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acorviart · 9 months

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everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

#$60 is overpriced my ass #if I priced my ceramics by the exact number of hours they took literally no one would buy anything #holding up a plate like oh yeah I started this in uhhhhhhhhhhh august and it finished in december #wrote this intending it to be a rant and delete post but im sending it out into the world

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bixels · 5 months

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Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

#mlp #yeah i wrote this last night during insomnia.#yeah i know an embarrassing amount of crap about this kids show #but whatever it's my hyperfixation i'll store as much useless information as i want!!!#i'm gay and neurodivergent i have an excuse #in case you needed more proof that aj's my favorite character #personal #delete later #unless you like this analysis stuff #i get why they didn't reveal aj's parent's death until way later and why they didn't do much with it but i wish they did #cuz narratively there could've been so much material with aj's grief. like. i feel like we gloss over the fact that she lost her #mother and father as a teenager #i tried keeping my personal hcs out of this to keep it unbiased #but i'll put some in the tags #involving rarijack –– i think aj can be (but not always) very self-conscious about her relationship with rarity #anxieties that she's not the right fit or that rarity will move away and leave her some day or that another woman will take her attention #(like in rollercoaster of friendship?? nudge nudge??). basic seperation anxiety stuff #long post #regarding applebloom whenever i think about her and her parents i think about that scene in steven universe where steven looks up at #a portrait of his mother and openly wonders what kind of sack lunches she would've made for him. that episode still fucks me up

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inlovewithaspiderguy · 1 year

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who the duck bookmarked my angsty weechesters school shooting fic. why would you want to read that again. it’s not exactly comforting

#tw school shooting #yeah I wrote that #fanfic #ff: the hurt just leaves me scared [en]

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nikkento-writes · 2 months

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It was bound to happen eventually. You just didn’t think you’d get caught literally with your pants off, staring at your roommate Toji like a deer in fucking headlights and a vibrator between your legs.

The silence between you is staggering, except for the buzz of the toy still active in your hand. You’re in such utter shock that it takes you a few seconds to finally turn it off, blood pounding in your ears, completely mortified of getting caught in the act.

You’re not close to your roommate; in fact, you actively try to avoid him. Part of this is because the two of you come from totally different worlds. He’s nearly a decade older than you, a divorced dad who barely sees his son. His current means of income are betting on horse races and more nefarious tasks he typically performs at night, though you can’t confirm exactly what those nefarious tasks are. Meanwhile, you’re a struggling grad student, forced to share a small apartment with a potential hitman, pimp, and/or yakuza member. Like you said, you’re still not sure, but based on his looks and demeanor, those are your best guesses.

But it’s not as if you’re complaining.

While you are a tad bit scared of him, he’s definitely easy on the eyes. Tall, statuesque with those chiseled muscles, that alluring scar across his lips. He leaves you alone just as much as you do for him, so no matter how sketchy he comes across, you have no reason to be wary of him.

Though, tonight might change that.

You just finished writing a paper that you’ve been working on for weeks now. Toji is out, as usual, and you need some major stress relief. So, you shut your door closed, not bothering to lock it, strip off your bottoms, and plop yourself onto the bed, reaching for your vibrator inside your drawer. You browse through your spicy audio app and select one of your favorites, knowing it will certainly get you off. Again, you’re negligent when it comes to discretion because you play it out loud, no headphones and at the highest volume. Maybe the tiniest part of you wants to get caught with how careless you’re being.

That’s proven the second he walks in on you, eyes wide at the lewd sight before him, black t-shirt clinging deliciously to his body, erection growing in his grey sweats. You’ve been at it for a few minutes by now, already one orgasm in, and you’re well aware how wet you are, how shiny and enticing it looks with your legs spread wide, on full display for him.

The silence is broken when he walks towards you, long strides to get to you quickly. He grabs hold of your knees, spreading you even wider, and you don’t resist. You yield to him, like putty in his hands, ready for whatever he’s willing to give you. He licks his lips, tongue grazing over that fucking scar you like so much. “Finally,” he mutters, bowing down to spread his tongue on your clit, slobbering all over you as if he’s been waiting for this moment, as if you’ve been teasing him all this time.

Yeah, you definitely wanted to get caught tonight.

#I finally subscribed to quinn last night and yeah #I wrote this with my pussy sorry #should I make this into a full fic?#toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 8 months

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Okay look, I know people are gonna characterize Aventurine as the kind of yandere that manipulates everything behind the scenes and is always coming up with ways to try and make his darling unable to rely on anyone but him. But honestly? I can see him as the desperate needy type who needs to have your attention on him, he NEEDS to be the only man you'll ever want and look at, and GOD, he just desperately needs you to own him in his entirety.

He'll do anything to keep your attention on him and make sure that you at least will keep him around long enough for him to enact his plans of keeping you by his side. You want a dog who does whatever you say and will crawl on hands and knees for your amusement? You want a pretty little toy that you can break over and over? You want him to take the lead and make you unable to think or walk anymore? He'll do it, he'll do whatever you want, he'll do anything to keep your attention on him until he can make you his.

#lati thirsts #tw yandere #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere aventurine #aventurine x reader #GOD i just need to write about a needy and clingy yandere that is willing to be your toy just to keep your attention on them #like yeah aventurine could be manipulative and greedy but have you considered him to be INSANELY clingy and needy?#edit: omfg stop liking this I wrote this in the middle of my botany lab pls

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

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Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

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shepscapades · 26 days

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[Part 1] [PART 2] [Part 3]

The unexpected return of a face Xisuma never thought he'd see again.

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sylvies-chen · 2 years

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I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.

#i wrote a poem about this #idk if i should post it bc i dont want to risk someone stealing it #but yeah… this concept has me really thinking #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou #the last of us spoilers #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie

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