#<- not actually but it's my tag for others' art :)

[randomminty]

sparkle on

[jellyjamheadobb]

GUYS GUYS I DID AN ART FOR THE FIRST TIME

It went from me being stuck without internet/power for an hour to actually wanting to draw

This is prrrrrobably (?) my first time genuinely trying to draw, and frankly I feel very proud of it :)

almost twenty years old now but fuck it we learning today babes

I do want creative criticism though!! I actually kinda want to learn

[vee-isaweirdartist]

Click for better quality!

Thing for @reinafish bc I'm bored for ones, and for twos I remembered Jinx and said "Fuck yeah Dissimulo would be a great father/friend/"Why the fuck do I hang out with you?"" so have this :33

sorry I didn't quite get the eyes the paper kinda just tears down when I try to do details,,,

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (7)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 4.1k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: jealous jungkook, denial of feelings, communication gap

A/N: sometimes, I feel like, hesitation keeps us from saying the things we truly want to, and as a result, we let moments and opportunities slip away. it’s something that stays on my mind a lot. anyways, how's it going so far? lmk your thoughtsss muah <3

part 7: hyacinth exhaust

That night, after returning from the jazz club, you slip out of your dress, the smooth fabric pooling at your feet as if shedding the weight of the evening. You wipe away your makeup with slow, deliberate movements, your reflection staring back at you in the dim light of your bathroom mirror.

Yet, no matter how much you try to focus on the mundane actions, your mind keeps drifting back to him. To Jungkook, to the way his touch felt against your skin, and the way his dark eyes seemed to burn into yours in the intimacy of his shop.

Dressed now in your pajamas, you sink into the embrace of your bed. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the night, but your mind is anything but still. You stare at the ceiling, trying to quiet the flurry of emotions swirling inside you, but one thought refuses to let go... the way Jungkook had held you, the way his hands lingered on your waist as though letting go was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fingers graze your lips instinctively, and your breath catches in your throat. You imagine, for just a fleeting moment, what it would have felt like if you hadn’t been interrupted. If his lips had actually brushed yours. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making your knees feel weak even as you lie down.

You shut your eyes, the image of his face filling the darkness behind your lids. The raw intensity in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

A gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes snap open. You sit up abruptly, scolding yourself as if chastising a wayward child. “Ridiculous.” you mutter under your breath, scandalized by your own thoughts. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the lingering sensations, the dreamy warmth of his hands on your skin.

Yet, as you lay back down and pull the blanket over yourself, a new thought creeps in, uninvited and persistent. What was Jungkook thinking in that moment? Why had he pulled you close, and why hadn’t he said anything? You try to make sense of his actions, analyzing every fleeting expression on his face, every word he didn’t say. Was it an apology? A confession? Or something else entirely?

//

Jungkook sits alone in the quiet of his shop, the bruises on his face and hands dull compared to the fire still smoldering in his chest. He hasn't moved an inch since you left and frankly speaking he has no idea how long it has been.

He leans against the counter where you had stood earlier, where your hands had tended to his wounds with such care. His fingers trace the spot on his waist where your hands had steadied him, the memory of your touch imprinted on his skin.

He thinks of you in that red dress, the way it clung to your form, your hair cascading like silk down your shoulders, and the single piece of jewelry resting against your collarbones like a work of art. He’s never seen anything or anyone, so breathtaking. And the way you felt in his arms… it was intoxicating, consuming, and maddening all at once.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, disheveled from the night’s events. He doesn’t regret pulling you close, not for a second. But the look in your eyes when you’d stared at him, shocked and vulnerable, it sparked something inside of him. He closes his eyes and remembers the moment, the way your lips were so close to his, he could feel the faintest whisper of your breath.

If only…

But the sound of your phone had shattered the moment, and now he’s left replaying it over and over in his mind. He doesn’t feel the sting of his bruises, doesn’t care about the fight that landed him there, either. All he can think about is you... how you looked, how you smelled, how you felt.

And just like you, hours later, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Jungkook is left wondering what could have been. What should have been. And why, despite everything, he can’t seem to let you go.

//

The morning drifts by in a blur of floral arrangements and the subtle fragrance of fresh blooms, but no matter how hard you try to immerse yourself in the simple rhythm of your work, your mind keeps drifting.

Each time you catch a glimpse of the world outside through the front window, you feel a strange tug in your chest. The sight of Jungkook's motorcycle shop next door, with its metallic sheen and the rumble of engines echoing in the distance, brings a flush of thoughts you’re not quite ready to confront.

You can’t stop yourself from looking... just a quick glance, but it’s always too late when you realize how obvious you’re being.

Stop. Focus. You scold yourself. But the thoughts of last night and the way he held you still linger, buzzing in your mind like an unfinished sentence. Each moment in your shop, amidst the petals and greenery, feels like an attempt to outrun the emotions circling inside you.

You try to bury yourself deeper in your work, but it’s harder than you expected. The soft petals of roses, the scent of lilies, and the way the light dances through the leaves in your shop don’t bring the same comfort they used to. There’s a lingering, unanswered ache, a pull that keeps tugging at your thoughts. Is he thinking about it too? You can't help but wonder.

By noon, you’ve rearranged a dozen bouquets, but you’re still no closer to shaking the tension building in your chest. When you hear the chime of the doorbell, you expect a customer, but the moment you glance up, your breath catches in your throat. It’s him. Jungkook. Standing in your doorway.

Your heart flutters, and for a moment, the room feels too small, too charged with the weight of everything unspoken between you two. You can’t quite process what’s happening. Why is he here?

The lingering warmth of last night, the rawness, the tension, all of it floods your system in a wave that leaves you dizzy. You freeze, a thousand questions crowding your mind. Is this about last night? Is he here to talk about…

But then you catch his smirk. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there, and the knowing look in his eyes makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It’s as if he can read you better than you’ve ever wanted to be read. You stand there, frozen, staring at him as he walks in with that same casual confidence. The soft light of the afternoon highlights the bandage on his forehead, the slightly bruised knuckles, and the faint discoloration on his lips.

“The town fair… meeting.” he begins, his tone smooth and easy, as if there’s nothing strange about this moment. “Are you free at 8?”

Your jaw tightens, your hands gripping the counter for support as you process his words. That’s what he came for? A meeting? Your mind stumbles over itself, partly relieved and partly disappointed. Of course, your meetings had been neglected, and with the town fair fast approaching, it made sense to get back to planning. But after last night, this was the last thing you’d expected him to say.

His words hang in the air, and for a split second, your world goes quiet. That’s why he’s here? Not to explain himself, not to apologize, but to talk about the meeting? You can feel the weight of your disappointment settle heavily in your chest. It’s such an ordinary question, but it carries so much more.

You swallow hard, trying to clear the confusion swirling inside you. What did you expect? You almost laugh at yourself for being so wrapped up in the unknown. You’re both just here to do your job, right? Focus, just focus.

“Uh… yeah, I’m free at 8.” you answer, your voice more subdued than you’d like. You watch him closely, but his gaze never falters. He’s unreadable, and that only frustrates you more.

Jungkook notices the slight hesitation in your answer, the way your lips press together as if you’re holding something back. He watches the faint struggle in your expression and lets out a quiet chuckle, his amusement barely contained.

The sound sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. What’s so funny? you wonder, but his knowing look only flusters you more. Somehow, you sense he understands exactly what’s going through your mind but he says nothing about it, choosing instead to let the moment hang between you.

“Great.” he says simply, turning to leave as if this encounter hadn’t completely scrambled your nerves.

Once the door shuts behind him, you slump against the counter, a wave of frustration crashing over you. Your breath comes out in a heavy sigh, and you run your fingers through your hair, tugging at it in embarrassment. What was that? You curse yourself for getting caught up in the moment. For a split second, you thought...maybe… but now you feel foolish.

As Jungkook walks away from your shop, his mind buzzes with a mix of emotions he hasn’t quite been able to untangle. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, a heaviness that has nothing to do with the bruises on his face, but everything to do with the way you’ve been occupying his thoughts.

He feels guilty for not addressing what happened, for not saying the things that linger in his mind. He knows there’s something between the two of you... something unspoken, something electric. But for now, he can’t find the words, can’t find the courage to break the fragile silence that’s settled between you both.

Still, part of him can’t help but enjoy it. There’s something so raw, so honest, in the way you just reacted to him... shifting your gaze when he looks at you, the nervousness in the way you bite your lip.

It’s a vulnerability he finds both terrifying and beautiful. What is this feeling? He doesn’t know, but it’s addictive, this pull between you. And as much as he wants to reach out, as much as he wants to close the distance, he knows it’s not the right time. Not yet.

//

By the time the clock ticks to 7:50 pm, Jungkook’s thoughts shift from everything unsaid to the meeting ahead. The town fair is only days away, and while he’s been consumed by the tension between the two of you, there’s work to do. He’s been postponing it, letting the quiet between you both weigh on his mind, but now, there’s no avoiding it.

When he walks into the community center, the space between you both feels different... less heavy with anger and resentment, but still thick with something else. His heart skips a beat as his eyes land on you. There’s a shyness in the way you hold yourself, a carefulness in every movement, and it’s so achingly tender that it almost takes his breath away.

The way you glance up at him, then quickly look away, the subtle tension in your posture... it all makes his chest tighten with something he can’t quite name. You’re trying so hard to keep it together, to keep everything professional, but Jungkook sees it.

He sees the war in your eyes, the confusion, the desire, and it makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn't expect.

He can’t help but smile a little, though he tries to hide it. You’re adorable when you’re flustered, and it’s hard to not let himself be lost in the softness of you.

On your side, you’re fighting a losing battle. It’s impossible to focus on the work in front of you when your mind keeps drifting to him. The way his voice resonates in the room, the way his eyes linger just a moment too long on your face. You can’t help but notice how his lips look, even with the slight bruise due to his injury.

And it drives you insane. The way his lips move when he speaks. Stop. You mentally scold yourself, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about how they would feel against yours, the warmth of his breath, the ache you feel deep in your chest every time you’re near him. It’s maddening.

And yet, it’s the unspoken distance that hurts the most. He’s not acknowledging last night. Not a word. He’s acting like everything is fine between you two, but inside, you’re anything but fine.

You’re on the edge, torn between the need to confront him, to ask him what happened, and the urge to keep everything locked away. So, you do what you’ve always done... you keep things professional, distant, focusing only on the task at hand.

But it doesn’t help. Every word he speaks pulls your attention to him like gravity, every movement a reminder of how close you both are, and yet so far. And you hate that he’s not addressing it, hate that he’s pretending like the elephant in the room isn’t there.

But you can’t bring it up either. If this is how he wants to play it, so be it. You think, frustrated. You’ll ignore it, too. You’ll focus on work instead.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is struggling in his own way too. He can feel the tension in the air, the awkwardness that hangs between you two like a storm cloud. It gnaws at him, but he doesn’t know how to fix it... at least not yet.

He’s been holding onto this weight, this feeling, for so long, and he’s terrified to say the wrong thing, to ruin the fragile connection you’ve started to rebuild. He needs to talk to you, to apologize, to explain himself.

But he’s not ready. The town fair is close, and once it’s over, once everything is settled, he thinks he can finally confront this feeling, this undying need to bridge the gap between you two. Until then, he’ll hold on. He’ll wait.

//

The days leading up to the town fair are filled with a vibrant buzz, with only two days left until the big event. The streets are alive with the sounds of hammering, excited chatter, and the constant hum of preparations. Jungkook and his gang have been hard at work, constructing the main stage in the town square, and it’s coming together beautifully.

It’s a large, sturdy wooden structure designed to host performances and speeches, with twinkling fairy lights already strung along its edges, waiting for the evening to transform it into something magical.

Jungkook’s hands, calloused from hours of hard work, move with a quiet determination, and the pride in his eyes reflects his goal of making everything perfect for this fair.

Your friends, Namjoon and Taehyung, are overseeing the game stands while Seokjin negotiates with the food stall owners to ensure everything is in place. At a distance, you spot Juwon, playfully practicing a dance piece with the little kids in the empty garage outside Mr. Jung's house.

There’s an infectious energy in the air, a sense of community that has everyone working side by side, each person contributing to the fair’s success in their own way.

You, too, have been working nonstop the past few days, carefully selecting flowers and arranging them. Now it’s time to bring everything together. The town square is alive with energy as vendors set up their booths and entertainers prepare their acts.

The fair is always a highlight of the year, but this time, there’s something in the air... a subtle, unspoken anticipation that makes the preparations feel even more special.

Your eyes scan the scene in front of you, ensuring everything is coming together as planned. Near the entrance of the square, a set of elegant floral arches stands tall, each arch overflowing with roses, lilies, and orchids, their sweet fragrance drifting in the warm air. The sight of them fills you with a quiet satisfaction.

You direct Mr. Han’s sons, Jisung and Seojun, to hang a delicate garland of jasmine and wisteria near the stage. You want the flowers to cascade down like a waterfall, both subtle and bold, infusing the space with color and life.

It’s no small task, but you trust the teenage boys since they’re quite attentive and skilled, always listening to you with care. You watch as they arrange the blooms, your heart swelling with pride as the town transforms into a stunning display of nature’s beauty.

The sun is high in the sky, and it's Sunday, your usual day off. With your shop closed for the day, you can fully focus on the fair. The past few days have been a blur of activity, leaving little room for anything else. Your mind has been consumed with the endless tasks at hand, pushing aside the thoughts that seem to surface only when you're still.

The strange tension between you and Jungkook has lingered in the background, the unspoken moments between you two too charged to ignore, but you’ve kept yourself busy, refusing to dwell on it.

Every time your thoughts begin to drift towards him, you quickly redirect them, focusing on the work at hand. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t fully escape the way your heart skips when he’s near.

The air is thick with the approach of the fair, and it seems that your mind is unwilling to let go of the thoughts of him. You’re guiding Jisung and Seojun to place the final touches when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Y/n-ah...” Mr. Kwon calls out, his voice warm and familiar. You turn towards him instinctively, but the sight that greets you makes your eyes go wide. Standing beside the town head is someone you hadn’t dared to expect. Tall and broad-shouldered, his face is a blend of nostalgia and familiarity that makes your heart stutter.

For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind struggling to catch up. But then, your body takes over. The writing pad slips from your grasp, forgotten, as your feet move on their own. Before you realize it, you’re running.

“Sunjae!” you cry, your voice breaking with unfiltered joy as you close the distance between you. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug, the kind that speaks of years of longing and unspoken words.

Sunjae’s laugh bubbles up, deep and rich, the same laugh that once echoed through your childhood. His arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you in the familiarity of his presence. In his embrace, the years seem to vanish, the weight of time and distance melting away.

“Y/n...” he murmurs, his voice brimming with warmth and affection. He holds you firmly, his presence both steady and comforting, as if no time has passed at all.

When you finally pull back, your hands remain on his shoulders, your eyes scanning his face as if trying to memorize him all over again. A wide grin spreads across your face, your cheeks aching with the intensity of your emotions.

Sunjae wasn’t just anyone. He was Mr. Kwon's nephew and your best friend growing up. The two of you had been inseparable, navigating the highs and lows of childhood and adolescence together in this very town. Late-night conversations, shared dreams, and countless laughs were the cornerstones of your bond.

But everything changed when Sunjae moved to Seoul for college. Though you’d stayed in touch for a while, exchanging calls and texts, life eventually got in the way. The demands of adulthood pulled you in different directions, and the once-frequent communication dwindled until it all disappeared.

The last time you’d seen him was five years ago, during Christmas break, when he visited for a brief holiday. You still remembered how he’d talked excitedly about his new life in the city, his job, and all the changes that had come his way.

Yet now, here he is, standing in front of you once again, as if those five long years had been just a fleeting moment. The weight of his presence is almost overwhelming, filling you with a joy that makes you momentarily forget everything else.

From a distance, hidden behind a pillar, Jungkook watches the scene unfold, his entire body tensing at the sight. You’re running towards some guy, a man he doesn’t recognize. His eyes narrow as he takes in the way you throw yourself into the man’s arms, your face lighting up with a smile so radiant it nearly stops him in his tracks.

The sight sends a pang through him, sharp and unfamiliar. Jealousy? Frustration? What is this? he wonders as his fists clench at his sides. His nose flares, watching you linger in the man’s embrace, your laughter blending with his in a way that feels far too intimate. The ease between you two, the way this man looks at you.. as if he knows you deeply, as if he’s someone important, sends Jungkook’s mind reeling.

Who is this guy? The question bounces around in his head as he fights the irrational urge to walk over, pull you aside, and demand answers for feelings he doesn’t quite understand himself. He stays rooted, his jaw tightening with every second he spends watching the exchange.

It’s been days since the two of you have had a proper conversation. With the town fair looming, the both of you have been caught up in an endless whirlwind of work from meetings to discussions to planning and managing your respective tasks. Conversations between you and Jungkook have been strictly professional, each interaction brief and to the point.

Yet, Jungkook would be lying if he said there weren’t moments when he’d catch himself stealing glances at you. Times when he’d see you stressing over a task or laughing with someone else, and he’d want nothing more than to pull you onto his lap, hold you close, and kiss you senseless. But just as much as the distance between you two was bothering him, it was unavoidable given the circumstances.

“Woah woah, stop glaring at the poor guy, you’re going to set him on fire.” a voice behind him teases. Startled, Jungkook turns to see Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi standing nearby, each wearing matching grins that only deepen his irritation.

“Who’s that?” Hoseok asks, nodding toward you and Sunjae, his tone dripping with curiosity. “Looks like they go way back.” he observes, wiping the sweat off his face. Jungkook scowls, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know. Someone she knows from before, I guess.” he shrugs, trying his best to sound unbothered.

“Someone she knows from before, I guess.” Jimin mimics in a singsong voice, nudging him in the ribs. “Dude, your face is literally screaming jealousy.” he laughs.

“Shut up.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his ears turning red. “Ohhhhh look at him... he's down bad.” Hoseok chuckles, leaning casually against one of the pillars, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s written all over you. Don’t even bother denying it.” he grins.

Jungkook glares at all of them, but his friends are relentless. “Look at him clenching his fists.” Yoongi points out, amused. “You want to deck the guy, don’t you? Be honest.” he jokes. “I do not.” Jungkook snaps, but the sharpness in his tone only fuels their amusement.

“Sure you don’t.” Jimin quips, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s not like you’re standing here fuming while they’re hugging like long-lost soulmates or anything.” he teases, winking at Hoseok and Yoongi.

Jungkook groans, running a hand through his hair, his annoyance at their teasing barely masking the storm of emotions swirling within him. He shoots them a pointed look, but they just exchange knowing glances, clearly enjoying his turmoil.

“Relax.” Yoongi finally says, his tone softer, though the smirk remains. “Why don’t you just ask her who he is? Or, you know, tell her how you feel instead of sulking behind pillars like a teenager.”

“Not sulking.” Jungkook affirms under his breath, but his friends’ laughter follows him as he walks away, his gaze flickering back towards you one last time. Who the hell is he to her? The question gnaws at him, refusing to let go.

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape (lmk if i missed anyone<3)

<- part 6 // part 8 (coming soon) ->

series masterlist

[tinyfantasminha]

I don't want to keep clogging my blog with vent posts but uh... I guess this is a more general concern/observation

But it's getting real hard to stay motivated in fandom spaces when there's little compensation, and annoying occurrences are more frequent than good ones.

Mainly there's been less engagement/people showing interest in creators and their art (such as sending asks, making comments and reblogging with tags) and MORE parasocial interactions. This goes for both artists and writers.

Over this year I've noticed a vast disinterest within my public in general. Asks about ocs, my art, or just nice simple comments of ''I love your art'' has been getting more and more scarce. My follower number is bigger than 2-3 years ago sure and I get more likes on my posts but they are feeling more like just numbers and statistics than actual people who supposedly like my stuff.

And while people being parasocial with creators has always been a thing, I feel like it's gotten way worse... in general? People sending personal pictures out of the blue in hopes of being validated, unwanted psychological advice or assumptions about the creator without any established connection first ( <- these happened to me in the same week.) ventdump, just insensitive/lacking of common sense comments in general, unreasonable demands (mostly with writers)... I wondered at first if it was just me, but a handful of mutuals/acquaintances who are artists and writers seems to be going through it as well.

It's annoying. It's tough. It's getting exhausting. Creators pour so much of themselves into their work—countless hours, effort, and passion, all to share something meaningful or entertaining with others (and for FREE) The LEAST anyone can do is show respect, even if opinions differ. When a writer posts a fanfic, don't just say ''omg post next chapter!'', when an artist posts a drawing of their favorite character, don't just say ''omg draw (character) next!'' as if they're faceless content machines that are expected to churn out more '''content''' for you without acknowledgment, encouragement, or appreciation.

''I want to support creators but I don't know what to say and I feel intimidated by their talent so I just lurk silently :((('' I swear to you, no creator (at least not the majority) is making up an intimidating persona to discourage you from interacting with them. They WANT your comments. A single ''I love your art/writing/videos'' or even something as silly as ''I want to eat your art'' is enough to keep a creator sighing dreamily for WEEKS. It doesn't have to be deep! It's heartfelt and that's what it matters!! (Just remember to keep it relevant and thoughtful... It takes just a bit of common sense NOT to comment things like ''this looks like (another character)'' or ''this but with (another unrelated ship/character/show)''. No one wants to hear comparisons or unrelated ideas when they’ve poured their soul into something.)

In fact, the ''I like your art but I think you're intimidating'' feels more hurtful than flattering. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, acting wrong. 💀

If you love that fanfic that changed your brain psyche forever and want to gush about it, go tell the writer. If you loved so much a piece of art that you saved it a million times in your phone and can't stop thinking about it, go tell the artist. Push away the ''they probably won't care about my comment/it won't make a difference'' thoughts. DO IT NOW. You won't know when they might go inactive forever or deactivate. You can't know if that is the last piece they will ever post. Make sure you show appreciation to creators NOW, while they are still here. While they're still not being replaced by AI.

[endy-merimo]

Many of you may know me as a guy who loves Marius and my whole thing being obsessed with drawing Marius and taking both of his tags. But I wasn’t always like this and all my fame and love for this character comes from another person, who introduced me to Marius’ personality and lore: @allthedoorsareopennow with his ao3 myhandisfatemywordislaw (@myhandisfatemywordislaw on tumblr as well!!)

If you are interested in rp side of the mechs fandom you might as well know the rp between my oc @researcher-4e69636b and @doctorbaronmariusvonraum (@von-raum-rp for when we do long rps) with other rp blogs from the same au occasionally showing up: @captainjonnydville and @engineer-nastya which are both from Doors as well!

And so today I’ve decided to show some appreciation and transfer the title “Baron Marius Von Raum fan #1” to its actual proper owner by making art for almost all marius fanfiction from myhandisfatemywordislaw and from all chapters of 4e rp on ao3 that are up there right now (the 7th chapter will be there hopefully soon, we need to finish the long rp with it but you can check it in progress on either @researcher-4e69636b or @von-raum-rp wink wink)

Starting with probably my favourite of their Marius fanfics Loose Screws. If you love some psychological horror with violence - that’s a perfect match!

Next is Nor A Doctor where Marius decides to get an actual degree! Struggles and help from Ivy included.

And Therapy where Marius gets to do therapy for Ashes.

Now to my beloved The Adventures of Marius von Raum and Nick the researcher aka the 4e rp!

Chapter 1: The Rescue

Chapter 2: The Aftermath

Chapter 3: The Introduction to Jonny D’Ville

Chapter 4: A Game (it's not an unfinished drawing I just like the vibe, okay?)

Chapter 5: A New Room

Chapter 6: A Planetside Trip

Again, enormous thank you to @allthedoorsareopennow for introducing me to my biggest hyperfixation in my life that is Baron Marius Von Raum.

You’re the one and true Baron Marius Von Raum guy and his fan #1

[nanamineedstherapy]

Mouth to Meat

Cannibal Yakuza Sukuna X [Retracted] F!Reader

Chapter 1 - The Price of Curiosity (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 2 - Flesh and Stone (Final Chapter)

A/N: This one-shot is inspired by an amazing fic idea shared by @sukuna-ryo. Welcome to the abyss, where the lines between sanity and madness blur like a poorly drawn sketch. Don’t get too comfortable—just when you think you’ve figured it out, you’ll realize the joke’s on you. Enjoy the ride, if you can. PS: "It" is being referred to the victems as they are seen as objects to be taken.

Tags: Sukuna x Reader Cannibalism Yakuza AU Dark Psychology Manipulation Monster x Monster Energy Gritty, morally ambiguous character studies

Warnings: Graphic violence Cannibalism Moral ambiguity (everyone’s awful) Major Charecters Death

Please read tags/warnings as this will get dark!

A few days later, a night began with chaos. Alarms blared across the city, news anchors breathlessly reporting the impossible: Ryomen Sukuna has escaped custody . Streets emptied as lockdowns were enforced.

Y/N looked at her wristwatch; she was in her office, sipping tea, when the knock came. Fushiguro Toji, the facility’s Medical Director, leaned against her doorframe, his face carved with irritation, flanked by Higuruma Hiromi, the District Public Prosecutor Officer. “Thought you’d want to know,” Toji said, voice low. “Your favorite patient’s loose.”

Her lips quirked in amusement. “Didn’t take him for the type to sit still for long.”

“You’re too calm,” Hiromi accused, stepping inside. “You should probably head home. Lock your doors. Just in case.”

Her gaze lingered on them for a moment before she stood, brushing past with a faint smile. “Thanks for the concern; I’ll be fine.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked away. She didn’t miss the way their eyes followed her, nor the faint growls of frustration they let out when she ignored their warning.

.

Once home, her apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of streetlights streaming through the windows. She didn’t bother flipping the switch.

“How long do you plan to keep staring at me from the dark?” she asked calmly, shrugging off her coat.

Silence stretched, thick and expectant, before a low chuckle resonated from the shadows. Sukuna stepped into the faint light, his presence oppressive, a coiled predator ready to strike. “You’re sharper than the others,” he mused.

She turned to face him, unruffled. The faintest smirk played at her lips. “You’ve been watching me since the prison, haven’t you.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, not seeking an answer.

His grin spread, sharp and wolfish. “You fascinate me, Doctor. And I don’t get fascinated easily.”

“Good,” she said, brushing past him, unconcerned by his proximity. “Because I have a proposition for you.”

Sukuna turned, his gaze tracking her every movement like a predator stalking its prey. He eased onto the couch, his body language lazy but his eyes sharp. “A proposition?”

She poured herself a glass of wine, the deep red liquid catching the faint light. She didn’t offer him any, nor did he ask. “I want to show you something. A little… art project I’ve been interested in.”

He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his crimson eyes. “Art?”

“Two pieces, actually,” she said, her voice light, almost conversational. “I think they’d suit your… palate.”

The grin that stretched across Sukuna’s face was feral, dark amusement dripping from every word. “Bold of you to assume you know my tastes, woman.”

“Oh, I do,” she replied, her tone laced with quiet arrogance. She downed her wine in one smooth motion and set the glass aside. “Come on. Let’s go.”

He remained seated, watching her with a predator’s patience. “Just like that? No explanation?”

She turned, meeting his gaze with an unflinching calm. “You’ll understand soon enough.” Her smile deepened, almost conspiratorial. “I think you’ll enjoy helping me bring them home.”

The way she said home didn’t escape Sukuna. Like it was his as much as hers. Like he already belonged there, though she’d never said it outright.

For the first time in years, he felt an odd flicker of curiosity.

And for that alone, he decided to follow her.

.

It didn’t take long to reach the estate or for Sukuna & his men to strongarm there way in with silenced guns—he was after all still the Yakuza King—while she hacked into the security systems & everything she did, Sukuna observed. His crimson eyes gleamed, his smile cutting deeper the longer he watched. Stars in his eyes? No. His fascination burned darker than that.

Once inside a bedroom, just the two of them, they stared at the blonde and white-haired couple lying entwined on the bed, oblivious. The white-haired one slept soundly, lips curled in a faint, contented smile, their face buried against the blonde’s chest. The blonde’s arms were draped protectively around them, their breathing steady.

Y/N tilted her head, her expression one of mock curiosity, but the venom in her voice dripped with ease. “They look… peaceful,” she cooed. It wasn’t a compliment—it was a death knell.

Beside her, Sukuna chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made the air heavier. “Not for long. Although I didn’t think you’d aim this high, Doctor. The Minister of Defense? That’s ambitious. Even for you.”

She moved closer, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw, lingering there like the whisper of a promise. “Ambition’s easier when you have the right help,” she murmured, leaning in. Her voice softened, feigning intimacy. “And he’s been after you, hasn’t he?”

Sukuna didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Her touch disarmed him, or maybe he let it. He wouldn’t admit to himself that she’d already molded him, to worship her; no questions asked, weaving herself into the cracks he’d spent years pretending didn’t exist. When she kissed the curve of his neck, his breath hitched—a low, guttural sound that slipped out before he could stop it.

“Wake them,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his skin before pulling away. Sukuna’s jaw clenched at the absence, a primal ache tugging at his edges. He followed her command without hesitation, whether blinded by her touch or because of what he’d found in her fridge earlier, or was he already a slave to her attention? He didn’t care.

Sukuna moved with efficiency. The white-haired one was chest-down before it could even stir, one of Sukuna’s massive hands pinning it’s arms behind while the other clamped over it’s mouth. It’s eyes snapped open, wild and panicked, but it was too late.

Y/N was already leaning over the blonde, pressing a chloroform-soaked towel over it’s face, who had time to flinch before it’s body went limp again.

.

Minutes later, the blonde sat tied to a chair, slowly regaining consciousness. Its eyes darted frantically to its lover, now slumped forward with it’s mangled stumps where fingers and toes once were, shallow breaths escaping through the gag.

Y/N crouched before the blonde, her smile serene, her tone conversational. “Hello, NK.”

The blonde froze, lips trembling with rage. Recognition dawned in it’s eyes, followed by horror.

“What have you done!” the blonde managed to garble through the gag when she pulled it down, voice breaking with fury.

Y/N tilted her head, feigning surprise. “What does it look like?”

“Please,” the blonde begged, eyes glassy with tears that clung to its lashes like shattered crystals. “Let him go. Don’t hurt him. You’re better than this. I’ll not tell anyone; please, let me take him to a hospital.”

“Better?” Y/N’s laughter sliced through the air, sharp and derisive. She tilted her head, studying the blonde as though it were an insect pinned under her heel. She knew it would do no such thing; as soon as it was free, it’d immediately kill Sukuna and then slice her head clean off for hurting it’s lover. “Oh, darling, you don’t know me at all.” The mockery in her voice was a blade of its own, twisting as she continued. “And after all those lovely little papers you published on psychopathy, ASPD, NPD, SPD, BPD minds? Tsk, tsk.” She clicked her tongue, her gaze narrowing to a predator’s slit. “You’re the genius, right? Profiling everyone. Understanding nothing.”

The blonde’s face crumpled, its desperation leaking from every shallow breath. “If this is about the research—please, I’ll retract it. I already told you that day you can take credit. Just stop this!”

“Of course it’s about the papers,” Y/N hissed, leaning closer. The sharp angles of her grin deepened, a grotesque facsimile of joy. “You published your research on the exact same topic as mine, before me. Do you think I need your pity? Your fucking charity? No. You took what was mine—even if it was unknowingly—so now I’m taking what’s yours.”

The blonde twisted against the ropes, frantic, its gaze darting to Sukuna. The monster loomed behind the white-haired one, holding an old, rusted cleaver the size of his head with a cowprint handle. The blade’s chipped edge pressed into pale, trembling skin, the faintest pressure threatening to cut deeper.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” the blonde stammered, its voice raw with pleading. “Please! He’s the Attorney General—they’ll come after you. You’ll never know peace.”

“Oh, but I adore the spotlight,” Y/N replied, her voice lifting with feigned delight. Her laughter rang out, light and melodic, clashing against the suffocating tension. “And besides…” She reached out, her fingertips brushing the white-haired one’s jawline. It recoiled, jerking its head as much as it could under Sukuna’s iron grip. The resistance earned it a savage punch to the stomach, its body convulsing as blood soaked the gag muffling its strangled sounds.

The blonde recoiled at the sight, its breath hitching, tears streaming freely now.

“It’s worth it for this rare meat.” She finished.

Blonde’s eyes went to her, confused, then widened with horror.

Y/N’s grin widened, cruel as a crescent moon. “Oh, you really don’t know, do you?” Her voice shifted, giddy and maniacal, abandoning all semblance of restraint. “The day he came to pick you up after your session with that genocidal cult leader. What was it? Ah! A dinner he wanted to take you to!” She mimicked his tone, animated yet calm as she added, “The Gojo Satoru, Attorney General, dying to whisk you away to dinner.”

The blonde froze, its eyes wide with recognition, its breath caught in its throat.

“When he walked past me to you, I couldn’t think straight,” Y/N admitted, her voice almost dreamy. “He smelled like ozone and petrichor. Since then, I’ve been dying to pair him with a vintage Bordeaux I’ve been saving. Don’t you think he’ll taste exquisite?” She turned to Sukuna, who watched her with rapt attention, his grin splitting wide as if waiting for a command. “Ryeoman here would accompany me to our own dinner with it. I may or may not have been a little jealous of you that day, having such an Adonis all to yourself. So…” Her tone shifted to mock-casual. “I got my own. Although baby-faced men never appealed to me, so I improvised.”

Her finger traced the white-haired one’s jaw again, and it flinched, earning another blow from Sukuna, who’s entire frame was vibrating with anticipation.

Y/N smirked, tilting her head as though savoring the blonde’s horror. “Should’ve kept him hidden, NK,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “You don’t know the kind of people out there—people who’d love to do unspeakable things to your husband. He’s one of a kind after all.” She smirked, eyeing the white-haired.

The blonde’s chest heaved, its breath shallow and uneven. “Please,” it whispered, voice cracking. “He’s innocent. Don’t do this.”

“Innocent?” Y/N’s lips curled into a polite smile, her expression serene in a way that only deepened the unease. “You keep saying ‘please,’ like it matters,” she mused, her tone light and conversational. She leaned in close, close enough that the blonde could feel her breath against its cheek. “But you’re not asking for me to stop, are you? You’re asking for him. To save this.” She gestured lazily toward the white-haired one, whose head lolled forward, barely held up by Sukuna’s relentless grip. Blood streaked its once-pristine face, and its hands twitched weakly in the bindings, a far cry from defiance. “And that’s the difference, NK. You’re selfless. You’re a hero. And heroes…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips brushing its ear. “Heroes always lose.”

The blonde gasped, a sound fractured with despair. Its eyes darted to the white-haired one, its voice trembling. “Satoru…” The name escaped as a broken plea, fragile as glass. “Satoru, I’m so sorry.”

Y/N followed its gaze, tilting her head as though studying a painting she found faintly amusing. “Ah, Satoru…” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock reverence. She rolled the name over her tongue, savoring it like a delicacy. “Names are supposed to mean something, aren’t they? Strength, identity, power.” Her smile sharpened—a predator’s grin. “But all I see is fine meat.”

The white-haired one flinched, the barest movement, but enough to draw blood where the cleaver pressed against its throat. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed, and the blade dipped just enough to trace a deeper line, red pooling against pale, trembling skin. The sound it made was low and guttural, like an animal resigned to slaughter.

The blonde struggled against its restraints, panic etched across its face. “Suguru will come for you!” it shouted, desperation lacing every word.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Y/N’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew colder, sharper, a frozen dagger poised to strike.

The blonde froze, its breath hitching as realization flickered across its face, chased swiftly by horror. “What did you do?”

.

On the other side of town, in the suffocating darkness of his cell, Geto Suguru clawed at his skin in a desperate, bloody ballet of madness. A rusted iron brush, a relic of torture past, scraped against his flesh, tearing away layers of himself. Blood and chunks of flesh pooled near his feet. His once vibrant hair, a symbol of his power and beauty, was now gone, sacrificed to his delusions and replaced with a raw, bleeding scalp from the blade he’d stolen—a mistake that had earned him a savage beating and solitary confinement. He muttered under his breath, his voice a low, disjointed murmur, words bleeding together in frantic repetition. “The smell... must get rid of the smell. Monkeys. Germs.” His muscles quivered, trembling under the strain as the mantra repeated like a broken record. Now, he was a prisoner of his own mind, a tormented soul trapped in a physical and mental prison. Each agonizing stroke brought him closer to oblivion, a tragic figure consumed by his own madness.

.

“You forgot about his OCD and germophobia, didn’t you?” Y/N’s voice cut through the blonde’s spiraling thoughts, derisive and sharp. “Some hotshot psychologist. Beloved professor. Yet you can’t even remember the small details.” She tsked, mock stern.

“Stop,” the blonde whispered, its voice shaking. It turned its head violently, as if that could block out her words. “Stop it. Don’t talk about him.”

“Why not?” Y/N crouched again, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. Her smile widened, teeth glinting like knives. “You never stopped. Every case, every paper, every decision—it was always about him. And yet here you are, begging for this one.” Her gaze flicked toward the white-haired one. “Why? Because you married it? Because it made you feel less broken?”

The blonde squeezed its eyes shut, its chest heaving with shallow, erratic breaths. It didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The silence was damning.

“Pathetic,” Y/N whispered, standing and stepping back.

The blonde’s voice broke again as it struggled against the ropes. “Please. Kill me—just me. I’ll thank you for it, I’ll even beg for it. But let him go!” Its voice cracked, raw and desperate as its eyes landed on the white-haired one. There was no fight left in it now. Its eyes had dulled, the hopelessness written across its bloodied face.

Y/N’s head tilted as though she were a scientist inspecting her most fascinating subject. “You don’t get it, do you? This was never about you.” She paused, her eyes glinting with something dark, something vile, as she glanced at the white-haired one. “It’s always been about him.”

“Please...” the blonde whispered, its voice cracking under the weight of hopelessness. “He doesn’t deserve this. I’ll do anything. Just let him go.”

Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes narrowing like a snake ready to strike. “You know what’s funny, NK? For someone who writes so passionately about human behavior, you fail to see what’s right in front of you.” She gestured toward the white-haired one, her voice cutting like glass. “Look at it. Look at what it’s become. You’d think a creature so lauded, so untouchable, would be harder to break.”

The blonde froze as the implication seeped in, slamming into it like a wrecking ball. Its breath hitched, rapid and shallow, the veneer of composure cracking as horror bled into every crevice of its expression. Y/N didn’t blink; her smile fixed, serene as a prayer unanswered.

The white-haired one shuddered—a pathetic, rasping sound muffled by the gag. It wasn’t fighting anymore; it didn’t have the strength or hope left to resist. Tears streaked its bloodstained chest, carving pale rivers through the crimson chaos. Its cerulean eyes, once vibrant and untouchable, stared into the void with muted despair, already resigned to its end.

The blonde sobbed, choking on its own panic as it struggled fruitlessly against the ropes. “Stop it. Stop! You win—whatever this is, you win! Please, I’ll give you anything you want!”

Y/N straightened, her shadow swallowing the blonde in its suffocating enormity. The deliberate grace of her movements made the moment all the more stifling. She turned toward Sukuna, her fingers sliding into his hair as if soothing a rabid beast. “Hear that, darling? It still believes in deals.”

Sukuna grinned, the grotesque expression splitting his face in something far from human. “What could it possibly offer that I haven’t already taken?” His voice was dark, dripping with indulgence.

Y/N hummed thoughtfully, her hand drifting to trace Sukuna’s collarbone before she refocused on the blonde. “You don’t get it, do you, NK? This isn’t about what I want. It’s about equilibrium. You stole from me, so I had to return the favor.” Her gaze slid toward the white-haired one, a slow, calculated flicker of her eyes. “And what a favor it’s been.”

The blonde shuddered, its breath hitching in frantic, disjointed sobs. “You’re monsters,” it whispered, its voice barely audible through the static of its terror. “Both of you.

“Monsters?” Y/N repeated, feigning offense. Her voice dropped into something quieter, colder. “Monsters don’t bother with reason, NK. They don’t spend weeks reading every research paper, learning every routine, dismantling lives piece by piece. No, that takes precision. Care.” She leaned down, her breath ghosting over the blonde’s ear. “Monsters would’ve killed you both outright. I, on the other hand, enjoy playing with my food.”

Behind her, Sukuna tightened his grip on the cleaver, pressing it against the white-haired one’s throat until another thin crimson line trickled down its neck. The white-haired one whimpered, the sound faint but piercing. The blonde jerked violently in its bonds, its cries bubbling up in frantic, disjointed desperation.

“Please! Kill me—kill me if you have to! But let him go!” The blonde’s voice cracked, its body convulsing with the force of its sobs.

Y/N tilted her head, her expression softening in mock pity as she stepped closer to the white-haired one, lifting its chin so it had to look at her. “It’s a shame I’ll never get to know what he’d sound like being tied up. Does he grunt? Moans? Or does he whimper when he’s being raped like a bitch in heat?”

Her words sank in like poison as the realization dawned, leaving the blonde screaming as it fought against the iron chain, with a newfound strength, somehow about to break them.

But Y/N’s focus was already elsewhere. She turned to Sukuna, her smile returning, radiant and terrifying. “I’m bored,” she said lightly. “Shall we, honey? Dinner waits for no one.”

And like the obedient beast he was becoming, Sukuna raised the cleaver, and with one fluid motion, the cleaver came down.

The white-haired one’s head rolled across the floor, leaving a gleaming trail in its wake. Its body crumpled forward on the chair. The blonde screamed—a raw, guttural sound that rattled the walls.

“Finally! Now the meat will be tasty.” She licked her lips as she moved to jab a blade through the blonde’s heart. The blonde died looking at the white-haired one & its name on its lips.

Y/N crouched beside the blonde's body, examining the lifeless face with the care of a curator appraising a masterpiece. Her fingers trailed along its jawline, and she sniffed, her expression shifting to something almost reverent. “Sandalwood,” she murmured, her voice soft, intimate. “It smelled like sandalwood.”

Sukuna chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound that reverberated through the room. “You’re insane,” he said, almost admiringly.

Y/N rose, her gaze sharp as a blade, and smirked. “Of course.” Her voice dripped with saccharine malice, predatory. “Now come here, baby,” she purred, the endearment a venomous dagger.

The word hit him like a drug to his dick. He followed without hesitation, already consumed by the pull of her command.

She pushed him to the floor, straddling him with a kind of feral grace. “Murder always makes me horny." Then she tore off his shirt while Sukuna was already holding her hips and grinding her clothed cunt against his crotch. She bent down to whisper in his ear, “Now show me why you deserve it all.” She didn’t mean the meat, but the privilege of not being eaten by her. And Sukuna, obedient beast that he was, intended to earn it.

.

A few days later, Y/N dined with Sukuna in a country she hadn’t bothered to remember. To her, it was just another backdrop—temporary, insignificant.

In their new house, Sukuna carved into the rare meat with precision, his satisfaction evident in the low groan that escaped his lips. “You were right,” he muttered, licking a smear of blood from his thumb. “The minister tastes exquisite. Still smells good, too.”

He gestured lazily for Uraume to refill his cup with the vintage wine Y/N had insisted on saving for an occasion just like this. Uraume obliged with a nod, their movements deliberate and deferential. “Is the cooking to your satisfaction, my lord?”

Sukuna grinned, baring sharp teeth. “As always, perfect, Uraume.”

Next to him the table, Y/N watched Sukuna with a knowing smile, her gaze steady, unyielding. She took a slow sip of her wine, the taste lingering on her tongue like an unspoken promise. “Well?” she asked finally, her voice soft, deceptively casual.

“Well, what?”

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Sukuna froze for a moment, swallowing, his grip tightening around his fork before setting it down deliberately. He turned toward her, his crimson gaze molten with something primal.

Without warning, his hands slid to the sides of her breasts, his thumbs brushing slowly over her nipples through the delicate fabric of her dress. His touch was rough, reverent, and possessive all at once. His hot and jagged breath fanned across her face as he leaned in, his lips hovering near hers.

“You’re worse,” he growled, his voice raw, guttural, and utterly stripped of resistance. He stared at her mouth, his pupils blown wide with the depth of his submission. Whatever semblance of independence he once had was long gone, obliterated. He wasn’t a king anymore—not here, not with her. He was a weapon, a dog, a creature driven solely by the need to please her.

She laughed, low and unrestrained, the sound curling around him like a noose. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t falter. “And yet, here you are.”

There was no illusion of morality between them. They were two forces bound together, feeding on each other’s darkness until nothing else remained.

Her laughter echoed in the silence, sharp and haunting, as she leaned back in her chair, a red queen who had conquered her kingdom. Sukuna remained where he was, tethered by his own devotion, waiting for her command.

In the aftermath of their violence, the line between predator and prey blurred until it ceased to exist.

A/N: And there you have it. Twisted, right? But then again, what did you expect from a world where love and death are just different sides of the same coin? Don’t bother thanking me—it was never about you. See you on the other side, or don’t. I’ll still be here, waiting for the next soul to crack. Your comments fuel my passion; let me know if this hits. Also, I'll mark it as over until I get more requests for it since it's already well rounded as it is, but if you want the cute babies to be avenged, let me know. ( ͡❛ ᴗ ͡❛)

[cesarescabinet]

Thanks for the tag @enjoyerofstories!

Last song: Childish Gambino-3005

Currently watching: Arcane (sort of). I’ve been complaining about Season 2 a lot, so I guess that counts? Other than that, SNL.

Three ships: Ships are rare for me these days but here’s three that I can think of;

Skyvik—moreso in potential than actual canon. Something about a shy, nerdy assistant with dreams who love and admires a man desperate to help his people despite struggling with a terminal illness. That she was the first to love him for who he was. That in a better world, they could’ve been happy together. Even to an extent in S2 (moreso in ideas than execution) I’m intrigued in the dynamic that Viktor summons back her ghost in a bid to keep her by his side, desperate to join their dreams together (however misguided it might’ve been). There’s something very gothic here that appeals to me greatly (I keep thinking of Heathcliff’s monologue in Wuthering Heights after Cathy’s death for instance.) No matter how badly these characters were fumbled, the dynamic is too compelling for me not to find interesting.

Sir Agravaine/Yvonne—oh these two are such cuties!! Something about two people disregarded by the society that they live in finding love in each other, something about how Yvonne was not regarded as the most beautiful maiden and Sir Agravaine wasn’t regarded as the greatest knight and it was love at first sight. I will NEVER stop recommending PG Wodehouse’s Sir Agravaine—perhaps one of my favorite pieces of Arthuriana (and YES I’m counting it--)

Hatsukari-no-Sentaro/Oine from Three Yakuza (1965). It’s like if Fantine fell in love with Valjean and all the angst that would come with that!!! My heart still hurts after that movie thinking about it!!

Favorite Color: Black.

Currently consuming: Nothing

First ship: Mulan/Shang from Mulan.

Last movie: Shadow Hunters (1983). Love me my obscure Tatsuya Nakadai movies.

Currently working on: My WIP, various art projects.

Tagging: Nine people that want to do this—c’mon, don’t be shy!!

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[falmerbrook]

WIP Wednesday

(And it’s actually Wednesday this time!)

I was tagged by @connortheconceded last week! THANK YOU!!! :]

Not a wip but a now unfinished abandoned project: a Vivec sweatshirt (or as I have taken to calling it, the Vehkshirt™)

This is a silly idea for a "casual" cosplay (the finished idea would include the shoulder armor and other accessories). It is unfinished as it is still missing the hood because the first hood I made had the colors flip flopped, and I haven’t remade the hood yet because this thing ended up being several sizes too big and I decided it wouldn’t be worth the effort. With it being too big my options to salvage the idea were either 1) remake it smaller, which I'm hesitant to do because while this fabric is very nice, it's also very thick and I broke/bent 2 or 3 needles just making this one, and tbh I just don't want to do all that again, or 2) take in all of the seams, which I worry would just ruin the shape. It's like several sizes too big. Anyway, it was a good learning experience at least, and I have a different idea now (an amateur 3 piece suit. not at all easier but the fabric will be thinner at least, and I think it will be more flattering on me). I get really embarrassed and feel cringe when I think about cosplaying though so who knows if I'll go through with it.

Other than that i don't have any art wips. I'm dealing with a clogging up of ideas rn.

I'll tag @snowy-weather @thescrolls-haveforetold @ijiwaruuma @apollinariafh and @nuwanders (only if you want to, as always!)

[kaiowut99]

ARC-V “Dub-Uncut” Series Masterpost - A Lance99 Project

Ladies and gentlemen! (And all in between!)

Thought to get a little masterpost going for this [mini?-]project and compile stuff as more ground gets broken on this, lol. As mentioned in my release of episode 1, this is a project that's been on the backburner for a while as I worked on other things (and dealt with a drive failure in '22 that made me have to restart)--the original catalyst being an attempted Dub/JP OST edit years back with episode 10 [being a fave of mine] that I got up to the eyecatch with prior to stuff like UltimateVocalRemover providing much cleaner vocal isolation--and after working on/off on it for a while, I dipped into it more over the past few months to finally get it polished and finished up.

If you were around for my little 5D's "dub-uncut" mini-project working off the erroneously-uploaded-without-music episodes uploaded to the official Spanish YGO YouTube channel a few years back (and if you weren't, do feel free to check it out!), the concept here is pretty much the same: I find that there's some potential in the 4K/KCM dubs, but overall it's usually hampered by the dub's music [which especially hurts for ARC-V given the solid Japanese score by Kotaro Nakagawa], some writing/voice-direction choices, and other little oddities/cuts; the goal is to re-score the dub with the Japanese soundtrack, while also modifying the dialogue in spots to be closer to the Japanese dialogue while editing it to the Japanese footage (using either dialogue from other episodes or Duel Links/Cross Duel voicelines as needed)--oh, and also fixing "Zuzu" back "Yuzu" bc why. There may be some scenes where I'll have to use the Japanese audio with subs if 4K cut something and I couldn't quite work enough editing magic to make something work, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. And I'm hoping to do a fair amount of episodes, but would love to work on the whole series if able.

Along with the more accurately-paced dialogue, I’ve also translated the OP/EN (using the singable translations I've worked on for the lyrics), the title cards, and previews (where I also threw in the corresponding lines to the Japanese preview from the next episode, if able) to give this an actual “What if they actually did this uncut” feel, along with some visual translation edits to that effect as feasible. I also commissioned voiceover artist mattsindt over on Fiverr to provide narration for the pre-OP prologues used throughout ARC-V that weren't dubbed, and I love how they all came out. I'll be going into more of the specifics with each episode’s own release post, as I did with episode 1's, so check out the tag here to see what I’ve done with them! If you’re curious about how things look/sound as I edit everything, check out the work-in-progress videos and posts I’ve done here.

Footage-wise, I chose to work off the raw DVD video I've had for years (encodes for episodes 1-4 provided by GX_ST), largely because they have touchups done to the art/animation after the episodes' airings on TV that aren't used in the CR/Amazon TV masters that make up the 1080p downloads available. (I do think the dub itself works off the DVD masters overall, and I may see if it's feasible to try and splice that footage as needed with the 1080p downloads, since the DVD masters are unfortunately not at their total best for a show that aired in HD... pls save us Discotek].) (That said, I might shift to those in mid-Synchro since that's about as far as the saved DVD footage I have goes, so... we'll see, lol.)

I'll also be posting these over for download over on NeoArkCradle (where I also share my GX subbing work), with both a) the more hardsubbed video using the translated OP/EN and visual translations and b) dual-audio .mkv files using Crunchyroll's subs as edited by me for the JP audio (funny how I said years back I wouldn't sub ARC-V since CR took the wheel on it, but with the revisions I made/will make to be more faithful, I guess I am in some way lol), along with "Signs/Lyrics" subs for the dubbed and Japanese audio, which may also contain dub corrections as needed depending on how later episodes go.

Anywho, the show must go on, so check these out below! And always check this original post as episodes are added or in case any of the links break! Note that season breaks are denoted like this; arc breaks are in italics.

Current Update (11/27/24): Project launch! Episode 1 is now live below.

Pre-Maiami Championship Arc

A Trail of Light -- The Pendulum Summon (Swing Into Action)

[deathclassic]

art tag

love a good art tag so thank you @doshiart for thinking of me <3

How did you start drawing? What year was it that you become more seriously and consciously interested in it?

uh ive been drawing all my life, i wanted to be an 'artist' when i was 6 and then it kinda went into different ideas surrounding art - tattoo artist, graphic designer, illustrator, etc etc and then i decided to pursue graphic design afer high schoo about 8 years ago? and have a degree in that now

When you felt the urge to share your art with other people? When did you start posting your drawings on social media?

i was always drawing for other people and then i started posting my fanart when i got twitter and tumblr in 2010, so it's still floating around on here

Your first/earliest drawing. What were your impressions of it back then and what are your feelings now?

i was probably really proud of it and had probably never seen a giraffe at all, i was 5. there's earlier ones out there of course but this is the earliest i could find around me

Your first fanart ever

i cant find my fanart of my little pony from 2004, or my fall out boy, panic at the disco and my chemical romance stuff from 2008. i drew this of ian in 2011 though.

Your first gallavich fanart

see above

When you had bad days and things didn't work out, what inspired you to keep trying?

what else was i gonna do with my life lol, im not good at maths, im not good at english, im not good at science so this was the only thing left. i dont share what i draw most of the time, no one needs to see it, so i just sketch whats around me, i scribble just to get the anxiety out. and then i come back sometimes weeks later like it never happened.

Show your old piece that you strongly dislike and tell why.

i was just getting back into the shameless fandom after being in and out since 2011 and i hadnt actually drawn them for a long time so i hate this one with a burning passion.

Show your old piece that you very like and tell why. What's the difference with the previous?

this is a scanned version, it's done entirely in sharpie. i like how simple it is, just one medium, stark contrast, and yeah. difference between them is that one is digital and one is traditional, one was done after drawing them for years and the other was done after taking a break to draw for other fandoms.

Show your old piece that you were very proud of back then.

maybe this one from university? i made a guidebook of architecture of melbourne and i drew every building by hand, i did this maybe 4 years ago?

Do you do any practice sketches or warm-ups before you draw something big?

oh yeah - mind maps, thumbnails, hand drawn text exploration, figure sketches, writing down different values. every single one of my drawings that get posted start like this

Sketch vs Final. Show your process.

i had to redesign the blair witch movie poster

Your most recent drawing.

logo ive been working on for a client - not bound by contract so i can share it with you because i dont want to share my secret santa thing lol

Give yourself some praise! Look at what improved in your art!

im glad you kept going. through all the death threats, through people selling your stuff without you knowing, through the depression. who knew you'd still be drawing for the same fandoms decades later?

Any advice you'd give to your earlier self?

stop giving a SHIT about everyone else. draw for yourself and no one else.

Set a goal for yourself for the coming year.

stop getting taken advantage of <3

im tagging @spookygingerr @ghoulish-art-tendencies

@vintagelacerosette @suzy-queued @cal-tastrophe @iansw0rld @heymrspatel @grumble-fish

[alexanderwales]

Save the Cat!: the short review

I liveblogged this book (anything tagged #save the cat on this blog), but this is the actual review of it.

Save the Cat! by Blake Snyder is a book about screenwriting, and it's very specifically about screenwriting spec scripts in order to get huge sales for movies. Blake Snyder worked mostly with family films, PG affairs, and sold a pretty large number of scripts, most of them by sticking to a formula. He knew a lot of people in the business, and his ethos seems like it was their ethos (though I should probably read a few other books for comparison before making any sweeping generalizations).

Blake Snyder is a hack screenwriter, but he's a hack's hack, and aside from a few completely unwarranted barbs at films which were more commercially successful and societally important than anything he would ever end up doing with his life (he died in 2009), he seems to understand who and what he was. He's writing screenplays to sell those screenplays for the highest possible dollar amount. He calls his screenplays "product". He cares about good story only in the sense that he wants whatever producer or actor is reading the script to think that it's hot shit.

Some of this is probably an act, Snyder playing up some version of himself like a good writer would. He contradicts himself at certain points, and reveals that he doesn't walk the walk quite so cleanly as the rest of the book would have us believe. He's brash, in a way that I found charming.

He's also irritating, because I fundamentally disagree with this approach to making art, and maybe that would be fine if I could just say "eh, we have very different goals" but he also doesn't seem to understand his own system very well, nor does he seem eager to explore it, and he's constantly just saying stuff without regard to whether or not it's true, or makes sense. I get the feeling that the book was written in a bit of a rush, something to work on while beating out scripts, rather than being a labor of careful love. That it took off was either his marketing talents or just that its paint-by-numbers specifics are really appealing. There are pieces that I would have pegged as being written by GPT if the book didn't predate LLMs by a wide margin, especially some examples that make no damned sense and his rambling-but-formulaic way of imparting lessons.

A lot of the examples are also kind of eye-rolling, but I cut him a little slack, because it's hard to write about writing, and giving examples of tricks you use is one of the hardest parts. You kind of need the reader to have read/seen the thing in its entirety, because if you give the brief version, with no investment or background, it just seems lame. Some of this is also Snyder, who worked mostly in 90s PG family movies: those examples are always going to be a bit cringe.

This book is the #1 book in Amazon for screenwriting, and so far as I can tell, has been the top book for screenwriting since it came out twenty years ago. It's a bestseller. As a writer, I think it's kind of crap, both because it pushes formula and because I think that it's not likely to result in very good scripts. I think you can tell a good story using this formula, but once you've mastered the formula and understand how all the pieces are supposed to move together along with the principles of storytelling, you won't need the formula. The book also does a bad job on principles of storytelling, at least in my opinion, dancing around them rather than laying them out in a clear and concise way, and especially in the middle it's poorly structured, which is somewhat ironic given how much Snyder seems to lean on structure.

I have never written a screenplay, much less sold one. Going into 2024, I told myself that this would be the year to give it a go, and I've been writing a comic, which is much closer to screenwriting than prose fiction. Maybe 2025 is going to be my year to actually sit down and hammer out a screenplay, but I can't say that I expect to take too much from this book.

[eydilily]

would you bite the hand that feeds you?

[musubiki]

my favorite fields of mistria boys 🥰

[mangozic]

archivist be upon ye

[doodlecrumb]

Marauders fandom!! You have been summoned. Look! It’s a James! Feast thine eyes! (I’m sorry, do what you want. I’m not the boss of you. Have a nice day.)