#I WAS GOING TO WRITE THROUGH MY BACKLOG

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 39

a redraw from a couple years back that was originally a redraw from 2014 so thats a FULL DECADE OF PROGRESS, BABEY!!

[purroowl]

happy bokuroo day! have the very first drabble thingy i ever wrote for them since falling back into this unescapable chasm

—————————————————————————————————

"tetsu..."

kuroo can hear the whine in that voice as he raises a thin eyebrow in response, watching as bokuto's fingers come up in an aborted motion, hovering around the fringe of his messy bedhead.

"your hair really sucks, dude." it comes out as a groan, and oh, wow.

of all the things, somehow kuroo had never expected that bokuto would be complaining about his bedhead. he's mildly offended; they're supposed to be disaster hair buddies, bokuto isn't supposed to attack him. even if bokuto's hairstyle is a product of choice and kuroo's,

well... isn't.

"bo, what the hell?" he murmurs, the last syllable only barely rolling off his tongue before he feels those fingers thread into his hair, holding his fringe back. bokuto's actually pouting now as he stares at kuroo with his golden, golden eyes, and— damn.

now's not the time to be gay, kuroo.

"i mean... not that i don't love your hair! cause i do, obviously," bokuto mutters, gaze slightly distracted. "it's just, man... you know..."

kuroo doesn't know. his jumped up brows furrow as he squints inquisitively at bokuto, lips curling into a frown.

"out with it, kou. i gotta know why you'd betray me like this." he huffs, arms almost crossing. obviously, kuroo's not actually offended, but he is a little curious, considering that bokuto's never seemed to have a problem with his hair before today.

he watches as bokuto's gaze turns somehow forlorn, as the fingers in his fringe are removed and his hair flops back over his forehead immediately. bokuto's eyes seem stuck to his disastrous fringe and kuroo, he can't help but feel a little like a lab rat in an experiment cage.

"that!" bokuto exclaims, and it's amazing how his shoulders slump so much and so suddenly that he resembles a popped balloon, "tetsu, your hair... it's... it's unromantic!"

what the fuck?

"what the fuck?" kuroo repeats outloud, voice incredulous, "kou—"

but bokuto's barrelling on, his tone turning petulant as it had always been wont to do when he's complaining about something, "i mean! sometimes i just wanna tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear or something, you know? that's romantic, right? i saw it in manga and i saw hinata do it to kenma! to kenma, tetsu!"

and, okay, kuroo's momentarily blinded by the image of that, it's too pure—

"and i was thinking wow, i wanna do that with tetsurou! but then i come back and look at you and your hair..." bokuto trails off then, staring down at said hair, eyes unwittingly judgmental.

kuroo doesn't know if he wants to laugh or bury his face in bokuto's shoulder. leave it to bokuto to say these things so simply. they aren't in some shoujo manga, but bokuto's so earnest about these small random things that kuroo's silly little heart can't help but flutter.

"kou, you—" he laughs, a little disbelieving, a lot in love. "you're ridiculous, big guy." kuroo doesn't bother to hide the fondness in his tone as he reaches for bokuto's hand, bringing those fingers up to tangle in his hair again.

"you can try it when my hair's down, if you really want. can't guarantee a good experience, since it'll have to be after i shower and my hair will be wet and all," it'll probably be kinda disgusting, actually, trying to tuck wet hair back, "but hey, at least it won't flop back over my face and it'll stay put. maybe?"

it's all about the action anyway, right? the journey and not the end, all that jazz.

bokuto's eyes seem to light up, anyhow, an eager glint coming into them as he nods enthusiastically. kuroo leans forward before he can start pumping his fists, curling an arm over bokuto's shoulders and bringing their faces closer together conspiratorially.

"besides..." he starts, lopsided grin overtaking his features, "that's not the only romantic thing in the world. there's plenty more we can do."

his grin softens as he feels bokuto's arms come around his waist, an understanding dawning in that golden gaze. kuroo brings his other hand up to thumb at bokuto's cheek, a gentle caress that springs forth the megawatt smile he's come to love, heart beating unsteadily.

"yeah? like what, tetsu?" bokuto's tone is teasing, featherlight, full of adoration and kuroo can't help but cackle, cupping bokuto's cheek fully now.

"like this." he whispers, and closes the distance between their lips.

[stikybug]

The polycule brainrot is so strong.

I need to put some of these ideas down but i don't like making things pretty so this is just a braindump . All under cut to not clog

Stealing clothes between them would be so so so common. Mc is a menace and has 6 oversized shirts she totally swears are hers. Only one is

Second biggest offender is Ayn when staying at home , Alkaid stares at him for 5 minutes straight when he sees his missing sweater matched with cat earphones

It's so cute a photo was sent to the gc, obviously

They start sleeping at the sameish time, it's such a perfect excuse to go over to their cute partners and be tender before bed how could they not?

Because of this, Mc, Lars, and Ayns' shitty sleep schedule gets fixed

Cael isn't around so much but you know they get weekly texts from him that says the sweetest things ever

Lars pampers his stunning partners so well when he's finally free, candlelit dinners, gifts in the droves for all of them, even arranging so the place is basically empty when they get there since most of them don't like crowds

All of them are banned from playing ludo. This is final after the incident

Since Cael was officially the last one to get in Clarence planned a whole thing that was a celebration of him getting out of denial phase. And the announcement he also had a plus of four boyfriends

Confusion did not even begin to describe the expression the man had

Sometimes if people are nosy Ayn would start talking about different partners in the same conversation

"Oh you know my boyfriend's really cute with those doe-eyes"

"BOYFRIEND?"

"Yes, anyway my girlfriend the other day gave me this-"

Chaos ensues.

He doesn't care about the rumors though. He's noticed how his playing changed ever so slightly when thinking about his partners. In the span of a week after this noticeable change he found himself writing 5 different pieces for them.

He gives them the pieces by the time of their anniversary, mentioning he'd even play it for them if they wanted.

A private concert happened that day, it didn't need to be recorded to be engraved into their memories.

A while after that, the little painter and Emerald both released pieces that felt like they were overflowing with love and other warm sentiments.

Alkaid sends photos of the sky every time an observation night comes up in the astronomy department. He makes notes about which constellations remind him of his partners the most.

Obviously if any of them point a photo out or say one is pretty it's going to be printed out in the universal imaging studio

The starry photos are all probably framed and hung on a wall somewhere. Ayn has them in his hideout, Lars has the images upsized and on full display in his home, Clarence has one particularly sentimental one on the desk of the student council office, Cael has it as his phone background so he could see it wherever he went, and MC has it in her studio, always up to give her a boost of inspiration when she needed it.

William almost has a heart-attack every morning since Clarence has been looking the giddiest he's ever been since he and MC started dating.

He figures it out since Clarence is just so obvious. He's had the same reaction to two students that he has with the little painter. The way that his eyes light up whenever Ayn 'just so happens' to need to go to the student council so many times? And their conversations meander and flow too slowly for this to even be about their original topic anymore.

Or how he manages to write up an excuse to 'supervise' the Astronomy Department's viewing nights most of the time when he felt no need to previously, always found near Alkaid most of the time.

If one were to sneak a peek at his diary, it would probably contain paragraphs upon paragraphs of how pretty his partners were and things they did or things he saw that reminded him of them.

Cael was the most cautious about this entire arrangement. While he cared about her he had no idea if it would even be possible for him to catch feelings for the rest of them.

Unfortunately, the little painter has exceptional taste.

It was different for each of them, but it ended back in the same giant mess he has been dealing with for the past few months: He's so very attached to all of these charming men that he's caught himself blushing at the thought of them.

And these feelings came with the problems of someone like him developing such deep fondness for someone. The danger and chance of discovery he would give not just to the little painter, but the paragons of this world.

When he brings this concern up he's very lovingly shown how stupid he is by the sheer willingness of his boyfriends to love him despite knowing all of this.

Maybe this would be alright. They have each other no matter what afterall.

[mechazushi]

YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH

[paprikadotmp4]

WIP game ♡

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence / excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

tagged by the lovely @disniq (coughs ages ago coughs) thank you bb i love these!! this was actually really hard to do tho, holy moly

word: CAPE

C

from sladedaddy x sugarjayby, my jayde wip for sladerobin week that is not getting done in time 😭 (i'd add more but the rest is in bullet points 🤣):

"C3-C4," Deathstroke manages to say before passing out.

A

from chokehold, aka the wip where khoa and jason are fuck"buddies" because they both have the hots for bruce:

After he'd seen Batman and decided to strap a bomb under his car, to finally be rid of the man who'd haunted him since he could think past green. Bruce had been a ghost hanging over his head, choking him with his presence, the miasma seeping into his pores. Ghostmaker had been a revelation. Jason knows death intimately, and although she is the closest thing he's ever come to being at peace, he's never welcomed her with open arms. If it were up to him, they wouldn't meet for a long, long time. She'd come to him again that night at Ghostmaker's behest, with all the hits that met their mark and the single, beautiful slide of a blade through flesh and bone. It had been brutal and obscene, the ease of which he tore into a boy half his age like it was a game. Jason wasn't innocent anymore; he had blood on his hands through no one's choice but his own, and yet he knew Ghostmaker was dripping with it, savoring its taste, not drowning in it like he was.

P

LMAO this is actually from the same sugaring fic that above C excerpt is from:

"Please. I think you know I'm not just any 'boy', Wilson." He stresses Deathstroke's name in blatant challenge. Slade just narrows his gaze at Jason. Then: "The Bat's second bird," he says flatly. His grip tightens around Jason's throat; Jason gasps in pain before his air is cut off completely. There's a glint in Slade's expression that's almost curious. "I heard the clown killed him." But Jason couldn't answer the question even if he wanted to, red-faced with wide, watering eyes… and hard and aching in his pants.

E

from bruised and bloodied chapter 5, which hopefully i'll update soon:

Everything from Roman taking out one of the Gotham underworld's boogeymen to the fact that he'd hired Deathstroke to do it—to the fact that Slade is training Jason—it sounds like some kind of twisted, fucked up fairytale. Everyone knows how this story ends: with Little Red Riding Hood taking step after step into the wolf's maw herself. Jason remembers the weight of the gun in his hands earlier, the force of its recoil and the deafening sound it had made in his ears. He wonders if that's enough to get out of Roman's grasp, or if he'll need some huntsman to save him; he worries about whether anyone even can save him, be it Nightwing or Slade or even Batman himself. He thinks of Gloria and figures it could be worth dying to try.

tagging: @gavotteandgigue @amaraangelicus @bittercape @sasheneskywalker @setsailslash and anyone who wants to do it!!

your word is: WRITE

[a-wacky-story-for-you]

Star-child

Everyone calls him grouchy, grumpy, or antisocial. There are many potential reasons for this, but most believe that he simply is the word grumpy made human.

At social gatherings with more than three people, he can be seen hiding in the corners. Samantha occasionally pulls him into conversations or introduces him to new people. He can be very intimidating when this happens, and Samantha seems to be using it as a screening process for friends and partners.

He can be seen chatting with Everett or Samantha about things, but is always squinty and quiet. He rarely speaks more than six words in a row, no matter to whom, and sometime his voice comes off as hoarse and unused. He always carries a pair of heavy-duty headphones and sunglasses.

He always seems irritated at something, be it the world at large or the ground beneath his feet. He will give cold, withering glares at anyone who speaks a little too loud in his vicinity, and will straight up leave the group if they are too noisy.

The only thing he has ever been excited about in his life is his ant colony, and even then he is quiet about his enthusiasm. It’s like he isn’t used to having anyone’s attention. Even still, when he speaks without prompting, or about his day when asked, at least half the words are complaining about the work the colony needs to keep functioning, and the rest of it is complaining about the day-to-day menial tasks in a very under-handed way.

All in all, the evidence points to thus: he is the very essence of grumpy.

—

Space was pretty. Pretty to look at, pretty empty, pretty boring. Pretty lonely. 

Galaxies burning like specks of dust sparking, dim lighting and a lack of temperature. Lack of anything. Just him and his thoughts, for all of time.

Drifting, he thought. Watched. Looked. Waited, for something, anything to break up this mind-numbing monotony— he was slipping.

Slipping out of thoughts, of sights, into a haze of bland, blind, boring observation. Watching but not looking, looking but not watching, not paying attention— stars burned and planets died, and he saw absently.

Half sleeping, un-dreaming he stayed in the lack of anything. A being held together tight, adjusted to a lack of day, night, anything: A child of the stars. 

The star-child watched as time went on. He became more and more absent, slept more and more as a pass-time, and just… drifted. When the stars noticed that he was in danger of not waking up, they sent a blessing to him: a wish.

He wished to live on a planet.

He did not expect existing to be so jarring. He did not expect everything to be so loud. So bright, so colorful, so everything. 

—

Star-child and two others at the park, sitting in peace. Fall is coming on, leaves browning and littering the ground with crunchy bodies. The crisp in the air is almost tangible. Samantha and Everett and star-child sitting on a bench, Everett telling a story and star-child poking at the ground with a stick. He’s concentrating on not thinking about the everything around them, being outside. Samantha laughs at something and a bug crawls across star-child’s shoe. 

Star-child’s eyes follow the bug until it joins the others, crawling over eachother like a single spread-out mass on that crack in the concrete. He watches, mesmerised.

It’s been a while since he’s watched anything with this level of intensity. It makes him want to cry. He hasn’t been able to watch anything without getting overwhelmed in what feels like ages, and before that-- well-- it hurts to think about. Watching the little bugs feels like watching nebulas grow and die and give birth before his interest died a slow and painful death, before the-- the-- 

He doesn’t know how to explain it. Before the death of life.

He doesn’t notice that he’s been crying until Everett taps his hand and asks if he’s okay. All feelings have been overwhelming since the rebirth. (Everything’s been overwhelming since the rebirth.) Touch feels overwhelming right now, so he shakes his head at Everett’s open arms. He just wipes his tears even as they keep coming, and points at the bugs. 

They don’t understand him exactly, but that hasn’t stopped them from being there before. Samantha offers to help him to his dark-room, but he shakes his head and points at the bugs again.

“Ants?”

Nod.

“Okay. Let us know when you’re ready to go.”

Another nod. Star-child watches the ants with fascination, and the trio leave when the park gets dark. He looks up ant terrariums a week later.

[serenanymph]

Heads Up Seven Up

Tagged by @faytelumos um.*looks at smudged notes* a while ago. Find his post over here. Gently tagging uhhh @space-writes, @macabremoons and @scribbling-stardust, pulling from Beast book 2, Witch's Book:

It’s later in the night – when they’ve brought out the cake and sang ‘Happy Birthday’, and Zephyr has blown out all six candles (one of them larger-sized) – that Madge wanders out of the kitchen where mama and baba are divvying up the cake to track down Zephyr and Kas, who’ve somehow vanished in that short amount of time. The backyard feels quieter than before: peaceful, now, as if all the world is fast asleep. Madge inhales, again, the same way she did earlier with the cake, breathing in the scent of spring – stretching her arms out to the side, her fingertips straining, her head tipping back to look up at the sky. The longer she looks, the more stars seem to appear, spreading out and multiplying, thousands of tiny glittering diamonds spilling across the black. The breath she takes in morphs into a yawn. Murmuring, from up on the roof. She spins towards the ladder leaning against the side of the house, and ah – they must be up there, then.

taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @deer-in-headlights-stare, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks

[circlesroundthemoon]

finished diska, starting on edm/vgm

[midnightwind]

finally climbing out of bed at 3pm because my dumb ass decided to write 1800 words for the fic instead of sleeping

[books-coffee-and-the-woods]

also wait, Fourth Wing has a sequel out already?? I thought that book literally just came out a couple months ago

HANG ON, I GOOGLED AND IT CAME OUT IN APRIL. HOW TF DID A SEQUEL COME OUT SO FAST AND IS IT ABSOLUTELY TRASH?!?!

[professorthaddeus]

Your influx of c2 posts has me nostalgic and debating on if I wanna rewatch it which would Not be a smart move for me but. I miss them 🥺🥺🥺

yesss i'm so glad my nostalgia is inflicting nostalgia on you too

[bbnibini]

Why do I keep getting hyperfixated on lore heavy series didn't I learn enough with fate

[austerulous]

Ship tags, anyone?  Feel free to give this post a like ( or leave a comment ) and I’ll make one for our characters. ♡

[klickklackwack]

i feel like i’ve lost the plot for this january tbh

- been sick for over a ten days

- antibiotics for pneumonia scare and sinusitis

- urticaria and horrid muscle cramps because of the antibiotics

- four doctors in eleven days and more incoming because my back is also fucked now

- guilt for missing so much work

- 14 days until i’m flying to a vacation that i now feel like i do not deserve

yikes x 100

[thedailyvio]

Yearly recap and future plans

I don't believe I missed any days this year, but I still need to figure out why my day count was 1 off at some point.

I had a lot less time this year to dedicate to art, and there was a lot of stagnation because of it.

I'm picking a little at beginning to do some studies and style exploration, so I hope I can get more into that in '24

I didn't get a chance to do Any of last years goals very much, so here's to hoping '24 will pan out better.

As per the poll listed earlier this year (I was told there was 1 misclick) it looks like the plan for future posting will be:

Post days for the week will be on.... tentatively? Friday.

I will queue them across the length of the day.

Hopefully I can get back to a position where daily posting is possible, but for now I want to commit to something I can at least do consistently

(Not even sure yet if I will be able to be consistent with this, but will see)

[umbracirrus]

Can tell I'm back in work. Want to do nothing more than write. 🥲