#still trying to improve my design skills

[ampersandd7]

album-based furry designs

(solarium by the groovy nobody, sundog sound compilation 4 by sundog sound, and all of me by masayoshi takanaka)

[silvertherogue715]

Ah, Mercury. His social skills have a long way to go.

[sylhea-raemi]

Thinking about how i won't be able to get other foreigners after summer abby or clytie it's making me sad already

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art. 

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

[haxkattpress]

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered

I'm so excited to finally share this bind of one of my all time favorite fics! Thanks to lettered's generous binding policy, I decided to go all out.

This bind has a foiled cover and spine, hand sewn silk endbands, and thirteen custom chapter headers. It was also my first time rounding and backing.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

For the cover and spine, I recreated the design of Beasts of the Field (1902) by William J. Long.

I wanted something that captured both the whimsy and maturity of the story, and this cover fit my vision perfectly. It also gave me the opportunity to recreate another antique cover from the public domain.

Unfortunately, the design was a bit complicated for my Cameo 4, so I was unable to fill the lines in. You can also tell that the foil did not adhere properly near the bottom, so the flowers are lighter than I would like them to be.

Because of the trouble I was having with my Cameo, I decided to foil the spine by hand. I deeply regretted this decision two hours later, and it took me four hours to finish foiling. My wrist still hurts!

Sewing the headbands was my absolute favorite part. I was encouraged to try them by a lovely binder on Instagram, and I ended up completely addicted. I splurged on some fancy silk thread so I could give this fic the royal treatment it deserves! I think they look like beautiful little caterpillars.

As for the rounding and backing... I'm not going to talk about it. Nightmare. Lots of nervous sweating. Emotional agony. Next topic!

I worked on the typeset back at the beginning of January when I had some time off, and it took me a solid week of obsessive editing to complete. My sister suggested that I use Harry and Draco's patronuses for the chapter art, but there unfortunately aren't many public domain illustrations of deer and foxes playing together.

It was at that point that I also decided that I wanted the animals to match the respective ages of Harry and Draco and the tone of each chapter. For the 13 chapters I ended up editing 25 different illustrations together. The bulk of these are taken from vintage versions of Bambi and Reynard the Fox. It's possible that a few stock images from 1980s nature books snuck in there, but I did my best to keep them all pre 1925.

I'm not a skilled editor, and some of these are worse than others, but I'm quite proud of what I was able to cobble together. On the final page I put a young fox and deer running off together. I wanted it to seem like Harry and Draco's inner children had been freed.

I'm a bit embarrassed to say that this bind took me about 4-5 months to complete! I started in early January, and went wildly off track learning how to round, back, and sew headbands. And then I was hit by some killer creative block that only lifted last week!

There are still many things I could improve on, but I'm so proud of everything that I learned and accomplished with this bind! A big thank you to lettered for inspiring me with such a wonderful story. <3

[foone]

You know what I hate about modern mice? how pointlessly anti-repair they are. I have had plenty of mice break over time, and often it's just that some fluff or skin-flakes got wedged in the mouse wheel or under the buttons. You just need to open them up and clean them. Except.. where are the screws?

OH THERE THEY ARE. under the little skid-pads, which cannot be put back on once you take them off, because the adhesive has been ruined! You have to buy replacement pads, if they're available, and maybe cut them down to size, as well as clean off the residue of the previous pads.

You know how this problem could be fixed? JUST DON'T PUT THE PADS ON TOP OF THE SCREWS!

Then you'd have no problem. Easy to disassemble and clean.

But then it'd look 5% uglier because apparently people are scared of seeing screws, and also people might not just throw it out and buy a new one!

It's the terrible sort of weird planned obsolescence that happens as an almost accidental side effect of improving the product. Like, ball mice? They were designed to be disassembled. You didn't even need a screwdriver! Because you had to clean them regularly, or they'd gunk up too fast. Modern optical mice? They still get gunked up, the buttons and wheel still die eventually. They can be cleaned and repaired. But now that it's not required for all of them to be cleaned regularly, that function has been removed. they're designed to be disposable.

The same thing happened with TVs way back when. If you open up a TV from the 50s (or just look at the back, honestly, many of them were designed to be always-open), you'll find a schematic showing where all the tubes are and what models they are. Was this because the 1950s was a golden era of reparability? NO! it's because they burnt out all the time and you had to replace them! As soon as TVs got reliable enough that replacing tubes was no longer needed, the schematics became hidden behind paywalls and for authorized-service-personnel-only.

It would be only a minor change in aesthetics to make your mouse repairable/cleanable. Hell, most of the time when it's not simply fixed by cleaning it, it's because one of these broke:

This is an Omron D2FC-F-7N microswitch, used in a bunch of mice. It's designed to last about a million clicks. With a soldering iron and some solder (like 25$ on amazon) you can trivially replace it. New switches cost between like 10 cents and 2 dollars, depending where you buy it and how many you want. A couple bucks of parts and half an hour's worth of work, you can repair a 40$ mouse that's "died".

But they make it unnecessarily hard with the slide-pads being unreplacable. You have to find ones that match, you have to carefully clean off the old residue with IPA, or the new ones you just bought will fall off. All to make it look SLIGHTLY better (how often are you looking at the aesthetics of the bottom of your mouse, exactly? (no furries are allowed to answer this question!)) and maybe, just maybe, to push it over into "not worth it". You could do all that, but you have to buy new switches, new slide-pads/mouse-feet (SHUT UP FURRIES), and can you remember where your solder even is? you last used it when you were trying to fix that keyboard...

Basically one thing that is maddening to anyone with the very basics of electronic knowledge (seriously: the amount of skill you need for this is the kind you can get in less than an hour from watching a youtube tutorial) that we're surrounded by all this electrical nonsense that will break and have to be thrown out, but is mostly breaking in ways that could be fixed in a very short amount of time with relatively little work.

It's infuriating to go on amazon to buy another damn mouse and it pop up "hey you last bought this in 2021, you fool" and you're like I KNOW, IT SHOULD STILL BE WORKING TODAY!

I have computer parts from the 80s in my room right now that are still working when stuff made in the last 5 years is already dying! There's no reason it should be this way. It's an endless waste of time and money and resources and it's just to make some logitech or whoever executives slightly richer.

It's deeply bullshit. The modern day is going to be identifiable as the geological layer where most of the trash was generated. We're living in the middle of the quisquiliarumferous period: the layer of garbage.

[illustromic]

My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3

[evelmiina]

Friend asked me if I'm depressed, but I don't think I am at the moment. To be honest this year my overall mental health has improved, more stability and motivation in life overall. Being a little isolated and far away from my friends still sucks, but I'm making more art for myself and I have a nice job for now, which I'm thankful for.

I feel like it has been long time bubbling under, but I need to make my own stories even if they end up being stupid and bad. I've aspired and succeeded in finding work in entertainment arts and I've strived to become a better craftsperson, better painter and designer, to keep finding work. I still do want to improve and I adore 2D animation... but there's always some sort of underlying frustration or need to make my own things. I don't think I'm yet at place or if I ever will be, where I could just fully commit to it, for now it is just something I'm slowly trying to care for.

Maybe in part rise of image generation AI made me find determination to keep making my own things, a resolve and peace in seeing what matters. I still need work because I need to get by, but ideally I wish to work with good people and artists first, not bend myself over backwards to correspond to whatever I try to anticipate the industry needs. In a way I never have- I feel lucky to have just made things that resonated enough that I found work, but I always struggle because while it is my personal work that gets me hired, the job is not that. The job is painting and designing polished work and I am so frustrated with myself when I don't excel at it. I find myself trying to mould into being someone I'm not, someone I imagine has more tangible skills than, or an ideal of myself that I will never be. Put it this way if it makes any sense, I am not fully kind to myself and therefore I have often imagined if I was more disciplined or did so and so, I could be this or that. But this train of thought near took all the joy of creativity out of me, and convinced me there is no point in making things for myself, unless it was according to some ideals and expectations of myself.

In short I simply need to keep making bad things too. It is probably the only way I can better accept myself. I don't know where I stand in sharing them or how to approach sharing my personal art online, but all I can say creating is fun again.

[pulisicsgirl]

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

[enden-k]

in response to this

kaveh if he breaks smth by accident is just this chibi like, all of it:

(just with some additional tears in his eyes if it rlly was smth bad AKJBKJ baby)

also agree. kaveh is an architect, an artist, someone who creates so seeing himself being like an evil (or corrupted as the anon said) version to take smth away, erasing existence...........ngl its interesting concept but he would be devastated fr 😭 using kaveh of all ppl for this aughh

unless u wanna think of it more comical and less angsty, and have him go like nah this thing ugly im just gonna unmake you *deletes offending monument* akhsjcbkj but he wouldnt simply go through this in someone elses world, especially if it manipulates/influences their game in a bad way

but!! imagine if kaveh had this skill fr (not only bursting dendro cores but simply making objects vanish after changing their traits), he would simply delete all the ugly furniture in haithams house that truly insults his eyes AKJSBCKJ can you imagine it go like:

"well, al haitham, i got rid of your entire bedroom because it was just too ugly. thank me later." ....suddenly, later in the evening, kaveh finds himself squished in his own bed between haitham and the wall - his own bed that is way too narrow for two grown men, especially one of haithams size and mass. all because haitham is like "considering this is my house, your bedroom is also mine so i will simply take it until you put every single piece of furniture back to where it belonged."

(this turned into a full, usual youn ramble lol rest is UTC)

kaveh is too proud and refuses to simply give up on his bed to sleep on the divan so he stubbornly stays, which comes back at him to bite his ass when hes in bed and gets a faceful of haithams bare chest and when he turns to face the wall hes too aware of the scribes warm body against his back - its like his dreams came true a nightmare

still too proud to admit defeat and let haitham have his bed, kaveh continues sharing his bed even though he barely gets any sleep with haitham right there. he also starts actually crafting haithams furniture by himself, at first all annoyed with him and simply wanting to finish this as fast as he can no matter how ugly, so he can have his own room for himself again before smth stupid happens (like kaveh giving in and kissing him or confessing)

but as soon as he learns from first hand that haitham is quite the cuddler in his sleep (the first time a sleeping haithams arms wrapped around his waist to pull him into him got him so flustered he didnt sleep at all that night), them getting closer everytime theyre sleeping (the amount of times theyre spooning or lying on top of each other all cuddled up is increasing)............haitham growing more soft now that they spend their nights together, having more of kaveh................his work turns from simply trying to replace what he made disappear to more thoughtful, loving pieces

a bed that resembles haithams older one, but big enough for two people to comfortably sleep in there (not that he designed it with himself in mind, its just....well.....a big bed is always nice and haitham takes up quite a lot of place right? totally not designed for both of them) with curtains in this soothing teal shade he knows haitham is fond of and nice patterns to block out the sun falling through the stained windows if he wants to sleep in; a closet with pretty, geometrical carvings matching his bed that haitham probably doesnt even care about; a nightstand with even a holder for his headset to place on, etc etc

its haithams bedroom but with small changes and improvements regarding design and comfort that kaveh did just for haitham. and he notices. of course he does

however, they got so used and comfortable to this whole (awkward at first) sleeping situation (bc it wasnt just kaveh loving to fall asleep in a sleeping, cuddly haithams arms, it was also haitham loving to wake up to the sight of a sleeping kaveh too) that every now and then kaveh slips into haithams (way too comfortable) bed ("well, i designed it so technically its also my bed") and even though its way bigger than kavehs bed, they somehow still seek each other out and find their way to cuddle up to each other

it doesnt take long until its not just their bodies seeking each other out but also their lips

not longer until the first utters a confession against the others skin, asking him to stay as their fingers intertwine and more kisses are exchanged

and not even longer for them to turn haithams bedroom, all designed and crafted by kaveh with love and care, into their bedroom

tl;dr: not only are they roommates, theres also only one bed (no clickbait)

[icedcoffee-cream]

DOUBLE BOOM. ignore if u like

getting into a hardcore fight with quaritch; snarling, hissing, wrestling, alllll up in each other's faces

he's got you pinned to the ground, he's groping your jaw, slapping your thigh, you're shoving his chest, baring fangs at his sadistic raging expression. and then BAM.

you start making out full tongue, sloppy, rough, unabashed, just full on heat-fucking yk?

@cuethediscoandthedrinks Ty for the request, my darling. I had lots of fun writing this one! (Apologizes if it seems a little fast paced)

The RDA have gyms and private training rooms specifically made for the recoms at bridgehead for a reason. Want to improve your combat skills with a comrade? Want to exercise your muscles? It's the place to go. Whatever happens in there, stays in there. Sudden fights in the main area (or "horseplay") or anywhere other than their "designated areas" is strictly prohibited.

Good thing you didn't give a shit.

It started with small side remarks that gradually turned into snarky comments about his performance about quite literally everything. You poked fun at the way his ears moved or the way he said something, and at one point you even pointed out his ridiculously muddy feet, which caused a fit of laughter to travel among his peers. Quarich wasn't as embarrassed as he was angry.

But, He's used to this kind of behavior from you and isn't going to put in the effort to lecture you over something so trivial. He lets it slide.

That is until you make a comment about failing to capture The Toruk Makto. He pounces on you. "Strictly prohibited be damned" he didn't let anyone insult him like that, not even you.

The two of you snarl and hiss at each other like a pair of animals, nails and teeth puncturing skin. Quaritch has you pinned to the ground with one of his enormous hands wrapped around your throat, while the other is pinching, scratching and slapping at your cheek. Your cries are loud but it doesn't stop you from giving him the same treatment.

Nails having ripped his shirt ages ago, you're able to slip your hands inside to rake your nails against his chest all the way to his stomach leaving red trails of blood. Your legs try kicking his groin but with his weight on you, you fail..

Finally, you've had enough and with one final cry you snap your jaw closed around two of his fingers and bite.

Quaritch shouts as your fangs sink into his skin, but he knows better than to pull them out, he lets go of your throat to give your thigh a vigorous spank. You yelp, teeth detaching from his skin as blood flies everywhere, splotching your nose and In between your eyebrows. The na'vi commander laughs at your pained expressions and gives your face a slap for good measure. Not hard enough to make you cry but enough to make you shriek. You spit any remaining blood in your mouth at his face.

The people around begin to shout and yell but neither of you pay them any mind, but eventually, you notice how quiet it is and somehow you've both ended up outside, right behind a building still in construction, but it's large enough to hide the both of you. No one's in sight and you're still at each other's throats.

Quaritch has you pinned once more, with your stomach on the ground, straddling your behind and queue wrapped tightly around his fist. Ready to pull whenever he deemed necessary. "You think you're so funny don't you?" He sneers. You hiss and attempt to stand, but it only results in a hard tug at your braid.

Honestly, you wish you had paid more attention to those anatomy na'vi classes that the RDA had signed you up for, as you completely forgot just how sensitive these external organs were. Your throat swallows a loud moan, but you're unable to keep down a bitchy whimper.

Quaritch stops, ears twitching. words now suddenly lost on him in his surprised state, instinctually, he takes a obnoxiously loud breath through his nose— smelling

Fuck. He's smelling you.

Slowly his sneer turns into a smirk full of malice. "Oh-ho-ho, you liked that you dirty fucking girl, didn't you?"

Your face burns with embarrassment,... you're not feeling so tough anymore. Again, you try to stand but a large hand swings at your ass. He makes you admit it, pulls your braid, slaps your ass and taunts you until you're forced to open your mouth and tell him that, yes you did like it. You fucking loved it and that you want more.

Soon, your cargo pants are pulled down your thighs, his warm large fingers buried deeply inside you cunt, and his nimble tongue buried inside your mouth as a sloppy wet kiss. It slips out to lick your lips, nose and cheek.

Your own pink tongue slips out to give his lips a lick. Coaxing his wet muscle out again, You begin gently sucking his tongue, encouraging the sweet organ deeper into your eager throat. Quaritch makes a low noise above you while his tongue wraps around your own, giving it a gentle rub. You shove his tongue out again and scream as his fingers curl, twist and thrust inside your pussy.

Your vision starts to blur and you're still recovering from the after shock of your orgasm that you don't notice him unbuckling his pants and slipping his cock out, leaking, pulsing and ready to breed.

Quaritch fucks hard and fast, and the way he fills you up is so perfect, and hot, it's curved in a way that hits all the right spots that make your toes curl. The pleasure is already overwhelming, just having him sit inside of you, but it's when he starts to move. It's over.. You wail loudly in pleasure and cum, hard, clenching tightly his shaft.

He groans but doesn't stop, overstimulating you until you're at the brink of passing out as he chases his own release. Nails digging into your soft flesh until they pass through.

If you had knew pissing him off this much was going to give you a good fuck. Then fucking hell you should've done this a long time ago.

[myadhdchronicles]

Navigating Life with ADHD: My Journey, Tips, and Hacks

Living with ADHD has its unique challenges, but it's also a journey filled with creativity, resilience, and countless small victories. I've learned to embrace my ADHD and discovered some invaluable tips, hints, and hacks along the way. In this blog, I'll share my personal insights and strategies that have made life with ADHD more manageable and even exciting.

1. Embrace Your ADHD:

Accepting your ADHD is the first step to managing it effectively. It's a part of who you are, and that's okay.

Learn about your specific strengths and weaknesses associated with ADHD. You might be exceptionally creative or have hyperfocus superpowers!

2. Create a Structured Routine:

Establishing a daily routine can provide a sense of stability and predictability.

Use digital calendars, planners, and reminders to keep track of appointments, tasks, and deadlines. I particularly like Sunsama, it is very ADHD-friendly. Habitica is good too, it is a gamified digital calendar that engages the ADHD brain much better than regular planners.

3. Prioritize and Set Goals:

ADHD brains can easily get overwhelmed by too many tasks. Prioritize your to-do list and break tasks into smaller, manageable goals.

Celebrate your achievements, no matter how small.

4. Minimize Distractions:

Create a dedicated workspace that's free from distractions.

Consider using noise-canceling headphones, fidget toys, or white noise to maintain focus.

Learn what kind of workspace works best for you, it's not the same for every ADHD brain.

5. Time Management Techniques:

Use the Pomodoro Technique (working in short, focused bursts with breaks) to stay on track.

Set timers for tasks to prevent hyperfocus and procrastination.

6. Medication and Therapy:

Consult a medical professional to discuss medication options.

Cognitive-behavioral therapy can help you develop coping strategies and improve executive functioning skills, but know your own ADHD brain because it does not work for all of them.

7. Mindfulness and Meditation:

Mindfulness practices can help you stay present and reduce anxiety.

Try meditation to improve concentration and self-awareness.

Meditation and mindfulness do not have to be the typical sit still and clear your-mind things they are for non-ADHD brains, for a lot of ADHD brains we need to move so something like knitting/crocheting, going for a walk, or sitting outside in nature with your dog are our forms of mindfulness and meditation.

8. Stay Organized:

Use color coding, labels, and file systems to keep your physical and digital spaces organized.

Daily checklists can be a game-changer.

Know your own ADHD brain and make your system one that works for your brain or organization will continue to be a struggle.

9. Don't Fear Mistakes:

It's okay to make mistakes. Learn from them and keep moving forward.

Perfectionism can be your enemy; aim for progress, not perfection.

Learn to let good enough be good enough, perfection does not exist.

10. Get Adequate Sleep and Exercise:

Prioritize good sleep hygiene; it can significantly impact your ADHD symptoms.

Regular physical activity can boost focus and mood.

11. Utilize ADHD-Related Apps:

Explore ADHD-focused apps designed to help with time management, organization, and focus.

Some popular options include Todoist, Forest, Trello, Clarify ADHD, Sunsama, and Fabulous.

12. Seek Support and Community:

Connect with others who have ADHD through support groups or online forums.

Share your experiences and learn from the journeys of others.

Living with ADHD doesn't mean you're destined to struggle. By embracing your uniqueness and applying these tips, hints, and hacks, you can take control of your life. ADHD has its challenges, but it can also be a source of creativity, innovation, and unique perspectives. Remember, you're not alone, and there's a vibrant community of people who understand and support you on this journey. Embrace your ADHD, and together, we can navigate the world with success and resilience. See you next time, ADHD Team!

[codomars]

Day 19 — 21/ 100 Days of Code

✧˖° ♡ progress update

I started the JS Functions chapter, and things are getting so much more interesting. I thought by now I would have finished all the simple function exercises that I found on W3Resources, but it seems I still have much work to do to improve my problem-solving skills.

I always try to find the answer on my own and check the solution only after I hit a wall. My approach is to start by:

Defining the task that I want to achieve.

Making a flowchart and designing the steps that the computer will perform.

And lastly, coding each step.

Even though sometimes the process can be tedious, the feeling you get after you  press enter and it runs with no issues is surreal. Is this how you all have been feeling when coding ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

[human-wof-designs]

reflection

you don't have to read this if you don't want to, i just wanted to write down some thoughts about this project

i started this blog three years ago at the beginning of the pandemic, after making a few sketches of human versions of wings of fire characters in a sketchbook. even though i wasn't an avid wof reader anymore, the idea stuck with me and i kept working on it and building it. i wasn't great at drawing humans in the beginning, and my character design skills were seriously lackluster. but i'm better at it now, and i believe this blog is one of the primary reasons for that.

drawing all of these characters, characters of so many ages and occupations and roles and personalities, really drove me to diversify my skills and work on making each one unique, memorable, and (more or less) accurate to the book version. i would constantly push myself to nail down the perfect sketch, the perfect face, the best design i could possibly do at the time - and i learned so much for it! through doing this project i have seriously learned so much, and i've improved greatly at character design

however, i think i've started to tire of it. i've made so many character references in the exact same style, the exact same format, the same sort of tone, and it's becoming sort of restricting. i want to do different, more experimental stuff, but i feel like i'm tethered to this, obligated to finish the list i laid out all that time ago. you guys still have so much you want to see, and i don't want to let you down

why am i writing this? i don't know. i genuinely don't. i don't think i'm quitting, but i don't know if i really feel like proceeding either. i think what i'm trying to say is that i want to take another break haha

thank you guys for the continued engagement and support, you're so wonderful and i'm really glad that my drawings have been able to entertain and even inspire you for this long ⭐

[velinediary]

Comparison is ruining you

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶✿

One of the lessons I have had to learn to become who I am now is to stop comparing myself to others. It's not a lie that if you ask Veline from 2022 how many times she compared herself to different people, the list would be endless. But now, I see it more clearly and I know that I have greatly reduced this behavior that was harming me for many years. I want to mention that this doesn't mean that I don't sometimes have moments where I feel bad about myself, but the feeling doesn't linger for long, as I choose to let go of that feeling and come back to myself.

Although it may sound contradictory, comparison is good only if we know how to use it. It can help us identify areas for improvement or find inspiration, but it is also fundamental to remember that each person is unique, and the true measure of success lies in personal progress and personal satisfaction.

Here are certain aspects that we often compare ourselves with, so you can identify which ones you are comparing yourself to. (Remember, if you have all of them, there's no need to feel bad. Instead, it's a sign for you to start your own path.):

Physical Aspects: It can include height, weight, physical build, facial appearance, etc.

Emotional Aspects: The ability to handle and express emotions, empathy, emotional intelligence, etc.

Intellectual Aspects: Comparing cognitive abilities such as intelligence, creativity, problem-solving skills, etc.

Social Aspects: The ability to relate to others, communication skills, teamwork ability, etc.

Professional Aspects: Work achievements, skills, educational level, etc.

Personal Aspects: Values, beliefs, hobbies, lifestyle, etc.

Now that we know these aspects, let's move on to some tips that helped me reduce my level of comparison.

○ Focus on Yourself ♡

I know this advice has been given many times, but it is extremely true. By focusing on our own progress and not that of others, we start feeling better. By this, I mean letting go of thoughts like, "Look at her, she's been going to the gym for a month and already has visible changes, while I've been going for a year and still don't see anything," or "She just joined university and knows everything, while I can't even answer the professor's questions," among others. My loves, it's not like that. Each person has their own time to achieve the results they desire. The more you focus on your own path and what you want to achieve, the less space there is to think about others.

○ Cultivate Self-Acceptance ♡

We all have strengths and weaknesses, and that's why we should embrace them. We need to learn that we can't be good at everything to avoid frustration, but of course, there's always room for improvement. What I mean is that we should acknowledge both our strengths and weaknesses. First, to improve in areas where we struggle, and second, to enhance and make the most of our strengths.

○ Be Your Own Comfort ♡

Being our own comfort in moments when we feel like we have failed can be very helpful. Don't hurt yourself or beat yourself up over something you did wrong. Even I have to remind myself of this. Don't be cruel to yourself! Don't become your own worst enemy when you have those feelings. Instead, embrace and accept that fact, knowing that you will do better next time or that it won't even matter in the future.

○ Social Media is Just "Social Media, Not Real Life" ♡

I will try to keep this brief, as it is a vast topic with many subtopics. Social media is designed for sharing, creating communities, and making friends. However, over time, it has become a constant need for validation to boost our egos. Now, don't get me wrong, we all want to feel accepted or validated, but what I have realized is that the more you seek it, the more you want it. If you don't know how to handle it, you may end up feeling bad for not receiving the attention you thought you would get.

Of course, as it has been said many times, not everything we see on social media is true or dreamlike. Some photos may have been edited beforehand, or the person posting may not have felt genuinely good at that moment.

After all, these platforms only go so far. How many times have we remembered a specific post after closing an app? None, because real life exists. Not everyone around us has that "amazing" physical appearance or the "ideal" job as portrayed on social media. Not everyone follows trends or has "perfect skin". That's why we need to look beyond what is behind the screens and live our lives.

Conclusion

My dear girls, comparison will only serve you if you know where and when to apply it, without crossing the line, of course. Each one of us is on our own path towards becoming a better version of ourselves, no matter how long it takes, because that's what it's about - persisting and not focusing on what others did or didn't do. In the end, you are the one who will be telling your own story soon. I don't want to hear similar stories from everyone else because I want to know what you had to go through to get where you are.

Personal Note:

Creating this blog doesn't mean that I have everything figured out or the perfect life that every girl would want, but I'm still in the race, trying to reach the goal without looking at whether others have already achieved it or if they have surpassed me. I go at my own pace, and that's what matters. In fact, creating this blog is part of who I want to become.

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Thank you to the women who have made it this far, and I hope you enjoyed this post and found it helpful. Love yourselves, embrace yourselves, and have patience with yourselves because you will need it on the journey.

With love, Veline. Kisses!

[slarpg]

SUPER LESBIAN ANIMAL RPG v1.1 IS HERE! This is the most substantial patch since launch. On top of the usual bug fixes, we have new area maps, the new Additional Guidance mode, and most importantly... Melody now has a pet cat!! Look at him

As always, Steam users should get the patch automatically, while itch users can redownload the game from the store page. Common technical questions are also addressed in our FAQ page.

To try and manage expectations here, while this update contains more than the usual bug fixes, I don't currently have any plans to add a huge amount of content to the game. Right now I think it's already long enough, and the game's structure (with a definitive ending and no postgame) isn't conducive to adding DLC. And also, you know, what's there already took almost eight years of my life to make, and that kinda takes a lot out of you. But these additions felt like they would meaningfully improve the experience of what's already there.

Full changelog below!

v1.1 Changelog

"New content":

Additional Guidance mode can now be toggled on or off from the start of the game or via the in-game Options menu! When enabled, this will occasionally offer more direct hints on what to do next in a few specific parts of the game for more story-focused players - particularly a few puzzle segments, as well as helping you find the side content late in the game.

Ultimately, the total number of hints added across the game is low. Exploration, dungeon puzzles, and returning to previously-visited areas with new tools are core pillars of SLARPG's design, and I don't want to hold the player's hand every step of the way. But these specific bits have been parts where some players just gave up and messaged me (usually at like 3am), or posted a cry for help in the #SLARPG tag on Twitter. Which isn't optimal! So now an extra nudge in the right direction exists in-game, should you ever need it.

New area maps have been added for the Amber Woods, Sapphire Coast, and Uncanny Valley! They can be acquired from Park Ranger Taylor, the beach souvenir shop (first accessible in Act III), and Rafael, respectively.

And finally, as was originally intended, Melody now has... a pet cat in her house!! He is truly the most important part of this patch, and the most important thing that will ever be patched into the game.

Other tweaks:

Unrevealed enemies should no longer have their health bars displayed when using multi-target attacks.

The menu (and, by extension, the options menu) can now be accessed during the Prologue.

Fixed the Bestiary entries for the Loot Scooter and Helper Jelly not properly unlocking in the Sapphire Coast.

The animation for Megalith from the Geomancer Spellbook now plays for each individual enemy that's caught in its area of effect. (A compatibility issue was found with the script that made AoE attacks only play one animation, and this was the only skill in the game that needed said script.)

Originally the columns in the last "puzzle" room of the Flurry Mountains had no collision because that room is just a joke and I didn't want people to get stuck in a maze that exists purely for a gag but they now have collision so that I stop receiving bug reports about it

Added new line when entering the Fortune Teller's shop late in Act IV (or Act V) saying that he can help locate uncompleted major side quests at that point in the story. (He will now also point you in the direction of Fawna's side quest if you haven't completed it.)

A backup method of acquiring the missable Spellbook in Act III has been added late in Act IV. (You can still only get it once.)

The Crypt boss can no longer be defeated in a way that makes a certain unique status ailment remain after the battle.

There's now an additional warning at save points past the point of no return.

Other minor fixes.

Enjoy the update, everyone!