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It has been three days and the count has more than tripled and there is now an official tag for these fics.

as of this time, 31 of them are smut fics.

Fantastic job ao3 authors and ao3 volunteers, keep up the great work.

There are now (as of December 8th, four days later) more fics about the UnitedHealthCare Assassin (approximately 22) on Ao3 than there are fics about Raid Shadow Legends (13)

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Quick what are you doing RIGHT now (besides scrolling Tumblr)

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I stepped outside barefoot, felt like myself, and Healed just a little.

I'm at my parent's home for the semester after about ~2 years of college, for both academic and mental health reasons. This morning I had the house to mostly myself, and already had most of the chores done for the day (because I woke up early to help sleepy teenagers get to school) when I got a knock on the door. I cracked the door open (after half knocking over one of my mom's pots, thankfully it didn't break) to an old man barely above my eye-line I never met before. (Thats how you know he was short, since I am a very short person who is often mistaken for someone 5-10 years younger.)

He explained that he thinks one of our packages arrived at his house, and asked if this was house and if (not the actual name) a Taylor Brown lived here. I told him no, a Taylor Brown didn't live here and the house number was one digit wrong, and he started to get a little jittery and worried. He handed me a cute note with a dog on it and tried to explain more, and the paper was clearly meant to be a message left if no one answered the door, and that the package was probably a crib mattress. Then, I remembered that; 1. I did have a package that was crib-mattress-sized I was waiting for, and there is the possibility it could be it even if it was slim 2. Even if the package wasn't mine, there was zero reason I couldn't at least help this man get the package to the right home It was like a switched flipped in my brain when the 2nd point entered my mind, I felt ten times lighter and offered to check if the package was mine and help even if it wasn't. He seemed a little taken aback, said he didn't want to take my time, and I admitted I had nothing to do that couldn't wait and that I wanted to help. In my excitement, I walked straight out the door and with him down the street, bare feet and pajamas and all. We were barely down a house when another neighbor, another older man, asked jokingly "what do your parents know you walk outside with bare feet? what do they think?", and I joked back that "yeah they do, and they hate it, but im a college student now so they can't do anything about it!" On the walk there, down the middle of the street (since the side of the road doesn't have a sidewalk) we exchanged some small talk. I asked about his job, he said he used to work with the country's embassy and traveling and staying in different countries for 20 odd years, and that his favorite was Tokyo because it was clean and not as overwhelming as he expected it would be. He seemed to have calmed his nerves by that point and, after we reached the top of a small hill, he pointed at his house which was at the corner of the block just like mine. "They either get the houses mixed up or don't want to make the final track up the hill" he joked, looking the most relaxed he had been since I met him. He further explained that packages at our houses often get mixed up, with stuff meant for our house being sent to him and stuff meant for his house sent to us. I realized then that this was the house my parents had talked about delivery always mixing our packages with, a face that has been mentioned to me before yet I never met. It ended up being my package, evident a hole worn into a corner revealing the item and by my name on it, which was completely different from Taylor Brown. He laughed about the mix up and apologized, and I joked again that the mix up was understandable, since I have an equally common first and last name. I'm remembering now how soft and airy the laugh was, it suited him very well.

He offered to help carry the package, but it was wooden and light and as much as I wanted to continue talking with him I didn't want to make him walk up the hill again and then back to his house alone. I leaned it under my arm and against my leg to prove I could carry it on my own, despite the box's length being up to my chin. He seemed a little surprised, yet at the same time not, like he somehow has ascertained my whole vibe from this one interaction with him. I waved goodbye with my whole arm, box in one hand and still walking barefoot and hand-on-god grinning. I walked past a guy pulling out of his driveway, who stopped to let me pass. At the top of the hill I could hear the old man greet the other guy happily from behind me and ask how he'd been doing.

The whole rest of the block down, after switching to balancing the box on my head (supported by both my hands), I was still smiling. I don't think anyone else but me understands how big of a deal this is for me. Sometime 4-5 years ago I developed social anxiety and agoraphobic tendencies that made meaningfully interacting with strangers feel impossible and uncomfortable leaving any designated "safe space". I've been very personally ashamed of it, because how could I (a person who has exhibited above average social skills in the past and complete comfort with small talk) now be so afraid of other people that I didn't want to leave my home? The whole point of being home this semester was working on myself, and I had been feeling like I had been failing since I haven't crossed little to any of the goals I've listed out thus far. But this week, I've been feeling better, and slowly working on one of the goals that, even though it was one I planned to be done over a month ago, I was making great progress and feeling good about the progress. Then today, with this interaction, it was like someone slid a mirror in front of me and showed me how my healing was coming along. This feels like progress.

Progress that I have ached and clawed and screamed at myself (mentally) for a while now, and I only noticed it the moment I wasn't closely examining myself for it. What do you know, give myself a moment to breathe, to not be angry about myself over my own health, and I heal. World of Wonders. I don't expect every interaction I have after this will be perfect. But, this is the first interaction in years that I felt like I was truly me and uncaring about being me during it. This is enough to fuel the hope I was fighting to keep.

A hope that is burning in my ribcage now, a furnace that hasn't been on in so long that I only remembered how its heat felt.

A hope that I've fought to keep and had to repeatedly relight and desperately keep it going.

It cannot carry me everywhere, but this feels like enough fuel to make it to the next station. And this moment means everything to me because of it.

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Overview of some topics when it comes to drawing characters who are burn survivors.

DISCLAIMER. Please keep in mind that this is an introductory overview for drawing some burn scars and has a lot of generalizations in it, so not every “X is Z” statement will be true for Actual People. I'm calling this introductory because I hope to get people to actually do their own research before drawing disabled & visibly different characters rather than just making stuff up. Think of it as a starting point and take it with a grain of salt (especially if you have a very different art style from mine).

Talking about research and learning... don't make your burn survivor characters evil. Burn survivors are normal people and don't deserve to be constantly portrayed in such a way.

Consider supporting me on ko-fi if you find this to be helpful.

edit: apparently tum "queerest place on the internet" blr hates disabled people so much that this post got automatically filtered. cool!

second way more important edit: How are people seeing this post where I specifically talk about burn survivors being normal, real people, and still tag this as "TW body horror"? Not a single one of these drawings or pictures is a fresh injury. All of them are healed. How the hell would you feel if someone tagged a photo of you as "trigger warning: gore"?

Disabled people are not your fucking body horror. Grow up.

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mmmmmmmmnnn blort

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Trying to work out an outfit rn

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OP you are cooking so hard Gordon Ramsey is impressed

I’m cooking

(You’ll never guess who I’m making Macaque into in this au)

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Ever since discovering the gods gift that is toast, I like to have toast for breakfast every morning. There are dozens of great ways to have toast (butter, cream cheese, bruschetta, avocado, etc.) but it wouldn’t be my favorite if it wasn’t toast. I can eat it by itself and still enjoy it.

If I have time, I’ll cook a fresh batch or warm up some sausage or bacon to go with. Share little pieces of it with my pets. A nice treat for myself and others that I can’t always indulge in, but am not disheartened if I don’t get to.

Now, i’ve recently discovered how well toast pairs up with fruit. Keep in mind, I am very much a fruit lover, but until recently I hadn’t thought to have some with breakfast. Having toast and some fruit (like a banana or orange or apple or peach or mango or-) feels is my ultimate breakfast. You can have so many combinations of toast and fruit depending on how you prepare them, and when it’s thoughtfully done my day feels so much brighter and healthier for it. A multiplier for the day’s good will.

Now, if i forget to restock fruit, i feel its absence. Almost mourn it. But I know i can always get it later, and I haven’t forgotten what makes me like fruit with toast so much just because it’s not right in front of me this very second.

Figuring out my ideal breakfast was unplanned, but I’m happy I did. My life feels richer for it, even if it’s just this one little thing. And that’s enough. :)

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more SaTBK Tangled au doodles I made in a discord vc

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This meme is inescapable on French insta so I'm posting it here for all to enjoy

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haven’t seen this on tumblr yet, and tis the season

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i went to the dentist today and my dentist honest to god said “can i ask you a question…….what the hell is in your mouth”