#ive been getting in the habit if figure drawing
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Anyone here know of something like line of action .com but you can use your own database of images? I specifically want something that can be randomized and also preferably something like their class mode
#ive been getting in the habit if figure drawing#but none of these figure drawing apps have. lot of people interacting#much less pornography#and i feel how much of a grating halt i hit once i have to draw two people touching it sucks
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man as someone who also draws yet tries to be critical with the media and art i follow yeah i agree that artists could learn to draw diverse designs (not targeted to you just a general opinion) and such yet people forget that in the end we don't really own diversity neither representation and the way anons keep harassing you is ridiculous and tiring it makes me sad and i hope it doesn't discourage you.
i love your art, i really love scrolling through your page and see you rant about natsumugi it makes me get even more invested in them plus you draw them so pretty. i'm not even strongly into femstars but the way you draw natsume specifically influenced a bit in my hcs about him because idk it just fits him and perhaps because original natsume is already a bit androgynous this last remark is just a little side note i hope it's not too random lol and the way you draw both natsume and tsumugi makes my little sapphic heart go yippee
WAHHH it doesnt discourage me at all anon dont worry!! i have incredibly lovely friends, mutuals and followers who bring me immense joy and drives me to create even more! these anons are moreso just annoying, but harmless in the end!
and i agree that no artist should be forced to draw X Y Z, specifically if theyre just a hobbyist, but i do wanna say i think more diverse stuff should be greatly encouraged! and by this i mean, if you see someone try their hands at something more diverse that theyre not used to, dont be a dick about how their portrayal isnt good enough, thats just gonna make them want to stop and never exit their comfort zone again. what you should instead do is appreciate that theyre trying! and if perhaps the portrayal is offensive or REALLY misunderstands something, you can give criticisms on how to improve.
the reason im still kind of trying to figure out the best way i can depict the tsumugi of my dreams is because many times when ive had people notice shes a bit softer, they get really happy about it! and seeing people be happy makes me happy and makes me wanna learn more! alot of my art is trial and error, i sometimes go back to old habits or stick to what im used to, but in the back of my head i still have a drive to learn and to improve, because people have been so kind to me. and i really wish people would realize its this kindness and uplifting that makes people want to continue learning, to continue improving, to experiment and see what sticks. shaming people for trying wont get you the results you want
AND WAHHHH THANK YOU!!! THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!! i love everything about switch SO incredibly much (incase u couldnt alr tell) and i love to just!! gush about them!!!! and i love women too!!! i love to gush about women!!!!!! this blog makes me incredibly happy, and it makes me even happier that i get to share it with such kindhearted people despite the few bad apples
here is a little preview of the tsumugi also❤️
#I REALLY LIKE THE WAY SHE LOOKS SO FAR SO I WANTED TO SHARE IT#and also to let u know THE GRIND NEVER STOPS 💪💪💪💪💪💪💪#LOVE FOR WOMEN CONQUERS ALL#ask
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now that ive spent a year making videos, i am going to try and get back into drawing. people that have known me for al ong time remember that when i was in highschool i actually used to be into art and stuff, and as cringe as it is my drawings are out there somewhere on here (if you look i will find you and destroy you)
i started making youtube as a measure of work ethic because i was yet-undiagnosed with ADHD but i was like ok i need to anchor myself to a regular habit that helps me stay well adjusted. so i gave myself a hobby that requires time and commitment and somehow, a year later, i have two thousand followers with my most popular video, despite it not being my best, has over a hundred thousand views (lol)
i don't care about being famous or being a public figure but it does feel nice that people appreciate my writing because i've never had any writing aspirations, which is the funny thing, i was going to go to art school or be an architect but i pivoted into the sciences as i got older in highschool and dropped art. i don't think i lost passion, i was just dumb and stopped caring about a hobby i did my whole life. that's ok, i think that we just change over time and though writing has never been my passion it is nice to see that people actually watch what i write and comment on it too.
i keep building creative skills bc i will be honest, i have accepted that i will never work a job that allows me to apply my creativity, only the technical skills i have with math & computers. and tbh a lot of the jobs that would will probably not pay a living wage - so i take solace in just funding my hobbies & the occasional con or holiday, like most people.
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sorry i know you probably get this ask a lot but!! how do you figure out how you want to draw new people/characters?? or like how do you manage to keep up the steam of drawing them even if they dont turn out exactly how you want the first go around... your arts always been such a massive inspiration to me and ive always wanted to be able to stick with drawing the same people as devotedly as you do!!
hello! and no worries about it i love answering this kind of question! and thank you!
lately i kind of just got into the habit of like, accepting that the first few times of drawing someone new, is always gonna look a bit like dookIE,,
like earlythis year i think was the first time i drew jungle boy, and these were the initial drawingS..
there's a lot of stiffness in these bc i had to try my hardest to not just make 'luke perry' . but like he DOES have some resemblance..but still has his own like.. facE NDIOSHFDSIF. it was hard trying to figure that out
so a lot of the drwaings of him came out kinda stiff or just clearly insecure. usually i'd let it ruin my month but now i only just let it ruin my week (HEHE..JOKES). i kinda of just let it go and accept that it's gonna be ugly and move on to the next attempt!
i do this over and over and over until i finally reach an 'aha!' moment for the face. and once i have it i RIDE IT TILL IT'S DRY BABYY
it helps a lot to doodle as much as u can! use doodle time to just attempt the face and let that me the moment you allow the ugliest shit you've ever witnessed..ive been recently doing this with christian cage, since my weakspot is older people..CRINGE
so with enough scribbling and mindless doodling (YES.. MINDLESS DOODLING!) , i eventually get to a point where im confident enough to draw these guys without reference or with an easier grasp on how to simplify them in my style!
(with jack i realized he sort of has luke perry's face but has a big cabbage patch head. but i also take note of his eyes which is something that stands out to me a lot!)
(with cage.. we are still working on that, but i know ill get it eventually, just need some more time and patience!)
i hope this helps!! remember, just don't stress too much about it. it only really matters for a guy to look consistently good if you're literally doing hand animation at disney in 2002 NFOIHJSFIODHIGOD have fun!! compare contrast and accept the uglies!
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hi hi!!! I'm absolutely insane about your art lolz
what kind of stuff goes into your art? I'd love to get some insight on your style bc I'm definitely so normal about it hahaha.
anyways have a nice day!!! :3
hmm good question! i do actually put a lot of thought into my art (although sometimes it doesnt feel like it when im drawing it lol)
i dont have a fancy tutorial or infographic for my inspirations but for me though a lot of my inspiration is just 'what i think looks nice' i saw thicker lines and i thought 'oh i like that on my art i dont think i like using thin ones' or 'oh textured brushes feel much more fun to use!' ive been drawing for a long time and esp recently ive been taking a lot more time to test out new things and also i have been drawing digitally for a LONG time and that time has helped me figured out my art style
although it appears no matter how different i think im making my art looks people seem to know my style in some spaces ha ha
honestly my biggest think i look at many different things for inspiration. Mediums have all sort of genres in them! books! music! games! movies! other peoples art/art history! dont be afraid to mash things together. think fantasy could have something more? make it from a creatures perspective because you loved to read warrior cats as a kid. i really like character design! and concept art i remember looking at the concept art for metroid prime 2 echoes and being so amazed as a kid and because i like thinking about concepts and 'building on an idea' i like to make redesigns of my fav characters (and also i have ocs of my own ofc lol)
for me it was one thing to build a character from the ground up(i never liked taking an existing character and making them my oc by tweaking some stuff) and its another to say 'hm how i can i add something i like to this design that already exists on its own?' (which i think is such a fun exercise)
as for how i come up with designs that where it gets a little complicated. i sort of got into the habit of doing these designs bc i was reluctant to look up refs so i liked to guess to fill in the cracks. this isnt exactly ideal and i dont do this to so much of a degree now but having a hug backlog of inspirations sets me up for a launchpad on where to look for something i think fits that character (color, setting, style, etc)
unfortunately i do not have a list of famous artists i take inspiration from i played gacha games during my college art history (sorry) but i do like the use of horror vacui in art! its the fear of open spaces so its a lot of patterns and designs all cramped together its my fav thing but im also trying to force myself to leave more spaces open lol
uh this post is long as hell i can be more specific if you need me to the tldr is 90% of my art decisions are 'i think it looks nice :)'
#ask#the jokey reason is my art and designs look like this because i played a lot of sa2 battle when i was a child#if you have a specific design you are like howd you come up with that i may? be able to tell you but a lot of things are mostly#tjat it feels right lol#even if u cant like for example play a game there are always videos abot it t owatch too etc etc like who cares if u experienced undertale#thru a lets play if u still got meaning from it yknow?
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Homestuck Dragon-Trolls
Since Ive been lacking motivation as of late Ill just go ahead and post the only 8 dragons Ive managed to finish rough draft concepts for. Will work on finishing Equius, Gamzee, Eridan, and Feferi when I have the time been doing them in order. Reminder these are mainly sketches I've been doing since I got sick, so what works in my brain might be horrible when Im feeling better.
First off: Aradia
Concept is that shes a type of Kirin-esque dragon, where they're typically domesticated for wool but when they escape into the wild they seem to undergo some kind of 'transformation' and can be seen mostly at night by the glow of their energy and have been seen 'flying' by which if they walk off a cliff they remain floating in the air casually continuing to walk along a given path. Roughly they're the size of big horn sheep.
Next: Tavros
Concept is somewhere between a fairy-dragon, a kirin, and an asian serpent like dragon where magic maintains flight despite small bug like wings. Also a domesticated breed of dragon, these are roughly the size of a cat and drink nectre from flowers but if threatened can still create powerful fires to act as an escape method.
Then theres: Sollux
Two headed/two tailed dragons are an aesthetic and also the mix of a fairy dragon but no kirin to this one, much more reptilian legs. The fairy traits manifesting in Wasp/Bee like wings. This species has a propensity for going blind so from a young age they use electric charges and snake like tongues to help sense the world around them. Roughly id say the size of a komodo dragon, maybe a bit bigger.
Heres: Karkat
I couldnt figure out how to draw his face in a way I liked, but this species of dragon is based on things like Lobsters, hermit crabs, etc. where the wings are connected to the forearms like a wyvern, and despite the hard carapace, they still prefer to live in large shells for self defense. Because of how small they are (Half the size of a cat), they make great food choices and likely humans have been keeping them as pets if not older dragons who like keeping them around for entertainment.
Next is: Nepeta
Inspiration coming from Manticores, Sphinxes and griffins, this beast is still capable of burning your meat off if you offend them while similarly ripping you apart with their claws. Roughly the size of a lion, they have yet to be domesticated, and are often seen traveling with herds of more kirin-like dragons, out of a need for hunting or companionship is unclear but one has been documented attacking other predators that aim to hunt the more prey like dragons nearby.
Next up is Kanaya:
how to tell I couldn't figure out what the body shape should be like at the moment. A mix of a vampire bat and moth like wings of a fairy dragon, this is a mostly nocturnal species that has been seen drinking the blood of other dragons in their sleep. Larger than a horse, this species has been known to hide from the sunlight most of the time.
You know who to expect: Terezi
Maybe got a little lazy and drew a classic European dragon about the size of a small house. This beast has been known to light villages on fire for fun or out of a sense of retribution if it has been offended. They similarly have a habit of going blind as they get older but no documentation has been found on how they manage to survive when the inevitable hits. Knights who befriend this dragon have been known to complain on sniffing noises and the amount of smoke coming from their nostrils.
Finally of the ones Ive finished, tumblr woman winner in our hearts: Vriska
Reptilian in nature with the tails of manticores, this species of dragon has been known to prowl shorelines feasting on the weak and vulnerable. Just as large as a house, they've been seen having an incredible healing factor despite having more fragile wings and scales than most, or maybe its just luck on their end. Though they have a fin like sail on their back and an incredible swimming ability they can not breathe underwater and use their tails to catch whatever drifts nearby.
Equius I plan on drawing like a kirin to go with the Nepeta dragon, Gamzee will be like a kirin mixed with a seal, Eridan and Feferi are what I plan on redrawing mixing elements of sharks, asian dragons, barracuda, and other aquatic predators and will be large given their status as sea serpents. Just need the motivation and to stop coughing my lungs out.
#fantasy au#homestuck aus#dragons#homestuck trolls#aradia megido#tavros nitram#sollux captor#karkat vantas#nepeta leijon#kanaya maryam#terezi pyrope#vriska serket#homestuck dragons#art#sketches#im sick and very tired right now#brain is kinda loop#working on equius gamzee eridan and feferi#homestuck
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how do you write so scumptiously 😨
thank you for saying that <3 idk if you meant it seriously as in wanting an actual answer as to my writing process or not but!! for me part of it comes from just being. inspired and bc im a chronic maladaptive daydreamer it means if i get a prompt/idea i really resonate with ive already written out like half of the thing in my head and im watching it like a movie! so then it comes time to just try and write everything out that i see. that, and i try not to overwork my stuff! when i draw i have a tendancy to overwork them and the same habit carries over into any sort of writing that i have.
that, and ive been writing for as long as i can rmr. that + reading for classes gives me a really strong foundation for working on my writing which is stil! always transforming. so definitely if you havent been writing since you could hold a pencil, id just say read more! figure out what you like in books and what you don't like and take notes as to what you want to focus on in your own writing!
#from the gardens#thanks for the ask <33#now to try and speedrun a bunch of victorian lit#also if anyone wants actual tips just send me an ask :3 im more than happy to help!
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1-4, 10-14 for black swan 👀
HOTTEST ASK IVE EVER GOTTEN 🤍 #tw linn, the usual.
what’s the maximum amount of time they can sit still with nothing to do?
gray wld be fine just sitting around until he becomes part of the interior design though it depends on pain whims bc sometimes it's easier to move and put his body to some use than tough it out while burning up inside. ideal existence is dancing with linnea, followed directly by sitting completely still reading a book without paying attention for the rest of his unending life. linn is, ofc, the exact opposite, restless internal drive to do and experience things like it's no wonder that the one power she retains post-fall is short distance teleportation (turning into fog and Leaving) lmao
how easy is it for them to laugh?
ggggHHHHHHHHHH. evilest question & YOU KNOW IT.
linnea is always laughing :3 always always amused by everything around her and if not she will make it amusing (to the possible detriment of bystanders caught in whatever the fuck her idea of entertainment is in that moment) vs. gray who. u rly are making me say it hhhhh. laughs from the bottom of his wretched heart around linnea and then never again (only empty snide grins, the same hollow cruelty he projects from thereon) but with linnea it was real.... the laugh she is able to draw out of him… how fun it is to be around somebody who enjoys life to the fullest, vicarious joy (no matter how rotten it turns in his mouth sometimes) being around linnea is easy, effortless, she makes him smile and laugh & forget abt it all </3
how do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)
gray has the hot habit of inducing sleep by suicide. yknow why bother wading thru 17 layers of exhaustion and possible nightmares n trauma traps when a knife up his arm takes care of the business in ten seconds. lol, meanwhile linn once again presenting as the fun opposite where she's insomniac by choice until she's had her fill of excitement and sleeps like a baby. fun bed-time rituals include tempting gray to rail her into oblivion or otherwise unsavory adventures with mortal pets that she leaves edged or bleeding while she decides to take a Nap™, also sometimes eating well and having a comfy pillow are nice, yknow, normal things :3
how easy is it to earn their trust?
neither of them trusts anyone i wouldn't even necessarily say they trust one another, they just know what to expect. like w/ linn you never know what ur gonna get but gray is at peace with that since they mutually subject the other to their whims, neither of em wld go as far as to call it a betrayal. n that very much shapes how they interact with others bc even if eliada somewhat earns gray's trust, gray is always aware of his ulterior motives & linn doesn't have close ties with anyone until after black swan deviancy though maybe she should have mistrusted faye a little bit more :) etc
what lie do they most frequently remember telling? does it haunt them?
linn has never been dishonest in her life. if she says something you can be sure she means it (and plans on following thru. u better watch out) i guess the one lie she (unwittingly) told was when she put gray to sleep and said she'd go take care of faye, which is moot since she loses that memory along with everything else :^)
gray is not particularly haunted by anything he has said or done😊
how do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?
gbhgbfhgbfhb both of them bastards would just pretend they know exactly what's going on lmao linn is too used to having the upper hand to concede on any ground & while gray occasionally inquires in earnest when talking with eliada abt soulless issues he still mostly plays it off as 'oh yeah thats what i figured' when eliada imparts new knowledge on him bye
how do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?
gray: once again suicide is an option. if body fucky just reset (though the more common situation is his body being achy in weird places as such a common occurrence that if it's truly just an itch it won't even register for him. come back with a level 10 pain cataclysm if you want him to bother)
linn gets obnoxiously dramatic about it until gray helps her out but then she just uses it as an excuse to go full whore mode and [drapes herself across his lap] "guess where else i'm itching ;)" irredeemable
what color do they think they look best in? do they actually look best in that color?
linn commits to the all white color scheme she knows suits her (bonus points for accidental wet incidents that make her getup see-thru) also loves to accentuate in shades of blue that match gray's eyes bc she's cringy like that & ofc she knows and is right in that blood always looks good on her. freakshow of a woman <3
ive made my thesis on gray in the screenplay we all know he is the furthest known object from fashion in the universe so he's content with Whatever Linn Picks Out For Him and she delivers & is right that stark black and silver contrasts well on him tho if i may be a hoe for a moment i will just say. any monotone & esp sepia-toned outfit he looks extremely good in because it brings out his eyes. im already popping some cyanide but i'm right
what animal do they fear most?
linn knows no fear. gray could stand to develop a healthy fear of rabbits imo send tweet
#LONG POST /#WHICH I REFUSE TO READMORE U WILL BE SUBJECTED TO THIS#thank u answering for these bitches is my favourite theres so much wrong with them <3333333#oc asks#askbox#cospinol
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Hello, it's "time goes by fast" anon. May I ask you for some tips for writing? How did you get into it? I've tried to myself, but I mainly draw and it's so different and harder compared to writing. It might be because my first language isn't English, so when I try to come up with sentences, it kind of gets stuck at finding the right words.
tips for writing!!!!! my goodness i wish i had a specific set of rules or thoughts or whatever but i have no set lines that i follow 🤕🤕🤕🤕 and i used to draw too!!!! i had this blog on tumblr where i used to upload my art for bts, but as i gradually grew out of bts and drawing in general, i stopped updating it lol
i got into writing fanfiction in 2014 when i was fourteen i think (5SOS... 💀) but ive been making up stories for basically my whole life, so i have no concrete rules... so i'll just mention a few of the things i do that help me put out a finished product that i'm proud of!
[a/n]: i got WAY too into answering this so it's going under a readmore LOL, please scroll if this doesn't interest you
what i do is that i edit... a lot. probably too much. definitely too much. if i had to give you the #1 thing i do that i think has the biggest impact on my work, is that i am Always Editing. ive heard other advice where people say to not edit until you're done, but i just don't operate that way; i gotta edit as i go. i just gotta. every single time i open something i'm working on i read it over from the very beginning of that chapter/scene, and always end up fixing a few things on the way down that i didn't notice while writing. and if you do this every time, or often enough, eventually you will shape your words into something you've really thought through and understand the purpose of. for example, like you said, a sentence where the words/idea doesn't quite flow as well as i envisioned it in my head. i take things out, i delete it altogether and try rewriting it with a different feeling, i move the sentence to a different part of the paragraph, i try a different word (i LOVE the thesaurus.com website for helping me find different words for the same meaning, cause it really spices up a sentence if the word sounds too... stuck. i literally have it saved in my browser bookmarks lol.)
and besides my habit of excessively overediting i'm not sure what else to tell you 😔 so i'm going to list a few things ive realized i really pay attention to while writing! ⇩⇩⇩⇩
sentence length!!! vary your sentences!!! this really helps keep the reader engaged with reading and comprehending tone and feelings; i.e long sentences feel very descriptive, they draw you in with a lot of information at once and (especially in dialogue!) / and shorter sentences feel important, sharp and direct, they snap quicker and more suddenly. long and short work well together!
character voices!! for me, this means the way each person in the story thinks, acts, or talks; like how in misdial, Jeno's 'voice' is very matter of fact. it's a little more blunt, a bit flat and unemotive, to the point that his true feelings are often misunderstood because people can't tell what he's thinking. he's serious. still. careful. so i use a lot of periods and short sentences to try and get this across! with mc, however, i want her to come across as spunky, easily agitated, hard-headed and quite relaxed; so i make it a point to have her talk back under her breath, she curses a lot, sometimes speaks before she thinks about what she's really saying. a lotta exclamation points, wordy sentences, smart-ass retorts and playful comments. the way your character talks (in their head and out loud) really sets the tone of the writing!
if something sounds weird and clunky, or stuck, try reading it out loud! not like yelling it or anything, but maybe just whisper it to yourself. i've found that this helps me figure out which part of a sentence is the weird bit that needs to be changed to flow better.
dont be afraid to scrap certain parts or change a scene completely! this is something i struggle with still, lmao, but ive unfortunately realized that it does actually help to cut a part if it's giving you hell. (by this i mean it doesn't flow right no matter what you do, doesn't fit the rest of the scene, or feels clunky and weird and wont sound right no matter how you edit it). i was stuck on a fic once for almost a week, trapped by a scene that i couldn't bear the part with because i thought it NEEDED to be in the fic... and then the moment i removed it and tried to write it a different way, it just worked. (and just to be clear, i dont delete it completely! i just copy paste the problem section into a temporary doc so i dont lose all that work, but sometimes just getting it out of the way is enough to get the gears turning again!)
and that's all i guess!?!?! WOW i kind of went crazy with this but ive never been asked this question before, and really wanted to give you my honest thoughts... so i genuinely hope this helps you in some way!!!!
tysm for asking me this! thinking about this so seriously actually helped me as well 🙇♀️
(i'm going to dub you 📚 anon <3)
#dojun talks#dojun talks Too Much#📚 anon#advice#???#i give advice now 😭 what a historic day this is#mom i made it
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I’m bored and not sleepy so i guess i better do a little health update
cw for body image and bad eating habits and self harming behaviors etc
the bad news:
I gained 20 lbs in 2 months lol, now I’m officially considered obese. Prior to gaining all this weight i had actually lost weight, a bit too rapidly, as a result of what may have been the early stages of an ed. but it quickly turned into frequent binging out of anxiety and boredom to overcorrect the starvation.
I’m still prediabetic. you’d think that this would be a wake up call to eat healthier and lose the excess weight but if anything this just made my eating habits worse. Ever since i got diagnosed with prediabetes, I’ve essentially given up hope. ive been hiding snacks in my room, eating at late hours of the day, and lying to people about what im eating. It’s like ive become ashamed of eating and turned my unhealthy eating habits into a secret… because that somehow negates the fact that im eating unhealthily?
I stopped binging just a week ago and went back to restricting. I know it isn’t good for me and I know I shouldn’t be doing this but I feel like I can’t control myself when I eat. This is the only way I can feel in control. I’ve resorted to drinking yakult for breakfast, coffee for lunch, and either fruit salads or chicken for dinner. it’s pretty sad. The silver lining is I started losing weight again. I know this isn’t the right way to go about it, but I’m so desperate to be thin again that I’ll eat the saddest little meals just to do it.
lastly, and this isn’t something I’m proud to admit but I began SH’ing again, and I don’t really plan to quit, so don’t bother convincing me to. I have managed to keep this hidden from everyone irl including my boyfriend. But I know he’ll figure it out eventually. I can’t wear sleeves around him forever, and at some point he’ll wonder why I’m avoiding intimacy with him. I don’t know what I’ll do when he inevitably finds out. It’s just a waiting game.
the good news:
I don’t know if being “in remission” is a thing for schizophrenia but I haven’t had any psychotic symptoms in months. I think I’m finally recovering after three years of dealing with this shit. If I can only convince my bf and therapist that I don’t need medication anymore, I would start slowly tapering off of it.
Despite my engaging and SH and dealing with weight issues, I’m actually relatively content with my life. I’m making gaming videos again, journaling, drawing, spending lots of time with friends, and even have plans for a trip later in the year. Things are heading in the right direction for me. I just need to get it together and stop turning to unhealthy ways to cope.
I stopped abusing laxatives, in fact I threw away the rest of them because they were shit (pun intended) for my digestive system. They did help me lose weight in the short term but it wasn’t worth the damage to my body. Part of the reason I’ve been drinking yakult again is to get everything back in working order. Idk if that’s how it works though im not a doctor lol.
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i aint doing daily journals anymore since i have a horrible memory and physically cannot do habits
but i need to write out some of my stressors so maybe i can figure out why i have a cold sore right now
my brother moved back into the house and currently my normally orderly and accessible landing outside my room is filled with many, many things
he also had some stuff inside my room for some reason
people at work are leaving to go open another store so we're going to be what feels like understaffed
my legs have been sore for the past 3 months and i have no idea how to get them to feel better
ive been gaining weight and i want to either lose it again or move it from my stomach area and more into my upper body. but i dont want to go to a gym so that limits my options for stuff
i can never get enough sleep
me being on tumblr at 11 when i need to be at work at 6:20 doesnt help with that
im still very lonely but thats not new
my dad has been recovering from his surgeries very well but unfortunately that means he is much more willing to tell me what i can and cant do even though i am 22 and am not being disrespectful when i do the things he says not to (playing certain video games) (like seriously resident evil 4 isnt that bad) (at least there are no war crimes) (unlike ace combat which you are fine with)
my charger is still out of comission but that is also not new
the subaru is i think completely fixed until i get the manual transmission installed
the z is giving me weird issues with cylinder 1, no matter what i do it misfires
and im getting more concerned that i wont be able to find a career. like, i dont want to work 60 hours a week at a car wash. but im not good enough at drawing to get commissions (unless someone proves me wrong) but im also too not bad to just not try
anyways i have problems with my life right now and my body is telling me something is wrong
#journal#i guess#kinda just a rant#but who cares anyways#i dont think anyones going to read this closely#and i hide my feelings in the tags#and the thoughts inside are all i have#okay those last two are song lyrics that i now need to expand on#so hopefully ill make a song soon
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okay i’m gonna try using my tumblr again lol. ive been really wanting to try out like a virtual diary/journal. i’m super into journaling and decorating spreads but as of lately i’ve been so journal blocked?? i go to grab my journal to write about some ideas or my day and then end up stressing about not having enough time to decorate the page which is the opposite of how my journal should make me feel. so i think taking out the decorating and the aesthetics of it all will help me get back into it. i know i can make these text posts look super cute and all but i think that’ll be for another time when i get more into this.
i figured i could start using my blog like a real blog; document my projects, events, some life stuff that’s not too personal. I have a lot going on and even more stuff coming up this fall like another venders market opportunity (which i reeeeeally hope goes through) so i have plenty of stuff to talk about. I also want to have a chill place to post my art and jewelry. a place that’s more lowkey and wont stress me out about likes like ig and twt do. I hate feeling as though likes = validation. i’m over that shit tbh, if someone sees it and likes it that’s awesome, if not no big deal. what’s most important is that i’m creating things i love.
i guess this would be a good time to introduce myself. I’m Jordy, 26 she/her, currently living in northern cali with my dog and boyfriend. i like to draw characters and silly stuff and also have a small business where i sell handmade jewelry and accessories. other hobbies i have are video games, reading/writing, journaling, going on lil adventures and taking photos on my instax, and shopping lol i have a baaad spending habit i need to work on. i guess if anybody reading this also has hobbies like mine id love to talk and make friends ((-:
well i guess that’s all for now, thanks for reading! i’ll be sure to start posting more of my projects and what not through the week <3
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really thinking about the next stages of my life. I need to keep in mind that with whateer decision I make, that is not permanent nor is it the rest of my life and I can change things at any point. A part of me is very comfortable here in north carolina, and I really do want to keep it as one of my bases. the problem is, I don't have enough nor will I have enough money in time to deposit on a condo here. maybe if I can figure out my financial situation quick, I will be able to establish an actual solid base however, I need to get serious asap if I want that to happen.
I also need to remember that I can have my dollhouse and life anywhere - it's me that brings that energy and aura, not necessarily the location.
I want to get a new car. I think this is the year to do it as well because if I buy a new car like as my christmas gift to myself, I can work hard to pay it off in full prior to moving to europe, and then just have her shipped to whichever country I'm going to graduate school in.
I have an interview for another PRN job because I'm going to need my options lined up - and I want to be able to do overtime way closer to home (easier on me and my sanity, especially since it will be night shift work). I think the goal I will keep in my head is that if I can power through my online degree in the next few months as well as utilizing my overtime pay to compltely remove me from debt and get my savings up to where they need to be, I will buy the 2023 Mercedes GLA SUV for my christmas present to myself. it would be perfect! returning from my malaysia/japan trip and treating myself to my dream car! it will be such a proud moment for me because I never would have thought I would see the day. but before any of that, I need to check off the main requirements for purchasing her: get my credit score back to excellent, other than student loans take all my debt down to zero FAST, have savings up to 20k, be almost complete with my degree by january 2024, get an excellent score on the GRE, have an art business up and running, and submit art weekly to galleries as well as have neo and nova up finally, and be working towards your gold moves in the field by december. if all is achieved, trust and believe my beautiful (hopefully the rose gold!) mercedes will be under my tree this christmas. this is another thing im keeping to myself - love how I dont want to post my accomplishments anymore - I genuinely believe that the evil eye is real and I want no parts in negativity in my life.
outside of that, Ive been really inconsistent with my eating so starting today, Im doing OMAD and relying on low carb tea to last during the day, and the goal is to have a veggie/protein dinner once a day for nutrition and so I can start rebuilding my skating muscles/ stretngth. I have been a bit better about hydration, and I hope to make it habit that I will stick to again. the only thing I'm missing in this final equation for weight loss is exercise. if I start denying snacks again, finishing my fasts all the way through, drinking my iced lemon water (preferably up to a gallon), eating enough protein and doing the pilates videos I wanted to do, I know my body will come together in literally two weeks. I'm scheduled to leave work at 3 today but I'm planning on staying until 7 unless I really really want to go home at the end of the day. regardless, I have to use the time to stretch deeply, get my mobility back on track, ankles strengthened, muscles warmed up and ready for tomorrow. I'm likely going to get home, golden, do a pilates workout and stretch/do a mobility routine, do my evening self care, tune and practice the harp for tomorrow, and do the finishing touches on both drawings - submitting them to the gallery today, put all my clothes away, clean the entire apartment and do a quick mop.
at work today, I'm going to be studying for the GRE, reading a little bit of my book, researching more Swiss universities, and watching the business videos/working on my business stuff, rescheduling stuff that is happening tomorrow, and I want to start working on my colombia travel video. when I get home, I want it to be ice prep time, art time and harp time - as well as re setting my space. depending on how I feel, I may stop by the mall after work to pick up a new wall scent or candle because this mahogany taekwood wall scent does not smell appropriate for the dollhouse.
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I am obsessed with you because of your mystery, it draws me into whatever it is you got going on, and I just cant fucking say no to it because we have literally connected. We connect. And for some reason I just have to control this connection, and it doesnt even make sense to me because what the hell. I dont want to control my connections with other people, I dont with my friends, I dont with my family, so why when it comes to even just the potential of romance, I have to control it? Like its not literally all around me, like its not ever expanding like the universe of space is. Why do i have to continue this weird farce of reality, to do what? get love? get what I want out of you? to be able to share myself? I literally do share myself all the fucking time so like what!!!!!!!!!! Im so confused with you, I cant figure you out, I guess I want to though? I need to practice patience more often. I feel like worrying so much is just hindering me in the process, its so draining. i jsut want to chill out. i cant wait to get high tonight. like none of this is about you its all my problem.
I think being with someone physically is that it opens the possibility of rejection and that is the main root issue here. Being afraid of rejection, and its not like its just this one issue that bugs me with you. It also has to do with my art too. Which is so nuts because even now, I still have people supporting me, understanding me, encouraging me, and loving what I create, even the little things. Its so sweet and so kind and I absolutely have the talent for it, I just lost my drive. I am bogged down by this 9 to 5 life simply because I need money to survive. SO its like I'm stuck in this new type of survival mode within the US and its capitalistic systems.
I cant revel and enthrall myself in this aspect of life, I cant progress further other than doing my job, I cant move, I cant think or speak, Im just frozen. But I need the money to support myself and my dreams and my habits and my car and everything else. Its so frustrating. Even to create things I need this job. Even to live I need this job, it makes me so BORED that Ive been able to reach this sort of lame plateau, so I need to change it. But how? If not by making money to invest in all this.
#venting#rant post#bpd thoughts#bpd blog#bpd life#bpd problems#bpd writing#hate my job#lgbtq#queer#nonbinary
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With December fast approaching and a new year is upon us, I'm trying to get stuff ready for a productive year. I decided to try this thing called "bullet journaling" or "Bujo" for short. There's so many different ways to do this, that I found the idea of starting one daunting, to say the least(ive been thinking aboit doing one for at least 2 years now). Since I'm trying other things, I figured I'd try this as well. Some people make theirs very artsy, while other make theirs very simple and minimalistic. I love and hate how much freedom there is to these. Anyone who knows me, knows it takes me forever to play persona or mass effect games because of the fear of making the wrong choice. There's so many different kinds of pages you can make from year/month/week at glance, habit tracker(water, periods, selfcare, drawing, etc), budget, doodle, songs, mood tracker, etc. As you can see there's alot you can choose from and make it your own. And nothing is set in stone. If I don't like a certain layout, I can change it on the next page. If there's a page that I hardly ever use, then the next month I don't have to add it. If I feel like the next page is gonna be a doodle page, I can do that. Just like my sketchbook, the laws and rules of my journal bend to me alone. But my goal with this is to form better habits as well as selfcare and that's not going to be the same for everyone. I think the next year is going to be pretty interesting. I had thought about waiting till January to start this...but instead of waiting why not just jump in feet first instead of procrastinating? (at Louisville, Kentucky) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClAOWuvNwW7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Surely, You’d Burn the Same (Batman/Bruce Wayne x fem!reader)
PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR
Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+
Word Count: 6.2k
Warnings: smut, sexpollen (dubcon), explicit language, handjobs, oral (both male and female), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, mentions of violence, brief mention of an IV/needle, Bruce is touch starved lmfao (lmk if I missed anything please!!)
a/n: ok while consent is given on both parties, it’s has sex pollen-esque features so it is dubious consent!! just be aware of that! ANNYWAY PLEASE ENJOY (also thank u sm to the lovely @jango-fettish for helping me come up with this idea)
Fuck Lieutenant James Gordon.
Fuck him and his stupid penchant for glorifying vigilante justice. And fuck yourself for coming back here in this shithole of a city called Gotham. You’re a goddamn forensic analyst. You’re not supposed to be involving yourself with shit like this.
But alas, trouble always has a way of finding you.
It nears six months into your job when you start to hear the rumors. Missing money from evidence, smudged fingerprints, evidence destroyed. Staff meetings about bribery, pay-offs to cover up the ferocious criminal underbelly of Gotham. The list goes on and on. Half the CSI staff eats out of the hand of some crime figurehead. The Penguin mostly—dude’s got a thumb in every pie scattered across the city. You don’t entirely blame them—the pay is shit and the job shittier. If you didn’t have the familial ties that you do, you’d be in the same bind as them.
You keep your head down. You don’t want any part of it.
It still doesn’t stop the nicely folded manilla envelopes from finding their way into your desk. Encoded notes, promising pay if you jack up some idiot official’s incriminating evidence. You just sweep them into the shredder and say not a word. It’s one of the reasons you’ve risen through the ranks so quickly—the captain's favorite—squeaky clean and determined. Always on scene for the high profile cases, sidestepping the dangerous undertow that nips at your ankles.
Like you said, trouble always finds you.
James Gordon is lucky he’s a family friend or else you’d have blocked his number ages ago. He has a bad habit of calling in the middle of the night, hyped up on crappy coffee and a lead he needs followed. You figure he supersedes your captain with these sorts of things because she too has been corrupted—or maybe Gordon just wants you to succeed. Both are plausible options.
And so, when you get the jarring phone call in the buttfuck middle of the night that scares that absolute bejesus out of you, you’re not surprised. The context of the call, though, that’s a little different—
“I gotta show you something, kiddo.”
Puffy eyed from sleep and a tick away from strangling him, you throw on a light coat and lo and behold, Gordon is there to pick you up. He reveals nothing once you get into the car. You watch the darkened city roll past, the buildings gleaming and hazy in the light drizzle. Streetlamp reflections churn golden swirls onto the concrete streets—the only constellations that have learned how to shine through the light pollution.
The place he brings you is an abandoned tower. Construction litters the surrounding area. You shiver when you exit his warm car. “Jesus, Gordon. Is this where you’re gonna dump my body?”
He shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose and punches the buttons to the elevator. Who the fuck pays for electricity here? “Shut up, kid.”
“Touchy.”
Your curiosities are soon put to an end.
Gordon is the caretaker of the so-called Bat-Signal. You should’ve known. You’re a bit peeved to be quite honest, that you were never close to even finding out his secret. Whatever.
Even more startling is the fact the Batman himself pays you a little visit atop that windy tower.
Like a shadow he melts into view. You don’t know any better than to draw your gun and point at the dark mass of muscle and a walking armory. Gordo slaps his hand over the barrel, forcing you to lower the weapon. “Woah, woah, woah—he’s on our side, Blue.”
Striking blue eyes bore into yours as your heart hammers away inside your chest. He takes a heavy step forward, then another, and another until he stands nearly toe to toe with you. Christ, he’s tall.
“Why is she here?”
His voice is rough as stone, soft in cadence but powerful nonetheless. He breathes authority and power—alluring.
Gordon grasps your shoulder in support. To be quite frank, you don’t follow the rest of the conversation nor remember the reason why Gordon introduced you—something along the lines of another ally in case something goes wrong. Another familiar face to rely upon. Or maybe it’s for your sake—another line of determent to convince you from straying too close into the hands of bribery.
All you do is stare, and Vengeance stares back.
It works.
Or at least, Vengeance allows you to tag along as Gordon’s sidekick. The months go on like this. The bribes increase and instead of shredding them you pass them off to Vengeance—a trail he can follow to find those responsible. You and Gordon help as much as you can, because fuck. No one else is doing anything about it—crime keeps surging and corruption runs rampant. It’s a tragedy that only The Batman dares challenge.
And that tragedy bites back.
It’s another one of those frantic, midnight calls. It’s different this time—urgent.
“Get your ass to the crime lab—we got a situation."
Dutifully you rush to dress and haul ass to the labs. You go around back, swipe your keycard and fly down the emergency lit stairs. You heart leaps into your throat as your foot skips a step—
You tear through the dark office and beeline towards the captain’s office. The door is already open—Gordon is throwing a half-lucid Batman onto the tiny couch shoved on the side wall. He looses conciseness the minute his back hits the cushions. “The fuck happened?”
You fly over and shove your fingers under Batman’s sharp jaw to find a pulse. It races under your fingers. Gordon shakes his head. “No clue—found him close to the station, so I brought him down here.”
You pull out a pocket light from your coat, lift up his eyelid and shine it over his eyes. Doesn’t look like he has a concussion. “I told you, Gordon. I’m not a doctor, the closest thing I got to a medical degree is my EMT.”
“He’s not bleeding,” Gordon relays. “We just need to watch him and get him outta here before anyone sees.”
Fine. Fine. You can deal with that.
You sit up and tear through your bag of pilfered medical supplies. You slide on a set of gloves, grab an IV line and reach for Batsy’s limp arm. Gordon helps wrestle off his glove. You slide the needle into his battered hand, and lay the baggie onto the back of the couch. You sigh and peel off your gloves and throw them into the wastebasket under the captain’s desk. “You’re lucky no one’s down here.”
“I know,” Gordon says. “We’d both get the boot, huh?”
You snort. “You wouldn’t.”
You stand and peruse the lab in search for a vitals monitor. Perks of sharing the building with the morgue, you suppose. You wheel the machine into the office, peel off the sticky parts and attach them to the insides of his wrist. They’re new, no wires—like a blue tooth sort of deal. The machine flips on—the beep of Bats’ pulse fills the room.
When Bats shows no signs of waking in the coming moments Gordon bails. You don’t blame him. This is boring. “You alright if I head out, kiddo?”
You wave your hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah—get outta here, old man.”
Gordon chuckles at this, ruffles your hair and swiftly exits. “Call if you need anything!”
The next time you’ll be calling him will probably be in jail. Can you go to jail for helping a vigilante? Is that a thing? Y’know what, doesn’t matter. Precisely why you never went to law school. Fuck that noise.
Even so, you wait for Vengeance to wake.
An hour ticks by—your boredom grows rampant. With a sigh you pull out your pocket light and waddle over to the couch. You peel open his eyelids and curl your lip at the greasy, black residue that comes away from his eye. It reminds you of that shitty Halloween store makeup. Hm…
Suddenly, his hand shoots up and wrenches your arm away—throwing himself off the couch and narrowly punching the living daylights out of you. “Fuck, man—chill! It’s me!”
His lips are drawn in a snarl, fists clenched. Though once he sees you, takes account of his surroundings he drops back onto the couch like deadweight. You scramble over, readjust his IV and recheck his vitals. His heart races—not entirely alarming just yet.
“Blue,” he rasps, throwing out your name to assure that it really is you and that he’s safe. It’s not your real name (he knows that too), it’s just a label you coined over the years that began in middle school. Little Crybaby Blue—got too over zealous with the crappy hair die and went to school covered in it. You were tinged blue for weeks. He doesn’t know that though. Hopefully…
“Yeah, it’s me, Bats,” you assure. “Gordon called me.”
Leather creaks as he nods. He squeezes his eyes shut and grunts as he shifts into a more comfortable position. “Only place I could get to.”
You bite your tongue before you can offer your place as a haven if he ever needs. That would be brushing elbows with unknown territory. Dangerous.
He tries to sit up again. Your hand whips out. “Nuh-uh. Just rest for now. Gotham can go a few hours without her Batboy.”
For the first time since meeting him he listens without a fight. He only clenches his jaw and glares up at the water stained sealing. “How long?”
You frown. You rub the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Until the IV is finished, deal?”
It’s half empty. Bats agrees solemnly.
Boredom weighs heavy on your shoulders once again. His silence has never bothered you, but even so, it’s a little awkward just sitting here, kneeling on the floor. Your fingers find his tattered cape that spills onto the floor, thumbing the rough fabric. Fireproof probably—
Batty makes a noise low in his chest. You bite you cheek, scrambling for an excuse. “Haven’y you heard Batboy? No capes,” you quote, tugging on the ends of the tattered cloth. You’re met with a blank, glacial stare. You roll your eyes. “Y’know, like Edna Mode? The Incredibles?”
Still nothing.
You tut. “You’re no fun.”
His breath is stuttered as he inhales, readjusting himself to better ignore you. Ok, yeah, maybe that joke was stupid, but it doesn’t warrant a cold shoulder. Irritation pricks at your insides. Fucker—is it really that hard to humor someone and their dumb pop culture references? “You look like shit, by the way.”
“You have terrible bedside manner.”
Your lips purse. “Bummer.”
And then it all crumbles into disaster.
His heart rate continues to spike, a terrifying crescendo of rapid electronic beeps that pushes your own adrenaline into overdrive. Fuck, you are not prepared to deal with this at all. The fuck are you supposed to do with Batman’s dead body? Throw it in the dumpster?
You scramble through the office’s supply of bottled drugs. Most of it is useless—embalming fluid, isopropyl alcohol—like you said, useless shit. You flit over to your boss’s desk and tear through the bottom drawers. A big black binder resides in the left one—score. You fling it open and find the vial of clear liquid that’ll stop him from having a fucking heart attack. You rush over, syringe in hand and grab for his IV—you startle as his hand launches out to stop you.
“No.”
You grimace and wrench your wrist free. You make a grab for it again—he swats you away. The syringe tumbles to the square of carpet under the couch, the vial rolls beneath it. “Dude—I’m trying to save your life! You’re gonna have a goddamn heart attack.”
“No,” he snarls again. He grits his teeth, and rips the IV line out of his hand. What the fuck. At least the fucking heart monitor is still attached. “You’re wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Batboy,” you sneer, throwing your hands up. “I didn’t know you were also a doctor.”
His mouth dips into a grim line. He curls into himself and dips his shoulder, the cushions creak as he turns to face the back of the couch. It doesn’t really work—the couch is small and Batboy is fucking massive—like cramming a G.I. Joe doll onto Polly Pocket furniture. It’s a little funny.
A low groan reverberates through his wide chest, legs pulling closer to his middle. You worry your lip between your teeth—dude is clearly in pain, you just have to figure out a way to get him to accept your help. You sigh and kneel onto the carpet. This is exactly why you vowed never to go into the caretaker side of things—it’s frustrating. Nonetheless, you hover a hand over the plated armor lining the space between his shoulder and upper arm. Batboy flinches.
“C’mon, Bats,” you urge, softening the edge of your voice to dull the bite of your irascibility. “Let me help you.”
The silence is deafened by the beeping heart monitor and accompanied by his terse, staccato, breathing. You whisper your hand down to the crease of his elbow. Even through the thick fabric, the heat of his skin is scorching. He’s running a fever. Batboy grunts and pulls his elbow closer to his middle. You don’t let go.
“You can’t,” he presses. “Not with this, Blue.”
You clench your jaw. “You don’t know that.”
He’s holding his breath like he’s scared of it leaving his frayed lungs. And you…you’re biting your tongue—you cannot take a crowbar to his jaw and pry the answers you want out of him. That’s not how it works—not with him. People will never understand the true essence of what this man is—fuck—you barely know either. But what you do know, is that there’s a tragedy hidden beneath his tongue and broken promises that are stapled to his martyr red heart. He’s blind to his own ambitions, in search for payment without realizing that the aftermath of revenge will bury him alive. He’ll never change and you never expect him to do so.
It’s just the way things are.
Much to his chagrin, however, you will not be letting Batboy die on your boss’s office couch tonight. You prod him a second time. He’s divulged that he knows exactly what’s got him in this state, you just need to coax it from him. “Tell me. Please.”
Something akin to desperation lining your words, cracks his resolve. He grunts and turns his head. His eyes are a small ring of blue, blotted out by his dilated pupils—shit. That can’t be good. Bat’s tongue rolls out to wet his chapped lips, inhales—his heart rate spikes again. Jesus, that’s too fucking fast—
“Iceberg Lounge,” he says. He’s starting to pant. “I got dosed with something.”
Your brows furrow. A list of substances scroll through your brain—how to treat them, what the symptoms are that matches his. “Like cyanide? I have—”
“No,” Batty shakes his head and lifts his gaze to stare at the water stained ceiling. The muscles in his sharp jaw flex. He shifts. “Pheromone based.”
Your face twists. The hell does that mean? You’re about to ask him to clarify when the pieces click together. Oh.
Rapid heart rate, dilated pupils, skin feverish—
Batty’s been drugged with an aphrodisiac.
The seriousness of the situation rams into you like a freight train. You’ve been on three cases already that involved this shit. High up political players dosed with the mystery aphrodisiac after hiring escort services from the Iceberg Lounge. Each one of them found dead, hearts all but exploded from the effects of the drug. No matter how much they tried, bringing themself to their own end never worked. You press your palms into your face, bitter panic welling inside your chest.
Oh fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—
Calloused fingers gently curl around your wrist. They pry your hand free from your face. “Blue.”
“Don’t say it like that,” you hiss. You’re sure his fingertips can pinpoint your raging pulse—just as fast as his thrums. “Shut up.”
His chin tilts down, a question swimming in his gaze.
“And don’t try and convince me you’ll end up ok,” you say. “Because you won’t—not this time. Not unless…”
Not unless you give him that relief. It’s not…it’s not like you aren’t attracted to him. Christ, the minute you met him you were smitten. You’d jump Bats’ bones if he offered, but not like this. Not something tarnished and born out of necessity. You stare at the wine red rug under your knees and bite your lip. Your skin itches from where Bats still holds your wrist.
“Blue,” he whispers, wheezy and suffering. “I’m not afraid to die.”
He’s bleeding forgiveness, keeping your hands clean from his choice to go out this way. You can’t—your conscious would never be free of the guilt. The black stain of knowing you could’ve remedied this with ease but instead chose to end the reign of Vengeance, based on what? Your stubborn propriety and a guessing game covered in a glass floor of eggshells? That’s not fair—not fair to him or whatever legacy he’s trying to build in Gotham.
You suck in a deep breath of air and muster your courage. Carefully, and without haste, you roll your wrist out of his hand and slowly bring it to cup his stubbled jaw. He inhales sharply. “I’m not gonna let you die, Batboy.”
His eyes flutter as you smooth your thumb up the sharp line of cheek. Fuck, he’s sensitive. The leather on his singular glove creaks as his fists clench, the heart monitor races away. You’re running out of time. “I didn’t want it this way.”
Yeah. You didn’t either. “When you don't get what you want, you start forgetting what you need, Batty.” Bats lips pull into a deep frown—he hates when you call him that. He wants to argue. You don’t let him. “It’s ok—trust me.”
His eyes bore into yours, striking against the blackness of his mask and the dark grease paint he wears beneath it. It feels as though an eternity passes before he’s nodding. He’s found whatever he was looking for in your eyes and deemed it enough. An inkling of your desire maybe—
The rapid-fire beeping distracts you once again. Cursing, you jump to your feet and silence the damn machine. When you return Bats has arranged himself into a hunched sitting position, leaving enough room for you to sit and be within viewing range of his vitals displayed on the screen.
You gingerly sit. You swallow and turn to him. His chest heaves like he’s just run forty miles, bare hands clenched at his sides to dispel the shaking—a tightly wound mess at the mercy of your salvation. You scoot closer and risk skirting your hand over his armored knee. You bite the inside of your cheek to quell your racing nerves. This is so fucked up. You offer him a weak smile. “We’ll start small and go from there, ok?”
He grunts his affirmation. You nod and lean over his broad chest, running your fingers over the pockmarks in his armor and all the way down to his belt. His eyes are glued to your face, unwavering as you wrestle his heavy utility belt free from his waist. His thigh jumps under your hand. You slide your palm up and inward towards the bulge pressing against the front of his pants.
Batty sits up, ramrod straight as your hand squeezes him through his pants. A rush of arousal surges in the pit of you abdomen—he’s not a small man in any way, shape, or form. You bite the inside of your cheek and press onward, pawing at the waistband of his pants. Bats lifts his hips as you tug both his pants and boxers down far enough his muscled legs that it won’t hinder your goals. If you had it your way, there’d be a lot more teasing involved.
Fuck—not like he needs it.
His cock is well past hard, flushed an angry red at the tip and leaking precum against the base of his abdomen, straining towards his navel. Fuck—you want him bad. You look up at him, he’s already staring. In a flash of movement, Bats captures your hand and guides you to his throbbing cock. It’s a knee-jerk reaction—he folds into you as you grab a hold of his length, his rapid pulse reminding you that you’re on a time crunch here. Internally you despair over the fact you can’t enjoy this—him—for longer.
This is about him—not you.
You huff at the added weight draped onto your body, armor and all. His masked face tucks itself into the crux of your shoulder. He mumbles a gruff apology that tapers off as you squeeze his cock, searing and heavy in your hand. You wiggle closer and breathe against his neck, moisture collecting onto the black leather. He smells like rain. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
You remain like this for a few moments as he pants onto your skin, his left hand clenching the back of the couch so hard it might rip. Your palm, slick with his dribbling precum, glides easily up and down his thick length. Shit, your fingers barely meet—
His head lifts, two digits press on the underside of your chin, tilting up—
Vengeance kisses like he’s won the war. Brutal, devouring, victorious, grateful. He’s spent years fighting and it’s as if only now he’s stopped long enough to catch his breath. Even though he’s actively racing towards death. His hands grab at your arms, your clothes, your hair. It’s like you are the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the enemies that snap at his heels. He kisses like a man afraid that this will be fleeting, insubstantial and will abandon him. The desperation you think, is a side effect, but it excites you anyhow.
You part for air. “Everything’s gonna be alright,” you whisper, voice gentle. Tonight you are his tether. And he the disbelieving survivor, jittery and wounded but safe. “Let go like this. It’s ok.”
He abandons your lips in favor of latching his teeth to the tender flesh above your collarbone—it stings. You whimper and pump your hand faster, the obscene wet sounds of it filling the room. You rub your thumb under the tip then back down to fondle his balls.
Bats groans weakly. “Blue—”
And then quite abruptly—so abruptly that it surprises him more than it does you—he lets go.
Batty cums hard into your hand, right here at your place of work, armor half ripped off, leaning the entirety of his weight onto you. A ragged gasp tears through his clenched teeth and he stiffens against you, balls pulling up tight under your palm. Sticky warmth immediately coats your fingers and the inside of your wrist in throbbing spurts. He slams a wild fist into the couch, growling your name, your true name, before his voice trapezes into a gritty, wordless snarl.
You mouth wet kisses over the exposed skin of his jaw, caressing the swollen head of his cock as it pulses in your grip. His orgasm is long and achingly drawn out, draining his body of his rapidly expending energy with every thick rope of cum you’re able to milk out of him. He swears and shudders his way through his release, until finally the exhaustion wins him over, slumped onto you as you struggle not to collapse under his weight. Fuck—it’s been a long time for him. You release his half hard cock and rub gentle circles into his protruding hipbone, your other hand smoothing down the back of his helmet to cup his neck. A dark thrum of pride runs through you veins—how many could say they could get Batman himself to submit like this—flash his colors of vulnerability.
You’re betting on zero.
Your eyes slide past the dark mass of him and onto the heart monitor. It seems to have done the trick. His pulse drops to a near normal level. “Good?”
His warm, wet tongue, laves over the teethmarks he’s left. His fingers gripping the back of the couch unlatch and float around your waist, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. You feel his lips move as he mumbles a hushed; “Thank you.”
The cadence of his gravel rough timbre causes your heart to ache for him. You’d never name whatever this is as love because love has a twin sister named power—and when you give somebody one, then you give them the other. You understand that it’s in Batman’s best interest to keep both. There’s no part of him that can be torn apart, no soft spot, no cavity—it’ll get in the way.
But he’s still learning.
Batty groans and finds your hand that’s still coated in his sticky cum. “M’sorry.”
His breathing kicks up a second time, the firm line of his body curling curling into himself. Hot puffs of air scorch your skin as Bats feebly raises his head. His chapped lips tickle your cheek, a request lodged in his throat. He needs to cum again—it’s written plain as day on the heart monitor and the way his body holds itself like a tightened spring. He won’t ask, so you press your lips to his and bridge the gap between you once more.
Batman moans into your open mouth, allowing you to slide your tongue over his. His cock is rock hard again, twitching in your hand. A wicked idea twists through your mind as his hips roll into your fist. “Do you want my mouth, Batboy?”
He startles at the offer. If not for the pulse of his cock and the way it leaks over your hand and onto his pants, you’d think you had offended him. He pulls back far enough to meet your eyes. They find the wall, the corner of your mouth then back to you. He works his jaw and clasps a hand over your arm.
“I can’t—you—you don’t have to,” Batty stutters. “Fuck, Blue. I can’t…ask you for that.”
“I’m offering,” you say, a little smile playing across your lips. “It’ll feel better than my hand.”
Quicker than before, he gives in. He slumps into the couch as you slide to the rug between his knees. You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and pull them as far as they go before they catch on his armor. He’s zeroed in on your face again as he widens his legs for you to scoot in close, knees cradling your ribcage. Fuck—being this close to his cock sends shockwaves of achey arousal to your cunt. It’s torture not to just shove your hand between your legs and take care of the wicked need.
Your mouth is watering—you bend down and part your lips to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls, licking him clean of his previous orgasm. His whole body jumps at the hot, velvety slick sensation—you let out a low hum in response. Batty swears when you trail your way up, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing your plush lips to his flushed tip.
Bats exhales a shaky breath while you run your tongue along him, memorizing his taste. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and roll your tongue up underneath the little crease here. The smooth skin pulses on your tongue, you slide your fingers around the pale protrusions of his hips, and work your mouth wider to take his thick length deeper. Drool and his precum pool at the base of his cock—probably gonna stain the leather below.
Holy shit your jaw aches—
His fingers bury themselves into your hair, the sharp pricks encouraging you to continue. He never once guides you or pushes you down his cock—it’s just a way to anchor himself. The heat of your mouth is overwhelming—soft and willing to please him. “S’good.”
Your pride swells.
You pull up to make room for your slick hand to wrap around his cock, beginning to jerk him off. You lave your tongue over his tip and cradle him here within the soft pallet of your mouth, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length. His skin is sizzling as he hardens even more—the tension in his body about the burst and snap like a cut wire. “I’m close—”
You hum in acknowledgment. You don’t stray from your course of suckling on the tip of his cock, slowly swirling your tongue around him, continuing to use your hand to firmly pump the length of his cock. Bats’ fingers twist into your hair as his hips unconsciously seek your mouth each time you pull up to catch a breath of cool air. His moans, while still low and rough, border on airy.
Shit—you clench your thighs together. You can’t help yourself—the discomfort is too much. You drop a hand and wedge it between your thighs to press hard against your clit to relive some of that pressure that threatens to swallow you whole. The sight of you touching yourself excites him—that paired with the way you gaze up at him through your lashes, shoves him over the edge in a dizzying display of pure lust.
He whispers your name and hunches over you like you’ve punched him in the gut. He trembles, white-knuckling your hair and the armrest and once again cumming with force into your mouth. You greedily accept him. The first taste of his release spreads over the flat of your tongue right as you dig your nails into the exposed flesh of his hips. His hips buck, gasping raggedly as he empties himself down your throat—expelling the aphrodisiac meant to kill him from his veins the only way he can.
You swallow all of what he gives to you, grasping his hips and locking him place as he rides out his high. You don’t let go until his firm frame relaxes, cock softening upon your tongue. A soft pop sounds in your ears as he slips from your mouth. His fingers untangle from your hair and delicately brush over the matted area. Wetness stains your mouth but before you can you wipe the mess from your lips and chin, his bare hand curls around your jaw and guides you into a devastating kiss.
A familiar ache ignites in your chest—twisting, blazing, raw. The roaring in your ears becomes a thousand times louder. Like thunder, the fury of a storm, waves crashing against a gloomy cliff side. He’s an electrical surge that lights you up from the inside out. You can barely breathe but you feel so alive.
Bats nips at your bottom lip, mumbling his thanks like a prayer into your ear. His teeth tenderly nip at your earlobe, crowding you into the corner of the couch. “Can I return the favor?”
You choke. “You don’t have to. I told you—”
“I want to taste you,” he interrupts gently. The fingers around your jaw slide to your chin. His thumb pulls down your bottom lip.
You’ll never understand how he’s able to touch you as if you are fine china. It doesn’t make sense with what he does, how he appears to the public all dark and violent. Before your conscious mind can agree, your head is nodding on its own. “Fuck yeah.”
The ends of his mouth ever so slightly quirk up at that. Bats moves in closer. Shit. “Wait—wait,” you sputter, flattening your palms against his chest plate. You push, he backs up. “Your vitals—I need to make sure you’re ok first.”
He grunts and pinches your chin, moving your head to the side. His vitals seem…normal, you suppose. They’ve plateaued. For now. “I’m fine, Blue.”
Bats slides off the couch and onto his knees, hands finding the swell of your hips. You think he’s going to eat you out like this, the same as you’ve done for him. But nope. No—he drags you to the floor and herds you onto all fours. Fuck—it makes sense. He can’t risk the chance of revealing his identity if you were to knock or grab his mask. Bats presses into your shoulder until you’re ass up, face resting on the carpet. You fingers dig into the red fibers, excitement thrumming through your core.
He wrestles your pants and underwear down your legs, shuddering as he knocks your knees apart. You know how wet you must be based on the curse that tumbles sweetly past his lips. His ungloved hand runs down the slope of your ass and cuts inward, his thumb sliding through your wet slit. You hear him shuffle and then feel his breath fanning over the base of your spine a moment later.
Bats hooks his other hand, the leather a sensory buffer, around your thigh and yanks your hips closer to his mouth. All thoughts fizzle out at the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind. Oh, shit—you arch your spine and whine the only name you have for him. His tongue languidly swirls over your clit, each pass like an electric shock splitting through your cells. You want more. You cry and cant your hips back as he lightly sucks on the bundle of nerves. You nearly cry when he flattens his tongue and follows the curve of your cunt all the way up to your entrance.
You tense then immediately relax as the tips of his fingers, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle. When he draws them back out, they're no doubt coated with your wetness. He thrusts them back in, then out—setting a slow but strong pace that makes everything ache with need. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and the heat of his calloused skin torture.
You fist the rug under you, biting your lip to quiet the louder moans. You know for a fact that there’s still people lurking around somewhere in this building. “Gonna cum—keep going.”
Bats’ mouth dips down a second time, sucks on your clit and hums around you. That does it.
A few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls has your body seizing up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than the speed of light. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry, sparks of blurry white alighting behind your eyelids as your back arches. Batty continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you squirm and shake in his firm hold. Ecstasy implodes behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're quivering, and over the roaring in your ears you hear Bats murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.
When he pulls away you groan at the loss and melt onto your side, jittery from the aftershocks. “Goddamn.”
Batman tickles his fingers over your bare thigh and run all the way down to the bend of your knee. Goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch. He drags his fingertips over them curiously—your turn your head. He retracts his hand like you’ve burned him and busies himself with getting redressed. The monitor flatlines as he tears off the remaining sticky patches. Your hands shake as they weakly tug your pants back up.
Nothing is said in the minutes following. You lead him from the office, up the emergency stairwell and out through the backdoor. It’s raining—steam from a nearby vent clouds the chilly air, the exit sign painting the blackness of his suit a bloody, neon red. You wipe the rain off your brow.
You crane your neck to look at him. His mouth is still set in a rigid frown—maybe a bit more relaxed. You can’t tell in the darkness.
“Thank you,” he says, all jagged and raw like ripped stitches.
You hug your middle. Fuck, this rain is colder than balls. You smile. “Anytime, Batboy.”
That, you can tell, bothers him still. He takes a heavy step forward, gear chinking as he moves. His movements are sluggish as he brings his hand, now fully gloved, to touch under your chin. He dips his head to reach you, lips barely skimming yours. You hold your breath and close your eyes. “Goodbye, Blue.”
The touch of his lips is faint. Like a shadow. When you open your eyes, he’s gone.
“See you around, Vengeance,” you whisper to the darkness.
#batman x reader#bruce wayne x reader#battison#the batman#the batman 2022#dc comics#dc#robpat#rob pattison batman
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