#a reblog can save an artists life
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You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
You have to engage to get engagement.
#megaminds musings#this is not directed at anybody#but ffs yall making me tiredt#engage on this hellsite#comment!#reblog!#likes mean nothing#likes sit in a folder and collect dust#you are a post killer if you only leave likes#comment and reblog#comment and reblog its not that hard#you have to use your little fingers and tippity tap on the keyboard#it is scary interacting with your faves#i know dis 👏🏽#but babyyy i promise you theres a decent human being on the other side 9 times outta 10#a comment can save an artists life#a reblog can save an artists life#You have to engage to get engagement
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House of Gentians Arc 2 || Pages 163-168 END
Wei Ying: Sorry, I can't let Lan Wangji hold me by the waist like that again ;___;
Me: Goddammit, alright, have it your way, but I'm going to draw the most intense panels of you putting your hands on his shoulders.
Is Lan Wangji flinching cause it's Wei Ying who's touching him so fiercely? Is it the fact that his scars that are barely healed yet hurt from that grip? You decide!
ARC 2 EXTRAS FOR PАТRОNS
Extra mini comic: The Dog
Art pieces
Extra mini comic: Cornetto commercial
ARC 2 Complete PDF with extras
ARC 3 (TBA)
PREVIOUS PART
ABOUT+TABLE OF CONTENTS
IMPORTANT NOTE: Always be sure to click on my profile and check for updates because if you see a random part reblogged IT MIGHT NOT BE THE EDITED VERSION WITH THE WORKING LINK TO THE NEXT PART
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arc 2 has come to its end!
Yes, I can't believe it too. It's been 11 months since I posted the arc's cover image. I've been through so much since then, so much of my life has changed and yet working on this project, providing 4 pages every week, was somewhat of a blessed constant and fairly, I'm going to miss it.
I have to say that I'm very grateful to you, the readers, because your excitement with this story and the wonderful comments and questions and interest and insights you left on each part is what kept me going and also helped me understand my story better, so THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
A HUGE THANK YOU TOO FOR MY PАТRОNS!!!!
I wouldn't have been able to do NONE of it if it weren't for your amazing support. You have no idea how grateful I am that you are giving me the opportunity not only to create this story for you and for others, but to also develop myself further as an artist (this is the first time I do a long comic of such a scale and by thinking about you when I make updates every week, I think how much better I can make my work). Your support is also a huge help with my daughter, not only because you help me provide for her, but also because in spite of the fact that taking care of her gets more and more difficult, you being there keeps me motivated to not give up on drawing and succumb to 100% life of a mother and a housewife. You save me <3.
So what now?
Now I will work on extras for members of the peke-king tier on my Pатrеоn. I will create extra comic pages, a few more arts, and a funny comic strip. When all of that is done, I will create the PDF and upload it to the shared drive (I think this arc+extras is going to be about 200 pages!!) after that, I will take a break from HoG to finish other MDZS projects I halted, and after those are done I will take a break entirely to reread MDZS and consume all its media again, so I will remember forgotten parts and get that spark ready for Arc 3!
So absolutely stay tuned!
Thank you all again for being with me in this journey, and hope you enjoyed the story! <3
#house of gentians#wangxian#mdzs#lan wangji#wei wuxian#mo dao zu shi#pakhnokh#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#comic#yiling laozu#GoDC#AU#Yiling Patriarch
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There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY.
Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life.
The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it.
But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do.
The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose?
It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them.
Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards.
So. Paint that t-shirt.
(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)
#this post brought to you by: me being so so sad about zoomers having crafts and Making Thing With Your Hands Badly stolen from them#also by me listening to a radio show on How The Sony Walkman Changed Music And Where It's Going Next#ready for the san andreas fault to open up and swallow silicon valley whole forever folks#anyway. followers i am getting down off the cafeteria table now.
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karma - auston matthews
notes: this is based off of @matthewshisch's idea (karma is the guy on the leafs)! so s/o to her <3 also, reader is a singer :)) AND gif not mine !
likes are good, reblogs are better!
being a celebrity meant that no matter what, one thing would always be a fixed thing in your life. and that was the rumours.
one week you were dating a new guy. the next, you were engaged to some kid from your hometown. the next week, you were back with your ex.
no matter what, the dating rumours always flew around you. maybe the fact that you never made it public with anyone fuelled those even more. whatever the case, it was funny reading them.
especially when you thought about what you had planned for tonight.
a knock sounded on your door, followed by a familiar voice, "did someone order some flowers?"
you couldn't help the smile growing on your face as you made eye contact with auston in the mirror.
you were in your dressing room at the stadium, getting ready for the opening night of your multi-month tour. you'd worked hard to get to where you were now -- one of the most successful female artists in the world.
and right there by your side, supporting you for the past year, was none other than auston matthews, your boyfriend. you'd met at a leafs game years ago, but he'd only reached out to you just over a year before. ever since then, the two of you kept your relationship under wraps for the most part, doing your best to just enjoy your time together without the media's comments.
you'd talked about going public before, but for the most part, decided to let life take it's course. of course... tonight would be a pretty big surprise.
"hi, you made it," you got up from your chair, sinking into his arms for a hug.
"i wouldn't miss this for the world," he responded, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "it's my girl's big day. first tour in almost three years. nothing's gonna stop me from being here."
you grinned stupidly to yourself, finding auston's words so comforting and sweet. even after a whole year, he managed to make you feel giddy.
"i'm really happy you're here," you whispered, pulling away. "oh! i've got a surprise for you, but i can't give it to you right now. i'll give it after, okay?"
"a surprise for me?" auston repeated. "it's your day."
"hush, i wanted to do it," you said.
another knock sounded on your door, and your assistant, jenny, poked her head in. "y/n, we've got to start in ten. let's go. auston, mark's got your seat saved. head over quick, or someone'll spot you."
"that's not a big deal," auston waved it off. "if someone spots me, they spot me. it's not the end of the world."
"well, fact remains, we need y/n right now," she said. "c'mon, you can have her back when she's done her show."
"i'll see you soon," you kissed auston, before following jenny out to your position.
you adjusted your earpiece, waiting for the lights to dim. as soon as they did, the platform you were standing on moved higher, allowing you to enter directly on stage.
the lights turned back on, and the crowd went wild.
"let the show begin," you whispered to yourself.
---
"'cause karma is the thunder," you sang, "rattling your ground. karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter. karma's gonna track you down."
the crowd waved their flashlights in the air, following you as you continued dancing to the beat of the song, singing along. getting closer and closer to the surprise you planned for auston.
"step by step from town to town," you continued. "sweet like justice, karma is a queen. karma takes all my friends to the summit..."
you paused for half a second, allowing production to ready themselves and for the crowd to pay attention to the small change.
"karma is the guy on the leafs, coming straight home to me!"
you stomped on the mark, blue sparklers going off on either side of the stage -- matching with the colour of your dress and the leafs' colours.
the crowd screamed as you continued your performance, losing their minds at the confirmation that you and auston were dating.
"cause karma is my boyfriend," you locked eyes with auston in the crowd, noticing him smiling widely to himself as people nearby recorded the interaction. winking at him, you continued your song, "karma is a god."
the crowd continued chanting throughout the song, no one truly getting over the lyric change you'd done.
you had a feeling there were gonna be rumours about this for a while.
---
tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 , @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj
join my main taglist!
#naqia writes!#auston matthews#auston matthews blurb#auston matthews x oc#auston matthews fic#auston matthews imagine#auston matthews x reader#auston matthews x y/n#auston matthews imagines#auston matthews blurbs#toronto maple leafs x reader#toronto maple leafs imagine#nhl#nhl one shot#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey one shot#hockey fic#hockey
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quick tumblr etiquette as how i understand it (i havent used tumblr primarily for years so if im wrong sorryyy) for boobers running to tumblr:
-reblog posts for the love of god. reblogging is how posts are primarily spread because most people dont spend a lot of time in tags
-likes do nothing other than being a number, unless you are saving the post for yourself
-most people dont like comments being added to posts, especially on art. add your comments to tags
-tags are less for visibility and more for you to organize your blog and add silly little comments. please add comments in tags especially on art artists love that
-you can reblog things more than once
-reblog posts of any age. people regularly reblog things theyve reblogged before and that are many years old. posts have no shelf life like twitters 1-2 days lifespan
-you can filter tags, most people have a specific tag for their personal posting that people can filter if they only want to see their reblogs
-i dont agree with the tumblr etiquette of “dont like dont look” but theres a lot of that over here because people feel they are out of the public eye so just. be aware of that
-dont crosstag stuff. if you are posting to reach a certain audience use that tag but the example ppl use a lot is minecraft vs mcyt. those are two different communities. dont tag mcyt posts as minecraft you will get massacred
-oh yeah you can make threats here. tell ppl to kys all you want
-also dont censor tags the muted word function here works the same as twitter, censored words wont be caught in filters
-put your tws and cws in tags not in the main caption
i think thats the important stuff for now
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new simblr here 🐣📸
hellouuu! greetings to you, i'm feli, a twenty-two years old college sim-girlie from indonesia 🦭 i've been playing sims since elementary, but just restarted last year and now veeery new to simblr. above is camilla from my current save who's pursuing interior designing, acting, and a newly-sparked romance with mr. v from boston celtics 🙂↕️🏀
i hope to document my casual gameplay by posting storytellings and screenies here. lookbooks too! i also want to see you amazing simblrs with your awesome contents 🙂↔️✋🏻
so, i hope that i can get along with many! just want to get cozy here and put life on a pause a li’l bit. i also put my interest in r&b and rap artists, as well as the nba especially celtics, rockets, and thunder (and my precious shai). so, you'll see me putting those a lot in my gameplays.
reblogs and likes will be very appreciated. feel free to interact, i need some friends tew 🐩🤍
#felysline#the sims 4#simblr#the sims 4 gameplay#the sims 4 screenshots#the sims 4 simblr#the sims community#showusyoursims#my sims#ts4#ts4 screenshots#ts4 gameplay#ts4 simblr#ts4 story#ts4 lookbook#sims 4#the sims gameplay#new simblr#new simblr alert
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I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//biker!Steve//90's au//Part 10
🚨18+Only, smut, oral (m receiving), talk of erection, size kink, swallowing, biker gang, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, talk of drug use, threats, talk of violence, financial trouble, mention of jail, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, trouble at home, co-parents!Stobin, suggested custody issues, angst, underlying fear of retaliation. Word count: 8.7k
This is mostly just a sweet lil chapter to heal some wounds, right before some old wounds start opening.
Series Masterlist
A/N: I tried to make this part completely void of angst, but alas, I did not succeed. I'm working on a summertime one shot idea for the boys to go to a bike rally with all of the shenanigans that could possibly ensue; it should be a wild one. Big love to my beta @michellecrusher for deciding that this chapter could use a touch of smut.
As always, I'm honored to be on this ride with you and look forward to any and all interactions. Comments, messages, reblogs; it all means so much to me and is what keeps this little world going ❤️🔥
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I'm on Fire Part 10: I got a bad desire
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Landing with your face on the puke-stained, beer dribbled carpet of the Velvet Hammer, dusted in a sprinkle of cigarette ash, was not how you wanted to start your evening. You hadn’t even realized you hit the ground until you heard Steve’s voice demanding everyone get the fuck out of his way as he parted bodies to get to you.
And then, Erika’s voice: “I don’t know what happened...she just...fell. I promise, I didn’t touch her!”
People were murmuring around you and Steve was saying your name as you started to come back to reality, taking a deep inhale, blinking back to life. He knelt and propped you up into a sitting position, and that was when the embarrassment of what had just happened began to wash over you, making you wish that a hole in the ground would swallow you up.
“Do you think you can stand?” Steve asked while his big hands found positions under your arms in preparation to lift you up. You turned your head to look at him; his wayfarer sunglasses had fallen from the top of his head to the tip of his nose, and they were about to slip off, but his concern was more with not letting you go.
“What happened?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet, taking a second to grab the sunglasses off his face and throw them on the bar. “Did someone push you?”
“Please. Get me out of here,” you begged as one of your arms went around his shoulders, and one of his hands secured itself at your waist.
He set you down on a chair in front of the employee lockers and told you he’d get someone to cover the door for him while he took you home, or he’d see if one of the girls could stop by.
With your hands between your knees and your shoulders slumped, you began to come to terms with everything as he picked up the phone in the office.
“Wait,” you stopped him. “I can’t afford to miss a day of work, Steve, I’ll be fine. Just...just give me a second to catch my breath.”
Steve understood what a hard spot that was to be in; he lived it almost every day of his life. He put the receiver back down on the cradle.
“What did that bitch say to you?” Steve asked, putting his foot up on the bench.
You shook your head. “That’s just it, she’s not a bitch,” you chewed your lip. “She just saved me from making a huge mistake. I owe her.”
Steve was on his way back out to the floor when you called to him. “Hey, does Eddie have any female friends who are redheads, that you know of? Really pretty, tattoo on her bicep? Someone he’d feel comfortable enough with to let stay at his place?”
Steve popped his knee out and put his hands on his hips, frowning. “No one that he’s...dated, I don’t think,” he rubbed his chin in thought. “But there’s Max, she’s more like a sister to us. I just tattooed her a few weeks ago. Her hair was like a bright, candy red. Why do you ask?”
You turned away from Steve and squeezed your eyes shut, a sob caught in your throat. The sudden rush of relief at so many groundbreaking realizations had your emotions on the verge of short-circuiting. Eddie still had quite a bit of explaining to do, but the tight bud of your heart was blooming like a rose in your chest once again, full of hope.
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Meanwhile, Eddie was officially going stir crazy. “I need to get out of this house,” he told Robin has he hitched through the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight on the hip was right below his wound. He was wearing his jeans unbuttoned, so they hung a bit low, bangs swept across his forehead, and one of Steve’s white wife beaters that was too small for him. The thin material exposed the tattoos on his chest and stomach, as well as the ones scattered from neck to hands. He’d spent the afternoon watching cartoons with Oliver, which was enjoyable, but relaxing and sitting still for long periods of time just wasn’t in his DNA.
Also, he wasn’t sure if it was an affect of the morphine, but he’d had another one of his nightmares early that morning, before dawn, and shouted himself awake, covered in sweat. It was the same dream that had tortured him off and on for over a decade; the one where he’s being attacked by a swarm of flesh-eating bat creatures, they’re all taking big bite out of his flesh, and he wakes up to the feeling of choking on his own blood.
“Over my dead body,” Robin challenged, moving from the stove with a wooden spoon covered in macaroni and cheese in her hand.
Eddie’s eyes traveled to the spoon and then back to her face. “That can be arranged.”
“Seriously, dude,” her shoulders sank. “Don’t make me hog tie you to the couch. I promised Astrid we’d keep an eye on you for another night.”
“I have a business to run, Rob,” he said as he hobbled over to grab his leather from the back of the one of the dining chairs. “If this were a hospital, they would’ve kicked me to the curb by now.”
Robin went back to the stove to stir the powdered cheese in with the noodles. She knew that no one could stop him if he wanted to go, and she really couldn’t blame him.
With her back to him she said, “if you end up getting some type of infection and your foot falls off, I won’t ever forgive you.”
Oliver came trotting out from the other room to say goodbye, and he raised his arms for Eddie to pick him up, which he did—and Robin glanced over just in time to see the grimace of pain flash across Eddie’s face as he settled the boy on the wrong hip at first before switching him to the other side. She shook her head, certain he would pop his stitches by the end of the day.
“Steve brought your bike up the hill,” she let him know, while she packed up some medications for him to take. “Your girlfriend is at work by now, I believe.”
Eddie’s eyes snapped to hers as he put Oliver down. “Why’d you call her that?”
“Isn’t she?” Robin challenged, raising her eyebrow. “I can tell you knew exactly who I was talking about.”
Eddie couldn’t help the smile that twitched across his lips.
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The Velvet Hammer was packed that night, and by the end of your shift, after very little food, no sleep, and one blackout, you were a bit wobbly on your feet. Steve had to work as security for a while longer, since there was a bachelor party in attendance that was getting a bit rowdy, but he demanded you let him walk you to your car while he had a smoke.
“So, I like Astrid,” you told him. He held out his cigarette to offer you a drag, but you declined with a wave of your hand. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Going on?” Steve put the cig to his lips with thumb and forefinger.
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you made room for a group of people to pass on the sidewalk. “You know what I mean,” you insisted, knowing full well that he did. “You two seemed really close last night. I was just curious.”
“Oh, I’m fuckin’ in love with her,” Steve announced with a shrug, as if it were common knowledge. “We just don’t have a conventional relationship, I guess. No one seems to understand it but us.”
You wondered, sincerely, how many women Steve had been in love with in his life. But, you could tell that there was, indeed, something special about the connection he had with Astrid. You wondered if Eddie looked at you the way Steve had looked at her last night.
Steve hung around to make sure you got in your car okay, and then you chuckled to yourself as he sauntered off, flirting with a group of women who were walking by, asking them to come by the bar and keep him company. You were about to maneuver your way out of the precarious parallel spot you were wedged in when your eyes locked on a piece of folded paper held to the windshield under one of the wipers.
At first, you thought it was ticket of some sort, like maybe you were in a no parking zone or something. But then, at closer examination, you realized it was made with blue-lined notebook paper.
It was a handwritten note.
The street was fairly busy that night with cars zooming around town, so you were cautious as you dashed out to pinch it free and pull it back into the safety of the car with you.
It was a...little paper origami duck? Or some kind of bird? You turned it around, inspecting the intricately folded parts, giggling curiously as you did so. You unfastened the delicate edges, careful not to rip it in haste. Finally, you were able to press a flat, albeit crumpled, half sheet of paper against your steering wheel, your heart shot into your throat, melting there like a fat stick of butter.
It was from Eddie:
I miss you. Come to my place so we can talk? It doesn’t matter how late.
-- E
P.S. Oliver wants to make this into a swan for you
Hopeful tears pooled at your lash line and you checked your watch; it was just after 11:30. Surely, they’d be keeping him at Steve’s for another night? But, if so, he would’ve said that and not, specifically “his place”. You tried to fold it back exactly the way it was, failed miserably, and ended up folding it in half without messing up any of the edges to place it safely in your middle console.
For a few seconds as you sat in your car with the radio on, listening to Nearly Lost You by The Screaming Trees, you wondered if you should play hard to get, if maybe rushing over to his place was not the right game to play. But really, truly, you didn’t give a shit about any of that.
You were blinking excessively and yawning, and you had this feeling like, if you rested your head back against the seat, you’d fall asleep right there in your car. But, you took a few deep breaths and patted your cheeks. You brought a can of Coke in your bag from the bar and cracked it open to guzzle some of it, thinking maybe you’d need to go home first and change? Or go straight to Eddie’s? Fall asleep in your car was still an option.
Fuck.
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Earlier that day, around 5 o’clock, Eddie hissed as he dismounted his bike at the garage, clutching his side, trying to mask the spasm of pain, only to see Wayne watching him from the main garage. His uncle nodded in greeting, just wanting to make sure Eddie was okay, as he wiped his hands, and then turned around to finish what he was working on. So much of the communication they shared was silent, but understood.
He had the note in his pocket that Oliver had made into an origami animal, and he wanted to tidy up his place a bit before he did some work, just in case you did actually come over. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t blame you—it had been an especially long 24 hours. But, damn, he really needed to see you, to try and fix whatever had gone wrong, if he even could.
He still didn’t know what Charlene had done to upset you, but his mind reeled with the possibilities.
Eddie had ripped the bandage off his cheek on the way over, so there was just an angry gash there with a few stitches holding it together like a twist tie to a bunch of hammers, and he didn’t realize how much he resembled Frankenstein’s Monster until the new office assistance choked on her soda at the sight of him.
“Rough night?” She asked. Her name was Dana and she’d worked at garages before, but never for one that was affiliated with an MC.
“You could say that,” Eddie returned as he headed over to one of the metal filing cabinets to look for something.
Dana had a few “while you were out” slips of paper she had filled out with phone numbers and people who had wanted to speak with Eddie or Wayne, and she went over them with him while she chewed a red piece of gum.
She finished the last one and then, “oh, yeah, and someone called here looking for a…” she checked the piece of paper. “...Steve Harrington?”
Eddie nodded, taking something he needed out of the file before shutting the drawer. “He’s a buddy of mine. What’s the message?”
Dana scratched her head. “She didn’t say what it was about, just said that it was a personal matter,” she showed Eddie the pink piece of paper with a phone number and name on it. “Said her name was Christina? I don’t recognize the area code.”
“Could you look up Steve in the address book in that first drawer and relay the message for me? He’s in there under Dingus. I gotta run this out to the---”
Dana spelled out Dingus on the piece of paper, without questioning it, and then looked at the round clock on the wall, nervously. “Actually, I should’ve been gone a half hour ago. I need to pick up my daughter from--”
Eddie waved the papers in his hand. “Of course, I’m sorry I’ve been...distracted. Do me a favor and call him when you get in on Monday? I’m sure it can wait till then.”
The name Christina did not ring a bell at the time, but later on, he’d wish that it had.
--------
You decided to go home first to freshen up a bit, but also, you wanted to pick up the photos to show Eddie. Katie was asleep, but you made yourself some coffee and tiptoed around, wishing you had time to shower because you reeked of secondhand smoke, but then realized Eddie probably wouldn’t notice anyway.
You were nervous as you pulled into the gates of the compound; your heart was racing and your palms started to sweat. His black and chrome bike with the menacing, purple flock of bats on the tank was parked right up close to his door, and you angled your car right in next to it.
Once you turned your car off, you could hear the faint sound of music drifting down from the open window in his apartment. The song was Love You to Death by Type O Negative, and you glanced up just in time to see his shadow pull from the window, as if he’d been standing there, watching you drive up.
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Up in his apartment, Eddie cracked his knuckles, ignoring the fact that the skin on them was still raw and one of his fingers was probably sprained because it throbbed like a motherfucker. He wanted to make sure everything looked okay before he ran down to meet you at the front door. The TV was on mute, he’d been watching Unsolved Mysteries, but now an episode of the X-Files was starting. There were clean sheets on the bed—just in case---and he’d been on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom for a good half hour. There was a vanilla candle burning on the nightstand, and he had lit some Nag Champa incense earlier to try and mask the fact that he’d just smoked a couple cigarettes to calm his nerves. He turned the music down a tad and wondered if Type O was too on-the-nose for such an evening, like maybe you’d think he was setting some tawdry scene, when in actuality, he listened to their music all the damn time. He had on the only pair of dark denim Levi’s he owned without holes in them, a black Faith No More shirt that had the neck and sleeves ripped off of it, and his black converse, which were a nice change from the heavy boots he always wore. He slipped his rings on and used his pinky to clean some sleep out of his eyes just before he headed down to greet you.
---------
You were just about to knock, knuckle poised in the air, when the door flew open.
“Hey,” Eddie stood there looking flushed, lips parted, dragging one hand down his stomach as his pupils dilated to take you in.
You gulped. “Hey. Is this too late? I wasn’t sure if you really meant---”
“Oh I really want you here,” Eddie stepped back, holding the door open with his body.
You were just going to walk through without making any physical contact, but then you found your body being sucked against his, as if by some gravitational pull, and you both sunk into each other. He was quick to put his arms around you, hugging you tighter, securing you to him as if your body was oxygen.
“I know we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he planted his lips on the top of your head, only removing them to speak. “I want to make it right, baby. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and I would never let anyone hurt---”
“I believe you,” you answered, moving further inside, wanting to get behind closed doors with him.
There were old, squeaky wood stairs that led up to the narrow hallway, and you held onto one of his belt loops as you followed him up, pausing so he could open the door and extend his arm for you to enter.
“So, this is where the magic happens,” you teased, taking in the open space that was bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in one. There were Iron Maiden and Slayer posters on the wall, a Harley Davidson plaque, as well as your painting, which was the first thing anyone saw when they walked in. Directly to your right was a hallway that looked like closet space and a door to a bathroom. It was a spacious, warehouse style loft with wood floors and a few round, woven rugs.
The windows...the windows were huge.
Eddie snorted at your comment, and was just about to turn around to take you into his arms again, when you bolted over to start busying yourself with lowering the curtains, starting with the window that faced the other side of the street.
“You really should keep these closed,” you told him, leaning over a table with a turntable and an 80’s style boombox. The pull did not work for the second curtain, and your frustration was mounting as you yanked at it, just as Eddie stepped over and put his hand on the cord.
“Let me do it, baby,” he met your eyes, trying to see if he could guess what had triggered such a frenzy.
While he finished dropping the blinds, you took the photos out of your bag, extending them when he turned around. You sat down at the end of the bed and watched his face as he slipped the contents out of the manila envelope to look at them.
He glanced at you a few times as he flipped through the photos, and his expression ebbed from confusion to anger and back again.
Eddie was shaking his head, hair hanging down, his strong fingers curling as if he wanted to crumple them up. “These aren’t...this is not what it looks like,” his eyes searched yours.
“I know,” you looked down, biting your top lip with your bottom teeth. “Erica told me you were set up. And Steve told me about...your other friend.”
The muscles in Eddie’s jaw tensed, teeth grinding, as his eyes narrowed on the window where most of the photos had been taken from. “Some fucker has been watching me this whole time?” The irrational part of Eddie wondered if the guy was over there, somewhere in the abandoned building, right at that moment. Maybe he should go over and introduce himself, possibly break the guys face with his own camera. Break his hands and throw him out the third story window while he was at it.
The photos were starting to make Eddie feel sick with rage, so he put them back in the envelope. Your bloodshot eyes fluttered and he could see how tired you were.
“Who would do this?” You asked, earnestly. “More importantly, why would they do it? I haven’t been here long enough to make enemies. Not of this caliber, anyway.”
Eddie put the envelope on top of the kitchen counter and sat down next to you on the bed with a heavy sigh. He had his hands resting on his knees, but then he took a chance and slid one arm over to interlace his fingers with yours, and you let him. He squeezed your hand. “It’s a long story, but a while back I made a mistake and got involved with this woman who--”
“Charlene Gregson?” She’d always been at the top of your list for someone who would have the motive for something so unnecessarily heinous.
“That’s the one,” he brought your hand over across his leg. “That’s where I went last night, to try and stop her, I suppose. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
That made a laugh bubble out of your chest for some reason. “What was your plan? Crash through her gates on your motorcycle on a cloud of smoke and seek vengeance?”
Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it always works out in the movies.”
You giggled and pulled away, but then he tugged you back, and you were still smiling as he scooped his hand around your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss, little hiccups of laughter erupting between kisses tongues slipping in ever so gently; Mulder and Scully having a conversation on the TV in the background. You held onto his wrist, sinking deeper into the yearning that you always felt for him, pulling back only to rub the tips of your noses together, lips grazing.
“Stay here with me tonight?” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to hold you.”
You were sure, you were almost positive, that you had just fallen asleep for a second while he was talking, and you blinked hard just as he lifted his eyes to meet yours.
“But I stink, I smell like the Velvet Hammer. I didn’t have a chance to shower,” you mewed, feeling your body slump further into hibernation mode as the adrenaline from the past two days wore off.
“You don’t stink,” Eddie assured you. “You can sleep in one of my shirts, and you can use my toothbrush, if you don’t mind my germs.” He had your hand in his and was holding it to his chest as he watched your face.
“I figured you’d have plenty of extra toothbrushes here for all of the copious amounts of women who sleep over,” your exhaustion was making you feisty.
Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I do have a few extras for emergencies. But I’ve never offered up my own personal toothbrush before.”
“Goodbye,” you chirped, standing up, ready to leave.
But Eddie chuckled and caught you around the waist, throwing you down on the bed next to him with a bounce and a grunt.
You were doing a poor job of stiffing your own laughter as you tried to keep a serious face, but then he moved to crawl on top of you and you watched his face seize in pain. He stiffened and put his hand over the area where his knife wound was, easing himself onto his back. While Eddie silently prayed that he hadn’t ripped his stitches, you went around the side of the bed to click the lamp off. You turned the TV off too; the music was on low, but that you didn’t mind.
“We are quite a pair tonight,” Eddie mumbled from the bed, slightly incapacitated, as he watched you moved around his apartment.
You loved the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts and hygiene and all that jazz, but in that moment—you weren’t sure you could last another second. Your lids were heavy and your conversation skills were at an all time low. With rubbery limbs, you climbed on the dark blue comforter of his bed and curled against him, making sure it was the side he hadn’t been stabbed on. Flat on his back, Eddie’s eyes never left you, and he was ready with his arm high and outstretched for your head to make a pillow out of his shoulder.
“I can’t keep my eyes open for another second,” you yawned. You grabbed his chest to pull yourself closer, like he was a pillow, and he kissed your forehead.
You kissed the gash on his cheek, nuzzling the hair just above his ear, planting more kisses as you went. Eddie felt his cock spring to life in his jeans and he was too exhausted to do anything about it. You cupped your hand on the side of his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth, and then finally let your cheek fall to his shoulder with a flop.
Eddie took hold of your leg at the crook of your knee to pull it across his hips, needing to feel your weight, not wanting to let you get away. He closed his eyes, drowning in the feel of your soft puffs of breath on his neck, your chest moving up and down on his arm. He planted his lips to your head again, giving a few audible smooches before he rested his torn cheek lightly against you.
He wrapped his arm around tighter, bringing you closer. “You know, Robin called you my girlfriend today,” he admitted, a low laugh rumbling from his chest.
The only response you could manage was, “mmmpfm?”
The stubble of his jaw grazed your forehead as he contemplated what he was about to say. He’d just been stabbed, and it made him consider his mortality, and the time he had left.
“I was thinking,” he breathed. “If you like the sound of that, maybe we could, make it official? That is, if you could ever see yourself having a dirtbag like me as a boyfriend.”
Your body had gone limp and, in the following seconds while he waited for a response, he heard a soft whistle in your nose and a snore catch in the back of your throat. A few drops of drool started pooling from the side of your mouth and made a wet spot on his shirt.
Eddie chuckled, peeking down at you, but trying not to move too much, not realizing he was about to drift off to sleep as well.
-----------
You weren’t sure what time it was when your head rolled off of Eddie’s shoulder, jerking you awake, but it was dark outside, and you were still in the same position you were when you passed out: hand loosely cupping his neck, and your leg stretched across his hips. His head had rolled to the side, away from you, full lips parted, and the blue glow from the stereo cast a moody light on his skin, making his cheek wound look like something out of science fiction.
Still half asleep, you kissed the exposed muscles of his throat, right at the spot where the dark lines from his back tattoo came up across his neck, and your hand slid down his chest; you didn’t have a plan, you just wanted to feel him. His breathing was steady and shallow, eyeballs dancing under his lids. Your hand met with the top of his jeans, and then your eyes widened at the bulge that was causing a huge gap from skin to denim.
You slid your leg off of him, letting your hand move down a bit further, and your hand had to widen over his clothing to pass over the expanse of his arousal there.
Without even realizing it, you had started thrusting your hips against him, working your core against his hip, and then you lifted up to kiss his chin, aching to find his mouth with yours. You’d gone over to his place with every intention of being intimate with him, and nature had intervened with other plans, but you still wanted him to know how bad you wanted him, how much you craved him every second of the day.
Eddie groaned awake to return your kiss, and one of his hands grabbed your face. “Who is this greedy girl?” He mumbled against your mouth, his eyes droopy.
You straddled him, keeping your knees low, at his thighs, careful not to hit his wound. You started to move your core up and down along the bulge under his jeans, and then you leaned forward to brush your lips against his as you spoke. “You’re so hard, let me take care of it.”
Eddie whimpered a little in the back of his throat. “You can take whatever you want, baby,” and then a visible shiver ran through his body at the mere thought of your mouth on his cock.
You inched your way down, sucking hickeys into the dark tattoos spread across his stomach and chest, avoiding the medical tape from his bandage. Eddie moaned and threw his head back as you licked along the inside of his hip, unzipping his jeans to pull them down.
No boxers underneath, his huge cock sprang free, and the sight of the pre-cum already dripping from the pink tip made your mouth water. Eddie bit his lip while he watched you from under hooded eyes as you took control, pulled his jeans down further, and straddled his leg.
You bent over, and kept eye contact with him as you licked all the way down the shaft, and then wet the tip with your mouth, flicking your tongue along the slit, cleaning up his primal release.
Eddie pupils were blown, his lips parted as he watched.
“Whose cock is this?” You asked, teasing the tip with your wet mouth, planting hungry kisses down his shaft.
Eddie choked a little in the back of his throat. “It’s—it’s yours baby.”
He was already rock hard—throbbing, even---and your core flowered open beneath your clothes, soaking your underwear to the point that you actually had to reach down and touch yourself as you sucked him. Eddie noticed this and it made him mumble, “fuckbabyfuck,” as his leg squirmed, digging his heel into the bed.
You worked the tip of his cock with your hand while you sucked one of his balls into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at how crazy it was making him.
Somehow, between sleeping on someone else’s couch and working, Eddie had neglected to jerk off recently, and so he was about to….
“Fuck, baby, right there,” he hissed, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna make me…”
You went back to work, gripping him with hand and mouth in tandem, lips stretching to take all of him, eyes watering, swallowing his tip in the back of your throat every so often, as he watched you with a furrowed brow, cursing under his breath.
Suddenly, his breath started to hitch, and the fingers of one of his hands dug into the comforter. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby...if you want it...like that…”
He was warning you as if you’d pull your mouth off and jerk him the rest of the way, but you wanted all of it in your mouth. You moaned as you sucked at the tip, pulling the orgasm out of him, saliva dripping down his balls.
Eddie let out a whimper and his leg jerked just before he stilled, and you tasted the salty sweetness of his warm cum shoot into the back of your throat in bursts. You drank his spend like his dick was a straw, throat busy swallowing every drop, moaning as you did so. You milked the tip for all he could give you, and then you cleaned him up with your greedy tongue, planting kisses on his cock when he was done with his release.
Eddie stared at the ceiling, slightly shook. “How are you so good at that?”
You sighed a quick laugh, licking your lips, as you made your way to the bathroom to finally brush your teeth. When you came back out, he was already asleep.
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As your eyes opened and adjusted to a sliver of buttery light peeking in from the curtain, your mind put you in several places. First, you were in your childhood bedroom, feeling like you needed to get up and ready for school, and then you were in the more recent bed in the house you shared with Katie. But, then the Iron Maiden poster came into focus and you were slammed with the realization that you had passed out in Eddie’s bed and it was already morning. Your intention had been to take a nap for an hour or two, but now you were alert to the idea that Eddie might still be somewhere in the room.
You remembered falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, waking up hungry for his cock, but now you were facing in the other direction, there was a blanket over you, and someone had taken your shoes off. It was Sunday, so the garage was closed, but you could still hear voices down below and the sound of a car engine revving. You reached your hand behind you to pat the bed, but only found an empty space; either Eddie was in the bathroom or he had already gone downstairs to start his day. God, what time was it?
You rolled over to crawl across the bed to look at the digital alarm clock, inhaling the smell from Eddie’s pillow as you went, and choked a little when you saw it was almost 9:30.
“Holy shit,” you mumbled, throwing the cover off of your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in for that long. A fear that you’d be late for work gripped you, but then you were reminded that you were no longer the director of a gallery, and your new job didn’t start until cocktail hour.
You found your shoes tucked neatly against the sofa, and on the kitchen counter in front of the coffee pot was a note propped up like a little tent with your name on it.
I had to run a tow.
I hope you’re here when I get back.
Thank you for taking it like a good girl last night.
-- E
Eddie and his little notes. You grinned as you folded it up and put it in your pocket, because of course you’d be saving any note he ever left you till the end of time.
It was then that a heavy fist started pounding on the door down below. “Helloooo? Anyone? What the hell do I gotta do to get some service around here?”
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Even though the mechanics were all off that day, the towing business was a 24 hour thing. There was another Coffin King named Lou who was usually able to cover some nights and weekends, but when Eddie found himself stuck with a pickup at the worst possible time, he tried to focus on the money and be grateful for it.
He’d considered waking you up to see if you wanted to go with him, but you were sleeping so peacefully, he didn’t have the heart to disturb you. He woke up with his cock so achingly hard thinking about what you did to him in the middle of the night, that he had to jerk off as quietly as possible in the shower that morning. He was sure you’d heard the grunt he barked when he came, thinking about filling you up, listening to you tell him how deep you wanted all of him inside of you.
The last time he went this long without having intercourse with a girl that he had feelings for was maybe his freshman year in high school. The crazy thing was, he was enjoying the feeling of waiting and making it special; even though the holding out part was totally accidental, and he would’ve jumped at the chance to bury himself inside you that very first night you met.
But the way you took care of him last night, holy shit: he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t tell if he had really found the Holy Grail of women, or if his feelings for you had made it as intense as it was; possibly a bit of both. He was seized with memories of your mouth on him off and on while he was on the job, and he’d have to slyly adjust himself in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get back to you.
He started to whistle as he rounded the corner to re-enter the compound, hoping that your car was still there, hoping that he could….
But he spotted a different car in the lot right next to yours that hadn’t been there before, and you were coming out from out of the garage with your hand shielding your eyes, looking deeply concerned.
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You considered just letting whoever it was keep on knocking, but at one point, the person yelled: “Eddie! I know you’re here! Don’t make me take your bike for a spin around the block!”
And so, you put your shoes on and went down, wholly unprepared for what you would find.
There were two smiling faces practically pressed up against the glass of the main door as you descended the stairs. One was a guy with a mop of brown curls, and the woman with him had beautiful olive skin, black hair, and wore glasses. They both waved enthusiastically, happy to finally be acknowledged.
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“What the hell, Henderson?” Eddie parked the tow truck and jumped down, wallet chain flapping against his jeans. Eddie waved to you across the way, as his mouth opened into a toothy grin, exposing actual cheek dimples, that you’d maybe only seen him wear once or twice.
“If it isn’t the Dungeon Master!” Dustin came toward him with his arms out. “What the hell is up with you and Steve? You’re the two hardest losers to find!”
They hugged, and then Eddie tousled Dustin’s hair, mussing it up. “You haven’t changed a bit, you little goblin.”
Next to you, under the shade of the awning was a very pregnant Suzie, who you’d also just met. She was in a purple floral dress with a white collar, and you’d pulled a chair around for her to have a seat.
“I love to see my Dusty Buns happy again,” she said, passing her hand over the globe of her belly as you both watched the two men embrace. “We should’ve moved back sooner, but life just got away from us.”
“How do you all know each other?” You were just barely able to introduce yourself before Eddie pulled up, and so you had no idea how close the gang was.
“I’m surprised the boys never mentioned Dustin to you? They went to high school together; they’re all really close. Steve is basically Dustin’s surrogate father,” she giggled, lifting her sweet moon-shaped face to you in a soft smile.
You did feel a little self-conscious about not knowing, but there was a good reason for it. “Well, I’m...Eddie and I are…kind of a new thing.” But then you remembered that you did know a little bit about one of their old friends. “They’ve mentioned Max to me. I guess she visited a couple days ago? I didn’t get to meet her though.”
“Maxine is a riot!” Suzie exclaimed. “You’ll get you meet her and Lucas when the baby is born. They said they wanted to be here for the actual birth, but who can really tell when that will be? I’m due in a week, but I was born two weeks early, and my sister’s newest baby was born almost a month late,” her eyes got glossy. “Boy, I really can’t imagine holding this baby in for another hour, let alone another month.”
Eddie had his arm around Dustin’s shoulders as they approached, and he gave him a playful knuckle rub to the head before they parted.
Eddie greeted Suzie, and she went to stand up to hug him, but Eddie quickly bent over and kissed her on the cheek so that she wouldn’t have to move. He swallowed as he took in the enormous state of her pregnant belly. “Shouldn’t you be...resting? Is it too hot out here? Should we go inside? Are you comfortable in that chair?”
Suzie laughed. “My god, Eddie, you’re as bad as Dustin. I’m fine, I promise. I’m trying to shake this baby loose; this little person has rented out my womb for long enough.”
Eddie met your eyes and kissed you on the lips before he put his arm around you and pulled you against him.
It was the wrong side, again, and he winced.
Dustin noticed the look of pain. “What the hell happened to you?”
“He got stabbed,” you volunteered with a sheepish look on your face, tilting your head to Eddie’s shoulder.
“Oh, of course he did,” Dustin said, his mouth wide. “What else would Eddie or Steve be doing on the weekends besides mortal combat?”
Suzie looked concerned, but Eddie assured the group that he was fine. He looked you in the face as he said: “So, did you two get to meet my girl?”
Your cheeks got warm, and you ran your hand up and down his back.
“Only briefly, before you rudely interrupted,” Dustin let him know, moving behind Suzie’s chair to put his hands on her shoulders. Dustin had been worried for a while there that Eddie would never move on from his ex, and that he would always be in a dark head space in regards to romance, and so seeing him with you made his heart feel light.
“You see Steve yet?” Eddie asked. “He’ll be pissed you didn’t come to see him first.”
“Um, not like we didn’t tryyyy,” Dustin raised both eyebrows. “No one was at the house and the tattoo shop wasn’t open yet. I talked to him on the phone a few weeks ago, but we weren’t sure when we’d be in town.”
Eddie thought about that for a second. It was very odd for neither one of them to be home, especially on a Sunday morning. But, there was a chance Robin took Oliver to a shift at work with her and Steve had spent the night at Astrid’s, depending on how early Dustin had popped by.
“I’ll find him,” Eddie assured them both. “Are you staying at your moms house.”
“Hell no,” Dustin responded almost too quickly. “I mean, I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but she’s been driving us up the wall lately. We’re renting a house a few blocks away from her until everything is finalized at our new place.”
They all made a plan to meet up as soon as they could figure out where Steve and Robin were, and once they were gone, Eddie turned to you, cupping your neck to pull you against him.
“Is it okay that I introduced you as my girl?” He stroked his thumb across your chin as he asked it, chocolate eyes unsure if they should meet your gaze or watch your mouth.
You lifted up to brush your lips across his, tongue peeking out only slightly, making him groan a little. You searched his eyes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Is that what I am?”
Eddie put his hands on your lower back and brought his head back, wanting to see your whole face. “You tell me. I wanna hear it. Are you my girl?”
You were nodding yes before he even finished. “I’ve been your girl for a long time now, silly boy.”
“Yeah?” Eddie breathed in a chuckle, his cock growing as he met your sweet, eager mouth. He paused only to admit, “I’ve wanted you to be mine since that first day we met.”
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Of all the places Steve had hoped to wake up on Sunday morning, a jail cell was not one of them.
He made bail, and Robin was there to pick him up, giving him a dirty look as she did so. He had his sunglasses on, his Coffin Kings cut in his hand, and a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he got into the passenger seat and shut the door. The “seek and destroy” tat on the side of his neck displayed loud and proud.
“Nice shiner,” Robin said under her breath.
“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” Steve said, cupping his hands to light his smoke. His black eye was the only visible mark on him, but the dude he had a tussle with had gone to town on Steve’s ribs, and there would definitely be bruises there.
She made a face as she backed out of the parking spot. “You smell like vomit.”
He ignored her observation. “Where’s Ollie?”
“I dropped him at Astrid’s,” she said as she pulled her own sunglasses down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. “I didn’t want him to see this.”
“Why are you acting like this was all my fault?” Steve blanched, flicking ash out the window as they turned out of the courthouse, Somebody to Shove by Soul Asylum playing on the radio. “You don’t even know what happened.”
“I don’t have to know, Steve, that’s the point,” she barked. Her frustration with him was also mixed with a generous amount of worry. “When are you going to grow up and start walking away from danger instead of headlong into it every chance you get?”
“Oh I get it,” Steve said sarcastically. “So, you don’t care that Tina is back in town, and this had everything to do with her?”
Robin hit the breaks and turned to him so fast, a chunk of her hair stuck to her bottom lip. “What do you mean Tina is back in town?”
“Now you care?” He tapped his knee as he took another drag.
Robin felt like she forgot how to breathe, so she pulled over to park haphazardly along the sidewalk at an angle.
She turned the car off but left the air on. “You know how I feel about Tina, but please tell me you didn’t hit her.”
“Oh, fucking of course not,” Steve balked, snapping his head to look at her. He gestured to his black eye with the two fingers holding his cigarette, “this was courtesy of her new fiance. I think they were both on crack. They were waiting for me when I left work last night. Now, all of a sudden, out of the goddamn blue, Tina wants to see Oliver.”
Robin was shaking her head, gripping the steering wheel. “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, definitively. “She disappeared when he was 3 months old. No. There’s no way. She’s a drug addict, she’s a narcissist, no. Not a chance in hell.”
“I know, Rob, believe me. It’s not going to happen, okay?” Steve assured her with a wave of his hand. “At least not until she cleans her life up.”
Christina, Oliver’s biological mother, didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, and never wanted anything to do with her son, but the fear had always been in the back of his head that one day she’d pop up like a mean, STD rash.
Robin felt her eyes getting moist and she wiped at her cheeks angrily. “Where are her and her fleabag fiance now?”
“Oh I put that scumbag in the hospital so hard,” Steve threw the rest of his cigarette out the window and licked his lips. “He’s lucky I didn’t put him in a grave. I’m sure Tina’s already changed her mind, you know how fickle and selfish she is. They were most likely on a bender and thought they’d come through town and fuck with us. They’re probably on their way back to Memphis by now. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”
Robin swallowed a few times, trying to allow him to comfort her. She never expected or intended to fall into this roll and be a mother to Steve’s son. But, it happened. Oliver was their son now, and she loved him as much as if he had grown in her womb. And, she would fight to keep him safe with the same level of conviction.
Steve sniffed and adjusted himself in his seat. “Thank you for bailing me out, by the way.”
Robin snorted as she started the car. “Dingus, I could barely afford the gas to drive over here, and you think I had the cash to bail you out? Get real.”
Steve frowned. “Who was it, then? They said I made bail. Otherwise, I’d still be rotting in there.”
“I assumed it was Astrid? Or Eddie?”
Steve shook his head. “Eddie doesn’t know, and Astrid is in the same financial hole we are.”
Robin put the car in drive but kept the break on. “Well, who was it then?” She posed the question as both of them searched their collective data bank memories for a close friend nearby who had more than two pennies to rub together, or something valuable to use as collateral.
Hours later, they still couldn’t think of anyone.
----------
You left Eddie reluctantly so that he could go look for Steve, and you could take a long awaited shower and throw your nicotine-saturated clothes in the wash. The business card with John Gregson’s email, phone number, and private extension was on your dresser, and you stopped to pick it up as you walked across the room. You meant to bring up the situation to Eddie, but the timing was never right. Was John trying to mess with you in the same way his wife wanted to mess with Eddie? You didn’t get a bad feeling from him, but now, after everything with the photos and Charlene paying people off, you weren’t sure.
A voice inside whispered that John could be an ally if you impressed him, and he had the notion to take you under his wing. John was the one with all the power at the end of the day, and if Charlene could play with fire, well then, so could you.
You decided to give him a call first thing Monday, and hopefully make a consultation appointment with him to get a taste for what type of art piece would suit his tastes and needs. You wondered if it was for his office or home? If it was a piece for his personal space at home, would you bump into Charlene while you were there, commiserating with her husband? The idea of getting under Charlene’s skin and making her sweat a little scratched an itch in you that you had not been able to reach for a while.
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Part 11
Eddie after reader is done with him image courtesy of @tenthmoon
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It's so damn cool that some of you have made it this far and continue to want to know what goes on with reader and our boys! It warms my heart in a way I'm having trouble expressing in words xoxo
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Taglist for my other Hell's Belles and Coffin Kings ❤️🔥 @texasblues @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @tlclick73 @clincallyonline17 @kelsiegrin @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @layla-loves-ed @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @miarosso @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @emxcast @secretdryrose @bexreadstoomuch @ms1oftheboys @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @manicmagicmayhem @etherealglimmer @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @trufflshuffle12 @aysheashea @leilalaufeyson02 @ireidsmut @trixyvixx @tenthmoon
#eddie munson x reader#eddiemunsonseries#eddie munson fic#bikereddiemunson#bikersteve#older eddie munson#older!eddie#eddiemunsonsmut#90s au#90s music#older steve harrington
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Muse
Pairing: Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky is thankful to have you as his muse.
Word Count: Over 1.1k
Warnings: Fluff, kissing, light insecurities if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's in love (and he’s a warning, okay?).
A/N: Nix was kind enough to send me an old edit she made and I ran with it for @the-slumberparty 's Across the Universe challenge. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky Barnes hadn't expected to find solace in art when he was younger. It seemed more like a path that his best friend Steve would take, though both of them appreciated expressing themselves creatively. Life also taught him that his road came with unexpected bumps and turns. Trading guns for brushes and pencils after he left the army, art helped him process some of his emotions he long kept at bay. It showed him how to look at life from a different perspective. In some ways, it saved him.
Like you did.
"Mmm."
The moan you let out drew Bucky's gaze up from his sketchpad, smiling softly as you stretched your legs out under the sheets. As tempted as he was to rouse you with his tongue, he decided to let you sleep since he already woke you once in the middle of the night. It wouldn't be the first time he sketched you while you slept.
The pad in his hand was already filled with drawings of you, but one more wouldn't hurt. Over the hours and days spent with you, he studied and learned your body well. He had other sketches and paintings of you in various angles and lightning. Those would never be sold.
Some art that existed was for the artist alone.
The pencil began to move across the paper once more when you didn't stir. If you woke up and caught him drawing you again, you'd shake your head and tell him he had more than enough. He disagreed.
There was beauty in his surroundings, but they paled in comparison to you.
"Bucky," you whispered, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. Like the color red, you speaking his name invoked deep, intense passion within him. He saw hues in brighter shades thanks to you. "Come back to bed."
"I'm almost finished," he promised.
"You drawing me again?" you mumbled, bringing your hand up to cover your yawn as he kept sketching. "You have enough and I'm a mess."
"Maybe. Maybe not," he teased with a tender smile when your eyes opened halfway. "And you're not a mess. You're beautiful."
And it’ll never be enough.
"Careful, James," you teased back, arching your back as you stretched. "Keep smiling and sweet talking and they'll take away your brooder card."
"We can't have that," he winked.
When Bucky decided to pursue art outside of a hobby, he hadn't meant to become a brooding recluse on purpose. He simply preferred solitude while he worked and he valued his privacy. While he was encouraged to promote his work on social media to help build more clientele, he never showed his face. He let his art speak for itself. It worked.
It was how he came to meet you.
Before he met you in person, you were his favorite customer. You bought multiple pieces and left the kindest comments on his page. He often went back to reread them when he got lost in his own head.
"While there are many beautiful pieces of art in the world, Bucky Barnes gives us work that defines, and defies, beauty. His art can move you to tears or give you hope of brighter days ahead. We're privileged that he chooses to share his vision with us and one can only hope to see the world as he sees it."
He may have moved you with his visuals, but you moved him with your words.
"I have to meet her," he told Steve when you commissioned a custom piece.
Steve couldn't believe it since Bucky hardly ever let anyone into his studio. He said it was the least he could do for someone who consistently showed him support. He wouldn't admit at the time how nervous he was to meet you. Or why he felt so compelled to see the person behind the name since he refused to look for you on social media.
He realized that day it was destiny to meet you.
The artist and the muse.
"Back to bed," you ordered, moving the sheets back as he set his pencil and pad down. He used the opportunity to gaze along your naked frame bathed in the soft light, lingering between your thighs. "Please, Bucky?
"Who am I to deny my muse?" he smirked, slowly standing from his stool to stretch. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had thrown his dark hair up in a bun to keep it out of his eyes. "Especially when you look at me like that."
I'm littered with scars and you gaze at me like I have no imperfections.
"Have you seen you? You're gorgeous," you said, patting the mattress for him to sit.
“Not as gorgeous as you.”
“Take the compliment, brooder,” you said with a sleepy grin.
When he took a seat with a chuckle, you stopped him before he could lay over you. Instead, you took his right hand and had him stay in place as began to gently massage it. You commented more than once about how long and thick his fingers were and how warm to the touch they were against your skin. Working at his hand in tiny circles, you carefully rubbed out any tension you sensed. While you focused on the task at hand, he took another minute to gaze at you in wonder.
My beautiful muse.
"There," you said, kissing his palm once you finished.
"Thank you," he said, resting the same hand over your heart.
He watched and felt your chest rise as you inhaled. The steady beat grounded him. He was lucky enough for you to let him paint you with his love.
Inside and out.
"Do you ever regret it?" he asked as he traced a small heart on your chest.
Your forehead scrunched as you looked at him. "Regret what?"
"Choosing me," he whispered.
You had a chance to live a life of luxury and you walked away from it for me. Do you regret following your heart when you could've had so much more with him?
You exhaled as you pushed yourself up to face him and placed your hands on both cheeks, making sure he was looking into your eyes. "I will never regret choosing you or being yours," you whispered back.
Bucky's eyes softened as he smoothed his left hand down your back and dropped a kiss to your mouth. He lost himself in the feel of your lips and tongue, an exchange of desire he only got to experience with you. He didn't live a life of glamor, but he would forever give you a life of love.
"Now use me as your canvas," you said as the kiss ended.
Like Bucky said, who was he to deny his muse?
I love Bucky in love. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#artist!bucky barnes#artist!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au#navy and roo's sleepover#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x you#nix#nix edit#nixakimbo edit#nix akimbo edit
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Captain John Price...🏷️
main masterlist📌
*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!
*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.
Works by @miniwheat77
Sweet: Price is harsh on y/n until a mission goes sideways
Sensitive: The only person reader can confide in is her captain
Maneater + Gaz: Reader is a mechanic on base who takes a break with the boys
Give ’em hell Pt.1: Reader and Price are exposed to a weird chemical
Give ’em hell Pt.2: Repercussions of the weird chemical
Red Lipstick: Reader and Price keep one another company
Works by @captainfern
Lake Of Fire: Price isn’t happy about working with another team
Heart-Shaped Box Pt.1: You help Price feel better
Serve the Servants P.2 + Ghost: The aftermath involving Ghost
Breed: You and Price meet up off base
Marigold Pt.1: Price asks you to meet him upstairs
Marigold Pt.2: Crying becaouse you missed him
Works by @halcyone-of-the-sea
Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam: Fisherman Price meets an unexpected person
Our Remains: You are hiding something big from John
Lions and Ibexes: Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.
See No Evil Pt.1 and Origami Boats Pt.2: But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out.
I’ll Take the Night Shift: It doesn’t matter what I feel…Where is my John?
Works by @thanksbutno98
No Wandering Around: You go to work with John
Flash Drive: Erotic folder
Works by @xyziiix
ARDOUR: He could already hear the pleading edge in your voice
Three Is A Crowd: Well your Captain always liked proving you wrong
Price Eating You Out by @catsnkooks: Too blissed out to notice a guest
Civillian Reader Is Hurt by @lvlyghost: She believed he would save her. And that was enough
Jealous by @stormiwaves: “I like it when you’re jealous”
Angel of Small Death Pt.1 by @whynot-tryit: Price hires a team medic
Not Meant to Be Here, But Glad You Are by @paranoid-borderline-insane: You need to remember all the tips John gave you to survive
Breaking and Entering Pt.1 and Reprieve Pt.2 by @sprout-fics: No place safer in the world than with him
Doll by @blingblong55: It started as innocent stares
No Hero, Just Me by @firsttimewriter92: Price rescues reader from an abduction
Duty Over Heart by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world: Your lives were forever changed afterwards
Million Dollar Man by @qilinxingg: John gave a satisfied smile as his arms tightened around your small body
Price’s Young Housewife by @moongreenlight: Weekly manicures and pedicures that he’s put his card on file for
My Girls by @bearieio: happy just being able to share moments with your 3 favorite people
Hell on Earth by @ghostlywhiskey: His demeanor and lack of response to your attitude caught you off guard
Designer Dress by @halfmoth-halfman: You can’t think of a better place to start your new life
I Think I Might’ve Inhaled You by @agentmarvel: It eats at him daily, knowing his own indecisiveness is the root of anguish for both of you
Nobody Does It Like You Do by @bunnyreaper: In his embrace, firm and reassuring, you might actually believe him
Spread Your Wings by @crashandlivewrites: “Besides, I find my scene partner enjoys it more when there’s a lot more sensual physical contact involved.”
Mafia!Price x Assistant!Reader by @charliemwrites: In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of colour and delicacy in his world
A Warm Heart by @flowermiist: That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.
He Opens the Mail and Part 2 by @the-californicationist: It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby.
Soulmate AU Part 1 by @shotmrmiller: your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
Dividers by @cafekitsune
#undercover-smutlover#call of duty#modern warfare#cod smut#task force 141#captain#captain price#john price#captain john price#favorite fics#fic recs#fluff#slow burn#smut#angst#x reader
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Friends, Romans, Tumblrites, lend me your reblogs.
I'm Xel and I live in a society! I think there's a solid chance you do also! So you may relate to the profoundly crappy thing that happened to me and that I once again need a community assist.
I lost a temporary job that was supposed to turn into a permanent job in June because no one there felt safe enough to retire. Only two of us in the apartment were under 50. One of the crew was over 70. Three were chronically ill/disabled. No one felt safe enough to leave in order for me to stay, so I was trained for basically 6 months for nothing.
I have survived on savings from that job until this point, but I'm at the point where I cannot pay rent. I'm looking into getting help from sources more local to me but the internet has always felt like people who cared about me more than the people I share DNA with, really.
Many of the social services that I was signed up for expired the day that I was supposed to be told that I would be a permanent hire, and since that didn't go down, now I have to start it all again from the beginning, and there are gaps in my security net.
I tell you all of that just to say that I am actually trying to do things, I'm not here to just beg and coast along on some sort of lavish lifestyle where I, uh. Keep living in this dodgy apartment with my cat.
I don't want to bore you with an itemized list, but like 2,000 US dollars would get me through September and October without being worried about it like every 3 minutes. My rent is 700 and change, if you would like to know that. So I'm looking for like September and October rent and money to renew my driver's license, pay a few utility bills, buy a bag of cat food, and refill my medications.
If you have the notion to toss help at an internet pal or the extended reblogged acquaintance of an Internet pal, as is more likely the case, probably, that would be super rad of you.
I'm an artist! You could get things with images on them from me! I sell buttons, prints, and commissioned illustrations if that's your thing. My commissions are going a bit slow as of late - I only recovered from being not really able to walk like 2 months ago, and so I'm doing a lot of catch up like everywhere else in my whole life and trying not to spend too much time at a desk since it aggravates the spine thing that was the problem in the first place.
To be honest, it would be a greater help to me to just receive some Aid rather than full-on commissions, but I completely understand feeling fishy about people getting something for nothing and also feeling bad for being a charity case on the internet, so I'm not opposed! If you want to chat about that, I have a commissions post on the side or top of my blog depending on where you're looking at this!
Ko-fi contains my buttons and is a good place to toss digital dead American presidents if that suits you. I will get hit by some PayPal fees in this process but, I'm willing to call that a call for help on the internet tax.
I promise I'm a real person and not a bot who has made up a cat and is pretending to have interests. My blog has been here since 2010! I've met people on this website in person and everything. I've had embarrassing obsessions no bot would bother coming up with. Speaking of:
Similarly to times before, I would like to be able to do something in order to feel like I have earned some kind of support, and as of my birthday last week I have resolved to try very hard in the next year to conquer my fear and absolute mortification about many of the things I make, so I will once again go digging into my archives for things I can post for you to enjoy as thanks and tribute! I also have a poll running right now to see what kind of buttons people want!
Thanks for taking a look! Be nice out there, take care of your spines!
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How to Keep Doing Descriptions (from someone who does a fuckton)
Plain text: How to Keep Doing Descriptions (from someone who does a fuckton)
This is a list aimed mostly at helping people who already write IDs; for guides at learning how to do them yourself, check my accessibility and image description tags! I write this with close to two years of experience with IDs and chronic pain :)
Get used to writing some IDs by using both your phone and your computer, if you can! I find it easier to type long-form on my laptop, so I set up videos and long comics on my phone, which I then prop up against my laptop screen so I can easily reference the post without constantly scrolling or turning my head
I will never stop plugging onlineocr.net. I use it to ID everything from six-word tags to screenshots of long posts to even comic dialogue! On that last note, convertcase.net can convert text between all-caps, lowercase, sentence case, and title case, which is super helpful
Limit the number of drafts/posts-to-be-described you save. No, seriously. I never go above 10 undescribed drafts on any of my four blogs. It doesn’t have to be that low, but this has done wonders (italics: wonders) for my productivity and willingness to write IDs. If I ever get above that limit, even if it’s two or three more, I immediately either describe the lowest-effort post or purge some, and if I can't do that then I stop saving things to drafts no matter what. No exceptions! Sticking to this will make your life so much easier and less stressful
My pinned post has a link to a community doc of meme description templates!
Ask! For! Help! Please welcome to the stage the People’s Accessibility Server! It’s full of lovely people and organized into channels where you can request/volunteer descriptions and ask/answer questions
I make great use of voice-to-text and glide typing on my phone to save my hands some effort!
Something is always better than nothing!!! A short two-sentence or one-sentence ID is better than no ID at all. Take it easy :)
If you feel guilty about being unable to reblog amazing but undescribed art, try getting into the habit of replying to OP’s post to let them know you liked it! This makes me feel less pressured to ID absolutely everything I see
This is a sillier one, but I tag posts I describe as "described" and "described by me." When saving to drafts, I never preemptively tag with "described by me," since for some reason that always makes me feel extra pressure and extra stress. Consider doing something similar for yourself if that applies!
I frequently find myself looking at pieces of art which feel like they need to be considered for a bit before I can write an ID for them, and those usually get thrown into drafts, where the dread for writing a comprehensive ID just builds. Don’t do that! Instead, try just staying in the reblog field for a bit and focus on the most relevant aspects of the piece. Marinate on them for a little; don’t rush, but don’t spend more than a handful of seconds either. I find after that the art becomes way easier to describe than it initially seemed!
On that note, look for shortcuts that make IDs less taxing for you to do! For example, I only ever describe clothes in art if they're relevant to the piece; not doing that every time saves a lot of time and energy for me personally
Building off of that, consider excusing yourself from a particular kind of ID if you want to. Give yourself a free pass for 4chan posts, or fanart by an artist who does really good but really complex comics, whatever. Let it be someone else's responsibility and feel twice as proud about the work that you can now allot more energy to!
As always, make an effort to find and follow fellow describers! It’s always encouraging to get described posts on your dash, and I find that sometimes I'm happier to ID an undescribed post when the person who put it on my dash is a friend who tagged it with "no ID"
TL;DR: To make ID-writing less stressful and more low-effort, use different devices and software like onlineocr.net and voice-to-text, limit the amount of work you expect yourself to do, and reach out to artists and other describers!
#i have no idea if there's a real audience for this post but this is a genuine list of things i do to help myself out#i hope it can help someone else out too <3#accessibility#image descriptions#my posts#kay talks#long post#this has been in my drafts for so long i'm exiling it because i can't stand wondering if it's coherent any longer
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As the holidays speed towards us like a bullet train, here are more ways to support/survive the fiber artist in your life. (You might as well print and save these, because we fiber artists will never learn our lesson.):
DO:
Make them stop each day before they hurt themselves. @gootspatrol made mention of this in a comment and I added it to a reblog, but I want to say it again because it is fucking IMPORTANT. All fiber arts are pretty much repetitive stress injuries waiting to happen. People think our crafts are easy peasy and have no clue that even "easy" things can also injure a body if done too much for too long. Do not work through the pain, folks. It absolutely will come back to haunt you.
Tell them to step back and work on another project if they are getting frustrated with the one they are currently working. I promise you we ALL have multiple projects going. Sometimes a project is just being fucking argumentative, and the situation devolves into such cussing and threats that anyone overhearing will be sure you live with a serial killer. Putting it down and doing another for a while, or at least until that one also becomes the bane of our existence, always helps.
Remind them their bladder exists and isn't meant to be ignored. Yes, I know that sounds silly, but many fiber artists already have ADHD, and we are notorious for ignoring bodily processes. Forgettingto eat is one thing, but much as we'd love to, we can't will our bladders to go away.
From time to time gush at how amazing their project is looking. Your fiber artist will always invariably say "It sucks sweaty donkey balls. I want to set fire to it, but I spent too much damn money on it." Ignore that. They say that because none of us can take compliments. Inside we are squeeing that you noticed. (Note: Be genuine or say nothing at all. We can sense false praise faster than a cat can hear the canned food being opened.)
Be a buffer towards those who do not understand. Tell those who dismiss your loved one's work as anything other than "hard work filled with love" to fuck all the way off. Do feel free to be creative when doing so. You will immediately be a super hero and probably prevent that other person from having their brains ripped out through their nostril by a crochet hook.
DON'T:
Laugh when we say "Next year I will start earlier/make less/buy gift cards instead." Yes, we know we are just kidding ourselves and living in denial. It's a design flaw in a fiber artist's nature. Just hug us and move on.
Have a calendar counting down the days to the holiday they are working towards. Do not even mention time. Doing so will send them spiraling into an almost barbaric berserker frenzy. They will become the whirling dervish of the cartoon Tasmanian devil with fiber and notions being flung about. There is high probability you will be sucked into it and put to work. Unless you feel up to being conscripted into detangling a ramen noodle pile of yarn, sorting thread, or being used as a dress form dummy every ten minutes, just keep your mouth shut.
Play the "Let's mess up their counting by nonchalantly telling a story of our ancestor in 1583 who had 5 goats and worked 50 hours a week and made 100 clocks that told 20 different times..." Look, fiber artists are willing to do something that is so repetitive as to be injurous. Do you think a few more of such actions to turn you into a tasteful decoration will discourage them? Remember: we work with fiber, and a noose is nothing but a bunch of fibers twisted together and tied into a neat knot. Don't fuck with us.
Love y'all! Please take care of yourselves! Be safe and I hope to see lots of pics of finished projects!
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🚨 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS OPEN🚨 tw // homeless / some med talk but not much
Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
Making a new post to hopefully get some work for my family and I so we have somewhere to stay for tonight, since work has been very slow lately. I'm Link, and I'm a 22-year old artist, and my family and I (me + my father and younger sibling) have been homeless since November 2021. It's a long story. TL;DR version is at the same time, while I was living with a friend and my dad + younger sibling was on the road (he drove a van at the time) he had gotten into a diabetic coma and was fired by his job. Being fired meant he or my sibling didn't exactly have a home to go back to, as our relatives on both sides refused to help. At the same time, I was going to have to find someplace else since my friends grandmother was entering the late stages of her life and they had to transfer her to the nursery, meaning there was a lot of things his family had to take care of and I couldn't be there. They allowed my father, sibling and I to stay there for two weeks to give us time to find someplace else.
While I was there, I'd been doing commissions to help their family out with food, and since it was either the streets or living under a roof; I told my friend to take us to a nearby motel since we had enough for a day, and we could figure things out from there. So since then, I've been keeping us here by doing commissions ever since. Either of us haven't been able to obtain a job yet due to how hard it is for us to get our documents to get an id (we dont have a car at the moment, and saving money for the room and food is already tough as is), but recently we think we might be able to get my father's ID so he can work, were waiting on his lung condition to recover fully and get money saved up for the documents and all that before we apply to get them. So hope isn't fully lost for us, we just need to take care of some things for a while longer until then.
Recently, things have gotten worse again. We were paying weekly thanks to the help from my followers and commissions I was getting, but when we weren't able to pay for another, we went back to paying daily again. And immediately we were set back. For the past few days, we haven't been able to pay for one let alone food. We were able to pay most of it to at least stay here, thanks to the kindness of the staff, but they called us earlier to tell us if we couldn't pay everything tonight, then we'd have to leave. We owe 120 by 11pm tonight, and I thought maybe making a new post might help us since posting on my other socials hasn't done much for us lately.
My commissions are open, and if you're interested in helping us out via a commission you can contact me through my Tumblr dms since it's the easiest way to get to me. But if you can't help financially, which I totally understand, I know the economy is tough on all of us right now, please don't feel bad or anything. Reblogs also help us a ton, and it always means a lot to us.
For the commission info itself, I have it all packed into this link right here, along with examples of my art and prices. I draw mainly fantasy pertaining to the Dragon Age Series and although I know little to nothing about Baulders Gate, I have done some art of tavs before! I also do DnD work as well, so I'm used to drawing pretty unique characters. I'll also put some examples I have below. If you want something outside of that, I'm sure I can provide, just let me know upon your request! And I think that's all. Much love to you and thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful day/night :)
#emergency aid#mutual aid#financial aid#aid#signal post#signal b00st#signal boosting#signal boost#boosting#b00st#artistsupport#artists on tumblr#dragon age#mass effect#emergency commissions#emergency art commissions#emergency#art commission info#open art commissions#digital painting#open commissions#ttrpg commissions#ttrpg art#dnd commission#dungeons and dragons#dnd campaign#homeless#clip studio art#digital artist#queer artist
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How to tumblr for artists… my own version
A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone
~~~ your posts ~~~
!!!reblog your own stuff!!!
you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.
~~~ queue it!! ~~~
my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.
queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction.
It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.
~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~
when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer.
tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too.
dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.
When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:
if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.
here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:
these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective.
I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.
~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~
fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually.
every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.
here's some random graph from google images:
please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....
this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.
it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.
~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~
Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc.
Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:
I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3
~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~
tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.
if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".
I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.
you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.
~~~ have an art tag ~~~
make your blog easy to search!
if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(
to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag.
I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.
I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king.
Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.
~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~
!!!this time will pass anyway!!!
how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are
as an artist.
wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs.
this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.
This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!
I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me?
This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all.
If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.
I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post
#pinned#beginner artist#small artist#queer artist#trans artist#artists on tumblr#artist support#artistsupport#new artist#art blog#art on tumblr#lgbt artist#lgbtq artist
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hihiii !! my name is shroom , and i’m a 24yo disabled queer artist from ohio , usa . i’ve been drawing traditionally for my entire life , and digitally for the last eleven years !
if you haven’t already heard about my current living situation and would like to learn more , you can read this post here . to put it shortly -- i need out of this house as soon as possible . i’m finally in a place where i have a job and the means to start saving up to move out !!! i’m so excited to start a new chapter in my life and would appreciate any extra help !!!
did you know that my commissions are always open ? if you didn’t , now you do ! you can view my gallery and terms of service here -- if you're interested in commissioning me , there is a form that you can fill out here or you can dm me here on tumblr @shroomyart !!!
if you don't want to commission me but would still like to help , you can simply reblog this post to help spread the word !! thank you so very much for reading !!!!! <3
#commissions#open commissions#emergency commissions#art commissions#commission info#art#digital art#artists on tumblr
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Family Of Nerds: Feanorian Modern AU
(I’m sorry this is somewhat Americanized I just don’t have enough knowledge about anywhere else to make those allusions) (Also please reblog with your own headcanons or other thoughts!)
Feanor
Philologist; studies language history
Often assists at various museums, colleges, archeological sites, etc
Has published several books and given many lectures
Creates his own languages like Tengwar for fun, also is a hobby blacksmith
Teaches his children many archaic languages no one else speaks and takes his family on "educational" vacations
Also attends every convention known to man, even ones that have seemingly nothing to do with his own interests, dressed to the nines and spends his time there signing books and debating other people
Loves his wife just as madly as the day he met her and is ecstatic he married his high school sweetheart
Idolizes his father. Would have done great following his political career if he hadn't "ruined" his public image by becoming a teen parent, ultimately feels he's made the right decisions for his life though and is happy with his work
Rivalry with Fingolfin over who can host the best dinner party (and you best believe he wears smart-ass punny aprons while cooking a six course meal for his guests)
Nerdanel
Professional sculptor and multimedia artist
Teaches classes at an arts college
Is known to eat the fruit out of the bowls her students are sketching when no one is looking
Cannot cook to save her life
Enthusiastically attends every possible event in her family’s calendar no matter the weather or lack of skill at a toddler dance recital
Dresses in a fabulously bohemian eccentric artist way; stole the show when she attended the Grammys with Makalaure and has been featured in several fashion magazines
Carries all sorts of art supplies and seemingly random tools in her purse at all times, including a chisel, googly eyes, edible glitter, a bajillion hair ties, DW40, and peanut M&Ms
Has a calm, wise disposition that belies her truly chaotic nature
Often looked to for advice from her students and children and will only pull your leg when she thinks you’re being stupid
Does give genuinely good advice though, mostly because she is uncanny in her ability to read people and observe subtle hints
Maitimo
Studied communications, currently working as his father’s apprentice but hopes to find a position as a public relations specialist
Uses his intimidating stature and loud, deep voice to his advantage as needed
Was born while his parents were teenagers and still living with their families, he remembers watching cartoons with Grandpa Finwe and being babysat by his uncles
Also attended his mother’s graduation from art school as a small child and clapped until his little hands hurt
Is painfully aware of how all his younger brothers look up to him - literally - and sometimes struggles with the pressures of setting a good example, though he does much better than he realizes
Drinks his coffee from a mug that reads “don’t make this ginger snap” (Nerdanel has a matching one)
The gayest gay to ever gay, informs everyone of this via cheesy tee shirts gifted from his brothers and cousins
Drives a minivan, claims he chose it because it was the only car that would fit his legs and not because he can haul his brothers around in it
Frequently complains about missing the technology of his childhood but resents being called a millennial
Makalaure
Grammy award winning artist and composer
Created the score for a recent movie that bloomed his popularity and brought him to the limelight
Has a Youtube channel with several music videos he definitely didn’t blackmail his family into filming with him
Also performed on Broadway once and will not let you forget it
Used to skip school to busk in the train station and once caught his math teacher also skipping school
Extremely popular with interviewers, camera crew, and other industry specialists for his kindness and crazy stories about his family
Donates large amounts of his royalties to children’s hospitals and other charities
Used to hog the bathroom in the mornings to put on makeup and style his hair
Practices Beyonce dance routines in the mirror, has convinced Curufin to do them with him before
Spent a semester studying in Sydney, Australia and fainted after encountering a large spider in his dorm room
Tyelkormo
Forest ranger at a National Park
Works at outdoor summer camps every year, all the children love him and his giant fluffy dog
Also volunteers at animal shelters and the wildlife rehabilitation center at the National Park
Creatine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; drinks so much milk Nerdanel used to tell him it was why his hair was white
Wakes up at 5 in the morning to exercise (disgusting)
Got a long bow for Christmas one year (the note said Santa but he knows it was his mom) and practices in the backyard by shooting at Amrod’s pumpkins
Metalhead, particularly likes viking metal and Nordic black metal
Made Huan his own battle vest complete with dog-themed patches such as “Bad to the Bone” and “No Leashes No Masters”
Tells the most terrible jokes you’ve ever heard then laughs like a seagull vomiting up a stolen bag of Doritos
Extremely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault
Carnistar
Professional business accountant
Also does taxes as a side hustle because “it’s so easy”
Is obsessed with Oreos but will not admit it because of his brother's teasing about "Moryo's Oreos"
Obligatory family goth and not ashamed of it
Started mending his hand-me-down clothes as a necessity and got into sewing, now makes fantastic garments for his family and friends to wear
Halloween is the only valid holiday, he spends the entire year making his costume (it’s usually a vampire or some fandom character)
Stays up until 3am gaming on a PC he and Feanor built together one summer, favorite game is currently Balder’s Gate
Had to take speech therapy as a child and later some anger management classes.... because he got too good at expressing himself
Curufin
Silversmith and jewelry maker
Specializes in accessories for ballet dancers and other performers
Ballet dancer since he was young, never succeeded with a professional career but still practices daily and chose his specialty to remain part of the scene
Holds a serious grudge against certain critics that failed his entry to ballet academy (will not sell his products to them or their schools)
Always looking for new business opportunities, not always in the most honest of ways
Struggles with self esteem issues
Has several cats and claims they betray him when they snuggle with Huan but secretly finds it adorable
Frequently collaborates with Caranthir to make elaborate costumes just for the fun of it
Made a tiara for his favorite cat, Princess Paws
Would sleep until four in the afternoon if you let him (or if Princess Paws didn’t wake him up screaming for food)
Amrod
Gardening Club President at his school
Started a trade and barter farmers market after school to reduce waste and share the bounty of his and fellow club member’s gardens
Frequently tries to convince his parents to turn their property into a “self sufficient homestead”, leaves pamphlets and pictures of adorable baby animals lying around the house
Enlisted the help of his twin and Maitimo to build a chicken coop, forgot to ask Feanor’s permission first
Demands payment in the form of fresh caught fish or deer jerky for the use of his gourds in Tyelko’s target practice
Has definitely switched places with Amros to escape trouble or science tests
Often neglects his homework for pursuits he feels are more important, will only do it without complaint when Carnistar tells him to
Had eyes for the cool-looking red glow on the stove as a child and was banned from the kitchen for most of his adolescence
Is generally a persistent and stubborn person (wonder where he got it from)
Amros
Amateur photographer with an instagram following nearing one million
Account consists of 95% nature photography and 5% “The Adventures of Huan and Princess Paws” as he follows them around the back yard
Takes all of Makalaure’s headshots and creates his album covers, also photographs Curufin’s jewelry to upload to his retail website
“Borrows” Carnistar’s prized PC to upload and edit his photos
Conspired with Amrod to convince their elementary school classmates they were secretly Fred and George Weasley disguised as Muggles, ultimately failed because someone thought their accents “just sounded like they were copying Peppa Pig”
Still pulls out his British accent on occasion when someone needs cheering up
Inherited Nerdanel’s keen observation skills, mostly uses them to blackmail his brothers into doing his chores
But also gives the most amazing presents because he knows exactly what everyone truly wants
#tolkien#the silm fandom#silmarillion#maitimo#russandol#feanorians#feanor#nerdanel#maglor#makalaure#tyelkormo#celegorm#carnistir#caranthir#curufin#amrod#amros#ambarussa#headcanon#my works#family of nerds
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