#just trying to inspire myself

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

For Mod Bee : We'd actually like to see these doodles of yours! (Mainly cause i'm desperate for more content) but it's alr if you don't wanna! Just a suggestion

// i suppose i can put out some of them ! okay my children here's your dinner ^^ //

[shevr]

whats down there

[lunarcrown]

Soggy veil bdubs with a shrugged off jacket bc ???????? He’s getting rain washed I guess

Also BONUS: some hermit reactions to said wet fella

[queenlucythevaliant]

Okay gang, here's a silly little game. I've assembled six teams of blended Narnia and Tolkien/LotR characters. Here they are:

For bonus points, tell me in the tags where you're going on your road trip, who has what role (driving, snacks, aux) on the road, and what you'll stop off and see along the way

[martyrbat]

rip to bruce but if i fumbled her i would literally kill myself

[whaliiwatching]

gals & colors..

[roseytoesy]

Vore trope list

Screw it I’ve been looking for a list of vore tropes and stuff and can’t seem to find any! so you know what I’m going to make my own.

(Almost all of these I imagine as safe or has the option to be safe.)

Feel free to use this as an ask game too!

Story tropes:

Knight in shining armor (protection vore)

A heroic meal (protection vore but eating the bad guy)

Dragons sacrifice (poor soul(s) offered to a monster)

A bet (stupid idea + pride leads to shenanigans)

Feral/ lost to instincts (pred looses control of themselves)

Oh no you don’t! (Pred keeping prey from doing something stupid)

Tummy time out (prey annoyed/upset pred too much and ended in tummy as punishment)

Extreme cuddling (just as it says. both wanna be cozy together and what better way than inside a tum?)

dentist (thorough cleaning but with its own risks of being eaten due to being within a mouth)

vore spa day (covered in delicious smelling oils and products and given a deep massage deep into a pred)

magic! (Potions or spells making this small and safe)

sci-fi (aliens and other biological/scientific shenanigans leading to vore)

willingly “sacrificed” to a god

food play (from noodles to cakes and icecream get creative and have fun!)

Saved from drowning (merfolk or lifeguard making sure someone gets the air they need inside where they will be safe)

fearful (I don’t like the sound of fearplay)

cat and mouse games (pred having fun while the prey may or may not, depending)

hide and eat (hide and seek but the seeker is very hungry~)

Any taur vore (from nagas to centaurs, to driders, to anything you can think of!)

multiple stomaches (a safe one/storage and one not so safe one maybe)

slimes (pred or prey they can be both!)

edible clones (best way to remove extras is to eat them!)

high vore (they either got high from the prey or the pred was high and got munchy)

dinner dates (ending with an amazing prey dessert to finish off a successful date)

inexperienced/first time (weather it’s pred or prey is so good)

shy (either pred or prey struggle to ask.)

casual (just walk up to friend and say I want in. Or can I have a snack for a bit. Shrug and relax for an hour or two)

kidnapping (best way to ensure transportation and that they won’t get away)

object vore (from a small key to a fricken box tv. The bulges are always a fun plus)

Come and get it~ (pred ate item/person prey needs so they have to go down to get it)

sick (pred needs something to settle their stomach, or prey wants to hide away from the world and their troubles.)

comfort (help ground a pred during a panic attack. Help hide prey from anxieties)

A different form of love (other species licking and gently swallowing their loved ones as signs of affection.)

healing vore (stomach juices heal things alive and break apart anything dead.)

tough soft guy. (Scary/intimidating with a soft spot for one special prey.)

multiple prey (weather the pred was gluttonous or overwhelmed both are good.)

super willing and unwilling (pred excited to nom someone and they are not ok with it. And a super willing prey where the pred is somewhat worried/freaked out)

VIP (very important prey, gets a nice backstage show ending in a belly.)

sleep eating (pred had a nice dream about eating a marshmallow. Where’s their pillow/prey??)

another world (maybe somewhere where this is normal)

betrayal (prey gets gobbled up by friend and feels betrayed that they were nothing more than a meal/snack to who they thought they could trust.)

always close (pred hugging belly close or always having a hand over their precious cargo)

experiments! (Scientists doing things inside just because they are curious!)

overprotective (either pred or prey but they are possessive of their friend they aren’t allowed to be eaten by/eat anyone else!)

teasing (being charismatic or using double meaning words to get a snack or message across~)

domestic (a happy couple/ roommates sharing some nomes after cleaning together or getting things settled from the days adventures.)

robot (safely store items and prey at optimal temperatures and in a safe environment until threat has passed, or scans are completed, etc)

mine! (Hoarding things where NOONE can get to without their permission)

strings/equipment included (keeping prey on something to help them get out, though it may or may not fail depending on the pred)

demons deal (you got what you want and what they want in return is a nice meal~)

drink addition (prey floating in a drink and going down to their own special pool)

hot and cold (hot belly’s for cold days and cool belly’s for hot days)

It was an accident! (Took a tumble right down someone’s throat?! Or they didn’t notice someone in their drink)

Other:

Same size

half size

g/t

micro

cat size

willing

unwilling

squirming

switch

pred

prey

reformation

goopy/ painless digestion

fatal/perminant

oral

belly mouth

tail

Vore to endosoma

Half/full tour clean

dream vore

energy sapping

bulging stomach

hammer space stomach/ pocket dimension belly

[theecholegend]

”Don’t you dare touch my brothers again”

Red flashed in his eyes with disturbingly controlled fury. Legend stepped forward, the master sword held tightly in his hand. He raised it, the flat end of the blade turned towards what was left of the enemy- its infected blood coating the steel. 

He speaks, His words a threatening growl. “Don’t you dare touch my brothers again.”   ~~~~

blood warning! But don’t worry, it’s not his :)

click for better quality!

Without the lighting effects and his face isn’t covered

The sketch that was originally supposed to stay a sketch (they never do)

[time-slink]

kept drawing joel and grian looking the same so trying to work on that ;v;

[tarmac-rat]

WE WERE TOO DIFFERENT || WE WERE TOO ALIKE

Cyberpunk 2077 // Fredrik Backman // William Bouguereau with a quote by Richard Siken // chloe moriondo // Gang of Youths // Carl Goos with lyrics from 'Hadestown' // Hannah Tinti

[missholoska]

day 3 of Soriel Week year 8: legend 🤍🌙

my mind went to legendary pokemon for this one so I thought Toriel as Reshiram and Sans as Lunala would be cool ✨

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oop oc concept posting! this bad bitch is for an original story of mine - the main characters are all from different "genres", and i needed One More to round out the group and well. puppet-y guy fit the bill! i can't decide on a name!

she's from a children's show that had a western themed rock group that would provide lessons through the power of Music! she was the band guitarist until she fuckin. fell into the labyrinth & got corrupted by her found family of idiot assholes

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: A digital drawing of Willow and Camila from the owl house. The piece is set during thanks to them's timeskip. The two are sitting on the front porch of the noceda home at sunset, next to a speaker that is playing I'm a Survivor by Reba McEntire, the lyrics reading "A single mom who works two jobs-". Willow sheds a tear and says "she gets me fr" (as vines slowly approach her legs and hands). Camila looks at her skeptically and says "mija, you're 15". End ID]

What if I told you guys this was just meant to be a sketch

[swordheld]

i believe we all are unspectacular, though

this feeling - it's yours, through and through. your experience is yours and you have earned every emotion you hold on to. in writing this, i don't mean to try to explain away how you're feeling; i only want to attempt to show you the inverse, the hidden light that shadows beyond every darkness.

sometimes there are moments where it all becomes too much and we fall into it, that long dark, and it takes us from ourselves, from some part of us that lives close to whatever we hold to the light of things. the hard part of this was never finding that awe, that spectacular beauty, but keeping it close enough to guide us out of the dark. it slips so easy through our fingers.

when that becomes so big it swallows all else: what if you think of the softest thing? of similarity, and kindness, and how it seems to be rooted down to the marrow of us.

we have existed for so long, so little. we are like giants, on our pebble of a celestial grain of sand. our lives are short and memories far shorter. and yet look at all that we do with it: look at how far it goes - each shining piece.

how could it be just unspectacular? couldn't it always, always have the possibility for more? i implore you to read through ada limón's full piece that this is pulled from, titled dead stars:

Out here, there’s a bowing even the trees are doing.                  Winter’s icy hand at the back of all of us. Black bark, slick yellow leaves, a kind of stillness that feels so mute it’s almost in another year. I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying. We point out the stars that make Orion as we take out        the trash, the rolling containers a song of suburban         thunder. It’s almost romantic as we adjust the waxy blue        recycling bin until you say, Man, we should really learn some new constellations. And it’s true. We keep forgetting about Antlia, Centaurus,        Draco, Lacerta, Hydra, Lyra, Lynx. But mostly we’re forgetting we’re dead stars too, my mouth        is full        of dust and I wish to reclaim the rising— to lean in the spotlight of streetlight with you, toward        what’s larger within us, toward how we were born. Look, we are not unspectacular things.        We’ve come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love         harder? What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said,         No.      No, to the rising tides. Stood for the many mute mouths of the sea, of the land? What would happen if we used our bodies to bargain for the safety of others, for earth,                  if we declared a clean night, if we stopped being         terrified, if we launched our demands into the sky, made ourselves so         big people could point to us with the arrows they make in their         minds, rolling their trash bins out, after all of this is over?

poetry is lovely for so many reasons, but a personal favourite is that it can mean different things to different readers. this one, to me, means there is more here. as in: you are not the first, you are not alone in this ache, this heavy weight of life. the ground has shook with dance since before our feet, the wind has carried stories beyond our voice. it says there has been more here.

and that, in turn, says everything without so many words, doesn't it?

we try, and try, and give everything we have. we have been doing it since before language, since before breath. it is a history that says i need you to know that i tried. that i made it out, into the light of things.

nothing lasts forever. there is no such thing as permanence. everything washes away. there is rot and things collapse, forests fall, seasons change, and time moves on. but the same time  –  there is no such thing as separation. we are not exempt. we all share this changing. 

yes, loving the world is difficult. finding pieces of living, of being alive, that make it worth living is one of the most difficult of searches, but it's one of the most rewarding, as well as the only things truly worth anything. you need to find things to keep going for. you need to recognize your own spectacular things specific to you, because who else is going to do it? 

there is something strong in teaching yourself to hone that perspective. to hold everything else in rays of scattered sunlight through canopies - momentary joys so profound: a violin melody, art that breaks you alive, poetry you want to hold behind your teeth, the smell of cinnamon bread in the oven, because at the end of it: wouldn’t you want hope? wouldn’t you choose hope?

and poems like this, they ask: if you could, even just once more, dare to dream, dream anything, dream it all, each and every piece of light that could await you - wouldn't you?

and wouldn't you? wouldn't you.

[greenerteacups]

Hi! I am an ardent fan of your writing, and I hope to be as sorted and planned as you some day in my own writing journey.

My question is: you have a keen eye when it comes to planning character personality, dynamics, and such. I've also been wading through your ask replies, and your insights into how you write people and how you make them play off of each other is so wonderful to read. If it's not too personal a q, how did you learn how to write like this? Did you go to school for writing, does it come from years of observing people, do you have reading list recs for "how to write real people and real interactions"?

Thanks! This is a really flattering question. I'll try to answer it honestly, because I wish someone had been brutally honest about this with me when I was a young writer.

I didn't go to school for writing. I started doing it when I was about nine years old. It sucked very badly. I kept writing throughout high school, and it still mostly sucked, but some of it was occasionally interesting. ("Interesting" here does not mean "good," by the way.) I took a break in college, and then came back. I've been writing ever since. Sometimes, I feel good about it. A lot of the time, I don't!

I hate giving this advice, because I remember how it feels to get it, and it's the most uninspiring, boring-ass, dog shit advice you can get, but it's also the only advice that is 100% unequivocally true: you have to write, and specifically, you have to write things that suck.

I do not mean that you should make things that suck on purpose. I mean that you have to sit down and try your absolute hardest to make something good. You have to put in the hours, the elbow grease, the blood, sweat, and tears, and then you have to read it over and accept that it just totally sucks. There is no way around this, and you should be wary of people who tell you there is. There is no trick, no rule, no book you can buy or article you can read, that will make your writing not suck. The best someone else can do is tell you what good writing looks like, and chances are, you knew that anyway — after all, you love to read. You wouldn't be trying to do this if you didn't. And anyone who says they can teach you to write so good it doesn't suck at first is either lying to you, or they have forgotten how they learned to write in the first place.

So the trick is to sit there in the miserable doldrums of Suck, write a ton, and learn to like it. Because this is the phase of your path as an artist when you find what it is you love about writing, and it cannot be the chance to make "good writing." This will be the thing that bears you through and compels you to keep going when your writing is shit, i.e., the very thing that makes you a writer in the first place. So find that, and you've got a good start.

Some people know this, but assume that perseverance as a writer is about trying to get to the point where you don't suck anymore. This is not true, and it is an actively dangerous lie to tell young writers. You are not aiming to feel like your writing doesn't suck. You are aiming to write. You are aiming to have written. Everything else is dust and rust. And of course, you'll find things you like about your pieces, you'll find things you're proud of, you'll learn to love the things you've made. But that little itch of self-criticism, in the back of your brain — the one that cringes when you read a clunky line, or thinks of a better character beat right after it's far too late to change — that's never going away. That's the Writer part of you. Read Kafka, read Dickens, read Tolstoy, you will find diary entries where they lament how absolutely fucking atrocious their writing was, and how angry they are that they can't do better. A good writer hates their sentences because they can always imagine better ones. And the ability to imagine a better sentence is what's going to make you pick up the pen again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Which is what I mean, and probably what all those other annoying, preachy advice-givers mean, when we say: a good writer is just someone who writes every day. It's that easy, and that hard.

[motel-gothic]