#I SAY THIS EVERY COLOR PAGE. BUT THIS MIGHT BE ONE OF MY FAVORITE COLOR PAGES. I <3 APPLE THEME AND HARSH LIGHTING <3

[youkaigakkou-tl]

Chapter 122 - Clearing His Name! Acchan's Great Prison Break!

YIPPEEEE!!!! ACCHAN IN JAIL!!!!! YIPPEEEE WAHOOO!! YESSS CLAW AT THE BARS LIKE AN ANIMAL FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT!!! i mean woah thats so crazy who said that

(Also on mangadex)

[wizardhex]

From "I Spy School Days: A Book of Picture Riddles", Walter Wick

[secondbeatsongs]

as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

[thatsveryvortex]

Writing Tools for Planning Your Story

I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.

Milanote

Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows

Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.

For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.

Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.

8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:

Miro

Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason

Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.

Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.

It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.

It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.

5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:

[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]

Hiveword

This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.

First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion

There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares

I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but

1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics

World Anvil

People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.

Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.

I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.

I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.

3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos

Campfire

This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.

right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.

It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.

7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos

That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options

[rafedarling]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: drew tries to play a playful prank by taking off his wedding ring, but his smart and sweet 2-year-old son, rustyn, immediately notices and innocently points out that it might make mommy sad. what starts as a simple joke turns into a heartwarming reminder of the love and connection between you, drew, and your son, and the importance of the little things that symbolize that love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. pure fluff, heartwarming family moments, playful teasing, and deep emotional connections.

au’s: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday

The warmth of the sunlight and the gentle sound of waves from outside made everything feel peaceful and calm—your perfect little haven. You were curled up on the couch with your son, Rustyn, nestled comfortably in your lap, his small head resting against your chest. He was two, but sometimes you marveled at how much older he seemed, with his sharp curiosity and his endless questions.

Rustyn’s favorite book was in your hands as you read to him, your voice soft and soothing as you flipped through the colorful pages. Every few moments, Rustyn would point to a picture and ask you about it. His little hands would grab at the air in excitement as he processed each new detail.

“Mommy, why is that bunny wearing a hat?” Rustyn asked, his bright blue eyes full of curiosity.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his soft curls. “Maybe he’s going on an adventure, sweetie. What do you think?”

Rustyn considered this seriously, his face scrunching up in concentration. “Yeah, maybe. I like adventures.”

“I know you do,” you said with a smile, kissing the top of his head. “You’ll have lots of them when you get bigger.”

Rustyn nodded, clearly satisfied with your answer, and snuggled closer to you. He let out a small sigh, content in the warmth of your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling with love as you continued to read. These were the moments you cherished—the quiet, everyday moments that made your little family feel complete.

As you were nearing the end of the story, you noticed Drew standing in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter. He was watching the two of you with that familiar look of affection in his eyes, the one that always made you feel so loved. But today, there was something else—a mischievous twinkle that you hadn’t quite noticed before.

Drew took a sip of water, then set the glass down with a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was up to. He didn’t say anything, just casually strolled into the living room and leaned down to scoop Rustyn up from your lap.

“Come here, little man,” Drew said, his voice warm as he lifted Rustyn into his arms.

Rustyn squealed in delight, wrapping his tiny arms around Drew’s neck and giggling as Drew spun him around in a playful circle. “Dada!” Rustyn cried out, his laughter echoing through the room.

“Having fun with Mommy?” Drew asked, settling Rustyn on his hip, still grinning as he glanced at you.

“Yeah! Mommy was reading to me,” Rustyn said proudly, his voice full of excitement.

But as Rustyn snuggled against Drew, his sharp little eyes caught something unusual. He tilted his head, his gaze narrowing in confusion as he stared at Drew’s left hand. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now, following Rustyn’s gaze, you realized that Drew’s wedding ring was missing.

Rustyn furrowed his tiny brow, clearly puzzled. His voice, though small and innocent, was filled with a sense of concern. “Dada...where’s your ring?”

You blinked, surprised by how quickly Rustyn had noticed. You hadn’t even realized it yourself, but there it was—Drew’s left hand, conspicuously bare. You glanced at Drew, raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to respond.

Drew, ever the playful one, kept his cool. He smiled down at Rustyn, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, that? Dada just didn’t feel like wearing it today, buddy.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly as you watched Drew, a mixture of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. What was he up to? He knew how much that ring meant to both of you, and though it wasn’t a serious situation, you couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to play out.

Rustyn, however, wasn’t so easily fooled. His little face scrunched up again, and he looked from Drew’s hand to your face, his innocent expression filled with concern. He tugged lightly on Drew’s shirt, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Dada,” Rustyn said in his most serious tone, his voice soft but full of wisdom beyond his years, “you know you gonna make Mommy sad.”

The room fell into silence, the weight of Rustyn’s innocent words settling between the three of you. You felt your heart swell as you looked at your son, his little face so earnest and full of love for both of you. His concern for your feelings, even at such a young age, was enough to make your heart melt.

Drew’s grin faltered slightly as he looked at Rustyn, clearly taken aback by his son’s sharp observation. The teasing light in his eyes softened, and he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh really?” he asked, his voice filled with affection as he looked back down at Rustyn. “You think Mommy will be sad if I don’t wear my ring?”

Rustyn nodded, his tiny hand reaching out to touch Drew’s bare finger. “Yeah, ‘cause it means you love her.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at Rustyn’s sweet words, and you had to blink back the sudden tears that pricked at your eyes. How did this little boy know so much? How could someone so young be so in tune with your feelings? It was moments like these that reminded you just how special Rustyn was.

Drew’s eyes softened even further as he looked at you, and the playful smirk faded into something much more tender. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wedding ring with a slow, deliberate motion. He slid it back onto his finger, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Well, we can’t have Mommy being sad, can we, buddy?” Drew said softly, his voice warm as he turned his attention back to Rustyn. “Is that better?”

Rustyn’s face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. “Yeah, Dada! Now you make Mommy happy again!”

Drew chuckled, glancing at you with a loving smile. “What do you think? Is our little man right? Does the ring make you happy?”

You smiled back at him, your heart full as you nodded. “He’s always right,” you said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze Drew’s hand. “You know how much that ring means to me.”

Drew leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand still entwined with yours. “I know, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of affection.

Rustyn, clearly pleased with the resolution of the situation, snuggled into Drew’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around his dad’s neck. “Dada loves Mommy,” he said with absolute certainty, as if there had never been any doubt.

Drew smiled, looking down at Rustyn with nothing but love in his eyes. “You’re right, Rusty. I love Mommy very much.”

Rustyn nodded solemnly, as if he had solved a great mystery. “I knew it,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart swelling with love for both Drew and Rustyn. You reached out, wrapping your arms around both of them, pulling them into a warm hug. “I love you both so much,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Rustyn’s cheek before turning to Drew and kissing him softly on the lips.

Drew smiled against your lips, his hand resting on the small of your back as he held you close. “We love you too,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth and tenderness.

As the three of you sat there, wrapped up in each other’s love, the world outside seemed to fade away. It was just the three of you—your perfect little family, full of love, laughter, and moments like these that made everything else seem small in comparison.

Rustyn, ever the observant toddler, let out a small yawn, his little body relaxing as the excitement of the day began to catch up with him. He nestled deeper into Drew’s arms, his eyes fluttering closed as he snuggled into the warmth of his dad’s chest.

As you watched Drew tuck your son into bed, your heart swelled with love once more. It was moments like these—simple, sweet moments—that made you realize just how lucky you were to have this little family.

As Drew gently closed Rustyn’s bedroom door, he turned to you with a soft smile, his hand reaching for yours. “You know I was just teasing with the ring, right?” he asked quietly, pulling you into his arms as he led you back toward the living room. His voice was low and full of sincerity now, the earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a quiet tenderness.

You smiled up at him, resting your hand against his chest as you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm. “I know,” you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. “But Rustyn was right. It does mean a lot to me, even if it’s just a ring.”

Drew’s expression softened even further, and he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I know, baby. I’ll never take it off again, I promise,” he said, his tone serious but still filled with that warmth you loved so much. “At least not without a really good reason.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “You better not,” you teased, your voice playful but laced with affection.

Drew smiled down at you, his forehead resting against yours as he held you in the quiet comfort of the moment. “I know I joke around sometimes,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. This ring—it’s a promise, not just for show.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, your hand still resting against his chest as you leaned into him. “I never doubt it,” you whispered back. “Not for a second.”

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The house was quiet now, save for the soft sound of Rustyn’s rhythmic breathing coming from his bedroom, and the golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow through the windows, making everything feel peaceful and serene.

Drew’s arms tightened around you slightly, and he let out a contented sigh, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you. “Rustyn’s growing up so fast,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and awe. “I still can’t believe how smart he is—how much he picks up on.”

You smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I know,” you agreed, your voice filled with love for your little boy. “He’s always surprising me with how much he understands. I wasn’t expecting him to notice your ring like that.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Neither was I. I thought I’d get away with the prank at least until bedtime.” His smile softened, and he glanced down at his hand, where the ring now sat securely. “But you know what? I’m glad he noticed.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Why’s that?”

Drew’s eyes met yours again, his gaze full of love and affection. “Because it reminded me how much this little ring means. Not just to you, but to him too. He understands that it’s important—he gets that it’s a symbol of how much we love each other. And that… well, that makes me even prouder to wear it.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing along his jawline. “You’re a good man, Drew Starkey,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Drew smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “And you’re the love of my life,” he replied, his voice just as tender.

He leaned down then, capturing your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. His hands rested gently on your waist as he pulled you even closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours, a perfect rhythm that matched the quiet contentment of the moment.

When you finally pulled away, Drew rested his forehead against yours once more, his breath warm against your skin. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers gently threading through his hair.

“For this. For our life. For Rustyn. For everything.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. “I wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything.”

You smiled, feeling the same rush of love and gratitude that you felt every time you looked at him. “Neither would I,” you whispered back.

The two of you stood there everything felt perfect—your little family, your life together, the quiet joy that filled your days. It wasn’t always grand gestures or big moments that made life special. Sometimes, it was the small, simple things—like the way Drew looked at you when he wore his ring, or the way Rustyn’s innocent questions could change the course of a day—that reminded you just how lucky you were.

[caramelkoo]

my soul back home. [1]

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : frenemies to lovers, writer!jungkook, pilates instructor!oc.

summary : your best friend receives your wedding invitation and realizes he doesn't have much time left before he loses you once and for all.

warnings : slight angst, they fight over a packet of pasta, bickering, oc is a pilates girly yayyy, Jungkook is super protective of the oc, misogyny, body positivity, strong language, hate at first sight.

a/n : heyy my besties, i just wanted to show my gratitude to all of you who read my last work. im so so so grateful to each one of you. it's almost 2am for me and i just couldn't wait to share this. Enjoy and let me know how you like it. xoxo. 💕

༺♡༻

6 years ago

Jungkook's growling stomach diverts his attention from the five page essay he's been trying to work on but barely has written a word. Blaming it on his hunger, he gets and up and decides to make himself some white sauce pasta also known as his comfort food. His mom used to make him when he was a child back in the days just so he can get done with his homework without making her work for it.

When he got into a fight in seventh standard and came back home with a nasty cut under his lip, his mom made it again. It's been his go to ever since.

"Shit" as soon as he enters the kitchen though, he realizes that he ran out of pasta last week when his friends came over.

Picking up his car keys he drives up to his closest supermarket. The lady behind the counter smiling at him as per usual. She must be around 60 year old and every time Jungkook has stopped by to pick anything up, she has been super sweet to him. Not to mention how badly she wants him to meet her granddaughter. He wonders if her granddaughter knows about her grandmother trying to set her up with a stranger.

"How you doin' today, boy?"

"Hey miss Cathy, you having a good day?"

"So far so good" Jungkook walks further inside the store and searches for the pasta packet he came here for. When he spots it, he reaches for it unaware of the hand that goes for the very same packet.

The vanilla and caramel like scent hits him like a truck and when he looks beside him, he freezes. The girl which stares back at him has brown hair which matches the color of her striking eyes. There are freckles all over her nose and cheekbones making it look like a group of stars decided to make a home there on her face. Her glossy lips are parted in surprise, her almond shaped eyes wide. Why does he feel warm all of a sudden? Is the air conditioner off?

"hello?" her voice breaks him off his trance. The girl's eyes have gone narrower now.

"I need the packet." He hears her say again. As beautiful as she might be and as badly as he wanted to get on his knees and.. no !! not going there, he couldn't let her take the pasta. Not when it's about his essay. if he doesn't finish it soon his professor is going to have his head on a platter.

"Oh no no no no no no, I need this and I saw it first so I'm getting this"

"Okay first of all that doesn't make any sense. People can see it things from outside the store, does that mean they own it? plus can you not buy it from some other store?"

now he was getting irritated. she had the audacity to look so gorgeous and on top of that she was fighting over a pasta packet?

"It does. No matter how badly you need it, I need it more."

The girl takes a step forward, "Listen, I have no idea what do you need it for and not that I'm interested but I have to make my little sister her favorite pasta with extra cheese or she is not going to leave me and my boyfriend alone."

See, Jungkook is a simple guy. He likes something and he goes for it. If it was some other place, maybe his college or a restaurant, he would have approached the gal and asked for her number oh so politely but this right here? It's a war and he hates losing. No matter how cute the opponent is.

"I'm sure you can persuade her with a popsicle or two. you can find them at the counter right there" he points towards the counter. "Now let me have the pasta because I need to eat my weight in it so that I can finish my essay and be done with it, alright?"

She scoffs, "You're infuriating you know that?"

"Heard somebody call me that once but I believe they were looking for the word 'lovable'" he shrugs and snatches the packet before making his way to the counter silently hoping miss Cathy does not mention her granddaughter again.

The pretty girl yells behind him, "HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU? 5?"

He places the item on the counter and pays the amount before walking out of the store. God, he was starving. Much to his disappointment, someone calls him out.

"Boy, wait!!!" Fuck, it's Miss Cathy again.

He turns towards her forcing himself to smile, "Yes, ma'am?"

"You know my granddaughter-"

"Miss Cathy, I wish I could give you a minute but I'm actually in a hurry. You see, my brother is visiting with his two year old and it's been a long journey for him and he's starving and I need to-"

Jungkook tried his best to lie through his teeth, he really does until a voice interrupts him. That very same voice.

"Really now? And here I thought somebody was so hungry, they started twitching just by the thought of someone else having that packet of pasta" the pretty girl in yellow sundress folds her arm over chest. "Does she know her tits push up when she does that?" Jungkook thinks.

She continues, "Grans, I didn't know you let liars into your shop?"

Wait, WHAT?! Did she just call Miss Cathy "Grans"? Would you look at that? They weren't lying about the world being small. Who would have guess that the girl he's been trying to avoid is the same girl he can't ever avoid for the life of him.

Miss Cathy's loud wheeze echoes through the store, "Trust me y/n, he's a good fella. Jungkook, this is my granddaughter, y/n. The prettiest, my girl."

She looks so proud while introducing her and rightfully so, if she were his, he would also take pride in that. Minus the pasta fight, though. The thought scares the shit out of him and maybe that's why he runs. His feet move rapidly not stopping until he's facing his car in the parking lot.

How the hell did he even let that thought enter his mind? One minute he was sneering at her and now he wanted to make her his? He began imagining what would it be like to call her, his? Quickly starting the engine he drives himself to his apartment. Later that night, he takes a cold shower and fucks his hand while thinking about the same vanilla and caramel scent.

༺♡༻

present time

Jungkook has always loved being alone, his solitude has been something which he absolutely appreciated. Being the eldest son of his family he's been the one to pick up everyone's pieces but when it came to him, nobody served that purpose so he ran. Ran away from his home, from the chaos, the noise and most importantly the responsibilities. That's not to say that he's a quitter but when you have a father sitting on your chest all the time and making it extremely hard for you to live your life, you might as well be called one. He chose his peace and he does not regret anything about it.

Unfortunately though, he left something very precious back home and as much as it hurt him to do so, he knew he couldn't not escape.

The room is quiet enough that he can hear his heart beating straight out of his chest and his breathing turning ragged. When he came back from his early morning run he did not expect to find a wedding invitation in the mail box. he wasn't even planning on checking the damn mailbox if it wasn't for the small part of him wanting to do so.

The man had the whole day planned and now he was standing in the middle of the hall feeling like somebody dropped a huge rock on his chest and said "deal with it" with a piece of paper in his hand he can't wait to burn or tear into pieces. He needs to sit down.

He unlocks his phone and finds your number at the very top of his dial list. You guys were talking last night only about your studio being renovated and it confuses him to the core as to why you didn't mention anything about your wedding.

"Hey, what's up?" your voice greets him, cheery as always.

"You're getting married?" the words seem bitter on his tongue.

"Oh my god, finally. You got the invitation" a dagger through his stomach would hurt less right now. He runs his fingers through his hair, messing them up and continues.

"Were you ever going to tell me about it?"

"No because I wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Taehyung and Cynthia to do the same as well. Aren't you glad you happened to check your mailbox, huh?"

Jungkook blinks, once and then again. He was having a hard time comprehending all of this. Hadn't he checked the mailbox, would you have gotten married and never told him about it? He was going to throw up. When he replies his voice is brittle.

"Listen, can i call you again? I need to run some errands"

"Sure, but don't-" he hangs up and runs to the bathroom before emptying his stomach.

༺♡༻

5 years ago

Sweat drips down from your forehead, your chest moves up and down from how fast your breathing has gone. A moan slips out as you spread your legs a bit wider.

"Just one more aaaaand perfect. Now release" the Pilates instructor's voice reaches to your wet ears. You place yourself down on the mat.

"Fuck, she'll kill me one of these days" Your routine has already been fucked up because of your college exams and after finally being fed up of sticking your nose in the books, you had decided to get on with Pilates. You fell in love with it a year ago.

After working your body in the gym and realizing that high intensity workouts are no good for you, you gave low intensity workouts a chance and boom! The clouds parted and now you're almost in the best shape of your life.

You have never loved your body as much as you do now and if your 13 year old self could look at you, she'd give you a pat on the back. She wouldn't believe that people no longer make fun of her for not having thigh gap or slender arms. Indeed, it took several lunges, roll ups, spine twists, ab burners to get there.

It's not like you have the most anime like body, no. But you have finally stopped beating yourself up over it, accepting the fact that people's negative opinions are just a reflection of their own insecurities.

Your phone pings with a notification and you pick it up. It's the guy you've recently began talking to on hinge. Your boyfriend, now ex, broke up few months ago because he suddenly thought sleeping with his manager would be something you'd look past. Clearly, he was wrong and now he can choke on a thorny dick for all you care.

When your best friend, Cynthia had suggested to join a dating app just for the plot, you did it. Besides, what more could go wrong? An hour of swiping left and two cups of coffee later, you came across a guy with pictures of a guitar, a black cat and a chess board. In your defense, his cat was cute.

The texts reads, "Are you free on the upcoming Saturday? My buddy said there's a new coffee shop and they sell the best hazelnut frappe in existence."

You think before replying. According to the stats, it's the ninth day since you have started talking. Isn't it too soon to be going on a date? Although, there is a small part of you who wants to say "fuck it" and go. Before your thoughts go spiraling you go with the latter.

"Sure. Hazelnut frappe is my favorite" locking your phone you prepare to take a long hot bath. After all, you've earned it.

༺♡༻

Turns out the nerdy guys possessing a hobby of playing chess are not worth it. At least this one isn't. You wonder if you killed a bunch of kittens in your past life because seriously? When you said yes to the date two days ago, the thing you expected the least was your date constantly talking about how many hours he spends in the gym, which protein shake he drinks, even mansplaining about the NHL team he's been obsessed with. Guess you should have seen it coming from the way he couldn't even wait till ten days to ask you on a date.

Honestly, whenever you go on dates you can't help but expect the other person to be on their worst behavior. For example, you can expect the guy to dress badly, smell badly, show up late or conventionally not show up at all. This guy right here is outright insane and has failed to stay in his lane. You were getting agitated at this point.

"And then BOOM!! he shoots the most legendary shot of his life. This is what happens at NHL, you-" he stops when you stand up from your place.

"Excuse me, I'll just be back in a second" you place the napkin on the table as you grab your purse hoping the washroom has a secret exit or something.

But before you could even take a step forward, his voice stops you.

"Oh I know where this is going, You'll excuse yourself politely and then run away like some coward huh? Typical escape plan for you girls?" His voice sounds so nasty and when you turn towards him he's scowling at you like YOU'RE the one who was being a twat the whole time.

you mumble, "What do you mean?"

He stands up and walks towards you. You really try to ignore people staring at you but you're only human. The sudden rush of emotions have caused your mouth to go dry. It's hard to process what's happening.

"What I mean is that you're probably gonna go in there, call your best friend and ask her to help you escape because you can't stand another second with me" he raises his right eyebrow up.

"Sir, please you're causing trouble for everyone. I suggest you to please sit down"

This is beyond embarrassing. If you were planning to give this guy another chance earlier, there's no way in hell you're going to do that now. Over your dead body. So you do the only thing that makes perfect sense. Your hands fly and you hit his cheek with so much force, you swear you hear his jaw pop.

There are several gasps around you. If you're going to get booed on, you might as well make the most out of it.

His face turns sideways before he stands up straight. He raises his hand to hit you back but suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabs his forearm and yanks it away. You instantly know who it is. It's the same arm you wanted to twist a year back at the grocery store.

"Get your filthy fucking hands away from her"

After an year of trying to forget about him, he's here yet again and he's saving you from this asshole. You couldn't decide if you should be thrilled about him coming at your rescue or worried about him being back.

[arcanesea]

letters

PAIRING: lee seokmin x reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff WC: 620 WARNINGS: none

When you said you like letters better than flowers, it never crossed your mind that you would receive long paragraphs of text literally every day from Seokmin.

He still gets you flowers every few weeks, freshens up your window, and gives new color to your room. But he loves writing for you. He would spend some time before bed writing in your chat room, telling you everything.

"Did you receive it?" Seokmin asked when both of you meet during the weekend. His eyes shine with expectations that you soon snuff out by looking confused and saying no.

"Oh no..." Seokmin said. his face fell as he realized that you might never get it, that he might have messed it up in the process. After all, it's his first time sending letters through the post office, with stamps and all. Your heart sank when he told you.

"It's fine, don't worry. I remember everything... I'll just write another one and give it to you tomorrow." He reassured.

You went home in the evening, yanking the post box open, and found nothing. Motivated by the letter's content, you went to the post office, talking to the staff, trying to find your missing letter. When one of them digs through the pile of letters, you feel a spark of hope.

You went home immediately after receiving the letter with a golden retriever stamp. In it was the handwriting you recognize well. A two-page handwritten letter that makes your heart tinge with warmth.

I hope this reaches you, the first line read. I can't believe people used to do this back in the day to talk to each other. I don't think I can handle anticipating a reply.

You know, I always love writing letters. Especially for you. However, I find it difficult to put everything into words. But mostly, I find it difficult to explain my feelings when you're around. You make me the happiest in the world, and I love that you always reassure me that I make you feel the same way.

ever since I met you, I think I understand love better. I have more courage to love, because you, my adventurer, deserve the daring love. One that's not afraid to take consequences if it means proving you how loved you are. The good consequences.

But you also deserve the soft love, the pat on the head when days get tough, and the rub on the back when the world gets too cruel. I know just how to fix that with words, and I always love sending them to you because I know you captured them and keep a folder filled with soft words, and good words.

Aside from that, you also deserve guiltless love, the I love yous in the middle of the day just because, the I love yous in between activities because of how easy it was to love you.

And it was easy to love you. If you ever doubted that it was the other way around, I'm telling you; it was easy to love you. It was as easy as breathing, as blinking, as picking up my favorite snack in the convenience store, as reading my favorite book, as singing the lyrics to my favorite songs. by now, loving you is like a muscle memory.

You put the letter in your chest, inhaling sharply as you try to not cry. Seokmin has a way with words, that's for sure, and with him, you don't feel you're saying too much because he would say equally as much. Your world is crowded with his words, words that never stop making you smile.

I love you my star. Don't doubt that for a second.

You would never dare.

a/n. i think i teared up a bit while writing this. bcs as much as this is something he would write, i think i wrote this while thinking of him too. it is, indeed, easy to love him.

[pluralthey]

what steps do you go through to draw in your current style? do you have any pointers about it? its absolutely one of my favorites

i'm not sure if i think of my process in steps. in my head, i'm just straightforwardly drawing the shapes the characters are made of at angles that look right and building on that... luckily, i stream when i draw every day, so i have a ton of videos of myself drawing. example:

i haven't bothered to upload a lot of the modern streams to youtube because my video editor can't handle editing 4-8 hour files even if i'm speeding them up and technically making them shorter because of the way video editors interact with files, and the freeware i use isn't able to make proxy files. the act of downloading and editing and combing through all the footage is a ton of time and memory space and it's just not what people are usually looking for from me, so it's not where i wanna put my time.

but that's neither here nor there. what i mean to say is these vods are really long. so you don't want to rawdog those. but you can just download a video speed controller extension to your browser and it's extremely easy to cruise through the backlog of vods at ~15x speed.

i've gone ahead and highlighted some of the recent videos to separate the chaff from the wheat. i tend to take long breaks to eat or walk my dog so there are big periods of Nothing Happening. i'll try to skim some more and do the same. unfortunately, i don't have any good videos of me coloring, since twitch deletes vods after like a month, and i've just been focusing on sketching.

but yeah, in general, it really depends on how good i'm feeling on a given day -- sometimes i will sketch multiple times for just one panel and sometimes i won't sketch at all. i use paint tool sai 2 and a pixel brush usually 2 pixels wide with no pen pressure. for comics, i have 1 layer for the panel borders, 1 layer for the sketch, 1 layer for the lines, 1 layer for the colors, 1 layer for the text, and 1 layer speech bubbles. sometimes there are special effects that overlap borders and need their own special layers. when i start sketching a new panel, i will usually put it on its own new layer, and sometimes for multiple characters i will put them on another new layer at a different opacity. this is mostly to move them around without constant cleanup. once i've gotten a sketch pretty finished, i merge all of the layers into the sketch layer. the line layer is usually just the sketch layer cleaned up and paint bucket tooled black. but basically, the vast majority of my time working on art is spent trying to fix small things like tangents, fitting speech bubbles into panels, thinking about how to lay out a page, checking continuity interaction with other pages, that kind of stuff. the complex technical parts of the process are to save time on those in ways i can without compromising quality. the other portion of working on the art is like "step 1: draw head circle (or jessie head diamond). step 2: draw the rest of the owl." i don't know if this was helpful at all y_y if you want more pointers i might be able to offer clarity on more specific questions!

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Angel Dust with Violet Evergarden!reader platonic fluff scenario

Warnings: spoilers up to episode 4, possible triggers. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please leave now and read something much more pleasant.

For everyone else, welcome to this small piece of fluffy goodness! You guys might know me from my other blog, @forbidden-sunlight . You have sent me your ideas for future Violet Evergarden!reader scenarios for Hazbin Hotel, and here is one of them! :)

Sit back, relax, and let us dive into a chaotic afterlife, where even a bit of reprieve from dishonesty and hypocrisy isn’t possible…until now.

Angel Dust's first impression of you is the following: a cute weirdo who dressed like a doll and didn’t smile much. What was even more tragic is that you actually believed there is a chance for sinners to be redeemed, and that the only to do that is complete Charlie’s half-assed rehabilitation program. You still do, even your progress hasn’t gotten you one step closer to Heaven’s pearly gates and the next Extermination is in six months. Five months actually, but who's counting?

That was around the time when he had to go back to work. He didn’t want to, but he knew if he didn’t…well, he didn’t want to think about it. Valentino is a psychopathic freak. He promised to make him, Angel, a big star in Hell’s entertainment industry, and instead fucked him over six ways from Sunday with false promises.

Long hours, shitty pay. No time to even take a nap in his dressing room because of course Big Daddy Val had his favorite toy’s schedule booked until he couldn't walk anymore and needed a stiff drink. When his afterlife seemed to take a nosedive for worse, and after Husk knocked some sense into him, he started finding letters under his door.

At first glance Angel could tell that they weren’t from his fans. No one’s gonna go out of their way and buy expensive paper to type it on, shove in an envelope, and put a wax seal on it just to praise him for his acting skills and share their wildest fantasies starring yours truly. No. This was….someone else.

He honestly didn't know how to describe the context of these letters because he had never received something like this from anyone who did not expect anything from him in PS or PPS. The sender would write either a short or long letter. The short letter was about half a page long; the sender would ask how he was feeling and ask him one question. What was his favorite food? What is the color he would never wear? The sender included a little about themselves too, as if to encourage him to respond. The longer ones started the same, with a greeting and almost the same stuff written in the shorter ones, but they shared how their day went with him, even the stupid, mundane shit they do every day as a part-time clerk at an antique shop and when they come home. The longer ones were at least two pages long. Some stuff made him roll his eyes, made him laugh…but it was the closing sentences, even as they vary from letter to letter, always jerked his heart in a way which made him both sad and happy at the same time.

I’m happy I’ve met you.

Thank you for being here.

Good night and have pleasant dreams.

You are stronger than you think, Angel.

I hope I can receive a letter from you someday.

You made a lot of progress today in Charlie’s exercises. I’m proud of you.

You’re doing great.

Angel might be a bit of a dummy….but he could tell right away who had been sending him the letters. The bit about Charlie’s exercises…there were only a few people attending that day. Vaggie, Sir Wet Noodles, and you. Vaggie wouldn’t write this kind of shit, and definitely not the wannabe overlord. You. You’ve helped him get through it with these letters and you never expected him to reply back. It’s as if you just wanted your words to reach him through Val’s sickly red smoke and hold his hand in your gloved one.

Naturally…the best way he can say thanks…for caring about him in your roundabout way…is to write a letter back. Maybe have a drink at Husk’s bar and talk about shitty coworkers or why Smiles never stops smiling? He’s not sure, but he’ll figure it out somehow. Sex isn’t the only thing he’s good at. And he’d like to get to know you a little more too.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@tired-of-life-86

@nixie-writes

@frompeach

@riddle-simp

@likesugarandcyanide

@witch-of-the-writing-desk

@22carolina08

@angel-tsugikuni-kamukura

@justamegafan

@saltyfruitbat

@lanxianschoenheit

@trecllllllll

@vikkirosko

@imperfectbloodmoon

@theunknowntravel3r

@thatstonedwriter

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@chroniccorvus

@food-theorys-blog

@doc-tooth

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Masterlist✨ A03

Hi! I’m Jamie and welcome to my blog! If you’d like updates for my work, my updates page is @mermaidgirl30-updates. I mostly write about Pedro Pascal characters. Always looking to converse about music, writing, video games, Pedro Pascal, really just anything ☺️ I am always open for requests and asks and will do my best to answer them 🩵 Dividers and Masterlist main pic by @saradika-graphics

~I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANYBODY USING MY STORIES OR REPOSTING THEM IN ANY AI OR ANY OTHER WEBSITE!~

✨One Shots/Drabbles✨

Avalanche: Wolf! Joel Drabble

Always In My Heart: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

Birthday Blues: Joel spends his birthday sulking on the porch, regretting the mistakes of his past. Just when he thinks he’ll spend his birthday alone, you come around and turn his cloudy skies into sunshine.

Caught In the Act: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Clouded Skies Drabble

Comfort in His Arms: A little Drabble about enjoying the sunrise while you’re being comforted and held by Joel. Soft, gentle, warm. He’s your forever.

Crimson Ties: Joel was a creature of the night, a monster who begged to be released from his curse. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t think he deserved anything that shined light on his dark soul. But there was you, the girl he so desperately wanted to stick around, if only for one more night.

Dominate Me: dom! reader x sub! Joel. You dominate Joel in the bedroom, and he takes every demand you give him.

Fading Into Lilac Skies: You never meant to fall for your boyfriend’s dad, but it happened. You just couldn’t stay away from those shades of blue and grey. But your favorite thing was turning them the color your soul was. Lilac.

Forbidden Desires: A Handmaid’s Tale Fic: Gilead. A dystopian world—one that was once a free country. But that’s gone. Just like your freedom. You do as you’re told: say your prayers, spread your legs, pretend this nightmare is just a phase that’ll end. But it’s not; it’s real. Just like he is. Joel Miller—the gardener/driver that just might be your way out.

Happy One Year, Baby: You forget your one year anniversary with Joel and don’t remember until you see a dozen roses with a love note left on your doorstep. Since he’s away on a work trip, you decide to get all dolled up to give him a little show over FaceTime

Haunt Me: Joel isn’t all that he seems. He might be dead, might be a ghost, might somehow just be trapped in a curse, but you find him. You always find him.

I’ve Got You, Baby Girl: After suffering all day alone with cramps, Joel comes home from work to take care of you and gives you exactly what you need.

Jealousy, Jealousy: After having a bad breakup with Joel Miller, you decide you need a night to relax at the bar and find someone new. Little do you know, Joel is there and he’s not alone. Will you let your jealousy get the best of you or will you get revenge with another man at the bar?

Love and Coffee in the Mornings: This one's just a short fluffy/smutty one shot that's filled with morning love between Joel and reader.

My Heart I Surrender: Feelings and words never come easy to Joel, but they come out slowly and surely for you. So much angst coming off the pages on this story, and it's all in Joel's POV.

My Paper Heart Will Fold: Joel fights himself over his feelings for you, not wanting to admit they’re there. He finally comes to blatant terms that he can’t lose you. He can’t ever lose you. Not ever.

My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

On My Knees for You: You’re supposed to be getting ready for a Halloween party, but maybe you’ll just have to be late because all you can think about is getting on your knees and making Joel Miller feel so good.

Pulled by the Scarlet Reins: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Run Rabbit: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Show Some Self Control: It's your birthday, and Joel can't deny you from wanting to explore being with another woman, so he indulges. He sits and watches, but he can't hold back for long. Not with the way your body is writhing against the damp sheets.

Soft: Just a little Drabble about Joel being in love. So very soft.

Stay in the Light: Joel gets injured after a raider attack, and he’s wishing he could’ve told you all the feelings he held back from you for so long

Take Me to Wonderland: You find yourself in Wonderland, but you think you’ve been here before. And the handsome stranger, Joel Miller, is someone that definitely seems familiar.

Teach Me a Lesson, Mr. Miller: Tonight, you planned for beer, loud music, and sloppy sex with one of your hot college classmates. Instead, you get your best friend’s dad putting you in your place.

Tongue Tied: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpower all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

✨Series✨

Can You Please Be Mine?: (Ongoing multiple part series)

No Outbreak!Joel x fem! reader

It’s a hot summer’s day in Austin, and you’re cooling off by having a cold ice cream cone while riding the carousel at the fair. You see a handsome, older man that you think is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and you just wonder what it’d be like if he took you home with him.

Captured in the Woods:

(Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Joel books a nice secluded Airbnb cabin out in the middle of Southwest Texas to get a little alone time with you for a weekend. Little do you know, you’re not alone. You’re being stalked by a deranged family, and you’re going to have to fight your way to make it out alive.

Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Moulin Rouge Joel x fem! reader

Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller: (Completed)

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long? The only problem is that he’s your dad’s best friend.

Dancing With Fire: (Completed)

maintenance man! Joel x ballet dancer fem! reader

You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York at a huge theater. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. One day you notice the hot maintenance worker, Joel, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off him. Lucky for you, he can’t keep his eyes off you either.

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost: (Completed)

pleasure dom! Joel x fem/sub! reader

After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Deep Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Diver! Joel Miller x marine biologist! FOC

Swimming with great white sharks was always on your bucket list. Now that you’ve graduated with your master’s degree in marine biology, that’s the only thing you want to do. Luckily your friend, Jenna, pulls some strings and gets you on a private shark diving tour. What she didn’t tell you was that your diving guide, Joel Miller, was going to be ridiculously hot. Will you survive the dive or will you end up falling for the man of your dreams?

Destined Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

After a messy break up with Joel, the two of you cross paths again unexpectedly at the lake. Everything seems to fall back into place, and you slowly start to fall back in love with him. Maybe he just might be your forever.

Enchant Me: (Ongoing multiple part series)

soft! Joel x witchy garden fem! reader

Joel delivers a custom built table to a little house out in the middle of the woods, but he doesn’t realize he’s going to fall for the girl behind the doors of that small purple house. He falls head over heels for her special herbal tea, tarot card readings, and talks of nature and plants as he keeps going back to see her.

Fall Into the Dark With Me: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star: (Completed)

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Joel’s your broad, handsome bodyguard that you flirt with and secretly dream about. Little do you know, he can’t seem to keep his eyes or his hands off you for long. The two of you should know better, but after Coachella it’s so obvious that you can’t stay away from one another. Could he be your end game?

Just Breathe: The Dinosaur Diaries: (Ongoing multiple part series)

paleontologist! Joel x fem researcher! reader

After going under the wings of doctor Miller, the hottest paleontologist you’ve ever seen, he takes you on a little adventure as his research assistant. You’ll get more than just knowledge and dinosaurs, you’ll also end up getting the sweet scientist who can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Look for the Light: (Completed)

outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

Love Amidst the Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Royalty Clad in Silver Armor: (Ongoing multiple part series)

knight! Joel x princess fem! reader

You’re the royal princess of Ireland and your parents are hounding you to find a suitable man to marry. Joel gets placed as your protector (knight in shining armor) and swears an oath to put your life before his own. But after meeting him for the first time, you don’t want to leave him alone. In fact, you can’t help but to pine after him, even though he is off limits to you.

Saddle Me Up, Cowboy: (Ongoing Mini Series)

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

One night at the country western bar was all it took for you to fall head over heels for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet. Little did you know, he may be what you’ve been after your entire life.

Saving What Was Lost: (Ongoing multiple part series)

You never expected to get auctioned off in a room full of filthy rich, vile men after being taken over a year ago, but it happened. And the man that buys you, the one with soft brown eyes, just might’ve saved your life. He doesn’t want to hurt you. No. He wants to show you what it’s like to fall back in love with life.

Slip Into Me: (Completed)

QZ! Joel x fem! reader

After getting caught by a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, a certain broad smuggler comes to your rescue. He’s not at all what you expect. He’s reserved, intense, and intimidating. But you soon find out he’s not all brick walls and harsh words like you thought. You just might be the one that tears down his walls and helps him see the light again in a torn up, infected world.

Somersaults and Stealing Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast fem! OFC

Being a competitive gymnast at UT Austin is nothing short of hard work and dedication, but winning Nationals is all I’ve ever wanted, so I stick out the long, grueling practices. When my favorite coach leaves for another job, just when I need her most, another coach has to fill in. And that coach ends up being Joel Miller. The tall, handsome man with pretty brown eyes that I just can’t seem to keep my eyes off. I won’t let an attractive man get me distracted from what I want, but what if I end up wanting him too?

Tear You Apart: (Completed)

Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

✨One Shots✨

Guiding Light: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

✨One Shots✨

Javi’s Playground: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

✨Moodboards✨

Colors 💜

Infra-Red ❤️

[iiseult]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇: 𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝒻𝑒

CWs →  BALDWIN OILS HIMSELF UP, angst, love letters, themes of war and death, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism

Wordcount: 3.3k

Note: This might be my favorite chapter. Please let me know your thoughts, and pay special attention to the cross necklace. You'll see what I mean. <3

It was not so dramatic, the way his illness progressed, but progress it did. The Holy Disease was inevitable, and he’d always known that. Six months and he was losing sight in his left eye, his peripheral vision effectively ceasing to exist. Twelve months and the eye was becoming clouded and sapped of its color, like something bleached by the sun, only a baby blue now when it used to be so much deeper. Eighteen months and everything through the eye was covered in an indispersable layer of silver mist. And then there was his little finger, the poor little finger on his left hand which he could no longer feel, and when he commanded it to move, it was as if a phantom were possessing it. If it weren’t for the fact that he could see it moving, wiggling back and forth, he likely wouldn’t have any idea whether or not it was really happening. Often he frowned at it in concentration, exercising his will over it and forcing it to move, desperately trying to feel something. Every time he was forced to give up, frustrated. However, the majority of his skin and all of his features were still perfectly intact, and for that he was grateful. 

That September he fell ill with fever. Forty-two days and nights he laid in bed, watching drowsily as the sun made its daily voyage across the heavens, warming his too-warm skin and blinding his aching eyes. In periods of occasional lucidity his thoughts lingered only on you. He would see a flash; then the fullness of your lips, the sweet curve of your neck, the shape of your back, and were you wearing your sapphire today? He could picture it clearly, lying against the firm softness of your full bosom, gleaming like a winking eye. Ah, sick mind. Shameful thoughts. He redirected them. What of the kingdom, his kingdom? What of his sister Sybilla, and her son, his baby nephew Baldwin V? They did not come to visit because Sybilla claimed she couldn’t bear the sight of her beloved brother in so much pain. And then his mother was dead, a few months buried. Nobody left to come visit.

He continued to read during this time. He was brought books on war and strategy, classic and ancient tales of love and romance, history, and Greek literature, of which he had always been very fond. Perhaps it was these such books that gave him his next brilliant idea. 

He sent for ink and parchment, lots of parchment, and when he felt well enough he sat up in bed and took up his supplies and got to work. Pages upon pages he produced, many times rambling and repetitive in nature because of his fever-addled mind, but always strikingly sincere. From his very heart he wrote, hours each day, and he didn’t share his work with anyone. When Raymond visited he would conceal everything under the covers, or else slide them under the bed. 

It was a woman, always the same woman, that he wrote about or wrote to or described in as much detail as he could. Each time he painted a picture of her with his words, a new facet of her beauty was revealed, a new angle, a new reason to love her. And he knew that he did love her. Completely enchanted. Utterly enraptured. Such tender feelings, such longing! He found himself writing cliches while trying to adequately express the extent of his feelings. And each one of these pieces of writing was addressed to you. 

“By chance, I met you in the library. I was playing chess. Raymond likes to cheat when I look away from the chessboard because he says the battlefield is just like a game of chess, and in a real battle you must never look away because your opponent does not always play fair. But I would forfeit all my knights and rooks for you, so I looked away from him and towards you instead. 

“And when you looked at me, my heart leapt in my chest and a feeling like warm water cascading down my shoulders overtook me and I could not speak. I held my hand out to you and did your bidding, and then I could stand it no longer so I went away. The warmth was becoming unbearable. I was overcome. As if I were a cauldron of boiling water, I burned and then softened and turned pink as something bubbled up inside me. I know all this happened for you. And when ever I thought of you and your exquisite beauty for the rest of the day the same feeling came, tingling in all my nerves. I thought then that it was not unlike having a fever. 

“But now I know better, and now that I know with refreshed memory what fever is like, I can say that it’s nothing like you. This fever is harsh and unrelenting. This fever is painful, not pleasurable. There is a heat threatening to overtake me so that I never cool down. But what is this feeling that comes when ever I see you? Dearest Lady, I suspect that this must be love.”

But those were the good days. Those days he could think clearly and articulate properly. So many more of his days were spent too sick to stay awake, drifting in and out of this mortal plane, tangled up in a haze of confusion and stale bedsheets, having long since sweated through them. 

His birthday passed. Sixteen, finally, but he didn’t know it until days later, when came his next period of lucidity. His sister sent a gift– fresh, new robes made of silk to soothe his raw skin, embroidered in rich, gold thread. Raymond brought him a quill made from a peacock feather, blue and green and shimmering. It made him laugh when he saw it. Raymond was referencing a joke between the two of them, where the peacocks in the garden often interrupted their conversations with their awful, hideous squawking (for such magnificent looking creatures, their calls were surprisingly grating). And from you, lying on the bedside table, was a parcel of brown parchment tied with a thick white ribbon. He knew that ribbon, for he had seen you wear it in your hair once. 

He pulled it loose and placed it aside, intending on keeping it on his person at all times so he might always carry a piece of you wherever may go. He peeled back the paper, sliding it off to reveal a mahogany box. It was unremarkable, but his heart was beating wildly in his throat as he flipped up the delixate metal latch and opened the sleek lid. Resting against the silk-lined interior were two things; a large glass jar full of an amber-colored liquid, sealed with a cork; and a delicate chain with a plain gold cross hanging from it. And then, under the jar, he saw something else– the corner of a folded piece of parchment. A note! He snatched it up and unfolded it hungrily. It was written in your pretty feminine hand, which sent a fiery gust of heat blasting through his veins. 

“Your Majesty, happy sixteenth birthday. I know this is but a meager gift for a king, but I fear I cannot match your wealth or creativity. The necklace is one of the only things I brought from home. I wore it round my own neck every day then, and I do believe it has served me quite well, given my current position as queen. I am giving it to you in hopes that, God willing, your condition might improve. The oil is what I use after my baths to soothe dry skin, especially in these coming winter months. Perhaps it will help you in a more practical sense. Many birthday wishes, and prayers for a speedy recovery. Sincerely, your wife, Y/N.” 

He pressed the letter to his chest, almost as if he were trying to become one with it. Then he took the delicate gold chain between his fingers and unclasped it, draping it across his neck and securing it again. It fell against his collarbones and glistened handsomely, feeling very cold against his feverish skin, and yet his heart warmed when he thought of you wearing this very chain, day in and day out. What had touched your skin was now touching his. The very notion was enough to make him shiver. 

He did not take the necklace off again, not even for his bath that evening, or after it when he retired to his chambers for the remainder of the night. 

Baldwin shrugged off his bathrobe and layed, completely nude, on his silk sheets, where the jar of oil from you was waiting. He savored the feeling of its cool glass against his hands, still rife with fever, and then pressed his cheek to its surface, deeply inhaling the rich scent of the night air which drifted through the open window. To know that your hands had touched that very jar made him pulse with excitement. That you had thought of him with some amount of tenderness, that you had thought of him at all, touched him. 

Carefully he pulled the cork from the mouth of the jar with a gentle “pop,” and set it aside. He brought the jar up to his nose. It smelled sweet and flowery, very fresh. Clean. Comforting. Smelled like you. He sucked in another deep breath through his nose, letting the gentle fragrance wash over him and sink into his pores. Then he dipped two fingers into the jar and spread the thick liquid along his forearm, coating the skin there thoroughly. It was silky and cool and left a gloss in its wake. His dry, parched skin drank it up greedily, plumping up almost immediately. It was delicious. 

He poured a dollop of the stuff into his hands and rubbed them together, relishing the feeling of his slick palms sliding against each other. Languidly he massaged it into his chest, his arms, and his robust shoulders. He threw back his head and slowly worked the pads of his fingers into his delicate neck, feeling the tendons there roll beneach his touch. A small sound escaped his throat. Then he moved his hands lower, not neglecting a single inch of flesh. He splayed his fingers out over the white planes of his thighs, well-toned as they were, and then slid lower, past his knees and to his ankles. It was pure bliss. 

Once he was satisfied, he popped the cork back in the jar and leaned over, placing it on the side table, then blew out the candle, laying down finally with a sigh. His body sunk into the cloud of his mattress, his aching limbs met with instant relief. Beneath his pillow was your letter and ribbon. He slid his hand under it to feel for them, just to make sure they were still there, and once he was convinced, he slipped right under into a dreamless sleep. 

The very next morning, he woke to find that his fever had miraculously relented, leaving his forehead cool and dry. Amelia immediately informed you of his recovery, and though you were relieved, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder how he had recovered literally overnight. It seemed nobody knew the answer, not even the physicians that came to examine him throughout the rest of the day. But perhaps it was better not to question it. 

Baldwin had but a few days to enjoy his renewed health before he thrust himself urgently back into work. During his prolonged illness, the ever-fickle political state of Jerusalem had become alarmingly unstable. The Saracens were threatening to wage war, led by the wise and formidable Saladin and his army, rumored to be made up of some 20,000 men. So Baldwin was faced with a harrowing decision, with thousands of lives hanging in the balance. Should he send his men to battle despite their meager numbers, where they would inevitably be met with death and destruction? Most of his knights had already been laid to waste, leaving behind largely unskilled fighters, and only 4,000 of them at that. And could he fulfill his kingly duty to fight alongside them, or would his frail body betray him? Such questions made him wonder if he was even worthy of his title. 

Self-loathing ate at him over the coming week until finally, he was forced to take action. Reynald de Châtillon had been pressuring him incessantly to fight, no matter the risk, arguing that it is God’s will and therefore Jerusalem could never fall. Baldwin wasn’t so sure. But deep in his heart, he knew he had no more time left to waste. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The morning was fair and the early sunlight mild, falling through the trees in pale yellow streaks. The trees had been turning all shades of red and orange for the past month, and now they were withering brown, falling, falling. The smell of smoke and chill was perpetual, and very pleasant. The month of November. Autumn in its prime. You woke up that morning not to the melodic calling of birds, which you had become accustomed to, nor the gentle rustling of leaves stirred by the wind, but the muffled cries of Amelia as she came to rouse you from your slumber. Though she had stuffed a handkerchief against her mouth to dampen the sounds, it was no use, and she could not stop it. You had woken up before she even made it to your bedside.

“Oh Amelia, whatever is the matter?” you asked, sitting up in bed with alarm and looking at her, concern heavy in your gaze. You’d seen her upset before, and it wasn’t an uncommon thing to see, but never had she been so outwardly aggrieved in your presence. The poor girl’s shoulders shook with every breath she took. As gently as you could, you got out of bed and guided her to sit on the edge of your mattress, where she promptly collapsed. 

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she wailed, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes, “the most awful, terrible thing has happened!”

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks seemed to be flushing darker by the second. In fact, she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, sensitive soul that she was. 

“What? What’s happened, dear girl?” you urged, wiping a runaway tear from her chin. An anticipatory panic had begun to build up inside you. All you could think was that somebody must be dead. Suddenly you were very worried for Matilda, whose frail, brittle bones would likely not survive an accident, which was a very real possibility. In her line of work, what with all the manual labor, you often feared for her health, though she always insisted on being fine. But those thoughts were soon completely dashed from your mind. 

“The Saracens…they’ve come! They’re here to take Jerusalem!” 

You were stunned into speechlessness. You did not quite know the full gravity of such a thing, of how dire this could be for your whole way of life, and that of your mother before you and of her mother before her. How much would change, were the crusaders to fall! But Amelia’s next words gave you a relative idea. 

“They say they’ve brought 20,000 men to Montisgard, to match our army of 4,000. Oh, Your Majesty, we are lost, lost!” she wailed, burying her tear-stained face in your shoulder. For a moment after that she continued talking, uttering those same words over and over again, “lost, lost,” as if trying to understand the meaning of them. But to you the message had been clear enough, and your heart dropped all the way down to your bowels and all you could think was; Baldwin. 

Baldwin, the sweet fair-haired boy who’d kissed your hand like it was a holy relic on your wedding day; the one who’d known you well enough from a scant few glimpses here and there to know which gifts to buy for your birthday– and, for the record, they had been the most thoughtful gifts you’d ever received; the one who, unbeknownst to you, prayed for you every night and every morning; the one who had loved you since the beginning. That one, going to fight in a war he was doomed to lose. 

And then you were crying too. Great, fat, burning tears glided down your cheeks and into your mouth and onto yours and Amelia’s dresses as you clutched her to you. Your breath could come only in heaving gasps, ripping through your chest painfully. So great was your pain! You could not see that boy die. Then came an image of his broken body lying alone on the muddy battlefield, indistinguishable from all the others in death. Snot dripped down your nose. You cared not. 

Matilda opened the door and came in quietly. Your eyes pleaded with her not to deliver to you any more bad news. Her face, drawn into a solid, impassible mask, revealed nothing, except that it looked wan and much older. In her hands was a towering stack of parchment, so tall that it obscured her entire chest from your view. 

“Your Majesty,” she called demurely, much softer than usual, “before his departure this morning the King instructed me to bring these for you.” 

Rather violently, you wiped the tears from your eyes and wordlessly took the stack into your own hands, taking great care not to drop any. Everything was blurry but you flipped through the pages nonetheless, sinking further and further into a state of hysteria as you did so, realizing with a pang of horror that each and every sheet was a letter from Baldwin, addressed to you. There must have been a thousand of them, enough for one every day since your marriage.

Three years worth of love letters. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying in vain to abate the new volley of tears welling up inside you. Never had you known such love and devotion from another human being, and you couldn’t even say thank you.

Or goodbye.

As you flipped through the pages, you became grave and still. 

“My Dear Little Wife, you were beautiful today. I could smell your rose-scented oil from down the corridor. How I love that good smell…”

“My Dear Little Wife, would that I could take you out to the city on my horse, that your beloved arms could wrap tightly around me as we gallop across the orange earth…”

“My Dear Little Wife, as the imminence of war falls upon me, I know that my time may soon come to an end. If I could wish for one thing in all the world, it would not be to cure myself of this accursed affliction, but to have more days to spend living in bliss under the same roof as you. To know you is to love you, my dear. I am sorry if we lose this battle and you are stripped of your queenly title. I am sorry for all that might happen then. Understand that I fight for you, ma cherie. With all the love and tenderness one man can hold in his heart, I bid you goodnight, as your faithful husband, Baldwin IV.”

Yes, that was it, the last letter in the stack, dated only yesterday, and presumably at night. You promised to yourself, and whatever else was listening, that in the event that he did not return, you would read and cherish each and every letter. But you could not dwell on that thought. He would come back. He must. Because you needed him. 

“Heavenly father, if you would bring him back to me, I swear I will spend every last day by his darling side.” 

//taglist: @lzsia @eatmeandbirthmeagain @likeanecho344 @lunargraveyard @yoursoulisinyourkeepingalone @stickparrot

if anyone else would like to be added, please comment to let me know!

[worldly-fluster]

Like... WARNING THIS MIGHT TRIGGER SOMEONE.

The LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Xavier-- Part 2 of 4

I call my Diary, 'My Death Book' because I want people to be able to read it after I'm gone and be able to understand how I think, somewhat. I made these because I wondered what their reaction would be if they saw it with no context lol

All other details of this are on part 1 Sylus' so, go read it lol cause I also updated it to make it better.

Anyway- you done been warned it is ANGST.

Xavier-

•He felt he knew a lot about you, if not everything.

•Your favorite song, favorite food, favorite drink. He even knew your favorite color, even though it changed a lot.

•He wanted to know more, sure, but he didn't want to overstep any boundaries you set. Hell, it took him months just to be able to stand next to you without you taking multiple steps back.

•He asked once why you stepped back, you told him that you just don't like people that close.

•He was ecstatic when you started standing close enough to him to brush hands. His slow heart starting to beat a little faster at every small touch.

•He also noticed you laughed more, talked more. In the beginning you barely spoke two sentences before going quiet, you said it's because your voice hurt and you liked company more than conversation.

•Now you talk so much he noticed you had an adorable stutter and a slight accent. He loved to hear you speak.

•But then one day, while you both were having fun trying to get plushies in the claw machine, you were having so much fun neither of you noticed an older woman walk up and stand with her arms crossed and a disappointed glare.

•Not until you both heard an 'Ahem' from behind.

•The voice was familiar to you, making you flinch.

•"What are you doing? Haven't I told you not to waste your money on these games? And who's this? It better not be a boyfriend or we'll have to have another talk."

•Xavier stared at the lady for a bit before looking over at you, opening his mouth to ask you who this was, when he saw your face.

•Your face was now devoid of the spark he loved so much, your lips pulled into a thin line and eyes lifeless.

•He stood straight as his eyes widened a bit, especially when he heard your now small voice answer.

•"Yes Mom."

•Just before the lady could speak anymore, Xavier stood protectively in front of you, his hand reaching back and holding yours gently.

•He spoke in a stiff, confident voice, his lips in a tight smile as the lights around you flickered.

•"Okay Ma'am, I'm going to be taking her with me. If you follow us or say one more word to her, I will not promise your safety."

•He pulled you along as you both heard the lady spluttering out about manners. Your eyes widened as you stared at Xavier's back, not used to somebody speaking up for you.

•Xavier's blood was hot with anger towards that woman, your supposed Mother. How could she talk to her daughter like that? I mean, yeah, it's a waist of money playing the claw machine but you love it so he doesn't care. Spend his money.

•He took you straight to your apartment for some much needed downtime, he wants to cuddle and nap but he feels lucky to be holding your hand rn and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with him. He'll wait.

•You both sat on your couch, he didn't want to leave you alone at the time, he never does.

•You weren't talking much so he decided to put on a movie, of which you immediately fell asleep watching.

•He smiled a bit as he got up to grab a blanket and cover you with. As he was tucking the blanket around you he found a notebook hidden away between the pillows on the couch.

•Out of curiosity and wanting to move it so you can be comfortable, he opened it. Thinking maybe it was a diary of some sort.

•The first page made him breathe in sharply and his blood run cold.

•The page was Titled, 'My Death Book'.

•As he flipped through it, he found it had things ranging from what you want at your funeral to small tidbits from day to day life.

•Most pages made him want to scoop you into his arms and protect you, even from yourself. Other pages had left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. As if to help whomever would read this through the grief of losing you.

•When he got to the last page you wrote in, he closed the book, put it back where he found it and sat on the ground next to your sleeping form.

•He lay his head next to yours as he watched you sleep, gently holding your hand, as a lump formed in his throat. He watched your lips part as you breathed deeply, seeing every small twitch you made. His eyes closed as he pulled your hand to his face, holding in there to feel your warmth.

•He wants to protect you from all the things written in that book, wants to make sure you never have to finish writing in it. He really wants to make sure you never run into any of those terrible people again...

•He doesn't ever think he'll be able to leave you alone, ever again. He doesn't want to have to read that book again...and not be able to hold you after.

[arcane-side-character-appreciate]

Idk about anyone else but I’d LOVEE artists read and Loris sm

Loris x artist!reader | Headcanon (SFW)

Contains: GN!Reader, a mini rant about Loris & his body (not sexual.), assumed Loris is from Piltover/is an Endorcer, and only 5 hcs for now sorry 😔

An: Thank you anon!!! This is gonna be so self indulgent. Might do a mini fanfic for this prompt too

(Not proof read because I'm insane and in the middle of class)

Mini rant before I get into the headcanons, this is purely self indulgent.

DO YOU KNOW HOW PERFECT LORIS WOULD BE FOR ART STUDIES RAAAA

Not only is he chub muscular which would be perfect for nude studies but he also has strong facial features that any artist can and should get lost in.

Hours. DAYS. PAGES. spent studying his structure and all the fine details that make his face HIS face ugh. I really have to do my own study of him sometime.

Anyway, let's get this started with...

Loris sitting still for hours for you

He's used to standing and sitting on duty, his big frame and muscles are more useful guarding things than patrolling.

So when you're both sitting in your apartment and the light starts to shine just right he doesn't mind sitting perfectly still while you rush to get your sketch pad.

The only problem is that he keeps cracking a smile at you, watching you scribble over the pad and look up at him through your lashes. The way you find yourself in odd positions to catch the perfect angle of his face. He thinks it's adorable how much care you put into each work.

He does, truly, love your work

He could sit and watch you work for hours, your hands covered in paint or pastel or charcoal, the way you seem to know how to place each color juat right without even thinking about it.

If he's modeling you bet your ass he's wondering over to look at rhe progress you've made.

He's not a BIG enjoyer of art, he doesn't go to gallery's and stare longingly at art, or try to dissect it. He doesn't even really try to find a deeper meaning in your art. He just likes watching how you make a piece come together.

Only the finest materials

He's not exactly rich but he is absolutely helping you get only the best materials for your work. But you need to go with him. Every. Time.

If you send him alone he'll come back with ten blues and three greens and say he couldn't remember or find the right one and none of them are the right one.

Its okay! He tries! He just can't exactly see the difference between Turquois and Teal, so its just best if you tag along.

Tagging along!

It's good for you to go along to get supplies, you're usually so deep in a piece you forget to go out.

Loris takes this as a great opportunity, he makes a whole day out of it where the two of you walk around Piltover on a sort of mini date, getting things to eat, going and checking out new places.

By the time you both get home you've got some fancy new supplies and Loris's arms are tired and he's definitely ready for a nap.

Loris tries to paint

FAVORITE headcanon. He can't paint for shit, but that doesn't stop him from giving it a try every now and then. Sitting down at your spot as you sit across from him and direct or give tips.

He finishes with paint coverinf his arms and the apron you lent him, he wipes his forehead which also somehow has paint on it and he sighs, turning it to you disappointed.

You can't help but laugh at how hard he's taking it, it's a fine drawing! Hes just a beginner! You love it anyway! He eventually lightens up, he knows well enough he's nor gonna be perfect at it, he just wanted to hear you dote on him.

[agentstarkid]

AN ETERNAL LOVE BULLSHIT ✦ DR3

Based on this ask

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 3.7K words (I tried to keep it short, oops)

✦ TRACK LIMITS: angst, self-doubt, crying, feelings of not being enough, heartbreak.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: I've had this on my drafts, ruminating on it for days, soooo I hope you guys like it. Vitto, Iza and Chloe are the real MVPs of this chapter! Queens uplifting another Queen 💅🏽💖 This was fun to write! Thank you so much nonnie for this idea! ilysm <3 p.s. can y'all spot the song references? 👀

This is set during Saudade. | Everything between "—" and italized are flashbacks.

< previous chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >

The end of April in California had days of clear skies, endless blue, and a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The sun shone warmly, casting a golden glow over everything it touched, yet the cheerful weather felt almost mocking to her current state.

Her guitar lay across her lap, repurposed as a makeshift table for the notebook where she hastily scribbled words, each one an attempt to capture the storm of emotions swirling within her. The grass beneath her was cool and grounding, but it did little to tether her to the present. Every line she wrote was a desperate attempt to process the pain, to make sense of the abrupt void he had left behind. 

Life moved on around her with an indifferent rhythm, but her mind was still stuck replaying the scenes in a Bahraini hotel room on a fateful Friday morning in March. She was stuck, a relic in a world that had already moved on, trapped in the shadow of what once was. The ache in her heart was a constant companion, a reminder that she was still right where he left her, struggling to find a way back to herself.

Her pen moved frantically across the pages, as if the act of writing could somehow release the torment inside her. But each word, each lyric, only seemed to root her more firmly in the past. The guitar beneath her fingers, once a source of joy and creativity, now felt like a conduit for her sorrow. She was lost in her own words, hoping that somewhere in the tangled mess of emotions, she might find a way to heal.

But amidst the ache, she found solace in the unwavering support of her friends. 

Since landing in Los Angeles, her friends had been her rock. When days of isolation had left her feeling like a shell of herself, Vitto and Andrew had intervened, offering her refuge in their home outside the city. Their house, tucked away from the relentless glare of cameras and the whirlwind of drama, had become a sanctuary. The quiet of their surroundings was a balm for her frayed nerves.

Baby Iza, their little bundle of joy, at almost 1 year old, was a constant source of comfort. The child's tiny hands and infectious giggles seemed to have an almost magical ability to lift her spirits. It was as if Izabele could sense her sadness and made it her mission to shower her with love and affection. 

With the sun casting gentle rays through the window, the child would toddle into the room with her tiny feet pattering softly on the floor. Her face, a picture of innocent determination, was often lit up by a bright smile. She would clutch a small toy in her chubby hands—a plush animal or a colorful block—and make a beeline for her godmother, as if to say, “Here, play with me. Everything will be okay.”

Sitting down beside her, Iza would arrange her toys with meticulous care, her eyes occasionally glancing up to gauge her mood. They would sit together in quiet companionship, the simple act of play bringing a semblance of peace.

As the night fell and the room grew dim, she would make her way to her aunt's side once more, but this time with a special gesture. She would carry one of her favorite teddy bears, its soft fur worn from countless hugs—she recognized it as the one that Daniel had gifted Iza when she was born. 

Her sleepy eyes would barely stay open, and the pacifier bobbing gently in her mouth gave her a serene, dreamlike appearance. She would approach her aunt with the bear in tow, offering it with the sincerity only a child can muster. The gesture, simple yet profound, was Iza’s way of offering comfort and reassurance. The irony wasn’t lost on her, as the comfort offered by the bear was tied to the person who had broken her heart.

Despite the tangled emotions that the bear represented, she’d accept the gesture with a quiet grace. Each night, she would clutch the teddy bear tightly in her arms as she lay in bed, she would close her eyes and allow the bear’s presence to soothe her. It was a small, ironic comfort, a connection to a past she was still grappling with. She never spoke of it to anyone, keeping this bittersweet detail to herself. 

Vitto and Andrew's kindness, along with Baby Iza’s innocent charm, and Fio and Danna’s constant facetime calls—and impromptu visits—, were her anchors, grounding her in a time of turbulence.

Rumors had started circulating about Daniel moving on with Heidi, emerging just two weeks after their breakup. As she heard whispers and saw the headlines, she felt a deep internal conflict. One part of her mind tried to dismiss the rumors, knowing all too well how the business thrived on gossip and sensationalism. She had been in this world long enough to recognize how quickly false narratives could spread and how little they sometimes reflected the truth.

Yet, another part of her, the part that had been wounded by every argument they’d ever had about their future, couldn’t silence the inner voice that screamed she was a fool. It was the same voice that had questioned every promise, every declaration of eternal love Daniel had made. How could someone profess to love her, to call her the love of their life—a million times—, to talk about rings and cradles, and then, almost as soon as it was over, move on to someone new?

But a single text changed her entire world.

The moment she received confirmation from Chloe that the rumors were true, a wave of crushing disappointment and pain washed over her. It felt as if the ground beneath her had given way, leaving her in a freefall of disbelief and heartache. The confirmation struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her feeling hollow inside.

The betrayal was sharper than she could have ever imagined. Daniel, the person she had known better than herself, had indeed moved on after only two weeks. The image she had clung to, the person she had given the benefit of the doubt, shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. How could someone who had claimed to love her so deeply and had spoken of a future together move on so swiftly? The realization was a bitter, choking pill to swallow.

Her heart ached with a profound sense of loss, not just of the relationship but of the person she thought Daniel was. The trust she had placed in him, the dreams they had shared, all felt like a cruel joke. She felt duped, as if she had been sold a "get-love-quick" scheme by someone who never intended to follow through on his promises. The sense of being deceived cut deeply, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal.

She sat there, gripping her pen tightly, her mind swirling with the betrayal she felt so deeply. Without a moment’s pause, her pen began to race across the pages of her notebook, pouring out the raw, unfiltered emotions she could no longer contain. The lyrics flowed from her as if they were the only way to make sense of the chaos within:

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her the second that we called it quits? 

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends? 

Now it sure as hell don't look like it 

You betrayed me 

And I know that you'll never feel sorry 

For the way I hurt, yeah 

You'd talk to her 

When we were together 

Loved you at your worst 

But that didn't matter 

It took you two weeks 

To go off and date her 

Guess you didn't cheat 

But you're still a traitor

With each line, she felt the searing pain of his betrayal more acutely. How could he have moved on so quickly? The words “two weeks” echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat, reminding her of how little time it had taken for him to replace her. The sense of being betrayed, of having her trust shattered, was almost unbearable. She had loved him at his worst, given him everything, and yet it had taken him mere days to discard their love and move on to someone new.

The realization that she was right, that he had been talking to her while they were still together added salt to the wound. It made every moment they had shared feel tainted, every promise he had made feel like a lie. The anger and hurt intertwined, fueling the lyrics that poured out of her. He might not have cheated in the traditional sense, but the emotional betrayal was just as devastating, if not more so. To her, he was a traitor, someone who had violated the sacred trust of their relationship.

The pen in her hand paused for the first time in days, the words unable to flow as freely as before. The grief was too raw, too overwhelming to articulate. She felt an intense, suffocating sadness, mixed with anger and a sense of foolishness for believing in him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her chest tightened with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Her phone storage has been filled with voice notes for the past weeks, but the number has elevated exponentially since the news had hit. Her chat with her producer has been overflowing with “What do you think of this?”, demos shared between them back and forth. 

For moments, she was consumed by raw anger, her pen becoming a weapon as she furiously wrote songs that painted him as the villain he had become in her eyes. She felt the fierce determination to make him know—and if his treacherous heart allowed, to feel—her pain.

Each line dripped with venom and sorrow, a raw portrayal of the anguish he had inflicted upon her. The thought of him reading her words and realizing the depth of her suffering provided a fleeting sense of power and justice.

But after the anger came a deep, suffocating depression. The reality of his betrayal settled over her like a heavy, oppressive fog. Each day felt like a battle to simply get out of bed, and her once vibrant spirit seemed to wither under the weight of her grief. She found herself crying at the smallest things, her emotions a raw, open wound that refused to heal.

—

One night Vitto found her in bed, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes red and swollen, looking every bit as miserable as she felt inside. Without a word, Vitto quickly gathered her in her arms, holding her tightly as the heart-shattering sobs began anew. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on Vitto’s heart, but she held her close, whispering kind and reassuring words, trying to contain the pieces of her shattered glass heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper, filled with desperation and heartbreak, she asked the questions that had been gnawing at her soul. “Why can't it be me for once, Vitto? Why can't someone choose me?” Her voice cracked with the weight of the pain she felt. “Is it so hard to love me? What's so wrong with me that no one has the will to stay?”

Vitto's heart ached at the sight of her friend so broken, so lost in her despair. She tightened her hold, pulling her closer as if she could shield her from the cruel thoughts that plagued her mind. “There's nothing wrong with you,” Vitto whispered back, her voice gentle but firm. “You are so easy to love, fofinha, and anyone who doesn't see that is a fool.” She prayed that her friend would see the truth in her words. “You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are and who will never let you go.”

Vitto rocked her gently, smoothing her hair and murmuring softly. “You’re strong,” she whispered. “Stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, one step at a time. You have us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

That night, after the tears had subsided, she found herself sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the vast, indifferent sky. The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest as she gazed at the stars, feeling more alone than ever. 

In the quiet darkness, she whispered her desperate plea to any entity that might be listening. She wasn’t asking for fame or fortune, but for something much simpler and infinitely more precious: love. A love that wasn’t for the artist she became on stage or the persona she put on for the cameras, but for her—the real her, with all her flaws, insecurities, and hidden depths.

She was on her knees, metaphorically, begging for someone to change her fate, to alter the prophecy that seemed to doom her to be always left behind. Why couldn’t someone love her as fiercely as she loved them—or even harder?. 

The question lingered in the air, a painful echo of her deepest fears. She longed for someone who would choose her, who wouldn’t toss her aside once the initial novelty wore off and someone else, shiny and new, came along.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning ache inside her. She closed her eyes, letting the silent tears fall, each one a small release of the pain she carried. 

She wasn’t asking for much, just someone who would love her, not for what she represented, but for who she truly was. Someone who would see her, really see her, and still choose to stay. The silence of the night offered no answers, but she hoped—prayed—that somewhere, someone would hear her and bring her the love she so desperately craved. The stars offered no answers, but in the quiet of the night, she found a sliver of solace in the act of voicing her deepest wish.

—

The phone rang late in the evening, its sound piercing the quiet of the room. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the screen. Chloe's name flashed across it, and a part of her almost didn’t want to pick up. But Chloe had been there for her in ways she hadn’t expected, turning from an acquaintance into one of her closest friends. With a deep breath, she answered.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice.

“Hey, you,” Chloe replied, her tone gentle, almost cautious. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

There was a brief silence, the kind that stretches out when you’re trying to find the right words to explain a pain that feels impossible to describe. “I’m… surviving, I guess. It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice wavering.

Chloe sighed on the other end, a mix of empathy and frustration evident in her breath. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. And I hate that I had to be the one to confirm it. You deserve so much better.” 

Her heart ached at the sincerity in Chloe’s words. “I don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that he moved on so quickly, or that I still can’t hate him for it. I feel like such an idiot, holding on to the person I thought he was.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Chloe reassured her. “You loved him, and you believed in him. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to remember that this isn’t about you, it’s about him and his inability to recognize what he had.”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you. It’s just… I keep asking myself how someone can move on so quickly. I thought what we had was real. We talked about a future, Chloe. The farm, rings, babies, all of it. And then, two weeks after we break up, he’s with someone else? It just… it doesn’t make sense.” she said, her voice cracking. “How could he say all those things to me, make all those promises, and then just... move on? Like I never mattered.”

Chloe hesitated, knowing that what she had to say might sting, but also feeling that honesty was necessary. “I know, and I wish I had the right words to make it better. I don’t understand it either. But people… they’re complicated, and sometimes they don’t even realize the damage they’re causing until it’s too late. Sometimes-” she let out a sigh, “Sometimes people make decisions that don’t make any sense, that hurt the ones they’re supposed to care about the most. But that’s on him, not you. You’re allowed to grieve, to be angry, to feel everything you’re feeling.”

“Do you think he ever really loved me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted her since the confirmation of Daniel’s new relationship, and now it hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded with vulnerability.

Chloe paused, her heart aching for her friend. “I think… I think he loved you in the way he knew how, but maybe that wasn’t the way you deserved to be loved. And that’s not your fault. It’s his loss, really. You gave him everything, and he’s the one who couldn’t appreciate it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. “It just hurts so much, you know? I keep thinking that if I had done something differently, if I had been better, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Chloe said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. You were yourself, and that should have been enough. He’s the one who couldn’t see what he had in front of him. But I see you, and so do the people who really care about you. You’re not alone in this.”

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat, grateful for Chloe’s words, for her friendship. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Chloe replied warmly. 

As the conversation between the girl and Chloe lingered, an uncomfortable question bubbled up within her. She hesitated, biting her lip before finally asking, “Chloe, how is Heidi? Is she… nice? She looks like she is.”

Chloe paused on the other end, considering her words carefully. “She is nice,” she admitted softly. “She’s kind and sweet, and she seems like a good person.”

The girl swallowed hard, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “I figured as much,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation. “At the beginning, I wanted to tear her apart, you know? I wanted to pick out every flaw she had, convince myself she wasn’t good enough. But I couldn’t do that… because she just looks so nice and kind. It’s almost like it made everything worse, knowing that I couldn’t even hate her.”

Chloe sighed, understanding the conflict in her friend’s heart. “It’s natural to feel that way, to want to protect yourself by finding reasons to dislike her. But you’re also showing so much strength by acknowledging that she’s not the enemy. It’s okay to feel conflicted.”

The girl nodded, though her throat tightened. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so much, Chloe. I wish I could be happy for him, for them. But it’s hard when it feels like I’ve been discarded, replaced by someone who seems perfect in every way.”

“Listen,” Chloe said, her voice firm yet gentle, “you’re human, and it’s okay to feel hurt and conflicted. But don’t let those feelings define you. You’re more than what he made you feel, and you deserve someone who will see all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between”

“I know,” she whispered, though the knowledge didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It’s just hard to accept sometimes.”

“It is,” Chloe agreed. “But you’ll get there. One step at a time. And remember, just because she’s nice doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. You’re allowed to grieve what you’ve lost, even if it’s complicated.”

—

Slowly, the depression began to give way to a semblance of acceptance—or something that resembled it. It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it forgetting, but a grudging acknowledgment that clinging to the pain and anger would only prolong her agony.

She continued to write, but the tone of her lyrics shifted. They were still tinged with sadness and loss, but there was also a hint of desperation and sometimes hope.

We broke up a month ago

Your friends are mine, you know, I know

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

[...]

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

And now I'm pickin' her apart

Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart

But she's beautiful, she looks kind

She probably gives you butterflies.

[...]

I hope you're happy

I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Acceptance came in small, painful increments. It was in the quiet moments when Baby Iza’s tiny hand rested on her cheek, or when Vitto and Andrew’s unwavering support reminded her that she was not alone. It was in the act of writing itself, where she could pour out her heart and begin to untangle the threads of grief and loss.

As she sat on the grass, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around her, she realized that while Daniel’s betrayal had broken her, it had not destroyed her. She would rebuild herself, piece by piece, word by word, until she was whole again. Despite everything, she was still standing.

Through the anger, the depression, and the acceptance, she learned that she had the strength to endure. The scars from this heartbreak would always be there, but they would also be a testament to her resilience and her capacity to heal. And in those moments of writing, she knew she would emerge from this experience stronger, wiser, and ready to embrace whatever the future held.

[dcdreamblog]

What are your top 5 favorite mystery men costumes?

Oh this one's a breezy little thing to work on over a Saturday evening. Let's see...

#5. Wesley Dodds, AKA the Sandman

(From the Sandman's original official JSA portrait, 1940) This is an entry that writes itself. Wesley Dodds' original Sandman attire is overwrought in just how cool it is. A kind of pulp chic that makes it look like he stepped right off a yellowed detective novel page, the direct line drawn between the shadowy vigilante he once was and the superhero he became. One can only imagine how much thugs and gangsters back in the bootlegging days pissed their pants at the THOUGHT of him, much less the sight of him. I can appreciate his paternal and wholesome reasons for eventually changing said costume but there's a reason even his young ward echoed this look in the modern day.

#4. Greg Saunders AKA Vigilante

(Vigilante's official All Star Squadron portrait, 1941)

Speaking of heroes who look like they jumped right out of the dime novel page, we can't forget the beloved Rider of the Purple Sage. Like a cowboy off the silver screen with the lasso skills, dead eye aim and cozy accent to match. He's the kind of man who can set a whole room at ease with the pluck of a guitar or silence a bar of lowlifes with the click of a hammer. Simplicity here is the name of the game.

#3. Alan Scott AKA Green Lantern.

(A modern portrait of Scott, donated to this very museum)

If you asked me to sit back, close my eyes and ask me to create an image the exudes power, strength and majesty. Hell, ask 100 renowned artists to do it for a week and they wouldn't conjure the imagery in my mind that I associate with this man. There is a reason his contemporaries referred to him simply as "The Big Guy", the closer, the one who made everyone know it was gonna be alright. The billowing cape, the deep brow of the mask, chunky belt and boots that scream old fashioned tough guy. When the battlefield lit up green, the bad guys dove for cover.

#2. Kent Nelson AKA Dr. Fate

(The museum's modern portrait of Nelson) Talking about majesty, you have a character that between his look and his voice convinces you that he's EXACTLY as powerful as he says he is. While the Helmet of Nabu might be a malicious entity in many respects, the ability that Fate's enemies look THEMSELVES in the eye against its polished surface before he blows them away is priceless. And I've never seen a single cape that looks better billowing in the wind. He's an arch mage, and he carries himself like one.

#1. Roy Lincoln AKA The Human Bomb

(A colorized newsreel image of Lincoln, circa 1943) Where my loves of simplicity and majesty collide. The Human Bomb's outfit was almost mundane when he was actually wearing it back in the Golden Age and it gave the whole world one warning, if you're around me, something bad is about to happen. Heavy boots that make a loud thud with every step, a visor that shows glaring eyes from behind a thick, dark glass. He looks like a man who could flatten a block just from taking this many precautions. Roy Lincoln is one of my favorite mystery men period and his outfit is a big part of why.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 82

Another one that I love!~ Gonna be a lot of those from here on if you couldn’t tell!

Junko’s the Ultimate Fashionista (in the english release at least but hey Ultimate Gyaru has to have a little crossover right??), so of course she handles Mikan’s wardrobe the moment she’s allowed to. So . . . Extremely cute scene of her having Mikan try out clothes to see what she does and doesn’t like. 

An opportunity for Junko to pamper Mikan, AND i get to draw Mikan in a sweater???? Heaven. Also like are we all in agreement that sweaters just look fuckin amazing on Mikan?? Like I admit, I think I just like drawing Sweaters on Mikan but they just make her look so much cuter because of how god damn cozy she looks in em. 

Unfortunately that’s all I have to talk about for that topic? I think? So instead let’s shift over to a recent development involving Junkan!

I’m in the midst of working on the Junkan Christmas Eve comic, which hopefully will be getting posted on time a few days after this, and during the process of making there’s been something new with my current abilities.

I have officially hit the point of proper freehanding on these two.

Y’see this probably won’t make too much sense but i’ll do my best to explain. 

So normally when it comes to sketches I’ve done things a bit less proper compared to more professional artists. I usually get a little start on the anatomy, and then just start sketching all the character details and moving out from there. It isn’t often that I do a full sketch for the basic anatomy of a character, I only do it when I really wanna not fuck up a pose. And as you also know up till now only one piece in this event was drawn normally. Everything else is a sketch that i cleaned up and colored, or just a sketch. 

This is because generally speaking I can’t do art using my normal pen tool without a sketch to work off of, it requires a lot more finesse to use the G-Pen both because of the larger shifts that can occur in line width, and the slightly looser feel it has compared to my Pencil Tool. 

That’s all to say that I have drawn Junko and Mikan so many fucking times that I can just, draw them without proper sketches now. I’m at a point where I just need to draw the head, torso, and legs for an anatomy sketch, and then with the G-Pen I can just, draw from there. That’s big for me personally, and also fucked up because god how even??? There hasn’t been a drop in quality either so far, i’m still able to refine the expressions and i haven’t fucked up with the arms too much yet, I’d even say it’s resulted in some of my favorite Junkos and Mikans period.

Now, the catch is that again, this is only Junko and Mikan. I could prooooobably get to this point with Mukuro eventually just because her design is much simpler compared to other DR Characters? I struggle with getting her colors right rather than linework, but that’s about it and still not really useful in my main line of work unless I memorize every character that’s ever existed, and it took like 150 fucking times for Junkan I can’t do that for an obscure RPG character that I might get commissioned once and then never again. 

It’s also not something that I think i’ll apply to my normal Junkan works, because I am a perfectionist to a fault when it comes to pieces I care about and I want to make sure every detail these is exact. I need to be meticulous for ship art like this, every detail is important. And I can maximize that with sketching.

This new skill is basically useful for one thing. Speed. 

I pride myself on my efficiency, even if I have waned over the years due to burnout and overwork, when I get into it I can fuckin move with my art. And so if I need to say, make a 28 page comic in under a month? Being able to mostly skip an entire phase of the art process is very, VERY useful, ESPECIALLY because it’s a comic. Something which generally takes more time than my normal art by nature of it’s format and what it involves. When making the Comic for Day 60 it was all sketches, which was equally fast but could leave small imperfections at the time that either went under my radar or I just let slide because i was trying to be efficient. 

This is basically perfect for having to speedrun a Junkan comic, it’s all the speed with the usual amount of visual quality.

So in short . . . I’m turning into a nightmarish hell machine but specifically for drawing Junkan. I am genuinely curious how much farther I can go up from here, like, what the hell else could I be capable of with this???? Am I just gonna learn how to fuckin beam the art onto the canvas with my brain???

Moral of the story is just get mind numbingly obsessed with a ship and I guess you’ll get better at stuff??? I have no idea, i’m still kind of processing the comedic value of what this year has been because I was desperate for these two to make out. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~