#Short thing

[sefusneezed]

Old Man Archmagos Reminisces, Local Tech Priest Remembers It Completely Different

Bonus: Reminiscended event in question (weird guy scares child by being WAY too into proper machine maintenance ⚙️😇🙏🙏)

Average tuesday for von kuronar, life altering event for kat 😪

Comics Directory

[cokoweee]

Ok the part before cause I had to finish the idea—===>

Now I have that other idea I wanna doodle so I must run 💃💃💃

[simping-for-joe]

I Will Be Right By Your Side

Leon Kennedy X Reader

You wake up feeling awful with a fever and Leon makes it his priority to make you feel better.

A/N: I got a sinus infection and watched Infinite Darkness again, I love Leon in this show and I'm upset Infinite Darkness Leon doesn't get more love cause he is so pretty. I want to live in his hair, it looks so soft, and he's such a sweetheart, I just love this man so much

You woke up this morning and immediately wished you had never woken up. You groan out in pain, a pounding headache that wasn't there last night greets you. You pull your covers up a little higher as you're freezing just from the ceiling fan above your bed.

You can't breathe properly through your nose and you let out a harsh cough. The idea of getting out of bed makes you want to cry as you hug a pillow.

"Hey, I've got to go soon-" Leon suddenly comes marching into your shared bedroom. "You okay?" He stops looking at your concern.

"Need a minute..." You reply in a grumbling and nasally voice, vastly different from your normal speaking voice. His eyes widened when he heard you speak. "Is it that bad?" You ask him.

"Yeah... you really don't sound good baby." He says softly as he sits down on the bed close to you. He gently touches your forehead and cheeks. "Sweetheart, you're burning up." He notes worried, you lean against his touch as his cold hands feel nice on your skin.

"I'm okay... really," you try to reassure him but a shiver runs through you.

"I'll be the judge of that." He replies before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He returns with a thermometer, you roll your eyes but let him get your temperature. "And that would be a low-grade fever, congratulations you're staying home." He says patting you gently.

"Leon, I'm fine." You try to argue but a harsh right afterwards does not help prove your point. Also, the fact you are shivering despite being under your comforter.

"Alright... so here's the plan. You're going to call out of work-"

"No..."

"And I am going to take you to the doctor's."

"No, Leon, I am fine. You are not missing work for me." You try to argue with him.

"You are sick, there is nothing to argue about here." He tells you annoyed. You sigh, he was right, you're pretty sure if you went to work you'd end up passing out.

“Still… it’s just a low grade fever, I don’t need to go to the doctors.” You try to argue.

“Okay then… how about I just stay home and take care of you?” He suggests brushing some hair from your face. “We get some food, and watch something on the couch.”

That sounded really nice you weren’t gonna lie, and at the moment you just wanted to hug someone. Cuddling with your boyfriend as your sick and your head is killing you sounds amazing.

“Alright… that sounds good.” You nod and he smiles, before you know it he’s picking you up from bed and carrying you to the living room. You yelp out gently as he picks you up, and you wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles softly happy to have you in his arms, as he carries you to the couch. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes hoping to relieve some of the just misery you are feeling.

Leon makes sure you have water and doesn't let you leave the couch unless you have to use the bathroom. You think he's being dramatic, but if you're being honest you like being pampered like this.

You look at Leon who is busy watching the show you put on, he seems relaxed. It makes you smile softly as you relax further against him. He kisses the top of your head and turns up the TV a bit.

Maybe this sick day was good for both of you.

[ideasnstuff]

Not an idea but a short thing nevertheless.

One of my favourite skk scenes.

A description.

Looking at Chuuya at that precise moment had become extremely awkward.

Well, in reality it had always been embarrassing to look at Chuuya, when the boy shone as brightly as a blazing flame.

Looking at Chuuya had always been simultaneously embarrassing and a source of inexplicable irritation.

But now... now that he looked at the boy in front of him... the one taller, now felt small.

Blood bubbled violently in the pale veins, producing human heat that Dazai was not even aware of its existence.

It contrasted, therefore, with the cooled air of the light and melancholy night.

The previous conversation had been done casually, in an attempt to calm Chuuya, who - Dazai had realized - hadn't needed any reassurance.

But seeing the face covered in pungent stains of dried blood on the white skin, writhing in an expression of irritation and frustration, it had been enough to confirm Nakahara Chuuya's usual state.

The boy was fine, as he always was.

And Dazai, faced with so much willpower, so much resistance, stronger than the burden of fate, could only feel a certain respect.

Looking at the boy had become wrong. Looking at someone who had been through hell on earth was extremely shameful.

But Chuuya didn't seem fazed by this, speaking and treating Dazai, a mere mortal, as if nothing had happened.

Who would have thought, that the annoying boy and arrogant, had become the remedy for Dazai's eternal and inherent boredom.

Surely, a year ago, Dazai wouldn't have guessed such a thing.

Even though from the first day he had laid eyes on the boy, he had felt something different, something protective and... necessary... he'd never thought that would be enough to continue playing the game that people called life.

And for that very reason, Dazai looked with different eyes - or rather, with his only eye - with a feeling of admiration, respect and some inferiority towards Chuuya.

He felt small next to the boy.

Oh- how his heart beat with atrocity against the fragile ribs...

He felt almost alive, the wind passing between them, like a caress from a mother's hand that neither had ever felt...

It was strange, but a pleasant and exciting strangeness.

So when Chuuya - altruistic and carefree Chuuya - had shown signs of wanting to sacrifice himself - the only person Dazai would eventually feel something for after his imminent death - had shown signs of his sacrifice - Dazai felt the need to at least try to stop that madness.

More for his own selfish sake, that for the city's sake.

He knew he was selfish, but he couldn't let the flame that still burned, albeit a little less than usual, go out.

But... and so he told him what he felt, feelings camouflaged by excessive logic.

Chuuya had looked at him, eyes gradually larger with each passing second, the storm looming over his captivating iris and his features more surprised than he had planned.

Would he be... surprised?

Why would he be surprised?

In order to find out why, Dazai took a moment to look at him.

A mistake.

A big mistake.

Chuuya's eyes pierced into his soul as if trying to see behind the superficial layer that Dazai covered himself with.

Even with the layer of baggage in his eye.

Terrifying.

Absolutely terrifying.

But... so... magnetic.

It was the pair of eyes that had made him want to live a year ago.

Stormy, confusing, misty... beautiful...

And with his face dressed in pain and chaos... Dazai thought that Chuuya was... even more fascinating.

And as a source of attraction and interest, Dazai had to look away, feeling a certain heat in the cheeks, cooled by the night air.

Chuuya didn't look away, his gaze seemed to see everything, revealing everything.

The visible and invisible.

And Dazai felt even smaller and more naked, stumbling over the words and feelings implied.

He knew nothing would change Chuuya's decision, but he didn't want to be the one who got in Chuuya's way.

Just that once... he allowed himself to open his heart, because... someone as deserving and fascinating as Chuuya Nakahara deserved it.

He deserved honesty and Dazai could give it to him.

It was the least he could do.

And at the end of it all, with the boy asleep in his arms, Dazai finally allowed himself to release the breath he had suppressed.

A small, relieved smile appeared on his lips, looking down at Chuuya in his arms...

He could say, now for sure, with honesty and a delicacy unknown to him...

"Sleep now Chuuya."

And Chuuya, like the obedient dog he was, or out of extreme exhaustion...

And he was so peaceful and quiet and so... so... Chuuya... unlike.

Stayed still.

His relatively misty eyes met Dazai's single eye before falling asleep in his arms... making Dazai suppress the emotional surprise that had invaded him, as soon as Chuuya had turned his head against his chest.

Chuuya was safe in those arms-

Dazai's arms.

He had trusted Dazai.

The guy that nobody in the mafia trusted.

But Chuuya? Chuuya... Chuuya did.

(Dazai convinced himself that it was because he had no other choice and not because of the trust he had in him-)

But either way... he was lying in Dazai's arms, sleeping in his arms, using Dazai's chest as a pillow... and Dazai fed the fantasy that at least Chuuya had-

Chuuya had trusted him.

Chuuya had trusted his life to him.

He couldn't let him down.

He laughed a little, a laugh that was more desperate and relieved than funny.

(He ended up leaving Chuuya on the ground, after a brief caress on his bloody face, cleaning it with the sleeve of his coat.)

[xxlady-lunaxx]

No longer hers - SaneKana angst thing !

his hand fitting into hers and she found herself falling in love over and over again.

her smile and his sparking immediately after

when he spoke her name, Kanae here, Kanae, I love you, Kanae, Kanae, Kanae and she could no longer keep a straight face, almost melting onto the ground at the sweet sound of his voice

his messily written letters somehow smile every time

the smallest graze of his hand on her cheek, the smallest glance

the curve of his lips as he smiled into a kiss

then the less frequent meet-ups

the slower reactions to 'I love you'

the hesitant smiles before quickly rushing off

the lunches alone and the hurried excuses after a short date

the time spent less together and more apart

when she could no longer see the love in his eyes when she kissed him

when he no longer dropped by with surprise visits and small trinkets as gifts

his voice, quiet and apologetic as he asked for a 'break'

when they saw each other only when assigned to the same missions

when he was no longer hers.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Sinuses in progress

So I've basically felt like blargh for both of my days off and not gotten anything written. The good news is that Operation Remember How To Write In Journals has been going very well and while I've not finished most of what I've worked on, I've made progress on a lot of things, including finding a starting point for a thing that I've wanted to do for awhile as a sort of present for @tuesdayintheservantshall and @irrationalgame and any other Jimmy fans who are following me that I'm not aware of, because while Jimmy might annoy me greatly, he can also be fun to write, and you guys are cool, so.

Merry Pumpkinmas...or something.

...bloody sinuses....

-

Remembering the empty glass in his hand, Thomas walked over and traded it for a new one. Then, with the stealth of a fully trained servant who would never be able to break the habit, he crossed to the man who had caught his eye and asked, “Jimmy?”

The way the other man turned, the way his curious expression seemed to trip and fall into shock, was worthy of the silver screen and it’s comedies. “Mr. Barrow?” Jimmy gaped, before he seemed to realize they weren’t in a formal setting and tried again. “Thomas?”

Thomas smiled and held out his hand, which the younger man shook without hesitation. “What are you doing here?”

“Playing the piano,” Jimmy replied, jerking his head toward the instrument in question. “I was just taking a break and getting a drink before me hands fall off. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me the Crawleys gave you the boot too?”

[take-care-with-your-glasses]

I want to sleep for a bit, but my heart rate is like: nope.

So, here. Something I had in my drafts. Sitting there. Is not a Holix but is something my friend Delphic enjoys.

Smoking Six

Summary: Sometimes, all Six needs is a few words from Rex.

Rated T

Just a bending moment in between Rex and Six

Warnings: smoking

Generator Rex

[humanityinahandbag]

@jaybren No problem, my good dude

-

Eddie was going to die.

He was going to die right here, on this bed, in Steve Harrington's room.

He was going to die on the bed in Steve Harrington's room while Steve Harrington rummaged around inside of his closet.

See, here's the thing. The thing was.

The thing was that Steve had taken him upstairs. Just grabbed him by the wrist and told the kids that they'd be right back before walking him oh so calmly towards his bedroom.

Eddie didn't even get ask what they were doing before Steve was sandwiching his face between two large hands and kissing him.

Steve backed them up (still very much attached at the lips) until the backs of Eddie's knees hit the bed and he stumbled to sit.

And then, like it was just another Tuesday, Steve stepped, put his hands on his hips, and said, "alright so here's the deal."

Which was why Eddie was where he was now.

Dying.

"Alright. Here's the deal." Steve stood in front of the bed, hands on his hips. "I feel like we're just wasting time dancing around each other and we should just, yunno. Hop to it!"

Eddie stared.

"And I was gonna do this the right way. Take you out in the car. Really lay out the Harrington Charm and give you the whole experience. Because listen. And don't be upset. But I talked to Wayne about this, wanted to get an idea about what kind of flowers you liked, and he said that you've had a crush on me since High School. Which is, like, super sweet. So I figured you'd want the high school Harrington experience."

Eddie stared. He couldn't breathe. He was pretty sure his jaw was on the ground.

Not that Steve at all minded. "And I'm just gonna leave it all out on the court, Munson. I know you don't like labels, and I respect it. But I do like them. I like labels a lot. So we're gonna need to workshop some after this. Sound good?"

Eddie stared. When Steve raised an eyebrow he managed a little, "uh huh?"

Steve beamed. "Sweet!" And then he held up his hand. "Up top!"

Eddie's hand practically moved on its own, too confused to do anything else but tap his palm to Steve's.

"Oh!" Steve snapped his fingers. "That reminds me." He scurried over to his closet and took out a few jerseys, holding them out in front of himself. "Robin says I'm the most honest person about love stuff, which is true. So I'm gonna be honest with you right now. That shot you made? With the paper?" He shook his head, still beaming. "Hot, Munson. Very, very hot. And that got me thinking. You know what would be hotter? If I took him upstairs and put him into one of my old jerseys and give him a good first time."

Eddie made a sound in the back of his throat. Maybe the bats had killed him? Maybe he was actually dead this whole time and he'd ascended? He'd never believed in heaven, but this was cutting it real fucking close. Exceeding it, actually.

He finally managed a full, shaky breath. "Um... Harrington? Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"What, uh. What's happening?"

"Oh! Um. Well. We'd been flirting for a while, so I thought maybe I'd, yunno. Actually make a move?" His face fell. "Oh God, am I moving too fast? I always move too fast. Robin tells me I fall for people faster than the speed of... light? Sound? Whatever. I fall fast and-"

"Steve." Steve stopped talking. Eddie swallowed. His face must have been pink now. His fingers were clutching at the bedspread. He kind of wanted to cry. Might have already been crying, actually? Which. Was not cool. At all.

"Steve," he tried again. "I didn't even know you... you liked..." He floundered.

It took him a moment, but the understanding eventually cast a shadow across Steve and he took a step back. "You didn't... oh." He swallowed. "Shit. I'm sorry. If you want to just forget this-"

"I absolutely do not." Eddie was off the bed almost too quickly, and he steadied himself before grabbing Steve's arms. "Steven Harrington. I have been staring at you. For years. I just- I didn't think you'd look at. Yunno."

The light crept back into Steve's eyes, until his whole face could have lit up the dusk outside. "I'm looking at you right now, Munson." He leaned close and kissed the tip of Eddie's nose.

Eddie knew he was blushing.

Whatever. Blushing was metal, probably.

"Listen." Steve stepped back. "We can take it slow, I'm fine with that. We can just go on a few dates first and-"

Eddie's arm shot out, nabbing one of the jerseys out of Steve's hand. He held it in front of himself. And then, just because he could, he grabbed the other jersey, balled it up, and tossed it into Steve's laundry hamper. It landed oh so perfectly inside.

Steve grinned. There was something soft and sharp about it all at once, and Eddie tried to memorize it, store it away, etch it into his ribs.

"I'll grab stuff." Steve gave him a soft push, tugging gently on the curls that had fallen just in front of his face. "You get that on, Mister Three Pointer."

"Go team," squeaked Eddie and jumped onto the bed.

Story where Eddie spends weeks pining after Steve, mourning the loss of something that he can't have, becoming the physical manifestation of Gay Longing™.

To be clear; Steve is blatantly flirting with Eddie but getting zero traction because Eddie is essentially spending all of his time sighing out the window like a goddamn tragic hero because he'll never love me the way I love him.

And Steve can be patient. He can take his time. He can woo very softly and gently and wants to do this right without scaring Eddie off.

Until, after a frustratingly long D&D planning session, Steve watches from the couch between a fighting Dustin and Lucas, as Eddie tears out paper and balls it up before tossing it into a trashcan in what can only be described as a glorious nerdified three pointer.

And that would be the tipping point.

Because Steve Harrington is a goner for pathetic, half feral nerds.

But a pathetic, half feral nerd with a good arm?

Forget about it.

(Also, to be clear, Steve would use this moment to politely explain to a blue-screened Eddie that he'd very much like to ravish him while Eddie wears Steve's basketball jersey, pretty please.)

[bob-artist]

Bittern at the grocery store

[cork-run]

the names of certain mob-involved trans women have been changed

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.

For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.

I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.

[mr-orion]

Repeat after me: I draw so good. Not everything needs to be a banger. I'm not a content machine I'm a person who makes art and art takes time. Inspiration comes in waves and when it recedes that's when I should let myself rest

[katsinspats]

Thematically appropriate comic for Make a Terrible Comic Day!!

I saw the original post this morning and it made me get out of bed to make something, so thank u Pseudonym Jones mission accomplished

[spitblaze]

I guess Chilchuck has brought us right back to 'adults who are short are child-coded and if you like them you're a pedophile' discourse huh

[xxlady-lunaxx]

synonyms for pain;; (im so bad at writing things like this so doing a little practice<3) cw: heaaavy spoilers for Obanai’s past! (wanna hug thr baby :( )

He didn’t know what was happening. He was dragged from his room and thrown into another he didn’t recognize. Of course, he had never left his room before. The ground seemed to be trembling and it took him a moment to realize that it was him shaking, unfamiliar faces surrounding him, pushing him forward.

Then he was knelt in front of what seemed like a huge serpent with a woman’s body from the waist up, jewels adorning her body and piercing Obanai’s eyes from the shine. She had a tongue like a snake’s, flickering as she gazed down at him with slit-like eyes. He flinched back only to be shoved forward again, almost falling.

“Do it,” the snake woman hissed, shooting a glare at the women around Obanai, her voice soft yet clear. The walls seemed to warn Obanai, her words reverberating in the room and echoing back ominously. What was happening?

Two women grabbed his arms, pinning them back and he struggled but they were much stronger, keeping a vice grip on his thin figure. Another couple of women hurried forward, one with a saucer, one with a blade, and a last one coming empty-handed.

The one with the blade glanced back at the serpent. “Across his jaw?” she asked.

“Yes,” was the response, the s drawing out slowly, making it sound as if sand was being shaken.

The women positioned themselves around Obanai, holding the saucer under his chin. He knelt there, unsure of himself, but knowing he had no chance against any of them. Then, to his horror, the blade made its way towards his face, glinting in the light as if to tease him, mocking him for getting himself in the situation in the first place.

He shook, trying to move back. A hand grabbed at his hair and his scalp stung as his head was pulled to a halt. Then he could only wait, until the cold tip of the knife pressed to his skin. He was unsteady with the premonition that he would die—but then the blade bounced slightly, unable to pierce the flesh for a few hopeful seconds. He wondered, for a moment, if they meant to simply scare him. If so, then it was worki-

It pushed through. For a shuddering second, he didn’t know what happened. But then the blade made its journey from his cheek to his mouth and an inhumane scream ripped through his throat. It hurt. It hurt, oh god, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt—and it wouldn’t stop, why wouldn’t it stop? He sobbed, tears clouding his vision. He tried to move away as warmth gushed down his chin, dripping into the saucer. Black spots dotted his vision and he would’ve passed out, were it not for the burning pain that wouldn’t let him go. He struggled weakly, unable to shift away as he was held in place.

The blade kept going, somehow passing his mouth and moving to the other side of his face. Something metallic coated his tongue and he tried spitting it out, a wave of numbness hitting him. He was dizzy. He could barely focus anymore and he barely registered the previous sting from his hair being pulled. All he knew was the fire on his face, spreading to his other cheek. Then the knife moved away and the pain stuttered for half a second.

He allowed himself a sense of relief until he tilted backwards, crying out. He couldn’t see and the ache came back in full force, somehow worse than ever. He was pushed forward again, held up as he felt his consciousness slip away, the pain driving him to a hellish oblivion.