#pls lemme know what you think

[calliettes-posts]

What vibe did you get from Zoe? Because I don't think she's doubting about what they did, but mad that Mailin is getting all the credit

Why do you think so? I thought she might be having doubts because of the ways those girls spoke, they didn't approve of their actions and this could also indicate that there'll be harsh consequences, especially since I think zoe still has to retake her own exam

#pls lemme know what you think #druck #ask

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant Pt 7 (finale)

Kara reflexively keeps her distance from Lena, for all of two days, until she realizes that while respecting Lena's boundaries is important, she does not have to respect any boundary set by Lex.

She comes to this conclusion late Sunday night, and makes a point to be in the office early to make her point. She's lucky Lena's already there, plugging miserably away at a spreadsheet R&D had sent to her the Friday before. Kara plunks down her boss's coffee of the desk, nearly sloshing it, and scowls when Lena turns her gaze up at her.

"You don't have to do everything your brother tells you," she says, far more scathingly than she intends. It backfires when Lena interprets her tone as petulance.

"I hardly think two days without sex warrants a tantrum Miss Danvers," she responds coolly. Her gaze returns to her computer. "Nor do our trysts qualify you to pass judgement on my relationship with my brother."

"I know you better than you think," Kara snaps. "And living under Lex's thumb isn't a good look on you."

At that, Lena's gaze snaps back up with razor sharp precision, skewering Kara to the spot. Her jaw tightens. "My respect for my brother--"

"Isn't respect!" Kara bites back. She knows she skirts the limits of Lena's goodwill, but she can't help the anger and resentment that bubbles up. "It's control, and you know it."

At that, Lena's scowl deepens, but her focus skitters away, proving the veracity of Kara's accusation.

"You are your own person," Kara pushes. "And you're capable of making your own decisions."

Lena's moment of concession evaporates with a scowl. "Get out."

It's enough to make Kara see red, but she manages to keep her temper in check.

"Fine," she clips out. She turns on her heel and marches towards the door, only to pause with her fingers wrapped in a fist around the handle. "And maybe you should think why Lex has such a problem with you being fucking happy for once."

With that, she yanks the door open and all but slams it shut behind her when she leaves.

----

Prepping a charity gala isn't easy-- or fun-- when they can hardly stand to be in the same room together without snapping. It involves a lot of "fines"s and "just get it done"s and "yes, miss luthor"s, but it eventually culminates in a lavish, extravagant affair that the guests seem to enjoy.

Kara hovers in her floor length gown that snugs in all the right places, yet leaves her arms bare to give her room to actually work during set up, and now cools her down as she takes a moment to breathe.

She knows Lena is here, by way of a curt text received an hour ago, but has yet to actually see her in the throng of well-dressed patrons. She does see Lex though, who somehow manages to look smug even as he glowers at her. It's nearly halfway through the night when Kara finally catches a glimpse of her boss.

Her mouth promptly goes dry.

Lena's dressed in a black chiffon dress that hugs her hips. When she turns, Kara sees the thin straps that leave the ivory skin of her back largely bare-- and the long silver chain that dangles against Lena's spine.

The vision is so distracting that it takes Kara a long moment to notice that Lena had turned towards a tug on her wrist, and that it was Lex who now gripped it tightly.

Kara watches their heated exchange of hissed words until Lena finally wrenches her wrist free of her brother's grasp. Lex's features darken as he issues what can only be a final warning before taking his leave. Lena watches him go for a long moment before finally turning.

Their eyes lock.

In that moment, Lena is laid bare-- Kara can see the shock of their unexpected connection (Lena has been avoiding her), and registers the brief up-and-down of Lena's gaze as she's scanned by wide green eyes. Then, Kara sees that dreaded word again: don't.

Only this time it's not directed at Kara, but rather inward, a silent scold towards Lena herself, combating the flush of desire written clear across Lena's cheeks. But then, almost as soon as it appears, it's eclipsed by a sudden hardening of Lena's gaze, now resolute as Lena comes to a conclusion known only to her.

Kara stares as Lena marches towards her, determined and unflinching. She barely has the time to grin before her arms are full of Lena, and warm hands sandwich her face fiercely as she's kissed long and deep.

When Lena comes up for air, breathless words come tumbling out.

"You're fired," she says. Their foreheads rest together, and Lena's hands have yet to move from where her thumbs rub gently against Kara's cheeks.

Now, Kara does grin.

"About time," she growls, and pulls Lena into another searing kiss. Kara senses the eyes on them, but doesn't bother to look to see if Lex's is among them.

Screw them, Kara thinks, savoring the taste of Lena's lips and the glide of their tongues together.

Screw them all.

#supercorp #alt Assistant au #I have few snippets I'll also add #but this is the main plot #hope you enjoyed! #lemme know what you think! #pls and thank you

[crittermakingthings]

Here's one of my more nature themed projects I did recently! Just a tiny pine display box (i think from dollar tree? actually found it at a thrift store but it has a dollar tree tag lol). I don't have any before pictures of it (blasphemy). I got a hold of wood stain last year and have been having at it with a lot of cheap wood stuff laying around

Used to hold my moth collection but it has since outgrown it! So I stained it with wood stain + hot glued moss all over and decided to use it to display my more fragile specimen's that didn't have a place yet!

(Inside: dragonfly, dried shelf fungi, twin pine seed, bird skull, white lined sphinx moth (if I'm not mistaken), butterfly I forgot to identify, cicada.

On top: porcupine quills and a chicken bone.

Porcupine quills were a gift, everything else I found and saved. Actually my brother found the moth and saved it for me.)

It does have a protective casing on the front, but I took it off for the picture because of the glare.

#tw dead animal #tw taxidermy #I'm still uncertain that what i do counts as taxidermy as that implies preservation far better than i have the skills and tools for but eh #vulture culture #corvidcore #gremlincore #goblincore #tw bones #naturecore #nature #crowcore #honestly if you have a better system on how i should tag stuff like this pls send help lmao #i have list track of the -cores #i don't think i ever had a clue to begin with #also tw too if i missed a tw lemme know pls #moths #bugs #critter made something

[essektheylyss]

Okay but for real, please download Merlin, the Cornell-based bird-logging app. It is so great. It will tell you about birds in your area. It will make you so insufferable on hikes and outings. It doesn't have any comments section so if this site gets nuked do NOT try to find me there but know that that's where I'm hanging. Having a great time birdwatching. Logging the bluejay that bullies my cats. Helping researchers track where birds are for climate change-related population monitoring. 10/10, highly recommend getting a life and doing some silly birdwatching.

#I forget who here recced me the bird app cuz it's PHENOMENAL so I'm sorry I am blanking #also if anyone has recs for apps for tracking flora pls lemme know cuz I am on the hunt #if you have had a good experience with inaturalist I wanna hear about it cuz it felt too social media-y for me #is it good? I do not know. I actually really want to cuz I need to be able to better identify plants. #it would be so funny if I just didn't open my inbox and instead made a post about birdwatching for every ask I get this weekend lmfao #I really think it's what the dash deserves #I'll tell you about arizona birds! it'll be great #I also have seen some GREAT juniper trees and stars today. yes STARS. #literally if you haven't done it lately go find somewhere dark and see the stars. v important. #anyway junipers are making berries rn! they're delightful!

[sleepis4theweak]

LOOK SERIOUS QUESTION

Do you think that the turtles lifespan was INCREASED or DECREASED severely when they mutated [ Like how box turtles can live up to 50 to 100 years and alligator snapping turtles with 80 to 120, BUT ADD A MUTATION TO THE MIX ]. Literally I have seen nobody asked this type of question and I'm really curious on your thoughts

:]

Okay- OKAY LISTEN I'VE HAD THIS ASK IN MY ASKBOX FOR SO LONG AND I HAVEN'T ANSWERED BECAUSE IDK- BUT I THINK I HAVE SOME IDEAS

So first we must think of Splinter. The longest living rat lived for around 7 years I believe. So in the tmnt versions where Splinter started out as a rat, he obviously lived for longer. This would imply that when you turn from an animal to a mutant your aging slows to that of a human's. So maybe they would just have the same lifespan as a human? Longer if you take into account that the ROTTMNT boys were genetically designed, it makes sense for them to have a longer lifespan.

HOWEVER- if you look at ROTTMNT Splinter.... he did not age well.....

Bro went from this

to this

in like... 15 years. Internet says he's like 50 or something?? But also he looks a LOT younger in his freshly mutated form.

So... idk maybe that means that his aging is sped up? Like a rats? This kinda implies that in ROTTMNT those who are mutated have an age range more similar to the animal they are mutated from. So the boys would have longer life spans...

I mean also its important to take into account the differences in the ways that they were mutated. I mean Splinter was mutated by accident, and so that could effect his biology.

I mean... maybe his body is more half human half rat than the turtles? HEAR ME OUT-

He grows hair all over his body and shrinks, his freshly mutated form is a lot more human. Maybe his mutation is slow? Like his body is trying to fight the mutation and slowly losing?? He's becoming more and more rat like over time or something... oh the angst potential...

ANYWAY- overall I think that the turtles would live longer than humans, closer to the lifespan they would have as turtles, maybe longer even.

#THIS IS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION #LEMME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS PLS #SERIOUSLY IM BS ING HERE ID LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK #answered asks #<3 <3 <3

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - Part 7

Note: I want to say, again, thank you to everyone supporting and showing love for this fic and these (points) dumb main characters. Stan Ted for clear skin.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Comfort, Talking about death/Mikey’s death. (cw: mentions of suicide). 

Synopsis: Jimmy offers you a favor, but it feels more like you’re helping him out rather than the other way around. However, a wedding is incomplete without the wedding cake, and you cannot afford to say no.

Lake Michigan is haunted by more than a few ghosts for you and Carmy.

(Read on Ao3)  /// (Masterpost)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked into the kitchen from the back delivery door to see Ted dancing to a remix of a pop song. On the front of his navy t-shirt was ‘Cookie Rookie’ in white cursive with a little half-eaten cookie on the curve of the final ‘e.’

“Ted.” You stifled your laughter. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Making a TikTok for the bakery.”

You stared at him for several, quiet and stupefied seconds. “Jesus Christ,” You said emphatically before shaking your head in disbelief and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks ago, your incredible success at the Spring Festival garnered thousands and thousands of new followers on the Cookie Rookie’s social media. Even Chicago 6 News scheduled an interview for next week: a mere three days before your opening.

It wasn’t a surprise that Jimmy heard about your triumphs.

The surprise came in the form of him asking you to provide the wedding cake for his brother-in-law.

Jimmy said. “But I’m not paying you, alright? This is exposure.”

You cradled the phone into your shoulder while writing a check to pay those who built a custom neon-sign with your bakery’s name. “I can’t help but feel like we have plenty of exposure. Don’t you follow us on Instagram?”

“No, I don’t follow you Instagram!” Jimmy quipped, “I’m not sixteen years old.”

You clicked your tongue. “Fair.”

“It’s not even a big wedding. It’ll be an easy job.”

“Again, you’re asking for free labor.” You pressed. “I am paying my people even though we’re not open yet.”

“That sounds fucking counter-intuitive.”

You shrugged. “I’ve got the funds for it.”

Technically, the money within your grandfather’s account was meant to be used as a safety net in case anything went wrong after opening. However, you were confident that your opening weekend would payback those funds two-fold. You hired Leslie, Ted, and Dani and they deserved to get paid even if they were only coming in on their own time to practice their bakes.

“Fine.” He huffed. “I’ll pay you.”

You gave him your rate and wrote down the specifications for the cake itself onto your planner.

“When’s the wedding?” You asked before lifting your cup of coffee to your lips.

Jimmy answered, “Tomorrow.”

You spat coffee onto your open planner and coughed. Your eyes watered and you wiped your mouth with your fingers. Tomorrow?! Was he insane? You cleaned the warm coffee off your desk with a tissue. Unfortunately, it quickly soaked through the thin material, and you were left with coffee-stained fingers and damp paperwork. Many weddings were planned months in advance with multiple taste tests of the cake depending on the finicky nature of the wedding couple. You never heard of anyone getting a three-tiered wedding cake for an elopement.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, dude.”

“I’ll double your going rate.” He offered. “Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s a shotgun wedding, okay? The soon-to-be newlyweds aren’t picky. Just make a halfway decent wedding cake so it convinces her relatives they had this whole thing planned.”

Jimmy wanted you to make a wedding cake just to save his brother-in-law’s ass from getting into trouble with his girlfriend’s family. He would pay you double and grant your bakery additional attention. There was a chance this wedding was going to be messy as hell. You had no other choice but to answer—

“Alright, yeah. We’ll do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made the icing for the cake and improved upon your own recipe. It was the same white frosting with a hint of sharp lemon that Carmy tried all those weeks ago. You bit down on your smile while spreading it across the cakes with a steady hand. Ted piped a gorgeous array of white roses along entirety of the bottom tier. Dani decorated the top layer with sugar pearls and arranged them, so the pearls spilled from the top layer and onto the middle. It was simple, elegant, and tasted delicious.

You folded your arms over your chest and admired your combined efforts.

Ted clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Not bad.”

“Nope.” You smiled. “Not bad at all.” You snapped a picture and sent it to Carmy. His response arrived while you were driving to the wedding.

‘Who’s getting married?’

‘Jimmy’s brother-in-law.’

You climbed out of the passenger seat when his reply buzzed inside your pocket.

‘Richie assumes he burned our invitations.’

You smiled and quickly typed back, ‘A travesty.’

You and your bakers transported the cake out of the car and to the display table underneath the large, white tent pavilion. Jimmy shook your hand, grateful and relieved, and palmed you wad of cash. You tucked it surreptitiously into your pocket.

“Stick around, kid. Have a glass of wine.” Jimmy made an annoyed face, “Lord knows I’m gonna need one.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. You didn’t particularly enjoy weddings. But, you would have a front seat to any of the drama if you stayed. You walked to the edge of the tent and looked out at the gray waters of Lake Michigan that stirred with a gentle breeze. Your throat prickled and you roughly swallowed it back.

You were small and following your grandfathers’ back. He turned to look at you, smiling, his large palm soft and solid in your little hand. The sunlight beamed across his profile and burned the rest of the memory into white, blinding, glorious light.

Dani said, “Jefe?”

You flinched and quickly wiped a single rogue tear with your fingertips before turning to her. “Yes?”

Her warm, brown eyes narrowed. “Are we staying?”

“Sure!” You sniffed, then nodded, “Take advantage of the open bar, yeah?”

Ted beamed behind Dani’s shoulder, “Say no more, Boss!”

Dani lingered by your side for a second longer before walking away and you were glad for it. Any gentle word or touch at this point would crush you. You wrapped your arms around your middle and hide your face toward the sparkling lake. Nothing changes. Your fingertips dug into your upper arms and the slight pressure grounded you. Crying about it changes nothing. Let’s not lose our cool during our first gig. You squeezed your arms a little harder and tucked away those sweet, summer memories before everything in your life shattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You lost track of how many glasses of champagne you drank before they finally cut the cake. Dani wept, though you weren’t sure if it was because of The Wedding or The Wedding Cake. Ted had gotten no less than three women’s numbers and you were convinced that Leslie would go home with one of the bridesmaids. Your emotions teetered on a knife’s edge, and it was through remarkable self-control that you managed to not call Carmy for sex. You were a paragon of virtue. A saint. You had nerves of steel and a heart carved from ice.

Or so you told yourself while half-stumbling onto the empty, sandy beaches beside the wedding tent. The cool air bit your flushed skin. Can paragons and saints hallucinate? You wondered as you clutched the neck of an open champagne bottle.

“Carmy?” You said with soft uncertainty. The person standing on the beach had a Carmy-shape. The right height, you thought, and his jacket looked familiar. Your grip loosened on the champagne when he faced you. His eyes shadowed and hidden by a nondescript baseball cap. You felt strangely disappointed to not see them in their full tender and tired glory. He didn’t say anything, though you noticed his hands slide into the pockets of his coat.

You lifted your eyebrows. “Surprise?”

That got a reaction out of him. “W-what?”

“Last time we saw each other, you said I always show up and surprise you.” You explained with a vague gesture while holding the champagne. You brought the bottle to your lips and the bubbles fizzed up your nose—you sputtered and then laughed. Carmy pulled off his baseball cap and held the brim between his hands.

His words were so gently muttered that you almost didn’t hear them, “You do.” He looked past you and toward the fairy-lit tent filled with drunk Polish guests. “How’d it go?”

You beamed with pride burning hot inside your chest, “Fantastic.” An idea struck you like lightening.

“Wait! You can try it!” You grabbed Carmy’s hand and tugged him purposefully toward the tent. The sand wafted around your feet, catching on your pants, and into your socks. The fairy lights adorning the tent swirled like fireflies in your vision. Your heart sputtered, nervous and alive, at the solid and warm grip of Carmy’s fingers trapped within yours. The loud voice in your head that often screamed ‘what are you doing?’ was blessedly quiet.

His fingers twitched, but he didn’t pull away. “I don’t think Jimmy wants me crashing his brother-in-law’s wedding.”

You rolled your eyes, “Relax. I’ll hide you behind something and steal us a plate.”

“Foolproof.” He deadpanned and you grinned over your shoulder at him. You weren’t sure why Carmy was being pessimistic about your amazing plan. You released his hand near the side entrance of the pavilion beside a fake potted palm plant.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” You said with severity and a furrowed brow. Carmy’s mouth thinned, but you didn’t wait to see if he smiled. You weaved through drunken wedding guests, passing white balloons and golden glitter, and stopped with a triumphant grin at the cake table. You set your champagne bottle down and replaced it with a plate carrying two pieces of your wedding cake. You shoved two clean forks into your back pocket and walked with urgency back to Carmy.

A small part of you feared you’d walk through the plastic flap and find empty air and sandy, receding footsteps. He had no reason to stick around and follow along with your silly, not-quite-sober idea. Your heart found a home inside your throat. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he was gone. It would just be…a bummer.

Your breath exhaled in surprised, earnest relief when you stepped from the drunken noise and found him standing with his hands in his pockets. The myriad of twinkling lights reflected in his pupils and revealed a tiny, fleeting galaxy of undiscovered constellations. The flap closed behind you and the light returned to a muted, soft white.

You held the paper plate aloft with both hands, “Ta-da!”

Carmy smiled, fragile and quick, but your heart swelled with the sight of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You asked Carmy to hold the plate while you took off your shoes. You walked into the sand, sneakers dangling from your fingertips, with your other hand curled around his bicep to steady yourself. Neither of you spoke as you walked aimlessly before sitting down together. Your shoulders bumped together because your bodies couldn’t resist colliding like meteors. What did it mean when you moved in sync with someone? What about when you could hold a conversation through a look? You sighed and the sound rattled and loosened something heavy stuck in your ribs.

Carmy accepted the fork from your pocket and stabbed a piece onto the tines. You pillowed your chin on your clasped hands. This was different from the first time. You were hungrier, you realized, for his feedback. You had eaten his food and seen him work. You knew you improved, but it mattered that Carmy knew that as well.

His eyebrows raised. Your heart thumped. He blinked a few times, nodding, then finally lifted his eyes to meet yours. The world stopped spinning. Your blood rushed in your ears. Carmy’s coat was rough and scratchy from where it met yours. You shifted and your knee touched the side of his thigh.

“It’s fire.” He took another bite, “It’s really, really good. Damn.”

Shock registered on your face first, then melted like candle wax into sweet, soft joy.

You knocked his fork out of the way with your own, “I got two pieces, you know.” You teased with a dark look.

Carmy shook his head, bemused, and pulled the plate out of your easy reach, “You said you wanted me to try it.”

You laughed with incredulity. “And you have!” You glared at him, “That doesn’t mean you get to eat it all.”

His expression softened. The false, playful anger in your gut dimmed. His eyes were warm with amusement, long eyelashes kissing his cheekbones, a smudge of frosting on the corner of his mouth.

He looked at you expectantly with an edge of challenge in his jaw and said, “Yeah?”

Your stomach fluttered. You were drunk on inexpensive champagne and buried memories of your grandfather and cool, fragrant air and Carmy. His eyes, his tattooed hands, his imperceptible smiles, and wan laugh and you were hopelessly mystified.

It was a miracle you could string a sentence together, “Yes, Carmy—now share before I knock it into the sand.” You heard Carmy exhale shortly through his nose—his almost laugh. The sound of it was more intoxicating than any glass of champagne.

“Please.” You added as an afterthought.

He lowered the plate back between you and replied, “Only because you asked nicely.”

You took a wonderfully large bite of cake and smiled. You were so goodman proud of yourself. You hoped your grandfather would be proud of you. Your heart squeezed and memories leaked from their boxes. They spilled over your fingers like black ink, filling the lines and grooves your palms, reminding you of their impossible permanence and fluidity.

You faced the dark, gray waters of Lake Michigan beneath a dusky-blue sky and the truth loosened from your soul with ease. “Generally, I’m not a fan of weddings. I think they’re bullshit, but this one was OK even if their location is shit.”

In your peripheral, you saw Carmy’s face turned toward yours, and heard the faint smile in his voice, “what do you have against Lake Michigan?”

A lump lodged itself in your throat and your voice cracked around it. “I - I used to come here with my grandad when I was small…”

Hot tears prickled your eyelids and you managed to blink them away. “Before mom and dad split and she moved us away.”

“And it’s stupid, right? I know it’s stupid. To even think about any of that when I should be networking with the wedding guests. But I – I can’t. I can’t talk to them about Fourth of July cupcakes and birthdays or whatever other bullshit while standing in a place that meant so much to us.” You paused, “that still means so much to me.”  

You suddenly tore your eyes away from the hypotonic dark waters, “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just drop that all on you. Shit.”

You contemplated diving headfirst into the lake and swimming to Canada before you embarrassed yourself further.

“N-no, no.” He muttered your name. “I get it. OK. I do.”

“I don’t know if you – um – knew this or not. But, the Beef belonged to my brother, Mikey, and uh…he died a few months back and left it to me.” Carmy sniffed. “Actually, uh, saying he died doesn’t exactly cut it.”

There was a flare of unmistakable anger to his tone. Your gaze lifted sharply from the plate and fell upon Carmy’s agonized expression. It was as if sorrow and anger were at war with one another and trapped within a stalemate. His brow crinkled and his eyes stared, unfocused, toward the sand.

“He was an addict, which I didn’t know about, and he – uh – he killed himself. He shot himself.” He said and you flinched at his brusque tone. “We used to come to Lake Michigan all the time, you know? As kids. Especially when things were good with my mom.”

Cake icing stuck to the roof of your mouth and the usual response of ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ laid bitter and heavy on your tongue. The world glistened and blurred. You ducked your face away from Carmy’s to brush away the tears with your knuckles. You could imagine the burden on his shoulders. A burden similar yet dissimilar to your own. Your grandad lived a long, successful life and died of old age. He left you his legacy, polished as it was, just like Mikey left Carmy his. A wild, foolish part of you wished you could lessen the weight on his spine and ease the suffering on his face. It was impossible, of course. You couldn’t rescue Carmy from his own grief anymore than he could rescue you from yours.

But at least on this night below stars and ghosts – you weren’t alone.

He sighed. “So, yeah. I get it.”

You lowered your head onto his shoulder without saying anything else. You knew it was the champagne making you sleepy and melancholy, but that didn’t stop you from grazing your fingertips across the warm, exposed skin of Carmy’s wrist. You realized it wasn’t only Lake Michigan that harbored memories for him. The entire city of Chicago served as a reminder, and you wondered how Carmy survived without breaking down at every intersection.

He turned his palm upward. You slid your fingers between his and squeezed gently, though his fingers remained extended and did not curl inward toward yours. You sat in front of Lake Michigan, with a plate of wedding cake on your lap, beside a beautiful boy who terrified and thrilled you in equal parts.

“Hey Carmy?”

“Hm?”

You asked quietly, “Are we friends?”

He snorted lightly. “Y-yeah, I think so.” You heard him swallow. “I never had a lot of time for friends in New York.”

“Or here.” Something in his tone inspired you to raise your head from his shoulder. Whatever resolve you built against Carmy crumpled fast and sweet like cotton candy on your tongue. There was no use fighting it any longer. You wanted to know him. You were tired of denying yourself what you wanted.

You searched his face and knit your brow, “What do you mean?”

“I was a shy kid. I mean, Mikey was my best friend. At least, I thought he was until I realized he was everyone’s best friend, you know? That’s just who he was. He had – uh – this magnetic personality.” He said, gesturing with his hand, “and I don’t know—I got to New York, and everything got quieter, and I was focused, and I was determined, and Mikey cut me out of his life, and I cut people out of mine and I – yeah – I just didn’t…”

He licked his lips, then frowned. “I didn’t really try to make friends, I guess.”

You smiled tenderly. “You sound like me.”

The blue in his eyes flooded with warmth when he looked at you, “Were you anti-social or just highly competitive?”

You cast your gaze heavenward to the brilliant, dark sky with a rueful smile. “I wanted to be perfect.” You said.

“I thought it would make life easier if I wasn’t influenced by peer pressure. I avoided making friends, or socializing at all really, until Grandpa intervened. He made me get my shit together.”

Your laughter rasped wetly within your throat.

“I mean he really made me get it together. Mom was busy working and rebuilding her life, and Dad ran off with his perfect, secret family. I didn’t smoke at the time or drink, so I coped in other ways, and he—it sounds so lame, but he saw me.”

You whispered, “He was the only one who saw me.”

This was why you needed to make him proud. It was why you needed to be successful, competent, and perfect. You owed him. You needed to pay him back for those years of unwavering support. You never would’ve gone to college, never would’ve pursued this life, if you hadn’t spent your summers with him. He was – in many ways – a father to you.

You explained all of that to Carmy in a hurried, panicked tone before the tears started to fall. The words had spilled out of you like someone twisted a valve inside your brain.

You were usually better at this. You talked about your grandfather all the time to his old associates and business-friends. Except those people never asked about your childhood, or your memories of him, or the gray hole in your life that existed in his absence. None of those people could understand the depth of the loss you endured.

“Goddamnit!” You shouted, wiping your cheeks stained with evidence of your grief, “You can’t tell anyone you saw me cry.”

“Who would I tell?” He nudged your shoulder with his and his fingers finally enclosed around yours, “I have one friend, remember?”

“Hm.” You hummed around the fork tines with another bite of cake. “Good point.”

“What about Richie?” You asked.

“He’s a family friend.”

“Not your friend, though?”

Carmy shook his head, “I mean - I don’t know. I think he wants me to go back to New York.”

“Will you?”

A line formed between Carmy’s brows. “What?”

“Go back to New York.” You selfishly hoped he would stay no matter what happened. If you had enough time, then you could pursue something honest with Carmy. It could be solid, and tangible, and Good. And yes, it would likely end with your heart being broken, but at least the middle and beginning would be fun. You were cynical when it came to romance, or relationships, or God forbid--love. But openly talking about your rawest wounds in front of Carmy altered your perspective. Maybe a relationship was just finding someone who made you feel brave.

He stopped looking at the pavilion over your shoulder and met your eyes, “No.”

You bit back your smile.

Together, you finished the two slices of cake in silence with your forks occasionally clashing with a soft metallic ‘ping.’ You set the plate aside with a rock on the surface to stop it from flying off in the wind. You thought of his brother, his loneliness in New York and in Chicago, and the beast of burden in the shape of a struggling restaurant. You thought about your past and uncertain future. Carmy continued to hold your hand, calloused and warm, and you didn’t want this evening to end.

You asked the singular question weighing on your mind.

“Why do you think Mikey left you the restaurant?”

Carmy replied, “To fuck with me.”

The wind stirred your hair and it caught against your nose and lips. “You think so?”

“Shit.” He sighed heavily. “I – I don’t know. I have no fucking clue he was thinking. I wish I did. I wish I knew anything about him.”

Your heart splintered at his defeated, angry tone. You wished grief was physical, like a blanket, that you could remove from his shoulders. You wanted to do more for him beyond listening. You wanted to chase that hurt, angry look from his eyes with a broom and demand it never return.

“Tell me something you did know.” You said gently, “Something easy. Like…uh…I don’t know? His shoe size?”

Carmy snorted and leveled you with a disbelieving, flat look. He removed his hand from your grasp and pulled his cigarettes from his coat pocket. You waited while he lit up and admired the shadows flickering across Carmy’s face. The champagne no longer lingered in your veins. The bubbly, giddy feeling had only one culprit and it was the person beside you. He inhaled, exhaled smoke through his nostrils, and wordlessly held the cigarette out to you.

Sharing a cigarette was as close as you’d get to kissing him.

“Mikey was…” He licked his lips. “He was loud, and funny, and—he—he’d walk into a room, and he’d light it up, you know?”

You passed the cigarette back with a faint smile. You suspected his relationship to Mikey was a complicated one and you wouldn’t untangle it over the span of a single cigarette.

“He taught me how to ride a bike. Sugar—Natalie—I mean, my sister, too.” Carmy threaded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what that says about him.”

“Sometimes, it’s less about what the memory says and more about how it makes you feel.” You shrugged. In your eyes, you thought Mikey must have a decent amount of patience and resolve to teach his younger siblings to ride a bike. Patience and determination were two traits that worked well within the restaurant business.

The cigarette dangled from his lips, and he shook his head slightly, before pressing his fingers to his mouth, and pulling it away. The vapor seeped through his teeth. Carmy’s expression was perturbed but he didn’t elaborate or share his thoughts. His eyes shined glassy and distant. Perhaps taking a walk down memory lane wasn’t what he needed right now. No worries.

You snatched the cigarette out from his fingers and the act startled him. You smiled with smoke unfurling in front of your eyes and distorting Carmy’s features.

“Come on.” You clambered to your feet and gripped onto Carmy’s muscled shoulder as you slid your sneakers back onto your feet. “My ass is getting cold sitting out here. Do you wanna take the L together?”

“What about the wedding?”

You scoffed, flicking cigarette ash onto the sand, “Jimmy didn’t pay us to stick around and help clean up.”

You reached down for him and wiggled your fingers, “The offer will expire in ten seconds.” You opened your mouth to start the countdown, but Carmy grabbed your hand, and you pulled him to his feet. He let you go immediately, and you chose to not think about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy watched the reflection of you in the glass across from his seat. You were half-asleep on his shoulder, your head nodding with the train’s movement, and your lips slightly parted. He hadn’t expected his night to take this type of turn after leaving the Al-Anon meeting. You had stood before him in the sand, your cheeks flushed and eyes dark, and Carmy convinced himself he was dreaming before you spoke. You were always surprising him - literally and figuratively.

He swallowed tightly at the memory of your tearful expression. He would never understand Mikey. He would never figure out his motivations, or decode his ciphers, but he was starting to understand you. You threw yourself into everything with passionate, courageous fervor. You hated when someone saw you cry. You chased perfection. You idolized your grandfather. You were forthright, and proud, and quick with dark, teasing looks and clever grins. You were a stubborn know-it-all and perpetually charming.

The intercom announced the next stop and you stirred. “Hmph. Carmy?”

He blinked down at you. “Hm?”

“It’s all real with you.” You muttered sleepily into his shoulder. “I can’t compartmentalize for shit when you’re around.”

His lungs expanded with a deep, full inhale. He reached out and tucked away a piece of your hair that fell into your face. His heart tripped with an uneven tempo. The train slowed, pistons hissing, and doors sliding opening beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. He knew your stop was next and loathed the idea of saying goodnight. He would ride this train, up and down the river forever, if it meant he could stay next to you.

He cleared his throat and said, “Your stop is next.”

“Ugh.” You grumbled, “Fuck off. I know.”

You sat up, leaning forward, and he missed the weight of your head on his shoulder the minute it was gone. You scrubbed your hands over your face, taking your phone out, responding to text messages with a bleary-eyed expression. His hands twitched in his lap. He wanted to settle his palm between your shoulder blades. He wasn’t a complete idiot. Normal people didn’t have urges like this about their friends. Maybe it was a side-effect of sleeping together but he didn’t know.

“You’re – um - you’re good to walk home, right?” He inquired carefully. He imagined where you lived and assumed it was better than his depressing apartment.

You nodded and glanced over your shoulder, “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

He shrugged and aimed his tone for nonchalance, “What are friends for?”

You twisted your torso toward him, careful delight illuminated your eyes, “Did you really think our cake was good?”

“I thought it was better than just ‘good’.” He clarified, “I thought it was ‘fire’ which is the highest compliment a chef can give to another.”

You answering smile set his inexperienced, aching heart overdrive. The train slowed, its announcement crackling over the speakers, and you swayed when you stood. He caught the sleeve of your coat with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes flickered down to his hand before meeting his gaze, quiet and cautious. A heartbeat echoed between you. He had few, precious seconds before you were gone, and he’d never guess when you might turn up again. You were across the street, yet it felt like you were a hundred miles away.

You said, “Night, Carm.”

“Don’t – um – don’t be a stranger, alright? You can - you can stop by anytime.” He swallowed nervously, releasing your coat, and scratching his forehead with his thumb nail. “Richie hasn’t shut up about you since you catered Eva’s party.”

“Please remind him that wasn’t me. That was Delilah.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he just wants to take Delilah out on a date or something.” Carmy guessed with a shrug.

It was a paltry excuse. Richie didn’t really talk about you that much beyond his joking quips and annoying assumptions. Carmy wanted you to come by regardless of the reason. He wanted to have another smoke break with you. He wanted to know more about your life, your past, hell - everything. Desire filled his chest, hot and bright and close to bursting. If only willpower alone could stop the train doors from opening.

“I can make that happen.” You pursed your lips. “She’s single.”

The doors slid open with a hiss. He exhaled your name in farewell. You stepped off the train onto the concrete platform. Carmy’s knee bounced in his seat. He leaned back, eyes toward the steel ceiling, and gleaming bars.

‘He’s the only one who saw me.’ He set his jaw in remembrance and was unable to shake the feeling that he felt the same way about Mikey. His older brother had been his best friend, his guardian, and his hero—the person who saw him—until he stopped looking. And no matter what he did, no matter the accolades, and the praise, Mikey never looked at him again. Never told him he was proud, or impressed, or that he was sorry for the years of silence. He sniffled, his tears sharp and prickly against his eyelids. He pinched the upper bridge of his nose and pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes.

He kept it together until he crossed the threshold to his apartment. The door slammed. His heart split. Carmy leaned his back against the door and sank to the floor with his hands covering his face. He wasn’t embarrassed to cry in the privacy and safety of his shitty apartment. His throat ached, his eyes burned, and twin rivers of snot trailed onto his mouth. For a long moment there was no other sound in the small hallway beyond his ragged, hiccupped breathing.

Until his phone vibrated in his pocket. He cleared his eyes with his fingertips. An overwhelming sense of anxiety and concern consumed him before he looked at his phone. What if the message was related to The Beef? What if someone was quitting? What if it was worse than that?

Your name glowed in blue-light on the screen.

‘What kind of coffee do you like?’

He pressed his lips together, blinking away the last of his tears, and slowly typed a response; ‘All of it.’

‘Heard.’ You said, followed by, ‘I expect nothing less from an insomniac.’

Despite the hollow, painful ache of missing his brother, Carmy laughed – a brief, dry sound. He clutched his phone between his fingers like al lifeline. An electric, unseen tether to you, and to the sense of grounding that you gave him.

‘Who said I was an insomniac?’

‘No one! I can sense these things.’ A short delay before the next message came through, ‘It takes one to know one, I guess.’

He got to his feet with a quiet grunt and peeled his jacket from his shoulders. He knew he needed to shower, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. He didn’t have the energy for it no matter how simple it seemed. He rinsed his mouth with mouthwash at the kitchen sink and collapsed onto the couch with a soulful, long exhale. He stared at his open text and every quiet, doubtful thought came rushing into his head with a bloodthirsty vengeance.

You deserved better. The more he understood you, the more you let him in, the more certain he was of that fact. He couldn’t and shouldn’t drag you into the shitshow of his life and all its barbed wire. He was a mess. You deserved someone functional, healed, and experienced. His time at Noma, or the French Laundry, didn’t mean shit compared to everything he didn’t know when it came to relationships – platonic or otherwise. He felt like he was bumbling through the dark, stepping on glass, and knocking over fine China.

The worst part was knowing that Mikey would know what to say to him. He’d have a quip, or some anecdote, or gravely spoken advice. Carmy set his phone facedown onto the coffee table without replying and turned his television on to Pasta Grannies.

His dreams were filled with tickertape, and smoke, and the curve of your profile just out of view.

(Part 8 )

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #fic: nothings gonna hurt you baby #ao3 #pls lemme know what y’all think !! it’s been fun so far :) sometimes i get worried that i don’t have #like everyone’s voice correct lol

[abyssmarked]

for a person who has very little sex in real life ( i am very autistic and it’s just very overstimulating and i hate being touched in any way like 85% of the time ), i sure am a slut for writing smut.

#ooc. #i was diagnosed w asperger’s in the late 90s #do you know how long it took me to stop saying i have asperger’s?? #embarrassingly too long #idk what that has to do with anything #omg i think my edible is kicking in #like 5% of the time i’m like OMFG I NEED SOMEONE TO SQUEEZE ME AS HARD AS THEY CAN OR I MIGHT SCREAM #and then a squeeze will regulate me so quick and then once i’m chill i;m like #ew okay your skin is touching my skin and i need it to stop #pls tell me i’m not the only one lmao #anyway lemme shut up and write some replies before i pass tf out #what even was this post?

[bat-the-misfit]

i only know two Ni doms irl but they're both driving me crazy

#internet people be like “oh ni doms are so mystical and clairvoyant” no they're not #lemme tell you what they are they're ANXIOUS #and they're making me ANXIOUS TOO #i love you ni doms but pls stop predicting your life in 20 years you could die tomorrow #i'm sorry but it's the truth the future holds so many possibilities that can ruin your “vIsIOn” #pls use your inferior Se once pls i beg you i promise you won't die if you live in the moment for 5 minutes #“Bat you don't use Se you can't complain about them” i know but at least i can switch between my Ne and my Si sometimes #one of them (INTJ) says EVERY SINGLE DAY: “i'm gonna do this i'm gonna do that and i also have this project for next month and-” #but he never does anything which translates to “what the hell happened to his Te?” #his Ni must want to choke his Te #and then there's my mother (INFJ) who not only keeps telling everyone what she's gonna do ignoring the fact that Stuff Happens (inf Pe agai #but whenever smth bad happens she always think it's “meant to be” and “part of the process of people's soul growth” #i vent to her and she's like “this is what g0d chose to you as a mission for your soul to evolve" #no wonder jesus was an INFJ as well their Ni-Fe is so pUrPOsE oF LIfE #mom i just wanted to tell you my day sucks idc about my mission on earth i just wanted you to comfort me #i know we all should be kind and avoid being superficial but sometimes shit happens and it's not bc of our spiritual growth or whatever #sometimes life sucks and we don't learn anything with that and sometimes we have to be mean with people #bc they suck or bc they're mean to us #well aNYWAY #tio morcego tá azedo #every cognitive function is amazing on their own way but each one of them will drive you crazy #there's no better type or function: everyone will drive you crazy #today i'm pissed with ni doms tomorrow i could be pissed with se doms which are their opposite types so who knows? #you can't escape it you will want to choke people of all types #if you only hate one or a few types only you're not studying mbti right you have to be pissed off with all types #same with the opposite if you only like one or a few types you're not studying mbti right #you have to love every type with a passion that no one can explain #if you don't get why a type is so special and so annoying at the same type you're not studying mbti right #i just complained about ni doms but i could write why i also love them in two minutes after i post this #ok i'll stop now i'm rambling too much

[peachiseas]

Crazy how baxter's dlc is the longest dlc out of ol1 and yet it does Not have the polish that the other dlcs have

#candy girl.txt #you might ask what makes you think that rose #and i'll say a Lot of it does not have the fine tuning or thought put into it as much as cove's expansion packs and derek's dlc djd #if you do want my stance on it pls lemme know i do want to make an official lil essay post about baxter's dlc and its flaws

[megumimylove]

Stray Kitten

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

summary: Kuroo finds a stray kitten on his way home and decides to bring her home (fluff / domestic fluff)

a/n: i know kuroo is a dog person and i refuse to accept it.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

You were currently spread out on the living room couch listening to the pitter patter of the raindrops. Dinner is already made and you're just waiting for your boyfriend to come home so you can eat with him.

 You hear the familiar knock pattern on your apartment door making you get up in an instant to greet Kuroo on the other side of the door. He's probably drenched from the rain cause he forgot his umbrella this morning (even after you reminded him like three times). You grab a towel on your way just in case he needs it.

 You were right, he is drenched, but there's also someone else who is drenched with him. "I got something for us !!" he announces proudly while holding up a small black kitten like Simba from The Lion King pose. She looks like she can’t be older than 4 weeks.

 "oh my god tetsu I love you so much!" you cry while wrapping the towel around the kitten and bringing her inside, you kiss kuroo on the lips, he’s so happy to see you happy. Kuroo was aware how badly you wanted a kitten and last week he also saw you browsing animal shelter websites on your laptop to adopt one.

“how did you get her ?” you inquire while he strips off his damp work clothes in the entryway, “this little baby was following me from outside the station and i couldn’t find any of her family so i brought her home” he explains with a grin plastered on his face, “plus she kinda looks like me” he adds causing you to chuckle.

 You’re drying the kitten with the towel as Kuroo returns from the bathroom, now changed into a black hoodie with sweats. “She’s adorable” you say and he agrees.

One thing you and Kuroo had in common was your love for animals, especially cats, they're just so adorable with their little toe beans and their little ears.

 You hand the towel wrapped kitten to Kuroo as he settles beside you on the couch. She meows, causing you both to let out a simultaneous "awwww", "I think she's hungry" he says after a moment, "I'll get you both some milk" you ruffle his hair and get up from your position to fetch them both something warm.

 You heat up some chocolate milk (his favourite) for Kuroo and pour some whole milk in a small bowl for the kitten. You return to the living room and the sight of Kuroo petting the kitten's head and rubbing her chin while talking to her in a baby voice makes your heart feel all warm and fluffy.

 Kuroo smiles at you, his eyes extra glossy today compared to their usual appearance and takes his glass from your hand. You set the kitten on the floor and the milk bowl in front of her.

 With a little encouragement from her new adoptive parents and lots of sniffing, she finally starts licking at the surface of milk, soon realising that it tastes good. (adult cats cannot digest milk but kittens can)

The kitten cleaned herself after finishing the milk and got a bit friendlier with you two, letting you hold and pet her. You guys spent the entire evening playing with the kitten and laughing at its antics. 

You learnt something new today and it’s that kittens love chasing around toilet paper and playing with round things. You made a mental note to make a vet appointment tomorrow and to buy cat food and litter first thing in the morning.

 It's pretty late now and you're lying in bed after dinner with your head resting on your lover's shoulder and his arm wrapped around your upper back. You can feel his steady heartbeat under the palm of your hand resting on his chest while you both lay contently watching the kitten sleep on her makeshift pillow and hoodie bed.

 "Tetsu" you say softly, he hums in response urging you to go on, "what should we name her ?", "ball sack" he replies earning himself a light smack on the head, "your naming rights have been revoked" you tell him while giggling. You both continue discussing kitten names and eventually leave the topic to be discussed with Kenma since you can’t agree on a name.

 An hour has passed since you switched off the lights, leaving just a small lamp on in case the kitten gets up and tries to find you (even though you know that cats have excellent vision in the dark). 

"y/n ?" Kuroo whispers, "we're cat parents now" he announces, "I guess we are" you reply and he pulls you closer on his side, placing a kiss on your temple.

#should i make more parts of this ?? #i am obsessed with the idea of adopting a kitten with kuroo #pls lemme know what you think of this #kuroo tetsurou fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou imagines #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #kuroo tetsurou fanfiction #megumimylove

[rigels-nigels]

Girl help I've acquired possibly yet another expensive hobby

#op #2 of them in fact #currently making a frame weaving loom (and by that i mean my dad idk enough about wood working and this wood is too expensive to fuck up) #and getting into mechanical keyboards #i already have a lotta yarn so the real costs rn are the keyboards #which are like at least 100usd a pop #what sucks is that they all seem to be 60% keyboards or tkl's and like. i need my fn and number pad keys pls and thx #debated sacrificing the num pad and getting a seperate one bc wowza these custom boards are absolutely gorgeous but #i am on such a budget and a cheap (cheap!!!) keyboard i found that i quite like is still gonna run me 200cad #if i got a pretty keeb and a seperate numpad i could easily be looking at $500+ like lordy #that's not even counting the switches i want to get (gateron baby kangs which are. $66. I'm assuming in usd bc it doesn't actually say) #anyway debating on whether or not i should order the keyboard now or wait till later cuz like is it even gonna be there later? #so much of this stuff is temporary and u never know #its a 96% keyboard and it has a calculator button!! only other board ive seen with that is my dads maybe 2005 wireless microsoft #so useful tbh #such a pretty board too all things considered #and finding a nice board like that with the numpad is not easy lemme tell ya like i was truly considering a ducky which. #i cant say im quite fond of their logo among other things #i think its more of a cream than white but u cant win em all #hmm to purchase now or to not purchase now‚ that is the question.... i could technically afford it but then #there's ComicCon + cost of supplies and whatnot for opening up my shop which is gonna be probably at least a hundred... #and then i would like to get some nice wool skirts for the winter/now bc pants are of the devil which is gonna be another 100/150 or so... #augh #i think the government should give me more money i think that would be very sexy of them to do #anyway can you believe i went on my phone to find a banana bread recipe then did all this instead? crazy #hashtag adhd life

[skinsort]

Hello, I've been thinking about code and selling code and sharing code in the rpc because someone posed the question to me of what I'd want to happen if someone was heavily editing a skin I sold, and to be honest, my first instinct was 'take my name off it'. That was met with some surprise, but let me explain why.

Code, to me, is a largely democratic landscape. If you want to learn, hundreds of thousands of people and websites have come together to teach you. Masses of people share open source work on codepen, stack overflow etc. Code as a skill is like assembling an especially abstract puzzle where you can only think about the pieces, not really see them. But most puzzles have similar strategies to solve- start with the corner pieces, then the edges, then the most recognizable patterns etc etc etc working your way down to the more and more difficult details. Most of code- most of my job writing code- involves minimizing the amount of time working on those shared strategies so we can have more time to work on the the interesting bits, the hard bits. the bits that make the site we're working on unique and useful. Frankly, jcink is the easy part of code, by and large. Your data is already structured and provided to you in a very particular way. It is inefficiently, but largely documented. Many other people have solved all the problems you are likely to have trying to build a skin. Skinning is html and css for the vast majority of items. It is the easy stuff. If I sell code, that code is now the property of the person I sold it to. It is not shareable or redistributable. You can't take my code and resell it as your own, but as far as I'm concerned you can do whatever you want with it. If I solved problems that might otherwise feel difficult (accessibility and responsiveness come to mind) cool. You can solve the easy ones, like styling and colors and fonts you like. You can add or subtract things that vibe with what you want that code to do. Once it is sold, it is yours to do with what you like when it comes to personal use. This is true of almost all coding contracts that exist in the entire world. If it weren't, no one would ever hire external contractors to do any work for their company, and I can tell you now, even companies which could fully afford to do all their tech in house absolutely do not in 99% of cases if their business isn't selling their own tech. The rule is generally- you may do anything you like with this, except resell it to someone else. So why take my name off it? I don't endorse how other people code. Even in my professional life, I've taken projects off my portfolio because the client took a project I worked on and broke it (imo), often with other professional developers doing the breaking. If a prospective employer were to go look at it, I'd be embarrassed by what it looks like today. Tell me why I (and my team) created a website that was fully responsive, and they went back to make it adaptive in the year of our lord 2022 because they preferred to have pixel perfect views at 3 specific breakpoints rather than a responsive site. I don't know, it's infuriating. I can't cite that project as an example of my work anymore, because it isn't. I would never leave a site in that state.

So, my first instinct with the idea of people using a skin i sell them as a base is 'take my name off it.' I don't want to be associated if responsive/accessible features are lost due to others working on a skin I wrote. But at the same time, where is the line between using something as a base, and editing a few small features? I certainly don't want to be an arbiter of that, or have to field questions or navigate feelings about it. In fact, personally I would not feel upset at all if someone used a paid for skin as a base, and inviting that kind of discussion is the only way I possibly could get upset since people have weird attitudes about a lot of this stuff. So I think the more practical standard is just to put credit, but make it explicit that the work has been heavily altered. Don't resell or redistribute, and you're golden, imo. Anyway, those are my feelings as someone who writes code for a living. I'm interested to hear counterpoints - constructively of course.

#jcink coding #coding meta #meta #tfw you find out days after posting this take that the original question was asked because of tattler shenanigans lol help me i'm in danger #from a resource server mutual for shame! #i joke but fr tho #I have no interest in The Discourse guys #i mean i have my takes but i don't care if people have different ones #at least not when it comes to code #standard disclaimer about basic decency yadda yadda #pls don't involve me in tattler fights tho it's not my vibe #i don't wanna be positioned as an authority aside from what my own opinions are #i'm just over here playing with my lore and scripts #and i prefer things to stay that way #not deleting because i do think it's a relevant question but adding the tags for posterity lololol #if it is tattler discourse pls just lemme know and if it's an interesting question on it's own terms like this one is I'll answer it in lik #a month or two on the blog #happy to chat in dms as long as we all respect the space I'd wanna take from that messiness lol #no worries tho #i understand why it was asked but rpc catfighting is SO not my special interest it's hard to overstate #okay thank you #and goodnight :)

[tvrningout]

don't get sleepy after an hour of social interaction challenge

#ASDFG ALL I DID WAS TAKE A TEST!!! #i did get something written earlier but dude i got so sleepy and i'm trying to bounce back now #i wanna chip away at my inbox and get the last of the starters i owe from my original starter call queued up #i know i said they could be one liners but i also don't wanna do one-liners #y'all i'm shaking my brain like a maraca and trying my best to get stuff queued i promise so thanks for being patient <3 #get ready to ramble | ooc #btw completely unrelated thought but i keep thinking of chiyo in a leather jacket and boots and nails painted black and i'm #lemme smooch?? pls?? oh my gosh #i feel like out of my muses chiyo probably would try out different styles the most #and she probably likes how she looks when dressed 'alternatively' if that's what you call it?? bc i mean she can look good while #feeling super comfy #she loves wearing jeans and ripped jeans look so dang cool to her #i won't ramble a ton bc these tags are already long but chiyo in a crop top leather jacket ripped jeans and boots or sneakers..... #messy hair and a lil eyeliner and glossy lips........ #i wish i could draw asdfg

[vcrnons]

7 for the spotify game <33

send me a number 1-100 and I’ll tell you what that song in my wrapped playlist is!<3

#7 - Love Talk, WAYV 🥰

#💌 - mailbox. #❤️‍🔥 - moots. #hana 🫧 #(HANA I NEED TO GIVE U AN EMOJI. LEMME THINK OR PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE ;-; <3) #ask games! #pls everyone know I will be sending these right back to u when I get off work ;-; <3

[martyrbat]

[ID: Batman punching a criminal as he fires his gun in the air from shock. The sound effect above them has been edited to say 'cock' instead of 'sock'. END ID]

shoutout to that anon that told me bob kane is rolling in his grave bc of my posts. personally i like to think he had the gift of prophecy and made batman specifically for me to make dick jokes <33

#oh hey while youre here and thinking haha what wild tags will ransom have this time bc surely you all except the usual comedy genius (/s) #maybe consider looking at the transcript i did instead :) its the first (technically 2nd but sh) work in my accessibility project to make #comics available to a bigger audience. especially bc comics are a visual heavy medium that usually excludes an entire group of ppl #and if u have any requests for future works pls lemme know #anyways back to your regular batman pussy and balls posting #i think the anon that wrote that said it in response to my tags saying bruce airs out his pussy to attract selina #bc i woke up to it (and it made me laugh!) #however i have written much worse tags and will continue to do so forever and ever amen. #posts from the crypt #c: detective comics | i: 627 #c: detective comics | i: 27 #shit in the crypt #batman

[ladygoofus]

I remember being told over and over in art school "push the pose, push the pose," and I don't remember being told how to do that, only that I was doing it wrong. If you watch character design portfolio critiques, it's often the same thing. The artist might even redraw a pose to make it more exaggerated, but they don't explain how to figure out which parts of the anatomy to stretch or squash or bend. It's like being told to "draw a circle, now draw the rest of the face" without any steps in between. And now, even though I try to "push poses" constantly in my comics, I'm still not sure I could explain it. If I had better words, I think I could do it better! So maybe that'll be my goal for the rest of January.

#drawing #making comics #learning to draw #art school #anyway if you can recommend any good videos or tutorials about this subject pls lemme know #obviously there's a logic to it but people seem to have trouble articulating it #i think a lot of us have gotten a sense about what to exaggerate through doing a lot of life drawing so maybe it's one of those things #that has to be more intuitive because every pose is so different #and the most helpful thing was identifying lines of actions and making them really clear but even then it feels like something is missing