BY THE WAY, if you're an aspiring writer, there's a great opportunity right now to get your work critiqued!
the Literary Auction for Change is a charity event raising money to help underrepresented groups enter the world of publishing. specifically, they're offering fellowships and mentorship programs to marginalized people seeking to become literary agents (because how you can expect diversity in books if there's no diversity among agents?)
you can browse through the various packages on auction, and probably find something that would give you a boost. query letter critiques, manuscript critiques, videos calls with various agents, and also signed books, if you're more of a reader. take a look!
i can't express how absolutely important it is that when you make an edgy, brooding, badass character who's tough as nails and good at fighting and whatever, you HAVE to give them at least one reason to become completely helpless and pathetic. you have a panic attack quota to fulfill.
This would have had me crucified on tumblr 10 years ago but maybe we are ready for this conversation now:
If you are a socially anxious person, you have to socialize. Your panic/anxiety attacks will only get worse and trigger more frequently if you constantly avoid contact with The Public. Not saying that you need to be a social butterfly- but there is a genuine problem with not being able to order your own meal at a restaurant. And it cannot be solved by always having someone else do it for you.
This is a PSA to about 3/4s of the Portland Youth populace
everyone who reblogs this and is like "I ordered my own tea this week" or "I only barfed once when I had to give a presentation'- you are doing amazing sweetie. Have patience with yourself, you are relearning a skill so difficult that people get 4 year degrees to do it professionally.
I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard
Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.
Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.
Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.
Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.
SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.
SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.
Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.
Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.
Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.
Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.
Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.
thinking of karlach who's obsessed with the new domesticity she has with you. sfw + nsfw.
after years alone in the depths of the hells, never getting a chance to go more than a few minutes at a time to truly feel safe, its safe to say that as soon as she has the opportunity to just be at peace in your new home she takes it with a deep sign and a serene smile.
thanks to helping out weary travelers and friends on your journey to saving the realm (and some very much deserved generosity from the people of baldur's gate), the both of you are able to settle in a quaint little cottage not too far from the city. it took some fixing up, a leaky roof here and a broken gate there, but at the end of the day it was home.
sometimes its hard for karlach to grasp, that after all this time she has a place to call home again. instead of a cramped and hot barracks she rests her head on the plush of your carefully picked out pillows and sheets, the perfect blend of sturdy bet soft that can have her falling asleep in seconds after a long day on the farm or cuddling and talking with you for hours.
and maybe what makes it better, as she so often loves to tell people and friends when they visit, is that she gets to share it with you. every so often during the day you'll catch her admiring you while you do your chores, the red beauty looking at you from inside while you feed your chickens an early breakfast. unable to go without touch for long she'll routinely come out to help you even when you don't need it, hell she's helped you shovel cow shit just to spend a few more minutes by your side.
but maybe she loves every little mundane thing in your routine because every thing is a reminded that she's here, she made it, literally went through hell and back and now gets to live the simple, sweet, and romantic life she's dreamed of.
so she kisses you every time you cook dinner together, wraps you in her arms before you go off to sell some leftover goods at the market, and plucks you a custom bouquet of wildflowers on her weekly walks through the forest with scratch.
and by the gods, did she love to show you her love for you in the most intimate ways possible.
when karlach's engine was first fixed (and even before that, thanks to your shared creativity), the only fitting way to describe your sex life together was phenomenal. like two puzzle pieces you both just fit, giving and receiving in a perfect balance that led to your shared satisfaction nearly every night. it was expected that after a while the excitement and giddiness would cool and you'd settle into a slower pace, but if anything your beloved was only more attached to your body.
it was safe to expect to wake in your early mornings with a shuttered gasp and a hand thrust down into karlach's hair, her hot tongue tracing shapes and her name into your cunt until you came with a loud cry into her mouth. she wouldn't stop until the shake of your legs knocked her head from your center, tracing tender kisses and playful bites up your thighs and stomach before landing on yours, a sweet peck and toothy smile along with an overly cheery 'good morning, baby' bringing you into your day.
as much as you chastised her for it, you couldn't resist when she'd come onto you during your work. good luck trying to pick up one of the hay bales, because as soon as your fingers graze the spiky yellow texture a large red hand is settling on your hand and another is on your waist, joined together by a strong red body pressed right up against your ass. she tries to pass it of as being helpful, that ‘you should leave all the hard work to me, darling!’ but you can hear the truth in her voice, a thinly veiled arousal waiting to burst any moment.
maybe she really catches a glimpse of the sweat trailing down your neck, the flush of your skin from constant movement, or maybe it’s because she just really likes when you’re bent over for her, but suddenly the hay bale is off of both of your minds when she’s impatiently pushing your body over to a hidden corner in the back of your barn, your hands steadying your body on the wood as your lover grinds herself into your behind, the coarseness of her hair and the brief blink and you'll miss it brushes of her clit between your thighs metaphorically (and damn near literally) driving you up the walls.
and sometimes you don't have to look blissful in your garden or hard at work on your farm, something as simple as you walking around the house can get her going. you still blush when you remember the day you accidentally put on one of her oversized shirts in the morning, figuring she wouldn't mind if you wore it just while you read on your couch. when the bleary-eyed barbarian stepped out of the bedroom and was met with the sight of your bare legs thrown over the couch arm and her shirt stopping at the middle of your thighs, she truly showed you the meaning of her class name as she quickly settled on the floor between your legs and ate your cunt like she was starving, only stopping so she could switch to stuffing you with her fingers so she could watch the way your body writhed covered in the fabric.
she wasn't just fueled by lust, however. one moonlit night you asked her what constantly drew her to you like a magnet and she bit the inside of her cheek before quietly responding that you just needed to look happy. you laughed the first time she said it, wondering if there was a time since you met her if you were anything but, but the look in her golden eyes and the tremor in her normally sturdy eyes told you what she really meant. she wanted, needed to know that you felt the same way she did every day, like any of these mornings she would wake up and this would all be a sick but sweet dream before she woke up back in the hell that was her life.
and what can you do but assure her that it's all real? you're glad she gets this way after you've both settled into bed, because you revel in taking hours twisted between the sheets and each others bodies as you bring her apart using your mouth, then your fingers, then both, before finishing with her body underneath yours as you slowly move your cunt above and on to hers, breathily giggling at the sight of her nails digging in to her palms at her barely contained desire to grip your hips and move you how she wants. any other time you'd encourage it, but on nights like these you want to make a point.
its hot and aching and pleasurable to the point of agony, but it's all worth it when she falls apart with a shout and quick falling tears while crushing your body to lay on hers, her moans drifting off into gasps of your name and declarations of love before she settles into silence with you.
"sorry if i get too...i don't know, paranoid," the deep timbre of her voice pulls you from the beginning throes of sleep, combined with her nails gently ghosting along the skin of your back. "all of this, and having it with you, just feels too good to be true."
you smile, pressing a kiss to her chest. "i know. but we earned this, we deserve it. besides, it'd take another army to take you away from me, i can only imagine it's the same for you."
"you've got no idea, soldier."
i wanted to buy a shirt of my #1 baby mama vi at hot topic but all of arcane's merch is ✨dogshit ugly✨ so i bought a karlach shirt instead. then i thought of her railing me in it soooo here we are.
Evening comes, and while the others prepare for sleep, Astarion claims you for himself with an exaggerated sigh, gesturing for you to sit. He produces a comb with a flourish, as if he’s about to perform on stage rather than tend to your hair. The first few strokes are accompanied by teasing remarks- how scandalous it is to travel with such unruly locks, how lucky you are to have someone of his refinement around. But the longer he works, the quieter he becomes, his hands gentle and unhurried.
By the time he’s finished, the air between you has softened. He lingers, fingertips brushing your neck in a way that feels far too intimate for an 'innocent' gesture. When you catch him watching you later across the fire, there’s no teasing smirk- just a rare, unguarded softness. For Astarion, these small acts of care are the closest thing he has to home.
Gale-
Life on the road is never easy, but Gale does everything in his power to make camp feel like a hearth. He insists on cooking, despite limited ingredients, and somehow transforms mushrooms, roots, and dried meat into something that actually tastes good. As he stirs, he talks- stories of his mother’s kitchen, of recipes perfected through trial and error, even of culinary disasters from his younger years. His voice is warm and steady, the kind of sound that makes the world feel less sharp.
When he passes you a bowl, it isn’t just food he’s offering. His eyes crinkle with quiet affection, lingering to make sure you take the first bite. “See? Not so dreadful,” he says with a smile, pretending not to care about your approval, though the relief in his expression betrays him. With Gale, every shared meal feels less like survival and more like family.
Shadowheart-
Shadowheart has a way of caring without ever admitting it. At camp, she’s always the first to stake her bedroll near yours, brushing it off as convenience. But when the others drift into sleep, she often stays awake with you, the firelight flickering across her sharp profile as she sharpens her blade. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable- it’s deliberate, a kind of quiet sanctuary she builds for the two of you.
Every now and then, your hands brush when you both reach for something, or her shoulder leans just slightly into yours. She doesn’t speak about it, doesn’t draw attention to the closeness, but the warmth lingers all the same. In those quiet hours, Shadowheart doesn’t need to say she cares. Her nearness, her steady presence, and the trust in her silence say it for her.
Lae'zel-
Lae’zel’s version of affection is practical, almost brusque. At dawn, she checks your gear before you’ve even had time to rub the sleep from your eyes- tugging on straps, inspecting blades, adjusting the weight of your pack. “Careless,” she mutters, even when everything is in perfect order, but her hands linger longer than necessary, tightening a buckle with precision or brushing against your arm as she works.
When you protest, she scowls, as if the very idea of you doubting her care irritates her. Yet later, by the fire, you catch her watching you with something softer than her usual steel gaze. She may never say the words outright, but the truth is in the way she ensures you’re always ready, always safe. For Lae’zel, love is protection, and she offers it fiercely.
Wyll-
The road can be dark, but Wyll always brings light to it. At night, while the fire crackles, he tells stories- not just of devils and heroics, but of simpler things: childhood festivals, dancing under lanterns, chasing fireflies in fields. His voice carries warmth, filling the camp with a sense of comfort, and he always makes sure to include you, watching your face as though your laughter is the only reward he needs.
When the air grows cold, he drapes his cloak around your shoulders without a second thought, his fingers brushing your arm. “Can’t have my favorite adventurer catching a chill, can I?” he says with a grin, though the softness in his eyes betrays how deeply he means it. Beside Wyll, the dangers of the road seem smaller, swallowed up by the warmth he carries with him wherever he goes.
(this gif is huge lmfao)
Karlach-
Karlach is the soul of camp life. She gathers firewood, sparks the flames, and then collapses beside you with a booming laugh, warmth radiating from her like a second sun. Sometimes she insists on teaching you little games from her time in Avernus- silly things with sticks and stones, or ridiculous riddles that end in both of you laughing until your sides ache. She makes even the dreariest nights feel like celebrations.
On harder days, when the weight of the journey is heavy, she doesn’t try to fix it with words. Instead, she scoops you into her arms without hesitation, holding you tight against her blazing heart. “Got you,” she murmurs into your hair, her voice unexpectedly soft. In her embrace, the world’s cruelty feels far away, as if nothing could touch you while she’s there.
Halsin-
Halsin makes the wilderness feel like home. He knows just where to set up camp so the wind won’t bite, which herbs will ease sore muscles, and how to line your bedroll for comfort. When you’re weary, he coaxes you to sit, large hands steady as he works the tension from your shoulders. His touch is firm but careful, his deep voice rumbling low as he tells you to rest.
“Sleep, little one,” he says, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. The warmth of his presence makes it hard to argue. With Halsin near, the chaos of the road feels distant, replaced with the steady rhythm of his care. He doesn’t just offer protection- he offers peace, a rare and precious gift in the midst of turmoil.
The dagger left Astarion’s hand with perfect aim, until the bandit lurched forward at the last second. The blade clipped your side instead. You gasped. The sound made him spin instantly. “What—?” His eyes dropped to the spreading red on your tunic and the little color he had drained from his face. “Oh hells… I didn’t—”
He was beside you in seconds, catching your arm before your knees could give out. For once there was no teasing remark waiting on his tongue. Only worry.
“Stay still,” he murmured, pressing a cloth to the wound. His hands were steady, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
“I’ve been stabbed before,” you tried to joke weakly.
“Yes, well, I’d prefer not to be the one responsible,” he shot back quickly. Then quieter, almost reluctantly, “I’ve spent two centuries surrounded by monsters. You’re the one good thing I’ve managed to find.”
Once the bleeding slowed, his thumb brushed gently against your wrist “Next time,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours, “try not to stand between me and my targets.” After a pause, he added with a faint, fond smile, “…or I might start thinking you’re important to me.”
Gale-
“Now, theoretically,” Gale began, raising a glowing hand, “this spell should behave perfectly.” The weave on the other hand had other ideas. in a twisted sense of humor way the arcane surge cracked outward like lightning, snapping across your arm before the magic dispersed.
You yelped.
Gale froze mid-cast. “Oh no.”
He rushed to you immediately, eyes wide with alarm. “That—was absolutely not part of the theoretical model.” His hands hovered uncertainly before gently taking your arm, examining the burn with deep concern.
“Let’s see… minor arcane backlash, slight energy discharge—nothing permanent, thank Mystra.” His fingers glowed softly as he channeled a careful healing spell. The sting faded quickly. Gale let out a relieved breath, shoulders relaxing as he finished the incantation.
“I do apologize,” he said sincerely. “It seems my enthusiasm occasionally outruns my caution.” You smiled at him.
He returned the look, softer now.
“For what it’s worth...” he added gently, “if I must test dangerous magic… I’m rather glad you’re the one who stays by my side anyway......still maybe we try this with you further way next time, yeah?"
Wyll-
The demon lunged faster than Wyll expected. He stepped forward to meet it, blade flashing—but the fiend twisted at the last moment. His strike still landed… just not where he intended.
Your cry cut through the clash of steel.
Wyll’s heart dropped.
He turned instantly, horror flooding his face as he saw the shallow cut along your side. “No—no, that wasn’t meant for you!” He caught you before you could stumble, one arm wrapping firmly around your back while the other pressed cloth to the wound. His hands were steady from years of battle, but the panic in his eyes betrayed him.
“I swear, I had it under control,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head at himself. “The Blade of Frontiers, defeated by his own terrible aim.” “It barely hurts,” you tried to reassure him.
“That’s hardly the point,” Wyll replied softly. Once the fight was over, he guided you to sit beside the campfire, carefully tending the injury himself. His fingers moved with gentle precision as he tied the bandage.
“You spend far too much time protecting me,” he murmured. You smiled faintly. “Someone has to watch the hero’s back.”
Wyll looked up at that, something warm settling in his expression. He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Well then,” he said quietly, “when this adventure is over, I think the hero owes his shield a proper reward.” You raised an eyebrow.
“A dance,” Wyll said with a small grin. “Under the moonlight. Somewhere far from monsters.” His thumb brushed gently over your hand. “And this time,” he added softly, “I promise not to hurt you.”
Karlach-
Karlach charged into the fight with a shout, swinging her axe in a wide arc. The enemy went down instantly—but the momentum knocked you off balance and straight into the dirt. The moment she realized, her triumphant grin vanished.
“Oh shit! Hey, hey—!”
She dropped the axe immediately and rushed over, crouching beside you. “You alright? Tell me you’re alright.” You groaned, pushing yourself up. Karlach carefully checked your arms and shoulders like you might fall apart if she moved too fast.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “I forget sometimes I hit like a runaway cart.”
When you assured her you were fine, the tension finally left her face. Her grin slowly returned. “Good,” she said, helping you to your feet with surprising gentleness. “Because if I accidentally flattened you, I’d never forgive myself.”
She bumped her forehead lightly against yours, warm and affectionate. “C’mon,” she said with a laugh. “Next round, you stand behind me. Safer for everyone involved.”
Lae'zel-
Steel rang sharply as your blades clashed during training. Lae’zel moved with brutal precision—but the final strike nicked your shoulder before she could stop it. You hissed. She froze instantly. Her yellow eyes flicked to the cut, studying it with intense focus. “You lowered your guard.” The words came automatically.
But when she saw the blood running down your arm, something in her expression shifted. Lae’zel stepped closer, gripping your arm firmly to examine the wound.
“…Still,” she admitted after a moment, “my strike was excessive.” She wrapped the injury with quick, practiced efficiency. When she finished, her hand lingered on your arm just slightly longer than necessary.
“A warrior protects their ally,” she said quietly. “You fight beside me. That makes your safety… my responsibility.” After a pause she added, voice softer, “And I do not intend to fail you again.”
Shadowheart-
The battle had barely begun when Shadowheart’s guiding bolt burst past you in a flash of radiant light. The spell struck the enemy, but its edge caught your side. Your sharp inhale made her heart drop. She turned immediately, horror flickering across her usually guarded expression. “Wait.. did I—?” The sight of you clutching your ribs answered the question.
“Gods,” she whispered, already kneeling beside you. Her hands glowed softly with divine magic as she pressed them against the wound. “Hold still.” Warm light spread through you as the pain faded. Shadowheart kept her hands there longer than necessary, concentrating harder than the injury demanded. “You’re supposed to be the reckless one,” she muttered, shaking her head.
When the healing finished, she helped you sit up, her fingers lingering around yours. “I’ve spent my life learning how to mend wounds,” she said quietly. “Hurting you was… not part of the plan.” You squeezed her hand reassuringly.
She huffed softly, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Well,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “if you’re going to keep getting injured, you might as well stay close to me.”
This can be read either platonic or romantic! Barely proofread <3
Shadowheart is who you go to when your clothes and hair needed a little help.
Camp life isn't for everyone. You don't mind it, maybe not fulltime for months on end, but it wasn't all that bad. But overtime your hair and camp-clothes started to show their own complaints. Shadowheart had been brushing her own hair when you walked by. She noticed you were tugging at a piece of hair that was caked in what she assumed was a mixture of blood, sweat, and mud. It wasn't like you were an animal rolling around in filth every day, but sometimes it was difficult to pull yourself out of your bedroll to go wash up after a long day of killing and exploring. Knowing this, Shadowheart sighed and called your over to sit on her stool. She helped detangle, wash, rebraid/retie your hair so you didn't look like you lived in the dirt (technically you did but not everyone needed to know that). That's when she noticed your camp attire had one to many holes. Her own camp attire had its fair share of wear and tear so when you left camp the next morning, she sewed your clothes for you. When you asked her why she did it, she would simply say she was bored and needed something to do. When in reality, she wanted to show you that she appreciated everything you've done for her. It was her way of returning the favor, and she was glad to do it time and time again throughout your journey.
Gale is who you go to when you need a distraction.
You've said it once, you've said it a thousand times, but you really shouldn't have wished to live in more interesting times. Adventuring, killing goblins, seeking a cure for the tadpole in your brain, gosh, it was hard not to fantanize about the simple life you had before the tadpole. You catch yourself yearning for your own bed with your favorite book in one hand and perhaps a warm cup of tea or the bread your neighbor used to make in the other. Don't misunderstand, one side of you is glad for the tadpole because without it, you wouldn't have met some of your favorite people in the world. But, on the other side, you wish you could step away from it all for a moment, some kind of distraction to take your mind away from it all. Gale noticed how you would space out, how your eyes would linger on abandoned bookshelves, how you would mention your hometown when you were feeling homesick. So, on a rather slow evening at camp, he invites you to his tent and hands you a fiction book he found while you were exploring. He thought you would enjoy sitting with him reading and drinking some (bitter) tea for the evening to get your mind off things. He would tell you about his library in Waterdeep, even promised you that when you visit, because you're going to visit, you had free range to his collection just as long as you promised to give him his books back. After that night, if someone couldn't find you in camp, they knew that you were most likely in Gale's tent, a cup of tea in one hand with a book in the other, swimming in the simplicity of it.
Wyll is who you go to when you need some advice.
It's no secret that Wyll had a way with words. His storytelling puts bards across the Faerûn to shame and his vocabulary almost gives Gale a run for his money. As the leader of your group, it's expected that not everyone will agree with your decisions, not everyone you talk to will be happy, not everyone needs saving. You always try to make the best decisions, the best choices for your group, but sometimes it's difficult to tell what the correct move is or was. So, naturally, you go to the man who knows the feeling all too well. He too has had to make some difficult decisions for the sake of others. Wyll was more than happy to share his thoughts on anything you needed. Need a second opinion on armor? He suggests this. What did he think about this decision while you were exploring? Well, he probably wouldn't have done it, but he understands why you did. He's always careful, thoughtful with his words, because he understands the toll being a leader can take. The questions, the second thoughts, the doubts that follow leadership is a feeling he knows all too well. He was extremely flattered you asked him for advice and patted you on the shoulder with that charming smile of his. You may not always agree with his advice, but hearing his side of things really helps put things into prospective. And he always makes sure to tell you how great of a job you're doing.
Halsin is who you go to when you need your back popped.
Look, carrying around your heavy pack all day filled to the brim with treasures, weapons, potions, and scrolls, on top of your armor and personal weapons... it's no wonder that your back hurts. You have to give it to Karlach and Halsin, who carry the bulk of the camp whenever you're on the move. You could only handle your own items before your back starts to complain, let alone everyone else's. Gale has a lot of books! You had been stretching near the fire, twisting and turning your back, begging for it to pop to relieve your discomfort but you just couldn't get it on your own. Halsin noticed your discomfort from his spot on a log before standing and waving you over to him. He spun you around and grabbed your elbows. He crossed your arms over your chest, pulled you flush against his chest before he lifted you off the ground. He gave you a little shake before your sore back finally popped. Relief flowed through your bones as Halsin gently sets you down back on your feet. You were finally able to stand up straight without the knot in your back complaining and you melted right back into Halsin's chest. He laughed and told you to come back if your back started acting up again. And that's what you did, so much so it was an almost a daily reoccurrence that Halsin pops your back for you. His large arms already open by the time you return to camp after a long day of being a hero.
Astarion is who you go to when you need to complain.
Sometimes it felt so good to get things off your chest. Sometimes... you just have to be a bitch. Being the leader of your group was more exhausting than you think your companions realize. Your decisions outside of camp can make or break trust between your companions, not everyone is going to be happy, and you know what. What's worse is when you're out exploring and encounter a multitude of people on your jounrey, some getting on your nerves more than others. Sometimes you don't want to be nice to everyone you meet. And Astarion gets it, more than anyone, how tiring it is to be nice to random people you meet without any kind of compensation for going out of your way. You've got your own problems. You don't care that someone is missing their items or that their affair letters are lost but for some reason you're made out to be the bad guy when you state that you don't care. Astarion is always there to back you up, not afraid to voice his opinions like you are, especially in front of your companions. On those particular days, where your frustration burns your chest and makes your skin itchy, you know exactly who to go to. There have been days where you don't need to say anything, walking right up to Astarion's tent, and he's already pouring a glass of wine and patting the pillow next to him. When you complain, sip, and scuff about annoying, frustrating things that happened that day, Astarion listens to every word, chiming in when appropriate, and sharing his own complaints. He always reminds you that you're too nice to people and that's when you joke that that's why you keep him around to balance it out.
Lae'zel is who you go to when you need to release some anger.
Not only does she have a training dummy with a literal mind flayers head on it for you to punch, kick, or whatever to help you release some anger, but she's more than willingly to spar. And Lae'zel doesn't hold back either. You'd swear that she looks forward to seeing your angry ass storm up to her, needing to let out some steam. Through these sparring sessions, you learn more than you may realize. Not only is Lae'zel a fierce warrior who teaches you new moves to use against your enemies, but you also learn a few selected Githyaki swear words. It almost becomes an inside joke between you two, whenever she swears in her native tongue, you have to hold yours from laughing at her colorful language. Whenever you approach her to let off some steam, Lae'zel rarely asks you questions. It's not because she doesn't care necessarily, it's mostly because she's not the best with words. Lae'zel shows she cares through action. She also appreciates that over time you don't just go over to her to release some anger and frustration but to learn from her. Learn about her culture, her language (even if it's just the swear words right now), but also her skills as a fighter. Even though your body will ache and be sore the next morning, your heart doesn't feel as heavy and your temper won't be as hot, and your friendship with Lae'zel will remain lighthearted, fun, and energy driven.
Karlach is who you go to when you need a good hug.
After Dammon helped cool her down and you shared your first hug at Last Light Inn, you can't stop hugging Karlach whenever you see her. While she still burns hot, the warmth that comes from her skin feels more like a warm blanket than an infernal fire to you. After everything she's told you, not being able to touch people in worry that she'd melt their face off, you made sure to hug her whenever you saw her. In greeting, in fear, in comfort, or just because, Karlach could expect a hug coming along whenever you were near and she loved every second of it. Her arms wrap around your waist or shoulders like they were meant to be there. She always squeezes you tight right before you let go. Even sitting around the fire after a long day of exploring and killing, it wasn't a surprise to anyone that you lean onto Karlach, resting your head on her shoulder as she excitedly tells the others what you saw that day all with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. After a particularly long day, one that drug you through the mud and sat heavily in your bones, you walked right up to Karlach. And even though you were filthy, covered in mud, sweat, and blood, Karlach pulled you into a hug with a hand cupping the back of your head and the other around your waist, holding you close as you cried into her shoulder. She told you to let it out in that sweet voice of hers, rubbing your back, and promising that Mama K was there. No matter the day, no matter what events took place, Karlach was there to give you a really good hug.
I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.
My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.
The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.
I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???
Made this post and then the new property manager (who started on Monday and only finally emailed us today because I sent a vaguely professionally hostile email to her boss because I hadn't heard anything and was not convinced she existed) asked for a list of open action items which her predecessor should have had but apparently wasn't keeping track of, which I learned when I met her boss and provided her with the list of open action items, which I guess tragically died in a fire in the last 2 weeks since she was sitting at my kitchen table, being menaced by the skull. How many people's jobs am I doing now
if you'd like to show support, here are some upcoming queer books:
When Life Gives You Corpses is a brilliant YA about a cursed praying mantis who falls for a young witch. Yield Under Great Persuasion is a raunchy, but surprisingly sweet story about two men repairing their relationship. Fabulous Bodies is a horror story about a queer rockstar rising from the dead.
This is Where the Future Bleeds is a fantasy set in a vividly imagined land, where two women (who happen to kiss) are the key to healing the broken sky. You're No Better is a story about a teen struggling in the shadow of his murderous parent. Oil on Canvas is about a woman who finds disturbing paintings in the home of her dead mother.
and then here's a list of 26 queer books by Black authors set to publish this year, and a 10 upcoming books by trans authors. if you want to fight back against queer censorship, use your wallet! or (if that's not an option) you can contact your local library and ask them to stock a copy.
Note: This cat is named Blueberry and the rescue doesn’t know what she is mixed with but are “calling it Lykoi-chic,” she came to them with terrible skin issues (which is consistent with the Lykoi breed) and there is at least one person out there producing Lykoi x Munchkin mixes so this is plausible. She’s doing much better now and will be cleared for adoption soon if you’re in the New Jersey area and are in the market for a genetic dumpster fire. The rescue is still collecting donations for her many medical bills.
making the radical claim "11 year old children should be taught how to make extremely simple food" has resulted in people making arguments like "I wasnt allowed to plug in electronics until I was 16 and I think this is super normal actually" and "children dont know what ratios are so its unfair to expect them to be able to comprehend the idea of adding equal amounts rice and water to a rice cooker" and I gotta say originally I thought maybe I was being too judgy but now I feel very secure in my opinion because what the fuck
Children might not know what ratios are in the sense of 1:1 notation, but they are more than capable of understanding 'you have to use the same amount of water and rice otherwise it goes wrong'.
Everyone say thank you american indigenous people for cultivating corn, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, cacao, pumpkin, squash, and anything i missed. Makes life more meaningful globally
Yes actually I will not shut up about how these foods are from the Americas/cultivated by the people there, and did NOT exist in Asia, Africa or Europe before the 1490s, there was an absolute food revolution going on in the 1500s. Whatever you think is traditional food for your country? Check again, you’ve maybe only been using that ingredient for maybe 500 years. Here is the full list of crops, it is very interesting :))
So apparently chicken nugget is a spicebush swallowtail and they turn yellow before they pupate. He was making little silk things everywhere Bruh this caterpie is going to evolve to metapod today my boy isn’t messing around
hes’s in a bigger container than the one in the pic now but im gonna let my home boy find his way in the world after he gets used to his wings a little bit
do you guys realize that,,,, chicken nugget is one of those butterflies that is perfectly half female and half male?? nugget’s left wing is typical of a female spice bush swallowtail and the right wing is typical of a male
This whole post is wonderful, but I think a lot of people don’t realise just how rare bilateral gynandromorphs are. Research has shown that only approximately 1 in 6,000 butterflies is a bilateral gynandromorph! So thanks so much @oddity-txt for sharing this wonderful being with us!
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