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lutrain2020 · 4 years

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Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission: I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media: Tumblr: @sky-squido AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

#Meet The Creator #lutrain2020 #linkeduniverse #lu

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 2/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

The fae lady showed up to another fight with the team. It was getting more and more dangerous as Loki was keeping an eye out for her. It was difficult to get in and out without being caught, especially as he had the habit of dropping everything to confront her the moment she arrived at the battle. He very nearly caught her and would have, had he been trying to hurt her.

If he hadn’t been trying to restrain her instead of actually harming her.

She had to be more careful.

A few days later, she was leaving the coffee shop with her takeout cup of morning desperation, and admittedly wasn’t exactly paying attention to where she was walking. And maybe reading a news article on her phone while she was walking wasn’t the best idea ever when walking out of the shop onto the busy street.

Granted, people usually didn’t walk that close to the building, not wanting to get hit by the doors of the shops on the street.

So it was a series of unfortunate events that led to her walking into the thin, extremely well-dressed man in the all-black suit. She only barely avoided spilling her coffee on him, and it was battle reflexes and her supernatural abilities that managed that. She knew he was well dressed when she saw his shiny black dress shoes, which were the first thing in her vision since she’d been looking at her phone. His hand reached out to steady her as her face show up to see how angry he was.“Oh gods, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” she asked him quickly.

She blanched when she saw the too familiar raven black hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes of Loki. Of course, she recognized him from seeing him every battle she helped out in.

She saw his expression change from the frustrated anger of being bumped into, to recognition, to interest, excitement. He smirked, his hand was still on her arm, over her coat, appearing as if he were supporting her from bumping into him, but there was a slight shift of his hand so he was keeping her from fleeing before he was ready for the conversation to be over. At least it would be more difficult for her to escape without drawing unwanted attention.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” he told her pleasantly, his too-familiar accent so pleasant to her ears. She felt the strange desire to relax at his purred words. And she had to fight it, fight not to let herself get drawn in to him.

What the Hel? Odin’s beard, why was he so familiar?

“What are you doing here, Lady Fae?” He asked pleasantly, still with no intention of letting her go.

She took a nervous step back, but he wasn’t being outwardly hostile, so she gave him a very tentative smile and held up her coffee. “Getting coffee, your highness” she replied. She was cautious of him, but she also knew who he was, besides just from the alien attack. She did her research on the team after all. Plus it annoyed her that he was so familiar.

There was so much she had blocked from her memory to keep herself and others safe. She knew that much, but not what those memories contained. She hadn’t dared figure out the magic to retrieve them again.

She’d had to lock them away in order to survive.

Loki raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t used to being called by his title on Earth. “So you know who I am. Good. That’ll make this a bit easier,” he told her and seemed to be plotting while his hand moved down her arm to wrap viselike around her wrist, still on top of her coat, but she still wasn’t escaping without a fight. He wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t letting her get out of talking with him either.

“That’ll make what easier exactly?” she asked him warily. She could break his grip on her wrist if she really wanted to. But she had to admit that she was intrigued about why he seemed so familiar. And they were in public and the last thing she wasn’t to do was cause a scene.

“Would you be up to a chat, Lady Fae?” he asked her pleasantly, kindly even. Their postures kept those passing them thinking this was a pleasant conversation. “I have a warning for you. Not from me, but from the organization I am being forced to work for,” he explained.

She sighed and checked her watch. She had still had a little time. “Very well,” she said warily. She gestured to the coffee shop behind her. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee? Or tea?” She wasn’t going anywhere alone with him, not when the team was after her, and he was on said team. He seemed nice enough without the rest of them, but there was no reason to take chances.

He inclined his head regally. “Tea would be appreciated. Thank you,” he told her and let go of her wrist once it was clear she wasn’t running. At least not until she’d heard him out.

She nodded and turned to head into the coffee shop. He moved to hold the door open for her, a gentleman despite being regal. She gave him a small smile for his courtesy, unused to it on Midgard. She went up to the counter and ordered and bought the tea for him and picked a quiet table in the corner for them to sit and chat. She removed her hat and second-hand coat. Everything she had was second-hand and she looked like a ragamuffin compared to the extremely attractive Loki in his well-tailored suit. She made sure her sidhe red hair fell in such a way that the points of her ears were covered as usual. She didn’t want to draw too much attention.

She noticed Loki examining her closely. He took in her second hand-clothes, her too-thin appearance, her fae looks. She could see his curiosity, though his face was a mask that would be at home in the fae courts. Yet, she could read his expression clearly. Like she’d had practice reading him. “So, why hide among the Midgardians? A being as beautiful as you should not have to hide what they are among others so inferior,”

She tried not to huff and roll her eyes at his obviously over the top flattery. “I escaped the fae not so very long ago. I try not to draw too much attention to myself, at least not attention that they’ll notice. The easiest way is to hide among the mortals and refrain from as much magic as possible,” she explained softly with a shrug, sipping on her coffee.

He furrowed his brows, his court mask slipping that much, giving her that much of an expression. “Why escape the fae? You are one of them, are you not?” he asked, curious and… more? Something seemed off about the question, like he had that same sense of almost-recognition as she had.

She shook her head. “I’m not, actually, not originally. They kidnapped me as a child. The fae don’t procreate easily and their numbers were dwindling…” she shrugged at his horrified expression. That was just how the fae were, there was nothing she could do about the past. “Some of their mages thought they could turn non-fae children into fae,”

“So you are actually Midgardian?” he asked, his curiosity overriding his pretense at disinterest and court mask. He was openly curious over her now. Something seemed to be bothering him about her, the same way something about him was still bothering her and she still couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It seemed he couldn’t either.

She shrugged, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t remember actually… It’s been… 500 mortal years or so, and I had to repress a lot of memories to keep my family safe from the fae after I was taken…” she admitted softly. She didn’t know why she was opening up so much to him, there was no logical reason for it. She tried to convince himself it was because he had cornered her, but that wasn’t exactly right.

He nodded in acceptance of her words and didn’t press her further, not on that. He sipped on his tea while he gathered his words, to get to the point of this conversation. “I should inform you that Shield plans to hunt you down if you do not come with me. I do not wish for that to happen after what you just told me,” a fae who’d been kidnapped once was a dangerous creature at the thought of being kidnapped again. “If you come willingly, the team will do whatever they can to protect you from them, but that is only if you come willingly,” he told her, his voice firm, but with a hint of hidden kindness. He didn’t want to hurt her. He seemed to want her safe. “This is a courtesy, mind. I could just as easily take you in now. Do you understand?”

Well, that just sounded threatening. Though he would have a hard time taking her in. She could fight and likely win. She’d seen him fight when she was helping the team. She wouldn’t bruise the poor boy’s ego, especially since she had known for a while that she was running out of time and would have to meet the Avengers eventually.

She sighed. It really had been only a matter of time before they pulled the big guns out. “I accept that you can… probably... take me in,” he probably could if he wanted to really fight her for the pleasure, which she didn’t think he did. “How about a compromise instead? I’ll come to the tower and hear out the team. After I get off of work at 3 this afternoon. I’d rather not compromise my mortal cover if I can help it, just in case. It would be a pain to make a new one,” he looked like he was going to protest. He wanted her in and… safe… if she were reading his expression correctly, as soon as possible. It was strange to think a stranger wanted her safe. Before he could protest, she pulled a ring off her finger to hand to him. “A token of my goodwill. That is the only thing I have from before I was kidnapped and I expect it back this afternoon,” she told him firmly. The ring was black with a purple jewel and even though she’d looked 7 or so by Midgardian standards when she’d been taken, it had never stopped fitting her, had grown with her. And the fae hadn’t been able to take it from her as she was the only one who could remove it.

His eyes widened in surprise and what appeared to be recognition at her ring. “Where did you get this?” he demanded, shocked.

She glared at him before he got any ideas. “It’s mine,” she told him firmly. “I was wearing it the day I was taken and the fae couldn’t take it from me. That and my name were the only things I got to keep,” she informed him, though she wondered why he was surprised at her ring, and why he seemed to recognize it.

He slid her ring onto the ring finger of his right hand, and it fit because of magic. She felt a pang at being without it, since it was her only tangible memory of home and had been her only reminder for centuries. But she wouldn’t risk the life she’d built, such as it was, just because of a chance meeting with the Avengers. She wasn’t going to risk everything for a meeting that might not work out. “I shall return it to you this afternoon and will inform you of its importance then,” Loki promised and she could hear the sincerity in his words. He may be the god of lies, but he was capable of telling the truth. Plus no one could successfully lie to a fae, not even him.

She nodded and checked her watch. “Very well,” she agreed, no matter how hesitantly. She would get her ring back. Even if she had to tear down the entire Avenger’s tower to do so. “I should get to work before I’m late. Until later, Prince Loki of Asgard,” she stood and gathered her things before he changed his mind about letting her leave without a fuss. She waved as she headed out of the coffee shop, amused that he hadn’t even gotten her name.

He’d been distracted indeed.

Loki watched her leave, curiosity obvious in his expression, but he didn’t stop her from shrugging on her coat and rushing off to work. He teleported back to the tower; he needed to speak with his brother regarding the ring she’d given him.

Thor looked up from the newspaper he was reading when Loki teleported back into the common room of the tower. “Feeling better?” he asked, knowing Loki had been getting ready to stab someone when he’d stormed out of the tower earlier. He’d been storming through the streets of New York in a fit of emotion when the fae had run into him. Sometimes he just needed fresh air to keep from being stabby.

He gave Thor a hostile glare in reply. Thor shrugged it off, that’s just how Loki was. Loki sighed. He really did need to speak with his brother, which meant brushing his manners off for a while longer. He slipped the fae lady’s ring off his finger as he walked over to Thor. “Does this look familiar to you?” he asked Thor, holding out his hand with the ring in his palm. She’d entrusted the ring to his care, he wasn’t compromising that trust, even with his brother.

Thor stood and examined the ring, careful not to take it, reading that much from Loki’s body language. “That looks like an Asgardian noble lady’s ring. And I’m sure you haven’t been off proposing to noble ladies while you’ve been out of the tower… where’d you find that? And whose colors are those?” Thor asked confused as he looked over the ring, as if the colors should be familiar. He looked at Loki expectantly.

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “How should I know? I did not make a study of the colors of the noble families of Asgard. This belongs to the fae lady I have been tasked with bringing in,” he sounded bitter about that task. She was far too intriguing to hunt down like an animal and force in. He was glad that she had agreed to come so he didn’t have to force her. “She will be visiting the tower this afternoon and gave me her ring to hold onto as a symbol of goodwill that she would arrive as she promised,” he explained.

Thor shrugged. “You know more about all the court politics than I do. Thought you might have an idea. Or her name since she gave you her ring…” Loki flushed at the reminder that he’d been too preoccupied to get her name, which was a massive oversight on his part. It was Thor’s turn to roll his eyes. “I best inform Stark and the Captain that she will be arriving. You’re sure she won’t just run?” he asked, disappointed that Loki hadn’t brought her in while he had the chance.

“I informed her of the threat of Shield chasing after her. She does not wish for that. Plus I have her ring and she was quite insistent that she will come to get it back if nothing else,” Loki replied overly patiently for his oaf of a brother. He didn’t seem to understand that she’d given the ring as a symbol of good faith that she’d come after work. She would keep her word.

Plus she was a fae. She would keep her word.

Thor nodded. “Very well. I will inform the others,” he knew that even after months of being here, the team didn’t much like or trust Loki yet. It was better if he smoothed things over instead.

Around 3:30 that afternoon, as promised, the fae lady entered the lobby of the tower after she’d walked over from her job. She didn’t need to look up directions, she only lived a few blocks away and it was really hard to miss the tower. She wasn’t surprised that Loki was waiting in the lobby for her. He gave her a smile when she entered the lobby, glad she hadn’t flaked on him. “It is good to see you again,” he greeted her politely, all court manners and polish. He definitely reminded her of a fae lord. And more.

She stepped closer and gave him a smile. “And you as well,” he seemed nice enough and hadn’t hurt her. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to help her when he hadn’t had to. He could have dragged her straight to Shield if he’d wanted. He’d have had a hell of a fight about it, but he could have done so.

He smirked at her before he spoke again. “It has come to my attention that I have not yet gotten your name, Lady Fae,” he told her, making the statement into a question. One that demanded an answer

She hesitated only a moment, tempted to give him her Midgardian alias, but he would be able to hear the… not lie, but not the complete truth. She had a thing about names, but he deserved to know hers. “My name is Sigyn,” she finally told him.

His eyes went wide in shock? horror? complete and utter disbelief? when she spoke those words. He grabbed her wrist over her coat again and practically dragged her into the elevator while she yelped in surprise and tugged to get her wrist out of his grip. He gave her a look to stop her from fighting him. He wasn’t letting her go no matter what she said or did. For whatever reason, her name had caused this frantic reaction from him. The only explanation he gave was:

“We need to go see my brother. Now.”

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #soulbonds and fairy dust #rewrite #chapter 2 #nekoamamori

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redhoodieone · 5 years

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Don’t Tell Me

A/N: I honestly don’t know how this came to me, but I can say this is a serious fic. If it’s well-received, I’ll write chapter 2, and so on.

SUMMARY: Tim Drake discovers his longtime girlfriend, Y/N, is cheating on him with Jason Todd. But after Tim finds out about everything: relationships are tested, friendships are burned, and those who made mistakes will suffer from the consequences. Even happy endings aren’t guaranteed for everyone.

WARNINGS: Cheating, betrayal, smut, language, and more later.

Tim Drake knows something is going on. He’s usually on top of his game; he’s always 12 steps ahead than the Batfamily, and even his enemies. He was trained to always know the consequences and the outcome for everything, that’s what makes him a better detective than Bruce (who even admitted Tim was a better detective than him). But even being the best Red Robin and detective takes a toll on him; sleepless nights, obsessive compulsive habits on the computer, and even many cups of coffee to where he’s a shaking caffeinated addict. But that was before Y/N. For the past two years of his life, he knew he’s become a little better at taking care of himself because of his girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Instead of drinking five pots of coffee, he’s down to three cups at night. For sleeping, he’s in bed at ten o’clock beside Y/N. And the obsessive-compulsive disorder? He’s back on his medication, and he now he knows to ask for help when he needs it.

Many would say Y/N made Tim Drake a better person. Which comes back to his actual first serious girlfriend Y/N. Tim knew his past flings were just for fun, and never meant to last long or even be ready for committed future plans. But when Tim met Y/N at Bat Burger, he knew his life was just starting. She was an employee, dressed in a Catwoman costume, and served him, his brothers, and Bruce their food. Y/N’s eyes shined beautifully, her smile was full of laughter and fun, and her personality was kind, humorous, and even addicting. Not only was Tim captivated by her, but so were his brothers, minus Damian, who just respects her as a girl, and nothing more. Bruce was even amazed by her and admitted to the boys after dinner that she’s the daughter he’s always wanted (if he had one).

But Dick and Jason were surely sexually attracted to her. And again, like before with many rejections, Tim truly believed Y/N would choose Dick or Jason.

Who was he kidding? Dick was a prince charming kind of guy, who could win any woman over with his looks, compliments, and confidence.

And as for Jason, Jason was considered a “Sex God” by women who lusted after him. He was tall, strong, and literature nerd on the inside. What Jason also had was confidence like Dick, something Tim never fully gained in his life.

Confidence? Tim knew the definition well, but never knew what it truly was. Anyone who knew Tim would say he always resembled a nervous, always on edge mouse amongst lions, never fully speaking up for himself or even defending himself against those who mocked him. Bruce would even try to teach him how to be positive and have better self-esteem, but no matter what, Tim would always put himself down and be ashamed of everything about him. Tim always knew he would never be good enough for anyone.

Tim wasn’t even that tall for a 20-year-old. At just 5’5, he was barely an inch taller than Y/N. While Y/N was three years older than him, he truly feared he would never stand a chance now.

But to everyone, even Tim’s surprise, Y/N asked Tim out first. They’ve been together ever since then.

For two years, Tim and Y/N were inseparable. They were the couple who kissed in public, but never made out in front of others due to Tim’s social anxiety about PDA. They went on dates with other couples, most notably Dick and Barbara, and sometimes Jason and Artemis, when Jason felt like he needed a booty call for the night. But Tim began to finally loosen up, and enjoy himself around Y/N, more.

And for the first time in Tim’s life, he felt as if he finally had someone to live for, come home to, and to love and protect for the rest of his life.

While the girls were in the restroom fixing their makeup and gossiping, the boys were left alone; sipping their non-alcoholic beverages before patrol.

“So, you finally made it to two years with Y/N, Tim? I’m so proud of you!” Dick exclaims excitedly. Pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes.

Tim nods his head; even he can’t help but blush and smile from the news. He and Y/N spoke about it a while ago, and how they should celebrate their anniversary this upcoming weekend. While Tim had mentioned about a private vacation trip to Paris, Y/N had suggested going to Bruce’s beach house in the Hamptons with their friends.

“It is…really great. I’m really happy, and I think she is, too. I still can’t believe it we made it to two years,” Tim says, trying very hard to not lower his voice to hide his nerves.

“I can’t believe it either, Timbo. I mean, I figured you guys would have made it maybe to three months considering you act like a woman too, and that would have been a lot of estrogen in one relationship,” Jason jokes.

“Normally, I would be insulted by your God-awful jokes, but not tonight, Jay. I really think Y/N is the one,” Tim says.

“Really?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, really Tim? How?” Jason asks, equally shocked.

“I think you just know when you’re with someone, who you feel like you could spend the rest of your life with. I mean, I never believed in love at first sight, but when she gave me a chance, I realized it was more like love at the second sight, when truly, you see each other for the first time and learn more about each other. Y/N is just a wonderful, loving woman, and I know I want to spend the rest of my life with her,” Tim confesses.

Dick smiles and fist bumps Tim. “I think that’s great, Tim! Y/N would be the best sister-in-law, ever! Oh my God! I can’t wait for a wedding! Food, cake, and strippers!”

“Calm down, Dick. I haven’t even popped the question yet,” Tim says, smiling at his oldest brother.

“Yeah, why pop the question when you have yet to pop your cherry,” Jason jokes.

“Tim’s not a virgin, Jaybird,” Dick defends Tim, before noticing Tim looking away. “No way…”

“What? You haven’t had sex with your girlfriend of two years, yet?” Jason asks, surprised and joking as usual. But his eyes widen when Tim looks down. “What? Timbo, you still haven’t even fucked her? What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“We just…haven’t had sex yet. It’s not a big deal, Jason. Most relationships can survive without sex. I wasn’t necessarily ready yet, considering sex is merely for procreation and I find it difficult to bring up the fact that I’m still a virgin,” Tim reveals. “And besides, I don’t really…need sex. I’m not even a sexually being. I just really love Y/N’s company.”

“So, what are you saying, Tim? You’re just never going to have sex ever?” Dick asks seriously. Dick’s a sexually active guy and he can’t figure out why Tim wouldn’t want sex.

“I just don’t see the need for sex. I’m living my life greatly, and I always feel satisfied with her emotionally. She hasn’t brought it up, so why ruin it now?” Tim expresses anxiously.

“Maybe she hasn’t brought it up because she thinks SHE’S not sexy to you! Jesus Christ, Timberly! You’re with the most beautiful girl in the world, and you have yet to fuck her pretty little brains out?” Jason snaps. He literally cannot believe Tim. “I would have fucked her when she allowed me to touch her the first time! I would make it so clear that I want her, and I’d get her to want me too!”

“Enough Jason!” Dick yells at him.

Tim knew sex is important to almost everyone. It wasn’t that Tim wasn’t sexually attracted to Y/N, but he never figured sex was a make it or break it deal with her. She has, a few times, initiated sex with Tim after dating for only five months, but he gently turned her down and insisted he needed some more time.

Another time was when Y/N wanted to suck Tim’s cock in the Batcave, after he came back from patrol. The second she got down to his zipper, he softly removed her hand from his pants, and went to bed with her. Just sleeping, of course.

And ever since then, sex was never initiated or brought up again. Tim knew Y/N has her sexual urges, and she often resorts to masturbation, sex toys, and even smutty novels. That doesn’t bother him one bit, as long as his girlfriend relieves herself and keeps herself satisfied.

But still, Tim sometimes wondered what sex would be like with Y/N, but his heart and body would tell him to stop.

“There’s nothing wrong with remaining abstinent, Tim. Just tell her the truth of how sex makes you feel. Y/N will understand. She loves you, and you love her,” Dick comforts Tim.

“I hope it’s enough though,” Tim whispers quietly.

Once the girls return, Dick and Barbara go back to his apartment for the night. Artemis claims to be tired and decides to go home but reminds Jason to go her apartment when he’s ready for bed. After they say their good nights, Tim drives Y/N and Jason back to Wayne Manor for Alfred’s homemade chocolate cake he made earlier.

Tim leads Y/N to the kitchen, with an arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and his lips kissing her forehead. With Jason trailing behind them, they all see the homemade chocolate cake in all its glory chocolate frosting on the counter, waiting to be devoured by all of them.

“Remind me to thank Alfred in the morning. Nothing beats chocolate before bed,” Y/N says, before sitting down on one of the stools by the counter.

“Yeah, chocolate and sex go good before bed,” Jason teases. He cuts three slices, one slightly smaller for Tim, and gives them their plates.

“Or just a night of cuddling goes a long way,” Tim mentions.

“Of course,” Y/N agrees, with a kiss to Tim’s cheek.

The three of them indulge themselves with the delicious cake. Bruce hastily walks into the kitchen, looking more stressed than ever. He’s in his Batman costume, without the cowl. There must be a serious problem.

“Trouble. You three in the Batcave. Now.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Y/N became a part of the Batfamily right after getting with Tim. Although she wasn’t exactly a vigilante, she worked the Batcomputer when Barbara wasn’t available at times. Still in her short black dress, Y/N removes her heels and gets comfortable in the computer chair for Bruce’s orders. She knew she has work to do.

Tim and Jason quickly got into their costumes and were standing beside Batman, while Y/N is at the computer.

“People have reported sightings of Deathstroke by the docks. He is possibly working alongside Bane because there was a reported shipment of weapons from an unknown source. I currently have Nightwing and Batgirl at Arkham in case anyone tries to break out to join Bane’s team up. Red Robin, I need you to go the docks and see what’s exactly being shipped in tonight. Do not engage in any fights; this is only a recon mission for you. Robin and I will see if Deathstroke will be anywhere near the docks and see what he’s planning. Red Hood, I need you to stay behind in case we need backup. You can assist Y/N on the computer. I need you two to watch our backs and make sure there isn’t a planned attack tonight,” Batman commands.

“But I can stay behind and help, Y/N. I know more about computers than Jason,” Tim says, slightly offended by his father’s order. “No offense, Jason.”

“I’m already offended, Timberlina,” Jason says sarcastically.

“Jason could use the extra practice. I rather have him learn now then when the world’s already in danger, Tim. You either do as I say, or you are benched,” Batman threatens. “You know how I work. I get the final say.”

“I’ll do it your way then,” Tim mutters under his breath.

“Good, because for a second there, I was beginning to wonder if you needed to remember who’s in charge of this family.”

Batman growls under his breath and goes to the Batmobile where Robin is waiting for him. As soon as the Batmobile’s gone, Tim strolls over to Y/N. He slips his mask on and helps her to her feet. Tim embraces her tightly, and he kisses her cheeks before one peck to her lips.

“Be careful, Tim,” Y/N whispers in his ear.

“I will. I’ll always come home to you, sweetheart.”

And with that final peck, Red Robin jumps onto his bike and drives off.

______________________________________________________________________________

The night is slow. Red Robin wondered if the shipment was a rumor for tonight. He seriously doubts whatever Deathstroke and Bane have planned is for another night. All Red Robin was doing is sitting on the rooftop nearby, hanging along the edge for amusement, and tossing bread crumbs for the rats below.

He figures since it’s almost one in the morning and hasn’t heard back from anyone, he’d head back home now.

If anything, maybe tomorrow night is when they’d show up with the weapons, and attack Gotham right then and there.

All Tim could think about was a hot shower. The summer nights in Gotham are scorching hot and humid, and wearing a thick armored costume can make a guy sweat a lot as if he’s ran a marathon. He could just imagine Y/N, in her short pajama bottoms and tank top, snuggling with her back to his chest, as he holds her until he’s fast asleep.

Tim knew Y/N is the reason why he sleeps now. He always looks forward to bed now.

By the time he gets into the Batcave, Tim’s completely silent. He wants to surprise Y/N; sneak up on her with his arms around her waist, squeezing her until she surrenders, and carry her upstairs for a nice hot shower.

Just the way Y/N likes.

Tim parks his bike far away from the other bikes, so Y/N wouldn’t hear him. He slips off some of his armor and removes his mask and boots. When he’s down to his boxers, and t-shirt, he grins playfully as he makes his way to the Batcomputer.

Moans.

Skin on skin slapping.

Panting, breathing heavily.

Wet noises.

Is that…Y/N moaning?

Is she really relieving herself in the Batcave?

Tim slowly approaches an area to continue to hide but can see the Batcomputer where he’s standing. He sees his girlfriend, Y/N, naked on her back; lying on her back on the computer table with Jason, still in costume but with his cock in Y/N, in between her legs, fucking her hard and fast.

Tim freezes. His chest suddenly tightens to the point where it hurts, and he feels as if he can’t breathe.

How could they do this?

How could they do this behind my back?

He’s not even ashamed to cry. Wouldn’t anyone cry if they saw their loved one cheating on them with someone who’s clearly better than them?

Jason grunts, and lowers himself down to capture Y/N’s lips. Tim watches how her breasts bounce up and down, and how her back arches when Jason begins to rub her clit viciously. He’s seen Y/N naked a few times, but never saw her naked the way she’s lying down and getting fucked like how she likes it. Y/N bites her bottom lip, and moans Jason’s names as if it’s the last thing she’ll ever say.

She even giggles when Jason bites and sucks her hard nipples.

“You-you like that, baby girl? You like how my cock fills you up so perfectly? F-fuck! I love how you tighten around me!” Jason moans louder than before. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect!”

Tim watches in horror how Jason gently slaps Y/N’s vagina. The way he’s treating her dirty and talking to her is repulsive to Tim. How could Y/N let Jason fuck her like that?

Or just fuck her in general?

But I’m her boyfriend…Tim thinks to himself.

Maybe sex was important in their relationship. Was Tim really making Y/N miserable without having sex with her?

“Yes! F-fuck me harder, Jason! Fuck me faster!” Y/N begs. Tears at the corner of her eyes threaten to fall. “I-I need this so bad!”

“I know you do, doll. I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

“J-Jason! Oh my God! I-I think I’m going to cum! Keep fucking me!”

“Fuck yes, doll! I’ll fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked!” Jason growls. “You’re mine now!”

Jason’s hands lift Y/N in a sitting position and slams her down onto his cock, as he fucks up into her. They kiss again; more passionate and sexual than Tim’s ever kissed Y/N.

Y/N wraps her arms around Jason’s neck, and cries out in pleasure as a powerful orgasm goes through her body. Jason’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, and then he releases inside her, with a groan in her neck as he squeezes her tightly.

Y/N removes her head from Jason’s chest. He lowers his head and kisses her again. Tim watches the way Jason pulls out of her but keeps Y/N’s legs around his waist.

They don’t know but Tim can hear them speak.

Jason even says three words he’s never said to anyone.

As for Y/N, she says them back.

And this just proves to Tim, how this wasn’t the first time they’ve fucked behind his back.

______________________________________________________________________________

[Tim’s point of view]

So, that’s it then.

The trust was already broken.

Y/N cheated on me with my brother.

Jason. Of all people, it had to be Jason.

It’s been two months since I saw them fucking in the Batcave.

I didn’t say anything to them. I wouldn’t even know what to say, anyways.

I know they’re still fucking, though. Y/N seems a lot happier nowadays. She kisses me more, and she’s even living with me in my room at the Manor.

And as for Jason? He’s not seeing anyone now. I was the first to figure it out, since Y/N’s got him wrapped around her finger.

But in those two months, I’m starting to see some changes in Y/N.

She’s moody. She’s hungry a lot. She hasn’t even started her period. The list goes on…

I know what’s wrong with her before she does, and it kills me to the point where I want to tell her; and catch her in her own lies.

But I don’t.

I don’t say anything because I know when the truth comes to light, it’ll all come back and hurt them.

And let’s just say I’m done with being treated like shit.

I’m done with being cheated on.

I’m done with everything Y/N and Jason are putting me through.

Oh…but it’ll all happen in good time. I’m just going to sit here, smile at them both, and wait for my chance to expose and hurt them.

Because I only have one shot at this, and I’m going to take it.

Joker’s out of Arkham, and maybe it’s time he’s heard the news that the former dead Robin is going to be a father.

And Jason deserves to go out with a BIG BANG.

#dc comics #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut

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thehopefulraincoat · 4 years

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#28DrawingsLater: Art Challenges, Fear, & Faith

In February I took part in an art challenge called #28DrawingsLater, which involves doing a drawing a day and posting it on a social media like Instagram (and all my prompts were based on books, because I’m that person who reads all the freaking time). Now it’s April and I’ve been meaning to do a reflection on it for all of March! Granted, this March has kind of been insane for the whole world, so I think I can afford a little slack this time...

Seriously though, I really did need to take the time to reflect because I came into this challenge with so many hopes and I left it with some new realizations. In all that, I realized that I probably had something good to share and if nothing else, writing about it would help me process it.

Why?

I did #28DrawingsLater because I felt that I needed to prove to myself that I had the self-discipline and the drive to stick with something that big. I needed to see what I could do, prove that I could meet “deadlines,” and understand what it would look like to do MORE art.

What did I gain from it?

-Seeing how much time I really have to do art, when I stop letting other things that seem important get in the way and I spend less time doing mindless entertainment kind of things.

-Being forced, via deadlines, to understand when a piece is done, even if it is not perfect in my own mind. I tend to worry my pieces to completion. I nit pick and wonder and change little things here and there when I could have called it done. That doesn’t mean I’m saying that I shouldn’t care about how things turn out or let mistakes that should be fixed slide through, but there’s a difference between that and needing to make sure my pieces are “perfect” before the world can see them (& thus judge them).

-Experimenting in how I draw. Not only was I challenging myself to complete a drawing a day, but I was learning how to use Procreate, and when you do a drawing a day there’s some necessary mix-up that happens to keep things interesting, I think. To some degree I let each prompt tell me where to take it stylistically as I thought about what fit the book.

Where did it leave me at the end of the month?

Maybe it seems like an odd question, but I went into thinking that if I succeeded, I’d have some great art I could add to my portfolio, a new found confidence in myself as an artist, and this great new habit developed, so that I was making art all the time. Some of that did happen. I have a few pieces of art that I can do a little polish on and probably add to my portfolio. It did boost my confidence a little to have been able to stick it out and to have seen how even the pieces I didn’t have time to finish or didn’t like got a fair amount of love on my socials. The habit part though, it kinda flopped.

I was sick at the beginning of the month and I deprived myself of sleep to keep up with things, so by the end of the month I was stretched thin. A little sick of it, but not enough so that I didn’t want to do art, just to want a break, some sleep, and the chance to do art I wanted to do, without pressure or time limits. I had big hopes when March started, after succeeding at my goal, but driving myself into the ground.

I realized now that I flopped because I went from STRUCTURE to “Ok, now go do lots of art and be amazing at it RIGHT NOW (even though last month completely exhausted you).” I want badly for this year to be the one in which I’m not just doing art for myself, but for work, so when February ended, I wanted to launch right into those goals - and then I shot myself in the foot with the pressure. There was pressure because I feel I need to make certain choices by certain days for financial reasons and career reasons, but I also feel so unsatisfied and not at all confident in my art. There’s this strong desire to stretch myself, to do different art, to play and experiment and let failures happen, but at the same time I have felt that I don’t know how to do that kind of self-stretching nor that I have the time for it. That I must become the artist I want to be, and I must do it now.

In all the pressure I put on myself, I did not realize that it wasn’t that I didn’t know how to get from point A (my art as it normally is) to point B (the art I want to try) so much as it was that I was afraid of the unknown in the journey from A to B. New, different-looking art requires new ways of creating, new steps, new tools. #28DrawingsLater saw me learning a new tool all month and some new techniques, but it wasn’t different enough to truly stretch me. It’s no wonder I was still so unsatisfied at the end even for all the good it did do me.

And I wouldn’t say I’m satisfied yet, I guess, but I have spent all of March fighting to let myself create something truly new. Each new piece I sat down to make, I got to a point where I sat face to face with my fear. I had to chose in those moments to bend over my work and keep going or the fear would win.

It’s funny, because art has become the clearest lens through which I see what fear versus faith looks like. I never expected that. But I can sometimes see the very moment when I tell my fear that it will not stop me. I can see, as if it were a physical thing, the moment I choose to believe that God is telling the truth when He says that there is something on the other side of this dark sea. It makes me wonder, what other parts of my life need that kind of clarity about fear?

So I have been learning to create differently, learning to wait out my fears in a new way, and in it God has been reminding me that there is time. I do not have to be the artist I want to be tomorrow, even if I would like to be. He is changing me at the pace and in the ways He sees are best for me, and I just move things along more easily if I trust Him. Time is an important factor that I don’t give much credit to. It’s something which God shaves off our rough edges with. Art is much the same, I feel. It takes time to sand out the imperfections and rough spots, to discover yourself in it.

I can’t imagine how artists who are not Christians see it. Because I can only see my art as a chisel and a mallet, as a paintbrush, as a pencil in God’s hand. My art is not in itself sending some great message, but in me is shaping who I am meant to be in Christ.

So about those hopes, those decisions I need to make regarding art and finances: what is God asking of me? To take the risk to jump into this chance to really pursue art? Or to be patient, to wait it out for a little longer?

I still don’t know. What I do know is that I am learning balance so that I am growing in my art, but not exhausting myself because taking care of myself properly is something that is not just good for me and my productivity but is also something God is pleased by. I do know that God is telling me that when I pursue my art as I should, I am pursuing Him. I do know that I am built to see Him through the eyes of a Creator and when I do, it pleases Him.

Am I glad I did this art challenge?

Yes. I learned new things. It taught me how much time I do have for art, if I’m willing to push myself. It taught me to let go of perfection, to pay better attention to how I spend my time as I create, and to try a few new things as I let accidents lead my art in new directions. It was good for me. I just didn’t expect the struggle on the other side, the pressure I was putting on myself as I feel I am running out of time. Yet even that struggle has been good for me.

For once, I feel that maybe I’m beginning to grasp this future I hope for. I don’t think it’ll be easy. But I also don’t think it needs to drive me into the ground. I think it is doable, if hard. I think God will not let me give up now, even if I think about doing exactly that sometimes. I don’t know that I know what success looks like in this other than in one respect: I think I will have succeeded if I have not let my fear make me stop.

And for you who stuck around to read all that:

Least favorite piece I made for #28DrawingsLater?

Probably the Samovar from The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland... I didn’t finish it, which is a big part of why I’m displeased with it. But I also let myself get caught in some of the details and the perfection of it, and lost sight of the whole picture - and the whole picture suffered for it.

My favorite piece I made for #28DrawingsLater?

I think it’s easily the one I did for Memoirs of a Geisha. It’s funny, because I kept thinking about taking that prompt off the list. But I was tired that day and decided that that prompt would be more simple than the other prompts I had left. I don’t know if it was, but I’m very pleased with the end result. It combines flatness with depth, linework with shape. I like that tension, but with where I am at with my art right now I’m struggling to break out from what I know how to do and find the place where those contradictions can be at home together. I think this piece manages it pretty well.

#art challenge #28drawingslater #28 drawings later #a reflection #god and art #the hopeful update #2020 #feb 2020 #fear and art

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battle-scarred-raven · 5 years

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RvB CarWash Fanfic: We Will Take It (Pt. 6)

Title: We Will Take It

Part: 6

Rating: Mature/Explicit (Canon typical Language, and things get pretty intimate later on)

Pairing: Carolina/Wash (other pairings acknowledged/hinted at)

Summary: When the shot comes along this time, dear Carolina, you will take it.

Inspired by Blood Gulch Blue from Singularity’s Soundtrack.

—

You both start slow, as per Wash’s suggestion. You lie next to one another on the bed, kissing and nipping at one another while both of you let your hands roam each other’s bodies. He seems content to focus on your breasts; yours settle first in his hair, then the scruffy remnants of his beard, before wandering down his bare, heavily scarred chest and toned abs to lightly stroke his no doubt aching erection.

“F-Fuck…” He groans almost into your mouth, his hips jerking slightly. His eyes squeeze shut. “Christ…”

“Too fast?” You check in on him, stopping your movements but leaving your hand hovering there, just in case. “I can stop for now, if you want.”

“No!” The protest from Wash bursts from him unexpectedly. Then he continues, quieter, “No, it's good. I'm good. It's just… been a while since I properly… you know…”

“Oh.” It is hardly the most eloquent response from you, Carolina, but what else could you say? Not that you couldn't sympathise with that or anything. “Me too, if we’re not counting the Temple.”

Wash closes his eyes and a sigh escapes him. “The only thing that can count as is crazy. Not that I… didn't enjoy it.”

So, you were allowed to broach the topic of the Temple of Procreation now? Then again, you remind yourself, neither of you had ever explicitly stated you didn't want to talk about it; you had both just chosen not to. It is a rather hard habit to break from Freelancer.

“Despite how chaotic that all was, I enjoyed it too.” You admit quietly, fingers stroking Wash’s stomach thoughtfully. “I… kind of hoped we might be able to do something like that again, but I was too scared to admit that to myself, to you. After everything…”

“Hey.” Wash cups your cheek gently. “It's okay, Carolina. To be honest, I think I've been falling for you for a while too. I just wasn't sure you'd ever be interested in me like that.”

That… actually surprises you, in a way, but it also doesn’t. Wash’s confession back on Iris in the Everwhen makes so much more sense to you, now. He knew he would still be there, but that you were going to lose a part of him, the part of him that would remember everything clearly, and he had wanted you to know how much he cared while he still could. While he was still completely him.

He must have been saving that for a while, you suddenly realise. The thought is enough to make you start crying.

“Iz?” Wash starts softly kissing your tears away as soon as they start coming. “What’s wrong? Was it… was it something I said?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, gently batting his hand away from your face in order to hurriedly wipe your tears away. “Just realising how much of an idiot I am for not realising how close we were getting sooner. I mean… all the signs were there.”

“Hey now, don’t beat yourself up about it.” He cracks a smile at you. “I had plenty of opportunities to make a move and didn’t. We’ve both been in an environment where that sort of thing is frowned upon. Of course we’re both gonna be dense about it.”

“Well… maybe you are.” You half sniffle, half chuckle.

He bats your arm playfully, feigning hurt. “Well, now I’m just hurt, Carolina.”

“You know it’s true.”

“I mean… yeah.” He admits sheepishly after a while. “You didn’t need to verbalise it, though.”

You crash your lips into his again rather than trying to think up a witty response to that. Your hand wanders back down to Wash’s shaft again, giving it a harder pump this time. You feel him groan against your lips, and you’d smile in smug satisfaction right now if you could. He doesn’t let it stand for long, however, as one of his hands moves to play with your breasts once more, while the other rests on your inner thigh. There’s an unvoiced question as he gazes into your eyes briefly during your passionate kissing. You do your best to nod.

Rough skin dances over your loins, and the fingers of your free hand curl tightly into a ball. A sort of strangled noise tries to escape from your mouth and you are forced to throw your head back, your breath coming in gasps. Wash seizes the opportunity to nip at your now exposed neck and you don’t fight it for once, Carolina. You let it all happen, trying your level best to focus on the erection firmly grasped in your hand, but that’s hard to do when you can feel yourself being slowly parted open. The rhythm of your hand on Wash’s member stutters as his thumb finds your clit and starts teasing you, rubbing in agonisingly small circles. Then a finger slips into your slick core and a cry of pleasure leaves you before you can even think to stop it.

“Oh God, D-David…!” You gasp out as Wash adds another finger, then starts pumping them both in and out of you. You’re so pent up, you could easily come right now. “Please…”

He pumps faster, his thumb circling your clit at the same time. He builds you up and builds you up before withdrawing from you slowly, leaving you frustratingly close to tipping over the edge entirely. He licks his fingers, tasting you - which is way more of a turn on than you thought it would be for you - before leaning back and resting a slick hand on your thigh, his expression smug as if daring you to do something about your current situation.

There are many things you will take in life, Agent Carolina, but Wash being a smug shit and thinking he's gotten away with riling you up isn't one of those things. You nip at his arms, your teeth ghosting over tribal tattoos, while you shift yourself, settling between his legs. You push him back a little, kissing down his chest, before you fondle Wash’s balls with the hand that is on his member and you go down on him without warning-

Wash lets out a sudden, strangled gasp as the warm, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him. When you swirl your tongue up and down his shaft, his fist locks itself into your hair, tugging lightly. You gaze up at him, but his head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, like he is trying desperately to hold back.

You aim to change that.

You start bobbing your head up and down - slowly at first, but gradually picking up pace - all while licking Wash’s dick with your tongue. He tastes like salt and gunpowder, despite how long he's been off the field. It's a taste you relish, a taste that's just so Wash you can't help but love it. The restrained gasp from the other Freelancer eventually bursts free and Wash cries out loudly, tugging on your scalp more sharply, forcing you to let up.

“F-Fuck…” His words come out in laboured breaths as you finally relent, releasing his shaft from your mouth. “I thought you were going to make me come for a minute there, Iz.”

“Really?” You kiss him lazily on the neck, careful to avoid the scars from his bullet wound. “I was pretty close myself.”

Wash looks at you like you've just thrown cold water on him from nowhere. “I did suspect you were, but I didn't want to presume…”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, cutting him off. You dredge up your old commanding voice, part full of authority, part sultry. “Well, you'd better not leave me hanging, Agent Washington.”

“Of course not, boss.” He answers without missing a beat, using his hands to lift you up and settle you on his stomach. His features twist into a slight frown. “I don't have any protection, though.”

“Grey gave me some shots to take while you were hospitalised.” You explain quietly. “So we should be fine.”

Beneath you, Wash nods his head. “Okay, if you're sure about this. I trust you know what you're doing with them.”

“I'm sure.” You rock back slightly. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are, Iz.”

You push yourself up, lining up your entrance with Wash’s shaft, before slowly sinking down onto him. You feel his hands steadily guide you in, before they rest lightly on your hips. As you meet resistance, you massage your clit to help you relax, but a hiss still escapes you as you bottom out.

“You okay, Carolina?” Wash asks you with a slight look of concern, giving your hips and thighs a reassuring rub.

“Yeah, I think so.” You answer back honestly. “Just… bigger than I'm used to, is all.”

He moves your hand from your clit with his own, starting to massage there himself, while his other hand motions to massage your breasts alternately. You close your eyes briefly, trying to relax into it. After a while, you feel much more comfortable on top of Wash and you let out a contented sigh.

“Better, Carolina?”

“Much, thank you.”

Your thighs tense briefly as you push yourself up, a sharp breath leaving your nose as you feel Wash’s dick slide out of you. You reach the tip before pulling your hips back down again, hilting yourself deeper this time. Your movements repeat, establishing a slow, but sure, rhythm. Wash doesn’t start moving until you bend over to start kissing him once more, your breasts pressing into his chest, and when he does it is only to slowly grind his hips against yours, rolling in time with your own thrusts. Your movements leave you both panting and gasping, moans and whispers of each other’s names soon giving way to louder cries of pleasure that fall from both of your lips before either of you can think to stop it.

“I’m… I’m close…” You vaguely register Wash’s warning.

“Me too.” You are barely able to reply.

Everything becomes a blur after that. You don’t remember your movements becoming more erratic, but they must have done, because you can feel the bed shaking. Nails claw your ribs. Your teeth nip at flesh. The pleasurable pressure builds deep in your loins, like a spring coiled impossibly tight, and then…-

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck! David!”

The scream of ecstasy leaves you before you even register your orgasm. Your inner walls pulse and clench, tightening like a vice around Wash’s shaft, which punches up a couple more times as your ride out your high. The overstimulation draws another cry from you as you fall bonelessly against the other Freelancer, breaths short and laboured.

“Easy, easy.” Wash’s hands hug your back, easily finding the burn scar across your spine from where Felix slashed you with the sword-key. His fingers trace along the entire length of the burn, slow and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

You try to speak, but no words will come; you’re still too breathless from your high. The only noise that leaves you - besides your muffled panting - is a whimper when Wash goes to pull out.

“You want me… inside?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Your green eyes are wide, pleading, begging. You only have breath enough for one word, desperate and wanting.

“Please.”

He starts thrusting up into you again and you roll with it, having barely any energy to fight it. You moan into Wash’s shoulder, closing your eyes as your overstimulated core threatens to reach its peak again. You didn’t think that could happen to you - at least, not so quickly - but you’d both been drawing this out for so long and your body is extra pent up. Your hips slap together, louder, faster, until Wash’s nails claw deep into your back and you feel a gush of liquid warmth inside you.

“Isabelle!” Wash cries out breathlessly.

The sound of your real name leaving his lips is enough to make you clench around him once again, even tighter this time. No words leave you, just a loud cry that leaves your head spinning as Wash falls back. You fall forward on top of him, chest heaving, too shaky from coming a second time to do anything. You both lay there for several minutes collecting yourselves before you finally find the energy to speak again.

“God… I think you fucked the life out of me.” You admit quietly, still gasping for air. “I didn’t think anyone could do that.”

Wash chuckles at you. “I guess… we were both pretty pent up, huh?”

“Mhm.” You hum back, just about managing a weak nod.

You feel Wash shift. You vaguely realise that he still needs to pull out from you, but you’re too exhausted to move, not to mention rather loathe to. He’s so warm and soft against you, and for once, Carolina, you’d like nothing more than to just lie still forever.

Grif would be so damn proud of you right now, you think.

“Carolina.” Wash nudges you gently with his knee, but you still refuse to move. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet.

“Can we just… stay like this? For a little while longer?” You mumble softly.

Fingers wander lightly over your back once more, before softly stroking your fiery hair. A pair of lips kiss your forehead.

“As long as you like, Iz.”

You feel Wash gently pull you closer, and you relax further into him. A satisfying, peaceful silence hangs in the air. For a moment, it feels like there is nothing else except you and Wash. Nothing else in the whole wide world. As you drift off, everything is blissful perfection.

You will take it. Despite all you’ve done and all that has happened, you will take it over anything.

#outofravens #f; we will take it #n s f w text #rvb #rvb fanfic #rvb fanfiction #rvb carwash #agent carolina #agent washington #fanfic #fanfiction

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acaseforpencils · 5 years

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David Ostow.

Bio: I'm a cartoonist and stay-at-home dad, not necessarily in that order. I came late to cartooning, because I thought I wanted to be an architect. In grad school, my professors were always hung up on the fact that I was more interested in drawing pretty pictures than in designing interesting spaces. Anyway, they graduated me, and should really answer for the disservice they did to the design industry.

Find this print here!

I came to cartooning by way of illustrating some books for my sister who's an author. To date, my work has also appeared in and on a combination of print publications and websites, including The New Yorker, Mcsweeney's Internet Tendency, The American Bystander, Buzzfeed, and The Weekly Humorist. My work and I were also featured in a New York Times piece about artists addressing gentrification in their work. I don't know if that counts. Does that count?

I live in New York City with my son and my wife, whose support is the reason I'm not drawing on grocery bags in my parents' basement, and raking their yard for allowance.

Tools of choice: Where to begin? I got an iPad Pro earlier this year, and I've been using it pretty exclusively since. But finding and experimenting with tools has been an odyssey unto itself for me, and I'd be remiss not to give a bit of history.

I started out employing a lot of the tools that I learned about in the architecture world. I went to UVA, and when I was there my sketching professor [fun fact: he was also the mayor!*] encouraged us to draw with Micron pens using a very loose hand. Check out the sketches of Michael Graves, and you'll see what we were emulating. My hand was naturally pretty shaky. Years of drawing have rendered it less so, but at the time, my peers teased me (in good fun) for being a teacher's pet with my wobbly broken lines. That introduction to sketching was definitely formative to the style I would eventually develop for cartooning. Sometimes I find myself trying to force my hand to be as wobbly as it used to be.

Architecture school was also where I first began using Photoshop as a diagramming tool, and I became more facile with it when I moved into the professional world, where it's a common tool for rendering presentation drawings. Since then, Photoshop has been my go-to for applying washes and colors to my drawings, although now that I have an iPad and I'm experimenting with Procreate, the Photoshop era may be coming to a close.

After taking a class on comics creation at The New School in Manhattan, I got up the nerve to add some ink and brushes into my toolkit, and while it was an adjustment, it was also fun to have a brand new way of making varied and expressive lines. At the height of my "pre-digital" period, I was using a combination of ink and technical pens. The accompanying photo shows my spread in more detail. All the tools pictured are easy to find, and easy to use, and I recommend them for anyone looking to take a stab at drawing cartoons or comics.

From there, I waded slowly and awkwardly into the world of digital drawing. I had a hybrid moment when I was roughing my drawings in pencil, scanning them, using a Wacom tablet to ink in a program called Clip Studio, and then adding colors / washes in Photoshop. It was an incredible time suck, but, for what it's worth, the cartoons I produced that way were some of the first I sold to The New Yorker. So there's that.

Since getting my iPad I've been drawing with Procreate, which seems to be the preferred drawing application among my iPad savvy colleagues, and which I enjoy, but I feel like I'm still getting comfortable with it. When it comes to new technology, I have a habit of doing the bare minimum to educate myself, and every time I need clarity on a finer point I'll do a tad more research. It's called the "Dave Ostow Kicking and Screaming Method" and I recommend it to no one.

Tool I wish I could use better: I've never had any formal fine arts training, so I lack the kind of mastery of many traditional tools that some of my peers have attained as a matter of course. One time I tried to use a dip pen, and was so overwhelmed by how hard it was to draw a single line that I put it in my drawer and just kind of forgot about it.

I also used to own a set of Koh-i-noor Rapidograph pens, which make amazing lines, but require saintlike patience to maintain. The nibs are super delicate and If you're not careful, they'll break and leak (or — worse — explode) all over your drawing.

In an ideal world, I would have the patience and time to master some of these more traditional and delicate tools, and I think I'd be a better artist for it. Maybe some day, but right now my schedule doesn't allow for much extracurricular activity.

Tool I wish existed: Kind of a no-brainer: an iPad / digital tablet that felt almost indistinguishable from real pen and paper. Think the Beyond Meat burger of digital drawing tools.

The iPad is great, and of course it's wonderful to have digital editing capabilities, but there's simply no hiding the fact that you're drawing on a screen that lacks the kind of tooth you'd get from dragging a pen across paper. Also, when I zoom in to do detail work, I'm always thrown by the pixelation.

I'm sure the more I use the iPad, the better I'll get at tweaking the settings to my liking. Like I said, when change is involved, I sometimes drag my feet. But that's okay. As a good friend who's also really my therapist said, "Maybe that's just the way you work."

Tricks: Not a trick so much as a suggestion: If you're drawing on an iPad or some other sort of tablet, get a matte protective cover. It will reduce glare, and soften the feel of the screen against your stylus, so you get an experience more like drawing on paper, albeit only slightly so.

Misc: Yes, that is a Dan Smith Will Teach You Guitar flyer on my bulletin board. I found it on the subway and it just seemed like a fun authentic New York artifact that was calling to be preserved. I look at it every now and again, and find it oddly inspiring. That picture of Dan Smith has been circulating around the city for God knows how many decades. What does Dan Smith look like today and would he still teach me guitar?

Website, etc.

Website

Instagram

New Yorker Link

Conde Nast Store

*Editor’s note: I went to Charlottesville High School with Mayor Cox’s son! I also went to UVA, though not at the same time as David. Small world!

Also, I happily do this blog for free, though there are a lot of hidden expenses that I take care of myself. If you enjoy this blog, and would like to help defray labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon! Or if you’d prefer to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well (which is essentially a PayPal donation)! Your support means a lot, and I'm grateful to everyone who has donated!

You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#David ostow #how to draw New Yorker cartoons #cartoons #how to draw cartoons #art supplies #artists on tumblr #art process

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growinwiththeflow · 5 years

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When Karma Gets You

We talk about karmic and toxic relationships a lot. What happens when you procreate within this relationship and produce a karmic child? *This is based on my experience as a karmic child*

1. They go through your situations. I went through a lot of the same situations my mom did when she was with my dad when I started to date. I saw toxic situations growing up and identified with them as love when I started dating. I was easy to lie to, easy to manipulate, didn’t require an adequate amount of love (anything you gave me was perfect), and I didn’t love myself. How can you when you let such a toxic person “love” you? My first actual relationship was with a man identical to my dad. From work habits to cheating habits and for a while in our high school stages, he preyed on the fact that I didn’t grow up with male guidance. I didn’t have an example (not even in my family as an uncle or cousin) of how a man should move and act. I dated several versions of my dad over the years and went through a few of the same situations I saw my mom go through. Some things I witnessed as a kid but didn’t understand. As an adult seeking healing, I can understand and identify these situations now.

2. You see in them what you hated in your partner. Because I didn’t have a great relationship with my dad, I had a few holes in my identity. Where did this come from? Why am I like this? A lot of those traits were him. So here I am a walking, living reminder of some things that my mother hated about my dad. There was a time in high school where I wasn’t on my shit. I didn’t do all my homework, didn’t go to every class, hid report cards. I walked the line, but I was never in danger of failing a class or not moving to the next grade/walking the stage. My mom is a perfectionist and she did very well in school. See where I got my school work ethic from? So she decided threats were best. I was always threatened with being sent off to military school. “Trump’s dad sent him to military and Trump says his self it’s the best thing they did for him. You need discipline.” I had friends who were worse off in school and their parents weren’t sending them away. I just felt rejected. Unwanted. I knew that my mom gave up school and jobs to have me at 19 and I felt like I had to pay. Her harsh reactions didn’t make me feel like I was wrong. But I was living up to my last name. Reminding her of her mistakes and reminding her of my dad in general and had no idea.

3. You see and love parts of them what you didn’t appreciate in your partner. I initially went 7 years without seeing my dad. When we got back in touch, I was about 21. I was trying to get out of my comfort zone and would sing on my voicemail. I love to sing but I’m hella shy. When he heard me singing, he had the biggest smile on his face (he never smiles! It’s almost scary when he does lol) and said just like your mom. When he was here visiting last year, we were discussing my business and he was like wow this is amazing do you talk to you mom about that? You know she knows all about this marketing stuff. I can see these things as reminders of the person she was. The person he screwed over. Now you look at your child with these traits (and her face) and see the good person you didn’t love correctly.

I had a long talk with my ancestors last night. This is just one of the things they revealed to me. Not an excuse, but this is why its been so hard on this journey. I’m here fixing my mistakes I made along the way plus paying karmic debt that I didn’t participate in. This is what you pass onto your children when you lay down with someone you’re not in alignment with. So you didn’t know yourself when you got with your child’s other parent. Understandable. You now as a parent have an obligation to that child to pay those debts. Raise them in a way that they understand what they may have saw is not right. Raise them where they can see that disfunction is not a normal part of relationships. Teach them self love so that when someone comes half stepping, their aura sends that person away. These children are innocent and deserve lots of love and protection. Your short comings aren’t their fault. There’s no competition. We have to break the cycle!

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lilacsolanum · 5 years

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Who was your Shepard? What ending did they choose? Did it remind you much of the end of Animorphs?

Did you just– did you just give me an excuse to rant about my Mass Effect experience? WELL THANK YOU!

My Shepard was a fierce dark skinned woman with a penchant for a heavy eyeliner and a dark lip. She originally had a stern bun but I DID give her a haircut between ME2 and ME3 for the drama and she had a buzzcut. She ran around in a hoodie 24/7 and was my butch qween. I named her Ms Nesbit in ME1, but ME1 didn’t understand the space so she ended up being Ms Shepard which honestly was ideal. She was from the tragic Midnoir, and had the “soul survivor” psychological profile. I was absolutely role-playing her, giving her a strong “bright clear line” ruthless and practical moral code. She had. SO many renegade points. It was mostly a renegade play through, but I was always bros with my crew. Well. The crew members I liked. I killed someone on purpose in the suicide mission like. Bye.

I played these games blind and it was the best, not knowing how my choices would play out, not knowing what was coming next.

When I played the ending it was, like, 4 AM and I just wanted to be done so I could focus on writing and not be haunted by my love of this great video game I wanted to play all the time. So like. I wasn’t comprehending anything really, and Shepard was moving SO slowly, and I just went toward the pillar because it was shiny. TECHNICALLY I chose Synthesis, which was the cheesiest and worst ending.

I WANTED to choose Destroy, and would have if I was less of a sleepy bitch. Destroy was what we set out to do, and I don’t think the consequences of the literal universe existing beyond “the cycle” were going to be THAT bad. The Geth chilled out. Everyone calm down. Let’s rebuild.

Because I played a “war is hell, bright clear line” Shepard, the ending with her death DID feel right to me. It WAS very Animorphs-ish. Not everyone makes it out of war. Not everyone survives. But I understand why people hated it, especially if you played paragon. Like I told someone else, then the ending of ME is like if Sailor Moon ended with the gruesome death of Sailor Moon. Really, the thing that reminded me the most of Animorphs was the Krogans.

I wrote out, like, my entire play through under the cut because I was feeling myself and because I have SO MUCH TO SAY and played this video game like ten years after it came out so I only had one other person screaming with me. I (somewhat) restrained my boundless energy on their behalf. Cav is a patient soul.

In ME1, I killed the Rachni queen, because even if she was serving me some buckwild nonsense about songs and the general plot of Ender’s Game I was like bye gurl bye, your race died. It’s dead. It’s far too traumatizing for too many people to bring y'all back. Also, you are litterly a giant spider, absolutely not, no no, do not want, please leave.

I primarily ran Wrex and Kaidan because I very much enjoyed Kaidan’s idealistic banter where he’s just impressed with literally everything and then checking in on Wrex who was just bitter and full of hate. Wrex became my favorite character. I LIVE for a grumpy old man. I got his family armor and managed to chill him out on Virmire on the first choice, which was AMAZING, because I later looked up the other outcomes and found out Ashley would kill him and I would have been TRAUMATIZED. I zoomed in on Ashley being a racist and peaced her out, keeping my boy Kaidan around for another two games.

I accidentally romanced Liara even if I wanted to romance Kaidan, but I WAS flirting with them both for a bit (though I ultimately didn’t get the scene where they both confront me). I also slept with that random Asari lady.

I chose to kill the council in the end. It was the better choice for humanity. We needed to do something big to prove that we’re here, we’re not going away, and we’re just as important as the rest of you.

ME2 is just like Making Friends: The Video Game. Which was honestly so fun, I loved that it was an entire game devoted to character storytelling? I let Garrus break a dude’s legs, but I did not let him kill that man, even if I let him kill the guy in ME1. It honestly felt like letting that dude live was shittier. I killed the heretic Geth because, like, they’re machines, they’ve already been possessed by Reapers, they’re fine. I understand that Legion was doing it’s whole Breq thing but most Geth are just part of a whole. I was fine with it. I had enough Renegade points when I did Tali’s mission to allow her to be proven innocent without revealing her father’s treason, which I’m super glad I did because of it’s effects on ME3. The rest of the missions I basically just went renegade for the points. I loooved Thane, Miranda, and Grunt, fell deeper in love with Garrus and Tali, didn’t spend enough time with Legion but again, I saw the whole individual sentience storyline unfolding and appreciated it, Jack I liked ironically because Oh Boy Everything About Her (LOVED her in ME3 though), and Samara and Jacob were THUMBS DOWN.

And then Mordin. Holy shit. What an amazing character. First of all, he’s the best, second of all, he busts out in a musical number, third of all, his mission is SO BEAUTIFUL AND COMPLEX. But. I ended up destroying both Maelon’s data and Maelon himself.

The genophage was population control, not genocide, and while it’s a harsh method it was the kindest solution at the time. The Krogan really remind me of the Yeerks, actually. When it was pointed out that they were given technology before they had culture, I was like, yes, YES, my favorite children’s books series addressed this SAME THING! And like Yeerks, absolutely, I recognize that some Krogans were good, that they didn’t have the same bloodthirst as others, that they saw a better future. Wrex was one of those Krogans. Wrex had power. But was that enough power? How very easy would it be for a rogue group of Krogans to hide away, procreate, get strong, and go to war with the Urdnots. How very easy would it be to destroy the efforts of one man. It was idealistic to think that just because Wrex had influence, that the entirity of the Krogan race could be changed. Ms Shepard made a hard choice, but she did what she had to do.

Also, my renegade zombie face was fucking hilarious, the drama, the theatrics. When I came back from some mission with red eyes I laughed so much. What a choice. What an amazing choice Bioware made with that. I probed the planets and fixed my busted mug, but not after enjoying my glowing scars and bags under my eyes for a MINUTE.

I two timed Garrus and Thane for a minute, but ultimately I went with Garrus, because I texted my BFF, a normal person who does not write or read about alien fucking, with a photo of the two and he immediately replied with “zaddy with the scope for sure” and it was decided. Thane did call me sita for a hot minute and it was very very sweet. Oh and you knoooooow I flirted with Kelly Chambers HARD.

I played the suicide mission blind and I have this weird habit of overestimating video games when they are CLEARLY telling me what to do and trying to outsmart them, so I somehow lost Thane, Garrus, and Mordin. I broke my rule about not going back on any choice and replayed it to save everyone’s asses, except for Jacob Taylor, who I killed on purpose. No regrets.

And then shit went DOOOOOOOOWN in ME3.

First of all, fuck EDI’s robot body. I was already shipping her with Joker and in no way did they need a physical form, it’s called IMAGINATION. I might write a fic where EDI as a ship’s AI instructs Joker on how to get himself off, Dom style. *I* know how to write an AI/human romance without a robot that has FUCKING HIGH HEELS??? No. Nope. Also, why the hell does literally every male squadmate have to call her hot. What was the point. WHAT WAS THE REASON. WHAT WAS THE REASON BITCH.

I immediately went to deal with the Krogan genophage because I knew some shit was about to go on. This whole thing ended up being maybe one of my absolute favorite story experiences, ever.

It starts happening. Wrex rolls up. He is PISSED at me. He is saying he wished he killed me in Virmire, the first time I blocked a genophage cure. It’s heartbreaking. I loved him so much, and he’s SO ANGRY, and he has every right to be.

Mordin starts his research. Eve is there, she’s fucking ICONIC, her and her 50-year-old diner waitress smoker voice. Poor unfortunate goddamn soul, YES. I love her. But I also doomed her by destroying Maelon’s data.

Then the Salarian talks to me. And I know I’ve chosen this stance for Ms Shepard and that I’m not going back on it. When she says “You stop Mordin from spreading the cure, no matter what” I already knew what was going to happen. It’d been spoiled for his death, yes, but damn. The way it went down.

The first thing that happened that made me go “holy shit” was when we were all flying toward Tuchanka and I had an option to tell everyone about the sabotage. I actually took it. Even if I had this storyline, I had this moment of like, okay, I love these characters, I love Mordin and he’s so happy to redeem himself, I have to tell my friends about what the Salarian wants to do. And I chose that option AND I AM INTERRUPTED AND DON’T GET THE WORDS OUT. I mean WHAT a fucking amazing detail. When the option came back again, to lie to my friends or tell them the truth, I lied.

Watching to confrontation go down with Mordin just destroyed me. The voice actors killed it. I told Maelon about the sabotage. It was so fucking emotional. “I MADE A MISTAKE! I made a mistake. I focused on the big picture. Big picture made of little pictures.” Just. Holy shit. And I knew what was about to happen and what I would have to do, and even if it was a video game, I was IN IT. It was the fact that the renegade interrupt was in slow motion that absolutely got me. That there was extra time to think about it, to let him go. I closed my eyes and hit my mouse trigger and Shepard shot Mordin. The way she walked off and threw her gun to the side was devastating. And then the game made me watch Mordin drag his dying body across the tower to try and get to the controls, saying, “Not yet, not ready, not ready,” which was honestly very rude. And then the cutscene where Wrex looked out on his planet, joy and awe on his face, that was also incredibly rude.

I later watched the paragon version and just. “I’m the very model of a-” SUPER. RUDE.

I knew doing all this meant I would also have to kill Wrex. That wasn’t a spoiler, that’s just logic. So one day I go to the Citadel, lalala, fetch quest fetch quest fetch quest, and then I go back to my ship and BAM. Wrex. How fucking brilliant. There is no moment around his confrontation, no visit to Tuchanka. It hits you when you’re completely off guard. He also called me out on not doing the “Bomb on Tuchanka” mission because I did things out of order. Found Grunt, go cure genophage. I shot Wrex. Bailey would have, but it was my responsibility.

Later, Garrus called me out on everything during his “tough call” scene. I told him what I did. The way he then asks, “Did Mordin just go along with it?” and Shepard just walks off was so good.

So.

All of Legions missions were SO cool. I’m learning I have such a weakness for robots/AIs and sentience. “Do these units have a soul?” Also it’s little inner brain Tron world was great, and how the Geth remember the Quarians who were kind was just beautiful. When it came time to choose between the Geth and the Quarians, I was able to save both. Even if that wasn’t the most renegade-y choice, it came from my original mission statement: bright, clear line. Both forces living meant both forces could fight. The rest of my “storyline” was so super dark that this moment felt really triumphant it my little role play? It reminded me of The Doctor saying “This time, everybody lives!”

The rest of the game was just “How many people can Liana kill?”

When Thane died, he called me sita one more time, even if I didn’t commit to him, and it BROKE MY FUCKING HEART. What a great detail to bring back one last time. When Bioware is on, it is ON.

When Samara held a gun to her head I was just like “See ya later alligator.” What a boring character. btw, the whole Morinth thing could have been SO cool but ended up so lame. I didn’t have enough renegade points to get her and I don’t even care. Bye. I didn’t give Miranda Alliance support so SHE died. That was sad. Grunt survived because my baby boy was loyal, but he might have died since I didn’t deal with the bomb. I was supposed to get a poorly spelled message from him according to the internet, and I never did, so uhhhh oops. Sorry, my son. Kaidan didn’t die during his little freak out because we were besties.

When Liara asked me if we were still dating, I said yes, then I immediately went to Garrus and he asked me if we were still dating and I ALSO said yes, then I flirted with James Vega and Samantha Traynor a lot. Eventually, during Garrus’s personal quest, he asked me if I was ready to be a one Turian kind of woman. I said no and he took the rejection well. Then I went to see Kaidan, and he told me he had feelings, and I locked in with him. I love the idea of Kaidan, who is kind of sheltered and idealistic, attempting to protect and soothe this war torn woman, while accepting the darkness of war himself and questioning his place in it. I loved the idea of us breaking apart, but brief grounded moments with one another. Plus Garrus never even seemed THAT into me, like, yeah you’re awkward bro but idk give me a cute nickname or SOMETHING, and Liara was boring. Liara was SO PISSED AT ME LMAOOO she used A Tone when I would go visit her in her little office and like stopped talking to me. It was hilarious.

I can’t remember if anything else super relavant happed in ME3. I hated Cortez’s “bury your gays” storyline. Gays can do more than be sad. Samantha Traynor was such an afterthought. I still don’t understand why a femShep couldn’t romance Jack, who is canonically bisexual, and I wish that was an option in ME3. I love that Kaidan came back bisexual, like he was just on his little Barbarella journey. What happeneds on Horizon, stays in Horizon.

I have written too much that no one, if anyone, will read, and I must sleep now before I chose the Symbosis ending again.

#zarohk

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rayraystudies · 5 years

Photo

So as you can see, I've officially switched over to the new @goodnotesapp !! It's quite nice, and aside from a couple minor issues, I really do like it! It's a bit of a change from goodnotes4 so breaking some habits is hard, but overall I really like the new version! Good job #goodnotes team!

✍ Ipad Pro (9.7” 64GB), Apple Pencil, Goodnotes App, Procreate App

ig: rayraystudies

#studyblr #studyspo #notespo #ipad pro #goodnotes app #procreate app #studyquill #emmastudies #architstudy #rhubarbstudies #sootstudying #mollystudies #ray ray studies #potterstudyblrnet #cardiology

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kat-hawke · 5 years

Text

Interviewing the Hawke at Sea

► Name ➔ “Alexa Imortis.”

“Kat Hawke.”

► Are you single? ➔ “Depends on who you ask, really. I am engaged, single, in the market, in an open relationship, courting a noble.. One really gets lost in all the story telling, hm?”

“Certainly feels like it most days.”

► Are you happy? ➔ “I suppose that I am happy enough, considering the circumstances. We are in the middle of a war, and I am still alive and relatively in one piece.”

“As the Admiral said; I’m alive, all my limbs still attached, soul in my body, avoided unwanted offspring. So, sure, I’m as happy as one can be in my position.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “Exhausted, is perhaps a better word to describe how I feel relationship to my anger. It comes and goes, though I rarely express how truly furious I am towards a situation.”

“No’ at the momen’. Ya’ll know when I am.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Kul Tiras, Brennadam.”

“Gilneas, if that wusn’ obvious enough. City outskirts.”

“I think your accent gives that away…”

“Ya’ think?”

► Hair Color ➔ “Onyx.”

“Raven black. Ya’ have eyes do ya’ no’?”

“So many different words to describe one color.”

“She wus hotter as a blonde.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Persian blue.”

“Amber.”

► Birthday ➔ “April fifth.”

“June thirtieth.”

► Mood ➔ “Praying that this will end. Worried about the boys at home, it’s been long enough for them to get into trouble.”

“Annoyed.”

► Gender ➔ “...Female.”

“Maybe they did no’ wish to assume?”

“They might ask who is the more masculine out of the two of us next, you watch.”

“Draw straws?”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Winter. The trees are barren and snow is pure, there is a comfort in the silence that lingers after the first change of seasons.”

“I lost sensitivity to temperature sum time ago. Seasons don’ matter to me anymore. Easier to hike the trails in the summer, howeva.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “The break of dawn. As hours go by people tend to grow more lazy, and less productive. Try getting any shred of work done after one in the afternoon, it’s bloody impossible with the Harbormaster.”

“Always wus an early riser. As I’m sure she can attest to, she complained about it once.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “Yes, happily enough. Then again my father long ago lost his spine, and my mother tends to remind him of that fact frequently enough. They have had their quarrels over their years, however, due to my fathers inability to keep it in his drawers.”

“Well, they’re both dead, so…” She simply shrugs. “Granted m’mother remarried much to my disapproval. Still, all dead though.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ “Yes. Though my commitments have shifted about as of late… I think a lot of my problems tend to revolve around the fact that I love certain qualities about many, many...many, people.”

“Mmm, while I don’ disagree, it’s a question better suited fer the Diplomat I think. I’m in love with m’job, if that counts.”

“Makes two of us, put that down as my relationship.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “No. It’s absurd. Something that is frequently told to children in order to promote procreation.”

“Only in nobility… Lust at first sight is quite real, any tavern in Stormwind will prove that.”

► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “Do they really, truly, ever end?”

“Mmm, do they? Considerin’ m’last two haven’ actually ended per se, I’d say the last actual end wus caused by death.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ “Most likely, though no one has been upset enough to say anything personal about it.”

“Lost track on that one. No’ my fault they don’ take the hint.”

► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ “Mmmm…. Afraid? No. Hesitant to fully commit? Maybe. There is something to be said about remaining in perfect lingo. No one can actually hurt you that way.”

“I agree with her, to a point. Love no one, and no one can hurt ya’. Made that mistake once before.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Kat and I hug all the time. Cannot separate us, truly.”

“Oh, are we spillin’ the secrets now? Alright, luv’, game on.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “There’s nothing secret about those who admire. Even if one is shy with their affections, they typically come around.”

“She ain’t wrong. They niver stay secret fer long, always have to make it known, unfortunately. It’s worse when they want to try and ‘fix ya’. Like we’re broken or sumthin’...”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “No. I do not set myself up for failure in trusting in others to meet my exceedingly high expectations. If given the opportunity, they will disappoint.”

“No. Why set m’self up in such a predicamen’? I skipped a chance to adopt a puppy, that hurt, but I wouldn’ say I wus heartbroken.”

SEVEN TRAITS: “Describe each other.”

disorganized / organized / in between. “Kat is organized, though I cannot say that I have spent a lot of time in her office. The short time I did spend there, we were in a bit of a tiff. Closest to rage that Kat has ever seen me act, I believe.”

“Alexa is one of the most organized people I’ve met, aside from her love life.”

“It’s organized enough, just not in a way that anyone would expect…”

patient / impatient / in between. “The Director is a delightful mix of both patience and impatience. Idiocy is not tolerated, in any shape or form, but recent events have proven Kat’s behavior beyond the threshold of the patient.”

“Mmm… Patience comes with the job both her and I have, though I’ve witness her in a few impatient scenarios, felt it too…” She clears her throat. “A nice mix of in between. Fer the record, recent events are puttin’ us both past the threshold.”

outspoken / reserved / in between. “Reserved. Kat doesn’t really go out of her way to interact with strangers, unless she wants something. This typically includes information, and namely only that.”

“See. Like I said, she knows me more than she should. I would say Alexa is a bit outspoken. I’ve watched her move through a tavern enough times, work a person or two.”

empathetic / unempathetic / in between. “I would say that we both are not highly empathetic people. Kat is more emotional than I, though it is not by much.”

“I will agree with that. No’ a lot of room fer bullshit in our profession. No’ goin’ to comment on the emotional part though.”

optimistic / pessimistic / in between. “Bit of a glass is half empty type of person, you are. “

“Glass of whiskey?”

“Glass is fully empty in that case.”

“See, she knows me! But, I’d say yer a bit more of an optimist than I, narrow margin though. Pessimist is just wot an optimist calls a realist.”

hard-working / lazy / in between. “I do not think there is even a question to Kat’s work ethic. We are both far too devoted to our jobs, to a degree that most would consider unhealthy. I find it wise to remind them that we are what protects them from the mongrels of the Horde.”

“What even is a day off fer us?”

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between. “Loyal both in a professional sense and relational. The fact that Kat is even sitting here, after our falling out, is proof enough of how Kat values our relationship. If you need an example of loyalty to the Alliance, I would remind you of my previous statement. She does not falter nor rest when it comes to protecting our people.”

“Thank ya’, luv’. Now, without gettin’ any further into the relationship line… I don’ believe Alexa houses a single disloyal bone in her body. As she said, I am here, but so is she, take that as ya’ will. I remember early on after we met, she always carried her papers. Her authority on land wus marginal yes, but that didn’t stop her from actin’ on behalf of the Alliance. Professional and relational fer her as well.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Lust. Love tends to attach too many strings, emotional bonds, problems. It is simply easier without the complications that people bring to the table when romance is brought into the equation.”

“She says that, but yet…” She turns her hands over in her lap with a shrug. “Still, she ain’t wrong. It’s worse when people get more invested than ya’ are, messy too. M’friends think it’s no’ healthy but, woteva, they’re married anyways.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Dogs.”

“Dogs.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “What type of question is that? Rum. It’s either water, or rum.”

“Can I spike the tea with whiskey? Does that still count?”

“No.”

“Well fuck ya’ then, who made ya’ the beverage police?”

“It’s in my contract, didn’ you know?”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few best friends. It’s easier to keep an eye on them that way.”

“I prefer more of a...web. Everyone has their place and purpose, sum more than others.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I’m never involved with anything that can be described as...wild.”

“Yes? She’s also lyin’.”

“Name one time.”

“The one ni- How about we just keep it family friendly on the readin’...”

► Day or night ➔ “Night.”

“Agreed. I work better in the dark.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out? ➔ “No. I do not sneak, therefore I do not get caught.”

“Yer so full of shit. But, I wus caught a few times.”

“I walk right out the front door.”

“Noticed- movin’ on.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs? ➔ “Certainly. Get too much drink in me and I will do both at the same time.”

“I’ll say the same. No further commen’.”

► Stolen something? ➔ “That is absurd.”

“Way too much to count.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “More than it is healthy, I am sure. Both in frequency and volume. The next promotion, to not be like my father in my habits, the Diplomat to choose. Yet here we are, I’m still holding my breath on all of the unlikely scenarios. Maybe if all three happen at once…”

Kat just blinks at Alexa. “Right… I went over a month with no alcohol, no human contact, no real food, no alcohol, and no proper lodgin’. There’s yer answer.”

“Right, we get it, you could not have a drink. Light above be blessed that you were sober for a month.”

“Bite me.”

“Bend over.”

“Temptin’. Ahem. Movin’ on…”

► Wanted to disappear? ➔ “No. Not literally. Though since my evenings spent with Terra I do frequently wonder what I would be like in another profession. Maybe a baker of some sorts.”

“Have a few times in the past. Still can if I want to. Did ya’ say a baker? Yeah, okay…”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes? ➔ “Smile. You can usually tell if people ae lyin’ by how they pose their words. If they falter, or trip, their embarrassment is commonly displayed.”

“Eyes don’ lie as much as lips do. Became quite familiar with that over the year…”

► Shorter or Taller? ➔ “Shorter. Much easier to pin.”

“No real preference, though in the Admiral’s case, taller. She made a fair point. No further comment on that.”

► Intelligence or Attraction? ➔ “Intelligence leads directly to any type of attraction. Unless you mean beauty, hm? A pretty face will certainly get you far in life.”

“She’s no’ wrong… Ya’ sure ya’ didn’t mean to ask intelligence or beauty?”

► Hook-up or Relationship? ➔ “As of recent it has been relationships, everyone is rather obsessed with finding a way to make me stick around. Even if it is beating around the bush, in a manner of words. Prior to this last year? Hook-ups. Much easier, less strings attached, and it let me avoid most of the drama I am now right in the middle of.”

“Except she’s the one that wanted to stick around.”

THREE ABOUT FRIENDS

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends? ➔ “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“Absolutely no’.”

► Who is your best friend? ➔ “My brother, Viktor. He is one of the few that I could trust with any type of fuckery.”

“Rinnessa, she’s been like a little sister to me since childhood. Jess and Xylia I met in the city.”

► Have you ever lost a good friend? ➔ “I am in the process of losing one as we speak.”

“That statemen’ likely applies to both of us.”

TWO FOR FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along? ➔ “All of us besides V. The youngest is bar far the most difficult. Tends to love crime, sticky fingers… reminds me a bit of Kat, to be honest.”

“I don’ much care fer corpses, so- Well that’s just rude. Perhaps I need to meet this sister if we have so much in common.”

► Do you see your family often? ➔ “At least once every other week, since I have returned from the mainland.”

“Again.... All dead.”

ONE WHO KNOWS ALL

► Who knows everything about you? ➔ “My mother, though you would not expect it. We are not close, in any meaning of the word, but she seems to understand what I am going through without myself ever speaking a word.”

“Nobody. That’s the point. Everyone has a piece of the puzzle though, sum more than others. Alexa certainly learned more than she should have in our time together, to be honest.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I trust ya’. Take the compliment.”

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD

► Would you say you have a messed up life? ➔ “No. My life is a reflection of my choices, my relationships, and my consequences. The Light guides my path, yet I am an entity who decides what direction I will take. All that has been done, and all that will come of it is my accomplishment.”

Kat rolls her eyes at the mention of the Light guiding one's path. “Complicated, sure. Messed up? No. I made my choices, lived with them, worked through the consequences of misplaced gambles and relationships. Everything I do is by design, good or bad. There is always a larger image.”

Written with @preyontheweak.

Tagged by: @roses-and-arrows, @xyveth-heartbane. Since the previous answers to this prompt were still valid from the last time, we did this one together to mix it up and have some fun.

[Mentions: @shewolf-jacqueline, @tinybewitchedgilnean, @jesdena, @library-of-the-forgotten @oathandsword @titanicmight ]

#prompt #tagged #completed #the hawke at sea #power couple ship

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olivia-crains · 6 years

Text

Sharp Objects

Episodes: Vanish, Dirt, Fix, Ripe

Content below may be triggering for some, please read with discretion.

Examining tiny hairs became my daily hobby. I would always attempt to remove the tiny white bulb from each eyebrow or eyelash I pulled.

I had two groups of friends in middle school, one set who did nothing but make fun of me and really appealed to my critic voice, and the other group who were kind and loving and adored me. I am sure you can guess which group I hung out with more often. Christ, you’d think I would have learned by now. These girls would write notes to me in class threatening to kill my cat, they would go into gruesome detail about how they would do it and where they would bury him. My boy was only about a year old and he was my world, this ‘friend’ befriended me because I was the new kid at this school and had a photo of my cat in the front pocket of my binder. She used the very thing I loved so much to hurt me. This would grow to be a frequent occurrence with all the toxic individuals who have entered my life. The picking began that year, while taking our end of grade tests, the note passing session fell around the same time as well. I hate seeming like I was an easy target and like a pitiful little baby, I had no problem sticking up for myself and becoming defensive, but it is as if they and everyone else knew I would take their insults and words to heart and lash out at myself in the process, it is as if no one took me seriously. My vulnerability has always been used against me though it is my favorite attribute that I embody. So, following the threatening cat letter, I told my Mom and she in turn told my teacher, though I told her not to. The girls were obviously scolded and were told to apologize to me and they did and I forgave them and all was dandy! Me teacher took a liking to me after that happened, she stopped me in the hallway and said to me one afternoon “You know that saying, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me? Well, words are worse.” I have never forgotten that, and thinking back on that now, I would much rather someone shatter my skull than harm my heart with words; the most powerful weapon of all.

My palm is still pulsating from my grip on my favorite pair of scissors. I used to use them to cut out photos of the cast of LOST and carefully pin them on my wall, they are children’s scissors, a rather hideous blue color, I once was detained at the Colorado airport for having them in my backpack. These scissors have traveled with me for well over a decade now, always handy, for whatever need may arise.

Is there anything more vulnerable and heartbreaking than hearing an adult refer to their Mom as ‘Mama’? It is the southern staple, it is what I call my own Mama, a spark of my inner child latching on to this tiny, yet, oh so powerful word.

Everything is a sharp object, a person who self harms spends time scanning rooms. When you vow to not keep the ‘normal’ tools in your home, you sometimes have to get creative when you are desperate. Using the end of a tube of lotion, safety pins, knives, caps from various household items (toothpaste, prescription bottles, etc), the blades of your blender screaming your name, end of a lightbulb, end of an iPhone charger, etc. Anything can work as long as you press hard enough. The thoughts and perceptions are the ammunition; the cutting itself is the therapy.

I chipped my front tooth on a glass bottle a few months ago, it is sharp and jagged, but barely noticeable. As an anxious habit, I tend to rub my thumb nail against the sharp part of the tooth and drag my thumb up and down repeatedly throughout the day, my cuticles are worn and bruised, my nail has white lines, jagged and uneven all over. I wish I picked up skills as quickly as I pick up gross habits. I always must be doing something, whether it is biting my nails, digging my car key into my stomach while socializing, cutting words like ‘fat’ and ‘never’ on the inside of my thighs, purging until my throat is stinging and raw, picking and picking, punishing me for being me.

I am always particularly drawn to destructive characters, not their behaviors or habits, but their strength. It takes a brave person to keep living when everything inside of them is frothing with hate. The damage is outside of ourselves, though we take it out on ourselves, no matter the issue, no matter the severity, we take it out on ourselves. Amy Adams perfectly conveys what it is like to have destructive thoughts and painful memories rumbling inside of your skull at all times, instead of taking it out on other people, which tends to be the more common practice, she takes it out on herself. Why is it that I can care for such characters so deeply but cannot care about myself? I think it is because my issues are weak comparatively, that is what the message on the jumbotron flashing across my insides reads.

I recently turned in my apartment key to my former leasing agent, my first thought when I left the building was about that key; a sense of mourning trailing behind me. It is dull and smells of nickel, but I have always preferred it due to its specific ridges. I trace my finger across the grooves, it is ritualistic in nature, that’s always how it begins, I feel the object, allow guilt over past issues/what people think of me take hold of me, and carve. It is an instant euphoria, it’s hard to describe it, it feels like my guilt or my self-loathing is silenced for the night. My thoughts quiet, bleeding through, I always promise this will be the last time, only issue is my guilt and self-loathing are like rabbits; rapidly procreating.

Camille hides her indulgences like a child, her stunted adolescence is showcased through the candy bars and tiny alcohol bottles she continues to sneak into her Mother’s home. Addicts and individuals who partake in harmful activities tend to minimize everything and/or make excuses for themselves. Camille buys small bottles of vodka instead of a full handle. Camille softens experiences, her rape, cutting, alcoholism, she is never the victim, ever, she thinks she deserves all of this. Placing the sewing needles against the pad of a finger, no blood, no incision, just a press. It isn’t real if the dose of the destruction is untraceable.

Camille is so real, so dark, familiar. Unlovable. The only way to stop ones destructive habit(s) is to graduate to a new one. For Camille, that is alcohol. There is almost a self destructive meter that each person has. For me, alcoholism and sex addiction are the 10s, I made a promise to myself years ago that I will never get there, ever. I tend to teeter on the line at a 5/6. 1-Pulling (trichotillomania) 2- weak cuts, no depth 3-anorexia 4-heavier cutting 5-bulimia 6-bulimia and cutting. I know this makes no sense and seems appalling, but these are examples of my own personal excuses. “Well, ill never make it to a ten, well I never use razors, well ill never be a sex addict because no one will have sex with me, etc.” I am trying my hardest to level down, the only issue is there is so much darkness I have yet to punish myself for, so many memories living at the forefront, things I will never forget. Our ability to remember everything is our everlasting curse, no prince will ever break it, in a way, our worst memories are what keep our destruction alive. A buffet for the critic living inside of us.

Adora’s words slither. Whispers coated with poison, suffocating all those around her, yet her love and approval feel like antidotes. Camille will never fully heal.

Amma wraps her lollipop around Camille’s waves in her hair, the ultimate childish act. Teens are just so freaking scary, that scene is just deeply troubling and it is tough to see a grown woman sucked into a gaslighting reality. Its all about power dynamics in that toxic town. Camille seems fearful, her tone shifts to defensive, but it never works, not even on her sister who is more than a decade younger than her, people can just sense that she is an adult child. The empath. The watcher. The ultimate reactor.

Camille is timid, but she asserts such dominance when her secret is threatened to be exposed.

There is an acid stain on my porcelain tub, it sits two inches from the drain and features a light orange tint, I remember that specific night that stain was born. Its the spot I always aim for when purging; a home, a landing strip for my innards, you’re not alone here; no one is alone here. I shave sitting down in the shower because I am a weak individual who just prefers to sit or lay at all times, I notice the stain, I stick only one finger in my throat to gag, but stop myself from taking it further than that, it isn’t good, but I have to do something. Usually I will stare in the general direction of the stain and blindly shave while staring at it, my eyes shift to the drain and memories shoot out and I wish to turn the small top off of the drain and cut myself again, I ignore that and continue to shave, if only I had shorter legs.

I bet you’re sensitive, writers are sensitive. You can make people understand.

Camille is a person of senses, she is so easily triggered by her environment. She feeds off of energies; clocking everyone.

There is a moment in Vanish where Camille is driving in Wind Gap, she sees one of the town’s many murals and says quietly, but with a shake of comfort, “Hi Betty.” She later greets the mural outside of the tire store and says with a sarcastic (she finds the funny and its one of so many things I so deeply love about her, her wit is incredibly strong) tone, “What do ya know, Joe?” I have this ritual to ease my anxiety that I have been doing since I was a teenager, whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or like I wish to purge or cut, I say hello to every object in the room I am in. Hello sink, hello rug, hello shampoo, hello conditioner. I have never really given much thought to this little coping mechanism of mine, but Camille saying hello to these little pieces of her town, it made me feel less like a freak.

The yellow innards of the lemons printed on my sheets stared back at me. A perfect set of sheets for the summer, lemons have always made me happy, I tend to give fruits and other inanimate objects personalities, and lemons are just so very kind and nurturing. Mother fruit. As a child, I would constantly take the lemons from my parent’s waters at restaurants and suck on them until my tongue was numb. The blood is traceable, not much, a familiar yet distant sight to behold. The warmth of the blood slowly dripping down my inner thigh landing on one of the many lemons printed on my sheets; silencing its kindness.

There is always a sting of pain hidden beneath the shadow of empathy in the eyes of the damaged. Weighted looks, like magnets, that draw you in.

In the words of the masterful Gillian Flynn,

Camille is a ballerina with a steel spine.

#Sharp Objects #Camille Preaker #Personal Essay #Amy Adams #Gillian Flynn

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wariixa · 6 years

Text

Tagged by: Myself. No rules; only anarchy.

Tagging: @ardenssolis. @ironwroughthero. @motherfuckingsonofsurya. @solaetis (temmy). @king-dabide. @niirmohii. @liagaa. @aeronotch. @bountifulwitch. @gloriousrome. @verganno. @thermxpylaeenxmxtia. @granddisguises. @obdurcte. @voyvodas. @ultimatepharaoh. @leorexfilius.

— BASICS.

▸ Is your muse tall / short / average? 5′1″. Short. ▸ Are they okay with their height? The concept of not liking something about her body is foreign to her. It doesn’t cross her mind to like or dislike anything about herself. ▸ What’s their hair like? Altera’s hair is choppy and uneven, roughly cut. It is short, only falling to just above her shoulders, and is a stark white color. Most of it is covered by her veil. ▸ Do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming? No. ▸ Does your muse care about their appearance / what others think? The concept of not liking something about her appearance is foreign to her. It doesn’t cross her mind to like or dislike anything about herself. Due to her not being concerned about her own appearance, the thought that other people may have an opinion about her appearance also does not cross her mind. This is why she is surprised when others express any sort of appreciation for her appearance. It’d be like if someone came into your house and suddenly commented on how great the walls hold up the roof. You’d be surprised and you would have never expected anyone to care about that... but hey, it’d probably make you feel good! If that’s what they care about, that’s cool!

— PREFERENCES.

▸ Indoors or outdoors? Outdoors. ▸ Rain or sunshine? Sunshine. ▸ Forest or beach? Beach. Fields, preferably. Altera wants to know why FIELDS aren’t an option. ▸ Precious metals or gems? Neither. ▸ Flowers or perfumes? Neither. ▸ Personality or appearance? Both are significant indicators of good or bad civilization. ▸ Being alone or being in a crowd? Being alone. ▸ Order or anarchy? Anarchy. ▸ Painful truths or white lies? Truths. ▸ Science or magic? Magic. ▸ Peace of conflict? Conflict. ▸ Night or day? Night. ▸ Dusk or dawn? Dawn. ▸ Warmth or cold? Warmth. ▸ Many acquaintances or a few close friends? Neither. Alone. Altera is always alone. ▸ Reading or playing a game? Altera can’t read. She also doesn’t play games.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ What are some of your muses bad habits?

Altera can be perceived as incredibly rude by someone who doesn’t understand her. People may speak to her and receive no response as their answers, or she might even just walk away from them. She doesn’t like to speak or interact with other people, and this aloof and standoffish demeanor can often be interpreted as rude, ignorant, or arrogant. She also has no sense of personal boundaries or personal space, and will invade the comfort zones of others without realizing she is doing something ‘wrong’.

▸ Has your muse lost anyone close to them? How has it affected them?

Never. She has never had anyone close to her. She doesn’t know loss.

▸ What are some fond memories your muse has?

She has no memories. Her memory is like an empty desert, blank space with nothing. She knows she existed and she knows what she accomplished, but she cannot remember anything from her lifetime or her lifetime before that. She simply knows what happened as fact.

▸ Is it easy for your muse to kill?

Yes. Altera is a machine of warfare, a literal alien superweapon designed to destroy gods, civilizations, and to extract all possible energy from planets through the destruction of their gods and civilizations. Although destroying civilizations and killing go hand in hand, Altera considers them two separate things. She destroys civilizations, she doesn’t kill people, she’ll say. However, she is entirely programmed to destroy, kill, and remove bad civilization from existence.

▸ What’s it like when your muse breaks down?

I’ve only been lucky enough to write Altera breaking down once. As you can imagine, it was incredibly painful to write.

All at once, this character who has no concept of how to handle emotion at all was experiencing heart-break, pain, anger, and sadness all at once. She cried. She asked through her tears why her chest hurt, why there was wetness in her eyes, why she couldn’t breath, she asked if she was dying --- she asked if this was what pain felt like.

She’s never felt any of that before; it was an entire physiological response to emotion that she had never experienced before and it was hitting her all at once and she was frightened of it.

Suddenly having her heart broken and learning that she did, indeed, have a heart, absolutely broke her. She almost had ‘love’ and it was taken away from her just like that.

▸ Is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life?

It’s hard to trust someone with something you don’t have. After her first fifteen hundred years, Scathach came to the conclusion that she had become an existence in between life and death. She was still around, still breathing, so she wasn’t dead… but she couldn’t procreate anymore and neither could she seem to die. Could something that can’t die really be called alive?

Well. Then she did die. And as it is now, she can trust the strong to have her back. Yes, she will trust those that she judges worthy with her life.

▸ What’s your muse like when they’re in love?

I sure would love to know.

When I get to write Altera in love with someone, I’ll let you know.

I’d imagine she’s extremely possessive of them, invasive, and jealous. She doesn’t know how to be in love, so there’d be mistakes made along the way. Her partner would have to be extremely patient with her.

#⚔ ... ooc.#{ i take it personally that my scathach was tagged but not altera #dont forget about my best girl guys #my number one }

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yakumtsaki · 6 years

Photo

Ok I knew I hadn’t posted Unions in forever but good lord. The screenshots after, not before, AFTER this.. are the previews for this. Like we’re literally talking ancient history here. Let’s dive right in and see if we can wrap this up sometime during a human’s natural lifespan. SO when we left off we were desperately trying to make friends for Wyatt’s final promotion, ‘desperately’ being the operative word. We’ve done some pathetic shit in our time but shittalking each other to Apartment Life nobodies is honestly peak gutter, so you know. our natural environment. Spoiler alert, the kids are teens now and Wyatt has still not gotten promoted! Truly the Picasso of incompetence.

Good ol’ uncle Gunther is also here for some reason which I’m guessing is ‘came over uninvited’ but at least someone is paying attention to Shajar for once. Beggars can’t be choosers and Gunther as a father figure is the equivalent of someone leaving a button and good vibes in your cup.

-So you see Shajar, life is nothing but a slow march towards our certain doom so who cares if your parents hate you?? My parents hated me till adulthood and I turned out amazing as you can surely tell by my stripes/plaid/indoor sunglasses combo!

-Think long and hard before procreating, brother, because there’s no guarantee you’ll even like your kids. Looking at you, Shajar.

-Um can I go now?

-Don’t know why you’re here in the first place and not in the crypt where we’ve set up your bed and everything! Kids these days.

Oh right, Brit Brit is also here so I guess I did invite these douchebags over. Way to go @ me.

-BRITTANY HOW COULD YOU TEAR THE MORAL FABRIC OF OUR WIFE-SWAPPING-BASED LIFE PARTNERSHIP LIKE THIS???? JUST STEAL ONE OF THEIR PETS LIKE AN UPSTANDING CITIZEN

DON’T YOU DARE BRIT-

Ugh nevermind, it’s Sophie aka Brittany in cat form. Take her!

And take Shajar too while you’re at it cause absolutely not @ Victoria dying but the gnome drama living on. ENOUGH. This almost makes me appreciate Cyneswith’s ridiculous 10 nice points for a split second..

..but then I turn around and see this. GOOD GRIEF. How did Jojo and Wyatt produce vegan Tinkerbell here not even god knows.

This alliance of obnoxiousness is but the first in what is gonna become a running theme of every annoying flop in this neighborhood looooooving Maxx. Can’t keep kindred spirits apart for long! Honestly this legacy is turning me from pet maniac to Captain Ahab, like on one hand you have fucking Maxx who hasn’t done anything yet but just you wait till he grows up-

-and on the other you have FUCKING VICTOR’S GHOST TRYING TO KILL US EVERY NIGHT. Apparently Victor + being a dick = a love not even death can tear asunder. Seriously tg kids can’t die cause these overactive freaks are up all night till the sun, are up all night to get some (entertainment), are up all night for good fun, are up all night to get lucky murdered.

This happens about 3000 times per night, I’m not even taking pics of it anymore, but it’s worth pointing out that everyone in this house, both alive/dead and human/non has a raging hate boner for Shajar in particular. It’s uncanny and depressing..

..and speaking of depressing, UGH. My poor, poor Shajar. I actually attempted to intervene and have them interact being the moron that I am:

JOJO WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM

.....................................WHERE IS VICTOR’S GHOST WHEN I NEED IT

Yea sure, waste your niceness reserves on fucking Goro here instead, who isn’t even the cat heir and is about to go live on the farm (not a euphemism, Daniel and Melody’s literal farm). This Jojo fuckery is seriously starting to bum me out on top of pissing me off, let me find something cute to look at to raise my spirits..

No.

NO.

Disturbing stuff.

Seems about right.

Old habits die hard.

No.

Ugh.

UGH.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE

FINALLY. THANK YOU CATS. Now let’s get back to this nightmare..

..and I mean nightmare in the technical sense of something not real occurring when you’re asleep, because Wyatt maxing a skill is truly the stuff of Taylor Swift-Wildest Dreams.mp3. It’s official, the only thing standing between us and Wyatt’s LTW is social ineptitude. But what if we revolutionize the friend game by approaching someone who can’t leave..

..because she’s contractually obligated to be here?? Go for it Wyatt!

-So Kaylýnn, you have the français maid thing going, I’m French and in need of a hag, c’est match made in les paradis!

-Yea sorry, Henry III, but it’s my professional policy to not fraternize with married clients I have no chance of fucking.

-But..but you’re just a face template fiasco!

-..I have some bad news for you.

Kaylynn left Wyatt dick in hand and went to pet the cats, so I guess the day has arrived for me to go from being the leading Langerak hater of this community to being the leading stan-

-and apparently the leading Jitmakusol stan as well, which as we all know is a large and very competitive group. DOWN WITH JOJO

Well at least you still have this invaluable stamp of approval! All I see in this pic is 3 bags of trash.

Look at this trove, treasures untold, how many assholes can one photo hold? The reason there’s more awful people in our house than usual is the “exciting” occasion of the Shajar/Wulf double birthday and honestly even by our standards this party was especially terrible. Like it makes the one where Komei and Marissa happened look like Project X.

When this is the situation 10 seconds in you know you’re in for a good time. I don’t think a single positive interaction took place this entire party and I’ve subconsciously (?) forgotten every birthday since. What a loss!

Wulf is up first, and of course since this is Wyatt’s literal one and only parenting-related job, it took 3 cakes to happen and no one is paying attention by the time it does.

Wyatt makes one last-ditch effort to kill his child via decapitation and obviously he thinks it worked thus the wide smile. But Wulf is named after the spawn of Satan, head spinning comes with the territory-

-as do incredible looks. Gunther hair + tuxedo, and you think your little yellow blazer is subversive?? Step it up.

-If the sunglasses weren’t blocking the power of my stare this child would be dead by my sheer resentment.

Happy birthday, Wulf! 2/2 surviving murder attempts.

Wulf gets this Don Corleone makeover because a) he also survived murder attempts b) wedding tuxedo c) trying to avoid a Gunther mental breakdown. He looks exactly like Wyatt, like I don’t think there’s a drop of Jojo in there..

..BUT MAN IS THE PERSONALITY PURE UNION. Another nice little addition to our ever expanding freakshow.

Shajar time and no one is paying attention now either but there’s no cake malfunction, they just don’t care! And why should they? What is she, their child?

Wyatt can’t even be bothered to stay standing for literally 10 more seconds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a parent do that before but you can always count on Wyatt for this sort of innovation.

And this is what Shajar grows up to: Wyatt half-asleep, Daniel waiting to beat him up and the rest reacting to Wulf having shit himself. I don’t think any further comment is needed.

Now, having lived through the experience that was Daniel and having marveled at Shajar’s seemingly genetic unlikability, I’m sure we can all tell which is the one aspiration she should under no circumstances roll because it’s going to make nails on a chalkboard seem like a fun musical break.. Yes, this is not a drill..

..we have another trainwreck firstborn who can’t get their own family not to hate them roll popularity. AND DANIEL WAS NICE. Shajar is bringing 1 nice point to the table so all I can say at this point is fml.

And of course because the above wasn’t bad enough on its own and we always need the overkill, gaze upon whatever the fuck this is-

-YE MIGHTY AND DESPAIR. GOOD GOD SHAJAR

LOL. Well with the custom sky this is an Under The Dome situation so technically you’re not wrong but still. fucking popularity? Leave the sky alone and aim for ‘slightly above ground’. Even that is pushing it.

Good, finally we return to reality and face the facts. Couldn’t agree more!

#ts2 #gen 2

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