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okay, i've removed noa and thespian so any threads with them have been dropped/archived

anything that's not had a reply in over 5 months has been dropped/archived as well

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anahilation is now open for commissions!

˙ ˖ ✶ hi friends! i'm ana, 26, she/her, cst + i've been in and out of the commission game over the last few years. i used to offer custom tumblr themes but am now opening up with a focus on offering blog graphics like promos, mobile headers, and more. please like & reblog to spread the word! thank you soso much!!

view commission info such as guidelines, examples, pricing, and how to submit a form in the source link! 💌

from feb. 23 to march 8, receive a free 5-pack of post headers with your order! use code "high five" in your form to redeem. limit 1 redemption per user.

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    "Happiness shared is happiness doubled." It's nicer to eat food with a friend than it is to eat two... foods. Maybe that wasn't a saying for a reason, unlike the happiness doubled thing. Thew was not a poet. She would continue to stick to messy things like machines and medicine. "Mm, special's a nice way to put it!" She said it with a laugh, not self-deprecating despite the words themselves. Thew had spent her whole life feeling a little bit off and a little bit separated from others, and it wasn't an issue. Just meant she'd had to seek her own people out after growing up, and she personally thought it made her more appreciate of her friends than the average person was. "Wonky brain. Lots of stuff effects me weird." Strange chemical balances were going on -- Smith was absolutely sure she had ADHD, and she really didn't care enough to go find out one way or the other. She had systems that worked for her, and a happy life, and searching out more didn't seem like it'd bring any benefit to her really.

"Alright, but I refuse to let you two eat dinner without me. I like to be present when I'm gossiped about." Also, and the larger reason, it sounded like a fun night! Thew liked Trent, and she loved her dad, and it all sounded great. "Mm, probably not scientifically. I think it's more of one of those mind over matter things, isn't it?" Like some people being able to like... shut off their pain? Thew could never do it, but she's also pretty reliably heard a very, very small percentage of the population could. Maybe that woman who swam from Cuba to Florida could. "Maybe? Kinda sounds like a publicity thing. Maybe he was sponsored." Her eyes are darting around the house with delight, loving little lived-in details of the places her friends live. She decided she prefers Trent's place to Hakeem's, even if comparing the two is rude. It's welcoming. She spends a few moments reading over the receipts curiously, but turns to Trent at the question. "You are a man after my heart! It is, and I fully agree, and I've now seen so many artsy movies. I swear every time I spend the first ten minutes thinking it's a silent movie."

The sweet aroma of fried dough wafts toward him and he snaps his gaze toward the buneulos, already salivating at the thought of cinnamon-sugar melting on his tongue. "Thank you kindly," He says, popping it in his mouth immediately, chewing on the thought. "I ain't never heard'a that before," He covers his mouth with his hand, but it still don't erase the fact that he's fully talking with his mouth full, "You must be special." Trent doesn't even know if he properly loves coffee, but the ritual of making a cup every morning is soothing. It's something he watched his pops do when he was a kid, and adopted it as though it might bring him closer to him.

"Well then you definitely gotta pass it on." His tongue pokes out to swipe up the last granules of sugar that had stuck to the corners of his lips. A home-cooked meal still feels like a treat, and he doesn't wanna boast, so he doesn't say it, but he's great with parents. Really, anyone older than him. "Is that what it's called?" Cold resist. That must mean he's also got heat resist. Hurt resist. Death resist. At the top of the porch the door's already cracked, but he holds the screen door open. The story piques his interest. "He get paid any to do that?" When they're inside he leads her to the kitchen where the pot of coffee still sits half full. No one really comes 'round, at least he don't think his pops invites anyone over. There's wear on the floorboards from where his pops pulls in his chair when he's eating his breakfast, miscellaneous receipts stuck on the fridge, long past their return policy date. Still, it ain't so bad. Lived in, loved in at one point. "Well now you got me curious. Is it a musical? You know, I like musicals. Better than them artsy-fartsy movies where no one talks and they keep the camera on some random mountain for five minutes."

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     Well, Bruce gave a shrug. "Pretty sure I can afford it." A smaller percentage of it was blood money than when he'd inherited it, at least. Not none. But less. Not something to think about while enjoying drinks with a -- well, a... college. Sort of.

He let out a soft sound of amusement into his own glass, putting away most of the whiskey with a long mouthful, and then leaned against the wall. "All the more reason to drink to it. Gotta appreciate what we have while we still got it." Drinking wasn't helping on the health front, but it wouldn't have time to catch up to either of them before their hobbies did. "If the ice cube trick involves your tongue, have to say I think I've seen that one before."

“Mean, got a trick I could show you with ice cubes ‘n a handkerchief but you usually gotta pay extra for that.” Joking. Maybe. But he’ll definitely let Bruce try and figure out if that was true or not. A small hum, pouring and popping the cap back on—though he decided to slip the bottle back in the seemly small pocket. “Gotta make some money off o’ me dirty bits now.”

He’ll definitely be letting Bruce decide on whether or not that was a joke, John idly humming around the glass as he drank. “Well, to yer health. And your burning lack o’ mental health that may just rival me own.” A snort. “Maybe scratch the first bit, we both know none o’ that’s gonna be lasting long here.”

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     It's a relief. It is, and it shouldn't be, and Bruce should feel guilty for being relieved that she gave up but he doesn't and he isn't. He needed her to see how hard this life is, and he wanted and wants so badly for her to choose something else. To just give up, and be the daughter of Bruce Wayne instead of Batman. Even if it means she'll be the daughter of a man he barely is instead of the man he almost always is. Even if it means some part of him loses her. It is safer.

So Bruce doesn't follow her. She has every right to be angry. To leave and nurse her wounds far away from the man who made them. If anything, he wishes she'd have a stronger reaction -- he loves her, and he hurt her, and the fact that she just stormed off makes him worry. Is he teaching her to accept being hurt with love as an excuse in general? Is she going to settle down with some dirtbag who hits her one day and it'll be because of this exchange, this time Bruce hurt her?

Fuck, Bruce aches. Not as much as Eira does, he knows. Never as much as she does. But he does ache; the teenager inside him rages at him for putting her through some of the same shit that he was put through. It feels like a continued cycle more than trying to protect her. He sits in the chair at his desk and does nothing, staring at sleeping monitors, aching. He knows he's failing terrible as a parent. He also knows that he cannot do better without giving up something he's unwilling to, and how unfair that is to Eira.

Still, after hours has passed he takes a shower and then wanders upstairs in clean clothes. He goes the kitchen and does his best to not fuck up making her favorite hot drink, even though he knows Alfred makes it better, and then goes to seek out her room. He's not even sure she's in it. He knocks, anyway, holding a mug and a diamond of cashew fudge.

❛ Stop telling me how I feel. ❜ And what she means is: stop seeing it. Stop knowing me so well, in this moment. Let her be angry. Let him be wrong. Let her strikes hit his skin, cathartic, hard, imbued with the weight of all the words she's still unwilling to say. ( It's not fair. You're my father. This isn't how you're supposed to act. ) Strike, dodge, jab, duck. He gets faster, the strikes vibrating the staff in her hands with a near painful intensity, but she doesn't stop. Doesn't let her mind linger on the fact that she's viewing him as more of a threat and less as the man she's come to rely on.

CRACK! The force of the blow reverberates its way up her arm. Eira has finally gotten her wish: the strike to his arm was hard enough to bruise, strong enough to break bone had it been somewhere more delicate, instead of a place so well muscled. She falters. For a moment, she lowers her guard, stops tracking his movements in favor of seeking out his eyes, desperate to know that he's okay.

And that's her last mistake.

It happens in a breath, a heartbeat, a lifetime both. She watches him move with the kind of detachment only afforded within fight time. Slow, but not long enough for her to react, to gain any kind of defense against the blow. It lands hard and sure, target hit, a splintering within her ribs that leaves her both blinded and breathless. A flash of impossibly bright light in her eyes -- and then she's falling on her knees, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw up right there on the mat. She has just enough sense to roll to the side as a sixth sense makes her scalp tingle, aware that this man is still a threat. The staff cuts through the air where she had just been, and something else breaks within her. Something far more fragile than bone.

❛ I'm done! ❜ She's shaking, both with emotion and pain. Staggers to her feet with none of the grace she could usually manage. The look she gives him is glacial; the blue of her eyes is fathomless, frozen as the winter sea. ❛ I'm fucking done with this. ❜ And without another word to him, she's gone, storming off the mat.

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    "Great." Porter wandered over to the table, looking at the blueprint and tilting his head. Wasn't a leak on their end, that was for damn sure, so either their employers had slipped up or someone else was planning on hitting the building and their shit had leaked. "Should plan for company, just in case."

Daniels kicked over, one of the wheels on her chair squeaking as it rolled, and peered over at the plans with a considering hum. "I've got some new flashbombs to bring if you've got decent sunglasses. Hey, Pilot, wanna gear up in case you have to go on?"

She had just been planning to go as transport, like usual, but if things were more complicated then yeah she supposed she had to. Pilot gave a simple nod, although looked nonplussed about it.

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Sebastian had always worked well under pressure. However, even for him, sometimes the stress was too much. This was one of those days.

"We have a problem." His hands came down to the table, unfolding blueprints and placing various mugs, knives - anything else to hand - in the corners, as paperweights. "The job that I'm supposed to go on tonight? The one that we've been planning for the past fucking week? It's changed. Apparently they got wind of something because they've ramped up their security and installed blinds in every room - Meaning I can't get a good line of sight from my position."

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hi all so basically my computer got shattered and im workably doing all the art for a visual novel by myself which is why i havent really been here

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    It impressed an amused laugh out of Riah, Mick immediately turning to trying to flirt his way out of consequences. Reminded Riah a bit of his ex. A bit too much of his ex, if the way he relaxed down from the pure threatening stance was any indication. "Alright, Romeo, gimme a sec before I deal with you."

Instead of finishing up the speech he'd been giving to the dealer, Riah just put a hand on the back of his head to yank down and break his nose on Riah's knee with a fast crunch, then turned to walk out. Waved Mick to follow after him. "You're fucked if you don't pay me back, but I'd also bet you're fucked if you have to take money out of your sales to pay me back. And no, I don't accept dick in lieu of cash." If Mick had been hoping to follow through on flirting his way to freedom. Riah wouldn't say no, at all, to no-strings but he wasn't interested in being paid with it. Riah leaned against the wall outside the building, lighting up a cigarette. "So, what the fuck can you do for me?"

Well shit. Mick's immediate thought was to run, hell he was already on his way out anyway. What halted him though was the fact that he had all of his stash on him. If Mick ran now not only would re-stocking be next to impossible but if any of it dropped, he couldn't live that down either. He offered a sort of half wave in response once spotted, dark brown eyes watched as the other male turned to face him. Mick didn't even spare a glance in his boss's direction.

Just kept his gaze to the towering shadow that now loomed over him. Through his nerves, a childish little smirk touched his lips still. Why bother hiding if he already recognized him, anyway? Mick begun a little unconvincingly, rocking on the balls of his feet as he glanced around with a forced laugh. "Whaaaaat, I owe you? Imfuckinpossible. I wouldn't have forgotten a fine ass face like that." Kill 'em with kindness, is what his ma would always say. Besides, it was true. //@worthless-weight-in-gold

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closed starter for @feilien

     Honestly, the guy's so tolerable that Riah might actually hang out with him even if she wasn't getting paid. Asking him for help studying does fulfill the role she's being assigned to fill, sure, but also it's Riah's best option. She'd rather drop out entirely than deal with any of the student tutors earning credits by helping the peers they view as stupider, and it's not like Riah has a smattering of friendly acquaintances with annoyingly good grades who are happy to help.

Frankly if Matt were even a few steps more likeable, Riah would switch entirely to hating him. Definitely was close to the edge.

But, well, a test was coming up and help was help. With a long-suffering sigh, Riah rapped at the door. Her hair was down for once, messy waves pooling down over her shoulders that her jacket had slipped off of to pool at her elbows instead even in the chill of the air. She didn't smile in greeting when Matt opened the door, but did offer a mock salute. "Excited for a night of frustration and brick walls?" Not that she was deeply pessimistic about her grades improving, or anything.

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     They're not both going to die if Daniels stays because that means if Daniels leaves, Billie will die. That is not a possibility, despite the fact that Daniels tears are so thick they feel like her eyes are holding back an ocean. Billie looks so scared. Billie's her sister, and she's scared, and she cannot be dying. "I love you, we all love you, god damn it Billie." Billie can't have worked her way into their family just to die like this. Not alone. Daniels hiccups and then lays down on the ground next to her, snuggling into her side, her hand coming to rest over Billie's on her wound. "Don't yell at me. M'gonna stay." The tears are sliding down her face, and she gives a weak sniff.

Obviously it's a risk in their line of work. Billie knows that there's the potential for death. It's a dangerous career. However, now that she's faced with it she's unprepared for how absolutely terrifying it is. Her hand grasps at the wound, eyes looking to Daniels, wide and frightened. "If you stay you'll only get hurt too. C'mon, we both know Seb's gonna have something to say about it if we both die." Her words come out in a choked laugh, a wince crossing her features. "Hey - You know I've loved working with you, right?"

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women with big brown eyes should be allowed to get away with anything and everything

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i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

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How do you view love?

isolating

intense, silent, overwhelming. you have so much to give but it is too much to share. nobody ever reciprocates the way you do. makes you feel alien, unwanted. so you keep it and and watch others, hoping one day that could be you too.

tagged by: @hellfollowed

tagging: @draconisa @full-tiltboogie @bloodrodeo and anyone else who wants their muse to get absolutely bodied like mine just did

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TAG PEOPLE YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER!

favorite color(s): grey and brown !!! best colors, not taking any criticism

favorite flavor(s): mango, cardamom, ghost pepper, nutmeg, pepper, cumin, spicy chili crisp, fenugreek, gochujang, seaweed, coriander, matcha, honey, dashi, black tea, tahini, habanero, winterberry, i CAN keep going and im forcing myself to stop bc im getting very hungry

favorite music: punk rap, r&b, bollywood, pop, showtunes for sure, and then rock in general

favorite movie(s): eeaoo, i saw the devil, spiderverse franchise, 10 cloverfield lane, parasite, and nausicaa !!

favorite series: fleabag, girl from nowhere, and hannibal probs

last song: Piano Concerto in D Minor, K. 466; 1st Movement (Mozart)

last series: ACOFAF on d20 lmao

last movie: El Crimen del Padre Amaro. i cant tell which plotline of it was 'the main plot' also everyones voice was so pretty i kept getting distracted, it was a good watch tho

currently reading: She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat bc i love cooking and i love women and i love women googling "am i gay quiz" at 7pm on a Thursday

currently watching:

currently working on: my art of riah's room. its been an on and off project for over half a year now, room studies are brutal

tagged by: i stole this :3c

tagging: @full-tiltboogie @sonderiings @sioraiocht @bloodrodeo @hellfollowed @godstrayed @hxllblazer + anyone who wants to!

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