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ros3ybabe · 1 day

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🎀 Overcoming Gym Anxiety 🎀

I got asked about this through my inbox by @sxfiaaa so I figured I'd make a post about it and hopefully help a lot of people with something I too used to struggle with!

🩷 Wear Comfortable Clothing

We've all seen the beautifully dressed people on Tiktok, Pinterest, etc in their matching sets and cutr gym clothes. If that is what you're comfortable wearing to the gym, do it! Wear it, and be confident in it! If you're more of a loose clothes/sweatpants/baggy shirts or hoodie type of person, do that! Wear whatever you feel comfortable (and cute) in, because the better you feel going into a workout, the more you'll be able to focus on your workout!

🩷 Know What You're Doing When You're There

This just means go in with a plan! You don't need to know how to use every single machine or do every single exercise known to mankind. Scroll tiktok or pinterest for some workout videos for inspo (please make sure the video you get inspo from shows proper form!!! Proper form is so important for being safe!!)

If you know you can go certain days of the week, make a workout split to follow that! EX 3 day split: Monday - Leg Day, Wednesday - Upper Body, Friday - Full Body

OR, if you just want to go do cardio, then plan for that! I didn't know how to use a treadmill, but I went to the gym at my university and stood on the treadmill til I figured it out!

🩷 Remember This

No one is going to look at you and judge you or think mean things about you. Everyone is at the gym for the purpose of bettering themselves and their health. If you find people giving you occasional glances, maybe it's because they don't recognize you from the gym (or they do recognize you from somewhere else), maybe their admiring your outfit/physique, maybe their avid gym goers who are watching your form and technique, or maybe their just zoned out and you happen to be in the line of sight.

When I'm at the gym, I look around between sets and take note on other people's form to see if maybe I should tweak the way I do a certain exercise, or I'm admiring another girls outfit or physique because there are a lot of beautiful women at the gym. Sometimes, I'm thinking "dang, they're lifting so heavy, how cool!" or "wow, their form is amazing, they really know what they're doing." I've never thought bad abut someone at the gym because why would I?

🩷 Don't Be Scared To Ask For Help

if there an exercise you really want to do but don't know how and videos aren't helping, ask someone around you who isn't in the middle of an exercise and looks like they may know. The guy at the gym doing upper body who has good biceps may be the right guy to ask about upper body exercises. The girl doing impeccable Bulgarian Split Squats might be the right person to ask for help with those types of movements. Just make sure they aren't in the middle of an exercise, because that can cause some unwanted issues, especially if they're mid-rep, that can turn into a safety issue.

People love to help people, especially at the gym. If you politely ask for help from someone, they may take it as a compliment that you think they look like a person who is knowledgeable on working out. I'd definitely be so flattered if someone asked me for help or advice at the gym!

🩷 Random Advice:

remember your why! no matter how anxious you are, remember why you're going! what are your goals, what do you hope to achieve, how proud will you feel after?

start small if you have to! if it's really anxiety inducing to start working out, make it your first goal to at least step into the gym. then 2nd goal, walk around the gym to get a feel for it. 3rd goal, maybe 5-10 minutes on a treadmill, and then keep building momentum each day.

be careful with the hours you go! there is such a thing as peak gym hours. It varies by place, but a lot of gyms are busy between 2pm and 6pm I've seen. I personally love going to the gym super early morning, it's a little less busy and I'm a morning person so it works out for me! If you can only go during peak hours, bring a friend or keep your headphones on and do your thing!

Bring a friend! If you're really anxious about going alone, bring a friend with similar goals! Sometimes it can be a lot nicer to learn something new with a friend then try and learn it on your own! Plus, it's like extra motivation and accountability!

Have a motivating pre workout routine. Play some music while getting ready, prep your bags, prep your playlist, get your workout itself figured out, and just keep yourself excited to go! I love blasting high-energy music that makes me feel like a baddie on my way to the gym.

I hope this was helpful!! My thoughts were everywhere but I tried to convey them as best as possible! I'm happy to answer any questions or offer more tips and advice, don't feel scared to ask! <3

til next time lovelies 🩷

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colourstreakgryffin · 22 hours

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Hallo again! I am the one who asked about Val, it wasn't a request I was asking if you write for him so here we go!

Could it please be where reader is Valentino's son ( or just child if you don't write for male reader ) and Valentino can't find someone to trust-worthy to babysit his son so he just take him to work since reader is non-verbal anyway and won't be much of a bother?

So reader now comes regularly with him and see the other Vees as family. Perhaps Vox as another dad/uncle and Velvette as a big sister ( or any family role for them ).

Thank you for giving a look to my request!

Ooh! Right! Okay, okay. I can try this out. To be honest, Val is a monster but something tells me he wouldn’t be THAT bad with a kid of his own and yes, I do write male readers. Female, male, transgender, genderfluid(if that’s possible, idk how but I would do it anyway), nonbinary/GN! But anyways. Let’s try Val out as a dad!

Valentino- Silkworm Caterpillar

Everybody who knows the director of the Pentagram City’s Porn Industry, Valentino, is aware how much of a bastard he is; cruel, abusive, exploitative but nobody had ever suspected that he would actually one: have a son and two: treat that son better than he’s ever treated anybody, even his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox

Your dad’s an insufferable man-child but yet, he is actually pretty good with you. He doesn’t really like much things, other than you. He is awful but he feels kinda soft and fluffy whilst he is around you. You’re basically his soft spot

Valentino needs hugs and he will get them, no matter what may step in his path. You are non-verbal and mute so he cannot communicate with you properly, he just acts on his affections for you since he believes it’s fine

Valentino is that type of wingman-father. He always encourages you to get out of your comfort zone and boosts you up to look even better. He’s a close friend to you and you can hang out with him in casual settings where it almost seems like he is just your uncle, not your father

Valentino always offers to get you what you want, he is a father that spoils his seed rotten. Want a drink? He’ll get it. Want a phone? He’ll get it. Want more hugs? You’re getting them rather you want it or not. He likes it when you smile and he does very much have favouritism towards you, where he almost never raises his voice to you

Valentino is actually protective, believe it or not and he is defensive over his son. Rather said son be above ten years old, he doesn’t trust a single being in Hell. Not anybody in Vees, not any under their luck bum he picks up for hire, not any one of his assistants. Nobody. He doesn’t ever want to leave you with somebody who can cause a threat

Valentino doesn’t really want to resort to this but after some more time. He decides to stop leaving you in the Vees Tower. You’re alone and you need him so he begins to bring you to his porn studios but what he does is that he glues you to other devices so you don’t have to be uncomfortable with watching pornography

Valentino is relatively soft and gentle. Even somebody as deranged and sick as him has a moment of love and affection and it’s in his son. He could be the most pissed off and at his absolute worse but when he is greeted by his offspring, he swallows back everything to be dote on you

Valentino calls you his silkworm because you’re a little caterpillar to him. He’s the moth, you’re his caterpillar and he’d pop you on his back and spread his wings for you if he had to. He enjoys your reaction of surprise and awe at his rather beautiful moth wings. He can understand where it comes from, it’s incredible. Isn’t it? He likes it when you’re proud of him or in awe of him

Valentino is aware of your deafness. You’ve been deaf since he had you… back in human life. Believe it or not, but he did and he actually cared to get you hearing aids but after you two died, he lost a hold of hearing aids and he has literally no other methods to help you

Valentino also much prefers you like the Vees themselves and the effort proves worth it since you end up viewing his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox as a stepfather and Velvette, their close friend, as a surrogate big sister. Valentino finds your point of views on his fellow rulers rather adorable and will playfully tease you about them

Valentino is learning sign language, since now of this time, sign language has been fully developed but he is struggling and his temper makes him go from trying to giving up to trying again. He’ll get there eventually, all for you

Valentino doing aggressive sign language and failing a bit

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the-cheshire-cat-grin · 1 year

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#this is the most daring thing ive ever written #i really hope you guys like it #i really stepped out of my comfort zone with this #call of duty #könig

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gravedigg · 1 month

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I bit God's hand and now he wont even feed me

This ones inspired by a picture of Mary holding Jesus but, since Virgil grew up in foster care and never knew his mother, there's no one there. Just the hollow space where someone should be.

It speaks to his relationship (and subsequent disconnection) with his heritage and culture as the orphaned child of immigrants and his difficult relationship with religion, having grown up religious but feeling betrayed and abandoned by god after his injury.

I wanted it to look like an old post card, it says return to sender but unfortunately they didn't leave a return address. It's probably just gonna sit at the post office until they throw it away. :-(

#i figured out how to use more than one brush and now im unstoppable actually #i usually dont feel the need to explain shit but i put a lot of thought into this one #and i know a lot of the virgil lore only lives inside of my head #ive been really enjoying challenging myself and stepping out of my comfort zone lately #virgil acheron #modern au #bg3 #durge #dark urge #ocs #oc art #my art #i did this all by hand btw i made the lil stamp and everything :-)#ok thats all thx ily #sorry i only care about my oc #my brains bad

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slightlyunconventional · 2 months

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long overdue second dbhwks fic (2.8k)

SLAVED AWAY at this for days (i didnt. i could have done it in one but i procrastinated so much it’s unbelievable. but heres some food) quite happy w how it came out too if i do say so myself,, hope u enjoy!! 🫶

“Sorry I’m late.” Dabi. He’s picked the damn lock again.

“Oh my god, do you seriously not know how to knock?” Hawks calls back, practically skipping into the living room.

“Don’t wanna stand around outside your door like a creep, thanks,” deadpans the villain. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“You look like more of a creep picking the lock, but sure. Come here.”

He takes Dabi by the hand and leads him toward the couch. His fingers are warm, like usual. God, has Hawks missed that. Between hero work, villainy, and conflicting schedules they’d barely had time to see each other and, man, was it miserable. It takes everything in him not to bowl Dabi over with an absolutely suffocating embrace - it’d probably kill the man.

Dabi raises his eyebrows. “You cleaned?”

Hawks had expected Dabi to notice, but not point it out, so he’s a little caught off guard by the halfway-question. “Oh, yeah,” he says, a fraction sheepishly, “Is it too much?”

“Mm, no, looks good,” Dabi smirks, “Makes a nice change from all the crap you’ve usually got lying around.” Hawks hits him playfully and he laughs, clear and smooth, not at all like the peals brimming with malice he’d usually hear from Dabi.

“Uuugh, I hate you, leave me alone,” he complains. When Dabi’s eyebrows raise again, Hawks pulls a face and adds, “I’m a busy man! I don’t have time to clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m flattered.”

He sits Dabi down on the couch, maybe a little too eagerly, and comes down to straddle the taller man’s lap.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Dabi’s with an urgency that only comes from being deprived of seeing one’s lover for far too long. Dabi loosens underneath Hawks and they quickly fall into a long practised pattern, all pretences dropped for this moment of touch-starved tenderness. Nothing exists outside of this room, everything is so warm, and Hawks melts even more when he feels Dabi smile against his lips.

“Seems like someone missed me,” murmurs the villain, voice sleek and low. The response is simply a hand laced through the dyed-black hair at the back of Dabi’s head, taking hold of him and pulling him closer with nothing short of absolute need. In turn, Dabi’s hands find the small of Hawks’ back, and heat begins to pool in his stomach as they slowly threaten to sneak closer to the bases of his wings. And his lips are warm, so warm, and he always seems to know exactly what to do with them to make Hawks collapse like putty in his hands. For a crazed villain who incinerates shit for fun, Dabi’s a fucking good kisser.

…And a tease, apparently! Hawks knows that Dabi knows how badly he wants this, and how long he’s been waiting - yet he still seems to be taking his sweet time. He can feel the villain absently tracing circles into his back, with the same pace as his mouth is working against Hawks’. The little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing; well, two can play at that game. Hawks takes it as a challenge, takes Dabi’s scarred face between his hands, and takes control. He presses closer, kissing the man with some previously unseen vigour, practically forcing him to match the increased pace. A little wave of triumph passes through Hawks as he hears Dabi’s breath catch in the back of his throat, nearly silent, but they’re close enough that nothing can really go unheard. Feeling like he’s succeeded, Hawks goes to indulge further, perhaps elicit some more reactions like that, when he feels Dabi’s hand leave his back. Before he can register it properly, the hand is upon his chest, pushing with some insistence. Hawks pulls away, panicked.

“Oh, shit, fuck, sorry, was that too much?”

The arm Dabi has outstretched towards Hawks’ chest slackens slightly, as do his facial features. He doesn’t reply, but rather his lips part and his eyes glaze over, forming an expression so laced with vulnerability that Hawks is almost taken aback - though, he can’t dwell on the display for long, as he’s quickly instead watching Dabi bring his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, up to his own face and press it most firmly to the underside of his nose. His chest rises once with an inhale not unlike before, only this time a little louder and deeper, and he ducks forward slightly with two slightly-awkwardly stifled sneezes.

“hhahh-! ..hh’nGXT! kxNTsh! Ugh, fuck.”

“Oh!” Hawks says, a little surprised, “Bless you.” A part of him wants to chide the villain for holding it in like that, but he refrains, knowing full well he himself would stifle exactly the same.

Dabi hums in lieu of a thanks, and Hawks returns his hand to his boyfriend’s face and leans back in.

“Can I go back to kissing you now?” he murmurs.

Dabi rolls his eyes but drapes his arms lazily over Hawks’ shoulders, an invitation, yes, you can go back to kissing me now. Their lips interlock once again, picking up where they left off, with Hawks feeling absolutely on top of the world from the fact that he’s doing the work here, he’s the one kissing Dabi, not the other way around. He’s never been opposed to Dabi taking control, in fact he loves being ravaged by the man, but sue him, sometimes it feels good to be the one doing the ravaging. However, his elation at this seems to be poorly concealed, or perhaps Dabi just wants to knock him down a peg, because Hawks feels teeth closing on his bottom lip. Not so hard that it hurts, but just enough to tease an audible gasp from him as he tenses up on Dabi’s lap. He’s fairly certain he’s never needed someone all over him so badly until this point. Clearly it shows, too, since Dabi insists on being such a menace and playing the long game with him. Well, Hawks decides that’s not going to fly; he presses in closer, almost entirely closing the gap between them and slides his other hand behind Dabi’s head, not-so-subtly tugging him closer and kissing him harder, once more regaining the upper hand. He takes to gently thumbing back and forth against the base of Dabi’s neck, to which the man lets out, involuntarily, a little noise of satisfaction, finally accepting submission. Hawks is almost tempted to bite Dabi back, but maybe that’d be pushing his luck. Besides, this side of Dabi - soft, pliant, accepting - is one he rarely sees, and he’s kind of into it. It’s a good look on the villain.

Before long, however, their rhythm is broken once again. One of the arms laying around Hawks’ neck begins to move, and the hand meets his shoulder. Hawks has a sneaking feeling he knows what’s coming (for the second time), as Dabi’s hand pushes against his shoulder - slowly, though, as if he’s really trying to prolong the inevitable. It really doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away, so Hawks does it for him, gently separates their faces, strangely endeared by Dabi’s reluctance - and it seems he did so at exactly the right moment. Being so close to him, Hawks can easily see the way his face immediately crumples, eyes flickering shut and lips parting with an inhale that sounded as though it had been waiting to be drawn for… a while. In a split second, he’s tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand with some urgency, and Hawks catches the flare of his nostrils right before he pinches his nose, clamping the thick black fabric over the bottom half of his face. There’s hardly six inches between the two of them, so Dabi twists awkwardly to the side with a set of cruelly stifled sneezes.

“hh’GKTtch! ‘KXXSHh! Ugh, god– h-hahH’KGXt’sh!”

They sound harsher this time around, harder to stifle, probably.

“Bless,” says Hawks, “You okay?”

“Mm… yeah, just something really… stings,” Dabi replies. He’s knuckling the side of his nose with some force.

“You’re, uh, not getting sick are you?” Hawks asks, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness that seeps into his tone. As much as he loves the man, he’s got some long days on patrol coming up soon, and a cold from Dabi would severely compromise him.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Kei.”

“Right-! Yeah, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t really think there.” Hawks grimaces internally at himself, and Dabi shakes his head.

“Ugh, Jesus, hold on–” He turns away again, breath wavering, “hehh’nGXKt!” A shaky exhale escapes from him as he releases his nose.

“So, what’s got you all worked up, then?” asks Hawks, teasing.

Dabi half-sighs, half-groans, and replies, “Don’t know, but I wish it would fucking stop.” As if for emphasis, the sentence is punctuated with an irritated-sounding sniffle.

“Well, it probably would if you stopped stifling like that,” Hawks says pointedly. That earns him a hazy blue-eyed glare… that doesn’t last long, since Dabi’s squinting again, and his mouth curls up into the beginnings of something akin to a snarl. Hawks smirks as he ducks into the crook of his sweater-clad elbow to muffle yet another sneeze.

“hehH’DSHHh’uh! What the fuck?”

At least he didn’t stifle it.

Hawks hums. “Bless you.” He sends a feather to retrieve a box of tissues, then decides the villain probably also needs some space, so he manoeuvres himself gracelessly off Dabi’s lap to sit beside him on the couch.

“Very elegant,” Dabi remarks.

“Ugh, shut up,” he replies, elbowing Dabi in the ribs. The laugh this elicits almost straight away rises into a staggered gasp, that itself turns into a pair of hastily covered sneezes.

“hhahH’KXXTshuh! hh’huuhh’DZSHHhue!”

“Jeez, bless you.”

Dabi sniffles thickly. “Yeah.”

Hawks’ feather zips back into the room and drops a box of tissues into Dabi’s lap - the thicker, softer ones that the hero always insists on buying despite them being double the price of regular ones.

“Sounds like they’re getting stronger,” Hawks observes, a note of concern in his tone, but then adds, more teasingly, “Not allergic to me, are you?”

Dabi scoffs and tugs a couple of tissues from the box. “I wish,” he says, scrubbing at his nose. “Then I’d actually have an excuse to avoid your annoying ass.”

“Wow, okay, that was so uncalled for. Just say you hate me at that point.”

It’s Dabi’s turn to elbow Hawks back. He probably deserves it.

“Ow, bitch,” he says in mock offence.

“You’re the bitch,” comes the reply, from behind a handful of tissues (which are then promptly screwed up and tossed, flying in a neat arc, straight into the trash on the other side of the room).

“Whatever, bitch. Are you done sneezing yet? This couch isn’t as comfy as your thighs-”

“Ugh, shut up, you are so weird,” Dabi interjects in fond disgust.

“Oh my god, what if you’re allergic to my apartment being clean? Then I never have to clean ever again, hah!”

Dabi gives him a look. “You say that as a joke, but honestly, you migh-might be right…hh.. hehH’KXNTtsh’uh!”

Dabi’s expression falls midway through his sentence, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he gives into another sneeze, hastily half-stifled against the back of his hand.

“Seriously,” Hawks deadpans, eyebrows raised. That’s new, he thinks.

“Well, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a pet cat - which I doubt - then yeah, seriously,” says the villain flatly, though with a note of congestion starting to creep into his voice. “Last I checked, your place didn’t reek of fuckin’ –all of spring and then some.”

Hawks suddenly remembers the air freshener he’d used–the only one he had, some floral one found right at the back of a cupboard, unused for entirely too long. He hadn’t had a clue what clean apartments were supposed to smell of, so he’d sort of just… went ham with it. Definitely a mistake.

“Don’t slander my choice in scents,” he teases, “Are you sure it’s… that?”

“Nothing else changed ‘round here, has it?” Dabi pauses to give his nose a brief rub. “I’m here practically every week and I’ve been fine, so, you tell me.”

Hawks will never not poke the bear when he’s got the opportunity, so he says, “So this does mean I never have to clean the place ever again, right?”

Dabi’s mouth falls open as he feigns offence. He says, dramatically, “Wow. That’s all you have to say? When I could literally die right now in front of you? I’m.. hah- I’m-”

Hawks snickers. “Bless you,” he sing-songs prematurely, utterly pleased with himself. It’s almost cute, the attempted glare Dabi gives him through his glazed over expression. Nobody can look menacing in the slightest when they’re trying not to sneeze (and that’s a fact!).

“Sh-shut uhhhp..” replies Dabi, his voice quavering. He lifts a hand slowly, bringing it to hover weakly before his face. His breathing is unsteady and his eyes half-lidded, and the crease between his dark brows deepens.

“Okay, point proven, idiot,” Hawks says with a laugh, “Just sneeze, this is torture even for me.”

The hazy glare returns, and Hawks clocks it.

“Oh!” he laughs, giving Dabi a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh my god, I jinxed it. You deserve that ‘cause you’re mean to me.”

“I hahh-hate you-” Dabi responds breathily. He rubs at the side of his nose with two knuckles, pressing decently harder than is probably necessary. The bridge crinkles in irritation when the rubbing clearly has no effect. “Jesus, it won’t go away.”

“Mm, what a shame.”

There goes a third bleary glare from the villain. “I’d like to remind you wh-whose fault thhihhs.. was in the first place,” he says. Any malice intended to be behind his utterance is immediately negated by his breath catching and wavering through the words. Though, at a point, Hawks begins to feel a little… voyeuristic just watching Dabi struggle. Sure, he’s his boyfriend and all, and yeah, he’s definitely seen worse, but it’s easy to tell Dabi’s getting a little self-conscious about this… spectacle. He’s never been a fan of having things out of his control, especially not displays of vulnerability like this, and Hawks knows this, so why prolong it?

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it,” he says, taking matters into his own hands.

“Fuck off- what–” Dabi gets out, as Hawks takes his face between his hands and begins to press kisses softly down the bridge of his nose. Hawks doesn’t let him twist away from it, trying not to laugh to himself about how dumb this probably looks. At least one of them is having fun. He considers pulling away with a “Gonna sneeze yet?”, but refrains - he’d probably end up on fire. He does, however, pause for a moment when he reaches Dabi’s trio of silver nose studs, hovering. There’ve been feathery, wavering breaths coming from his boyfriend consistently but, nothing has come to fruition, so Hawks decides–those piercings have always been sensitive, a fact he’d discovered about Dabi rather early on (and maybe, possibly sometimes used to be a menace). He plants a final, delicate kiss right upon where the three studs lie, and finally lets Dabi pull away.

“Oh, oh, fuck– s-screw you–hh’ehH’IIDTSSHh’uh! ‘kXXTS’SHhue! …Christ, you’re such an ass.” The pair of sneezes that result are harsh to say the very least. And even after all that, he still tries stifling the second– unsurprising, but at that point is it even worth it?

“Sorry! I had to!” Hawks says, really trying to look like he isn’t laughing. It doesn’t work.

“You absolutely did not have to,” corrects Dabi.

“Okaaay, okay, sorry. It was funny though.”

“Yeah, for you, maybe,” Dabi mutters, shaking his head, “Oh, fuck’s sake, hold on–”

“I’ll wait till you’re done to say bless you, this time,” says Hawks with a fond snicker.

“Good plah-an–! hhuh’hHDSHH’SHuh! …Ugh, fuck.”

“Bless,” Hawks replies. He averts his eyes, a little sheepishly. Dabi pulls a face.

He asks, “What the fuck’s with the guilty face?” to which Hawks throws his head back with a groan and slides his hands across his face.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he says, “You know, clean the place up a bit. Since it’s always kind of a massive mess.”

“Jesus, Kei, I don’t care about that,” says Dabi, breathing a laugh. “It’s you I’m here for, not your fuckin’ apartment. I can kiss you whether or not there’s crap on every surface.”

Hawks isn’t used to Dabi outright saying nice things, so his cheeks flush slightly hearing this. He’s unsure what to say. Thankfully, Dabi speaks again.

“Okay. Where didn’t you spray that shit?”

Hawks scoffs. “I sort of went crazy with it, uh… my bedroom? If that works?”

“Very forward,” Dabi replies, raising his eyebrows. “Almost like you wanted me in there.”

Hawks jabs him in the ribs but still smirks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

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vykodlak · 3 months

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The funniest thing about taking risks in art is that there is basically no penalty for you if it goes wrong besides a bruised ego. I will wrestle my shit brain into submission and take more risks this year

#the times when i was the most succesful in ny art journey not in terms of technical skill but in #stepping out of my comfort zone and progressing in my education was when I was a kid and couldn’t really conceptualize any #kind of consequence for fucking up #These days I’m in a competition with myself and my lofty expectations #theres some wips I wanna finish that i abandoned because of insecurities a few years back #text

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rhapsoddity · 1 year

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PIRATE HOURS YALL

#i dont really draw xisuma anymore #i wanted to step out of my comfort zone and draw ppl i dont often AND THEY TURNED OUT SO GOOD #cleo is my fav lOOK AT THEM SNAKES #:D #zombiecleo #zombiecleo fanart #xisumavoid #x #Joey graceffa #pirate joe #empires fanart #empires smp #hermitcraft #hermitblr #empiresblr

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naurielrochnur · 6 months

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Wtf I am actually posting my art, even though I'm very self conscious about it? And I'm drawing people? (ew). What has rote done to me?(/derogatory(/affectionate))

Anyway, here's one of my favorite scenes, from Assassin's Quest, where Fitz, the Fool, and Nighteyes have a spontaneous water fight in a creek. I added a frog because who doesn't love frogs?

This scene just holds so much joy in a series that is markedly dark and grim. The relationship that we see on page of the Fool and Fitz is forged by suffering and hardship, but I find so much joy in thinking of all the ways that happy, goofy moments like this could also shape that relationship.

I just think our kids should be allowed to get a little bit silly. Is that really too much to ask?

#Posting art #aka the mortifying ordeal of being perceived #Rote will really change your brain chemistry #(Im making art for a ZINE?!?! Like some kind of fanatic?#My therapist would be so proud of me for stepping out of my comfort zone #This one's for you Jennifer #rote #I am full psycho #my jaw is unhinged #fitzchivalry farseer #the fool #nighteyes #Assassin's Quest #Rote #rote fanart

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meganechan05 · 6 months

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I think the most interesting thing about this scene is simply how Rita is the one to take the first step in cheering everyone up after Gira's speech didn't exactly hit like he wanted to.

Rita's impartiality doesn't really let them interact with civilians much unless it's to protect them or for their work as a judge. Their only interactions with children is mostly for work but never in a way to comfort them like they did on Earth. Perhaps being in a world where their title as King means nothing allowed them to step into that kind of role.

But also note that it could be reflection of their own circumstances as a child and was given the opportunity to comfort kids when they didn't have such privilege after God's Wrath and supposedly losing Karras and imprisoning Shiron. Himeno would have jumped to the opportunity if she wasn't busy helping treat the wounded and Gira seemed to have paused to assess how he could change his way of cheering up everyone since his Tyrant King shtick didn't seem to work.

I think it's rather cute and comforting to know that Rita was able to jump on the opportunity even if it's the only thing they could do at the moment.

#and honestly their specialty in law and impartiality wouldn’t really help anyone in the Resistance #the next best thing is to tackle their softer side #(i do have a draft of this kind of situation from the early episodes but my hc of them being bad with kids grew from later episodes)#but knowing they can open up to step out of their comfort zone for the sake of children in a horrible situation will make me cry 🥲🥲#kingohger #king ohger #ohsama sentai kingohger #rita kaniska #rita kanisuka #kingohger spoilers #kingoh spoilers

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lumikore · 10 months

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colour palette experiment! fun! had a great time!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 fanart #medic tf2 #stepping out of my comfort zone for once!#not really cause i am still drawing medic haha

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vanana-r0tat3 · 1 year

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If ur still doing the batim character design suggestions can I suggest Norman/the projectionist? 👀👉👈 he’s criminally underrated in my opinion I love him a normal amount

YESSS HES MY BELOVED im so upset about batdr i miss him so much im going to kiss him on the mouth

also yes i am still doing suggestions !!

QUICK EDIT BC I FORGOR i was inspired by corruptimles’ sillyvision au design for him !!

#really stepped out of my comfort zone for this one #ive never drawn locs before HDFHJD #i also love him a normal amount #my art #batim #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #the projectionist #norman polk #batim designs

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theperplexednavigator · 9 months

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He's a silly guy! He gets to exist on my sketchbook.

#really i had no idea how this would turn out i'm pleasantly surprised #also a flash of fear went through me as i remembered who has an account over here but you know what time to step out of my comfort zone #navifitz art #watcher #puppet history #the professor #watcher the professor #puppet history the professor #puppet history professor #fanart #traditional art #artists on tumblr #also hats are the bane of my existence #i never leave the house without one but i sure can't draw them!#watcher fanart #watcher fandom #puppet history fanart #puppetry

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lowcallyfruity · 5 months

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I know they don’t reference events in the main story, and I also don’t know much about Book 7 since I’m on the EN server, but I just think it would be really nice if there was a parallel in the main story to Idias vignette.

Maybe at some point, Idia can try to motivate Silver, like idk give him a little pep talk. In his own Idia way- so like super awkward 😭

idk I just want them to have a sweet genuine moment- like how Silver gave Idia a mini pep talk/motivational speech in the glomas vignette-

I want Idia to do that too-

maybe trying to reassure silver.

And silver recognizing that he’s trying his best, and actually being genuine and Silver appreciating it.

I just think it will be sweet 😭😭

It doesn’t even have to mention glomas- 😭 idk I just GRAHHHH

#tbh I want more Idia and Silver interactions #PLEASE BOOK 7 PLEASEEEEE #also I think it would show how Idia is growing and kinda stepping out of his comfort zone.#AND IT WOULD ALSO BE SWEET AND WHOLESOME 😭😭😭 AND KINDA SILLY TOO #sometimes I’m just blabbering 💔#what is bro even saying 💔#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #idia shroud #silver twst #twst silver #twst idia #silver x idia #idiasil…my beloved…#<- if you squint really hard it’s Idiasil #💛!me talking💀

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darabeatha · 1 month

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/ My goal for this year is to draw more handsome anime men and most importantly, FINISH THEM👹

#;ooc #ooc #OUGH OGUGHGHGHHGH #so long story short; i'll be applying to sell merch at my first convention #and im trying to find drawings that arent chibi or simplified- AND ITS ALL WIPS ARGRHGRHGRGRGHHGHHHHH #MY REPUTATION OF WANTING TO DRAW HANDSOME MEN BITING ME BACK #ALL WIPS; TERRIBLEEEEE IM IN SHAMBLES #i literally only have like; two finished drawings; and it doesnt showcase a consistent style AT ALL #ONE DAY HANDSOME MEN DRAWINGS.... ONE DAY-#its the perfectionism that prevents me from finishing a single piece #my c.amazotz or a.esop would have been bomb to showcase but- NOT FINISHED #and i dont really have time to finish a whole serious drawing; like at this point im sending stuff to get pri n t e d #and then i see my older drawings and i cringe so i cant add them im imim im im #LIKE NOOO A.RJU I CAN DO BETTER FOR YOU MY KING #art is so much man like; balancing getting a 'style' while learning fundamentals is sooo much #its like overwhelming frfr #E N O U G H. after this i HAVE to step out of my comfort zone even more even if i end up cringing at the results #and most importantly; learning to let go of drawings; otherwise i get too overwhelmed with the perfectionism

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cherryhrat · 10 months

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hoooooooolllly shit holy shit holy shit I think this is my best drawing ever

Im trying to be more bold with colors and shading and I think It came out so well Im so fucking happy

#Naruto #madara uchiha #like im about to cry im so proud of this #I really stepped out of my comfort zone and it went so well im so happy #my art

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remapped-soul · 1 year

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solar power

when marc can't take care of himself, valentino steps in.

a valentino rossi/marc marquez fic for beloved @carlosheinz <3 self care is hard but we're not alone and i hope you know that <3

read on ao3

(for tw check the tags)

Valentino can’t stand Marc.

It’s a constant feeling nestled between his third and fourth rib, but the intensity varies. On a good day, Valentino simply ignores Marc. On a bad day, Valentino wants to get his hands around his neck and squeeze until the tendons crack under his knuckles. He got a taste of it in 2014. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. What would have happened if there were no cameras around them?

Marc’s bad luck starts in 2020 and it doesn’t stop. A bad day for Marc means a bad day for Valentino. A bad year for Marc translates into a bad year for Valentino. It’s worse than 2015, more difficult to swallow than 2018. Valentino wants to scream until he runs out of breath and chokes to death.

2022 is the worst of it all. Marc moves to Madrid to speed up his recovery, and it leaves Valentino baffled and a little irritated. The big city won’t be able to replace the things he gets for granted in the countryside: the quiet, the nature, the clean air.

Marc moves to Madrid and Valentino follows against his better judgment. Madrid is fucking insane, but so is driving 20 hours from Tavullia. At least, when Marc doesn’t answer his phone, he is a 20-minute drive away from Valentino’s place in town, close enough to reach before Valentino’s desire to strangle him subsides.

Valentino can’t stand Marc when Marc doesn’t answer his phone. Sometimes Alex picks up when he’s around, saying that his brother is sleeping, eating, exercising. Marc is busy and he can’t come to the phone. Those are the days Valentino drops the car keys back into the glass bowl and gets back to his life. But Alex is not always with Marc, so Valentino gets in his car, he drives with fingers gripping the steering wheel until he parks a little crooked in front of Marc’s house.

When Marc doesn’t answer his phone it means he didn’t get out of bed in the morning, so Valentino has to do it for him. He is annoying like that. Valentino knows where the spare key is, hidden under a fancy pot with fancy hydrangeas around the corner. Of all the windows the house has, there is only one door. Valentino grabs the key and unlocks the door, lets himself inside.

“Sono a casa,” he yells to the empty hallway, the empty living room and the empty kitchen.

The air smells like dust and engine oil, things thrown hazardously around. Valentino stands in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the big couch and the big table, and looks around with his hands on his hips. He’s listening. The house is quiet.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath. He gets to work. He opens the windows, lets the fresh air in. He gathers the clothes and redbull caps and puts them in one place, fluffs the pillows and loads the dishwasher with dirty plates and cups of coffee. Il dottore turned housemaid. If this is what retirement is about, he doesn’t want it.

When the place looks less like a dumpster and more like a place designed for humans, Valentino sends a prayer to whoever is listening and goes looking for Marc in his bedroom. He opens the door, steps inside. It’s dark, claustrophobic. This time, Valentino doesn’t pull the curtains apart, doesn’t open the windows. He makes his way to the bed, where the blankets sit still, a bump in the middle the only indication there is a person underneath it all. Valentino sighs.

“Sun will do you good, moccioso viziato.”

Marc’s head pops up, unruly curls and unruly smile. “Vale?” His voice sounds hoarse. It hurts Valentino’s brain just hearing it.

“Shhh,” he says as he climbs in bed, slipping under the blankets. Marc is on his good side, his injured arm placed carefully on top. Valentino settles behind him, head tucked into Marc’s shoulder, arm around Marc’s waist.

“Sono qui,” he says before he presses a kiss to Marc’s neck. Marc melts in the embrace, breath stuttering out of him in a hiccup.

“Vale.”

They will stay like this for a while. Then, Valentino will pull Marc out of bed. He will clean this room too, and take a walk with Marc in the garden, force him to a light run because only his arm is broken, not his fucking legs. Valentino will help Marc stretch his muscles, wash his hair, and at the end of the day he will ask for a hefty compensation because he is Il dottore, not a fucking maid.

Valentino hates speaking Spanish and he hates Spanish food, but when Marc refuses to eat, Valentino cooks for him. He speaks in stilted phrases to the women at the market, Tias and Tios that have no idea who he is because this country worships a different kind of God. He learns how to cook escudella and callos a la madrileña because Marc is a spoiled brat and doesn’t want to eat unless it’s his grandmother’s recipe. One phone conversation with Juliá about Marc’s favourite dishes is one conversation too many. But he makes the call anyway and he listens to Juliá’s guidance over the speaker phone as the stew bubbles on the stove. The house smells like meat and vegetables for a long time after, rich and savory that it almost makes Valentino’s mouth water. He’d eat a bowl if it wasn’t for the soft texture of the carrots he despises so much. Marc stops being annoying for a second, he eats two bowls of escudella sitting with his legs crossed on the wooden floor, Valentino next to him munching on a piece of bread. When he’s finished, his smile kicks up a notch before he lunges for Valentino and presses his sticky mouth to Valentino’s cheeks and neck and mouth, wherever he finds skin. His giggles rattle Valentino’s ribcage where they are pressed together.

“See if I ever cook for you, brat,” Valentino tells him when Marc runs out of steam, slumping against his chest on the couch.

“You will,” Marc smiles at him, chin resting on his hands, feet kicking up in the air. Marc is tolerable when his arm behaves and he forgets about the pain for a while. Valentino doesn’t want to break too many things if Marc offers him his smile constantly.

Valentino gets his hands into those curls, tugs at the roots until Marc’s eyelashes flutter. He doesn’t say anything, because they both know Valentino will break his promise the next time Marc refuses to eat. He will cook for Marc again. It doesn’t matter if he hates the process when he loves the result.

Marc is the most infuriating when he can’t stop talking. Valentino doesn’t think Marc is aware of it. It happens when he least expects it, when they’re doing the most mundane shit.

They’re running around the track in Tavullia, and between one ragged breath and another, Marc says. “Maybe if I trained harder, maybe if I worked harder, I’d get better. I’m not doing enough. It’s never enough.” It’s random and unexpected and it distracts Valentino so that he almost trips over his legs and face plants the ground.

It happens when they’re cooking when Valentino is making fresh pesto and Marc is dicing the zucchini. It goes well until Marc tries to dice his fingers too. He nips the tip of his index with the sharp blade, starts swearing up and down, “You can’t do anything right. Idiota.” Valentino almost sticks his own hand in the boiling pasta water because self-inflicted pain is easier to bear than whatever shit Marquez is saying. He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs the first-aid kit and tends to Marc’s tiny wound.

By now, Valentino learned to expect this kind of talk from Marc, but he has yet to learn how to deal with it. He either gapes like a fish as Marc smiles through his horrid words or Valentino leaves the room, fuming, because he can’t yell at a person who thinks they deserve to be yelled at. The crash in Jerez must have damaged more than Marc’s bones. There are enough doctors around Marc to take care of his injuries for him, but who’s taking care of the nasty voices inside his mind? Valentino doesn’t think he is equipped enough for it, not when he can barely stop himself from pressing his fingernail to Marc’s wound in an attempt to make him realise that maybe his way of dealing with the recovery process is not the best one.

“It’s just a scratch, Marc, not the end of the world.”

Marc shrugs, not lifting his eyes from the chopped zucchini. “Then what do you call Jerez 2020?”

Valentino raises an eyebrow at him. “An accident,” he says in English. “Un accidente. Un incidente. If they invented another word for it, I don’t know it. ”

“Only idiots make accidents.”

“Would you tell that to Jorge?”

Marc inhales sharply at that. Fabio would probably knock him over at the next race if Marc called Jorge Martin an idiot.

Valentino smiles. “That’s what I thought.”

Marc frowns. “Te odio.”

“No, you don’t.” And to drive his point home, Valentino grabs Marc’s hands and bites his knuckles until Marc’s face smooths into a laugh and he forgets how the word idiota sounds in his mouth. If Valentino still hears the echoes of that words weeks after, it’s his problem to deal with.

Everything comes to a halt when they are doing laundry and Marc looks at a pair of pants and says, “Maybe I shouldn’t be left out on the track if I keep crashing like this.”

Valentino sees red. He tries to understand most of the time, but his understanding has a limit too. Now all he wants is to scream at Marc to shut up, shut up, shut up. There must be something visible on his face because Marc takes a step back as Valentino turns toward him, hands held high in front of him as if Valentino will attack any minute.

“What?” Marc says, shoulders raised to the ears. “I haven’t seen you this angry since Sepang 2015.”

Valentino ignores him. He grabs Marc’s face in his hands and says, “Amore,” because Valentino never uses pet names unless he wants to distract Marc. It works well this time as well. Marc shuts up and blushes a pretty red, dropping his hands to rest in the crook of Valentino’s elbows. “I’m breaking up with you if you don’t win your ninth.” He says it in Spanish too to drive the point home.

Marc frowns, his brain registering the words. “In case you haven’t noticed—“

“Bodies heal, that’s what they do. Unless you’re dead, there is no reason for you to think otherwise.”

Marc’s frown deepens. “But—“

Valentino presses his lips against the wrinkle on his forehead, down at the corner of his eye, on the edge of his jaw. Marc shudders in his arms.

“You once told me you can be faster than me.”

“I am,” Marc says, eyes closed, breathing hard against Valentino.

“Faster than you, I mean.”

Valentino smiles. “Not sure I believe you.”

For the first time in months, Marc’s eyes twinkle with hunger. “I am. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Good.” Valentino kisses him hard. “You can start doing that, but after you’re done with the laundry. I’m not your maid.”

Marc does not finish the laundry. Neither does Valentino. The sunset catches them in bed, sheets draped all around them as Valentino presses his grievances into Marc’s golden skin until the room lights up with Marc’s giggles, with promises of being kinder to himself in the process of healing. Marc will probably forget come morning. He is infuriating. But Valentino knows where the spare key is and how to cook escudella and calçotada the way Marc likes them. If Marc forgets a thousand times, Valentino will remind him a thousand times.

After all, there is still a race to win.

#rosquez #valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez in the year of our lord 2k23 #moto gp rpf #luna.writes #my stories #tw mentions of injuries #tw food #radical self care #marc is really bad at self care and everything that comes with it #i altered the real life events so it fits my narrative #im a little nervous about it tbh. i think i stepped out my comfort zone a bit lol #thanks to lu and maina and mery for all the specific spanish/italian stuff

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