#sometimes i think people think I based it off of nothing. but there is a connection

[long-furby-marty]

1. Chipotle order?

Burrito with extra chicken. Perfect shape. 

2. Thoughts on veganism?

Some people just aren’t meant to be apex predators, good on them for admitting it. 

3. A specific color that gives you the ick?

Hot pink.

4. Mythical creature you think/believe is real?

Flesh furbies, the kind the mechanical ones were based on. 

5. Favorite form of potato?

Whole. Greased up and right down my gullet. 

6. Do you use a watch?

Nah. Phone in muppet hole. 

7. What animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

Eels. 

8. Do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

My cool sunglasses, back when I had them. I couldn’t fit them in my muppet hole (or even Flytrap’s!!) so I had to leave them on the side of the road with my Wii :( 

9. Do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

I try not to get fluids on me, I don’t like having to get clean again. Do you know how hard it is to wring yourself out?

10. On a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

I ask for milk. 

11. Anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

Well right now I have nothing. But before I got kicked out, I collected littlest pet shop toys. 

12. Brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

Blood. 

13. First thing you’re doing in the purge?

Killing Donald Trump. Second thing would be killing all the other Nazis. 

14. Do you think you’re dehydrated?

Probably. 

15. Rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning.

Burning is the worst, then drowning, then freezing. 

16. Thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

I prefer pistach. There should only be one green flavour. 

17. An anxious compulsion you do every day?

Your mom. Gottem!

18. Your boba/tea order?

Broth. 

19. The veggie you dislike the most?

Fucking, lima beans, dude. They freak me out. 

20. Favorite Disney princess movie?

Cinderelmo 

21. A number that weirds you out?

Any number that sometimes has a line through it. 0,7, they’re doing too much. Oh and 4. Why is it written two different ways? Fuck off. 

22. Do you have an emotional support water bottle?

No. I’m not gen alpha. Wait, am I? Nevermind. 

23. Do you wear jewelry?

Yes, I have this lovely ribbon around my neck. 

24. Which do you find yourself using, American or British English?

Canadian. 

25. Would you say you have good taste in music?

Yes. The Chipettes are inspiring. 

26. How’s your spice tolerance?

In books or food? I don’t season my food. Books on the other hand…

27. What’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

My vip wristband when I had it :(

28. Last meal on earth?

CHICKEN!!

29. Preferred pasta noodle?

Egg

30. Ask me anything!

If I have an ask I'll send one like everyone else.

weirdly specific and unrelated asks to know someone well:

chipotle order?

thoughts on veganism?

a specific color that gives you the ick?

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

favorite form of potato?

do you use a watch?

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

do you think you’re dehydrated?

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

your boba/tea order?

the veggie you dislike the most?

favorite disney princess movie?

a number that weirds you out?

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

do you wear jewelry?

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

would you say you have good taste in music?

how’s your spice tolerance?

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

last meal on earth?

preferred pasta noodle?

ask me anything !

leave an ask for the person you reblog it from!

[acciocriativity]

->You're hyper independent || Ateez Reactions || Maknae Line

Genre: fluff, angst for Jongho’s part, slice of life AU

Warnings: mentions of relatives' death on Mingi’s part; mentions overworking, lack of self care and unhealthy perfectionism on San’s part; this IS more heavy in general than the first part, I'm so sorry. I don't incentivize any of the behaviors depicted in this.

N/A: This is a very real trauma response that real people have. However, I tried to keep it light, humorous, and focus on the support and love the reader received from the boys in different contexts instead of the actual trauma triggering situation that cause the trauma response. If I, in any way, offend people who have this trauma response, I'm open to learning and editing this, if necessary.

N/A ²: This is a gender neutral! reader in all of them, but Mingi’s part.

Ateez Masterlist

Hyung Line version

Choi San (최산): He’ll take care of you, whether you like it or not

Choi San wasn’t your husband, yet at least. The engagement talk was at its peak, and you knew a proposal wasn’t far off. Still, if any of your friends saw the two of you on a normal day, they’d ask where you found such an amazing house husband, and you wouldn’t be able to respond. He wasn’t your house husband, nothing against it, but you wouldn’t be able to be with a man that hadn’t the same ambition with his work as you did. Well, maybe San didn’t have this hunger to be at the top like you, but he was determined and passionate, striving to be his best every day and finding new ways to grow, and that was enough for you.

Although he had his own fair share of work schedule, his work from home was flexible and task-based rather than time-based, so with his efficiency, he managed to have more free time than you. This led to your current arrangement. It was rare for you to be at home if it wasn’t on a weekend, so it was a seamless transition for him to live with you and contribute a bigger portion of house labor. His presence was something dangerous because you started to think about what you would do without him in your life. He added instead of subtracting from your energy and time, which sometimes seemed like a surreal dream.

You had a full-time job, a good apartment, a car, and a whole social life you had to manage. There was so much you wanted to do with your life, with your free time, that you were used to the feeling of being hungry throughout the day or dizziness from the lack of hydration. The only way you managed to rest was when you were asleep. Otherwise, you felt like you were losing time. This was your normal day-to-day self, what you were used to, and yes, you knew it was bad.

When you met San, your health was at its lowest. It was normal for him to be worried, and your friends and family were. But he was the one that took action, a man you barely knew at the time. All his attempts were kindly rejected by you, and then you hated the thought of him, of all people, helping you. Not only you didn’t need it, but you’d hate to be a bother.

But San was as stubborn as he was beautiful. He reminded you religiously to drink water, cooked healthy meals for you even on weekends, bought groceries for you when you didn’t have the time for so many weeks you were truly embarrassed by yourself, took care of your plants when you were away on work trips and so much more.

It was all so weird. You constantly waited for the other shoe to drop. For the time when he’d be tired of this constant routine of caring for you. Your toxic self was waiting for the confirmation that you were too much for anyone to handle, that nobody could be with you and keep up, that you were the problem and that was the reason you could never be in a relationship for long.

But San proved you wrong, again and again, and you couldn’t even be mad at him for it.

Song Mingi (송민기): Turns out, he’s not just a silly little guy

Mingi was your younger brother best friend, and there were times you hated him for it. As the elder daughter, you took on the biggest load of everything in your house up until you left for college in another state. Until that moment, you had to be silent and grateful about it all. There was no throwing yourself on the ground to get your way or crying yourself out of your “duties”, which included but not limited to cooking all the meals for yourself and your brother, making the grocery store list and buying everything yourself once you were old enough, cleaning the entire house yourself, which wasn’t the initial agreement, and babysitting your brother 24/7 and his friends when they were over, which was almost every single day. So clearly, there was a lot on your plate, nothing a child should have on theirs. But why did you hate Mingi in specific? He wasn’t mean, but he thought it was funny to break rules, to do what your parents told they couldn’t and he got away with it while the blame fell on you. Not once, not twice.

In Mingi’s defense, he didn’t know actions had consequences at the time, he was 6 and a spoiled only child, also, he felt really shitty when your brother told him your parents punished you for some of the stuff they did later, but he thought it was too late. After two decades and something passed, somehow, you still saw him as the same irresponsible boy that got you into trouble. Mind you, he kind of never left your life completely, he was in bedded in the family’s stories, in the corner of the photos, in the little small get together that were family only, but he was never close to you. That’d be quite the impossible mission since you looked like you hated his guts.

But when the worst time of your life came, so did his redemption arc. Your grandma got really sick, and the whole family was in shambles, but somehow, you were the one expected to make the bigger sacrifices. Most of your relatives live far away, some out of the country and although your mom moved in with you, her health wasn't in an ideal condition to take care of someone else, which was already another problem and another whole set of eggs for you to be careful not to step on. It was only you in this, at least, you thought so until Mingi showed up on your doorstep, ready to help. It concerned you, but your position didn't allow you to turn him down. To your surprise, Mingi helped with a lot. Since he never moved away from his family home, he managed to help daily with meal prepping, groceries shopping, and the house up-keeping. No one really asked him to step up like that. Not even your own brother did this much after a week, yet he was by your side through it all.

A lot of the weight was off your back before you realized it. It was a weird sensation, but you were truly thankful for him, and you wanted to find a way to let him know. After an entire month, your relationship with Mingi was still stiff and awkward, yet you began to appreciate it for what it was, and maybe, someday, it'd be a work in progress.

Jeong Wooyoung (정우영): You may call him a wrecking ball

It seems like he has been paying for all his sins ahead of time because why does he have to love such difficult people? *dramatic sigh*. Ok, that was a lie. He didn’t care you weren’t the best with physical affection, you walked around like that wasn’t a thing at all, but that’s OK, because he’s affectionate enough for the both of you.

You had pretty established boundaries, more like a steel wall around you that people couldn’t go through. While Wooyoung…, yeah. It was a weird kind of friendship at first, if he could call a friendship. He was a work colleague, but somehow, he saw right through your tough act on day one, unlike everyone else. You tended to put a good distance in your every relationship unintentionally, too focused on your work to pay attention on small talk or the gossip of the day, but others saw it as a lack of interest in their friendship, which wasn’t true. You were as interested in them as you were scared of them.

Although it wasn’t possible for Wooyoung to know the in’s and out’s of your mind, he saw your unintentional push and pull game in those subtle ways. Whenever you tried to be closer to people in your own way, the effort wasn’t reciprocated until the point you’d take the hint. It was too late. You managed to scare them away again.

If anyone would ask him why he tried so hard to befriend you, he’d lie and say he didn’t have to try at all, you fell for his charms in an instant. But if he were to be honest, he’d say he saw a part of himself in you. In his eyes, you weren’t cold, nor uptight and mean. You just didn’t give love to others in an open way. This didn’t mean you didn’t have any to give or that you aren’t able to feel it. His running theory was that you were his exact opposite, and he couldn’t just live you be without helping you out or, at least, try.

The moment he got to crack a small piece of your wall, when he wasn’t even trying to, he was determined to see more. And oh boy, didn’t he see it? Now, this may be ridiculous, but he felt honored when you let him step into your world as a whole, no judgment, only him trying to understand you as a person. It warmed his heart that he got to be someone important in your life as much as you were on his.

If anyone that work along side the both of you saw you two today, years later, they wouldn’t believe it. But here you are, pretending you don’t like his weekly hugs spree while you don’t move a single muscle to get him off you. Isn’t it funny how things change? Hm? What was this, oh, you said you feel like laying down on the couch now, so you wouldn’t move? OK, he’d let you have that excuse for now.

Choi Jongho (최종호): he was your missing piece. Now you only miss him

To see him in a situation like this made you consider hysterically laughing until the moment your brain forgets where you are and you don’t care anymore. That must be a nice feeling, one you never really felt without him. Like you, he was dressed up for the weeding ceremony of your friend in common and you felt dumb, first, because you swore you’d only attend if there was no possibility of him coming, he was supposed to be out of the country and second, because he didn’t spare you another look.

Your breakup was amicable and mutual. With both of your lives ascending, the distance grew, physically and emotionally. There was no ease and stress-free conversations, suddenly you couldn’t relate to each other anymore and what was the point to be with him when the only thing you wanted to do on your break was rot in bed instead of seeing him? You had no energy to spare, and neither did him.

Why do you still care, then?

Because he was perfect for you, at least at some point, in every sense of the word. He saw you and didn’t judge, didn’t try to change who you was, instead he slowly but surely helped you adapt into a new routine with him in it. It was livelier and brighter when he was around.

The moment he left, you noticed that you just lived the happiest years of your life, and there was no coming back from it. You didn’t even attempt to talk once more, Jongho was like you in the sense that he carefully decided who stayed on his life and who didn’t, you moved to the latter, but you were the one that moved him out of yours first, weren’t you?

Your time management improved after all, but it let you down when it mattered the most. So, you tortured yourself a bit more, watching him and wondering what was going through his mind and if that had anything to do with you.

Jongho saw you the moment he walked in, but he pretended not to for his own sake. Although he'd never admit it out loud, to greet an ex at a weeding was above his maturity level. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Of course, you looked..., and of course, you'd have a date with you, but that didn't mean he had to see you two together, right? His solution was to stay away from you as far as he could. However, to accomplish such things, he'd have to be aware of your whereabouts all night long.

His self-control and straightforward priorities were some of his best qualities. He managed the need to stalk you on his worst days back then, so he never got to see how you were doing. At that moment, he could tell you were doing your best to be fine, to look perfect, but he used to know you better than that facade. Sometimes, he wondered if you regretted as much as he did.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You’re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

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[linics]

comforting bllk characters

featuring : i. rin, m. reo, m. kaiser

a/n : hi so ummm im back .!!! did you guys miss me ?? anyways my writers block was HORRIBLE but im recovered now i think. let’s ignore how ooc kaisers probably is because its based off of fics ive seen + edits. i’ll redo it later.

i. rin

as i referenced in the one where they comfort you, rin would be very closed off emotionally. even so, he’s like a fucking book with how he behaves.

it doesn’t take you long to realize just how much the u-20 game affected him. as much as he tried to turn his annoyance into motivation and actually doing something with it, sometimes it would become too much. whether that looks like him overworking himself or lashing out, it’ll always show through.

the most you could do is make sure he stays safe during it. showing up to the field at weird hours, ruining your sleep schedule, just to give him more water and a ride home considering he ran all the way there.

“why’re you here?” he’d scoff, panting slightly from all the work.

“woke up early, thought i’d stop by,” you lied, yes, but it was fine. he didn’t need to know you’d set at least 10 alarms to make sure you’d wake up and stay up.

he didn’t respond, so you just handed him a large water bottle. it was a spare, but it also was the biggest you’d had, so it’d have to make do.

“thanks.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. the cold barrier that’d been there slowly flexing and melting away.

he wasn’t someone that you could just befriend instantly. every time the two of you hung out, you’d have to prove to him that you were there to stay. it was gradual.

most people gave up after the first couple of times when they realized they were practically back to where they started. that was except for you.

after taking a few sips of the water, he hands it back to you, not wanting it to interfere with his training. you grabbed it from him, then wandered over to the sidelines.

“where are you going?” he asked, though, if you paid enough attention, you’d notice he was anxious. very anxious.

“just over here, i don’t want you to hit me..” you said calmly, trying to lighten it slightly. you were careful to not wander too far from him.

he didn’t say anything to you afterwards, but you noticed the tension loosened again.

even though he wouldn’t let you interfere — which you have tried — he’d still let you care for him. maybe he knew it was because you’d get anxious and blame yourself if he didn’t let you help in some way.

m. reo

he would be anxious. i don’t care if this is ‘out of character’. for the most part, yeah he doesn’t stress much because he hasn’t had much to worry about. but the second he gets stressed out, he stresses, a lot. and because he hasn’t been exposed to much stress, he’s absolutely clueless on how to cope.

he’d be laying in bed — at his desk now? nope, he’s pacing. point being, he just can’t sit still, and god, he won’t stop babbling about nonsense.

“reo.” for the hundredth time, he’d cut you off completely. this was coming from the guy who felt it was rude to type when other people were typing, so you let it slide.

“and then — oh yeah, did you say something?” finally, some recognition.

“come sit down in front of me,” you pat the bed, clearing off the blankets so he could just crawl in. he did just that, sitting in front of you, his back facing you.

“like this?” he was always so hesitant with you. but you just responded in a hum of approval. you carefully started combing through his hair with your fingers, occasionally grazing his scalp and briefly massaging it. his hair was silky and clean.

he became quieter, his muscles slowly relaxing and calming.

“so, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you spoke quietly, careful to not ruin the calmness of the moment.

“it’s nothing big—” you stopped in your movements as he said that, and he knew that meant you were displeased.

“okay, okay, fine..” he mumbled.

m. kaiser

okay so.. i feel like now’s the perfect time for me to say i have not gotten to where he is in the manga. um! so what i planned to do for this is write how i think he acts, then correct it later on whenever i do catch up. i think i get him a bit though ?? currently i see him as a self destructive possibly alcoholic man. who takes after his dad who was abusive and an alcoholic, mom wasn’t in the picture. no clue how any of that relates to soccer but sure! i’ve heard a lot that he hits himself / chokes himself as a way of coping (after doing some research it’s for ideas. okay.) so that’s the route we’re gonna take with that. no clue if it’s true or not.

he really didn’t get it. no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t figure himself out. how was he supposed to understand others and beat others if he couldn’t even understand himself? he needed ideas—

was it illogical? yes, absolutely. did it work? also yes.

adrenaline from anything could be put to use to benefit. so, he did the thing he’s done for ages. maybe he’s began to rely on it for too long so he reached to it for the smallest things, he didn’t really care, though.

it worked, and until it stopped working, he wouldn’t stop abusing his body for his brain. it was nothing more than a vessel, anyways.

“kaiser.” even through your voice, his choking movements didn’t falter.

“just fuckin’ stop for a moment-” you were the only person he really let talk to him like that, even though it wasn’t often that you took advantage of it.

it worked enough for him to stop, just for a moment and catch his breath. it’s not like he wanted to pass out, anyways. the second he let go, you grabbed his hands.

“what is it?” he huffed, his voice groggy and rough.

“don’t do that. ‘what is it?’, you know exactly what it is.” it wasn’t uncommon for you to be mad at him or mildly rude, but even keeping it up for this long was abnormal.

“it works, well, it would’ve, if you didn’t disrupt me.” he rolled his eyes.

“that’s not the point and you know it.”

“then what is it?”

there was a silence for a few moments before you just decided to ask outright.

“what do you need help with this time?” you were still a bit petty, but you just hoped he wouldn’t pay too much attention to it.

“doesn’t concern you.”

“i’ll make it concern me. tell me.”

“why would i do that?”

god, was he always this annoying?

“okay, fine, whatever it is, i won’t interfere. how about you tell me, and if i can’t think of a solution by tomorrow, you can do whatever this is.”

there was another long silence as he considered it. it was appealing — all he had to do was tell you, and you could do all the work. the backup was there and it was exactly what he wanted. there wasn’t much time left in the day anyways.

“fine. tomorrow first thing.”

[blackknight-kai]

Black Myth Wukong Monkeys: LORE/HC stuff

I’ve had some recent thoughts about BMW and Wukong/Destined One.

So everyone has their own “Wukong looks like this” idea based on different chapter animations, in game armor, some back end files, etc. *I will not be proving or disproving anyone fyi*

I decided to take a little bit of a deeper look.

A lot of people have different head canons about “how much fur” WK/DO actually has under his armor (Valid question 😏). This is based on ‘monkey types in real life’ or some hints / glimpses we see in game or even other media for Wukong. So I wanted to set out to look at the other monkeys we see in game. The issue? Blurry background monkeys LOL. (Some images will be…blurry ish…)

I was watching some TikTok’s with some Spider Monkeys - if you know the family youre awesome - and while looking on a first glance they look nearly identical. But looking closer you’ll start seeing the differences in fur, face color patterns - down to freckles, mannerisms etc etc etc. I already like anyone else was expecting Monkey demons to have some diversity to them but just like any ‘real life’ animal sometimes it’s not a lot of diversity between a same species. (I’m not thinking about house pets or birds, I’m thinking on the generic “lion” or “tiger” look if that makes sense).

Pulling up the game the first other monkey we see besides Wukong is the old Monkey - he has white hair and very thin fur (even a fur less tail). He almost looks like Destined One too in structure but not quite, he holds some less human mannerisms than even DO. (Will come back to that)

Shen Monkey was also the next monkey to look at - brightened up images show him to be dark in skin & fur color. He also has patches of fur and places like his under arms missing fur. He has a thin thatch of hair on the center of his chest with a bushy head of hair/fur and his face is a bit more ‘monkey’ than WK/DO’s. His feet are shorter than WK/DO’s too (toes also just a bit). Also, he has POINTY ears.

Link to the post I got these from @/aulostheremin https://www.tumblr.com/aulostheremin/773263251799687168/i-might-be-asking-too-much-but-can-we-have-fanart (wasn’t sure if you’d be okay tagging youuuuuuu)

After looking at him I took a look at the blurry background monkeys in that opening scene and started to notice something….interesting.

The background monkeys looked almost generic right? But on closer look I started to realize they had many differences.

You can see their fur colors vary for starters, some being tan, to brown, to that onyx greyish blue color. Same with skin color - some have peach/pail skin and others have that grey blue skin that Shen Monkey has.

*See above different color furs / skins.*

Most of them also have fur less chests, but this varies too - some having more fur less skin and others having a little less on their chests. For instance - these two monkeys *SEE BELOW*. Both are ‘wide’ bodied but one has a more square fur less pattern while the other has a more upside down triangle pattern. ALSO - the triangle pattern monkey seems to have thinner/furless skin on the underside of his arms where as the square pattern monkey seems to have full fur other than on his chest. (Also, is that war paint on the triangle monkey?? The two lines - one shown running down his pec? If so, that is a neat idea I am absolutely head canoning that they used tribal war paint for warriors for certain meanings be it rank or things like courage/bravery - maybe they have trials and such etc)- mini note yes I am incorporating stuff like this in future fics.

The next thing I noticed was their clothes. Some apparently wear loin clothes, pants only, shirt and pants, or nothing at all. Most seem to wear clothes though in some fashion. (You can see in above images some of those clothes.

Below - also as a note I think the tail placement here wasn’t supposed to be noticed because honestly its a little uh off - but there is a Monkey that runs in front of the camera at the beginning of the game. Fully nude. This monkey appears while blurry, to have THICK FULL body hair. Even on that booty and it’s hard to tell, but honestly it looks like he has fur on his chest.

As another note, we cannot tell, but based on look alone they have ROUND ears mostly vs pointy like Shen Monkey. So, we have different fur patterns, colors, states of dress/status where next? (Maybe pointy ears are something less common? Interesting thought)

Their mannerisms.

Watching the scene its clear these background monkeys really lean into ‘monkey’ walk and actions/behaviors. They are VERY bow legged and have that sway you see in Planet of The Apes. Their chests are a bit wider/barreled and their limbs a little thicker too than WK/DO. Some of them have their arms curled up to their bodies as well. They squat too (mostly) instead of sitting and remain closer to the ground, but looking around you’ll see another interesting thing - outside of WK/DO, the old Monkey, there is one other monkey deep into the background that ISNT squatting like the rest. Instead they are sitting like a person, like WK/DO was in that scene before he stands up.

Shen Monkey ALSO sits like a human (see above pics of him).

Even the way WK/DO & the old monkey walk is more ‘human leaning’ with WK/DO being even more so than the old monkey. It shows me that WK/DO is still an anomaly even in those that are ‘human leaning’ because he is a true blend of the two but also something all his own, the old monkey being the only one closest to him in this.

Why does this all of this matter? It shows me the difference and diversity between the monkeys. Some are very heavy in their ‘monkey’ appearance and body movements (maybe slightly even brain function on a more primal level?) and others lean into more human aspects. BUT the more human leaning monkeys are not as common it seems. Essentially this makes my brain run. It shows a level of difference that is somewhat on par with how humans are diverse as well which again was what caught my eye and made me wonder about these Monkey Demons. Such as are there preferences of appearance, or do certain features make them more warriors/gatherers or what about intelligence of some? What differentiates leaders & followers or what genes get passed on? (Yes I’m adding this shit to my head canons LOL)

As another side note, I think WK/DO is just taller than his monkey kind. Mainly because he stands so far upright. Also also also, paying close attention in that opening scene the background monkeys tails are so cute LOL we get to see a little tail movement.

Okay so what conclusion does this bring us to? They are suuuuuper diverse. Meaning, if you see WK/DO with specific fur patterns vs another person? It works either way you see it because genuinely there are so many different variations, be it mostly furry with a small patch on his chest furless or the fur running down most of his torso…or even missing fur on the underside of his arms or having fur on the underside of his arms. Also the booty discourse of does he have furry cheeks or not honestly….up to you. Also I think it shows WK/DO is truly a 1 of a kind (which we knew duh) but ‘human leaning’ is such a rare feature (I’m assuming) and WK/DO doesnt even quite fit there either.

So at the end of the day……theres no wrong answer here. Just was doing some digging 🧐☺️ this was to help ME because I have ideas ���� and I can’t wait to start digging into them in fics.

@szynkaaa has another in depth look at this too sharing the same thoughts 😉 https://szynkaaa.tumblr.com/post/769217021192945664/the-shape-of-monkey

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

MY MASTERPIECE

drew starkey x plus sized!fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: after drew catches his girlfriend crying about the hate she’s receiving, he decides to show her exactly how much he loves her.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like it anon, and i had such a lovely time writing this :’) i just KNOW drew would worship a plus!sized baddie, so imo this is canon🤫

WARNINGS: slight angst to fluff then to smut (18+ mdni pls!!), body worshipping, oral (fem rec), fingering, orgasm denial, blasphemy (“oh god”), insecurities, social media hate, crying, cursing, fat-shaming (fuck you if you do this, and you’re not welcome on my page !!) i think this is all? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

THIRD PERSON +

The dim light of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop resting in front of her, illuminating her face in harsh contrast. Her throat felt tight as her eyes scanned the comments section on yet another gossip website.

"Why is he with her?"

"She's way out of his league."

"Drew could do so much better. She's not even that pretty."

"She doesn’t look right next to Drew AT ALL."

The words blurred as tears pooled in her eyes, one spilling over and sliding down her cheek. She sniffled, trying to hold it together, but it was a losing battle. Her hands trembled as she closed the laptop and set it aside, curling up into herself. The voices in her head, fueled by the hateful comments, were deafening.

She knew Drew loved her. He told her all the time, in the little ways and the big ones. But sometimes, the weight of the world's opinions was too much to bear. Tonight was one of those nights.

She was so caught up in her spiraling thoughts that she didn't hear the front door open or the sound of Drew's voice calling out.

"Babe? I'm home!" he said, his voice warm and familiar as it carried through the apartment.

Her stomach dropped. She quickly wiped at her cheeks, trying to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this.

Drew stepped into the bedroom, his tall frame filling the doorway. He smiled softly, holding up a bag. "I brought takeout from your favorite place. I figured—" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her blotchy, tear-stained face and glossy eyes. His brow furrowed with concern as he dropped the bag on the dresser and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Angel, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and cupping her face in his hands. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears that continued to fall despite her efforts to stop them. "Talk to me, baby."

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's nothing, Drew. I'm fine."

He frowned, not buying it for a second. "That's not nothing. Come on, tell me what's going on."

Her chest tightened as she met his worried gaze. She debated brushing it off, but the dam broke, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "It's just... all the comments, Drew. All the things people say about me. About us. They hate me because I'm not what they think you deserve."

Drew's eyes softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt.

"They're so cruel," she continued, her voice muffled against him. "And the worst part is... I start to believe them. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not good enough for you."

Drew pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up so she was looking at him. His cobalt eyes were intense, his expression a mix of heartbreak and determination.

"Stop," he said firmly, his voice low and steady. "Don't you dare let those people make you feel like you're not good enough. They don't know you. They don't know us."

She shook her head, the tears still falling. "But Drew, look at me. I'm not some slim, perfect model. I don't fit the image of the kind of woman people expect you to be with."

Drew let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning back to her. "Y/N, do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

"I see the woman who makes me laugh harder than anyone else ever has," he said, his voice soft but unwavering. "I see the woman who listens to me when I'm struggling, who supports me no matter what. I see the woman whose smile lights up my entire day."

His hands moved to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her skin in soothing circles. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I love you for you. For your kindness, your intelligence, your strength. For the way you hum when you're cooking, even though you always say you can't sing. For the way you light up when you talk about the things you're passionate about. You're the most beautiful person I've ever known, inside and out."

Her breath hitched as she listened to his words, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the walls she'd built around herself.

"You're more than enough for me, Y/N," Drew continued, his voice thick with emotion. "You're everything I've ever wanted. And if people can't see that, then screw them. They don't matter."

She let out a shaky laugh, her tears finally starting to slow. "You really mean that?"

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "With all my heart."

She looked up at him, her own heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

He smirked, his hands sliding down to her waist. "I think it's the other way around."

The tension in the room shifted as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on her sides. His gaze darkened slightly, a spark of something more than affection flickering in his eyes.

"I need you to understand how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. "Let me show you."

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and devotion, of promises made and kept.

He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She melted into him, her own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Drew rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe I really need to show you."

Drew's hand lingered on Y/N's cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last of her tears. His eyes never left hers—dark, intense, full of something unspoken but heavy, like the weight of a confession he couldn't hold back any longer.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that made her stomach tighten and her breath hitch. She blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but he didn't let her. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't say it. Don't say you don't see it. I'll show you."

His fingers trailed down her neck, feather-light, sending shivers rippling through her body. He shifted closer, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. Her heart pounded as his gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, tracing the curve of her jaw, the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her chest. Everywhere he looked, she felt it—like fire licking at her skin.

"Drew..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but he silenced her with a kiss. Soft at first, almost questioning, as if he was giving her the chance to pull away. But when she didn't, when she kissed him back, something in him snapped. His hands moved with purpose, one cupping the back of her neck while the other slid down to grip her hip, holding her firmly against him.

He deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees weak. She could feel the heat building between them, the way his body pressed into hers, hard and impatient. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself.

But Drew wasn't done.

His lips found her jaw next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive column of her throat. She tilted her head back instinctively, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping her when his teeth grazed her skin.

"You taste so good," he groaned against her neck, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, fingers curling underneath the fabric as he paused, looking up at her with those piercing eyes. "Can I? Let me see you, baby. All of you."

She nodded, her cheeks heated up but her eyes locked on his, unwavering. In one swift motion, he tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before his hands came to rest on her hips again. His gaze raked over her exposed skin, taking in every curve, every inch of her with a reverence that made her feel like she was something sacred.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice trembling. "Look at you... You're perfect." His hands slid up her sides, his touch firm yet gentle, like he was memorising her. "Every part of you... I want to worship it."

Her breath caught as he sank to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her stomach. It was tender, almost reverent, but the look he gave her when he glanced up was anything but innocent. Heat burned in his eyes, dark and hungry, and it sent a thrill shooting through her.

"Drew..." His name fell from her lips like a prayer, her hands clawing at the sides of his face for anything to grip onto as he began to trail kisses lower, his lips brushing against the band of her pants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging them down slowly, his lips following the path they took until she was standing there in nothing but her bra and underwear.

His hands slid around to her ass, squeezing gently as he nuzzled against her stomach, pressing another kiss there. "So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. "I don't know how anyone could ever talk shit about you. You're a goddamn masterpiece."

She whimpered, her chest tightening as he continued his descent, kissing and nipping at her thighs, her hips, anywhere he could reach. His hands slid up her legs, pushing them apart as he settled between them, his face level with the apex of her thighs.

"Drew, please..." Her voice broke, her body trembling with anticipation as he looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. There was something raw and primal in his expression, something that made her stomach flip and her core ache with need.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough, husky, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "I'll give you anything. Everything."

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she struggled to form words. "I... I want you. All of you."

A slow smirk spread across his face, wicked and knowing, as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Then you've got me."

His mouth found her center, hot and insistent, and her knees nearly buckled as a loud moan tore from her throat. His tongue dragged along her slit, teasing, tasting, before delving deeper, burying itself in her folds with a groan that vibrated against her sensitive flesh.

"Oh my god..." Her head tipped back, her nails scraping against his scalp as he worked her over, his tongue flicking and circling her clit with expert precision. He alternated between long, languid strokes and quick, erratic flicks, driving her closer and closer to the edge with every movement.

"Drew, I—fuck, I'm—" Her words dissolved into incoherent gasps and whimpers as the pressure built, her hips rocking against his face as he devoured her. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her steady as his tongue worked her relentlessly, each lick and suck bringing her closer to oblivion.

And then, just as she was about to tip over, he pulled away, leaving her teetering on the edge, desperate and aching. She cried out in frustration, her hands clutching at him as he stood, towering over her with a predatory grin.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. His hands immediately cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. "I'm not done worshiping you."

He bent his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as his free hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear. She moaned loudly, her hips jerking forward as his fingers teased her entrance, circling but not quite entering.

"Drew, please..." Her voice was pleading, broken, her body writhing under his touch. He chuckled darkly, releasing her breast to kiss her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth as his fingers finally pushed inside her, stretching her deliciously.

"You're so wet for me," he growled against her lips, his fingers pumping in and out of her at a torturously slow pace. "Is this what you want? Hmm?" He added a third finger, curling them just right, and her entire body went taut, a strangled cry escaping her.

"Yes! Oh god, yes..." Her hands clawed at his shoulders, her hips rolling against his hand as he fucked her with his fingers, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. His thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had her vision blurring, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Let me feel you."

And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves so intense she thought she might drown. Her cries echoed through the room as he held her through it, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was boneless, trembling in his arms.

When he finally pulled his fingers free, she sagged against him, her legs barely able to support her weight. He caught her easily, his strong arms wrapping around her as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"See?" he murmured, his voice soft now, filled with affection. "Perfect."

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a sweet request, and i really hope it was exactly what you wanted anon !! i’m so sorry this is so late, but i’m trying to work through all my requests and i’m almost half way there :)

as a curvy gal myself, this was just so cathartic to write and i really hope others feel the same when reading this !! you’re all so so so gorgeous in your own ways and ily all sm <333

[riddlers-left-buttcheek]

Holy damn that's a lot of text, thank you so much for putting that amount of thought into this! 🙈

On communication:

Yeah, I wanna start off with commissions for personal use, and eventually get into commercial ones. Email communication seems pretty good actually, then I can have everything more organized and not overlook requests. I'll definitely get back to you on website and portfolio tips (once I even have enough finished works to showcase) thanks for offering!

On Pricing:

Ooo some price examples would be amazing, and the nonrefundable deposit is also pretty smart.

I've worked at a logo design company in management for a while (never again lol). We handled things much differently there, my boss basically had his apprentice employees teach him how to run his company, it was all over the place. And we gave away 12 free logo examples to each client, which was absolutely absurd. And then he'd complain that we put in all this effort for nothing 🤦‍♂️

That's also why I'm asking for advice, even though I've worked in this branch before, but it was just chaos all the time. And the clients - my god. Felt like all the worst people in my country decided to have their logo made by us. The price was always too high for them (despite us being the cheapest logo design company in the area at the time), complained that the results didn't come in fast enough, some clients were on their 30th revision, and they almost always wanted to converse over the phone to yell at you for not doing your job right, often over speaker in their car while driving. That's pretty much the reason why I'm so unsure about most of the process, and a little bit intimidated, because that's what I had to deal with for 4 years 🫡

Oh artist union sounds cool! Thanks for the tip, I'll check if there's something like that in my country. About the contract: omg that would be so nice if you could send me the base version, thanks for offering! Riiight, licensing fees exist, I think we also charged 50 flat back then.

On payment:

Damn, I didn't know about the friends/family thing on PayPal :o

About taxes, where I live you're allowed to make up to 800€, past that you have to tax it. But yeah, I'll worry about that when I get there, but it's still good to know about this stuff beforehand.

On Slots / Time

Yea, since I work slower in general, I'll probably calculate more time in, additionally to the time I think I need. Damn, I'm also chronically ill, which is also one of my concerns. The biggest issue are my chronic migraine that trigger really easily, so sometimes I'll be bedridden for a week. But I can probably let my clients know beforehand, I'm sure they'll understand, like with personal projects, right? Leaving some buffer reminds me, now that you say it, we used to do that at the logo design company as well, always telling clients it would take 2-3 weeks, when we actually had the first concepts in 1 week. And then the clients would be happy, sometimes, that they receive the designs sooner. Totally forgot about that, thanks for reminding me!

On Changes:

Omg thanks for the link! That's a really interesting way to go about commissions :o

On Scams:

You're riiiiight, hadn't thought of a form! That'll actually help a lot, then I don't have to do research on them and check if they're legit or not.

----

Thank you SO MUCH for all this advice, I'll study it thoroughly 🙈💕✨

It's so cool to also get insight into the business side of things. I will absolutely take this seriously, since I eventually want to be an artist full-time, because I really can't see myself anywhere else with my illnesses and disability.

I'll definitely visit your website and slide into your DMs for all the examples and stuff you offered, maybe also ask some more questions if anything comes up, if that's OK with you.

Again, thank you so much, it's so kind of you to take the time to write such a detailed reply, it helped me a lot! 🤗🩷

Commission Advice? (pls help)

Hey heyy

I wanna start doing commissions, but I've never done it before, and have no idea where to start. So I thought I'd make this post and ask any artist, that would like to share how they go about commissions, for advice.

I've summed up some of the questions that came to mind below the cut. I would want to take requests outside of Tumblr as well, just fyi. I'm well aware that most of what I ask depends on the individual artist and their works, and that there won't be a single formula to follow - I'd just like to gain a bit of perspective and see how different people go about these things, so that I can get an idea for myself.

Any helpful links to other posts or websites on this topic are much appreciated 💚

Replies to this in DMs are fine too ☺️

Questions below ⬇️

Communication?

Do you text with the client entirely through Tumblr (etc.) DMs, or do you use a different platform (like Discord, WhatsApp)?

Pricing?

My biggest issue is how much to charge for an art piece. I know it depends on multiple factors, like what type of drawing it is, is it lineart only, is it in colour, etc. Then there's also taxes. I've looked at a couple artists, but the prices vary so widely, and I have no idea where to put myself on that spectrum. I also have a huge problem knowing my worth, which definitely doesn't help.

Payment?

Which payment method do you use? My first thought was PayPal, I also read that many people use Stripe (that I never heard of before my research). And when do you ask for the transaction to be made? I've seen 50% upfront, the other 50% once it's done a lot. Some say to not give the customer the finished piece until you've received 100% of the money.

Slots?

How do you decide on how many you have available? Do have a fixed number or just take requests until you think you can't take any more?

Time?

How long does it take you to finish a request? Again, I know it depends on many many things. A couple examples would already help a lot.

Updates? Previews?

Do you give the client in-between updates on your progress? Do you send a preview before sending the finished piece? I've read that, before sending the final file, you should always have the images in low quality and with a watermark over it.

Changes?

If the client is dissatisfied with the final piece, do you allow changes? If yes, how many, where do you draw the line? Do you charge extra? Also, what do you do if the client doesn't like the entire thing?

Licensing

I absolutely suck at this, my brain just doesn't want to comprehend legal language. So most I've read on this, I still don't fully understand, but probably because I've never put it to practice. Is there a specific type of licensing you use? What do you tell your client on what they can do, but more importantly, can't do, with the art you create for them?

Final files?

In which file format do you send the finished art piece to the client? I was thinking pdf, maybe jpg and png? Also, how do you send it? In DMs? Per email?

Scams?

Also one of the more important questions for me, since I get paranoid about these things easily (and turn out to be right most of the time). Any advice on scams? I've read Instagram is filled with them, and to best avoid requests over Insta alltogether. Any experiences you've had, anything I should definitely look out for?

Any other advice?

Anything at all. I'm probably definitely overthinking this and it's most likely really not that complicated, but I'm a very anxious, insecure and paranoid person. 🙈 So I'll take any and all advice I can get.

Thank you 🤗💚

[euthymiya]

Honestly I’m usually impressed more with the way a reader is characterized than the character themselves

[bunnymajo]

Anyone: wow Tiara B & Jewel is kinda random

Me: if you knew your Tiara lore you’d know she likes nerds and hot wings. Jewel is clearly the perfect choice

[kazumasougi]

im gonna be real for a second. if fantasy can only be enjoyable to you when removed from any and all real world implications then is it even good

[sonknuxadow]

i dont know if thats actually what the costume is supposed to be but i like to think that the little halloween outfit with the cape that they usually give sonic is supposed to be a vampire costume because sonic being a werewolf for real but still choosing to dress up as a vampire for halloween is soooo funny to me

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

Is my toxic trait psychoanalyzing other people and thinking I’m the exception because I’m actually soooo observant and aware of the signs

[beverageenthusiast]

.

[beloveds-embrace]

OK IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE

so I keep seeing these ads for “pheromone perfume” pop up. the women in who advertise it say that it makes men go crazy, it smells amazing, they can’t get their bfs off of them whenever they put it on (and usually they put it on and then set up the camera and wait for their significant other to walk in the room and react to it)

and every time I see one of those ads, I think of designationless reader.

idk if that’s something they’d ever do, but I feel like it would be interesting for them to dab some of it on their wrists and behind their ears, as well as where their scent glands are and see how the guys react to it 🤭🤭

Anon i love you and I am smooching your brain so hard rn

The idea had been simmering in your mind for weeks, born from the endless pheromone perfume ads that flooded your late-night scrolling. People with bright smiles swore their perfumes were magic, capable of driving their partners wild with desire. But you weren’t like those people. You had no designation, no scent, no pheromones to speak of-

The ads made you feel like an outsider all over again. But they also left you wondering- what if there was a way to bridge that gap, just a little?

That’s how you found yourself at a specialized lab, the kind that catered to people willing to spend a small fortune for something deeply personal. It wasn’t easy. The process was invasive, awkward, and expensive. The technicians had taken a lot of samples of your body- skin oils, sweat, saliva- examining them under microscopes, running them through machines you didn’t understand, distilling your very essence into a single vial of concentrated potential.

When you walked out with the tiny glass bottle, your wallet was lighter, and your chest was tight with nerves.

What if this didn’t work?

What if it did?

Being scentless had always set you apart, a quiet absence in a world built on pheromones and instinct. You didn’t have the alluring pull of an omega’s sweetness or the steady, grounding weight of a beta’s calm. And you certainly didn’t have the commanding presence of an alpha’s dominance.

You were… nothing.

Not that your pack ever made you feel that way. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz treated you like you hung the moon, their affection constant and overwhelming. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you wondered what it would be like if you could scent them. If you could mark them the way they marked you. If you could pull them closer without relying on their instincts to protect what was theirs.

You’d dabbed the finished product on experimentally: just behind your ears, at the base of your throat, and along the faint line of your collarbone. You added drops to your wrists and even a little over your faulty scent glands, though you weren’t sure why. It had no scent for you, and you were almost worried that they might have scammed you.

But their reactions convinced you otherwise.

The moment he walked into the common area, his steps faltered. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowing as if sensing something just out of reach. He sniffed once, subtly at first, but then again, deeper, his nostrils flaring, and his hands flexed at his sides.

“Something’s… different.” He muttered, almost to himself, but his voice was low enough to send a shiver through you.

“Something wrong, Cap?” You asked innocently, feigning ignorance as Soap entered behind him.

Soap stopped in his tracks, bright demeanor dimming as his eyes zeroed in on you. His head tilted, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in deeply. “Lass,” he murmured, soft and careful. “What are you wearin’?”

“Clothes? What else would I be wearing, Soap?” You replied, voice dry just enough to be convincing. You raised an eyebrow, then, and crossed your arms. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Gaz appeared next, his movements slower than usual as he approached. Dark eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp as his body tensed. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, he circled you slightly, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to start.

Ghost entered last, his imposing frame cutting through the room’s tension like a blade. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate. He simply stopped in front of you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his head dipped slightly, his masked face inches from yours. His gloved hands found your waist, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“What?” you asked again, blinking at them with wide eyes, your voice lilting with carefully curated confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Price stepped closer as well, his boots heavy against the floor as he studied you. “You smell… different, love.” He said, voice like the distant rumble of thunder.

“Different how?” you asked, biting back a smile.

Johnny couldn’t hold himself back from you any longer, his hands sliding over your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. He let out a low hum, his warm breath skimming your skin. “Christ,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your throat, “you smell good. Like somethin’ I can’t quite place.”

Gaz knelt at your side, his hands wrapping around your wrists. He brought one up to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Sweet,” he murmured softly. “Warm, like you’ve been wrapped in sunlight.”

Ghost growled again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating through his chest as his gloved fingers tightened on your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his masked face against the other side of your neck, and the rumble in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “I didn’t do anything.”

But the pack wasn’t buying it.

Price’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up. Piercing blue eyes searched yours. “You sure about that, love?” he asked, a low grumble that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

Soap pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin lightly as his hands slid beneath your shirt. “Disnnae matter,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something more primal, more hungry. “Whatever it is, it suits you.”

Gaz hummed in agreement, his lips trailing up the inside of your wrist to the sensitive skin of your palm. “Feels like it’s everywhere,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “Can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you, dove.”

Ghost was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of the table with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His hands found your thighs, his grip firm but gentle as he leaned in, his masked face pressing against your stomach. The low growl in his chest deepened, a possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

They were relentless after that.

John claimed your lips, firm and demanding, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he tilted your head back. Soap followed, his kisses trailing along your jaw and down your throat, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

Gaz and Simon kissed the inside of your thighs, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as theirs hands held you steady and open, all theirs.

“Perfect girl,” Simon groaned against the back of your thighs, thick fingers digging into your skin. “Ours. Whatever you’d done- you don’t need it. You’ll always be ours.”

Hours passed in a haze of touch and heat, their attention unyielding as they marked every inch of you as their own. They murmured about your scent between kisses, their words a mix of worship and devotion. You played your part perfectly, letting soft, breathless sounds escape your lips as you clung to them, your innocence a carefully crafted mask.

By the time they were done with you, your were very sure they had rubbed off all the perfume off your body, and covered you with their own scents.

When they finally pulled back, in the nest, their bodies heavy with satisfaction, Price cupped your cheek with gaze still burning with intensity. “You don’t need anything to make us want you,” he said, low but steady. He stared straight at you, so that you would not have any reasons to doubt his words. ��You’re already perfect.”

You smiled, letting the words wash over you, but said nothing. Your secret was safe, for now.

[inkskinned]

i don't mean to sound ungrateful, but as a content creator on this site, there's a part of me that's like. they absolutely just stole my work.

i'm not, like, unaware that tumblr has been shuffling downhill for years now. sometimes i play with the idea of switching platforms, turning myself into the shark. i often get tens of thousands of notes - i could be "doing numbers" on a platform that actually pays me to do so. i could have statistics that i could use to sell myself, i could rebrand and make content pay-to-play and make brand deals. i could have the other life, i mean.

but i don't want to. i like the quiet nature of tumblr. i like that it still feels like i'm writing poetry, not like i'm fulfilling ad spots. i like the community, and that i can sometimes still take someone by surprise and write something that really speaks to them. i like the tags and reading things like oh of course it's fucking inkskinned i love you inkskinned you gay mess. my girlfriend recently told me that people tag things "inkskinned" because they assume it is similar to tagging "creative writing". that's wild. i made this word up when i was 19, and have always assumed people tag me in things so i read it (and i often do). i have nothing but love and gratitude for you all, for this tiny scoop of family.

and i haven't made any money off it. i had opportunities, and i turned them down. i could have sold this thing like a thousand times. i thought about moving my work elsewhere - over and over and over i thought about it. i weighed each option specifically. but my tumblr felt like ... it's for you guys, only. if you're still here and reading this, you deserve to do it for free.

tumblr has now, most likely, skimmed my work (and yours) in order to make money. i will never see a single cent for that violation. something about landlords, i guess - my work pays their rent.

i just lost my job on valentine's day, and am working on scrambling for solutions. i am writing this to a blog that they will probably scrape with AI. and like, what number to do you think it was? do you think it was only a couple hundred thousand? no way it was close to a million, right? my time, effort, energy - it belongs to someone else now. how many silver pieces for them to completely sell out their user base.

and it's kind of like - funny? when it isn't very-sad. because i personally don't know what to do, ya know? i might as well move to a different platform, where my efforts are ai-scraped but could eventually pay me. where i know my privacy is the cost - but it could result in actual money. anyway. i need to figure out how i'm paying for meds. i need to email like six people about COBRA benefits.

my work is powering someone else's AI. it will be a beautiful fabricated poem, made from words i've already said.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake