#i probably won’t be drawing for the next 4 weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

transgenderteensurvivalguide · 7 months

Note

my dysphoria has been very bad recently and i have found it very difficult to do things like showering, changing and sleeping especially. ive been over wearing my binder a lot because i find it very difficult to bring myself to take it off, and i keep wearing it for 30+ hours at a time which i know is bad but i currently have no other alternative and not wearing one feels worse than the pain i get by overwearing. i hate wearing sports bras and ive run out of transtape, i have ordered more but it probably won’t be coming for another couple of weeks. i don’t know what to do because i don’t want to damage my body severely, is there anything else i can do?

Lee says:

As you know, wearing a binder for extended periods can lead to severe health issues, including respiratory problems, rib fractures, and skin conditions.

When you feel like doing something that's harming you physically is your only option to cope because your dysphoria is that intense, you should look into getting a therapist.

Frequently binding for 30+ hours isn't a sustainable option and finding alternative coping strategies will be easier with professional help to help you deal with what you're doing through.

Two posts that might help with your specific questions are Staying clean and coping with shower-related dysphoria and Dysphoria when you have to sleep and those two posts really cover most of what I have to say on those subjects so I won't reinvent the wheel by typing the same thing but I encourage you to read both links.

Apart from that, in the next couple of weeks as you wait for your TransTape to arrive (And start the process of seeking a therapist!) here are some strategies you can try doing:

1. Layered Clothing:

Wearing loose, layered clothing can help obscure the chest area. Consider wearing baggy shirts, jackets, or vests to help reduce the visibility of your chest.

Luckily it's fall time (at least here in the East Coast) so it's starting to get a little bit cooler, some days, and I wear a sweater (at work) or sweatshirt (when at home) like 100% of the time just because I'm always cold and it's also an Autistic sensory friendly thing for me too.

See more: Body neutrality

2. Distraction Techniques:

Engage in activities that take your mind off your dysphoria. This could be reading, drawing, journaling, listening to music, watching movies or TV, or any other hobby or activity that you enjoy and find absorbing.

Engage in self-care activities that actually make you feel good about yourself, not just doomscrolling social media. And for those times when you are on social media, if you're currently following anyone who makes you stressed/unhappy, stop following them. It's your feed and you're in charge!

But if you find that it's hard to do the necessary activities of everyday living because you find yourself spending most of your time engaging in distraction techniques, and you're falling behind on homework/work, that's another sign that you need additional support from a mental health professional.

3. Grounding Techniques:

Practicing mindfulness can help you stay present and reduce distressing thoughts, but the kind of nebulous meditation stuff never worked well for my ADHD brain.

Guided meditation

15 meditation tips

How to do progressive muscle relaxation

Body scan relaxation exercise

Mindfulness skills and worksheets masterpost

Imagery

Imagery self-help

Relaxation

Relaxation audio

Safe-place visualization

I found specific things like grounding exercises, like the "5-4-3-2-1" technique (identifying five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste), can help divert your attention from dysphoric feelings if you're having a Moment. This type of strategy is useful when you start to notice yourself spiraling to try and re-center yourself.

Soothing grounding exercise

Physical grounding exercise

Mental grounding exercise

Grounding techniques

How to make a grounding box

Grounding exercises

How to ground and center

4. Stay connected:

Connect with in-person and/or online LGBTQ+ support groups who understand what you're going through. Sharing your feelings and hearing from others who have similar experiences can be comforting and it can help you to learn new coping strategies and things to try.

In general, avoiding isolation is important. Join a club or volunteer for something, join a sports team, hang out with your friends, etc. Just don't stay alone in your room. Get out of the house if you can, or invite people over or have video calls or phone calls if aren't up to being out and about. Just stay in contact with people.

See more: Motivating yourself to socialize

5. Set Alarms:

Consider setting alarms or reminders to take off your binder and give your body a break. Even short breaks can help reduce the risk of injury.

Here are some links that may help in general:

9 strategies for dealing with body dysphoria

How do I deal with dysphoria?

20 Small Things To Do When Gender Dysphoria Gets You Down

25 Things I Do To Make My Body Dysphoria Feel Smaller and Quieter

More on coping with dysphoria

Dealing with dysphoria

A post with suggestions for coping with dysphoria

Take care of your mental health

8 tips for managing dysphoria and mental health

A coping tip

Disablity-friendly dysphoria tips

Dysphoria that prevents you from leaving the house/doing activities of daily living

Your feelings are valid, and it's essential to find ways to manage your dysphoria that prioritize your health and well-being. There isn't a secret dysphoria cure I can share with you, to be frank it just sucks sometimes and there's not a lot to do about it but you gotta find a way to cope and keep going and stay safe.

Eventually it gets better-- you either find a way to cope more effectively and manage the dysphoria and/or time just passes and you grow older and eventually find a way to access surgery, but either way you will eventually become an adult who is managing life somehow and overall doin' okay and yeah there's hope at the end of the tunnel so please keep going!

You deserve care, support, and understanding, even if your family isn't able to provide that right now. And again, apart from the two links that I started the response with, the main advice I have is that you should ask to speak with a therapist (even if you are closeted and don't tell your fam that it's gender/binding/dysphoria related) and just let them know that you're struggling with your mental health in general.

Please reach out for help if you need it, and consider seeking medical attention if you experience severe pain or discomfort from binding. Good luck!!

As some of you may have noticed, our blog has been around for a decade or so and some links may be broken because we're all busy etc so pls let me know if something is wonky in a post I'm trying to link to!

Followers, any advice for anon?

#Lee says #dysphoria #coping with dysphoria #chest m #binding #injury m #binding injury m

63 notes · View notes

munv · 1 year

Text

𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗜 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘?

Sobs in a lot of words - i might have changed it a bit from the lil teaser I made maybe a week or so earlier so don’t mind that tehe

2k+ words !! what if I said by the time I posted this I was already working on part 2?

Step, step, step. Your heart pounded but you had no idea why, perhaps you didn’t turn off the stove when you were on your way to pick up Riko? No it couldn’t be that, but there had to be a reason you felt this..upcoming dread in your stomach.

Something was off..completely. You knew something was wrong, yet you brushed it off thinking it was nothing as you cotninued on your way home with your little sister.

By the time you reached home you had received a call that changed your life completely, your so called lovely parents were dead. You knew you couldn’t do much about it either way and it surely didn’t help you knew Riko was but only a 4 year old who would probably have no understanding of what is really happening.

A crush worthy reality that would break her small heart into more pieces than you could count.

“Hey hey nii-san! Look, this is what i wanted to show you!”. You slowly looked up to see something that made you feel as if you were completely shattered into pieces. You felt guilty, you knew you weren’t responsible for what had happened, but how would you be able to respond when she had such a angelic smile holding up a drawing of your precious family?

As if you weren’t controlling your own body your body went down on one knee and hugged her. “Hey riko..promise me something?”

The child felt as if you knew something she didn’t, she was well aware of her age and didn’t quite understand why you looked so..sad and distant but payed it no mind with the train of thought that you would be find not too long later into the day. “Promise you’ll listen to me and you won’t leave me, you fine with that?”

The child nodded her head enthusiastically “of course!”, holding out her pinky “to sweeten the deal” with a contagious smile that also spilled upon your face. “Deal”.

Ever since that day she was in your care until a woman named Misato Kuroi came around to take care of not only her but you as well. It was also thanks to her that you discovered you had cursed energy in the first place.

It was around this year that Riko was in junior high as you were secretly taking classes with Masamachi Yaga that you later found out to be the next principle of a school called “tokyo jujutsu high”. He offered to entroll you but you declined knowing that you still had to take care of Riko even with Kuroi taking care of her at times.

Obviously you having this amount of cursed energy wasn’t normal and most would be as bold as to assume you came from a very powerful clan but in reality, you were born of barely anyone with cursed energy fit to take down a 3rd grade at the very most.

Yaga knew about you potential and made no haste to waste it in no way at all, he knew that if he even hesitated in doing so the higher ups would get to you first considering a literal ball of huge cursed energy was just around and not being trained properly.

Despite your protests he made it so you would be entrolled either way.

“Yaga-san..as much as i appreciate you, I’d still like to stay away from that place as far as po-” You were cut off with his glare that really screamed ‘it wasn’t a question it was a order as your instructor’ and considering that you probably and most likely wouldn’t stand a chance against the older man in your attempt to change his mind, you gave in.

The same year prior you were ordered to come to his classroom in which you thought wouldn’t be a problem until you were proved wrong dearly.

In which that brings us to our current predicament

#PRESENT

You were on your way down the corridor to Yaga’s classroom, the closer you got the more annoyed you got. “Why the hell do I have to wake up this damn early because the old man just wants to chat?” you mumbled as you dragged your feet to your destination.

The sunlight shined more than usually and to be honest you couldn’t confidently say you were a morning person. The way you weren’t able to get proper coffee didn’t help you either as it tasted like absolute crap.

As you were busy cursing out the very man you were going to go see in your thoughts, your train of thought was cut off by voices on the inside which you could say were particularly a bit too loud for your liking.

“He’s finally lost it”

“It is spring after all, with him being the next principal he’s probably gotten carried away”. Two deep voices from the inside of the room said.

You stopped your movements immediately realizing other people were in the room and with the amount of cursed energy coming from inside you could tell these weren’t just some average everyday sorcerers.

“I’ll decide whether that’s considered a joke or not..” The rest of what was going on was muffled and you considered yourself even grateful to hear some of it to some content. You were so deep in thought you couldn’t hear footsteps on the other side of the door approaching.

“Ah, I almost forgot to mention,recently we were able to come in contact with the said girls relative. The only one who has been taking care of her that is.They will be helping you escort her. Y/N you may come in now.”

The door opened and two pairs of eyes were on you. The silence that followed was unbearable as you were forced to stand in front of the two boys who looked at you with equally curious eyes.

One with white hair as pure as snow, seemingly had a slender figure with small round glasses covering his eyes. The other with jet black hair that was rapped into a bun at the back of his head as one starnd of hair neatly hanged in front of his face completing his handsome features.

Wait, handsome? When did you start thinking that? You cleared your throat knowing you couldn’t stand there for too long.

Bowing your head as your hair fell over your face like a curtain you introduced yourself. “I apalogize for coming in on short notice, my name is Amanai Y/N it’s a honor to meet you”. Raising your head you expected a response, not a specific one but the one you got made you stand there flabbergasted.

“So..are you supposed to be the hotter older si-” The black haired boy next to him smacked the back of his white haired friends head and turned to you with a smile “I’m geto suguru and this is gojo satoru” as he bowed his friend and forcing his seemingly supposed friend to bow his head too. You chuckled a little bit happy you could put names to the two faces in front of you.

Gojo scowled and yelled “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”. His friend slowly turned to him with a equally annoyed voice but not as loud “maybe because if you were about to hit on the very girls older sibling that we are supposed to be ESCORTING”

Sparks flew around the room as the boys started roughing one another up. You slowly turned to yaga with a blank expression, “so this is what you set me up for?..”

“Goodluck.” He responded with a dry voice that told in more ways than one that he deals with this more than he gets paid for. With that you both walked out the classroom leaving the two to their own devices.

“But honestly..I get why the curse-user group Q is after her but why would the star religion group want to kill her?” Gojo exlaimed opening a soda can as he caught up so he could walk with you and geto. “You have any N/N?” You turned your head to him with a confused expression, “N/N?..” “Yeah! That’s my nickname for you!” he said cheerfully putting his arm around your shoulder “Y/N will be just fine”

He took a rather massive chug out of his drink like a dehydrated man and took a sigh “N/N it is!”.

“Rather than getting off topic, they worship a pure masten tengen so if what I heard was right it’s that their beliefs led them to think a star plasma vessel would soil that purity.”

“And where did you supposedly hear that?”

“Rather than hear it’s more like the documents that yaga gave to us earlier, did you even read them?” you piped in.

“Nope!” gojo said making sure to pop to ‘p’ at the end.

“But the star religious group are all non-curse users so it shouldn’t be necessary to worry about them too much.” geto continued.

“Shouldn’t we be wary fo Q then?” you asked without looking at him. “mmh” he hummed in agreement.

“Anyways there’s nothing to worry about” gojo said and paused for a little bit to take another chug. “We’re the strongest so don’t worry your pretty little head Y/N-Chan!” you scoffed and started walking ahead of the two males “tell me the same thing when my little sister is safe idiot”. You mumbled yet still loud enough for them to hear.

“Hey satoru, i’ve been meaning to tell you this..” The black haired male said side eyeing his best friend sightly before fully looking at him. “What?”

“It’s just..you should be more aware of the way you talk, especially around your superiors.”

“WHAT-?!” gojo said as his eye widened at geto’s words.

“Maybe that way your juniors or new people won’t be scared of you y’know”

Throwing away his soda in a trash can he let out an exasperated sigh, “sheesh..gimme a break won’t you?”

“Yo slowpokes! You got long legs don’t you? Less chatting more walking” you yelled out to the two males behind you.

Just as gojo was about to let out a snarky comment back you all stopped when an explosion came out from the large building in front of you.

“SHIT!” you yelled running to the building at full speed.

“You think Y/N will kill us if the kid’s already dead?” he said as geto started holding a curse in his hand getting ready to unleash it incase anything else were to happen. They stopped when they saw something or rather – someone falling out the building.

“Forgive me” a voice said from the top of the building “feel free to blame this on tenge- WHA?” he stopped mid sentence staring wide eyed at geto who had riko in his hands on top of a flying curse.

You jumped up and kicked the man who had barely managed to block it. Debris flying everywhere from the very impact. “Keep your filthy hands off my sister you MUTT” you started to activate your cursed technique and millions of electric sparks started flying everywhere before a big clash of thunder came down on him.

“Don’t go making a mess now, we just got in trouble this morning” geto said with a satisfied expression still holding riko in his arms.

“Whatever” you said holding the man by the neck before giving him another punch to the face. This made geto sweatdrop at your anger you were seemingly letting out just for even attempting to harm your sister.

From below gojo let out a dramatic sigh, “phew! Just in time”. 6 knives then came rushing at him but were stopped by the contact of his limited technique. “Amazing” clapped a Q soldier coming close to the white haired male. “You’re Satoru Gojo I presume. I’ve heard you’re quite strong” he started to glare at the boy. “Show me if those rumors are true”, he said voice getting deeper with the last few words.

A smirk started to rise on Gojo’s face “sure, but.. Let’s make a little rule.”

“Rule?” His eyebrow raised in curiosity yet still on guard.

“I don’t wanna go all out and get in trouble so..cry now and apologize. Maybe I won’t kill ya”

“BRAT!” the Q soldier snarled with a pissed off look.

“So it begins..”

TAG LIST: @megumisemo @todorokistoya @sammyiguess @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 @boo-kugo @vile-woman

Couldn’t @ the last person named woozzz someone do it for me I beg 💔 message me to be next on the tag list!

155 notes · View notes

phillippadgettwrites · 9 months

Text

Dropped Call

Rated X / 2873 words / Tagging @today-in-fic / Posted on AO3

See AO3 for a note about the prompt for this story

It’s past 9:00 pm when Scully finally accepts that she’s sick. Allergies, overtiredness, and the sinus-drying impacts of air conditioning were all hopeful contenders, but when her muscles begin to ache she picks up the phone to tell Mulder that she won’t be in tomorrow.

A sick day doesn’t sound completely terrible; at least she’ll get to catch up on sleep, but she can easily predict that Mulder will insist on coming by to bring her an endearing but inevitably odd care package consisting of chicken soup, hot tea, DayQuil, and a recent issue of National Enquirer, among other curiosities. She’ll feel embarrassed about looking terrible, and he’ll give her a thinly veiled compliment that draws unwanted attention to the undercurrent of sexual tension in their relationship, which she will then dwell on for the next 2-4 weeks. Splendid.

She hits speed dial #1 and flops down on the couch while it rings, already dreaming of the lengthy bubble bath she plans to treat herself to in what would otherwise be the middle of her workday. Maybe she’ll even order in for lunch.

“Hey, I was hoping you’d call back.”

She’s caught off guard, and briefly considers the possibility that she already called him but forgot about it in her congested haze.

“You were?” she asks, surprised by how raspy her voice sounds. This cold seems to be progressing quickly.

“I figured the call dropped,” he says, and it sounds like he’s on the move. She can picture him walking around his apartment with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder; he never stays still for long.

She’s still rather confused, though, because she’s almost certain that she hasn’t spoken to him since they both left the office a few hours ago.

“What were we talking about?” she asks, then holds the phone at arms-length while she clears her throat. “When the call dropped, I mean.”

“My partner,” he says.

His partner? Is he seeing someone? A little flush of something between embarrassment and jealousy warms her cheeks.

“What about…them?” she asks, touching her forehead with the back of her hand. She doesn’t feel feverish, but this conversation is rather disorienting.

Mulder chuckles a little, and now she feels stupid on top of everything else.

“Come on, Electra, don’t be coy,” he says in an unfamiliar singsong voice. “I think you’ve probably paid off your mortgage with all the money you’ve made listening to me talk about her.”

Electra? Maybe she should get the thermometer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she admits.

Mulder laughs again, and the pitch of it makes her belly tumble. He’s being downright flirtatious.

“I appreciate your effort to maintain the facade,” he says lightly. “You’re a true professional. That’s why I request you, you know. When you’re not available they always ask if I’d like to talk to another girl, but I never do.”

She realizes at this point that Mulder thinks she is someone else. Someone named Electra. Someone he pays to talk to. She opens her mouth to speak but her jaw just hangs there, stunned into silence. The fact that he thinks she’s his 1-900 girl is embarrassing enough—for both of them—but the fact that he’s in the habit of talking to his 1-900 girl about his partner—her—is both enthralling and horrifying.

She should tell him it’s her. No—she should just hang up so he never has to know. That would be the kindest thing to do, really.

“Electra?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she sputters, sitting up on the couch. “I’m here.”

“You okay? You sound…different.”

She should hang up. She doesn’t.

“I think I’m getting sick,” she says, which is true.

“Ah,” he says knowingly.

“So, um…” she tries, feeling simultaneously overwhelmed by guilt and curiosity. “What were you saying about your partner again?”

Mulder heaves a sigh.

“I was asking whether you think it’s misogynistic that she’s always submissive in my fantasies,” he says casually. “I think that’s when the call dropped, so I didn’t get to hear your answer.”

Scully’s entire body flushes, and she quickly looks around her apartment as though someone might be overhearing their conversation.

“Um…I guess it depends,” she answers, trying to think beyond the fact that Mulder has sexual fantasies about her so that she can actually engage in this conversation. “What’s the nature of the fantasy? Is it degrading?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Not at all. More like…” She hears the rustle of fabric, and she imagines him lying down on his recently acquired bed. “More like she wants to give up control.”

“Tell me about it,” she says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth her eyes widen. Surely she did not just ask him that. But apparently Electra did. “So I can tell you if it’s degrading,” she adds.

Mulder hums wistfully and she feels a hearty throb between her legs. This is objectively wrong. She should stop.

“There are several variations, but I’ll tell you my favorite one,” he begins. “She’s in a shitty mood, and she’s acting pretty bitchy.”

Scully scoffs reflexively, then cringes at her slip-up.

“I didn’t say she was being a bitch,” he corrects. “And you know it turns me on when she’s like that. I mean it in a complimentary way.”

“Right,” Scully says, feeling flustered between pretending to be Electra and gathering so much surprising information in such a short amount of time. He likes it when she’s a bitch to him?

“Anyway, she’s cranky and irritable, and we’re at the office,” he continues.

She’s picturing it now in her head, the two of them in the basement office, and Scully in a bad mood. It’s easy enough to imagine as it’s a semi-frequent occurrence.

“She says something to me, something derisive, and I snap at her and suggest that she needs an attitude adjustment.”

“Uh-huh,” Scully says, hanging onto his every word in eager anticipation of what comes next.

“I think it’s pertinent that I’m already hard,” he says.

“In the office?” she asks.

“No, I mean right now, while I’m telling you this. I’m already hard and it’s not even to the juicy part yet.”

Scully squirms on her couch, ashamed, and uncomfortable, and decidedly aroused. Mulder’s erect penis is something she’s given more than a passing thought to, and knowing it’s right there on the other end of the line is certainly captivating.

“...Wow,” she says, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“So I tell her she needs an attitude adjustment, and she says ‘then why don’t you give me one?’ a little bit haughty, like she’s daring me because she doesn’t think I’ll do it.”

“And then what?” Scully asks, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Mulder groans softly, not at all attempting to hide it, and she starts to squeeze her thighs together rhythmically.

“She’s wearing a skirt,” he says, his voice husky. “I walk over to her and I grab her by the waist and pick her up, put her on top of the desk.”

“Your desk?” Scully asks. She wants to be sure she’s picturing it just right.

“Yeah. I put her on top of the desk and she’s looking at me like…like what the fuck are you doing ? But I can tell that she’s curious. She wants to see what I’m going to do.”

Scully is having the same experience as the version of herself in Mulder’s fantasy. She desperately wants to know where he’s going to take this. Where he wishes he could take it.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna eat her pussy,” he says without hesitation, and Scully sucks in a breath when her clit throbs violently at the idea. “But first I kiss her, ease her into it. She’s a little resistant at first—not like she tells me no or anything—but she’s worried we’ll get caught.”

Scully can no longer resist the urge to touch herself. She slips her free hand under her pajama pants and sighs with relief as her fingers glide over her slick lips.

“Are you touching yourself?”

She snatches her hand back and sits up, then looks around, half expecting to see him standing in her kitchen.

“What?” she stutters, embarrassed and confused.

“I know you aren’t actually doing it,” Mulder says, his voice momentarily returning to its normal cadence. “But I thought you might humor me.”

“Oh,” Scully says, sinking back into the cushions as her racing heart begins to slow. “...Are you?”

“Of course,” he says, and she knows that he is not pretending.

“Then…yes, I am,” she says, sliding her hand back under her pants. “Please continue.”

“So we do this whole ‘we can’t do this here, it’s against policy’ bit, which I’m a huge fan of. Maybe that’s fucked up, but I like to imagine that she tries to resist the urge on principle, but she can’t because she wants me too much.”

Scully is reminded of an occasion on which she slipped one of Mulder’s well-worn tapes out of the bottom drawer of his desk and into her purse, curious to see what kind of porn he gravitates towards. In the privacy of her apartment, she’d been surprised and intrigued to find that the tape was a series of clips from different movies, all depicting covert trysts between people who expressed first that they should not be doing what they were about to do, and then what they were doing, and finally what they’d just done.

“I don’t think that’s fucked up,” she tells him, sinking her middle finger into her cunt to the second knuckle.

“I take off her jacket, and unbutton her blouse, and then I just pull her bra down to get at her tits. I don’t even bother taking it off.”

She never imagined that Mulder would be inclined to use the word “tits,” but she’s surprised to find that it doesn’t bother her one bit. She’s much more interested in what he plans to do with her tits than she is with what he calls them.

“She has incredible tits,” he says, and she realizes that he’s speaking from an informed place because he’s seen her nude. Given, she was half dead, but it seems she still managed to make an impression, which is oddly gratifying. “I suck on her nipples and she’s fucking feral. She just…turns to putty. I know she’ll let me do anything to her. Anything I want.”

His voice has a staccato quality that leads her to believe that he’s stroking himself, and rather quickly at that. Scully swirls her slippery finger around her clit in time with the little hiccups in his words.

“But all I want is to taste her. Make her come in my mouth,” he says, and she knows she’s going to come right here on her couch if they keep this up. “So I tell her to lay back and I tear her pantyhose, then push her skirt up. She’s wearing these little white panties I’ve seen in her suitcase. Lace. I pull them to the side so I can see her.”

Later, she will recall his comment about her little white panties and wonder how many times he’s explored the contents of her suitcase or her underwear drawer. At the moment, though, she’s picturing him looking between her legs with a hungry expression on his face while she finger-fucks herself.

“She’s so wet I can see it running out of her. And her lips are all swollen and—fuck. I can’t resist so I get on my knees and bury my face in her pussy. She tastes so good and I’m so turned on that I get my dick out and jerk off while I eat her.”

Scully is beyond the point of forming words. She’s hovering just before the edge, ready to tumble over at the slightest provocation. She can only hope that he keeps talking.

“She grabs my head and digs her fingernails into my scalp, and I can hardly breathe but I don’t care. I can feel her quivering and pulsing on my lips and around my tongue, and then she moans and tells me she’s gonna come, and her whole cunt is just…throbbing against my face. She comes so hard she knocks half the shit off my desk. And then I come, right on the floor, because I can’t hold back. It’s too good.”

Scully is stonily silent as she comes around her own fingers, imagining that they are Mulder’s tongue and that the press of her own palm is his face tucked tightly between her legs. It’s powerful, rivaling anything she’s produced with her vibrator as of late, and she is only marginally aware of his soft grunts as he does the same on the other end of the line.

As she slowly comes down and the haze of lust fades away, she realizes what she’s just done and acute shame washes over her.

“Damn,” Mulder says, sounding satisfied. There is a long pause while they each collect their thoughts. “So, what do you think?”

Scully blinks stupidly, her hand still resting over her soaking wet cunt.

“About what?”

“Is it misogynistic? The fantasy?”

“Oh,” she says, pulling her hand free and sitting up on the couch. “Um, no, I don’t think so. I think bringing a woman to orgasm with no expectation of reciprocation is about the least misogynist thing I can think of, actually.”

Mulder chuckles.

“Well, that clears most of my other fantasies, then, because that is the running theme.”

“Really,” she says, more an expression of surprise than a question.

“With her, yes,” he says. She wants to ask him so many questions, but he cuts her off. “I think I’m just about at my weekly minute cap before I risk being late on rent, so I better let you go. Thanks for calling back.”

“Right, of course,” Scully says awkwardly, remembering that she is currently playing the role of Electra, the phone sex operator. “Have a good night.”

“You, too, Electra. Bye.”

Scully hangs up and then sits there for several minutes, shell shocked. When the phone, which is still in her hand, begins to ring, she startles so violently she drops it on the floor, then scrambles to fish it out from under the couch.

“Hello?” she says urgently, just before the machine picks up.

“Hey, Scully, it’s me,” he says, and the sound of his voice is like an aphrodisiac, even though it’s been less than twenty minutes since her orgasm.

“Hi,” she says, her voice unnaturally loud.

“Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“I was actually just about to call you,” she says, glancing at the clock. “I’m not feeling well and I think I might take the day off tomorrow to rest.”

There is an unnaturally long pause on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Can I bring you anything?”

“No, Mulder, you don’t need to do that. It’s just a cold,” she insists.

“I’ll bring you lunch,” he says. “You like that soup from the Thai place, right?”

She smiles despite the absurdity of this entire situation.

“I do. Thank you, Mulder.”

“Happy to do it. Get some rest, G-Woman.”

“I will. Goodnight.” She’s pulling the phone away from her ear when she hears him speaking again. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah…um…Did you call me earlier?”

“...What do you mean?”

“Like half an hour ago, did you call me?” He sounds nervous, and she’s not sure what he’s hoping to hear.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” he repeats.

“No…No, I don’t think that was me,” she says ambiguously.

Another unnaturally long pause.

“Okay, never mind. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

Now it is she who speaks again when she’s not sure if he’s already hung up.

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

The speed of his answer tells her that he still had the phone to his ear.

“What if I did call you?”

She can practically hear his thoughts racing through the phone.

“...Then I would wonder if I’m still welcome to come by and bring you lunch tomorrow,” he says, sounding markedly meek.

“Of course you are,” she tells him, relieved that he isn’t angry. In fact, he sounds more concerned that she might be angry with him . “But to be clear, we’re having soup for lunch. Just soup. Because I’m sick.”

The overture, while thinly veiled, is so forward that she feels like she might vomit.

“Just soup,” he repeats. “But only because you’re sick?”

Scully pulls in a deep breath.

“I could see myself enjoying other meals when I’m feeling better,” she says on an exhale, then covers her own eyes with her hand.

“Well, then you should get some rest,” he says, and that gravelly, hungry quality from his phone call with Electra has suddenly found its way back into his voice. “We’ll want you back in action as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” she says, blushing and cringing and buzzing all at once. “Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Goodnight, Electra.”

He hangs up before she has a chance to respond.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #smut #xfiles #the xfiles

116 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 5 months

Text

Replies

Ace and Deuce special! Kind of… I guess lol Since our last post was about them. But there’re also some about AzuIde!

Anonymous asked:

Context of the latest post? :)

I think it’s pretty self-explanatory, Anon~ But I’ll let the second Anon answer your question:

Anonymous asked:

Hey Ace finally got laid!

The entire twst cast does the “omedetou” clap 😔👏👏👏 Congratulations, Ace!

Anonymous asked:

Not their faults that they share the same room, Riddle. XD Also, poor other two roommates. (Freshmen rooms have 4 roommates, 2nd year have two roommates, and 3rd year have their own rooms. Only Dorm leaders have their own rooms)

No-no, it’s entirely their fault, why would they even do something like this?! (Cue angry virgin noise)

And yeah, I honestly don’t know how their roommates survive this, but who knows, maybe they are out for some reason and ADeuce decided that they won’t get another chance like that and got a little bit too excited~

Anonymous asked:

Do you have any ace thoughts?? I have these like "twst character phases" where one character becomes my chew toy for a week and then gets discarded and ace is my latest victim 🤭🤭

I've kinda been thinking about pining!adeuce except deuce keeps fucking other people to cope and ace is insanely jealous and keeps avoiding him. Maybe he sleeps with one of their classmates (Jamil or epel maybe?? I like jamiace a lot) as a sort of "revenge"?? Which probably works after ace purposely doesn't hide the marks left from his "wicked plan" LMAO

Aftermath is they either fuck and become occasional fuck buddies making their pining worse or they avoid each other and make things worse (either way everyone is getting a headache from these two)

Ace is a nice chew toy, Anon, good choice! We have a similar situation, even though there are characters that are always our faves, right now we’re going through the first book again, so we’ve been kind of rediscovering Ace and Deuce lol

Ace and Jamil are a fun combo (poor Jamil just has to suffer because of his basketball club boys lol), but I honestly don’t know if Jamil would be up for something like that. Maybe he has his reasons though, it all depends on a scenario I guess.

Deuce feeling jealous despite knowing darn well that Ace is purposefully trying to make him jealous… god, how complicated things could be between them lol

I do like the idea of ADeuce being fuck buddies and not dating each other despite the fact that they’re super obviously are into each other and want to be together though; there are some nice doujins about Ace going through a crisis because he definitely wants to keep sleeping with Deuce, but just can’t help but cling to the “we’re just friends” thing, hurting Deuce very deeply. Wow this sounds more tragic that I thought lol but it doesn’t has to be: these idiots are hilarious, and watching them trying to figure shit out, fight, make out and fight again, and then have sex and stop talking to each other and then fight again is peak comedy. And also super headache inducing LOL

Anonymous asked:

Okay someone has to say it, next to Jack Deuce looks like a fucking stick. To be fair, you could be the buffest guy around and look like a stick next to Jack, he’s just THAT beefy

Yeah, Jack is hella big, so he has this aura that makes everyone shrink when they’re near him lol But I’m also prone to exaggerations when it comes to size difference. I love it too much

Anonymous asked:

i was the beach anon..also the dead dove anon from awhile ago, i’d love to discuss the beach scene potential in dms of that’d be ok

Oh hi Anon! :)

Sure, but only if you’re okay with me super slow (I mean it) with my replies. I absolutely hate making people wait and giving lackluster replies, but I also don’t have a lot of time and energy apart from drawing, which makes me a terrible person for chatting…

Anonymous asked:

Hello hi hello I am one simple man who enjoys AzuIdi very much- may your brain always be full of ideas and your hands be capable of completing all your missions

Thank you so much, Anon, it means a lot <3 God how much I want to complete all my missions. There must be more Azul/Idia in the world, and I’m happy to know that there are people who are excited to see them.

Anonymous asked:

So I was looking into your Azuide marriage AU and I find it very interesting so I was wondering if say Idia cheated on Azul for some mysterious unknown reason...what would Azul do??

Ohh thank you for your interest, Anon! I’m glad you like it :)

It honestly depends on the circumstances, but it would still be bad. Azul’s first instinct would be to learn anything he could about that person and how they know Idia. He would talk to Idia about it himself, but even if Idia just tells him everything as it is, Azul needs his own independent research to check if Idia is lying to him or not. Yes he is THAT petty lol

Azul is very bad at forgiving people, and cheating on him is one of the biggest betrayals a person could present him with. Of course, their marriage isn’t a romantic one, but it doesn’t change Azul’s feelings, and he’d be very hurt.

You’ve seen the “bad ending” scenario and probably have read my replies about it; although it’s kind of vague, but this is the reaction I’m picturing, to be honest. Maybe not as drastic, but he’ll also stop giving Idia any kind of privacy: either Jade or Floyd is going to be around him at all times, looking at his monitors, watching what he’s doing, who he’s talking to. Just to make sure that he isn’t doing anything stupid~

Oh, and Azul’s also going to scare that other person away or even ruin their life. Easily.

But there are also some exceptions that would make Azul begrudgingly look the other way. If Idia was to have an affair with Lilia or Ortho, Azul is going to just swallow his pride and try to act calm. But he’d still be super hurt and probably punish Idia in some other way.

#replies

31 notes · View notes

theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

Text

Chapter 4 of Framing Escobar - Javi P x F!Reader. Left Reeling

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog festuring porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: My terrible Spanish (I'm still learning) Some canon-typical violence/threat, no smut, lots of plot.

Word count 3.1k Read on AO3 Drop me a Tip on Ko-Fi

<- Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

Left Reeling

You find yourself sat on a plane to Medellín, fingers drumming nervously against the arm rest as you try to settle down. Already you’re back in the air, the second time on a plane ever, and the second time in a week no less. The flight is packed but by some stroke of luck you have the row to yourself.

You’re exhausted, only managing a few hours of sleep last night and the early flight meant you were up at the crack of dawn. You feel like ass. Your hand is swollen and stiff, and you want to sleep but the flight is only an hour, so you decided on practicing your Spanish instead. You thumb through the flash cards and notebook you use to study but none of it is going in.

“Hey,” Javier’s voice rumbles from the aisle and you sigh, you look at him with as little emotion as you can muster but your traitorous heart flutters at the sight of him, “I come in peace.” He says as he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. He was wearing a tight short sleeve white shirt and dark blue jeans, his signature aviators perched on the end of his nose.

“What do you want Peña?” You grumble, secretly relishing the distraction, but you’re still bitter, and you still feel ashamed, naïve. Not because he fucked a prostitute, no, that part doesn’t bother you, it was that you feel used, discarded.

“I want to apologise,” He starts as he gestures to the seat next to you, “May I?”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Nope.” He says triumphantly and flops down in the seat next to you. You smell his cologne, cigarettes, and that same earthy musk you could still smell on your sheets this morning. You push the thought aside, you don’t want to think about him this way, not anymore.

“Let’s hear it.” You say as you study the mauve smudge that had spread all the way up to his cheekbone. You actually felt a little bad, but not enough to truly feel sorry.

“I won’t apologise about what you saw between me and Helena, our relationship is,” He pauses, trying to find the right words as he takes off his sunglasses, “Complicated.”

“Didn’t seem that complicated to me,” You bite back but you sigh, flexing your hand again as it rubs against the bandage, you’d re-dressed it before boarding and it wasn’t as well wrapped as Connie’s handiwork, “Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier, I haven’t been sleeping well and I was probably more than a little high on solvents from cleaning.”

“But not sorry for punching me?” He smirks, clearly appreciating your candour. The curve of his lips and the small dimple reminding you just how easily he made you smile in return.

“Oh no, you definitely deserved that.” You say, cocking an eyebrow as he rolls his eyes at you. You like him, you really do, but you can’t trust him.

“I’ll admit, I did come on a little strong last night,” He shrugs and looks down at you, “But Helena needs to get out of this damned country and I’m doing everything to help her.”

“By screwing her?” Your bluntness draws a chuckle from him, and the sound softens your heart a little. You try not to give in to the compulsion to forgive him, to give into the desire that still burned for him.

“She doesn’t let me pay her, but pillow talk is an interesting chance to learn about the other business associates she meets with.” He says, his voice low, you can hear the conflict in his tone and instinctively you put your hand on his arm. The pain shoots through your knuckles but you don’t pull away and neither does Javi, he looks down at your hand then back up to your eyes.

“I hope you can get her out Javier, I really do.” You say softly.

“I prefer it when you call me Javi.” He whispers as he leans in hovering over you as you shudder under him.

“Fuck off Peña,” You growl as you pool what’s left of your resolve to reject him, you want to just let him touch you, kiss you, make you moan up into his lips, but you won’t let him, “Go back to your seat.”

“Sí chica,” he flashes you a smile as he pulls back, “But we need to talk, properly, after we’re back in Bogotá.”

“Sure Javi,” You wink at him as he stands, disarming him as he shakes his head at you, “See you later.”

The rest of the flight was uneventful as you try to put Javier Peña out of your mind. You are still mad, but more at yourself for being so obsessive over a man you had only just met, whom you barely know. But you are a little less angry at him now you understood the situation a little better.

I won’t forgive him, not yet, but I don’t hate him.

You think as you manage to relax a little, closing your eyes for the rest of the short flight.

***

You sit at the chair you had brought to the window, you use a bible and towels to make an improvised tripod, wedging a book of matches under the camera on top of the Bible to adjust the angle of the camera. You know that Steve and Javi are on the other side of the hotel with Carrillo, the head of the Search Bloc. He had been cool in his reception of you when you arrived.

You attach the remote shutter cord and sit, waiting for the first of the Narcos to arrive. You don’t have to wait long but immediately you see a flaw in your tripod plan. You’ve got the wrong angle. You curse under your breath and tear off the bandage, the material discarded onto the floor as you grip the camera in both hands. You fumble with the dials to adjust the shutter speed, cursing as you see that you’ve already missed a few shots.

You wince at the pain pulsing through your hand but you’re taking shots as fast as you can, adjusting the focus where necessary but your prep work is good enough that there are only minor adjustments to be made. Every press of the shutter release sends fire through your arm, you’re bleeding from your knuckles and the metallic tang of blood, sweat, and the cheap air freshener in the room blends like a noxious gas over you. You had no idea who the people are as you snap away, training in on faces and cars where you could. You go through six reels and are winding in the seventh when you see them pull up, these two men you recognise.

Through the lens you see the slightly portly frame of Pablo Escobar, you focus on his face and he practically looks straight at you as you click the shutter control. You next focus on Gustavo, his lithe, ruthless brother. His hat and glasses obscure most of his face but you make do with the angle you have.

You fill the reel with just the pair before you flop back with a sigh, your brow slick with sweat. You consider loading another film but it’s clear, the guests of honour are here, everyone else had arrived before them. You slump back onto the floor of the hotel room and let out a shaky breath and pop a few Tylenol and chug on your flask of cool water. You look down to the camera to see rivulets of blood running down the body and you curse. You take it into the bathroom and use toilet paper to pat it down.

Only after you make sure the camera is ok do you wash your hands and get the small first aid kit out. The skin has split open further and the wounds are bleeding freely. Your knuckles are slick with blood and you curse your own stupidity.

Idiot, should have kept the bandage on.

You scold yourself but patch yourself up the best you can, using up the last of the bandages in your first aid kit around your sore knuckles. You secure it with medical tape and take out the last film, stowing it in the secret pocket within the camera bag. You pack up your equipment, taking the bloodied bandage with you and setting the room back up as you found it.

You flopped onto the lavish double bed. Steve and Javi said they’d come get you once they knew the coast was clear. You let yourself close your eyes for a moment, the events of the last forty-eight hours catch you unawares as you fall asleep almost instantly.

***

You wake suddenly, it’s pitch black, you rub your eyes with your uninjured hand and get up to turn the lights on. You check your watch and it’s ten minutes after midnight. You feel the blood drain from your face as you realise something must have gone wrong.

You sit and wait for a while, there had been no contingency for you, there’s no backup plan. You pace, fear gnawing at you as you try not to panic. A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts but as you reach the door you grab the revolver from your bag. You snap the barrel open, checking it spins smoothly before closing it, you hold it left-handed, but at this range that didn’t really matter.

“Hola, quien esta ahi?” You piece together your rusty Spanish in a panic as you look through the peep hole to see two Search Bloc uniforms in the hallway. Something about it doesn’t sit right and you tense as they announce themselves.

“Soy Vasquez.” The first voice calls.

“Soy Gutierrez.” The second responds in turn but you can’t ignore the sick twist in your stomach, Javi and Steve were supposed to be the ones to get you, no-one else.

“¿A quién informas Vasquez?” You ask, hoping your terrible Spanish doesn’t give too much away as you ask who they report to.

“Colonel Carrillo, Por favor ven con nosotras.” Vasquez says firmly, clearly getting impatient but your gut tells you to refuse these men.

“No, lo siento, no te conozco.” You reply, you don’t recognise their voices, nor their names.

“Please, miss.” Vasquez breaks into English to try and console you, but it only makes you more suspicious.

If they know who you are, why aren’t they using your name?

“If you want me out of this room, you’ll bring the blonde Gringo to me. No exceptions.” You negotiate through the door.

“Puta mierda.” Vasquez grunts but you hear the pair leave without a word. You wait for another painful twenty minutes until another knock at the door launches you to your feet.

“Hey hon, it’s me.” The sound of Steve’s voice almost drives you to tears, the tension of the evening finally easing. You gather your things, then check to see if Steve is alone through the peep hole. He is. You practically rip the door open to his stern face.

“Sorry Steve, I just couldn’t trust that they were legit.” You breathe, trying not to fumble over your words as the coil of nerves unwound in your belly. It’s Steve’s turn to look worried as he quickly scans the hallway, eyes darting wildly before he speaks.

“Trust who?” He looks at you with concern and a pit opens up in your stomach.

“The Search Bloc guys? They were just here.” You say with wide eyes as you see the colour leave Steve’s face.

“They get a good look at you?” He asks urgently as he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you down the hall. You wince a little as he jostles your hand but you don’t say anything, staying alive was worth the discomfort.

“No I didn’t open the door.” You respond breathlessly, panic making your voice weak.

“Good, you give them your name?” He asks as you turn a corner and slip into the stairwell.

“No, I did call you the blonde Gringo though.” You admit with a sheepish grin as you realise that could have been a slip up but Steve nods. You hurry down the concrete stairwell, not daring to look back, not even for a second. Sweat pours down your face, soaking your clothes, making your boots rub against your ankles.

“That’s fine, isn’t that much to go on, but if they did connect the dots, I’m already on their shit list so don’t sweat that hon.” He says as you hit the ground floor. He pauses at the double doors that lead into the lobby and you almost crash into him, but you catch yourself at the last minute.

“Ok, so what the fuck happened?” You ask with a hiss as you head into the lobby, it was full of cartel guys. The hardware on their hips and the genuine Rolexes on their wrists told you as much. You try not to make eye contact with any of them, opting to focus on the glass doors ahead of you.

“Javi’s girl got into some serious trouble,” he leans down to whisper into your ear, “She’s in the hospital and it’s not great.” You swallow hard at the realisation and try to keep a steady pace but you notice two cartel guys looking you and Steve up and down with suspicion. One guy in particular, greasy hair, pencil moustache seems to take specific interest. A hand reaches for the sub-machine gun on his hip and you panic.

“Steve, play along.” You warn before you spin him to face you. You hook your arms round his neck and pull his tall frame down to you. You press your lips into his and you try not to think about how strange it felt as you tried to play the part. His hands slide down to your ass, grabbing softly with both hands. You press your tongue against the seam of his lips and he obliges, deepening the kiss superficially as you lifelessly flop your tongue into his mouth.

You should feel ashamed, kissing a married man, but you were too terrified to care. All that matters was getting out of there alive.

“This is unexpected.” He breathes against your cheek before he kisses your neck lightly, there’s no feeling in it, and you’re glad of that.

“Yeah well if we look like drunk tourists, we’re less likely to be shot right?” You breathe back as you pull away, stumbling back as you giggle loudly.

“Oh Jerry, come on let’s go smoke.” You say loudly, pulling Steve with you as you stumble through the lobby.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins as he follows you out, you look out of the corner of your eye and relax as you see the Cartel guys look away. It was convincing enough to you, and it seems enough to let you slip away.

“That was quick thinking, nice one kid.” Steve laughs as you head down the street away from the hotel. His face is slick with sweat as he offers you a cigarette but you refuse, your lungs are already burning with exhaustion.

“Honestly I thought I was about to die, I’m fucking shaken up.” You admit as you try not to vibrate as you walked. You check your camera bag, all rolls accounted for, and your gun stowed safely. You should feel calm, but the adrenaline coursing through you won’t let up.

“You’ll get sort of, kinda, used to that.” Steve admits softly as you walk through the streets of Medellín. The cool night air helps clear your head a little, soothing the tension in your chest, and the ache in your hand.

“We’re getting on the next flight out of here ok hon?” Steve says as you round the corner to a brightly lit part of the side streets, you see the outline of Carrillo and Javier up ahead and your heart catches in your throat at the sight of him.

“You two ready to ship out?” Javier asks as he notices you, you swear he lets out a sigh of relief, but it’s dark and you put it down to wishful thinking and adrenaline overload.

“Yes boss.” The phrase is out of your mouth before you could help it and Steve’s groan is audible behind you.

“You’ve done it now hon, his ego is going to be insufferable now.” Steve sighs as Carrillo gets into the driver seat of the truck, Javi leans up towards Steve, and he says something in a hushed tone before Steve nods and climbs into the front passenger seat. You open the back driver-side door and hop in, Javier slides in a second after you and immediately his hand is on yours, holding it gently as he pulls you against him.

You want to be mad, you want to push him away and tell him to never touch you again. But you don’t. You’re exhausted and the unexpected delicate natured embrace of Javier Peña in the dark backseat of the truck is just the thing you need to soothe your nerves. He doesn’t move to touch you in any other way than just to pin you against him.

“I’m sorry about the last few days,” Javier whispers in your ear as you hear the strain filter through his usual bravado, “I’m not promising anything about the future, or me, but would you consider giving me another shot?”

“I’ll sleep on it, Peña.” You say as dryly as you can muster. You already want to say yes, but you also want to make sure this wasn’t guilt or regret after what happened to Helena tonight. You felt childish and stupid about your outburst now, but you try not to dwell on it.

“Then sleep.” He grumbles as he rests his chin on top of your head with a wince as he adjusts for his swollen jaw. But he’s right, you’re exhausted, and it only takes a few seconds before you’re fast asleep. The oddly comforting smell of tobacco, whiskey, and Javi enveloping you in a sensory blanket as you fall asleep in Javier Peña’s arms for a second time, and you hope it won’t be the last.

Thanks for reading and follow @twwaktnotifs for updates on my work!

<- Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

28 notes · View notes

altair214 · 10 months

Text

Dreamling for Ukraine Creator-

@altair214 (altair2714 on ao3)

Hello Dreamers, I’m participating in the fandom charity drive @dreamlingforukraine!

That means I’ll be creating fanworks in exchange for donations for one of these charities which are providing relief for the victims of the war in Ukraine and the destruction of Kakhovka Dam.

What I offer:

Fanfiction, or colored pencil sketches of birds or moths such as these

Suggested Donation Amount:

For fic: $15 for a fic between 1,000 and 2,000 words, $25 for a fic between 2,000 and 3,000 words, and $35 for a fic between 4,000 and 5,000 words

For art: $15 for a small drawing (like the chickadee), $25 for a medium sized drawing (like the blue jay or the nightinggale), and $35 for a large / more detailed drawing (more than one bird, a large bird in flight, etc)

Accepting prompts:

For fic: Yes! Feel free to give me prompts, be as specific or as non-specific as you like or you can ask me to come up with an idea (I generally have a lot of them)

For art: Yes! As long as it’s within my skill level, which right now is somewhat limited

Additional Info:

Expected turnaround time:

For fic: 2- 8 weeks,

For art: 1- 3 weeks

Will make/Won’t make:

For fic: I don’t generally write smut, but as long as it’s sfw, it should be fine (if you have questions please ask)

For art: As long as it’s a bird it’s probably fine, though if I don’t feel like I can do the prompt justice, then I’ll say so, once again if you have questions, please ask

2 open slots for fic

4 open slots for art

How to commission me:

I will be accepting donations indefinitely

Send a message here telling me what you'd like me to make for you.

Wait until I reply. Do not donate until I confirm your commission! All money donated to charity is non-refundable.

Once I confirm your commission, donate [within the next 48 hours or other time frame of your choice]. PLEASE remember to screencap your receipt and black out your personal details. You need to send me this to prove you’ve donated.

Once I’ve seen your receipt, I’ll start working on your project.

I reserve the right to refuse commissions if I’m not comfortable with them or feel like I’m unable to accept them for lack of time, skill or any other reason.

#dreamlingforukraine #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #birds #bird art

31 notes · View notes

cthonyxa · 30 days

Text

Jack and June | Quint and Dirk I really need to draw my nephew’s birthday present, so I decided to start with practicing the Last Kids on Earth book style (and get some decent reference material for the final drawing in the process). Except all the references I could find were 3/4 side views only!

I’m tempted to go through all my books and see if that’s literally just how Douglas Holgate always draws them (if so, whyyyyy), but there’s a lot of books so I probably won’t. So, I ended up getting some practice in creating proper turnarounds. The downside, though, is that I wasn’t able to get all the main cast done, just Jack and June. I guess that’s content for next week, though.

If you’re a LKOE fan, gimme a shout out in the comments and let me know how I did!

#art #artists on tumblr #digital art #fanart #last kids on earth #lkoe #jack sullivan #june del toro #character turnaround #tlkoe #tlkoe fandom

11 notes · View notes

thaliaisalesbian · 10 months

Text

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 8: who used to be me

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Steve knows he went to bed with someone on either side of him, so waking up with no one there is a little concerning.

There’s a spike of panic before he recognizes Jonathan’s bedroom, with one of Nancy’s skirts hanging over a chair.

The kids—the kids are out.

They’re not in the Upside Down anymore.

He’s not in the Upside Down anymore.

“You awake, Steve?” Mrs. Byers sits next to him on the bed, feeling his forehead. “Oh, good, your fever’s much lower.”

“Good morning.” He tries to sit up, but it pulls something in his side and then he remembers the stitches.

“It’s almost two, sweetie. It’s not surprising, you were overwhelmed yesterday. You missed Irene’s visit, but she fixed up your stitches and changed your bandages. You won’t be off the IV for a few more days, though. And you'll have the catheter in until you can reliably stand on your own.” He winces despite himself when she mentions that. Steve really just wants to forget it's there.

He hardly remembers waking up yesterday. Hopper was there for a lot of it. El, too. She’d read to him, one of those kids’ chapter books. He thinks if he remembered more of it, he’d know what book it was.

And then the kids. He’d seen them all, they’d had a fort? And then Nancy and Jonathan had made him come back to bed.

“I just need to check those again, and when Jonathan gets home from school, he can help you take a shower. I could help you now, if you’d prefer, or you could wait for Hopper. Whatever you want to do.” A shower sounds fantastic, but he’d rather take one alone.

The main problem is that he won’t be able to stand for that long. Not on his own. It’ll hurt, and if they asked his nurse or whoever, they’d probably say no.

“I think I’ll wait for Jonathan.”

“That’s not a problem.” She props him up on different pillows—one smells a little like the shampoo Nancy uses, so he knows her lying down next to him wasn’t part of a dream or something—and hands him a glass of water.

“So, I’m thinking soup for lunch.” Mrs. Byers doesn’t need him to help keep up the conversation, which is good, because he doesn’t have much of anything to say right now. She talks about the kids’ fort and how they’d gotten to have a sleepover last night, how Hopper’s been talking to that Owens guy and he might have to go to the lab and have some tests run to make sure he’s okay.

She keeps talking the whole time it takes for him to drink the whole glass of water.

It’s half an hour, at least. It settles weirdly in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s from the remnants of the fever or if it’s everything else going in his head right now.

“Do you think you can move out to the living room? I can’t carry you, but you can lean on me.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” It’s awkward, because he’s so much taller than she is, but it hurts less than walking alone does, and once he’s in the living room with evidence that the kids were there last night, safe and not dead, he’s able to relax a little more.

The fort is still set up, Will’s art supplies are out, and when he sits on the couch he can see El sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

“Is she…?”

“She’s just fine. You might not remember, but she tried drawing you out of your head yesterday. It tired her out a little, is all. She fell asleep not long before you woke up.”

“Okay.” Still, once Mrs. Byers has come back with the soup, El doesn’t sleep for long.

“You lied.” She looks at him.

“I didn’t lie, El.” On a technicality. “I never promised I would get out first, because I didn’t know what would happen.”

“You are not allowed to be alone now.”

“What?”

“Joyce and Hop said so.”

“El, we were talking about the next few weeks, until he heals up a little more.” Mrs. Byers interjects kindly. “Not ever again. I’m sure even Steve likes time to himself.”

Weeks? He’s not that bad off, he can even walk with help.

“I do, Mrs. Byers. It’d be kind of impossible for someone to be with me all the time anyway, kiddo. We all have school or work.” From the look on Mrs. Byers’ face, he’s going to be getting shit later for calling her ‘Mrs. Byers’, but she won’t say anything in front of El.

Hopefully.

El finally sits down, squishing against his non-bitten side. “You are not allowed to be alone. My rule.”

“El, you can’t go everywhere with me.”

“I will watch instead.”

“No. I love you, kid, but there are things I do that you don’t need to see and I know you can’t watch people for long.”

“It will be… practice.”

“Spying on me doesn’t count as practice.”

“Once a day?”

“No.”

“Every other day?”

“Still no.”

“Three times a week.”

“Nope.”

“Twice a week?” He shakes his head, tugging on her short hair a little. “Once a week?”

“Once a week will work, I guess. But only when I’m at school, and not after 2:30, okay?”

He usually has practice around then, and she doesn’t need to see the boys’ locker room.

If he’s allowed to practice again, that is. He wasn’t allowed to before all of this. His doctor had been very insistent upon it. And with all the new damage to his body… all the new scars… he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle being in a locker room again.

His mother would throw a fit if she could see him now. He's going to scar, that's for sure. And he's too skinny now for even her to think it looks pretty.

He wonders if she even knows that he was gone. He hasn’t asked Mrs. Byers yet; he’s a little scared of what the answer will be.

“Why?”

“I have practice that I have to change for, and after I have to change again. So nothing after 2:30, agreed?”

“Once a week, before two-three-oh.” She repeats, and he knows she’s just messing with him by the little grin on her face.

“You got it, Ellie.”

“No.” Her nose scrunches up and she shakes her head, like she can rid herself of the nickname that way.

“Mom? Can I see Steve now?” Will’s backpack is half unzipped. and if he couldn’t see Jonathan right behind him he might be more worried about him losing all of his schoolwork. For a kid who typically keeps his things organized (or more organized than Steve had at his age, anyway), it’s a strange sight. “Steve!”

“Hey, buddy.” Will’s the one kid he hasn’t really spoken with much—certainly not as much as El, Dustin, and Max. He has a lot more common ground with Lucas, and even Mike, as annoying as he is. Will, though, is quieter, and while they talk when he’s over, it's not the same. Mike is the only other kid who doesn’t call him on the walkies whenever they need something, even if it’s just to talk after a nightmare.

It's because Mike and Will have Nancy and Jonathan, he knows. But he hopes they know they can call him. If they need to.

“You’re awake!”

“Yep, and almost fever-free.”

“You’re not allowed to do that again.” Will looks almost as serious as El had when she’d told him he wasn’t allowed to be alone. He doesn’t quite manage it; his worried face is almost identical to Jonathan’s.

Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t know that. Or at least, he shouldn’t admit to knowing it. He can’t really remember the first time he realized he was noticing Jonathan, but the fact that it’s been long enough that he’s got his facial expression memorized?

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

Will pokes his shoulder lightly when he doesn’t answer. “I can’t make that promise, Will.”

“So you won’t make it to me, either?” Jonathan asks, and if it weren’t for El, his nearly-empty soup bowl would have spilled all over the carpet. Since when does Jonathan care about him putting himself in danger?

He's probably just saying it for the kids' sake.

Jonathan can’t mean it any other way, right?

(He doesn’t let himself think about the way Nancy and Jonathan had clearly shared a bed with him last night.)

“You know why I can’t.” Steve’s not going to say he’ll stop putting himself in danger when it really means he’s giving the kids time to run, get help, whatever.

“Jonathan,” Mrs. Byers says, maybe sensing that this is probably going to derail into an argument of everyone against him trying to get him to make a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep, “would you mind picking out a new set of clothes for Steve? He’s not quite steady enough on his feet for him to shower alone, so it was best to wait.”

“Of course, Mom.” He stops by the couch to give her a kiss on the cheek and ruffle El’s hair.

Steve tries to ignore the way his stomach sours when Jonathan doesn’t touch him at all. He knows what Jonathan thinks of him, he can’t let himself forget that.

“Will, El, please start taking the fort down.”

El looks like she’s going to remain stubbornly pressed against Steve’s side for a minute, but she does pull away without prompting to help Will.

“And you,” Mrs. Byers turns to him, trying to pull off stern but not quite hitting it with the way her lips turn up at the corners. “Call me Joyce. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.”

“Maybe just once more, Mrs. Byers,” He says, just to be cheeky.

“Oh, you!” She laughs. “Jonathan, come get Steve! He thinks he’s funny.”

finish on ao3 or under the cut

Walking with Jonathan is easier than walking with Joyce, at least. They’re closer in height, and he’s not as worried he’s going to crush Jonathan.

Actually, he probably wouldn’t even crush El right now.

“I didn’t know if you’d want a t-shirt or a sweatshirt so I grabbed both.” Jonathan explains once they’re in the bathroom. “Do you just need me to stay in the room?”

He'd love to say no, but he doesn’t think he can.

Once he’s sat on the edge of the tub, Steve can feel his energy flagging. He’d been fine in the living room, and the walk wasn’t even as far as Jonathan’s bedroom, so he doesn’t know why he’s crashing.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can just go back to bed, man, you’ve gone grey.”

“No, we’re already in here.”

“You’re not taking a shower, then. Come on, arms up.” Jonathan somehow manages to strip him down to his boxers.

“Hang on.” Jonathan steps outside the bathroom for a minute, or maybe it’s five. He can’t really tell right now.

“Mom says your stitches can’t get wet, but your ankles will be okay. We’ll just have to rewrap them.” Jonathan covers the bandages on his torso in plastic wrap and takes the ones on his ankles off altogether.

“And Nancy called, she stopped by your house to get you a few things.”

“Okay.” Steve lets Jonathan worry about the water temperature and soap and everything else. Even sitting up without a backrest is taking so much thought, because he has to worry about not popping a stitch.

He hadn’t had time to be this worried about his ankles in the Upside Down, and it’s weird to be thinking about his wounds constantly now.

“Nancy will be here soon, do you just want to sit under the water until she gets here? She mentioned washing your hair for you.” He nods, and Jonathan half-lifts, half-dumps him into the bathtub. He barely fits, but that’s okay, because if he wasn’t forced into sitting up he’s not sure he’d be able to right now.

When Joyce said Steve was awake, Nancy wasn’t expecting to find him nearly passed out in the bathtub. Jonathan’s sitting on the edge, holding a wet washcloth like he’s never seen one before.

“Boys.” She mutters under her breath, not really thinking about it. “You know he wouldn’t have cared, right?” What Steve might care about, though, is the catheter bag on his leg. Joyce and Hopper take care of it, mostly, but Irene had wanted them to learn, too.

“No, he did some of it. I think he just likes sitting under the running water, honestly. It’s probably the first time he’s been clean in weeks.”

She sets down the bag she packed up at Steve’s house; some of his clothes (but not too many, because she thinks she likes seeing him in Jonathan’s and that’s a thought for later), a blanket she knows he finds it hard to sleep without, and his hair products. Not all of them, she doesn’t think he uses them all every day anyway, but enough.

“Nance?” It’s quiet, almost slurred.

“Hey, Steve.” He hardly reacts as she cups water in her hands and carefully pours it over his head.

She should have grabbed a cup from the kitchen. She washes his hair for him carefully.

Nancy’s glad he's not up to conversation, really. She'd probably tell him something she's not ready to… or something he’s not ready to hear.

Tommy had asked about him today. He’d pulled her aside between second and third period, the only ones she doesn’t have time to meet with Jonathan between, and asked her why he’s gone.

She’d had to tell him she didn’t know, and she hadn’t been all that upset about the lie.

He hadn’t pushed.

She’s not sure she wants to tell Steve about that. Tommy might be a safe enough topic, right now.

But she doesn’t want to, not when he’s like this, half-asleep and pliable.

Looking at them like they could leave him to drown in here and that’d be okay.

Instead, she talks about the kids’ latest campaign—he pays more attention to them than he lets on, she knows, because she’s seen him at the school library looking up different terms and rules. He relaxes into her hands when she works the shampoo into his hair.

He’d let her do anything she wanted to, right now.

She wants him to look at her like that in much better situations than this one.

Jonathan must have dug around in the cupboards, because he has a cup ready to rinse the shampoo out, and she could kiss him for it.

“Hi.” Steve looks up at them both, and with his hair wet like this, she can see the little scars from the plate on his head.

To avoid tracing over them with her fingers, she picks up the conditioner and squeezes it maybe a little too hard.

Jonathan doesn’t seem to have the same issue; when she looks at them again, he’s got one hand tilting Steve’s chin up, the fingertips of his other hand delicately finding the paths the scars take into his hairline and across his scalp.

If Steve were more with them, she might tell Jonathan to kiss him.

Nancy knows he wants to; they’ve talked about it. Before Steve heard exactly the wrong thing.

But not now.

Not when Steve’s eyes are so hazy she’s not sure he’ll remember this tomorrow.

Not when they haven’t talked to Steve yet, about any of this.

None of them speak as she rinses out the conditioner, when Jonathan pulls the stopper, when they get Steve changed into a pair of Jonathan’s pants and one of his own slightly-too-big sweatshirts, no t-shirt underneath.

(It’s one she knows fit him perfectly last year.)

They wait until they’ve got him back in bed to rewrap his ankles.

And if Steve grabs each of their wrists loosely—fingers trembling like even this is too much for him to handle—when they try to leave, they don’t have to tell anyone that’s the reason they stay.

They don’t have to tell anyone they weren’t really going to leave anyway.

<- 7 9 ->

24 notes · View notes

mh-dreamscape · 5 months

Text

Mock Fang Vote: Vampire Heart Draculaura!!

Robecca won the “Which Ghoul?” poll so here she is! I also did a quick draw of Elissabat’s face, but I probably won’t keep doing both depending on how busy I get. I already have 3 presentations and 4 papers due next week 😮‍💨

The next poll is style! I was going to do hair, but I think we should have this figured out first! Robecca’s known for her steampunk, but this Draculaura is Victorian! I included collages below in case someone hasn’t seen these yet!

10 notes · View notes

itzynabi · 1 year

Text

last day

summary: in which eve has her last day as mc

set: 4 february 2023

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mention of food and vomiting. tears tears tears. eve being the cutest and most emotionalest mess

an: not a fun day for eve, but it's life. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💘

eve’s masterlist

Eve loved going to work on Saturdays. She loved interviewing people and getting to see so many of her friends, and getting paid while doing it. But she didn’t want to go to work today. Because it would be the last time.

“I don’t wanna go,” Eve whined, kicking her feet out in front of her. She was in the parking lot of Show! Music Core, sitting in the backseat of the car with the door open. She had a cameraman with her filming her last day as MC.

Ari shook her head and sighed. “I know, but you have to. We need to get your makeup done and change into your outfit. Then you need time to go through the script.”

Eve pouted. “No,” she whined. “If we don’t go in then my last day will have to be next week,” she tried to reason. “I know you like the food at the cafeteria, unnie. How are you going to survive without it?”

“I’ll try my hardest,” Ari quickly answered. “Eve, please! We can go watch a movie afterwards to cheer you up,” she bargained.

Eve stopped pouting. “Really?”

“Yes!” Ari nodded. “Just think about what you want to watch an–”

“Puss In Boots!” Eve cheered, taking off her seatbelt and picking up her duffle bag.

“Again?”

“Unnie, that movie is the only thing that will bring me joy today,” Eve said as she exited the car. She shouldered her bag and closed the door behind her. “Oh, hello!” She greeted the cameraman, nodding her head in greeting. “How long were… Did you get that on camera?” The cameraman nodded, moving the camera in an up and down motion, causing Eve to blush. “Ah, MIDZY is going to tease me,” she whined, hitting her head with her hand.

Ari threw her head back in laughter. “It’s because you’re so cute.”

“Then I won’t be cute anymore,” Eve said with a huff, scrunching her face into an ‘angry’ expression, making the cameraman sigh.

“Cute,” he cooed.

“No! I’m not cute.” She pouted. “I’m not going to say or do anything.”

The group of three went up to Eve’s green room, where her hair and makeup team was waiting for her and which was full of flowers.

“Woah!” Eve exclaimed, seeing all the bouquets. “This is so pretty!” She took her phone out and took a few photos. “Thank you!” She bowed to the staff members in the room.

“Happy last day!” Her hairstylist, Haeyi, cheered, giving the younger girl a hug.

Eve smiled into the hug. “Thank you, unnie.” They pulled apart and Eve went to sit in the chair by the vanity.

“How do you feel?” Taehee, her makeup artist, asked as she pulled out her makeup bag.

Eve closed her eyes as Taehee applied a cleansing oil on her face. “Hmm, I feel sad. Very sad. I’ve been coming here for two years, so I’m very attached. I want to cry, but I probably won’t.”

“You’ll still come here during your comebacks,” Taehee pointed out.

Eve nodded. “I guess.”

Eve walked to the interview zone, where Minho already was standing with his script.

“Princess Angel Maknae!” Minho shouted when he saw her.

Eve pouted as she came to stand next to him. “Shut up,” she muttered.

Minho playfully punched her arm, trying to make her smile. “Why so pouty? Are you going to miss me?” He teased, causing Eve to fake vomit.

“I’m going to see you in the company building, why would I miss you?”

“Because I’m so charming,” he said, putting his hand under his face and smiling.

“More like annoying,” she retorted.

Minho’s smile dropped and he moved his hand, making sure to nudge Eve. They began to go through the script, suggesting hand movements and facial expressions.

“This is Eve’s last day,” the director started, drawing everyone’s attention, “so let’s make it amazing!” Everyone cheered as Eve and Minho got into position for the broadcast.

Their interview went well. Eve teared up halfway through and Minho made a joke to distract her from her sadness. When Minho was the one speaking, she would bite her lip and exhale slowly to stop herself from crying. He noticed this and sent her reassuring smiles, which she would return. They wrapped up their interview with their usual outro and pointed to the camera.

Minho wrapped Eve in a hug, patting her head when they pulled apart as everyone cheered. The camera crew brought out a cake, singing for Eve. She scrunched her face up and swayed side to side.

“Thank you! I love you all!” She shouted before blowing out her candles.

Eve made it to the last stage. She made it to the last stage and then she cried.

After receiving her flowers, she felt herself tear up, but thought nothing of it. And then she turned to look at Minho and was surprised when tears started falling out of her eyes. Minho, who was also surprised, started laughing at her.

“First of all, I’d like to thank the director of Show! Music Core for choosing me to be an MC,” Eve said as she made her speech. “I really appreciate it because I got to try something different and I got to meet many people. Next, I’d like to thank all the staff members who took care of me. Even if we only spoke for a short time, I want you to know that I appreciate you and the work you put in. I’d also like to thank MIDZY for supporting me as MC. I know you’ll support me through anything, but thank you for showing me endless love.” She paused to wipe away her tears and take a deep breath. “And lastly, I’d like to thank my co-MC’s Jungwoo oppa and Lee Know oppa for taking care of me and making every week so fun. I love you guys a lot and I hope you enjoy the rest of your time as MC’s.”

“Wah, you’re so caring,” Minho commented. “I’ll be waiting for you in the future, don’t forget your promise to come by.”

Eve nodded. “Of course, you’re going to miss me too much. I need to keep you company.”

“Of course! Who else am I going to annoy every week?” He joked, causing Eve to chuckle.

They continued to talk and joke until it was time to wrap up the show.

“Shall we do our outro one last time?” He asked, looking at Eve.

She nodded and they said the outro.

“Show, show, show,” they said together, the broadcast ending soon after.

Minho wrapped his arm around Eve’s shoulder as they walked off the stage.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Eve nodded in response. “I’m just going to miss working here.”

He patted her arm. “In a few weeks, you’re going to be so glad you don’t work here anymore. You’ll finally be able to sleep in.”

“Right,” Eve agreed.

Minho’s manager called him once they reached backstage. He looked at Eve one last time before going to his manager and walking off with him. The cameraman from earlier showed up soon after and started recording Eve. As she walked back to her green room, many of the staff members congratulated her on her journey as MC and thanked her for being nice to them. When she opened the door to her green room, the lights were off. She put the bouquet of flowers in her arms down and switched the lights on.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted, scaring Eve, who hid behind the wall in shock.

“Yah!” She whined as she walked back into the room. With the lights on, she noticed that the room had been decorated with pale pink decorations (wall streamers, posters and balloons) and Ari, Haeyi, Taehee and Haeun, her stylist, standing waiting for her. “You scared me!”

“Aigo, our Eve is emotional now,” Haeyi commented, walking up to Eve, who had a new onslaught of tears streaming down her face. She wrapped the younger girl in a hug, patting her back as Eve continued to cry.

Ari also went to her and brushed the hair out of Eve’s face as Taehee strapped a party hat onto Eve’s head.

“It’s okay, Nabi,” Taehee comforted.

“These are tears I’ve held in the past few months,” she mumbled through her tears. “Today isn’t that significant.”

“I thought you said you were going to stop lying this year,” Ari said.

Eve raised her head and stared at Ari with tears streaming down her face. “Unnie, you have to be gentle with me!” She whined. “It’s not the time to antagonise me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Ari booped Eve’s nose.

Eve sniffled one last time and pulled away from Haeyi. “I’m done crying. Now I want a nap.”

“You can’t nap, we have to go see Puss In Boots,” Ari reminded her.

Eve groaned. “Fine.”

She walked more into the room with her arm around Haeyi’s shoulders. They stopped in the centre, where there was a table with a cake on it. Next to the cake, there was a box wrapped in gift wrapping with a bow on top.

“When did you do all this?” Eve asked as Haeun lit the candles in the cake.

“When you first left for your interview,” she answered, lighting the last candle. “That’s why we wouldn’t let you come back,” she referred to when Ari took Eve on a very slow walk around the whole building until it was time for the ending stage.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Haeun lifted the cake and brought it to Eve’s eye level.

“Make a wish!” Taehee cheered.

Eve closed her eyes and collapsed her hands in front of her mouth, visibly wishing hard. She opened her eyes and blew the candles out. Everybody cheered as Haeun put the cake down.

“Thank you, everyone,” Eve said again with a bow. “As a token of my appreciation, I will take everyone to see Puss In Boots!”

“Thank you, Nabi,” Taehee said as she cut the cake.

“Open your present,” Haeyi urged.

“Whatever happened to being patient?” Eve joked as she picked up the box sitting next to the cake. She brought it up to her ear, shaking it a little before opening it. Inside, she found a music box that played the classical version of aloha by CHO JUNG SEOK, the song she sang for her first special stage. Instead of having a ballerina, there was a miniature version of Eve with a microphone in one hand and cue cards in the other spinning around in a circle. There was an engraving on the bottom of the music box that said “Kim Music Core Maknae Princess Angel Nabi.”

“That’s from your members,” Ari informed her.

Eve gasped. “Really? Daebak! This is so pretty!” She continued to admire the box, looking at it from every possible angle. “I love it so much!”

Haeun tapped Eve’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go say your final words to the camera as we clean up?”

Eve smiled at her before going to the cameraman. “Hi, MIDZY!” She greeted as the three women began packing their things up. “Today was my last day as MC and, as I’m sure you saw, it was very emotional. Unfortunately, my members couldn’t be with me because they are in Jakarta, and unfortunately, I can’t be there because I’m here, but they prepared a gift for me and I love it so much! I’m not going to lie, I didn’t want to stop being an MC, but ITZY always comes first and I needed more time to focus on the group. I look forward to the next time I get to see my MIDZY’s and I hope you do too. Bye!” She waved at the camera and the cameraman stopped recording, putting the camera down.

Eve carefully put the music box back in the box it came in and helped clear up the room. They were almost done when there was a knock on the door before it swung open.

“I heard there was a party,” Minho said.

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon

©️ kim nabi

#itzy 6th member #itzy added member #itzy additional member #itzy member au #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop oc #kim nabi #eve kim #itzy eve

50 notes · View notes

soup-of-the-daisies · 4 months

Note

♡ Walburga ♡ for character ask.

Also merry 🎄

merry chrisis lovely ♥️♥️

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

I don’t think canon Walburga would listen to any music other than magical specific classical music, or maybe some Christian hymns. In a muggle AU though, I think her playlist would be similar to both my gran’s: something like Two Of A Kind by Roy Orbinson, I Won’t Forget You by Jim Reeves, most 50s songs sung by Doris Day like Que Sera Sera

The one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

On the sofa in her favourite sitting room, where she contemplates how one best murders people and tries to think of ways on how to drag Sirius back into the house and the family (she draws blanks a lot on that for…. some reason…)

the game they’d destroy everyone else at

She’s surprisingly good (excellent) at Exploding Snap. She’s decent at bridge too and always wins.

the emoticon they’d use most often

Walburga Irma Black does not use emoticons. But if she did it’s this one: 💔. She sends it to Sirius because he ‘broke her heart’ (he ignores it until he blocks her)

what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Horrific. Really short fuse, unimaginably grumpy. The smallest things make her snap (like Regulus slurping his tea). There’s a reason she and Orion rarely share a bed (he snores and she has to sleep under Perfect Conditions). Sirius actually ran off after Walburga hadn’t had enough sleep because Orion slept next to her that night.

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights/mornings/whenever

Irish coffee. Sometimes without the coffee. Preferably without the coffee.

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

Screaming really loudly into a pillow but without the pillow. Plotting murder. Gossiping with Lucretia. Antagonising Orion into paying attention to her. Also embroidery (she likes to imagine that the cloth she’s stabbing repeatedly with needles is her enemy-of-the-week’s face)

what they wanted to be when they grew up

A healer or a Potions Mistress, but she had to get married so she gave those dreams up. I think she would’ve been a good healer, despite the chance of horrible bedside manner.

their favourite kind of weather

A rainstorm, but only if she’s inside (she finds the sound of rain and thunder soothing). If she’s outside, a misty, cold morning.

thoughts on their singing voice

Beautiful, if a bit pitchy. Quite low for a woman. She refuses to sing the moment she’s married because her parents always wanted her to do so at all family functions against her will. Even if Orion wants her to (he used to dream about it).

how/what they like to draw or doodle

Walburga Irma Black does not DOODLE. But she used to doodle tiny cartoon Orions promising to follow her to the ends of the earth and swearing eternal loyalty to her.

#walburga black headcanons #headcanons asks #the noble and most ancient house of black #roalinda

5 notes · View notes

schraubd · 10 months

Text

What Quality of Language Will LLMs Converge On?

Like many professors, I've been looking uneasily at the development of Large Language Models (LLMs) and what they mean for the profession. A few weeks ago, I wrote about my concerns regarding how LLMs will affect training the next generation of writers, particularly in the inevitably-necessary stage where they're going to be kind of crummy writers.

Today I want to focus on a different question: what quality of writing are LLMs converging upon? It seems to me there are two possibilities:

As LLMs improve, they will continually become better and better writers, until eventually they surpass the abilities of all human writers.

As LLMs improve, they will more closely mimic the aggregation of all writers, and thus will not necessarily perform better than strong human writers.

If you take the Kevin Drum view that AI by definition will be able to do anything a human can do, but better, then you probably think the end game is door number one. Use chess engines as your template. As the engines improved, they got better and better at playing chess, until eventually they surpassed the capacities of even the best human players. The same thing will eventually happen with writing.

But there's another possibility. Unlike chess, writing does not have an objective end-goal to it that a machine can orient itself to. So LLMs, as I understand them, are (and I concede this is an oversimplification) souped-up text prediction programs. They take in a mountain of data in the form of pre-existing text and use it to answer the question "what is the most likely way that text would be generated in response to this prompt?"

"Most likely" is a different approach than "best". A chess engine that decided its moves based on what the aggregate community of chess players was most likely to play would be pretty good at chess -- considerably better than average, in fact, because of the wisdom of crowds. But it probably would not be better than the best chess players. (We actually got to see a version of this in the "Kasparov vs. the World" match, which was pretty cool especially given how it only could have happened in that narrow window when the internet was active but chess engines were still below human capacities. But even there -- where "the world" was actually a subset of highly engaged chess players and the inputs were guided by human experts -- Kasparov squeaked out a victory).

I saw somewhere that LLMs are facing a crisis at the moment because the training data they're going to draw from increasingly will be ... LLM-generated content, creating not quite a death spiral but certainly the strong likelihood of stagnation. But even if the training data was all human-created, you're still getting a lot of bitter with the sweet, and the result is that the models should by design not surpass high-level human writers. When I've looked at ChatGPT 4 answers to various essay prompts, I've been increasingly impressed with them in the sense that they're topical, grammatically coherent, clearly written, and so on. But they never have flair or creativity -- they are invariably generic.

Now, this doesn't mean that LLMs won't be hugely disruptive. They will be. As I wrote before, the best analogy for LLMs may be to mass production -- it's not that they produce the highest-quality writing, it's that they dramatically lower the cost of adequate writing. The vast majority of writing does not need to be especially inspired or creative, and LLMs can do that work basically for free. But at least in their current paradigm, and assuming I understand LLMs correctly, in the immediate term they're not going to replace top-level creative writing, because even if they "improve" their improvement will only go in the direction of converging on the median.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/hwCIMir

#artificial intelligence #writing

5 notes · View notes

bvannn · 5 months

Text

Weekly Update December 15, 2023

Finals week is done. I’m still worried about the one class but I’ve done everything I can. Next week I have some doctor appointments but otherwise am good to rest up and hopefully get more work done. I have tonight and tomorrow morning also before I have to do a long drive, so maybe I’ll finish off some other projects.

TRGA: 1-4 Tim’s tweens are done, and I have what I think is a faster strategy for tweens now as well, so all that should be moving faster. I just need to do Tim’s face and clean up his joints and he should be good for the shot, I can make and add in props and I’ll post the wip. I’m planning to do backgrounds all in one go at the end so they stay consistent from shot to shot, and sketch lines as well. I’ll probably do some of the more tedious work (exporting and reimporting sketch lines, and cleanup) in the evenings and the more brain intensive work like props during real free time.

Still chipping away at late drawing prompts. I got the rest of the Inktober set sketched, I’m nearing the ‘easy’ prompts for the cringe set, and the gore set I just haven’t had motivation for but I can maybe try to finish that one off in the next few days. Also haven’t gotten comic thumbnail stuff done since like 2 weeks ago but I might get cracking at that in the car ride tomorrow, or definitely after, there’s a lot more interest in my OCs than I thought so I really should be prioritizing that higher.

Music: real close on the one song, and recorded pieces for a piano arrangement of another thing. I wanted to doll it up with real instruments, and maybe I still will but I can also do a just piano version and throw that out. The main original I’m working on is close to done instrumentally, I was going to record the breakdown tonight but I’m a bit tired because I decided to do some chores, so maybe it’ll be tomorrow or maybe I will do it tonight. Also started poking around Melodies for a second song before realizing my retro sound chip plug-in set is a pain in the neck and will only play one note at a time so I need like 5 or 6 layers to do what I want and also the gameboy chip has hella delay for some reason. Not unfixable but annoying. Theoretically I should be moving to a new computer soonish so maybe I can try out some voice synths for the main song I’m working on since I don’t think I can sing.

I’m kinda hitting that tiredness wall but I should hopefully be able to get some rest in the coming week, get some stuff together to post, and be nice and ready. I should also mention I have a surgery coming up too which should take me out of commission for some time, idk how long, doesn’t sound very long though, at least not as long as the last one. That’s not until the week of christmas though so I should still be good to do stuff until then. Maybe I’ll draw tonight, maybe I won’t since it’s already late. I’ve been getting weird bouts of restlessness where I just decide to do a bunch of things at once, but I think I already got one when I decided to do chores. Oh well always tomorrow.

#weekly update

5 notes · View notes

ownerofthisaccount · 8 months

Text

Hello again everyone! This was probably not the next part you hoped for but I hope I can explain well.

@raisans-art has made some really good AUs, such as the Human Illusion Au. One of them is the Chimera Emmet Au where Emmet is captured and experimented on, turning him into Agee after being fused with his Pokémon. Those who watched episode 4 of Fullmetal Alchemist are getting flashbacks

Well, they made a quick sketch of if Ingo was the one turned, called Chei, and I made a drawing for that afterwards because I have enjoyed both designs. As a child I loved transformations and stories of experiment or body horror, so that’s probably a factor. I later drew a mini comic for it detailing how the first night would go down, as well as a side comic of ghost Emmet. I made hints that a part two would come, and even released a WIP of one of the images. Well…I can’t say it won’t ever happen, perhaps months later, but I don’t think I will finish it right now(most of the betas were deleted anyway, either on purpose for space or by accident because of fat fingers). I have Aspergers, and I can hyperfixate on things. This can be for weeks, months, years, even forever in a couple cases. Chimera Emmet happened to be one of those(the twins are still an interest, but I got into several AUs based on them because of it) and I been seeing it since it’s early stages when Emmet was still himself in there. I just didn’t have the courage to fanart it till Chei came out as I love both but lean more to drawing Ingo. I have really enjoyed drawing the two and seeing their interactions, how this bad end line would go, and mentally thinking up things. It was also nice to see other people’s excitement over this and sees their asks created more drawings and pieces. Not recently I’ve been feeling the start of the interest drop. I hate when this happens because you love the thing but you can feel yourself slowly drift from it and it…sucks. I have the outlines ready to be draw but not the push or energy to complete it. I did managed to finish one, being a drawing of the remaining four Pokémon and Pels going to Juniper and Drayden, but unfortunately this was one of the ones that got accidentally deleted and I can’t recover it(which was possibly another push). On top of that I have actually started doing commissions, and being these and the two projects I’m working on(my graphic novel and my favorite list), Ive been a bit drained myself. I have betas for a couple though that were detailed enough to be salvageable, so I won’t put them to waste.

This was supposed to be Chei reading the floor apology made by Agee, anxiously waiting for a response.

This one was supposed to be Ingo’s spirit sensing something wrong, while Agee comforts a weakened Chei while they think of a way to escape.

And my personal favorite, Ingo’s spirit panicking while Emmet’s spirit starts trying to piece together what happened while wishing he was still alive because Chei and Agee would make for an interesting double battle duo(even in death he thinks of battle strategies)

It saddens me to not have full pictures to share, but I won’t leave you empty handed. I’ll share what I was thinking up if I made the final two parts: so after the first night, Chei wakes up to find a poorly drawn apology on the floor from Agee, who still feels guilty for hurting their friend(and shocked when they see Chei is healed) by accident. Though not fully forgiving yet, Chei accepts the apology and slowly starts being less cautious around Agee. Eventually this comes to head when Agee protects Chei from a threat(most likely the scientists) which fully gains the latter’s trust so the two begin to become friends. During this the remaining four mons meet up with Pels(given this Au has mostly the same beginning, Pels still tagged along and escaped the scientists during the chaos that was capturing Ingo) and reluctantly decide the best course of action is to try to tell others, as they feel with Pels with the they could possibly convince someone. Ingo and Emmet’s souls are in limbo, not having moved on due to the circumstances of their deaths(I headcanoned in my ghost Emmet comic that he couldn’t move on until he knew that Ingo was alright and moving forward, so here the two likely wouldn’t till they both pieced together what happened and got justice for the experiments) watch as time pass and the fusions truly become family. However Ingo senses something is amiss and sure enough Chei is growing weaker. Unlike Agee, Chei is an unstable fusion due to the damage before the experiment. Agee colors dull in these bad conditions but Chei’s body and especially souls struggle to handle it, and start to unravel. Agee refuses to let his buddy die and decide to work with Chei to try to escape. That would’ve been part two. The final part would’ve been Chei and Agee combining their moves(multi train style) to break through the glass and begin and escape. They start breaking out everyone and fighting back the scientists when Chei grows too weak to fight and Agee protects him. Before they can be detained, Rescue arrive with the remaining Pokémon, Pels, and the humans fighting to incapacitate the scientists. Chei is wary around them since trust issues, but Agee is grateful for their help and lifts Chei onto his back to carry him. Once the scientists are defeated. The others help Agee out getting everyone outside where the chimera lays Chei down. The fusion would’ve curled up under a tree with Agee and the others by, leaving it ambiguous if Chei was getting better and healing, or peacefully passing away in a nicer area that wasn’t a cell. The final frame would’ve been the twins, now satisfied the experiments were freed and given justice, walking off into the afterlife together. Not a perfect story but I had fun with it. Now…I did prepare something to give you a nugget anyway:

And here it is! Marshrill design was recently released and as someone who loves and theorize the twins becoming Pokémon, this was certainly up my alley and I had to draw at least a quick sketch. Hopefully it makes up for no huge comic update.

But anyway, final huge props to @raisans-art again and I hope you all still enjoyed this. Thank you all, and have a great rest of your day

#agnst #pokemon #pokemon ingo #submas #art #artists on tumblr #pokémon fanart #submas fanart #chimera emmet au

2 notes · View notes

heniareth · 2 years

Note

ohohohoho I'm very greedy ψ(｀∇´)ψ Astala and Ilanlas, please - 💋💃🌷🍳🍀💌🚿🍺

Hellooooo!! I do love me a good list of emojis XD XD XD Here we go!! ( I’ll be rating on a scale of 0-10, with 0 being physically unable to do the thing and 10 being you won’t find be able to find anybody more skilled at this than them.)

💋 — kissing

Astala: Poor dear gets a 4 at first. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself when kissing, swings from being too pressing to holding back too much, her teeth and hair get in the way, it’s frustrating. Fortunately, Zevran is a good teacher, and Astala a quick learner XD XD

Ilanlas: I’d give him something between a 6 and a 7. What he lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm and determination. He is very in tune with his body and in control of it, can be surprisingly gentle if need be, and thus would get the hang of it very quickly. He would, however, try to take control of the situation, even if his partner is more experienced, which might lead to awkwardness.

💃 — dancing

Astala: between 7 and 8, you’d probably notice her on the dance floor. She loves dancing and it shows. She knows all the dances they dance in the Alienage and very easily takes to courtly dances after given the chance to voice how ridiculously stiff she finds them (and even then she keeps shaking her head). After her hip injury, she can’t do many of the livelier dances anymor, which is a damn shame; at least she took part in every dance she could have had before the injury.

Ilanlas: 5 on most days. He’d be an amazing dancer if he liked dancing. Sadly, he doesn’t, and thus the world is robbed of a spectacle. He will dance if there’s an occasion that requires it (or when a friend has to be coerced into dancing; he and Astala convince Alistair to dance the Remigold at one point), but don’t ask him to do courtly dances. That’s where he draws the line.

🌷 — taking care of living things

Astala: for plants she gets a 4, for animals a 7, for children or other people an 8. Her problem with plants is that she forgets about them and lacks the knowledge to take care of them. In her opinion, plants just grow. They shouldn’t need a lot of care. This opinion is drastically challenged when she tries to plant some flowers at Vigil’s Keep. They keep dying! It isn’t until Velanna takes mercy upon the poor plants that her gardening skills somewhat improve. As for animals, she gets along with them well, but the lack of words makes it difficult for her sometimes to deal with them. The mabari and the halla are therefore the best out of all animals because it’s as close as you can get to talking animals in terms of making themselves understood. She’s best with people, where the ability to talk makes everything so much more easier.

Ilanlas: he gets a 5 for plants, 8 for animals and 4 for people. With plants he can’t be bothered to look after them much. He’ll keep them alive, sure, he kinda knows what a sick plant looks like and knows things he could try in case of pests and thelike, but he’s just not interested in them. He’s okay for if you’re away for a week and need somebody to water your plants. Animals meanwhile are great. They’re fun, they don’t talk, they don’t demand much and they heed what he tells them. Except for cats. He doesn’t like cats. With people, he’s... not the person you’d choose. He’ll look after them alright, but he’s impatient and expects people to fix their own problems. Children are especially difficult for him to deal with. He isn’t cruel or careless, he will try, but it’s definitely not his strong suit.

🍳 — cooking

Astala: a 7. She’s especially good at making something out of nothing, calculating portions according to the number of people and making whatever ingredients she has at hand work surprisingly well together. She’s also an adventurous cook and likes to try new things. She isn’t very exact, however, so the same recipe can taste great one day and weird the next.

Ilanlas: 5 overall, but for the preparation of meat he gets a solid 9. Whenever he was asked to help around camp when he was little, the first thing he did was look if there was anybody skinning or otherwise preparing an animal. At the time, it was the closest to being a hunter he could get. So now he has a vast array of knowledge and techniques on different cuts, ways of preparation, how to spot if an animal was sick and the meat is bad, etc. During DA:O, he definitely becomes the guy in charge of “manning the grill” whenever there’s meat to be had.

🍀 — luck

Astala: hmmmm how do I put this.... All of the Origins are exceptionally unlucky, or lucky, depending on how you look at it. I mean, they survive whatever their origin throws their way, right? I’d say Astala’s luck runs between a 7 and a 1. Sometimes things align just right, like when Dilwyn and Gethon decided to gift her some money for her wedding day and it turned out to be just enough to allow Nessa to stay in Denerim and have something left for her own future. And then, invariably, everything goes to shit again, like with Vaughan. That’s at least how Astala would put it.

Ilanlas: apart from the fact that Ilanlas doesn’t believe in luck (he got where he is by his own doing, wether he’s currently on top of the world or in the proverbial hole he’s dug himself), he doesn’t consider himself neither lucky nor unlucky. He just is. From an outsider’s perspective, I’d say he’d get a 6. Things do tend to work out for him in the end. He does work for it to end well, but circumstance sometimes certainly helps along.

💌 — romance/flirting

Astala: I’d say she stands at a 6, maybe 7. She has been a barmaid and has heard aaaaaall the lines, from “Hello gorgeous, do you come here often?” to “Did it hurt when you fell from the Maker’s throne?” in situations both comfortable and uncomfortable. She plays along, has the wit and speed to keep up a pleasant string of back-and-forths, even has fun doing so if the conversation partner is right; but at the end of the day it’s not enough. She likes to say what she means, and that includes moments when she conveys her feelings. That’s when it can get sappy or awkward, or--if you’re an ex-Crow who has been deprived of any sort of genuine affection for way too long--it can make somebody tear up.

Ilanlas: expressing feelings? With words? What’s next, willingly offering someone a hug? Ilanlas Mahariel stands at a solid 2 for romance/flirting. It’s dealing with people and that’s not in his repertoire of things he’s good at, so he doesn’t even try. If flirted with, he might shut down and straight up not answer. He might try to brush it off and thus say something harsh or rude. This man does not allow himself emotional vulnerability. He shows affection through acts of service and quality time, maybe some gifts if pressed. If he’s ever interested in someone again, that person better be a master at reading between the lines or they won’t notice anything.

🚿 — hygiene

Astala: a 7. One of the most important lessons of the Alienage is: a dirty person is a sick person. The Blight just reinforces that message. Astala does her very best to keep clean, although she doesn’t adda nything fancy after that. Except to her hair. Her hair needs special attention, moisturizer and some oil to look good. These things are expensive and she can’t always get them. Other than that, her main obstacles on the path to spotless cleansiness is time and energy, neither of which she has in abundance. Still, she makes do with what she has.

Ilanlas: you know... I'm going to put him at a 4. I have the sneaking suspicion that he would let himself go a bit in that regard after leaving his clan. Because yes, it's important to keep clean so that he doean't pass the Blight on to anyone, but apart from that I don't think he'd put any effort into it. Who is he going to look nice for, the darkspawn? Alistair, Morrigan, any of the companions? Nah, he doesn't care if his hair starts to look a bit ratty (he does care. So much. If anybody mentioned it he shut them down so hard. He'd be very ashamed of it, but he's burying that shame somewhere very deep and dark. Boy's got a graveyard inside of him)

🍺 — alcohol tolerance

Astala: A solid 8. She’s got a very resistant stomach and a decade of experience on the docks, which entails some drinking contests. I imagine people in the Alienage would drink quite a lot of watered-down ale because it's been fermented and thus the bacteria are dead (that's how alcohol works, right?) She does know her limits though, and doesn't get blackout drunk. Except, again, if there's a drinking contest involved, then she knows no quarter (still can't beat Oghren. Nobody can)

Ilanlas: A 4. He’s small and pretty lean XD XD He’s a literal lightweight. He’s also the kind of guy to find getting drunk terrible. He likes to keep his wits about him and his reflexes sharp, thank you very much. There’s no way to do something embarrassing that somebody will hold over your head later when you don’t drink.

---

Thank you for the ask!! It was a treat to answer these XD XD I saw that you reblogged it too, so I'll just hop on over into your asks to get some more lore on Vergil and Saskia 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Have a lovely day!

The ask game in question is the Muse skillset symbol meme: Send an emoji to learn how good/bad my muse is at that particular skill

#astala tabris #ilanlas mahariel #it sent alright as you see! thanks for making sure tho bc these have saved me on my work day XD #dao #dragon age #ask game #for fun #cw: alcohol #cw: depression

26 notes · View notes