#But because it's taking me a while to get that other thing done I am posting this

[joemomrgneissguy]

via @iamthepulta

When I was around 13 or so, I got introduced to a friend to Christianity after being brought up in a mostly atheistic household. My parents had also just gotten divorced and my Dad had coincidentally decided that then was as good a time as any to start going to church again, and so would start taking us because we seemed interested in it.

As a pretty lonely kid with a big desire to fit in or have community, it was a formative time in my life, and I took to it quite quickly.

But the thing about a lot of evangelical spaces is, there is no room for nuance, and, perhaps more crucially, having doubts is seen as a crisis. If you are saved by faith alone, the thinking seemed to be that faith must be total and absolute.

For teenaged me, that meant not questioning things too much, at least not openly, and just accepting what was said at face value like anything I had learned in school up to that point. There were limits to this, like when my church brought in a guest speaker that claimed evolution wasn't real and that the dinosaurs had survived Noah's flood, but on the whole, I didn't have enough of a basis to dispute anything I was told.

Enter 'Mark'. Mark went to the same middle school as me and the same highschool I attended freshman year, and he was a really annoying and combative atheist. At some point he clocked that I was Christian, and he started arguing with me all the time. Most of it wasn't all that substantive. We were young teenagers, after all. But it often got heated, because how dare he question this stuff that is obvious truth?

I realize now that me getting into arguments with him so much was based out of a certain emotional immaturity, and a desire to justify to him and myself that I was right in making a decision that I myself was unsure of. It was performative, to an extent, so I didn't actually hate the guy when everything was said and done.

That beef died down after a year or so. The arguments were getting nowhere, and Mark turned out to be a pretty good guy with perhaps a bit of an antisocial streak. We started hanging out a bit more, and talking about things other than religion, and were eventually at least nominally friends.

This same thing played out with a friend that was Jewish, and another that was Mormon. This was all around that same time in my life. We bickered over things for a while, and then eventually religion just wasn't a factor in our relationship.

These pointless arguments made me realize the simple idea that arguing over religion, trying to convert people to your side, is ultimately a pointless endeavor because it is unprovable, and that I could just as easily be "wrong" with my beliefs. They had just as much 'evidence' as I did. So no matter how hard I 'believed' in this stuff, I just had to accept that some other people never would, and that's okay.

That is somewhat heretical in an evangelical context, since the whole idea is to evangelize, but it opened me up to there being space for other religions and belief systems in the world, and that they were comprised of good people who deserved nothing but love and respect.

This seed of openness and maturity was ultimately what allowed me to change when I moved for college, where I was exposed to stuff like the actual science behind evolution, friends who were LGBT, and programs challenging ideas of creationism.

I owe my life now to those conversations. My career, my friends, my outlook on life could have never occurred without them.

And it's why I now could never return to the same spaces I grew up with, because I can now see them for the toxic, hateful places they are.

I don't know how to navigate faith these days, but I am eternally grateful to "annoying" atheists in my life, and for the patience people had when I was still figuring myself out.

We need the obnoxious atheists back. I know they engineered their own destruction by being annoying and pretentious, but it has become apparent how essential to the ecosystem they were. The religious fanatics have become too bold without their natural predators. Jesus wojaks would have been torn to shreds in 2011.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, arguments, hurt.

Nick and I stand there, frozen.

My stomach drops to my ass.

Christina is in Matt’s bed.

Fast asleep, wrapped up in his sheets like she belongs there. It reminds me of when I stayed in his bed in the house.

How could he allow her to do the same.

I feel Nick tense beside me, he's silent but I can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, like he’s piecing together the same horrifying realization I am.

Then the ensuite door swings open.

And out walks Matt.

Messy hair. Shirtless. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Looks like she helped him out last night instead.

The second he looks up, our eyes meet.

And everything inside me stops.

Nick moves first, he could never be silent for that long. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Matt’s mouth parts slightly, but Nick doesn’t give him the chance.

“Seriously?” he seethes, stepping forward. His voice is a dangerous mix of betrayal and anger. “You fucking lied to me. To her.” His arm motions toward me, but I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

Matt tries to speak.

But Nick gives him no mercy.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I don’t wanna hear a single fucking word come out of your mouth right now.”

Matt’s face hardens, but he stays silent.

Nick scoffs. “You had one thing to prove, Matt. That you meant it this time.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn’t even do that.”

I can’t stand here anymore.

I need to be in my room. So I turn and leave the room.

Not fast. Not slow. I honestly feel like I'm floating.

I can hear Nick’s voice from down the hall, and he's not letting up easy.

“You either care about her or you don’t, Matt.” His words cut through the thick, suffocating silence.

“So which is it?”

I don’t hear Matt’s answer.

Because I don’t think I could handle it.

Nick’s POV

Y/n turns and walks away, and I don’t blame her.

I watch her go, watch the way her arms wrap around herself like she’s holding herself together, like she has to hold herself together because Matt sure as fuck won’t.

But I’m not done.

Not even close.

I turn back to Matt, still standing there like a fucking idiot, like he’s the one blindsided.

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking.” I breathe, the disbelief thick in my voice.

Matt doesn’t even try to defend himself.

Maybe he knows there’s no excuse.

Maybe he just doesn’t have one.

Matt motions me out of the bedroom before closing the door behind him, the two of us stood in the hallway.

“What, I might wake your precious Christina?” I sneer, pointing at the door. “Wouldn’t wanna interrupt her beauty sleep, huh?”

Matt exhales sharply. “It’s not like that.”

I laugh. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

He shakes his head, but I don’t soften.

“I’m so disgusted with you.” I shutter. “I thought you would be real this time. That if you were serious about Y/n, you’d to fucking act like it.”

Matt clenches his jaw. “Nick-”

“And what do you do?” I cut him off. “You self sabotage. Again. Like you always fucking do. Because you never know how to handle something real.”

Matt’s eyes darken.

I don’t care.

I take another step forward. “And Y/n?” I point a finger toward the door she just walked toward. “She’s the realest thing you’re ever gonna get. And you know that.”

He drops his gaze for a second, but it’s long enough for me to see it.

Guilt.

Good.

“You know it” I repeat, voice quieter but my tone stays the same. “And you just threw it away.”

Matt opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, a door behind me swings open.

“Jesus Christ” Chris groans, stepping into the hall. He looks half asleep, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Can you two shut the fuck up? Rachel’s asleep in my room.”

I whip around. “Oh, of course she is!” I snap. “So what, you’ve got a girl in your bed too?”

Chris blinks at me, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What?”

I throw my hands up.  “Seriously, who the fuck thought it’d be a good idea to bring girls out here?” 

I don’t care who hears me.

I don’t care if I wake up the entire goddamn villa.

Chris shrugs, unfazed. “I did?” looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“The fuck are you freaking out about?” he scoffs. “I like Rachel, so I flew her out. I can do that, you know.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah? And you think that was a good fucking idea?”

Chris crosses his arms. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”

“Because look at what you just caused!” I snap, throwing a hand back toward Matt’s door. “You might not have been the fire, but you sure as fuck were the fuel.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being real.” I hiss, stepping closer. “I want them out. Within the next two hours. I don’t give a fuck what needs to be done. I want them gone.”

Chris’ expression hardens. “That’s unfair.”

I shake my head. “Unfair?” I scoff. “You wanna talk about unfair? Y/n spent this whole trip thinking her and Matt were finally on the same fucking page, and now she walks in to find Christina, of all fucking people, in his bed? And you wanna stand there and act like I’m being unfair?

Chris opens his mouth, as Matt stands awkwardly next to me.

Chris locks eyes with him.

“Wait, what?” Chris’s brow furrows. “She’s in your bed?”

Matt still doesn’t say a word.

Chris shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, man.”

I shake my head in complete disgust, looking between the two of them.

“The two of you are fucking idiots” I say, my voice filled with nothing but disappointment. “Absolute fucking idiots.”

Chris exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, while Matt just stands there, still not saying a goddamn word.

I don’t have the patience for this. Not right now.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm down the hallway, heading straight for Y/n’s room on the other side of the villa. My blood is boiling, not just at Matt but at Chris too. They both fucked up, and they both know it.

As I walk away, I hear Chris let out a frustrated sigh before opening his door and stepping into his room.

Matt?

I don’t hear him move at all.

I get to Y/n’s room and try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. It’s locked.

I sigh, knocking gently. “Y/n, it’s just me.”

A few seconds pass, and then I hear the soft click of the lock. The door opens, and there she is, completely wrecked, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. My chest tightens at the sight of her.

“Ah no Y/n.” I mutter, stepping in without hesitation.

Before she can say a word, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. The second she buries her face into my chest, she breaks, her sobs shaking her whole body. I squeeze her tighter, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“He’s an idiot” I tell her. “A fucking idiot.”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps crying, and I hold her through it.

After a minute, I guide her over to the bed, and we settle in. She wipes at her face, sniffling, and I wait, letting her take her time.

Finally, I ask, “What happened last night?”

Y/n takes a deep breath, wiping at her damp cheeks before finally looking up at me. Her voice is quiet, shaky.

“It was fine at first” she starts. “Obviously I was so happy for you, then you’s got up and left after Chris did.” She trails off, taking another breath.

“Then Chris came back with them.”

I already know exactly who she means.

“Christina and Rachel” I say, and she nods, pressing her lips together like even saying the name makes her sick.

“Chris kinda insinuated to Matt about them two catching up.. Nate and I felt awkward, so we went and did two shots and when we came back Matt and Chris were gone, it was just Rachel and Christina in the booth.” She says, staring blankly across the room.

“I mean, I knew things had happened between them before, but Matt told me.. he told me he hadn’t been with anyone since..” She pauses, blinking rapidly, like she’s trying to stop fresh tears from falling. “Since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so I didn’t think, I hoped, nothing happened. But the second she started talking, I just knew.”

She clenches her fists in her lap, shaking her head.

“She was smug. She kept making these little comments, insinuating that they were a thing. And when I asked her outright how Vegas was, she just smirked and said “WhAt HaPpEnS iN vEgAs StAyS iN vEgas.”

My jaw tightens.

“That was it for me” she says. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I knew if I stayed, I’d just get more upset, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I just needed to leave.”

She looks at me with tired, blood shot eyes.

“Nate asked if I was okay, and I told him it was just a weird situation, but.. the truth is, it wasn’t just weird. It hurt.” She pauses. “I don’t think anything happened in Vegas.. Well, I didn’t. But the fact that she’s still here, still acting like she has some claim over him, and the fact that he-” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard before continuing. “That he let it happen? That he didn’t even try to stop it? It just made me feel like a fool.”

I shake my head, anger building in my chest.

“You’re not a fool.” I tell her firmly. “He is.”

She gives me a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Me and Nate ended up leaving then, he didn’t want to stay either” she says. “I didn’t even say goodbye to Matt, but at that point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be away from it all.”

I nod. “Was anything said at all?”

She sighs. “Nope, when we got back to the villa. I checked my phone, hoping stupidly that maybe Matt had messaged me. I know he’d seen I left. I just hoped that he’d care.”

Her voice wavers on those last two words, and I clench my fists.

“But there was nothing” she whispers. “Not a single message. Not a bit of concern. And I just, got so angry because I knew why I was angry. Because I care. Because I have feelings for him.”

She blinks, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“So I turned my phone off and went to bed, hoping that if I slept, the night would be over faster.”

I take a deep breath, letting everything she just told me sink in. I already was mad, but now? Now I’m fucking fuming.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “I'm going to say it again, but Matt’s a fucking idiot” I mutter.

She lets out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah. He is.”

I pull her in again, letting her rest against me.

I let out a deep sigh, rubbing my face. “I feel awful for not being there for you last night” I admit, my voice heavy with guilt.

Y/n immediately shakes her head. “No, don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were living your life which you deserve, you were oblivious to everything.” She sniffles.

I lean my head back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. “Well, this whole situation has officially shocked me into being completely sober.”

That earns a small giggle from her, and I smile, relieved to see even the tiniest bit of light return to her eyes.

I tilt my head, looking at her. “Do you want me to stay in here for a bit?”

She hesitates for a second before shaking her head. “No, I think I’d like to be on my own for a little while.”

I nod, respecting her space. “Okay. But if you need anything, I mean it, Y/n, just come get me. I don’t care what time it is.”

She gives me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

I squeeze her hand one last time before getting up, heading for the door. Before I step out, I glance back at her, still curled up in bed, her eyes staring off at nothing.

I want to fix this for her. I want to fix Matt. But for now, the only thing I can do is be here for her.

So I leave her room, closing the door gently behind me, and head to my own.

Y/n’s POV

I drag myself off of my bed to  push open the balcony door, letting the early morning air into my room. I feel like I’m suffocating in here, like the walls are closing in on me.

I crawl back into bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Numbness settles over me, and I let it. I don’t know how long I lie there, my mind running in endless circles, but it must be at least an hour.

Then, faintly, I hear voices outside on the patio. My ears perk up at the low tones, one voice sharper than the other.

Nate and Chris.

I don’t move, barely breathing as I listen.

Nate’s voice is quiet, laced with disbelief. “I just don’t get it, man.”

Chris sighs. “What?”

“This whole thing. I came home with Y/n last night, and I thought-” He pauses, like he’s still processing it. “I thought Matt was different with her. That he actually gave a shit.”

Chris exhales, and I hear the scrape of a chair moving. “I don’t know what the fuck is going if I’m honest.”

Then followed by a pause.

“The girls are leaving soon” Chris says after a moment, his voice more certain. “I told them they have to go.”

Girls? So that means Rachel is in the villa, too.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples. The thoughts of the four of them being in that booth all night. It’s not the four it should’ve been.

“Good” Nate finally says, though his voice is distant, still caught up in his thoughts. “That’s good.”

Neither of them says anything after that, just the occasional sound of movement. I don’t know what to do with any of this. Do I go back to sleep and pretend I didn’t hear? Do I stay curled up in bed and wait for them to leave?

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I hear the girls voices outside, light and carefree, like they have no idea the storm they’ve left behind.

They laugh, saying their goodbyes, talking about how much fun they had. Christina’s voice is the loudest, going on about how this trip is "so needed." Rachel thanks Chris for having them over last night, her tone full of gratitude, like this was just some casual getaway and not the disaster it turned into.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back at our hotel” Rachel says smoothly.

Chris responds almost too casually, “Yeah, do that. Hopefully, we can meet later. One on one.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the sting in my chest. Of course. Of course, he’s already setting up another meetup, like none of this meant anything. Like bringing them here, ruining everything, was just some minor inconvenience.

How long are they even here for?

I hear the shuffle of movement. I hear Christina giggle, making some passing comment about how wild the night was, and then the sound of the front door closing.

They’re gone.

But the mess they left behind? That’s still here.

I should feel relieved, but all I feel is exhausted.

I don’t move from my bed for the rest of the day. Not for food, not for water. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. My mind replays every moment, every touch, every look, every promise Matt ever gave me.

Was it all fake?

Did he ever mean any of it?

Or was his plan to play with me all along?

I feel stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. I let myself believe in something real. I let myself believe in him. And now, I’m left here, in this bed, in this villa, drowning in the realization that I was just another girl to him. Another meaningless moment in his never ending cycle of self sabotage.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I’ve cried enough.

Instead, I just lay here. Empty.

Four more days in this place. Four more days of agony, of being in the same space as Matt, of pretending I don’t care when it’s eating me alive. Within the last 10 days, everything felt different, full of excitement, possibility. Now, it feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

It’s confusing. All of it. The way he looked at me before, the way he made me feel like I mattered. And now? Now he’s just another person who’s shown me that words mean nothing. That promises are empty.

But one thing is clear.

I don’t want to speak to Matt again.

a/n : GET HIM NICK GET HIM (dw any questions you may have will be answered)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[carawenfiction]

I hope this isn't a bother. I know you aren't accepting asks anymore, so please ignore if you don't want to read 🙂

I love your story. It was my second IF ever, and it helped set the tone because it's amazing. I am so glad you wrote it. I truly love your characters. I know you aren't writing it anymore, but if you ever want to post any details from the rewrite or just random snippets, they would be devoured. I love all of the romances, but Quaiel was especially intriguing. I would love to write stories about them, but I don't want to be too far off your original thinking.

Again, please don't feel like you have to respond or care about any of this. I just appreciate your book and all your characters. I hope you have a lovely holiday season. Thank you for all your hard work.

Hello again everyone <3 thank you for this ask and all the other asks expressing concern about my well-being and asking me about potential other writing projects. And thank you to those who have sent me enthusiastic asks about the world and characters of TSS. I know it's been a long time since I was active here so the fact that I'm still getting messages and asks at all is pretty shocking to me, but makes me very happy.

I wanted to make an update here and let those who still follow me know that I'm actually in the process of writing a new IF. It has a published demo, though I won't reveal the title just yet since I want to get some more of it done before sharing it with everyone here. I feel incredibly guilty about the state I left TSS in even though I knew it was the right decision for me, and I want to make sure that I've got more to show for this new project to regain some trust that might have been lost with the long time waiting and then the cancellation.

As for TSS: while it won't be continued, the story and characters have stayed with me through the years. The reason I haven't released any snippets or my planning for how things would go is because I've been considering, if I've got enough time, to maybe rewrite the story at my own pace (it would be a very thorough rewrite and many things both storywise and characterwise would likely change), make it a complete story instead of a trilogy and release it for free. I'm still not making any promises, though - this is a very huge maybe. But it's something I would really like to do when and if there's a good opportunity to do so.

Absolutely feel free to write stories about Q and any of the other characters! I'd love to read them if you do. Part of what I love when it comes to writing is how the creativity of one person can ignite creative sparks in other people. It's honestly magical.

Take care of yourselves and thank you for sticking around <3

[0neir0z]

severance 2x07 thoughts, hella spoilers as usual

okay i normally do funny haha no context thoughts but i didn't have them this episode really. just a lot of thoughts about gemma. i love gemma. (also like yeah mark is hot but ive been on that train it's wtv.)

i get sort of analytical w it but im not really an analyst. i am simply yapping.

a) the association with gemma and spring is my favorite thing ever and the imagery is so so beautiful.

b) what the Fuck are they doing with her down there oh my god. let her ouuuuuttttttt.

c) with the way that severance has dissected and implemented race as a construct in this world what they're doing with her down there is soooo sooo terrifying. like genuinely the letter writing scene is something that rattled me deep in my core in ways that i think the milchick kier portrait thing has done for others. the concept that lumon is taking this asian woman, a character established to have had a lot of her own agency, but struggles with her bodily autonomy (attempts and failures with pregnancy) going through lumon for treatment, and severing her. not only severing her but teaching her innies that she is subservient to the extreme traumas that they're putting her through in those rooms. dressing her up in outfits like a doll. one of those traumas being this submissive traditional wife to a domineering white husband figure, forcing her to say that she loves him, Knowing her outie has a husband but insisting she belongs to the men at lumon. that they are entitled to her and the love (servitude) of her innie is so unsettling. ms casey is a caretaker, forced to take the traumas of others while ignoring her own. to be saved by her white superiors, to be owned by them. it's so scary.

this contrasts her relationship with mark where there is very little of this known racial dynamic in their relationship. he falls in love with gemma because she's gemma and doesn't really base it on what she could be doing for him, or what he thinks she Should be doing for him.

ntm severance is science fiction and dystopic, this depiction of east asian women is a known trope. it is techno-orientalism at its core and the show is Aware of this. it uses the way that asian women/femmes are treated in media as a device. ms casey is supposed to be treated like that not because the show wants you to think that that is how it portrays asian women in this world but how it comments on the way that lumon (corporations as a whole) still treat and percieve asian women in the workplace. and how the white men at the top of the company will never deconstruct this mindset in themselves because they're benefitting, they'd never need to.

d) dichen lachman has the facecard of all fucking time my god

[newttxt]

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

[cy-cyborg]

Please remember I am trans/nonbinary, my pronouns are xe/they.

I am starting to get genuinely annoyed with people’s shocked or doubtful reactions to hearing I want to have kids in the near-ish future. And I don’t mean strangers. Strangers say weird things to me all the time lol. I mean my family, my doctors, people who have known me for decades.

My mum in particular has made several comments now ranging from just genuine shock at the mention my partner and I are planning for kids during a conversation about plans for the future (I’ve literally talked about wanting kids to her since I was a kid) to outright saying during a casual conversation that “they (referring to doctors) probably wouldn’t let me carry to term”. Over Christmas my partner also told mum that we had some news we wanted to share in person, and her first reaction was “Cy’s not pregnant are they?” My partner said no and she responded with “oh thank god!”

My sister and dad have also made similar comments. Dad has brought up valid concerns (mainly about some genetic stuff that caused complications for my mum) sprinkled with the same ableism my mum always goes to. My sister I’m willing to give a bit more leniency, since she’s the only family member I talk about my transition with and she admitted recently she thought i was already medically transitioning and she thought that made you infertile so she just assumed kids were off the table. Neither of those things are true but her doubts at least aren’t tied to my disability, just bad info.

But it’s the doctors (and other healthcare professionals) that are the most frustrating. It’s not one or two. It’s nearly every doctor. Every nurse. Every medical technician. If the subject comes up, they all have something to say about it.

I don’t want to go into pregnancy blind, I know I would be at higher risk than the average pregnant person and I want to know what those risks are before I agree to them. I want to know what recourses are available. I want to know how me being in a wheelchair will change the process of things like giving birth. I want make sure the local hospital is equip to deal with that and I won’t be having to educate people while I’m in labour or if I’m better off going somewhere else.

But every doctor I’ve tried to discuss the subject with has shut the topic down and hand waved it with “we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it”. Like it’s something I’d obviously want to avoid that I probably don’t need to worry about. Even trying to get my contraceptive replaced, get a fertility test done or even getting a damn pap smear has been a nightmare. why am I fighting to get a Pap smear??? I’m nearly 30 and still haven’t been able to get one because several doctors seem to be under the impression I’m not sexually active, even when I bring my partner into the appointment. If they say it out loud (half the time they dance around the subject) and I correct them, they are genuinely shocked, then tell me we’ll worry about that later. Nurses and other healthcare providers are no better. There’s been several occasions where I haven’t been asked the mandatory “could I be pregnant” question when going for X-rays or CT scans (and I know they were supposed to ask because if I ask to see the paperwork, it’s always there and they’ve just checked “no” without asking), or if I am asked at intake, they say something to the effect of “I know the answer is probably no, but is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

Though I take back what I said earlier, there’s one comment from strangers on this front that pisses me off, and it’s “be thankful you don’t have to deal with being pestered about having kids”.

No, I won’t be thankful when my reproductive health is ignored, my family are telling me constantly they think I shouldn’t have kids or expressing surprise that I’m even “allowed to” and I can’t even get any answers about what it would look like if I DO get pregnant. My heart goes out to the people who are harassed and pressured into having kids, and to the people whose health is ignored for the sake of them being able to have a baby. Both my mother and sister have dealt with that, my mum almost died because they didn’t want to do anything that would prevent her from having more kids she didn’t want after my younger sister was born. But BOTH things are terrible and shouldn’t be happening!

Im not unreasonable, if someone brought up a decent, genuine concern to me that wasn’t just “can someone in a wheelchair even look after a kid” or “I didn’t think someone like you even has sex” I would reconsider. If it was found I would be likely to experience serious complications for myself or the baby, I would reconsider. If I found out I wasn’t going to have the needed supports to raise a kid, I would reconsider. But everyone assumes that’s what I want. If I were infertile, or any of these things were true, I’d reconsider, but I’d be upset about it! I’ve always wanted to be a parent and if that was something that wasn’t actually possible, I would be sad about it.

But my family members talk to me about it in the same way they did when I was 10 and didn’t know where babies came from, doctors are shocked at the idea I’m even sexually active let alone thinking about children. I’m genuinely worried the people in my life other than my partner would treat any fertility issues like a good thing, or be shocked that I’d be upset if kids weren’t actually on the table anymore.

[tobiasdrake]

It's easy to be spiteful. I'm mad. I'm so, so mad. I am absolutely furious in a way that leaves me with little sympathy for the people who put us in this situation.

It would be one thing if you got in the car drunk and drove into a lightpole, and now I was standing over your bed in the hospital.

But I was in the car next to you. My family was in the car. You hurt us too. In fact, you probably hurt us worse than you hurt yourself. It's hard for me to muster sympathy from the hospital bed next to yours.

I'm angry. I'm so angry. And scared. And hurt.

...

But I keep coming back to the Civil War. Something that I don't think we, as a country, ever truly reckoned with was how the Civil War ended.

We think of the Civil War as, "There were these people who betrayed the country and tried to form their own country to enshrine slavery, and we beat them." That's the end of the story. The Confederates were defeated, slavery ended. We won.

But. Like.

We didn't. Like. Get rid of the Confederates and their ideology or something. At the end of the war... they and their ideas became Americans again. Their voices rejoined our own, equally weighted. That was literally the goal of the conflict.

The Confederacy didn't go away. It just came home. It was still there, burning in the hearts of all those people that were made Americans once more. And it perpetuated and grew and spread unchecked while we got drunk on stories of how we'd vanquished it.

...

There is no version of the future where we drive all the Trump Supporters into the sea and then Trumpism is never spoken of again. When all is said and done... they're still going to be here. With their ideas and their beliefs, adding their voices to our own. If we make it through this, we will still be in community with these people. That is how democracy works.

I see people talking about conversations they've had with Trump regretters in their lives. And it's so easy to be cynical about it. You fool. You absolute fool. If someone voted because they wanted the price of eggs to drop and now they're just pissy that the price of eggs hasn't dropped, I do not trust that person not to sell us out to the next charlatan who comes along.

...but if someone voted because the news was lying to them about how cool slashing regulations would be and now they're realizing that they're going to lose healthcare and their children's education is going to take a hit? I don't know. If they're starting to realize that they're being duped, then maybe that is a learning opportunity. But only if they have someone willing to teach them.

A long time ago, I saw political activism put on, like, a five point scale. Like, 1 and 5 are people with dug-in Left and Right politics. These people are not here to be convinced. They know what they believe and they think you're a sucker at best and the enemy at worst if you start spouting the other side's talking points near them.

3, in the middle, that's people who are completely unengaged. They're up for grabs.

And then 2 and 4, those are the voters who are leaning in one direction, but can be plied by the other side. They haven't hardened their beliefs into the iron wall of a 1 or 5, and it may be worth trying to convince them to come across the fence.

So if you're talking to a 5, you should save your breath. It's a waste of both their time and yours to try and get them to see your point of view. But a 3 or a 4 might be worth the time to sit with and discuss their beliefs and politics if you're trying to bring more people over to the Left.

...

On the macro scale, as far as the Midterm elections go, none of this matters. Nothing Trump's doing right now will be relevant in November 2026. This is a dirty little secret of politics.

After every election, there's about a 12-18 month grace period where you can do whatever you want without fear of electoral consequences, because people vote in November of Current Year based on how they are feeling about the state of the country in that moment. They do not take a referendum of all your political actions over the course of your term. They just vote based on the vibes they're feeling at time of voting.

You know how a kid can misbehave he wants for eleven months out of the year but then has to put on his best face for Santa when December rolls around? Politics are kinda like that. As destructive as this is, none of it will matter in the Midterms. What Trump does from January to November of 2026 is what will matter in the Midterms, with increasing relevancy the closer it is to that election.

If someone is upset with Trump today but then he gives them free vaccines or something in September 2026 then they'll think the Republicans did super well for those last two years. He is currently gleefully indulging in his consequence-free grace period.

But.

If the chaos he's unleashing on his own supporters is enough to momentarily crack a 5 and bring it back down to a 4?

...

Feelings don't care about your facts.

Cults don't build membership based on their ideas. Their ideas are stupid. Nobody listens to someone ramble about how the lizard people are working for Xenu to trick us all into thinking the moon exists and goes, "Yeah, that sounds reasonable. That's accurate to my life experience. I think this guy's making some solid points!"

People join cults because they're isolated. They're lonely. The cult offers a sense of community, a sense of belonging to something. People are social creatures, first and foremost, and they follow where their desire for a group dynamic leads them. They embrace the ideas that the community embraces. The rhetoric is their cost of entry. And they shun the ideas that the community shuns.

A key element of cult indoctrination is isolation from outside voices. So that they're only hearing these ideas, they can only find acceptance with these people. They will do the mental gymnastics that they need to do in order to be embraced and loved by someone, and the cult makes sure they feel that the only someone who ever could embrace and love them... is the cult.

But when that rhetorical armor cracks?

It can be repaired. Left to their own devices, they can do the mental gymnastics. They can find a way to make this make sense, so that they can return to the only community that will ever accept them.

Or they could let it break. Take the slap in the face, take the sudden shock for what it is, and walk away.

There's no way of guaranteeing what a person will do. But they're more likely to leave if there are people waiting for them outside, willing to take them by the hand and walk them out the door.

On a macro level, nothing Trump does today will be remembered in November 2026.

But if what Trump does today cracks someone's rhetorical armor, and they walk away? If they change what they believe between now and then? They might not go back to him.

...

I don't know what to do with all of this.

I am so, so angry. There are people in my life that I feel personally betrayed by. I don't want to hear that I should be patient with them. That I should be civil towards them. IT'S NOT MY FUCKING JOB TO EDUCATE YOU, YOU STUPID PIECE OF--

...

But if someone is suffering a crisis of faith in conservatism, the voices that guide them through it can't be Ben Shapiro, Jesse Watters, and Andrew Tate.

Because when all of this is over, they're still going to be here. And we're still going to have to try and move forward as a democracy, with their voices joined to ours.

...

I don't know where we go from here. I don't even know if we'll survive this moment in history.

I just have a lot of feelings.

[sewersewersewercouch]

Microphone and ADHD: yet another very rambly analysis

GUESS WHO’S WRITING LONG TUMBLR POSTS ABOUT MIC AGAIN!!!!

i’ve been trying to formulate this post in my brain for a while and i’m finally writing it. I should add a disclaimer here: while i’ve done my own research for this, i’m also mostly writing from my own experience, which a) obviously every case of adhd is different, and b) while adhd is my only diagnosis at present, there are various other things that i’m questioning and in the process of being evaluated for which might also bleed into my experiences with adhd. If there are any issues please feel free to point them out! Also i don’t want to imply that if you don’t have adhd you can’t relate to mic, i’m just discussing the things i personally am seeing in canon. Also also, if this is weird and disjointed and rambly, well, you signed up to read a very long post by someone from adhd about blorbo from their shows.

I think what first comes to mind with Mic and ADHD traits for me is her impulsivity. This is something we see trip her up again and again—for example, when she yells at Fan in Tri Your Best, not considering how the noise could boost him into the air and ahead of her, or in Mazed and Confused, when she calls after Knife in the maze without realizing that Test Tube is in there as well. (And yes, she didn’t hear Baseball say that Test Tube was in there, but if she’d thought before she’d acted she might have considered looking around to make sure there were no Bright Lights missing as well.) Hell, another example I noticed was that during Mine Your Own Business, when Taco and Knife are arguing, Mic physically shoves Knife into the gem, and like, not gently, either—he slams into it pretty hard. It’s been pretty well established at this point that Mic is very averse to physical violence, and she definitely wouldn’t do anything like that intentionally, but the fact of the matter is, when she’s stressed like that, she just kind of makes a snap action without using her head.

This also ties into my second point, her difficulties with emotional regulation, which is something that’s very common with ADHD. I kind of struggle to describe how this shows up in Mic, because honestly, a lot of her seemingly overblown reactions are more of a “straw that breaks the camel’s back” type of situation where she takes so much shit from her teammates that obviously, who wouldn’t be upset? However, I do think it’s fair to say that she’s someone who’s quite easily frustrated, and can have a tendency to lash out quite harshly when she’s in this state. For example, in A Kick In The Right Direction, she’s pissed off about being relegated to goalie, which is fair, but she takes this out on Dough, who wasn’t involved in this decision, just because he happens to be near her, and she’s, like…pretty mean about it, too? Like, when he says he’s bored she says “so am I but not enough to talk to you” and then later flat out tells him to jump off a bridge. Yes, this second one was after he was distracting her and the Bright Lights got a goal past her, but still, it does feel like a pretty dramatic reaction. Especially as in general, Mic’s demeanor is friendly and outgoing, she clearly is someone who cares a lot about others’ well-being, and she’s just a nice person all around, but when something gets under her skin she’s immediately on the defensive and says stuff like this.

Also, just in general, Mic is very outwardly emotional. It’s one of the ways the narrative contrasts her with Taco, who for much of the story is incapable of giving up her facade, whereas Microphone is incapable of not wearing her heart on her sleeve. You can usually at any given time tell from Mic’s expressions and tone exactly what she’s feeling. This is especially noticeable as she’s frequently in a position where she has to lie, and she is…not good at it. Some of the time she falls back on the aforementioned defensiveness—for example, in Alternate Reality Show, when Suitcase asks what she’s painting and she replies, “Uh, zilch! Why are you picking today to talk to me for the first time ever?” and when Knife immediately after asks why she was late, she says, “I got other places to be? What’s it to you?” A lot of the time, though, she just gets all nervous and awkward. Adorable, undeniably, but not helpful when she’s in the position she’s in. (I was very charmed to find that she keeps this trait even after the game, what with her telling Taco to act natural and then going “Heyyyyy!!!! I, uh, found someone! :))))” as if that’s at all acting natural. Never change.) Mic feels everything very strongly, and she can’t naturally hide that like Taco can.

I also wanted to bring up Mic’s extreme sensitivity to negative feedback, or what’s often referred to as Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria—which, yes, I know that isn’t actually technically a diagnostic trait, but I would say it’s kind of an offshoot of emotional dysregulation combined with a response to being ostracised for being neurodivergent in a shitty ableist world. A lot of the time when Mic shows the traits I’ve mentioned here, and they trip her up, her teammates show her very little patience and compassion. (Baseball and Nickel are particularly guilty of this—Cheesy does it as well, but he also apologizes to her and it seems like they get along afterwards. Baseball, however, will be on thin ice until I hear a goddamn apology from him.) And while she tends to respond to their disparagement with anger externally, as mentioned above, it also clearly really upsets her in a deeper way. For all the amount she takes it out on others, she takes it out on herself tenfold: look at the words she uses to describe herself in her diary. “Annoying, harmful, random, useless, insignificant, loser.” This treatment, along with her previously mentioned sensitive emotions, make her very reactive to any form of perceived criticism or failure. Even in the finale, when she’s been through her own arc and had a while to heal from the toxic environment of the show, the image shown in the red line game shows that this is still what upsets her the most—the idea of being ignored and rejected by others.

I think this also goes the other way—she’s so sick of being disparaged that it turns into a desperation for approval and connection. This is kind of the foundation of her entire arc. I noticed this one moment in Mazed and Confused, where Taco offers to help her out and Mic says “Really? You would help me out?” as though she’s completely shocked by the idea of someone offering her help. Which makes sense—the only person who’s actually been there for her is Soap. And one could ask, why does Mic stay in her alliance with Taco? Clearly she realizes, deep down, that what she’s doing is unethical. Mic is someone who has a strong moral code that I think in most circumstances she’d care about more than the money. (Yes, I know, I know, the twist, but it’s been proven several times that contestants are more than capable of putting other things above the game. Look at Marshmallow, Clover, Lightbulb, and obviously, eventually Mic herself!) But I don’t think what keeps her pushing her cognitive dissonance down is actually anything about the money. It’s the approval she gets. Baseball, who as I’ve said is normally quite hard on her, compliments her when she does something right as a result of her cheating, and in so doing cements in her mind that cheating=people liking her. She also gets approval from Taco, which fuels this even more. And as this alliance goes on, it transforms into…well, I don’t know if I’d call it a friendship, per se, but it seems that Mic really does value Taco’s company and wants to connect with her on a more personal level, rather than just as a means to an end. This just muddies matters further, as Mic now has not only approval at stake, but also one of the few actual relationships she has in the game. It takes Taco killing two people in front of her for her to decide that’s not worth it.

I think I maybe got a little sidetracked from my point there, as I am very much wont to do, but I think this leads Mic to display some kinds of masking behavior. One facet of this is politeness/friendliness—and this is not to say that Mic isn’t genuinely an outgoing, friendly person. In my own experience, masking isn’t as cut and dry as “not acting like yourself”---rather, it’s often more putting certain, more socially acceptable aspects of one’s personality forward and suppressing the less acceptable ones. Her politeness also comes off as very stilted to me. For example, in Theft and Battery, where she says, “Guys, not to sound rude, but didn’t MePhone5S and 5C just try to kill MePhone4? Didn't this guy create them? Why would he support us if he just tried to kill us?” It seems like a weird thing to have to tack “not to sound rude” onto—it’s a completely valid and truthful point. But she’s so used to being perceived as rude that it seems she feels like she has to say that. There’s also another example I already talked about in a different post but will go back over here—in Mine Your Own Business, when Mic and Taco are trying to sneak past Knife, but Mic sneezes and then follows it up with “Sorry! ‘Scuse me!” Which, as Taco points out, isn’t something people normally do. And immediately Mic falls back on her other defense mechanism, lashing out. If you listen to what she’s saying when they’re arguing, it’s “What was I supposed to say, ‘bless me’ and bless myself? You’re the one who’s always trying to be proper, what’s your problem?” I think this moment says a lot about her—when she knows she’s messed up, she tries to cover for it with politeness, but she also doesn’t quite get the social rules right. It’s very much something that’s put on, not that comes naturally to her. (This is where I realized she has many parallels with my other favorite Cabby, but that’s a whole different can of worms.)

However, she also masks in kind of the other direction, that is, putting others down to boost herself up. The Grand Slams are not the healthiest of teams, to put it lightly, and Mic mimics the behavior she sees in others that brings them social success. For example, when she jokes to Baseball about not wanting to “pull a Balloon—” Balloon being unpopular as he is, she knows other people will find mocking him funny. And it works! Baseball laughs! She tries this again later, when she says to Knife “talk about emotional baggage” in regards to Suitcase, but this time he doesn’t respond well. Mic seems genuinely surprised at this—this method has worked for her before, so she’s put off by the fact that it doesn’t work this time. And I should say—this isn’t something Taco tells her to do. She does it entirely of her own volition.

Actually, looking at this more, it seems more like part of something she mostly does during her alliance with Taco—an unaffected, jokey front she tends to put on when she’s lying or messing with people, to…limited success, as discussed earlier, but I think she also uses it when she’s lying to herself, or trying to convince herself that what she or Taco is doing isn’t wrong. I had a few examples in mind. The first is in Kick the Bucket, right after the Nickel and Balloon double elimination, when she says, “Well, ha, what a lively experience! Well, not much to gain from sitting around and doing nothing. See ya!” It’s oddly nonchalant when clearly everyone around her is upset, and we see her look concerned for a second beforehand before she goes into this. I interpret that as her…kind of seeing that what just happened messed things up for a lot of people and that it was her fault, but she’s not ready to accept that truth yet. She also uses this affect throughout Mine Your Own Business—both with Taco, as an attempt to get her to open up, and with Knife, I think in some ways trying to mimic what Taco did to recruit her in order to do the same with him. Neither of these are successful. Knife being Knife, he’s someone who’s very able to see right through people (figuratively speaking, that is, because now people can literally see right through him! Get it? Because he’s a ghost? Please imagine the sound of Cheesy slapping his knee from somewhere in the distance). He plants seeds of doubt in Mic’s mind by telling her about Pickle—and she’s still not ready for those seeds to grow, but they certainly are there. In fact, the next time we see her use this behavior, it’s in Hatching the Plan, when she jokes that Taco will “inevitably drop me too or whatever.” She says it casually, but clearly what Knife said is still on her mind, and she’s trying to convince herself that what happened to Pickle won’t happen to her even though she doesn’t at all believe herself. I also think looking at this behavior has really clarified my view of her in the movie—at first I was frustrated at how she seemed much more calm and collected than I would have expected her to, both about the general horrors happening to everyone, and specifically about Taco. I talked about those criticisms in another post, and I do still stand by them to some extent, I would have written her differently. But I don’t think it’s as incongruent with her character as I did before—in fact, I think there’s plenty of precedent for her masking like that in situations of greatly conflicted emotion. (Oddly enough, I think it’s something she has in common with Taco, but Taco’s just better with it.) I kind of doubt she was quite mentally ready to reconnect with Taco yet, but in such a dire situation she doesn’t have time to process all that, so she just kind of shoves that to the back of her brain. Not to say that I don’t think she genuinely cares for Taco, but I do think there’s a lot of processing she hasn’t done yet about her that will hopefully be a topic of discussion later please please please AE please for me???? Anyways, I do think this is a response to her aforementioned emotional dysregulation tending to create problems for her, and it’s definitely a masking technique in my eyes.

I also want to touch briefly on Microphone and Soap’s friendship, because while it’s not evidence for my point exactly, per se, I do think it’s relevant. While unfortunately pretty stereotypical representation, I would say it’s generally considered true that Soap is coded as having OCD. Now I’m not going to say that all neurodivergent people can easily be friends with one another, I know that’s not true. However, looking at the scene we see with the two of them in Rain On Your Charade, it certainly plays a part in this specific friendship. Mic helps Soap cope with her compulsions, and Soap is the only person at this time who really values Mic and doesn’t see her as a burden just because she’s accident-prone.

One minor thing I also wanted to point out was how it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to struggle with controlling our voices, including the tone, speed, and…well, volume. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve had people tell me that I’m talking loudly and I didn’t even realize it. I trust I don’t have to explain how this point is relevant to Mic, and it does very much fit.

There was one specific line that inspired me to write this post, from Everything’s A-OJ: “I’m trying harder than anyone else, so why do I always lose?” One of the diagnostic traits for ADHD is described as making “careless mistakes” in activities, and I never have particularly loved that phrasing. It may look careless on the outside, because it’s often mistakes that other people can easily avoid, but when you have a disorder that affects your attention, impulse control, memory, executive function, et cetera et cetera et cetera, you doing your best might look like someone else half-assing it. Not to get too personal on my blorbo post, but I keep thinking about this one teacher I had in middle school who, when I messed something up in a class, said “oh, that’s such a Clonnie move!” I’m sure she doesn’t remember that, but I do, because when you hear over and over again that people associate you with making mistakes, that shit sticks with you, and eventually when nothing you do helps you start to feel like you’re the mistake. That’s why Mic as a character resonates with me so much. God willing AnimationEpic will bring my girl back because I would like to see how Mic heals from that mindset as time goes on and where she goes from here.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

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ʚ Part 10 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluff, smut, shopping date, makeout session

❥ A/N: thank you for your patience my lovelies, i hope you enjoy 💕

"Can I take you somewhere this weekend?"

"Like where?" Mohammed smiles, taking a sip of his drink.

"I want to take you shopping."

You choke on your drink, coughing into your fist.

"Shopping? Where did that come from?"

"I like how you dress, I really do, but I want to give you some more clothes to wear. I want to dress you up with clothes I got for you."

"Like a doll?" you ask teasingly, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I don't want you to feel like a toy, or like I own you."

"I don't." You reach out for his hand, smiling at him when he grabs it. "I would feel bad if you spent that kind of money on me. You've already gotten me jewelry and perfume that was way too expensive."

"I don't care about money." He brings your hand to his lips, kisses your knuckles. "I only care about you." You giggle, waving him off.

"Stop, you're gonna make me blush." He smiles, kissing your hand again.

"So? Is that a yes?"

You think for a moment, considering the pros and cons before you nod.

"Sure, I'll let you take me shopping." He does a fist bump and you laugh. "I will warn you though! There's not a lot of places that carry my size. I am a big girl, after all."

"I'll do some research. I'll find some places to take you, I promise."

"Break time's over!" your coworker calls.

"Time to go, handsome." He smiles at the compliment, standing up with you and opening his arms for a hug. You fall into him, arms wrapped around his torso as you snuggle into his chest. He kisses the crown of your head, smoothing his hands over your back.

"I'll pick you up at eleven on Saturday. Do you want to eat while we're out?" You hum in thought.

"Can we get takeout and bring it back to my place? And then we can watch a movie?"

"I'd love that." You get up on your tiptoes to kiss him before pulling away and waving.

"Bye, Guy." You wince, scrunching your face. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I'm just so used to calling you 'Guy'."

"It's okay," he waves you off. "I'm not worried about it. You can keep calling me 'Guy' if you want."

"Are you sure? I don't want to make it weird by calling you something else when I finally know your name."

"It's fine. I like it. It's my own special nickname." You giggle.

"Okay, alright. I'll alternate between the two."

"Sounds good."

"Hello? Break time is all done! Quit chit-chatting and get back over here before I get you fired!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!"

"You look cute," he says when you open the door, "as always."

"It's just leggings and a cropped sweater."

"Which is really cute. And sexy. Gives me a look at your hips."

You giggle, turning around and giving a pose.

"And a good look at my ass."

He nods, glancing over you before giving you a thumbs up.

"Nice butt."

You laugh, turning back around and grabbing his hand, going to his car.

He drives you to a shopping area, an expensive one that you've never ventured to because you knew it was out of your price range. You glance around while he parks, staying in the car while he gets out because you know he likes opening the door for you.

When he helps you out of the car, he pays the parking meter and grabs your hand, taking you along the sidewalk.

"You were right," he starts, "there's not a lot of places that have good clothes in your size, which is bullshit."

"I told you. Were you able to find anything?"

"Of course. There's a plus-size store for women down the road a little bit. We could try some other places too, if you want, but this store is specifically for plus-size women."

"Aw, look at you being all sweet and doing research on where I can get clothes. You're so romantic."

"This is just basic decency. Every guy should be treating you like this." He pauses, looking at you. "I take that back. Only I should be doing these things for you. But other guys should be doing this for their partners too."

You laugh, leaning into his arm as you walk.

"You're so cute I could die!"

"Don't do that. I want to spend a lot more time with you."

You arrive at the storefront, Mohammed opening the door for you. You enter the almost completely white interior, looking around at the array of clothing they had. Jeans and t-shirts, but also dresses, bags, and jewelry.

"Hi!" a sales clerk greets you, walking towards the two of you. "Welcome in! Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Actually—"

"Yes," Mohammed speaks up, stepping forward and gesturing towards you. "I'm looking for some clothes for my girlfriend."

"Oh! How exciting! What are you looking for?"

"Well—"

"I want some clothes that highlight her beauty." He motions his hands to outline your body. "I like her curves, and I would love some clothing that accentuates her curves. I also think she looks nice in florals and bright colors, but not so bright that she gets everyone's attention. Oh, and I would love to get some gold jewelry; I think she looks really nice in gold—"

"Mohammed!"

He stops, looking at you.

"What?"

"Can I speak to you?" you ask, an edge to your tone. He gulps, nodding, following you a few steps away from the sales clerk.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" you ask in a hushed voice. "What's wrong is you coming into the store and telling some girl how you want me to dress! Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I... I thought you wanted to go clothes shopping."

"I do, but I didn't come here for you to dictate what I should wear." You point your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't get to tell me what to eat or where to go or what to wear. Got it?"

He swallows, nodding slow.

"I... I'm sorry. I've always done it this way in the past." You arch your brow.

"How many girls have you done this for?" He looks at the ground.

"Two."

You huff, crossing your arms.

"I have no right to be mad. We probably didn't even know each other when you did those things."

"We didn't. I wouldn't have done these things with other girls if I knew you were out there."

You sigh, glancing around the store.

"Just don't take charge of things like that when it should be my decision, okay? I'm the one who's going to be wearing the clothes, so I should be the one to choose them." He nods, still staring at the ground.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You tap your finger against your arm.

"Just don't do it again."

"I won't." He looks up at you like a sad puppy. "Are you mad at me?"

"...No. I just don't like being told what to do."

"I understand. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

You sigh, reaching up and pinching his cheek gently.

"Quit pouting. This was supposed to be fun. Just no more taking charge, okay?"

He nods, still looking sad as he leans into your hand, nuzzling your palm.

"Do you want a kiss?"

"Yes, please," he replies.

He leans down and you kiss him chastely, giving him several little pecks before pulling away and smiling.

"It's okay. Just learn from this experience."

"I will."

You grab his hand, pulling him back to the sales clerk who stops folding some clothes.

"I'm ready to shop now!"

The sales clerk is very kind to you, showing you around, recommending different outfits for you to try on. You pick and choose the outfits you'd like to try, now carrying a pile to the dressing rooms.

"Do you wanna see each one?" you ask Mohammed over your shoulder.

"If you don't mind."

You enter the dressing room, locking the door behind you. You start undressing, picking out your first outfit and putting it on. It's a pair of skinny jeans and a white blouse with puffy sleeves. You look yourself over in the mirror before leaving the dressing room, going to the sitting area where Mohammed was. He was leaning back against a couch, but he sits up when you walk out.

"What do you think?" you ask, doing a spin so he could look over all of you.

"You look nice."

"That's all? Just nice?" He shrugs, glancing away.

"Would you like me to say more?"

"Yes, please. Give me specifics or I'm just gonna put it back."

He looks you up and down, inhaling deep.

"You look like the innocent girl-next-door, the one who would bring me cookies and ask to drink a beer with me." You scrunch your face.

"I hate beer."

"I know. But that's what you look like to me." You twist your mouth in thought.

"That's definitely more detailed, but I'm not sold on the outfit. I feel like it makes my waist look big." He shrugs.

"Then put it back. Like you said, you should wear what you want, so if you don't like it, don't get it." You point at him.

"I like the support. Keep it up. And keep giving me those descriptions; they're cute to hear." He salutes you.

"Got it, boss."

You giggle, heading back to your dressing room, undressing and putting the outfit in the 'no' pile. You find another outfit, trying it on and going out to Mohammed.

"You look like the kind of girl that would flirt with me at the gym by asking to touch my muscles."

You try on another outfit.

"You look like a girl I would meet at the library who would be too shy to talk to me."

And another.

"You look like a girl who would try and sell me essential oils or herbal supplements."

His comments always made you laugh, but you didn't end up liking any of the outfits. They were all generic, boring, the kinds of clothes that didn't compliment your body, just tried to hide it. It was a shame, since Mohammed brought you all this way just to buy you clothes, and you weren't happy with anything.

You come out in your original outfit, looking glum.

"You didn't like any of them?"

"No," you mumble, shrugging. "I just didn't really enjoy anything. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he responds, standing up and walking towards you. "I wasn't too impressed with anything you wore either." He puts his hands on his hips, looking disappointed. "It sucks that the clothes weren't better suited toward you."

"Yeah."

The two of you stand there awkwardly.

"I feel like today was a bust," you say.

"It wasn't a total bust," he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it. "I got to see my girlfriend play dress-up which was pretty cute."

You scoff and roll your eyes.

"You're silly." He squeezes your hand again, making you look at him.

"Would you like some purses or jewelry? That stuff didn't look so bad." You glance around the store, twisting your mouth before nodding, smiling at him.

"Maybe just one purse, though. I don't need a million of them."

He smiles, leading you to the bags. You look around for a bit, picking up a bag and then opening it, turning it over before putting it back. You do this to a couple before you find one in your favorite color and a decent size. You hold it for a while, weighing it in your hands and deciding that yes, you would like this bag.

You turn to smile at Mohammed, but he's not next to you anymore. You frown, looking around the store before you see him standing over a table, looking at something. You walk over to him, glancing around his large form to see him holding a pair of lacy panties.

"Guy?"

He jolts, dropping the underwear and turning to you, covering the shelf of lingerie with his body.

"Y-You find what you want?" You arch your brow, smiling at him.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"N-Nothing."

"Ohhh, nothing, huh?" You take a step toward him, moving to the side to pick up the panties he was looking at. "This is nothing?"

He gulps, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I-I was just looking..." You hum, looking over the panties. They're white with little bows on the front and sides. You smirk at him.

"Were you thinking about me in this?" He can't look at you, glancing around the store.

"...Maybe."

"Hmm, interesting. And what exactly were you thinking about?"

"I just..." He runs a hand over his face. "I just think you would look really good in white."

"Cute and innocent, huh?" You swear you can see him blush. He nods slightly. You giggle. "Maybe I should get it, for when we finally do it."

He looks at you, eyes wide.

"I... I don't... you don't have—"

"It's fine." You nudge him with your elbow. "You're paying anyways. Think of it like a future present to yourself."

He follows you to the register, not able to look the sales clerk in the eye as he pays for your new purse and panties. You take the shopping bag from her, wishing her a good day before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the store.

"I'm so excited for this food!" you cheer as you unlock your apartment and open the door. "I haven't had Chinese food in so long."

"You like Chinese food?" Mohammed asks, following behind you into your apartment.

"Yeah, but I like all kinds of food, haha! I really like this place though because they give you so much fried tofu and it's so good."

"I see." He sets down the takeout bag on your coffee table as well as the bag from the store.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you ask, moving to the kitchen.

"What do you have?"

"Water, juice, diet soda." He hums.

"I'll take a soda."

"Okie dokie!"

You return with two cold sodas, joining him on the couch. He starts taking the food out of its bag while you turn on the TV and search for a movie to watch.

"What are you in the mood to see?" you ask him.

"Whatever you want to watch is fine."

"Well, if it's up to me, I'm gonna pick another rom-com."

"I like watching rom-coms with you," he says, pushing your food closer to you, grabbing some chopsticks and breaking them apart.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I like to imagine us in the same scenario." You giggle.

"You're a silly goose."

"Am I your silly goose?"

"Of course." He smiles.

"That's all I care about."

You choose a movie, letting it start as you grab your food. You got General Tso's tofu with vegetables and rice, and he got orange chicken with lo mein as a side. You sit in silence as you eat, watching the movie you had seen several times before. When the food is gone, you cuddle up together, his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his chest.

"Can I say something?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Of course."

"You've got nice boobs." He barks out a laugh, snorting and covering his mouth with his opposite hand.

"What? Boobs? What are you talking about?"

"Your pecs!" You sit up, motioning towards his chest. "They're very soft and comfortable. They're like boobs, you know?"

He puts his hands on his chest, looking down at them.

"I mean, I guess they are soft. I've never really thought about it."

"Can I touch them?" He glances at you, then shrugs.

"If you want to."

You smile, inching closer before stopping.

"Would it freak you out if I sat on your lap?" He visibly swallows but shakes his head.

"No, you can. I won't mind."

You smile again, crawling over him so that you were straddling his thighs, facing him. You rub your hands together in anticipation before reaching out, placing your hands on his pectorals.

"They're so big," you whisper before squeezing them, feeling them give under your fingers. "I told you they were like boobs."

"You seem to like them a lot."

"I do." You squeeze them again, giving them a little shake, which makes him chuckle.

"You're silly."

"You like it."

You keep massaging his muscles, squeezing and releasing them, molding them in your hands. You give him a sly grin.

"Is this turning you on?" He huffs.

"I guess it could be seen as arousing."

"So you aren't aroused?"

"I mean... you do look really hot sitting on my lap." You smirk, leaning in close to him.

"You wanna make out?" He gulps and nods.

"Yes, please."

You close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his hungrily. He moans at the contact, his hands finding your waist and squeezing, thumbs digging into your plush stomach. You keen, molding your lips with his before opening your mouth just a bit and gliding your tongue over his lips. He's receptive to your advance, opening his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. Your mouths widen and your heads tilt in opposite directions, doing everything you can to get closer to one another. Your tongues swirl around each other, your moans drowning in your connected mouths. He pulls away suddenly, leaning his head back against the couch cushion, eyelids hanging low as he looks at you.

"Would it be okay if I touched your ass?" he asks, blinking slow. You nod quickly, gasping when you feel his large hands slide down your hips and grab your ass, pulling you closer to him.

"You're so fucking pretty," he breathes, leaning back in to kiss you. You whine, your hips moving on their own and grinding against his, making him groan. He pulls back, but keeps his mouth close to yours. "And soft. How are you so soft?"

"Squeeze my ass," you plead, planting your lips against his again. He sighs into you, his big hands squeezing as much of your ass as he can grab, pulling your hips to meet his. He helps guide your hips to grind against his, the zipper of his jeans brushing your clothed pussy. You try to manipulate yourself so that you can grind your clit down against the hard material.

"Such a good girl," he sighs, moving his lips to your neck and pressing open mouthed kisses against you. You moan, finding the perfect spot to grind down on and focusing there, moving your hips faster. "You're my good girl, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," you whine, biting your lip as another moan slips out.

"Fuck, that's right. My sweet pretty girl. God, I love you, I love you so fucking much." You gasp, barely thinking before you reply.

"I love you too," you moan in his ear, hearing him inhale sharply. He pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"You mean it? You're not just saying it to make me feel better?" You shake your head.

"No. I mean it, Mohammed. I really do love you."

He sighs, lips crashing into yours once again. He grabs your hips, guiding them to grind down on his lap, making you moan. He's sucking on your tongue and meeting your hips with his, practically bucking up into you. Your hands glide from his cheeks to his neck and shoulders, squeezing along the way. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, moving your hips faster, humping his lap. He moans into you, mumbling praises in between kisses, but you can't make out what he's saying. Your hands plant themselves against his cheeks, holding him still so you can kiss him harder, more passionately. He moans, pulling you down against his lap, grinding you into him hard before he lets out a deep groan. You keep kissing him even as he whimpers and pushes your hips away.

"What's wrong?" you ask, pulling back to search his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, head tilted back against the couch, his chest heaving.

"I need to go," he says suddenly.

"What? Why? Are you just uncomfortable because we can stop if you want—"

"No, I just..." He runs his hands over his face, groaning in despair. "If I tell you, you're gonna laugh at me."

"What? What are you talking about? Whatever it is, I'm not gonna laugh at you, so just tell me."

He moves his fingers to peek at you with one eye. If he could blush, you imagine he'd be as red as a tomato right now.

"I'm just... really embarrassed."

"About what, honey?" He groans.

"This is the worst time to call me a pet name."

"Guy, just tell me what's going on. I'll be mad if you don't tell me."

He sighs deeply.

"I don't want you to be mad..."

"So then tell me what's going on."

He drops his hands to his sides, staring at the ceiling before glancing at you, then down at his lap. You follow his gaze to his jeans, searching before seeing a vague dark spot on his crotch.

"I... I'm sorry, I just... I got really excited and before I could do anything, it just..."

"Oh..." You hold your hands close to your chest, feeling your cheeks burn as you realize what happened. You swallow, clearing your throat. "I-It's okay! It's not your fault. These things happen."

"It's fucking embarrassing," he bemoans, turning his head to the side, staring out into the room. "I look like a fucking teenager right now."

"No you don't," you reassure, glancing back at him, seeing how upset he was. "I don't want you to be upset about this. These things happen."

"This is the first time I've lost control like this. I've never had this happen with a girl before."

"Ah... I see..." You fiddle with your hands, sitting up straight. "Well, then that just makes me feel really special! It means you like me so much that you can't even control those things around me." You wiggle off his lap, standing up in front of him. "Plus, you're not the only one who got excited. Here, look." You bend your leg and put your foot up on the couch beside him, tugging the crotch of your leggings to show the growing wet spot there. His eyes widen and he sits up, leaning forward to get a better look.

"This is because of me?"

"Of course it is. Who else could make me like this?"

His firm hand finds your thigh, rubbing your leg and sighing.

"You really don't think less of me because of it?"

"Of course not. It would be silly and mean to think that way. You're valid in how you feel and with what happened."

He nods, resting his temple against your knee, sighing.

"Now I'm gonna have to drive home with cum in my pants."

You snicker, touching his hand, making him look at you.

"We can wash them while we watch another movie. Come on. I have a pair of men's sweatpants that should fit you."

You go find your sweatpants and give them to Mohammed, letting him go to the bathroom to clean up and change. While he does so, you go to your bedroom and change your leggings and underwear, wiping yourself clean with a couple tissues. When you both return to the living room, you take both of your soiled clothes and go to the washer, throwing them in with some detergent and starting a quick cycle. You reconvene on the couch together, the movie finished at this point and the washer filling the room with noise.

"I'm really sorry," he says, hands folded in front of him.

"You have no reason to be. I enjoyed myself, and I'm glad you did too." He twiddles his thumbs, glancing at you.

"Do you really love me?" You huff, smiling.

"Yes, I do. I really love you, Mohammed."

He smiles softly, swaying his legs from side to side as he stares at his hands.

"That makes me really happy."

"I'm glad." You crawl over to him, leaning against his arm. "I like making you happy."

He turns his head to you. You stare at each other for a moment before you lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. You pull away, smiling at him.

"Wanna watch another movie while your clothes wash?"

"Sure. You pick."

You roll your eyes, grabbing the remote.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

In desperate need of Gally taking oc’s virginity and being so surprisingly gentle and taking her through it and being slow and considerate

i am looking directly at it and foaming at the mouth, anon, thank you

After their first kiss, out in the Last City with no one else around, they can't get enough. But at the Right Arm base, they have to be careful - there aren't many places to be alone. Plus, if word got out about whatever was now between them, it would spread like wildfire. And for now, they wanted it to be just between them.

So they are sneaking around corners, closets, and each of their rooms for a while. Stealing lingering touches, quick smooches, or passionate kisses whenever they could. It was all new territory for both of them. These feelings, these touches. Neither of them have done this before. To their knowledge anyway. But it feels good and right and neither of them can stop.

Certainly not when it's lights out and Gally ends up in her room. Not when, for a while, they're just talking on her bed. Now when he pulls her into his lap and kisses her.

It's slow and sweet at first. But slowly, as he holds her tighter and she runs her hands over his short hair, it turns more heated. Bruising kisses and exploring hands. Barely breathing and little noises in the back of their throats. The longer it goes on, the stronger that tingle in her gut becomes. The more it begins to burn between her legs, everything feeling slick. She's confused by it at first, always had been too busy surviving for pleasures of that kind, even by herself. But then that confusion quickly turns to embarrassment when she accidentally brushes herself against his leg.

It makes her whimper at the contact and Gally distinctly feels just how wet she is. She feels burning hot as his hands trail down her sides until they stop at her hips. Guiding her to move again. "Keep goin', Jo, it's okay."

Because Gally has certainly gotten himself off before (to the thought of her? possibly). And while he's never been with someone else, he's heard the other guys talk shop around a fire before. He knows girls can feel that pleasure too and from the noise she just made, and the moisture already soaking through his pants, she was feeling it.

She keeps her face pressed into his neck, still embarrassed, but she lets him move her. It feels amazing - that burning but more. Eventually, she starts to move on her own, rolling her hips up and down his leg in long, languid motions. She's gripping him tightly and trying not to wake the whole base, but when he presses his thigh up into her in rhythm she can't help but moan into his skin.

"God, you sound so pretty." And that makes her let out an audible oh, back arching into him as she fists his t-shirt just a little tighter. "Feel good?"

All she can really do is nod, so vigorously it makes him chuckle. And she can feel against her own leg that he's getting hard, a swelling against her thigh that is hard to ignore. She's heard the stories, been told some tales she wasn't entirely sure were true. About men and their anatomy. It was a sign that he felt good too and it made her breathe just that bit heavier. But he's not pushing it. He's not even moving besides his hands on her hip and his leg pressed into her.

And in a moment of boldness, face still buried in his neck, she reaches down and cups him through his pants.

It's his turn to moan low in her ear, hip bucking up into her hand at the feeling but he still wants to take care of her. "Don't worry about me right now, lemme help you."

That makes her whine, move against him faster, burrow into him further. But she doesn't move her hand - her grip on him only tightening. Mostly because she's too embarrassed to move and also because the feeling of him is grounding. This physical thing that shows he wants her too.

Her pleasure builds and builds as she grinds against his thigh. But something inside of her feels empty. Something wants to be filled. So she's grinding down on him harder, whining into his chest more insistently, pawing at him.

And Gally knows she wants something, because he knows her.

"What do you want Jo? Come on now." as he threads his fingers through her hair, pulls her face back just a little so he can catch her eye.

"I - I don't know" she whimpers with a reflexive squeeze around him and it makes him groan.

He has some idea what she craves - what she needs. So he pulls her from his lap just enough to pull her skirt and underwear down. It makes them both gasp, Gally's eyes darkening at the sight of that dark thatch of curls. He tugs her back down and the feeling of her bare against his canvas pants makes her whimper.

"Just keep goin'."

She's desperate to reach whatever she is building towards. Grinding against him faster and harder. He kisses her again, hand still tangled in her hair and pulling just a little bit, and the way she gasps his name as she cums has him twitching in her hand. It's powerful and warm and spreads all over her body, makes her shiver and nearly rip his shirt.

Then he maneuvers her to where she's flat on her back on the bed. Presses kisses all over her face, praising her, telling her she did such a good job. It makes her smile and hold his face in her hands. Her Gally. Who looks at her so soft and kisses her slow. To everyone else he was stoic and closed off - but not with her. Never with her.

But she still has that empty feeling, like something is missing, like she needs something inside. On some instinct she couldn't quite control, she starts bucking her hips up into him. Brushing herself just right on that bulge in his pants. It makes him groan, lips falling to rest in the crook of her neck.

"Joanie - mm - stop. Can-Can barely control myself as is."

And he's right. He's already grinding into her core, actions defying his words and the strained expression on his face.

But the way she whispers "want it" right in his ear all breathy and heavy makes him nearly growl. Hips bucking into her hard and making her gasp. Then he pulls back to look into her blissed out face and asks, "Are you sure? We can stop right now if that's what you really want."

It's so sweet and sincere and it nearly makes her tear up. But she knows what she wants. And she knows, somewhere deep down, she's always wanted it to be him. Her Gally. So she nods but he levels her with a look. "I need you to say it."

"Yes. I'm sure."

He's quick to take off his t-shirt. Pulling it over his head and letting it fall off the side of the bed. Revealing hard muscle and the giant scar on his chest. She ran her hand over it, traced its rough edge and remembered that fear that he was going to die. But he didn't die. He was here, with her, now. Tilting her head up, she kissed that scar gently and it made him shudder.

Eventually, through many kisses and explorations of lips and hands, all of their clothes were off. There was nothing between now. And for a moment, Joan feels self-conscious. Hands reaching to cover herself up. But Gally is quick to pull her hands away, reassure her that he thinks she's beautiful and that he's thankful for her sharing her body with him.

But this is Gally. He still, in my opinion, has a massive teasing streak. So when he bucks his hips to notch himself with her soaked entrance he says, "What do you want, Joanie, huh? come on, use your words."

And he has to grind himself against her a little bit before an answer finally squeaks out of her: "Want you inside me - please!"

Gally can't resist that. He drops his forehead to hers and presses into her slowly. Letting out a groan at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him in a desperate attempt to accommodate him. He moves in slow, going at her pace. Pausing when she asks and fingers pushing slow, distracting circles into her clit.

When she gasps out a strangled "big" he huffs, rubbing her clit just a little bit faster. "I know, baby, it's okay. You can take it."

She has always been smaller than him. Short but never delicate. Gally thinks its adorable most of the time. But right then? With her caged beneath him and panting and struggling to take the stretch of him? It's making him feral. And when he looks down at the place their bodies meet? He can just see in the darkness her belly bulging around him and it makes him groan.

At her say so, he's slow about moving but firm. Moving in inches that feel like so much more to her. He's groaning praise in her ear just obsessed with how she feels.

"Doin' so good, Joanie, taking me so deep."

He's not gonna last long and he knows it. He feels too much for her and she's squeezing him so fucking tight. "can you cum for me again, mama? be a good girl?"

And she's practically sobbing into his neck he feels so good and she's meeting every thrust. and he really can't control himself anymore, he's so close, and he starts going hard and fast. it's surprising but so good and just what she needed, she whines so loud when she cums around him and he follows soon after.

After, when they've both come down and controlled their breathing, Gally pulls out slow. She groans at the feeling. He's quick to pull the covers up over them both and leave little kisses on her face. Telling her how good she was and how amazing she made him feel. All she can do is hum in reply and it makes him smile.

There's still no confession. There doesn't really need to be one. They know how they feel about one another. All there is to do is fall asleep in each other's arms.

[teardropwolf]

I got merrymaker Weardrop done. I can start working on the thing I want to do :D (hopefullyi'llcompleteit)

Also that "quote" is temporary for this year. Should another year pass I'll be redrawing it with their new, actual quote.

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[icewindandboringhorror]

... why he sit like this

[pollen]

hi fellow neurodivergent people

i hate to jump on the "i think i might have adhd" bandwagon, but if i think i might have adhd, how do i bring it up to my care team as a 28-year-old cis woman who was a massive overachiever until i couldn't keep up the ruse anymore?

[silverwhittlingknife]

hiii! i just wanted to reach out n let you know that i just spent the last few days speed reading all your ao3 work bc i literally couldn't put it down. the way you write dick really just scratches my brain in the best way possible. he's a little (read: very) neurotic and it just. his motivations are so clear in your work, not in the sense that there isn't tension and anxiety but in that his core personality, his drive to help and the anger and trauma that has built him, his need to always be performing and catering to those around him, it comes across sososososos SO well. he was the first character that got me into comics and since then i've kinda stopped reading him bc i have lots of issues w tom taylors run (not the point so i digress) but you have really inspired me to go back and read more of his old stuff so thank you! you have such a clear grasp on his character and its something i admire very much! ur very very talented! and i really appreciate you sharing ur art! hope ur doin well :)

HI THIS IS SUCH A NICE COMPLIMENT???? <3333 This is so nice & sweet & it made my whole day!!! THANK YOU I AM HUGGING YOU ACROSS THE INTERNET AHHHHHH

he's a little (read: very) neurotic and it just. his motivations are so clear in your work, not in the sense that there isn't tension and anxiety but in that his core personality, his drive to help and the anger and trauma that has built him, his need to always be performing and catering to those around him

YEAH IT's HIMMMM i love this description <333

THANK YOU YOU ARE LOVELY & KIND PLS ACCEPT THIS DOG PICTURE AS TOKEN OF MY GRATITUDE

[savage-rhi]

🫂