#understand my feelings in how nice they make me feel/how great they are

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

What do you think of Bryan Q. Miller’s characterisation of Stephanie Brown?

Mixed feelings!! On one hand, I have a huge soft spot for Batgirl 2009 and Steph’s narrative of perseverance and dragging yourself up and to bigger and better things after what should have been total destruction is just so so important to me. It’s great for that, and for giving Steph’s character a proper spotlight and ‘redemption’ when she very well could have been relegated to the sidelines, forever haunted by her brutal fridging. And I understand why BQM might not have wanted to dredge up War Games- Batgirl 2009 is a chance for Steph’s character to move past the shitty sexist torture porn story she was killed off in. But on the other hand, the almost total absence of it to the story feels conspicuous and strange, and I really wish we could’ve gotten a characterization of Steph that felt a little more grounded in it. If that makes sense?

She’s sort of at an all time low before Batgirl 2009. Not only has she survived the brutality of War Games, the fake death retcon returns her in uncertain graces with the other characters. Her life is uprooted, the future of her character is unsteady, and to top it off she ends Robin 1993 portrayed as disgraced and foolish, as having proven Yet Again, that Steph is proven absolutely not good enough to be a vigilante.

But none of that emotion fully carries over into Batgirl 2009? Steph seems fine enough, and while I can (and do!) read that as a repression fake-it-till-you-make-it thing, a more explicit thing might’ve been nice?

I have a few small, line by line nitpicks, for example the whole ‘forgetting Steph sews’ thing rly bothers me because it’s just such a consistent trait and to me it’s so so essential that Steph makes her own OG costume - it really communicates her self-starter ‘I’ll do it myself’ personality and how it works with her vigilantism.

Also, for a comic where Crystal has so many appearances and so much potential power in the story, I feel like we missed out on a lot of Steph and hers relationship, I don’t know if I love how Steph is characterized in relation to Crystal and would have loved something a little more attached to her history with her mom.

Just generally, I find it unfortunate that much like a lot of Tim’s characterization in the early post-Flashpoint was heavily influenced by his portrayal in Red Robin, Steph’s more blatant bubbly-ness of Batgirl 2009 became sort of her baseline post new 52. Of course, Steph’s character has always been a little silly, and she’s always told her jokes, but a lot of her other (really important!!!) traits like her anger, and her grit, and her angst, and her pessimism have been much less prominent. But I rly don’t blame Batgirl 2009 for that so much. Just an unfortunate side effect of the reboot that has unfortunately really stuck around.

So I guess, overall my biggest thing is I wouldve prefer if BQMs characterization of Steph was just more grounded in her history.

Would love to hear others thoughts on this bc I fear I probably have my biases and preferences interfering here to a degree. Thank you for the ask!! 💜

[its-luna-noel]

fluctuations of the mind | jason todd x reader

02. wilde

summary: working at the local library while you work on your phd thesis seems like the perfect fit. you don't expect it to bring your childhood friend back to you after over a decade. now that you have him back, you refuse to let him go, no matter the challenges you face together.

contents: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, english phd student reader, fluff, angst, smut, drinking & drugs, past abuse, trauma, mental health issues, mental instability, ptsd, depression, suicidal ideation, classic literature, dark academia

word count: 2.4k

chapter 2/? (probably 20ish) prev chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! specific content warning for this chapter: drug use. thanks for reading!

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.”

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

~

It’s quiet between you and Jason for a few moments as you both sip at your drinks. You’re keeping your eyes on him, making sure he doesn’t either up and run or just disappear into thin air like he did last time.

You weren’t lying when you said you won’t let him leave again.

“So,” Jason soon asks around his mug, “how’s school going?”

You shrug a little. “Good.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “That’s all I get?”

You huff playfully, your own smile curving your lips. You gaze at him for a moment, examining him. You like seeing him smile. “It’s really nice, actually. I’m starting my research and writing the thesis for my dissertation right now, and I’ll have it approved by my advisor in a few weeks.”

“What are you writing about?”

“Crime and Punishment.”

He hums, eyes lighting up. “Dostoyevsky, huh? What’s your angle?”

“Not a hundred percent sure yet, I’m still looking at sources. Something about the psychology of murder through his writings or something.” Your eyes shift away, suddenly shy.

“Hey,” he says, nudging your foot under the table, “don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay not to know what you’re writing yet. You’ve got time.”

You offer a weak smile. “Anyway, what have you been up to?”

Jason blinks, seeming surprised you asked about him, which is silly because of course you did. You want to know everything about him, want to know what he’s been up to since you were kids.

“I, uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an…internship.”

You chirp, “Oh, cool! What kind of internship?”

“Uhh,” he says again, and you’re not sure if he’s embarrassed to admit it, “I can’t…really talk about it. Signed, like, an NDA and stuff….”

“Oh.” You deflate a little; you won’t lie, it disappoints you, to have secrets between you. But you understand that, in this, he doesn’t really have a choice. “I get it.”

He nods, seeming relieved. “But I, uh, I’ve been reading a lot. Like, a lot. So whenever you need a friend to talk literature with or bounce ideas off of, let me know.” He smiles again.

You can’t help but smile back. “Sounds great. Maybe we can have a two-person book club.”

He chuckles, sipping at his tea again.

You pick up your own mug and realize it’s empty. You suppose that this is as good a time as any to call it a day and head home; you have class in the morning, and a commitment to get to tonight on your way home.

“Well,” you sigh, glancing at the time, “I think…”

“Time to go?” he asks. He sounds a little disappointed.

You nod, your expression mirroring his. “I have errands to run. But…can I see you again?”

“Of course, bug,” he says. Like it’s not even a question. “Whenever you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you tease. Then you gesture to his pocket. “Can I give you my number?”

He nods, digging it out of his pocket before tapping away at the screen. You recite your phone number for him, and you feel bright and content for the first time in a while as he promises to text you.

Before you leave, you wrap him up in a tight hug. “Missed you, Jay,” you whisper, squeezing him.

He squeezes you back. “You too, bug.”

And you turn and walk down the street, humming happily to yourself as you go.

~

Jason knows he shouldn’t follow you.

He knows this, and yet here he is, trailing after you up on rooftops, helmet in place and leather jacket pulled around his shoulders. You left the coffee shop smiling, seeming so happy, just because you got to see him.

“Can I see you again?” you asked hopefully, and all he could do was say “Of course,” because he couldn’t bear to disappoint you.

As he watched you walk away, a pep in your step as you turned to walk home, he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. Then he jogged to his car and grabbed his helmet, switching out his winter coat for his leather jacket before following after you.

And now he’s tailing you, watching you walk home, still bundled against the bitter cold of Gotham City winter.

You live in Cherry Hill, you told him when he asked. Made it out of Park Row now that you receive a stipend for grad school along with working your job at the public library.

In all respects, you’re a success story.

So why does Jason feel like there’s something you’re not telling him?

He hops from roof to roof, his footfalls silent as he watches you from above, watches you tuck yourself into your coat and hurry along the sidewalks. You look over your shoulder every few moments, and Jason’s heart aches to think that you haven’t grown out of your Park Row habits of always watching your back wherever you go.

But then he sees someone in a black hoodie emerge, and his body tenses.

The person, a tall, slim figure, heads straight towards you, and Jason’s hand goes to the holster on his hip, quickly freeing the gun. He doesn’t aim it, not yet, but he watches you closely to make sure this stranger doesn’t make any sudden moves.

The figure makes their way over to you, and you lift your face, and Jason can see from this distance that you’re not scared. In fact, you seem to be expecting this person, whoever they are. He squints, trying to see you more closely, to see what the hell you’re doing with a random stranger in the street–

And then two small baggies exchange hands, and it finally dawns on him. You’re making a drug deal.

He rocks back on his heels, stunned. Memories of watching his mother – or, the woman who raised him – do the exact same thing, buy from shady figures in the street and bring substances home to smoke or shoot up in their dingy old apartment in Park Row. He remembers the night when it all became too much and swallowed his mother whole, leaving her dead in that same apartment. Leaving her body for him to find. Leaving him to pick up the pieces.

And you know that.

You know what it was like for him to have to bury her. You know what it was like for him to go through watching her slowly kill herself, slowly drown herself, slowly take herself away from him. You know what it was like for him to turn to crime, because he was desperate, because it was all he had.

You know that, and yet here you are, going down the same path she did.

And Jason finds that he’s angry. He’s furious with you, furious that you would do something like this when you’ve seen the consequences, when you’ve seen what it does to the bystanders. Once again, he’s going to be collateral damage to somebody who only cares about themself, who only wants to numb the pain and doesn’t give a shit who it hurts.

So once the deal is complete, and your hands are tucked into your jacket pockets, hiding the little baggies there, Jason drops down onto the fire escape above you with silent feet. He calls out, voice modulated through his helmet, “You shouldn’t be doing that, you know.”

You just about jump out of your skin.

You whirl around on your heel, searching for the source of the voice, and when your eyes find him, massive and imposing on the fire escape, your eyes narrow.

You’ve never been one for heroes, if that’s how you view him; Jason knows this, just like you know better than to get high and start down a path you can’t help but drag others down.

You gesture towards him, towards the guns on his hips. “What?” you ask, grimacing up at him. “You gonna shoot me for buying some weed?”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff at the idea. There’s that nasty attitude he thought you’d grown out of. “It’s a slippery slope,” is all he says in return.

You scoff, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets, like you’re trying to hide away your sins. “A little weed never killed anybody,” you snap back. “Don’t you have a patrol in Park Row you’re late for?”

Jason’s jaw tightens; so you know of him, the Red Hood. You know his territory, that he’s the vigilante of your old neighborhood, watching out for those who can’t protect themselves. 

He replies, “Maybe weed hasn’t. But what’s in that second baggy of yours?”

Your eyes dart away for just a moment. Just long enough for him to know he’s right.

He grabs the metal banister and leaps over it, dropping to the sidewalk beneath. Then he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s in front of you. No longer dressed in the thick winter coat he was when you went out for coffee and his face fully covered by his helmet, he’s not concerned about you recognizing him.

He puts his large hand in your coat pocket, feeling the heat of your body through the fabric, and grabs the two bags.

One is, indeed, a few grams of bud, already starting to stink through the bag. The second, though, is a white powder, something he’s familiar enough with. He hums, voice low and threatening as he raises his eyes back to yours. “Coke? That your poison of choice?”

You grit your teeth, hands balling into fists, but your voice is calm and even when you speak. “Sometimes. What’s it to you? I didn’t think you were involved in the War on Drugs.”

He scoffs again, tossing the baggies onto the sidewalk. They sink into the thin dusting of snow that covers the concrete. “Hey, if that’s what you’re into, far be it from me to judge. But maybe you should use that brain of yours before you end up in deeper shit, with track marks up and down your arms.”

You scowl at his words, but stand firmly planted in place. He has to hand it to you; you’re stubborn enough to keep your eyes on him, even while your precious drugs lay there on the ground.

He takes a step back, eyes on you. You still don’t move. Maybe you’re not as desperate for a fix as he thought. “What’s even the point?” he wonders aloud.

Your eyes narrow. “You don’t know what it’s like,” you say, “to need to escape. Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

Jason glares at you through his mask; what do you know about needing to escape, compared to him? Sure, you grew up in Park Row, and you saw some shit, surely. But nothing you could go through could match what he has.

He thinks about how he buries himself in his work, in his violence. How he lets himself get hurt just for the pain, just for the subsequent mental numbness it brings.

Surely you have to know that someone like him, a monstrosity like him, has to numb the pain, too.

And so he takes another step back, shaking his head, like you’re a lost cause, because maybe you are. Maybe you’re not the little bug he used to know anymore; maybe the two of you have irrevocably changed and will never be able to meld back together like you once did. Like Dorian Gray, maybe you were hiding hedonistic acts behind a pretty face.

Not that he’s not hiding his own secrets and violence under the helmet.

“Make sure you know your sources,” is all he says next – he doesn’t let a single thought slip otherwise. “Don’t want to find a body littering Cherry Hill one day.”

And with that he’s gone.

You’re breathing heavy, shoulders heaving as you stare after his shadow disappearing into the early night that plagues the winter in Gotham. Your hands are shaking, though you’re not sure if it’s anger or fear or whatever else you’re feeling in this complicated tangle in your mind.

You crouch down and pick up your two baggies from where they lie on the ground, now covered in snow. You shake them off and wipe them on your coat before stuffing them back in your pocket, grumbling wordlessly to yourself as you turn and stomp your way towards your apartment.

You triple check the door is locked behind you. Old habits die hard.

Then, once you’re safely in your apartment, in your quiet environment away from the grunge of Gotham City – and away from the opinions of its overzealous inhabitants – you sink down onto the couch and toss your drugs onto the coffee table.

You sit and stare at them for a long moment, thinking.

Then you reach down and grab your swishers, and you start rolling.

It’s a mindless task, almost second nature now, with how often you’ve done it. It allows your mind to wander, to think about your day, your interaction with Jason and how much it meant to you.

How much you’ve missed him.

But it also brings back bad memories, memories of Park Row, of what he left behind when he disappeared. Memories of darkness swallowing you whole until you weren’t even sure you were human anymore.

And sometimes, maybe those thoughts continue to stick.

So once your first joint is tightly rolled, you light it up, resting it in your ashtray as you roll the rest for next time. Allowing yourself to sink into the false peace that the drugs start to pull you into, the temporary reprieve from the memories, the anxieties, the low thoughts that threaten to pull you under.

That’s something that Red Hood surely will never understand.

And then you think of Jason, and what he might think, if only he knew. Now, instead of just drowning out your memories, you’re drowning out your guilt, too.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

(taglist: @corpsedogs, @lulawantmula)

[festivating]

Hey, I love your fics! So freaking good. I just finished Attrition (10/10). I wanted to talk about and ask you about your decision to make Glinda ace. It was such a nice detail that I enjoyed. In one of your chapters, we see Gelphie make love with each other and Elphaba questions as to why Glinda didn’t ask for anything in return and it introduced the conversation of Ace Glinda which I adore (I am ace too). I enjoyed the way you introduced it because we hardly see ace characters in media/fics/anything. I also liked how wrote that Glinda learns what Elphaba likes despite not having the same exact needs all the time and vice versa with Elphaba respecting her boundaries. It was nice to see how you incorporated asexuality and introducing it as something that isn’t strict NO SEX EVER kind of thing. It’s seems to be more of a fluid thing for Glinda. I think you did well in understanding asexuality as a spectrum and I want to say thank you for that.

In the final chapter, you write that they do make love (when they feel like it!) and I think it’s a sweet indication that maybe Elphaba started to feel comfortable with Glinda touching her the way she was afraid of before? Do you think within the years they’ve spent together Glinda would eventually ask Elphaba for anything as well? I want to know your thoughts on how her asexuality fluctuates throughout the years (and if anything changes being together for so long) because I’ve only just discovered I’m on the ace spectrum and I feel like I relate to Glinda in the aspect of not necessarily asking but I’m also not opposed of engaging in sexual activities when I’m with someone I love. Is it the same for her? I know asexuality is fluid and the way you portray her could be different in my own experience but Glinda just means a lot to me in general and in my head I feel like your version of her in this fic in particular was written FOR ME in a time I needed it the most. I’ve been struggling with my own queerness so seeing it in a character I already love was cool. Thanks for incorporating Ace Glinda, best character of all time (+ Elphaba).

Oh what a lovely ask :) Ace!Glinda is one of my favorite aspects of the fic and I love to talk about it in general. I agree we hardly see ace characters, and if we do they are either. Not Great. or in media I don't care about lmfao. But anyway. Glinda in the book gave me so many ace vibes (which I am sure were not intended by Maguire in any way shape or form) so I wrote her like that, and I'm glad she has resonated with you in such a way!

As to your questions! Yes, Elphaba's boundaries shifted in time, the way they sort of do in the book. At the beginning of her relationship with Fiyero, she wouldn't let him touch her below the waist with his hands nor see her in the light. Then the story makes a point later on to have scenes where both of those things happen. I think it's just something she can get comfortable with over time, which certainly happened with Glinda too. I'm sure there are still specific days where she doesn't want to be touched or seen like that, because those sorts of things can be very fluid, but they're probably not very common.

Now for Glinda, I let a lot of things vague and up to interpretation so you can read her however you like :) I believe things aren't really canon unless they are explicitly in the text, but if you do want my opinion I think she mostly tops, but isn't entirely opposed to being on the receiving end. She just frankly doesn't care much for it, and gets more pleasure from topping, and her dynamic with Elphie works well that way.

Asexuality is such a broad and fluid spectrum, you're right, and there's no right nor wrong way of being ace, just different ways of being ace. I know it can be a struggle but please try to be kind to yourself and take it easy, there is really no rush with these things. I'm glad you found this version of Glinda when you needed it, and if you want to see other fics that also feature her as ace I'm going to drop some recs for you :)

All the works I've read by the wonderful Sam feature aspec Glinda. Those would be Wiretapped Life (my favorite and highly recommended! Glinda's asexuality is a huuuge focus of the story. Tho it is very angsty for the most part), Our Last Shimmer of Magic, and Walls of Sanctuary :)

Per Aspera Ad Astra (Through Hardships Towards the Stars) by show_me_the_universe also has aspec Glinda and you can see her figuring it out in real time and it's really sweet.

And I haven't read The Interview by MyLittleElphie but I know it also features ace!Glinda pretty heavily and it's a relevant plot point from the start. I've read other fics by this author and they're great I just haven't gotten around to this one.

Thank you for this ask, anon! I hope you're doing well <3

[faux-big-bro]

Big brother walking into your room without knocking the next night, already talking, because okay see the other part is- I'm undoing my belt and sprawling back on that snorlax beanbag chair I stole for your 13th birthday. I keep talking as I open up my pants and lean back for you to nuzzle against the front of my boxers, like a fucking puppy every time, oh my god, my baby brother is such an needy little dog. Good boy.

But anyway, fucking Depp as the wolf in Into The Woods, like sure the wolf is already supposed to be creepy and gross, but like it just feels worse when we KNOW the shit this fucker has done in real life, like maintain some distance and performance, it's like that dude who was a pedophile in You and then was a pedophile in real life, too, ugh. But honestly, slimy and disgusting in the way that feels like the producers are rewarding him for his shit, even worse than just turning a blind eye.

Like he's the most fucking annoying asshole on screen, and that's impressive in a movie with James fucking Corden, fuck's sake.

What's that whimper for, little puppy? No, no, don't talk. I don't care if you are my baby brother, dumb dogs don't get words. What you want? Gonna use your paws? Show me by where you're trying to bury that muzzle in my crotch, puppy, is that what you wanfuck, okay, okay, I'll pull my boxers off.

Stop, puppy. Obey. Not my dick. Do you understand? Show me, little brothOH goddamn, kid, who taught you to use that tongue like that? Oh, right, I did. Fuck, and an obedient bright little pup learned so well! Mouth on my balls, puppy, fuuuuuck, good boy.

Right, uh, shit, I was saying... Oh, yeah, James Corden? Also a unrepentant dick? Like he's just as bad as Ellen but he gets to smile through it all, you know, probably because he's a dude. Like he's over here because Britain got sick of his shit. But that's not even the worst fucking thing they did.

They found the one time thar Meryl wasn't the right choice.

Puppies bark, kid, I didn't ask you a question or want to see parlor tricks. What I want is for you to bark for your big brother, and then take both my balls in your mouth, little bro, you remember how I showed you oh yeah, smart boy, you remember how big brother likes it, fuck.

Yeah, big brother's jerking off to you, kid. Come on kid, show me how a puppy licks his big brother's balls clean after a long day at work. Okay, good puppy, good boy, okay now I know it's heresy, but.

Meryl will never be Bernadette.

They did it with most of the parts. They're actors who can sing but they're not the best and it. Like, most of the cast is, nobody really slacks off. I mean, you will be shocked to know how important the line, "I was raised to be charming, not sincere" stuck with me.

But what really stuck with me was Last Midnight. Good god. "You're not good, you're not bad, you're just nice. I'm not good, I'm not nice, I'm just right. I'm the Witch, you're the world," fffffuck, If you don't want to worship Bernadette Peters after that, I mean, you have legitimate sexual desires and boundaries, but they're a mystery to me.

Fuck, puppy, that feels so good, is my dumb devoted dog making such a slobber mess on my balls? Wanna hump something? Yeah, I know, puppy. Just my dumb dog, all worked up. It's okay, little brother. Might as well hump my leg if you're so desperate. Show me that cute face, puppy? Yeah, that's a cute little dog who's gonna get his big brother's cum on your face.

But so Last Midnight by Meryl is good- it's a great song, she does fine- it was always gonna be good. But it's just gonna pale to Bernadette for multiple reasons. And the big one is that stage performances mean the focus can always be on her. She commands the stage with her voice and only surrenders it when she stops singing. Movies cut away and there's unnecessary cgi and we apparently need to give James Corden camera time and ugh, whatever. But the-

Shit puppy, look at that big mess you're already making for me. Shake, puppy. Give me your paw, gonna scoop up some of this mess you slobbered all over my balls, and coat your big brother's dick with it. Aw, look at that, isn't my baby brother so fucking helpful, puppy? Bark to say thank you as you hump my leg...

Fuck, right, it's about fucking! Like Meryl was fine, but she was Disney Movie Angry! That's all they'd let her be! They didn't let her be sincere x either!

But Bernadette! She was PISSED. She was DRAMA. She was a villain who had finally snapped and that is a villain who fucks. And, incidentally, who I would fuck, so...

Big brother getting really stoned and telling you why the Tim Burton version of Sweeney Todd sucked ass, because he cast two non-musical singers for the two leads, and Johnny fucking piece of shit Depp bitched out of the necessary melodrama for the role, he's just dour, and Helena Bonham "I'm defending the queen trandphoic bigot in jkr" Carter just wasn't a trained singer at all, and they act like we're supposed to be amazed by her performance? Jesus fucking christ, these assholes need to listen to Angela Lansbury- yeah, baby, Mrs. Potts, exactly- because she fucking killed the role. Oh, and they cut the chorus songs, too- you know there's the shot with what's his name, Giles from Buffy, he gets killed during the Johanna reprise? Yeah, he was supposed to be part of this chorus that narrates- attend the tale of-

Fuck, fuck, god, fuck, little brat, stop struggling, fuck, I'm gonna cum, just fucking take it, stupid bitch, your big brother has to fucking cum, god, fucking gag on it, gag and I'll pinch your nose shut, fuck, you're such a dumb little whore, you fall for this every time and your throat feels so fucking good when you panic, shit, it's like my cock gets harder and thicker when I'm reminded what a broken fucking naive little cunt you still are, of course you need your big brother to take care of you, you're just a pathetic waste without me, at least now you're my tight little fleshlight, fuck, little sister, you can breathe when I cum, you can breathe when I cum, you can breathe when your big brother finishes raping this load of cum down your throat, dumb cunt, fuck, you're gagging so hard, you're gonna- fuck, big brother's cumming, oh shiiit , sugar, don't you dare lose a drop, bitch or you'll wake up bleeding from some place less romantic, fuck, little sister, you're big brother's best cocksleeve, custom shaped to this cock-

Fuck, fuuuuck, okay, yeah, just keep gasping for air, fuck. God. Well, hey, at least you're better at self-cleaning than a real fleshlight, right? Fuck, okay, what was I- right! No, okay, but why get the rights to a fucking musical if they don't want to actually make it a musical and take away half of what makes it worthwhile? I mean, at least if they're gonna do that shit to something like Cats, that has the side benefit of pissing off Andrew Lloyd memorial pool Weber. Yeah, finish sucking up the rest of your mess off my cock. Bur seriously, Sondheim doesn't deserve the disrespect...

[cryptdfish]

“white mourning.”

[fujouppy]

watched whitepine 1. i think i want to gather all my thoughts on part 1 before moving on to the next installments but oh wow im excited to see where this story goes

[babooshka-yah-yahs-wife]

🌊

[the-golden-dragoness]

Not crying and being guilt ridden again :))))))

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[impulsivelycontentious]

Uh babe? Being an ass about people's spelling illustrates more how out of touch YOU are than how out of touch THEY are. There are many reasons spelling doesn't always work out or people have wrong ideas about words - of which not reading compex text is not one of them.

Also you should absolutely read spinning silver. It's good shit. 🤷‍♀️

I dunnow maybe read for fun more often than for clout. Reading at all is good. Difficulty with analysing isn't because of the subject matter - we see EXACTLY the same issue with media literacy in film. People have been mad at how progressive star trek is compared to the good old days since what, the second series?

It's a cultural issue and making people read classics isn't going to solve it. Ironically, the best way to better analyze media is to have honest discussions about it.

And part of that is not being condescending and driving people away from reading because what they enjoy doesn't meet your standards of dep enough. You're SUPPOSED to offer things with similar themes or characters - you know, like librarians generally can, and help expand people's horizons via love of the work.

Not whatever this was.

No babe it’s so cool and hot that you always insist that fantasy books written to meet a 4th graders’ comprehension skills have more complex themes and a greater sense of praxis than anything written for adults

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

two more days. two more days and I can stop being jealous of people I don't know

[phagodyke]

was brave and talked to my doctor abt my period bs + she said it might be endometriosis without me even having to bring it up... 💀

[cephaloph0re]

we're going back to the first thanksgiving

everyone lets do this ok? play touys

[the-cooler-king]

Oh yeah..... midnight gospel be hitting.... sitting in my bed fuckin. Crying. Get a grip girl

[pukicho]

hey @pukicho i saw your art and i thought it was super cool! you improved so quickly (really impressive btw), and i was wondering what resources used to study art? and what app/website you digitally draw on? and your brushes if your okay with sharing them? and literally ANY other information you had because i would love to learn how to draw?

i feel like a victorian street rat asking for more bread

I use an XP-Pen Pen Tablet and Clip Studio Paint as my program of choice, but any pencil and notebook will suffice for learning, and may even be better. As for learning, I use books, baby!!! BOOKS! I'll even be nice and tell u which ones, because I am a lover of shared knowledge:

How To Draw by Scott Robtertson - deceptively complex book on perspective. It tells you how to draw a box, I then suggest you draw a fuck-load of boxes in correct perspective before moving forward. Having a strong grasp on planes and perspective allows you to properly grasp the volumes and shape of almost anything. It's the baseline principle to visualizing what u wanna draw. Without simple forms understood in perspective, you merely lack the skills necessary to draw from imagination.

Carlson's guide to landscape Painting - A good book, even if u don't intend to draw landscapes. Tons of clever explanations on lighting and value. Tons of useful relational shortcuts to understand complex scenery in smarter ways. I like the way he explains things, it makes me go ohhhh.

TACO point character drawing 1 & 2 - Two NEAT anatomy reference books. It's mostly just a collection of simplified, anime-esque proportional figure drawings. They're a great reference, but I absolutely wouldn't use it as my only set of books on anatomy. It's still useful to use and learn, but in a more general way - and I can't currently apply everything the book tells me yet, because I haven't learned the forms in more detail first.

The Human Figure by Jon H Vanderpoel - this is a short, but VERY useful anatomy reference book. The Author is from the early 1900s - real oldschool, which is good. He has a very useful, matter-of-fact writing style. This is the better starter book to use in order to remember the proportional relationships of the human body (even then, it's still not enough)

The Practice of Oil Painting & Drawing by Solomon J. Solomon - I'll be honest, this one makes sense to me conceptually, but I cannot fucking execute some of his practices. This dude is from the victorian era, his paintings are in museums and they're too good. It only makes sense that his views and approach to art are headier than some of the other suggestions on this list. The book is still useful, and I presume will only grow in usefulness as I learn. It does still have some cool ideas in the first-half of the book that you can easily apply to your art studies! But the second half is a series of master-derived schools of learning that I have yet to dare touch.

(also check out loomis books. I hear they are good)

ENJOY

[sob3rdeath]

mdni, please! +18 content ahead. ♡

cw: breeding, soft!geto, pet names, pregnancy mention (obv).

cult leader!suguru is so sweet and loving to you, he sure does adore you. especially now, with how he's got you in missionary, kissing your tears away. "i love you so much." he mumbles sweetly, his raspy voice low enough for you and only you to hear. "you're my sweet, sweet girl. gonna carry my babies, hm? i'm gonna breed you nice and full, and you're gonna carry my heir."

you can't exactly understand what he's saying because he's reaching all the right spots with his chubby cock, your brain is turned to mush by now, and you have only one thought in mind: suguru, suguru, suguru, suguru. so you don't even process when he says that "what about i make you a mom now? you're gonna be a great one." and he moans. not a grunt like he usually does, but he moans in your ear because you're making him feel so good and you don't even know. :(

"cum-mming.. hmm." it's what falls from your lips as you tighten around him, making a white ring at the base of his cock. and it feels so delicious, it makes him feel his cock twitching inside you — he knows he's close. "that's great baby. you did great for me." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead with so much love. "i'm gonna come inside, ok? gonna make you a mommy, i need someone to keep leading the cult. what do you say?" and all he needs is the small nod along with your pleas to shoot his load inside you, his potent seed that he knows it is going to take, going to make you pregnant.

dividers by aquazero.