#sorry this is an oooold ask

[just-french-me-up]

I'm curious whats your biggest fear?

I work with middle schoolers for a living. Fear means nothing to me anymore

[retellingthehobbit]

I went to read your comic on Ao3 and I noticed you'd started back in 2020. Aside from your clear and beautiful art progression, what can you tell me about the timeline of your comic?

Thank you! And yes, started this webcomic in January of 2020. “I sure hope nothing bad happens in 2020 that will hamper my ability to focus on a large personal project!” — me in January 2020 with all the naivety of youth. Top ten images taken minutes before disaster. This comic is like a deeply personal diary of my mental state, complete with the long empty hiatuses that are sort of like that part of Twilight where months of depression are represented by blank pages.

One of my favorite things about webcomics is how you can often see an artist’s style grow organically over time. I think it’s something that’s getting lost in the age of “Webtoon Originals,” where people are starting to expect webcomics to be produced by an actual production studio with a team of artists behind them and to maintain a consistent highly curated art style throughout. These professionally funded comics are fun, but they do lose the messy personal organic growth that used to separate webcomics from traditional print comics? But i could go on a whole tirade about webtoon haha 😂 !

The Hobbit is partially a story about someone learning how to express themselves. Bilbo starts the story as this stuffy little guy who is repressing a lot his own personality; he ends the story as a skilled artist writing elaborate prosy poetry about his adventures. I deliberately chose to start drawing the comic before I went to college, knowing my art style would change a lot of over that period!

Anyway here's the timeline as I remember it: Pre-development: I was working on sketches of the comic itself as early as 2016. Chapter 1 (A Bedtime Story/Tooks and Bagginses): (Posted on Tumblr in January 2020, on Ao3 later): Published shortly before I went to college. I was drawing in Paint Tool Sai, and hand-writing all the words instead of using a font. I set out to adapt at least the Unexpected Party chapter, but thought I'd probably adapt the entire novel within a year or two. ("It's a webcomic Michael. How long could it take? twelve months?") Chapter 2: (A Very Respectable Hobbit): Posted like a week after Chapter 1. This was when I still thought I could post a ten page chapter every week, haahahahahahahahahaha Fs in the chat.

HIATUS #1: DANCE BREAK: TIME FOR A GLOBAL PANDEMIC. The exact timeline of 2020 is a blur for obvious reasons, but I do remember the updates became very sporadic over this period. Chapter 3-5 (Very Old Friends and An Unexpected Party chapters): there’s a global pandemic. During Spring Break my college abruptly kicks us all off campus and sends us home. I keep looking at the “post dates” on these chapters like what??? Really? I posted that at thAt time? But there was a global pandemic happening and I was so busy and overwhelmed with college???? When did I have the time? I have no memory of drawing these. My memories of all 2020 are so blurry. I think these chapters just manifested spontaneously.

The weekly/biweekly update schedule has been tossed to the wind, never to return. Alas. Chapter 6 (An Enormously Important Dwarf, aka Thorin’s intro): I was back “at college” during our “hybrid” year, so in practice I was extremely isolated. this was posted during a year after the first chapter, in 2021. I would never have found the motivation to continue if I wasn't so excited to draw Thorin! I also joined a "comic club" at my college which was comprised mainly of awkward video calls with like three people. On a weirder note, this chapter was posted a few weeks after the January 6th attempted coup. I was drawing in a a weird headspace.

DANCE BREAK #2: IT’S TIME FOR A YEAR LONG HIATUS:

I've started to often dislike the word “burnout” when it’s applied to art. It implies that the problem is that you were drawing too much or that you can’t find inspiration, when often the problem is much bigger than your art-- it's wider economic anxieties and social circumstances outside your control. It is very hard to think clearly and create things when you are worried about your future, about work, about housing, about a global pandemic, about constant demands on your time, and about being extremely isolated. In hindsight, I wasn’t “burned out”— I was in a situation where I could not think clearly or produce anything. Chapter 7 (The Lonely Mountain): posted a full year after chapter 6. For a while I considered having this be the “last chapter” of the comic!

Changing art styles was a thing I was really motivated to do, and was my last “bucket list” item for the comic.

HIATUS #3: I get really busy with junior year of college! I grow more and more disillusioned with Tolkien as I learn more about The Hobbit Law crushing labor unions and worker's rights in New Zealand, and how Amazon takes advantage of that. The Tolkien Estate also releases a statement saying they disapprove of any unauthorized use of Tolkien's works for profit or not, which isn't really legally enforceable but is also just an act of pure contempt XD. Chapter 8 (A Tangled Web): I get sent to the emergency room in an ambulance for Reasons and begin drawing this in the weeks after, as I realize I don't care about the Tolkien Estate or Amazon or Warner Brothers or whatever hollow marketable products they produce under the tolkien brand. I think this is the weakest chapter of the comic, both in writing and art, and in hindisght think the comic works better without it pacing-wise. However!!!! I was drawing it in a weird mental state, so. XD

Also, at this point I am drawing entirely in Photoshop. Chapter 9 (Ash and Smoke): Back at college for senior year— time for dragon! The comic starts updating with something that resembles a "regular schedule!" this year had more and more people on campus in person, and I started to slowly make college friends :). Also, at this point I am the President of the comic club, and we are now meeting in person and rebuilding our comic empire. Chapter 10 (The Heart of the Mountain): Some funky bits of writing I'd like to revise at some point, but I enjoy the art in this chapter. Chapter 11 (Polite Nothings): If I were to do this all again I'd shorten this chapter and combine it with chapter 12. One important note is that originally, I tried to keep all chapters under ten pages. This made it easier to post them to Instagram and Tumblr, because tumblr still had a “ten image limit” at the time. However at some point I realized that was more trouble than it was worth, and really made the pacing difficult/slow as I struggled to split the story into ten page chunks.

A lot of webcomics often fall into what I call a “wheel-spinning” phase, where the author is so focused on finishing smaller updates that they lose the pacing of the larger narrative—- and so the story stalls out. I feel like I dealt with a lot of “wheel-spinning” while I was at college, both in my life and in my comic XD. Chapter 12 (The Quest): My internship company gives me an offer to work full-time, which I accept. in the last semester of my last year of college, I take the most helpful elective class I have ever taken: a class on using 3D models in blender to aid with blocking out illustrations. This is the first chapter where you see one of those backgrounds! From this point on my background art will improve dramatically. I also have lots of internet friends and college friends!

As I grow more confident in my art I also make the decision to change the character designs, something I’d wanted to do for a while. Chapter 13 (The Necromancer): I graduate college! It's time for some Lotte Reiniger art. I stay in my student housing until my lease ends. The art starts to grow more elaborate as I have more time to spend on it. Chapter 14 (Terms and Conditions): my summer is free, so I spend it drawing gay little hobbits. I move up North to live with my grandmother until my work start date. This is the very last “normal-sized” chapter of the comic, where I hold myself to keeping it under 10 pages. I also think this is where my new more elaborate character designs actually start to look a lot better XD.

I was finishing up apartment-hunting at this time, so both Bilbo and I were goin over contract terms. Chapter 15 (Unattached): summer free time!! More gay little hobbits. I move into my New apartment and sleep on an air mattress for a while. I have a lot of time to draw and the art gets far more complex; this chapter was also twice as long as my usual chapters. I am still proud of this chapter, honestly, even though it's gotten less attention than Chapter 16/17-- it's one I'd been excited to draw for a while. A lot of this chapter was drawn on my beautiful powerful beloved air mattress. Air mattress, my beloved. Chapter 16 (the Song of the Lonely Mountain): I start my new job! I get a BED. Lots of exciting things are happening. I was really excited to draw and post this chapter, because it’s one id been dreaming about drawing from the beginning-- it was surreal to see it "posted" because part of me never thought I'd get this far. I even started a tiktok and posted the chapter there, certain that people would enjoy it. However, tiktok basically ignored it, alas! This is why tumblr is the only social media site. Chapter 17: I continue my new job. My roommate surprises me with the news that they will move out at the end of our lease, making me realize that months have somehow passed. I make a post asking for anyone looking for roommates in Milwaukee to contact me via dms (that offer is still open, if you’re looking to move here in early June.) I privately am very confused about why anyone would ever want to leave a comfortable settled home to go off on an adventure and then realize that I am behaving exactly like pre-quest Bilbo Baggins.

Chapter 18: the chapter I am working on now!!! Another chapter I have been excited to draw forever!! It’ll feature studio-Ghibli-inspired backgrounds, exciting landscape art, and so much fun! I’ve also started a Patreon where, if you want to see “one page a week” instead of “twenty pages every Mystery number of Months” you can subscribe there. (The first page of Chapter 18 has already been posted!)

But yeah! The TL:DR:

I think the moral of all this (to me) is that it’s hard to make art if you’re just not in a position to do it, and you have to allow yourself time to grow and change as a person XD. Sometimes you need to spend a few years thinking and getting better before you're ready to go on an Adventure. I started this comic when I was very Young and Naive to the Ways of the World. The quality (and dips in quality) reflect my wildly fluctuating mental/emotional states while trying to draw each chapter in the midst of a global pandemic. My art has improved a lot lately, and I think a large part of it is really just being in a situation where I *can* improve— having a decent job, not being in the middle of a global pandemic with no vaccine in sight, not needing to live in constant fever-pitch anxiety, having friends, etc etc. I am completely different person now than I was while drawing chapter 1.

Not to be dramatic, but I think you can see there’s a lot more joy in the recent chapters than there is in some of the older ones. It's weird to look at your art and realize you've gotten happier. XD

[leggyre]

did you make other little animations like the one with the small bird walking or the little guy going "blablabla" or being scared? Those were pretty cool

i do have a few things yeah!! not the best animation work around just little tests and ideas for fun

theres some walk cycles and lilac w copy abilities

you might have seen those idk you didnt mention but juust in case: more bird and more talkies

the one with the most to it, a lil thingy i made bc i thought abt how funny the idea of an omori speedrun is (emotional trauma any%)

theres a lot of bouncing things heres the most interesting one of them

lil funny fact i use gifcam to make all of these because it takes like no time at all lmao theyre just fun stuff not rly meant to be high quality

[ohmors]

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘. italicize what makes them uncomfortable. ↳ repost, do not reblog!

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowds ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ open spaces ⋆ change ⋆ war ⋆ failure ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ forest ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ loss ⋆ dying ⋆ death ⋆ love ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ lack of noise ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ insects ⋆ dogs ⋆ snakes ⋆ illness ⋆ doctors ⋆ failure ⋆ thunder storms ⋆ being watched ⋆ eyes ⋆ being vulnerable ⋆ needles or pointed objects ⋆ clowns ⋆ mirrors ⋆ isolation ⋆ shouting ⋆ change / fear of change.

tagged by: stolen from @cryoexorcist :) tagging: go on, steal it

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hii I'm so sorry about the ageist ask,,, I truly hadn't meant it to be patronizing, but i couldn't get that across! I meant it in a "hey isn't that interesting how artforms can transcend age barriers and how lovely it is that we can share love for something so niche even if there's a good decade between us!" I didn't mean to make you feel attacked about your emoji use, I was only pointing it out to appreciate the difference! Language tends to change between generations, internet lingo even more so but it's quite wonderful and precious when you see it together. Unfortunately my autistic ass cannot get through with tones 🤦🏻‍♀️ Though I do want to say I absolutely appreciate what you're saying and I do not think life ends at 30, obviously. I like to read yours and other writers in this fandom's aged up modern au fics because it makes me feel better about my anxiety about growing up which is such a cliche but I hope you get what I mean,,, even if I could use some communication workshops or something. I am very excited to be 30, 40, and so on. You guys give me a lot of hope istg ❤️❤️ I'm so sorry!!!

Don't worry babe I'm not mad at you. I do appreciate the clarification on your intentions tho. And I get it, it can be hard sometimes to vocalize your thoughts right in text. Tone and all that, it's tricky. But honestly, if what you said here is actually what you meant, then just say that in the first place! This ask doesn't feel ageist or condescending, the first one kinda did. So I'd say just be more open to expressing your thoughts as they are rather than trying to restructure them. It only ends in losing your message in translation, which is a shame because you sound articulate and thoughtful and heartfelt when you actually express you, ykwim?

And I meant what I said, I'm not offended because I have been where you are. I vividly remember being 21, 23, 25, hell even 27, and thinking "omfg what am I gonna do when I'm 30?? 30 year olds are fuckin oooold 😩" and not understanding how I could still be "me" at that age. Like hwo would that look? How could still like what I like? But you'll wake up at 30 and 33 and 35 and realize you're exactly the same person you've always been, just... a lot smarter (hopefully. some of these mfs never learn a damn thing 😒). But internally you'll still feel exactly like that same person you always have been.

And then some damn kid will be like "you're cringe" and you'll be like "get tf off my lawn ಠ_ಠ" and then everything starts fallin apart

[theninthdoor]

https://at.tumblr.com/theninthdoor/704819479773888512/mupo3zifglv7

Right? Sharp face features, the sensuality, intensity (to me, he's generally laid back, a jokester too, but his emotions can be intense, the members said so especially when they're watching movies together. Also intense when on stage), his penchant for genuinity, etc. I also feel he's prone to get misunderstood. He's also been through many mishaps. 1 of his tattoos is a line of text "You are the light. You have to burn." Transformation vibes. All seem Scorpio to me (I'm a total astro newb though, could be wrong!)

About his MBTI. I'm pretty sure he has these cognitive functions high in his stack of functions: Fi and Se. I just can't decide yet which one is the dominant function, which is auxiliary. High Fi and Se can only be found in either ISFP (the artist) or ESFP (the performer). He's not INFJ (the confidant) who has high Ni (because he's generally a confused person LOL, he's been saying he doesn't know himself way too often over the years). INFJ also has high Fe (but Ten can be too deep into his own emotions that he can be oblivious to others. He's also into a life motto: Be you, be crazy, be unique, it's definitely Fi).

Here's the new ask, thank you for entertaining my randomness! Please don't feel pressured to do anything out of what you're comfortable with. I'll be okay with the shortest answers you got! Thank you!! 😍

this is oooold - i'm sorry for replying so late 😭

in regards to his ascendant - i'll go with scorpio too! earlier degree (0-10º max), as i said previously.

mbti - i could see him being an ISFP with a healthy Te. i just don't think he's a Se dom, to be honest... he's good at engaging with his environment/the present moment, but it doesn't come off as natural or automatic as with the ESFP imo.

i'm open to being wrong, but this is my take.

[shirogane-oushirou]

🩷,💌, and 🎁 for the emoji asks? :D

tysm caitie for the ask!!! ☺✨💕

gonna go for a change of pace and talk about my main man oushirou, my beloved freak of almost 15 years. gives him a little kissy. mwah.

🩷 for a headcanon about f/o.

the desire to seem non-threatening is what got him to start experimenting with things like his looks and his weird-funny-guy personality... then he crossdressed for the Funnies once and realized it was fun, actually... then he started being a little more flamboyant because it came naturally to him... and this was all in the gender-rigid environment of the all-boys-except-tsukiko seigetsu academy.

so as soon as he graduates to go to college, get an internship, enter the journalism field, travel all over the world... he realizes how even HIS view of the limits of expression are... well... limited. he feels more free to try new things, wear bold patterns, paint his nails, do his hair in even more interesting styles. as he learns new languages he also learns all new ways to describe gender and expression and sexuality. in the end, he realizes doesn't really need defined labels; he's simply oushirou, and he's going to look beautiful and handsome and charming and sexy and flirty for anyone and everyone who's willing to give him their time.

when he shows up at the 10 year seigetsu reunion, wearing a zebra stripe suit with polkadot tie, red aviators, black nails, and an intricately styled hair-do, it catches everyone a little off guard... but they quickly lean into the bold changes when they see just how much more comfortable and self-assured he seems.

(tl;dr: i hc him as genderqueer and pansexual lol. and he has a VERY nonbiney fashion sense ksjnkjnsf which is canon but like. they didn't INTEND for it to be typical nonbinary fashion, they just wanted him to be a little weirdo man. no, sorry, i'm The Oushirou Guy (tm) and i declare he's Gender.)

💌 for a snippet of a conversation we had.

(ngl i'm extremely brain empty, so i'm actually going repurpose and rewrite part of a prompt i did in... uh... 2012????? jfc i'm a selfshipping grandpa.)

“Kehe! What, are you afraid to show a bit of leg, sweetheart? You know I’ve already seen them before right?”

The door closes, and the red-head strides over to the bed and, with a grunt, plops himself down where Ro’s feet end under the covers.

“Doesn’t mean you just get to see 'em for free, you know! B'sides, if I ran around half-naked all the time I don't think it'd stay entertaining for long.”

“Oh, you doubt the power of a true pervert? Kuhihi~”

He begins to move, and Ro closes their eyes and tenses, preparing for the usual onslaught of wriggling fingers and wet, sloppy, gross kisses...

The weight on the bed shifts, and two warm arms wrap around their waist.

A quick kiss at the corner of their eye.

“…Did you get a lot of work done?”

Their shoulders relax, and a sigh escapes them as they look up into his face, much closer now than it was before. “Enough…I guess. It’s hard to say at this point.” The work of a freelancer is never done, after all.

“So then,” his hands slowly, gently travel up and down their arms, “how about a nice, relaxing, eight-to-ten-hour sleep break with me, hmm?” He moves his head to the crook of their neck, nuzzling into it. Ro brings one hand to his long hair and begins running their fingers through, the other rubbing his shoulders and back. “Just you, me, and this big ol’ comfy bed. Ah, and your pants-less legs, of course~!” He grins against their neck.

“As long as you don’t look at them, mister.”

“Oh c'mooooon, don’t pull the ‘mister’ thing on me right before bed! It makes me feel so oooold and formal. You’re so mean, sir.” He looks up from his comfortable neck-crook long enough to wipe a fake tear from his eye and pout at their serious face.

A few seconds pass, the two staring intensely at each other, before Ro huffs and breaks into a small smile. They lean forward and give Oushirou a light peck on the lips, and as they lean back to lie on the bed, his lips eagerly follow theirs, wanting more.

🎁 for a gift f/o has given s/i (or vice versa).

he travels all the time, all over the world, so he tries to bring back little trinkets from all of the places he's been. just tiny painted keepsakes. i keep them displayed on a shelf as a reminder of just how much he's been able to do, how far he's been able to go, and how many people he's met.

and while bringing back cooked food with him would be... difficult, he does sometimes bring back interesting recipes from those who are willing to share. when we meet up again, he buys some ingredients, borrows the kitchen, and cooks something to allow me to experience a small taste of the places he went to.

[vrabbiit]

Hello there V! I am planning to send a request, but I need to ask you something first, are you comfortable writing for an animatronic! Reader?

hi anon!!! to answer that question, as stated in my rules i personally do not write animatronic!reader, i'm sorry!! i hope you can find (or found since this is an oooold ask, sorry again-) someone to do your request though!

[jere-me--oh-my]

I feel like this isn't about me ...

Jeremy has a talk with his parents

(Discussion around coming out; TL:DR - His parents have a big oooold freak out but are ultimately supportive)

Jeremy's knee bounced nervously as he waited for his Dad to finish making a cup of tea. He had sunk so low into the sofa that he was practically lying down, as he watched some property renovation show (spoiler alert: the project was running behind time and over-budget and everyone was looking miserable).

Julia Johnson was knitting on the other sofa, mumbling to herself as she counted stitches and tried to make sure she'd gone the right number before switching her stitch.

Jack came in, humming, a mug of tea in hand, which he set down before settling himself down on the sofa next to his wife. He watched the screen, head tilted to one side for a moment. "Let me guess - kitchen-diner with big glass doors opening onto the garden so they can properly connect with the outdoors but it's all going to be white and sterile inside?"

"How did you know," Julia smiled without looking up.

"Same thing they do every week, isn't it?" Jack huffed. Jeremy was chewing on a bit of dead skin on his forefinger where a callus was forming. He'd been playing his electric more than usual lately.

"That and going completely open plan and thinking that means their kids will suddenly want to watch their tv programmes and listen to their music and talk to their friends in the same room as their parents," Julia reminded him.

"Well there is that-" Jack grinned, glancing up at their son, who had chosen to come home on a Monday evening, hoping to tease him about spending time with his old folks. It was unusual for him, that had to be said, he usually picked a Thursday or a Friday night to come home. A frown flickered across his face as he looked at Jeremy.

"You alright there Jere?" He asked. Julia's clacking needles fell silent as she raised her head, and immediately lowered her knitting.

"Jeremy darling? Is everything alright?"

And so it began.

"Is everything alright with university?"

"Is it that source analysis, I know you said you were having problems with that?"

"Did something happen at work?"

"I've always said that Mr Kronk gives you too many unsociable hours its not good for your sleeping pattern-"

"Do you need to come and stay at home for a few days, I'll make your favourite for dinner-"

"Are you feeling alright matey? Stay there I'll get the thermometer-"

Jeremy pressed the palms of his hands to his temples. He could feel his pulse going through the roof, there it was surging like waves on a beach over and over and over again as his parents went over and over and over every possible thing they could think would be wrong. All of which seemed to bounce around recurring themes like... was his music taking up too much time? Or football tiring him out too much? Were all of the things he loved 'the problem?'

"Please. Mum! Dad!" He groaned.

They both stared at him, aghast.

"I'm sorry, I'm - I'm sorry-" he stammered, feeling like the blonde headed kid who'd just confessed he was scared to do the choir solo. "I just - I need to talk to you, ok? I need to tell you something and I need you to just listen, please." There was an uncomfortable prickle in the backs of his eyes.

Julia reached out and grasped her husband's hand, white as a sheet. Jack nodded, silently, looking at his son like he was about to tell them he was dying.

"I... I've been seeing someone."

Julia actully gasped at that. An excited little gasp, but a gasp nonetheless.

Jeremy ploughed on. He owed it to Pip, by now, didn't he. "They're um... they're a guy. I'm bisexual."

Silence.

Deafening, excruciating, bone-crushing silence.

His parents simply stared at him. Jeremy could feel his heart beating in his chest in the silence, hammering out the rhythm, but there were notes on the score... just silence. Of all the things he had imagined, he hadn't expected silence.

The bars went by, silence, the orchestra poised, silence, the conductor frozen with their baton raised, silence. The whole audience holding their breath as they waited for that first note to begin.

Silence.

Deep, ominous silence. Jeremy felt he couldn't breath for risk of shattering it.

"When did you know?" The first notes began to tumble out.

"How did you find out?"

"How long have you known?"

"Why didn't you tell us straight away?"

"Did we make you feel as if you couldn't? Jeremy I'm so sorry if you thought you couldn't-"

"This is my fault we should have talked about that sort of thing with you more when you were younger, you just... you started dating Emily and we assumed that was it, we're so sorry Jeremy we-"

"Did you think that we wouldn't approve?"

"Why would you think that?"

"We should have been more supportive, this is all our fault, Jeremy it's not you it's on us-"

"You should never have had to feel like you couldn't talk about this-"

"We're so glad you told us-"

"Who... who is it? Is it alright to ask that? You don't have to tell us if you're not ready or if you don't think it's serious you just-"

"Do we know them?"

"Do their parents know you're dating?"

"Are you both balancing it alright with university? Or do they work?"

Jeremy sank even further down among the cushions on the sofa as his whole head spun. He threaded his fingers through his hair, feeling hot water welling up in his eyes. His heart was still thundering in his chest, but now the waves crashing over him were exhaustion.

And he was going to have to answer ever last one of their questions.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, as question after question cascaded down on him.

"It's all still kind of new- I'd uh. I'd been thinking about it for a while now, but I only really, um... knew for sure kind of recently." He kept his eyes on the floor. Best for everyone if he didn't let them see him cry, then they'd spend the next hour berating themselves and trying to make it all up to him. No, he would just have to plough through.

But he was feeling a lot like that middle-aged couple having problems with their contractor who were staring out from the tv right now.

But onwards, he urged himself. Forwards.

And maybe then he could collapse to his bed and bury his face in the pillow.

[shrapnelsong]

@empiia​ asked: " worry not, my dear. i promise to only take a little. " they reassure softly, lips pressing gentle kisses to her neck. their fingers hasten their ministrations when they feel her release is inevitable and their fangs sink into her skin. sorun's eyes flutter closed and they moan as warm blood pours down their throat, their other arm holding alice tighter against themself. " alice... " they moan again. " you taste so good. "

     She loved Sorun, so offering it came naturally. They’d protested at first, wonderful in how they worried for her, but Alice wouldn’t hear it. She wanted to do this for them. Besides, she is a doctor. If anything, she can monitor her own condition and make sure of how often they can safely do this.

With her mind set and all precautions taken care of, she finally convinced Sorun to feed on her. What she hadn’t at all expected; however, was how amazing it would feel for her as well.

They’d been together before many times, but knowing her lover would be feasting on her in a different way made everything more intense. She was more sensitive to their every touch, every brush of their lips against her skin leaving her wondering when and where they would be feeding from.

By the time their masterful fingers finally entered her, she was panting and squirming, already too close to the edge of her orgasm to carry any rational thought. The kisses to her neck felt almost apologetic, but they only served to arouse her further as heralds of what was about to happen. Her insides tightened around Sorun’s digits, a shiver tickling down her spine when their fangs grazed her skin. “Take it...” She pleaded, grinding against their hand.

The piercing sensation startles her for a second before she is absolutely overwhelmed by a tidal wave of pleasure that has her climaxing hard, body arching away from the bed and closer to her lover. “Sorun~!” Their name is a prayer on her tongue as the orgasm refuses to die down, leaving her in ecstasy. 

[nakoitelek]

draw one of your ocs with what u r wearing now

heheheheeh

[eyecicles]

What if L didnt have his "think to lose weight" thing.

I’m not sure if I get what you’re asking. Is this about this scene?:

As Misa said, he was just making fun of her - I’m pretty sure he knows that he isn’t skinny just because he constantly “uses his head” to burn sugar. Why exactly he’s so skinny is kind of a mystery. But I don’t actually think it’s that unrealistic, or at least not impossible; it’s unclear how much exactly he eats & he at least seems to like fruit (like cherries, strawberries and melon) too - and I know a few people personally who eat a lot of sugary and fat-laden food but are still as skinny as a rake.

I still think it’s not just a preference; he most likely uses this kind of food as fuel for his brain, or at the very least as something to help him stay concentrated and motivated during his investigations. (He's just very methodical in general about what he needs to be comfortable) “How To Read” states that he allegedly ate nothing but sweet food during the Kira investigation. So there still is canonically a correlation between his diet and his ~brain powers~, but that doesn’t mean he would suddenly gain weight if he were to... stop using his brain all the time, haha.

Anyways, I think even if he wasn’t one of those people who can basically eat whatever they want, it wouldn’t drastically change his eating habits. When you look at the way he dresses, his (seemingly) unkempt hair, the obvious dark circles under his eyes, etc, it gets rather obvious that he doesn’t concern himself too much with what society considers to be traditionally handsome/attractive. He’s pretty fit in canon, but since you can be chubby and athletic at the same time, I don’t think it would matter all that much to him, if at all.

[asklastfrontier]

Alaska and Hawaii don’t share any special bonds, but I find some similarities between them ! Of course there are a loot of difference between them too, but find similarities between these two states was pretty interesting !

One of the rare picture when Alaska smiles in the presence of Hawaii haha, in fact she shouldn’t be so jealous of her.

[atmilliways]

It’s Maybe Cheesy But and Hondaklok!

[wip meme]

It’s Maybe Cheesy But 

This is from an oooold ask prompt that I swear I will get to some day, but I haven’t started writing it because I keep drawing a blank. But will be contain Narles and it’s gonna contain snuggles.

Hondaklok!

Charles opened his eyes and for a few seconds was merely drowsily confused as to why he was eye to eye with his office rug. Then some sense crept back in and he snapped his head up, crooked glasses dropping back into place. At least there seemed to be minimal evidence of bending from the position they’d been in for however long he’d been out. He did a mental inventory while he picked himself up to his knees and, once he’d gotten a solid grip on the edge of the desk, to his feet. 

Aside from the initial muscle weakness and head rush as he stood up, he felt . . . fine. A little warm, maybe, but fine. 

Nathan, he remembered suddenly, and rushed around the desk to the frontman’s prone form, checking his watch as he moved. As best he could tell they’d only been out for a few minutes. The other man didn’t stir as he knelt beside him. Charles, dangerously on the edge of actually showing panic, held his breath as he checked for a pulse. 

There, there it was. He let out the breath he’d been holding but left his index and middle fingers resting against the side of Nathan’s neck for the reassurance that he hadn’t just gotten the man killed through his own carelessness. They were still there a moment later when Nathan’s eyes eased open and blinked sleepily up at him. 

“Charles. . . ?” he mumbled. 

“I’m here,” Charles replied, still working on tamping down all evidence that he’d been rattled—the important thing now was to keep Nathan calm and verify that he was alright. Without thinking about it, his hand on Nathan’s neck shifted to brush hair from his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” Nathan answered, correctly, and started to sit up. “What happened?”

“Slowly,” Charles cautioned. He kept one hand on him for the moment to make sure that Nathan didn’t ignore him and try to jump to his feet. “There was. . . .” He trailed off, frowning. The gold powder had settled on them, all over everything within a few feet of the envelope, but he didn’t see any trace of it now. Not on either of their skin or clothes—he leaned in close to stare intently at Nathan’s hair, rubbing a lock of it in between his fingers to see if there was any sort of residue. “There was something in that envelope, but it seems to be gone now. Must have been some sort of, ah, prank or something.” 

Nathan blinked at him, seeming to accept this without issue. After a moment he said, “Charles?”

“Yes?”

“How come you’re playing with my hair?”

Charles realized that he was still rubbing Nathan’s hair between his fingertips and quickly dropped it. “Sorry, I was, ah.” He felt warmth gathering in his cheeks. “Just checking.”

[alyjojo]

Very emotionally intense visit with my family. I spent time with everyone, in one on ones like I try to. There’s always the people you’re more naturally drawn to, just how it works out.

My stepbrother up and went to NY yesterday! Just spontaneously. Took his dog. Whaaaat. Whatever, idc I wanna go too LOL that’s awesome, happy holidays to him ❤️ Stepsister looked fab as always. Her guy has this oooold time car they were trolling me with. I still didn’t find out if they really had to crank it 😆

My eldest aunt & closest uncle were both emotional bc of my Gma & Gpa, both with Covid and selling their house we’ve all known all our lives. He seemed happy I asked. Ofc he’s feeling a way. He did everything I would’ve. Maybe I’m just like that too.

My FATHERRR on the other hand psh. “It’s not that serious”. Look yall, if you have ven vir I’m sorry you’re all emotionless & dead inside or something but that’s just not the way to be with family mmk. I scolded him. For shame. Have you talked to her? Have you even seen her? MIGHT WANNA. 🤦‍♀️

My Gma didn’t notice my shoes. I don’t think she’d have even noticed if they were red. She’s not the same, neither is my gpa, and I’m very sad. Can’t even rebel like I used to...look I bought beige, for once. What a stupid thing but it’s true 😔 I told them to pop in any time, we are always here, don’t even have to call just come over I don’t mind...I mean I might be in my care bear jammy pants bright n early lol but I got coffee...

Thanksgiving was canceled. Christmas was at my other aunts house, which is awesome but sad. She loooves my lil guy, he reminds her & her husband both of their lil guy all grown up, I can see it in their faces. You can borrow him any time ❤️ She asked 😊 I’m glad he’s being appreciated. Yes he is the cutest.

Someday nothing will be the same.

[drarryangels]

For the prompts, can I please get Drarry and touch starved? P.s. you're writing is amazing.

SO. I am so, so incredibly sorry. This prompt is soooo oooold. Oh my god I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this. I love and appreciate you, and a million apologies. 

I hope you like this. I tried hard. 

1990

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon shouted, pointing viciously at Harry. Every step took him closer and closer to Harry, sweatily clambering into his space. “Get in the cupboard now!”

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and slowly edged towards the cupboard. He was only a couple steps from the entrance of the cupboard now. His cupboard. Oh, how he wished it wasn’t his. How he wished it was a cupboard like any other. 

Uncle Vernon came closer. A step before the sill of the cupboard door, Harry stopped and wheeled around to Uncle Vernon’s purple face. “I don’t want to go,” Harry whimpered, doing his best to prevent his face from crinkling up into a sob. 

Every bone in his body was screaming at him to close his mouth, shut it all down. No tears, no little gasps of air. His body betrayed him. 

“What did you say, boy?” Uncle Vernon leered down at Harry, leaning closer and closer. 

“Nothing,” Harry murmured. He backed even further towards the cupboard. Harry chanced a glance backwards. Darkness crept out of the edges of the tiny cupboard, sneaking out of the spiderwebs and into Harry’s belly. He shook his head back and forth a little. One breath and he’d be inside.

No matter what Uncle Vernon did, no matter how many meals he had to miss, no matter how many chores he had to do. No matter what it cost, Harry didn’t think he could go a centimeter closer to the beckoning cupboard door. The tiny grail on the door gleamed cruelly at him, waiting for the door to slam behind him. 

“Get in,” Uncle Vernon said. Mockery fell out of his voice and the sharp knife of brutality edged its way into his tone. It wouldn’t be long before Aunt Petunia would come pecking out of the kitchen, wielding a hot frying pan. 

See, the thing about the Dursleys was that they never touched Harry. Harry couldn’t think of a single time in his life when he had been willingly touched by another human, except for when an odd man had come up to shake his hand in a store nearly a year ago. 

Even when the Dursleys forced him to do something, they refused to touch him. The only contact Harry ever received was when someone’s shoulder brushed against his on the rare occasion that he was taken out in public. 

Despite the fact that the Dursleys never allowed their bare skin anywhere near his, they did happen to be very creative in punishing him in other ways. Belts and frying pans were favorites. 

Uncle Vernon’s voice came through him in waves and wobbled throughout his skull before he could understand what was happening. By the time it reached his understanding that Uncle Vernon would make him sorry if he didn’t go in his cupboard when asked, the end of a well oiled belt was already whipping down through the air. 

The sharp crack of the end of the leather belt resounded through the entry way. Pain slapped across Harry’s shoulder, and he reached up automatically to protect himself. A light whip drifted through the air in shimmering horror. The belt fell perfectly on his wrist, which would be easily covered up by a long sleeved t-shirt and passed off as a nasty fall if seen. The Dursleys were nothing if not excellent at maintaining a reputation.

Harry distantly felt himself crumple over, falling back into his cupboard. The dark corners swallowed him whole as he tumbled onto the pillow crammed in the back. Most days it served as his matress, but occasionally, the ratty feathers made for his blanket. Uncle Vernon slammed the door before his skimpy frame was tucked all the way in,and his foot got caught in the doorway. Uncle Vernon took a long look at a bony toe wiggled into a hole in one of Dudley’s ratty socks before slamming the crooked door over Harry’s ankle repeatedly. 

Harry didn’t make a peep. The door slammed over and over again and the noise cracked through the house like a quiet flame lighting under a cold rock. Spikes drove up Harry’s leg, but he managed to pull in his foot by the pant leg and stared wide eyed up at Uncle Vernon until he slammed the door for good. 

The shiny metal grill grinned at him through stripes of shuttered light. Then Uncle Vernon slid the grill closed and Harry was alone. 

That cupboard door didn’t open for another week after that. 

1999

Firelight flickered over Harry’s face and warmed him up through the tip of his nose. A weight dipped the couch next to him, but he didn’t turn to look who it was. If he bothered to think about it, he knew who it was. No one other than Ron and Hermione spoke to him these days, and even they didn’t come by often. After the war had ended, all of Harry’s friends got busy with the continuation of their lives and Harry fell behind with every step of a life he hadn’t expected. Only one person ever came around these days.

“Potter,” Draco said softly. No matter how many times Harry had asked him to call him Harry instead of Potter, Draco still insisted on it. “Potter,” Draco said again.

“What is it?” Harry asked quietly, still not looking up. 

Grimmauld Place stood sturdy and strong, warmer and brighter since Harry had moved in and renovated after the war. It served as both a dreadful reminder and a longing glimpse at everything the war had taken and given, but Harry couldn’t imagine ever letting go of it. Surprisingly, it had become home. 

“Am I allowed to ask what happened today?” Draco said, scooting closer on the couch and bringing his knees up to his chin. 

Harry shrugged and sunk deeper into the couch cushions. Draco could ask.

He could ask all he wanted about the little guest bedroom at the top of the stairs. He could ask about how small it was, or how Harry had ended up locked in there for the better part of a day thanks to the upended magic of Blacks. He could ask about when Draco had come around for tea, as he always did, why he had found Harry in a sobbing, shaking mess clutching onto the handle of the locked door. Why when Draco opened the door, Harry couldn’t move at first because he was expecting a blow to come hailing from above, his reward for being liberated. 

Although Draco could ask, that didn’t mean Harry had to answer any of the questions. 

But then, Draco had pried Harry’s hands off the rusted door handle and touched Harry’s back gently and Harry had hurtled forward, catching Draco into a crushing hug. And instead of doing everything Harry expected him to do, he’d simply tugged Harry a little closer and held on. 

So when Draco said, “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

Harry said, “No. I mean yes. I- I’m sorry. I’ll explain.” Draco watched him patiently and Harry took a deep breath. “My aunt and uncle… they didn’t treat me like a person really.”

Draco lay his hand over the hand Harry was worrying into the threads of the pillow on the couch. “We don’t have to talk about this-”

“I do,” Harry interrupted. He finally looked up at Draco, whose eyes were open and sweet, and who was sitting, ready to listen like no one ever was. “If you don’t mind listening, I’d like to talk about it.”

“Okay,” a soft smile slipped over Draco’s cheeks and he intertwined his fingers with Harry’s, effectively stopping him from rubbing holes into the couch. 

Harry toyed with the pillow in between them for a moment before pushing it off the couch. He watched Draco watch him as he moved closer to him and closed the gap in between their knees on the couch. “I never think about it like this, but I suppose my aunt and uncle abused me.” Harry tried to ignore Draco’s sharp intake of breath. “They never touched me. Not with their skin at least. But they were pretty generous with getting me to do what they wanted with a belt or kitchen ware.”

Draco was shaking his head, his mouth open in a little ‘o’. Something in Harry’s chest squeezed tightly. Lungs, heart, ribs. He shook his shoulders a little and rotated his body to face Draco’s.

“It’s… difficult to talk about. Or even think about really.” Harry inhaled heavily. “When I was two, they put me in a cupboard. The one under the stairs.” Harry’s words came out jolted and uneven. He tried to control the ragged timing of his air coming out in abrasive gasps. The sound echoed endlessly in his ears. “I lived there until I was almost eleven.”

“Potter,” Draco interrupted. The two were now sitting opposite each other, their knees touching. Harry stared at the ground while Draco tried to pick up Harry’s face with his eyes. “You really don’t have to tell me any of this.” Draco paused. “I know things are different between us now. But I’m not- I’m not Ronald or Hermione.”

Harry finally squeezed Draco’s hand in return. This part was new. The touching and hand holding. It only ever happened when they were alone, in private, but it still existed in the most wonderful, stomach-swooping of ways. 

“I know,” Harry said slowly, “but it’s easier to say this to you.”

“Why me?”

“Because in some ways… you understand it?” Harry looked at Draco carefully. Maybe Harry was reading this all wrong, and Draco had no idea how important it was that he tell Draco this and not Ron and Hermione. Harry tried to shrug it off casually. 

Draco lightly brushed his fingers over Harry’s shoulder before dropping his hand back into his own lap. “I think I get it. The things I went through when I was younger with my father, and the things from the Manor when the Dark- when He was there, are different. But I suppose, they’re the same in some ways.”

Harry nodded, mostly to reassure himself. And it was with that he found himself telling Draco everything that had transpired from the moment he could remember recognizing that the Dursleys were not his own family. He told Draco all about the cupboard, the chores, the bullying. They never touched him with their bare skin. How he’d had a panic attack when Hermione hugged him for the first time. How he never let anyone touch him until fifth year, when Cho had kissed him. He cried then because the feeling of bare skin touching a part of him that was so new was so inherently wrong, even though it felt so good. He spoke until his mouth was dry about the hitting, and the ignoring, and the slapping away all traces of magic. 

It was horrible, every bit of it. When he finished, his face was wet with tears and his tongue was paper from every bit of his life that he hadn’t let himself touch. But by the end, Draco was looking at him with a face that didn’t look any different than it had when he had started. Sadder, maybe. But there was no pity or revenge. 

“Do you know,” Harry laughed wetly, trying to pull every torn memory from the past several hours into one sentence. “The thing I was most afraid of was being seen.”

“I know,” Draco whispered, his cheeks glimmering with unnoticed tears. “I know.”

Maybe it was the look in Draco’s eyes, or the way he was leaning just slightly forward into Harry’s words. Perhaps it was because Draco Malfoy had become a beautiful soul. For the first time in his life, Harry reached out to touch someone before they touched him. It was a move of trust, and of giving a piece of himself to someone he was expecting to protect it forever. He linked his fingers between Draco’s and pulled him in to kiss him on the cheek. 

The second passed in the gust of an exhale and Harry leaned back again. Draco smiled through his tears and cautiously swiped his thumb under Harry’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “For what they did to you, and for being so cruel when we met. And thank you for telling me.” 

Relief plunged through Harry’s veins. Someday, he thought, he would tell Draco the other things. Dumbledore and his missions and crazy plans. The give and take of both having and not having Sirius in his life. His parents. Dying and then coming back to life. 

Someday. For now, he just let Draco hold onto his hand and talk to him quietly about things that wouldn’t matter in the morning. 

2009

“Mmph,” Draco groaned, turning his face into the pillow. Harry smiled and propped himself up on his elbow to watch the smooth swells and curves of Draco’s back. He scooted closer to Draco and bent his head down briefly to inhale into the joint of Draco’s shoulder and neck.

“Draco,” Harry whispered. He lifted a hand carefully to the back of Draco’s neck and trailed his fingertips down his spine, letting his hand bump over the soft ridges of his back. “Wake up.”

“Why?” Draco grumbled into the pillow. Harry brushed his lips lightly against the fine hairs at the soft nape of Draco’s neck. It was the kind of light kiss that was barely meant to be felt, only given. “Who s’this?” Draco muttered.

“It’s Harry,” he grinned and tried not to snicker. 

“Potter?” Draco sat up suddenly, his hair sticking up in every direction and a muddled expression smeared across his face from sleep. “I know him!”

Harry laughed and reached up to pat Draco’s hair down. “Love, you married him.”

Draco whirled to see Harry laying back in the white nest of the comforter and blankets. “Oh,” Draco flopped back and closed his eyes tightly against the thin golden light. “S’too early.”

Harry slung his body over Draco’s and threw a leg around his hips. Draco shifted under him and made a gruff noise that Harry ignored, instead opting to cuddle himself closer. “Not happy to hear you married me?”

Draco grunted and sleepily looped his hands around Harry’s waist. “A loser like you?” He shrugged lopsidedly, pressed up into the pillows. “I would never.”

Harry melted the rest of his body weight over Draco to squish him. “Git. I love you.”

Pale eyelashes lifted up and a hint of gray peeked out from Draco’s face. “I love you too.”