#i always light up seeing your art on the dash

[lalunanymph]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS

୨୧ an unexpected surprise throws a wrench in your relationship with ken

✧.* ken sato x fem!reader, reader is an uriko (beer girl for japanese baseball games), unprotected s/ex, accidental pregnancy trope, angst with comfort, reader gets harassed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of injuries, slight ooc!kenji but this is MY interpretation of him, emi makes an appearance, talks about fatherhood, relationship context, flashback heavy, 8k+ words i am so sick for this man

✧.* dawn says: i am absolutely in love with this pathetic milf </3

Life as the girlfriend of Japan’s number one baseball player wasn’t as easy as people think it is. 

The news portals and papers call you a modern day Cinderella, swept from her life of being a simple beer girl, and right into the arms of Japan���s best player, Ken Sato.

Looking back, you never thought you would catch his eye. 

You, a simple Uriko girl trying to get enough commission to pay off your literature degree at a community college, and him, one of the best baseball players to ever grace Japan’s shore. The both of you were a mismatch made on the verdant fields of the biggest game in Ken Sato’s life—and you will never forget the day you first met him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the game will begin shortly! Please get to your seats and hang on tightly for the match of your life.” 

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers. 

Working as an Uriko girl—or better known as a baseball girl—came with plenty of challenges. 

There were the heavy bags full of beer that you had to carry up and down the stands, sometimes weighing up to 10kg. The smiles you always have on, the makeup you wear to hide your eyebags from working two part time jobs so you can afford to pay off your literature degree; sweltering heat and a loud, rowdy crowd fuelled by beer from the other keg girls working this cutthroat job. 

Many of them were wannabe idols who perfected the art of cultivating a following on social media and had regulars in the palm of their hands. Only a few handful shared the same fate as you did. 

The truth was, you thought it was just another ordinary day at work when you overhear someone whispering excitedly behind the stands.

“I heard Ken Sato has come out of his break to play this game.” 

Your attention slips from adjusting the straps of your beer keg and you try to listen in on their conversation. 

“He is so cute,” one girl with braided pigtails swoons. 

“Totally,” another agrees, wearing a baseball cap backwards to show off her petite features and pouty lips. “And he’s never dated anyone since coming back to Japan. Maybe one of us could change that for him.”

She giggles, as if it's the funniest joke she’s ever told. 

You try hard not to roll your eyes. A man like Ken Sato would never go for one of these girls. He was the type to exclusively date models and actresses, not struggling Urikos selling beer on the stands.

But, you don’t dash their hopes, and you follow the rest of them in a line, plastering on a smile and mustering up the courage to charm potential buyers into being regulars.

“Ladies and gentlemen—let’s put our hands together for the Giants!”

The roar of the crowd behind the doors shakes through your sneakers, in tandem with the tripling speed of your heartbeat. Electricity sparks through the air, and you can feel it in between your teeth when the stadium doors open and everyone rushes forward, pushing you along the stream of girls ready to break their sales target.

“And Sato-san steps foot into the pitch!”

You step out of the shadows, into the piercing bright light of the open air stadium, its magnetic dome rippling above. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!” 

You take a deep breath and catch a man’s eye. He nods at you and you smile, making your way towards him with a red cup in hand and frozen beer on your back ready to be poured.

Let the game begin. 

 “Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!” 

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers. 

It’s the game of his life, and to say that Ken is nervous would be an understatement. He twists the bat in his hands, adjusts his batting helmet and steps onto the pitch. 

“Oi, Sato—remember, don’t lose your cool,” Coach Shimura sternly warns him before he enters the game, flinty eyes never once softening even when Ken shoots him a reassuring smile. 

“I got this in the bag, coach. Just wait and see.”

Shimura doesn’t scoff, though the corners of his mouth lifts slightly. After months of watching him play in the leagues, the older man can be assured of his star player’s credibility.

Giving him a two finger salute, the young man picks up his favorite bat and high tails it to the edge of the pitch. 

The crowds cheer, their cries reverberating right into his bones. He’s focused, eyes on the pitcher who assesses him from head to toe like he’s vermin on the bottom of his shoes. Ken resists the urge to smirk behind his visor, eyes on the ball and head in the game. 

“Sato! Sato! Sato!” 

He tunes out the cheers, breathing deeply when the pitcher winds his arm back, and the ball goes flying. Narrowing his entire mind on the incoming white blur, he bats and it collides with the hardwood, flying off into the distance. 

“And Sato nails it right out of the park!” 

“Here we go,” Ken mutters under his breath, lurching across the bases until he finally hits a home run. 

The crowd swells like his erratic heartbeat, cheering out his name. Ken gives them a wave, his handsome face plastered all over the big screens, and in the front of the stands, right in the VIP center, his father whoops, raising his cane in exuberance.

Just the sight of the old man fills him with warmth, and Ken doubles back, about to return to his position when a movement on the second bleachers catches his attention.

His sharp, keen eyes catch sight of a man pushing an Uriko girl, goading her on as she backs away, apologizing profusely. He pushes her again, and she stumbles back, dangerously close to the edge of the staircase where she could take a tumble and break her neck.

Ken doesn't know what compels him to lurch right towards her, jumping over the barricade and straight into the stands, much to the crowd’s horror. 

“... you rejected me over and over again…”

“I’m sorry but this is just my job!” 

The red-faced man puffs his chest, and if looks could kill, the poor beer girl would’ve been dead twice over. He’s twice as big as her, and the other spectators are too afraid to jump right in due to his sheer size. But, that’s never stopped Ken Sato before—in fact, bigger opponents were his speciality.

“Oi! Back away from her,” he growls, and before anyone can blink, he’s grabbing the poor, shaken girl and shielding her behind his body. 

The crowds are murmuring, the commentators having a field day announcing every movement of his diversion from the main game. The referee repeatedly blows his whistle, but Ken ignores it, his instinct to protect the weak more important than some league title.

Shimura muscles his way through the crowd, and for a second, Ken thinks he’s gonna blow up on him when the older man glares at the bulky man. 

“Get out of here before I call security on you,” he sneers. “Bullying some poor girl because of your delusions. Tch. Away with you!”

The onlookers jeer him, and he has no choice but to scurry away from the game, tail tucked in between his legs unless he wants to face the wrath of every Ken Sato fan. 

Later that day when you’re washing your face in a nearby restroom, trying hard not to have a full on breakdown that your reputation and sales were ruined, you stumble into a familiar figure who gives you a once over, his mellow voice resonating through you.

“Hey—you’re the beer girl from before, right?”

Ken takes one look at your red-rimmed eyes and clicks his tongue. “Ah. Crap. Must’ve been a horrible experience for you, huh? You’re making me feel bad, angel. You wanna get some food and then we can talk about it?” 

Sliding your eyes over his handsome face, you’re momentarily stunned by those high cheekbones and deeply unnerving violet eyes. His shapely lips and messy dark hair, coupled with his tall, slender build and broad shoulders, makes you suddenly realize that those girls outside the stadium doors were right.

Ken Sato is so cute. 

“I-I—” you stammer, and flush, looking away. Did he just call me angel?

He gives you a sheepish smile, devoid of the cockiness and pride you’ve heard most baseball players possess. 

“Sorry—too forward? I heard girls in Japan were more shy and reserved so you don’t have to say ‘yes’ if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No!” You exclaim, and then start to panic when the rejection settles in for him. “I mean—yes! Yes. I would like to get some food. With you,” you add lamely. “A-are we going now?”

Catching himself before he bursts into laughter, Ken nods, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sure. I know a great ramen place.”

“Sold,” you say, a smile playing in the corners of your lips. 

Maybe you might’ve messed up your commission for the week and would have to defer your dorm payment for another month, but none of it matters to you right now.

All you could think about was how sweet it would be if you could bring back the smile on Ken Sato’s face—perhaps make him laugh for real this time. 

“Let’s go for dinner, then,” he gestures for you to follow him, and you swear there are stars in your eyes; you can’t stop staring at him. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“Y/N,” you mumble, and blink when he extends his hand, an easygoing grin on those perfect lips.

“I’m Ken. Sato Ken.” 

I know, you want to say, but tame down the fangirling, taking his hand. His palm is smooth, but his fingers have calluses on them from one too many rough tumbles on the pitch.

“Y/N,” he turns your name over in his mouth and you think it’s never sounded as beautiful as it does now. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You let go of his hand, feeling his warmth sinking past your skin, making your heartbeat kick up a notch. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too… Ken.”

The rest, as they say, is history. 

His large palm smoothes down your tummy, drawing you from the brink of sleep and back into a barely illuminated room. 

You crack your eyes open, one lid at a time, feeling him pushing your hair aside to kiss down the nape of your neck.

“Mhm,” your boyfriend’s sleep-drenched voice, still husky and rough, makes something deep inside of you throb. “Morning, angel. Did you sleep well last night?” 

Stifling a yawn, you nod, much too comfortable in his luxurious king-sized bed. Since coming clean on the dating rumors, Ken had whisked you away from your cramped dorm room to live with him right on the Azabu hills in his expensive, high-tech mansion.

You still went to school and did your assignments, but the biggest difference was you didn't have to worry about food or accommodation like before. 

“Like a log.” You lean into his embrace, loving how sturdy and warm his chest is against your back, making you feel protected and safe. 

“Good morning, Kenji and Y/N. Shall I prepare breakfast for the both of you? Eggs and toast or some pancakes?” 

Mina’s robotic voice chirps from somewhere behind Ken, and you feel him grab a pillow, tossing it over his shoulder. It thuds onto the floor, and you don’t have to look to know that the Sato family’s robot assistant has deftly avoided it.

“Give us some space, Mina,” Ken groans, burying his face into your hair. “It’s cuddle time. We’ll call you when we need you.”

“Alright. But, don’t forget that you have an interview with Tokyo Today at 11AM. Enjoy your morning, Kenji and Y/N.” 

You muffle the urge to laugh, turning around and drinking in the sight of his hazy, adoring violet eyes and sleepy face. Booping the tip of his nose with your index finger, you click your tongue. “Don’t be too mean to Mina. She was just doing her job.”

He grabs your hand and presses it to his cheek, breathing in a deep sigh. “Not my fault someone’s being so enticing today.”

“How can I be enticing?” You tease. “I’m just laying right next to you.”

Ken rolls his eyes, drawing the blanket down to expose your naked shoulder. “Um, duh. My super cute girlfriend is naked in bed with me. What else do you think is on my mind?” 

He loves how your nose crinkles when you laugh, fighting against the urge to kiss you all over for being so adorable.

You place a palm flat on his chest, exerting the slightest bit of pressure and he yields, shifting onto his back. The look of adoration on his face never wanes when you straddle his lap, your hair falling across his face. He pushes it aside with surprising tenderness, a huge palm cupping your face as he strokes the fullness of your mouth with his thumb. 

“I love you, you know that?” 

You kiss the pad of his thumb, basking in his adoration and your pure devotion for him.

“I know.”

Ken arches one dark brow. “Not gonna say it back? How rude.”

You giggle at his petulance, gathering his hands into yours and leaving soft kisses on his knuckles. Ken sucks in a sharp breath when you guide his hands to your chest, encouraging him to palm your heaving breasts. Those violet eyes darken with desire, shooting a dirty thrill right up your spine.

“Already so filthy in the early morning.” He doesn’t protest when you lift your hips, finding his stiffening length and giving it a few good pumps before lining it up to your soaked entrance.

“Just for you,” your feathery whisper gets him harder. 

Tease. You take him inch by inch, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from springing a high-pitched whine when your velvet walls choke his length. 

Your tender nipples turn into hard nubs underneath his palms, the planes of your body a feast for his eyes. 

Kenji thinks he’s never seen such perfection up close.

His large palms fold around your hips, and you let him guide you up and down his cock; controlling the speed and depth, completely pliant in his grasp. 

Ken makes love to you exactly like how he plays on the field: focused, determined and with a firm grip. 

Oh, baby. You mewl, crumpling forward so he can catch you, strong arms vining around your shivering form. 

The scent of sex and skin permeates the room, and you’re close enough that you’re starting to see stars behind your closed eyes. 

Baby, I can’t hold back, he grunts. Need you to come with me—for me. Let’s do it together, okay? 

Your thighs begin to tense, head tipping back. 

His violet eyes darken imperceptibly, drinking you in.

Ken Sato is so fucking in love with you he doesn’t know what to do with himself if you ever got hurt. 

Your soul reaches out to twine with his, your bodies impossibly close until you’re sure your skin is melting into his. 

A burst of white light rocks your entire world, and your universe goes black, filled with only the sensation of his lips on yours and his warmth filling you up.

Ken holds you tightly in the seam of his embrace, kissing your hair and rubbing his cheek all over you like an overgrown cat. You giggle and he joins you, hazily laughing at your hair poking out everywhere.

The moment doesn’t last because Mina pops her head back in, clearing her robotic throat.

“Kenji. 11AM. You have half an hour left to get ready.”

He groans, head thumping back onto the pillows, both your bodies hidden under the blankets so Mina can’t see what he’s been up to, though you’re pretty sure the super smart computer can sense the pheromone shifts in the air.

“Fine. Fine.”

Gently, he nudges you off of him, giving you a kiss on the forehead. Rummaging inside his night stand, he procures a sleek black card and hands it to you without a second thought.

“I’m gonna be busy all day, angel face, so I can’t keep you entertained.” His boyish grin sends flutters in your belly, making you instantly smile. “Go buy something nice and have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”

You nod and pull him in for another quick kiss; this time, Mina hovers by the doorway, her thin robotic arms arranged like a disappointed mother’s hands on her hips.

“Kenji—”

“Coming, coming,” he groans, and slips on his pajama pants and shirt, giving you a wink.

“Dinner tonight, angel face?”

“Like you need to ask.” You blow him a kiss and he catches it, pressing his palm flat over his heart, simultaneously walking backwards out of the bedroom. 

Once he turns the corner, you exhale, unable to scrub off the lovesick look on your face. 

Bringing his pillow to your face, you inhale the soft scent of his shampoo, forgetting the card and just wanting to bask in his presence a little while longer.

After a day of interviews, Kenji can’t wait to see you again.

He’s asked the chefs to prepare something special for you, a chirashi bowl and your favorite mochi to welcome you back from a day of shopping and classes.

His front door beeps open and you waltz right in, though he can tell something’s off. Your smile’s a little too tight in the corners, and he isn’t sure if the lighting is playing tricks or if your eyes are red-rimmed.

“Baby—”

“Ken, I need to tell you something.”

The truth was you’ve been feeling off the whole week—sleeping in too much, having rapid mood swings, going light-headed whenever you stood up too fast. But, the final strike was when you walked into a ramen shop this afternoon for a quick bite and literally gagged at the smell of freshly cooked rice—which never happens because you love rice more than life. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Fumbling in your backpack, you don’t look up, rummaging for the small test which has changed your life in a matter of minutes. You bring it to him, noticing his wide eyes and bloodless lips; looking like he’s gone into shock.

He plucks the test from your hands, scrutinizing the double pink lines that cut through him with more pain than any Kaiju claw ever could. 

Without another word, he sets the test down, storming past you and grabbing his leather jacket.

Your world falls apart at the seams when he can’t even look at you, the tufts of dark hair falling across his face being angrily pushed back. Agony rips through your soul, leaving you shell shocked at his reaction, your hands falling uselessly to your side.

“Ken—”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he cuts you off. 

You hear a mechanical whirl behind you, Mina coming to your rescue.

“Ken? Aren’t you going to have dinner with Y/N—?”

“Later,” he snaps at her, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your tender-hearted boyfriend look this angry; a dark cloud hangs over him, thundering across this room and bringing you right into the eye of his disappointment.

Tears sting behind your lids, and you dash at those pesky droplets before they could fall, running after him.

“Ken, I’m sorry—”

“I need time to think.”

You grab at his sleeve, wishing he would just tell you what was bothering him.

“About what?” you shout in despair.

You’re being unreasonable with his request for space, but you can’t see beyond the fear of losing him after you’ve already lost so much: your parents to a Kaiju attack, your sister to a painful drug addiction. 

You can’t lose Kenji, too.

He tugs at his sleeve back, nearly making you stumble and fall flat on your face. You catch yourself in time, staring at him in pure shock.

Ken curses under his breath, and despite his cruelty, he steadies your shoulders, clasping onto you tightly. Those violet eyes are brimming with anguish, a pain he is unwilling to share with you. From being an open book whose pages you love to read and reread again, he’s now a subject you can’t possibly understand. 

“I need time to myself to think about what to do.” Glancing at the hovering robot, he sighs. “Mina, make sure she gets to bed on time. I’m going for a drive.”

Though she’s programmed to check her Master on orders that do not make sense, her sensors record the cadence of his tone, registering it as pure frustration.

“Of course, Ken. Y/N—come and have some dinner—”

You storm past him, ignoring his squeak of indignation. 

“Where are you going?”

Turning back, your lips pull into a terrifying sneer. “Doing you a favor and leaving first.”

“To where?” His exasperation makes you see red, and you don’t reply, huffing and pushing the door open, speed walking towards your old Camry. 

“Come on. You can’t be serious.” Kenji uses his longer legs to effortlessly catch up to you, grabbing your arm.

The drizzle outside turns into a light rush of rain, steadily soaking you from head to toe. Ken can’t help the flash of panic at the thought of you driving in such bad weather conditions. But, you’re understandably upset with him and can’t think straight—it was his fault for hurting you first.

Heartbreak radiates across your face and he flinches at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. His shoulders sag and he wants nothing more than to reach out to you and hold you tightly to his chest, but you pull away with a sniff and a shake of your head.

“I can’t believe I thought you would be there for me when I needed you the most.”

You tug yourself free from his grasp, opening the car door and rushing inside; giving him one last, stinging look.

Droplets of icy cold water trickle down his face, illuminated faintly by the green neon of your car’s dashboard. 

“Y/N, I…” 

He wants to open his heart to you, tell you everything about the man behind the facade. 

The wounded son, the struggling young baseball star, the giant hero fighting monsters and the dangers that haunt his waking moments…

But, he clams up, holding you back from the truth. 

You exhale brokenly. 

It was just like Ken to always keep you at arm’s length—hovering just out of reach. You’re not sure how long you can stay faithful and patient for him to finally let you into his heart.

“Goodbye, Kenji.” 

He watches your car speed down the driveway, round the bend and out of his life. His broad shoulders curl forward, and he wants so badly to kick his bike into gear and chase after you, apologizing for his mistake.

But the part of him that would always remain selfish, the one untouched by your goodness and the harsh lessons he’s learned in this life, nails him to the spot. 

If he doesn’t chase after you, maybe you might change your mind and get rid of it yourself. 

He shakes his head, a wave of disgust rising in him.

Is this who you really are, Ken Sato? A coward? 

“Ken? It’s raining. Don’t you want to come in?”

Mina’s concern breaks through his destructive thoughts and he sighs. “Mina, do you have a view on her? Where is she going?”

The robot pauses, scanning through the city’s data systems. “She’s right on Odori-chome. Rounding the bend to Takayo Dorms. It looks like she’ll be staying with a friend tonight.”

As much as he loathes the idea of you being pregnant and having to sleep on some poor college student’s floor, Ken knows he has to give you space or else you’ll implode. 

“Okay. If she calls, let me know immediately. She’s pregnant—” He chokes on that word, and Mina gives a concerned whir. “And I’m worried. I’ll see her tomorrow and…” The young man trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Mina, I’m scared.”

She extends one robotic arm, guiding him inside to warmth and dryness, the doors automatically closing behind him. Ken staggers to the couch, kicking the bottom compartment open and finding a can of his favorite Asahi on hand.

He cracks it open, drinking deeply while Mina floats next to him, vigilant and listening.

“Was dad ever scared when mom broke the news to him?”

To his surprise, Mina chuckles. “Why don’t you call him up and ask him yourself?”

Ken considers it, glancing at his watch. Professor Sato was probably already in bed by now, and he didn’t want the old man grilling him on his poor life choices so late in the night.

“... I’ll do it tomorrow. After the playoffs.”

Mina titters and floats in front of him. 

“Whatever mistake you think you’ve made Ken, I know you will have the courage to solve it. You are not like the person you were before—you’ve grown. Changed. And when the time is right, everything will fall back into place.”

Her words marginally comfort him, relieving him of the heaviness in his chest. Ken flashes her a weak smile, drooping his head back against the sofa. He hopes to every god above—both baseball and Kaiju deities—that she’s right.

That no matter how things ended between you two tonight, it will never leave a permanent scar on the future.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you said you were seeing?” 

Chisa, your roommate from months ago when you still lived near campus, points at the shoddy screen of her twice broken down TV. She’s sipping on a beer while spreadsheets and blueprints litter around her—remnants of last night’s cramp study session which was interrupted by your unexpected return. 

You lift your head from her couch and true enough, the devil in the form of Ken Sato’s confident smile appears on the screen, making your stomach turn and heart twist.

Flopping back onto the hard couch, you sigh. “Yeah.”

Chisa rakes a hand through her platinum blonde hair, stifling a yawn. “You know what—I get it. I would be absolutely shattered too if a hot, successful and rich man dumped me for getting pregnant. You just can’t win everything in life.”

You want to throw a pillow into her face for such harsh words, but a part of you—that small, terrified part—has to agree. 

“So, are you going to keep it?” 

Her sudden question makes you wish you never asked her for a favor in the first place. While Chisa was friendly enough, it was her sharp tongue and blunt nature which often led you two into mini arguments back when you were still living with her.

“I don’t know,” you tell her truthfully, sitting up and feeling a pang of hunger course through you. “It’s not like I can afford a baby right now without—” Your throat swells, the words caught behind a lump.

Chisa has enough grace not to comment on the tears glossing in your eyes. She turns her attention back to the screen to let you rub them away, raising the volume to drown out your quiet sniffles.

The both of you watch the sports segment—her, completely engrossed, and you numbly tracking Ken's every movement on the pitch. It’s a livestream from one of his games happening this morning, the very first game you won’t be cheering him on from the stands.

Without much thought, you touch your belly, wondering if the little life in there could see his or her daddy on screen. The reality that this would be the only way they could meet their own father makes you tear up again, and you reach for your dead phone, needing to at least hear his voice again. 

It didn’t matter if Ken Sato didn’t want you in his life or if he refused to acknowledge the child you’re carrying as his. You just needed to know he would still be there for you.

Hooking it to a cable, you switch your phone back on, and instantly, a stream of messages swarm in.

I know you never liked it whenever I asked Mina to keep an eye on you, but she told me you’re rooming with a friend. Chisa, right? I hope she doesn’t make you sleep on the floor.

Another text. 

Yikes. Reading that again, I sound like an absolute dick. What I meant to say was that I hope you’re comfortable and you can rest well. I know the way we ended things was messy to sum it up, but I really hope this wouldn’t be the last time we see each other. 

The last text, sent around one in the morning, three hours after your epic fight, reads:

I miss you. Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.

You lift your gaze to the TV again, and start to notice the dark circles under his eyes. The hard set of his mouth. Ken still loves me—he still wants this. Your heart leaps, and you turn your attention back to the screen, typing out: 

I miss you. I’m sorry. I 

A sudden tremor rocks the house, and your phone goes clattering to the ground. Chisa’s loud yelp rings through your mind as the shakes get more and more intense, as if it's getting closer.

Outside the dorms, screams erupt and alarms blare. The symphonic pattern of the warning is unmistakable: there is a Kaiju nearby.

You lurch to your feet, dragging Chisa by the arm, jolting her into action. 

The sound of hundreds of feet running in one direction burns through your mind; Chisa’s arm is a constant around you as she drags you down the road, trying to find shelter from the impending danger. 

It’s a lizard or moth hybrid with a wide wingspan and sharp rows of teeth. You’ve seen news reports of Kaijus before, but you’ve never dared to think you would see one up close. Spikes adorn its tail which goes crashing into buildings and houses, debris raining to the screaming crowd below like a reckoning halestorm.

Car alarms blare, in tandem with the rising panicked screams of hundreds of students and teachers who were caught off guard by this sudden attack.

“Look!” Someone yells, and in the distance, you see a human-like shape approaching fast. 

“Ultraman!”

“He’s here!” 

“He’s here to save us!”

Chisa, whose lips are bloodless and cheeks pale with fright, leads you up the stairs of the business school building, where you both can find higher ground to avoid the falling debris.

In your panic, you trip on a large rock and tumble to the ground, a loud, ominous crack resounding throughout this concrete cube you’ve both locked yourselves in.

“Shit!” Chisa bends down to inspect your ankle. She tries to lift it, but a searing pain cuts through your entire body, your shriek of agony making her flinch. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. This isn’t—”

Boom!

The doors of the building fly off, and the monster sticks its muzzle inside, sniffing around for its prey. Having scented you and Chisa, it releases a loud screech, and before both of you could even blink, the roof flies off, its sharp talons reaching inside and grabbing you. 

The sudden loss of gravity strains your broken foot and you scream in agony and fear.

“Y/N!” 

As the monster lifts you right to its face, you think—this is it. 

Every nerve in your body is frozen, your mouth falls open and you might’ve screamed—you can’t hear yourself or feel your body or your hands or even your broken foot anymore.

This is how I will die. 

“We interrupt this game to announce that there’s a Kaiju attack nearby. All civilians are requested to proceed to the nearest emergency exit. We interrupt this game to announce—”

As the stadium erupts in chaos, Ken hears the worst news his nightmares could conjure when someone screams: “The Kaiju—it’s attacking Takayo University!” 

His mind goes into overdrive, his body catching up as he feels the familiar muscles stretching and pulling, turning him into a 50-foot gargantuan hero. Mina chirps to life, and he’s never heard a robot sound so serious before.

“Ken, Gigan is approaching Takayo University. I can’t seem to get a hold on Y/N’s signal. I think her phone is switched off.”

Damn it—damn it all to hell! 

He pushes his body to the max, racing towards your direction, hoping against all hope that you were somewhere safe. 

The young hero wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you.

“Her messages were all gray yesterday. Her phone’s out of juice,” he snaps back. “Run a search on Chisa’s signal. They should be together.”

“Alright,” Mina whirs. “Chisa’s signal: located. They’re at the Business Faculty Park. I have sent you the coordinates.”

A flash of numbers and lines appear in front of him. Ken reads them quickly and nods. “Got it. Mina, alert dad and tell him Y/N might be harmed. Prepare the base, if needed. If she’s gone, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Mina doesn’t comment on his language—she chirps back, “Noted. Calling Professor Sato now.” 

He sees it then—Gigan the monster who’s stomping around and has something in its grubby claws.

“Mina, I see it. I—”

Ken thinks the light is playing tricks on him. There’s a flash of a familiar sheen of hair, a smaller figure held inside Gigan’s monstrous grip.

“Mina, enhance visibility—what is it holding?!” 

The sight enlarges, and Ken gasps. His shock turns into anger, and he’s taking off towards the beast, not caring of anything else in his path as he summons all his anger into a fist and knocks the giant lizard’s head backwards. Gigan’s grip loosens and Ken rushes forward to catch you, holding you tightly to his chest with one hand. 

With the monster down for a moment, he glances at his palm, unfurling his fingers to find your pale, frightful face staring right at him.

“Ultraman,” you gasp, and his heart breaks when he notices streaks of tears running down your face. 

You must’ve been scared shitless for your life.

“Are you alright?” The tenderness seeps through his tone, and he can’t fight back the cresting wave of loathing and self-hatred when you wrap your arms around your midsection, nodding tearfully.

“I-I’m fine—look out!” 

He holds you to his chest, careful not to crush you in his grip as he spins around, deftly avoiding Gigan’s tail as it careens right into his face. The Kaiju raises itself on its hind legs, releasing an earth shattering roar.

Ken cringes back. He needs to find you a safe spot; he can’t bring you into battle like this.

Sprinting away from the carnage, all the screams and fear fade into the distance, his mind hellbent on getting you to safety.

Finding a relatively high rise building that’s been torn apart by the Kaiju and left for ruin, he gently unfurls his hand, placing you back on solid ground as if you’re a Lego figure he needs to safekeep.

You drop to your knees, unable to hold yourself up. Ken sweeps his gaze over you, and without thinking, says: “Mina, run a scan on her. Is she safe?” 

Loyal to a fault, she follows his orders, coming to a hard pause when your screech reaches both their attention.

“Mina?! Hang on—”

Despite his sheer size and how tinier you are in comparison, Ken flinches when you march up to him, looking right into his glowing eyes.

The masked hero whose identity has been hidden since the day he assumed the role of Tokyo’s protector, freezes like a deer caught in headlights and for a moment, nothing exists in this world besides your eyes on his. You reach out, tips of your fingers caressing his armored cheek. 

As if an unspoken truth comes to light, your eyes widen, and you touch both hands onto his cheek, skimming them across his nose. Those wide, luminescent eyes slip close, like he's enjoying your touch.

“It’s you.” Your choked gasp tears at his soul, and Ken opens his eyes to find you crying, a palm pressed right to your mouth. “Oh my God. It really is you. It—”

Your knees buckle, unable to hold yourself upright to such a heavy truth. You slide to the ground and he reaches out a hand, letting you lean against his much bigger palm. His heart is beating so fast, he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesn’t transform in front of you and can’t protect the rest of the civilians from Gigan.

“Ken,” you say his name like a prayer, curling your much smaller fingers around his ring one, feeling the smooth armor of his alien skin under your touch. “Ken. I knew something was off about you but I—”

This pure moment of ecstatic discovery is cut off by a loud screech. 

Ken hears Gigan approach and he’s about to urge you to be safe when you lurch to your feet and stumble towards him.

It’s a split second of unadulterated heaven opening its white, pearly gates when your head touches his gargantuan forehead. You breathe and he breathes, the both of you suspended in this time and space where it's just the two of you in this world—human and beast, lover and monster. 

“Come back to me.” 

That’s all you say, all you have the time to elucidate before he’s ripped away by Gigan’s claws. 

Your cry pierces through his soul, and before he falls, he casts a protective shield around you, trapping you in a blue bubble of safety. 

But, it’s a miscalculated move. 

Gigan’s tail whips around, knocking the base of the building. One second, Ken’s eyes are locked on yours, and in the next moment, the entire roof falls on top of you.

“Nooooo!” 

Ken fights out of the monster’s grasp, using his sheer strength to dig his fingers into the creature's mouth and tear its entire head clean off by its jaw. 

Ending its life for daring to hurt yours.

This is it. 

He doesn’t care that his father would call this cruel—doesn't care for the mess and press comments calling him unhinged or for the KDF commending him on his efficiency in killing off a Kaiju.

This is his entire universe coming to an end. 

The tap tap tap of Professor Sato’s cane on the steel floors of the family’s underground base barely rouses Kenji from his vigil by your sickbed.

From his vantage point, Hayao easily notices his son’s sunken eyes, the unshaven chin and exhausted slump in his shoulders. Ken is holding his phone in one hand, occasionally glancing at a message on the smeared screen. His sharp eyes catch an unfinished message, glossing over it as Ken finally hears his footsteps and pockets his phone hastily.

I miss you. I’m sorry. I

A heavy weight settles in his chest like grease, and the older man exhales a sigh.

Without another word, he takes a seat next to his weary son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Kenji, you’ve been down here for days. You need to see the sun—stretch and eat a proper meal.” 

He turns those solemn, violet eyes he passed down to his son onto the faint pallor of a young woman resting in a medically-induced deep sleep inside the emergency pod, her chest rising and falling slowly. 

Your vital stats on a holographic board floats in front of him, and Hayao stifles a sigh when he sees a tiny, bean-shaped blob hovering in another panel, its features barely formed but already so dear to him. 

Kenji can barely look at the vitals of his unborn child, eyes closed and head hung heavily as if the weight of the world drags his shoulders down. It might as well have, judging from the mess Hayao had to clean up when his son was too emotionally strained to handle the aftermath of Gigan’s attack.

“I can’t leave her side,” he replies monotonously. 

Hayao recognizes that despair Kenji exudes, having experienced it many, many times over his twenty plus years of being a father. 

Unexpectedly, he chuckles, and Kenji raises his head, finding his father’s expression faraway, nostalgia glistening in his rheumy eyes. 

“Oh, I remember the time your mother broke the news that she was expecting you.”

Any mention of Emiko would draw Kenji’s attention like a moth to a flame. His son listens, patiently waiting for him to reveal the next part.

Hayao smiles and shakes his head. “Just like how you reacted, I was stunned. I had to sit down when she passed me the test. It was the first time she’s ever seen me speechless.” Grasping his son’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, the older Sato sighs. 

“Kenji, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to sit down and evaluate if he’s the right fit for fatherhood. Any man can be a father, but it takes a noble, patient, and kind-hearted man to be a dad.”

He continues. “Children aren’t easy. Human children, that is. Kaiju ones grow too quickly and already have a set path due to their nature,” he chortles at the memory of Emi, and Ken can’t resist smiling at that. 

“But, babies… They test us. Show us what we lack and how imperfect we are. They have their own dreams, needs and wants. They’re loud, messy and take up so much of your heart, thoughts and peace. But, despite all of that, they’re our hopes and dreams.” Hayao chuckles. “If anyone were to ask me what my greatest legacy is, I would never say ‘Ultraman’ or the research I’ve done over the years.”

Ken listens to him raptly, violet eyes wide and waiting. 

Hayao finally looks at him, and in those similar purple orbs, he finds a kindred spirit—someone who knows his burdens inside and out because he’s lived through them all for half of his life.

“My greatest legacy is you, Kenji. My son.” 

A wizened finger taps on the screen, and the room fills up with the echoing pulse of a second heartbeat, fainter like its coming from the bottom of the ocean. But, it’s as strong as his own, and in that, Ken feels the anger, despair and disappointment he holds for himself slowly dissipating like steam on a hot day.

“And after seeing how much you’ve sacrificed and learned from raising Emi, I know this baby would be so lucky to have you as a dad.”

Hayao gets to his feet with slight difficulty, patting Ken’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kenji. It will all work out just fine. Take it one day at a time, alright?”

Ken wants to ask about the neverending dread, if his father ever feared putting his family in danger—the perils of parenting and how he’s going to juggle baseball, Ultraman and being a dad (a real one, this time) all at once.

Like he’s heard his son’s uncontrollable thoughts, Hayao turns back to give him one last piece of sage advice. 

“Everything will be okay. You are Kenji Sato—your mother’s son and my son. You will never be alone.” He glances at your resting form. “And she will never leave you. A woman who readily accepts our family’s duty and burdens is a rare gem indeed, son.”

“But, mom did the same,” he blurts out, brows knitting together. “She accepted you with open arms, too. How can you say it’s rare when it has happened before?”

Hayao’s eyes sparkle as if Ken has finally found the answer to his perpetually troubling question.

“That’s why I married her.”

He leaves Ken alone to ponder his words, the doors closing behind his frail form. 

The young man turns back to your pod, placing a hand over the reinforced glass, right over your belly.

Before he can stop himself, he presses his forehead against the cool metal, sighing.

“Well, you heard him,” he mutters. “The second you wake up, baby, I’m locking you down—there’s no shaking me off this time.”

A click. A whir. 

The world slowly comes back to focus and you furrow your brow, biting back a groan. Your body faintly pulses with pain, like it’s remembering the trauma you suffered through a five year memory fade.

But, your limbs work, and it doesn't hurt to breathe. 

“Hey, you’re awake.”

That voice… 

You pry your eyes open and the second you recognize his face, you think you could break down and cry. Soft violet eyes appraise you, slender fingers reaching out to tenderly graze your cheek.

“Ken…” 

He catches your embrace, holding you so tightly you think you might suffocate. The feel of his arms around you is like coming home after a long day, and you think he might feel the same way, his heartbeat thudding erratically under your cheek.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” he apologizes over and over again. It takes all of your willpower not to tear up at the look of defeat on his face. You cup his cheek, bringing him closer so both your foreheads can touch. 

“It’s alright, Ken,” you murmur, free hand running through his thick, raven locks. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He cradles your tummy at the reminder, looking like a puppy that’s been kicked to the curb. 

“I was so mean to you. And to Peanut. I’m so sorry—”

“Peanut?” You blink, and he doubles back, scratching the back of his head.

“I, um… may have given the baby a nickname while you were, uh, recovering.”

Your lovely, silly boyfriend thought you would be angry when it is the furthest from the truth. “Peanut, huh?” 

You place your hand over his, drinking in this moment of having your entire family right here, safe and sound. 

“I like it. Peanut.” Your smile is saint-like, warm like the first sun rays breaking through a long, dark night. “Peanut is perfect for him or her.” 

He doesn’t deserve the grace and forgiveness you’ve shown him and Kenji thinks that for the rest of his life he wants to atone for all the wrongs he’s ever committed. 

Your health is his priority, and kick-starting this renewed promise to you, he’s there every step of the way during your recovery—feeding you, bathing you, helping you regain your ability to walk without needing a crutch, taking you to physiotherapy classes so you would be mobile again after breaking your leg. 

He even shows you Kaiju Island with his dad, Professor Sato and him catching up with a now one year old Emi who’s grown into her wingspan and new abilities. At first, you were terrified to meet the Kaiju baby your boyfriend once raised, but the moment she scented you, she was all over you like an overly-friendly cat.

Her beak presses against the barely-there swell of your belly, and she coos in delight.

Looks like Emi is happy to be a big sister. Professor Sato laughs at that, thumping his son on the back. 

Siblings—Kaiju and a human—I’ll have to trash my entire research thesis because nothing can compare to this!

You move back in with Ken, ditching your old dorm and studying from home to accommodate your growing belly and fatigue. Your lecturers were understanding enough, though you suspect the Ken Sato’s reputation was enough for them to give you some leeway.

Ken reduces his time spent on the pitch to be home with you and the baby, catching the press’ attention who start to wonder if the great Ken Sato is cracking yet again.  Eventually, it's his old frenemy, Ami, who spots him leaving a prenatal clinic with you one rainy morning after tailing him for days. 

Your boyfriend literally has to bribe her with two months worth of free Tonkatsu dinners on his card before she lets the scoop go, giving you a sympathetic look that makes you laugh and Ken indignant. 

Life was back to normal—or, as normal as it could be after finding out your boyfriend is literally a 50-foot alien superhero who fights monsters. 

One night where you’re both just lazing around on the sofa, Ken decides to show more of his world to you, and tugs your hand, leading you to the underground base which he affectionately dubs his ‘mancave’. 

There, he asks Mina to pull up an old recording of Emiko on the stands and officially introduces his girlfriend to his mother. 

“She’s beautiful, Ken.” You approach her with a fond smile, and his arms wrap around you; heart filled with pure happiness at the sight of his two favorite women in one room. Ken kisses the top of your head and then sighs. 

“I wish you could meet her, baby. She would’ve loved you to the moon and back.”

He tells you of the efforts to retrieve her from a wormhole; how he spends everyday wondering if the next time he sees his mother, he’ll be just as old and gray as her. You’re there for his every rumination, every fear. 

“My parents separated when I was really young,” he confesses while you’re both lying in bed in each other’s arms, giving you another piece of his childhood that you welcome with no judgment. “I don’t want to be like my dad—putting Kaijus or my career first that I lose the both of you.”

At those words, you take his face in your hands, looking him in the eye as you shake your head. “You will never lose me, Kenji Sato. I’m yours and you’re mine. We’re in this as a team and we’ll see this through.” Echoing his father’s advice, you grin. “Let’s just take this one day at a time, okay?”

With his past revealed and double identity known, it’s your turn to be there for him in a different way. 

When the voices of doubt get too loud for him, you don’t let him wallow in his misery for long, encouraging him to teach you how to bat a ball or letting him press his cheek to your growing tummy so he can feel Peanut moving around. 

You meant every word you said to him that night in the tender darkness: you were both a team. No matter how bad the storm hits, you would weather it together. 

One day, without you expecting it, Ken proposes to you while you’re both watching a movie.

“I can’t walk down the aisle!” You pout, and he’s taken aback, thinking you’re flat out rejecting him when you point at your nose. “My nose will be all squished and the photos will come out ugly,” you whine. “Pregnancy noses are a thing,” you try to convince him as he bends over in laughter.

“Baby,” he wipes the tears from his eyes, broad shoulders shaking with repressed mirth. “Squished nosh or not, I still love you, squirt.”

He removes a simple, velvet box from his pants pocket and reveals a ring with your birthstone and his on it. You whisper about a hundred ‘yes's’ in response to his “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”; tearing up when he slips the ring onto your left hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately.

“Have I ever told you I love you so, so much, baby?”

Though you have no idea what’s in store in the future with a man who can turn into a superhero, and a whole new world of monsters, baseball and parenthood to navigate, you thank your lucky stars that he’s right beside you for the journey. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, the feel of his smile on your skin like the embrace of home.

“I love you.” 

“Hah,” you look up, starry-eyed and in love as you push his bangs out of the way. “I love you, too, Kenji Sato.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim my plot points, structure and elements of work as your own.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series)

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

Genre: Fluff/ Angst Pairing: Riddle x Gn Reader

A/n: I wanted to get this idea out of my system, maybe I should have written this into a full fanfic, but what do you think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments (If you want to). This was supposed to be all the dorm leaders, but Riddle’s got too long so I’m going to separate them into series, most likely every character in Twisted Wonderland once I get ideas, some of them would link to each other's one-shots If I got enough smarty juice for it, but first let’s go for our boy Riddle, I hope you like it! Again, I'll make this into a series I hope you stay tuned!

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. NOT BETA READ! Masterlist Part two: Leona x Gn reader -----------------

Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there. 

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: He was the first to respond, he was a light sleeper due to his mother’s sudden outbursts in the middle of the night sometimes, so when he heard Grim’s cries from outside, he went to investigate immediately, especially since he saw that you weren’t with the little cat.

“Riddle!” Grim cried out, clinging to Riddle’s shirt “They’re gone!” He looked confused before grabbing Grim under his shoulders and lifting him a bit “What? Where did you last see them?” he questioned, Grim who looked miserable and seemed shaken as well “I don’t know they-!” he sobbed out “The moment I woke up, there was a gush of wind and the mirror shaking, and they were gone!”

 Riddle inhaled and sighed deeply, trying to remain composed “Would you like to rest here for now? I don’t want to wake the others up, we can look for them tomorrow” he went to open the door much wider now, while his thoughts were focused on you, he didn’t want to try to find you when it’s so dark out but at the same time, he wanted to throw away his rationality and go search the campus from up to down; you were always good to him, you saved him when he almost died, you’re basically a good friend to him; however, it was too dark outside, finding you would just be useless; but Grim seemed to think otherwise, he let out a loud whine which made Riddle wince at the noise. “Riddle! Please!” he begged, clinging again to the guy’s leg “I can’t leave Prefect alone!”

“Alright, alright,” Riddle said, sighing “Have you really checked everywhere?” He asked, and that’s where they started to plan out how to find you, he went to wake up the others, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce to help with the search, of course, all four students agreed to help despite being late. 

Although they’ve been out for hours, there was nothing, no trace of your presence anywhere, where the hell did you go? Riddle’s eyebrows were basically knitted tight together for hours now, he can’t sense you, why? Where are you? 

The moment that the sun rose, not one idea or clue did the housewarden get from any deep search about you, and it left him frustrated. He decided since it was morning, Crowley might have any leads. 

And that’s where the matter was off of his hands… somehow, he still got updates, and he made his own investigations to try to find you, at least any leads; but nothing, even if he did get any leads it got him into a dead end. 

Days passed, weeks passed to the point it went into years passing, you still weren’t around, Grim was under his supervision, he basically got half custody with all the housewardens, especially when Grim seemed to not want to do anything else, other than get upset and lash out, he knew that feeling all too well when everything feels like it’s suffocating him. 

While he did pass everything in his academics, and now he’s graduating, he didn’t think that the impact of your presence before would make so much difference to him right now, he struggled and almost failed some of his subjects due to the lack of sleep and his mental health deteriorating. 

And throughout all of those, he realized that he actually loved you, isn’t that funny? He never thought that his affection for you would be anything more than just being acquaintances with you, the lingering stares he gave and the little adjustments he made of your uniform cause you weren’t wearing your tie properly, the way you never made him feel like an outsider, and everything else. The moments you and he were alone, he never made a move to get to know you better, he was the only one being asked questions about his family, his stories, and his future. He knew that saying he loved you was stupid, especially when he didn’t make any more effort in understanding you and knowing your story. 

The moment Riddle was wearing his Toga, something he was aiming for years, to become the valedictorian of his whole batch, he knew he should feel elated, his mother giving those business smiles he always see, Cater and Trey being there with him, graduating with him; Ace and Deuce watching their Housewarden graduate too. He was supposed to be happy; he was supposed to be-

But…

Where are you? Why aren’t you here with him? 

Riddle felt tears strolling down his cheeks when he was delivering his speech, an encouragement that he was supposed to give, yet here he was, tears strolling down his pristine face, in front of everyone, in front of his mother who looked shocked and pissed at him suddenly for showing such a shameful façade. 

“Riddle!” His mother shouted, almost wanting to stand up from her seat, but Trey stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and shaking his head. “There was one person that changed a lot of the student's perspective in magic… and how much they changed me as well.”

After that, Riddle stood in the bathroom, looking down the sink, face wet, he was crazy, telling everyone how Prefect, a missing student for years changed his life, and how he basically confessed how much he loved you, is he crazy? Maybe he went insane, now thinking about it, maybe all those searching for hours and sacrificing his sleep for you might be the reason. 

But even so, his heart yearned to see your face again, he missed you so much and he knew that he wasn’t the only one. 

He lifted his head, staring into the mirror, his eyes were puffy from crying, he looked pathetic, and he wanted to laugh about it.

Suddenly, the mirror started to wobble…? Was he hallucinating or does he see your face? 

“…iddle?” an echo of a voice all too familiar rang in his ears, his eyes widened as the wobbling of the mirror started to go harder, “Riddle… away… get away… the mirror” while he understood what “you,” said, he still didn’t budge, and that’s where the mirror spat you out, making him catch you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, he was shocked when he looked at you, you looked… the same? You looked a bit older, more gorgeous for sure. 

“Riddle!” you chirped, wrapping your arms around him, “You’ve changed so much!” he grew a bit, you were the same height now, but the other seemed to be surprised, his grip on your waist never leaving as he stared at you, “Riddle?” you asked, a bit worried.

 

“… Prefect?” he placed his hand on your cheek, rubbing it fondly with his thumb “Is that really you?” 

He wanted to kiss you, you stupid idiot, why did you vanish for years and come back looking prettier than you used to?

So, he did. He kissed you deeply, all the yearning and pain he felt for years, he put it in the kiss he gave you.

Welcome back, Prefect. 

Word count: 1,266

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 166 }

too sweet.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain | pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape | if you can sit in a barrel, maybe i’ll wait until that day… }

@nyashykyunnie said: HELLLOOOO. Since you granted me permission to request a daydream uhm… Jinwoo with a reader who hyperfixates on a lot of things! The fungi, the stars and most especially the sea!! Reader lovesloves whales and jellyfishes and sharks lots!! She loves the sea so much,,!!!!, She also draws a lot><!!! Art is her biggest passion most of all!! She’s like a free bird always so cheery and happy!! Loves all things pretty and cute! A very very childish reader who is just a ball of sunshine and energy!! Loves messing ariund with Jinwoo by putting little dabs of paint on his face heheh… And loves comparing hand sizes and cuddless><!!! Sorry it’s so long ueueueu

there were times when jinwoo sung had to wonder just how he got so lucky to be with someone as bright as you.

whereas he was the pure and true embodiment of darkness-

jinwoo was certain you were light personified.

everything about you was achingly sweet to the core-

too sweet, actually.

the moment he had fallen in love with you was one that happened so… naturally. that day, he had taken some time off in order to take his mother and sister to the nearest beach. he rented out a tiny cottage by the sea, giving them the perfect view of the ocean.

while his mother and sister spent some time walking on the beach together, jinwoo wanted to give them a chance to have the much needed mother-daughter moment they both deserved, deviating from the mainland beach when he sees rugged rocks with tide pools settled beneath the harsh terrain. he thinks about all the fascinating creatures that lived within such little pools and steps closer to the area.

however, the closer he got to the tide pools, the quickly he realized that he was not alone.

for settled against one of the rocks was a young woman that was sketching within the confines of her sketchbook-

it was you.

jinwoo was suddenly rendered speechless at the mere sight of you, taking a moment to admire the way your hair shone from beneath the sunlight. your cute features were turned into a look of concentration, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows furrowed in response.

as you inched closer to the shallow pool, you had somehow lost your balance and nearly face-planted within the waters-

had it not been for jinwoo’s quick thinking, making a mad dash toward you as he captured your frame within his arms. his eyes were glowing with amusement, fighting back a smile when he sweetly asks, “are you alright?”

jinwoo helps you safely lean back against the rock, with your hands gripping on tightly to his wrist before meeting his gaze.

not a hint of fear was seen settled in your eyes, and jinwoo found that he couldn’t look away from you. your smile goes wide as you eagerly introduced yourself to him. already mesmerized by your bright and sunny nature, he repeats your name, ready to introduce himself as well when you suddenly beat him to it.

“you’re jinwoo sung, i know.”

you know?

“that’s interesting.” jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. usually, those that met him treated him like some celebrity or idol, getting tongue tied as they bowed down to him, stuttering out their greetings while avoiding his gaze-

but you-

you were oh so different.

your gaze met with his in an unflinching manner, with your lips tilted up in a smile that manages to make his heart pound in response. the more he looked at you, the more he could feel his heart becoming filled with your sweetness and light.

after trading pleasantries, he helps you down from the rock, walking along the beach with you while softly asking if he could see your sketchbook. you would give him a sheepish expression, your cheeks being filled with heat before giving him your sketchbook as you told him your sketches “weren’t much.” as he flips through the pages, you were clearly downplaying your talents as each and every sketch was filled with a vibrancy he had never seen before.

but that all changes when jinwoo sees a sketch of himself hidden amidst the pages.

your gasp and the way you immediately tried to take the sketchbook away from him was amusing, with jinwoo holding the book up high, his eyes glowing while they took in the sight of the drawing you had made of him.

from the soft expression to the way his hair was carefully layered, jinwoo couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride, seeing how pretty you had made him.

“beautiful…” after ensuring that your sketch of him was burned into his very memories, he returns it back to you, basking in your shy expression and the way you suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“you weren’t supposed to see that. now, i’m sure you find me… strange, right?”

yet instead of teasing you further-

he asks you out on a date later that night.

and the moment you accepted his offer for a date-

the rest was history.

a single date meant as a simple thank you for allowing him to see your sketches turned into something a bit more frequent; a bit more permanent.

jinwoo would find himself spending every weekend to visit you, allowing the seemingly simple and innocent crush to grow into something much deeper.

and truly, how could he not fall in love with you?

each time you spoke passionately about your interests-

(of the sharks and colorful jellyfish that lives within the crystal blue depths of the ocean;

of the strange mushrooms seen growing within your backyard, seeming to have a life of their own as they lengthened and grew beneath the emerald green grass;

of the constellations seen shimmering within the night sky from beneath the light of the full moon…)

never once did jinwoo get tired of hearing your musings and rants that pertained to your current hyperfixations, and more often than not, he would find gifts for you that further helped strengthened your love for each and every one of your interests.

(an encyclopedia for the ocean creatures and various fungal life; a book that goes into each legend of each constellation seen within the night sky and a telescope…)

in jinwoo’s eyes, no gift was ever too much for you. for you were the sole person that stole his very heart at first sight.

when he finally put a label on his relationship with you, he swore he would never forget the look of utmost joy within your eyes. your sweet voice would call out to him before you wrapped your arms around his neck, already planting a kiss against his parted lips.

a choked sound of surprise escapes from jinwoo, making you gasp as you quickly pulled away from him. a slew of apologies were heard coming from you-

and jinwoo wasn’t having it.

with a grunt of your name, he keeps your head still before diving in for another kiss, basking in the way you momentarily let out a gasp before practically melting against him. in mere seconds, jinwoo quickly became addicted to the soft and sweet taste of your lips.

already so enamored with you, he pulls away from you, only to murmur against your lips, “you’re too sweet for me… but… i have a feeling i could get used to your taste…”

it came as no surprise when jinwoo decided to move in together with you, not being able to handle a single moment spent separated away from you. each and every day was spent in an almost blissful manner, with the s-rank hunter cherishing each and every part of you.

and tonight was no different.

for your one year anniversary, jinwoo had taken you back to the beach where you had first met, preparing a home cooked dinner that consisted of all your favorite foods. after your meal, you had laid against jinwoo’s chest while resting on the blanket, simply enjoying the colors that seemed to set the sky aflame while the sun began to set over the horizon.

jinwoo’s eyes were closed, simply basking in your warmth and the way the setting sun had painted his whole world in hues of a gentle twilight. while he was resting, he could feel your hand inching closer to his as you carefully held on to it. jinwoo could feel a smile begin to spread across his full lips as you flattened the palm of your hand against his, clearly measuring the size of your hand in comparison to his.

a soft chuckle escapes from him, “sarang, silly love of mine, just what are you doing?”

he opens up one eye to look at you, a half-smile painting his handsome features as he allowed an arm to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest as he remained laying down. basking in your giggles once more, he feels his heart began to race again the moment you lean down to press a kiss against his chest.

“i love you so much, jinwoo.”

“heh, i love you more, sarang.”

jinwoo presses a kiss against your hair while letting you play with his hands. he watches you with adoration, seeing you pick up his hand before interlocking your fingertips together. a wide grin paints his features when he gives your hand a squeeze before turning you around so that you were now settled with your back against the blanket.

your breathing comes out as gentle giggles, and jinwoo takes this chance to press several, audible smooches against your features. the more you let out those melodious sounds of your laughter, the more he kept littering your face with those achingly sweet kisses.

jinwoo successfully distracts you, and you couldn’t help but frown when you felt a sudden weight against your left ring finger. catching your shocked expression, he allows you to sit up while looking at the ring settled against your finger.

it was an incredibly cute and endearing ring, with your favorite gemstone shaped into a heart as you met jinwoo’s gaze, eyes going wide with your lips parted in response. “jinwoo… what’s this?”

“a promise.” his reply comes out as hoarse and shaky, taking your hand as he presses a kiss against the ring he had just gifted you. “i know it feels… a bit too soon to propose any… ah… commitment. but still, i wanted you to know that i’m completely serious about you.”

“this ring will serve as my promise to you… of what is to come.”

with a choked sob of his name, you lean forward to kiss him once more, perfectly slotting your lips against his as jinwoo kissed you back with just as much passion.

jinwoo knew right then and there that he had made the right decision of keeping you; for you were (and always will be) his sole light.

a.n. - when kyunnie made a second part to her most gut wrenching angst, i was so elated and happy that i wanted to write / make a daydream of hers come true. i hope i wrote your daydreams well enough! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[sugaryapplepie]

Twinshot/Necroshot

Art by @cosmic-fishy Eyeshot AU belongs to @dynamicsimp

Tags: Yandere Content, WLM, OC x Canon, Drabble, Twinshot, Necroshot

AN: Small reminder to be respectful in my inbox pls & thank you <3

Xingshen's hand shakily grabbed at the doorframe as she willed her aching legs to move. Her sharp teeth were clenched as she forced left to go before right. Star couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe. A thump from around the corner made her pause, holding her breath as she flattened herself against the wall. Slowly, after counting out ten breaths, she peeked around the corner into th darkness of the living room. Nothing that she could see, but then again, stars eyesight was always worse in dim lighting.

It was why they kept the lights low.

After twenty more breaths, Xingshen gritted stars teeth. One...two...three...keep it quiet, keep steady...four...five...six...

Just a few more paces to the door...

Seven...eight...

A small creak. The floorboards. She paused, heart pounding, stars hand desperately outstretched for the doorknob. Thirty more breaths. No one there, must be the old apartment settling.

Against her better judgement, star goes for it. She takes the first few steps forward in a dash but wobbles, falling to the floor with a loud BANG! The lights turn on, flooding her vision. She winces and softly gasps, too in pain to scream as she shuts her eyes.

"Xixi? What're you doin' out here, you're supposed to be in bed!"

Xingshen doesn't have to open her eyes to recognize the teasingly disappointed tones. Star feels Wukong lifting her up.

"That was a nasty fall there. You're such a goof!" he chuckles, rubbing his cheek against hers. "What were you doing out here? Ohhh I know! You missed us, didn't you~? Awww, Xixi, we told you we'd be right here if you needed us!"

And speaking of the other half, a woosh told Xingshen that Macaque had arrived. The lack of brightness against her eyelids told her he had mercifully extinguished the lights.

"Jeez, Xingshen, you're so clingy. We just put you to bed an hour ago! Then again, I guess I can't blame ya."

Xingshen felt Macaque ruffle her hair. If it were anyone else star would've bitten their hand off, but she learned what happened if star retaliated. She felt herself being carried back to her bed, placed now on a body-sized ice pack. In spite of starself, Xingshen let out a relieved sigh as stars joints began to be soothed.

"Maybe we oughta get her a walker, or a cane. Or a wheelchair." "Nahhh, what does Xi need that for when she's got us? It's like we promised: she won't have to lift a finger while we're here! And since she missed us so much..." Xingshen felt Macaque and Wukong hop on the bed, crawling under the covers and snuggling close so she's pressed between the both of them, their soft fur a pleasing texture.

Wukong stroked her back with his claws. "Now this time, stay asleep. You know what the doctor said, you need your rest. Next time you get up before nap time's over we'll do more than cuddles." He kissed the top of stars head.

Xingshen sighed internally. She'd have to wait a few days to make another bid for freedom. In the meanwhile, all she could do was sink into a hazy sleep as the coolness of the ice pack washed over her body.

[brotherblaze]

lemon shark —kuroo tetsurō

—summary: When you admit to quitting your high school club, Kuroo pauses, takes the decision in, and recalibrates his stance. He doesn't understand quitting like that but it's okay, you'll figure it out together. He'll always have your back, just as you'll always have his.

—cw: none

—wc: 1,9k

AO3 version

He finds you where always does when you’re not home and there are no other pressing responsibilities: the arcade.

“You’re going to develop carpal tunnel like that,” Kuroo says, peering at the backglass of the pinball machine over your shoulder. Half of it is an incomprehensible mess of a ruined city skyline with a tall figure standing at the forefront, a gun in his hand. It’s very pointedly not the backglass of a pinball machine. Or maybe the nigh-incomprehensible art there and on the sides is a feature, not a bug. The score on the display board on the bottom of the backglass keeps ticking up. He can hear the pinball in the machine dashing up and down, bang against the obstacles littered on the map, and the flippers at the bottom.

“No, I’m only moving my fingers.” You don’t look at him, stare at the pinball in the machine, press the buttons on the sides to make the flippers jump. The pinball bangs against one and is sent catapulting back into the playfield.

Kuroo steps around you and stops next to the machine — he knows better than to lean against it. His hands are buried in his denim jacket pockets. The pinball isn’t overly difficult to follow but he still gets thrown for a loop every now and then when it ricochets off one of the bumpers underneath the glass in an unexpected direction.

It’s really no surprise you’re this good at pinball. With the amount of time you spend in this place, he’d expect you to be able to clean out the shelves of cheaply-made toys and weird little useless gadgets with ease. Regular arcades are fun, he’ll admit it, but this one, American in style with its ticket system some hail as a scam (and claw machines with butterfinger claws that are definitely a scam to boot), he doesn’t see the appeal in this specific arcade.

Somehow, you do.

The pinball in the machine drops. The lights on the machine blink rapidly.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have practice today?” You pat down your pants’ pockets for the points card and swipe it through the machine.

Kuroo raises his brows. “It’s 7:30.”

“What? No, it’s not.” The argument is immediately on your tongue because it isn’t 7:30 PM. That’s impossible.

He pulls one hand from his jacket pocket, presses the power button on the side of his phone, and turns the screen to face you. 7:36 PM.

“Oh.”

Kuroo glances at his phone screen, then slides the device back into his pocket. “How long have you been here?”

You shrug. “Like… 11.” You look away from him, opt to stare at the painted side panel of the pinball machine. It depicts one long white hot lightning strike with a blue aura. Yeah, there’s absolutely no way this frame was originally for this specific pinball game.

When you look up, he’s narrowed his eyes at you, lips tilted into a frown. It’s that look he gives a particularly difficult English homework task. Analyzing. Solution-oriented. “So, what, you skipped swim practice?” Because he knows how long those run. He knows when and where and how and who. It’s embedded into and around his own club schedule.

“I quit, actually. Yesterday.”

You raise your gaze to meet his, hold it, wait for his reaction.

Kuroo’s face spasms, fleeting expressions cycling so goddamned clearly until he pulls himself together, and puts up a nonchalant facade. His brow twitches and his expression morphs just slightly, finally settling on neutral. It’s almost eerie. He pulls his gaze from you, lets it drop to the pinball machine side panel as if he’s processing or looking for the right words to continue, then looks up at you again.

“Why?”

It’s a measured response. His voice is carefully neutral.

You tilt your head to the side, look over his shoulder at the distance, then tilt it to the other side, stare at the claw machine behind him. Your mind races, thoughts colliding and avoiding collision by near-misses, traveling parallel to each other, splitting at intersections. Possible outcomes on top of outcomes race with them, anything and everything from a prolonged lecture on the importance of perseverance, to disappointed resignation, to quiet acceptance. All of them horrible in their own way.

You settle on a half-truth with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got boring.” You don’t want to see his expression morph into the outcome of his choosing and turn away from him, scan the room for one more victim to acquire enough tickets for the top-shelf prize at the prize counter. “Quit while you’re ahead, or whatever they say.” A victim appears; a lone Street Fighter copycat game tucked right by said prize counter.

Kuroo falls into step with you. “That’s for risky stuff.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know, the stock market.”

“What do you know about the stock market, Romeo?”

You dare a glance at him from the corner of your eye but his expression remains carefully blank. It would be infuriating with anyone else. But Kuroo knows how to read people, how to play to their strengths, what to say and what not to say. You think you can read him well enough; he’s keeping his composure neutral to probe your thoughts and/or feelings on the subject so he's able to give the most effective response. It's almost clinical. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

He positions himself next to you but he doesn’t take up the player 2 slot on the arcade game. You don’t comment on it and hit play.

Your character dashes, jumps, kicks.

The opponent A.I. dodges, jumps, dies.

The game screen flashes GAME OVER in large blocky letters. You swipe the points card, cross your fingers, and saunter up to the prize counter.

You have an abundance of points, it turns out. The woman behind the desk grabs a hook on a stick and with the help of a step stool, pulls a yellow shark plush down from the high shelf. You point to a small raccoon plushie keychain to drain the rest of your acquired points.

Kuroo stares at the bright yellow shark plushie. Its eyes are embroidered hearts filled in with glittering thread. Its felt teeth are bent. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” he lies. “It’s a horrifying monstrosity; you could get a better one from IKEA.”

“As per usual you have no taste.” You turn the large plush in your hands and tap the pad of your finger against the glittering eye. No residual glitter catches to your skin. “Well, since you hate this, you wouldn’t happen to want the raccoon, either, huh?”

“Never said that.” He holds his hand out, palm up and you place the small gray and brown raccoon into his waiting hand. He lifts it to eye level, stares back at its large vacant acrylic eyes.

“C’mon,” you jerk your head towards the exit, “you can continue gazing into each other’s eyes soulfully on the way home.”

The summer evening air is slowly cooling as the sun sets. Its orange rays glint off the skyscraper windows.

Rush hour draws to a close and the crowds on the train ease up. You manage to snag two seats near the front of the train as an old couple disembarks.

Your newest companion is sandwiched between your neck and the window, its face pressed flat against the glass. You angle your body slightly so its first dorsal fin is pressed against your throat, your knees pressed against Kuroo’s.

Kuroo spends the ride scrolling through social media. Every now and then he swaps apps, texts someone. You catch Kenma’s picture at the top of the messages. Another time you catch sight of the picture for the volleyball team’s group chat.

It’s hard to lean your head back against the cool window, the best you can do with the shark propped behind your head is turn your face towards Kuroo. It gives you the perfect angle to stare at his profile. He’s slightly slouched, shoulders lax. His posture straightens ever so slightly, jaw tensing, brow creasing. His fingers fly across the screen to type out a response in the group chat with you, him, Yaku, and Kai.

You let your eyes wander his face, the curve of his nose and his lips to —

To the thin scar running along the slope of his cheekbone.

“What?” he asks then, looking up from his phone. He locks and pockets it. You tap on your cheek where his scar is. “Does it bother you?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Because it does. Sometimes.

“As far as first meetings go, it’s probably on the more interesting end of the scale.”

“You’re the one who yanked me from behind.” Because he did.

“Would you have preferred death by way of a moving vehicle?”

You roll your eyes playfully and look away as you always do when he brings that up. Sure, it’s the logical conclusion to you literally trying to run into oncoming traffic way back then; but that doesn’t mean he needs to say it out loud. He doesn’t. It’s the logical conclusion.

“Yeah, well, what a story to tell your grandkids in 60 years.”

You peel yourselves from the seats once your stop arrives and you tuck the shark under your arm. Kuroo keeps to the road side on the sidewalk. The crowds grow even more scarce as your street comes into view.

You pass Kenma’s house; the blinds aren’t drawn and you can faintly see the glow of the TV from Kenma’s room. The lights in Kuroo’s house are on. Some houses on the street are completely dark, others completely alight. There’s a window cracked open somewhere, broadcasting a football match.

You pause in front of your gate, almost at the end of the street, and make no move to cross the threshold.

“I got half the family sicced on me because they’re not fans of me quitting, y’know? Word travels fast.” You stare at the lit living room window obscured by a cream-colored blind. “Somehow they’d gotten it into their heads that I was going to go to the Olympics and now they’re…”

“Pissed?”

“That’s putting it lightly. Pissed and everything else under the Sun.” You purse your lips. “Probably gonna hear how I wasted my Olympic potential for the rest of eternity. I think they’re delusional for thinking I could ever make it that far.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Birds swoop down from the sky, land on the power lines draped above your heads.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Kuroo asks, jerking his head in the direction of his house. “Dad’s making pancakes first thing in the morning.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “Thanks, but I might as well get lecture number three million about how I can ‘still save my Olympic career’ over with. Good night.”

“Night.”

Kuroo lingers by the gate as you step through and take the short cobblestone path up to the house. He watches you pause at the door before you slot your keys in and throw it open. Still, he stands there as the door closes and stares at your bedroom window. It doesn’t take long before there’s movement, the blinds being rolled down and the lights turning on.

Only then does he take off towards his own house, clutching the raccoon keychain in his pocket.

part 2

divider by @/kafekitsune

[whiteraven90]

hello, I hope you're having a good day <33 I saw your recent post on my dash and I was STUNNED at the animated scene! It's insane to me I get to see your characters animated. Feeling blessed to be alive to see it, I am not exaggerating. You know, one of these times where you wake up and things are a little bumpy in your life but there's one thing that shines brightly you didn't know it could give you so much excitement? Yeah, that kind of thing ((:

I took my time for the past hour to reminisce over your blog again. It is one of the places I really love scrolling through and reading your writing. I had a question, if you don't mind me. The way you have improved is truly admirable. I know this might not be an easy ask to say "hey, how did you learn how to paint", so I'll ask this instead: I don't know how long you've been working full-time in art, but when do you make time for studies / drawing for fun? If it's not too much to respond to, how do *you* study? I remembered your posts with your redlines and wanted to ask how do you go about those, or if you switch your routines based on your needs (sketches vs speed painting backgrounds etc). The notes there were very interesting, seeing the mental exercise.

Pretty sure you have a fKTON of stuff on your plate, so please don't feel obligated to respond quickly or even at all. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read my message and for all the time you take to respond in general. Love reading your responses <3

Take care, ok? <3

I'm glad the animation made you feel better! I'll put the answer under the Keep Reading thingy.

I'm not entirely sure... I think I don't study as much as I should/could. I mostly learn as I go. Standalone studies are helpful, I'm just drawn to doing things that are more fun/satisfying to me or things that actively progress my creative goals. Imperfect illustrations for my stories, and incomplete research for worldbuilding! Many people learn faster than I, and those people do a lot more studies than I, but I have no info on whether they have more fun than I. Dopamine is rocket fuel, so it's important. :)

I'm always on the lookout for reference pictures, but I study almost only when I have a practical goal in mind, I guess. Studying is part of my job too, I think? As an indie concept artist I'm supposed to build a hoard of references and pull several new/sensible things out of them, and I think part of this process is understanding the material, and revisiting even what I already know. Illustration is similar. If I'm commissioned to draw an anthro alligator, it's time to study gators. It's not separate from work.

I mean, straightforward version: I wake up at 03:30, make coffee, and start working for myself until the paying work starts, lol. Brain is fresh before noon, and tired late in the evening just like everyone else's. It also helps that the city more or less shuts up at 4am.

The studies with the redlines... I do them when I fancy drawing characters or creatures but feel out of shape. I can get discouraged, feel like I forgot how to draw. I sketch if I plan to sketch, and paint if I plan to paint or want to study colors Drawing live models helps. Studying videos of people and things in motion. Hopping down rabbit holes about how/why things work (e.g. flintlock, Davy lamp, mansard roof). Drawing from refs. Hoarding refs. Trying different mediums (e.g. charcoal, 3D, etching). Small screenshot of one of my ref boards for the animation; I'd say I studied it a lot. How clothes move, what are good clothes, how do good clothes move, lion/tiger + human + eagle anatomy (from specific angles during specific motions if/when possible), how to dive roll, proper sprinting form, how to survive falling from a great height, spearfighting, pole vaulting, poledancing, lighting, colors, environment, kicked-up sand in motion, spear types, emu/cassowary/griffon vulture feet, etc. I didn't draw studies, unless you count the animation itself (I would).

[mellybabbles]

If KOSA pases and tumblr explodes, I'll leave this here.

Thank you all. Seriously, I've managed to pick myself up, and finally become the person I want to be, because of you all. Mutuals, followers, or maybe just some random that popped by and thought "cool, have a like/reblog" You have all helped me recover and actually take that step into becoming a better person. I'm happy, and I can say that with full confidence. You've all given me an unfathomable amount of joy, and let me meet the love of my life, and people I thought I'd never be able to interact with. For my mutuals:

Thank you @italic-doing-random-shit for inadverately helping me take that first step into trying out tumblr properly again, instead of running away. Thank for you being an amazing friend and always being there for me. Thank you @largefound for giving me the pushes I need to get confident on my art, and branch out and try new things. Thank you for being one of the best friends I could've asked for. Thank you @tundra116 for being a mood booster every time I see soem crack fuckin post or ask in my inbox. You motivated me to keep going and give others the same joy you give me, even if for a split moment. Thank you @still-got-no-idea for fulling up my notifs and giving me a big smile every time you begin to like my posts. We don't talk much, but I'm glad we're mutuals. Thank you @panda-of-the-trash for motivating me to actually be creative with my ideas, and inspiring me to properly write. Thank you @godofautism for accidentally teaching me to be more aware of what those around me are feeling, and allowing me to take a step into treatment for my alexithymia. Thank you @systematic-err0r for being the mutual I always really wanted to get to know. You're always giving comments, reblogs and likes to the point the support can be mindbogling at times. Thank you @c00kietin for motivating me to give new people a chance, and to finally work on the relationships I have now. Thank you @phymarsh for giving me that first boost of excitement of an inspiration of mine following me and interacting with me. For giving me a smile every time I see you on my dash. Thank you @switchthedragon for always remaining strong, inspiring me to do so despite all the hate and threats I was receiving. Thank you @liliallowed for inspiring me to try new artstyles and finally figuring out the one I love the most. Thank you @inka-boi for being one of the biggest beams of light, helping me to learn how to sympathize again and love myself and others. For helping me to go back to my roots and mend what was broken. Thank you @juno-punk for inspiring me to make my own OC's and AU's, instead of locking myself up with shame in fear of what others would think if I made them. Thank you @mikerooksi @lust-sans-vios-rpaccount @wonkus-bonkus @doodlenovaa @killersansofficial @dustsansm1 for showing me back to the joys of interacting with new people and finding joy in it, instead of forcing myself into uncomfortable situations. Thank you @safwunnz for making me feel noticed and big in the grand scheme of everything. Allowing me, even if this might all be gone, to feel like I've made enough of an impact to reach out to artists that inspired of me in the first place. Thank you @elizakai for the first step in art. You're the reason I draw and enjoy it, allowing me to actually have something to do when I'm in a pit or rut of depression. Thank you @/swiftmitsu @/artpepkin for making my month by a simple button click. For all the smiles and laughs your art and animations have given me. The joy I once never got to experience. (Too nervous to ping) Thank you @ant1quarian for allowing me to read stories that actually make me feel like I'm there, and escape how horrible reality can be sometimes.

Thank you all for giving me the love and life I'd lost from being beat down. For those who weren't pinged, I was too nervous. Thank you all so much. For all my friends outside of tumblr that are mutuals on here, you all know how much I care for you and I'm happy to have you all in my life. Thank you for everything.

[kairiscorner]

May art thou request a Model!Miguel x Reader? Really love all your work. :D

OHHHHH OFC MY LOVELY 💖💖💖 yk, if you want, you can send a more custom request for that pairing/prompt :D BUTTTTT I HAVE AN IDEA, AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT 🤭

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

model!miguel o'hara x gn!make up artist!reader (headcanons and drabbles)

model!miguel is just your average guy behind all the advertisements and publicity this beautiful man gets. he lives his life one day at a time, having less free time than anybody else, even though he doesn't work a 9 to 5 job or have any family or partners that need tending to right away.

model!miguel used to live alone, in a quaint little apartment, catch the morning and afternoon trains to and from his previous job as an intern at alchemax. he hated it there, he felt so suffocated working at a place like that—and though he didn't have much trust in the modeling industry, he took it anyway, because posing for a camera in different poses and outfits was much more preferable than doing inhumane experiments on human subjects.

model!miguel was never the talkative type; he had a mouth that sprinted as opposed to just running, and he was usually really quiet and reserved when not bothered nor spoken to.

model!miguel was that distant co-worker of your model friends, and they always praised and complimented him for his looks, his ability to improvise, and to always captivate the camera readers, the audience; though the only complaints they had was that he never wanted to do anything outside of work, never wanted to talk to anybody... but you, who he found interest in for one thing.

model!miguel met you, a makeup artist for a bunch of amateur models, scrambling from here and there just to get back an eyeshadow palette you lent to the one doing his makeup. you were so out of breath and exhausted by the time you got to his dressing room, you looked like you ran a marathon to get there.

model!miguel couldn't understand a word of what you said, he looked at you in confusion as you wearily pointed to the eyeshadow palette you needed, and a few brushes you forgot to take back from them. "these?" he asked you as he takes the eyeshadow palette and the brushes you were pointing towards. you nod and wobble over to him, nearly falling into his arms as you stumbled; and you did, you did stumble—but he caught you.

model!miguel had amazing reflexes, and... an amazing body to boot. you were as light as a feather in his big, muscular arms–they were a lovely, brown tan with specks of gold when the light hit his skin; his lips were voluptuous, you wondered if they were natural because you've never quite seen lips like those, and... and his eyes–your friends were right, he was captivating, in every sense of the word.

model!miguel held you up and tried keeping you up on your feet, holding your hands so you wouldn't wobble over. "easy now." he whispered repeatedly as you slowly regained your balance and tried shaking the fatigue off. "hard to believe someone actually gives a shit in this place about their job, the makeup artist for me just dashed off the minute some younger model with dimples showed up and forgot all about me." he said with a frustrated huff. you asked miguel if his makeup was already done, to which he chuckled and shook his head at.

model!miguel sighed as he checked the time on his watch, it was five minutes until the shoot, and he wasn't even prepared in the slightest. "well, guess i'll be checking out job listings later. i can't deal with this anymore, it's humiliating." he breathed out in exhaustion as he went on his phone to check for online job listings.

model!miguel least expected the feeling of two smaller hands on the sides of his face, they were cold and a little moist, but they were definitely soft. he heard you muttering under your breath as you reached for some powder and a compact puff. you hesitated, remembering you weren't supposed to handle more popular models–that someone else was going to take care of his makeup for him... right?

model!miguel looked at you with a raised eyebrow, expecting you to do something. "um... you gonna do anything or...?" he asked you, snapping you out of your hesitated trance and stuttering out how you were a mere amateur at being a makeup artist—you didn't feel right doing his makeup when someone else was in charge of you. miguel sighed and gently held your wrist, bringing your hand closer to his face.

model!miguel had a soft expression on his face as he looks up at you. "i seriously don't think they're gonna come back on time before the shoot, it's not worth it to wait for someone who can't even remember you were here." he muttered as you looked back at him, feeling a little struck by his words in a way you couldn't describe, couldn't put your finger on. "sorry, did i overstep a boundary? you, um... you don't have to do it, though, i'll tender my resigna—" you agreed to do it.

model!miguel stayed silent as you puffed some powder on his face to keep him looking all matte and not glossy, to give him a more... natural look, as you would put it. you didn't put any makeup on him, you figured that putting any makeup on a man as gorgeous as him to look 'more appealing to the camera' was a damned crime. you combed through his hair though and told him he looked amazing, in about eight different ways.

model!miguel was surprised; you were nothing like the makeup artists he had before you, who were all stuck-up and did as they were told to, slather makeup on the models and send them off to the set. he knew you were actually passionate about what you did, you had a keen eye for beauty, natural beauty—and you smiled, enjoyed it at every moment you could.

model!miguel thanked you for freshening him up, with you telling him it was no problem, while smoothing out the creases on his shirt—even though that wasn't going to be what he was going to wear—you wanted him to look good, and feel good, by everything you did for him.

model!miguel appreciated your help, though he never really noticed small gestures and things done for him like that before, he now has a sort of throbbing feeling in his chest and a hot fuzzy feeling on his cheeks when he felt your hands roam across his chest, abdomen, and shoulders as you tried smoothing out his shirt. he liked the feeling of your hands, the little tongue flicks you do when focusing, and the little grins you show off when you get all excited and happy about something—but the mundane and exciting parts of the day.

model!miguel cleared his throat as he began to thank you, but faltering in embarrassment as he realized he never asked for your name. you introduced your name to him and instinctively reached a hand out for his—feeling all bashful now because you literally spent five minutes in the dressing room with him and not even telling him your name, introducing yourself like you were a stranger to him all over again. "what a... wonderful name you have. i'll definitely remember this one, i won't let my poor attention to names get the best of me when it comes to you," he told you, adding your name with a sweet smile at the end. it was a brief smile, a brief, tender moment that made you smile, as well.

you may not know it, but, when you two stepped out of that dressing room and went your separate ways... he hopes he can ask you for more than your name, more than just what makeup would look good on him for the next shoot—he wanted to ask you if you were interested in... going with him to the park maybe, and just, sit on a bench with a couple of coffees in your hands and get away from all the cameras, attention, and just breathe with him for a bit.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[ellieswaifu]

MUSE. ellie williams x artist!reader.

summary: modern/college!au – ellie williams x fem!artist!reader. SFW! ellie has always had a crush on you, the girl who sat right in front of her in art class.

a/n: also hi i’m back looool (not proofread per usual)

The setting sun bleeds through the curtains of the art room, painting the walls in a soft orange that met the subtle undertones of your skin as you gazed right up the girl who had been standing frozen between the doorframe. Her backpack slung loosely over her shoulder and her short brown hair tousled lightly down her neck, partly tied at the back of her head as she grips the door handle. You were also quite frozen in your seat, arm lifting a paintbrush to a blank canvas with your eyes staring back at her. You wondered what she was doing, standing there with an unwavering stare like a statue.

It had been about an hour since class had been dismissed and you found yourself in a staring competition with a fellow classmate; a classmate you were quite fond of, a classmate you were quite attracted to. How could you not? It was Ellie. She was smart, creative, and ambitious, all equally matched her dashing good looks. She was very popular with the ladies, including you, and went to lots of parties, a crowd you never really thought of joining. It was strange being in a situation you would never have guessed to be in with this person. And after moments of unending eye contact, you finally broke the ice.

“May I help you?”

“O-Oh,” Ellie twitches in surprise after realizing how long she had been staring. “Sorry, I-I just forgot something. Didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay, Ellie. I don’t mind,” you reply, setting your brush down against the table.

“I, uh, I didn’t think you’d know my name.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, smiling lightly at her statement, “Are you kidding? What kind of person do you take me for? You sit right behind me.”

She was very well aware of this after the countless stares, including this one, that she had shamefully indulged in during class as you worked beautifully on your art. Beautiful. It was a word she often associated with you. Every time she looked at you; beautiful. She had developed this secret crush on you since the beginning of the year, having no courage to act on her feelings other than stare at you directly from behind for at least an hour each weekday.

Ellie slowly walks towards her desk, right behind you, “I know… But I mean, we don’t really talk so I… I don’t know. I thought I’d be like a blur to you… If that makes sense.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short. I see you clear as day,” You play with the tube of oil paints with your fingers, smirking softly at her.

“What do you mean?” Ellie blinks at your reply, looking hopeful, hoping for the chance that you might like her the same way she likes you.

“I’ve always admired your work, Ellie. You’re amazing.”

Ellie’s shoulders drop, slightly disappointed, but also appreciative of your opinion of her and her artwork. “Thanks... So what’s got you stuck in here still?”

“Nothing. Just easier for me to do it here, than in my own apartment, I guess. And I like the quiet and the windows. Especially right when the sun sets. Besides, paint is so expensive now,” You roll your eyes, looking over to the almost empty paint tubes your professor let you use.

Ellie’s green eyes light up as she remembers the little stash of art supplies occupying the corner of her dorm room. “Uh, well, if you ever need some oil paint, I’ve got plenty, if you’d like. My dad always gets me art supplies but always in different mediums because he doesn’t know exactly what I use so I always have extra supplies I end up not using. I-I mean, if you want. I mean, I don’t oil paint, so...”

You can’t help but smile at her endearing mannerisms, watching her nervously rub the palm of her hand with her thumb, “That’s sweet of you, Ellie.”

A smile curves under her nose in triumph as her eyes slowly pan over to your easel, “It’s empty. Your canvas.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m… I’m having trouble picking a subject. I kinda sat here for a while doing nothing, staring at it but I can’t think of anything yet... Except…”

Ellie raises her eyebrow, “What are you thinking?”

“A portrait. Well, obviously. But, I’m thinking… I could paint you? If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Ellie says almost embarrassingly fast. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you think I’d be a good reference, yeah.”

You smile, “You’d be perfect, Ellie.”

Ellie begins to lose focus, mind fast forwarding to the time the two of you would be spending together. Painting was a slow process, especially one for an oil painter. She became grateful that you were one. Not only were you an amazing artist, but you spend a long time trying to hone your craft, so the time she’ll be sitting as your model would take more than a couple of days. Time with you. An excuse to be with you. Finally. After staring at the back of your head, watching you work as she sat behind you with constant adoration, she thanked whoever it was that led up to this moment.

It’s the fourth day of her sitting on this old brown stool you pulled out from the classroom closet. Ellie sits in her usual pose; relaxing, slouching slightly, a foot planted onto the floor while the other sits on the footrest, staring at your face as you painted. She found that you had a face you put on as you concentrated on your work — a sight she would’ve never gotten to see from sitting behind you in class. She was grateful for this experience, to be able to see you like this, putting most of your attention on her. The first day, she was quiet, seemingly nervous as she fiddled with her hands every time you would turn to look at her, making her almost want to look away, knowing her cheeks would be getting redder by the second. Now, it was easier for her to control. She was more confident, at ease and often finding herself babbling about her aerospace class like the nerd she is.

And you looked beautiful, as always. It felt different, sitting in front of you, rather than behind. She couldn’t look over your shoulder to see your work anymore, like she always does. Only you. In a way, she liked this better. She liked watching you work, watching how gentle your brush strokes were, how precise and calculated they were, how your technique never faltered and how amazing the canvas looked when you put your strokes together. But now, she could only see you. Your hair tied loosely away from your face, your eyes darting back and forth between her and the canvas, your apron tied around your pretty waist, a pencil tucked behind your ear, the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration when you can’t get something right, and the way you occasionally take a couple steps back away from the canvas to inspect everything thoroughly before diving right back into painting. You were quiet and concentrated, even when you gave small hums of affirmation when Ellie would talk.

And all Ellie could think about was how pretty you were, standing there, so unaware of the thoughts of you that filled her brain, masked behind her small but many talks of her space class.

“How’s it going over there?” Ellie asks curiously, scratching the back of her neck as she continues to grow more and more nervous under your stare.

“It’s… going…” You mumble, putting the end of your brush between your teeth, biting it slightly in frustration as you think.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s missing…” Your sentence drifts, incomplete, as your eyes pan slowly over towards her once more, this time never leaving.

It only takes a second for you to put your brush down against your palette before walking over to where Ellie was sitting, stepping into her bubble, leaning down dangerously close to her face. Ellie twitches in surprise, eyes widening at the sudden closeness you two shared.

She could smell you. The soft fragrance that was so… you. She could see your eyes scanning every inch of her face, making her conscious of what she looked like during each passing second. But you were so close. It felt intoxicating.

So, she couldn’t help herself. Ellie brings her hands up to rest them on your hips, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, one of her thumbs going through the belt loop of your jeans. Her eyes trail up to yours before darting down to where your lips were, sitting there so plump and delicious, practically calling out to her like a moth to a flame, as you continued to stare down at her. You loved the feeling of her hands on your body and you decided to respond by wrapping your arms around her neck, brown locks slipping through your fingertips.

If she could just tilt her head to the side a little more, lean her head upwards closer, she could just…

“Freckles... I was missing your freckles,” you sigh dreamily, already forgetting about the painting as you continued to stare at the girl in front of you. You bring your hand up to caress her face, thumb brushing softly over her eyebrow, paint smudging lightly against her skin, “You have a scar…”

“Yeah…” Ellie breathes, unable to take her eyes off your lips as you spoke softly.

“Where’s it from?”

“I… I liked building things as a kid. I tried to make a robot… Never worked, obviously, so I… I pulled it apart and destroyed it with a knife and I messed up with the angle I was cutting it with, and accidentally flung it towards my face.”

You hum in amusement, a smirk tugging at your lips, “I think the scar looks good on you.”

“You think so?” Ellie says, hands shifting slightly to rest underneath your sweater, feeling the skin of your waist, inching you closer towards her body, between her legs.

“Yeah,” you say lowly, before coming close to press your lips slightly towards her ear to whisper, “It makes you look sexy.”

Ellie can’t help but close her eyes, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The way you looked at her right now made her feel like she was on fire. Her face was burning up surely, but her heart was beating so fast it felt like it waking explode.

“I wanna kiss you,” she says, almost desperately.

You smile and run a hand through her hair, tugging on it lightly, making her groan lowly against you. “What’s stopping you?”

Ellie’s lips curve into a cocky smirk as she looks up at you with nothing but affection in her eyes, watching you like you were the most beautiful thing on the planet. “Nothing.”

And then, her lips pressed against yours with a gentle eagerness as her hands pulling you by your waist. It’s a moan that tugs on her heartstrings and is the cause of all the butterflies in her stomach. She discovers you like pulling at her hair when your paint-stained hands tug on it for the second time today, groaning against your lips at the feeling of your hands in her locks.

You pull back and smile when you see the subtle but visible pout on her lips, “How was that?”

Ellie can only shake her head and mutter two simple words desperately, “Not enough.”

And she dives right back against your mouth, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Your hands trail down from her hair, resting your palms against her shoulder to find your balance, the kiss making you all dizzy. You unknowingly leave paint all over her shirt and her neck as she groans against your lips, seemingly never wanting to part from you ever.

You pull away again, both of you out of breath, lips hovering over each other as you regain your focus.

“I think we—” Ellie steals a kiss from you as you spoke. “Really need to—“ And then another. “Get back to—“ And then another. “Work!” You exclaim with laugh, pushing Ellie’s shoulders to keep her from coming closer even thought she had her arms wrapped around you still.

“I like kissing you,” Ellie says, hypnotized by you, how she felt like she was holding the literal embodiment of art in her arms. And finally, the words she’s been dying to tell you since she’s known you: “I like you.”

And she kisses you again, softer this time, humming lightly against your lips, hands treating you like porcelain. You tasted so good to her. She couldn’t help but want more. You moan in surprise as you feel her tongue drag across your bottom lip and instinctively, you open your mouth only slightly, but it was enough to push her tongue against yours, groaning in satisfaction, the taste of your tongue even more addicting. The grip you had on her shoulders only grew tighter as you kissed her.

“Mmhm, Ellie,” you moan.

Ellie groans into your mouth, immediately falling in love with the sound of your moans, squeezing your hips tighter, wanting to hear more from you before you move your head back to look at her. You stare down at her skin, thumb brushing over the freckles you wanted to kiss one by one.

Ellie pulls away with a smile, confidence growing by the second, “Yeah, baby?”

You roll your eyes and smile, leaning down to peck her lips once more, “I like you, too.”

And you kiss her again as she smiles into your lips. Your unfinished canvas was long forgotten as Ellie continues to distract you with her lips as your hands paints her skin.

You make a note to remind yourself to continue what you started, the painting and the kissing, both inspired by the muse which was Ellie.

a/n: thank u for reading my loves :)

[pepi1989]

Rain Delay - Art Donaldson

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Hey everyone! This one is short (a little over 2k words). Art hangs out with friends reader, Tashi and Patrick. Just when the fun is in full swing, a sudden rainstorm forces everyone to seek shelter. While waiting for the rain to pass, Art and reader start sharing more about themselves, and the chemistry between them is undeniable.

The sun was shining brightly as I stepped onto the tennis courts, ready for practice. I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of spending more time with Art. The moment I arrived, he greeted me with a warm smile that made my heart flutter.

We started hitting balls back and forth, the sound of rackets and sneakers on the court filling the air. Art’s easygoing nature made me feel at ease, and we shared laughter and playful banter as we played. Tashi and Patrick soon joined us, adding to the fun. Tashi was full of energy, her laughter infectious, while Patrick was always quick with a joke.

“Don’t go easy on her, Art! She’s been practicing,” Patrick shouted, winking at me.

“Yeah, right! You’re just scared I’ll beat you next,” I teased back, grinning as I served another ball.

Art smirked, “Bring it on! But don’t be surprised if I leave you speechless.”

“More like confused,” I shot back, laughing as I sent another shot his way.

We continued our playful exchange, and as I scored a point, Art pretended to trip over his own feet. “Careful! You might need a safety net!” I joked, shaking my head.

“Maybe I should start charging you for lessons,” I teased. “But I’ll throw in a free ‘how to avoid tripping’ tutorial.”

“Deal! Just don’t trip over your own racket while you teach me!” he replied, laughter dancing in his eyes.

But just as we began to find our rhythm, dark clouds rolled in, and a sudden downpour interrupted our practice.

“Come on!” Art said in an annoyed voice, leading the way as we all dashed for cover.

We huddled together under shelter, laughter mixing with the sound of rain drumming against the roof. After a few moments, I noticed Art glancing at me, his expression shifting from playful to something more sincere.

“Guess we’re stuck here for a while,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t think practicing tennis would come with a rain delay,” I replied, trying to keep the mood light. My heart raced as our eyes met, the space between us feeling charged with an unspoken tension.

As the rain continued to pour, I found myself in a quieter corner with Art, away from the playful banter of Tashi and Patrick. The sound of the rain created a soothing backdrop, and the moment felt intimate.

“I never realized how much tennis means to me until recently,” Art admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked out at the rain, lost in thought. “It’s not just a game; it’s a part of who I am.”

I felt a surge of empathy. “I get that. Sports have always been my escape. It’s where I find my focus and passion.”

As we shared our stories, I could see a different side of Art emerging his vulnerabilities, his dreams, and the pressure he felt to succeed. Our connection deepened with every word, and I realized that beneath his confident exterior was someone just as eager to be understood.

When he turned to me, a soft smile lit up his face. “I’m really glad you came today. I have a lot of fun with you”

My heart raced at his words. I had been hoping for a moment like this, where it felt like the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us. There was something special in the air, a promise of what could be.

As the rain began to ease, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. “So, what’s next when the rain stops?” I asked, my tone playful.

Art grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ready to see if you can keep up with me on the court?”

“Bring it on! Just try not to trip over your own feet this time,” I shot back, a teasing smile on my lips.

Art laughed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know that was a strategic move to throw you off your game!”

We shared a laugh, and as the rain finally stopped and the sun broke through the clouds, I knew that this day was just the beginning. There was something between us, an undeniable connection that neither of us could ignore. And as we returned to the court, I felt hopeful about what the future might hold.

[works-of-heart]

✨️Let's spread some love and appreciation!✨️

If you got this, it means someone loves your blog! ❤️

Tag 5 mutuals and say what you like about them; their art, fanfiction, positivity, sense of humor... Whatever it is that you find amazing about them!

=D I love this!! Thank you to whoever sent this and to those who have tagged me. Honestly, I've been so humbled by the amount of wonderful people I've met and seen in this community. All of you have made my days brighter, have made the hard times easier, and I thank everyone for that.

@zenkindoflove and @crazy-ache you are both amazing women! One of the first people who reached out to me and made me feel welcome here. You are both wise and caring, protective mama bears and absolutely amazing friends. I love how I can talk to you both about everything going on. Aside from just being stellar people, you both are so creative!

Individually you have your stupendous talents when it comes to writing Elucien and Erixius. Reading your fics have been such great escapes for me!

@starsreminisce and @acourtofthought The Meta queens!! Seriously, both of you on my dash has brought new light and insight into the writing of SJM that I hadn't thought of before. When the antis challenge the ship, you both come out swinging with info and facts to shut it down, highlighting quotes and comparisons in such an eloquent way!

I love reading Stars' takes on the chearacters, reading through what SJM's intentions are and possibly what could be laid out for the future books. I also love your insight into astrology, and your very wise breakdown of it!

Acourtofthought has been on the frontlines with all the facts to back up her statements and arguments! Seeing the wisdom you put out there on my feed in the day is one of my favorite things to wake up to!

@lostinthemidnightsky I always enjoy chatting with you! I giggle at our conversations when looking at some of the crazy takes out there and bonding over the love of our ships! I enjoy seeing your thoughts and befuddlements of people who try to put down our ships and discredit them with facts and canon. It's always a joy to share in our mutual love and understanding of these characters who have a special place in our hearts!

@olenvasynyt What is there not to love about this beautiful person?! You have such a great sense of humor, your tags generally have me falling over laughing. You're empathetic, wise, and have such a genuine and beautiful heart!! I also love your sass when people try to bring you down, seeing you shine has been such a joy! Also, your art??? Stunning! You're so creative and talented in writing and illustration that I can't wait to see more from you!

@thrumbolt @luciensdefenseattorney and @little-fierling You are all so talented and amazing people!!! Seriously, the art I've seen from you, the dedication, the skill, you guys fill this fandom with such beautiful joy!

Thrumbolt's comics and images give me life!!! They are so talented, and the Elaingate comedy gold that spilled forth gave us a new ship we never knew we needed. It's been so nice to see another person in the fandom who doesn't absolutely despise Tamlin! Seeing the positive art that has come from them has made me so happy, and knowing someone also sees Tamlin in the same way I do has been so refreshing!

Luciensdefenseattourney is so talented and kind!! She's always pushing the limit on her art and bringing forth stunning commissions and very cute and delicious sensual art of elucien! One of my first art friends I made in this community! I cannot wait to see more of what you do and watch you continue to push the envelope and develop into an artist I've constantly admired!

Little fireling is one of my besties!! We both love The Vanserra boys and Lulu!! It's been fun being able to work with things with you (iykyk =3) and I hope we can do more of that in the future! It's always so much fun to talk with you and see your work!! You are insanely talented and skilled, and a joy to be around!

@the-darkestminds @goghwilde and @bonecarversbestie You guys light up my day when we get to gushing about Elucien and what we can't wait to see!

Goghwilde has been on the frontlines of the elucien reddit and has been someone who always gives us awesome content for elucien and stands up to antis. You are such a sweet person and a gift to us all!

Bonecarverbestie is sweet and an absolute gem to talk to! I love hearing all your Elucien Head canons and theories are so much fun and it's great to see what's in that creative mind of yours!

Thedarkestminds is a treasure!! I love our group discussions and how at times, we have many of the same thoughts about the NC and the IC. It is also so great to find another Nesta stan in the sea of people who treat her unfairly in this fandom!

And of course @teddyhoneybear !! You are one of the sweetest people in this fandom! Always a light of positivity and love, always a gentle and warm heart. Your hype and joy has me constantly striving to be a better artist and person!

There are like a million other people on my mutuals that I could go on and on and on with, but this has already gone on too long! I've definitely gotten more than 5, but everyone has been so special and I love you all!

[angellayercake]

He is

Vampire Terzo x FReader | NSFW

Art by the wonderful @tasty-ribz

For @ghostchems on her birthday! To be a little bit soppy as much as I love ghost for being ghost it has also brought me some incredible friends. We bonded over loving terzo and love island and now you are my favourite person to scream about awful men with every day. I hope everyone is making you feel a special as Terzo would today because as far as we are concerned yours is the only important birthday happening this month 💜

Now a best selling author thanks to your experience at Crowley Manor you find yourself struggling to muster up inspiration for the sequel. Will returning to the place it all began help you? Or just confirm the none of it was real? A sequel to Cirice Warnings: blood, rough sex, hints of mind control, pinv sex, cunnilingus, lots of dust hehe

With a huff of frustration you scratch out the poor excuse for a sentence and drop your pen. There were more scribbles across the page then there were words and you needed a break or you might end up throwing your note pad across the room. Abandoning your desk you wander over to the window for a distraction from your writer's block. The evening was drawing in, street lights flickering on one by one as people hurried home from their day whether it be work or leisure it was still an unwelcome reminder of your lack of productivity. Turning from the view you scan across the room, your home office, hoping for something to spark your inspiration but your mind remains unhelpfully blank. You ponder just giving up for the day, shutting the door and giving yourself over to your evening but deadlines are approaching and there is still so much to do. With a reluctant determination, you turn to your inspiration board and will it to do its job. 

When you had decided to write a follow up to your best selling debut novel, you had carefully gathered all the things you knew you would need to refer to to build the story. There were your photographs from Crowley Manor, newspaper clippings about the house and the area, quotes and key plot points from the original story,  a couple of photos of bela lugosi, the closest you can find to how you remember him looking - although you have sketched what you recall of the facepaint he wore over the top with a marker - and in the centre, the note; the only thing you have that proves that it was real. Well, that and the two small scars on your neck. You rub your fingers over them absentmindedly as you try to remember anything more but even as the scars faded, so did your memories to the point where you are not entirely sure any of it was real. Reading over the words again. 

 A candle casting a faint glow

You and I see eye to eye

Can you hear the thunder?

How can you hear the thunder that's breaking?

Now there is nothing between us

From now our merge is eternal

Can't you see that you're lost?

Can't you see that you're lost without me?

-iii

You hum the tune to yourself, the melody you had only heard once and yet it plays through your dreams so frequently you have never been able to forget it, always accompanied by a dark shadow and the sense that you are being watched. Your experience at Crowley Manor - whether a true encounter with a dashing vampire or a figment of your imagination - had changed your life. You were a writer now; a successful published writer. Your vampire romance novel had been an instant best seller, ‘the mysterious vampire luring in unsuspecting victims until one stole his heart’ earned a loyal fanbase and quickly. In interview after interview you were asked if you had based him on someone real, probably assuming he was an older man you had a crush on, but you always answered no because how could you explain that he was a man you had most likely conjured up in a dream. 

But that had all brought you to where you were now; attempting to write the much anticipated sequel. The heroine of your story had left the manor in a similar way to you but after having spent much longer with her vampire lover, and as much as you wanted to see them reunited you were struggling to find the narrative. Unlike you she had been offered forever with him and had chosen to return to her normal life, so without a justified reason, why would she return? Your thought process hits a brick wall once again as you rub your tired eyes. There is only one thing left to try before you may be forced to give up. The familiar pull in your gut that you had been resisting since the day you left was finally winning. You had to go back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gate is rusted and stiff, so you have to push hard to create enough space for you to slip through and even then you almost trip on the piles of rubbish littering the driveway. You step over the buckled historical society sign with a sigh - even they had given up on the place and for some time by the looks of things. Tall weeds were growing through the now sparse gravel, even more windows had been boarded up and there were layers of faded graffiti covering the front door. It is already ajar but you have to shove it open, pushing it past the built up leaves and dust trying to wedge it closed. Although the state of the outside had saddened you, it is the interior that makes your heart sink -  it was never nice to see a beautiful old house fall into ruin.

The floorboards still gave their familiar creak under your soft footsteps, but that was about the only similarity. The sconces, once filled with dripping candles were now empty and shrouded in cobwebs, and dust motes thick enough to choke you floated in what little beams of light that made it through the windows. Without the soft piano luring you further into the house you took your time to properly look around, cautiously walking through room after room. What little furniture that hadn’t been stolen or vandalised was covered in dust sheets. The shelving sits almost empty in every room; you pass only a few odd books and trinkets still in place but almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime. 

Towards the back of the house you come to what looks like a music room and a feeling of deja vu washes over you. The grand piano still dominates the room, but when you run your fingers across what little keys are left it only lets out reluctant, discordant notes as neglected and decaying as the rest of your surroundings. The fireplace is a yawning chasm on the back wall without the welcoming fire filling it, but you remember laying on the soft rug before it where he had given and taken unimaginable pleasure from you, well at least you thought. Because it was seeming more and more likely you had imagined it. You pull yourself from your thoughts and that is when the portrait catches your eye. How you never noticed it before you don’t understand, but it hangs perfectly above the mantel and crushes the last shreds of hope you were clinging onto. 

It is him. His distinctive face paint, his perfectly styled hair and his intense mismatched eyes. At least now you know what really happened on your last visit to this place. Before you had fallen asleep you must have seen this portrait on your last visit, striking as he was and then your mind had concocted the whole fantasy. You are not sure exactly what you had been expecting returning to Crowley Manor, but you couldn’t avoid the cutting disappointment that was slicing through you. All that was here was an empty old house and a painting of a man. With one last longing look you take your leave as you fight the knot of feelings solidifying in your chest. There was nothing else for you here. You reach the foyer where the light of dusk shines around the edges of the open door, illuminating your exit from this house and your return to reality, when you hear it… 

We're standing here by the abyss…

That voice. The words were different and even the tune was different, but that voice. There was nothing else it could be but him. The alluring sound drifts down from the upper floor to where you stand and you don’t even try to resist his siren call as your feet carry you towards the grand staircase.

And the world is in flames…

Your footprints disturb the thick layers of dust covering the once grand carpet that leads the way up, but you continue unconcerned by the trail you are leaving in your wake, your only thought finding your way to the source of that beautiful sound. 

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out…

It gets clearer as you reach the upper level, but you still haven't quite found him yet. Along the landing are multiple doors that you consider as you walk, but once your eyes land on the ornate double doors at the furthest end you know inherently; that is your destination.

To the beast with many names…

The floorboards creak as you get closer and closer even as you attempt to keep your steps measured and even, but if that didn’t give you away then you are sure your laboured breathing and thundering heartbeat would. 

He is. He's the shining and the light without whom I cannot see…

The singing stops when you reach the doors and with barely a brush of your fingertips,they swing open revealing only a dark room within. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but even that doesn’t make you hesitate to enter. It is as abandoned as the rest of this cursed house. All the anticipation you had felt soured inside you and tears pricked at your eyes as you circled in the centre of the room taking in the dusty bed and empty fireplace. Your back is turned when a sudden bang startles you, the doors slamming shut. You cry out in fear, turning in an instant and rushing towards them. Pushing and pulling is futile and they will not budge. The knowledge that you are trapped fills you with a shiver as a chill falls over the room.   

“My little lamb returns,” he growls in your ear, appearing as if from nowhere. His arms box you in against the door, his white gloves the only part of him you can see. You try to turn, to see him but his body presses close, cold and unyielding as stone behind you. You should do something, anything but fear and lust paralyse you as they tear through you in equal measure.

“You are real,” you barely whisper before his fangs sink into your neck, the sharp shock of pain stealing your consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes flutter open you find it hard to believe you are even in the same room. You are lying in the centre of a four poster bed, propped up against a mountain of airy pillows and as you shift the sheets feel unbelievably soft against your fingers. The heavy drapes are tied to the frame on one side giving you a clear view of the fireplace and the figure silhouetted against it. His back is to you, seemingly unaware that you are now awake so you take your time admiring him.

It is undoubtedly him. His hair is slicked back, familiar in both your memory and in his portrait you had not long discovered. This time he wears a white suit with gold trim that glimmers in the firelight and it is certainly one you have never seen before. He turns in your direction giving you a glimpse of his striking profile still covered in his unusual skull-like face paint. He clears his throat glancing at you and you realise he is also holding a book up to the fire light. Not just any book. That is your book. The one you had written about him. You sit bolt upright but a wave of dizziness stops you from acting any further. 

“His touch feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It scares you how much you crave it; how much you want him to keep touching you and to never stop. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, despite the overwhelming feeling of comfort that has fallen over you.” He smirks as he reads your words back to you with an arrogance that can only come from knowing it was written about him. 

“How did you get that?” you hiss at him, the mortification you are experiencing seems to break some of the spell he has over you. He chuckles darkly in response, snapping the book shut and placing it on the nightstand so you can see the very suggestive illustration you had commissioned for the cover clearly.

“You have a way with words, agnellino.” He leans against the bedpost, running his eyes over you and watching how you react just to his presence. “Do you still crave my touch as much as you wrote?” His elongated teeth peek out of his mouth with how wide his smile is, clearly enjoying having this additional power over you. You almost miss not so long ago when you believed he had been a figment of your imagination. 

“It’s called creative licence,” you snap back breathlessly, trying your damnedest to keep your composure but you make the mistake of meeting his mismatched eyes and you are pulled under all over again. It’s like he can worm his way into your very soul and convince you of anything he desires.

“Why did you come back?” He looms over you at the end of the bed as he waits for you to answer him. As subtly as you can, you try to sit yourself up to make yourself feel less vulnerable but your limbs are weak and uncooperative.

“I’m writing again,” you start. It is the truth - or at least part of the truth - but you can tell he doesn't believe you, fixing you with his intense stare, waiting for you to be more forthcoming. “Last time I was here it was very… inspiring.”

“I see, I see.” He starts to pace next to the bed, giving you a reprieve and a chance to breathe but you sense it is by no means the end of your interrogation.  “Just ‘professional interest’ then?”

“Yes, that is all. I should go.” You try again to sit up and ease yourself off the bed but before your feet can touch the ground he kneels in front of you, blocking you from moving any further.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, wagging his finger at you like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You come into my home uninvited - again, I might add.” He leans close enough you can feel the cold radiating from him, his teeth bared threateningly. “I need the truth.” Fear makes you tense but somehow you know he would never really hurt you - at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. You start to think his irritation is more directed at your refusal to admit how much you want him rather than the fact you broke into his house. Again. 

“You lured me up here! You could have just let me leave.” That thought boosts your confidence just enough to push back. Just a little. He didn't have to reveal himself to you everytime you were here, and yet he did.

“No I couldn't, little lamb,” he whispers, a softness falling over his face. “I could never resist a chance to taste you again.” His attention drops to your feet, helping you out of your shoes before he stands again before you. “Tell me why you are really here.”  He had given you your chance to tell him of your own volition, but now you could feel his will influencing you and bringing forth the truth. He eases his jacket from his shoulders, leaving it on the floor where it falls. He makes quick work of his bow tie adding it to the pile of clothes at his feet. 

His cuff links go next, freeing him to turn up his sleeves and then his collar sliding one button free at a time until it hangs open. His toned chest is covered in thick dark hair and it's all you can do not to reach out and bury your fingers in it. Even without his vampiric lure, you would struggle to resist him. He crawls over you, forcing you to scoot back onto the bed to make room for him and you find yourself unable to speak as you get lost in his eyes.

“Tell me…” He is intoxicating and you find you no longer have the willpower to resist him. You had forgotten how powerful he was, his presence alone narrowing your mind until all you can think of is him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but somehow they still won't come. 

“Why are you here agnellino, eh?” He holds himself over you, the only thing touching you are the open tails of his shirt, denying you any more until you obey him. “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were real any more,” you admit reluctantly and his eyes alight at your delayed admission.

“Shall I remind you how real I am?” There is a voice in your mind somewhere telling you to say no, but with every other part of you screaming a resounding yes it is easy to tune out - though you still can’t quite bring yourself to say it. So you nod and he wastes no more time. His dexterous fingers make quick work of your trousers and your underwear, pulling them off you in one swift motion and then he is on you. His strong hand grasps your ankle, pulling you even closer so he can press his lips to your bare skin. 

He starts at the sole of your foot, lavishing you with open mouthed kisses and grazes of his dangerous teeth. He seeks out parts of your body you had never even known were sensitive before, whether it was his plush mouth sucking at them or tracing them with his tongue. The curve of your calf, the dip behind your knee and the crease of your inner thigh. His cool breath raises goosebumps across your skin and he chases them with his mouth, only pausing to suck on the beads of blood that bloom where he allows his fangs to nick your skin. The contrasts make you needy for more of his touch, the warm and the cold, the pleasure and the pain. When he eventually reaches your core he ceases all his teasing and devours you, his groans of pleasure vibrating through you as he laps at your entrance and sucks on your clit. 

“Every part of you tastes exquisite,” he moans again at your skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, allowing himself access to even more of your skin. Your bra is pulled roughly aside so he can latch onto your nipples one after the other. Losing himself in his lust, he pinches them roughly as his teeth make deliberate shallow slices in your cleavage. He suckles at them harshly, milking all the blood he can from such a surface cut. 

Eventually he reaches your neck pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to your scar from your last encounter before seeking out the fresher puncture wounds from earlier in the evening. He probes them harshly with his tongue disturbing the newly formed clots enabling him to drink freely from you until he is positively drunk on you. 

“You are so warm agnellino,” he moans, reluctantly pulling away from you only to tear off his loose shirt and rip off his trousers. He fits himself back on top of you, desperate to be as close as possible and ruts his aching length against your hip, his mouth latching back onto your neck. He rears back giving you the opportunity to see him for the hunger ridden monster he is, but it only makes you want him more. His face paint is smudged across his face, the once precise lines blurring and blending with what remains of your blood and your juices, and his eyes sparkle with something dangerous that you can't resist. With a snarl he forces your legs wide so he can see all of you, his fingers digging a bruising grip into your soft thighs.

“After tonight you will never again doubt my existence,” he growls as he fucks into you in one long, hard stroke. There is no waiting for you to grow accustomed to him filling you; he just takes you hard, pushing the air from your lungs every time he fills you. He is rough and demanding and you crave every part of this more animalistic side to him. Your blood loss and his body worship have pushed you outside your own body, the pleasure and the pain meeting and blending and pushing you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. 

Even as his control was slipping even further away, his cock aimed perfectly, fucking into you in exactly the right place over and over while the drag of him inside your tight heat forced sobs and gasps from both of you. In the state he had you, you knew you would do anything and everything he wanted and if you hadn’t been so light headed, you might have realised that that was exactly what he wanted. He grunts as he pulls you closer, angling your hips just so that he can fuck into you even deeper, your moans of satisfaction harmonising as somehow your pleasure grows stronger than you ever thought possible. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this since me, little lamb?” He is panting, hardly able to get his words out, somehow seeming more human even in the midst of his monstrous lust. 

“No,” you whine. There is no use denying it, because who could possibly compare to him?

“Bene,” he snarls, a possessive sneer crossing his face. “No one will ever, ever fuck you like me.’ You sob in agreement as the burn in your core grows, bringing you so close. Babbled nonsense falls from your lips. You can only hope he understands how little you need to push you over the edge. 

Thankfully something you said must have made sense, because in the next moment his thumb is stroking your clit in time with his ever more frantic thrusts and the wave of your climax begins to crash, sweeping you along in its powerful tide. Your vision greys at the edges and vaguely, somewhere amidst the buzz, you feel him reach his peak just behind you as his thrusts stutter before stilling as he fills you.

Inelegantly he pulls away, landing beside you on the bed. He pulls you to him stroking your hair and dotting your forehead with sweet kisses. Contentment surges through you as you rest against his chest, his lack of heartbeat barely registering. 

“You are so very sleepy, little lamb,” he breathes into your hair, and you can only spare a thought to agree as you succumb to the overwhelming pull of sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold and stale morning air lures you from your sleep this time, a much less pleasant awakening than your last. Your whole body aches as you shift and try to take in your surroundings. You are alone. The dawn light spilling through the drapes allows you to see, and the bedroom appears dusty and abandoned, not the cosy boudoir you had experienced last night. 

The dusty sheets cling to your clothes as you try to stand but every movement reveals a new bite mark or bruise until you are on your feet. The worst pain though, is the ache in your heart. This should have been expected and yet the fact that he isn't here hurts. Rather than satisfying you, this second encounter only made you yearn more for this terrible, mysterious man. Your only consolation was that now at least, you will have plenty more to write about. 

You don't try to call out to him, already knowing how futile that would be, so you look once more around the room, trying hard to commit it all to memory when the night stand catches your attention. A single white rose sits atop a folded piece of paper. You pick them both up, carefully making sure to avoid the sharp thorns and unfold the paper to see that unmistakable handwriting. 

We’re standing here by the abyss

And the world is in flames

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out

To the beast with many names 

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

-iii

His words were cryptic as ever but you let it fill you with uncertain hope. Maybe you were the star-crossed lovers? Or maybe not. All you knew for now at least, was that you felt you were still at the very beginning of this story…

…and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you. 

[squeeneyart]

I just wanted to say that I adore the way you draw Jon and Martin. You easily have some of my favourite designs for those two, they just have such good personality and character and I'm always so happy when your art pops up on my dash.

Thank you!! It really means a lot to hear! Please take a jonmartin for making my day

[Image description: A greyscale digital drawing of Jonathan Sims, a thin darker-skinned man with various scars on his arms and face and light choppy hair wearing an oversized hooded jumper, and Martin Blackwood, a lighter-skinned fat man with glasses and long light hair wearing a black t-shirt. Martin is half lying down next to Jon and pointing at the jumper with mild irritation and a blush. Jon has a hand on Martin's face, pushing up some of Martin's hair with his thumb.

Martin: That's my jumper.

Jon: Yes.

Martin: Been missing it.

Jon: I can see why.

End ID]

[echantedtoon]

Heavenly Lights

After a particular bad start to your celebration being chosen as the wife to the God of Festivals, a surprising turn happens that enchants you forever in the heavenly lights.

This is once again inspired by the artwork of @lelee-tdn and their artwork depicting Tengen as a literal God of Festivals. I'll link it below but warning it IS spicy art. So if you're 17 and below pls DNI as respect to the artist's wishes. It's pretty short but I wanted to write something for this man you have no idea.)

https://www.tumblr.com/lelee-tdn/697936924738977792/cw-suggestive-mdni-the-god-of-festivals?source=share

Fireworks are chaos and unpredictability. Their explosive gifts like heaven's art. Filling the night with their bright dreams, born to live through colour then die again. The spectators seeing their blazing trails arc above. There's something about them that warms the heart even in the cold, as if their stray sparks passed into their blood. 

So tell me why must the heavenly lights bring amongst their happy lights such sorrows?

Why must such sorrows take a hold of your skin at the time of happiness amongst the hundreds of others laughing at the company of others and the dazzling gleam of lights reflecting off their eyes like hundreds of tiny mirrors to the souls. The laughter's ambience and joyous sights held nothing within the mind of one that found nothing but sorrows. 

You felt no happiness when your name was called by the oracle.

Felt no spark when you were ushered away to be properly dressed up as beautiful as the lights in the sky.

Felt no hope despite the emense dancing of the crowds and the joyous laughter they exuded towards the heavenly lights of the dark abyss. 

Filling their heads with joy and their hearts with warmth. 

However lights were not going to be able to help you in your predicament and fortune unless you leave. Leave the center of fired hearts set ablaze. Dash away from the lights. Cloak yourself in the darkness far away until the next morning when the grandness of lights would finally be dowsed by the sun.

To her freedom remained intact and her life not taken.

The music of the giant celebration gently flowed throughout and between the beautiful decorations wrapped around the walls of buildings. The way the candles inside lanterns lit up the surroundings and made the shadows beautifully dance against the walls. The way the smell of delicious foods being sold by vendors and the thick gunpowder and smoke wafted through the air. The beautiful music mixing with the laughter and talking of the guests around the lights. 

It was almost like a dream. Everyone having a great time behind their happy faces, no one telling who they were or maybe that was all part of the game. The fun of not knowing who you were speaking too and being able to be your own person tonight. But maybe she wasn't meant to join the fun and laughter that everyone else seemed to be having. Being maskless and alone wondering the world was the lonely fate of the girl in the flowing white dress. Blindly walking and circles, moving around. The sounds, the smells, the atmosphere. It was starting to make her dizzy. Everyway she'd turn she would catch a glimpse of a man with red eyes.

Those familiar red eyes. The ones she both dreaded and feared yet found beauty in every festival that has arisen for the past two years. The eyes that were telling her to come forth and watch the lights being driven by the emotions running amock through them and outward into the nights.

Very familiar red eyes. 

Her dizzied mind knew not to be afraid or excited about the way it gazed and pierced her soul. The way he looked at her with those beautiful wine red eyes. Promising only trouble ahead. Well maybe she was looking for trouble, her head was kept on a swivel, always looking around herself in the see of marked laughter. Sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of red or maybe it was just her clouded emotional mind. At this point she didn't know if she was searching for him or trying to ensure she was far from him. But however she put it, the circles and laughter was starting to get dizzier and dizzier. She barely noticed when someone tall bowed to her. Grabbed her hand. And lead her to dance. Maybe it was because she was temporarily blinded by the lights casting shadows upon his face, or the swirls of the graceful dance they spun. But there was no mistaking those red eyes. Perhaps she was crazy. Perhaps her dizzy mind was clouding any judgement. Maybe she was under some kind of spell from those red eyes. But when those eyes smiled at her-

She couldn't look away from them. 

Nor could she deny the magnetic static that clung to them both with every step of the dance, with fabric flowing and laughter crowding their brains or the way the intoxication of lights seemed to light his body like an ancient celestial being long since remembered. The addiction of the smells of carnival foods and faint scent of gunpowder coming from his every step. Or the smile that seemed to ignite the lights above them. Giving them that first match, that starting spark all fireworks needed in order to truly be brought to life.

"Flashy aren't they?"

You did not know if he spoke of the lights or of the eyes you couldn't escape the sight of. Smiking at you possibly brighter than the sun himself. It's euphoric glow seemingly bland compared to this man's radiant gleam and shine. 

"How about beautiful?"

You know not how you came to find the words nor not how you were about to light the eyes with surprise but when they shined at you with the dazzle of a lot fire, you found yourself burning back up to fizzle out and die in those eyes like the fireworks they were made for.

[etherealspacejelly]

do you guys remember that post that was like. "be the friend you want to have. if you want to have themed tea parties with your friends, host a themed tea party for your friends." well. that also works for online relationships

if you want asks, send people asks. if you wish people would reblog your original works, reblog other peoples original works.

i see so many posts going around that are like "reblog if you want more asks", "reblog if its ok to come into your dms and start a friendship", "reblog if you want people to tag you in random stuff they think you would like" and its like. you gotta do those things my guy.

if you want people to do those things for you, reblogging a post probably isnt going to make them more likely to do it, especially not in the long term. they might see that post and do it right then while they are thinking about it, but a few posts down their dash and they're not gonna remember who reblogged that post and who didnt.

what they will remember, is the person who comes into their inbox every day just. telling them what they're up to, or asking how their day was, or rambling about something they've been thinking about recently

they'll remember the person who always reblogs their art and makes a comment about how good it is or how much they like the lighting or the shading or the colours

they'll remember the person who tags them in posts that they found funny or interesting

and they'll be much more likely to do those things in return because they'll begin to associate you with those things, and they'll know they won't be bothering you if they do it in return because you are always doing it to them!

i just. i know this is the autism website and we are all socially awkward, but with the amount of notes those kinds of posts get i think its safe to say that most of the userbase on here wants to interact with their mutuals more. so interact!! push yourself!! it gets easier with practice i promise, and you never know what kinds of friendships you'll end up forming. its worth it!!

and i know im a massive hypocrite because i reblog those posts too, but ive been trying to make more of an effort recently and it has really been paying off. if i can do it, you can do it.

thank you for coming to my TED talk

[yaoiconnoisseur]

♠ Knight of Spades - Mari ♠

〈 Protector of Innocence 〉

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Ahhh I finally get to post this :D It was an honor to be able to contribute to the amazing project that is Yuri!!! On Cards from the Yuri!!! On The Web Discord server!

You can see the entire project via this masterpost! If you'd like more context for this gigantic YOI AU, head over to this blog post for an explanation of everything.

I'd like to give a massive shoutout to @arom-antix and @lines-on-ice for basically putting this all together and making this amazing idea a reality. I know Arrow credits me as one of the admins of this project, but I really only made a Google Drive and did a little research for the artists on how to format their cards haha

I had a ton of fun coming up with Mari's design as the Knight of Spades. I knew right away that I wanted Mari's design to reflect her Japanese heritage since the suit of Spades is a fully Japanese cast.

I've cut me talking about the art itself and my thought process while working on it so I don't nuke your dash, but if you'd like to read my ramblings feel free to

Making Mari a samurai was an easy choice since, one, that's basically what a knight was in Japan (albeit there was no legal binding between a daimyo and his samurai), and, two, I've always HC'd Mari as a protective older sister in the sense she'd be fairly hands off until someone made the mistake of bullying her little Yuuri.

I wanted her armor to be blue since that was the overarching color scheme for Spades, but choosing what blues to use was.. Difficult. There needed to be enough contrast between the different pieces of her armor to show that the armor is made of multiple parts while keeping the hues and brightness values close enough to still look cohesive. I also wanted to keep the blues relatively low saturated to bring our Mari's blonde highlights.

(As I was coloring her armor I realized half way through that I basically drew a Samurott ginjinka oops (￣▽￣*)ゞ)

I had originally intended for the sarashi (the belt) to be pure white, however when I put all the base colors down I realized the white was too much and pulled your eyes away from Mari's overall form. I knew having the belt be pure blue would make the belt blend in too much with the rest of the armor, so I ended up making the belt mostly blue with white accents as a compromise. I still wish the belt could have been white, but oh well.

As for the katana.. That was originally going to be pure blue, but like the belt problem, I had issues keeping the katana from looking muddied. I ended up trying five different variations of black/dark gray until I settled on what you see above lol. It was really difficult making the hilt of the katana look nice because if I went too dark with the blacks I would lose detail on the hilt, but if I went too light I would lose the contrast with the hilt's blues. As for the saya (scabbard/sheathe) I wanted it to be black, but I ended up matching it to Mari's armor instead because a black saya with a mostly black hilt somehow made the entire katana look flat.

The color palates I used for everything else was just me eyeballing her fleshtone and hair color through various screenshots I ripped directly from the show.

The background gave the the most trouble out of everything though because I'm not particularly great at making interesting, minimalistic backgrounds for my art. The card looked to plain without some sort of variation of color behind Mari, but since her armor was already so complex I needed a background that didn't take away from those complexities and didn't muddy the entire piece. I had originally planned to do a sumi-e type background, however I found that no matter what I did the sumi-e designs took away focus from Mari. Eventually I settled on a default abstract Procreate brush and drew lines until something stuck.

Overall I had a blast making this and also the borders for the rest of the cards! I learned a lot about how to format and prep digital canvases for making a card deck, too lol