#it’s okay to make ugly drawings sometimes

[cleo-hae]

guess who ragequit her isack hadjar drawing and scrubbed off watercolour off the paper 🙂

[teaboot]

Because a few have asked

Teaboot's Super Okay Guide To Developing A Brain That Makes Art Work

Or: How to get your eyes to talk directly to your hands without your brain micromanaging you

Or: How to draw better

⚠️ Warning for super fast gifs cause they all gotta be 5 seconds or less or else my phone shits the bed ⚠️

1. Do the following exercises. Don't just think about doing them or figure out a clever way to not do them, just do them. Yes even the boring ones and the ones that look ugly

2. If you have any pride, crush it. Kill it. Crunch it up into itty bitty bits and feed it to the ducks at the park. You have no talent and don't know anything and everything you make is hot garbage. Believe that. Make yourself believe that. That is where you live now. Surrender any indignation or shame you have to the void and embrace rock bottom.

3. Read step 2 again and actually do it this time. My methods will not work if you try to make this process pretty. Don't.

4. No drawing from your imagination on these. Actually draw from real life. If it's boring like eating day old oatmeal in in beige room but your usual art still feels wonky then I'm talking to you specifically. You can't write poetry until you learn words and yes learning words is as dull as horseshit sometimes but do you wanna be Robert Frost or not

5. Pick up some cheap paper and a ballpoint pen. Grab a small object, between the size of your hand and the size of a microwave. Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Put the tip of your pen to the paper and press "start".

Now without looking at your paper, only looking at the object, draw the object in as much detail as you can. Do not break contact between the paper and the pen tip until the timer goes off.

This is a continuous line drawing, and you're doing it in pen because you need to know what rock bottom looks like and rock bottom looks like no eyes no erasers no shading no do-overs.

6. Sit down in a public place. As someone walks by, draw their their body in as much accuracy as you can before they are no longer in view. Once you can't see them anymore, the drawing is done. No adding details. Pick someone else and do it again. No "base sketch". Just them. If it barely looks human you're doing great

7. Get a black pen. Put a small object on a dark, flat surface. Now draw the surface without drawing the object. Don't draw the outline of the object. Don't do a sketch. Just draw the surface that is visible around the object until only a silhouette remains. No time limit just do it.

The ability to draw accurate proportions from sight comes from learning to see what exists between a thing and the absence of a thing and if that hurts to think about then you need to do it more

8. Keep doing these until you are Ready.

9. You will know when you are Ready. It will make sense when you are Ready. You will Understand.

10. Unwind with some goofy shit so you don't forget why you wanna improve to begin with

[plutosillywrites]

imagine plus size!reader going to the bar for a date— just to get to stood up.. but that’s okay, 141 is there for their night out, and could never say no to a pretty bird like you.

(i hope u like this nonsense :3)

you’ve never had much luck with dating, which you think for the most part you’re okay with, sometimes it just doesn’t work out when you think it will— but it does sting when all of your friends are snatched up and engaged or dating.

it leaves you asking if there’s something wrong with you— which you know is not true, but when you are so crushingly rejected every single time, you get sick of it.

and tonight, god you hope it’s different. you had been chatting up some pretty guy, and he was nice— attentive even, and you aren’t ugly by any means.your curves are to die for, the way your tummy is seen in dresses, and how your thighs and ass look in some good jeans— maybe you have a few more fat rolls than the average person, and your body held a plump look. but you looked damn fine with it too..

the cellulite— the hair, the skin. practically flawless, and as you slipped on your black dress with pearl accessories, and a beautiful vintage black bag. you were ready to go—

you slip your heels on, grab your keys and you’re out the door. locking your apartment door behind you (god forbid you forget again like that one time. you’ll always miss your good mixer that the thief stole.)

the walk there is quite nice, your date having asked you to meet up at a jazz club nearby, which was only a 10 minute walk.

you walk towards the front door of the place, bright LED letters adorned the top of the building. ‘THE JAZZ ROOM.’ it’s a nice, quaint place.

as you step inside the sound of the sax and sweet singing voice draws you in, you smile at the song being sung— and make way towards the bar, waiting patiently for your date.

what you don’t see however, is how 4 men sat back in their seats to get a better look at you as you walked in. johnny is the first to say something— “Fucking gorgeous ain’t she.” — the others hum in agreement.

you twiddle your thumbs, sipping on a fruity cocktail because— of course you can’t shoot whiskey, it’s been 25 minutes since you got here— you even showed up 5 minutes late.

you laugh, but not one filled with joy, one filled with disbelief. “i think im just gonna delete tinder. it doesn’t work— stupid apps never do.” youre mumbling as youre finishing off your drink, and fanning down the bartender.

johnny claps his hands, and goes to stand. “i think pretty bonnie over ‘er got stood up. blokes missing out— it’s alright though, i’ll go and swoop her up.” he shuffles out of the booth, the others make no move to disagree but simon chimes in by saying, “you better tell ‘er how fucking gorgeous she looks tonigh’. “

johnny then makes his way towards the empty seat beside you. the 3 men sit and watch— they trust johnny to woo you over, he’s just too good with words.

you ask the bartender for another cocktail, and as you go to take a sip you hear a gruff scottish voice from beside you. “what’s a pretty bonnie like you doing here alone?” you turn, and wow.

the man has a mohawk, and the most stunning blue eyes you have ever seen. he’s got a smile that has a warmth churning up inside— why is he staring at you like your the only girl in the world? and why does it feel so good??

“oh— uhm,, haha..” you trail off, “it’s a funny story, really.” you fiddle with the fruit on a toothpick in your drink, “i’m supposed to be on a date, but uhm.. he didn’t end up showing.” you grimace a bit, taking a large sip.

“well, he’s a bloody idiot.” the man says, he leans closer, resting his head on his hand. “my names johnny, you wouldn’t mind if i took his spot as your date, would’ya?”

a handsome, muscular man with a hot accent asking to be YOUR date? yeah, you’re not saying no to that! you smile, laughing so quiet johnny almost didn’t catch it under the music.

“no, i wouldn’t.. i’d prefer if you did.” you scoot your barstool closer, and tell him your name, your hand resting on the table dangerously close to his.

“you look stunning tonight, love.” he breathes out, he intertwines his fingers with yours, “fucking breathtaking— had my eyes glued to you since you walked in ‘ere.”

you look at him quickly, he’d watched you since you walked in? “you like what you saw that much?” you questioned with a frown, and his smile only grew. “fuck yes, and not just me—“ he leans you can see the rest of the group.

their eyes are hungry; with something else mixed in, and you can’t quite tell if its passion or lust. “—my whole team thinks you’re the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

your body goes slack just slightly, before letting a smile creep onto your face, resting your hand on johnny’s knee you leaned close to his ear.. “well, it’s rude to keep people waiting.. isn’t it?” you whispered.

“you’re right as rain, bonnie. why don’t we join them?” johnny mumbles back, already standing and tugging you near their table, his hand wrapped around your waist…

pt 2!! https://www.tumblr.com/plutosillywrites/775073803823890432/part-2-of-plus-sized-reader-who-gets-swooped-up

(an: johnny i love you. i love you and you just don’t know it.)

[starcharmed]

୨ৎ .ᐟ.ᐟ - unnecessary feedback

summary : sukuna might be an asshole but at least he's nice (sometimes) ◞ cw : modern au, some playfully mean comments, cursing, 1 (one) suggestive comment (it's sukuna c'mon), abuse of commas, word rot no.3 ◞ wc : 0.5k+

“The fuck are you doing?” Your boyfriend’s sweet and kind and caring tone reached your ears as you squared your shoulders up and tilted back the notebook to block out a view he could still see at his height. 

“Nothin’.” Sliding from his gaze, you rubbed your fingertips across the abnormally unmessy sketch across the page, “You wouldn’t even be interested in this anyways.” Okay, you deserved that eyebrow raise but it wasn’t completely false. Sukuna hardly looked at your art whenever you were working, maybe it’s because he figured you didn’t like to be perceived while working. 

“If you sat there for ten fucking minutes staring at me like I grew four arms or something, then it’s not nothin’”, pitching his voice to mock your tone, Sukuna tried swiping at your notebook, “Let me see.”

“No, you freak.” Raising your notebook up in the air was a pointless move. Overestimating your physical prowess against Sukuna all of people, you let go once his hand grasped the notebook. You’d rather have him see than tear the entire thing in half trying to squabble with him. 

“Sukuna, please, they look horrible and I didn’t even draw your nose right and it’s bad-”

He was going to kill you (ignore you for about ten minutes until he wanted attention), then hide your body in the basement (you don’t even have a basement), and tell the police that it was your weird neighbour Satoru (he looks like a guy that would hide bodies, to be honest). 

“They’re not bad.” Oh my god you were living with a döppelganger. 

You winced at the uneasy tapping of the notebook upon the top of your head, “I mean it, dumbass. They look fine. You’d know if I was lying, anyways.” You would. Sukuna sugarcoating anything was as possible as diamond rain on Earth. 

Sukuna let you grab your notebook again, making a face when your lead-smudged fingers left an ant sized stian on his hand. You muttered a half-hearted thanks for the returnal of your lifeline, watching him rub his hands against his charcoal black hoodie. Did he even know that he was just smearing the lead against his hand further? He probably didn’t care.

“You were right about my nose, though.” Here we go.

“It’s the angle”, poor defense but not a lie. It was not that easy to capture the full structure of his nose at a sideways downwards tilted type of angle. 

Sukuna snorted, the displeasing noise earning a scrunched up nose from yourself, “You’ve seen my nose from plenty of angles. Especially at a downwards view.”

“That’s why it’s a sketch!” Practically screeching out the words fastly you hoped to save yourself some face, “Get out of my room you hoe.” Discarding your notebook someone amongst the mountains of throw blankets upon your bed, pushing Sukuna out of your shared bedroom was harder than moving, well, a mountain.

“You’re so weird”, grabbing your hands, Sukuna stopped your movements flawlessly, “Very weird. Why am I dating you again?”

“Because you love me?” You wished you could verbally add more question marks without seemingly speaking oddly. 

“No, I hate you.”

“What the fuck? Die.” Cringing away from the kiss on top of your head, you felt the urge to draw him as ugly as possible.

Wait…maybe you should draw him with four arms next.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

What I Wouldn't Do

This fanfiction is a Valentine's Day exchange gift for the lovely @henderdads. Cass, Eddie absolutely hates Valentine's Day, but for Steve? Well. He's willing to make an exception. Have an amazing Valentine's Day, you deserve it so much!!

Sometimes, it is difficult to reconcile several different truths in our lives. 

Eddie currently has this dilemma. 

Truth A: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson’s boyfriend, allegedly loves sappy romantic things, Valentine's Day included.

Truth B: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington's boyfriend, feels like if the world ever has to end, it should do so on February 14th, for this is the worst day of all days, the day of heart-shaped chocolate that tastes like crap, couples exchanging sweet words and bodily fluids, sometimes even semi-publicly, and don't even get him started about that horrible romantic music. 

After swearing on the Munson doctrine he won’t sell his soul to consumerism for anything and anyone but Steve, Eddie Munson decides to ignore Truth B. Steve Harrington deserves the best Valentine's day in the history of this idiotic holiday and Eddie has a hunch, a massive, Everest-sized hunch, that in all of his previous Valentine's days, Steve was always the one to do all the work. His beautiful and brave people-pleasing boyfriend. 

Then Eddie realizes another very uncomfortable truth. He has no idea how to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He spent the twenty one-ish years of his existence avoiding the holiday, so now he has to do some research. 

He starts small. When they walk together in the Hawkins center, careful not to touch or hold hands because Hawkins still remains a backward hellhole, he notes what Steve looks at. If his eyes linger on a certain flower for a few seconds, he makes a mental note. A mental note means in Eddie's case that he repeats the name of the flower ad nauseum, quickly excuses himself and scribbles it onto his forearm not to forget. He even buys a permanent marker for this. He can't forget anything, not when it's important for Steve.

When Steve asks about the scribbles, he claims it's for the next campaign. He even draws a sword and a shield next to the notes to avoid suspicion.

He asks many questions, most of them under the pretense of helping Gareth with his dates. "I swear, Steve, when he's lovestruck, he gets completely stupid. Not stupid stupid, Gareth's smart, but he can't hold rhythm and we need him to hold it, he's our drummer! So save this suffering aspiring rockstar and tell me, what do you think is the best type of chocolate? Milk chocolate? Okay, and is that like, universal? Did your previous dates like it? I see, a majority then! Sooo...are you a part of that majority?" 

Very smooth. 

See, Eddie doesn't give a flying demobat about chocolate types, he's more into hard candy. He doesn't like cut flowers, they die anyways because you cut them, how is that fair to that flower, huh? To die for being pretty? And of course, he hates the whole EXPECTATION of Valentine's Day. 

But the more he asks, the more he finds out, he doesn't see it as participating in the mindless machinery of lovestruck idiots. Instead, he sees the flush on Steve's cheeks when he talks about dark chocolate with dried raspberries and how his parents once brought it back from dad's trade conference, how it was love at first taste. He scratches out the idea for a bouquet of flowers when Steve mentions he’s always hated them because the flowers are so beautiful and vibrant, but they’re cut for an obligation in their prime. “It sounds stupid when I say it,” he chuckles, “but I want them to live until they’re ugly and withered, you know? They’re worth way more than their looks.”

Eddie could kiss him right there and then. And he does. 

He brings it all together, prepares all of Steve’s favorites with a silly twist because it’s Eddie, and Eddie lives for silly things. It really needs to be his favorites because Steve once admitted to him that most people with the exception of Robin and Dustin don’t really know what he likes, they just assume. And Steve is happy that people even thought about him, he thanks them and treasures those things that don’t mean anything to him. To Steve, being thought about is enough. 

Well, not to Eddie Munson. 

He asks Steve not to plan anything for their Valentine's Day. Or more precisely, he asks him to stay free and available and not worry his beautifully hairy head. He knows that if he didn't say this, Steve would have gone above and beyond for him, he would have likely taken Eddie to a concert with music so loud he’d get a migraine, but he’d suffer through it. So Eddie has to stop that from happening.

On the actual day, Eddie prepares everything. He sends Gareth ("You owe me so much for this. SO MUCH, MUNSON. I actually wanted to watch this tonight!") to rent Steve's favorite movie and goes himself to get access to the Hawkins High with…almost completely legal means, just a little bit of bribing here, some promises for a lengthy D&D campaign there, and of course lots and lots of nougat. 

He gathers everything in his van, waits for the kids and the janitor to get out and then starts setting the scene. 

There are two more incompatible truths that Eddie Munson grapples with: 

Truth A: Eddie Munson fucking HATES the Hawkins High. He wants it to burn down in flames, with only the theater room staying intact. 

Truth B: Steve Harrington sometimes wistfully mentions how he wishes he could have dated Eddie Munson in high school. How they’d share lunches, trade secret kisses in the hallways. He wishes himself and the world had been different. 

And so Eddie Munson grits his teeth, walks those cursed hallways he only managed to escape a few months back and counts on Robin Buckley to deliver his invitation with flair. “Extra points if you get him a trumpet solo, Buckley!” 

Robin apparently delivers because only half an hour after the expected invite, as he is smoking his fifth cigarette - don’t blame the guy, he’s nervous! He’s got a big date! - Steve arrives with a smile that’s equally excited and nervous. He keeps running his fingers through his hair and overall looks just biteable. 

Steve walks up to him and brushes his fingers against Eddie’s wrist, discreetly as they have established. It’s their own version of a kiss. “I thought you hated Valentine’s Day?” he asks and he looks so apologetic that Eddie promises to base all villains in his new campaign on all the people who ever made Steve feel he wanted too much. 

Eddie glances around, deems it safe and pulls Steve into an actual kiss. "It might be Valentine's day for you, Steve. For me, it's the "Steve Harrington Appreciation Day." He winks at Steve and relishes in the slight blush that has crept into his cheeks. “The name is already registered and all. No changes possible or accepted. Follow me, big boy.” 

Steve laughs when he sees a set cafeteria table with something that brings back so many memories. How did Eddie get two portions of school lunch?! The man has to be magical, he decides. They eat together, chat about their day, and then Eddie decides feeding each other is off the table because they’re giggling so much he almost stabbed Steve with the fork. 

They walk the hallways together, hand in hand, and Eddie sometimes turns around, sticks his tongue out at an imaginary girl and sneers “back off! He’s mine!”. 

Steve turns after Eddie and nods. “What he said,” he whispers and squeezes Eddie’s waist. 

Eddie then hands Steve a sports bag he stashed in the changing rooms and winks at him. “What are you waiting for, Harrington? We have some balls to toss! Baskets to score. That.” And before Steve has a chance to protest, he gets his own bag and starts changing into those awfully familiar PE shorts in all their green and white glory. 

Steve just watches him, mouth hanging open. “Now I get why I never saw you in these,” he mumbles as he also starts changing. “I would have realized I’m bi like, at that moment.” 

But Eddie just laughs and pulls his hair into a loose bun. “Oh, Steve. You have no idea what those shorts on you did to the little closeted me. The thoughts they gave me.”

“Lucky for you, baby,” says Steve and pulls Eddie to his feet, “this time you’re allowed - and strongly encouraged - to both watch AND touch.” Then he cocks his head to the side and adds: “Well. If you score at least one point.” 

Eddie tries. Fails. Tries again, even with Steve helping him. Eventually, they settle for a quick game of tic-tac-toe which Eddie wins and happily squeezes Steve’s butt. 

Their final destination is the only class they ever shared, history. All desks are empty, except for one - the middle one in the second row, where Steve used to sit. There’s dark chocolate with dried raspberries, Steve’s favorite, and a pot of flowers. Yellow, another favorite. 

“The lady in the flower shop said they should live, like, really long,” shrugs Eddie and moves the chair for Steve so he can sit down. “I forgot their name the second I got them, but Buckley knows and she was asked to deliver a booklet with how to care for them.” 

Steve drags him down to his level and kisses Eddie, deep and long. He’s either crying or laughing into the kiss, maybe both. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Eddie’s cheek. “All of this…is right. It’s me. You remembered.” 

“Eh…kinda. Tried to.” Eddie gives up and lets himself be seated on Steve’s lap. “Actually, I had a small…cheat sheet. Let me show you.”

Steve watches as Eddie takes off his bracelet and watch and sets both on the desk. He gasps as he sees a coiling pattern around Eddie’s wrist, something that looks like a dotted or scratched tattoo all around, but that’s not it. Because then Eddie moves his wrist closer and he can read all the words on Eddie’s skin. 

DARK CHOCOLATE WITH RASPBERRIES

NO CUT FLOWERS! YELLOW IS GOOD

COFFEE WITH ONE DROP OF MILK

NO ICE IN DRINKS - TRIGGERS MIGRAINES

BELTS AND SHOELACES - GOOD GIFTS TO WEAR

FREDDIE MERCURY

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY

NO KETCHUP! 

STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM

These and so much more. All of Steve’s favorites, all what made him feel like himself, forever preserved in Eddie’s skin. 

He buries his head in Eddie’s shoulder and holds him so tight Eddie has trouble breathing, but then he decides that oxygen is overrated. “You’re so crazy,” sobs Steve into his shoulder. 

Eddie laughs again into the quiet of their former school. “I know.”

“And I love you so much.” 

He kisses Steve’s forehead. “I know. And I love you too. That’s why I had to do this, you know. Because even when I’m old and ugly, just like these flowers will be one day, when I’m senile and can hardly remember my own name, I will look at my hand and I’ll know all that is important.” 

Steve holds him even tighter if that’s possible, but maybe oxygen is needed just a little. Eddie gently kisses Steve’s head again and whispers: “We’re not done yet, love. Can you let me go so I can play us a movie? Something nice.” 

The arms crushing him loosen their hold and Steve briefly turns away to wipe at his eyes. “Sure. Sorry, I just…this is new for me. But good. So good.” 

“You deserve the good. All of it.” Eddie means it. And if seeing Steve appreciated as he should have been all of his life is redeemed by something as mundane as ignoring some truths about himself? Eddie is ready and willing. 

As he puts Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom into the VHS player, he realizes something terrifying - he’s actually LOOKING FORWARD TO THE NEXT VALENTINE’S DAY. 

Oh well. Time to adjust the Munson doctrine. After all, it might become a Munson-Harrington doctrine one day, so it deserves some revision.

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

[deerspherestudios]

Hellow!~ I just want to mention something a lil detail that I love about Myachel (not only the VN and the story cuz aa just drive me crazy <3 ) but is his Nose! I Love that he has no ''aesthetically pleasing'' looking one, he has an Upturned nose wich sadly in the world of fashion is not considered 'pleasing' but he is Breaking it ! Myachel is so handsome and without following any beauty standard wich makes him feel more real (in a way) <3 Sure sure he is a type of Myconid and stuff but like his design is still humaine. Im happy to see artists giving more variety to small but iconic details such as the nose and hope these would inspire others to try it and not being scared of drawing them :DD (im just tired of seeing the anime dot noses or plain Nothing ^^; ) Ok and for the question: I bet Myachel has seen other places of the world in books from the library, Does he wishes to visit one or more of them? like Beach, Mountain, Desert, Or maybe a city?

Aw this is so wholesome 😭😭❤️! Sometimes I do feel like his sprites aren't the most conventionally attractive when it comes to visual novel love interests, but I wanted to keep them authentic in that; not everyone is gonna find him attractive! And that's okay!

In fact I find it super interesting when people talk about others not liking his design, it really serves the whole 'ugly monster' narrative some merit haha! So thank you for sharing your thoughts on his little nose, I'm sure he'd be happy to let you boop it.

As for locations he'd love to visit, he's actually been to a few places! Beaches, mountains, maybe not the desert though, but he's definitely been to cities! He'd love to visit a fun fair though but the crowds and loud attractions/rides make him nervous. 💔

[princessbrunette]

tattooartist!pope was pretty nonchalant at times. you could tell he wasn’t always this way, and occasionally he lets the hyperactive dork in him slip out — but he’d had his heart played with too many times, so decided he was going to be petty just like everyone else. now the two of you had a thing going and you just wanted him to show he cared. you wanted to know things were exclusive.

the two of you were on the couch when you decided to bring it up. you didn’t quite have a clear point to make, but clearly you felt comfortable enough to express a particular emotion.

“i can feel you staring at me, you know?” pope chuckles quietly, eyes not removed from his sketchbook as he draws out a few design ideas. in the low lighting of your apartment, the tattoos that cover his neck cluster into one.

“sorry.” you smile, but making no effort to look away.

“is something wrong?” he converses, and is happy to do so. he liked spending time with you after work, it’s why he was here after all.

“do you like— frequently tattoo other girls?”

you watch his pencil slow and he slides his eyes over to you. “i mean… yeah, of course?” he raises an eyebrow when you say nothing. “its kind of my job.”

“yeah, for sure but like — they probably get tattoos in like… super intimate places, right?” you’re looking at your nails now, already feeling dumb about the whole thing. you just couldn’t help it sometimes, couldn’t help feeding the jealousy beast that festered in the pit of your stomach.

“i mean work is work.” he shrugs, but continues to stare at you through the silence. “any reason you’re asking that?”

“no.”

“okay that’s bullshit.” he puts his sketchbook on his lap and turns to face you a little more. it takes about ten seconds, but you look back up at him — even having the audacity to try and look all casual. “so what are you like jealous or something?” pope is suddenly the one feeling vulnerable. scared, even. jealousy means serious. serious means he gets hurt in the end.

“no.” it comes out even quieter. “just forget it. i was curious—”

“—because we aren’t even really dating, you know that?” he croons, but it comes out a lot snippier than intended. you’re silenced instantly, staring ahead at the TV. you decide no answer is needed, bringing your knees to your chest as you pretend to be engrossed in the show infront of you. his lips part, chest heaving with guilt. why the fuck would he say that? “look, i mean… yet.” he shuffles up to you, “admittedly i have some baggage… but i do like you. i don’t… know why i had to say it like that.” he wraps an arm around you and you sulk, a sucker for it.

“i want to get a tattoo.” you pout. “one right between my tits. a bow or something.”

“no you don’t. you just want it because i’m the one doing it for you. you would literally regret it as soon as you step outside the store. i try and encourage my clients to make the right choice, and plus — you quite literally regret the tattoo i did for you on the inside of your lip where no one can see it.” you hear him smirking warmly, his thumb pulling down your puffy bottom lip in gesture to reveal the ink.

“how’d you know?” you mewl.

“i’ve been in this for a while. i just know.”

you turn and look at him now, and he smiles at you — not that cold, withdrawn version of him that rears its ugly head at times— the warm, kind of dorky version. the one you like.

“sorry for being crazy.”

“hey, stay crazy. the majority of geniuses on this planet are a little crazy.”

[elenthyaolyenths]

𝐌𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 "𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧".

This post is a little bit about me ranting, but mostly about education and how to appreciate fanarts on socials. Please I'm not trying to hurt anybody, I just realised today that, maybe, there are things we artists all need to say one day, and so it's my turn.

A very kind person (Thanks again, dear.) just told me that someone was reposting my art, without even naming me, on a public group on Facebook. I reported it to the admins, but I still don't know if they will do something about this problem, or if they'll do nothing about it or if they'll simply kick me out of their group so I won't be able anymore to see what they are doing with my reposted art. So, for now, I won't cite this Public group.

So. Hello, my name is Elenthya Olyenths, a.k.a @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist on Tumblr.

And my art has been stolen. Again.

Even if there was my signature on it, and a discrete stamp with my name right in the middle of the canvas. It's... awful to see. Because this time, it's clearly not from someone who doesn't know yet the basic "share and reblog but DO NOT REPOST" rule. And it's not someone who reposted my art crediting the wrong name either because they have found my art with the wrong name, in a illegal re-post on another social.

This time, it's someone who downloaded my art pictures, reposted it in the same order, and even copy-pasted my personal explanations (about my injured wrist!!). The stealing intention is quite clear.

(and please don't tell me it's probably a bot aka a programm doing it, because we will never know but it FEELS THE SAME AWFULLY WRONG and whatever, if it's a bot, someone DO has created this bot and so we need to talk about this and teach to people how to recognise a illegal repost.)

So, please, dear Good Omens fans, and my dear fellows from other fandoms.

I just want to kindly remind you all that seeing our art reposted, even with credits, even with our signature, is very hard to live for us artists.

Please, if you see an official artist post that you like, think about using the "share" functions (reblog on tumblr, "Share" on FB and Instagram, etc...), it helps us artists to see where and how our art is appreciated. And for me it's a wonderful way to bring back motivation to me and then to draw/write even more. 𝐒𝐞𝐞, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫f𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐧-𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬! *^__^*

And about reposting art but crediting the artist with the @ (like in here @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist):

Sometimes it's quite okay... but not so great in my own personal opinion. Because it still might be misunderstood by other fans that can't always see the @ and just repost the art with the reposter wrong name on it - or whitout any name at all, which is not better.

Signatures and stamps and watermarks can help us to avoid these problems, but reposting art whitout explicit and personal agreement from the artist is still a issue and in my humble opinion it's NOT RIGHT.

Reposting, even with credits, even made by trustworthy followers, is an issue. T𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 f𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, f𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨f 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 f𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧. It hurts, believe me.

And I alreay know that the current situation will bother me for several days, and it will make me struggle about my drawing schedule, and it will make me brainstorm about which huge and ugly watermarks i need to use again for avoiding such issues.

This is why I can't allow anybody else to repost my art anymore, except for a collab and only with my explicit consent.

Please. Thank you.

Have you all a happy timezone and a wonderful week.

Elen, aka Elenthya Olyenths, aka @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist

Thanks to the TNAN Discord for their amazing support and @itsscottiesstark for her kind advice on this text.

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet ; @naturallyteal

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[whousestypewriters]

its you and me, baby - j.l x reader

pairing: joey lynch x fem!reader [established relationship]

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing and sadish/insecure thoughts?

a/n: dw guys im still feeding you even tho im not online (this has been ling over due as well sorry to the two anons who requested this for taking so long!!) also i rlly dont like that i kinda not really sorta made aoife a problem in this bc joeyaoife forever!!!

taglist: @lxvebelle, @ecliphttlunar,

you like to think you're not insecure.

really.

but sometimes those small moments of doubt creep in and you find yourself questioning yourself more.

like right now as you watch your boyfriend talk to a very pretty girl at the bar. the same girl he'd been talking to for the last fifteen minutes. aoife molloy. she went to school with you and joey. you never really talked much to her but always got the vibe that she was a perfect shining star, that everyone loved.

example number one; your boyfriends smile right now.

he's smiling brightly at aoife, chatting away while he gets drinks for the both of you, laughing at whatever things she says. the feeling starts to build in your gut, one you desperately try to shove down because its the worst feeling ever.

and you see them too. the slight touches from aoife on joey's arm. fucking hell you're going to need several drinks if this is how tonight is going to go.

aoife's loud laugh breaks through your thoughts and draws your attention - not that you weren't already looking at them - back to her. joey's eyes are alight and you feel a ping of sadness and two ugly emotions you definitely don't like; insecurity and jealousy.

why didn't joe's eyes light up that bright when you two were together? why did he laugh as loud? was it you? were you just not funny enough? or was it something else? that one thing deep, deep down you were always afraid of. that you weren't good enough for him. and that he had found someone better.

"stupid shit thoughts," you grumble to yourself. "shut up, shut up, shut up."

pushing away all thoughts, you decide on getting your mopey ass a drink instead cause clearly someone else can't do that. standing up you make your way over to the bar and just to be petty you slip in next to joey and aoife and call out to the bartender ordering your drink.

joey hears your voice and his head instantly snaps around to you. "y/n, hey baby i was just getting us some drinks," he says with a small grin.

"yeah it seems so," you roll your eyes picking up your drink and heading back to your table. joey seemingly knowing that you're pissed says a quick goodbye to aoife and follows you over with two more drinks.

he sits down across from you and tries to make eye contact. "are you okay?"

you answer with a short nod and a sharp, "yes."

jealousy isn't a good emotion. its such an awful feeling, and you do not like it. so when joe asks, "you sure, baby?"

you kinda snap. "i said yes. i'm fine okay?"

he lets it go for now but you feel his eyes on you through out the rest of the - admittedly short - time you spent out together. you know he knows something is bothering you.

yeah, somthing was bothering you, someone called aoife molloy who's the prettiest person ever and who had joey lynch laughing his ass off for at least twenty minutes before you interrupted.

now you liked aoife, she was a sweet girl, but seeing the way she was with joey tonight really made you wanna bitch slap her. that was your boyfriend not hers.

the ride home you were quiet and you tried to bury the jealousy and insecurity bubbling beneath the surface you really did. but those dumb little thoughts kept weaselling their way into your head creating more doubt.

after you had both gone inside - still not talking - joey had had a shower and started to relax getting ready for bed while you had your own.

the hot - ok more like burning - water did nothing to ease the awful feeling in your gut. it was aoife molloy most guys your age would kill to go out with her. and she had chosen to talk to your boyfriend - who you aren't kidding yourself he's absolutely gorgeous. you've heard girls whispering about him more that a few times - you're not-single-very-taken-boyfriend.

ugh.

so when you come out of the shower and still didn't talk to joey thats when he snapped.

"alright thats it." he shoots his arms out wrapping them around your waist and throwing you on your back on the bed. he leans over you one arm on each side of your head caging you in. "what is wrong, and don't you dare say nothing because i swear to god i will kill you-in-a-non-threatening-way-because-i-love-you," he rushes the last part out.

"nothi-"

"y/n."

"fine," you sigh. "it... bothered me tonight, when you were talking with aoife."

"and..." joey eggs you on.

we're you really about to say this? "and i got jealous and insecure and i wasn't happy about it."

"why were you jealous?"

"because of her!" you cry. "its aoife fucking molloy, she's gorgeous, she's every guys dream girl and she was flirting with my boyfriend! and my boyfriend was smiling right back at her and yes it made me jealous because my boyfriend never smiles at me like that. he never laughs as loud when he's with me so yes. i. was. jealous."

joey's face stays still for a moment before he breaks into the biggest laugh. "oh, my god, y/n!" he chuckles loudly. "you have absolutely nothing to be worried about there. you wanna know what we were talking about the entire time? you." he leans down and presses a kiss on your forehead. "we were talking about you." he presses another kiss to your cheek, "aoife had brought up how grumpy you looked and we got caught up talking about you." he presses a kiss to the other cheek.

"me?"

"yes you, my grumpy little bug." he presses a soft kiss on your lips.

"there is no-one else, you got that? i adore you. i cannot stand the thought i being with anyone else. it physically pains me. i love you more than i'm actually sure is possible." he presses another kiss to your lips.

"its you and me baby. you and me."

a smile overcomes your lips and you pull joeys face down to kiss him yourself. "i love you," you whisper. "so much."

you both pull yourselves up under the bedcovers and fall asleep to the soft kisses and squeezes you exchange.

ok so maybe you are a little insecure but none of it matters as long as the boy who has his arms wrapped around you was with you.

a/n pt2: ok so i dont really know what happened with the ending so i lowkey js gave up on it. i hope you enjoy!!

[ficandkaboodle]

*walks up to podium and taps mic to make sure it’s on before leaning in and saying-*

Sometimes I feel like Terzo has a complicated relationship with his face

Okay so a sorta disclaimer but you ever have those headcanons you’re not 100% bent in, you could go either way with it being discussed or not? That is this.

I am also talking as someone in a slightly similar position so it makes sense in my brain but apologies if I do a crummy job at explaining it.

Okay so it’s no secret whatsoever that Terzo’s face was heavily based on Bela Legosi. Like, to the point they are almost one-to-one. And Bela was a very handsome man, thus Terzo is a very handsome man.

Or at least, he should be.

Sometimes I think Terzo has trouble reconciling that he’s good-looking. Like, he can fathom that he looks like Bela Legosi; he can fathom that Bela is attractive; but somewhere along the way, the math just doesn’t math and he can’t completely buy into the possibility that he actually looks good. Like sure, he can put on a performance and act like he’s hot shit but I don’t think he’s 100% committed to the idea. Hell, he might not even be 75%.

I remember once somebody made a post editing out Terzo’s paints and they pointed out how the blackness was very slimming and I wondered if perhaps that was intentional? Like perhaps Terzo feels a bit of insecurity regarding his rounder/softer features. Maybe this is even more of a thing he’s developed with age?

Whatever the case, he’s hardly ever without his paints. Almost like it’s a security blanket of sorts. He’s not completely invincible but they safeguard him from revealing his decidedly less pleasant features to others. In these paints, he is Papa Emeritus III: Sex God, Totally Normal and Handsome-Looking Guy. He can’t buy into it, but he knows you will.

I wouldn’t consider it as BDD because I don’t have that and I’m personally drawing from my own experiences of recognizing traits of mine in others that I know are seen as attractive, but somewhere along the line I can’t comprehend the same being applied to me.

I think in Terzo’s case, it’s mostly just the result of years of strain and disappointment manifesting in ugly ways. He hates everyone but doesn’t lash out as much as he lashes in. Unfortunately his confidence in his looks is somewhat of a casualty. I don’t even think he necessarily gets all Howl Pendragon at the idea of not being pretty, I think he sort of just.

Like you can call him handsome and if y’all are some his close enough he’ll gently laugh it off but internally go “No I’m not??” Which is…sad. Which is depressingly suitable for the saddest Emeritus son.

[oddballsducks]

I fuckin hate dogfaces/dognoses/whatever tf they’re called

People are only okay with them because they’ve been normalized for the better part of a century

If they were introduced today they would be rightfully scourged and lambasted for the utter disgraces to character designs they are

Why are the Ducks the most popular? Probably because they are actually cute animals and not horrific human flesh monsters with wet black noses

They’re not even animals. They’re just humans with a button nose. Sometimes, if they’re lucky, they’ll get little floppy ears or a pronounced snout. But sometimes that only makes it worse. They don’t even have fur. Don’t tell me it’s fur, I’m not listening. That is fleshy, bare human skin.

I know why they exist. Artists, more likely than not, learn to draw by drawing humans, so it’s easiest for them to draw humans. But they can’t draw humans in a lot of Disney stories because the characters are supposed to be funny animals.

So they improvise by just drawing a human being and slap a little nose on them and have the gall to call them dogs? Dogs are cute, majestic, or just plain little gremlins. But dognoses capture nothing of what makes a dog a dog

How do so many people accept this lazy and ugly design infecting all of our lovely comics?

Anyway #CancelDognoses2025

[createdbytragedy]

FALLING IN LOVE

"Falling in love, Falling in love Deeper than I’ve felt it before with you, baby I feel I’m falling in love with all my heart"

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader Genre: Pure fluff Warning: mention of mutual pining and that's it ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✧: Falling in love - Cigarettes after sex Word Count: 1.5k

When I hold you close to me I could always see a house by the ocean & last night I could hear the waves As I heard you say, “all that I want is to be yours”

Beomgyu believed that there was no one, nothing in the world that could describe the feeling of falling in love. Because how do he explain to someone that you are no sun, but when you smile, it burns brighter than anything he's ever seen?

How do he explain that feeling he gets when he holds you close to him? You know, the way his insides warm up like standing in the sunlight on a dark, foggy winter day. The way his heart starts to relax, steadying in a rhythm that seemed was made especially for you, somewhat beckoning the unsaid vows and dedication he held in him and he makes sure you can hear it, placing your head right where his heartbeat is the loudest.

How do he explain it someone that for him, a home is not a place. Its a person. Its you. You feel like home to him. Having you in between his arms, with your head against his chest while he lulls you to sleep. That sounded like what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

"You okay?"

Beomgyu looked down at you, seeing you look up to him in slight concern. And in the dim light of the lamp, he swears he saw the sun in your eyes. His light. All the things he could ever dream of, all the things he's asked of god, all captured in the beauty of your dilated pupil.

He smiled, tugging away a strand on hair that fell on your gorgeous face," m'fine" he replied, stroking your head gently.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, drawing tiny circles around his chest, playing with the fabric of his hoodie.

Beomgyu thought you looked adorable, looking at you with a fond smile. This felt so right. Both of you under the duvet, legs dangled together with you on laying on his chest. The moment was just right. Seemingly perfect unlike the ugly world that awaits for him outside. The house was peacefully quiet, the soft breathing sounds of yours was the only thing that he heard, the world fading away into nothing but a blur when he was with you. He could almost hear the waves of the ocean, so calming and soothing.

"You," he replied.

A smile tugged on your lips, softly laughing.

Right.

Another thing Beomgyu can never explain. His eyes shot down to hopefully catch a glance at how beautifully your lips curved into a smile. He's always loved that. Your smile. It felt like a promise of tomorrow. and that made him smile as well, like a contagious disease. He can't explain it. How the sound of your laughter gets his heart to skip a beat that he's sure you can hear. It replays in his mind, sometimes in the middle of the night when you're not with him and he can't sleep, sometimes while he's away in front of the camera, feeling like he wasn't where he was meant to be, your laughter echoed in his mind, your smile engraved in his brain. Then he knew that today was gonna be worth it all. And tomorrow as well. And the day after that, and the years and years into the future. It's gonna be worth it all cause you were gonna be there for him. With him.

Falling in love, Falling in love Deeper than I’ve felt it before with you, baby I feel I’m falling in love with all my heart

"oh, yeah? how?" you asked, listening to the beats of his heart, making your surroundings go away into hazy reality as you enter a dreamland where only you and him exist.

"how much i love you," he whispered.

Your heart thumped at his words, filling with joy and a bunch of other emotions you couldn't describe. This felt so right. He felt so right.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he confesses with a peck on the crown of your head.

Your lips formed a smile, wishing he could feel what he was making you feel.

"I thought you already did," you teases, although you wished the time would stop so that this moment replays forever.

Beomgyu smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, which made you look up, meeting his eyes. Oh, was it his eyes or was it a constellation of stars lightening up the moon behind those eyelids? It didn't feel real to look so ethereal with messy hair and worn out hoodies. And you would die for him. Funny how that's the first thing you thought as you saw his smile.

"Deeper than I've ever felt it before," he pulled you impossibly closer, "Over and over again with all my heart"

Back when you were far away We would go on dates to watch the same movie & you were imagining sitting next to me & holding my hand for the whole thing…

Everytime he glanced at you, he was taken back to when he was merely watching you from the sidelines, wishing on stars and dreaming of you. Now you were his entire world, his life revolves around you. He was taken back to your movie dates, the same old cliche you watched each time, even after both of you had the lines memorized.

It has always been what you dreamed of. After years of watching the pretty boy from across the room and going to sleep with the thought of sitting next to him and holding his hand, he was finally there. And he didn't disappear when you closed your eyes and opened them again. Instead, looking at you with a smile lightened up by the screen in the dark hall. You held his hand throughout it all, the boring movie, tough times, sick days and even on those days he felt like nothing but a waste of space.

And that's when you knew,

You were falling in love.

"Maybe I'm falling in love with you too," you confessed, "maybe I do everytime I look at you. A little more, each day."

Beomgyu beamed at your words, whirlwind of emotion coursing through his veins, his heart, his mind and he was so full of you. Just you. And this time, he leaned down to capture you lips into a sweet kiss. His emotions poured in because he couldn't explain them with words.

"I think I'll just keep falling in love with you for the rest of my life."

[togglesbloggle]

In Defense of Bad Things

'Bad' here meaning mostly 'amateur'; stuff made enthusiastically by people at an unprofessional level. Art with visible gaps between what the artist imagined and what they achieved, products of flawed craftsmanship. I suppose everybody can appreciate them to some extent, it's a rare parent that doesn't put up their kid's drawings on the fridge in one way or another. But it turns out to be a fully general skill you can cultivate, and the more I do, the more I'm glad I did.

Partly, it's the teacher thing; finding delight in amateur work is one of the ways to find delight in the process of learning. Cultivating a love of striving-qua-striving can help make you a force for good in the world, as people start to feel safe trying to do things when you're around, even when their efforts are wobbly. You get to participate a little more in the process of atoms spinning themselves into ideas, even when there aren't any illusions about whether you're helping cultivate some revolutionary genius in the field.

And partly it's a fabulous way to build community. By necessity, our professional-level skills tend to be at the service of other people, performed for economic benefit; that's kind of how you get professionally good at something in the first place. When we're acting for our own sake, and among friends, most of what we do with one another is amateurish. I only cook middling-okay, I can't hold a tune that well, I'll never be a speed runner for anything. If you can only enjoy singing from the hundred best singers in the whole world, manufactured and polished by major studios, then you and your friends will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and passively listen to music. But it's so much richer an experience to sit face-to-face, actually singing together, even badly; you expose yourself to so many new ways to appreciate and respect one another, building relationships on what you've accomplished and not just by witty criticism or liking the same things.

And partly it's because some of the most powerful and innovative artistic experiences are in high-churn environments with low expectations and low barriers to entry, if only because those catch the passionate and driven young people that have been otherwise overlooked by our systems. The golden age of webcomics meant that a ton of the actual art involved was pretty lousy, but it also produced work that people still talk about today. D&D began as a profoundly unpolished collection of handmade rulebooks sold at cons in a plastic baggie. By the time these products of enthusiastic amateurs filter themselves through various levels of popularity and absorb mainstream cash influx, they're often risk-averse and missing a lot of the bold spark that inspired their fans in the first place; others will simply never drift towards the mainstream at all. I'm not saying you should be the person who goes out to dig through the slush piles of the internet looking for overlooked art, unless you want to be-- but sometimes a work of actual staggering genius also happens to be a Supernatural fanfic by a first-time author who's a little hazy on commas, and if that's a dealbreaker, you're going to miss out on some profoundly valuable experiences.

And hiding behind all of these things is, like...

Our appreciation of beauty has an odd structure, right? When things are done very skillfully, by brilliant artists with years of training, we can usually appreciate those accomplishments. And when we're looking at nature without human influence, and especially when we think very deeply about natural processes and understand them in context, we often rediscover that sense of beauty. There's just this bizarre hole in the middle where we declare things 'ugly'; as if a little skill is worse than none at all.

I really don't trust that gap. It feels like a trick my brain is playing on me, you know? It has me suspicious that a lot of what I consider 'ugly' or 'bad' is not a very direct experience of the world at all, or an informed judgment. That it is, rather, a declaration of (self-, social-) identity; a desire to be seen as a person of good taste, or as somebody who does things well, or just more primitively as one of the monkeys who is in the good-stuff-tribe and not one of the monkeys who is in the bad-stuff-tribe.

[jealousmartini]

Oh, nothing much, just a list of reasons why I am so excited to permashift to my ultimate 4d reality //better current reality//

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

— EXPERIENCING DESIRED SCENARIOS

I am a hardcore daydreamer just like my brother and sister shifters(you guys🫵🏾), and I can't wait to really live the silly imagines I always have in my head. Even if it's something relatively small, I will still get to live every second of them.

Idk if some of you guys will remember that one post where I mentioned Googlebox? But I'm mentioning it again🙄 because I scripted me, my love of my life, his sister who is my bff, my own girl bff and her boyfriend are part of the program teehee. I swear no one will ever understand how much of a comfort show Googlebox is to me and in general.

The idea of being on TV whilst watching TV and relaxing with my favourite people and eating my favourite food just makes me melt. It's such a core memory to me and idk I just love showing off how perfect my family is to everyone else

— FOOD

I can't wait for all the delicious food I'll get to eat. There will never be a single time where I have to eat something I don't like or don't want to ever again, because why should I have to? I'm mostly excited to have stuff like popeyes, McDonald's, seafood boils, those Korean and Japanese foods you see on mukbangs, loads of fruit bowls (I really do love fruit), basically everything meat/barbecue, pasta including ramen, and sweets too cus🧍🏿‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

— NO UGLY CLOTHES ALLOWED

Never will there be a day or night where I will ever need to wear clothes that don't suit me or clothes I don't like. My closet is going to be full of the cutest and gorgeous late 90s and early 2000s skirts, shirts, bellbottoms, flares, jackets, oversized ts, shorts, belts, slippers, jewelry, panties and bras etc etc

— ALREADY COMPLETED WORK

In my better cr, I scripted that I am already miles ahead of everyone in college work (and best believe all my work is at distinction level) so I have all the time in the world to do what I want until the next brief; I also scripted the date of month that I will wake up in my better cr in is the 17th April last week so I will have only 3 days of college next week (because i go in on mondays, tuesdays, wendsays and Thursdays) and 4 weeks of freedom to myself. (I also scripted my teachers let me do my own art work in my free time in class, cus sometimes all a girl wants to do is draw their ocs🥺)

Edit :: 17th of may now!!

— CURRENTLY IN MY MOVING ERA

In better cr, I am kind of in the planning process of moving out of my house to my apartment penthouse with my friend group. I'm thinking of moving out at 18 or 19 years old since I'm 17 rn and I still want to explore my better cr house cus it's wayyyy better than this one. But even once I've moved out I'll probably keep visiting my old home where my mum and her husband lives because.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Overall, I am so excited to experience everything I have ever dreamed of. I know I deserve my freedom and peace, excitement, and joy. Being able to just do what I want when I want and always knowing that no matter what, everything is going to be okay.

Life is so amazing, and it's so worth living. I know I will manifest my desired reality in no time, and I know all of the stress, time, anxiety, and patience won't be for nothing. Life is mine to explore, and I can't wait to do so

@4ellieluv @livingmydreamlife5555 @theshifterbear @cocozydiaries

[zane009]

sweet dampness

summary: you and Dary take a shower together when he suddenly gets self conscious about his scars.

warnings?: lots of fluff, nudity, mention of scars

Daryl x reader

word count: 1034

you felt his warm calloused hands on both sides of your face caressing your cheeks lovingly. The look he was giving you was filled with nothing but pure adoration and care as you two stood there in the middle of a small bathroom. Not much words were uttered as he slowly leaned in and kissed your lips fondly. He softly pressed his own lips to yours while his hand moved upward to caress your hair. His fingers tangled with the hair as he slightly deepened the kiss.

As you slowly pulled away he dropped his hands to the only clothing still present on your body. He hooked one finger under the strap of your bra while still looking at you with his clear blue eyes.

He let the strap fall down as he repeated the motion with the other side. His hands delicately traveled down to your waist brushing your skin as he leaned in again and planted a small sweet kiss to your forehead. The fingers on your waist were slowly drawing little circles as you felt yourself relax in his arms.

You are filled with love as you can let yourself enjoy this peaceful moment with him. You knew daryl was very insecure about his scars and it took him awhile to get completely comfortable with you to do this. So for him to finally be able to stand here naked made you feel genuinely happy. It’s not the first time you two are together this way but you always make sure to appreciate it. Daryl trusted you. So you wanted nothing more than to cherish every single moment given with him.

His hands moved up behind your back as he unclasped your bra and pressed another quick kiss into your hair as he let the piece of clothing fall to the floor.

You took his big hand in yours and led him into to the shower, the water already warm enough for you to step under. He followed after you and closed to shower door. To say the least the shower wasn’t really spacious but it wasn’t a problem either. You two enjoyed the presence and the closeness of each other’s bodies.

You took the strawberry scented shampoo sitting on the shelf and squeezed some of it on the palm of your hand. You slowly rubbed your hands together and then placed them on daryls chest quickly looking up at him for confirmation.

You knew he’d let you do this but you want him to know you cared. His lips curled upwards flashing you his significant simle letting you know it’s okay.

You let your hands do the work and rubb circles over his skin tenderly amd slowly with the intention of making his stiff muscles relax. You washed his arms, his chest, his shoulders and his torso letting your hands roam. You heard him let out soft groans from time to time which made you smile discreetly.

As you were done with the front you daintily tried to move him around to tend to his back but he stilled. You locked your gaze with him searching for what seems to be the problem. “ Dar’ if you’re uncomfortable i can stop….you know I wouldn’t pressure you into anything ” you murmured quietly.

Daryl felt guilty hearing the concern in your voice but he couldn’t help himself. Even though you saw his scars already his thoughts still get the best of him sometimes. He was ashamed of them. They made him ugly. But how could he say that to you when all you wanted was to take care of him all while looking at him with thoes big eyes of yours.

“‘S nothin’ sweet ya keep goin’ “

You weren’t really convinced but as he showed no restraint you went for it still unsure since you wanted nothing more but to make him happy and not upset. You gently pushed him around so his back was turend to you. You put your hands on his waist careassing his skin as you delicately pressed your lips on the top scar of his back. You followed the scar to the end pressing soft kisses into his back. You felt him relax under your touch as you continued to kiss downward.

As you pressed your lips to yet another scar you murmured “ you have nothing to be ashamed of Daryl. You are beautiful.” You let your hands wander back up and finish washing up his back. Little did you know Drayls worries disappeared completely as he felt stupid for ever doubting you. He let a smile linger on his face while you finished his back.

After you were finished you rinsed him off and it was his turn to pamper you. He took some of the shampoo and ushered you to turn around. You did so without complaint as you felt his hands go into your hair. You let yourself close your eyes as you enjoyed every pull and caress his fingers provided for your scalp.

Daryl absolutely loved washing your hair. He massaged your scalp with fondness as his eyes skidded to your back admiring how the skin dipped at your waist and rounded into your ass. He loved searching for any new beauty marks he might have missed or battle scars he has yet to discover.

On top of the view he gets while washing your hair he also gets to feel the soft strands of your hair in his hands. He gets to make you feel at least a bit more relaxed due to the massage he’s providing and he wants nothing more than for you to be safe, healthy and happy. And he would do anything to ensure it.

He rinsed out your hair and put his arms around you while he snuggled into your freshly washed hair from behind. You hummed in content as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder then your neck. You slowly turned around and smiled up at him feeling so lucky you get to call him yours. And as if he was reading your mind he grunted and pulled you closer while he mumbled into your hair

“ ‘m so lucky yer mine sweet ”

𐮙𐬾𐬽𐮙𐬿𐮜𐬽

Literally my first post lmao…hope you enjoyed would love some feedback <3 it’s clearly not been proof read or sum because who would i ask🥲 so sorry if there are mistakes