#my art juice is OVERFLOWING

[callmeend]

I regret what I’m gonna type @four-corners-dude

9/21/19XX

Dear diary..,

Dazzle-Kun whimpers my name today to get my attention, He’s so adorable when he’s nervous. There’s just one problem this time, I can tell by his wag, he’s trying to build his confidence, but I know Dazzle, I know him like his brother knows him. He won’t confess.. I’m so tired of this will-they-won’t-they game we play. But to be honest.. I can’t bring myself up to ask first either. It’s like I’m trapped in some loop. I love him. I do. We went to the park to watch the sunset but our eyes kept gazing at each other, I can’t focus around him, it was like I knew what love was again.. He invited me to his party.. (and Razzle-Kun’s too, technically, but I’m only worried about him.) so there’s my plans for the future. That’s the plan. I’ll tell him. I’ll confess. He’s going to love him and I’m going to be treated right!

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon Riley who realizes how much he fucked up and that maybe therapy isn't such a bad idea

AN: Lil bit longer than usual, but it's been on my mind

Art credit to SubsurfaceChaos on Twitter

Something was off with him all day. It wasn't too noticeable until he began distancing himself, getting irritated at being around anyone. You confronted him, simply trying to see if you could help or maybe provide comfort, and fuck did that backfire.

He was sitting in the living room watching whatever was on the channel, but it's not like he was paying attention to it. Thoughts and feelings of the deployment he just came back from a few days ago build up, irritation filling him like water in a bathtub. He doesn't usually have flashbacks or anything like that, the military would discharge him if he had PTSD, but some days he thinks too much.

He didn't even notice you coming in until you were sitting next to him. He snaps out of his thoughts just to meet your soft eyes. You sat on the other end of the couch, not wanting to crowd him too much while he's like this.

"What." He deadpans, voice devoid of all emotion.

Yeah something's definitely up.

"What's wrong, Si? Somethin' been messing with you today?" You ask gently, not wanting to come off as if you're accusing him.

He gives you and irritated look, suggesting you drop it, "Nothin', 'm fine"

You're not stupid. He tends to need a little push in order to open up.

"I know you're not", tone still soft, "I'm not trying to irritate you or anything, I ju-"

"Well you certainly got an affinity for it" He snaps, "Drop it"

You inhale, trying to not take his words personally, "Si, I'm your girlfriend, it's kinda my job to check in with you"

The bathtub overflows.

"You can't listen, can you? I said drop it, fuckin' 'ell" He stands up from the couch and walks to the kitchen, trying to create distance.

"Simon I'm just trying to help, I'm not here to make things harder for you" You try to reason with him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You follow him into the kitchen but still give him space. He doesn't say anything back, a small part of him knowing you're right but the larger part won't connect to that. Pouring a class of orange juice, he keeps his back to you.

"Si-"

"Can you shut up for once?! Can you? I said bloody drop it. It's not up for discussion!" He sets the cup on the counter with a thud and snaps at you, "You're always fuckin' naggin' at me, clearly not takin' a bloody hint. Jesus Christ"

That shuts you up. The lump in your throat intensifies, tears beginning to form in your eyes. He's never yelled at you like that before. Sure, he's had bursts of irritation during arguments, but he's worked hard to make sure he never treats you how you don't deserve.

"Why are you yelling at me? All I'm doing is trying to be there for you" You ask quietly, voice not really allowing you to speak louder. a couple tears fall down your face, and your nose begins to get stuffed up. You try to quietly sniffle but he still hears it. He hangs his head down and groans quietly.

"Now you're fuckin' cryin'. Great."

Not wanting to be around him much longer, you turn to leave, "Come find me when you're calmer", Your voice betrays you and cracks a little.

You walk away and go upstairs to your shared bedroom. Once you close the door, the crying begins. His words cut through you like a knife, a deep pressure-like hurt seeping through your chest. Sobs rack your body yet you still try to be quiet, not wanting him to hear. You know he's gonna snap out of it and fuckin hate himself for what he did. You know he loves you, and if he were in his right mind he would have never uttered a single degrading word to you.

You slip into bed and lay there, crying. You guessed he would be up anytime soon and the smell of him on the pillows was both comforting and hurtful.

Downstairs though, Simon was fucking fuming. Seeing you go up the stairs, lip quivering, evaporated every bit of him anger. He groans loudly and throws an arm over his eyes.

'How fuckin' stupid can you be? How the fuck can you speak to her like that?'

He removes his arm and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. You've stuck through with him since the moment you meet. Never once judged his off stand-ish behavior and learned to find ways to work with him. He cherished you so wholly, feeling what he thought he never would. You came into his life and slowly broke down his walls, allowing you to see him apart from his exterior.

He thought he was going to lose you. Sure, you had arguments before, but he had never purposefully tried to hurt you. Knowing that he did made his stomach churn, nausea kicking in. 2 years of the best relationship (not that there were very many before you) all to be broken down, at least what he thought, because he was pissed off.

'Maybe I should fuckin' go to therapy.'

Let's be honest, he could use it. He tried to go through it before but just quit due to how uncomfortable it made him. He figured he was on his own, all before you, and there was no one to deal with his bullshit besides him. Now he has someone who he cares about so much that it doesn't matter if he's uncomfortable. He'd rather be uncomfortable than never be with you again.

He gathers the balls to go upstairs and carefully opens the door. He's met with the sight of you curled up, your sniffles being the only sound in the room.

"Go away" You call out, although not too loudly. Your voice is wobbly and stuffy.

He'd think it was adorable, had he not been the one to cause it. He walks to the opposite side of the bed and gets in, spooning you. He kisses your hair so gently it would give you butterflies if you weren't so upset.

"I'm so sorry, love. I haven't a clue why I did that to you and you didn't deserve a single lick of it." He feels the small burn in his nose as he starts tearing up a little, "I promise it'll never happen again"

You sniffle as more tears fall, the pain sticking to you despite his words.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off" You whisper.

"I know baby, it wasn't you. I promise it wasn't. Could never be that mad at you" He says softly, a tear falling. He grips you a little bit tighter and kisses the back of your neck, trying to bring comfort to both of you.

"Then why did you yell at me? I've never heard you like that before."

He sighs, "Been thinkin' 'bout what happened while I was gone and it came out at you. 'M gonna go back to therapy 'n try to fix what ever the hell is wrong with me" He kisses your neck again, " 'M gonna do better, gonna be better"

He's not stupid, he knows his words aren't gonna go away overnight. He knows how much you love him, even if he doesn't understand it, and knows hearing that from him hurts more than it would anyone else. He knows you're gonna be affected by them for a bit and he's prepared to fix it. Anything for his love.

You turn around so you're both still on your sides but you're cuddled into his chest. Wasting no time, not even hesitating, he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. He lets out a sigh of relief, knowing this is your way of accepting his apology. He softly kisses your forehead and cheek, whispering how much he loves you and how it's gonna be better.

He knows he can't run from his issues anymore and for once he's ready to face them.

[gynandromorph]

another NofNA style emulation comic, flashback style. this comic takes place 1 or 2 seasons after this comic. this one was to show Legend's first experience fighting and why she eventually came to start taking classes. she is a very stubborn character and i imagine without anyone telling her to do something else, she would have continued pursuing markscraftsmanship indefinitely. it was supposed to show a little bit of how she thinks in fights, but i think i could have done that part better.

you can see that she's walking home with a classmate who isn't a rodent. based on her dialogue, it seems like she was carrying supplies home herself instead of walking home with a rodent classmate until she befriended BY.

BY is a chacma baboon. he has a few unpleasant qualities, like cowardice and a lack of sensitivity toward Legend's insecurities, but from his perspective, he's just encouraging a friend who isn't confident in her talents and believes she's stuck trying to be a markscraft. there is a reason that he is studying to be a markscraft instead of going into fighting or a more important occupation like law or medicine; he wants a peaceful occupation where he supports other people who have to deal with the stressful stuff. they are sort of just past acquaintanceship -- they don't know each other very well. BY lives within escarpment south, like MK.

Legend lives in the same burrow, but the paperbark thorn is currently a smaller sapling, and there's less grass. the tree the leopard jumps from is a mountain hard pear (olinia emarginata). the shrub that BY hides under is a cancer bush (lessertia frutescens).

it bothered me as a kid (annoyed is maybe a better word) when predators who would chase the protagonists in shows and movies were sort of mindless killing machines, once i learned that they are somewhat selective and often risk-averse, because injury can be a death sentence for them, moreso than herbivores. a herbivore may be able to hide from predators until it heals; a predator can't hide from its need for food. i tried to give the leopard a richer... inner life than that. as Legend mentioned, she is deep past the wild-society border that's patrolled to keep wild predators like her at bay. she is aware of this. the expansion that BY mentioned is an expansion made primarily for an additional educational facility. i mentioned in the linked comic that i think markscraft classes are probably VERY populated, overflowing with students that faculty can't keep up with. the newer facility aimed to help ease the burden of educating a necessary labor force en masse. consequently, the area that the leopard is camping in is a footpath that connects the new writing college campus to a residential traffic junction which is used almost entirely by people who have no training in martial arts -- markscrafts. because the border is newer, there is probably more focus on patrolling the literal border around the campus than the paths connected to it. she is also aware of these things. in my head, she has observed many areas of their society for long periods of time (some more than others; no need to hang around an embassy to be noticed by the juiced guys with kill magic going in and out). she's absolutely picked people off here or there without the path, but she is rather desperate to be predating on largely rodents under half a pound when the consequences could be dire. when she sees two larger citizens on the path without the scent of rationale she has no hesitation. she jumped on the ratel instead of the baboon because the baboon had things stacked on his neck, and she wasn't sure how stiff they were or if she could bite through them right away. i don't know if she's ever hunted a ratel before, or if she simply knows their reputation secondhand, and thought it probably wouldn't be a problem with one coddled by society. i think she's under the belief that, unlike a smaller predator like a ratel, she is not diminutive enough to be welcome in society. it makes sense up front -- who wants to embrace the guy who ate grandma's face or dragged their baby off into the night? there is some powerful insecurity about feeling weaker than a collective group against her, and about the suggestion that there is something wrong with her way of living. i think she probably avoided them until food outside of the border became more scarce. i think wilds are shown as... "not knowing better"; in the addendum of secretary, it's put as "not thinking about the options they might have" -- but we are shown many wilds who know about society. they all seem to at least KNOW about it. they know that there is technically a way to enter it. so they DO know it's an option. it's just an option that's less palatable than killing people. and i wanted to write this leopard like that. i didn't really want her to be a hapless ignorant animal looking for food. food is absolutely part of it, but leopards in particular are very adaptable. she could just as well hunt other predators or pets and livestock near human society, but she has beef (not pun intended). i mentioned that Legend's parents raised her to be sympathetic to wilds, so here she is under the belief that this leopard would not eat people if she simply had Enough Information. who's to say? but she certainly doesn't lack ALL information about it. wilds seem to have a belief that being eaten by an opponent stronger than oneself allows you to become part of the stronger force. NOT eating someone is a grave insult (to predators, anyway, idk how prey species feel about that), and i think sparing her altogether is probably just rubbing salt in the wound about her insecurities wrt society being "better than her."

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 2

I really thought I was going to fail this challenge on Day 2 when my creative juices ran out this afternoon, but I had a midnight rush to the finish line, so here I am! It's before midnight somewhere, right?

Today’s fic for my homebrew Song(fic) Challenge is for the prompt “a song that makes you smile no matter what”. I went for a more recent edition to my musical repertoire: "Mellow" by Keina Suda--which you may know better as the OP from the summer 2023 anime "Skip to Loafer"! The dance in the original OP always got me smiling when watching the anime, and so the song does too. And when I looked at the English lyrics for the first time today, I just knew that it had to be SkSw zelink.

Blue and Yellow

Game: Skyward Sword, both pre- and post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1271

Keywords: healing, love realization, fluff

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues.

Read the fic on Ao3 or under the cut!

The first time Link met Zelda, he had thought she was completely yellow. From behind—to his four-year-old eyes—the blonde of her hair was the same shade as her buttercup-colored dress. And then she’d turned around, and he’d been blinded by the golden sunshine of her smile. It wasn’t until he’d gone home to his parents that he recalled through the starburst afterimages her beaming grin had left in his vision that her skin was peachy, like his, and her eyes were blue. Still, when he looked at her, all he saw was gold. 

The year he’d turned eight—overlapping with his best friend for a glorious three months—everything changed. The adults told him it was the flu, but the flu had never stolen almost one person from every house before. One from Zelda’s. And two from his. 

The world had gone cold. The loss of his parents left him achy and tired; the placement in Fledge’s house with his two surviving parents and older siblings and pet remlit—why did Fledge get to keep all of them? it wasn’t fair—sharpened the few words he did speak like a knife, until he stopped using them at all. Even when he went to Zelda, seeking the yellow warmth of her zest for life, she had turned blue too. She had no smile to bestow upon him. She had no words that could help him, either. And so the children that had always chattered brightly sat together in gloaming indigo silence. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment the colors began to shift. At one point, Zelda was overcome with the red of anger, and he’d never been so scared for her before. He himself fought daily against the choking haze of emerald envy. But as months passed, and then years, all the colors began to lighten to a bearable pastel, shot through with that long-missed yellow. 

Laughter began to break through the silence again. Zelda’s first, and the sound had been so shocking that the impact of it against his eardrums sent him physically staggering back. And his own followed a moment later, swooping from his throat like a loftwing. He’d thought it would be raspy and strangled, but it was the same as always, and the surprise on his face made ten-year-old Zelda point and laugh, and he found himself—as always—tumbling after her. 

He always stayed a little more blue and green than she did. She always beamed more yellow and pinkish-red than he would ever muster. But, as Groselle once explained in an art class—their different colors were still complementary. And Zelda always reminded him of the beautiful things that were blue, too: the lake they splashed in during the hottest days; the berries they stole from the bushes near the pumpkin patches; the beetles he dared her to lick; the open sky they soared in side-by-side. 

He came to accept his blue, and the way it made the yellow he felt in her company feel even brighter. 

Of course, he didn’t have that much time to bask in it. The tornado. The quest. His introduction to the world of red red red at last, through the blood he spilled and the blood he lost and the blood-boiling rage he felt when Ghirahim dared threaten her. 

When it was all over, they’d switched places. Zelda was once again a mottled blue, bruised from the loss of another beloved companion and protector, no matter how she tried to hide it under feigned interest in the Surface. Link was still stained all over with the red he pushed away and clung to in turn. Once again, they clutched one another in silence, hands grasping for the other’s shirts and hands and memories. 

Until, one day, they began to talk. 

“Can you wash the knife? I don’t feel comfortable holding it, after…everything.”

“Of course I can, Link. Is it…because of what you went through? The violence?”

“...no. It’s… No blade feels right in my hand, anymore. They’re not Fi.”

A comforting touch on his shoulder, despite the wetness of her palm that soaked his simple shirt. “She’ll make her way back to you someday. Even if it’s in the far future.”

And he knew she would. Demise’s curse would make sure of that. They would be stuck repeating these fleeting moments of joy within an immense future of heartache. And yet…

Just like they had when Link was a child, the colors began to lighten, and the skies began to brighten. His red washed through with the familiar blue more and more, but he found he preferred it. Anger had made him strong, once, when he needed to be little more than an extension of his blade—but now, he wanted to accept his weakness. Now that he had someone by his side once more to help hold him up when his knees buckled, and would allow him to steady her in return. 

Springtime on the Surface was bright sun, strong breeze, the sound of birds. He’d woken that morning to a note on the pillow beside him. 

Come find me, sleepyhead! You get one hint: the true blue banks.

He trekked to the shores of Lake Floria with an endeared, indulgent smile on his face, and some pastries brought down from Piper’s restaurant in his satchel. The air was warmer here, with the heat sink of the waters having kept the weather in the area more mild, and he lifted the simple knitted cap—his best work was still ugly as a bokoblin’s mug, but Zelda had been so excited for him upon its completion that he smiled every time he grabbed it from their hat rack—he’d taken to wearing on cold days off of his head and stuffed it into his satchel as well. His hair immediately blew into his face. Unlike frustrations of flights long-past when he’d just started learning, the distraction was amusing and nostalgic to him now.

He turned the corner. And there she stood.

Yellow. In the sunlight in her spun-gold hair. In the open curiosity of her gaze as she gently fingered the petals of a freshly-blossomed flower. In the sundress she wore, so like the one he’d met her in. In the bright, peaceful happiness illuminating her like a dandelion halo. 

For a moment, it was all he could do to stand there and stare at her. He’d always known she was beautiful, inside and out, but there was something about her hair in the wind, free as a bird…the perfect curve of her pink lips…the curve of her upturned face as she sought the warmth of the sun…

Oh.

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues. 

He called her name—her name, not the hand-me-down from the goddess of their people—and she turned, smile overtaking her whole face. She waved excitedly, and began to call a greeting.

But he was racing across the clearing already, springing haphazardly over patches of flowers in his way so he and Zelda could admire them later, thudding heart like a loftwing’s wingbeats in his throat. He opened his arms so she could see what was coming—he saw her widened eyes curve into affectionate half-moons and her own arms raise—

And he crashed into her embrace, feeling a soul-rending rightness like never before as her warmth encompassed his entire being.

They were the sun and the sky. 

“Good morning,” he whispered. “I love you.”

[kafkaesqxe]

NOMAN'S LAND Discord Server (ages 18+)

Are you consumed by the Trigun brainrot? Got your brain full of headcanons? Overflowing with fanfic and art ideas? Maybe even some OCs…?

Then the NOMAN'S LAND Discord Server is the place for you!! I hope to foster an encouraging and engaging environment for Trigun lovers to meet up and get their creative juices flowing: to share the stories, art and edits they've made, to trade headcanons that'll make you laugh and cry, to build their own OCs and participate in some good old fashioned OC x Canon goodness - that and much more!

If this sounds as appealing to you as it does to me, hop on my inbox and I'll send you the invite link!

See you soon, Mayfly! 😉

[tarutaruga]

I absolutly love your art style and ideas for MadaTobi ♥️♥️♥️ It's perfect!

aaaa thank you!! 😭💕 they have been making me so happy lately, I haven't been so inspired to draw for a while now but they are truly making my creative juices overflow

[poetsandpancakes]

Dear Diary,

Today we have pleasant weather down here at the university. It is not raining, it isn't sunny, and it is a bit windy but pleasant. I can sense a storm brewing afar, though maybe by the end of the day or at noon. It rained cats and dogs yesterday from 11 to 5 in the evening, which may have resulted in the calmness and pleasant nature of today's weather. I am bored; I go to work, but we don't have much going on at the moment. Still, I'd get paid for showing up. So, here goes nothing!

There's not much to do at home. I'd probably sleep in and wake up late with a messed-up appetite, which I've lost these days. Text my boyfriend all day, worry about him, my poor Dennis, and oh, how he has to deal with all of my emotions, he still shows up every day as if I am a part of his work. That. I am grateful to him. These days I've been soaked in the presence of such great minds and people that I am like a sponge around them. I can tell you that my creative juice is overflowing. 

Have you ever wondered about how people and their creativity levels are not the same and that people's creativity sometimes doesn't match each other? Well, if you have, I just found that out. Faka and Zuali's creativity matches all the time, and mine clashes with Faka, and I think it has something to do with personality. Our personalities match those of other people. I don't know who my matches are when it comes to my fellow artists. But what I do know is that the people that I talked to often inspire and keep my creativity going. With Joel and Albert, my creativity level is always at its peak. With Dennis, I got so lost in his beautiful demeanour that my mind took a rest. Albert revives me these days; he is full of passion, he understands art, he reads, and he appreciates good writing. Maybe that's why I feel like I can express anything to him. Jo-Oh! how uncomfortable it has become, even just to mention his name, but he and I got together on a good pedestal, and out of trying to impress him with my art, my creative juice was flowing, but it flowed in the wrong hands. He is an artist, but our art never matches. I remember him insulting my art and the kind of music I listen to; all that I can remember today is him insulting and degrading me. I should've known that he was intrigued by my nature. I come off strong, I know, but I should've known. That could have saved me from all the trouble that I faced on earth.

19/06/2024

Tanhril,MZU

[baptistsuicidewidow]

Oxytocin

Well here I am and the baby is officially 'overdue'. After much googling I've learned that contractions are primarily set off with oxytocin or the love chemical in our brain...

Its no wonder my contractions stopped as soon as I was around some guy whose romantic feelings for me are NOT returned whatsoever.

Regardless, I'm sure if Jeremiah were here, baby would be on track... it gets me wondering about stress levels in pregnancy, and how much of my sadness has affected baby... I have been trying to push away my feelings partially because I would like to prevent any type of negative 'epigenetic' responses, if that is even a thing.

Isaiah woke me up this morning-I think he is going through a new phase... He wakes up in the middle of the wee hours of the morning, cries until he knows I am with him, asks me for juice, I change his diaper, he asks for milk, then juice again, then keeps one eye open on me to make sure I am there while he falls asleep... I just rub his back and sing a little, all the while feeling baby number two move and adjust to being on a different side with pushes and kicks...

After knowing Isaiah was fully asleep, I rolled back over, and whispered ,"It's okay, Bubby", to baby number two... then I remembered back as a newlywed I had started calling Jeremiah "Bubby", and he asked the meaning and I explained I didn't know, maybe Baby and Hubby mushed together? So he was my Bubby until Isaiah was born, then I started calling them both Bubby. Which full circle got me thinking about oxytocin, missing my original Bubby, all the things. He used to call me his "Lovey Dovey".

In Jeremiahs absence there is still God's presence. I started thinking of verses about delighting in the Lord.

Psalm 37:4-5 "Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass."

I realized it is altogether possible to get lovey dovey feelings just from remembering how good God has been to me... Dwelling on all the ways He has shown me that He absolutely without a doubt 100% loves me. He has all the "Love Languages" down (Ha!); transcends them even! So I will be reflecting on just how good God has been to boost my much needed sad levels of oxytocin.

I had originally intended to list all the things God has done for me in this blog post, but I feel like these cherished memories are more private, like little love letters written to me from the hand of God.. With that being said I think one example is still needed since this whole post has sufficiently 'whet the appetite' for me to divulge at least a bit.

One memory that stands out is back in 2018... I was in the Day Room of a homeless shelter in the south side of Chicago, and my friend Crystal came up to me and said "You need to read Isaiah 43 today! You must!". And so I went about my day as usual.. and during my devotions I quickly read through the chapter, mulled over it a bit, and I went on with my day. It was later, as I was hanging out at Starbucks, my barista friend named Steven just grabbed my King James Bible that was sitting next to me. He leafed through my Bible until he got to a page and pointed at the passage Isaiah 43 and said "you need to read this".

Now God really had my attention. 2 people that didn't know each other pointing me towards the same scripture in the same day! So since Isaiah 43 was a bit cryptic for me the first time, I sat down with each verse, and wrote down what I thought the meaning was behind each verse. After completing this I really had some answers. A couple verses that stuck out are the following:

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee."

"Even every one that is called by my name: for I have created him for my glory, I have formed him; yea, I have made him."

"Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert."

 "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Put me in remembrance: let us plead together: declare thou, that thou mayest be justified."

All these verses helped me make the important decision to join the Bible program. God was doing a NEW thing with me, and I needed to trust Him, since who wants to work for free at a homeless shelter for over a year? Although my time there was hard, God was a very present help for me every single day. He showed me in so many different ways there (and ever after) that He deeply cares for me, and is there for me. I learned how to rely on the Bible, and how to trust God in my darkest moments. (I really wish Jeremiah had learned these things for himself... He wasn't very receptive to my cliché rhetoric either..."We need to trust in God". These things need to be learned by experience though.)

Anywho, I am off to make a private blog post so I can list these things down, so I can have some warm and fuzzy feelings so that MAYBE the baby will have the confidence to enter into this less-than-warm-and-fuzzy world.

[dizzygirlfriday]

notes of a restless girl.

HelloFresh always wants to know my dinner plans...

I just finished my purple juice... It’s actually my greens, but it turns purple when I put whole blueberries in it. So refreshing and good for you. So tonight, I think I’ll make a chicken bowl, with sweet potatoes, green beans, cauliflower rice, ground chicken and season it, with baby spinach, a little bit of balsamic glaze. I’ve been eating extra healthy, plus it makes me feel so much better. I’m a Trader Joe’s Shopper and Sprouts, but I’m also a Walmart Shopper. 

A writing I did back in 2018...  (I want to get this writing back, I miss it)

I’ve been lost in a carte de visite…

I used to be on the edge of hip, city of randomness and fragments of intimate notes detailed my leather-bound journal. How enchanting all the fine flowers of culture, days of youth, and evenings were delicious, such a flawless triumph of my art.

Now my days turn into nights and the nights back into days and I feel as if I’m trapped, ground hog day on repeat.

I’ve never been an emotional eater, but I’ve always been an emotional shopper. I buy things I really don’t need, and I end up giving half of the things away. How many 12 cup muffin pans do you need from Zulily? I don’t even eat gluten. The thing is… I bury a lot of things under the serenity of my thoughts, only to become rainstorms when the sun is out. On those rainy days my hair often always resembles early Jon Bon Jovi and with that, I feel like a rocker again. I love to read, I paint, and I walk around in music stores that carry old vinyl’s to feel the nostalgia of a long ago. I sip on cold coffee in my bed on lazy Sundays, watch ridiculous old movies from the 1940’s, and I recite Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, “I’m like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other,” then I make my way to an old bookstore and find out at the end of the night I owe the cashier $200.00 for more books to read.

This coming up February two years ago back, I literally overflowed my feng shui. Too many calculations and visuals to recall, and too much Zen is a lot of Zen; Kombucha on the daily, and anything that consisted of matcha. My chakras were on fire. So the next day I took a painting class, legally calling myself an artist and insisted on pursuing my Picassoistic state further. You know, diving into my inner artistic ability of what I called my very own painting talent, blobs. It’s really hard to paint a tree, and with that it only lasted about six months.

One day this scenario took a gigantic tug in the night, a seedy little bar where poets speak. She had the voice of Wynona Ryder, that mystic, seductive lull, the kind she eluded in the movie, “Heathers,” with the softness of trouble; though she never spoke of slushies, just about the falling down trees from a thunderstorm that inhibited the area. “How sad, how sad, no one will… will know that tree, NO ONE,” as she raised her voice in turmoil hardness, kind of startling the audience that sat before her in quiet trance, anticipating her next move. At the end of her session, she said softly, “fucking sad, the beauty of every living creature and thing deserves someone to know who they are,” and with that she fell to the floor, in sweet rectitude. Very intriguing, I thought.

So I started to study the science of intrigue; it was intriguing to say the least. But what is funny is how when we, (just me) I guess is sad, I just like to submerge myself even deeper and deeper into the abyss of sadness. LET’S GET SADDER… sad, SADDER, and SADDEST, until I’m the saddest of them all, and there I go into hibernation of watching the old 1940 movies. I find myself knee deep into French films I can’t even pronounce, let alone understand, hash tag Netflix. I submerge myself into French music that will make me cry, and I have found, we put all our time and energy into the wrong people, only to find out later that we’ve lost the other people that meant more to us.

But who knew that liberation was about to knock down my door. Walking around your house naked drinking a glass of wine, while listening to Paolo Nutini songs, and making muffins for no one in particular but to say, you make muffins. I forgot I had this obsession with Paolo Nutini’s songs and all the jazz I could get my hands on. Jazz, jazz and more jazz… Nine Simone, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald. Mmmm, just to name some of the best. Chet Baker, my funny valentine.

I have found that I often need certain poets in my life. I exist sometimes only on a diet of F. Scott Fitzgerald; the letters he wrote to Zelda, drinking too much Emily Dickinsons words, and sprinkling it with a dash of Poe. I love when my journal weeps, “I am art…I am to be appreciated, loved and adored. I deserve to be remembered, I deserve to be someone’s muse” … and then, I go to some seedy bar and work my way around a stage flinging words in momentous harmony upon all my thoughts within my breath, my expressions in my metaphors, the feelings to my force, the arrangements in my syntax, captivating like a shadow by night. Reading and writing my own poetry.

I needed my very own muse.

Of him, it was all a haunting. I collected my scattered passion from memories plucked from his musings. Quick and lionized, he stole my heart, and I knew nothing of how to get it back. It was when the newborn moon’s whispered, I saw it evolve into cobwebs. It no longer fit, and with thoughtful consideration I just couldn’t keep watering dead roots. I realized he had become my ghost.

He doesn’t know this, I could still feel as if he never mattered. Nonchalant beats of broken and I was on the edge of every August moon. I was easily persuaded by his love, delving into moments of fire bathing and my desire of wanting nothing else.

In these temples of our lost art, there was a simple sign of no tomorrow and it was as if we knew it. The night sky is deep enough to get lost in, just like life, just like him and he always made me feel like velvet.

[jacks-tracks]

oaxaca wacka

Posada Chapulin, room 5 of 8, 300 pesos, private room with bathroom, hot water 7 till 8, am and pm, 50 meters down a corridor form a noisy street, so it's relatively quiet, The double bed is stuffed with rocks,and the pillows with gravel, but it's clean, safe, good lights, opening window,and fan ,a good value. Adrian, the owner speaks some english and his wife is nice. They get short stays, so my 6 nights is exceptional. Of course I paid cash up front, so they like me and I am friendly in my broken Spanish. Good location only 3 blocks from the zocalo, reccomended by Gordon and Maru.

As gordon said, without the traffic, the streets look just as they did 100 years ago, lined with 2 storey buildings, wrought iron balconies, stone block construction. Signage is minimal, flat to walls, street signs are plaques mounted up high(when there are any). Vendors clog the streets and sidewalks with stands selling a plen titude of stuff, and wandering pedlars hawk a great variety with seemingly little success. Nowadays there is a rush hour, not help by double parking. Andadors(pedestrian only streets) area bonus. There are a zillion stores catering to tourists, and a million tourists to fill the frequent high end restaurants. For the more economical there are lots of hole in the wall eaterys, or the big food market. Tourists seem to be equally divided between gringos and Mexicans.

Posada el Chapulin (the grasshopper) is 1 block from the big markets, one of which is clothes and dry goods, the other all eaterys .Aisles in the stuff market are clogged by overflows from the stalls, and further impeded by independant sellers flogging odds and sods. Sidewalks too are filled to impassable by tiny stalls and more sellers. How many people buy wooden bookmarkers? there are lots of beggars sitting against shady walls holding out cups for coins.Yes I give to them , usually 5 pesos, mostly to women with little kids or elderly women, more for cripples. As usual in Mexico I see very few elderly people. either they are at home doing child care, or they just don't get out. Banner in the zocalo calls for more pensions and better health care. that will not apply to the Venuzuelians begging. I saw a side street plugged with tarp covered tents, but did not intrude.

I rise from my rocky bed at 7, eat granola after a wash and shave and plan my day. Morning are for exploring, following sketchy tourist maps to museums, which are hard to find. in 2 days I,ve gone to 5 , lots of walking and searching. Lucked out by finding one next to a church which had great displays. A square block 2 storey building, former nunnery, with 3 big empty courtyards. Down stair a series of dim rooms were filled with a dog display, wonderful pottery dogs from all over the country, fat dogs, happy dogs, dogs with pups, dogs at funerals, dogs in tiny ceramic houses, ranging from crude figures to beautiful art glossy ceramics.

Upstairs was the horde of Monte Alban, which I,ve seen before. Still enthralled by the gold work, elaborate necklaces, plaques,rings.the sheer volume was impressive as was the level of artistic achievement. i dodged the pokey tour groups and the 50 well behaved children all dressed in red t shirts. for 90 pesos it was the best museum.

A nearby corner tienda sold rugs for shocking prices. I do want to buy a couple, but may not unless I can get better prices from the creators in Teohuacan. Ii'll go there tommorrow and to Mitla ruins, by collectivo.

Frankly the museums have been a disappointment, with few piecs or poor quality art . The 2 I especially wanted to see are closed, one for adminstrative problems(?) and the other for no reason given.Oh well, i got plenty of exercise looking.

By noon it's sunny and hot(it rained showers 2 nights at 6pm) with clear air and light breezes. i retreat to El Chapulin for a siesta with perhaps a juice or bun along the way Siesta, regroup, read. by late afternoon it,s time to eat and the big, square block covered food market is next. 100+ food stalls, busy. I had a tamale mole Oaxacano, and caldo de pollo. Mole is chocolate without sugar and a caldo is

soup.

Skipping backwards, my very first stop in town was the Oaxaca lending library, a surprisingly big place, well lit , memberships, cafe, and very helpful staff. I,d heard they had an orientation hour, but it's Monday, the day before I leave. I,d hoped to get a map, but there,s were a scan download beyond me.Happily an elderly gringo(like my age) took my phone and rearranged my screen aps. ian was a salmon troller in the 70,s and knew Lasqueti. Small world department.

Friday was the Dia de Samaritana, and shops and stores give away drinks of Jamaica. I was in the Oaxaca Art institute having a rest and saw the volunteers set up a 5 gallon ceramic olla on a table decorated with bouganvillea flowers in an arch.more interestingly, they had a tub of lime gelatto. the artists gathered, and gave me drinks and ice cream. Across the street the taxi drivers association had a table of juice for the eager public, and up the Andador were dozens of tables doing the same. It was delicious and refreshing.

Evening in the zocalo. tourists and locals filled the benches under the big old trees, kids played, friends visited,and vendors circulated. Ladies sold beautiful shawls . Marimbas kept a nice beat, out of tune singers hollered through amplifiers, and the diners under the porticos had a fine view. Panhandler heaven! They varied from the silent stare, to the beligerant demanders. All move on if unsuccesful. One vagrant showed me his ulcerated legs, crusted black and oozing, looked burnt. There are some dodgy characters, but nobody tried to pick my pocket. Perhaps because there are tons of police everywhere, more than I,ve ever seen. Not sure how machine guns will effective, but I guess it,s a deterent.

A covered stage faced a sea of folding chairs and an orchestra set up. I got ringside and had a clear shot for pictures of the chicken dancers. That,s what i call them , though there probably is a more dignified term. The huipile clad women spin flaring their colourful skirts, while the men in peasant dress stamp behind them appearing to try and kiss them, but the flirts just swirl away. The visual is that of a rooster rushing a hen, and it goes on far too long. The youth orchestra supplied the music, then once the dancers left the band moved to the stage platform and honked out some brassy tunes. Sounded OK live, but when i played back the video I shot it was all sharps and flats. The crowd loved it! I left for home while they were still trying.

Next blog will be from a day trip down the valley...

[mwplanet]

Ward in Colour

Introducing Mary Ward’s newest student-run creative project

By Katrina Ross Rodriguez

Ward in Colour Logo

The community at Mary Ward is overflowing with creativity, skill and artistic talent, with a new project being launched to give creatives a platform to showcase their work. Introducing Ward in Colour! A meeting was held during lunch on November 23rd, 2022 to formally introduce the club to those interested. Lanay Combs, a grade 11 student and one of the creators of Ward in Colour, was interviewed regarding the initiative. They shared their ideas and spoke on behalf of all of the new club’s creators.

Katrina R: What is Ward in Colour? How would you describe it to readers?

Lanay C: The best way I could describe it is, essentially, an art club for all kinds of creatives including visual artists, digital and graphic designers, people into fashion, makeup, photography, and writing. It is a digital zine that we will be releasing seasonally and the purpose of the club is to get the creatives of the school community together and to get those creative juices flowing, because I know that showcasing your art might not be accessible, so with Ward in Colour we hope to build a space for that kind of expression.

Katrina R: What inspired you initially to make Ward in Colour?

Lanay C: During the summer, my friends and I thought, “what if Mary Ward had its own magazine?” We had this 5 hour long conversation just spit-balling ideas for this but decided that it might be too ambitious. We then thought, “what if we just did a small seasonal issued zine that everyone could be a part of and you were always able to hop onto?”

Katrina R: What are some of your sources of inspiration?

Lanay C: Coming to Ward, what attracted me was actually the art room. I was looking around at some of the projects they were doing and I was super fascinated by the things that the artists at Mary Ward were capable of. I wanted to be a part of that in my own right, as well as enable other people to be a part of that as well. Not everyone is in an art class, not everyone is able to pursue art as a career, but they are still passionate about art, so my main inspiration is the idea of inspiring others. 

Katrina R: What do you think your personal contributions to the zine will be?

Lanay C: I think my contributions will go as far as helping other people properly get what they want across in their creative vision. Of course, I want to have my own creative visions realized but my main priority is letting other people do that first.

Katrina R: What are your favourite artistic mediums and materials?

Lanay C: I love visual arts as well as digital art. I feel like I excel more at digital art simply because it’s easier and waste free but I love working hands on. I love collaging and cutting things out and creating mosaics of random trinkets of media to create a more cohesive image. 

Katrina R: Where do you think you’d want Ward in Colour to go after you graduate?

Lanay C: Another motivation behind Ward in Colour my friends and I had was that portfolios are a big thing for people that want to get into the arts and we thought that having Ward in Colour would be great on a resume or portfolio, but before anything we just want to be able to express ourselves. The purpose of Ward in Colour isn’t to get famous, the point of it is to have a place to express ourselves and that’s the most important thing, the portfolios and the resumes come after. I think we just want to have fun!

Katrina R: Is there anything else you would like to say to readers prior to release of this project?

Lanay C: To the readers prior to the release of the first issue, we really hope you enjoy! Please do not feel like you have to remain a reader forever, you are always welcome to participate or to join. You don’t have to commit yourself fully but if you have even the inkling of an urge to participate in Ward in Colour, please do so. I’m a grade 11 student, I’m not here for that much longer so I’m going to try to do as much as I can with who I can, but we need you first. Sign up sheets are coming soon and I hope that you enjoy it!

Ward in Colour is a collaborative project created by Lanay Combs, Erin Montegrejo, Esther Antwi-Boasiako, Miqo Nimako, Jouie Palconit, Sherika Anthony, Mia Colavincenzo and Francine Martinez. The zine’s first release will be before Christmas break, with their debut title “Frost” being Christmas and New Year’s issue themed. More information can be found on the project’s Instagram @wardincolour or on its Google Classroom, with the code being: vlc5orc 

[luffysbasement]

rendering practice ig xd

[readinginthereadyroom]

let’s talk about eddie in blindsided (911 4x09) for minute.

again this is not his episode. not at all. the whole ep has been han and wilson family dramas with a side of bobby angst. but there’s a moment at the very end of the ep during bobby’s voiceover at his AA meeting. where we see eddie give christopher a good morning hug. just because. 

and this is important. bobby is saying life doesn't have any dead ends when you refuse to quit moving. when you trade rock bottom for your rock. christopher is eddie’s rock. 

and eddie’s had a number of rock bottoms—afghanistan, shannon’s death, the well collapse. and each time it’s been christopher that’s gotten him thru them. like he tells shannon in careful what you wish for (911 2x17) being his dad has been the single greatest joy of my life. 

because eddie will do everything in his power to protect that joy. fight thru an ambush, open up about his grief, swim thru 40 ft of mud and water. because it’s not just about eddie’s joy. it’s about christopher’s too. because they are a package deal. 

we know this because chris says as much to buck during sink or swim (911 3x02). well, I complained once, but it didn't work. and all signs point to that “once” being when he lived in texas with his mom and grandparents. 

because christopher in texas is a completely different kid to the one we see in LA. 

LA christopher is joy embodied. always happy and curious. comfortable enought to roast his dad. always thrilled to see him when he comes home. who has a school suited to his needs. who has friends and family and a support system. who wears bright clothing and has colored crutches. who has a room overflowing with toys, drawings hung like art, and a hamster. 

texas christopher is a quiet and subdued kid. he doesn’t say much. and not just because he’s a little kid. but because he’s not included in the conversations going on around him. he’s a kid whose clothes are darker. crutches too. the glimpses we see of his nursery are functional rather than fun. and he’s sitting outside all by himself. just a bubble wrapped kid isolated from the world. 

a kid who asked santa for his dad back. I miss you all the time. because out of everyone in his life who loves him. his mom. his grandparents. various and sundry aunts, uncles, and cousins. eddie is the only person who listens to him. and christopher inherently knows that.

because eddie sees quiet little chris. the one who doesn’t complain about being give a juice box. who isn’t used to his grandparents yelling because he knows that putting up a fight. that complaining. won’t get him anywhere. and eddie asks christopher what it is that he wants. you know, I was thinking about taking another trip. and I was wondering, maybe, if you wanted to come with me. 

this is eddie saying your opinion matters. you matter. you will always matter. 

because eddie’s right when he tells his parents that being with me is what's best for christopher. it’s not a brag and it’s not selfish. once eddie embraces parenthood. once he acknowledges that being a provider isn’t synonymous with parenting. once he decides to be present. christopher’s life changes for the better. 

because eddie is christopher’s joy as much as christopher is eddie’s. they are each other’s rocks. 

and you might be thinking. all this from a couple lines in an episode that’s not about the diaz boys? yes. because this quick scene. this fierce and protective hug. these couple of lines. are a foreshadowing. 

of the sniper. after all suspicion and survivors (911 4x13 & 14) are just a couple eps away. and if there’s ever been a rock bottom for eddie it’s being shot in broad daylight during a call. when he’s only there to help. and he had the bad luck to be the only firefighter in uniform out in the open. 

and knowing what eddie’s future holds makes bobby’s words ring even more true. if you open your eyes, you might finally be able to gain the clarity you need to find your way back up. we already know that christopher is eddie’s joy. his rock. his clarity. for what really matters in life.

only this time it’s not gonna be christopher who saves eddie. there’s no montage to pull him back into the land of the living. no life-flashing-before-his-eyes moment.

just buck. 

[lcvemalfcy]

Mosaic || D.M.

summary: the different ways you and draco have incorporated one another into each other’s daily lives

warnings: mentions of food, eating, germs ?

word count: 1k

a/n: got inspo from that one tiktok trend lolol hopefully the format of this isn’t too confusing

"human beings are a mosaic of everyone they've ever met. if you look close enough at a person you'll see all the pieces of everyone they've ever met incorporated into a beautiful and unique work of art. you are the living memory of every person that has ever mattered to you."

your hands were always decorated with rings.

in the fifth year, you noticed how draco started to accessorize his hands with them. you fell in love with the way the silver metal would shine in the sun and how they were so fun to play with and twist around his fingers whenever you were bored.

noticing your attraction to them, draco gave you one of his rings. the silver serpent ring with emerald embedded eyes gained a permanent spot on your middle finger and you developed an impressive ring collection since then.

whenever the homework load builds up or studying for exams becomes too stressful, draco plans a midnight trip to the kitchen.

this is because one night in the fourth year on exam week — you and draco were having a "study date." it was 1 am, none of you could understand the material and with the hours of relearning information building up your brains were now overflowing with new concepts you just couldn't grasp onto.

needing a break, you tried to convince draco to sneak out the common room with you to the kitchen. he was reluctant at first, but he eventually caved in and enjoyed roaming carelessly around the corridors with you.

sometimes draco will enter through the portrait hole after tickling the pear on the painting that hides the kitchen entrance just to see you already sitting there on the counter, lips around your fingers as you cleaned the leftover crumbs of your snack off your fingers.

draco was in your dorm hanging out with you when he noticed the pink, worn-out bunny slippers worn on both of your feet. there was never a day where you didn't wear them, and he wondered why you always had them on.

"y/n, why do you always have those slippers on?"

instead of giving him a simple answer, you suddenly went off about how dirty the floor was, covered in dust as well as crumbs left by others and how you would never allow your feet to get so dirty.

you truly despised the idea of getting into bed with dirty feet, allowing the floor germs to come in contact with your bed sheets. your solution? slippers.

ever since then, the thought of the dirty floor germs sitting on top of his bed sheets irked draco. that's when he went out and bought himself a pair, the pair which was now always seen on his feet when he was out of his school attire.

his friends would make fun of him for it, but he didn’t care. he wasn’t the one walking with cold feet on the bedroom or common room floor and he also wasn’t the one with dirty bed sheets. must suck for them.

if someone were to ask you what your favorite drink was besides butterbeer or pumpkin juice, you would always answer with green tea.

if you were being honest, you always hated green tea as a kid. draco on the other hand loved it. when you had told draco about your dislike for the tea, he was in shock. he was sure you just weren't brewing it right, how could someone not like his favorite tea?

he started listing the many benefits of green tea and even offered to make you some, he was committed to getting you to like it. intrigued by its benefits, you wanted to give it a try again.

he brewed the tea and brought the mug over to you. you gently grabbed it and took a sip of the warm liquid, surprised at its sweet taste. you actually liked it.

afterwards, draco taught you how to correctly brew it and it was now one of your favorites.

every morning, draco wakes up exactly one hour and twenty minutes before breakfast. twenty minutes to get ready and an hour of free time to walk around and enjoy the morning atmosphere.

it started when he accidentally fell asleep in your dorm one evening and woke up to you scolding him for "sleeping in so late."

he looked at the clock to see there was still an hour left before breakfast began. "it's so early, y/n! what are you on about? let me sleep some more!"

unfortunately for him, you continued to bother him, throwing pillows at him and snatching the blanket off of his body in attempt to get him up. no longer being able to sleep under these circumstances, he finally got out of bed.

after getting ready, the two of you went for a stroll to the black lake. you told him how you did this every morning, explaining to him that it was nice to have time for yourself and to not have to immediately rush to class right after waking up.

he wasn't going to lie, the walk was very calming and he enjoyed it. after that morning, he decided he was going to start going for a walk every morning as well.

occasionally the two of you would go on walks together, but most of the time the two of you just wanted some time to just enjoy yourselves alone.

growing up side by side, it was no surprise to see little bits of each other in one another. you found it amusing to catch draco unintentionally mimicking your habits, and the same could be said for him towards you.

draco thought it was adorable to see how much of an influence he had on you and how you easily picked up on his mannerisms.

there was something precious about it — knowing you held a special piece in someone’s mosaic. who knew these small habits of your everyday lives could mean something more.

tags: @sfdlm @marrymetheonott @wh0re4blaise @axgelre @dracomalfoys-wh0re

click here to be added to my taglist!

[misshvariety1307]

I posted 52 times in 2021

23 posts created (44%)

29 posts reblogged (56%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.3 posts.

I added 128 tags in 2021

#danny phantom - 28 posts

#reblog - 20 posts

#digital art - 13 posts

#character design - 12 posts

#transformers - 11 posts

#rough sketch - 10 posts

#oc - 10 posts

#fan character - 9 posts

#nyreena dark - 8 posts

#clip studio paint - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#getting to design and create things that are this much fun is totally wonderful and keeps my creative juices overflowing

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Well, I think it's time that I finally gave Nyreena a proper character ref sheet XD

And boy, this came out seriously better than I thought! The metal seemed tricky but once I colored the line art around it it just fell into place so well! I'm so happy at how this came out and I hope you all like it!

14 notes • Posted 2021-08-09 22:17:29 GMT

#4

Now how's this for a part 2? XD

Oh man this project is so much fun to make. And now that the rough sketch is finished I finally get to have fun making the line art and color it! So as always, stay tuned for the next update!

Cops and Mobs AU belongs to the fantastic @pastelpaperplanes

15 notes • Posted 2021-06-11 01:28:43 GMT

#3

I don't know what it was but all of a sudden I wanted to draw my Loonatics Unleashed oc Presca in more of my style while still giving it the show quality feel. It was definitely a lot of fun redesigning her again and drawing an anthropomorphic person in my style for the first time. I hope you all enjoy!

16 notes • Posted 2021-07-02 16:21:44 GMT

#2

Well, this was a challenge to take on, that’s for sure! To be completely honest, I was debating on participating but the the gauntlet got thrown in an art chat on the Transformers Amino community so I pretty much had no choice XD. And boy I’m glad I did! Not only as to participate but to finally draw the charismatic war lord for the first time EVER!

It was really a lot of fun drawing him, plus to use a medium I love to use in real life, charcoal! (Especially since digital charcoal doesn’t get all over your hands XD). It was a definite challenge within itself to try and get the monochrome tones to match Mega’s color scheme and make him look like him but I think I managed to get it just right.

@pastelpaperplanes, congratulations on hitting a HUGE milestone I hope to reach someday. Please keep doing the amazing art you bring to your fans time and time again and I can’t wait to celebrate with you on your next big milestone! Enjoy!

60 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 20:28:49 GMT

#1

Whoo, I've been in an art craze lately! Especially with the AU I'm crafting! XD And for that AU I definitely need a Danny! So here's his design for that AU! There's definitely more to come so stay tuned!

61 notes • Posted 2021-08-31 09:45:11 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 8

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, smut, swearing, public/semi-public sexual shenanigans (they’re very horny, ok???), Erin is hot af

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: The undercover operation has begun 👀 Will Erin and Marcus be able to keep their act together? We’ll have to see.... Enjoy!

It was humid. Way too humid. Though, Erin supposed that maybe that’s what rich people liked; what better way to flaunt their wealth than being able to afford air-conditioning an entire mansion?

She held Marcus’s hand tightly as they weaved through the crowd of wedding attendees and partygoers at the hotel, reaching the elevator only after breaking a sweat.

Once they entered their room, the first order of business was to check it for bugs. And by bugs, they were looking for cameras and microphones. The last thing they wanted was for anyone to catch wind of the operation. Even if they needed an emergency extraction, it would take hours before any personnel arrived.

The suite was more like a penthouse than a hotel room. The floors had marble pathways and soft carpet surrounding the bed. A short hallway led to a spacious, doorless,  shower with a fireplace built in for warmth. The same hallway led to a more conventional bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, and sink. And, of course, the showstopper.

Marcus paused as they walked by. “That’s a nice hot tub.”

It took nearly an hour, but Erin and Marcus were able to sweep the entire suite and confirm that there weren’t any recording devices around.

“It seems like we should be safe in here, at least for now,” Erin said, resting her hands on her hips. “We arrived a bit earlier than I expected, so we should probably look around at the beach party before night falls. It’ll look more natural if we’re there all afternoon and evening. Do you remember your profile?”

---

The sun was even more unbearable with less clothes on. Erin adjusted the straps of her bikini bottoms, chatting with other attendees. The white sand and crystal blue water would’ve made the island a fantastic vacation spot, but unfortunately she didn’t have time to enjoy it. After all, she was there for work.

The bikini was smaller than any she’d ever worn, a special purchase to play the part. The black triangles of fabric strained over her breasts and the bottoms left little to the imagination. She blushed as she realized her lower lips could barely fit in the bottoms, swollen with arousal. In this case, it was arousal for herself. She rarely had the time or energy for beach trips, much less skimpy bathing suits. So even if this was an undercover operation, she couldn’t help but relish in her playthings.

“Babe, could you help me get my back?” she asked, applying some sunscreen onto her chest. She rolled her eyes as her nipples hardened, poking through the thin fabric. Her past lovers were obsessed with her tits, so any touch would make them hard. Thankfully no one seemed to care; in fact, the women she chatted with simply cooed as Marcus–her “boyfriend”–stood up to help.

She clenched around nothing as she imagined how Marcus would look if he was sucking on her tits. The soft flesh would bury his face as he mouthed at her, leaving marks that staked out his claim. But that was just another fantasy that wouldn’t come true.

Marcus gulped as he took her in, hoping she couldn’t see his hardening cock.

The bikini fit her perfectly, hugging her in all the right spots and emphasizing the plush flesh of her ass and hips. The thong bottoms left virtually nothing to the imagination, which only made his predicament worse. As much as he loved her and the way she looked, it was definitely not the right place or time to be thinking about her ass.

Erin tried not to stare as she noticed his shorts tent, his thick length outlined. He looked like he would fill her perfectly, better than any toy she ever buried inside herself. She wanted to get on her knees and give him a taste of his own medicine, bringing him to the edge. Would he even fit in her hand?

The thought made her pulse, her bottoms growing wetter.

She let out a gasp as he smacked her ass playfully, wishing he would spread her legs and taste her. Her eyes grew large as he kneeled down in front of her and nudged her legs apart.

“What? I’m helping out, like you asked.” He looked up at her with a smoldering gaze as he kissed her thighs. It took a moment for her to remember that this was part of the act; she and Marcus were meant to be fiery and passionate, fitting in with the rest of the crowd. They were certainly nowhere near the wildest at the beach party; in the distance she was sure there was a fully naked woman wracked with orgasms. Surely she wouldn’t be in that position anytime soon; not that she’d thought much about it.

Marcus’s large hands gently applied the sunscreen to her legs as he kissed around her inner thighs, his breath just grazing her core. There was no doubt that he could see her swollen pussy and the way her juices had smeared on her skin.

Erin jumped slightly as he pressed a kiss just at the edge of the fabric. Her fingers tangled in his hair and encouraged him to kiss closer. She needed anything she could get, and two could play the game. “C’mon baby, don’t be shy.”

A low moan left her lips as he obeyed, kissing her mound through the fabric. He sucked lightly, catching her clit.

Erin’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Fuck….”

Then he pulled away, leaving her throbbing. Tease.

“Do you like this, honey?” he asked lowly, eyes dark with desire. “Do you like knowing people can see you?”

“Yes,” Erin moaned, arching her back as one of the women cupped her tits, the soft flesh overflowing. She gasped as Marcus pressed his lips to her mound again. The touches felt like heaven; it had been too long since anyone had given her this much attention. “I want people to know what you do to me.”

He hummed softly, reveling in Erin’s neediness. “Look at you… So beautiful. You’re so wet, baby, I hope you’re having fun. But you need to behave, or you don’t get to cum.”

She pouted as he stood back up, the pout melting into a smile as he kissed her deeply. A shiver ran down her spine as his hand came up to play with the ties of her bikini top. Barely above a whisper, she said, “Just a few more hours before we can get started.”

The few hours dragged on much longer than she and Marcus thought; it must’ve been from the heat. As they mingled with the crowds and made out like horny rabbits, the sun barely inched towards the horizon.

Thankfully, time had not stopped, and the house was eventually opened for the dinner party.

She and Marcus changed into more appropriate outfits for the house party, hers made from a thin black fabric that just barely contained her tits. The skirt of the dress had two slits on each side, allowing her legs to peek through the curtains when she walked.

It was easy enough to scope out the layout of the house, walking around with Marcus’s hand on her waist and the occasional kiss. Everything was going to plan; all they had to do was to get into the office, pull the data, and get out. Easy, right?

They slowed as they approached the entrance to the office, Erin running her hands down his chest. She toyed with the buttons of his shirt. Fluttering her eyelashes at him, she asked, “Baby, have I been good enough for you today?”

“You have,” Marcus replied, eyes raking down her form. Backing her into the office, he said, “I think you’ve earned this.”

Once he closed the door, they launched into action. It only took a quick scan of the room to know that there weren’t any cameras installed; it seemed like that was a theme in the house. Perhaps it was a precaution on the host’s part for the art dealings.

It didn’t take long for Erin to find the records on the computer, and within a couple minutes the data was downloading onto the flashdrive. It needed just a few more seconds….

Someone knocked on the office door. “Hey, is anyone in there?”

“Shit!” Erin hissed, pulling out the flashdrive and shutting off the computer. As the door handle started turning, she sat on the desk and pulled Marcus onto her, kissing him hard.

Despite his initial surprise, he fell into the rhythm quickly. He pressed her against him and hitched her leg up on his hip. Her soft moans and grinding of her hips sent blood rushing down to his cock, making her gasp. His tongue slipped into her mouth as the door opened.

“Oh, again? Excuse me, sir! Ma’am-”

At the sound of the intruder, Marcus growled and held her to his chest protectively, accidentally pulling the fabric of her dress to the side. Neither of them noticed until Erin arched against him, her breasts freed from their confines. He shuddered as the soft flesh pressed against him; he wanted nothing more than to stoop down and take her into his mouth.

Erin couldn’t help but melt into his touch, rolling her hips against his for more friction. The girth of his cock was undeniable, and her clit was swollen to the point that it rubbed deliciously along his length. Her cheeks burned from knowing her tits were out, but a small part of her couldn’t care less. After all, it was all part of the act, right?

“Hey!”

“Oh!” Erin and Marcus leapt apart, frantically tidying themselves up. She smiled sheepishly at the man standing at the entrance of the office; he must’ve been a friend of the collector.

“Sorry, we got a little carried away,” she apologized, shyly walking out the office with Marcus in tow.

It would’ve been too suspicious to leave right away, so they stayed a couple hours longer. There was music, food, and they had each other’s company. It would have been perfect. However, their little office session had left them more than flustered.

She’d never quite seen Marcus act so rough before–not that he was particularly rough. Perhaps…dominant was a more accurate word. Sure, he was a Heroic, but something about his confidence and strength in that moment made her legs weak.

Despite all this time, she was sure he could make her legs weak in other ways. Her pussy ached as she thought of the way he felt against her, how his hard cock had pressed deliciously against her swollen cunt.

She needed a shower.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the two of them snuggled in the back seats like two lovebirds. She supposed they technically were in love, but she knew it wasn’t the same. Part of it was an act to keep the disguise up. The things they did at the party were all for show.

Marcus had showered first after they returned to their room. Meanwhile, Erin wanted to check if they got all the information they needed; the download had been cut short. Upon examination, she discovered they were only able to get about three quarters of the data, which means they’d have to go back and get the last quarter.

It was only after a quick debrief that she finally went to wash up for the night. She gave Marcus a kiss as he passed by, telling him to get some rest. The past few hours had been eventful, and it would only get busier as the wedding approached.

Later, a low moan echoed from the shower, making Marcus sit up. He could hear the rush of water as Erin washed off the day’s sunscreen and makeup. So what was that sound?

He stood from his seat and walked a few paces closer to the shower, straining to discern where the sound came from. It grew fainter as it continued, so breathy he could barely hear it.

What if she was hurt?

The thought of her being hurt spurred him to step in front of the shower, not even realizing what he’d done until the image registered in his mind.

Erin was leaned up against the marble wall of the shower, skin shining and eyes closed. Moans left her lips as her fingers circled her clit. A louder cry escaped as she slipped in a couple fingers, pumping them in and out of her needy cunt.

Marcus gulped and hid behind the wall–she was definitely not hurt. Quite the opposite, in fact. His cock was already rock hard, straining against his pants. A groan escaped him as he gripped his shaft through the fabric.

It was wrong, he knew that. They hadn’t reached that stage of their relationship yet, and he hated that he’d reacted so quickly. Their first time needed to be perfect, not some quick fuck during an op. But the image of her fucking her pussy was engrained into his mind.

Her pussy was swollen and dripping with cream as she circled her pearl, the hair on her mound trimmed neatly. The curve of her hips tapered into her waist, guiding his eyes up to her breasts. Fuck, her tits were gorgeous. Marcus gasped as his cock twitched, a damp circle growing in the fabric of his pants.

Her tits were just as beautiful as he remembered, full and round. Even back then, it had taken all his willpower to not suck her tits; now, it was even more difficult. Thinking back to the beach weekend they shared years ago, he wondered how he resisted.

“Oh fuck,” Erin moaned. Her other hand groped and squeezed her tits. She imagined the hands weren’t hers, but Marcus’s. Those big, warm hands had felt amazing against her skin, and she was lucky that her dress was long. After their little...session, she’d been dripping down her thighs. More than once, she considered dismissing herself to the bathroom for relief. But if the tight coil in her belly was any indication, it was good that she didn’t. Weeks of edging meant she was going to come hard, harder than she ever had before. The only question was: when?

A voice in the back of his mind told him to join her in the shower and help her reach her peak, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t the right time.

The mattress molded to his body as he settled in on his side of the bed. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he realized he was going to be sharing a bed with Erin. With the love of his life.

His cock lay thick and heavy under his pajama pants, showing no signs of becoming less obvious. The thought of Erin catching him made his cock twitch, the ache of arousal making every movement unbearable. He needed to take care of himself fast, not that it would be difficult with what he’d just seen.

The slow drip of her cream was burned into his mind. Although her fingers had spread it all over her pussy and inner thighs, it continued to seep out. He wondered what she would look like if it was his cum, his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck.” He just pulled out his cock when the shower shut off, the rustle of a towel reaching his ears. Absentmindedly, his hand moved up and down his shaft, squeezing the hot flesh to mimic the tight walls of her cunt. Precum dripped from the tip, pooling on his stomach. Marcus scooped it up with a finger and popped the sweet substance into his mouth. His eyes widened as footsteps approached the main room.

Quickly, he covered himself with the blanket and turned to his side, only realizing after she entered the room that he forgot to tuck himself back into his pants. The thin blanket did nothing to hide it, the hard length visible to anyone who looked at him.

The burn of Erin’s gaze as it traced the swell of the blanket made his balls tighten in anticipation, though he knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere that night.

Smirking slightly, Erin wordlessly walked to her luggage and dropped the towel to the floor. Her tanned skin glowed in the light. Marcus’s mouth went dry as she bent over to pick out some nightclothes, the lips of her pussy peeking out between her thighs. Fuck, her ass was beautiful, too–

Almost as if he weren’t there, she turned around with a small lacy camisole, the fabric mostly translucent. She slipped it over her head, the lace stretching over her breasts. Then, she slipped on a pair of sleep shorts, forgoing any panties. He nearly choked on air as she pulled them up higher, her lower lips emphasized by the tight fabric.

He watched as she dried her hair, admiring her figure. How was he going to fall asleep when she looked like that? Just the sight of her was almost enough to make him cum, his cock twitching under the blanket.

Then,  she snuggled up against him after climbing under the covers, her back to his chest. She grabbed his arm and guided it around her waist. The position made sure they were pressed against each other; she had to have felt his erection against her ass, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Marcus sighed and nuzzled her neck. “Goodnight, honey.”

She hummed tiredly. “Goodnight, my love.”

---

Fuck, she was so tight.

Erin moaned as Marcus’s hands trailed down her wet body, holding her against his chest as he fucked into her. Her walls clenched and sucked his cock as deep as possible, not that she could tighten much more. The girth of his cock was nearly too much for her to take.

He groaned as his cock grew slick with her juices. “You’re so fucking tight, honey…. Feels like you’re milking my cock.”

She whined, “I want to milk your cock, Marcus. I want every drop inside of me. Please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

The sound of their skin slapping together echoed in the shower, along with their guttural groans.

Looking down, he almost came right then and there. Her ass bounced deliciously for every thrust, the flesh supple and round.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she cried out. She grabbed his wrist and brought it down to her clit, begging him to rub it. “Please make me cum, I need it so bad. Please, I want to milk your cock.”

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he grit out, circling her clit. His thrusts were unrelenting even as his own orgasm approached at light speed. “Cum for me, honey. Fuck, cum for–”

He woke with a sharp gasp, burying his face in her neck as he came. Shudders wracked his body as his cock shot rope after rope into his pants. It was the most he’d come in a long time, his hot seed completely coating his length. His cock was nestled between her ass cheeks. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up.

But when he tried to move his arm from her waist, she held him in place.

Her hips ground against his hand as she seemingly tried to relieve herself, the slick juices from her pussy pooling in his palm. Every circle of her hips dipped his fingers into her cunt, which fluttered at his touch.

Erin moaned softly as she grew closer to ecstasy, the combination of his hand and his rock hard cock almost too much. A familiar pressure deep inside of her swelled, the same one that had teased her in the shower. The same one that had soaked her mirror, drenched her toy in juices. The same one that weakened her legs, turned her into jelly.

Kissing her shoulder softly, Marcus showed his hand to a stop right as she was about to come. She couldn’t come—not yet. The mere touch of his fingers wouldn’t satisfy her, and he wanted to take care of her properly. He wanted to give her hours of love and ecstasy.

That morning, Erin woke to an ache between her legs, her pussy still swollen from arousal. She let out a soft groan in disappointment as she felt the dampness in her shorts; had she come? Why else would her cunt be fluttering around nothing?

She moaned as she slipped a single finger into her folds. Just the small insertion was enough to make her clench tightly. Rivulets of her arousal ran down her thighs as she pulled out the silver vibrating plug from her luggage.

Sighing as it filled her, she turned it on. The familiar vibrations made her moan out.

It was going to be a long day.

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