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talesofesther · 3 months

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first in my heart

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.

A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.

Word count: 4,7k

Masterlist

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.

To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.

And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.

Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.

He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.

Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.

It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.

The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.

You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.

With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.

"What are you up to, my sweet?"

The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.

The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.

You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."

You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.

Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"

The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."

Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."

He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.

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Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.

You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.

Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.

He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.

And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"

A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.

You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.

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It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.

The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.

When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.

You didn't.

You said you cared for him. You hugged him.

There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.

Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.

He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.

Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.

Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.

There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.

With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.

It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.

But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.

The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.

Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.

Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.

"Astarion?"

With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.

"Is everything okay?"

Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.

Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"

The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.

You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."

But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?

Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.

He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.

Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.

He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.

Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.

Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.

And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.

He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.

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You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.

You could only hope he would adore it just as much.

It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.

Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.

You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.

Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.

You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.

With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.

You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.

"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.

You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.

"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.

You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."

His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.

"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.

A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.

You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.

For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.

You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.

"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.

Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.

"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"

You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."

A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.

You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.

Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.

The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.

A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.

He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.

People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.

Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.

Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.

You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.

Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.

"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.

"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."

Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.

There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.

Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.

You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.

When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."

You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion imagine #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #astarion fanfic #my story #astarion ancunin

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labs · 5 months

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Hello again, Labs here with a recap of our test of Collections! We introduced this prototype back in September and then handed the feature to a handful of volunteers sourced from the notes on that post. Thank you again to all volunteers!

We got so much useful feedback, and wanted to share some of that here, and reveal some next steps we’re taking. There are a couple of big projects cooking in Labs, and Collections has taken a backseat lately, but it is important to us to not leave y’all hanging. We very much want to build things with you here.

Our goal with the volunteer-based super-early phase of Collections was to see if those volunteers actually use the feature, watch what they come up with, and check whether anybody they invite to Tumblr signs up and becomes a regular user of the site. Turns out, nobody did sign up — it’s not as useful of an onboarding strategy as we thought it could be.

However, one piece of feedback we got is that Collections make great custom feeds, which people on Tumblr have been asking for a lot over the years. We hear you loud and clear: you want to supplement the standard Following / For You experience with more intentional control over feed content. That’s really important to us.

With that in mind, for those in the prototype, we’ve moved the Collections list to the left sidebar / mobile navigation as an expandable area like Account, for quick access. We like this better than putting them in the dashboard tab bar, but it’s still something we’re mulling over:

We also heard the need for more filtering options beyond just blogs and tags. What about only including a blog’s posts that use a certain tag, or excluding posts using a certain tag? Or list tags with a boolean AND operator (“posts tagged [tag] and [other tag]”), not just the OR operator we’re using now for sourcing tagged posts. Lots of ideas on how to further customize what shows up in the feed, and better define what the feed is “for”.

There were other fun, tangential bits of feedback, too, like the desire to make these Collections a collaborative feature, so that more than one person can help build a Collection. There were also several usability issues that came to the forefront, which we’ve addressed. And there were some well-articulated thoughts and questions about etiquette, such as how to seek a blog’s “permission” to be included in a Collection – that’s something we care a lot about, to help prevent this kind of feature from being a source of abuse.

Another piece of feedback we heard repeatedly is the desire for Collections of posts. This is not really what we intended with what we built, but it’s not too far afield either. We totally agree that having better, easier ways of collecting and curating individual posts would be useful, so we’re going to investigate that as a separate project.

With all of this in mind, we’ve split the work on Collections into two separate tracks:

Shaping this feature as a “customizable feeds” solution, away from an “invite others” tool.

Building a new thing for saving and curating static posts.

Stay tuned here on the Labs blog for updates on when/if we’ll be moving these Collections tracks of work to more people on Tumblr. (If you are one of the volunteers who helped us with Collections, you’ll still have access to it for the time being!)

Thanks for reading! And please reach out to us via Support, the replies here, or your reblogs, if you have any more feedback, as always.

#tumblr labs #collections

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whenlostinthedarkness · 2 months

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Tis The Damn Season | Pt.1

Ellie Williams x Reader

Summary: You swore you'd never end up in Jackson again unless it was a life or death situation, but when that very thing happens, you find yourself back in the place you used to call home before it was tainted by her.

Rating: M [mentions of illness in a parent, weed usage, & talk of past relationship]

WC: 3.6k

A/N: Inspired by the song Tis The Damn Season by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy it! Pt 2 coming soon.

Masterlist How You Can Help Palestine

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The snow was covering the beaten-up road just as it did every time around this year. Traces of your existence were left via the horse hoof prints now stamped in the fresh layer of white, a physical reminder that you were actually here even though you said you'd never come back unless you were needed for a life or death situation. Sadly, that's exactly why you were here.

Your mother had fallen ill. Not with just some minor cough or sniffle, but chills and a fever that hadn't lessened at all in the past two weeks. Everyone feared the worst for your mother, which left them no other choice but to spread the word until it reached you in the next civilization over from Jackson.

When word about your mother's condition finally reached you, you didn't hesitate to start grabbing your essentials and stuffing them all in a barely usable backpack as you set off on your horse and endured the two-day travel in the harsh winter conditions that only the month of December could bring.

During your journey you barely slept, you barely ate, you barely did anything for yourself because the only thing that you could think about was your mother laid up in bed in the infirmary, a place you had been a time or two with...her.

Of course, you knew it was severely possible you would have to come in contact with the very reason you left Jackson to begin with. That's when the fresh hatred that you felt when you left Jackson started to boil over again.

If Ellie didn't have to be a stupid, idiotic, ill-tempered, non-communicative piece of shit, you could've been near your mother by now. You would've been the first person to know when she was ill and, though you knew it was illogical adrenaline thinking, somehow you kept arguing with yourself that you could've prevented her from getting sick.

Even if it didn't make sense and even if you knew that wasn't necessarily true, you did know that if your ex-girlfriend hadn't driven you out of this town, to begin with, you would be with your mother right this second.

These thoughts swirled around your brain all throughout the journey to Jackson and didn't quit until you stopped at the massive front gates that separated the safe civilization from the outside realm that didn't promise safety or protection from those infected with the cordyceps virus.

Two men stood on guard-same as it always has been even though a few years separated you from the last time you were here. You recognized both of them and they must've as well as they nodded in your direction before pulling the chains that opened one of the gate's massive doors to allow you entry.

Jackson was lit up by string lights and barrels filled with orange fire that lined the main road. It hadn't stirred far away from the Jackson you knew years ago-this brought you comfort and discomfort all swirled into one.

You patted the side of your horse as you swiftly jumped down from the saddle, making your boots crunch against the snow-covered dirt path.

Slowly, your feet moved as your eyes took in everything from the new crack that was set directly down the center of the stone chapel, all the way to the tree that seemed to have grown two feet since the last you saw it. Things had changed, even if it was only slightly, yet everything still felt so familiar and untouched, as if you had only been gone on a month-long journey. Except it had been two years.

Two years ago you were a child. Two years ago the only thing on your mind was how hopelessly in love you were with Ellie. The daydreams were never-ending; you pictured having a house with her, getting married with her, growing old with her-everything was with her.

This was the problem, rather, she was the problem.

You had managed to entangle your life so much in Ellie that you had lost sight of your own hobbies, your own friends, and your own life. So, when you and Ellie had one of the largest fights in your relationship, you ran.

You ran so far and so fast that you didn't give Ellie the slightest chance to protest or apologize. Instead, she began to notice your absence around town until she started asking about you. Nobody else had known of your whereabouts either, except for your mom.

Ellie nodded as your mother spoke of your departure. She wasn't given many details about where you were going and why you were going. All she knew was that you left with your backpack, your horse, and a bow and arrow thrown over your shoulder.

It's funny how things come full circle. Now, two years later, with your backpack, horse, and trusty bow and arrow, you were back in the very place you had tried so desperately to erase from your mind.

But you didn't have time to dwell on this town and that girl-you had your mother who needed you. Thankfully, the infirmary didn't stray too far from the downtown area of Jackson, and before long, you were tying your horse to the post just outside of the main door.

Immediately, you were greeted by an unfamiliar face.

"Can I help you?"

"My mom," you spoke with a racing heart, "my mom is here."

Quickly, the confusion faded from the stranger's face and a look of sadness was quick to replace.

"Oh, oh right. We've been expecting you... she's right over here."

The walk was short yet agonizing as you passed beds, both empty and filled, until you saw the very person who gave you life.

Settled underneath a hand-knitted blanket, your mother laid. Her eyes were sunken, her jaw was sharp and lacking any facial muscle; She looked like a corpse.

You whispered, "mama", as your hand came to lightly brush against the cold skin of her cheek.

—--

You'd sat with your mother for nearly two hours before the night nurse came around and thought it would be best if you headed home and got some rest. She wasn't wrong, yet you still took offense, but begrudgingly went along with her request.

The heavy wooden door swung open with force due to the icy wind that had taken over the state of Wyoming. You felt yourself shiver, but you weren't sure if it was because of your nerves or the cold hitting your face.

"Holding up alright girl?" You said as your hand came to pat along the blanket you had placed on top of your horse before going into the infirmary. "We're heading home now...well, it used to be my home."

With your horse's lead in hand, you walked through the new inch of snow that piled itself on top of the inch you had ridden through hours ago. Setting off on a familiar path to the home you grew up in felt just as mysterious as the fog that was beginning to gradient the dark sky with gray.

"Is that who I think it is?"

The rough, deep voice nearly startled you as you spun around on your heels. It couldn't be...could it?

"Joel?"

Gray hairs stuck to Joel's forehead as he sat high and mighty on the top of his horse. He looked as if he was fresh off of patrol.

"Never thought I would see you around here again. How've you been?"

Your eyes diverted as Joel swung his leg over his horse before his feet met the same graveled-covered snow as you.

"Ah, none of my business anyway," he said once several seconds of silence had passed, "just glad to see again."

Your eyes finally met him as your lips spread into a soft, yet genuine smile.

You muttered, "Nice to see you too Joel", and you meant it with every fiber of your being. Though Ellie had tainted so many things for you, you knew she could never pour a glaze of hate over the one man who you thought to be the closest thing to a father that you'd ever had.

The both of you started walking down the road towards the direction of your home in such a natural state, it felt as if the years you had lived an entirely different life weren't real-as if you had never left. It nearly made you forget about the very reason why you became so close with Joel in the first place...but she would never be hard to forget for you.

"How've you been?"

Joel shrugged, "Same old, same old. Still killing clickers and working on guitars when I can."

"You're still doing patrols?", you asked genuinely. Not that Joel was ancient, but it was clear that he was beginning to show his age.

He chuckled with bright eyes staring straight ahead, "You didn't think a couple years would have me bedridden did ya darlin". His words were spoken with an amusement that had you embarrassed that you'd asked such a crass thing to begin with.

"I'd never imagine anything could keep you bed ridden, Joel."

Joel chuckled and peered over in your direction, "I knew I always liked you."

The both of you turned down another path in silence as your conversation naturally tapered off, thankfully, without a word spoken about Ellie. Joel knew better.

The house you'd grown up in was getting closer and closer - a weight of anxiety began to till up your lungs as your breath started becoming heavy.

What if the second you walked in that door, you'd be met with all those feelings you chose to leave behind in Jackson? What if you weren't as okay as you had been telling yourself? You'd never been so scared of silence and seclusion.

"Here we are," Joel spoke while he watched the way you looked at the home as if it were something repulsive and poisonous. He could sense your uneasy feelings.

"You know, you're always welcome at mine.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Joel nearly regretted the option he gave just by looking at the way your face turned downwards.

Softly, his hand fell to the top of your shoulder as you looked down at you. “I’ll make sure no one comes around and bothers you too.”

You knew exactly who this “no one” was and you were grateful that despite Joel being Ellie’s father, he still knew to reassure you of your emotional safety.

“Think about it. Alright?”

You nod at his words as he smiles in a way that is both sympathetic and kind. He viewed you as fragile- you hated it, but you also knew you weren’t feeling the strongest right now either. Your mother was usually your comfort and with that comfort not being available, Joel and his parental care was exactly what you needed right now.

“Tomorrow.”

Joel nodded, his smile turning up a couple inches more. “I’ll get a room prepared for ya then. It’ll be nice to have some new company..well, not entirely new, but..oh there I go again yapping. You know what I’m saying.”

You nodded with a hint of a laugh, “goodnight Joel. See you tomorrow.”

With that, he turned his back and walked the five extra minutes to his home. Meanwhile, you tucked your beloved horse inside the barn right next to your old home, ensuring it had all of its essentials before you made your way into your old home.

It was identical to how you’d left it. The same photo of you and your mom was framed on the living room wall. And.. ”oh god Mom”, you sighed at the 5x7 framed photo of you and Ellie that was from maybe five or so years ago. Back when everything wasn’t complicated and when you’d never thought that your best friend would be the person to make you leave this town.

You walked around the rest of the home examining various similarities and new items until a massive yawn pried itself out of your jaw. At that, you walked yourself into your old bedroom, which was left untouched, and got into much comfier clothes before slipping under the covers and trying your best to fall asleep.

If only your mind would shut up.

After tossing and turning for god knows how long, you decided getting up and having a reset could prove to be the cure for your momentary insomnia. So, with a heavy and aching head and shoulders, you stood up with a sigh.

As your eyes squinted and glanced around the room, Your eyes landed on a match. The small wooden stick sat between your fingers until it lit up with bright orange light.

The tall candle illuminated the room, giving you a better look at the nostalgic pieces of paper and pictures you’d tapped onto your wall from teenagehood and beyond. It's crazy how time went past, yet in this room, things seemed to keep the world from spinning on its axis.

As you shook the now extinguished match stick, the familiar smell of smoke made you remember something- you had a pre-rolled joint in your bag that you knew would come in handy and look at just how right you were.

After pulling your coat over your shoulders and securing the match box in your pocket, you set off for the front porch.

It was dark and deathly quiet, just how you liked it. The only faint, distant noise you could decipher was the light thump of a bass-heavy tune that you assumed was coming from a busy, Saturday night at the Tipsy Bison. You smiled thinking back to your past nights at the local town bar. So many memories…most of them spent with Ellie and other friends.

Your mom also loved the tipsy bison on any given night. She was often the type to greet everyone with a smile and friendly hello regardless of whether you were her best friend or an acquaintance. God, you missed her.

Before you could get too deep into anxiety and sadness over your mom's health, you decided a joint was in order. You weren’t about to process anything major without some sort of sedative especially when you were sleep deprived and being reminded of past pain nearly everywhere you went in this damn town.

Just as you did with the candle, a match stick was lit and touched to the tip of your pre-roll as you inhaled the smoke slowly…. Damn, did it feel good.

Instantly, you felt your shoulders slump downwards with every inhale you took until your eyes were properly heavy. But there was that music again, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued to see if it was still the same old place that, much like your old bedroom, seemed to make time stand still.

Without much thought, you began walking in the direction of the bar you knew and used to love oh so much. You wondered if it still held that barley and wood smell or if they still served Maria’s fresh bread. Oh, and if Seth was still a prick, though, you really already knew the answer to that.

The lights you’d seen hours ago were now hanging above your head like small little halos that almost felt like a shield from the outside world. It felt safe.

Your joint was nearly gone, with maybe a few more puffs left to it, as you continued walking until you were outside of the bustling wooden building. From the outside, the music was much more prevalent, along with the giggles and chatter from the rest of the townsfolk that were tucked inside.

Before you could decide on going inside the establishment or not, a loud group of people came bursting through the front doors. This group looked a little too familiar for your liking.

Dina and Jesse wore matching, drunken smiles as the entire group dove deep into a conversation about something that seemed rather amusing. There were a couple others that you weren’t quick to recognize except for the person to the right of Jesse who nearly made you run to your mother's home at top speed.

Ellie’s presence didn’t catch your eye at first, something you blamed on the substance tucked between your fingers, but when you did put the visual together with all the past memories, it felt like an avalanche. Thankfully, you were able to take her in first before she made eye contact with you.

Her hair was down and a plain colored shirt and army green jacket covered her upper half. She looked good, but you weren’t about to let your mind entertain any other thoughts of her before you turned away and hoped that she would somehow miss your figure in the middle of the walkway. Sadly, your hopes were dashed.

Though you were quick to move your eyes, focus on your feet and the joint you were currently inhaling, you could feel Ellie’s eyes boring a hole into the side of your head as if she were trying to decide if seeing you was real or a hallucination. And who's to say she wasn’t doing exactly that. However, a squealing voice broke both of you out of your objectives.

Your name was yelled from a person in the group whose voice you knew all too well. Your disguise had been recognized and it wasn’t easy for you to ignore it…and some part of you didn’t want to either.

You closed your eyes as you took one last hit, breathed in-then out, and lifted your head.

Dina was barreling towards you with flimsy legs that were much more clumsy than when she was sober. This made you smile somehow, despite the oncoming reunion with your ex that you were dreading.

“Hey Dina”, you said just before her arms enveloped your shoulders in possibly the tightest hug you’ve ever felt.

“What are you doing here?!” She slurred as both of her hands moved to cup both sides of your cheeks. You were both putting on quite a show for the group, especially the ones who, you assumed, had no idea who you were.

“I couldn’t sleep so i thought-”

“No, no! I mean here-In Jackson. What are you doing here?”

Your smile instantly dropped as you thought of your ill-stricken mother who almost looked like a stranger to you. You kicked your feet causing a puff of dust to whirl through the air. “My mom.”

Dina’s glossy eyes remained, but her gleeful expression shifted the instant you said the two words. “God, I'm sorry. Of course, that’s why you’re here.” Her voice trailed off as her hand brushed your upper arm.

“How are you holding up?”

You shrugged and it was honest. “I don’t know. I’m finding it hard to feel anything right now.”

Dina made an understanding nod just as Jesse came into your line of view with arms held open wide.

“Bring it in stranger.”

A familiar smoky, leather scent encircled the both of you as you allowed yourself to fully embrace your old friend. Jesse smelt the same as he always had which brought a comfort that you didn’t know you were in need of.

His large arms squeezed you briefly before pulling his body backward and greeting you with a sympathetic smile.

“Never thought I would see you again.”

You smiled timidly, “I didn’t think I'd see you again either.”

“Not that I'm complaining.”

“Better not be,” you joked as your hand lightly smacked along his coat-covered arm in faux scolding.

Just then, the figure directly behind Jesse cleared their throat in a successful attempt at gaining the group's attention.

Your eyes met hers and it was instant chaos. The best you could do was press your lips together and nod in her direction. The silence between the both of you was pathetic and sad.

“If you feel like it, we’ll be around. Come say hi if you can.” Dina said with a nurturing tone that was trying its best to cover up the obvious tension and awkwardness that Ellie’s close proximity was causing.

Your eyes felt like weights that you had to force away from hers as you pulled eye contact from Ellie and looked toward your friend with a nod. “I’ll try to see you again before I head back home.”

You swore you saw Ellie flinch in the background at the mention of your departure. You tried your best not to care or question.

“One more hug please?” Dina held out her arms- Jesse mimicked her as well.

“You guys are ridiculous”, you teased with a smile as you allowed a group hug between the three of you to seal your interaction for the night.

After the embraces, you were left to watch the group walk off further into the distance as their descent morphed more and more with the darkness of the night. As if she could feel the weight of your glance on her back, Ellie peered over her shoulder and looked straight at you just before the group's bodies became dark. And even though you couldn’t see her, you knew she would’ve been quick to turn herself back around and pretend that you meant nothing to her.

What a good liar she could be to herself and others when she wanted to be.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #ellie fic #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #the last of us part 2 #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #the last of us part ii #the last of us part two #ellie williams smut

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payasita · 7 months

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Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

#personal #anyway thanks for the kind words anon #i am going to go lie down #ADHD #long post

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katy-l-wood · 1 year

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deviantART, Twitter, and the Death of the Social Media Subscription (And why tumblr might be getting it right.)

Okay, so I've been thinking about making this post for the last couple weeks since Twitter started melting down, and now deviantART is melting down as well which adds an interesting new twist. This post isn't going to discuss AI art directly, but I will touch on userbase feedback/administrative response in relation to what happened with dA.

Firstly, a little background on me: I grew up on dA. It was my first social media site and for a long time my only one. I started using it without an account when I was around 10/11 and made my first account when I was 12 in 2007 (which, of course, involved lying about my age). From then on I LIVED there. I uploaded art, I joined and ran contests, I became a volunteer for the forums in my mid teens, I alpha and beta tested new features, I wrote detailed write-ups of new feature launches, I watched the site launch multiple new versions of itself, I filled out feedback surveys, and I paid for years of subscriptions before I got seniority from being a former volunteer. Hell, they even offered me a job once, but I was 18 and no amount of money in the world would make me willingly move to Hollywood where they were based.

Point is, I was tuned in. Immensely. So what I'm talking about here? It's from that point of view.

dA has had subscriptions the entire time I was a member. They were always relatively affordable and offered you features that made the site better, but if you didn't have them the site was still perfectly usable. The subscriptions originally got you stuff like using journal skins, putting custom CSS on your page, access to private subscriber forums and chats, more storage room, etc.. Perks, but nothing you couldn't function without. Over the years other things were added, like being able to schedule uploads or change your username, but, again, these were PERKS. The site was still totally usable without those features. Your art still got seen, people could still find your content in the search, people could still leave comments.

But here's where Twitter and it's current nonsense comes in: as part of a dA subscription you got a special symbol in front of your name. These symbols changed over the years and originally were just standard keyboard symbols. For example, as a senior, before the symbols changed to what they are now, my username looked like this:

^Katy-L-Wood (which was affectionately referred to as the senior hat.)

If I was staff, my username would have looked like this:

$Katy-L-Wood

There were other symbols as well for things like volunteers, deactivated/banned users, and regular users. Everyone had their symbol and it worked so well. It let you know at a glance if a member was a trusted staff member that would give you real information about something, or a volunteer that could help you with harassment in the forums, or a senior member that likely knew all the ins and outs of the website.

To me, it feels like that's more in line with what Musk should have done with Twitter. He should have left verification as it was, and then introduced a new symbol to denote subscribed users. A blue plus sign or something. If you were verified AND subscribed you'd get, IDK, a blue check with a white outline around the blue. (And, even then, an additional symbol wouldn't have really been necessary, but everyone just likes neat little badges. They're like stickers. Everyone loves stickers.)

Then give the subscribed users special features that ENHANCE the site, but don't serve as a detriment if you don't have them. Give them a more robust inbuilt scheduling system. Give them security features like inbuilt auto-deleting of older tweets. Give them larger upload limits for images and videos. Give them more profile customization. Give them a longer bio with multiple links. Give them the newsletter feature. Give them the monetization features.

Because you know what? It is totally valid for a website to offer subscriptions, to try and monetize themselves. It costs money to run a big social media site, and advertising as we know it is dying. Websites need to figure out other ways to bring in money, and a good subscription model can do that.

But Twitter did not choose a good subscription model. They chose one that caused chaos to the tune of billions of dollars across multiple major industries. They choose one that would have made the site totally unusable without the subscription, due to how it was supposed to push subscribed users tweets onto the main feed.

Then we circle back to deviantART. I could talk about the downfall and now death of deviantART for HOURS. But we'll focus on subscriptions here. Because their subscriptions are no longer worth it. The majority of the fun perks are gone. There's levels to the subscriptions now, and those of us like myself who were supposed to have lifetime subscriptions as a thank you for helping moderate the site are not at the topmost level, which feels like a kick in the teeth.

And the limited features the subscriptions do have now? Many aren't perks. They are major functionality aspects. You want to get any sort of analytics for your page? Pay for them. You want to be able to take commissions via the website for more than $100? Pay for it. You want to customize your page to suit you and your work like you used to be able to do with a subscription? Well, you only get a couple choices now, and no custom CSS.

Then there's Fragments. IDK why, but deviantART seems obsessed with coming up with weird little currencies that cause a ton of harm. Their first one, Points, tanked the art market EVERYWHERE, even outside the website, in a way that still has an effect well over a decade later. Now they've gone and added a second one on top of the Points, which are still there as well. This new one is called Fragments. Fragments can be used to purchase little badges that you can award to deviations you like, comments you enjoy, etc.. There's three levels and the third one, the diamond badge, is the issue here.

See. As a senior member I get gifted 300 of these Fragments every week by dA, and I get to use them to purchase the badges. A diamond badge, specifically, costs 300 Fragments, and if I give someone a diamond badge (and they're not subscribed yet), it ALSO gives them a free month of the lowest level subscription. So every month I can, essentially, hand out a free month of subscription to anyone on the site.

I just checked my account and, as I've never used Fragments, they've just built up in my account. I have over 18,000 of them right now, which is enough to award 61 months of membership. A month normally costs $3.95, so all told that's about $250 worth of memberships that I can hand out using just over a year's worth of fragments.

Clearly, dA is banking on people getting a taste of subscription and then paying to continue it. But they're still essentially handing every subscribed user a $250 check every year. 10 users and that's $2,500 they're not getting. 100 users and it's $25,000. For a company hemorrhaging money and struggling to hold on to its userbase, there are a lot better ways to keep users around that don't involve trying to coerce them into paying using underhanded marketing techniques.

It doesn't matter, though, because ever since dA launched their new "Eclipse" version of the site, and now this fiasco with AI, there are no recovery options left. They're done. They have exhausted all goodwill anyone had for them. They took away tons of subscription features, they took away tons of site features overall, and time and time again since Eclipse launched they have 100% ignored user feedback. AI is not the first time they asked "hey, how do you feel about this?" a few months before launching a new feature, and then completely ignored every single thing the userbase said and launched the feature anyway. Then, this time with the AI, they not only did that, they were outright rude towards those who rightfully called them out. During the live meeting with the CEO and concerned artists the CEO repeatedly talked over those who were present, dismissed concerns, and just outright acted like. Well. An asshole CEO.

All of this is to say: a subscription model CAN be a great way to keep a website alive, to not be beholden to a world of dying advertisers, but you've gotta do it right and you've gotta do it consistently. Twitter did it wrong, and it'll kill them. deviantART started out doing right, did a 180, and now it's going to help kill them.

But tumblr. Ah tumblr. Our little blue hellsite. They've dipped their toes in the water of subscriptions and, so far, haven't really gotten those toes chewed off for doing it wrong. And why? Because they've made it fun to give them money in support of the website. It's fun to get crabs or a shitty horse on your dash (or inflict them on others), it's fun to mock the Twitter downfall with the special double blue checks, but the site is still totally usable without these things. (Er, well, as usable as tumblr ever is, lol.)

I, personally, would like to see tumblr build a more robust subscription/monetization system, because I think it could be what saves this site we love so much. But they have to keep it fun. They have to keep it optional. They have to keep the site usable without it. They have to make people want to subscribe, not force us to because there's no other way to use the site, or because we've been tricked into it.

(Putting the words "Long Post" here so they'll stay attached even in reblogs.)

#Long Post #deviantART #Twitter #Tumblr #Death of the subscription #Social Media #Analysis

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stars1997 · 23 days

Text

Lover Boy - Part 1

Warnings: None

Pairing(s): Jeremy Swayman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N Ullmark gets a job with the Bruins as their new photographer. They haven't seen each other in a few years, some things have changed. What happens when her brother's best friend develops a crush on her?

“Hey guys today’s media day as you know, we gotta get our roster shots. We have a new photographer so do me a favor, be nice to her, she’s ullmarks sister.” I heard Brad Marchand say from inside the locker room. A series of cat-call whistles went off in the locker room before I heard my brother clear his throat. I roll my eyes. Here we go, I think to myself. “Completely off limits to every single one of you. Don’t even think about it.” He says. The whistles continue and I let out a laugh a little louder than needed. The locker room went silent. “I guess I’ll come in now,” I said, stifling the giggles from seconds ago. “As you guys know I’m Y/n Ullmark, your new media girl. So if you guys could suit up and head out to the hallway in 20 that would be great!” I say, and just before walking fully out of the locker room, I saw someone I recognized, Swayman. The last time I saw him was when he first got signed and became best friends with my brother. He looks a little older now. We locked eyes, he gave a smile and a wave which was returned before I headed to the hallway to set up. I set up my camera stand, the lights, and the background as the guys were lining up. A few of the boys jokingly hit on me, but I took it lightly. I could tell I was going to love this job. I was down to the last two guys which were Pasta and Sway. After photoing Pasta it was just me and Sway in the hallway. “Y/n, it’s been so long. How was school?” He asked. “Ah, he speaks. School was awesome but it definitely had its ups and downs. I’ve been keeping up with stats, you guys have been doing really well. Are you excited to be in net for the rangers game tomorrow? I hear they’ve got a new bruiser, Matt something?” I asked while fixing the lighting for his photo. “Matt Rempe, yeah I’ve heard of the kid. Make sure you get my good side tomorrow. No bad angles.” He joked. I laughed and playfully pushed him into position for the photo. I snapped a few good headshots for the roster and some full body for the Instagram, which I now run. Most of the photos weren’t usable since he kept making silly faces at the camera but those were the photos I knew the fans would adore. After taking his pictures he walked back to the locker room and I started putting away the lights and backdrops. This took longer than I thought it would. Almost all of the boys had left by the time I was almost done putting it all away. “Hey, Y/n do you need any help with all of that?” Sway asked from down the hallway, walking out of the locker room in jeans and a flannel, while putting on his hat, flipping so it's backwards. “Oh no its okay, I’m almost finished.” I responded with a smile. “Are you sure, its really no bother.” He said. “Y/n, is this guy bothering you?” My brother asked, stifling a chuckle as he walked down the hallway towards us. “Hey Bubba, Sway asked me to go get drinks with him, would you mind putting the lights and tripod in the closet?” I asked my brother sweetly, watching Jer’s face drop into a puzzled expression out of the corner of my eye. “Wait, what I-“ My brother started. “Thank youuuu.” I interrupted, grabbing Sway's hand and pulling him toward the exit. I turned around to see my brother still standing there shocked. “No need to worry bubba its just as friends, promise.” Once we walked about of the arena I let go of his hand. “Alright tendy, where are you taking me for drinks?” I asked as we make the short walk over to his truck. “Well, since I don’t have much of a choice I was thinking Brock’s bar. Have you ever been?” He asked unlocking the doors and opening his own. I opened mine and grabbed the handle at the top to pull myself in. “Oh come on Jer don’t act like you don’t love my company. I’ve been once or twice but I don’t really remember those nights honestly.” I joked, and we both laughed at the hard truth while he started the truck.

#jeremy swayman #hockey #boston bruins #linus ullmark #jeremy swayman fluff #jeremy swayman smut #jeremy swayman fic #nhl bruins #bruins #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman imagine

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howtofightwrite · 10 months

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in a lot of zombie stories like The Walking Dead, the only way to kill a zombie is to destroy the brain. Given that the skull is designed to protect one of our most important organs, how hard would this be on average? Would it be easier with bladed weapons like a hatchet vs blunt weapons like a baseball bat? And while killing anything is easier with a gun, I’ve heard headshots can be quite hard to nail. Is this something that can get better with practice, or will it always be something of a crapshoot?

Honestly? Thinking about it, destroying the brain to put down the zombie doesn't make that much sense. The first problem is the brain itself. The skull is pretty good at protecting the brain most of the time, but that's more impressive when you consider just how fragile the brain is. It's very soft tissue, suspended in fluid. It's also one of the first organs to really suffer from decomposition.

Particularly, the brain is the organ you have to really worry about when someone flatlines. It will start suffering serious damage within 30 seconds of being deprived of oxygen. Within minutes of death, it undergoes irreversible chemical changes and starts to break down, so, it follows that, the brain isn't going to be in a usable state by the time the zombie virus tries to claw its way back to the living.

This is a different kind of problem with living “zombies,” such as the 28 Days series or REC. Though, in those cases, the zombies would have a very limited shelf life, as the strain of the virus would kill them long before the second film rolled around. But, in those cases, massive trauma should still kill the zombie, so you don't really need headshots, when a shotgun, center mass, will get the job done.

For clarity, you know there's no way to answer that comment about headshots without sounding like a psychopath, right? The short answer is that, yeah, if you' know what you're doing, and you know your gun, you can hit a small, semi-mobile target at medium range. A sapient being? That's harder, people don't tend to present their head for a convenient bullet, like a video game shooting gallery, but, with practice, you can reliably hit a head sized target at about 30m. Landing that shot against a live person running for cover or shooting back might be a bit tricky, but against a shambling, reanimated, corpse, it should be pretty doable. Obviously, I don't have a lot of first hand experience shooting reanimated corpses, so I'm having to make some educated guesses here.

However, having just said that, I'm immediately reminded of something the Resident Evil 2 remake pointed out: Shooting someone in the head doesn't mean you destroyed their brain. Surprisingly, shooting someone in the head will only kill them about 98% of the time, so I can see some logic in the thought process.

That said, shooting zombies tends to run up against a problem, that doesn't make a lot of sense when you step back and think about it. Generally you don't want to shoot zombies because the sound will attract more zombies, and there are inevitably more zombies than you have bullets. This the exact scenario that The Walking Dead works with. So, I have one small question: How did we get here?

Before we go any further, and spoilers for a comic book that published 15 years ago, but The Walking Dead did answer that. (The TV series and comic have different answers. In the TV series it's a virus from space that reanimates corpses, in the comic book it was a presumably supernatural force reanimating the dead. Though, it might have become a space virus now. I stopped reading the comic when it just got too goddamn depressing.)

When you're looking at a city like Atlanta (from The Walking Dead), and you're facing something north of six million zombies, yeah, that's a serious problem. You can't headshot six million zombies. But how did you get six million zombies? Six million zombies is a problem that can't be solved with brute force. Six-hundred-thousand zombies is a problem that can't be solved with brute force. But, sixty-thousand zombies? That can be contained. Six thousand zombies is an orderly riot. Six hundred zombies can be locked in a building and disposed of. Sixty zombies can be easily contained and neutralized. Six zombies? You can send out animal control and nip that problem in bud before there's an outbreak. And without higher brain function, there's basically no chance of patient zero avoiding detection.

But, I know the answer to this one, “well, they sent cops to catch patient zero, and the cops got bitten, then they turned in the hospital, and...” this would be a lot more plausible if rabies didn't exist. Actually, with the reputation of American police, there's basically no chance a zombie gets within biting distance. But, even if they did get closer, you know what else likes to bite cops? Meth heads. You know who has more higher brain function than a zombie? Meth heads.

Is there zero chance of a first responder getting bitten by a zombie? No, there's a chance. There's basically zero chance of that zombie biting anyone else, and on the slim possibility that the infected first responder turns and manages to chomp on one of their coworkers, there is no chance that the infection daisy chains out from there.

There's also a real likelihood that any growing outbreak will suffer, “a negative biomass shift,” as it tries to expand. That is to say, if someone sends twenty soldiers to contain 100 zombies, and those soldiers are overrun and infected, you're not going to have 120 zombies. You probably won't have 100 zombies, after they're infected and turned. So long as those soldiers drop more than two zombies, the horde will experience negative population growth. Incidentally, it doesn't matter if this is a modern or medical fantasy setting, in either case, the zombies aren't going to be able to put up much of a fight against armed and armored troops. Militaries train to fight against sapient foes, while zombies are going to be little more than training dummies. Even if they are eventually overwhelmed by the hoard, the hoard only gets a few corpses to replace all the zombies it lost. (Note: This doesn't apply if you have necromancers raising undead forces, in those cases, the actual loss of zombies will be minimal, as they reanimate zombies that were damaged enough to break their previous reanimation, but could still be used on the battlefield, so in this specific case, the goal would need to be more egregious destruction of the corpses.)

So how did we get to six million zombies? Any zombie outbreak will be at its most vulnerable when there are only a handful of infected. This even applies, to some extent, when you're looking at non-traditional zombie scenarios, such as fungal infections. Zombies are generally not very stealthy. (Ignoring The Walking Dead (TV)'s ninja zombies for the moment.) So, if you have a biohazard situation like that, unless there's a very long incubation period (which most zombies don't exhibit), then the danger of them going undetected and reaching critical mass is pretty limited.

Also, once you start looking at urban environments, that's not a great space for zombies to navigate. Things like storm drains and security barriers can effectively stop zombie advancement through an urban environment. Sure, zombies might be a threat to massive glass windows on the ground floor, but how are they going to operate the elevators, or the keycard reader to get into the stairs? Much less climb multiple flights of stairs to find the survivors? They might be able to chase them up the stairs, but getting there under their own initiative? Not so much. Same problem with any structure that puts steel bars on the windows. Zombies can't get in, or out.

After that, there's still the problem of decomposition. Dead bodies don't typically hold up particularly well. Maybe there's an embalmed zombie out there somewhere, shambling around, years after the outbreak, but most of the corpses will, quite literally, fall apart in a couple weeks. (Probably less, if they're chasing after survivors and slamming into walls.)

Having said all of that, I don't hate zombie fiction. Zombies can be a fantastic metaphor. You can even come up with compelling and interesting zombie scenarios. I know I just said it was implausible, but I don't hate The Last of Us's scenario, even if I do have some issues with some of the writing (specifically in the last few levels of the first game, before anyone asks.)

So, would it be hard to kill a zombie? Usually no. You might have some exceptions, such as magically reanimated corpses that really don't need to be intact to continue trying to kill you. Dead Space's necromorphs come to mind as an excellent example of creative zombie assembly.

The issue is usually the volume of zombies, just the sheer number threatening to pour out onto the street at any moment. Which requires that things went exceptionally wrong in ways that don't really make a lot of sense when you step back and think about it.

The issue wasn't shooting one zombie in the head, it was the next ten, and the next hundred, and the next thousand. Because, in those numbers, it doesn't really matter if they're easy to kill, there will always be more.

-Starke

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#writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #zombies

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seokka0o · 9 months

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석우현 : Seok Matthew ♡ Reader // Warning: smut ; unprotected sex, cheating ; Matthew its a fucking asshole and you love it //0.8k

It's not something you would consider moral on your part, several times you warned Matthew how this relationship between you could go wrong.

He says it's not a big deal, you're just having fun and what's wrong with that? because you've known each other for years, no one would know how to comfort him better than you. With that your best friend started to make it a routine to go fuck you every time he had a fight with his girlfriend, for whatever reason, even if he was the one cheating while the poor girl cries in the sheets for missing the boyfriend she had, that she claims to be exemplary most of the time.

Of course you could never consider yourself innocent, you were an accomplice to it, even worse for being precisely that person who tells his girlfriend that everything will always be fine;

just as you are there for her when she needs a shoulder to lean on, you are there for matthew when he needs someone to fuck, and you were the perfect target for his naughtiness.

often endangering what was just a his teasing, all of your friends questioning the provenance of that relationship between the two of you while Matthew is still with someone else, and why this relationship came out of nowhere.

Well that was something to ask Matthew and the first time he asked you to suck his dick while he was arguing over the phone with his girlfriend, you already understood your nature and questionable character even back then, now it was a different matter which one didn't fit you. You were only there because you were an easy fuck

“What morals do you think you have? its just a slut y/n ” matthew presses your head down, forcing it against the pillow, his whole hips thrust into you and then the sounds of his body impacting yours started to get wetter, louder. your moans muffled by the pillow on your face as your whole body tightened and released around Matthew, reveling in the sensation and the force he used to slam you into his thrusts. All this for saying he didn't have a shred of shame on his face

“f-fuck” you gasped out of the pillow and propped yourself up a bit on your elbows, trying to find some balance, goosebumps running all over your flesh and soon matthew released his hands from your hips to squeeze your ass with a certain accumulated desire, leaving so you can have the sight of his dick disappearing and appearing inside you

“don't talk like that….I-I'm just trying to be a good friend” you can hear him snicker, you'd want to watch every expression he was able to give you even under those conditions, and by the way he accelerated considerably inside you, you could tell it was the right answer beyond a shadow of a doubt.

your moans echoed throughout the stuffy room, your hands gripped over the sheets, you starting to feel dizzy, every time his cock nudged you close to your sweet region leaving you unsteady, very close to your orgasm.

“we always get along so well y/n” Matthew slowed down, pleased to hear your sincere complaint “that's why there's no one like you…”

you couldn't deny feeling usable, matthew had this habit of keeping people in the palm of his hand, but what could you do? he always fuck you so good, which made you always root for the relationship's disgrace, so you can have him under these conditions even for a mere minute.

“My god, fuck me please… I can't take it anymore” you push your hips towards him waiting for more contact, feeling all your energies leave your body.

matthew is a man of not very large proportions, so it's not an easy task for him to support you by the hip, you felt the command when he slid his hand down your back, then you immediately brought your arms back and allowed him to pin you down , holding your wrists tight he finally starts to fuck you again, using all the resistance and agility he had in his hips to fuck your senses, the sound of the thrusts, the sounds that came out of matthew's own mouth made you completely lose track, following him and then letting the heat wash over you and your orgasm came instantly, causing your body to shudder, pass out and then leave you with nothing but a choked breath.

“I want….you come inside me” you asked off-air

“leave it to me dear” he replied taking the whole front, let go of you to give you some rest and came back with his hands on your hips keeping the sequence little silent, matthew had his whole chest and neck reddened by the effort and in a few minutes he reached his own limit, gushing all his liquid into you filling you up completely.

#zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #matthew smut #matthew hard hours #seok matthew smut #seok matthew hard hours

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hazel-of-sodor · 7 months

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Day 1-A Day OFF

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 1-Free Day

A Day Off

Gordon awoke early as he always did. Sixty years of waking early to take the morning express made it nearly impossible for Gordon to sleep in. However, he usually didn't mind, after all the express must be pulled, came rain, shine, sleet, or hail. Today was not usual. Today he had a day off. Although the concept of engines being given time off had come to Sodor several years before, Gordon couldn't say he truly understood the appeal. Oh he didn't begrudge those that enjoyed the days off, he could certainly understand the goods engines' need for time away from their troublesome charges, but he was an express engine. Express work was difficult, requiring speed, precision, and stamina. It was perhaps the most difficult task an engine could be given. It was also freeing. Nowhere else did Gordon feel alive in the same way he did while at speed with his coaches, racing the wind itself towards his destination.

While the Express had occasionally not ran at times over the years, or it had been given to another engine, he had never missed the express because he was taking the day off...until now.

To his left, he could see Gracie being prepared by her crew for the express. It wasn't jealousy that had him feeling oddly out of sorts this morning, no matter what James said...or at least not as it once would have been. The steam turbine was a friend and had been his running mate for nearly two decades before she was moved to the Vicarstown-Mantauo run. So while he would admit to being envious of her, it was a weak and fleeting emotion, easily brushed aside in favor of his true discontent with being forced to take a day off.

He had nothing to do.

When Henry had oh so helpfully asked what Gordon had enjoyed doing, his answer of "pulling expresses" had somehow only further convinced Sir Topham Hatt that he needed a day off. Gordon was an engine of action, and while listening to opera recordings while he waited for his next train or as he settled in for the night was enjoyable, he could not see himself doing it for longer than those periods.

He had briefly considered going to the works for maintenance and perhaps a repaint. Unfortunately, he had been recently given a tune-up, and any maintenance that could be achieved within a day was already done. Repainting wasn't an option either, while he had no doubt he could be repainted if he wished, his current coat of paint was still fresh enough James was using his reflection in it to check his own paint for blemishes.

He had known that approaching his shed mates with his problem would have only led to teasing, and likely would not have produced any usable results, so he had instead approached another engine. Their enthusiastic response had in no way encouraged him.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a quiet peep peep came from the yard as his guide for the day approached. Thomas rolled happily into view, oddly chipper for the early hour considering Thomas was famously not a morning engine. He was pushing a small flat track with an odd bucket on either end with pipes coming out of them towards the ends of the truck.

"Good morning Gordon."

"Good morning Little Thomas, you seem to be in high spirits for such an early hour."

"It's a wonderful morning," Thomas hummed contentedly, as he buffered up to Gordon.

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

Thomas's driver snorted as she climbed down from his cab, "it's the coffee," She explained.

"Coffee," Gordon repeated dubiously. Whilst he was not as disdainful of human food or drink as certain red engines, he couldn't say he was an enthusiast by any means.

Thomas happily nodded, "A shop in Ffarquhar opened that served engines as well as people." The tank engine took a long sip from the pipe facing him, which Gordon now realized was straw for engines. "It's wonderful," he said with a happy sigh.

Samantha snorted as she coupled Gordon to the truck, "It certainly helps out with your mood in the mornings."

Thomas gave the engine equivalent of a shrug.

"I feel better with it. We also got one for you Gordon!"

Gordon eyed the container before him with suspicion.

"It's fine to drink." Samantha said, "Thomas has one every morning and the only side effect is an improved mood."

"Then Gordon needs three," Henry called as he rolled past on his way to the docks to collect the Flying Kipper.

Gordon wheeshed at him, but he only chuckled.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Thomas said seriously, "I know you're not the biggest fan of human food, but I tried to get something I thought you'd like."

Gordon sighed at his friend's nervous expression, knowing he'd at least have to try the drink.

Gordon took a slow hesitant pull from his straw. He expected it to taste like his firewoman's smelled, overpoweringly sweet and creamy. Instead, he got a rich, bitter, and dark flavor, nearly biting in its intensity, and pleasantly hot. When he had finished his sip, he eyed Thomas thoughtfully, "You say you get one of these every morning?"

Thomas nodded, "Yes. Sir Topham Hatt arranged for it to be ready when I arrive for my first train."

Nicole snorted from Thomas's cab, "but yours has enough sugar and creamer to drown someone.,

Gordon considered his coffee thoughtfully, "...I would not be averse to a similar arrangement."

"I knew it!"

As Thomas happily chattered away as he pulled Gordon from the sheds towards his branchline, Gordon let a fond smile grow on his face. Perhaps a day off wouldn't be amiss after all.

#ttte fanfic #rws fanfic #TTTE Gordon #ttte thomas #Prompt-Free Day #Traintober #Traintober23 #Traintober 2023

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notsogoodphotographer · 4 days

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Hi i want to talk about my all time favorite camera 📸

pls ignore all my grammar mistakes, i’m not professional reviewer 😂 i just wanna talk about this camera.

This is the Sony RX1Rii, this is the third and “most recent” version of this camera. i put “most recent” in quotes because this camera is almost 10 years old. don’t like the old age fool you because this camera can keep up with the newest cameras in its niche.

This little point and shoot sports a 42mp full frame sensor. YES, F U L L F R A M E!! This tiny camera is actually smaller than all the x100 series (minus the lens on it). The camera has an incredibly sharp Zeiss Sonnar 35mm f2 glued to. This camera has 399 af points, with eye AF. The camera is incredibly fast and accurate!! the camera is pretty much a tiny packaged Sony A7Rii!

One of my favorite features of this camera is the pop-up EVF! This is a feature that was added to only this version of the camera and it’s a feature that i wish sony continued to incorporate into some of their other smaller cameras like the A7c or a6k series!

The camera does shoot video up to 1080 120fps, but does not have picture profiles such has S-log or HLG. This was a camera made strictly for photos, which is probably for the best because the battery life on this camera is terrible, any kind of prolong video shooting would absolutely burn through these batteries in minutes.

That brings me to my next point, my cons. There’s not many but i figured i’d point them out anyways for those who are interested in this camera. these aren’t make it or break it cons, these are just issues that hinder it from being the greatest camera ever released (IMO)

1) battery life, i believe it’s rated for like 220 shots. Ive definitely gotten it to last twice than that. That tiny body processing all that data on some of the tiniest batteries makes sense why it’s so bad. Luckily batteries are cheap and like i said they’re tiny, so they’re pretty easy to carry around!

2) no picture profiles in video. i know i touched on it briefly up above and this camera is mainly a photo camera AAAAAND hybrid cameras were just beginning to grow in popularity around the time this camera came out but it would’ve been amazing to have s-log in this camera for little snippets here and there. i know at the time IG and other photo sharing apps were mainly photo sharing apps, and a camera that was built strictly for photo has no business having usable picture profiles in video.

3) no crop mode in RAW. this one is weird to me because i know the A7Rii has an APS-C mode where you can shoot RAW photos with an inbody crop and there’s times that i’d love to shoot something at 50mm (35mm + sony’s 1.5x aps-c crop). there is a digital zoom option but that’s for jpg only.

4) PRICE!!!! why the fuck is this camera still being sold for $3200??!! this is a 10 year old camera with outdated tech. i bought mine used for $1900 (which is about the price of the fuji x100V at the time of purchase) and i still think that’s a little too much.

that’s really about it aside from minor complaints of not having tele/ wide converters. i’m also sure all of those cons stem from the small battery. I’d love to see all of these corrected in a Mk3 one day, but as of a couple weeks ago sony just discontinued the Rx1rii’s production. I’m being a little hopeful but maybe that means we’re getting a successor, i doubt it but a boy can dream.

I don’t really do reviews or anything but this camera has had my heart for the past 9 months so i had to show it off/ talk about it. this to me in the perfect everyday camera. it never leaves my side and comes with me to any and every trip! Im always blown away by the photos i create with this little camera and i know whenever a mk3 comes out im going to hop on the chance to buy on immediately!

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miniscrew-anon · 4 months

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Ranking the boys in ease of gift shopping for because I can:

Wild - He likes a lot of things and doesn't care about the cost. $100 dollar bottle of wine? Awesome dude! $3 keychain? Sick! Now he won't lose his keys! (he still will) He's also super open to trying new things so even if you accidentally buy him knitting needles this boy will happily try his hand at knitting. He'll never finish the project, of course, but he'll still be stoked that you got him something.

Four - He emails everyone his wish list as soon as Autumn ends. No, Wild, he doesn't care that it won't be a surprise when he opens his gifts. He's not taking any chances with this group.

Hyrule - He's easy because he's always needing something. He's so busy he barely has time to go shopping for himself so at the end of the year he's got a huge backlog of things he wants. As long as you pay attention to him during the year and take note of times he say "I wish I had (blank)", you'll be golden.

Twilight - He doesn't care much about physical items but he'll be happy to receive usable things like soap refills and lotion. It's boring to buy for him sometimes but at least you know what to get him if it comes down to the wire. Although if you do branch out and get him something more risky, he'll be just as gracious. He's just a good boy who's happy to get what he gets.

Legend - Despite his prickly demeanor, this hoarder will take anything. So he's not hard to shop for, per say, just tricky. If you want to give him something he'll actually use, it'll take some research. You might even need to study all the contents of those mason jars he leaves all over the place. But even if what you give him isn't to his liking he'll at least be able to sell it. Or, you know, just add it to the growing pile of crap in his room. Either way, your gift will be happily accepted.

Sky - Sky's a bit of a mixed bag. He'll like anything he gets but he also doesn't really need anything. So yo have to put in more thought. Or, you know, ask him. He'll pick up on any subtle attempts to ask and just as subtly direct you to something affordable but nice enough that you don't feel like a cheapskate buying it for him. And he'll even act surprised when he unwraps it on Solstice morning.

Champion - Another one with a wish list. The only problem is that Champion doesn't usually want many things so it's a big rush to claim an item before everyone else. And if everyone gets to the list before you? Good fucking luck my guy.

Warriors - He would be higher because he also provides a wish list, but everything on his list is expensive. Either be ready to pool your money or empty your pockets because Wars isn't above exploiting the holidays for profit.

Wind - A little shit who loves to complain about everything and also, thank to Time, has newly discovered expensive tastes. Even moreso than Warriors because he mostly wants tech. Truly, shopping for him is a nightmare because if you get him the wrong thing, Wind isn't above asking for a gift receipt straight to your face.

Time - What do you buy for a guy with such deep pockets? Whatever it is, it has to come from the heart, which makes him the hardest to buy for.

Bonus:

Dark - Easy-peasy, this guy will take anything and be actually kind of touched you got him anything in the first place. Especially if you actually put thought into it and it isn't just a gag gift (not to say he doesn't appreciate a good gag gift)

Shadow - Also pretty easy. Food and fancy little bath bombs. Also foreign goods he can't just casually swipe off a shelf is also prime gifting material for him.

#townhouse au #hsh au #st0rmyverse #literally christmas eve and just now starting to feel it #enjoy some random hc

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clangenrising · 10 months

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Month 4 - Greenleaf

Early in the morning, Oddstripe reported her first contraction. She assured Sagetooth that she wouldn’t need any help, that she’d delivered plenty of kittens in the past, but Sagetooth was having none of it. She spent the morning foraging for fennel and raspberry leaves, unfortunately only managing to find a few usable stalks for her trouble. At the very least, her paw had fully recovered from the sprain, so the trip wasn’t especially difficult.

She returned to camp and checked on Oddstripe, who had taken to the nursery to prepare her nest and get out of the sun. Sagetooth brought her a few poppy seeds and ordered Branchbark to fetch some water from the river. It had been a while since she had delivered kits and she couldn’t help but walk herself through her training over and over, mentally pacing in an attempt to make sure she did everything right.

The whole Clan seemed to be buzzing with excitement as the news spread. The prospect of new kits was such a refreshing turn of events after the horrors they had gone through in Leafbare, a sign almost that the Clan was starting to heal. True, the kits were of outsider blood, but Sagetooth reasoned they would still be raised in the Clan and grow up knowing no other family to be loyal to. Oddstripe apparently didn’t know much about the father, and Sagetooth was certain they could convince her to let the kits be apprenticed. Yes, thought Sagetooth, these kits - three of them, she had estimated - would grow up to be strong warriors loyal to RisingClan, and she was uplifted by the thought.

Just as the sun was starting to touch the mountains, Oddstripe went into labor. Sagetooth brought her some fennel and the one or two measly raspberry leaves she had managed to find.

“Chew those and swallow,” she instructed, massaging Oddstripe’s spine as the queen panted heavily in the dark of the nursery. Oddstripe nodded, stared at the herbs for a beat and then gingerly took them in her mouth, grimacing the whole time as she chewed them.

“You don’t like the taste?” Sagetooth asked.

“Oh,” Oddstripe’s ears pressed back and she swallowed with some difficulty. “No, I’m just… very nauseated.”

“That’s alright,” Sagetooth soothed, “that’s normal. I’ll fetch you some juniper berries in a bit.” Oddstripe nodded and shut her eyes tight, lips pursed, and focused on her labored breathing. Sagetooth gave a few calming licks to her hips and added, “It’s alright if you’re nervous, but I’ve delivered plenty of kits in my time and this should be an easy kitting. Just try to breathe and relax.”

“Thank you,” Oddstripe swallowed, glancing back at Sagetooth.

“I’ll be right back with those herbs,” said Sagetooth warmly. She stood and padded out of the den before increasing her pace to a brisk trot to fetch some juniper berries.

“How’s she doing?” Ospreymask fell into step beside her.

“Fine,” Sagetooth said curtly, not interested in wasting any time. “Make sure there’s some prey ready for her when she’s done, and tell Branchbark or someone to fetch some more water.”

“You got it,” Ospreymask nodded and peeled off to see to it. Good, Sagetooth thought. At least she knows how to behave when it matters.

The kitting continued throughout the night. Oddstripe was young - just over two years old - and strong, and within the hour, the first kit was born. Sagetooth nipped the birthing sac open and gave the little white and grey tabby tom a few firm strokes of her tongue to get him to start breathing. He took a deep breath and wailed immediately, causing Oddstripe to look back in worry.

“He’s fine,” Sagetooth soothed, lifting him by the scruff to set him at Oddstripe’s belly. “A healthy little tom. You’re doing great.” Oddstripe nosed him gently and gave him a few licks around the face, eyes wide. He squealed and looked blindly up at his mother, wobbling as he tried to burrow closer to her warmth.

“He’s so small,” Oddstripe breathed, holding him close. Sagetooth chuckled. She could see something complicated going on behind Oddstripe’s eyes, but even still the wonder at seeing her first born son shone through. Sagetooth always loved that look.

Less than thirty minutes later, Sagetooth was placing a quiet white-furred she-kit beside the first, and an hour later, a tiny brown tabby tom came out tail first. Sagetooth called Ospreymask in to drop off the rabbit she had selected and to take away the kitting mess. Before she left, the young warrior couldn’t help but fawn over the kittens mewling at Oddstripe’s belly.

“They are so precious!” she cried softly, leaning in to get a closer look. Sagetooth nipped at her sharply with a warning growl, sending Ospreymask dancing back towards the exit.

“You’ll have time to see them later, get out of here and let their mother rest!” Sagetooth hissed.

“Oh, it’s fine, r-really,” Oddstripe said but Sagetooth would not budge.

“It’s not. The last thing you need right now is stressful distractions,” she said. “Now eat.”

“Yikes,” Ospreymask laughed, giving Oddstripe a playful glance, before picking up the birthing mess wrapped in moss and slipping out of the den. Sagetooth settled down and looked the new mother over. Quickly, as if she would be scolded, Oddstripe took a bite of the rabbit, only to let out a moan of pleasure at the taste and begin scarfing it down.

Sagetooth let her eat in silence for a while, just watching the kittens nuzzling in to nurse. The first kit was definitely the loudest of the group, pushing his sister out of the way to get to her teat. He would make a great warrior, she was certain. When Oddstripe finished eating, she sighed and curled tighter around her litter, grooming their pelts gingerly.

“Have you thought about names?” Sagetooth asked after a bit.

“A little,” admitted Oddstripe. “I was mostly waiting to see them.”

“I can help you, if you like,” Sagetooth said. “I’ve helped name plenty of RisingClan kits.”

“I was thinking… Barley?” Oddstripe tried, “for the girl.”

Sagetooth nodded. “Barleykit is a great name.”

“Sorry?” asked Oddstripe, tilting her head in confusion.

“Oh,” Sagetooth realized her mistake. “In the Clans, all kits have the word kit at the end of their name. When they reach six moons, they switch it out for -paw, which marks them as apprentices, and when they’re grown, they’re given a unique name to honor them as warriors. So, for instance, I was born Sagekit. When I reached six moons, I was named Sagepaw and apprenticed as a healer, and when I proved myself, I was given the name Sagetooth.” She chuckled a bit, “for my sharp tongue.”

Oddstripe nodded slowly, considering this information, and asked, “So… I should name my kits that way then?”

Sagetooth could tell she was unsure and very carefully said, “You don’t have to, of course, but if they’re going to be apprenticed and become warriors, it would be much less confusing for them. They would probably feel out of place if they were the only ones named differently.” Oddstripe frowned and looked down at the squirming balls of fur, pain clear on her face.

“I wouldn’t want that,” she said fervently. “Barleykit it is then.” Sagetooth resisted the urge to smile proudly. Oddstripe continued. “Do you have any suggestions for the boys?”

“The brown one strikes me as an Acornkit or Sparrowkit,” she said, “Maybe Stagkit if you want something grand.”

“Oh, Sparrowkit is lovely,” Oddstripe purred. “He does look like a little sparrow, doesn’t he?” She brushed her tail over him with a fond smile and he mewled weakly.

“As for the oldest,” said Sagetooth, “I feel like a strong, bold name is in order. Lightningkit, Stormkit. Riverkit, maybe.”

Oddstripe hummed and said, “What about Floodkit?”

“That’s perfect,” Sagetooth nodded, surprised and pleased that the outsider had caught on so quickly. “A good name for such a strong kit.” Oddstripe smiled and shifted her weight, causing the kits to squeak in protest. She pulled them closer, urging them to nurse again with a few licks. Sagetooth stood and said, “I’ll give you some time to get to know them. Just yowl if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Oddstripe said tiredly. “For everything.”

“Of course,” said Sagetooth with a dismissive flick of her tail. “It’s no trouble at all.” With that, she stepped outside to give the new mother some privacy and nearly ran into Ospreymask who was hovering near the door.

“Are they-”

“You can visit them tomorrow,” Sagetooth snapped. “Leave the poor queen alone. Go, shoo!” She swatted at Ospreymask and bared her teeth a bit until the young warrior relented and bounded away to talk with Smokyrose and Songdust. Sagetooth sighed. At least there were new kits in the nursery. Kits were always good news.

UPDATES:

Oddstripe gives birth to Floodkit, Barleykit, and Sparrowkit.

#clangen #clan gen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Oddstripe #Sagetooth #Ospreymask #New Kits #Greenleaf #Writing Sagetooth is so much fun. i hope yall picked up on some of the things i put in there #Floodpaw #Sparrowpaw #Barleypaw #clangenrising

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gamerwoman3d · 3 months

Text

Lin Kuei Headcanons based on this wonderful post about the change to appreciating material things as you age.

Includes Smoke Sub-Zero and Scorpion.

No warnings necessary

SUB-ZERO

Bi-Han is the only one of the three to have truly reached this point of caring about material things. Tomáš is rapidly approaching this point and Kuai Liang burned through another six ropes and two blades this month alone.

I imagine Bi-Han’s hair looked more like Kuai Liang's two to five years prior. Both of those bros lucked out with amazing wash-and-go locks, and they probably had a more similar look when they both had the same simpler hair care routine. Bi-Han probably didn't invest in finer hair products until after his parents both died.

At some point, holding on to the things his parents used every day when he was a kid, and comparing it to the things he grabbed in a hurry that just don't last, he had a realization that cheap things are barely usable while good things outlasted his own parents. Those things might outlast him.

The fine hand-carved fountain pen his dad signed important documents with was still here, never again to make that exact same beautiful distinct calligraphic signature brushtroke that served as the official seal of the Lin Kuei for decades. Throwing another ballpoint pen in the garbage in frustration, he might have started to understand the need for something so reliable. Dad had that pen his whole life. There's a spirit in that object now, part of his father lives on in the soul of that pen.

Bi-Han’s signature with dad's pen is splotchy at first, but the pen does the job. Soon he talks with Smoke about how his father would have done maintenence and cared for the pen; Smoke being one of the only other people he knew that cared for small handcarved objects like his knives and other family heirlooms. Smoke has a pen handcrafted that might suit Bi-Han’s style better. Using the pen, Bi-han realizes that the object may wear out, or it be with him for life. He wonders what other objects may also be with him for life. He even realizes in that moment that his hair, nails, face - these are all stuck with him for as long as they will last.

He begins pampering himself better, the way his mother might have pampered her own hair, and doted on her own nails. He may even begin to consider these parts of himself gifts from her, and attempt to love and honor them by taking better care of them. And in that way, he honors her.

SMOKE

He's had the same kukri since he was a kid. Anything his parents had when they died, Smoke took care of. When something of theirs wore out too fast, at first he blamed himself for not taking better care of it. But then, when any replacement of the highest quality also wore down, he finally forgave himself: He knew he did the best he could with it, this time. And that means he did the best with what he had, last time.

He was always fussy about his hair. After the adoption, the hardest thing was finding a hairstylist that didn't make him cry. Mom tried, but couldn't do his hair in a way that made him happy. When they found the only man in the clan with the skills to razor-cut his hair the right way, the two bonded instantly.

It was all about the angle of the cut, the stroke had to be perfect, the microscopic fibers of the hair required precision to not come out a frizzy mess. Smoke learned everything he could about honing blades from this man, and no one in his lineage would ever have a sharper, more deadly blade.

While smoke understands the longevity of hunting gear, of personal gear, he had yet to truly transfer his appreciation of quality to other areas of his life. Relationships with him could be fleeting; he had trouble trusting the longevity of human connection. And so those things that are all about connecting, those are the things for which he lacks an appreciation of quality. He would scoff at a nerd's comissioned 1000$ gaming table with custom carved DM screen. He would think a good couch and expensive couch cover a total waste of money. His phone screen usually has a crack in it and he keeps it until he's forced to upgrade.

But his boots? His gear? Immaculately kept and honed.

SCORPION

I think he's just young and not to that point yet. He expects certain things to never break or need upgraded [Such as, oh, say, Tradition.] And some things he treats as far too easily replaceable. As someone who can catch on fire and melt steel, most material things probably seem incredibly temporary to him.

Harumi's kitana might change that for him, but I just think he's too young to appreciate long lasting things. If he had appreciation for them, he might have respected the dragon army a bit better.

He's the guy who realizes later in life that he's using the same four shitty forks. That all of his rope darts are suffering abuse and banged all to hell because he needs a higher quality toolset. That Harumi, Kenshi, and Ashrah all have tools that are generations old and still operating.

He thinks that the Lin Kuei can be replaced by a clan that has barely trained. The Lin Kuei are analagous to a tool, a weapon, generations old, crafted and honed by the God of Fire, kept sharp for centuries, irreplaceable. The Shirai Ryu are the last minute dollar store replacement, scrounged up in a moment of haste and desperation.

I don't think Scorpion is materialistic at all. He's still young, unappreciative, and rushed. This isn't a fault of his character; but a fault of his age and experience.

Ty for coming to my ted talk i guess lol

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #bi han #sub zero #subzero #reblog #mk sub zero #sub-zero #kuai liang #tomas vrbada smoke #smoke tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada

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