But low key makes me think about how people with adhd have been raised their whole lives to value a day based on what they accomplished vs what they experienced
I think your point is excellent. But also consider:
That list might say things like “Paint a picture. Go birdwatching. Finish that great novel I started reading. Call my grandma. Learn to bake a cake. Visit my sister. Play piano.”
For me at least, the good/fun things are harder without meds too. I can have the best intentions, but following through is hard.
Yeah. I once made a post in which I complained about being frustrated at my brain, and one of the things I said was:
“I should not be struggling this much to do things that I want to do and have the time, space, energy, and skills to do.
Actually, when I list it all out like that, I should not be struggling at all to do those kinds of tasks.”
And I STILL somehow got a rant about capitalism in the comments. And I do understand where it’s coming from, yes, but goddamn did I not make myself clear? Did I not say Things That I Want To Do???
— This is an authorized illustration for a Warhammer 40k character × female reader fanfiction (a commission for the 520 project. Many, many thanks to the author and artist for the authorization and the artwork.)
Dante did not hesitate for even a moment. He took the container from your hand, turned, and left. Just as you had asked, he would drip a single drop of Sanguinius’s blood upon it.
The wait felt somewhat long. Suddenly a gust of wind swept through, and the movement of the air carried a scent you knew well. You stared off into the distance, lost in thought.
Once more, the harsh sun of Baal streamed through the monastery’s stained-glass windows and fell upon you, its rays weaving together.
You reached out your hand, trying to feel its warmth, trying to touch that same sunlight from ten thousand years ago — but the light suddenly took on form and slipped through your fingers.
“Sanguinius,” you lifted your chin slightly, “I know you’re here.”
Dante soon drew a single drop of blood from the sacred chalice. When he pushed open that ancient door once again, he was so stunned that he could barely hold onto the object in his hands.
He saw his father’s soul once more, nearly transparent in the sunlight, revealing a hazy outline. His father’s hand was interlaced with his beloved’s — your body utterly enfolded beneath those great wings.
Just like an oil painting upon the wall — serene and beautiful.
The woman in that painting suddenly turned her head. Right after, an extremely long, slender feather drifted down from the sky.
“You can see him, can’t you?”
Tbc.
— Warhammer 40k otome fanfiction I Am the Currency in the Imperium (Chapter 6)
(I absolutely adore this fanfiction! The author is simply divine — I want to recommend this story to the entire world!)
Before the salt burns your eyes (Mer!Vulkan x reader): Chapter 4
This fic is crossposted on AO3.
Word count: 4k
Summary: The merman isn't trying to kill you. Huzzah! You make a new friend.
Chapter 4: Do NOT tap the glass. It disturbs the fish.
You swim backwards in a panic, kicking your feet as hard as you can to propel yourself away from the massive predator that's approaching you. His scaled eyebrows lift, and he speeds up with very minimal effort.
A webbed hand wraps around your ankle and you flail, successfully kicking him in the face, right on his scarred nose. He flinches and lets go. You shoot towards the surface, aiming for the direction of the beach as much as you can diagonally. You need to get onto land, where you have the advantage.
Another pull on your fin, and you're flipped around, world disoriented in a swirl of water. Your lungs are screaming at you, and you try to kick out again, but the merman seems to have caught on to that trick given that he holds the other fin in place. He's strong, and you wriggle and writhe in his grasp, losing out on air quickly as you fight.
It's not enough, and eventually you slump, resigned to drowning a second time. At least you went out in a cool way, fighting against a merman and not…something more lame. You close your eyes as you wait for the inevitable response of breathing in water.
And you wait.
…and wait a little longer.
……you're pretty sure that it didn't take this long to drown last time.
Your eyes open to see that the merman's face is directly in front of yours now, and you let out a shout, leaning away. He just stays there, looking at you. And you stare right back at him.
That's when you realize that you're breathing. You're breathing under the water. The thought must be showing on your face because the merman appears to perk up, and he waves a large hand out beside himself, gesturing towards the open ocean. You register sounds coming from his mouth— it must be some kind of language, but all your human ears can pick up is a rumbling sound like the barking of a grouper.
He pauses and thinks, ears flicking back in what you think is a very catlike motion. It might have been funny, if not for the fact that you were still unsure if you were going to drown or not.
The merman starts signing in what you assume is ASL, but you don't know that language either and now he scowls. The red glare pierces into you and you feel faintly embarrassed that this is your first time talking to a sentient non-human and you can't even understand the human language he's trying to use.
You're fairly certain that he won't kill you at this point. There's been plenty of opportunity, and there's no more movement towards you. You sigh, then point towards the surface with as much of a questioning expression as you can manage, hoping to get your point across.
It appears to work as he nods, and the two of you swim upwards. Your head meets open air as you breach the top of the water and you gasp. A few moments later, a dark scaled head appears beside you.
Now that you're not actively panicking, you take in the little details. His head is much larger than the average human's, but that seems par for the course given how long his tail is. He could easily tower over you if he bothered to lift his torso out of the water. Gold jewelry glitters in the sunlight, and your eyes dart from the small scars littering his face to his mouth full of sharp teeth as he smiles.
His voice is deep and rumbling as he speaks, the sound vibrating in your chest through the water.
"I see that you lived."
For just a second you're struck dumb. But your mouth moves before your brain catches up and instead of an eloquent response, you reply with:
"Obviously."
You feel like a massive dick for not thinking before you speak.
Instead of an eyelid, a membrane blinks over his eyes. It's creepy. It's cool. It's so wild that you stare harder at him, if that were possible. Fortunately for you, he finds your response funny and begins a bellowing laugh. You chuckle along awkwardly, swimming backwards a bit to try and get out of grabbing range. Just in case.
The laughter dies down, and he says, "You're much funnier when you aren't trying to drown."
You puff up indignantly, and respond, "I was not trying to-" you cough, "You were the one trying to drown me!"
"No? I was trying to talk to you. You were the one running away."
"Well I can't help that you scared me, and besides— you didn't have to grab my fins."
His eyes narrow, "You didn't have to kick my face, but here we are."
You open your mouth and then close it, teeth clicking as you do. He had you there. Regret washes into you at his statement and seeing the small bruise that's popping up on the bridge of his nose. On the one hand, you did think you were going to die, but on the other maybe you could've thought this through a little more.
Taking in a deep breath, then exhaling it, you sigh. The merman doesn't move, watching you instead with mild interest despite his earlier statement.
Lifting a hand from the water, you stretch it out in front of you, "I'm sorry, I feel like I'm making a very bad first impression. It's nice to meet you." You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you.
His pupils flick to your hand, then to your face. You're starting to sweat a little under the scrutiny when he rises above the surface, exposing broad shoulders and a scarred chest. His hand wraps around yours and you're surprised to find that his skin is much warmer than you thought it would be, instead of cold like a normal shark's would be.
He smiles at you again, and introduces himself, "My name is Vulkan. It's nice to meet you as well, human."
Something about the way he earnestly says it has blood shooting to your cheeks and ears, and you smile back. Then there comes the moment when normally humans would let go of the handshake, but you loosen your grip and his hand stays there.
You look down, and clear your throat, "Uh-"
He seems to realize what you're about to say, and lets go of your hand.
There's an awkward silence that follows as you drop your hand into the water, fingers suddenly feeling cold as they hit open air.
"So," you say, leaning back a little in the water, "how long have you been out here?"
He shrugs, "I pass through on the occasion. Although the last time was because I heard of a human freeing a flounder and then getting themselves stuck."
You cough, "I recall. I uh, wasn't sure if you were real or not."
Vulkan snorts, "As real as can be." He copies your movement and leans backward as well. The action results in more of his tail coming into view, and you're taken aback by just how many scars he has. You want to ask about them, but it might be rude, so you refrain.
"Well," you say, "Thank you for saving my life."
He shrugs, "It was no trouble at all. I wasn't entirely certain you would make it, but I had to try. It was a nice thing you did, saving that flounder. It only made sense to try and give a little good back."
Oh! Well then. Your heart feels like it might burst, and you tamp that down. Anybody would've stopped to help.
…
Well, that's not quite true, is it?
You shake your head to stop the incoming volley of thoughts. Now was not the time.
Vulkan looks a tad bit concerned about you, but doesn't voice his opinion on the matter. Your muscles are starting to protest treading water for so long, so you lean all the way back to float, staring up at the sky.
"Is it cool, down there?" You ask.
"The temperature?" there's humor laced into his words, but you scowl.
"No, the stuff that's on the bottom of the ocean. Shipwrecks and things," you've always imagined getting to go down into the depths of the sea, but alas, human bodies are only meant for so much pressure.
He hums, "I suppose it is. Although, I've lived here my entire life so I see those all the time. It's like asking if you think trees are cool simply because you're surrounded by a forest."
You do, in fact, think trees are very cool, but that's a moot point so you deign not to say anything.
"Oh. I see," is what you settle upon saying.
That's when you notice where the sun is in the sky, and realize that it is dipping particularly low in the sky. Not quite enough to create a sunset, but it will be there soon.
You turn upright in the water to face Vulkan, moving quickly. The action seems to jar him and he moves his tail, eyes glancing around.
"Sorry, sorry," you apologize, "I just realized what time it is— I have to get back to my house."
Something flickers through his gaze, and he frowns, "Is something wrong?"
Shaking your head you explain, "No, it's almost dinnertime and my roommate gets worried."
"I see," he tilts his head, "Will you be back?"
You blink, "Would you like me to come back?"
"I would, if only to make sure my human friend doesn't drown again," he flashes you a grin, and you realize this may become a running joke.
You roll your eyes, "I'll have you know most humans consider me a very strong swimmer."
A rumble of laughter, "I am only teasing. Would you like me to accompany you to the shore?"
That takes you aback. You know full well that he could simply just follow you— and if your hunch is right, it's been him that's been hanging around all week. But the fact that he actually asked soothes your nerves a bit, so you agree.
You make it to the beach with no incident beyond getting used to having a shark-man in your peripheral vision. No biggie, just ignore the massive shape with claws and teeth that's a little ways behind you. You wave goodbye to your new friend and watch as he disappears back into the depths. It was impressive how a creature so large could be unnoticeable only moments later.
Mercedes greets you when you come back to the house, and you try to push thoughts of your merman friend out of your mind. It's only later when you're lying in bed that it really sinks in.
Holy shit, you met an actual merman!
Does that mean there's a society? Are there cities? Are there mermen larger than him? Did he have anything to do with the sharks?
The roiling questions in your mind make it difficult to sleep, but eventually you allow it to take you.
In your dreams there are baby sharks that are flanked by the shadow of a much larger creature. You're not scared though, as you glide along the bottom of a reef, surveying the corals.
~~~
You wake up and decide that you're going right back to the cove, errands be damned.
Mercedes is lounging on the couch, watching TV when you come bouncing through. She mutes the channel and sits up, squinting at you.
"What's got you in such good spirits today?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
You dart into the kitchen, which is still visible from the living room. You're rifling around in the fridge, looking for something to eat for breakfast. Your food stock is getting pretty minimal, with lots of space in the fridge to look at. Groaning, you turn to call to Mercedes:
"Well, it doesn't matter now, we still need to go grocery shopping. How'd we go through so much food in a week?"
She rolls her eyes, plopping backwards into the plush couch, "We ate it. We have this conversation every week."
Ugh. Rude, but true. Good thing you've got money. You're a little peeved that errands have won out, but you grit your teeth. You're an adult, you can handle this.
"I want to go back to the cove this evening. What else do we need to do while in town?"
Mercedes pulls out her phone to pull up the list, and rattles off, "I need to stop at the post office to drop off some packages, but they're not open today so it can wait. I think there's some library books that need dropped off, and we need to grocery shop."
You sigh, "are you ready to go?"
"Are you? You're still in pajamas. Nice shirt, by the way." Mercedes gestures to the fish pun shirt you're sporting, along with shorts that have tuna plastered across them.
Brushing off your clothes, you grumble and head back to your room to change clothes. The two of you make sure to grab the library books (you're both pretty forgetful about it), and get into Mercedes' truck to head into town.
Admittedly, the drive isn't that far away, so it doesn't take long to get there. When you hit the library, you take pause before picking up a few books on sharks. It couldn't hurt to get a little more information, could it?
Grocery shopping is mostly the same, per usual. You are Mercedes bicker about which snacks are appropriate for the week while still fitting into your budget, and eventually you come out on top with smoked salmon dip and black pepper crackers. Could you make your own dip? Yes. Are you lazy? Yes.
You finally make it home, and you're absolutely itching to go hop into the water. Mercedes shoos you out the door, claiming that your restless energy is 'messing up her feng shui'. You laugh as you head off to get your bike.
The trip down to the cove is colorfully decorated with swears as you move the pedals even faster to get down there, causing your bike to nearly tip over multiple times from slamming into roots. You skitter down the path, hands and feet knowing the way as you make it to the beach.
Much to your dismay, there's no fin in the distance. Maybe you'd come too early? Maybe you had, in fact, made a terrible first impression. You sigh, and squat down, propping your cheek on your hand. Dammit, that probably was it, wasn't it?
Ugh, this sucked. You met a real life merman and managed to chase him away the second that you met him. There's some darker thoughts that swarm up at that realization, and you attempt to tamp them down. Maybe he was just busy? You had no idea what mermen do all day.
But you're not wasting a trip to the cove, so you shuck off your pants, leaving your rash-guard shirt on and slip into the water. You greet your fan-club with a smile as they swim up to you. They're so cute, weaving around you.
"Hello babies," you say, patting one on the head as it glides past you, "Have you seen a large shark man nearby, perhaps?"
Predictably, they don't respond. You shrug, and swim out a little further. The sunlight warms your bones as you go slicing through the waves. You didn't bring your fins this time since you didn't intend on looking for shells. You're beginning to regret that decision.
Sighing, you go to float, closing your eyes. It's peaceful out here, and you feel oddly safe despite the small sharks swarming around you.
When you open your eyes though, there's a massive head about three inches away from your face, and you yelp, splashing frantically as you go upright in a knee-jerk reaction.
"Jesus Christ!"
He tilts his head, "No, I'm Vulkan."
You glare at him, sputtering water out of your mouth. Having regained your sense of direction, you reply, "I know that."
"Then why did you say Jesus Christ?" there's a gleam in his eyes as he says it, and you get the impression that he might just be messing with you.
You're aggravated anyways though, and you suck on the inside of your mouth before retorting, "It's a human expression of surprise." Maybe explaining the intricacies of human religion wasn't in your wheelhouse.
He chortles, "I see. Any other expressions I should know?"
"How about a gesture?" you respond, before flashing him your middle finger.
This sends him into a spiral of laughter, and you have to dodge a tail coming out of the water, splashing the surface as it goes.
"You are feisty," he grins at you, showing off those sharp teeth again. He rustles with something under the water, and you're surprised to see that it's your shell bag, only decorated with intricately woven rope, and little shells hang off the sides of it. It creates the illusion of the bag being netted, despite the worn fabric that's inside.
You take it gingerly, carefully turning it over to examine it.
Vulkan clears his throat, "I wanted to give it back to you as an apology for scaring you yesterday."
Running a hand along the cord, tears prick your eyes.
"Thank you," you choke out, "It means a lot. This was a gift from a friend of mine. I… I thought I lost it."
Mercedes had given it to you not long after she had moved in, and you'd practically used the thing until there were holes worn in the sides. You turn it over to discover that those have been patched as well.
"Did you patch this?" you ask, thumb running over the golden thread.
Vulkan looks surprisingly sheepish at the question, "Sewing is… not my expertise— I had to acquire help for that. I did the braided ropes on the outside."
That would make sense, given how small the stitches are, and how large his hands were. You stare at the thread more, taking in the odd sheen it gives off.
"What's the thread made from?"
He hums, and does a lazy lap around you, before responding, "Byssal threads— clams make them. I know a source that harvests them to turn into thread."
You blink, "You do trading? With who?"
The membrane in his eye blinks, "Other merfolk."
You perk up at that, "There's more of you?"
He snorts, "Oh no, there's only one of me, but there are more folk out there, yes."
It's mind boggling to think about, and you choose to stare at the bag in your hands again.
"Did you learn to braid rope from others as well?"
He makes a so so motion, and your neck is starting to hurt from swiveling to watch him swim, so you kick back to try and match his speed. It's hard to keep up, given the size of your new friend, but you do your best. You notice he attempts to slow down for you, but there's only so much that he can do given that he's built for the sea and you're not.
You're wheezing a bit when you feel a hand grab the back of your shirt, and all of a sudden all you have to do is float along as he ferries you.
"Yes, I learned from other folk."
"That's fascinating," you say, finally relaxing into the current he creates.
Vulkan hums, and you feel the vibrations through the water. The circling is soothing, and your eyes start to slide closed despite the sun on your face. Your head lolls, and the cool water fills your ears as you speed along. You can feel which direction you're going, so you notice when the two of you move into a straight line. A wave slaps you in the face and you cough out liquid, eyes opening to look around. You're headed back towards the shore.
"Excuse me," you say, "but you're getting water in my face."
Vulkan doesn't seem to care all that much, "You can breath underwater."
"Yeah, well, it's still not great to get smacked in the face with waves," you grumble. A thought occurs to you, and you frown, "How am I able to do that anyways?"
There's a suspicious silence, then your mer-towboat finally responds with, "I had to bring you back."
Well that didn't clear up shit, now did it?
"Bring me back from what?"
Vulkan slows down, and his scaled brows knit together as he thinks, "I believe humans have a word for it… but it's the removal of water from your lungs by putting air in them."
You squint, brain attempting to process exactly what he meant. Oh, he did CPR! That makes more sense.
"What does that have to do with it?" you ask.
"Sometimes a mer-folk's kiss can cause… unusual side effects. Like breathing underwater."
Does it really count as a kiss if it was to bring you back to life? You decide that arguing semantics might not be the best thing to do when you're literally looking at a real life merman.
You finally land on a response: "Well that makes more sense then. Thanks for clearing that up."
You still wonder exactly how it works…obviously your lungs still work underwater, but there isn't a transitional period. You would need to do some research when you got back to the house.
The two of you continue on until you're able to stand up in the water. When you do, the baby sharks return to check out your legs. Vulkan chuckles while watching them.
"I see you've made some friends," he remarks, webbed hand floating out to greet them. The babies seem enthralled, and go to crowd him as well, wriggling all around while begging for attention.
You hum, petting a few that come back towards you, "I think they like you more."
Vulkan shrugs, "I doubt that— they see me all the time. It's unusual for them to take such an interest in a human."
Filing away that information for later, you look around. "Why'd you bring me back to shore?"
He stares at you, and for a moment you wonder if you've committed some form of faux pax. Then he questioningly states, "I assumed it would be time for you to leave?"
You frown, "Why would you think that?"
He lifts an arm to point at the horizon, and you turn to look. It's just the sun. You turn back to him, confused. He elaborates:
"Is it not time for you to go eat dinner?"
You look at your watch, and realize it is, in fact, about dinner time.
"I'm surprised you remember that," you mumble, dropping your hand back into the water.
Vulkan pats your shoulder, "Humans need nutrition more often than merfolk, as my memory serves. Of course I would remember."
There was no way that this guy didn't consume a boatload of calories everyday with his size, and you voice as much.
He flips over onto his stomach, claws digging into the sand and looks at you, "We eat a lot, yes. But enough to sustain multiple meals a day. I believe you lot are not on that sort of schedule."
You don't really want to leave, but you are getting hungry. Vulkan assures you that he'll be in the cove when you eventually return, and you warn him that it may be a few days before you can see him again. After all, unfortunately you do have a job. As much as you love your employment, it wasn't as interesting as speaking to a living legend.
Vulkan gives his understanding, and watches you as you gather your gear up and leave. You glance over your shoulder one last time at the top of the hill and give a goodbye wave. He returns it, and you speed off towards home.
So because of Father's day coming up (tho still many days away) what better than to draw Morty and Bellis
Also I just wanted to draw @artistapreguissosa 's version of Mortarion cause that's my favorite Morty honestly and also did it in his more AU look too just because I can, so yeah I put the two together and now this exists lol
Rocky is supposed to be that one Toby Maguire meme btw
Again sorry for any (past/now) grammar errors. ALSO huge thanks for the people giving me ideas and correcting me!! I do truly love learning about biology facts so if you have any always fell free to share!!
Warnings: questionable consent, questionable comprehension of consent, controlling relationship dynamics, breaking and entering, voyeurism, self-delusion, unhealthy obsession...you probably get the point by now. Please do not read this if you don't like fictional men being horribly toxic.
Summary: Mortarion finds his bonded. Semi-canon to the 'main' Mortarion husbandry story.
Mortarion had been in the warp one moment. The next he was on a planet staring at a mortal woman's ass as she filled a basket with some sort of squash from her garden. He stayed quite still, silently taking in his surroundings. Despite his massive size, with his wings furled he could just about blend in with the cattails and muck he’d landed in.
He didn't really know what was pulling him towards this woman. He didn't really care. He would have her soon enough. That was inevitable. For now, he watched and listened. She was humming to herself as she worked.
A long yellow vehicle pulled up nearby and two kids ran out, speaking to the woman in a language he didn't recognize. He watched as she scooped up the basket and ushered them into the nearby dwelling place. Once they were inside, he quietly sniffed around until he determined what room she’d moved into, and tucked himself up against the outer wall next to the trash cans. He could smell baking bread as she worked. That was good. His consort should be able to cook. It smelled like she was making several batches as well to prepare!
After he was certain she wasn't going anywhere, he slipped back towards the pond to prepare a few things. He needed a courting gift after all. In a couple of hours he had a fresh cattail basket, a bird’s nest filled with small eggs, the birds from said nest (plucked and cleaned), and a set of wild flowers with a pleasing tart taste.
The warp felt so distant here, but he could still pull enough to step through it. He marked the room where the last light had gone off and stepped out into it. The fascinating baseline he had been watching was fast asleep. Her face was lined up close, and her stomach showed stretch marks where her shirt had slid up. Slowly he moved closer and placed a hand over her mouth to make sure she didn't accidentally wake up the kids.
She woke up with a start as his other hand traced across her face. He spoke to her calmly “Don't worry, I have you safe now,” but she didn't seem to understand his words. Patience. He pulled his hand back and offered her the basket. She looked in it with trepidation turning to what seemed to be utter confusion before reaching for some sort of portable communication device.
He growled very softly at that and she froze up. No one else should be interrupting their meeting! He set the basket down and reached both hands out to stroke her face and hair. She babbled something in her language and he continued to whisper soothing words to her to calm her down, pulling her in closer to his body. Slowly she started to relax, sobbing in his arms as he hummed and sang to her in his own native tongue.
This was a fine start, he thought. She would come to understand in time. He held onto her until exhaustion made her slowly fall back into sleep before setting her back in her bed and heading out the window.
ok these are just quick doodles of three of them OUGH busts and size comparison.
Info below
lol Valentine is my traitor guard Commissar who's a little rat man. He's super crazy paranoid after betraying and very easily provoked and reactive; he's also the first one I made and was originally NOT a traitor hehe but now he's slowly mutating (mostly serpent traits bc he's a snake lol) from warp exposure with the warband that he's been yoinked into. He also bites people. For enrichment.
Artem is.... There. And has no lore but i like how he looks :]
Karma, my love <3 is from an entirely different fandom that I've dragged them by their hair into warhammer and could literally never figure out where to put them lol I contemplated astartes, guardsman, or just completely bullshitting something else, but then I got obsessed with Commissars and think that they'd be a very scary one bc they kinda look like they bite people too. They don't, they just kinda Look Like That
