#ah...hm

[diodellet]

.

[spamtonsometimes]

3wait no stop that wait

[christakisbang]

[foursaints]

addicted to thinking about regulus black as a living wound. he’s an erased act of history. he’s defined only through three separate acts of betrayal, first his brother, then his family, his friends. he is a massive scar on the life of anyone who was close to him and he leaves those marks on everything he touches. the reader can only really get a sense of who he was by tracing the exit-wounds he left on the lives of other people… he isn’t haunting the margins of the story because he walked away from it, with purpose, a long time ago. he’s a fragmentary text of which translation will always be approximate. he is the fact that even the oldest, healed-over, invisible wounds will be reopened through exposure to scurvy, too much time spent at sea. he’s the burnt edge of a manuscript! he’s the scar that unknits itself when proteins denature!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

imagining Charlie having an Oh moment when she finds Vaggie napping in a chair one day, early on, with Razzle and Dazzle sprawled out over Vaggie like they're trying to cover as much of her small body as they can with their own even smaller ones-

Charlie pulls out her phone and stealthily inches closer for a picture (she's doesn't' wanna wake them she swears) (she's just never seen something so cuuuuute-)

but a floor board squeaks and Razzle cracks an eye open to glower while Dazzle shushes her

and Charlie stops

There's another Oh... moment, because they've never shushed her before. They were brought to life to keep her safe and they've always only cared about that one thing- it took months for them to stop following Vaggie around the house suspiciously, like they always did with anyone Charlie tried having a relationship with, like a pair of silent, plush guard dogs-

(glaring at Vaggie from shadows, from across the table at breakfast and dinner, from the pillows directly over her head when Charlie finally convinced her maybe sharing a bed would help with the night terrors)

-but that'd all changed, at some point. Only, Charlie hadn't noticed until now

now she does. Now suddenly, she wonders

Charlie creeping over on silent, careful hooves, to gently stroke between the tiny wings of her childhood friends, looking from them to Vaggie's relaxed and sleeping face (getting a little lost watching her, for moment) (reaching out to tuck back a strand of the hair Vaggie is growing out long, accidently stroking Vaggie's cheek, forgetting to take her hand away afterwards) (the longer hair is hard not to play with, she excuses)

Charlie leaning in and asking Razzle and Dazzle, in the softest whisper-

"....are you keeping her safe for me?"

a pair of soft little churrs rising up in answer. Two little plush demons, snuggling closer to Vaggie as Vaggie frowns in her sleep, shifting restlessly, stirring-

Charlie freezing bc she has NO idea what to say if Vaggie wakes up and finds her- well. looming kinda?? while Vaggie SLEEPS???

it feels different than just already being there when Vaggie wakes up in the night, different in how waking up like that was normal when they'd gone to bed together, but crouching down to STARE at someone like this, with your hand still on her cheek, scared to move it in case that REALLY wakes her up when she DIDN'T get much sleep last night and DIDN'T wake you up that time for some reason so you couldn't snuggle her or make her feel better and now you might startle her instead or make her feel awkward which you hate- you don't want her to ever feel awkward around you-

it doesn't matter though

because Vaggie settles down again, as Dazzle croons quietly and Razzle reaches out a little paw to gently press her arm

she used to jump and flinch a little every time she saw them

when did that change?

these days she flicks little snacks at them from off her plate, no matter how many times Charlie reminds her they have their OWN plates and their OWN donuts and are just begging to get ATTENTION, the little show-stealers-

(not like Charlie's doing that too by complaining) (noooooo) (not like she grins like an idiot when Vaggie smiles and says cute things deserve a little extra attention, while looking over at Charlie instead)

these days any annoying demon who comes looking to curry favor with Lucifer (or trying pulling one over Morningstar's "naïve" daughter) gets pinned by THREE dangerous glares while waiting at the door for Charlie to hurry downstairs and meet them

(or rather shoo them away before they say something too not nice and Vaggie grabs her spear while Razzle and Dazzle get within ankle biting range)

when she thinks about it, things have been different for a while now

better. They've been better, and Charlie still doesn't know when or how it happened, and maybe that part doesn't matter so much anyway

in the present, Charlie takes the chance to retrieve her hand (reluctantly..) so she can slip off her jacket and tuck it around the three of them- Razzle, Dazzle. Vaggie- her two old friends and one new but very important one-

important enough to be considered part of her, by them as were created to protect her

and that's a new idea too. but she likes it a lot, she thinks

she likes being part of a family again

-

Vaggie wakes up a good solid two hours of nap time later with Razzle and Dazzle draped over her like furry boas and Charlie's head in her lap, a former Exorcist absolutely COVERED in cuddly demons-

she stays completely still for another hour more afterwards, stiff neck be damned, watching the three of them sleep. Smiling.

.... (it's only the three of them, later)

(when vaggie flutters up and finds razzle curled up on dazzle's memorial, the night after the battle. when she tucks him into her shoulder and heads back to her and charlie's rebuilt room. as a relieved and teary eyed charlie scoops him up and the three up them huddle together under vaggie's reformed wings)

(it's only three of them... but part of why charlie cries that night is knowing dazzle did his job- vaggie is still here)

(dazzle did his best. and for everything charlie lost, the old hotel, too many of the cannibals who followed her, almost all the egg bois, sir pentious, dazzle himself, the faith that she could solve all this without anyone getting hurt...)

(she didn't lose the part of herself that'd held her together the night before the battle, held so many other times, through family calls and failed meetings with heaven) (she didn't lose vaggie-)

(and some of charlie's tears that night, for dazzle, are grateful)

(he died trying to keep charlie safe. and he did. he did)

[neon-catarina]

EAT YOUR FRIENDS.

[zorosdimples]

ITADORI YUUJI X READER ⟢ mdni. vaginal fingering + feelings.

The sky weeps plentifully, washing the horizon silver. Tears pelt the towering magnolia outside your window, pooling in pointed petals and veined leaves before overflowing, coursing downward to plink onto the sodden earth.

Your bedroom is the same shade of grey. But it’s warmer in here, shared breath and body heat keeping the room alive. The steady rainfall is drowned out by pleased sounds: fluttery whimpers to rival the whipping wind, heady moans more electric than lightning, groans that rumble deeper than thunder.

“One more—hm? Please?” Yuuji mumbles into your jaw, nipping at the flesh with his canines.

Two of his fingers caress you deeply, exploring your innermost heat with tender precision. It’s a day of rest, of respite, of falling apart beneath him over and over and over. His thumb teases your aching clit, coaxing you further toward the precipice, the rough pad of his digit an insistent pull that promises ecstasy.

The whole time (for hours, it feels) his eyes never leave your face, not even for a split second. Wells of sticky honey soak in every crinkle of your eyelid and twitch of your lip. The tiniest pockmark on your forehead and hair on your cheek is dear to him—a vital brushstroke in the art of your being.

There’s something that yawns within Yuuji, cracks his rib cage open and yearns—no, insists—on memorizing every aspect of you. He has always hungered, ever since he was a young boy. He hungered for love and connection and meaning and a full belly. But you stir something vital within him.

He wants to consume you; he wants to devour everything you do. The quirk of your brow and the tinkle of your laugh and the curve of you nail—they all pluck a chord within him that he didn’t know he had. It’s so innate, so in balance with his soul that he no longer knows what he would do without you. A part of you will forever live with him.

Nothing about you is unfamiliar to the sorcerer; perhaps he knows you better than you know yourself. It’s why he insists that you continue, why he has a knowing smile tucked into his lips when you cry out his name and dribble around his fingers. It’s why he allows you to greedily lick yourself up from his skin and settle into his lap, asking for more with a rock of your hips, asking for him.

[mihotose]

[faeriekit]

Touch deprived

Kind touches stop after Damian is two.

He does not know this, because at the time, he is two.

The next time someone touches him without the intent of harming him, it is Richard, and it is a surprise. Damian can't help lashing out; he can't help how his heartbeat races, how his breath quickens, how he can't let go of the dagger he drew out of his boot, how he has to leave. Immediately.

The next few touches are equally as kind, if less of surprise.

Damian hates them. He flees from them equally.

He cringes when his father reaches out to touch his shoulder; he dodges Richard's loving tackle-hugs. Cain is impossible to dodge, and he hates her hair-ruffles in equal measure. Todd occasionally invades his personal space and Damian flees before contact can be made. Brown will attempt "fraternal punching", which is just regular hits aimed at his shoulders and arms, and Damian refuses to let those land out of pride in his skill.

Drake, however, does...nothing. Until he invades Damian's room one afternoon.

(Damian does not get off his bed; if Drake is to attack him, Damian could easily subdue him from his reclined posture.)

"What," Damian snaps. He owes Drake no etiquette.

Drake rolls his eyes; the teenager holds up a gray mass as large as a common pillow, arms straining under the weight. "Got you something, your highness. Here."

Damian ignores the incorrect address. "I do not want it."

"You haven't tried it."

And then something heavy falls on top of him. Damian's eyes widen; he scrambles away, prepared to free himself from...

...A blanket.

Damian stares down at it. The blanket sits on his bed, threatening in its mere presence.

"Try it," is all Drake says, eyeing Damian as if the boy is prepared to attack him outright. (He is.) "It's good for anxiety and stuff."

"I do not have anxiety." Damian would never fail deeply enough to have his mental state affected thusly.

"Sure, kid."

Damian is not a kid. But Drake leaves before Damian can correct him on his misinformed opinion, and then Damian is alone with a...blanket.

And. Damian does tests on the fabric, of course. It comes back clean of touch-based toxins, air-diffused toxins, and anything that isn't cotton fiber and cheap plastic pellets. It's only a blanket.

Only...it's a heavy blanket.

...Out of curiosity, Damian uses it one evening. He looks forward to rubbing its ineffectiveness in Drake's face in the morning, but...

...Damian takes the blanket downstairs for movie night the next week. When Richard doesn't reach out to touch him, Damian dares to lay on Richard's shoulder. The blanket presses down against him the way a hug probably ought to.

He is comfortable through the entire event.

[piningpercussionist]

As requested!

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

📸📸📸

[aroanthy]

i genuinely can’t think about nanami and akio for too long or i do think i will keel over and die but the thing is. when he drives his car into the kiryuu mansion before her car sequence (‘it’s time for your ride’, akio says when he would ordinarily say nothing at this point), nanami says ‘it’s you’. it’s you. obvious interpretation here is ‘you’re end/s of the world’, and that’s certainly part of it. but i think it’s more so like. It’s You. as in, you’re everywhere. you have a hand in everything. you brought me into your home under the guise of protecting me, and in doing so traumatised me, and harmed me, and now you’re in my home, and everyone i have spoken to about you loves you, wishes to protect you, sees no issue with the things that you do. of course it’s you. as much as touga might try to resist nanami’s attempts to sincerely understand him, this moment gives her the first real opportunity she’s ever had to do that. here is a sliver of the ‘real’ version of her brother, in proximity to and aligning himself with this man. it’s you. it’s you. i feel like a rabid dog rn

[gt-scribbles]

I love smaller companions, who are very used to their larger or size-shifting companions, being abruptly reminded sometimes of just how large and powerful their friends/partners are.

If you hang around a giant enough [especially one that usually is about your size because they're a size-shifter], eventually you get comfortable with them. Casual. Sometimes you forget, in the midst of their kindness and gentle-ness towards you, that they can level whole buildings. Crush boulders with a single hand. Let loose a beastly roar that shakes your bones and makes even the earth tremble beneath you.

You forget that a lot when you're so used to them laughing with you, taking walks, enjoying nature, letting you ride their shoulder or in their pocket.

And then sometimes, when they go to pick you up under your arms, you're sharply reminded of just _how_ big they are compared to you. Those moments of clarity keep you humble. Keep you... excited, almost.

After all, life with a giant requires a healthy level of self-awareness and respect. But it makes that deep trust and the special treatment you get from them all the more special.

[fightingthetides]

This is a piece I commissioned for. Do not steal, do not edit, do not use, and do not repost. I was given permission to post this onto my blog. Okay to reblog.

Art by Heominlu from DeviantArt

Yamamoto Takeshi © Amano Akira

[niftukkun]

unguided hand, what is your crown?

individual images under the cut! ^_^

meteor, mars the sea, our world, the space between stars ticking time and the tool to cut it short a victor stands, beheld by the court

[gwinverarrouz]

Just finished rereading the first Bartimaeus book and yeah, yeah, I can see why I loved these books so much as a child :>

I feel like these illustrations aren't 100% faithful to the source material but maybe they're how Bart wished things happened, you know??