#but I learned a ton & i’m still so so proud of this piece

[daeyumi]

Sleeping Hero 🌙🗡️

[2021]

[trashytracktales]

Idk if you write about this topics since they are really sensitive, but it is something I’m currently struggling with and I would like to see how lando would react after finding out that the reader has been hiding a her struggle with mental illness and attempts of ending her life. Once again I know how sensitive this request is but I started reading your work and fell in love with it and thought that you would write this beautifully

Seasons change | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── This was a pretty difficult one-shot to write, even though it's not very lengthy. I know that mental health is still a topic of actuality that we all deal with in one way or another. The only thing that I want you guys to remember after reading this, is that you are not alone. I know that it may sound like a broken record, but it's true. Each of us has a Lando in our lives who will care enough to stand by you without ulterior motives or conditions. And if you really feel like you don't, I can be him for you. My DMs and ask box are always open, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone. You matter in all your forms 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

☆ summary ──── He's been away for work for a while now, but when Lando comes home to find his girlfriend at her lowest, they have to learn the hard way that love is about sitting with each other in the dark, not just chasing the light.

☆ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

☆ rating ──── mature

☆ category ──── F/M

☆ word count ──── 2.6k

☆ date ──── Jan. 11, 2025

☆ warnings ──── 16+, established relationship, soft!Lando, mental health struggles, depression, suicidal ideation, mention of alcohol consumption and pills, emotional distress, vulnerability, guilt and healing, non-sexual nudity (bathtub scene, including tenderness and intimacy).

Please, proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you or someone you know is struggling, these are some of the resources I personally used for years now & I think (and hope) that it might help you at some point:

☆ MENTAL HEALTH APPS

Calm

7 cups

BetterMe

☆ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS

idontmind

thefabstory (also an app)

getreformative (currently inactive, but great resources posted there)

talkspace

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE APARTMENT IS too quiet tonight. A space that once felt like a sanctuary, now seems to close in on her, the walls pressing closer with each passing hour.

To anyone looking in, her life might appear perfectly ordinary, even enviable. She has a stable job that she loves, a couple of friends who care in their own way, and Lando. Lando, with his boundless energy, his boyish grin, and his unwavering ability to see the good in her even when she struggles to find it in herself. But beneath that polished surface, there’s a darkness she’s been hiding for as long as she can remember.

She’s not really sure when it happened, or what caused her to lose her spark. Most of the times, she thinks that she’s always been like this, but that can’t be right. Although, at this point in time, it went on long enough that she learned to wear masks and mimic people’s gestures. It’s exhausting, but it’s easier than explaining why some days she can barely drag herself out of bed, or why her mind feels like a storm she can’t escape.

Lately, the same storm has been relentless. Lando’s been away for weeks, hopping from one race to another, his life a whirlwind of fast cars, tons of people, and flashing cameras. She’s proud of him, of course, but his absence leaves a void she can’t seem to fill on her own, no matter how many phone calls they share.

She knows it’s not his responsibility to fix her, but without even knowing it, Lando does it every time he looks at her. In those moments, pieces of her heart are welded back together, giving her hope that one day, maybe, it will be whole again.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

She’s always been a loner, someone who enjoys her own company more than the chaos of others. This is why she doesn’t go with Lando to all of his races. Over time, they’ve developed their own rhythm, and it only works when they both put in the effort to be together. However, she knows that he often works for both of them. She also knows that it’s not right to let him do this, but she doesn’t know how to stop.

But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and lately, the loneliness feels like it’s swallowing her whole. She tries to keep busy, to distract herself with work or a new book, but the dark thoughts always find her; a cycle she can’t break. They usually creep in at night when she’s most vulnerable, whispering lies she can’t ignore.

You’re a burden.

He’d be better off without you.

Everyone would be better off without you.

In spite of everything, she knows she’s lucky, though. She has a roof over her head, food on the table, and someone who loves her. And, somehow, knowing that only makes her feel worse. Most of the times, the guilt is suffocating — a heavy weight that presses down on her chest until she can’t breathe. She’s tried to push the thoughts away, to drown them in work or meaningless distractions. She tried to be grateful. But tonight, like many other nights before, they’ve won.

When Lando steps into the apartment, the soft click of the door is echoing in the stillness. It’s late — later than he’d hoped — and he assumes she’s already asleep, because he texted her hours ago to let her know he was on his way, but there had been no reply.

Dropping his bag quietly by the door, he toes off his sneakers and glances toward the dimly lit living room. The faint glow of the city skyline filters through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the floor. He moves carefully, not wanting to wake her, with a simple plan in mind: slip into bed, wrap his arms around his girlfriend, and fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

But something feels off.

On his way to the bedroom, he spots the balcony door slightly ajar. A cool breeze sneaks through the crack, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid. He pauses, his brow furrowing as he approaches the glass door.

That’s when he sees her.

She’s out on the balcony, her back to him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. Then his gaze shifts, taking in the scene: some things are knocked over on the small table by the door, a small flacon of pills alongside a half-empty bottle of wine, and all the mess. The realization hits him like a physical blow, and his heart starts pounding in his chest.

But then, panic grips him as he slides the door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The sound startles her, and she turns her head slightly, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s an eerie calmness about her that chills him to the core.

“Hey, is everything okay?” asks Lando, his voice soft as he crouches beside her, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What… baby, what are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, her gaze drifting back to the city below. The silence stretches, each second feeling heavier than the previous one.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his voice slightly cracking. His eyes dart back to the table, to the pill bottle and the wine, and he feels a surge of anger mixed with fear. “Is this—fuck. Did you take these?”

She shakes her head, a small smile curving in the corner of her mouth. “I’m so tired, love,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking over the hum of the city.

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’s suddenly aware of how fragile she looks, and how close she is to the edge. His hands shake as he reaches for her, gently gripping her arm. His heart beats so hard that he feels it throughout his body — his ribcage, in his throat, in the hand he tightens around her, to make sure he’s holding her with enough force.

“Okay. That’s okay,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “Let’s go inside, yeah? I’m tired too, we can rest together. What do you say?”

“No… no, it’s not—” she tries to speak, but her brain is clouded by a mental fog, and everything around her moves too quickly for her to catch up.

“Come on, can you step back? Please. For me?”

His last question is what jolts her back to reality. For him? She would do anything for him. Lando knows that, and she soon realizes that he is using it to emotionally blackmail her. He always does that, and it annoys her.

She raises her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Lando thinks she’ll comply. But then, she pushes his hand away, a trace of betrayal crossing his face.

“No. It’s pretty out here,” she says, gazing down at the world that simply exists under her feet. The distance makes her stomach clench, knowing that all it takes it’s a small misstep for everything to end. Still, she doesn’t move an inch.

“I see that, love,” he agrees, “But I want to talk to you, and I can’t do that unless I make sure you’re safe. Did you… do this before?”

She nods slowly, refusing to look at him.

At that, Lando exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm in his chest. He knows her enough to know when to push and when to give her space, only this time around, he’s met with a weird combination of both. Luckily, his body decides what to do before his mind agrees to it and, cautiously, he climbs up to join her on the edge, his hands gripping the cold railing as his pulse pounds in his ears.

Her head snaps toward him, her expression instantly shifting, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, his voice tender, laced with fear he’s desperately trying to hide. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words come. Instead, her gaze softens, the wine-induced haze in her eyes clearing. Slowly, she lets out a shaky breath and sits down on the narrow ledge, her hands gripping the edge. Lando follows her lead, sitting close but careful not to crowd her, his knee brushing hers. He hesitates for a moment before gently reaching for her hand, and he exhales relieved when her fingers close around his, grounding both of them.

They sit in silence for a moment, the distant city lights flickering around them.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, breaking the quiet. “I never… If something happens, I don’t want to have to miss you all the time—”

“Lando, I know,” she cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continues, staring at their joined hands. Her voice is small, guilt creeping into her tone.

He nods, looking at her, “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lando says gently. “I know I’m away a lot, but if you need me, I’ll do anything.”

Her grip on his hand tightens slightly just as she turns to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, tears pooling but not yet falling. “It’s not your fault, Lan. It’s me. I… don’t even know. There’s nothing wrong, but at the same time, nothing’s quite right, either.”

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Don’t apologize for feeling. It just makes me think now, because I thought you trusted me,” says Lando, his words cutting through her like a knife through butter. “I trust you,” he adds, almost like pointing it out.

She knows he does, her mind instantly replaying the moments in her mind, the times he’d come to her with his struggles. When a race didn’t go his way, and he doubted everything he’d worked so hard for. When social media was brutal, tearing him apart with words that left invisible scars. When he felt hated and couldn’t understand why. He always talked to her, shared his pain, his fears, his insecurities. He let her in, trusted her completely. And now, here she was, shutting him out when he was only trying to do the same for her.

“Don’t say that…” she starts, but her voice catches, and her breath hitches. “I’m trying.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Lando says gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Can we, please, just go inside?”

The tears she’s been holding back for too long finally slip free, carving hot, silent paths down her cheeks. She looks up at him, her lips trembling as she whispers, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His expression softens, and without hesitation, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, mostly to show her that she didn’t. The gesture is so simple yet so full of love that it sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.

Lando doesn’t let go of her hand as he gently helps her to her feet, guiding her back inside the apartment. The night air clings to their skin, but it’s the quiet inside that feels even heavier. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her close, his touch steady and grounding as they make their way to the bathroom.

A little uncomfortable now, she leans against the doorframe, watching as Lando moves around, carefully. He runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand, adding just the right amount of bath salts from the container on the shelf. The pale lavender-scented steam begins to fill the space, creating a safe bubble for both of them.

When Lando finally looks back at her, his expression is warm and inviting, somehow hopeful. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away the tear stains that remain.

“You’re everything to me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over her skin before his hands move to the hem of her hoodie.

She doesn’t protest as he carefully lifts it over her head, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, she stands there, feeling vulnerable under his gaze, but there’s nothing but love in his expression.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to return the gesture, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. His eyes stay locked on hers, silently reassuring her, grounding her in the best way possible. By the time she pushes the fabric off his shoulders, the weight in her chest feels a little lighter.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them like a soothing embrace. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms come around her instinctively. There’s no rush, no need for words. It’s just them, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the soft glow of the candles Lando had lit earlier.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Promise you’ll talk to me next time?” he asks, his voice small but steady. “I know things won’t change overnight, I don’t expect them to. But I need to know you understand that I’m here for you. That I love you enough to listen, and feel everything with you.”

The words settle in her chest, heavy but necessary, like the first raindrops of a storm. For the first time in what feels like forever, she sees beyond the swirling chaos in her mind. The weight of his love and understanding wraps around her like the warmth of the water they’re sitting in. And then it hits her.

How life itself is the changing of seasons, a constant push and pull — a constant chaos. Sometimes, the sun will break through, lighting everything in gold. Other times, it will rain so hard she won’t see the way ahead. But Lando’s right. It will get better again. Then worse. And then better again. That’s the way it is for everyone. A relentless tide of ups and downs, joy and pain, hope and disappointments.

As she leans back into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, she realizes the most important thing: it isn’t always black or white. Sometimes, it’s a hazy gray — a space where the lines blur, where the answers aren’t clear, and the path you find yourself on feels impossibly difficult to navigate. But it’s in that in-between, in the murky middle, that having the right person beside you matters the most. Not to pull you into the light or demand you leave the shadows, but to sit with you in the dark, holding your hand, letting you know you’re not alone.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but not from sadness this time. “I promise,” she finds the strength to whisper. Her breath catches, and she turns her head slightly to meet his gaze, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I—”

“You deserve everything, my love,” Lando assures her, his lips brushing her temple, before placing a tiny kiss there. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

His definitive tone sends shivers down her spine.

She closes her eyes, feeling the water ripple softly around them, and holds on tighter, knowing that no matter what storms may come, the most important thing is that they won’t lose each other’s touch.

And that’s everything to her.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[doublebellyman]

It’s October 1st so fat thoughts naturally turn to the overconsumption of Halloween candy at month’s end. Here’s a little short story to get you prepared …

Halloween Ritual

“What is this, our tenth year?”

It took me a few seconds to answer my wife as my mouth was stuffed full of bite-sized Mr. Goodbars. “Yeah, ten years sounds about right honey.”

���Hmm,” she leered, “looks like someone has just about polished off an entire bag of Halloween candy” and gave my big belly a playful slap, sending it wobbling and rippling like crazy. “You’re just insatiable aren’t you Fat Boy, but don’t worry, I’ve got a bag of bite-size Snickers you can start on until our guests arrive.”

Just then our doorbell rung and she ran to the door to greet another batch of young trick or treaters … “don’t be give’n ’em all the good stuff I like,” I mumbled, mouth again full of chocolate and peanut goodness. “Don’t worry Chubs, I bought plenty extra for my blubbery hubby!”

I loved it when she said stuff like that! We met back in college when I was but a slightly chubby 160 pound sophomore and she a little 98 pound sprite of a junior who’d already established her reputation campus-wide as a chubby chaser. I was 195 pounds by the time she graduated and we planned to wed after my graduation the next year, provided I met her condition of eating myself to 225 pounds by then (though 250 would’ve been more her preference).

By the Fall of my senior year I’d only reached 202 pounds and that’s when our annual Halloween ritual began. She’d moved into an off-campus apartment and invited three other couples who were college friends to come over at 10 with any leftover Halloween candy they might have on hand, with the plan being to see how many calories her fat fiancé could consume!

Our friends loved the idea as they’d teased me incessantly over the years about how f**king fat I’d become and anytime we got together nagged me to “eat more for Mabel (my fiancé and now wife of nine years).”

That first Halloween set the standard for the annual ritual to follow with Mabel ordering me to wear a too tight shirt from my 160 pound days with lots of belly peaking out and ordering everyone not to clean up the candy wrappers that surrounded me on the couch, “so Two-Ton Timmy” (me) can see what a gluttonous pig he is!”

Anyone who dared take more than a couple of pieces of candy for themselves got an icy stare from Mabel and a stinging rebuke, “leave those for Tubby — he needs to pork up 225 before our honeymoon!” Our male friends would guffaw with laughter while our female friends politely stifled giggles over Mabel’s inflated plans for me, but the girls’ politeness abated when my appetite began to flag after about an hour of endless candy consumption.

As she saw my enthusiasm wane, Mabel snapped her fingers and one girl kneeled before me and the other two sat on either side of me, proffering candy to my lips and goading me to consume even more. “You can do it Fatty!” “Make Mabel proud of her Big Boy!” “This big belly can handle so much more!” “Keep going Tubby!” They were merciless, but I had fun and it was a definite turn on having three feeders and a wife who admitted later that she creamed her panties watching her friends stuff me so full.

By the end of my ordeal all three of them were grabbing handfuls of my belly fat and applying vigorous belly rubs and slaps as Mabel continued to look on approvingly and their boyfriends appeared to be getting hard-ons as their girlfriends said how much fun it was to play with all my extra belly fat!

So now, here we are ten years later and Mabel’s once merely chubby boyfriend is now a 440-pound behemoth of a husband. And the couples who joined us for our inaugural “Halloween Stuffing of the Pig” are now all happily married themselves and Mabel, as petite as ever, has become an inspiration and mentor to the wives, who over the years have learned her secrets for fattening up a man to obscene proportions!

Of course, I’m still the fattest of ‘em all, mainly because I had a head start … or at least I think I’m still in the lead. “Massive Mikey,” the last I saw him at a Labor Day cookout, seemed to be catching up fast, proudly telling me he’d just crested 380 pounds and that he (or rather his wife) had me in their sights!

We’ll find out soon enough, of course, as Mabel has my 750-pound capacity bariatric scale all set up in the living room ready to weigh the four “Hefty Hubbies” as the wives collectively now collectively refer to us.

Suddenly there’s an urgent ringing of our doorbell, meaning it’s 10 pm and time to commence our annual ritual of gluttony. Totally bare bellied, taking up almost all of a brand new extra-sturdy loveseat (replacing one I’d recently reduced to splinters), and surrounded by almost two full bags worth of candy wrappers, it’s just too damn much effort to heave myself to my feet, so Mabel hustles to the door to welcome our old friends!

She lets out a shriek and exclaims “you boys are f**king blimps!” And I see for myself as Massive Mikey, Bob the Blob, and Jumbo Jimmy waddle through what suddenly seems a very narrow opening, Mabel admiringly pats each on their massive protuberances and exclaims to the delight of their wives, “you boys may finally have caught up to the old Lard Lad here!”

Mikey, lips smeared with chocolate, admits “yeah Mabes, all of us made a pact after the Labor Day cookout, where Two Ton Timmy here smoked all of us, to out-eat him between then and Halloween!”

“Take your shirt off Mikey and show ‘em,” his wife Donna says with pride, “he’s packed on almost forty pounds in less than two months!” Mabel arched her eyebrows at the news, then pointed to Bob, who declares “32 pounds”, and then Jim who says “got all you fatties beat … 44 pounds!”

“OK you Hungry Hippos, you know the drill,” Mabel orders like a Marine drill sergeant, “line up at the scale and let’s see if you can beat my Timmy here — just look at that magnificent mountain of lard, fill in’ up our new loveseat, and already two bags of candy in — he’s gonna be hard for even you Tubsters to beat!”

Deciding to accept the challenge belly on, I rise from the loveseat, candy wrappers scattering before me, and the other wives gasp as they see how far down my belly apron reaches toward my knee caps, with maybe only an inch or two of clearance. “Don’t anyone declare victory just yet — Mabel is still the Feedress Queen!”

Beaming with wifely pride, she kisses me and wobbles my apron, just to show off her culinary handiwork to our friends. “Oh, thank you baby — I’m so proud of my piggie, the undisputed Feedee King — I love it that you just can’t stop eating!”

“You know I do it for you Honey.”

THE END UNTIL NEXT HALLOWEEN

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of self-hate.

This is the third fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

______________________________

What does one wear to church? I wouldn’t know since I never really went as a kid and as an adult well, once you know who God really is, it can be hard to get past that. 

I decided on a long oversized maroon sweater, black leggings, and boots. I never really was a heels girl. Sure, I could handle a wedge or boots with a chunky heel, but I definitely wasn’t the type to wear six inch heels. I decided to leave my hair in its natural state, but I did twist my bangs together and pinned them back. I can’t braid, no matter how many times I have tried to learn. So twisting two pieces together is my go to, especially to get hair out of my face. I applied my regular makeup routine. I do it for me, not to impress people. I may be overweight and unappealing in other aspects but my makeup is something I am proud of. Years of practice have helped make it easy, and quick.

I walked out of the bathroom ready to go. “Alright boys, let’s do this.”

__________________

When we arrived at the church not a ton people were there. There was a small group gathered. A few women, they seemed to be in their late 20’s and a couple of men who seemed to be around the same age.

“Ok Y/N you ready? Remember, Dean and I will be here if you need us. We are going to try to scope the place out a bit” Sam looked at me. I am glad he was confident in my people skills, cause right now I am not. I do fine talking with people I know and even strangers. But the pressure of trying to force a conversation can be a struggle sometimes. And since Dean didn’t seem too confident in my skills earlier, I have been dreading this. How is it that the man who is supposedly my best friend, doesn’t believe I am capable of doing something I have done a hundred times before. 

“I guess.” I started heading towards the group of people.

__________________

We just arrived back at the motel. Sam sat down next to me “Well we found nothing, we checked all over the place. Nothing suspicious, no sulfur or EMF.” 

“Yeah and all the single chicks were a bust too.” Dean smiled.

Of course he would be worried about chasing tail.

I sighed. “Ok, I talked to a group of people at the church. They mentioned a guy Sarah worked with, his name was Ryan not sure on last name (Sarah was the most recent victim). They also mentioned Sarah had a crush on a dude at the church, Marshall. And last one, she had talked to Rick quite a bit at the church. One of the ladies said Rick has just been in town the last 2 weeks. Something seems off with Rick, but I’m not really sure what.” I looked over the case files again. I always like to make sure I am not missing anything.

“Well since we are at a stand still, I say it’s time to hit the bar. We need a break from researching and thinking.” Dean stood up.

“Maybe you're right, we can take a break and come back to it later.” Sam looked at me. “What do you say Y/N?”

“I think I’m going to stay here, try to figure out what is happening. Something is wrong in this whole equation.” I kept reading the files. I am also not in the mood to see Dean flirt tonight. But I will keep that thought to myself.

“Well party pooper, call if you need us.” Dean patted my shoulder. 

Maybe a break from the boys will do me some good.

I had just changed into a t-shirt and took my makeup off when there was a knock at the door. I figured one of the boys was back and forgot their key.

“I swear you guys can’t survive without me.” I headed for the door.

I cracked the door open. Rick. What the hell is he doing here?

“Hi Y/N, I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I just wanted to check on you and see if you maybe needed anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous tick maybe.

“Um, I appreciate that. How did you know I was here?” This is weird for sure.

“Oh my aunt owns this motel, so I checked with her and she said you were here. She also mentioned you had two guys with you. Are you going to let me in?” He smiled at me.

“Uh, I guess.” I grabbed my knife and stuck it in the back of my leggings. A girl can never be too safe.

“So who are the guys here with you, brothers?” Rick made his way into the room.

“No, just friends. They came to be supportive. Can I get you a beer or water?” I had told the group of people at the church I was a cousin of Sarah’s, since she had no family in town it was an easy lie.

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” I handed him the drink. “So where are your friends?”

“Out, they should be back shortly.” I was getting nervous. Something was not right here. 

“Oh I doubt that Y/N. You know Dean always enjoys working on his night moves.” Rick's eyes flashed black. Next thing I know everything went black.

Oh I am so screwed.

_______________

“Wakey, wakey sunshine. God, I can’t believe how stupid you are for a hunter. Who the hell lets someone they barely know into their hotel room?" Rick poked at me.

We were in an abandoned warehouse. I was cuffed to a chair. This wasn’t exactly how I planned on my night going.

“Well, what can I say? I’m prone to making stupid decisions. So why don’t we just cut the foreplay. What do you want? ” I smiled.

Whack. Damn. I almost had forgotten what it was like to get the shit knocked out of me.

“You know, all of the women I took. There was nothing exciting about them. I mean they wonder why they are single. Maybe it’s because they are so damn boring. But you, I mean besides being overweight and homely, there's a certain spark to you. And once I found out you were a hunter, well you had to be my next victim.” He smoothed my hair out.

“So are you doing this for shits and giggles or is there a bigger agenda you are playing into?” He made his way over to a table and brought back a knife. Great.

“Oh sweet Y/N, of course I am doing this for me. You see, I have played by all the rules and followed the main man's plan. But it’s time for me to shine and this is just the beginning. So whatcha say, are you ready to have some fun?” Rick started to slice into my arm.

Lucky for me, I have a high pain tolerance.

“You see, you were an easy target. Your self esteem is so low. Plus can’t forget your little crush on the elder Winchester. What makes you think he would ever look at you twice?” Rick now started slicing my thighs. “I mean you have a pretty face for sure, but you know Dean prefers his women slim. You will never be that type of girl ya know?”

“Screw you. You don’t know the first thing about me. I mean you do realize anything you say to me, I have either heard or said it to myself a thousand times before? Way to be creative.” I laughed. I have always been stubborn. I’m sure as hell not going to stop now.

“You know, you are really starting to get on my nerves. How about I find a way to shut that pretty mouth up. I doubt the Winchesters would even miss your annoying ass.” Rick punched me in the face.

I spit blood out of my mouth. I hope he gets this over with soon.

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@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

[drewsbuzzcut]

blurb of like Dallas doing a day in the life of a married 20 year old still in college

“Good morning,” Dallas yawns, holding her phone up at an angle to catch her untamed, morning hair. Rolling over, she captures Nick who is nestled into her side. His face moves to the crook of her neck and his limbs are thrown over her body.

“He’s such a sleepy baby,” she giggles, carding her fingers through his hair. She abruptly stops when he stirs.

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, face moving and burrowing into her chest.

“TikTok,” at Dallas’ words, Nick looks up at the camera to see her recording. He eventually decides he doesn’t care and falls right back to sleep

“Today is a busy day, so unfortunately I have to get up!”

Dallas forces herself out of bed and her husband’s arms. She gets so fluttery on the inside when she remembers that they’re officially married.

She sets up her phone on the bathroom counter while she brushes her teeth and does her skincare.

“So today we have no classes, thank god! I literally cannot fathom having to go to an 8 am. Pro tip: don’t sign up for morning classes because they’ll kick your ass,” she informs while rubbing her moisturizer into her face.

“Anyways back to the agenda, I have to go to a ton of fabric stores, because I just know I won’t find all of what I’m looking for at a singular location. I have an appointment to get my last name changed to Moldenhauer, and then I have to go to the store and buy different necessities. Oh, I also have a pilates class and a test to take, so today should be busy to say the least,” Dallas lists off the different things on her agenda.

She quickly goes into her makeup routine, showing off her favorite products that she uses everyday.

“Wait!” Nick blurts out, scurrying into the restroom with only his underwear on. She’ll have to blur it out later. He hugs her from behind, his arms wrapping around her neck and requests a kiss before she puts on lip gloss.

“I’m going with you, so just let me get ready. I’ll be like 10 minutes,” he says against her lips, a hand coming up to caress her cheek.

Dallas nods her head and kisses him again.

“I love you, husband.” Her cheeks grow red and her eyes turn into hearts.

“I love you, wife.” She wants to jump around and scream; she loves him so much.

-

“We’re here at one of my favorite thrift stores. I usually buy left over fabrics or pieces of clothing that I can incorporate into a different piece. Right now I have over half of my list, which is actually so relieving,” Dallas talks fast while giving an overview of the different things in her basket.

She continues to walk around until she finds Nick looking through a pile of old umich merch.

“Baby, look at this jacket. You’d look so hot in it, especially if you’re wearing your leather pants and those little kitten heels,” Nick announces the outfit he’s picturing in his head.

He holds up the vintage looking, windbreaker with a smirky smile. He drops his eye in a wink and the girl has to stop recording, so she can kiss her husband.

“You’re so hot,” she mutters into his mouth. Her fingers card through his hair, and she has a hard time not pulling him into the restroom at the back of the store.

“Back to our regularly scheduled program, Nick is almost a better thrifter than I am. He, not only found two of the fabrics I was looking for, but some statement pieces for some game day fits. He learned from the best,” she whispers into the mic of her phone as she records Nick showing off what he found. He’s so proud of himself and it’s the cutest thing ever.

“I think I deserve a kiss for all my hard work,” Nick hums and pulls his wife into his chest.

They share a sweet kiss that’s interrupted by their giggling and wide smiles. They do a little kiss for the camera and Dallas knows she’s so insanely lucky to have him by her side.

-

Dallas pulls Nick away from the camera, getting him to spin her around. She burns red with the way his eyes focus on her and the way she twirls around. She truly feels like the only girl in the world when she’s with Nick.

Dallas strikes a pose and Nick falls in line without even being told. They show off their outfits and do a little dance together.

“I think everyone should leave a compliment, telling her how beautiful and sexy and hot she is. But she’s mine!” Nick jokes. Well, Dallas thinks it’s a joke, but knowing him, he’d probably get jealous of the comments.

“No one leave comments about my husband, because he’s mine and no one else can look at him,” Dallas counters Nick’s words, giving her man a glimpse of her very well hidden jealousy. Even if it’s a joke, she wants him to know that she can also match his possessiveness. Not that he minds.

Nick flashes a smirk at the camera and cops a squeeze of her ass, making her gasp and turn her backside away from the camera.

“You all did not see that,” she says through a laugh.

Her hockey player doesn’t care, though, so he slaps her ass and kisses on her neck until she’s squirming.

-

“I’m so excited! I have been looking forward to this all day. We’re here at our local courthouse to file paperwork to change my last name. It’s the reason why I’m wearing slacks and a button up; i have to look professional. Since I’m only 20, I’ve received a lot of hate for being married already.”

“It’s bull. She should not be getting any hate for being in love. People who have something bad to say are just jealous,” Nick chimes in, putting an appreciative smile on his wife’s face.

She finds herself smiling a lot since meeting him and since marrying him.

The camera pans to the doors of the courthouse and their intertwined hands. Her pearl ring and floral engraved band shine in the sun.

“Hi, June Blankenburg. I’m here to file the required paperwork to change my last name.”

Now Nick’s holding the camera, flipping it back and forth between Dallas and his excited reaction.

“I can’t believe the love of my life is changing her last name to mine. I can’t believe I get to be married to her for the rest of my life,” he whispers, camera pointed at his wife as she hands over her paperwork.

“Soon I’ll officially be June Dallas Moldenhauer on every legal document! I’m so excited,” Dallas cheers, holding up her ring finger as she skips over to Nick.

They share one last kiss before she stops recording for the moment.

-

“Hi, beautiful people in my phone. You might be noticing that it’s later in the day as the sky is dark. I just got out of my pilates class, hence the sweat. I couldn’t vlog because I had to hurry and eat before my test, and then my test ran longer than expected so I had to rush to my workout class. I’m on my way to the sophomore house for dinner. It’s actually one of our last dinners before the school year ends, so that’s kind of sad,” Dallas rants breathlessly, phone capturing her sweaty face and messy updo.

“D!” Multiple hockey boys cheer in unison upon seeing her walk up the driveway.

Baby duke is on the grill and the others are just hanging around.

“Hello, Mrs. Moldenhauer,” Nick grins, pulling her into a hug.

The boy holds onto her camera, so it can film them kissing once again.

“Get a room!” Rutger yells, but comes up to the couple to bring them into a group hug.

“Everyone say hi to Rutger, he’s our son,” Dallas jokes which earns her a playful eye roll from the boy.

Dallas moves away from him, dragging Nick with her inside the house. She takes a look around the surprisingly clean area and the boys who are lounging around.

“Wow! It’s so sparkly in here,” she teases, getting sarcastic laughs in response.

“We knew Mrs. Moldenhauer was coming over and that she’d have our heads if it wasn’t clean,” Luca muses.

“Awww. You all love me,” she gives Luca a tight hug.

“Say hi to the vlog,” she turns the camera to his face.

“Help me, she’s holding me hostage,” Luca screams, making her push him away with a full belly laugh.

She moves with Nick to any empty spot on the couch. She easily falls into his lap with his chin resting on her shoulder.

“It’s time to say bye. I hope you all enjoyed seeing what a day in my life looks like. It’s definitely chaotic, but it’s also comforting. I need to eat and spend time with my family. Bye, have a good night!” Dallas says and blows air kisses to those watching her behind their screens.

a/n: This is a little longer than a blurb, but enjoy!!!

[varlaisvea]

2024 Art Retrospective Thing!

I’m only going to talk about one thing.

I’m a writer, but in 2024, many decades into my life, I got to feel what it’s like when your art tools can adjust to compensate for your disabilities.

In September, I finished the best piece of visual art I’ve ever made (warning: spicy). It didn’t get a ton of notes—maybe it’s not awesome to others, but I still can’t believe *I* made it. I’m still in love with it and so proud of it.

The thing is, I write all the time. Writing is the currency of my brain; I’d be doing it whether I had anything to say or not. Writing comes naturally to me. Drawing does not! I’ve always liked drawing, especially figures and faces, but I was never great at it— I have had chronically shaky/numb/painful hands my whole life, so visual art was always frustrating to me.

THEN i discovered the tools Procreate has to stabilize and correct for shaky hands! Suddenly lines went where I meant for them to go and curves and angles took on the form I intended as I drew them. I thought it was my lack of talent that meant I couldn’t draw lines the way I wanted, but the art that emerged once those I turned those settings on was miraculous to me. I discovered I actually COULD control visual art the way I always thought I couldn’t.

I only kinda used a reference for the pose. Otherwise the whole thing came out of my brain. I still can’t believe it.

I’m making you look at it again. Please go look at the whole thing, but here’s a cropped closeup:

(I made a post about the symbolism behind all the jewelry in this crop, too. It’s also a pretty good summary of the story so far.)

But!!! I need to talk about what Procreate allowed me to do here.

Tumblr thinks the pr0n screenshot i used as a reference is explicit (it's not), and I'm pissed bc i wanted to show you how little of it made it into the final. At any rate, I started with a reference image of two people in a similar pose to this, and all that remains of it is the bottom character's shoulder and the top character's leg. Everything else--the folds and drape of the fabric, the light of the fire, the substantial changes to the pose—was math I did in my brain. I quite literally rotated my blorbos in my mind and then drew it. I had absolutely no idea I could do that.

I mean, maybe it looks like something that would be easy for an amateur to make, idk! But to me? It’s amazing! This was a stupidly difficult pose I chose for myself, and I did it. It has a lot of strange shit in it and you can still tell what’s happening!!! The weird twist of her head and braid, the strange way his arm is angled, the way fabric covers every joint on the body you would otherwise use to orient yourself to what you’re seeing… I did all of that math in my mind, and I still pulled it off.

It took me 250 hours in Procreate. I later discovered character posing tools online that might have made this a whole lot easier, and I’ve started using those for subsequent art.

Idk why people didn’t really like this. Maybe it’s bc ESO is not super popular on tumblr, maybe it’s bc of the ostensibly heterosexual/cisgender pairing (both false!!!! btw!), maybe it’s bc of the conventionally attractive bodies? idk! but honestly, I still love it. this is my achievement of 2024 no matter how many notes it has, bc it represents an immense gift I received in 2024: I learned that after all these years, I actually did kinda know how to draw. :) Thank you Procreate!

[authenticcadence18]

recently got an ask concerning art, instead of answering directly I wanted to talk a bit about my own journey as an artist!!!

I’ve been drawing on and off for more or less my whole life. But my artistic journey REALLY kicked off when I was 11 and caught the end of Across the Second Dimension on TV. Within like, four days of this happening, I drew Isabella over 20 times🤣. For the first time there was something I wanted to draw over and over again, I was so inspired! And Isabella is still one of my favorite characters to this day, when I want to draw she’s one of my go-tos.

From there on, I started drawing a lot more. Lots of PnF stuff of course but other things as well. Star vs the forces of evil was also a huge art inspiration for me, my style is likely a blend of those two shows.

I fell out of drawing for a bit, just bc life got busy. But!! in 2020, thanks to a certain world-stopping pandemic, I got back into phineas and ferb and started drawing again, partially as a way to cope and channel anxiety. My growth as an artist just from 2020-2021 is pretty astounding to me!!! And I grew like that primarily by drawing Phineas and Isabella over and over…and over🤣🤣. You CAN draw a ton of stuff to grow but you don’t have to to enjoy art as a hobby. Art isn’t my job, so I only need to learn as much as I need to create the pieces I want. And having that desire to draw certain characters or stories is a great inspiration to grow and expand as an artist!!

Another great catalyst for my growth as an artist was drawing thumbnails for MWCA videos in 2021-2022 (I honestly can’t remember if I drew anything for 2023, I don’t think I did tho). For the first time I didn’t have to come up with an entire idea from scratch, someone was giving me a baseline of what they wanted and I built off of that and responded to feedback. I ended up drawing things and pushing myself creatively in ways I likely never would have otherwise!!!! Like, backgrounds, I rarely draw them for myself but when it’s for a YouTube collab well I had to!! I’m really proud of all my Mwca work, heres just a few examples:

I’m 24 now, I don’t have as much time/energy to draw these days, but when I do I’m able to use those skills I gained from drawing characters I’m passionate about and collaborating with others. My advice to any aspiring artists seeing this post would be to follow your inspiration!!!! Draw the things you love. Draw them over and over. You WILL grow as an artist. You can take inspiration from artists you admire (just don’t trace their work and post it, haha!). I know I’ve done that!! It might take time. It took me, no joke, FOUR YEARS to be able to draw phineas’s head freehand in a way I liked. I just had to keep practicing and practicing till I got where I wanted to be.

I also think working with friends is a great way to grow as an artist! You of course need to be careful with who you interact with, esp if you aren’t an adult, I would not have interacted with the MWCA crew at all if I wasn’t an adult, in fact I didn’t make my tumblr and start finding online friends till I was 19😅😅. Just be mindful if you’re younger, be safe, maybe work with friends from school if you can! I used to do that when I was a teen.

[focusontheheart]

Meet the Team - MaggieRose

You can also find @maggierosestudio on: Twitter @ MaggieRoseStudio

Hi friends! I’m Maggie, a Freelance Illustrator based out of NYC. Horizon has been a huge part of my life since its release. I’ve made a ton of fanart from the series and even toured Guerilla Games. But the best part of being in the HZD fandom is the people! Forging friendships with fellow fans all across the globe is something I will always treasure and have Horizon to thank.

See the Q&A with Maggie below the cut!

Q: What is a favorite piece of work you've done (completed, working on, in concept)?

My favorite HZD themed piece I’ve made would be the painting of Aloy and the Tallneck. I’ve used it as my header image for years, not only because I want to show my love of the game, but because I am still proud of how that piece came out. I was still new to digital art, I spent hours, days, weeks on that piece and learned so much. It will always mean a lot to me for many reasons.

Q: What are some of your favorite tropes to write, draw, or read?

Favorite tropes to throw characters I love into would be Wild West and Summer Camp AUS, anything outdoorsy. Those settings offer so much in terms of bonding, laborious situations, danger, excitement, and romance, I just love stories in those genres.

Q: What is an unexpected thing or fun fact about you?

I can do bird calls!

Q: What has been your favorite thing about working on this project so far?

Connecting with so many dedicated, helpful, friendly people all working together on the same project. No attitudes, No judgment, ALL LOVE! It’s been incredible!

[freakscircus]

i’m home!! i truly cannot believe i survived a month long research trip in havana. it was definitely a lot less scary than i thought it would be - most of the things i was anxious about didn’t end up happening and my spanish ended up being fine!

i stayed in vedado, which is a more residential neighborhood in havana away from old havana, which is what people picture when they think of the city (crumbling buildings, old cars, etc... vedado still has this but less so) and i am glad i did. but because of the gas crisis, i walked absolutely everywhere. i ended up walking two hours a day every day to get to the archives and back, but i’m glad i did this because it was good exercise and a great way to see the city. i especially loved havana central.

speaking spanish every day was very challenging... if there was a problem it had to be solved in spanish or it wouldn’t be solved at all. i only met one person who spoke english and i loved spending time with her because it would give my brain a break. i built a lot of professional and personal relationships in spanish though, which was unthinkable to me just a few months ago. my language skills are probably what i am the most proud of.

there was definitely quite a bit of culture shock at first... cuba is unlike anywhere in the world. because of the conditions laid out by the revolution but also because of the embargo. it felt like a bit of a wake up call around how naturalized western life feels to me. there aren’t any grocery stores and a lot of things are hard to find.... i searched everywhere for tampons for example (luckily i packed enough!!!) and i just could not find any. i know there are ways to get certain things, but if you are not a cuban it is tough to figure out.

research went well too! i mainly did research and once and a while would do some fun things on weekends like the cuban ballet or the art gallery. figuring out the archives was difficult - absolutely everything is analog. but once i got the hang of the system i spent most days reading documents and figuring out how to piece them into my dissertation. now that i’m back it is time to buckle down and write!! i am really proud of myself for making it through cuba and having a lovely and productive time, but it means that its time to transition into the end steps of this program which is a little intimidating.

and for anyone who is looking for advice on staying in cuba or getting to cuba as an american let me know!! i did a lot of research and learned a lot through the process... by the second week i really got used to the idiosyncrasies of cuban life, but without a ton of prep i would have felt very very lost 

[tortoisebore]

For your "Unusual Fic-Specific Asks for Authors" prompt: for want of a nail, what would the fic look like now if Remus had chosen to wait outside Sirius's practice rink and /not/ gone in to watch him skate?

Would it have affected anything? When I read that scene I first thought Sirius would spot him while skating & stumble/trip/fall/get injured, or else get mad at him for encroaching on his private space, but thankfully it went differently. Just curious what you'd think! xx

unusual and specific asks game!!!

oooooooo this is fun to think about

i’m partial to that scene bc it’s the one that made me want to write this fic in the first place. likeafunerall’s art is the thing that sparked the idea, and then my brain came up with that scene at the rink, and it was all a spiral from there. i had that particular scene banging around in my head for about a month before i started writing the first chapter and it didn’t change much at all between when i first thought of it and when it actually happened in the fourth chapter. it was vivid in my head from day one, i knew it would be from remus’ pov, i knew what he thought and what he wanted to say, and i had it written down to the absolute smallest detail by the time chapter one was posted

that being said, i don’t think it would have changed a ton! really that scene was just an opportunity for remus to see sirius in both his strongest and most vulnerable states. he’s an incredible performer but he’s a perfectionist, and anyone besides his coach seeing an in-progress version of his work is…..,difficult. he feels like his performance has to be perfect to be worth of being seen, especially by the people he loves. remus not only being absolutely gobsmacked at how good that in-progress version of sirius is, but also realizing that some part of his heart is falling for sirius while watching him be imperfect is very much a nod at the struggles they’re going to work through internally throughout the rest of the fic.

sirius puts on a front with people he loves and only wants them to see the parts of himself he’s proud of (that he’s perfected), not the messy, tangled stuff he keeps beneath the surface. his arc in this fic is really just him trying so hard to learn that people can love him while he’s still in progress, and they’ll love his broken, imperfect pieces just as much as they’ll love the pieces that are in tact and complete

sirius could have been upset that remus saw the performance before it was ready, but the honest, real praise and admiration remus showed him after seeing it kind of threw him for a loop and kept him from getting immediately angry. he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything but flustered when the person he’d been obsessing over for weeks was staring at him in awe and telling him ‘you were perfect.’

on that note, this scene was also just an opportunity to throw sirius off balance, because in his and remus’ relationship thus far he’s been pretty steady in his confidence. that can be hard for someone like remus, who likes him so much that he overthinks every word that comes out of his mouth when they’re together. giving remus the chance to see that he has some level of an affect on sirius (and can push him off kilter just by showing up unannounced and complimenting him) was a big deal. that’s the first time he looks at sirius and really thinks “hang on, maybe this could be reciprocated.” that vulnerability from sirius was important both at that point and in chapters 5-7.

(spoiler) i think that those little pieces of vulnerability that sirius has been able to show leading up to (and during) their falling out is what allows remus to trust that sirius is telling the truth when he tells him how he feels in chapter 7

ALLLLLLL that being said, not much would have changed if remus had waited outside and not seen sirius at practice. it just pushed us faster into the direction we needed to go, but all of those internal revelations would have happened eventually 🫶

[wulfs-book-reviews]

The Bunk Up (The Village People #1), by Andie M. Long & D.H. Sidebottom

The Bunk Up by Andie M. Long My rating: 0 of 5 stars Regressive, Reckless, and Ridiculous: Meet the Worst Book I've Ever Read In all honesty, this is the worst book I’ve ever read. It’s so backwards-leaning, demented, idiotic, and irresponsible, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Long and Sidebottom are actually Trump and Musk respectively. Daisy is our female protagonist who has just been cheated on by her boyfriend, been fired from her job, and, encouraged by friends, now wants to take a holiday. To give you a first idea of what Daisy is like, let’s examine her thoughts about that: »My pout returns when I remember she’s right. I have no job to try and take holidays from. I have no boyfriend to seek permission from.« The male protagonist, Frazer, is by no means better. »From what I know, Nigel is a prize ass, anyway, and I’m sure no mother could be proud of a son who wears brown corduroys and a feather fucking earring while he sticks toenail clippings to bits of cardboard – all at the same time.« His behaviour resembles that of a reckless, careless, horny teenager. He doesn’t mind “forgetting” using a condom much and when asked to visit the local pharmacy for the pill after, he refuses because he’s a man… Daisy's reaction to this is… surprising as well: She starts hopping, “Trying to get it all out. You know, fling it downwards!” as a means of birth control. Frazer also thinks “pulling out” is a valid method of contraception, and so does Daisy, as she doesn’t even react to it. He also doesn’t mind jumping the next available female despite harbouring very strong feelings for Daisy. To get rid of said woman the morning after, he behaves extremely rudely and insultingly to her. There’s also a notable side character called Frank. Frank seems to be a middle-aged white male of the “disgusting sexist” variety. Whenever and wherever he sees a woman, he greets her like this: »Frank is sitting at his spot on the bench, and lifting a hand in greeting to me, he shouts out, “Morning, sugar tits.”« And this is by far the most “harmless” greeting… Fittingly, the writing feels cheap and bland, with absolutely no highlights and humour of this type: »He makes money out of used loo rolls and my life is so shit I need the toilet tissue.« There’s a lot of sex and I usually don’t complain about smut but the sparse and barren language as well as a complete absence of noticeable, credible desire or at least lust gives it a mechanical, transactional, and sometimes clinical feeling. Let’s take a look at Daisy’s and Frazer’s first “encounter” (abridged): »“Show me your dick and I’ll sign the piece of paper.” “Oh yeah. Okay then. Here goes.” He winks at me. “Fine with me. Listen. This is going to sound weird, but can I touch your boob just a little bit?” “Okay.” “I want to touch it.” “You can if you want but then you’ll have to excuse me to go to the loo and know I’m going to think about your body as I beat off. I’ve gone past the point of no return here.”« This, fellow readers, is how they fall in insta-love. It is also the moment when I started feeling nauseous. Even though this is more of a novella, there’s still tons of filler material, e. g. Daisy going on a dinner date (a disaster both story- and novel-wise) during which she complains about the size of one of the waiter’s eyes… »The waiter huffs loudly and shifts from one foot to the other. I’d feel sympathetic for him but he definitely has one eye bigger than the other and looks down right shifty.« The authors go on, and on, and on to put every single shitty cliché into their novel… »Shirley reaches out and pats Daisy’s hand. “Aww, darling, you should have said if you’re premenstrual.”« … to “dumb blondes”... »Maybe because, a, your dick definitely does NOT taste of lychees like you promised.« … and great, loving parenting styles… »Your brother ran away at thirteen when I told him he couldn’t dye his hair pink. He did the same at fourteen when I told him his new earring looked stupid. It was a peacock feather, for God’s sake.«

There’s even blackfacing… »Kathy and I are dressed in hoodies and jeans. We’ve put the darkest fake tan on our faces and hands so we look a different race altogether from a distance. That’s what we’re going to be all night long.« This could go on for all of the 260 pages of this irredeemably bad book, one of the very few without any redeeming qualities at all. There was one moment, though, that made me laugh out loud but, unfortunately, it was unintentionally funny and only serves to show how, uhm, “intellectually challenged” these authors are: »She then turns over and is out as if someone has put a chlorophyll-filled tissue in her face.« Dear Andie and D.H., the word you were looking for is “Chloroform” which firmly belongs to the 19th and early 20th century from which your novel’s jokes, ideas about gender, sex, and societal norms also come. Your verbal diarrhoea is disgusting and solely garners one star out of five because I can’t give none. Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam View all my reviews

[landosfishbowl]

TURKEY SANDWICH

“How much water does it take to extinguish the heart?”

That was in a letter he wrote to me. I found it in my coat pocket just as I got home. That dummy must’ve put it in my pocket when I went out for a smoke. I feel like I know what it means, but I don’t want to take any guesses – I could be wrong, or right. I guess the freedom is the fear. But I can’t lie, I think I love him. It was the second time we had seen each other in person. We would chat a ton over text, but life always seemed to strangle us dry – of time that is, we were all too alive; and I think that’s what I’m in love with: to feel alive. I honestly don’t know if I actually love him, it could just be my lust for that all too alive feeling called “dying in your arms” – that’s more of an idea, but it feels all the same. It’s lonely; to wish for a kiss, a cuddle, or anything that includes the idea of being a muse.

We got coffee, just at a small shop in some random town close to where we lived. It was good, but nothing worth remembering. Noir jazz played throughout the place – I guess that’s notable. We got some coffee than sat. We talked for awhile, then listened to the music, then talked some more. Once we got our drinks, we talked once more, but this time out hearts poured over the walls. It felt real.

“Sometimes I forget what it means to love. It makes me sad, and scared.” he said.

“Do you feel loved?” I responded.

“Well, I don’t feel not loved. I just feel empty from time to time. Nervous to reach out and ask for it – silent suffering of sorts. I like to think I’m strong, but those restless nights prove to be hard sometime. Could I open up a bit?” he looked, reminiscent.

“Of course.”

“I used to be scared of the dark when I was a kid. I thought there was a monster in my closet, so I’d toss and turn, trying to be strong so I could fall asleep. That happened a lot. But when I would fall asleep, sometimes I’d have nightmares. I would see the monster in those dreams.” he pauses for a moment, “Peace Piece by Bill Evans – great song.” he looks out the window. “The monster was my dad. He’d abuse my mom and I, nothing physical, but it felt just the same. A lot of yelling and emotional tearing down. I think that’s why it’s hard for me to understand love. You loose track of who you are when you when you’re a dead boy walking.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. His beautiful eyes are now filled with a melancholic gloss. “It’s okay to feel empty from time to time. I understand, I really do. I’m proud of you for being here still. It’s not easy.” I pause, “Do you need a moment?”

“No. but yes.” he said.

“Okay. I’ll go for a smoke real quick. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

He nods.

I went outside and lit up a cigarette. I feel horrible, I don’t know what to say. I want to comfort him, but I’m scared that I’ll come off too strong. I barely know him, but I want to feel his heart in my hands. We barely know each other – and yet, I feel like I want to know him completely. He trusts me with his heart, but why? I haven’t done anything to deserve it. I’m just here, feeling like a manic pixie girl. But he’s just honest with me. I’m – scared. The cigarette snuffed itself out, I was too busy thinking. I guess it’s time to go back inside.

I sat down and there he was, he looked better now. It took a moment before we both got resituated, but that moment went by quickly.

“So, enough about me – who are you really?” he said with a smirk on his dumb face.

Then the night went on and on. Until we left. He sent me a message conveniently when I got home, and it read: “Check your coat pocket if you haven’t already :)”

The letter said: “There’s a lot I can say with poetry, but never exactly how I feel. Thank you for listening to the depths of my heart. I know it was a lot, but you made me feel safe. I didn’t feel like I had to toss and turn like I always have. Some nightmares can become dreams, you just gotta learn how to love the pain. It’s just hard for me to be that vulnerable when you can’t just simply forget. How much water does it take to extinguish the heart? Apparently not much. Thank you.”

I think he loves me too.

[sexintheraine]

Thank you for everything that you made me feel.

For making me feel alive again after all that I thought was everything, turned out to be less than anything.

The small moments I’ve had with you have made me realize that it’s ok to trust someone again, to feel heard and supported and thought of.

You saying that I deserve open communication and someone’s time and what you’re going through doesn’t take away from how you feel about me, made me fall even harder for you.

You said you wouldn’t handle the dismay like he did. You said I didn’t have to worry about you. And I believed you. I still believe you.

I want to see you. But I don’t want to be overbearing or the only one asking you for your time. I want you to want to steal mine too.

I was okay while I was sick because I slept my days away. I was doing everything I could to get back to healthy. I’m still not 100% yet. But 98% I would say.

I miss your taste. I miss the small glances you’d take when you thought I wouldn’t know. I miss the way I fit perfectly under your arm as you walk me to my car. And the kiss you steal before I watch you disappear and I drive home. I miss your possession.

I want you to stay the night. I want to wake up next to you. I want you to hold me close while we sleep. Legs and bodies tangled.

I want to road trip with you and get away from the noise.

I want to go play billiards at the pool hall near your place.

I want to take that trip to China to steal a piece of the Great Wall.

I want you to be my wedding date to my best friends wedding in August.

I’m afraid I’m no longer falling for you. I’m afraid I’m completely locked in. I’m afraid I can’t help it. I want to run around Piedmont park and have a nerf battle.

I want to watch Kentucky games and take Ruger to the dog park. I want to see movies and hang at the pool when it opens.

For my birthday; I would love to go to my parents cabin with you for a weekend getaway if we can swing it.

I want to watch a match of yours at the gun range.

Maybe go roller blading or ice skating. I wish I knew how you felt about roller coasters…

I want you to meet my parents and my brothers and I want to meet your sisters and yours.

Maybe we go to New York to visit our siblings together. Spend a day with yours and with mine.

I want to dream of the possibilities with you again.

I’ll never look at spicy food and not think of you.

When I send a long text, I’ll wish for your lengthy responses.

I’m not sure what will happen with us next,,, but if I never see you again, I want to say thank you.

Thank you for recognizing what I deserve.

Thank you for making me feel alive.

Thank you for giving me comfort in the midst of bullshit outside of us.

Thank you for being a gentleman.

If this is the end of our beginning…. You still owe me a gladiators game when we cross paths again.

And thank you for being kind hearted and passionate.

You definitely made an impact on me. Even though I’m surprised by the speed. I’m grateful for it. I don’t know where you came from. And I hate to see you go. So I’m hopeful that you don’t. But days are hard when I don’t hear from you now. And that’s how I know I’m no longer falling. I have already hit the ground and now I’m figuring out how to step forward without being too much. — and then the intrusive thoughts take over and I start to wonder if you want to step forward at all.

Of course you do. Your stress level just peaks every week that goes by without the security.

I met you when you were in your element. Making tons and working for a company you respected and felt proud to be a part of despite the desire to change course.

I met you when the dating scene had exhausted you and all these girls were portraying someone they’re not.

I met you and immediately heard your pet peeves. You met me and found my preferences. - there’s always more to learn…. But what I know about you, absolutely intrigues me.

What I know about your family, makes me want to stay so you don’t have to weather the storm alone. Not because you can’t. But because you shouldn’t have too.

I’m one hundred percent overthinking this. We’re not even serious yet. But I wish we were. I wish you owed me the respect of breaking it off if this isn’t what you want. I wish I felt like I could come and be there for you without you having to ask me.

I called the other night because I got off early and my night freed up. I debated not, only for not wanting to look clingy and weird. I’m sure you were busy. I actually know you to be a busy guy. And I LIKE THAT. I’m a busy girl too.

I guess I just miss your voice and the potential of being something wonderful that we have had. its been pretty hard being away from you and I just hope you don’t disappear completely.

… I really hope I see you soon.

I’m still rooting for me and you.

You might not want to put me through the wildness of it all. But I’m asking you to do it.

Choose me.

Tell me how I make you feel.

Show me your fears and your feelings.

Breathe me in.

Stay.

Choose the unknown ahead with me.

Choose the known. Show me what you’re thinking and how you’re navigating. Show me glimpses of your world and your thoughts. Hold me while I show you mine.

[jammyness]

This got long, sorry, but I’ve been having this conversation a lot lately and I have a lot to say.

I was incredibly lucky to join that 2010s wave of comics… and it was just dumb luck. Right place, right time. Webcomics back then was a small but supportive community of scrappy DIY-ers. Putting out a comic every week (let alone 3x a week, or daily) was NO small feat on its own and success was never guaranteed. It was hard!! JUST making a comic is hard. We had to rely on each other to navigate setting up our own websites, learning how to make and sell merch, learning how to table at conventions. We had to take our own preorders and update a stupid little thermometer jpg on our website. We linked to each other and helped each other, and (some drama aside) we had each other’s backs.

And it worked! For a time. Nobody was living large then, but some of us could make enough that way to get by. Our communities of readers were (and still are) amazing. Even for a smaller comic like mine, I could get enough reader support to print gorgeous high-quality books and get them in people’s hands. That’s something I’m still incredibly proud of.

When social media came, reader habits changed dramatically. Very few readers would leave their feed. Most readers stopped clicking through to the url (so ad sales imploded), and sometimes the ones that did would just screenshot the punchline and repost it to their own social page without credit. As time went on, fewer and fewer people would share a comic, let alone follow…now most just (maybe) click like and scroll along.

As the barrier to getting your comic on the web got lower, the quality of art got higher - and readers started demanding a much higher standard for an indie webcomic. In addition to this, some artists who gained traction at this time were subject to high levels of writer scrutiny, and that was tough to navigate.

In recent years the costs of shipping merch has gone through the roof (especially outside the US) and even if we could convince someone to buy, they started expecting rock-bottom next-day shipping like you’d get with Amazon. Every single micro service you need to keep a modern webcomic machine running demands its piece of flesh (hosting/domains, shop/payments, newsletters, post scheduling, premium accounts or plugins or whatever blablabla), and there’s less and less flesh to go around these days. You basically need to give it full time hours for the chance of it maybe becoming a part time money. A few new webcomics have found their feet and thrived in the modern era, but no, it’s not the same scene as it was back then. And every service that pops up to help you out has its own rules… rules that are subject to change without notice.

Google Reader was killed in 2013. Then non-chronological algorithms stopped showing us each other’s posts, even if we were following, circa 2015-2016. Then the various social sites stopped being viable at all. These days the mantra is “pivot (to video) or perish”. Or sometimes… just perish.

I’m not blaming the readers for these changes. These behaviours were designed. Webcomics was just one victim, but it’s also happened to a lot of other scenes (music, journalism, blogging...). I’m still learning how to fit into this new paradigm.

***

Yes, in light of these conditions many webcomickers are pushed to quit. But not all. Many of my contemporaries are putting out the best comics of their careers today.

There’s tons of incredible new work that even I’m struggling to keep up with because there are so many amazing comics now.

Some OG webcomickers pivoted into the publishing market which comes with its own challenges: a gruelling schedule, limitations on the stories you can tell, paltry advances and then you still have to do all your own marketing. But they’re still putting out incredible comics, or writing them, or helping them get made. Or hell, printing them. I’m so proud to be part of a community where creatives like these got their start.

Some went into Animation where you live under NDA and big studios can cancel your project on a whim, but they’re still making amazing art.

A couple went to Indie Games, which has to be at least 10x as difficult as webcomics, and they’re making their mark. Others went to a “merch-first” kind of creative practice, and others still got art-related corporate jobs.

And to those of us who have had to tap out or step back, or if you haven’t been able to make it click for whatever combination of reasons… you’re still a part of the community and I’m honoured to have shared a time on the internet with you. There is NO shame in quitting something that no longer resonates with your creative goals, or needing to take different measures to meet your human needs or build the kind of life you want. Stopping under those conditions is not failure. Every single page you put down is a victory.

***

Webcomics is far from a dead scene, it’s just a bit more underground again. You like webcomics? Welcome to the Resistance to the attention-economy. It’s a bit punk to do webcomics again.

We have lots of reasons to be optimistic about the scene:

All the technology we used to make that happen in the 2010s still exists today. RSS still exists. You can still type in a url, or keep a comic links folder on your browser, or use comic rocket to hold your place.

If you wanna make a comic, ComicFury is free. Neocities is free and rarebit is free. Or just put it on social for now! Who cares, just draw comics. Worry about the rest later.

If you really want to you can still get a domain and fairly cheap hosting (though it’s a bit dicier now, and idk who is doing the best WP comics plugin now) but then FileZilla is free, VsCode is free. All in it's probably ~$300 to self-host, unless you got a friend who can hook you up.

Software for making comics has never been more powerful or accessible than it is today. Tablets and scanners are cheaper than ever. Clip’s affordable, Krita is free.

Information on how to set this all up is easier to access than it ever has been

It’s never been easier to access vendors for low-minimum-quantity but high-quality custom products.

Shop services aren’t perfect, but the barrier to entry of selling something to someone online has never been lower, except for maybe when people were willing to use a Paypal html Buy Now button

And I can’t emphasize this enough – there are so so many diverse and unique creatives making their most incredible work RIGHT NOW.

If you want to make comics… if you have a song still in you… don’t give up! Do what you must to stay safe and well. Do what you can to make your best work and share it. You don't "have" to do anything that doesn't feel right to you.

Go make a zine and give it to your friends. Go to a convention and meet a local artist. Go join a local collective, or start one. Print a sticker at home and sell it for a few bucks. Join the cooperative, or a webring or two, or hell just tell another artist you think their work is neat.

Dear reader, if you want to see more webcomics that get to their conclusion? The only thing missing is YOUR. CHOICE. Choose to read webcomics. Most of us put them up for free, we're just delighted for you to read them. Go click around a few links and find something weird and cool. Choose to use RSS, and share the comics you like with your friends, and teach them RSS. Choose to kick us a few bucks when you can, buy our books and give them to your local libraries if you can. Choose to let comics be challenging and weird, choose to let artists be messy humans who are growing and learning just like you are.

The attention-economy game is boring, but this one is still here for those who want to play :)

In your view/experience. is the rate of "incompleteness" among webcomics more or less the nature of online personal projects as a whole? Or is there something specific to webcomics like laboriousness, audience expectations, relative medium infancy or whatnot?

well for one thing webcomics has changed significantly in the last ten years. it used to have a much lower barrier for entry, just get a smackjeeves account or set up a website with a wordpress plugin. starting a webcomic when i started my webcomic vs starting a webcomic now are totally different experiences.

so i can only speak to people who started their webcomics roughly ten years ago. and roughly ten years ago a lot of us were a whole lot younger with a lot more time and energy to spend on a comic for free. this part is probably still somewhat true for new artists.

but then you get older. your ideas change. your skill develops and the old stuff isn't as good. or you don't have as much time, you got a day job. unless you're one of like five people on earth your webcomic is not paying your rent. you need to make money. your shoulder hurts. you're 30 now. you're struggling to make updates on time between whatever else makes you happy and what else you need to do to live. you wrote this story when you were 21, you don't relate to it anymore, you have different ideas, you've grown up, your audience has noticeably dropped off from the peak, social media managing is hard, you have to go to work, you're so tired, all the time.

it's a lot of things.

[rottenbrainstuff]

Well I have had an adventure today

This weekend I tried updating my piece of shit desktop Mac and I think I bricked it, tried everything I could google, let it boot all night long and it’s still not rebooting.

I went to order a new computer, saw that the new Macs are absolute pieces of shit, ONE FUCKING QUARTER!!!! the memory of this old machine here, and only two usb ports. I’m paying almost the same amount of money to get less.

So I thought this would be the turning point for me, I’m finally going to stop buying apple bullshit and I’m going to get a PC. That’s it. Got a friend on the phone and asked him to help me find one, cause I don’t know anything at all about PCs, and discovered that… pcs nowadays cost the same amount and are basically the same. I could pay about $30 more and get a few more usb ports.

Ordered the fucking mac, because if it’s all the same damned price anyways I might as well get the shit that I’m already familiar with and will work with the other stuff I already have and will ship faster. Had a honest to god temper tantrum about the state of computers and how much things have changed even just in the last five years, invited my friend out with me for early supper to bitch about things because fuck my diet when I’m cranky

I complained to him about everything my old computer was doing and why I thought something was wrong with it - extremely slow times reading or writing to and from external drives, extremely long time opening applications, extremely long time restarting after a reboot. I honest to god thought something was wrong with it which led to its demise this weekend, some kind of data read write error - but I learned possibly this is just how new computers are after a little while. He told me he has a PC that does all the exact same stuff. Possibly my old computer isn’t bricked at all: if I just let it boot for a week maybe it will eventually sort its shit out. Fffffffuck this shit.

And apparently it’s the goddamned Oscars. All of a sudden the tvs got super loud at the pub I was at and I looked up and saw red carpet stuff. Banshees of Inisherin has been nominated for a ton of things, I am so fucking proud of it. It’s up against the Fabelmans in just about every single category though.

Fuck computers, I can not believe the state of things right now. I can’t BELIEVE the bullshit they are selling right now. I’m going to pop my brand new Banshees disc on and see what deleted scenes came with the movie.

[mossy-clearing]

Momma taught him right from wrong

How to love and how to talk

Poor George, poor George

Never learned how to stop.

So hyped for this map to come out today, this is fanart for @loafpaw’s map Poor George, designs & concept are all from them! This is just some fanart :]

Okay now I’m going to explain the flower symbolism & other symbols here because I Want To :]]!!

Red Gardenia - A flower that represents a deep love for someone (familia in this piece) that has to be kept a secret/remain unknown. This both shows how Yellowfang had to keep the secret that Brokenstar was her son, but is mainly represented her by her needing to keep her love for him a secret from him

Daylily - A flower often associated with motherhood and is often prevalent during Mother’s Day. A more-so self explainitory one, just showing Yellow bond between motherhood to Broken

Blood still comes from Yellowfangs paws as this is mostly a piece through her eyes, as she still believes the guilty blood of her own son, her kit’s death is still on her paws, and yet the blood of guilt & dead weigh heavily down on Brokenstar

Okay I’m done now, thats about all, there’s. Some more but I’d like to leave stuff up for interpretation as well !! Okay now everyone go watch the beautiful map if its out yet go