#i cannot draw shopping carts

[ceo-of-mizuki]

hey guys sorry i died have some kyosaya ive accumulated (most to least recent)

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

Part 2. This time its the Tokyo Five (As I named them) Headcanons in the reblog tags appreciated

[mixed-up-metaphors]

motion blur my beloved

[whumpy-wyrms]

i will answer all my asks when i get home from school but oh my god i love aspen so much new favorite oc im so hyper rn probably gonna get in trouble for being on my phone during class but i love aspen so much im going insane i love him soooooososo much that’s all

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. established relationship, shopping trip, dinner date at home, SMUT/ protected sex, anal sex, soft sex, lots of french kissing, size kink, breeding kink, too many feelings (reader) life in 2051, fluffy things and etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @cafekitsune & @anitalenia 🤍

“Why don’t you just move to my bed..?” Logan wondered caressing your hand softly. Thumb drawing circles on your knuckles “Would you like me to do that Sir?” Looking up into his eyes you read his emotions. He nodded “Yes princess..” batting your eyelashes he smiled pulling you closer to him. “I shall move to rest next to you Sir��� confirming upon his lovely request your arms swung themselves around his neck. “I will take a shower bub, I forgot about the movie.” cheeks heating up at his words replaying the events that happened few minutes ago. “I cannot refuse you Sir.. I love you” Logan cooed against your lips kissing you slowly and long savouring the taste of your glossy lips. “And I love you..” hearing those words again from him you felt pulsing in your chest. Warmth spreading through your entire body. “I will prepare fresh pyjamas for you. Would you like me to change the sheets as well?” Suggesting while your dainty little fingers scratched his bearded cheeks. “That would be nice” he hummed watching you bat your curly eyelashes at him his heart picking up the speed pulse spiking. The sheer beauty of you “We are one— joined souls… forever” logan smirked. “Are we now princess?”

“What else do we need?” He chuckled softly watching you load the cart with groceries.

“A lot. I plan to cook only the best for you Sir” your lips curled into a soft smile. You wore a black maid dress, a rainproof coat and knee high boots. Your clothes arrived delivered and securely packaged in boxes.

“You do enough..” he whispered in your ear standing behind you as you pushed the cart. You melted into his embrace kissing his cheek softly. Some people nearby mistook you for a real human being— women complimented you. They complimented your black long locks, until you removed your glasses which covered your eyes. You had sclera hues, and for humans that was scary. You adored children so if they approached you you knelt to their height and spoke with them. Logan saw it, he only watched in awe. How was that even possible he held so much love for you? You let the children touch your hair and your hands. “One day I want to be like you!” Little girl said with a giggle.

“Come on sweetheart..” Logan extended his hand towards you when he saw security guards nearby. “We had a complaint that she’s a robot. We do not allow them to stay here or let alone engage with people. They can be dangerous” you looked at Logan gently hiding behind him lowering your eyes putting your glasses back on. “We are leaving—” he grunted shooting a death glare towards the guard forming a fist. You stopped him cupping his knuckles feeling the sharp tips of his pushed out claws against your palm “That’s alright Sir, we are leaving now” after paying and bagging the groceries together you remained silent. The child told you that she wanted to be like you one day— she thought that you were a human being. You wanted that so much— to be real for him. For your love. The thing was people mistook you for the failed kind of robots, you wanted to be better. Those who rebelled against humans you were not like them you couldn’t be ever.

“We will have the groceries delivered. Whatever you want princess. I don’t want them to judge you or stare at you. It angers me” Logan admitted as you chopped the vegetables for his dinner. “I completely understand Sir. I just wanted to be with you” you admitted and Logan sighed softly. “And I want to be with you. Every moment I get to be with you— I wouldn’t change it for the world. If anything happens to you” you put down the knife clashing distance with him locking your arms around him kissing the side of your neck snuggling in his arms closing your eyes inhaling his scent. The warm woodsy kind— your senses taking in every part of his body. His own arms coiled around you kissing the top of your head pulling you even closer to him until he lifted you your thighs wrapping themselves around his waist clinging to him. “Don’t ever let me go Sir” you blinked facing him your noses touching. “I can think of many reasons to keep you around princess” a soft smirk painted his features large palms cupping and holding your butt slowly walking around the kitchen with you. Hearts forming before your eyes leaning in kissing him long letting his tongue penetrate your lips. You moaned raking your fingers through his dark mane pulling him closer your lips being engulfed by him tasting the aroma of his whiskey breath.

You finished plating his dinner, steak with tons of veggies and a side of fries. Sitting opposite him opening his laptop while he ate his dinner complimenting every bite how good it was praising you on. “Sir? Shall I respond to your emails from work? You have over 100 unread.” Your cheeks blushed at his lovely compliments. “Come here.. fuck the emails..” he leaned back on his chair sipping on his drink. Eyes hooded, face full of affection for you. “I’m just a fuckin’ fool in love with you” he sighed taking your hand once you walked over to him. He pulled you to his lap so you straddled his hips. You lied your cheek on his shoulder draping your arm around his other shoulder closing your eyes humming a song to him. “I love you just as much—” whispering your mouth cupped his ear kissing him there.

Something occurred that night. While you rested on the bed, your eyelids shut something formed in the middle of your chest. A red ball of energy— right under your rib cage. The ball of warm energy started to pulsate. It became redder and redder to the point anyone could see the wires under your skin. You were not aware of what was happening you were completely resting and recharging. The light in your chest formed a shape of human heart. It was beating faster and faster until it found its own pace. Logan woke up at the red light in the room, he sat up next to you placing a hand on your chest you were warm. Rubbing your cheek with the back of his knuckles softly, how could a robot become half human? Unplugging your charging system he scooped you in his arms holding you placing his cheek on your forehead. “Is there something I can do for you Sir?” Your eyes fluttered open and he remained silent. The light in your chest faded away and you didn’t feel any different. “Logan..” you reached for his forehead kissing it. “What?” He whispered not believing you said his name for the first time. “Say it again.” furrowing your eyebrows you nuzzled your face against his neck “James..” his face softened. “You said my name” nodding softly “Yes.. you’re my boyfriend” bringing you down on the bed cupping your cheek he kissed your mouth softly. “You have a heart” closing your eyes placing a hand over his own heart listening to his heartbeat “It beats for you”

— Love Overdrive —

“James..” gasping for air your hands clutched the silky sheets beneath you as you found yourself under Logan. His large body shielding you, letting you feel his weight. His arms were under you as he rocked his hips into you from behind. His ragged breath coated your ear as he filled you out. “I love you..” you let out the softest moan but soon his hips picked up the speed sheating his protected cock deeper in you feeling how you coat him in your creamy essence and god he lost his mind burying his face against the back of your hair letting out the softest grunts and whimpers as he grabbed your breasts “I’m here.. I-I’m here.. I’m yours” you felt his emotions, you tamed him. He was so lost and you found him. “Fuck.. fuck…” he rasped parting your thighs even more as you were on your knees making sure to hide all of his cock in your warm centre. “You better stay princess.. need to tame your old man..” he breathed kissing your shoulder, your lips remained parted in pleasure. Taking his cock out of your wet inviting centre, rubbing the swollen mushroom tip on your other hole which seemed so tight and god you were so soft. “James” you panted looking over your shoulder as he grabbed the base of his protected cock prodding your puckered hole. You cried out— “Fuck” he groaned. Hearts formed in your sclera eyes as you bit your lower lip whining at the feel of him. Clenching around him the moment he slid right whole inside of you he gasped. “Holy f-” grunting he pulled you to kneel up between his parted thighs. Your back leaning on his chest as he grabbed your pussy from the front holding it snapping his hips against your butt stretching your other hole repeatedly. You mewled wrapping your arm around his neck touching his hair. “Oh James, Logan.. ughhh.. mmmm” you let out the softest moans and mewls which spurred him on fucking into you quicker and quicker not holding back. “You feel so good.. tightest holes I ever fucked, ugh” whispering in your ear you licked your lower lip tilting your face to him leaning the back of your head on his shoulder kissing him. Your tongues glided over each other and his thrusts became faster, harder. As if he was trying to climb inside of you “Mine.. mine mine..” sliding two of his fingers in your wet mound from the front he remained pounding your other hole until he couldn’t anymore. The moment he stilled and released all of his tension with a broken whimper. Getting rid of his used condom he reached for a new one, making sure it was correctly rolled over his swollen cock which dripped with so much cum.

“Lay down..” you breathed watching him do so climbing on top of him locking your hand around his warm length pumping it. “Shit..” he breathed chest heaving eyes hooded with desire again. His claws slowly pushing out “Shhh..” licking your lower lip you sitting on him completely touching his shiny claws with your fingers bringing them to your mouth your tongue dancing on his middle one “Ughh..” he smiled at you carefully gripping your thigh as you nestled him right in your honeypot. “I love when you orgasm” you whimpered moaning with every move of your hips as you gyrated yourself on his length your thighs rubbing on his own “Because I’m the cause of it.. I love when you push out these claws because the pleasure is too much..” his mouth parted “Fuck you’re.. you’re the cause baby.. one day you will carry my little wolves” you nodded biting your lower lip again speeding up your hips fucking him just right. “Yes Sir.. yes.. ughhh yess..” fingers tangling around his dogtags pulling on them gently you whined as he became even harder for you close to cum again reaching behind you to place your hands on his knees you rode him until he came and it was an eruption.

“Princess..”

-

(Any grammatical errors I apologise in advance)

[fern-the-fox]

Comm finished for @certified-classic245

This one was unusual but fun to do, im not the best at metal objects. Especially never done a shopping cart before! But im glad it turned out well

Special thanks to certified for being so kind and paitent, we need more people like them in this world ❤️

I hate keeping people waiting but honestly i think these breaks during the requests actually help! I cant thank the people being patient with me enough, it relieves a lot of stress and pressure knowing i dont have to spend 24/7 of my time working. That i can start and get back to the request when i have the energy to do so instead of forcing myself and burning out.

Im thinking about revisiting some old art programs so i can make art for myself as well as make art requests! Cuz i cannot draw 2 things at once in the same app lmao 😂

[madisonthetimewalker]

Got inspired by @loryn-art and decided to make some modern AU Wakfu headcanons because I always love making head canons when I see cool AU’s

1. Yugo cannot skateboard for shit. He always face-plants into the pavement (Adamai can skateboard and laughs his ass off at yugo’s misery)

2. Adamai is surprisingly good at baking, he can make a pretty good looking cake (if he try’s)

3.qilby has horrible fucking sleep schedule I cannot describe how bad it is but it is horrible.

4. Chibi is a morning person and has a decently sized ego.

5. Grougal has the best hair in the family (he gets it from his mom what do you expect?)

6. Shinonome (I cannot spell her name for the life of me oh my god) likes to live a cozy and organized life… qilby does not knowing the meaning of organized

7. Adamai works in retail and has clip on earrings (he doesn’t want to get his ear pierced again it sucked for him he hated it. I also have an example in one of my drawings!)

8. Phaeris is very very good at making sure shit doesn’t go down in the house. Mostly because he has a resting bitch face and I love it

9. Baltazar works at a daycare. He likes the job (quilby is not allowed near baltazar because of what happened in season 2, they will full on fist fight im dead ass)

10. Efrim isn’t very responsible with money (do not give him any he will spend it… and so will Nora)

11. Glip is often tired he has a pretty good sleep schedule (unlike qilby) but still often complains of being tired.

12. For mina I wanted to make her a teacher but since she was known to be basically a lawyer in Wakfu but I feel like a teacher would fit her as well.

13. Adamai doesn’t talk about his private life.. at all for that matter he keeps to himself a lot and you basically have to pester him to tell you what’s wrong.

14. Adamai has a creepy smile (this is canon.. oh my poor boy) and often times won’t smile in photos he just kinda grins and walks away.

15. Yugo has such horrible and I mean horrible taste in fashion (you can hear Adamai holding back tears in the background while Mina or Nora has to tell him to change or else he’s gonna scare their mother to death due to his shitty fashion sense.)

16. If you where to ask qilby about a specific historical event, he will tell it in such great detail it makes it seem like he was actually there.

17. The dragon bros cannot taste spicy foods (I heard somewhere since lizards are cold-blooded they can’t taste that thing that makes you taste spicy foods) so if you see grougal chowing down extreme spicy ramen don’t ask.

18. Efrim is very clumsy and often stubs his toes or accidentally hits something when he walks (everyone thinks he needs glasses but he has 20/20 vision this fucker just can’t walk straight)

19. I like to think Adamai is a bit of a nerd. In his own way of course (if you’re lucky you can catch him reading comic books in his room.. which is always locked)

20. Nora and Efrim collect random stuff they find on the ground and they have this huge stash of random shit. Nobody knows how long they have had this but god is it large

21. Glip can often be seen grading papers (I like to believe baltazar is a daycare teacher while Glip is a high school - collage teacher/professor)

22. Chibi does not know the meaning of “social cues” (and neither does yugo.)

23. Shinonome works at a flower shop (qilby doesn’t like flowers mostly because of bad allergies but he supports his sister anyway.)

25. Efrim hates having to work and I mean HATESSS it he will complain the whole time (Adamai is one step away from hitting him with a shopping cart at 100 miles an hour)

26. Yugo can’t focus for shit, but can surprisingly describe how to make a specific meal in great detail (alibert you have raised a good man.)

27. Phaeris is very good with solving puzzles and likes to do them in his free time, he says he enjoys the “thinking process”

28. Chibi is a horrible flirt if he sees a pretty lady and he wants to say hi? Immediately tripping and stumbling and accidentally embarrassing himself (grougal is laughing his ass off silently in a corner.)

29. (Can you tell I like Adamai?) he’s a pretty good babysitter although he isn’t a huge fan of it but he doesn’t mind helping people out.

30. Nora can’t roller skate while Mina is a fucking mastermind.

31. Baltazar and qilby can be seen giving the meanest fucking side eyes at family dinners (Adamai prefers to eat in his room. But once there’s drama he appears and watch’s from afar.)

32. Qilby has the worst back pain in the world.

33. For someone who can’t focus for shit yugo is an incredibly fast learner! And can learn anything in a matter of seconds (Adamai is often jealous out how quick of a learner he is.)

34. Glip doesn’t like being forced to work at such late hours but he has no choice (the curse of being a teacher)

35. Adamai often runs away from yugo when he’s at work. And yugo likes to chase him down for shits and giggles (yugo please he’s trying to do his job)

Great Lordy I have made so many! I might make some insert modern AU ones as well. Involving ecaflip and Xelor and the rest of the gods, I like to think they also live in the world of twelve but they don’t really show their faces (kinda like Greek gods? If you get what I mean)

Anyway I’m glad I got to share more headcanons! Have a great day!

[antebunny]

Witchers v administration

[part one] this is part two of warlord!Geralt facing his mortal weakness: administrative warfare. Feat. soap-making, lots of food, and witchers getting to enjoy soft things.

-

To date, Lambert is credited as the one who brought feasting to Kaer Morhen. It’s entirely on accident, of course. But it’s not entirely untrue, either. But the story belongs to a human. A woman, three decades of age, by the name of Olga, born and raised in Novigrad’s crowded lower middle class districts. 

Olga first met Lambert on a beautiful spring day, bearing none of the storybook flower-blossom romance such days promised, but all of the pollen and drizzling showers. Like every other morning, she drags her cart out to the crowded streets of Novigrad’s morning markets, and sets up shop. Soon enough, the sun is fully out and so are the citizens of Novigrad. Smells of all kinds permeate the drizzly atmosphere. Fire smoke, charred meat, fresh fish and a thousand other organic scents waft past Olga’s cart. 

But her wares carry the strongest of scents: dried rosemary, thyme, coriander, cloves and more. All wrapped up in little bundles, set out along the surface of her cart for those middle class people who wish to enjoy some spices in their meals, but cannot indulge in the spice overdoses of nobility or upper classes. 

It’s a slow morning. Olga begins to grow antsy as the hours wear by. Growing herbs is not terribly expensive, once one has gotten started, but she would like to know why today her customers seem to have disappeared.

“You got this?”

At least, it was a slow morning. A tall man with red hair shoves a piece of paper in Olga’s face. She blinks twice, but really, it’s no use. Olga is not blind, but her vision is extremely poor. The man may as well have shoved a blank piece of paper at her.

“I can’t read,” Olga replies, vaguely puzzled at who exactly this man is. 

His red hair seems rather unkempt, certainly not upper class at all, but surely only nobility would assume that someone like her can read. Nearly everyone Olga knows is illiterate. Perhaps if Olga could make out the finer details of the dark clothes the man is wearing, she would know more about his profession. As it is, all she sees is a vaguely black blur, and since he is so much taller than her, she does not even bother to look at his face. 

“It’s a drawing,” says the man.

“I can’t see,” Olga amends.

The man grunts and brings the paper closer to his own face. “Do you have thy…me,” he tries. 

His rough demeanor makes Olga think of a tradesman, but she can’t think of a tradesman that doesn’t even know what he’s trying to buy.

Olga runs through every herb and spice in her inventory. She can’t think of a single thing. “What is it?”

“A plant,” the redhead says, frustrated. “It’s got…” he makes a spreading gesture with his hands. “Uh. Some fuckin’…needles or something.”

A plant with needles. And he came to an herb seller. Unfortunately, that describes a lot of Olga’s products, so both of them are forced to wait an uncomfortable twenty minutes until Olga can get ahold of Marjon, the bookkeeper and the only person of Olga’s acquaintance who can read. He can also see, however, or has close enough to average vision that he stops in his tracks when he sees Olga’s redhead customer.

“Witcher,” Marjon whimpers. 

Olga suspects it was meant to sound more like an accusation. It’s not. But it’s a revelation, for her. She finally cranes her neck up to study the redhead’s face, and sure enough, his eyes are unnaturally bright and yellowy. If they look like a cat’s, well, she can’t tell. And she knows now that the two dark things on his back are a pair of swords, not the traveling equipment she thought it was.

Perhaps she ought to feel more fear, but Olga has managed a perfectly civil interaction with the Witcher thus far. Mostly she’s just confused about what this Witcher wants with her herbs.

“Could you read the damn paper, please Marjon.” Olga interrupts whatever tense, manly standoff Marjon and the Witcher are engaged in.

The Witcher thrusts the paper at Marjon, who accepts with trembling hands. All three wait impatiently for Marjon to finish scanning the sheet.

“Thyme,” says Marjon finally.

“The fuck,” the Witcher says blankly. “It’s spelled with a Y.”

Olga would not have guessed that Witchers can read. She had never wondered such a thing before this morning. But she wonders now if all of them can read or this one. She wonders how and why they learned, and, if Witchers can hold a non-violent if gruff conversation with a no-name marketplace vendor, what else she’s been told about Witchers is untrue.

“Well,” Olga says, “You’re in luck, Mr. Witcher–”

“Lambert.”

“Mr. Lambert,” Olga corrects on the fly. “I just harvested my thyme.” She indicates the left-most bundle on her cart. “Dried and packaged. How much would you like?”

She had not thought that Witchers were the type to season their food. Then again, since Lambert was clearly sent out by someone to buy thyme, perhaps they are not. She wonders who in the world had a craving for herb seasoning and the ability to command a Witcher to buy them some.

Lambert shrugs. “I don’t fuckin’ know. A normal amount.”

“Well, it’s for cooking, right?” Olga goes out on a limb. “How many people?”

“Is it?” Lambert scratches his nose. “I just followed the smell.”

“I–yeah. Uh, yeah. Thyme is food. Seasoning. Food. Yeah.” Olga’s brain blanks for a second as she processes the idea of Witchers following scents like a hunting dog. It sort of makes sense, with what they say of Witcher mutations. Sounds useful for them. “Uh. So. How many?”

“Couple hundred.”

Olga looks down at her sad little cart. She should maybe be thinking about the implication that Lambert is part of the White Wolf’s army. Surely there’s no other reason for a Witcher to need to season the food of hundreds of people. Instead, her brain works out the logistics of growing enough herbs and spices for everyone. The cost calculation comes in at way too high.

“Well, fuck me.”

Lambert barks out a laugh, startling everyone in the nearby vicinity and scaring away poor Marjon, who had already inching away from them. He sizes up her cart. “I’ll buy everything,” he decides.

“Herbs are not substitutable,” Olga fusses. “You can’t just replace thyme with anything you like! And they don’t all go together. Thyme and rosemary are very nice on chicken of all sorts, but adding oregano is a bit too much, and paprika is also great on chicken but not with thyme and rosemary, but thyme and rosemary are also good with pork, and cloves are good for soups while–”

“Say,” Lambert interrupts, a strange light on his inhuman eyes, “want a job?”

And Olga, ever impulsive, agrees.

The thing is, Lambert is as impulsive as she is. Olga arrives in Kaer Morhen to find she is now in charge of feeding every Witcher and human in the castle every single day. It is sheer luck that Olga used to work as an herbalist in noble houses before she left that stability for the whims of the market. There, at least, she was subject to the whims of coin purses rather than the tempers of her masters. 

The good news is that the Witchers have absolutely no idea what they should be doing as lords of the castle, and as such there are no expectations for Olga. Moreover she can run the kitchens how she likes. Unexpectedly being appointed head chef for the Witchers is not how Olga thought she would spend her thirty-fifth birthday. 

The bad news is that she is the only cook in Kaer Morhen. The thyme, it turns out, was requested by a Redanian bard by the name of Jaskier, who missed the taste of seasoning on his food. Since she has free reign, Olga puts in her job requests with Eskel, who in turns asks the Witchers venturing out of Kaer Morhen to be on the lookout. Soon enough, they come back with a baker, whose life was saved by a Witcher from a drowner that killed her family. A butcher, ostracized by her community, picked up by a pair of Griffin Witchers. Another baker, who had no life-changing story with Witchers to speak of, but a positive interaction as a young boy and no family to speak of. 

By the time the sorceresses finish helping Olga set up her greenhouse, Kaer Morhen has six cooks, two of whom moved their entire families to Kaer Morhen. Most are truly desperate and alone, to willingly journey into the halls of which many horror stories are told. Only rarely do humans believed strongly enough in the goodness of Witchers to bring their loved ones to Kaer Morhen. And the Witchers never bring people who are truly afraid.

There are less Witchers than Olga imagined. When people told tales of the White Wolf’s army, she’d pictured the streets of Novigrad flooded with yellow-eyed monsters instead of market vendors. Down every lane and alley, tall and burly men with wolf-like teeth and a craving for human flesh. It all seems so silly, looking back. Even the largest of Witcher schools–for they have divisions, even amongst the Witchers–has no more than a few dozen people. Add to that a handful of humans (two sorceresses, one bard, two seamstresses, a stonemason, a laundress and a gardener spirited away from a noble house in Kovir), and Olga isn’t so overwhelmed with people to feed. 

Kaer Morhen keeps goats, and a growing number of pigs and chicken. The gardener starts a squash patch behind the castle. Olga adds vegetables of all seasons to her rotation of crops. Every once in a while a Witcher goes out to hunt for rabbit and other game, or they slaughter one of the sheep, and they have pumpkin lamb stew for dinner. The Witchers are always bringing back odd bits and bobs. Dried grapes from far south, for example, called raisins by Jaskier, which the bakers add to their morning round of bread-making. 

Sourcing their food is not a problem. The real problem is that their food sources are wildly inconsistent. On some days, Yennefer leads a herd of cattle through a portal and they feast like kings on roasted tomatoes and braised beef shank seasoned with rosemary and sage. On other days, all they have to offer is potato soup. So long as everyone gets fed, it’s alright. The Witchers, certainly, never so much as hint at a complaint.

“I can’t believe they used to cook their food in the main hall,” their butcher, a big man not so dissimilar in form from the Witchers himself, says one day.

Olga steps back from the ovens and wipes her brow. She’s still unused to this form of cooking, but they’ve all had to learn everyone else’s trade. “Mhm. It was every man for himself. Roasting rabbit over a makeshift campfire. Or making porridge.”

Yolan chuckles at the mental image. “Unbelievable.”

The cooks survey the rows of roaring ovens, working away on the racks of rabbit, pheasant and chicken. To the side, bucket after wooden bucket is filled to the brim with bloody rabbit fur, feathers, feet and the like. They still haven’t found a tanner, but all the Witchers know how to work fur onto clothes and feathers into arrows. They are used to being self-sufficient. 

“Still can’t believe this is the best castle I’ve ever worked for,” Fetrov, one of the bakers, throws in. He wipes his flour-sticky hands on his apron. 

Fetrov was the only one of them who knew how to bread chicken, and even though he’s taught all of them, he still breaded a good half of the meat in the ovens right now. Before Kaer Morhen he worked for a Redanian nobleman who was overly handsy with all of his staff, men and women alike. The Witchers, apparently, could smell their discomfort, and before they knew it they all found themselves in need of a new employer. But Fetrov was the only one to accept their job offer. He had not hoped for better, but he’d also had nothing to return to. 

As they did with every human, the Witchers had completely surprised Fetrov. They’d nearly rioted when he and Elyise (the other baker) put raisins in their bread loaves. Eskel tried to offer them some of the White Wolf’s treasure, from the many offerings of jewels and other delicacies given as tribute by terrified kings. 

“I can,” says Elyise. She’d brought her husband, a yeoman by the name of Ivarn, with her to Kaer Morhen. “When you live on the move, fresh bread is a delicacy.”

Fetrov scoffs. “As if dining on delicacies has stopped any noble from being horrible.”

“Hear, hear,” the others chorus. 

About an hour later, the long tables of Kaer Morhen’s great hall are swarming with sweaty Witchers. Each of them swings by the kitchens to grab their plate, silverware, etc. and bring it up the short staircase to the main hall. Kaer Morhen still doesn’t have any servers, and none of the six cooks can be spared to set the table. Initially the humans who brought their children to the castle thought that they would be put to work as table servers, but every Witcher who was told of that idea looked offended or outraged at the notion that Witchers were incapable of serving themselves. Children learn, train, practice and play in Kaer Morhen, but they do not work. 

Within a few minutes, the Witchers have piled into the benches, talking and laughing loudly. Mead, beer and wine slosh back and forth in the weirdest collection of cups ever seen. They tear into their supper like a horde of starving beasts. None of the cooks have ever felt more appreciated.

“Is this what it’s like to be a noble,” marvels Keldar, a Griffin Witcher. 

The Witchers around him take an extra second to examine the food on their plates. Crispy breaded chicken, seasoned with parsley, basil and black pepper. Each person gets only one piece, but there’s also sliced cucumber, roasted rabbit, cheese, rye bread, blackberry spread, a mysterious green paste which some Witchers are putting on their meat and others are putting on their bread, and White Gull. Very few of them had to hunt for their food. None of them had to cook. In fact, all of them were kicked out of the kitchens while the cooks got busy. None of them understand what it is they’ve done to earn free suppers like this. 

“Oh, absolutely not,” says Jaskier.

“Eh, close enough,” says Erland of Larvik.

Across from him, Kristov (also of the Griffins) raises his mug in a mostly sincere toast. “I still can’t believe it.” 

“Hear, hear,” the others chorus. 

The feeling, it seems, is mutual.  

But Olga left family behind in Novigrad. Now that she has come to see the Witchers as a sort of family, she would never betray them. Yet she still aches for her true family, so every once in a while, Olga accompanies a pair or trior of Witchers whose Path takes them past Novigrad. During each of her visits, Olga struggles to balance her desire to tell the truth of the Witchers with the secrecy of their lives. 

Part of what makes Kaer Morhen so strong is the unmatched loyalty of its inhabitants. Every other castle sees workers, servants and employees come and go. Every other castle has nobles, head servants, and people in positions of authority abusing their power over others. Spies, double-crossers, people looking to make extra coin; anyone might be convinced to sell their secrets for the right price. 

Such treachery is not true of Kaer Morhen. All the common person knows of Kaer Morhen is that it houses a fearsome army of Witchers. Their leader is the White Wolf, the most fearsome of all, named for his stark white hair. Spymasters, mages, kings, and those in the business of information, also know of Viscount Julian Pankratz, sent as tribute by the Redanians. Some have schemed unsuccessfully to get their own nobles implanted in Kaer Morhen, viewing the Redanians’ venture as a victory. Others believe the viscount met a vile end at the hands of the White Wolf. Most know that he has become the White Wolf’s beloved, but most believe he is beloved the way a wolf loves a deer. Ripping its throat out tenderly. Licking the blood off its dying body. Violence, sex and love: three radically different concepts with but one meaning to monsters. A few know that he has become Jaskier the bard. None know the inner workings of Kaer Morhen.

It is Olga’s responsibility, when in Novigrad, to keep these workings a secret. Everything from the much-loved hot springs to the bags of flour carried over the shoulders of miffed Witchers who have no idea how bread is made. Still, she can’t help but argue in favor of the Witchers. Even though she knows the danger of advertizing her knowledge of Kaer Morhen. Even though many refuse to believe that she’s ever set foot in Kaer Morhen, or refuses to believe a word of what she says about the Witchers. 

On one such stay in Novigrad, Olga picks up a young seamstress by the name of Vasilisa. She is not insanely impulsive, as Olga is (or was, to join Kaer Morhen the way she did), but perhaps too curious for her own good. For Vasilisa, despite having a family of her own, accepts an offer to work in Kaer Morhen as a seamstress. 

And for a while, it is okay. Vasilisa assists in the development of Kaer Morhen’s black dye, getting her hands deep in monster guts. She washes clothes with Triss’s “blue smell” soap suds, sews sturdy shirts and learns to repair armor. They get a leatherworker who teaches all the seamstresses the basics of how to make shoes, and Vasilisa figures out how to work in embroidery to her boots. She sews dresses and sleep shifts and puts in her own requests for colored threads and fabric and the like. The Witchers all know how to sew–to be self-reliant, one has to be able to mend one’s own clothes, shoes and armor, after all–but none of them can make soft shirts and snug boots quite like the humans of Kaer Morhen. 

It is so much better than she had feared. The other humans become her friends and Vasilisa loses her reservations around Witchers the more she comes to love the hot springs. But it was still the wrong decision. And eventually, Vasilisa has had enough.

“I want to quit,” Vasilisa confides in Cenna, their laundress and as the original human in the clothing department their head tailor as well. “Can I quit?”

“Well, of course you can, dear,” Cenna replies easily. 

The sewing circle, now five strong, share a room deep in Kaer Morhen for their work where they can speak in private. Everyone looks at Vasilisa in surprise at her announcement, for she has seemed nothing but happy in her time at Kaer Morhen.

“What happened?” Questions the tailor, a young man by the name of Vilkor. “Did one of the Witchers do something?”

“No, nothing,” Vasilisa denies. She sets her embroidery aside. “Or rather, everything. I have loved it here, truly. But I miss my family, and I miss the markets of Novigrad. I miss having a quiet dinner with my family, and getting contracts for dresses and cloaks, instead of watching out for hidden knives they forgot to remove and–oh, everything, really. It is not for me. I know that now.”

The others all nod along. Kaer Morhen’s communal style of living simply isn’t for everyone. Some of them, who lack any other place to go, simply have to adjust. But Vasilisa, who left family behind in Novigrad and came, in part, for the adventure, wants to go home. It should not be a problem. And yet.

“But the secrets,” Vasilisa continues. “I mean, I know everything.”

That isn’t quite true, but what she knows could make the best spymasters go mad with envy. The names of half the Witchers, the range of their abilities, how they like their ale, how they take their bread. What potions they take that make their eyes turn black, and how long the effects take to wear off. What weapons they carry, and where they are typically sewn into their clothes. It is fatally dangerous knowledge to carry.

“And no one’s ever quit before,” Vasilisa concludes. “They’ve never let anyone who knows them to just…leave. Have they?”

They have not. It is a terrible test. The Witchers will swear that they hold no one against their will here; anyone who wishes to harm Kaer Morhen’s people is turned away or killed. But they cannot risk their people’s safety, and Vasilisa at the mercy of Redania and Temeria’s kings would be the greatest risk of all. Therein lies the first true test of Kaer Morhen’s mettle. 

[misscaia]

60+ Global Gardenscapes: Grayscale Coloring Book for Adults and Teens - Famous Architecture and Relaxing Landscapes from Across the World

*Coloring Pages: 8.5" x 11”

*35 beautiful grayscale images

*Perfect for coloring pencils graphite pencils, light markers, limited watercolors, and crayons

*All coloring pages are already framed and ready to be displayed post-coloring

#1 Coloring Tip: When coloring grayscale illustrations, the darker the gray tone the darker your chosen coloring utensil should be!

Introducing "Global Gardenscapes: Grayscale Coloring Book for Adults" - a delightful journey through serene landscapes and architectural wonders awaiting your creative touch. Immerse yourself in over 60 captivating scenes from around the world, featuring recognizable landmarks from Japan, Korea, Spain, Mexico, and more. Each page is rendered in greyscale, providing a soothing canvas for coloring enthusiasts of all skill levels. Grayscale coloring is when color is added to a drawing that already has shading, which ensure a beautiful artwork in less coloring time! As we grow older, we often have less time for creative activities and projects, with grayscale coloring you're able to achieve a masterpiece with depth in a quarter of the time!

As you breathe life into these enchanting scenes, let the stress of the day melt away, embracing the therapeutic benefits of coloring to decompress. Perfect for any occasion, especially during the rejuvenating spring season, this coloring book offers a delightful escape into the world of gardens and flowers.

Unwind, relax, and let your imagination bloom as you add vibrant hues to these grayscale masterpieces. Whether you're seeking a moment of tranquility or a creative outlet, "Global Gardenscapes" invites you to embark on a journey of self-expression and mindfulness through the art of coloring.

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[darkflamegods]

Dust did not often walk the streets of its people. It does not often walk, but it does not have something to fight and work off the energy. Not this time, at least.

The shade's claws click at the old stones, raised an eternity ago by someone it did not understand. It still doesn't know how the glowing lord had been so cold, but it hardly matters in the current age. Afterall, there is something new rising in the sky.

Dust considers its thoughts on the little goddess, so young and yet made of pieces so much older than her. It weaves around a cart left in the street, and thinks to itself. Daisy learned and travelled quite quickly, for a god unable to control her power very well.

Dust's horn knocks into a lantern left hanging outside a closed shop, and it listens to see if the thing falls. After a moment it continues walking, or perhaps slithering; Dust didn't really put much effort into definition during the night, and slithering had always been its preference.

It doesn't quite know what to make of Daisy. Its twin seems to think she's worth keeping around, though the Hawk has always had confusing ideas. It doesn't see the point, there's always another star to draw in.

A voice calls out to the shade, interrupting its contemplating and looping thoughts. Its mask was quite familiar with the language, and Dust usually leaned on it to understand speech, "Guardian! Are you alright? You're leaving trails behind." Dust's vision twisted to look at the being, a human, who arrived three decades ago. Fell in through a wall coated in pitch shadows, if it recalls. His arm was shaking, and it can't see his hand. Must be carrying a lantern or torch. He shook a lot. Dust takes a moment to reply, gathering the wisps it had been forgetting behind it, "I do not need concern. You should find your way back inside. It is late. I believe that you mortals still need sleep."

The mortal's lips moved, was it a smile? Or was he pursing them? What did that mean for humans, concern? His voice called Dust back out of its study, "I suppose we do. Don't wear yourself thin, and I'll see you around." He began to walk away, and Dust thanked its fortunes that he did not leave the light behind. Such things often brought annoyance to the shade.

Dust continued on, the temple wasn't much further now. 'Guardian'. What a strange title for a predator to hold. Dust still doesn't quite get how it fills the role. It supposes that it must seem like protectorship, to these starless mortals, with the glint missing in their eyes. They were allowed freely throughout Dust's territory, so long as they did not wrong it. And it keeps its territory hidden, all the better to deal with intruders if they cannot find an entrance.

Dust doesn't quite understand why it lets these mortals stay in its territory, but it doesn't feel much a need to learn. Perhaps it truly had claimed them as its people, and it wasn't just performative. Or perhaps its Devout simply needed others more like her, and Dust learned that from a faded memory. The shade didn't really care.

Dust spots engravings on a door, and feels their groove through the dark. Yes, it was the imprint of gnawing shadows. Made to resemble a flame, or perhaps the crown of a tree. Dust didn't really know how its Devout had directed the engraving to look.

Dust slithers towards the entrance to the temple, and pushes the doors open, and closes them behind it. It knew that the snow was cleared off the streets once a week, but it didn't recall when it was, and did not wish to track in more than it needed to.

The fountain. A gift from its twin. Dust thinks it was merely a trade, for letting it ground their nest here. The fountain has come into use much more than Dust wish it did. Dust feels its presence, and moves towards the back of its temple. Towards the shrine, that its Devout had constructed around the fountain. Dust doesn't care for the grand display, but it pleased the Devout, so it was not in the mood to remove the thing.

The drawing needles, at the tip of the centerpiece. Dust mildly ponders on the shape, feeling like a statue, but of what Dust doesn't draw from its memory. Probably something the Hawk saw during travels. The shade slides its claws across the statue, gently feeling the cool stone. It would be disrespectful to destroy a gift. And then its hands reach the six needles. One for each hand. It plunged its hands into the needles, and lets them extract the damned blood. Tainted by the little star's light. It did not like the feeling of light in its blood.

The fountain slowly comes to life, as its ichor, it recalls that it is black, begins to flow into the spigets releasing the blood into the air, to fall into the basin.

Dust realizes that it can feel something in the basin, and tries not to care about it. Probably some mortal who left coin in the empty fountain. It feels the enchantment woven into the tubes and bowl, cleansing the blood. The shade thinks that it has gotten enough out, and removes its hands, sewing them back into shape as it does so.

It would take time for the cleanse. Dust would come back later to gather the remaining blood. Right now it is tired, or more likely drained. Too many thoughts, too much effort put into its display of dominion. Dust wasn't keen on Daisy returning, but it understood that the mortals would appreciate the daylight. Dust wouldn't. It doesn't know why it decides to let them have this. It doesn't care.

The shade begins to step backwards, out of space, and down into itself. It was time for a break. The Devout would arrive if they needed anything.

[eyenaku]

sorry to be massively invasive here but as somebody with STICKERS all over their forearm crutches I am dying to know what your aid looks like to be deemed "too fun" (if you're willing to tell). Literally losing my mind over the idea of somebody saying that to me

BAHAHA ok ok so I can see why they thought it looked too fun but I Cannot See how after talking to me they didn’t listen

I have a variety of different wheel attachments for my shoes and modified heelys specifically to aid my conditions. They’re helpful of course in that they make travelling long flat distances both faster and less stressful on my joints and muscles overall, but also in that if I’m with people in close to (or even just using a shopping cart) I can essentially hitch a ride without having to exert too much of the little energy I do have on bad days

These wheeled shoes/attachments are not only considered medical expenses, but were cited specifically as an example for my qualification to use disabled parking! While they can, as roller shoes, be used for fun, that is by no means the reason I wear them in public (particularly not a reason I would wear them in stores), and they were absolutely not being used as a toy or fun thing! I personally would not wear them in places like stores if I didn’t have to, particularly out of some sense of respect, and particularly ti avoid situations like this one

I had a knee brace on, I had a cane I was actively using in between using the wheels. When I have little to no energy it is very hard for me to walk more than a little, and so using these wheels is something that works well for me and my circumstances; it’s not as though I was fooling around or anything which is part of what pissed me off so bad; I was pointedly trying to keep to myself and stay close to the people I was at the store with, so as not to draw unnecessary attention or “cause a scene” or smth

So yea it was rolling shoes, which I can see why they would think that *at first*, but after explaining my situation, particularly the fact that while they may *look* fun the fact that I’m needing to use them at all means I Am Not Having A Fun Time, I was still not listened to,,, Wheeled shoes + a very stickered cane

I also think it has to do with the fact that physically I look completely able-bodied- even on my worst days just looking at me most people tend to assume I’m sleep deprived for some reason. I also physically look very young; particularly to have a condition affect me that badly (something I still don’t get but egh )

Similar things happen when I try to use different aids too though,, I’ve been told by many a stranger, upon utilising one of the electric shopping carts, or having someone in with take me around in a wheelchair when I don’t have my shoes and cane, that I’m “taking away resources from people who need them” or that I “shouldn’t play with that stuff”. So it’s not even a matter of *my* aids in particular. The area I live in has a lot of older people, and it is 9/10 times people in this age group that make these types of comments, including this time

So anyways yea I can see why they thought that; wheeled shoes are regaining popularity as a fun thing right now! There’s all sorts of combo roller skate sneakers I see online, and what I use could easily be mistaken for that. There’s also the viewpoint that someone else might see me do it and think they could, but quite honestly I don’t see how that’s my issue; they could’ve said no to those people just as well. If it was a liability thing because of potential of injury, they didn’t say. But I’m really upset that I wasn’t listened to after providing context, especially as I was not being disruptive. The store was really big, and without those aids, I couldn’t actually walk around to shop! I don’t have access to a wheelchair of my own, and there was nothing available store provided (not that I was expecting it) and so there was no alternative for me. The fact that they would say that point blank even after I explained my situation is kinda nuts to me

idk I’m majorly pissed off about the whole ordeal rn,,, don’t have mobility aids that look fun to other people I guess /j

[lilyevanstan1325]

✨ Astral Lovers ✨

Chapter 2

People walking quietly, there are those who yell on the phone against some poor unfortunate and those who are simply out shopping.

I open my eyes and I don’t understand what is happening.

I find myself in the middle of a sidewalk, where I am literally overwhelmed by the crowd.

I look up to the sky and in the distance I can see the Statue of Liberty.

Even at this distance it is bewitching.

Majestic.

This is New York.

I turn my gaze to the tall skyscrapers, I've never seen anything so impressive in my life.

Honestly, I've never seen anything other than Brookville.

I have never gone beyond its borders, for one reason or another I have never been able to visit any other place.

Fault of a father too oppressive.

For him I don't need to go anywhere else, all I need is Brookville and I have to make it enough.

It's my home and it has to be enough.

I have never even had friends with whom to escape to foreign places and then get lost in the meandering unknown cities.

It is as if Brookville were a black hole that drawing everything in with its innate and devastating force of gravity, not allowing anyone who unfortunately ends up in it to get out.

Brookville is the gate to hell.

God I hate that place!

A moment later my sense of smell is tickled by a sweet, inviting, captivating scent.

I look to my left and notice a wonderful shop that sells cupcakes.

Whit a couple of steps I reach the shop.

All the cupcakes are arranged in rows in their beautiful and colorful display cases, as if they were precious jewels ready to embellish the palate of a lucky customer.

The shop is full of all kinds of people.

There is a couple, they are two beautiful guys holding hands and laughing together.

Their eyes are so full of love that I have to look away.

Looking at them is painful.

Painful for me that I have never felt such a great love and maybe I never will.

Next to them there is a beautiful woman with a wonderful baby bump, her husband gently stroking her belly continues to whisper that she is beautiful and if she wants she can eat all the cupcakes she wants because she is perfect like this.

Further on, sitting at a table is a sweet granny with her two granddaughters.

She is telling them how their grandfather courted her and how he convinced her only thanks to his sweet smile.

I take a few step when suddenly I come across one of those delicious hot dog carts, just like the ones I've only seen in movies.

A little girl tries to get her mom's attention at all costs.

She craves a hot dog so badly.

A smile graze my lips.

Suddenly a thought strikes me like a bolt from a clear sky.

I'm dreaming.

It cannot be otherwise.

Even if it's so real it's all just a dream.

Well honestly I'm not complaining...better all this than the usual damn nightmare that invades my nights for almost 10 years!

I don't care if I'm dreaming.

I'm here and I want to enjoy the moment.

I spin around trying to absorb everything I can.

Colors, flavors, smells, emotions.

I still spin around.

Again.

And again.

Until I run out of breath and stop, with my head down and short of breath.

When I raise my head my gaze is chained to the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

They are turquoise like a Caribbean sea.

Turquoise like a spring sky.

Only after a few seconds I realize the wonder that surrounds those eyes.

A perfect face, a greek god.

The jawline is absolutely perfect as if it had been carved in marble by Leonardo Da Vinci himself.

Fleshy, red and sinful lips that just at that moment curve into a pleased grin.

I return my gaze to his eyes, pure lapis lazuli, and I realize that he too is staring at me.

And now he's walking towards me.

Breath become more difficult.

As soon as he reaches me he gives me a breathtaking smile, white teeth as pearls, and with a firm but sweet voice he says "Hi, I'm Steve"

My legs are shaking and a shiver runs down my spine.

I can't help but notice an emerald green tinge in the center of his irises.

And I'm fascinated again.

I remain speechless for a few seconds and as soon as my neurons are operational again I try to gather all my strength and, with a faint voice and my cheeks on fire, I finally answer him...

"Hi, my name is Lily"

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@deansapplepie

[zangyo]

@itorisen said (inbox):

❛❛ You were out of eggs. ❜❜ In quiet footfalls , she finds his side again ( a package brightly white , red letters painting the grade. ) A quiet sort of stroll , among the rows of foods ; a navy skirt in flowing patterns & a simple white button up ( normal ---- today , they both , exude normalcy ; none would know the red of their hands. ) Gently , she presses it 'pon the shopping cart , smiling up at him. ❛❛ Heh , this is fun. ❜❜ Rarely has she wore the chance , to shop for foods ( usually a 7eleven bento , cold , rubbery 'pon the tongue & devoured so quickly , bland rubs into bland & flavors cannot be born. ) But here , alongside him , something excitable blooms in her flesh. ❛❛ What else do you need ? ❜❜ 'pon the edges of feet , she finds herself , leaning closer & gazing 'pon the screen of his phone ; the list of items. ❛❛ I'll grab a few extra things too. I'm gonna cook for you tonight , if you don't care. Oh , look , Kento - kun ! ❜❜ Tenderly , a hand presses 'pon his own & she draws him near to the row , fresh & sweet packaged bread. ❛❛ This is new , right ? Wanna try it ? My treat ! ❜❜ She beams up at him , a giggle 'pon her throat as she holds up the package. ❛❛ Ara , I can see your eyes lighting up ! Oh , how will I ever compete with Kento - kun's one true beloved , friend , companion , eternal darling , the bread ?! Woe is me ~ ❜❜

     ❝AH, THANK YOU, KOTO. I had forgotten that I needed eggs.❞ Sometimes Nanami forgot a great deal of things – most of which being minor until he suddenly opened the fridge and wanted to make an omelet, only to be met with eggless despair. Such would have certainly have been the case if not for Koto’s quick remembrance, but that was one of the reasons that she often tagged along on these ventures. She, after all, was at his apartment a great deal. With that ravenous appetite of hers, it was of no small wonder that she would recall the very things he needed. Pushing the cart forward, he stopped by where the milk was, reaching out to grab his favored brand and placing it within the cart. ❝I was thinking about doing something with yagyu. So, if you find any in the meat section, just be sure to get a pack. I need some leeks too.❞ Heh, sometimes she was like a little kid in her excitement. It made Nanami wonder if she ever sat in a cart while one of her father’s pushed her around, little legs kicking as she happily bounced. Lips quirked a bit into an amused smirk.

     ❝Yes, you can cook if you want. I have no complaints to that.❞ As they moved forward once more, he didn’t get too far before he was forced to pause. Brows rising curiously, he turned his head to look at where Koto happily pointed. New bread? Nanami did prefer when it was nice and warm out the oven, but sometimes he would pick up premade packages like this one to take home. Reaching out, he examined it curiously, his head giving a faint tilt. ❝Huh…I never heard of this kind of bread before.❞ Already his mind was going over exactly what would go well with it, his years of foodie experience rearing itself in that instance. Koto’s teasing was noted, and he did click his tongue to it; however, he knew better than to say anything lest she latch onto that and continue poking him. Her and Gojo were far too similar sometimes with their teasing. ❝I suppose we will be taking this back, then.❞ Among a great deal of fresh ingredients.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

200 of 2023

Created by navmav117

What's the largest animal you've ever had as a pet?

I’ve never had anything larger than cat, small dog or rabbit.

Do you own any heirloom jewelry?

I don’t think so.

When did you last stay in a hotel, and where?

I think April last year, in Waterloo.

What were you doing at this time yesterday?

Watching sitcoms in TV.

Do you own any kind of helmet?

Yeah, two protection helmets at work and one at home, from a labour union protest. This one is kind of funny, it has a little shopping cart attached to it.

Out of everything currently in your refrigerator, what food or drink is your favorite?

Cabbage rolls and milk. Not necessarily together XD

Are your initials in alphabetical order?

No, they’re not. Plus, they contain two times the same letter.

Which do you prefer: iPhones, Android, Blackberries, or something else?

Android. iPhonrs are overrated, and I’m not familiar with the layout of Blackberry.

Has anyone ever answered one of your surveys with a rude attitude?

More than once. Not to be rude. It’s just my attitude.

What's the worst injury you've ever had?

Cerebral haemorrhage. This is why I’m disabled now.

Do you like the taste of cough syrup?

Depends on which one, I kinda like thyme.

What is something you like to have conversations about?

Weird radio signals. Like, really.

What all is in the trunk of your car?

Empty bags for groceries, and that spare wheel.

Are you strong-willed?

Looks like I am.

Do you ever put fruit on your cereal?

Hardly ever, but I put them in my oatmeal.

Is your heat or air conditioning currently on?

Heating, we don’t have A/C.

Have you ever fallen off of a horse?

Never been horseback riding, so no.

How do you usually celebrate your favorite holiday?

We have a Christmas dinner with the whole family.

Do you have a job? If so, what is it that you do?

Yes, I do. I’m a rail electrician.

Have you ever been on a houseboat?

No, but I’ve seen a lot of them on our canals.

Which do you value more, your appearance or your intelligence?

My inteligence, 100%. Appearance means nothing to me.

Do you learn from your mistakes?

Always. I’d never make the same mistake twice.

Do you learn from the mistakes of others?

I don’t even know. I hardly follow others.

Any guess as to why some people draw out the last letter when they type, likee thiss forrr exampleee?

I don’t know, but double vowels are something normal in my native language.

When was the last time you drove something other than a car or truck?

Today, a train.

What's the last nice thing you did for someone?

Bought food for everyone in the house.

Were your grandparents present when you were born?

Only my both grandmas, but were they present at the hospital when I was born? No clue. My maternal grandma was most likely in Germany.

Have you ever played the game Angry Birds?

No, but my husband did.

Have you ever eaten/drank something and then realized it was past the expiration date?

Happened once. I didn’t get food poisoning XD

Do you own any jewelry containing your birthstone?

I have no clue what’s my birthstone and honestly, I don’t care.

What is something unusual that annoys you?

“French” fries, oh my God. Bitch please, fries were invented by Belgians, therefore they cannot be French because Belgium is not a part of France. I know, shocking fact.

[joy-haver]

Everything is everything. We must reduce harm. We must create help. We must create joy.

I’ve spent the last several years convinced my heath would only ever get worse, and that I was on the path to an early grave. I had good reason to believe this. I had a stroke at 23 years old, I had a bunch of terrible health problems. I was in constant pain and constantly passing out. I could barely walk or use my hands and my throat hurt so bad that I regularly could not speak.

What i realized, tho, was that I would never “get better”. I am never going to be able bodied, I am never going to walk long distances, I am never going to be able to hold a pencil and draw anything decent and maintain use of my hands. But, there were things that I could do. They were few and far between, but I figured fuck it. If It’s all downhill from here, I might as well make the most of it.

I got a tricycle. And slowly built up enough strength and resistance that I could bike longer. eventually, it made me less and less dizzy, and I could switch to a lighter regular bike that allowed me to bike further with less pain and less energy. This has now gotten me to the point that I don’t have to use the electric cart in the grocery store anymore, which makes grocery shopping much faster and less spoon intensive. So now, I can bike to the store, get my meds and groceries. and bike home by myself. Sure, I can’t walk all the way their. I can’t drive either. And if I’d tried to do it this way without building strength on the trike first, I would probably have injured myself severely, or would have got dizzy and probably been hit by a car. But by focusing on what I could do, I got to a point where “what I could do” expanded.

And the same is true for my art. I stopped trying to draw with a pencil. Eventually I learned that a paintbrush is much easier on my hands, so I switched to watercolor. I can’t draw the beautiful figures I used to, but now I can paint stunning landscapes. I’m going to try and get my art in a gallery close to my apartment so I can ride there to drop off new works.

I am more autonomous now. I am stronger now. I can express myself better now. Each thing I find that I genuinely can do creates more paths of things I can do. My ability grows in scope the more I abandon things that are out of my ability, and focus instead on what is within it.

My point with all this is to say, there is no single solution. Both personally and on a species level, There are possible futures we can build that may be survivable, but if we tried to live today as though we are in that future, most of us will flounder and fail. The problem seems too big because it is too big. You do not have the ability, you do not have the skills.

But you can learn them. You can get better. You can build yourself into a person who can live in an ecosystemic way. You can’t do it all at once, or overnight. But you can start somewhere.

Do whatever is the most accessible to you. Find ways to incorporate aspects of the future you want to live in into the day to day of your current life. Cast aside dreams of what you cannot currently do. perhaps one day you will discover them again, as reality.

Everything is everything. Reduce harm wherever you can. Create Help in ways that are most doable to you. Find joy in everything. Everything is everything. None of it is wasted. The skills you build will bring you forwards, and you will build complementary relationships with them that carry you further still. The world we will create will be built by the hands of the unlearned, the incapable, the broken. as it should be. Only such a world can ever be survivable. The only world in which we can exist is a world that is built from focusing on what helps us, each of us, exist.

types of opinions about climate change mitigation/adaptation:

Everyone should go vegan and that would fix everything

Everyone should stop having kids and that would fix everything

We're all doomed and soon all life on Earth will succumb to [some extreme extinction event that is well outside the scope of current predictions]

We're all doomed and if you are hopeful that solutions still exist you are callous, evil, and probably bigoted

We're all doomed and that's a good thing because Humans Are The Real Virus

I HATE CARS I HATE CARS SO MUCH FUCK CARS I HATE CARS

We have to move humanity into giant cities where they can't harm the rest of the Earth

We have to start farming in huge indoor warehouses because farming is unsustainable

We have to start eating algae and bacteria because crops are unsustainable

We have to go back to a pre-industrial existence because industries are unsustainable

If we just execute the 100 richest people, that fixes everything, right?

[itsleese]

Fratboy!Mirio

help, ive fallen into fratboy!mirio hell and i cannot get out

warnings: 18+! mentions of stalking, a baby, mommy kink, lactation, cheating (but not really)

Fratboy!Mirio sees you for the first time at the grocery store, pushing a baby in a shopping cart as you read labels and drop items in. He makes small talk because he’s Mirio: charismatic, confident, college quarterback.

It’s cute when you laugh at his jokes, hiding behind your hand like a real lady, a woman. Nothing like the girls at college, so flirtatious and forward, so easy and ready. Where’s the chase? Where’s the challenge?

Right in front of him. The pretty thing with the big diamond, shiny wedding band sitting snug below it. With the cotton sundress, sincere smile, tits he could drown in.

You.

“That’s a lotta carrots,” he comments, nodding at the bag. “Juicing them?”

You blink a few times, probably distracted by the bulge of his arms as he crosses them over his chest, “oh, I’m making carrot cake,” you mention, toying with your hair, a nervous tick he’s picked up on.

“Man, I love carrot cake,” he lies, dropping his head back and pressing his hands to his hips, “your husband is one lucky dude,” he almost sighs with a shake of his head, feigning disbelief.

You get flustered then, nervous chuckle leaving your lips, eyes widening for a couple seconds, “oh, it’s not for us,” you say, calming down some, “it’s for the elementary school’s bake sale. My sister is a teacher there; one of the reasons we moved here.”

“Oh, so you’re new to town? I thought so; It’d be impossible for me to forget a face like yours,” he smiles that killer smile, and that nervous energy of yours comes back; shaking your head, you glance away from him. “Right, like you don’t know your gorgeous,” he chuckles sceptically.

Then the baby squeaks, reaches up with both hands to grab at your chest. You really get flustered then, taking his little baby hands in your own, glancing sideways at Mirio, “I’m sorry; he’s going to want a feed soon, so I have to get going.” It’s cute how sincere you are, how your brows quirk up in apology.

“Oh, no stress,” he winks, sending a glance to the lucky little dude. “I’ll see you at the bake sale for that carrot cake.”

“R-really?” You ask, actually shocked.

“Yeah, of course! I’m Mirio, by the way,” he holds out his hand for you to take, and you offer your own name as you shake his hand. He tests your name on his lips, “it’s been a pleasure,”

“Y-yeah, nice to meet you,” you perk up, sending him a sweet smile, toying with your hair again.

You part ways, but he tails you for a bit, finds out what kinda car you drive, where you live. It’s incredible that you don’t draw the curtains when you pull your dress down and pop open your nursing bra, little hands groping and pulling at a full breast, milk dripping onto his face as he fusses, nosing around for your nipple.

His pants grow tight as you shush the baby, guiding his little lips where they’re supposed to go, and Mirio envisions his own lips on your skin, tasting you, imagines the sounds he would pull from your mouth as he licks and sucks and gropes at you.

But Mirio isn’t going to sate his desire now; he likes to edge himself a little. Besides, that bake sale is this weekend, and he’s got a feeling— if he plays his cards right— you might want your lawn mowed.