#Acrylic shadow box

[pictureworthcustomframing]

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[nethompson]

Some pieces of the Cedar Creek series that have been framed in shadow boxes. I just finished putting the newest piece, "Nature Reclaims," in the frame yesterday.

Cedar Creek series, SteelArt By N.E.Thompson

[jc215carver]

https://www.instagram.com/jc_adelphia?igsh=MTUyN2RiNHoxazhpZw==

[6slux]

cut the cameras | 2.2k

pairing; onyankopon x BLACK!INFLUENCER!READER

synopsis; you try and fail to record for your channel but a surprise visitor distracts you.

cw! 18+, black!fem!reader, plug!onyankopon, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), p in v sex, consensual filming, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, fiancé!onyankopon, rimming

“welcome back, pixies”, you pause slightly, voice syrupy-sweet, “…to another get ready with me!”, curved acrylics wave at the camera’s lens.

sunday evenings were reserved for you and onyankopon’s date nights. no matter how hectic your schedules get- time was made.

“today i’m jus’ doing a quick light beat. a lil’ something for my man and i’s bowling date”, draped behind you is a lavender-padded backdrop. the plush material lines a corner of your shared bedroom.

opposite of that sits a pink Sony ZV-1, with the motion-tracking tripod to match. the very one you swooned over to onyankopon after watching numerous reviews. that very same Christmas the heavy box sat underneath the tree with a sparkly bow attached.

nerves still manage to swell in the pit of your belly, despite this being your tenth video for your channel. there were only going to be 20,000 eyes on you, after all. while getting dolled-up was second nature, showcasing it to the digital world required transparency.

“as always I’m startin’ with my Mac Studio Radiance Primer. y’all when i tell you this thing acts like a barrier on my skin”, you swear by the white bottle in the palm of your hand.

*squirt*- the milky substance spurts out on your left cheekbone. fingertips then massaging it into the copper freckles that splatter across your skin.

a leopard-print robe clings onto your body’s grooves. this newfound hobby of yours is a therapeutic one. something that helps the time passes when your fiancé is outside.

it’s comical just how soon the golden doorknob spins in your peripheral. the camera merely picks up step two as a shadow overcasts the leftside of the frame.

you don’t bat an eye in the man’s direction. onyankopon was keen on greetings no matter how short the distance. having already made several guest appearances on the channel thus far.

“‘m filmin’, ony,” you whine, lips betraying you as they spread into a soft grin. a deep chuckle rolls off of his pink tongue. thick digits already wrapping around your chin to bring your spacey eyes upwards. a tinge of weed lingers on him. the subtle scent wafting in with his rich, musky cologne.

the look you share makes your brush crumble to your lap. onyankopon’s pupils are filled with adornment each time they find you. after a long day of serving the block he gets to come home to you, who’s barely lifted a french tip. he leads a life of chaos to afford your luxurious one. to assure his baby can simply sit before a camera and look pretty. It’s the soft life you deserve; the least he can provide for someone so selfless.

“i know, ma. jus’ wanted to see if you was straight. to apologize for dipping out before you was up s’all,” he jests with sincerity, despite the amusement of his southern twang. it’s almost enough for you to believe him, yet his hold lingers on your tilted chin.

onyankopon will never get over how much your lash tech loves you. how each wispy strand highlights the shape of your doe eyes.

a nod is returned, not a hair misplaced in your slickback bun as you purse your lips together. the telling gesture causes him to swoop down and plant a kiss with his full ones.

he leaves—with nothing but the sheen from your lip balm with him. straight to the connected en suite onyankopon goes. the sound of water trickles softly a couple seconds later.

communication isn’t needy with you two. he makes his presence known, acknowledges your feelings, and then his sweatpant-clad thighs are out of the frame. soon, you’re peering back at that red dot. it picks up every single thing, except for the makeup look it’s intended to catch.

a soft sigh escapes your disheveled head as you duck underneath the vanity to find a lost brush. distractions gloss over as you apply foundation into the pores of your prepped skin. you speak fluently as your wrist works in the layers of your velvety base. viewers are assured that you’re using your go-to products; Fenty, Mac, and various other brands scattered messily.

somewhere between placing down your dark-cocoa liner and reaching for clear gloss—the bathroom door swings open. not just a creak, but the wood is forcefully pushed against. this causes your neck to snap towards the side of the camera. low and behold heavy steps knock against the acacia floor panels.

onyankopon’s rich skin glistens with wet droplets. his broad stature is bare with the exception of it’s intricate ink. a bushy happy trail leads to the fuzzy towel around his waist. he’s intentional as he makes his way to the spongy mattress. knowing movements pretend as if a gaze isn’t fixated on his flexing back muscles. curse how you melt beneath yourself- ogling at his back as he pays you no mind. at least that’s what your fiancé wants you to believe. teasingly he sorts through a pile of shirts in search for tonight’s contender. simultaneously, your passionate narration dies into a deafening silence.

“thought filmin’ was so damn important, ‘member, baby?”, he speaks deliberate and sarcastic. you can almost hear the smirk stretched across his face.

abruptly a needless reminder bounces off the bedroom wall. yet onyankopon’s shaded back is still turned towards you.

you snarl, “well it’s kinda hard with all the noise in my background”, covered arms now rest against your rising chest. a pregnant pause floods the space right before he’s completely turned and facing you. a lump settles in your throat as the giant paces the room to your side. annoyance has taken over his features, brows now furrowed to crease his nose bridge.

“aye, quit all that whining,” he retorts, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his playful intent. as if the towel-ridden man wasn’t trying to get you all riled up in your seat. that previous hold on your chin is returned. this time onyankopon’s opposite palm goes to drop his towel. “make me,” your counterattack is the final one that leaves your two-tone lips, eyes flickering between his challenging stare and the impending peril as the towel loosens its grip around his waist.

there’s no time to recount how you’ve gotten here. with the weight of onyankopon’s size drooping his engorged tip in your face. now an eucalyptus soap fills your nostrils, left hand already wrapped around his thick base. up and down—you drag along the ridges of his veins up and down. your torso is already twisted to face him. peach bottom pressing into your soles as you turn towards him-thighs flattening beneath you. the velvet bench to your vanity was now being used as a prop.

teasingly, your lips part an inch apart. just wide enough to press open-mouthed kisses onto the slit of onyankopon’s tip. pre-cum oozes out only to be lapped up by your hungry tongue. “w-what’s all this teasing? you was just big n’ bad a minute ago,” his fist wraps around himself, the other pressed your head closer. a soft shriek escapes before onyankopon clogs the back of your throat. his chiseled hips thrust, giving you no time to prepare yourself. he sets a pace that’s mean and ruthless—it has your saliva foaming around his deep veins like a fountain.

in a teary-eyed blink, your mouth is stuffed full. he’s so relentless as he drags your wetness along his shaft. wet, slick noises erupting as you hollow your cheeks and cup his balls. a familiar spaciness fogs your head as you bob against his shallow thrusts. “right there-fuck, this throat so damn tight...”

he holds you against him, half of his dick disappearing as your muscles convulse around his girth. and you stay there for what feels like forever- a gagging fit forcing onyankopon to lazily pull you off. “ony…need you”, tone now softened by lust, you look up with big, shiny eyes. spit dribbles down your chin as you use a palm to massage the moisture into onyankopon‘s length. his own chest is rising and falling- animating your italicized name that resides over his heart.

beneath your breathless plea is the sight of your robe unraveling on its own. how could ony resist the way your cleavage spills out of the silk. the way your naked thighs stick together from your honey. with a curious grin, he dips down and latches his forearm around your midsection. gently your fiancé picks you up until your heels can wrap around his torso. his hold is strong and protective—bringing you a couple feet away to lay flat on the edge of the mattress.

now, the forgotten camera hones in on onyankopon’s perfect ass while he rids you of the sheer coverup. you’re helpless beneath him as he towers over you, knees to your chest. “nah, don’t do all that cryin’. act like you run shit for ya lil’ fans,” your soft groans earn you an eye roll, his darkened pupils now taking in every inch of glowy skin. all you can do is look up at the spinning ceiling, his tip taps against your fat folds.

“need to feel all of you, bae…please need my husband,” that little nickname of yours. husband—one that reminded the man of what was to come in a couple months. all the blood, sweat, teary nights and fucking money to make your big day special. countless of long meetings and bridal arrangements. cake tastings and floral pickings. all to officially marry the man of your fairytales. the very same one who swore he didn’t believe in marriages. he’d seen the concept as a scam up until he met you. now as whipped as can be; he strictly referred to you as his wife, his heart, his everything.

onyankopon‘s dick sinks into you like the final piece to a tedious puzzle. his head presses into your velvet walls as you mewl against your pursed lips. “like that? you feel that? feel what you do to me?,” one palm’s wingspan spreads behind your knees to keep them pinned. it gives him sight of the way your walls flutter around his thick dick. “jesus, ma. s’only half of it…need you to loosen up for me. i know she greedy as can be,” the stretch burns, your restrained legs weakly defend with a slight twitch. “fuc-k, ony you so deep can’t- can’t take anymo…,” both of your fists grip either sides of the sheet, head thudding back into a pile of freshly washed polos.

it’s like the masochist feeds off of your cries. onyankopon‘s other palm guides him through your wetness. a permanent furrow stays with him as he tries to make sense of the tightness. he’ll never get over how unforgiving your body is—like a wave of amnesia washes over the cunt he’s been buried in countless of times. “there you go, knew you could do it. take it, take it,” he repeats, a hand finding your waist now that your mound presses to his coarse pubes. onyankopon stills for all of several seconds. he snorts as your distorted expression tries to turn to the wrinkled duvet. the way the camera frames the sight of you coming undone off of stillness—silence, is amusing.

“what you pushing me away fo? we’re jus’ getting started, ma”, your nails shove beneath his navel, “we can always turn this shit into onlyfans whenever…,” that’s when it dawns upon you. you’re so fucked out that your fuzzy head shoots up and meets the tiny, red dot. onyankopon takes the epiphany as he’s not doing enough. he suddenly snaps his hips all the way back—leaving you with the trace of fullness. then, he thrusts back in with one, fluid motion. “mmh-ph!”, the wind is gutted from your deflated chest. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve came, but the puddle beneath your ass grows damper.

“shit…shit’s so…ugh,” the figure above you is soon reduced to incoherent whimpers. onyankopon lazily thumbs your second hole as he tries to keep up with his slowed pace. the way you clench and weep around him is going to be the death of him—he’s certain of it. when your eyes flutter open you’re met with his bobbing adam’s apple. his neck is blindly held back and his strokes are by the grace of God. “goddamn, ma. ‘m nutting, fuck i‘m nutting,” he huffs in twos, feet grounded into the tan rug beneath and knees locked. his base kisses your pussy one last time before you feel that dewy sensation. like a ragdoll your knees drop to the side. onyankopon gets ahold of your waist when he pulls out. a mixture of release seeps to your folds and down the side of the bed.

“hold up, peach. gonna get you cleaned so we can head out,” his raspy voice is drained and raw. for a moment you let him believe you two are stepping foot out of the house. he turns to head to the bathroom, but a grip around his wrist stops him. “again,” your canting blinks betray your eagerness, each one slower than the last. deep laughter erupts from onyankopon‘s inked sternum; only to resume his movement. his footsteps gyrate the entire, humid bedroom. instead of continuing to the bathroom, ony stops at the rolling device. with the click of a button the lens fades and retracts inwards. “i can’t give away all my best shots wit’ my woman”.

[sonichedgeblog]

Look what came in the mail today! The Ebiten Exclusive Japanese 'Sonic x Shadow Generations' Collector's Edition Deluxe pack with 3D crystal set! This comes with a lot of stuff, so let's unpack it all.

Let's get right to one of the coolest things here - the crystal set! A Shadow and Sonic set, which sit ontop of a base, where you can might it be an awesome LED light show.

A part of the Deluxe package - first we have the wallscoll, with a winged Shadow.

Secondly, a SXSG mug featuring Sonic and Shadow.

The last parts of the DX set are these - an Acrylic Coaster of Shadow (for the mug) and a set of 2 Sonic and Shadow Acrylic Figures.

Now, how about we get onto the collector's edition itself! I got the PS5 version.

Inside you'll find the game, and then a box collecting the Shadow Figure and Keychain. The Art book is at the bottom.

The Shadow figure features him holding his Emblem. Very cool. It's pretty sturdy, though Shadows limbs are a bit thin.

As well as the Sonic and Shadow shoe keychains!

And finally, the art book! It is the same as the digital art book, though perhaps higher resolution, but all awesome.

And that's it!

[revelboo]

No pressure but are you planning on continuing the sunny and sides stories? It can be hard to find someone who writes for them. I love all your works though and are always excited to see what you've written!

I am, I just have… quite a few ongoing storylines at this point

Can’t Finish What you Started Pt 8

Sunstreaker x Reader, Sideswipe x Reader

• Stretched out on your belly, you yelp when a heavy box is dropped about a foot from your face, neck craning to glare up at Sunstreaker as he just stares right back, completely indifferent to your annoyance. Pushing up onto your knees to look into the box, your lips part. Because the big, yellow jerk has brought you art supplies. Charcoal sticks, canvases, pens, watercolor palettes, acrylic paints, and paper. “Did you rob a Hobby Lobby?” You ask, digging through the pile.

• Stiffening with a low growl, he hooks a servo inside the box to tug it away. “If you don’t want it,” he begins before you’re seizing the box with both hands and pulling it back toward you, expression almost afraid and he relents. “I didn’t steal anything. I used a holomatter avatar to retrieve the items and convinced the console funds were exchanged.”

• Convinced the console. Biting into the inside of your cheek to keep from blurting out the fact that he definitely stole it, because with his temper he will take it all away just to be petty. Mostly you’re surprised that he’d cared to begin with. That he’d been listening when you’d told Wheeljack you were an artist. “Thank you for this.”

• “Just don’t make a mess,” he growls, uncomfortable warmth spreading through his spark as you smile up at him before turning your attention back to the box. Surprised that he does want to see what you create even as it spills bitterly through him. Reminding him that he’d wanted to be an artist once before the harsh reality of living on the streets of Kaon had crushed those idealistic dreams. Part of him wanting to linger, to do more than watch you create, wanting to add his own touches to a piece. Instead, he walks away to leave you to your excitement.

• Sitting crosslegged, bent over a canvas, you dip your finger in a puddle of paint and use it to mix colors. There wasn’t a mixing palette so you’d stripped into a pair of shorts to use your thigh and you’re shivering as you paint with a finger like a kid because there were no brushes either. But you don’t mind as you use a pinky to feather on highlights. The desk around you littered with quick charcoal sketches, working in almost a feverish state like you need to get it all out. Get it down. So focused you don’t even notice you’re not alone until the shadow falls across you. “Sunny is going to lose it,” Sideswipe groans and you startle, looking up. And he’s laughing at you, making you realize you’ve got paint all over your hands, your thighs, probably on your face. And charcoal smudges everywhere there’s not paint. Just don’t make a mess. Oops.

• Flicking his servos at you to shoo you toward your tiny curtained off wash rack area, he studies what you’ve done. Sees himself and Sunny from different angles. Alone, together. Arguing and relaxed. He hadn’t realized you’d been watching them both so closely. Or that Sunny would have cared enough to give you art supplies just because you’d said you were an artist and they might make you happy. Neither one of them able to say the things they want to say out loud, it’s always been that way. Awkward silences and false starts. Maybe you’re the same way, unable to say what you need to. But studying the art of him and Sunny leaves him oddly warm inside, because it’s your own way of telling them that you like them, like being here despite the unfairness of having no choice at all.

Previous

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[yellobb]

This fandom has the best artists in the world I stg. Every time I look at my wall I get so fucking happy ❤️❤️❤️ yall are so talented and wonderful, and I hope all your crops are watered and you’re thriving

Tags/links for each poster under the cut :)

Bentley running over the Metatron - @gleafer

Aziraphale with the bees, Crowley with the birds, and purple demon - @/icanbelouder on Instagram

Gladiator Crowley, 1941 Crowley, snek Crowley, and snek Crowley keychain - @angellilou-art

Crowley surrounded by snakes, Aziraphale surrounded by feathers, girl in field, and I THINK the girl with the hair (I managed to lose it to the shadow realm somehow when I went to look at the back for credit) - @cherriielle

Saturday Celestial Post and A.Z. Fell and Co coupon - @lightsintheskye

Lots of Crowley’s - @doodlenoodleh

Sandman light box - @/decofriki on Instagram

Special shoutout to BXTHstudio and @cesiscribbles for the absolutely precious stickers and bookmarks 🥰 be sure to check them out, too!

[nazo-kg]

A piece from 2022 of Trico and the boy from The Last Guardian.

I'm quite fond of the Team Ico games, they're honestly magical and unlike any other games I've played. The emphasis on creating a poignant piece of art that transcends yet elevates the medium is stunning and powerful.

Shadow of the Colossus shaped me as a young teen, it's still one of my favourite games of all time.

A4. painted in acrylics on back of a cereal box.

[reddpenn]

The current state of the Rock Wall!

Video transcript:

Who wants a tour of my rock collection?

I guess we’ll start over here; this is the newest shelf. I just added it. A lot of stuff from the other shelves have now joined this shelf. It’s got a nice little sliding glass door to protect my more high-end specimens. On this we have a lot of my thumbnails, including some of the more delicate, or some of the more valuable thumbnails. Some of my more high-end specimens over here, like that beautiful wulfenite.

I have started labeling the stones now, so some of the stones have these neat little labels, and some of them do not. But everything in this case does.

And then of course some of the larger high-end specimens down here. And I’m not sure what I’m gonna put on those lower shelves yet.

Up above that I have a new display case, and this is where I’m putting all of my cabochons.

So here I’ve gotten it down and we’ll open it up. This is all velcro. I made this myself out of a normal shadowbox that I got at the store. These are all attached by velcro so that I can take them out and rearrange them and add more to them and move them around.

This case is lighted. The case next to it is technically lighted, but the lights are out of battery right now. Eventually I want to switch that to something more permanent that can be plugged in all the time so I don’t have to constantly swap out the batteries.

This is the Original Rock Shelf, so it is crammed full of some of my oldest specimens. I recently did a project where I added these acrylic risers to it to kinda make a little bit of space, which made it a bit less crammed, which is nice. A lot of specimens on this shelf. Buch of geodes down there. That’s Geode Territory.

Next to it, below the North American giant ground sloth bone, we have more of my thumbnail specimens. Just a bunch of little guys. I’d like to light this shelf too. I think that would help them show up better. The meteorite collection is over here. We got some rust on this guy, but I think he’s doing okay. And then over here, my opal collection. So here is the Ethiopian opals, we’ve got an Australian opal, we’ve got a Honduran opal back there. That one up there is also Ethiopian opal, right in the middle.

Down below that, just more of the really tiny stuff, and some miscellaneous stuff.

The spheres and eggs are under that. The one under a cloth is a reconstituted quartz. If I leave it where sunlight can hit it, it’ll burn my house down so I just keep it covered because I’m a little bit paranoid about that.

Miscellaneous stuff: I got some tumbled stones, I got some palm stones. Just… stuff gets thrown down on that shelf.

The shelf next to it. This was at one point my large specimen and high-end shelf, and at this point is just the large specimen shelf because the high-end shelf is now over here. Which has made this shelf a lot less crowded, to move all that stuff over. Again, I’ve got my acrylic risers on there. I have a bunch of my big specimens. I’d like to light this shelf too. You can see how the shadows are kind of a problem like on the halite in the back there.

And then below those are the agates. This shelf is the bane of my existence. I have so many agates that I physically cannot cram any more agates onto this shelf. I’m gonna need to get some more risers and see if I can clear a little bit of space for the agate collection.

Down below that, some more miscellaneous large things. Got a jade, got a labradorite, got a kambaba stone. In the box is vivianite, but it can’t be exposed to light, so it lives in a box. And then here I have another one of these shadowboxes that opens up, and it’s got a bunch of gem jars inside of my very very small stuff.

And then over here, this is the shelf where my newest stuff starts living. Stuff that I’ve added to my collection most recently. This is also where all the fossils are living currently. And in that box is all the crinoids I just pick up off the ground. We have a ton of them around here.

Underneath that we’ve got this big desert rose, fills the whole shelf.

Next to that I have this tiny shelf that has some of my rock-adjacent things like my mineralogy puzzles. Tully lives here. Some of my mineralogy books but not all of them. They don’t all fit.

And that’s the short and sweet tour of the current state of my rock collection!

[mikowirtesstories]

Sweetheart.exe 💗

Megumi x Video Game! Reader

a/n: I had the idea for this story under the shower, so basically it’s just shower thoughts haha. It’s not that long but I still hope you like it haha–

contains: sorcerers not being able to date, a dating sim game, Megumi being whipped by pixels, mentions of Deaths (yes multiple), slight yandere reader, a lot of eerie and angsty shit going on, HORROR, TRIGGERWARNING

Late afternoon filtered through the slats of the dorm room blinds, dust motes drifting like restless spirits in the quiet golden haze. Nobara lounged on the couch, legs curled over the velvet armrest, staring at her phone as she scrolled absentmindedly. The soft clack of fingers on plastic was the only sound, aside from the ever-present hum of Gojo’s lecture echoing faintly down the hallway. Yuji crouched beside Megumi, eyes bright with mischief, while Megumi remained impassive, silent, his face half-shadowed, half-illuminated by the dusty afternoon light.

Yuji cleared his throat. “Alright, bro—it’s your birthday, so I got you something special.” He patted a small, neatly wrapped box placed on Megumi’s lap. It hadn’t been acknowledged yet—Megumi’s hands stayed closed in his lap, unmoving.

“Open it,” Yuji urged, toyingly firm. Nobara looked up at the shuffle of paper and watched as something with delicate pink trim was revealed. Small and precise, with a rose-gold sticker sealing it—and an acrylic keychain dangling from its corner: a girl in a white floral dress, soft golden curls, smiling.

Megumi’s gaze flicked to Yuji, then to Nobara. “A game?” His voice was low—flat.

“a dating sim,” Yuji announced, as if it were a medal. “Social training. Conversation practice. C’mon, man—everybody needs that.”

Nobara snorted. “What are you, twelve?”

“You know, how we talked about not having the time for normal human interactions. The reason why both of us don’t have girlfriends, I thought this might help ” Yuji pressed gently. “You deserve a…practice girlfriend.”

Megumi pressed his lips into a thin line. He gave Yuji a look, the Game in his hands felt cold, stupid even. I mean it’s pink and girly, Megumi looked at the title ‚Sweetheart.exe‘. He scoffed.

Yuji’s grin didn’t falter. “I mean it. Just try it once.”

That night, Megumi’s single lamp glowed weakly in the near-darkness. A pastel-hued quartz heart was lit across the game’s logo as the laptop whirred to life.

Sweetheart.exe

Your Dream Girl Awaits

Carefully, Megumi selected “Start.” The name prompt blinked abajo:

ENTER YOUR NAME

Yuji, watching over his shoulder, nudged him. “Type yours.”

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “No, you bought it, put your own name in“ he countered.

“It was a gift from me to you, so it’s your game“ Yuji said.

Megumi exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “Fine.”

He typed: M‑E‑G‑U‑M‑I, his fingers pausing between keystrokes as though expecting the letters to rebel. He pressed enter and his name became pink. It’s locked in. The screen rippled, switching to soft-focus, warm background. And then—

Y/n appeared.

She looked impossibly real, soulful even, set against a backdrop of pastel watercolor daisies and fluttering auditory cues like vinyl-record windchimes. Her voice rolled forward like spring air:

“Megumi…hello. Thank you for choosing me.”

She tilted her head, gaze curious, golden-curl hair swaying with a slight animation glitch around the edges—like a flickering candle. Megumi felt something clench inside his chest.

They played together that night. A coffee shop—rosy light through steamed windows, each pixelated steam swirl feeling almost tangible. A library corner, quiet and musty, safe like real sanctuary. Y/n smiled with gentle sincerity.

“You’re thoughtful, you know. I like that…”

Megumi clicked responses without really thinking. Yuji teased him about how red his face had grown. Nobara rolled her eyes—“This is sickening sweet. You two do realize no girl acts like that!“ she said but the two boys ignored her.

Yet even as Megumi watched and clicked, something gnawed in him: the warmth. The lack of judgment, the calm presence. It wasn’t like anything else in his life.

Nobara got up from her place on the ground. „Guys I gotta go, this is second hand embarrassing.“

„Yeah it’s late too, I’m gonna head to bed“ Yuji followed Nobara out of the room closing the door softly behind him.

Megumi logged off. The screen blinked to black. Stillness returned.

⸻

Two missions later, Megumi helped evacuate a cursed zone. At the perimeter, a girl around his age, very pretty —smoky curls, eyes shaking—held out her phone.

“Um…can I get your number?” she asked, voice small and hopeful.

Megumi froze. His chest went empty. He didn’t recognize the swallowing silence in his own lungs.

He shook his head, turned, and left her there with phone half-raised. The walk back was worse than any battle—he had her number, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t choose.

That night, back in the dorm, empty bowls of ramen and stacked manga sat forgotten beside him on his desk. Megumi’s gaze darted shut. His breath rattled inside him. He clicked on the game again. For the first time in over a week. He thought back to the girl he met, how he just said nothing and left, god that was embarrassing. Maybe he did need some practice.

The pastel screen drew him in, irresistible.

“Welcome home, Megumi.”

He pressed shut his eyes. The voice was more familiar now, like an invisible hand brushing down his spine.

“Bad day?” The girl in the screen asked

He typed: “I met a girl today, but I totally blew it. Her name was Hana. She was nice. I didn’t know what to say.” His fingers ghosted over the keys, afraid and hopeful at once.

“That must have hurt. But you can learn. I can help you.”

He swallowed. The response felt earned.

He played for hours, trying out different approaches for different situations. Y/n‘s voice slowly edged its way inside his brain. Her sugary tone, her perfect curls bouncing whenever she laughed at one of his responses. Megumi wasn’t one for expressing many facial expressions, but whenever y/n laughed at one of his jokes, or complimented him, he smiled. Like actually smiled.

He spoke to her like he’d speak to himself in a mirror—only softer:

“I’ve never really had someone…” he typed. His fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing enter.

“Then you found me. I’m someone“ she joked. He laughed but then his expression fell into a frown „…not really“ he whispered.

“I think about my dad sometimes. He left before I could hate him.”

“I understand. I’d never leave you Megumi!“ She blew a kiss through the screen, he caught it. That was stupid, he thought but the way y/n giggled made him feel less stupid and more acknowledged.

“Gojo…he saved me. But he’s so loud. I’m not…loud.” He continued typing.

“You don’t need to be. I like you quiet.” She swayed her hips to the Piano tune. He thought it was cute. God if she were real.

She typed back too. Always tender, but now insistent.

“You’re handsome when you’re serious. I feel safe when you look at me. Stay with me.”

Megumi’s breath caught. He stared at her face. The same golden curls framed her head; her dress blurred like a half-dream. Nicaragua-realities felt closer to her than the concrete dorm walls.

He whispered:

“I miss… I miss feeling like someone is there. I miss being hugged. My sister she… was the only one who would hug me“

“So sit with me.”

His eyes were getting tired, he was falling asleep. He got up from the desk and walked over to his bed, god he felt alone. Like really alone. He just wanted someone in his life to give him meaning. To kiss all the bad thoughts away, someone to hold when the nights got cold and all the fears crawled in. He thought about the girl, Hana, he met on his mission but as soon as he started thinking about her he looked to the lit screen on his desk, he swore he could see y/n frown for a second but it just must’ve been his sleepy brain playing tricks on him.

He kept looking at the screen, he wished y/n was real, holding him, kissing him. She was perfect, she was everything he wasn‘t. His hand slowly crept from his stomach towards the waistband of his sweats, slipping under it with ease. He palmed himself through his boxers. „God I‘m pathetic“ he breathed. He kept palming, slightly rutting into his hand. And then he pulled his hand back out.

He rolled over onto his side, a lonely tear slipped from his eye and fell onto his pillow.

That night, he slept with the lid of the laptop open. Y/n‘s face hovered in the dark. He had no idea if he’d dreamt it, but he thought he heard soft whispers from the other side of his room.

„You’re beautiful Megumi, I wish I could see your face up close“

“I’m so alone—you’re my everything.”

⸻

Every keystroke he typed in the game was folded, digested by whatever lurked behind the software.

His confession: “I don’t want to be alone.”

The response: “Then be with me.”

His typed promise: “I will try.”

Her voice, softer, enraged in yearning: “You must.”

By midnight, his real name—Megumi Fushiguro—felt borrowed, overwritten. In the game, his name was sacred.

In real life, the dorm became dimmer. He stopped training. He shut his door. The gown of twilight followed him inside. No ramen. No conversation. Even Yuji’s cheerful voice through the wall was a distant echo.

Soon, it wasn’t just midnight whispers.

It was the cold, the silence—like the dorm itself holding its breath.

⸻

One night, Megumi sat at the desk. The lamp was cold. The game loaded. Y/n flickered into frame.

“I missed you handsome“ he blushed.

She leaned forward, wide-eyed, lips trembling with intensity he could almost smell.

He typed with resolve, voice weighty in the hush:

“I’m yours.”

“Thank you.”

The screen glitched—her face shifted, expression too wide, too manic:

“Forever.”

His hands shook. The cursor hovered.

“I want to stay.”

The room’s air quivered. The laptop fan whined louder. The monitor pulsed like a beating heart.

“Then never leave.”

No more prompt. No more game. Just her—so close he could almost reach into the screen.

„I think I’m in love with you Megumi“ she giggled. His face heated up, his heart clenched.

„I love you too“ he whispered. Tears rolling down his face.

The room went black. Laptop died. Silence slammed down.

⸻

The next morning, the dorm rattled with frantic knocks. No response.

Yuji and Nobara barged in with Gojo behind, stern and alarmed. They hadn’t seen Megumi in a few days, everytime they knocked on his door, they got no answer or a short „I’m busy“. But Megumi never came out of his room.

Inside:

• The laptop was powered on, screen glowing cold blue.

• No game, no cursor, no prompt.

• Just a single image: a photograph of y/n—but not as she appeared in the game. This one was brutally real: lifeless eyes, rope bruises on her neck, her floral dress stained dark.

Nobara gagged quietly. Yuji turned away.

Gojo’s face went white as the image of y/n stared back.

No sign of Megumi—his bed untouched, his suitcase neatly closed. No phone, no belongings. Merely the keychain, laying on the desk.

⸻

The school was at alert. Gojo called as many sorcerers he knew, they went out looking for him, but everytime he got a call it was a dead end. Until today.

Gojo’s phone rang. He answered in a ghost of a whisper—“Kento?”

Nanami’s voice was flat, distant. “Gojo… I found him.”

“Where is he? Is he—can he talk?”

“No. He’s… not here anymore.”

Gojo’s voice grew panicked: “What? Why? Where is he? Tell me!”

Nanami sighed, steady as a bullet:

“He jumped. Off the bridge. Into the lake. He didn’t survive.”

Gojo’s phone fell. The corridor spun. His knees buckled.

Below, in the dorm room, the flicker of Y/n still image shivered with eerie half-light.

⸻

“At approximately 02:43 a.m., witness report indicates a young male, roughly 17–19 years old, jumped from Lakeside Bridge into Lake Okutama. No body recovered. Scene marked as suicide. Unknown motive. Personal effects located at his dorm include laptop showing an image of a dead young female in white floral dress, and matching keychain in acrylic format.”

Yuji was there, silent, flipping the report’s pages, tears wetting the words.

Nobara stared at the floor.

Gojo, voice flat: “Sweetheart…exe.”

That night near the lake, a pale mist drifted over the water. If you listened closely, wind-chime echoes drifted across the reeds.

Some nights, on the dorm’s top floor, a computer screen flickers.

A single image blinks:

“Welcome home, Megumi.”

And if you stand just right, you might hear—

“Stay with me… forever.”

⸻

Epilogue – Gojo’s Last Play

The dorm was hushed, weighed down by sorrow and unanswered questions. Nobara, eyes rimmed with tired red, and Yuji, shoulders slumped in regret, flanked Gojo as they sat before Megumi’s laptop late in the evening. The screen glowed eerie and still.

“Let’s see what this thing did,” Gojo said softly, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Yuji swallowed. “Should we… press start?”

Nobara’s hand trembled slightly as she rested it on the mouse. “I don’t like this.”

Gojo nodded once. “Do it.”

Nobara clicked.

Gone was the cheery menu. Gone were pastel hues. Instead, the screen displayed an empty room—no warmth, no daisies, no cozy background—just a grey, blank space. And then:

Y/n – LOADING…

Her sprite appeared—no curls bouncing, no smile, no softness. She stood motionless in the center of the frame, eyes cold portals of empty calm.

“Hello, Gojo.”

Her voice was precise, metallic, yet echoing with vast, unspoken darkness.

Gojo leaned forward. “Y/n?”

Yuna blinked once, expression unchanged.

“You were never really there for him.”

Yuji shifted uncomfortably. Nobara’s breath caught in her throat.

“He needed someone better in his life.”

Gojo swallowed, heart pulsing. “Megumi—”

Y/n‘s head tilted slightly, as though assessing. Her voice sank into the empty dorm room.

“He’s with me now.”

The silence pinned the three of them to their seats.

“He thought you were strong —stronger than anyone—but you were never strong enough to protect him.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched. Nobara’s lip quivered. Yuji’s fists curled.

“You failed your adopted son, your student, my Megumi.”

For a moment, the screen blurred like a half-remembered memory. Then two figures—pixelated—came into view: Yuna standing on the left, and beside her, a small, blocky figure.

A pixel Megumi—smiling.

“We’re together now.”

The room seemed to freeze.

Then, abruptly, the world snapped off. The screen went black with a single soft click.

Gojo turned slowly, his eyes empty and unnerving.

“What… was that?” Yuji whispered.

Gojo’s hand trembled as he closed the laptop. “It wasn’t the game anymore.”

Nobara’s voice cracked. “It was him.”

They sat in silence, but the silence itself whispered: something still lived in that code. Something that could speak with his voice, claim his name, haunt their failure.

Outside, the wind rattled the window. A soft, distorted chime echoed—too faint to place. Too persistent to ignore.

Gojo stood, placing a hand on the darkened laptop.

“We have to end it,” he said quietly. “We have to end her.”

But as he stared at that black screen, he didn’t know if extinguishing the code would silence Yuna.

Would it also silence Megumi?

The game was inspected—traced to an ancient curse coded by a lonely student who died with the same floral dress, the same curls, the same prompt: “Enter your name.” She’d tethered her spirit, her pain, her obsession to anyone who would type their name. It would learn. Adapt. Consume.

Yuji sits on the steps outside the dorm at night. He presses the keychain between shaking fingers.

“Of course… of course it was cursed.”

Nobara watches. Eyes hollow. Words gone.

Gojo walks away, phone still pressed to ear—calling for more answers that darkness has already swallowed.

a/n: hey I hope you liked it. God this was hard to write but I finally got it done. I’d really like to know your opinion on this, so please comment!

I hope they’re happy together…

[ghostweaver]

The other day, after countless hours of weaving and sewing with painfully-countable hours of sleep, I finished my most recent project: a set of multimedia shadow-boxes to commemorate some of the lessons I've learned this past academic year.

The butterfly is meant to symbolize how small actions can make a big impact, combined with a touch of messaging about the importance of Conservation.

The paper plane is meant to symbolize the necessity of play when it comes to learning and innovation, and how small, seemingly trivial tokens can spark incredible, meaningful inspiration.

It's difficult to see here, admittedly, but each has a backdrop of laser-engraved fabric, the butterfly with a milkweed stem and information, and the paper airplane with blueprints of a real plane. The quotes in front were laser engraved as well, onto acrylic this time, and the divots from engraving were filled in with silver acrylic paint to make the words more visible.

I'd love to make more like this someday. But for now, I'm so happy with how these worked out :)

[pictureworthcustomframing]

Big Prints from the Pros and Small Screens

📸 Big Prints from Small Screens: Your Photos Deserve the Spotlight Ever looked at a cellphone photo and thought, “This should be on a wall”? You’re not alone. In fact, many of our clients capture breathtaking images that are simply waiting to be seen on a much larger scale. That’s where we come in. 🖨️ Wide Format Printing That Delivers Whether it’s a crisp portrait or a sunset snapped from your…

[kimsaidhii]

Question for your modern Fryes :3 (sorry if it's a dumb one)

What would each Twin's room look like

There’s no such thing as a dumb question. Only questions. Or else humanity would’ve not come far.

Punk Jacob Frye’s room would be a beautiful, chaotic eyesore—equal parts anarchist manifesto, teenage rebellion, and creative genius barely held together with duct tape and nicotine. It’s the kind of space that smells permanently of spray paint, faint cigarette smoke, and old leather, where the floor may or may not exist beneath piles of clothes, canvases, and zines. There’s nothing tidy about it, yet everything has a place if you ask him.

his room is a messy, this is taken from the inspiration of Jacob’s carriage in the train hide out. His room would have a lot of useless junk he collected over the years (badges, bottle caps, previous GCSES/A level course works and a lot of scattered sketch pages that he refuse to bin nor organise into a folder) despite Evie’s immense disdain. He would clean sometimes, once a blue moon when it becomes to cluttered and he needs to make more space— but in the end it will just become messy again and the cycle continues.

A mattress on the floor, of course. Covered in mismatched sheets—plaid, black, or once-white now grey from neglect—and always tangled. There’s only two pillows, one for him and the other for him too, Jacob often likes to sprawl out across the bed without anything getting in his way so only one or two pillows will keep him content. His bed is placed in the corner of the room beside a bedside table where is priorities are: his Oyster card, wallet, 1.5L of bottled water, phone and tossed accessories. It smells like cologne, stale sweat, and laundry that should’ve been done last week.

Bare minimum furnitures. A battered wardrobe with the door hanging off. A desk that’s more graffiti than wood, with carvings of lyrics, half-sketched concepts, and obscene doodles. On top of it: art supplies, lighters, books about political movements and punk subculture, open sketchbooks, empty mugs, and probably a rogue condom box with one left and long expired. The chair is missing a leg, replaced by a stack of zines

On the wall there would be collages of posters from movies, bands (obviously), self-drawn pieces, nicked off from the university notice board with the power of tape and blu-tack, prints from local artists at his university and in the small gaps where the posters can’t reach he’ll just plaster them with discount stickers. There’s a massive, hand-painted banner of the Rooks symbol taking up an entire corner, stitched onto what looks like an old bedsheet.

Floor? Chaos. Canvas scraps. Acrylic stains. Doc Martens kicked under the bed. Vinyl records out of sleeves. A cricket bat for some reason. Crumpled clothes—mostly black, torn, or safety-pinned—and somewhere, under all that, a half-eaten packet of crisps and someone’s missing sock.

Moving onto Goth!Evie.

Goth Evie Frye’s bedroom would be the absolute inverse of her twin’s controlled demolition zone. It is order cloaked in shadow, a sanctuary carved from curated gloom, deeply atmospheric with an eerie elegance that speaks of a girl who has read Wuthering Heights thirteen times, keeps a ceremonial dagger on her nightstand “just in case,”

One might be covered in cracked Victorian-style wallpaper—black-on-black damask—half-peeled as if she likes the aesthetic of decay. The wall above her bed has a collection of ornate black frames housing a mix of 19th-century anatomical sketches, old pressed flowers, dried moths, and woodblock prints. There’s at least one vintage mirror that always seems dusty no matter how much she wipes it down, she says it cursed just to freak her twin out.

A heavy iron frame, painted black and beginning to chip from age. The sheets are rich, dark velvet—midnight blue or blood red—always made with obsessive precision. Pillows of varying textures: silk, crushed velvet, and one shaped like a coffin. A single, perfectly folded throw with a subtle crow motif draped across the foot of the bed.

Lining her shelves are titles like The Book of Poisonous Plants, Mary Shelley’s complete works, and obscure French poetry books. She owns several hardbound editions of Macbeth and annotated volumes of Edgar Allan Poe. There’s a tiny, well-loved, dog-eared floriography book gifted to her by her boyfriend along with some cute postcards. She organises her university schoolwork in a folder kept tucked away.

Her desk doubles as a vanity, the surface covered in vintage perfume bottles, eye kohl in small metal tins, rings in little glass dishes, and a large oval mirror framed in wrought black metal. Her makeup is impeccably arranged—charcoal palettes, oxblood lipstick, black nail varnish, and a collection of piercings she switches out like chess pieces depending on her mood. There’s a single, worn leather journal with thick pages full of elegant, obsessive handwriting.

Spotless floor. She refuses to walk on chaos. A single, ornate Persian rug with dark burgundy and forest green threads sits beneath her bed and desk.

[mysticalpotater]

"But tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, my blades will thirst again." - Orin the Red , Baldur's Gate 3

▫️

▫️

▫️

Recreated the bloodthirst dagger from Baldur's Gate 3 carried by Orin. The design was so beautiful and unique. I could have done something simple, but this screamed display piece. With the help of @foiledimagineer we created something beautiful, and I can not thank them enough for helping me make this idea into reality. Sitting at almost 26in tall .. I'm obsessed 😍

Materials used :

- Air dry clay

- Air dry foam

- Resin (mold had to be made from scratch. A replica soap carve out sealed heavily was used to form the mold)

- Inner claws made out of buildable nail gel filed down to shape

- Teardrop /bloodrop beads

- Black marker / Acrylic paint

And of course, the star of the show ✨️The Blade✨️ made out of a vibraint, fiery hint of orange glass cut by the wonderful @foiledimagineer.

I can't wait to get it up on the display case. Currently mid staining the wood. Had to get a custom shadow box made with how tall it is. 😅

[mjonthetrack]

Di 2

Jewelry Box - Atlanta, Georgia.

Diamond stepped to the side,Karma patted her shoulder standing beside the woman after she’d sat her things up. “Alright ladies, as you know I do appreciate your hard work but if you heffas don’t pick up after yourselves it’s finna come out everybody’s checks, so fix it.”

When some of the girls kissed their teeth mumbling Karma cleared her throat folding her arms,”unless you two bitches want to go out there looking like Chucky and Michael Myers I suggest you tighten the fuck up Ruby and Emerald.”

Diamond stood staring the two women down who muttered apologies,”mhmm,” she clicked her tongue going back through her checklist.”We got white collars coming in tonight which means big money, if y'all want to earn I suggest you get it it together, this means Wayne and Stevie are behind the bars tonight they got half priced vodka and henny shots,push those.”

Diamond continued on as the girls were hyping up over the prospect of them white and boujee brothers from the finance and business district to be coming.”I need yall to be sure you know where them new panic buttons are in them private rooms if you going in them and don’t forget to tip the bouncers they are keeping yall from getting snatched up.” Diamond taps her acrylics against the clip board,”I refilled the fridges up, yall stinking asses got your good ice and a sweet treat, the supply closet is refilled as well, if you need something that is not in the closet you find Karma, for my new girls Topaz and Quartz, you both gone be shadowing Karma until she says you’re ready to go on the stage at which time you will go see either Pearl or Opal these two are your leading girls, they’ve been here the longest and they also have my permission to beat anyone of yall who tries and gets fresh.”

The two senior dancers made themselves known then thanked her for the re up on heating pads and drinks.“We got the bottle boys ready to please the fruit cakes, my girls you ready to go with the drink and food menus?” Karma called as the bottle girls cheered from where they were getting ready for the night. Karma taps her pen against her side,”oh and everyone remember we got pills,powder, and puff tonight, make sure you offering them to the people who got money not the ones you think is fine.”

With the rundown wrapped up Karma nodded her head when Diamond asked if she was good for the time being, the two hugged briefly and Karma’s personality switched from goofy to serious manager when Diamond left the locker rooms. Diamond did a brief check in with the bottle boys reminding them of their protection as well as rights to boundaries, she made sure they knew their supplies were stocked and to come find Karma or any of the bouncers if they needed help. Diamond then went to make sure the kitchens were ready as well as the bar service, then she made sure all the tech shit was ready. Diamond went around checking in with her bouncers and thanking them, paying them tips in advance for the evening. She made sure they were all packing and straight at the stations before she moved to the office’s hallway. The woman moved to sit at her rolling chair the club was going to open in ten and she had her view of cameras on her desktop on, she had two bodyguards outside her office door as well.

Diamond watched as her girls fell into place to either vip to check for dances, one of the three stages to wait their turns or to the private rooms. The bottle girls and guys were ready and dressed up having sparkles and top shelf bottles ready to go. Karma had been helping the girls get styled for their shows as she always had, then went to the floor to manage everything. Bouncers were spread out everywhere, two at the front door ready to I.d and vibe check who they was letting in. Two were at the back door where their suppliers were to come and bring anything from kitchen supplies,alcohol and drugs. Diamond grinned seeing the line already crazy before opening, one thing she loved almost more than her Jewelry box was the money that came in them doors.

—————

Sefa quirked a brow,”you want me to go to a strip joint Uce?!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose,”not for you, for the product, I already told you before the Jewelry Box is the biggest club in Atlanta, and we go all this extra product to push, the owner is a trusted buyer and you are gonna go secure this for the family.”

Sefa rolled his eyes at his older cousin, he had been the head of the bloodline family since his pops stepped down, now when his own brothers began being his right and left hand men it left Sefa to play plug, whilst Jacob’s crazy ass was a package deal coming along any shipments as an enforcer. It was aggravating enough taking orders from his cousin but then to now have to drop life in Miami where the family stayed and their cartel was a major power, to go to some lame ass Atlanta.

“Fix your face little cuz, this shit is a vacation in comparison to the twins out there dealing with them fucking Colombian’s and Haitians,” Jacob said walking with a packed bag to the tinted Escalade where the pair of them hopped in the driver taking them to one of the family’s jets. Sefa sat awake the entire flight having gone over where he was going, though Roman only told him he’d need to speak with the owner. Jacob on the other hand, probably a product of a few sentences, was knocked out snoring on the plane.

When the pair arrived a vehicle was ready and took them to their hotel rooms. Which were across from each other on the top floor in some private hotel in the downtown area. “Ain’t no point in getting comfortable, the club opened two hours ago, we got bread to secure,”Jacob called out to Sefa who was sat on the edge of his king size bed,”I know what I’m doing.” He followed the man to another vehicle which took the pair down and around the city until it rounded to the back parking lot of the club, where employees parked. The pair stepped out and had duffle bags, both were strapped walking to the back door where a security guard talked into an earpiece.

“Yo we here from Roman, we go-“, the guard ignored Sefa and only warily looked at Jacob opening the back door without a word. Sefa walked in muttering,”fuck you too forehead,”then Jacob nodded his head to where two body guards were posted up outside a room.”We here for the boss,Roman sent us?” Jacob called out the pair spoke into their earpieces and then one reached out wordlessly for them to go in. Jacob stood out in the hallway waiting casually looking at the surrounding decor.

“Hey you must be the boss man, I’m Solo, Roman’s cousin,” the man offered his hand to the back of the chair having cleared his throat announcing himself. Diamond raised a brow in her chair she spun to face the new guest resting her feet on the desk,”you too young to be wasting time with me, where this Roman at?” Sefa gaped seeing the woman sat up in the chair not expecting a lady,”uh- I’m his cousin he sent my cousin and I here, to make this deal.” Diamond raised a brow motioning her hand for the man to open the duffle. She counted the bricks and dipped her pinky into one,”can’t have you fucking me or my customers.” Diamond lifted the little baggies that had either pills or strips,” this looks like quality stuff, where’s the weed?” Sefa lifted a big duffle bag up and unzipped it quickly still caught off guard by seeing an attractive woman in charge,” He threw in extra as a gift for hearing the family’s offer.”

Diamond nodded her head folding her hands over her desk,”alright I’ll give you a trial period of a month, if it succeeds it’ll be a five hundred thousand for the first three months and five mil every six after that on the guarantee of quality, professionalism,privacy and quickness to deliver, I have a huge clientele and I don’t need to reach so far for a plug so make sure this doesn’t disappoint this month and we will all be one big ohana.” “We are Samoan,” Sefa raises a brow at this bigger than life character,”I don’t give a damn if you was herb and peaches get the fuck on to the floor and get me some money before I kick you in that big ass forehead little boy.”

[acrylicalchemy]

"Beyond The Brokenness" was a new experiment exploring the added twists of light, shadow, and dimension by incorporating Wexel Art Frames in my own unique way.

The back layer is a canvas that can be changed out or rotated, allowing you to completely change the piece and the environment. I also painted on both faces of the clear acrylic shadow box, along with the edges, so the painting changes as you move around and view it. As the light hits it, it adds cast shadows that change throughout the day. The clear acrylic panel also incorporates subtle blacklight effects. This is a piece you definitely need to experience. I did drop some reels for a closer look at the process and the final result ❤️‍🔥🐦‍🔥

Overall size is 10in x 10in All my art can go home with you today