#the only good times ive ever drawn them

[goose-artz]

[lucaanis]

I made a similar post before a long ass time ago for the other three da protags but now it's time for rook, this time in poll format <3

as always feel free to ramble about your ocs in the tags!! 👀

[tribbles-the-lesbian]

For you ✨❤️pookie❤️✨another work in progressssss~

⬇️original sketch below⬇️

[ryuubff]

My custom seb pc came home… 😭😭😭😭😭 he look so good too!!! The holographic sheen came out really well…

Also made kazuxiao for funsies THEYRE SOO CUTEE!!! >_< i put xiao in my phonecase immediately dkfnekg sorry iu

maybe one day ill draw all the other sdv characters idk LOL

[zan0tix]

JAKE AND TRANSFEMININITY: PART 1

IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS im gona make a series of posts about jake because. Im crazy and i like writing (will also help me with writing my scripts bc im bad at doing that but im good at yapping on social media lol)

This first post will be about Grandpa Harley because yknow he was the foundation for Jakes text later.

(Take these with a grain of salt bc this is skaianet archive stuff) but Its stated over and over that HIC in both universes Despised Jake because he was a boy and saw him as an annoyance. (The reason he is even named Jake is because HIC just swapped a letter from Jane to make a male name) and this started a pattern of jake being waved off and disregarded.

Already day fucking one as a baby Jake isnt doing gender right😭 his name is a reminder that he isnt what people want him to be.

So he left home and sought off to find adventure at age 13. His shitty home-life already left him with a fraught relationship to his autonomy and control over his life (Again skaianet archives grab that Salt) But he gets groomed and taken advantage of by an older man. I believe this only further Jakes feelings of helplessness and desire to exert power over something.

Grandpa harley would then proceed to try so hard to embody the Old most admirable western masculine archetype to a T. The wealthy globe trotting adventurer/entrepreneur/inventor with female lovers galore and nothing tying him down! A mans man who isnt afraid to get his hands dirty, wrestle a few animals. Wield violence to exert power and control (hunting animals) I see this as his outlet to exert autonomy and establish an Identity for himself but its at the expense of innocent lives. But its how you are seen as successful and powerful living under patriarchy and imperial capitalism.

Though while being this stereotype of old timey masculinity, he has this fascination with a specific brand of femininity. A delicately composed vision, a photoshoot, a performance. Something unachievable.

Its something he brings everywhere he goes. The blue ladies photos and imagery litter both his Hauntswitch house and Jades island house juxtaposing all of his Trophies (taxidermied animals that he obtained through overtly violent masculine means) With his self titled ���Beauties/Daughters of Eclectica” (IF THAT ISNT THE MOST OLD GAY MAN THING YOUVE EVER READ. BUT ANYWAY)

Hussie always describes it as “Haha old man jake is horny for blue ladies” but i think the fact he views them as aspirational figures, and holds them in such high regard, Telling Jade that She should aspire to be like them and maybe one day she could take a place amongst them in their elegance and beauty I believe was him projecting; where he believes he isnt able to emulate them because he is a man so he tells jade to instead. (then we see teen jake who is living in more progressive times with his blue lady equivalents and he Directly attempts to Emulate them)

I think theres something more happening here guys nerm..

A. Claire was a Ballerina, A performer of a very traditionally feminine art that is calculated, asking for pin point accuracy with your body as the instrument. The fact he was her “Biggest fan” I assume he went to see alot of her performances and greatly admired her for her beauty and performance skills.

Ive said it before but I dont think he was attracted to her sexually, I think he wished he could be what she was. Embody a finely tuned image of femininity he was barred from ever exploring, so he was drawn to women who could do what he couldnt. And i believe he conflated his gender envy with attraction (teen jake does this too really hard but well get there later) because they didnt have the terms for gender envy or anything back then. Jake grew up in the 1920s. I assume he believed his feelings were average hetero attraction and not something deeper.

I feel like its an elaborate gag that Jake made himself into a straight up Caricature of the burly gruff Adventurer Man. His houses are overflowing with hunting trophies and weaponry like hes over compensating Its insanely comical when you know Really on the inside hes a gay man with a great affection and identification with the effeminate and is actually really loud about it but everyone brushes it off as “Haha what a kooky old geezer!” OBVIOUSLY ALL OF THIS FUNNY. Homestuck is a tragicomedy, everything is simultaneously one huge elaborate gag but also offering commentary on what its pointing and laughing at, in this case its cisheteronormativity (thats the same for an ungodly amount of cases with this work)

I find it tragic, poetic, and endlessly hilarious that his final moments were spent Roleplaying Heterosexuality with a doll He dressed up and put makeup on; made with his image of femininity, and he dies by his own gun, the same kind of weapons that he used to exert violence upon innocent animals in attempt to posture his masculine persona. The ones he arrived to earth with, he was pushed and destined to embody this image of masculinity because of the world he was sent to and the connotations of violence instilled into those weapons by society and reality by Lord English; a being his alt universe self played a great part in shaping. Who too wields a Gun as one of his signature weapons.

Blows smoke off the red hot irony pistols! 😉

PART 2 WILL COME SOON (will add link when it does)

[lnfours]

i feel like youre the only one who could understand my thoughts rn, hear me out: uni student who is having a hard time being motivated and is justt feeling overall down about school and such. THEN, lando comfort, just being there and being so comforting (this is not at all inspired by my life or anything...truth, ive been having such a shit week and i just know that this week is going to be bad too and i really need comfort, but am lacking in the friend/boyfriend department and my phone calls with my mom are simply not doing it for me anymore. okay enough with the venting.)

i definitely, 100% understand your situation. school is stressful and hard, especially when you’re feeling unmotivated. remember to give yourself breaks as needed, and my messages are always open if you need anything ❤️

‘feeling 22’ birthday sleepover

the sound of the front door opening sounded through the apartment before his voice did, "hey, baby."

you looked up from your laptop, smiling softly at him from the spot on the couch that you had realized you'd been at all day. the sun was beginning to set, peaking in through the curtains in the living room. he walked up behind the couch, wrapping his arms around you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"it's five already?" you asked, glancing up at the time in the corner of your screen. sure enough, it was a little after five. you had quite literally been working on this final project all day.

he hummed, resting his head on top of yours, "mmhm," his nose absentmindedly nuzzled into the hair ontop of your head, taking in the smell of your shampoo, "have you been working on this all day?"

you nodded, sighing before pulling off your glasses, rubbing your eyes, "yeah and i feel like i've barely made a dent in it. i feel like no matter what i put, my professor isn't going to be impressed."

"he'd be an idiot not to be impressed with anything you do."

"yeah, but it needs to be perfect if i want to land that internship," you said, "and it's nowhere near perfect. no matter how hard i work i feel like it's not good enough and i just... i don't know what to do."

"take a break, baby," he said, "you've been at this all day. rest the rest of the night and have another go at it tomorrow or the next day. little by little."

you knew he had a point, but you sat there defeated as you tried to get yourself to close your laptop, "okay, yeah, just let me read it over one last time and then i'll be done for the night."

he nodded, "okay, just once though," he said, standing up again, "i have an idea, actually. i'll be right back,"

you nodded, letting him venture down the hallway and into your bedroom. he made quick work with his actions, gathering candles from your bedroom before placing them on the bathroom counter and lighting them. he started the faucet for the bath, making it the temperature he knew you liked before adding some of your body wash to the water.

once it was set up to his liking, he made his way back to the living room and you were still invested in the project on your laptop. he stood in front of you. gently closing the lid, which made you stop reading as you let out a soft sigh of defeat. there was no getting around it with him.

"c'mon," he smiled softly, reaching out and offering his hand for you to take. you placed your hand in his, rising from the couch as he led you down the hallway and to your bedroom.

"what're you up to?"

"nothing in particular," he smiled, and when you saw the bathroom you immediately almost broke down into tears. the candles dimly lit the room and a bath was drawn.

"lando," you gasped softly, his thoughtfulness making your heart flutter against your chest and reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

he smiled, "you relax, i'll order us some food. how's that sound?"

you nodded as wrapped your arms around his neck, "have i ever told you how much i love you?"

he smiled, "once or twice, i can't quite put my finger on it though."

you laughed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "i love you."

"i love you more," he smiled.

you nodded in the direction of the tub, "how about you join me and then we order dinner?"

"i like the way you think."

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 29

Din Djarin + Excessive Cum

Hey yall, super late to finish kinktober, hows everyone doing? Changing my major has been a lot more work than I imagined besides usual classwork, so its only now ive had any free time to write. But I still want to finish kinktober, even if its late.

On the shorter side, since I just wanted to finish kinktober.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Din Djarin let out a shaky whine, soft and quiet enough that the vocoder of his helmet almost didn’t pick it up. He was never one to make much noise, even when you guys had been apart for long when bounties were drawn out, or when you were busy in return.

The only way you could truly tell it had been too long, was the way Din couldn’t control his hips, and how they jolted and twitched into your hands or mouth. Hed jump and jolt like a rabbit, giving short and fast thrusts of his hips as if he couldn’t control himself or his reactions.

He was always so full after you two had been apart. Din never saw a reason to get off on his own. There hadn’t been much need for it before you two got together, when all that mattered to him was bringing credits back to the clan. And after you two became an item, Din only felt it made sense to allow you to be the one to bring him that pleasure.

Hed never known what he was missing as your hands twisted and pulled at his weeping sensitive cock for the first time, his balls so full you almost cooed at him in pity. It must have been so uncomfortable to be so backed up, to be so incredibly full and heavy, ready to blow from the smallest of touches.

The lack of skin on skin contact Din experienced only added onto it, making him even more sensitive as he oozed and dripped in your hands. It seemed as if his body was trying to catch up to the many years of neglect he had given it, now that it knew you were there to empty his balls when they got too full.

It left Din desperate and panting whenever you got your hands on his dick, after you would remove as little armor as possible to get to his crotch or ass. Sometimes he felt like an animal, his jaw hanging open as his eyes glazed over under his helmet. The Mandalorian felt as if you knew the exact expression on his face, even if you couldn’t see it, making him pulse even more.

You were always shocked at just how much Din could cum, no matter how many times you tried to empty him out or milk him like some kind of cattle. It only ever resulted in Dins noises getting so loud that his vocoder crackled at the volume and pitch, his legs shaking as he tried his damnest to fuck into your grip, no matter how sensitive he was.

There was so much to catch, so much to swallow, there had even been a few times where the sudden gush of spend had made some of it shoot out your nose, only making Din moan even louder when he saw it.

it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that someone who never got down and dirty with another being, had a lot of fantasies, and luckily for Din, you were willing to try out most of them, even if that meant allowing Din to stand or kneel above you and spill his seed all over you until he was drained dry.

It was attractive, sure, but also made a real mess. Lucky for the both of you the ship you spent most of your time on had the ability to air out, or else the entire thing would reek of your intimacy. And the closet full of cleaning supplies was restocked regularly. In the end you just liked making Din feel good, and you couldn’t blame him for shooting like a firehose. At least it was hot.

[ilycosy]

❝ DO YOU MIND ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x child of calliope!reader

summary — being the child of the mother of all muses, you're used to affections. boys and girls flock to you like you're a sweet, lovely thing, but they soon drop it when they realize that you're nothing like a muse. what happens if the camps precious, golden boy starts talking to you?

warnings : reader is a little toxic under their politeness, reader is also described to be feminine but there's no specific prns! luke is also kind of obsessive? he wants reader so bad.. not proofread (that's for babies /j)

aﾉn — i haven't written in a long time so bare with me, nor have i written for the pjo fandom ever (though ive been in it for a while..) this is also vv self indulgent (daughter of calliope here <3) so sorry if this isn't relatable ♡ lowercase intentional :)

being the child of the mother of muses has always been annoying— you've never had a break to just be. whether it be people chasing after you, or people who envy the attention you attract. there was always something, which you resented extremely.

if people were asked about you, they'd have only good things to say. you're beautiful, lovely, polite; but not a muse. it sometimes got annoying that it mattered so much to people, having others constantly talk about how you were never romantic.

you seemed to be uncomfortable with it at the very least, very few felt the resentment you held for love. those few could never confirm it though, having you reassure them that you're just a private person. ("there's no need for grand things, dear. i love you without such things." you'd say, through gritted teeth.) which is what might have drew luke castellan to you.

he saw through the politeness, observing you almost ever since you got claimed. he can picture when you got claimed, your embarrassed smile when an apollo girl had written a song for you. publicly performing it, you had lit up; literally. you were fifteen then— nothings changed in these past years.

luke can't remember all the times you've been confessed to, having songs, poems, even paintings done of you for your affection. but he can remember all the times he watched your facade crack; the way your smile stretched too wide to be real, your eyes dimming when you realized it was just another confession, or how you seemed to never interact with aphrodite boys anymore.

he finds it amusing mostly, how could such a pretty thing resent something people would kill for? either way, he finds himself being drawn in like you're a siren. the way your eyes darken at the mention of your mother, how you reapply gloss whenever you're nervous— he could go on really.

"are you going to eat that?" he finds himself asking you before he can stop himself, pointing at the yogurt bowl right next to your plate. he has half a mind to make sure he doesn't clam up when you look up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you gently push the bowl towards him, continuing on your morning like the best swordsman in the camp isn't talking to you. he pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he thinks of a reason to prolong this conversation.

fate seems to be on his side though— his brother, chris, being to busy talking to clarisse to even glance his way. he sits down, looking across from you as he eats the yogurt. he almost forgets that staring is rude.

"do you mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a bite out of your crossiant. somewhat annoyed by the curly haired boy, your leg bounces steadily. "do i mind what?" he asks, like he's stupid— for some reason, you can't help but let your annoyance take over.

"why are you here," you start, pointing at the empty table. void of friends, you always sit alone until somebody claims they're in love with you. "you usually sit with your brothers and annabeth."

he shrugs at your questioning, not being able to find it in himself to hold back a teasing remark. "you know where i usually sit?" he asks with a small small, but the glint in his eyes show a certain smugness that gets under your skin.

you smile back at him, stretched too far and there's a bite in your voice hidden under honeyed words. "bye castellan," you croon sweetly. "hope you find your way back to your seat!" is all you give him, a morsel of fake attention that sends him reeling.

the next day, you wake up a bit later than normal. rising from your bunk around nine means you've missed breakfast, a deep feeling of anger surges through your core in a flash before you stretch and get dressed for the day.

when you leave the hermes cabin, you're stopped by a familiar figure. tall, brown hair, and a stupid smug grin. "hey angel," luke almost sings with how pleased he sounds with himself. "i have a presant!"

he reveals a crossiant and cold coffee, the faint warmth of the once fresh crossiant eases the deep feeling in your core even more though the coffee makes you want to vomit. "i don't like coffee." you state, taking a bite of the baked good. "but thank you, castellan."

he barely has time to respond with a you're welcome or an im sorry before you're smiling, too wide for his liking, and walking away. he debates following you, trying to talk to you like he's desperate for a friend. but he decides against it, wondering how to keep a conversation going with somebody that hates being sought after.

a week passes of the same routine— luke catching you at odd moments during the day, offering you little things to keep you around for a moment longer. you find it annoying, but keep a pleasant attitude anyways, it certainly helps that he's not bad to look at.

a small rumor spreads through camp, luke castellan having a crush. it barely takes the day for people to speculate that it's you.

it almost disappoints you, not having expected the camps favorite to fall so easily— doesn't he have any other girls? you debate on telling him that you're not open for relationships right now, having been in so many already, you could very easily blame any one of your exes.

but you don't have the chance to reject him the next time you see him because he's talking already, smiling at you like you'd fall so easily. "do you wanna help plan an activity with me?" he asks, offering you a delicious smelling tea.

"why would you want me to do that?" you question him, almost allowing yourself to have a genuine lazy smile but you just force a docile confused tilt. you sip on the tea, the once tart raspberries are now sweet in the tea mixing with a hibiscus flavor.

you're too busy drinking to notice him begin talking, he's mid laugh when you tune in. "— maybe you could help with setting up the theater?" he suggests, you pretend like you know how you got into a full conversation with him by subtly trying to exit it.

"why not have the apollo counselor help?" you say sweetly, setting the tea down and turning your full attention onto him. he feels sick to his stomach at how you look at him, soft features with a sugared tone. your eyes look at him like he's below you, like he's a nuisance, and for some reason that might be his favorite part.

he searches your face for a moment, glancing at your cold eyes before he chuckles. "maybe i want to spend time with you," he smiles like a cat, curling on his face with a pride that shouldn't make you as heated as it does. "i think you want to spend time with me too, yeah?"

you almost roll your eyes at his suggestion, but unable to squeeze out of this one without being mean, you agree to help him.

it only takes a couple weeks to fix up the theater due to the lack of counselors wanting to help, so it's safe for the younger kids to have a play— after that, it's back to the apollo children to plan. you sit back on the stage floor, sipping on a water bottle as you bask in the cold dusk breeze. "do you mind?"

a voice speaks from behind you, rasping slightly. you don't even have to look to know who it is, "no, castellan." you say, because you can't think of a reason for why you would mind.

luke sits himself down next to you, his knee brushing yours as he looks down at your water with a stare that could only be described at halfway pathetic and endearing. "here," you say, handing him the bottle. "i don't need you to die of dehydration on me."

he takes it gratefully, drinking it almost empty in three big gulps that make you roll your eyes with a small scoff. "did you just scoff?" he questions, an odd excitement in his voice.

you quickly try to deny it, hands coming up to animate how you didn't scoff or anything of the sort. but he already has a grin like he's drunk of the noise, "you definitely scoffed! that was so funny," he says with a loud laugh that makes you shush him, afraid of other campers hearing.

"i don't know why you hide that." he mumbles on your hand, fighting the temptation to lick it so you release him. those thoughts subside when your pretty eyes look up at him in confusion, "your annoyance." he clarifies.

"im not annoyed," you say, a bit defensively as you pull your hand away from him. "bit rude of you to say that, castellan."

he rolls his eyes in response, one of his arms coming behind you to rest on the stage. you can feel the ghost of it barely grazing you, "you're definitely annoyed," he says matter-of-factly. "you're almost always annoyed, or angry."

you fight back a scoff, but then give up. rolling your eyes you turn to him, searching his face for how he noticed, why he's doing this— but you come up with nothing. "why do you care?" you almost snap at him, drumming your fingers on your knee.

"i don't," he says like it's obvious. "im the same way." there's a beat after he says it, a silence that seems more comfortable than awkward like it should be. admitting his anger to you felt like a breath of fresh air, because he knew you'd understand him.

you bite your bottom lip, turning to face him. "that hatred," you start, almost in disbelief that you finally have the opportunity to talk about this. "it doesn't go away huh?" the question is phrased more like a statement, barely asking for confirmation.

he nods, not speaking as he watches you. there was no need for an explanation on what the hatred was, he knew as soon as you began talking. the gift from your mother was never really a gift to you, a burden of what it means to be a demigod is all it was.

you never knew what was genuine, or what was your mothers doing. but you felt a sense of ease with the hermes boy, nothing like all your previous relationships. "do you think it's bad," you mumble, almost ashamed.

"do you think it's bad that we feel this way?"

your question is softly spoken, genuinely interested in his opinion. he feels himself almost feel guilty for you, but he can't lie. "no," he wraps an arm around your waist. gently bringing you closer. "i think we might be the only ones in the right."

he says it with such confidence, a lack of guilt or unease in his voice that it makes you smile. not a sweet one, but a prideful one. one that could reflect the pride of a god, finally validation for the deep seated resentment that almost quenches that thirst for revenge.

minutes of silence pass by, the sun fully set as you lean your head on his shoulder. inhaling the pine and deep smell of his cologne, you hum. "are the rumors 'round camp true?" you ask.

he feels a small blush creep up his neck and ears, spreading across his face as he realizes that you heard about those. he never meant for his half-brothers to over hear a private conversation (said private conversation was in the bathroom, luke washing his hands while chris talked loudly about how he could get clarisse to go on a double date if he'd just ask you out already.)

"uh," he laughs awkwardly, his fingers drumming on the soft skin of your waist. "do you mind?"

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face, "no." is all you need to say before his wet lips are on yours. hungry and desperate for your attention, which you give him without another thought.

[v3nusxsky]

Twofold ask about one topic, bear with me

1) If you can (no pressure), maybe a hurt/comfort with Larissa where we're able to save her life and look after her at the hospital/take her home and look after her there too? Poor girl is always looking after us and I wanna return the favor when she needs it the most

Or 2) If you can't work with that prompt or are too busy or w/e do you have recs for similar? Again no pressure, either is fine and I love your work. Arrivederci!

Anything for you

*Authors note ~ slowly but surely clearing the inbox hope y’all are enjoying daily gifts and the first instalment of love is the best medicine most definitely wasn’t wrote while in a lecture🫣*

Trigger warnings~ weems injury, Marilyn shade

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You don’t think you will ever get the image of her out of your brain, laying there looking deathly ethereal but her limbs were bent at unnatural angles as the needle lay empty beside her. The shimming sapphire liquid was still oozing from her slender neck. Yet it occurred little over two hours ago before your wife was rushed into Jericho’s hospital as a matter of emergency. Paramedics flinging long drawn out medical terminology between them not caring you understood nothing. Apart from the word poison. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, that Normie bounty teacher tried to poison your wife. But why? Why would anyone want to harm someone so wonderfully unique?

The steady beeps that flowed steadily from her heart monitor were all that was giving you hope, sat at her bedside praying to a god you don’t believe in to bring her back to you. It can’t be her time to leave the earth, you have too many plans to start a family and grow old together. It would be cruelly to take it away before it’s even really began. You hadn’t even made it a year of being her wife yet. This can’t be fair. All you could do was clutch her Snow White hand in yours and pray she would pull through this. Marilyn would pay for this as soon as you knew she was okay. All the pent up anger and hurt from this moment would be channeled into ridding the world of her crap. But for now your wife needs you to be strong, to fight for her just as she would you.

Thankfully the antidote that was administered via an IV seemed to slowly be repairing the damage done to the shifters system, due to her capabilities she was healing. You don’t want to imagine what would be life if she didn’t have them. If you found her moments later you could’ve been too late and that thought is enough to shatter your heart into millions of tiny shards.

The moment she opened those beautiful icy blue eyes you cried tears of joy. She looked like hell but she was alive. Your wife. A fighter. Instantly you smothered her in love, praise and physical touch. Tiny kisses pressed to the palm of her hand as you cried and thanked her for fighting. You’d never let anyone hurt her like this ever again. The amount of love you held for Larissa Weems was overwhelming to say the least. A long road to recovery lay ahead but it was one you could walk together. Hand in hand like always.

The day she was released back to Nevermore under instructions for bed rest you knew your stubborn lover would be anything but easy to handle. Duty practically ran in every vein of her body, Nevermore being her pride and joy and its complete disarray due to Marilyn only fuelled her fire to jump back into work. “My love, if you do not lay back down I swear to god I’ll tie you to the bed” you threatened as she tried to escape to her office for the fifth time in an hour, “Nevermore is in good hands baby. Rest please it’s all anyone wants.”

Every four hours on the dot you returned with some more antidote and pain relief just to ensure there was no trace of nightshade or pain to be felt. “Larissa? My love? It’s time to take your medicine” you cooed seeing the shifter frown like a petulant child. “I don’t need it. I’m fine now. Please darling, Nevermore needs me” she pleaded her case for the umpteenth time this day. All you wanted to do was wrap her in bubble wrap and ensure she was safe. Nevermore would cope for a few more days while she recovers, yet Larissa was never the type to sit back idly while others did work.

Nighttime was the worst, Larissa would be plagued with that fateful evening replaying every night, she would feel the poison entering her veins as she woke up shivering from the cold sweat, dried tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air. “You’re safe my love” you’d whisper as you passed her a bottle of water that you’d stocked up by the bedside for this reason, helping her hold her drink to her mouth due to the shaking. It was truly heartbreaking to see her in this way yet you remain strong for her. Marilyn now finally receiving the punishment she deserves and with Weems getting stronger with each day you knew the time would come to return to normal.

Settling back into bed with Larissa curled up on your chest, your hands playing with her silver locks in a comforting manner, you soak in the fact she’s living and breathing. Whispering words of comfort as you hope to lull the older woman to sleep. “Thank you for looking after me darling” she murmured sleepily to you as her eyes fluttered closed. You would spend all night holding her, fighting off the trauma she experienced only to spend all day ensuring she had everything she needed and more and of course that Nevermore was running smoothly once more.

The day Larissa finally returned back to work you saw a light in her beautiful eyes that you missed dearly. To think you almost lost her and then she was as stubborn as they come about recovery, to see her now getting ready for the day you felt incredibly lucky. “I love you Mrs Weems more than you’ll ever know and I’m just so glad you fight to be here with me every day. Nevermore has missed you dearly my love” you mumbled before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips causing her to chuckle. “Darling? You have a little something right there” she signalled to her lower lip where her ruby red lipstick had transferred to yours. Normalcy once again causing you to smile, she definitely left a mark on you, one in which you would wear proudly.

Word count ~ 1013

[rvblos]

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ gucci dinner (blurb)

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (be safe pls), slight degradation, sub!reader, soft!dom (kinda) jannik, public sex(?), i went crazy sorry. this is the nastiest shit ive ever written.

notes: im ovulating so bad im so sorry i just need him FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNER

the dinner was fantastic and the venue was wonderful, each table had a bouquet of flowers in the center and candles were scattered everywhere, creating a relaxing and intimate atmosphere. your attention had been drawn by the background music coming from the speakers, forcing you to briefly disconnect from the conversation.

“i tried to save that game, i really did. but your boyfriend’s serve is just unbelievable, right?” taylor fritz’s voice came muffled to your ears, bringing yourself back to reality. “i’m so sorry, could you repeat that?” you tried to apologize for your rudeness and jannik, sitting next to you, laughed to himself. to warn him you gave him a small pat on the shoulder gaining another light laugh from him.

“i was just talking about how good your boyfriend is at tennis.” he laughed too, taking a sip of his wine nonchalantly. you chuckled at his words, relieving the tension. “what do you think?” he asked you, morgan’s eyes following you as you drunk from your own glass. “yeah, what do you think?” you boyfriend asked you repeating taylor’s words with a shit eating smirk on his face, his hands suddenly gripping the flesh of you upper thigh under your linen skirt.

you gulped, feeling him going upwards within every second and finally reaching the hem if your panties. “yeah, i think he’s very talented.” laughing, you tried to keep your cool, even if it was nearly impossible since his digits were now circling your skin, making you shiver under his touch and getting even closer to your core.

“would you excuse me for a second?” you tried to sound calm and relaxed, but it seemed so challenging just because his fingers were so close to your folds and you couldn’t believe that he was really doing it in front of taylor and morgan. “is everything alright?” the girl in front of you asked with a concerned expression on her face. you nodded “yeah, just need to go to the bathroom.” you smiled to reassure her and disappeared into the sea of people that were roaming around.

entering the small restroom you ran to the mirror only to find your cheeks redder than ever before. he really did make you blush. you rested your arms on the small sink in front of you, leaning your head against the glass and trying to regain control of your body, inhaling deeply and not wanting to let him win over you. but before you could even notice it, the door opened.

shit. that was it.

you didn’t turn, you could see his reflection in the mirror, his body leaning against the door and that same smirk on his face. “what are you doing here?” you scoffed, now facing him. he was looking at you hungrily, like he’d never seen you before, like it was his first time. “what’s up with this attitude?” he joked, closing the door behind him and reaching you slowly.

“what were you trying to do earlier?” that was a rethorical question, you both knew very well what he was doing and even better what he wanted to do. and you could see it in his eyes that he was having fun, he was enjoying it. “what do you think, huh?” he asked you back, his lips now almost touching yours, trapping you between the wall and his own body.

“we can’t.” you placed a hand right on his face as to stop him. “what did you told them anyway?” “that i needed to park the car or something, i don’t remember.” he sounded so calm and relaxed, you hated him when he acted like that.

“c’mon, ten minutes.” smiling boldly he begged you, taking a strand of your hair in his hand, twirling it over his fingers. he was towering over your body, looking down at you while his red hair fell beautifully on his face. one of his hands found place on your hip, caressing your flesh under your skirt’s material and sending shivers down your spine.

“five.” you finally gave in, rolling your eyes back at his insistence and demanding that single word like it was a sentence. you thought he didn’t want to lose any time with you, his hands were quick as they started to undress you, leaving your top fall onto the ground, followed by your skirt as well. his lips took place on your neck, kissing and biting your skin gently, leaving some red marks that would’ve been very evident once you were going to be back to the table.

where was the bold guy, unable to wait to touch his girlfriend now? it was like he was scared to touch you even knowing damn well that since you had such little time that he should’ve made the best of it. but there he was, taking his time with you, kissing your boiling skin as you two had an eternity of time. “jan…” you tried to say, panting for air when you felt him gently nibble at your earlobe. “they’re gonna get suspicious.” your panties suddenly slipped down, now resting between your knees. the sudden contact with the cold air made you shiver and your walls clenched around nothing, looking for some sort of relief.

you could feel the wetness between your legs starting to drip down but it was finally relieved when you felt him abruptly making his way into you. a scream of surprise almost escaped your lips, if he haven’t been so quick to cover your mouth with his hand. “shhhh.” he mumbled with a broken voice from the pleasure, his lips pressed onto you shoulder as he tried to be quiet as well.

he slowly moved out of you, only for slipping inside one more time to try and find his own pace. it was all so sloppy and slow it was making you see stars. the way he looked, holding your body in his arms against the wall, his bright green pupils staring right into yours as he fucked you and the unholy noises your bodies were making, parting just to reconnect once more.

jannik was giving you slow strokes, rolling his hips against yours as your nails claws all down his back, a soft and small moan escaping your lips. he groaned as he could practically hear the sloshing of the stretch deep in your cunt. “please” you managed to say between whimpers, your back on the cold marble of the wall. “what is it?” he asked you, cheeks so red from the effort that made him look so cute.

“faster… please.” it sounded like a question cause your voice was almost giving out. “fuuuck” he panted “you look s’pretty like this, doll.” his hands gripped the flesh of your legs to sustain you better, making you squirm under his touch. he was reaching spots you didn’t even know could be reached, and as he hit one in particular you whined so loud he had to warn you again.

“look at you, begging me for more when you didn’t even wanted to be fucked in the first place.” he made fun of you, knowing it turned you on even more; there was a hint of laughter in his voice when he suddenly felt your walls tightening around his cock. but his movements didn’t stop, not even for a second: his hips were rolling against yours harder than before and you knew you were close but when he twitched inside you, you felt you could cum in that very moment.

little tears of pleasure rested at the side of your eyes while you squeezed them shut. he placed a little kiss on your cheek before saying “i know you’re close, let it go.” with one final thrust you clenched so hard around him he almost whimpered out loud. you could feel your juices dripping down your tight but you couldn’t tell if they were yours or his, since he filled you up completely, like he always did.

“fuck, that was intense.” you whispered, breathing normally again. he chuckled taking his pants from the floor and giving you your skirt. “c’mon, you don’t want to miss dessert, do you?”

tag list: @rublito @yungbludz @gogz-ee @xoxolovlies @pretty-hate-machineee @2manytabsopen @carlosalcarazlefttoe @heyitsconysstuff @ithinkimokeei @kuroppiii @dilf-daniil @ricolaviecher

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

ur iv fic was so good 🥺 could you do some comfort with vess? idk reader had a really bad day n he basically spoils them n gives them love? <3

❝alexithymia❞

➵ “sometimes, even the darkest of spirits can prove to be the most welcoming in dire times” —❤︎

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

theme: fluff ✿ , slight angst ❦

a/n: this is just pure, tooth-rotting fluff w vessel. it’s a complete contrast to my first smut fic w him lmao. also i hope you’re doing well anon!

cw: reader is bad at expressing emotions. overprotective vessel. lots of comfort and fluff

┅✦┅

sometimes there was comfort in the dark.

only sometimes. tonight was one of those few exceptions.

prior to that, you were curled up underneath the bed, cobwebs and dust scattered everywhere, but none of that mattered. there was only a handful of soft and plus items that you could cling to, at least to try and soothe your pain.

what a mess you were. curled up in fetal position like a weak kitten, only having your own arms to comfort yourself and try to create some sort of warmth.

but there was barely anything warm in the abysmal coldness that swelled in your heart.

as you silently sobbed to yourself, an alluring darkness peeked underneath the bed, observing you with the utmost curiosity.

“bad day?”

you looked up from where you were curled up to observe where the voice came from. a commanding, yet enchanting presence was observing you with a curious, yet slightly concerned look. you couldn’t see his face, but his aura emitted his emotions strongly enough for you to say.

“mmh.” you hummed back quietly, voice slightly crisp from your silent crying.

the dark one frowned underneath his mask. vessel has been a being that had popped up every now and then in your bedroom, the sleep entity who was known to visit people at the strike of midnight and consume their everlasting dreams. he was one to be feared, but you’ve grown used to his presence.

for some reason, he kept on visiting you frequently, and you grew less scared of him, more so tolerating his presence. however, you’ve never seen him be.. tender, or at least show one basic empathetic emotions.

vessel just sighed and stood up, looking away from underneath the bed. you thought he was going to finally leave you alone.

that was until you felt a surge of darkness from underneath the bed scoop you up from under the bed and into your mattress, making you squeak from surprise. you sat up to look at the dark, almost alluring being looming over you.

“y/n.” vessel stated firmly. “tell me, what’s going on?”

you didn’t know what to say. i mean— this incredibly powerful, almost otherworldly being, was asking how you were doing? you felt like you were in a novel.

it was kind of sweet knowing vessel had the heart to ask about your mental state.

but at the same time, you didn’t want to open up, at least not yet. you were too caught up in your storm of emotions.

sighing and turning your head, you faced the wall against your bed, and you could hear vessel’s disappointment in his sigh. but nonetheless, he understood.

“i see.” he started out.

vessel thought to himself for a moment. how could he comfort this mere mortal? and more importantly, why was he doing this? no human has ever drawn his attention like this. no, he was too good for that. anyone who dares to even be within his vicinity should bask in his presence.

whatever it was, vessel was going to have to worry about that later. the sleep entity just groaned and disappeared for a moment, before coming back with a pile of stuffed animals.

“here.” he spoke. “take these. if you’re not gonna talk, at least take my help.”

you looked up at him confused, almost mind-blown. was this real? if you weren’t so deeply rooted in your own mind, you would’ve asked vessel what the hell he was going.

noticing your hesitance, vessel sighed. he wasn’t too good at this human, comforting stuff. but he was going to try.

“well?” he asked again, his tone slightly more firm.

noticing his urgency, you just nodded before taking the stuffed animals in his arms. as you looked through the pile, you realized that all of these plushies were of your favorite animals and brands. there’s no way this could’ve been a coincidence. vessel must’ve been paying attention to your interests during the times he stalks you in your sleep.

noticing how your eyes gleamed a bit, a slight chuckle escaped his lips. “yeah, i knew you’d like these ones. i know you’re not much of a talker, but i know what you like.”

he didn’t know what force of satan compelled him to do this, but vessel shimmied around to sit himself behind you, and hug you from behind, drawing you to his cold, firm chest. your eyes widened from the contact, but you didn’t protest.

“just relax, y/n.” vessel spoke in a more soft tone. “whatever it is, i’ll do my best to comfort you. even if i don’t understand any of this human shit.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. that certainly made you feel a little bit better. smiling softly, vessel sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head, drawing you closer to his body.

his body was cold, and his hands were calloused and dark. but there was a strange comfort in his hold. subconsciously, you intertwined your fingers with his. vessel didn’t protest, he could feel your body start to relax and your emotions start to calm down.

a strange surge of protectiveness overtook vessel’s body. he’s never seen a human this distressed, and this desperate for comfort. you looked so little compared to him, and you just curled up in his form. vessel, the dark entity of sleep, was comforting a mere human.

he didn’t want to see you like this anymore. even if it went against his values, he was going to keep you safe and protected. vessel didn’t want to see you hurt like this again.

maybe it was the tike you both spent together that softened his empty heart.

he liked it.

and for the first time in a while, he felt warmth in his chest.

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[i-yap]

Can I request a Platonic Yandere Batfamily x female reader. I wanted to to read some thing because it was my birthday 5 days ago.

Batfamily is known for being manipulative and sneaky. Y/N an adult (18)living in Gotham,and have lived there since child hood. Your life is good well and even became a professional figure skater,until you meet them.

Summary: Reader is a professional figure skater. The batfamily goes to the skating rink to see one of Bruce's friend practice skating,that's until they first meet reader. The batfamily and reader are introduced by Bruce's friend. Ever since then they couldn't get reader out of their heads,they even went as far as stalking and kidnapping reader and bringing them back to the mansion.

Happy belated birthday!! Ive never written yandere...or the whole batfam x y/n so I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations.

warning- yandere , stalking, pain, torture, just plain old yandere stuff okay? manipulation mind games , cold, hunger

there is mention of cas, steph, duke..idk them that well yet

Yandere Batfam x reader (PLATONIC ONLY)

Woosh , there you go, as graceful as a swan . A warm beauty on a sheet of white. In this cold cold city , you were like a ray of sun, the pride of this city. Ever since Bruce had brought you home for a private dinner to further discuss his generous funding to the sports facilities in public schools where you volunteered to teach underprivileged kids for free, the family hadn’t been able to pull their eyes away from you.

 On the rink and outside it. Be it your home, your training centre or you grocery shopping. You were used to eyes on you. After all you were the star of the city! And in a city that only ever produces cynical, evil and cruelty …maybe it was foolish to assume you would shine so bright forever.

It was Dick who suggested bringing you in. He found tim’s cameras that were strategically placed..well everywhere, and then Damian’s stash of drawings of an ice princess that strikingly resembled you and finally when Jason beat up the reporter that criticized your latest performance.

Bruce regretted not making sure to hide you better, but after the cards life had dealt his family, they all deserved to have this one good thing in their life. After everything they have given this city, this world, why cant they have just this one gift as repayment.

After all, its not like they want to hurt you right? At least not until you misbehave that is. They want to protect you. This city turns the brightest star the dust, good people cant survive here. It was best they take you before you hardened or broke. But even as they patiently explained all that to you, you refused to cooperate . So stubborn, so strong, on and off the ice. No wonder the family was so drawn to you!

Even as they brought you an entire ice rink to put shows that you missed so much, you continued to complain. Well maybe a couple days without food would help? Don’t worry Tim got soft and brought you your favorite snacks. Hm..still not cooperating. Maybe a couple days sleeping on the ice will help, you do love spending all your time there. Don’t worry, Jason came to cuddle you.

When Alfred was not allowed to interact with you, that’s when you finally broke. With no one else to give you company, the lonliness got to you. Suddenly the Cheery sunshiney dick Grayson seemed much more funny and lovely to be around. And Bruce acted like the father you never had.

 All these years you trained so hard for attention you never got as a kid, and now you had it ! at least that’s what tim told you..and why would he lie? He always looked out for you, helped clean your wounds when you were punished. And Jason! Why would he want to hurt you ? after everything that has happened to him, would he really hurt someone else? Someone as nice as dick could never be cruel and Damian? You mean your little baby? The kid who called you Ummi and drew you pretty paintings? No you must have lost your mind. This was your true family and its good you finally realized that!

( I COULD FINALLY PUT IN ALL MY TAGS MUAHAHAHHA)

[ladystoneboobs]

[Bran, to Theon:]“But you’re Father’s ward.” [Theon, to Bran:]“And now you and your brother are my wards. [...] You’ll tell them how you’ve yielded Winterfell to me, and command them to serve and obey their new lord as they did the old.” -Bran VI, aCoK “He[Ramsay] is a great hunter,” said Wyman Manderly, “and women are his favorite prey. He strips them naked and sets them loose in the woods. They have a half day’s start before he sets out after them with hounds and horns. From time to time some wench escapes and lives to tell the tale. Most are less fortunate. When Ramsay catches them he rapes them, flays them, feeds their corpses to his dogs, and brings their skins back to the Dreadfort as trophies. If they have given him good sport, he slits their throats before he skins them. Elsewise, t’other way around.” -Davos IV, aDwD [Roose, to Theon, about Ramsay's mother:]"[...]I was hunting a fox along the Weeping Water when I chanced upon a mill and saw a young woman washing clothes in the stream. The old miller had gotten himself a new young wife, a girl not half his age. She was a tall, willowy creature, very healthy-looking. Long legs and small firm breasts, like two ripe plums. Pretty, in a common sort of way. The moment that I set eyes on her I wanted her. Such was my due. [...] This miller’s marriage had been performed without my leave or knowledge. The man had cheated me. So I had him hanged, and claimed my rights beneath the tree where he was swaying. If truth be told, the wench was hardly worth the rope. The fox escaped as well, and on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame, so all in all it was a dismal day." -Reek(/Theon) III, aDwD

something something the way theon tries to rectify his childhood trauma by taking his captor's place as lord of wf and taking ned's younger sons as his "wards"/hostages, while ramsay repeatedly reenacts different versions of his own conception by hunting and raping peasant women. except theon fails in his role reversal when (unlike him in his own captivity at wf) bran and rickon escape custody. and ramsay enhances roose's "dismal day" by killing all the women he catches to prevent any more bolton bastards and further punishing those of them who fail to give him "good sport" (which his mother apparently did not give roose) while those who do satisfy him are "honored" with a quick death (and a canine namesake). and then the consequences of theon's failure to replace his captor/cold noerthern father figure include losing wf to house bolton and becoming the new "reek"/another of ramsay's dogs. (meaning he made himself ramsay's prey but gave him "good sport" in the experience)

ramsay starts out as deceptive dark trickster figure/evil adviser/devil on theon's shoulder in clash but he's also a dark mirror of theon, and a more successful one at that, not just better suited to villainy but more able to get away with his crimes. neither will ever be truly accepted by their fathers but ramsay is made heir once he's the only son while theon is rejected as such despite his better birth. ramsay profits from the alleged kinslaying of his actual brother by blood, while theon is more openly condemned (and seen as still not punished enough) for (falsely) killing stark boys who were never his actual kin. it's almost as if ramsay is an evil force who came into being to find theon and was drawn to him upon his return to the north. we first learn of the bastard of bolton's existence after theon returns to pyke and learns of his father's invasion plans, then his last hunt with the original reek just shortly precedes the ironborn attacks, all so that he's captured and waiting in wf right in time for theon's real plan to go into action, and we don't actually meet (disguised) ramsay in-person through dialogue with rodrik cassell or any other northerner but only when theon arrives as the new lord to free him from the dungeon. as the first reek may have corrupted ramsay, ramsay-as-reek corrupts theon. reek belongs to ramsay and ramsay belongs to reek.

[the-exiled-comic]

Your character designs are gorgeous. I love all of their markings, and I notice you also don't skimp on shading. In fact, you've gotten REALLY good at using color highlights, it's so pretty!

Is it ever challenging to draw characters with so many details in their design? Fishwhisker alone has lots of gorgeous stripes, and I notice you do a great job at keeping them consistent.

aw thank you :D ive gotten pretty happy with the shading style

fishwhisker has a lot of stripes but it really helps that she's only got 3 pelt colours (4 if we include the light pink for her nose and ears) so colouring her tends to go pretty fast. limiting the amount of colours helps a lot i've also drawn her so many times.... so far there's over 700 pages, most pages having 6 panels, so it is something you get used to!

[goodluckclove]

clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.