy.

After having recontextualized the problem from 'temporary haze' to 'state of being' it's been easier to recognize what I need to do.

If I open commissions again, I need to figure out a way to keep ADHD brain from forming walls around the task. One thing I've decided for certain is that I've gotta switch to a multi-payment method. Ergo, the commissioner would pay a little up front, and the rest when I finish. Other than that though, I've been drawing a blank.

Until I get that settled, my commission status will remain in limbo.

[brooks-heart-sunglasses]

Does this count as a mondo birthday post

(asexual flag version under the cut)

[samijey]

You have a funny way of showing it

[absoloutenonsense]

Coming October 31st…

When the Trouble Comes by nonsensedarling

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 80k | Explicit

Official fic post is HERE.

The Queens Trafficking case is the biggest one of Louis’ FBI career so far; eleven reported missing girls all disappeared under a similar set of circumstances. Louis has done everything he can to try and solve this case over the last nine months... while also absolutely ruining his marriage. Harry has been co-host of Banter at Breakfast for five years now and finally has the opportunity to create his own radio show with the network. Unfortunately, it comes at a time where Harry's thoughts are consumed with his impending divorce from his (caring, loving, infuriatingly thoughtful) husband of eight years. Harry and Louis have both been willing to lose themselves in their work… but are they willing to lose each other?

Or a story of (almost) exes-to-lovers.

Chapters will post on Tuesdays of each week, starting on October 31st (20 chapters in total).

(If you would like to be notified by email when it starts posting, you can subscribe here.)

Snippet under the cut:

💼🍷

With a copy of the case file in his backpack, Louis sticks his key in the door, unlocks it, and steps inside, trying to be as quiet as he can because he knows at this time of night, Harry will definitely be asleep.

Except when he shuts the door, he sees the living room light bleeding out into the hallway, a shadow moving back and forth. There’s the sound of footsteps – lots of them, very quickly. Louis stares at the light and for a brief moment panics that he’s walked into their apartment to find Harry with someone else.

He hears light murmurs. Louis leans forward, feet frozen but his ears straining, until he recognizes the murmurs as Harry singing. Louis sighs in relief. Harry isn’t with someone else. He’s singing and probably dancing in the living room, maybe with his headphones in, which is why he hasn’t stopped or popped his head out between the doorframe when Louis opened the door.

Louis isn’t going to look in. He’s going to walk right past the doorway and head straight to the guest bedroom and review the file again, and then go to sleep so he can meet Perrie early in the morning.

He isn’t going to look in.

He really doesn’t mean to look in. A motion pulls his attention in his peripheral vision and his head turns without him realizing it, then his whole body stops moving.

Harry is dancing, wireless earbuds in and a glass of deep red wine in his right hand. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, which tells Louis that the one in his hand is at least his third. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs and one of Louis’ hoodies.

Well, it was technically Harry’s hoodie originally. It’s heather grey, worn in to just the perfect amount of softness with a faded Greenbay Packers logo on the front. The first time Louis stayed over at Harry’s, he got cold just before they were going to bed. Harry took the sweatshirt from where it was draped over the top of the closet door and passed it to him.

When Louis pulled it on… he can’t really explain it, but there, in Harry’s dreadfully small room in his four-roommate apartment, wearing a hoodie that smelled exactly like him (like he’d been wearing it all day, soaked in the scent of his shampoo and body lotion and fabric softener)... Louis had the same feeling he got when he first visited New York when he was a kid. Like he was home. Harry had agreed. “Looks better on you then it ever has on me,” he’d said with a smirk. And from then on, it was Louis’ hoodie. Harry never tried to take it back.

So the fact that his husband is wearing it now makes Louis feel all sorts of things. Before he has even a second to figure out what any one of them is, Harry opens his eyes.

“Shit fucking Christ,” he exclaims, opening his hand automatically. It’s like Louis watches in slow motion as the glass falls and breaks, shattering in so many different directions. He pulls his earbuds out quickly. “Hell, Louis, you scared the shit out of me!” he scolds.

Harry rises up onto his tiptoes, and Louis’ hand immediately goes out in front of him in a stop gesture.

“Don’t, don’t move,” Louis says. “Stay there.”

He turns quickly towards the kitchen, throwing his backpack somewhere off to the side as he rushes to grab the dustpan and broom, as well as the roll of paper towels.

“I’m coming, stay still,” Louis shouts as he starts jogging back.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he puts one paper towel down to soak up the wine there, then balls it up so he can sweep away the shards. He does the same as he works his way towards Harry’s feet.

There’s red wine all over his toes, that’s got to be uncomfortable. Louis grabs one of the paper towels and goes to dab his feet to wipe it off.

“Stop,” Harry says. He sounds angry.

Louis glances up and sees that he looks angry. He holds his hands up in a surrendering motion, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well don’t,” Harry spits out.

He stands up slowly. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Harry this angry with him. Even the time Louis accidentally threw out his favorite pair of boots it wasn’t like this. Louis isn’t prepared for this bitterness coming from his husband, and he didn’t think divorce brought on something like that when it wasn’t there before, at least not before they’d even filed the paperwork.

[unclewaynemunson]

Thinking thoughts about Nancy Wheeler again. About how she was the most Teenage Girl ever, gossiping with her bestie while twirling her phone cord around her fingers and kicking her legs in the air. About how she lost everything that embodied her Teenage Girl self in one night: her virginity, her best friend, her carefree smiles and giggles. How she turned into a soldier, got consumed by guilt, and could never return to the youth that she lost.

[ace-and-ranty]

You see, I think people don't explicit this enough, but the thing with anxiety is that.

You get an absurd, anxious thought. "What if horrible thing happened." And you get flooded with adrenaline. And then you get a second, rational thought. "It is unlikely that horrible thing happened; mundane thing probably happened instead."

But the adrenaline?? Is not going anywhere!! The chemicals?? Still in your body!! So now you have to sit there. And bathe in the worry chemicals.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking thoughts about Abuela being back and with this backstory about her being taken in by charlatans and Eddies whole catholic guilt thing and how the two things kind of play into one another as an exploration of faith and being taken in by something.

Abuela giving all her money to the tarot card readers etc because she was searching for something - for connection (with Abuelo) - trying to recapture what she had lost, and How Eddie has spoken about trying to re-find the magic he had with Shannon - how Eddie hasn't actually fully reconciled the Shannon of it all when it comes to relationships and how his Catholic guilt connects into that.

How Marisol as a physical representation of Catholicism is part of that narrative - how Eddie is entering a place where he has to chose his path - in order to move on from Shannon he needs to fully square the hole - catholic or non catholic. And how that needs to happen first - before he can begin his queer journey!

[werewolfenthusiast]

i just found out that getting too excited can trigger sensory overload and that’s why sometimes engaging with special interests can become physically overwhelming

[daily-hanamura]

[saym0-0]

once again insane about udad mechs, i just think that marius and raph would team up for some good ol human experimentation on dubiously dead folks, then chop up the bodies and take em to the acheron, brains for hades, all the good fleshy bits for cerberus, and for some reason persephone keeps requesting the bones

[vole-mon-amour]

this is how eager I think Halsin is when it comes to sex. that scene in the woods? "more?" he's a great partner.

[ickypuppi3]

you can’t talk about implications of sexual assault in scenes with billy without talking about the times it is actually implied, accidental or not (this whole sequence + s3 in general) or acknowledging the fact that he was the victim and not the perpetrator

[xysidhequeen]

Did Jason open up his trauma to Jazz? Since she is the group team mom

Oh my Ancients, yes. She cracked that boy open like a walnut. It took a bit, but Jazz reminds him somewhat of Barbara and Harley, so he warmed up to her fairly quickly overall. She really taught him what it's like to have a big sibling(sorry, I love Dick but he was a shit older brother before Jason died).

Jason will talk to Jazz about things he'd never say to anyone else. He actually opens up to Ember and Kitty too, but they're more for when he wants someone to cry with and to have get all enraged on his behalf. Jazz is who he talks to when he wants to fix it.

It wasn't always like that. He had to learn how to differentiate. Had to learn when he needed help, when he had things that needed to be fixed. He had to unlearn the emotional constipation and phobia of talking about his feelings he learned from Bruce too. But Jazz is used to dealing with teenage boys who won't admit they're hurting even on pain of death. She's good at subtly working their pain out and helping them confront it. (She learned a lot from helping Danny and from her Psych classes so she's more crafty about it too)

Jazz is one of the biggest reasons Jason is as stable and emotionally healthy as he is. He's not healed completely. He won't be until he gets closure with Bruce and the Joker. And there's some things that will always stick around. Trauma leaves scars. But without Jazz, we wouldn't have the Jason we do in TKAHRK we'd have someone far closer to the Jason from UTRH.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

currently thinking about just how much su minshan was willing to sacrifice--of himself, and of other people who relied on and trusted in him--to protect jin guangyao

goes 2 my knees, clutches my hair

[tchaikovskaya]

🤪🫠😛😅

[swampthingking]

oh! oh </3 oh!! okay!