#I got art blocked so I just decided to color for the time being until my brain gets pumped up again to draw.

[l0ganberry]

I have no idea where all of you came from but here's the colored version of my drawing of Husk.

[cuubism]

I kind of just forgot to finish this fic - whoops!

physical therapy - the final installment

Hob helps him put all his books and things away. It gives his flat slightly more color and life. Dream still feels his lost art as an aching hole in his chest but at least he has this, Hob and these incremental improvements.

When they’re done he orders takeaway, and over his lo mein he mulls on what happened, on what he said. Hob didn’t actually say it back. But it— it’s fine. Even if Hob doesn’t say it aloud, it’s okay. Dream knows that Hob loves him. He shows it. He doesn’t need to say it. Dream’s ex-lover had, after all, said that he loved him frequently. “Come on, you know I love you.” But where had it shown up? That was not love. It was the opposite of love.

So he doesn’t need Hob to say it back, it is enough that he—

“Hey, Dream?” Hob says, interrupting his thought. His smile is warm, successfully banishing any hope of Dream finding his line of thinking again, as sunlight does to shadows. “I love you.”

“You were just thinking that now?” Dream asks weakly.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t say it before. I was too startled that you did.”

Dream supposes he had said it somewhat… fast. He has often been too fast in relationships, but he means it this time, in a different way than before. This love is fast but it’s real. It’s not just infatuation, or, as he’s slowly realizing some of his past relationships may have been, simply desperate bids to feel loved.

“I’m glad you were my physical therapist,” he says, and Hob laughs. I’m glad that we found each other.

“Me, too.” He takes Dream’s hand, the mostly-fixed one. “And I’m glad you got out. That was really brave.”

Dream scoffs. “I do not see how being so afraid could be brave.” He had never felt brave. Only terrified.

“That’s exactly why it was brave,” Hob insists. “You were scared but you didn’t let it stop you. And you didn’t let it stop you from creating art again, either.”

Hob seems to believe it quite fervently. Perhaps… Dream can try to believe it as well. “Maybe,” he concedes.

“Definitely,” Hob says.

Dream decides not to contradict him this time. He just eats his food, and basks in Hob’s company, coming back again and again to the fact that Hob went to get his things for him, defended him. Every time he thinks about it, he feels warm inside.

And later, when he curls up with Hob in bed, he thinks he feels… good. And safe. And maybe hopeful.

—

Several weeks later.

—

Dream has taken to spending more time in Hob’s flat than his own. Though his flat feels slightly more homey with the addition of his books and other things, it’s still not quite right. And he can’t shake the habit of blocking the door when he’s home alone. He still feels safer if he’s in Hob’s space, if Hob is around.

He doesn’t realize Hob knows that until he pushes aside the shelf he’d shoved in front of the door to let Hob in one night, and Hob looks from him to the shelf and back and says, “Are you still doing that?”

“What,” Dream says, eloquently.

“I can hear you,” Hob says, with a sad little smile. “Just didn’t want to make you feel awkward about it.”

“Oh,” says Dream, suddenly embarrassed. He— he should be more confident, shouldn’t he? And yet.

“You can come to my place if you want?” Hob says. “Even if I’m not there. I’ll give you a key.”

Dream goes to turn him down out of hand, he doesn’t need Hob to do that for him—

But. He wants it.

“Hell,” Hob says, and now he’s the one who seems nervous, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “just move in if you want. I like having you there.”

“You,” Dream says slowly, “would let me move in? Already?”

Hob gathers his confidence, taking a deep breath. “Why not? If you want to.”

Why not, indeed.

The more Dream thinks about it, the more he finds he likes the thought. He does not know if he can transition his entire life into Hob’s flat, not yet. Perhaps he’ll maintain his own flat as an art studio, or as a sort of… escape route, for he does not think he can handle having to flee his own home with nowhere to go ever again. But, on a regular basis… he thinks he might like simply being with Hob. It feels easy. Is it alright for it to just feel easy?

“…Okay,” he says, at length, and Hob beams. If he had smiled like that from the beginning, Dream might not have paused to think. He would do anything for that smile.

“Okay!” Hob echoes, still with that beaming smile that makes Dream feel like he’s standing directly in the sun. “I’ll get you a key.”

Dream smiles back, and his smile feels almost as easy as Hob’s.

—

The night after moving the last of Dream’s things in—he has, in fact, maintained his flat as a studio, but has moved everything else—flush with rather too much wine, they find themselves sitting in bed, having made the dubious, intoxicated decision to break out Hob’s barely used finger paints.

Giggling drunkenly, Hob dabs some blue paint on Dream’s forehead. Dream goes cross-eyed trying to look at him.

“You are bringing your meager finger painting skills to bear to paint me now?” he says.

“Is there a more perfect canvas?” Hob traces a star shape onto Dream’s cheek. “Besides. I’m no good with the canvases. You’ve seen it.”

“Your skills lie elsewhere, I think,” Dream agrees, and Hob laughs. “But they are many. However. Since you’ve started this, you should know—” Dream’s lips twitch in amusement like he's about to start laughing over something he knows and Hob doesn’t. "This is not body paint.”

"So? It's just tempera paint, it's not dangerous."

"No," Dream agrees, trailing his fingertips across Hob's chest, "but it is going to stick in your hair."

Fuck.

Dream giggles, then slathers a whole palm full of orange paint across Hob's chest, truly coating his chest hair in it, tracing a heart pattern in its wake. God, he's a menace.

"Oh, no," says Dream, deadpan, "now you will have to soak in the bath for hours to get it all out."

Hob dips his fingertips in the blue glitter paint and smears it over Dream's temple, tangling his fingers in the longest strands of his hair. "Now you'll have to be there with me."

"Horrible," Dream says, giggling again. “How will I survive it?”

Hob draws a heart shape on his chest, then kisses him, getting paint on his mouth. It tastes horrible, but he doesn’t care, because he’s kissing Dream. It’s always a marvel.

Dream curls his hands into Hob’s hair, making it all tacky with paint. He kisses Hob’s cheek, leaving a painted mark. “I think you are a lovely canvas,” he says. “Perhaps the loveliest. Should I paint you? I think you would look gorgeous.”

The thought of Dream’s delicate fingers all over him as he makes his paintings makes Hob shiver. “Paint me all orange? I’m sure it’ll be flattering.”

“Orange, and red, and yellow,” says Dream. “The colors of the sunset.”

Hob feels unexpectedly sentimental about it. “I’d think an artist like you would be using words like ‘ochre.’”

“Unfortunately,” Dream says with utter seriousness, “finger paint does not come in ochre. Though it would certainly complement your skin tone.”

Hob laughs. Resolves to try to find finger paint in ochre just to make Dream smile.

“You’ll just have to make it with the primary colors,” he says.

Dream grins, caught immediately by the paints, and sets to painting Hob how he sees fit. Hob submits to the treatment. Tries to cope with the feeling of Dream’s fingers all over him without having to put the paints aside and initiate another activity entirely.

Later, buzzing with the feeling of Dream touching him and sticky with paint, he finds himself in the bath, Dream lying against his chest and dragging his fingers through Hob’s chest hair, leaving eddying swirls of orange paint in the water as it slowly washes off. Dream’s own hair is still clumped together with blue glitter.

“This is slower to come out than I even anticipated,” Dream observes, still lightly touching Hob’s chest. “Perhaps next time you might acquire actual body paint.”

“Maybe next time you’ll just make a painting of me instead of painting me,” Hob suggests, chuckling.

“It was your idea,” Dream reminds him.

He lays his cheek on Hob’s shoulder, smearing more of the wet paint. “This was fun. I always enjoy the time I spend with you.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair, dripping water and streams of blue. It’s worth any and all mess to see Dream smile the way he had. “Me too, love.”

“Being with you makes me want to make art again,” Dream says. His lips quirk in amusement. “And not only on you.”

It’s really all Hob had ever wanted.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” he says, holding Dream close, “I’m so glad.”

—

A few months later.

—

Hob is so proud of Dream for deciding to exhibit some of his art again. Hob’s always thought Dream’s new art was lovely, but he knows Dream didn’t always feel the same way. And still, his new art doesn’t look the same as his old pieces. But he’s putting on an exhibition anyway.

Hob might have taken him out for an embarrassingly extravagant dinner to celebrate the announcement.

Now he’s reaping the rewards—the reward, of course, being gazing at Dream in his formal wear. He looks incredibly elegant in his glittering black suit. It had taken Hob a while to get his mind back online after first seeing him, and he’d had to dip him into a kiss before they left the flat.

Now that they’re actually at the show, he’s managing better to keep his thoughts suitable for a public space, but mainly because he’s more focused on how Dream is feeling. And on keeping any unsavory characters away, should they dare to show up.

But as they stand in the corner of the room, watching the people milling about and studying the paintings, Dream is fidgeting. Shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, rubbing his fingers together. Hob watches him do it for a few minutes before finally saying something.

“Are you worried he’s going to show up? Because I’ll throw him out.”

“I know you will,” Dream says. Still, he keeps watching the room nervously, all the people meandering around, chatting amongst themselves. “It’s not that. It’s… what if they all hate it?”

Hob takes his hand and squeezes it. “Did you used to get nervous before?”

“Sometimes. But I knew, at least, that I felt confident in what I had made. What anyone else thought of it was of less importance.” He looks up at the painting they’re closest to, a large, cool-toned piece. “I still feel sometimes that it is not right, now.”

“Maybe it’s right for now,” Hob says, and Dream looks at him questioningly. “Didn’t most famous artists have seasons? They didn’t always work in the same style for their whole careers.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He sighs. “I am still getting used to it.”

“You also don’t have to sell them, if you don’t want to,” Hob points out. “Remove that whole bit from the equation.”

“I want to know that I can,” says Dream. “That this, as a career, is not hopeless.”

“I’ll buy them,” Hob swears.

“One, that would result in a net of zero money coming in. Two—” his lips twitch up— “you can’t afford me.”

“You’re right, I can’t. You should have tipped your physical therapist, then maybe I could.”

“I’m already sleeping with my physical therapist, now I have to pay you as well?”

“Sex can’t buy paintings, Dream,” Hob says sadly. “Well, unless...”

“Hmm. Perhaps I’ll just do a portrait of you for my next exhibition,” Dream muses. “A nude one.”

“Hell yeah,” Hob says, and Dream, evidently anticipating a no, starts giggling. “Just don’t sell it. Makes me feel weird to think of some random guy with one of my nudes above their mantlepiece.”

“One of your nudes?” Dream asks, raising an eyebrow. “There are others I’m unaware of?”

Hob just winks at him.

Dream studies him, intrigued, for another moment, tongue running over his lower lip. He’s learned what that sort of look does to Hob.

Hob swallows hard. “Could get started on it now?”

Dream chuckles. “Later. For now—” he straightens his shoulders— “I must try to sell this art.”

In the end, Dream did manage to sell a few paintings. Hob didn’t even buy any, though he was tempted to. Even without his interference, Dream left the exhibition flush with cash and, more importantly, pride.

Hob knew he hadn’t really believed he could do it: make art again in the first place, and especially not of a quality that someone would buy. But he’d done it.

He’d insisted on taking Hob out afterwards, rather than the other way around, and now Hob is shepherding a rather drunk Dream back to their flat.

“They actually liked it, Hob,” Dream says, and hiccups. He leans heavily against Hob’s side as Hob tries to maneuver them up the stairs to the flat. “The new art. They liked it.”

“I know, sweetheart, they did,” Hob agrees as he somehow gets them both through the door. He tumbles them into the bedroom and sets Dream down on the bed. Dream flops backwards, lying on his back on the mattress.

“It’s allll because of you,” he slurs, staring up at the ceiling. “You fixed…” he waves his hand vaguely.

Hob gets Dream’s shoes off, and then his own, and crawls into bed beside him. Their nice jackets and shirts crumple but he pays it no mind. “Oh, yeah? What did I fix?”

Sober Dream, he thinks, knows that this wasn’t really Hob’s doing. That no matter what Hob had contributed in terms of rehabilitating his hand, it was Dream who still had to put in the work to get back here. Dream knows that, usually.

Drunk Dream is trying to tell him something different, he thinks.

“All of it,” Dream insists. He lays his limp hand over his heart. “Me.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” Hob leans over him to kiss him. Dream hums in pleasure and twines a hand in his hair, tugging him down.

“I love you,” he mumbles, lips smearing against Hob’s. He sounds so happy. Very, very drunk still, but happy. Hob remembers the caged, nervous Dream he’d first met, who’d barely wanted to let him see his hand. Maybe he has managed to fix something, after all.

“I love you, too, baby,” he says, unexpectedly choked up. Dream cuddles him close, burying his face in Hob’s neck, worming his limbs around him so they’re all tangled up together. Hob holds him like that until he falls asleep, resigning himself to their ruined formal wear, basking in the fact that Dream is happy.

It’s all that matters to him, in the end.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Childhood Sweethearts

Yandere Katsumi Orochi x Childhood Rival Afab Reader

Tomboy reader consumed me so enjoy this small little taste

Yellow Lenten Roses to symbolize a childhood sweetheart

“I can’t stand you!” A young Katsumi exclaimed loudly to a young child with (hair color) hair. Their faces were both covered in bruises and dirt.

“Taekwondo is better than karate!” The small child pointed at Katsumi. “When I come back to Japan, I’ll defeat you! I swear! It’ll be on sight!”

“Karate is better than Taekwondo! Your lousy kicks don’t stand a chance against my martial art!” Katsumi was met with another kick in the face from the other ten year old. The two kids brawling on the floor once more.

“Take that back!” (Your name) and Katsumi exchange punches. The two kids rolled around on the ground until (your name) was on top. The smaller child won against Katsumi once again. “See? Taekwondo is better. Do you concede?”

“You cheated!” Katsumi shouted as he tried to escape (your name)’s pin.

“Did not! You just suck!”

“Did too!”

“I hate you, you ugly child!” Katsumi shouted as he flailed from under (your name).

“You’re the one with the caterpillar eyebrows!”

The two children bickered and spat at each other some more until their parents pulled them apart.

(Your name) and Katsumi always fought like cats and dogs… but Katsumi had no clue how much that would change when they reunited.

.

.

.

Fifteen years later and Katsumi waits at his dojo for the challenger that sent him a letter. To think that ornery child from his past wanted to challenge him to a fight as an adult. How laughable.

Katsumi swung his shoulders back as he stretched. This should be cake. They were always so tiny… he bet they were still small. Katsumi scoffed at the memory of that snotty nosed kid he fought on a day to day basis. (Your name) was always such a brat. He doubt the little boy changed into a man.

Katsumi glanced out the window and pulled his arm over to stretch it. He couldn’t wait to wipe the cocky smirk off their face.

“Orochi Katsumi?” Katsumi froze at a feminine voice that entered the room. His whole body went rigid in shock.

Katsumi spun around and saw a pretty, young woman. Their hair was longer and their face was more feminine. And they had such a curvaceous body that there was no denying they were a woman. All this time… his childhood rival was a woman?!

“Y-yes?” Katsumi gulped, his eyebrows raised past his hairline in shock. His throat went dry when she sauntered over to him. No way… this had to be a prank. A dream.

“I’ve come to challenge you.” Katsumi began to sweat from how nervous he was. Her dobok fit her like a glove… no way. He couldn’t do this. “I told you that I’d fight you once I return to Japan.”

(Your name) got into an offensive stance. A cocky smirk crawls on her lips. “Unless you’re scared to fight me?”

Katsumi gets into a defensive stance. He’s prepared to block her kicks but he’s terrified to hit her. It wounds his heart as a martial artist but he doesn’t want to be a man who hits a girl.

And when her side kick lands, Katsumi is surprised to be pushed back a few feet. She has a surprising amount of strength despite her size.

(Your name) keeps attacking, she notices Katsumi’s hesitance and it frustrates her. Katsumi can’t even dodge most of her attacks but he tries to block.

Katsumi decides to attempt a takedown but she easily flipped him onto his back and pinned him to the mat. Their childhood now being re-enacted once more. Katsumi’s mouth is agape as (your name) sits on top of him but this time it’s different.

They were no longer children… they were a man and a woman. And Katsumi now had a beautiful woman above him. Something he never imagined would ever happen.

katsumi has dedicated his entire life this far to karate. He’s never dated. He’s never had any romantic ventures and here she was. The rival from his childhood as the perfect partner for him.

“Do you concede?” (Your name) smirked down at him. A bit of sweat on her face and her hair slightly messy. Katsumi did his best not to get too riled up even though this situation was entirely too much for him.

“Y-yes.” Katsumi turned his red face away which made (your name) furrow her brow. She sighed and rolled off him.

“That was incredibly anticlimactic. Where was the energy? You barely gave me a fight.” (Your name) grumbled. She moved a few stray strands out finger face. “Where is my childhood rival?”

“I… I didn’t know you were a girl.” Katsumi bashfully admitted with a nervous smile. His heart hammered in his chest so loudly that he could hear it in his head. Katsumi knew he was just struck with Cupid’s arrow and he had no intention of letting these new feelings slip through his fingers. “You always wore boy clothes and your hair was short…”

“I was a tomboy!” (Your name) hissed, a vicious glare on her face. “My name isn’t even a boy’s name. Have you always been this stupid?”

“Hey! I’m not stupid!” Katsumi blushed when she jammed her finger in his chest. He has never been this close to a woman before and now he’s all riled up. He shifted a bit to try to hide his attraction.

“All these years and you still haven’t touched those caterpillar brows.” Katsumi’s mouth was agape at her insult. To this day, she still thought his eyebrows looked like a bug? How rude.

“H-hey! And you’re…” Katsumi paused. He couldn’t call her ugly because that would be a lie. In all honesty, she was probably one of the prettiest women he’s ever laid eyes on.

“And I’m what?” (Your name) clicked her tongue at Katsumi. What happened to the snobby kid she used to know? “Cat for your tongue? Your insult game must’ve diminished over the years since you’ve been hit in the head so many times.”

Katsumi’s face only flushed a darker red. Perhaps if she was man, this entire situation would be different. His heart wouldn’t flutter and his palms wouldn’t sweat. Katsumi couldn’t utter a word to her because he was so enthralled by her. Maybe… he should let her join his dojo?

(Your name) waved her hand in front of Katsumi’s face since he was making such a dopey expression. Was he okay?

“Um… hello?” (Your name) jumped when he took her hand in his. His eyes lit up and a soft expression on his face.

“How about you train karate and you can teach me some taekwondo techniques?” Katsumi asked, a twinkle in his obsidian eyes. “What do you say?”

(Your name) furrowed her brow at him in confusion. Perhaps the years apart have made him soft?

“I thought you said karate is superior?”

“I want to make my karate even better so I’m willing to learn whatever you’d like to teach me.” Katsumi smiled warmly at her.

“You’ve matured.” (Your name) gave Katsumi a smile so warm, he swore it was a ray of sunshine. His eyes tried to memorize her smile the best he could. He wanted to burn this expression of hers into his brain so he’d never forget it. “I kind of like this new you.”

Katsumi’s stomach did a little flip. Did she like him? That thought alone thrilled him and filled him with butterflies. He was so happy…

“Then can I see you again tomorrow?”

“Sure. If you promise me a true spar-“

“Of course, if that’s what you want!” (Your name) was surprised by how quick Katsumi agreed. Her hand was still held in his much larger one. His fingers were basically sausages from how muscular they were. His palms were a bit rough and calloused from his years of practicing his craft but she didn’t mind. Katsumi was a man now rather than a young boy she had known so many years ago. He’s grown into himself.

“You’re so eager, are you excited for me to beat you up again?” A loud laugh escaped (your name) but then her face changed when she realized Katsumi still hasn’t released her hands. “You can let me go now. Your palms are gross and sweaty.”

Katsumi quickly retracted himself like he’s been bitten. His cheeks flushed a bright cherry red once again. “Sorry… I never realized how dainty a girl’s hands are.”

(Your name) blinked at him, confusion on her pretty face. “You say that like you’ve never touched a girl… wait. You’ve never touched a girl?!”

Katsumi held his hands in front of him as embarrassment swallowed him whole. He’s never really thought about being with women since he was so busy with karate. There was no time nor thoughts of dating or of anything more.

“I’ve been busy with karate and I’ve taken over the dojo. I don’t… I’ve never… I just haven’t had time for women!” Katsumi admitted with embarrassment. Did this make him a loser in her eyes since he had no experience? He certainly hope it didn’t.

(Your name) immediately halted her teasing when she noticed how embarrassed Katsumi was. She quickly dropped the subject entirely. Sure she was a cat with claws, but unlike a cat, she knew when to stop playing with her food.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make fun of you… to completely embarrass you.” (Your name) apologized to Katsumi to try to make him feel better. She didn’t want to destroy his self esteem all in one meeting. (Your name) wanted to do that over time. What can one say, she had standards. “But you took over the dojo? That’s amazing.”

Katsumi gave her a shy smile, which (your name) found slightly endearing. Goodness that was cute.

“Yes… I’ve been running it for a few years now. We’ve grown to over a million members nationwide.” Katsumi proudly boasted. (Your name) swore he looked like one of those colorful tropical birds in this moment. What a goofy guy. “I’ve made quite the name for myself here in Japan.”

“But still no girlfriend.” (Your name) teased which made Katsumi glare a bit at her with his rosy cheeks.

“Again, I haven’t had time to meet anyone. Plus, I want someone who could understand me and my interests.” Katsumi held his finger up while he explained himself. (Your name) crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a smirk.

“Mhmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” (Your name) then gathered up her belongings and gave Katsumi a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow I guess. Somewhere around noon.”

(Your name) paused at the doorway and gave Katsumi a wink. “And you’ve grown into an attractive young man, eyebrows.”

Katsumi combusted into flames while (your name) left with a giggle. Katsumi stood there for a few moments while her words sunk in. The thought finally processed and now Katsumi wanted to know more.

“W-wait! You think I’m handsome?!” Katsumi tried to trail after her but she was gone.

Katsumi sighed in frustration and sank to the floor in a crouching position. What on earth did she mean by that?! Did she… did she like him?

Katsumi certainly hoped so. He now had the biggest crush on her, despite her mouth.

After all, their reunion had to mean something… it’s like they were made for each other. (Your name) was a martial artist and so was Katsumi. They would be perfect together. It was a no brainer to him.

The reason why he never found a girlfriend was because he was always meant to meet (your name) again. She was his soul mate.

[random-writing-thoughts]

Thought 206 is perfection, I just love the civilian x villain pairing so much. If you ever decide to write another part I'd love to read it

Thank you so much!!! I really like writing that one. 😁😁

Thought #206.2

Previous

Warnings: swearing, talk of abuse, physical abuse

Villain and Civilian walked down the street. Talking about everything they could think of.

Favorite color...

"Blue. You can't have a bad blue." Civilian said with a big smile.

Villain smiled back. "That's my favorite color too."

"Really?" She asked excitedly.

No. Not really. I don't have a favorite color, but I like how blue makes you feel, so now it's mine.

Villain smiled and nodded, grabbing her hand.

She squeezed his hand and started pulling him down the road.

She continued talking, with great excitement, about the paintings they had seen. The techniques. The brush strokes. The artists stories.

She stopped and her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry. I've been talking your ear off."

Villain watched as she retreated back into herself. Putting up her walls again.

Villain pulled her closer. "I love hearing you talk about art. Don't ever feel bad about talking about things you love."

She smiled and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Thank you."

"Of course." He pulled her next to him and draped his arm over her shoulder. "Now let's get you home. You've had a long day."

She sighed. "I have. I need a big bottle of wine and some ice cream."

They started walking down the road. "Done and done. Do you want to stop on the way or do you want me to grab you some after I drop you off."

She bobbled her head. "Am I being too needy if I ask you to go after you drop me off?"

He stopped walking. "No. Did your ex make you feel like you were being too needy for asking for a small thing like that?"

Her eyes darted down to the sidewalk. "Yes. He didn't even get me birthday presents. Said I was being too needy when I asked him to get me something. Even got phys..." her voice trailed off.

Villain placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up until her tear filled eyes met his.

He smiled. "That's it. I'm not leaving your side until you realize that you are worthy of love."

Civilian wiped her eyes. "Are you sure..."

"If you say 'are you sure you want to spend time with me?' I'm going to move in with you."

She laughed.

"Don't tempt me." He said pulling her into a hug.

She buried her face in his chest.

He ran a hand through her hair. "I know it's so hard to believe it, but you are worthy of love. To at least be treated with respect."

She pulled her head back and smiled up at him.

"Thank you." She pointed across the street. "We were so close to my place. I should have waited to talk about Ex till then."

She laughed and pulled away from him.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the building. "Well let's hurry in case it happens again."

They both laughed as they ran up to the building.

She let go of his hand. "I'm on the 6th floor. Bet I can beat you up there."

She turned and took off up the staircase. He chuckled and took off after her.

He caught up to her. She squealed and tried to block him from getting in front of her. He laughed and grabbed her around the waist throwing her over his shoulder.

She kicked and hit at his back playfully. He laughed and got to the sixth floor landing putting her down on her feet.

"I call that a tie." She said laughing and walking towards her apartment.

He followed her to her place and pushed the door open when she unlocked it.

It was cute. House plants in every corner. Prints of art and every kind of yarn art hung on the wall. It was cozy.

She walked in and threw her shoes and purse in the corner as she collapsed on the fluffy bean bag in the corner.

Villain looked around and found a soft blanket draped over the sofa. He threw it over her and tucked her in. Kissing her on the forehead.

"I'll be right back with your wine and ice cream. Preferences?"

She snuggled under the blankets, closing her eyes. "Moscato and cookie dough."

He nodded. "Don't fall asleep before I get back. If you do I'm going to be locked out."

She pointed at her purse. "Take the keys. Wake me up when you get back."

He smiled and looked at her small frame engulfed by the bean bag and blanket.

You deserve to be loved. I would steal the world for you Civilian.

He chuckled softly and shook his head, grabbing the keys from her purse.

A couple hours was all it took. And to think I was there to steal a painting. He paused. Which I still need to do.

He left quietly and locked her door behind him.

--------------

Civilian heard the door close and smiled.

Who knew? Art museums for the win.

She got out from under the blankets and went to the bathroom. She took a look at herself in the mirror.

Oof girl we've had a day.

She sighed and turned on the shower. She checked her phone as she waited for the water to warm up.

She scrolled through all the missed calls, voice mails, and text messages from Best Friend and Ex.

Ex mostly switched from blaming her to yelling at her to know her place. He kept threatening terrible things and then switching to promising to be a better person.

And Best Friend was telling her she wasn't being supportive. Telling her she was supposed to be happy for her instead of being angry. Pretty much calling her a terrible person. A bitch.

She sighed.

Once steam filled the room she got undressed and hopped into the shower humming her favorite song.

She washed her face, shampooed her hair, and shaved her legs.

A loud knock sounded through out her apartment.

Didn't he take my keys?

She turned off the water and got dressed.

She finger combed through her hair as she unlocked her door.

Wait he does have the keys. How could he have...

Someone pushed the door open knocking her to the ground.

Ex stormed into her apartment with Best Friend following closely behind.

She closed the door and locked it.

"What..."

Ex bent down and grabbed her hair roughly pulling her head up until they met eyes with each other.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Think you can just ignore my calls and texts? Last I checked you're still my girlfriend."

He pulled her head back sharply.

"I didn't break up with you and you sure as hell didn't break up with me. So that means you have to follow the rules still."

Civilian grabbed at his hand weakly as tears streamed down her face.

"I also heard that you were walking around with another guy at the museum." Best Friend said walking to Ex's side.

She tapped Civilian on the nose with a clicking noise. "That makes you a cheater too. You can drop the holier than thou act bitch."

Ex's face reddened. "Who's the guy?"

Next

[thirdreverie]

valentine's weird shading not-a-tutorial tutorial

let me preface this by saying that i am not very good at tutorials, hence the "not-a-tutorial" in the title. let me continue prefacing this by saying that tumblr's search function is still shit and ass, making me incapable of trying to find the post i wanted to and forcing my hand into making my own instead. if anyone has the link to the post i'm talking about feel free to send it to me or something. anyway let's get into it

so the one thing that helped improve my art's lighting and shading drastically is, instead of thinking shadows being additive, is to think of light being subtractive instead. again emphasis on the words "my art" so this might not work for you personally + this probably also only really works in a digital medium, but like. what do i mean by that?

enlisting the help of that one sketch of ghost/ray i drew once, i've slapped together a few pics that may or may not help make the point i'm trying to make clearer. i dunno, but either way you're gonna want to decide where your light source is coming from first before you start. ok let's go

anyway, this is what i like to call "shadows being additive" or in layman's terms basically just drawing in your shadows by hand instead. this is probably how you've been taught to shade, and it works fine if you know what you're doing! however, since this pic of ghost just Standing There is pretty simple it makes shading this way relatively easy, but if your composition is more complex, you have a bunch of things blocking the light source, and/or you have weird perspective going on; then it might start getting pretty difficult. it sure as hell did for me in the past anyway

but. what if i told you. that there's a different way to approach shading

now introducing: "light being subtractive" aka drawing in your lights instead. in the real world, objects are naturally shrouded in darkness until a light source is present. this fact is then reflected in this shading style by having you begin with a layer filled with your shadow color before erasing the areas where your light hits (then refining it later). this style probably works better the more your knowledge of how objects reside within a 3d space is, but either way i personally prefer this shading style bc of how the shadows feel more organic to me + it works fantastic for dramatic lighting as well

honestly your layer mode doesn't even need to be set to multiply either. in a visual novel i released a while ago under a time constraint i chose to shade my sprite using pure black set to normal mode because it was faster to me than actually having to worry about the colors that come with using a multiply layer

but uhhh yeah either way that's how i got good at shading i guess by changing the way i approached doing it in the first place. hopefully this helps someone out there. idk man i'm not a professional artist or anything i just do this stuff for fun

[deep-space-lines]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

Honestly I don't think there's been a time in my life where I haven't experienced this. There's a file on my ipad I've had on the backburner for like probably over 4 years now; there's a really clear image in my head of a poster showing the detailed anatomy of an astronaut from the perspective of aliens who believe the spacesuit to be part of its body, and every time I come back to it, I keep saying I'll do it later because I just can't pull it off yet :') so yeah the struggle is real

That being said, I've personally found that apart from just 'don't draw it and let it haunt you for years until your confidence improves', there's two solutions that work for me

1: Just draw it the best you're able now, with the knowledge that it might suck (in your eyes) but there's no rule that says you can't come back and re-draw it a few months or years down the line once you've learned more, if you still want to. It can be super frustrating if you have a really concrete awesome image in your head that you know you can't execute the way you'd like, but treating it more like a rough draft than something that has to be perfect the first time around can help get around this. Genuinely I think about this post all the time now, I think it rewired my brain chemistry as an artist. Just accept it'll look bad, who give a shit!!!! If you draw the rough draft now, it'll either turn out better than you expected, or you'll figure out what you struggled with for next time. Either way you'll at least temporarily get The Image out of your head and satiate the Art Beast.

Which leads into...

2: Figure out if there's a specific aspect of the Thing that intimidates you the most and put some time into low-stakes practice with the skill that's blocking you. Usually it's gonna be something like perspective, anatomy, rendering/painting, struggling with dynamic poses, etc.

Starting a completely new skill from scratch sounds intimidating, but you're not starting from scratch, and if you sit yourself down and give it some dedicated practice, you WILL see improvement within the same day. Keep it up for a week or a month and you'll have learned a lot. If it's dynamic perspective, tell yourself "ok I am GOING to learn how to draw with perspective" and mess around with references, look up tutorials, draw other art pieces with perspective until you feel like you have a somewhat decent grasp of it. If it's anatomy or dynamic poses: (once again, cannot stress enough) use references. Trace and then copy references until you get a feel for the shapes (AdorkaStock is really good), practice figure drawing (Quickposes, Line of Action), watch Proko because they have really good videos on these things (1) (2) (3).

'Practice makes perfect' is simultaneously very correct and very unhelpful advice, but if you've got a good grasp of the fundamentals of art, picking up specific, individual skills to a 'good enough' level is not nearly as time-consuming and frustrating as trying to just get better at 'art' as a whole. It can be really good motivation tbh (at least for me), to have an image of something I want to create and telling myself "I am going to intentionally practice [indoor environments]/[perspective]/[faces]/[painting with unrealistic colors]/[insert specific skill] for a few weeks until I feel confident enough to draw this thing".

anyway sorry that was so long. idk if this is any help, just my personal experience

[mynameispluto]

Its like 2:30 in the morning and im tired and need to get up in a couple hours, but i really want to ramble about this idea about accessibility in art that i talked about with my therapist

For the longest time ive struggled with constant feelings of art block, burn out, and just overall no interest in my passions, and it got to a point where i just felt like i had to accept it, even tho there was still this desire to create underneath all the exhaustion

It wasnt until a few days ago, where i was like "im really bored, lets make one of those really really simple animation/edit memes cuz why not" and then i actually made it, which was super surprising cuz i never finish anything, and i was like,, so happy that i made something

Animation has always been a passion of mine, like SUPER MEGA BIG TIME passion, specifically with frame by frame stuff, but everytime i go to try to animate anything, no matter how short or simple it is, i can never finish it which leaves me feeling, well, terrible all around

I would fall into thoughts like "look at these people on youtube making beautiful animations, i should be able to do that" "I know how to animate, but why doesnt anything come out?" ect, and it would leave me feeling constantly like, worried about how people perceived me as an artist

But then i made this silly little animation meme, and suddenly something clicked

I can't make (XYZ) cuz its just not accessible to me right now

Which felt weirdly nice to come to that realization? i can make stuff, its just that the things im trying to force myself to make arent the things i should be making, they dont fit my needs, and im making them more to please other people than myself

Like, i would LOVE to be able to pump out disney quality 2d animations, with full colors and everything, but thats just not realistic for me, but that doesnt mean i cant make anything

Or like, i hate doing line art so much, so i just decided to stop doing it?? Ya know???

I feel like as artists we really become slaves to these imaginary rules that dont actually exist, that one way or another we internalized along the way, whether intentionally or not, especially in the age of the internet where any one person can just say whatever and it almost instantly becoming the popular opinion

Those rules dont exist, there are no rules in art, do whatever

If making a character bob its head to 30 seconds of music is what you can comfortably do, and it makes you happy, then do it

If drawing a 3/4s angle of the same character over and over again is what you can do, do it

If trying to be consistent is a pain in the ass for you, then fuck consistency!!

MAKING YOUR ART ACCESSIBLE TO YOU IS NOT YOU BEING LAZY

Art doesnt have to exist to be impressive

[kerykomo]

so i got my drawing tablet back after coming home from college...

comic explaination and transcription under the cut

not to get super into it like i did in a previous post, but as i mentioned in said previous post, i was struggling a lot both in different aspects of my life and creatively. which sucks, because art has been both an enjoyment and an outlet, so not even being able to use it for purposes like venting- or feeling like that i couldn't make art AT ALL was just.. so difficult. not to mention having to convince myself that it was temporary and the storm of artblock couldn't last forever.

not to say that im fully through the storm yet- but this is the biggest, longest break in my fight with artblock that i've had in a long time. all because i switched up a drawing method. normally i draw either on paper or on my ipad (used as an on-screen drawing tablet) so when i got sick of/stuck with one, i would often switch to the other. but not too long ago BOTH mediums became impossible for me to create with. i tried new pens, new colors, new styles- nothing stuck, and nothing seemed to work.

all until i finally came home from my semester away at uni, and reunited with my off-screen drawing tablet. little tiny wacom intuos comic edition from 2016 that STILL WORKS despite how many years ive used it. so i decided to make this post :)

-+-

comic transcription: i got my drawing tablet back! /pos

i'll be the first to admit it- going back to the hand-eye disconnect was WEIRD. but it was nice to go "back to my roots" in a sense- and after a few minutes of drawing the muscle memory started kicking in. it was fun. drawing was FUN.

drawing was FUN- creating was FUN. for the first time in months- YEARS of depressive art block, thinking i was just "bad" at digital art- i felt FREE. i didn't feel like i HAD to make things or else it invalidated me as an artist- i just... DID. / i came back with new skills and drawing techniques from years away and started being able to apply them and make my art look good. i was finally satisfied with what i was creating.

"I MISSED YOU LIL BUDDY!! UEUEUEUE"

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

So I have this sim I play in my legacy challenge, and her whole thing is kinda about how she has a whole hair journey, and since I have no (good) wifi on my computer, here is her whole hair journey to date.

(you may know her from the handheld ports of the sims 2... Ara Fusilli!!!!)

Ara had finally moved into a house away from her father, she look very similar to how she did as a teenager, except her hair grew out a bit for her wedding. at this point she felt like her life was complete, but felt kind of lost.

Ara and Lazlo have been married for a while now, and they finally decided to have their first kid. During her pregnancy she usually put her hair up so that it wouldn't be too much of a disturbance. At this point she was unemployed, and pretty much depressed, but anticipating the arrival of Reggie.

Despite her hair barley changing, this part of her life is important to mention. (this version is her og hair but without the little bit braided). She gave birth and her entire focus in life was dedicated to her son. At her roomates wedding she contracted a deadly disease, and ended up missing his whole childhood.

While being blocked away from the whole world, with nothing to do but read and cry to herself alone about how much she is missing out on she went insane. She tore hair out of her head and it got tangled, and choppy. The room she was social distancing in was wrecked. Everything that made Ara, Ara was gone.

Through her time with the disease she damaged her hair more and more. The agressivley red box dye she always put in it started to fade, and eventually she died on christmas day... kinda. The whole time she was like this Grim was just kinda like "Oh. poor kid. I guess I'll resurrect her" (she is unlucky btw). After her revival she started a life of crime... then got to thinking.

When Ara made the connection that she literally evaded death she tried to reinvent herself. A pass time that she once did casually as a kid (painting) became her whole job. during the time she had the disease, her roomates started earning so much money, that being an artist was honestly a safe career choice. Her hair was so matted and torn out that she had to shave it, which terrified her at the time but she grew to love it as a mark of new beginnings.

Because she missed so much of her own children's life, and her roomates were so busy working all the time, she decided to help them raise their own kids, solidifying them a house for their entire childhood. She practically became a second mother to Lemon Delossantos. Her hair grew a little and she dyed it red again.

Because she spent so long taking care of the kids, her hair started getting really uneven and patchy, and she decided to embrace that. This is the beginning of her really figuring out who she is. (also her hair is starting to fade back to brown a little.)

As she watched the children she basically raised as her own (And Reggie) grow up right before her eyes, she realized that she wasn't young anymore. She couldn't participate in trends young teens did- so she went retro. Around this time her art started getting more classical, some even being displayed in museums.

On the 28th anniversary of her close call with death, she started to see her husband's hair greying. She always knew he was older than her, but up until now she didn't really realize what that meant. She got much closer with her husband and son, and made sure to spend the remaining time she had left with them... well... with them. Alot of this period of her life was surrounded with death. Her brother In laws Vidcund and Pascal, Sister-in-laws Penelope Redd and Jenny, her father. Her hair doesn't reflect that too much, but she does just let it grow out, and keep dying in her signature red color.

On that same christmas Lemon and Reggie got engaged (No that isn't weird because we'll just say that Ara was a good mother-in-law figure for her), and did a celebratory woohoo, where they got pregnant with Cheddah' and Camembert, twin boys who take after their mother and paternal grandfather in being handy (for some reason) and she had to start dealing with the idea that she is a grandmother. Around christmas time as well, Orange had a kid of his own, him being the youngest of the three in the house really set things into perspective. Jean Luc (her lowkey annoying washed up celeb of a roomate who gets his french 'oui oui' out of his pants every five minutes) was starting to fall ill (he's about 78) and had to be admitted to the hospital. His life looked bleak, setting him at about one or two years (days in game) left to live. His wife was aging as well, at about 70 years old, and her husband not too far behind, and she started to realize that she herself was old. Sure she missed 10 years to illness... which places her mentally at about 39, but truthfully she is 49. She only has about 30-ish years left of her life, and she wanted to calm down a bit. She dyed her hair back to brown and even added greying streaks to make her look her age. She wants to make sure to be a good grandma to her grandkids. She doesn't want them to miss out on a grandma (or as she would differently word it herself) like Reggie did.

Currently that is all, but from my brain she has about two more hairstyles left before death so thats fun!

[rubywolf0201]

@hypersonicjd @kittydoremi @thegirlfromstationsquare @dragondelsus @aquillis-main

Ok to expand on the idea further here’s what I got:

- The Amy centric spinoff would called Amy’s Fashion Runaway

- This hypothetical spinoff would focus on Amy and Elise saving a fashion boutique from being bought out by a selfish and greedy tycoon who plans to use the boutique for personal gains.

- The spinoff would begin with Amy just relaxing at her home watching news on the TV. The news channel would take a commercial break to show off a famous fashion boutique in Soleanna and that they’re holding their yearly fashion show.

- After Amy saw the commercial, the plucky pink hedgehog decided that she should venture out to Soleanna to see the yearly fashion show that’s happening.

- After arriving to Soleanna, Amy searched all over the place of where the famous fashion boutique is at least until she bumped into a familiar figure.

- That figure is none other than Princess Elise (who is in disguise and with a new art style to boot)! Like with Amy, Elise is also attending the yearly fashion show because not only is it her duty to oversee the event but also because Elise enjoys fashion too.

- Both greeted each other like they did in 06 but because of the retcon, both girls would have a hard time remembering each other but still having a sense of familiarity with one another.

- After both girls arrive to the famous fashion boutique that is the talk of the town (the name is undecided but I’ll call it Soleil Fashion for now), both would wander around a bit. Amy would talk to some NPC regarding the details of the yearly fashion show while Elise would make reservations for the two of them.

- But just as thins are about to settle, suddenly, a white sheep enters into the scene with two bodyguards, here she introduces herself White Lily (the main antagonist but she hasn’t showed her true colors just yet) and is one of the guest of honors at Soleil Fashion’s yearly fashion show.

- The crowd’s reaction towards White Lily is quite mixed. Some knew her from outside sources while others are skeptical of her, but for both Amy and Elise, both can’t help but be suspicious of White Lily and the way she presents herself.

- The fashion show is about to begin and both girls are seated to see it happen. However, something was off. From there, White Lily make a bombastic entrance and declared that Soleil Fashion would be hers to take. A lot of the people watching it are shocked but just as they’re about to get out, the exit has been blocked by White Lily’s bodyguards!

- White Liky thinks that the people leaving her own fashion show is rude so she has a special tech that makes the audience stay glued to their seat and make them watch it!

- Amy and Elise, on the other hand, managed to sneak past White Lily and her bodyguards and made it safely back to the entrance.

- But they’re not the only ones. A messy haired boy also happened to get out by bursting the heavily guarded door all the while crying.

- Amy asked the boy what has happened and the boy replied that everything has gone wrong ever since White Lily overide the fashion show: From trespassing into unauthorized areas to even outright kidnapping the models and put them into different locations!

- Amy was furious from hearing it and with a nod from Elise, decided to take back the fashion show!

Btw, this spinoff is heavily inspired by Princess Peach Showtime and I think Amy having her own adventures by saving a fashion show from an amoral business tycoon sounds right to me.

I’m also bringing Elise back because she deserves another chance and also because I like her too.

Those are what I have right now. Feel free to add what you think.

I don’t know why but whenever I think about an Amy-centric game, I think her game would something similar to Princess Peach Showtime but instead of a theater, Amy is saving a famous fashion boutique from closing down and propose doing a fashion show to save it from an evil tycoon into buying it (this antagonist in particular would serve as Amy’s foil much like Grape is to Amy, let’s call her Poison for now)

I wish to expand it more but these are all I have.

(P.S. Elise would be there too 😉 and Amy would gain a tol human companion)

[kirathehyrulian]

Non-Challenge Art 😈🐍This Blue Hell🐍😈

(Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Mwhahahahah! It is done in time for Halloween!🎃 (click, right click, click open image in new tag to get a closer look on desktop)

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr. Or my  “AO3“. 👇(Art Notes and Alts below the cut) 👇

Art notes: I’ll probably put more in depth art process notes on the AO3 post when I get around to it. But anyways, I started this sketch, I wanna say, sometime in the late summer of this year, thinking it’d be something cool to do for Halloween because I rarely ever get around to doing anything holiday theme. (Mostly because the holidays are stressful and pre-planning is not my strength) But I was having a hard to completing anything art wise during that time. All I had was a sketch, messy color placement, and some of the face rendered. Then I put it on the back burner for a while.

Then the masquerade happened and I don’t want to jinx it but I think it might have got me out of my art block, I hope? Well it was kind of a double edge sword. Because the Masquerade has a limited time frame I traced the contour lines from J2 photos or Sam and Dean episode refs to save me time. And I didn’t really stop to dwell on that too much because of the deadline until after I unmasked and posted all of my stuff to AO3.

It’s probably because of the posting anxiety I always get when submitting, but for some reason divulging that part of the process made me feel like an imposter artist or like I was taking some of the magic out of what I’ve drawn. It grew to the point where I felt like I was useless.

The rational part of my brain was trying to tell me, tracing the forms from con and episode refs was just a handy tool that I employed to speed things up for the Masquerade. The stigma that some people put on tracing isn’t (word I wish I could remember), especially for hobby art. But, my negative side wasn’t shutting up.

The funny thing is that if this someone else I believe I wouldn’t have cared if they had to trace contour lines to get the art done. I would have told them, “You brought an idea to life using the resources and tools around you. It was transformative enough that it is your own art. And don’t listen to the negative thoughts telling you otherwise. You are an artist and can draw.” But, it was myself at a low period dealing with stupid fears not based on anything happening in the present. And even if someone accused me of not being an artist it would have been the opinions of the few that shouldn’t really matter in my life.

Anyways, after I moped around for a little bit, I decided to pick the boy king!Sam project back up around last Wednesday and started pouring all my time into it. I was going to prove to my negative side that I could draw freehand without tracing.

I pretty much redid the face render I had originally and then worked my way through it all. I did the face, the top part of the snake, the neck, the bottom part of the snake, the horns, the golden stick ring thing (it’s supposed to be representative of the crown of thorns), the fire, the crown, the lighting, the font, and then lastly the dripping blood.

And after completing this project I felt some of my self-esteem build up. I can draw. Maybe not as well as I want to all the time, but I can do it. I might not always complete wip’s, or complete deadlines. I might always make mistakes. But I can draw. So, Hah, negative side of my mind. Fudge you for making me questioning that.

Anyways here’s all the alts (which is just me hiding layers on the main file to showcase certain parts without the distraction of the rest of the piece):

🎶music I listened to while working on this project:

Anyways, I think that’s it.

Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

[muiczhing]

muichiro x sister reader fluffy angst.

do not repost or I will slap your ass with my mother's broom. Just kidding.

╰┈➤ muichiro x sister reader.

・❥・ :: angst and fluff no smut🤨.

・❥・ :: do not repost to another platform

・❥・ :: too many grammar erros and cringness please forgive me for being a cringe person.

muichiro and y/n are siblings they should be three but yuichiro died because he was protecting his siblings from a demon that wanted to eat the three of them mom and dad Muichiro and y/n parents died their mother died due to illness/sickness and their father died because he fell down to a cliff , however kagaya and Akame manage to save both of them now muichiro is an mist hashira meanwhile y/n tokito is the blood hashira. A little bit background y/n is older than muichiro y/n is already 16years old meanwhile muichiro is 14 years old , months pass by y/n received a new missions to complete however muichiro got some too but this time he need to defeat an uppermoon, infact y/n need to cut her wrist just to perform the breathing technique,

blood breathing technique forms(not official yet).

first form —

Poisonous blood

This one , the performer need to cut their wrist just to perform this poisonous blood means

Westerian poison y/n have been drinking those with shinobu kocho once a demon touched/drink y/n’s blood will die in hell.

Second form —

bloody black hole

in this form im really sorry if it's really confusing

bloodg black hole means a bloody mud will cover your body untill you suffocate and die on the black hole yet this black hole are no room.

infinity breathing techniques —

First form —

infinity strike, infinity strike means you can kill someone just in one slash , unlike raiden shogun , she has an thunder to kill signora

But in this form the strike will kill you is the black hole

[ muiczhing: hello pips im too lazy to explain more about y/n’s breathing techniques but her

Own breathing is two yes she is like tanjiro who

can master two breathings however i got lazy and decided not to make an oc or an katana for her i will try to make if im not art blocked anymore. ]

“y/n nii-san” muichiro said while dozing off again like usual muichiro keep forgetting every

thing “ahh yes??” y/n said with calm voice “uhh..i forgotten about the thing i wanted to say” muichiro said whil dozing off and clearly want to remember the thing he wanted to say “awww that's fine im gonna make you some dango Sticks ” y/n said while getting up on the chair she is setting in “ah..arigato” “also muichiro im sorry i will be gone for a while or for a week maybe a months since i got more missions to do is it fine if we can jist hang out tomorrow or right now?”y/n asked muichiro who's dozing and thinking what color is that again “oh..okay..what color is that again?”muichiro said while scratching his chin.

• — after that day — •

Y/n go to the mountain xxxxxxx xxxxxx to kill

The uppermoon 7 kakuragashi an new uppermoon with a weakest demon blood art yet can kill someone easily.

“OHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHA I CAN SMELL FOOD HERE IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I HAVE GOOD FOOD~~” the demon said qhile grinning like a hungry bitch “OH A HASHIRA” the demon said “YOU'RE THE WEAKEST RIGHT?” the demon said with an sarcastic tone “so you consider you self as strong without knowing my own abilities, however i can slices your neck easily with my infinity, you're such a looser also don't worry im the strongest after all hahaha and you are the weakest.” the demon get pissed of the throw some attack on her she quickly dogge it using water breathing technique. “water breathing technique eleventh form death calm.” as she quickly slashed the demon’s head without knowing that it has a poison once you cut off his head.

“oh i see im good handling poison do you even know that you have been drinking my blood that has a poison on it?” y/n said making a smug look that made it even more worst. “damnit you bitch i will fucking hunt you” the demonsaid the turned into Ashes.

y/n woke up and just realized that she is just dreaming his favorite anime film kemitsu no yaiba , yes she is just dreaming about it “ reality hit really different , however I'm still lucky that I'm alive in this world. I wonder if demon slayer are really true.” y/n said.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 17

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I read this week. Be sure to leave your author a comment or kudos if you enjoy a story! 

***Marks my recent favorites 

~*~ 

shades of hedonism by Areiton

Sometimes, he’ll see a flash of color in a bodega, in a pharmacy while he buys water for his run, and he’ll think of that drawer swimming in expensive lipstick that Tony loves, and he flushes a little. 

the safest hands are our own by Areiton

His hands are gentle, Tony thinks, and sometimes he wonders if he’s still on the drugs the terrorists gave him. 

OR:

Tony is permanently injured after a kidnapping.

Steve takes care of him.

***One-Man Army by Captain_Panda

Takes place immediately after the Chitauri attack in Avengers 1.

Steve is running himself into the ground. Tony notices.

Then Steve gets knocked down hard. And Tony intervenes.

truth be told by meidui

“What’s one thing you haven’t told me about recently?”

Breaking Even by Captain_Panda

The world loves Iron Man.

But there's a ghost still in the machine. Steve reassures him he's still the star of his own Expo.

the hundredth by meidui

Their one hundredth birthdays and one hundredth anniversary.

Some Man's Treasure by Captain_Panda

Steve overhears a conversation between Tony and J.A.R.V.I.S. about the end of time.

Also known as pre-wedding jitters, with a dash of existential dread.

mortal gods by meidui

When Gorr the God Butcher comes, they think he’s here for Thor.

lipstick, chateau, wine colour by meidui

“I’m a little tired of playing for money,” Tony says, sweeping his chips to the side. He takes off his sunglasses, tinted wine-red, and nods to the side of the room. “I wanna play for him.”

right where we are by meidui

Steve has the day off today, so after he drops off his wife at Stark Industries for the day of board meetings she’d grumbled about all morning, he decides to take care of all the chores for the week and put together a relaxing evening for her. Of course, most of these plans are thwarted when he runs into a man standing outside their loft.

on his lips (like a prayer) by ArabellaAM 

When Steve decides to travel on his old Harley to attend a friend’s wedding, the possibility of his girl leaving him stranded in a town in the middle of nowhere doesn’t even cross his mind.

Luckily for him, that town happens to have a mechanic that might be able to help him.

Calling by Captain_Panda

There's true love, and then there's "I've been reincarnated as a dog and my sole purpose is to see you one last time."

Steve Rogers fits the latter category. Or, a modified version of the film Fluke.

silent, spoiling love by ArabellaAM

In the beginning, Steve doesn’t see anything weird in it.

Or, Steve finds a confidant in Tony and he doesn't realize just how much Tony cares about what he tells him until he starts getting lots of thoughtful gifts.

To the Victor by Captain_Panda

A former prince quietly enters his local jousting tournament.

The resident jousting enthusiast is very pleased.

That's right: it's a medieval Stony!AU.

A silent storm wrecks my being, you are beloved by captainstars 

“Five thousand doubloons.” He makes his bid. Steve’s body jerks in surprise and his eyes widen when they land on Tony across the hall. He struggles against his bonds but is pulled back by the collar. Tony is going to kill every single person who laid a finger on him, and he is going to relish in it.

***wildfires in the spring by meidui 

Steve is pulled out of the ice on a summer morning in 2010.

***Unraveling by Wikketkrikket

Steve has an art block. Toni has an idea: knitting. Because maybe Steve isn’t the most Alpha-y Alpha everyone thinks he is after all.

break me, shake me, devastate me by thesurielofficial

Tony wakes up with Steve fast asleep beside him. Steve's never stayed the night before. It's time for Tony to face the music and end this.

All I want is boundless love. by Missy_dee811

“Your report,” said Steve.

Tony groaned and got up from his chair. He put his hands in his pockets and started pacing.

Steve continued, “In your report… You neglected to mention you gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

Strong as Death by babesrgrs

Steve is hit with a curse that has unexpected consequences, and Tony, who's never going on a diplomatic mission ever again, has a religious experience. The sexy kind.

and time can do so much by robertdowneyjjr 

Steve Rogers has a complicated relationship with time. He's the man out of time, the man who's lost everything to time.

But then he becomes friends with Tony Stark, whose love language is quality time. And that's exactly what Steve needs to find a place in this century.

[thisguydrawsandstuff]

“Wait! I’m not ready!” TickleTale TK Fic

I can’t stop writing TK fics based off of prompts lord help me

TK sans belongs to https://href.li/?https://www.deviantart.com/ghastimafrix/gallery/52054943/ocs-muses 

And Ink belongs to @comyet

TW: Tickle fic. If you don’t like it, please scroll! It is 100% SFW!

“I’m so bored,” the colorful skeleton sighed, lying in a star-position on the floor of his living-room. Well, not his living-room, per se– one of the Alternate Universe Sans he visit’s room, Tick.  “Aren’t you supposed to be like– all creative? You could draw somethin’… or somethin’.” The pink skeleton smirked, his head resting on his hand, which was perched atop the side of the couch.

“Well!- it’s not that easy, Tick!” Ink retorted, crossing his arms. “It’s like– I don’t know– I’m dry of creativity.” 

“Dry of creativity?” Tick chuckled. “That’s new. Don’t suppose there’s anything I could do?” The skeleton didn’t really think there was anything he could do to help. Sanses weren’t really known for being creative, well, except for Ink– but, if it could help his friend out of his dramatic “art–block,” he would at least try.

“Mmm, nah. Thanks though. I’ll just lay here, waiting for creativity to strike.”

Tick rolled his eyes and thought for a minute. Then, an idea struck. Honestly, Tick was surprised he hadn’t thought of this sooner.

The mischievous skeleton got off the couch, and sat right next to Ink’s body– His eyes closed, likely from boredom. “Ey, Ink,” he started, “I think I know something that will get your mind joggin’.” Tick tried not to blow his cover if he’d looked like he was up to something, so he decided to play it cool.

 “Yes, Tick? What is it?”

 Repressing a smile, Tick softly poked one of Ink’s ribs– earning a surprised jolt from ink, his body moving like a fish out of water.

Ink snapped his back up off the floor, sitting at eye level to his friend, “Ey– no,” Ink pointed at Tick accusingly, but the bossy facade the creative skeleton attempted to put off was considerably offset by the giddiness tugging at the edges of his non-existent lips. (We pretend)

“’No’ what?”

Tick poked on of Ink’s ribs again, and again– until within moments the poking turned into spidering, making Ink fall back onto the floor and try to protect his ribs, high-pitched giggles emitting from the colorful skeleton. All the while, Tick making sure Ink was comfortable and happy– he would hate to hurt his pal.

“Tihihick! Eeeehehaha!!!”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Ink!”

“Whahahat?! Whahahat quehehestion!!!”

After a few minutes Ink had successfully protected his ribs by hugging his own sides, still giggling frantically, as Tick paused to let him have a short breather.

“Well, until you remember I guess I’ll have to keep tickling you!”

As soon as Tick had noticed Ink had regain enough breath to keep going, he spared no second in jumping right back in. Only, this time, he went for Ink’s stomach– making sure his friend’s arms wouldn’t get in the way by holding them onto Ink’s chest with his own elbow.

“Wh-WhAHAHAIT– I’HIHIM NOT REHEHEA– *snort’ DEEHEEY!”

Tick immediately slowed to a stop, but not moving his position in the slightest; Ink still trapped. “No worries. Tell me when,” The skeleton teased, a cheeky smile plastered onto his face. “Wha– Noho!”

“No really, I can wait,” Tick checked his wrist as if he were wearing a watch, and proceeded to lightly drum his fingers on Ink’s stomach, making him jolt and squirm.

…

“I have noticed a severe lack of the word go– you okay back there?”

“…Yes.” It was apparent that Ink was utterly embarrassed– seeing as his face was lit with bright colors in sequence of the rainbow, which Tick could only assume to be his blush. Soon enough though, ink half-laughed, half-groaned at his predicament and gave a hefty sigh, “Gohoho ahehead.” After looking back at Ink and giving him a reassuring nod, the pink skeleton wasted no time in getting his friend to laugh; squeezing his sides, spidering his fingers up and down his stomach– you name it.  “EEEHAHAHAHA– IHIHITS SO BAHAHA– *snort* AHAHAD!!!”

“Can’t be that bad, ya big baby,” Tick retorted, giving a final squeeze to Ink’s stomach.

“Had enough? Is your motivation coming back to you?” Tick finally let’s go of Ink, sitting cross legged on the floor beside his giggling pal.

“Aha–Actually, yeah. I do feel motivated!”

“Cool. So what’s the game plan?”

Ink sat up, a mischievous glint in his eye, “Huh… let me see..” he rubbed his chin in mock concentration, “I think… THIS!”

Ink quickly jumped over to Tick, tackling him in the process, and straddling his friend’s hips.

“Ihihink– don’t you dare!” Ink rolled his eyes, as he was confident that Tick meant zero of what he just said. Nevertheless, just to tease his friend, he crossed his arms, a smug grin on his face, looking down at his giggling pal.

“I can wait~”

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[yinses]

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !! 

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind.  really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature. 

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.  

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”