#i will give you glorious art. soon. .

[demigod-of-the-agni]

concept for my version of the sorcerer supreme! Doctor Shreyan Sthapit is your local coffee-loving wizard battling the weird from beyond your perception of reality! please do not dirty the sanctum sanctorum! he will not appreciate it!

I need to draw him more

(but you can see him in action in this fic right here)

[dragzo]

Chapter 10 - Shared Feelings

Ahhh, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to draw some good ol’ spicynoodles. Back to my roots, you could even say. This was something I had a lot of fun working on; I experimented with my art process, and I had to consult some peers for advice. It took many glorious hours of my life (10+ hours…) but in the end I still wound up with something I’m very proud of.

I know this is going to flop, cause most of my posts have been recently. I don’t really care, because I still get to cherish this and remember how much these two mean to me, and how they’re the reason I gave LMK a chance.

Anyways! Chapter 10 for my fic ‘Prank Gone Wrong’ is up and this masterpiece is a direct scene from it. If you like horribly oblivious homos, devious scheming, and discussions about aromanticism — my fic is perfect for you. I hope you give it a chance, especially as it will be reaching its end soon. And if you’ve already been keeping up with my chapters, I hope you enjoy this rollercoaster of a chapter :)

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The full piece:

[ssavaart]

Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.   

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

[lynk-zee]

Imagine the lads seeing reader in a virgin killing sweater- (I saw a user post a idea and I felt like you'd make a great fic with it)

Sweater

NSFW

Oh boy. Wearing this around Rafayel would be dangerous indeed. He’s already obsessed with you in sweatpants or in your hunters uniform covered in dirt, but this? It’s over.

He’d have you sit in his lap as you ride him, dragging his nails down your exposed back, relishing in your gasps and whines. Don’t expect to be getting up any time soon. He’s going to make art out of that sweater, and you his canvas.

“Fuckkkk, baby..” He’d groaned biting his lip. His hands slip under the hem of the sweater, finding the fat of your hips, guiding you up and down as his nails dug into your ass. “Gonna be so so pretty…Wearing that sweater, covered in my marks…”

Would definitely paint your back white after taking you from behind.

It was Xavier’s idea, actually. He saw the sweater while he was scrolling through social media and had to get it for you. He wanted to see how it barely covered your body, feel the way his hand could easily slip under from the back to cup your ass. It was glorious. You were perfect.

He has you pressed against the mirror, teeth sinking into your neck as he mumbles how fucking pretty you are in that little sweater. You could only whine as he thrusts you up against the glass. He’d then pull away, flipping you to face him, the cold sting of the mirror against your back. He wrapped your legs around his hips and fucked you more. His hands found the curve of your ass where the sweater fell, making the perfect handles so he could move better. Your back would be raw and sore by then. But Xavier would gently apply salve for you to help you feel better.

It was a suprise for Zayne on his birthday. Despite taking the day off to celebrate with you, he was called to the hospital for an emergency and had to leave half-way through dinner. You would have been mad, if it didn’t give you enough time to get ready for tonight. He came home late and exhausted, just wanting to find solace in your arms when he froze in the doorway to your bedroom. There you sat in that sweater, a cheeky grin on your face as you said “Happy birthday!”

Now here you are, on your hands and knees as he grips your hair, taking you from behind. As you cry and moan, his glassy eyes rake over the expanse of your bare back, down to where he was pounding into you. He loosens his tie, forcing your head down as he uses it to bind your hands behind your back. A happy birthday indeed.

[palefacestudentlove]

Kintsugi.— lewis hamilton

In Japanese culture, there is an art form that provides solace with sacred touch. Kintsugi. A broken object is put together again, glued and repaired with gold. A proof of how the deepest wounds and the darkest days have no power in destroying what one chooses to fight for. A story, telling the power of healing that love and care holds. Highlighting the flaws of the object with a golden shine. Unleashing the beauty of the history that every unique piece carries. Kintsugi. A symbol of solace even in the middle of chaos the world offers. The same kind of love we are about to learn from two beautiful souls.

Mercury. The planet that orbits the sun the fastest. Glorious in its game. Beautiful to imagine. This one however, happened faster than Mercury’s game. It raced light and time, painting shame with bold colours on those two fastest elements. Swift. Quick. No longer than a blink. Everything muted the second his car hit the barrier. Everything went silent. As if the world had lost its music and the birds forgot how to sing. And it was suffocating, how the blue sky in its glory appeared mocking that afternoon. 

He was smoothly weaving through the pack, making his way to the front as he overtook. One car. Two. Three cars. Majestically painting another masterpiece of his own on the track. A master leading and teaching the pack and the whole world, to engrave a beautiful story, carved by blood, sweat, tears, and respect. It was graceful, the way he danced on the track. Refined and poetic. And like all other dances, this one carried a story too, a plot of its own. One that is about to make the whole world whisper. One that would dull all notes of melody, even the most majestic orchestra. One that would make the dictionary lose its purpose in giving meanings to things. And definitely one that would make one person’s heart stop. Y/N.

Love, on its own, is a cruel game. It'll give you the most unimaginable. Painting a million different shades on the canvas of life. Building a huge tree house for you to lay in, safe from the danger and threat offered by the world below. Unfortunately, like every other thing this world has seen, it carries a darkness too. One second you look away, it'll rip out the carpet from beneath your feet, letting you fall into an endless abyss. Pushing you off the cliff even if your hands are clawing to hold on, to climb back. 

Lap 50. A car slammed into the barrier of Turn 7 with a force that shook the whole track. Making every single garage went silent. And when the dust cleared, she saw it. She couldn’t even whisper when the world demanded her to scream. Car number 44. Red flags raised. Safety car and medical car deployed. Little Gracie was kept close to her hip. One hand drawing circles on the little girl’s back. She didn’t have the power to look down, to look into those same brown eyes the little girl inherited. Her gaze was on Bono. Unmoving. The man hasn’t looked at her yet, his hand on his headset. Calling. Asking. Checking.

“Lewis, are you okay?”

Trying to be as calm as possible, as demanded for his job, Bono’s voice broke through. Steady but still noticeably strained. A few seconds passed. Silence. A few more seconds stretched longer, carving an open wound in her chest that grew longer and deeper as the seconds passed. Loneliness tapping a gun to the back of her skull. Waiting to claim its desired bullseye. Every single second that passed, every single murmur, every single whisper, every single turn of head, she was hoping it's to tell her that this was all just a dream. A stupid nightmare she'll wake up from soon. But there’s nothing. Not even the faintest sound of his breath. He’s not hitting the radio button. He’s not moving. In vivid details, complete with their own music, her mind orchestrated every worst case scenario like a finale. Someone will always have to be the first one to leave. This story is a centuries long inevitable fate. No one holds the power to deny it. But even then, her heart begged. No, not yet. Not today. Give us more time, please.

In every single love story the world had witnessed, it always spoke of sacrifice. Things like: I would die for you, I would burn for you. But that wasn't the case with Y/N and Lewis. Never had been, never will be. For these two beating hearts, it has always been different. I would live for you. I want to try, for you. That's how it has always been for them. Y/N is a midnight storm. A dark cloud stood loyally on top of her head, wherever she went. She had long accepted and made peace with that. But Lewis. Oh Lewis. He had shown her and gave her every single reason to live. Teaching her that she deserves way more than just surviving. 

So how? How will she find a way to survive this? If Bono turned his head toward her, and  told her that they had failed Lewis. That they had failed her, Grace. How will she go through her Sundays at home? Waking up to his side of the bed cold and empty? Eating breakfast alone after sending Grace to school? God, Grace's first day of school without her daddy? Will his chair at her school's sports day be empty too? No one to carve a poetic line along her shoulder with soft kisses while she prepares breakfast? Every single one hitting the harbour in waves. And she's drowning. But Bono called again, more urgent, but still calm. There’s two people waiting inside the garage for Lewis, and he couldn’t, he didn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to face those two if this ends badly.

“Lewis, talk to me mate.”

As if the heavens saw the scenarios her mind orchestrated, a faint whisper of breath went through the radio. Say something. Please.

“Yeah mate, I’m okay. Just… thinking about how I’m going to explain that to Y/N.”

Bono turned toward her and Grace, nodding calmly, exhaling a tension he’s been holding in too. Only after that, she could finally remember how to inhale and exhale. A relief. Like a clueless tiny toddler who just conquered the world with their very first wobbly step. Her hold on Grace was tighter, grounding herself in the safety of her daughter’s hair. Closing her eyes, because fear still lingers at the corner of the garage, and silence still has its hands on her shoulder. 

On the screen, the paramedics were rushing to his side as he carefully climbed out of the metal wreckage that no longer has the silhouette of a car. He was walking, but slow. Way too slow through the lens of her eyes as she watched in silence.

Lewis, on the other side of the page, was trying to not lay a single touch on his ribs as he made his way to the medical car. Don’t. She’s watching. His right hand however, raised two fingers shaped like a peace hand sign, before tapping it on the top front of his helmet, where his forehead should be. A sign. A language only him and her understand. A way of saying or showing i’ll be fine or you’ll be fine. She saw it. He knows she’s watching, witnessing. I’m living, Y/N. For you. For us. She turned her attention away, gathering their things, following Anthony who had stood beside her the whole time. Preparing for what would be a painful evening at the hospital, no matter how short or long. 

Everything that happened at the hospital was a blur to her. Pale fluorescent lights, murmured conversations with the doctor. Something about bruised ribs and nothing broken but he’ll be sore for a while. The hospital room they were in was too cold. Was it just the temperature playing its part, or the eerie chill in her bones that refused to leave? She didn’t even know. Y/N stood stiff at the corner of his hospital bed, Grace nestled in the crook of her neck, dozing off. Anthony sat on one side of the bed, one hand on Lewis’ thigh as the two men spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to wake Grace up, or pushing Y/N more to the edge of the cliff. 

She heard it all, as the words floated freely in the cold air of the room, but her eyes were too focused on the floor. And it’s torturous, how his eyes kept darting to his wife even as he was talking to his dad. Searching, calling, yearning, but her eyes refused to meet him. She couldn't even bring herself to even whisper. When all he wanted at that very moment was for her to scream in his face. Yelling. Telling him how worried she was. Put the blame on him. But she couldn't. Maybe, if she loved him less, her mouth would be able to do its job, spitting words, sentences. 

He had so much power over her. One that no one possesses. One that would make even the mightiest knights to lay down their shields on the ground, surrendering in defeat. She gave him that power. Handed it to him in a delicate box, wrapped with a fragile ribbon of love. Anthony’s gentle voice broke her unmoving gaze, offering her to take Grace into his arms, noticing how she hadn’t let go of the little sunshine since they left the track.

“No. She’s fine here. I’m fine.”

Hesitantly, Anthony nodded. Because he understood. She needed Grace in her arms. Not only because the little girl needed her, but also and mainly because she needed something to keep her from breaking down. Something to hold on to, to hide her shaking hands, to silence the trembles in her fingers. What isn't a part of ourselves will never hold the power to disturb us in any way. And maybe, just maybe, that's why all this shit disturbed her so much. Because it's a part of her that the track threatened to silence earlier today. Him. Her Lewis. That's why every tick, every breath, every whisper disturbed her mind so deeply, like a tsunami claiming its dominance through the alley it keeps on swallowing. So when Lewis called her name, she abruptly walked out in a careful manner. Leaving the room without sparing a glance at her husband. Something about wanting to check everything with the nurse before they leave, she said.

The flight home was unbearable. The luxury of the private jet did little to ease the tension. Nothing changed during the car ride home too. Suffocating him harder than his bruised ribs. Her eyes never left the window. Arms and hands hugging and caressing Grace’s back as she fell asleep in her arms. A rare occasion whenever Lewis is present. 

His brown eyes however, never left her tired face. Flickering to her every few minutes. His heart further declined, stretching its descent deeper and deeper as the tension in her jaw became apparent to him. The same one his lips had traced a thousand times in between the sheets, in the mornings where he would hug her from behind as she prepared breakfast.

Once the car pulled into the driveway of their house, Y/N immediately got out, carrying Grace inside without waiting for the man who had been waiting to see her eyes, hear her voice. Lewis stayed in the car for a silent few minutes. Weakly, his head fell back against the headrest that felt harder and rougher than the gravel. A long breath was exhaled. Shaky. His tears were pooling in his eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted to come back to her. This wasn’t what he meant every time he promised her to come home safe before every single race.

Come home safe. A phrase that she never missed to whisper in his ears as she hugged him, before every single race. Since the first race she attended after he handed her his heart, body, and soul. A promise. One that he would always reply with a soft I will, before kissing her lips and leaving another one on her forehead. 

Time. That’s what she needs right now. So that’s what he gave. When he finally stepped inside the house, he beelined his way straight to their bedroom. She wasn’t there. Probably in Grace’s room. In the kitchen maybe. Anywhere but close to him. Anywhere but in his arms. The shower he took was longer than usual. His body was in pain, but the wound in his heart was the one that digs deeper, through the flesh, deep into the marrow. Marking its territory in his heart with a bold move.

When he came down, the smell of curry hit him. Warm, but still unsettling. She had cooked his favourite dish. As he stepped into the kitchen, she was already placing his plate out. Just one. On his seat at their dining table. For him alone and him only. She’s not eating with me. He hesitated as he sat down, heart clenching. Eyes not meeting her. The soft hum from the kitchen light was the only calming thing in the room. It mingles with the clinks and clatters of the dishes and kitchen appliances as she moves mechanically. Creating a melody he never heard before, hating it as soon as the first note hit.

“Love,” a call to her. Soft and gentle. Even while his hands are clammy, shaking, to reach her skin. Not a single spoonful had gotten into his stomach ever since he sat down.

“Eat, Lewis.”

Even while her heart was breaking, leaving cracks as it declines and descends, she still prepared him dinner. Straightaway once they’re home, not caring about herself not getting even a single beat of rest. Making sure he’s not eating his meds on an empty stomach. But god, he hates how it sounded when that “Lewis” fell out of her soft lips just now. He always loved how his name sounded when she said it. How it sounded when she’s ‘mad’ at him for stealing her chocolates, how it sounded whenever he came up with stupid unhinged ideas, and how it sounded as he slipped in and out of her, pouring himself empty for her.

So he willed himself to finally find her, her eyes. A silent but loud plea. 

Look at me please.

She didn’t

Y/N please, look at me. Please. 

Again, nothing. But the knife plunged deeper this time. Because this time, he saw it. She was deliberately dancing around the kitchen, keeping her hands and mind busy. Cleaning, rearranging, wiping every single useless thing in the kitchen. Even the ones he had never seen or touched before. And it was so bright and loud. In visions and sounds. How she wasn’t even half as delicate and gentle as she usually was with everything. She’s retreating. He knows she was silently retreating into that one dark place in her beautiful mind. The one place she only pays a visit when the whole world is too much, when she feels like she is not safe. As if not a single corner on this earth is safe for her anymore. Not even in their house. Not even in his arms. She’s not feeling safe. He couldn’t let her retreat and seek shelter there. And he needs her eyes. Hell, he missed them.

“Sweetheart.”

The sweet nickname fell out of his mouth softly, but still stern. Enough to catch her attention, forcing her to slowly turn her tired body around, facing him. The man she almost lost. The man that made her almost lost herself. Finally, that pair of eyes. Those deep beautiful eyes that never failed to draw him in, calming him. Those eyes that hold so many layers he never wanted to stop peeling and discover. Those eyes that made him surrender, leaving him breathless. Finally, those exact same eyes that he fell in love with and still, will always be in love with landed on him. Soft and warm, a gentle kiss from the sunrise, before they shifted in just one swift blink. A cold flame, scolding him, scorching his face, leaving him no place to seek refuge. 

But fuck. She’s… beautiful.

“Come here please…”

She sighed, running her hand through her hair, pushing it back. Her hair is getting longer. A beat of silence. Please, come to me. And slowly, very slowly, she walked over to him. Crossing the small physical space between them that felt a thousand miles away emotionally. Once her body was close enough, reachable to him, he reached for her. His hands crawled its way back to one of their homes, her waist. Reminding him what he almost lost today. Tattooing a thought in his mind, about no matter how often his hands had laid there, it would never be enough. He pulled her closer to him, leaving no space in between except for the thin material of her soft blue shirt. His eyes were threatening to cry in relief, when she didn’t even fight him as she claimed her way in between his legs. Weakly, he let go. He let his head fall onto her soft stomach. I should have kissed it longer this morning. Breathing her in, inhaling a deep one. Unbelievably grounding and calming. Her right hand that hung loosely on her side now made its way into the collar of his white t-shirt. A soft caress before softly massaging away the tension in his left shoulder. 

Oh gosh. Her touch. Her scent. Her. 

It’s still not enough. These weren’t enough. If his body wasn’t sore and screaming in pain, he would have begged her to let him give and pour. He would have been on his knees tracing his favourite path inside her thighs whispering his apologies again and again like a broken record before carrying her into their bedroom. So he moved his hands to her small back, drawing soft and gentle circles against it. She got it. The whole exchange was him talking. It’s him laying down his apologies. It’s him pulling her out of that dark place in her mind, saving her. A knight even in his low point. It’s him asking her to be with him, right here, right now. 

I love you. I need you. Please.

“Eat with me.” “I’m not hu–”

Immediately, he raised his throbbing head. Don’t lie. He was looking her deep in the eyes, silencing her mouth and mind. Staring and reminding her. I know you. Reminding her he knows her. His wife. His last love. His home. The mother of his child. His safest place. He knows that her throat hasn’t swallowed a single drop of water since they left the pale and sickening hospital, let alone touching the tiniest bit of food. Even in this weak and fragile state, he cares. About her, more than himself. So please, let him care and lay down the safety net she needed. Let him catch her like she always does for him without a miss, not even once. Let me take care of you, love.

It’s a losing game, this whole exchange. This whole conversation that they are having only with their eyes. Honest. Open. It’s a game she should have surrendered before she even started playing. He’s patient. Persistent. Always the same strategy. Always the same tactic. Although this time, it took him more and longer to claim the gold medal. She swallowed an empty lump. 

He won.

“The food is getting cold.” “Sit down with me then.”

Her hand reached the nearest chair, placing it next to his before sitting down. His eyes never left hers. Not even for a second since they were laid on hers just now. His right hand found a way home to her small back as she started with the food. Gentle circles, ups and downs under her shirt, against her skin as she fed him the first spoonful. Warm. Safe. Soft. She stared at him after the first spoonful, waiting for a reaction. He gave her a soft wholesome smile. It’s delicious. 

But her stare lingered, hands unmoving, not preparing for a second one. He stared back, delicately.

She nodded. You’re okay.

He nodded. I’m okay.

She had no strength left to hold it in anymore. The dam had been destroyed. Freeing her tears that were flooding. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck. A lost traveler taking shelter and seeking solace under the shade of an enduring tree canopy. Stopping the downpour of her fears. Letting time pass without a worry. Like Neptune travelling its orbit. His arms wrapped around her. A blanket draped over her trembling figure. Silencing the noise outside. Not forgetting to kiss her long on top of her head. A constant so grounding and reassuring. 

He saw it today. It wasn’t the first time. But today, it shone brighter, sang louder, danced bolder, and stood stronger. Her strength. Her trying to keep it all in her together, all alone, for him, for little Grace. But at that moment, he didn’t want her to. He wanted her to lay her fears and worries bare and naked in front of him. He wanted her to feel safe, be safe. Here, in his embrace. The only place where he will give everything to silence her storms, leaving them weakened, lifeless. 

His wife. The woman who has a hold of his whole heart. Had fought herself violently today. Baring her teeth to her own emotions. Drowning it down with all her might. All because of an almost. But this moment, right now. Her, safe in the hold of his arms, the fog finally cleared out. Both of them had no hold on perfection. And the world won’t sit still. At any time, at any given moment, it will send down cruel war and games to make them crack. Today however, it became clear as a sky. Bleed if they must, cry if they have to, but neither him or Y/N will ever let go. With her, it’s worth it. With his Y/N.  Every crack worth a story to tell.

This is the kind of love Lewis and Y/N fights for. Fractured with cracks at times, but made and built stronger, more historical, more beautiful, through the tears and smiles they pour empty to mend it. Their own piece of Kintsugi.

“You came home.” “For you.”

[serenityhime1]

Coloring Book Updates

Thank you all for your excitement and patience while the process has been ongoing to create and distribute the Vegebul Coloring Book! Our artists have submitted their glorious work, our graphic designer has put together an amazing pair of books, and the proofs are printed and being delivered soon!

What does this mean for you? It means that, as long as the proofs look good, we can officially open orders for the coloring books on Monday, December 2nd!

There will be two books, a SFW book and an NSFW book. The approximate cost of the SFW book will be $20 (US dollars) and the NSFW book will be around $10 (US Dollars), not including shipping costs, but we've selected a distributor that has printers across the world including in the EU and Australia to help reduce shipping costs.

All proceeds for this project are being donated to the Make an Artist Foundation. They are committed to spreading art and art education to underserved and underprivileged kids around the world. You can learn more about the charity, you can check out their website:

The SFW book contains 30 pieces of art, and the NSFW book contains 11 pieces. Many pieces are brand new and were made exclusively for these coloring books, but there are a few beloved classics included as well. The pieces in these books were made by these amazing artists:

@astral-mariner

@astronautmike-dexter

@bloodpatternblue

@danizinhaut

@ex35life

@galexibrain

@ginrastandsby

@iamakynge

twitter.com/junionaaaa

twitter.com/jackoffjune

@mawrblaidddrwg

@ninjaphile

@ronnieartistry

@shannonsketches

@secret-sketchbook

@thedbscribbles

@tuesdayinthedas

@yashy20c

And the books themselves were laid out by @fortunesque

There will also be digital versions of the coloring books available!

More teasers and updates are forthcoming, and on Monday I hope to share links to the books as soon as they are approved. Thank you all for helping make this dream become reality. We couldn't have done it without you!

[darklinaforever]

I basically discovered that anti-Percabeth people exist ! I didn't even know it was possible to hate this couple ! Not to mention hating Annabeth's character ?! And I am deeply shocked ?! Apparently this relationship is unhealthy and toxic ?! Annabeth would be abusive ?!

Why ?! Because of the nickname she gives to Percy ?! The affectionate little blows she gives him from time to time ?! Because yes, at what point did you consider that to be really hitting someone ?! The fact that Annabeth, a literal teenager, dared to be jealous of Rachel seeing that she was close to Percy who Annabeth had romantic feelings for ?! The Faith or she basically kicked him to the ground after believing that he had willfully ignored her and been gone for months ?! I mean... Yes, this gesture was not glorious and or good, especially since we know that Percy was Hera's prisoner, but not Annabeth at that time, who has, I remind it, a serious problem with fear of abandonment. And they are half-gods who learn the art of war and fighting as soon as they discover their identity ! It's not out of place that when they get angry they are capable of being physical ! So... WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ?!

I have nothing against shipping Percy with other characters such as Nico or Rachel (they are very cool by the way). But claiming that Annabeth and Percabeth are super toxic is ridiculous...

Besides, this post explains very well why seeing Annabeth and her relationship with Percy as toxic is stupid :

Say bullshit like Annabeth and Percabeth are toxic, is of the same level as saying that Annabeth is using Percy as a rebound for losing Luke. It's so dumb.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising star! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

“Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

[ninapi]

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Better Half (Sukuna Version)❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2334

Note: you can read the first installment of this story here ☺️

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses…nobody would have pegged him for a romantic really…but the fact that he hasn’t stopped thinking about the soft squishy cheeks of that human girl might make you think otherwise.

While Yuuji had been sulking about the fact that you were somehow also attracted to Sukuna, the king himself has been basking in his glorious triumph.

Specially with the way you looked at him like he was the hottest guy in the universe, in all truth, he knew he was, always known, his vessel was unimportant, but getting it recognized by such a fine piece of art such as yourself made his ego boost to the rooftop.

While he didn’t like being inside of Itadori and wished to take over Megumi at some point, he started to consider that maybe it wasn’t as bad to inhabit him for the time being, you did like the idiot, so he might as well make good use of his resources. 

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The next morning Yuuji wasn’t feeling like himself, he kept on appearing in places he didn’t try to visit, with no recollection of how he even got there. It was an unsettling feeling specially how each time he did he was closer and closer to your place of work.

He knew this had to be related to Sukuna and he didn’t like it one bit.

Yuuji tried to let his friends know of what was happening, try to get you out of there before you would get even more involved in the world of curses, but Megumi and Nobara both had been assigned to a quick mission with Gojo sensei and didn’t tell him about it to give him time to feel better with himself.

He was on his own and he needed to get you to safety.

Running over to the crepe stand, he noticed it wasn’t open yet, it was still too early and all the shops around were as closed as yours.

His blood kept pumping through his entire body, he looked up and down the street like a lost puppy hoping to get a glimpse of your beautiful face as soon as possible. But the moment he did, his body turned off again, welcoming the king himself.

“Well hello there, my queen~ Looking rather fine as usual…” his eyes were eating you up like a pastry, you could see the evil and lust full glint of his eyes from meters away.

“You’re early today~” offering him a sweet smile, you went by to get the locks open.

“Let me help you with that, gorgeous. No need to get on your knees, yet…” his smirk gave you the chills, he was so hungry for you, you could feel it all the way to your bones, but somehow you were not mad at it in the slightest.

He went on his knees and got all the locks opened up for you in no time, your stand ready for a day’s work in less than half the time it would have normally take.

“Such a gentleman~” you laid a hand on one of his ridiculously well built muscly arms as you made your way inside to get your apron on. “Would you like a breakfast crepe? It’s my specialty~”

“Oh my dear, I want more than a little snack from you….but if your lovely hands get to do it, I guess I wouldn’t mind having one…” his words never failed to make you giggle, this eccentric and sexy side of him was so different from the other one, yet so enticing, made you want to get to know him better.

As you turn on the iron grill and prepare the ingredients, you decide to test the waters, “So…Itadori-kun…can you…tell me whats up with your changes in mood? Don’t think I mind them, I just want to understand you a bit better…” your tone was soft, sweet, really understanding and inviting, while Yuuji would have love that, he didn’t. Sukuna didn’t want you to think of him as pathetic little Itadori, he wanted you to see him for who he truly was, and that meant breaking down for you the dark truth of this world.

“I’m not him, that’s it..” you waited for him to elaborate, your theory of him having double personality now becoming stronger.

“I’m Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses. Just happen to be living inside this crappy teenager body…but I’m so much better than him in every way, babe, trust me on that.” his confident tone gave you goosebumps, but of the good kind, his voice was so sexy and the way he seemed to be undressing you with his eyes as you cooked was certainly not helping.

“A curse? Does that mean you’re some sort of spirit living in him? Or are you another soul trapped in the same body?” you were clever, more than he expected. Humans usually tend to laugh and think of this sort of things as jokes, but you didn’t treat him like he was crazy, you were seriously trying to grasp the situation and understand him fully.

“You could say it’s a bit of both. Curses aren’t really spirits but an amalgamation of cursed energy harbored by negative emotions humans tend to have…” for the first time in his very long lived life, he was terrified of scaring someone off, he didn’t want you to give him the cold shoulder, to see him like a freak, and he has never had such a wish before.

“Negative emotions…does that mean Itadori-kun is depressed and brought you out?”

“Not really, he kind of…took me in willingly, of course he didn’t really know what he was getting himself into…” you didn’t seem to back off, contrary to what he thought it would happen you seemed fascinated with everything he had to say.

“So you have nothing to do with Itadori-kun then. Is that why your voice is so deep and you get those fancy tattoos?”

“Precisely, we are completely different beings. He’s just a mere vessel, I am the king of curses, the most powerful being out there. And you, my little dove, happen to tick all the boxes for the queen spot right beside me~” 

Your giggles were killing him, he’s never been this attracted to anyone, let alone a human. You weren’t just the cutest little thing, but incredibly hot too. His blood kept going south every few minutes, his body becoming all twitchy every time you made one of your cute little sounds.

“I’m just a part-timer who happens to make good crepes. How does that make me a queen candidate?”

“I’ve never wished for a queen before. There’s nobody stronger than me, hence pleasing me is not an easy task. But you, my flower, just the sight of you gets me as high as never before…” your blushing increased tenfold, you could literally feel how aroused he was and in all honesty you had no idea how to handle a man like that, even worse… a curse like that…

“So you like my face? Is that it?” trying to force the situation down a notch, you handed him his breakfast crepe and got to your cleaning duties.

“Your face? Oh no, my darling. Your soul, your body…everything about you is so damn delicious…I could see myself enjoying every single crease of your body for all eternity…” you weren’t expecting someone to comment on how good your soul seemed to taste, it was quite frankly terrifying, yet arousing at the same time. You’ve never been wanted with such intensity, made you feel empowered, important, special.

“Oh yeah? That does sound like fun, I admit. But you aren’t always yourself, are you? I’ve seen Itadori out more often than you.”

“You’re not wrong, my dove, you're quite observant. I’m gearing up to take over him completely, I just didn’t have the need or even the motivation to do so until I met you…I don’t want this pathetic human pawing at whats mine…” his cold tone full of hatred and disgust shook you to your core, while you’ve been hearing all he had to say, you didn’t fully understand how dangerous he was until this moment.

“So what happens to Itadori-kun if you’re out all the time?”

“Why do you care? Do you like him more than you like me? Do you like the empty headed weakling who doesn’t have an ounce of talent without my powers?” he was scowling now, his voice raising by the second making you feel weak in more than one way.

But your answer was definite, quick, simple, “No.” and that was all it took to get his anger under control.

“Was just wondering…”

A wide smirk adorned his handsome features once more as he leaned against the windowsill, “Well if you must know, he will disappear once I take over, at least until I switch bodies…How do you feel about the Fushiguro boy? Don’t you think he’s way more of an attractive vessel?”

His words made you freeze, your answer could easily ruin someone’s life, but also save another.

“The raven haired friend of his?” 

“Yeah, he’s a masterpiece, some would say he’s the perfect vessel, I’ve been eyeing him for a while, but you seem attach to this one…” 

“Hm, he is cute. But I met you with this face, it would be a bit awkward if you were to switch faces completely, if that makes sense…” 

“It does, I expected as much. For now I’ll stay in Itadori, but I’m sure I’ll get you convinced in no time that he’s better.”

He was done eating, though no other customer had shown ever since, you started thinking it was probably his doing as this was usually peak time for your business.

“So... Sukuna?” he nodded proudly, tingles running al over his body once he heard his real name flowing from those delicious looking lips of yours.

“You said you wanted to take me to hell with you, was that literal? Or you just meant me going with you in general?” your curious nature was delightful.

“Eventually the place you know as your home will be nothing but a charred pile of ashes, curses will roam freely, humans will no longer be the superior race…When that time comes, you’d have a place right by my side, on my throne, ruling over all of them, curses and humans alike…” it sounded like an awful future for human race, yet it somehow didn’t feel like he was bullshitting you. 

The whole curses thing was starting to be a bit too real for you and while you couldn’t really see them, the fact that human’s despair could turn to deadly creatures of the night sounded more possible than it should.

“Shouldn’t someone more important sit with the king himself? I’m nothing special…” 

“Are you questioning me?” his tone was going back to its cold nature the more you talked, “Because seems to me like you think you have an option…I’m not asking you, my dove, I’m telling you what the future is going to look like.”

“So I don’t have a choice then…” your voice didn’t sound defeated in the slightest, nor there was a hint of fear in it, and he liked it.

“The king has spoken? Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

To this statement you just nodded, accepting your fate was better than getting in troubles. He did seem like he wants to treasure in his own very peculiar way and it’s not like this par- time job could do more than help paying your bills.

“Do you have books on curses or something? I would like to get to know more about what I’m getting myself into, unlike Itadori. If I have to be a queen, I might as well be a good one. Right?” your sweet smile had come back, he was positively glittering with excitement at this point. It’s not like you had a choice, he would take you regardless of anything you had to say, but the fact that you were taking this so well made him fill up with pride, brimming with hope. 

And that was new.

Hope is the very opposite of cursed energy, he was literally defying his own existence by taking in his ball of sunshine under his wing. 

But if a curse deserved a happy ending, it certainly had to be the king of them, right?

“Itadori might have some in his room, he does go to a sorcery school after all. I’ll look into it for you, my love.”

You just nodded, inching closer to his face, “My king…”

His entire world collapsed right there, while nobody can control him, and never will, you certainly knew how to make him feel weak…and somehow he didn’t hate it…

“I’ll pick you up by nightfall, babe…prepare yourself for the night of your life, I ain’t holding back…” giving you a little whiff, his time outside came to an end, a very confused Itadori was left looking at you up close, closer than never before.

“(Y/N)…? Are you ok? Oh my god…why am I here…?” you just caressed his face in a loving tender manner, he was your love’s vessel after all, and you’d take care of him just as much.

“It’s ok sweet stuff. You’re fine, I’m fine. Are you hungry?” and with that, he turned into a puddle of goo forgetting the whole reason he was there in the first place, maybe having Sukuna making you swoon wasn’t so bad after all.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Previous Chapter Masterlist

[wol-fica]

-ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝-

parings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - after a long day of hard work, you remind jenna of who she belongs to (r being extra simpish of j)

warnings - strap-on sex, oral, gagging, semi-public sex, possessive behavior, p in v, anal

an - greek, i love you so. Enjoy this masterpiece of a request

————————

Jenna was beautiful, a work of art really.

Whatever higher power that created her, you need to meet and thank them with the upmost respect; you owed them.

She was sculpted to perfection, like a Michelangelo composition that has only been unraveled by you. Her skin was gorgeous, a blank, tanned canvas waiting to be bitten and kissed upon by your lips, and only your lips.

Jenna was yours, your private display of modern art, like a lost Leonardo da Vinci portrait that is stowed away from the public eye. She was all for you; to love, to care for, to enjoy.

She was so easy to ogle at, to drool over. Her complexity was so alluring that you didn’t even care that the paparazzi and her fans have a frenzy over her every waking day; it didn’t matter when you got to witness every inch of her.

Jenna was currently at the Golden Globes, dressed in a nude, Gucci wrap-dress that showed off her defined abs and eye-catching curves. She looked divine, a wonderful Picasso painting that just screamed to be idolized and looked at; she was beautiful, she was yours.

You had stayed home, per her request to keep you out of the camera’s flashes and your anxiety within large crowds; it was better that way. You preferred to watch her on TV, it was a more private way to essentially ‘simp’ over your elusive girlfriend.

You have been dating Jenna for awhile now, almost two and a half years to be exact. The time spent with her was glorious for you, she was the light in your darkness, the smile that made you feel all giddy inside; she was perfect.

“She looks absolutely gorgeous, don’t you think?” The Golden Globes interviewer quipped as the cameras focused on Jenna’s entrance, “I don’t know how she always looks so amazing!”

“Because she is from another world” you would always say. In your mind, she was: she was most likely a fallen angel from heaven, though sometimes her attitude could be picked out of the depths of hell. Either way, she was incredible, and so so divine.

“Her work on Wednesday was wonderful!”

“She really went all out with that dance.”

“Jenna Ortega rose to popularity so quickly, how did she do it?!”

You wanted to yell, to scream at the top of your lungs from your apartment balcony that she was just so damn ethereal and flawless, but that would would wake your grumpy neighbor from two doors over and you do not want to get into an argument with him again.

You checked your watch, squinting to see that the time was 7:30 PM; Jenna would be home very soon, just in time for your surprise.

See, as much as you loved to innocently admire her, you also loved to do it sexually. One of the many few perks of dating her, is that only you get to enact those intimate moments that people only get to dream of doing with her. You had been gazing and getting silently turned on from seeing her on the carpet, her aura always does things to you.

Hence why you had gone out of your way to get the strap-on, wear it, and wait for her to return home so you could relax her in the best possible way; fucking all the stress out of her.

The lock on the front door clicked, causing your head to turn to your open bedroom entrance to wait and see if she would walk in. Jenna’s heels clicked on the hardwood, slowly getting louder as she approached your shared bedroom.

Soon she walked in view, finding your eyes in a few seconds and a small smile making its way onto her face in that time. She came forward, walking around to your side of the bed and greeting you with a gentle hug.

“Hello, my love.” You murmured, pulling back to give her a sweet kiss.

She had changed out of her Globes dress, now wearing an adidas hoodie and sweats set, yet she still looked flawless. One of the greatest things you enjoyed about Jenna, is that she looked beautiful in literally anything; from wearing a mouthwatering dress, to being in lounge clothes, she was gorgeous.

“Hi.” She said, a noticeable etch of tension in her voice.

“You okay?” You asked, already knowing she was going to talk about how tired and overworked she felt.

“I’m feeling a bit insipid, but other than that i’m great.” She stated, stepping in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the bed, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m alright; you looked lovely in that dress.”

Jenna giggled, music to the soul, and her eyes closed as her lips upturned into a smile. A faint blush coated her cheeks at your words, and she leaned in closer to you, resting her head below your chin.

“Thank you, i’m glad you liked it.”

“I was still a tad jealous other people got to see you in it, but woe is me.”

“Oh stop it!” Jenna scolded, pulling back to playfully glare at you, “You know I would never do anything to provoke your insecurities.”

You smirked, standing up and backing her into one of the large windows that decked out in your bedroom. Usually the blinds would be closed, but you wanted the moonlight to shine into your sleeping space and create a wonderful glowing look on your bed, hence why they were open.

“I’m not insecure.” You mumbled, your face pressing into Jenna’s neck as you left little kisses on her skin, “I know who I belong to.”

Jenna hummed, shivering under your touch as your hand slipped under her shirt and traveled up her stomach to feel her ribs. Her skin was soft and warm, buzzing under your fingertips as she got all hot and bothered.

Her hand trailed down, feeling the large strap under your pants. A small smirk came onto her face as she slowly fell to her knees, her hands going to untie your sweats.

“Who do I belong to? Can you tell me?” You asked softly, watching her pull the strap out.

“Me, you’re mine and that is that.” She responded quickly before opening her mouth and taking the toy in. Immediately she began to deep throat the strap, a noticeable bulge appearing in her throat.

You sighed, watching her work for a moment before grabbing the back of her head and thrusting the fake cock deeply into her throat. She gagged, tears appearing as you restricted her airflow.

“I belong to you, I know that.”

You took her by her hair and pulled her off, kissing her forehead as you helped her stand back up.

“Mine.” She murmured, kissing your lips with a passionate force.

“Is that so?”

Suddenly, you gripped her by the hips and turned her around, pressing her against the glass so she couldn’t move. Your hand ran over her clothed bottom, watching as her hot breath spanned out over the cold window.

“Jenna, I think I need to show you, who you below to.” You said, pulling at the hem of her shirt and slowly sliding it up her body.

“W-why’s that?” She questioned, her back arching slightly as you tossed her shirt aside.

“Well after seeing you prance around in that dress, I feel like you just need a little reminder.”

Your thumb slipped into her pants, pulling the sweats down as she lifted her legs to help you get them off of her. She had forgone undergarments and was now completely naked, awaiting your needed touch.

“Wait Y/N.” The small panic in her voice made you pause your own undressing, looking up to see her staring down to the street below, “Babe, what if people see us.”

You chuckled, returning to discard your pants and shirt while adjusting the strap around your waist. Once satisfied, you gripped Jenna by her hips and leaned over her, your mouth by her ear.

“Then they get a lovely show.” You whispered before pushing a few inches inside of her.

A guttural moan escaped from her throat, her head falling forward to rest against the cool surface of the window. Carefully, you worked yourself into her, eliciting small huffs and whines from the both of you. She was tight, very very tight, and the tension in her body was not making it easy for you.

“Oh, you are so stressed baby..” You cooed, pressing your lips to her exposed shoulder, “I’ll fuck all of that tension away.”

She nodded rapidly, sighing in satisfaction when you began to slowly pump into her. It would take a lot of effort for you to get all of the days workload out of her, but you had enough energy and Jenna was tough, you both could do it.

Your hips met hers at a moderate pace, thrusting back and forth as you gently stretched her out enough for her to actually be ready to be fucked properly. Her plush walls gave in, the muscles relaxing and complying with you as she finally was prepared.

“Such a pretty girl.” You hummed before speeding up your pace.

Jenna moaned, a proper sound that was meant to come from her vocal cords. Her body pressed back into yours, her hands pushing her chest back from the glass. You didn’t like that, and gently took her by the back of her neck and guided her to her previous position.

“Stay, I want people to see how well you get fucked.” You stated before continuing your assault on her pussy.

Your hips went forward and back, repeating the motion over and over again while your hand worked on her clit. You pressed and kneaded, attacking the bundle of nerves while Jenna moaned out your name; music to your ears. She was tightening now, her velvety cavern squeezing the strap as she neared her first orgasm of the night.

“Y/N!” She moaned out, her hands clenching as she came hard onto the toy.

You smiled, gently pumping in and out as she relaxed and calmed down. Your hand slid up to her hair, pulling it slightly as you filled her up again.

“You did so good, my love.” You said to her, your hips slowly speeding up again, “Let’s see how long you can last tonight.”

Jenna whimpered, tears coating her eyes as overstimulation washed over her. Her brain was betraying her; she wanted you out but at the same time, she wanted you farther in, deeper inside of her. Coherent thoughts were not proceeding correctly, all she knew is that you were fucking her good.

Her back arched as you pulled on her hair, creating a better angle for you to plunge deeper into her. The strap was a custom order that you and her designed, its length almost 9 inches and its girth relatively big. There were fake veins and bumps on it that made it the perfect toy for you both to enjoy, no matter who was wearing it.

“Honey..” You called out, pressing down harshly on the bulge in her stomach, which elicited a cry from her, “Can I do something special for you?”

She nodded, her head drooping and weak from all the pleasure you were giving her. Your hand left her hand and slid back down to her waist, cupping one of her cheeks. Your thumb slipped in between both, pulling one aside to reveal her tight hole.

You had both done anal all but twice, and both were very odd experiences. The first time was planned, she had suggested it when you two wanted to expand out of your vanilla phase. It was enjoyable, both for her and for you as she had insisted on taking turns of who would be wearing the strap that night.

The second time was on accident, a very funny experience. It was dark, and you two were attempting to get a quick fuck in your closet before your guests arrived for dinner. Jenna was squirming and impatient, which caused her to literally ‘miss’ and instead shove the strap into your ass. Don’t mistake her though, she went along with it almost immediately.

“Relax for me, daring.” You mumbled, pressing your thumb against her hole and pushing it inside.

She groaned, naturally pushing back against you as a known reflex. Her hips rocked left and right, slowly taking your digit inside of her. That’s how you taught her to do it, slow and steady was the safest and easiest option.

“Cum for me Jenna, I know you want to.” You said to her as she clenched down, her juices coating the strap at your request.

“Fuck…” She mumbled, her breathing heavy and hot, “That was-.”

Her sentence was cut off by the strap slowly pushing inside of her, not giving her a second to compose herself. Her hole was being stretched and opened for you to abuse and plow into, and the way her body seemed to reactively let you in told you that it was time to get rid of some of that unwanted stress.

“C’mere love.” You called to her, pulling her backwards with you until you were both sat on the edge of the bed.

The strap was now buried inside of her, hitting all the desired places. She was breathing in a familiar pace to calm herself, letting her body slowly relax into you. Your hands went around to her front, one going down to slip your fingers between her folds and the other reaching up to squeeze one of her nipples.

“Ride me Jenna, you know what to do.”

Carefully, her hips began to rock back and forth, creating a simple rhythm that she followed to please herself. On her forward rocks, you pushed your fingers deeper inside of her until they were knuckle deep, feeling her soft walls encapsulate them.

“Ohh god!” Jenna moaned loudly, now bouncing on your strap as a means to chase her third high.

“Damn you are so irresistible.” You murmured into her neck, now kneading her whole breast with your hand, “I love having you like this.”

She whined, clenching on your fingers as she rode her desires through. Your hips were now gently thrusting up into her, helping her feel more impaled on the fake phallus. Her voice cried out your name, her third orgasm hitting her hard as she squirted on your fingers.

“Atta girl.” You praised, kissing her sweaty shoulder while removing your fingers and popping them into your mouth, “You taste good.”

Jenna laughed weakly, twitching on top of you as a reminder to eventually remove yourself from her. You kissed her skin again before carefully standing up with her and slowly pulling out of her, mumbling praises as she whined in discomfort.

“You good?” You asked softly as she leaned her back against you, her legs shaky.

“Yeah, I’m great.” She replied, turning her head back and up so she could receive a kiss.

You hummed against her lips, a small smile on both of your faces while you held each other. You pulled back for a moment, gazing down at her face in wonder.

“I love you, Jenna Ortega.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes before kissing you again softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

—————————

taglist:

@efectoangel @crystal-lily-101 @myfturn @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @i984 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @tundra1029 @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @fall-08 @simp4thena @deep-fried-egg

[anirritant]

Darkrai would never verbally admit to it, but he was very, very confused.

When he first awoke, physically battered but mentally intact, he felt rather smug. Incredibly smug. Amnesia? Never heard of it! Of course his brilliant mind is untouched, hah! He's better than some mere human, it'll take more than being attacked whilst traversing time to affect him.

He never had any doubt, of course he didn't! He was in control the whole time. In fact, yes, of course, he orchestrated it all, you see! His genius is astounding, and his acting is impeccable as always. Now, his adversaries would be under the impression that he's no longer a threat, the idea being bolstered by his improvised performance of terror!

He most certainly did not let out a true scream, after all.

Never mind that his throat is noticeably raw, or that there's a disgusting moistness around his eyes, or that intrusive flashes of a certain Space God's enraged face force him to stifle full-body shudders, or...

Ahem. These... symptoms, are clearly, unquestionably unrelated. Of course.

Anyhow. After letting out a good low chuckle to himself, (full of very real confidence,) he acknowledges his surroundings. A rather small island; he's not sure he recognises it. Though, it's not like he cares much about the where, anyway. He's much more interested in the when.

Certainly not his glorious dark future, as the presence of the accursed sun assaulting his eyes makes evident. He can't wait to snuff it out again...

Masking any struggle borne of lingering aches and pains, he levitates himself up to the top of the largest tree in his immediate vicinity and materialises his legs to perch there. The simple, mundane act most definitely does not leave him winded, thank you very much.

From the new vantage point, he looks around, and... hmm. This island really is in the middle of nowhere, huh? If he squints, he can make out another similarly sized island somewhat nearby, and opposite of it, if he squints even harder, he thinks he can just barely spot a larger landmass, way off in the distance. But apart from those, all there is is endless water.

The lack of structures doesn't help him pinpoint a time period, unfortunately. That's fine, he'll just travel until he comes across some. Though, as he squints into the distance again, he mentally calculates it may take nearly a full day of travel to reach that far-off landmass, and that's assuming the seas are calm...

Well. It's nothing he can't handle, of course. The distance will be nothing to him once he recuperates a decent chunk of his strength; having the option to disobey gravity makes everything easier.

But, as much as it pains him to admit it, he isn't in any shape for such a journey this moment. He... just needs a day or two of rest. (False; even a week would be an underestimate, his thoughts hiss. He dismisses it.)

Yes, a day or two, he emphasises, and he'll be back to his typical schemes as if nothing happened. This is but a temporary setback, after all.

For now, he supposes he could use a shelter. Not many options on this tiny lump of dirt, but he'll look around anyway. He crosses his arms as he gives the land a bored once-over.

Dirt. Grass. Rocks. Sand. Trees. How utterly fascinating, he mentally snarks, rolling his eyes. However, during said eye-roll, he catches a glimpse of something between the trees. Flickering darkness, a flash of a flowing white plume...

A bewildered glowing eye staring up into its identical twin situated on his own face.

...

Huh?

Coherent thought sputtered out as he stared and stared and the other's eye stared right back. Indeed, he was very, very, confused.

(Soon after this would be these events.)

Edit: hiiiii there's a writing follow up now too :D

Um. A/N stuff below, I guess.

uhh i guess i'm doing a bit of writing for this now. mostly just to act as like. connective tissue between the comic things. some stuff is hard to convey through art. so yea.

i already have ideas for what to write about in the time between pmd2 darkrai getting grabbed and him being dragged to cresselia lol. (also i need to nickname the two darkrais at some point but aahhh im bad at namesss)

as one can probably deduce, he's on newmoon island. in a later writing segment thingy i might explain my headcanons for how the worlds differ in this au thing

im gonna be jumping around and doing stuff very out of order bc im not really trying to do a serious plot lol i'm mostly just goofing around. like the comic thing im currently working on is of events that might be like.. several months later? im actually gonna try to polish it up a bit so hopefully it's cool 👀

[penguinxturtle]

cool with you | gojo satoru x reader

/synopsis: for once, satoru felt the blooming desire of love.

/word count: 1k

/notes: cupid!gojo & cupid!geto, inspired by newjeans' cool with you mvs (so yeah expect the angst whwhw). somewhat reference to cupid and psyche. one-shot, gender-neutral pronouns. also crossposted on ao3.

Satoru, a god, and as beautiful as he was. Such a pity for humans who are unable to see his god-like beauty.

He was a known Cupid who never fails on his missions. He always make sure that his missions don’t go to a halt or fail. With just one gaze of his cerulean, Six Eyes, on his target. The effects of falling in love, connecting their hearts ensues between two people. The divine power within his Six Eyes is truly a glorious, pride, and joy of his as being The Cupid. Closely embodiment of Eros.

Cloudy, as Satoru already predicted that it would rain soon. He doesn’t forget to bring an umbrella when he knows it’s about to rain. A god like him will become visible to the human eye when they get showered in the rain.

He goes out on his another mission: making people fall in love. As he already activated the Six Eyes on his target, the mission is almost completed. The two people already looked at each other, lovingly. Satoru smiled affirmatively, opens his umbrella and walked away. The rain started to pour.

With the umbrella on, the rainfall somehow made him feel dull as he wondered what is it like to be a human. He sighed. Another mission was sent to him as he walked in the marbled hallways of the museum.

Looking for his target, he stumbled upon a majestic landscape painting of “Eros and Psyche”. With his cerulean eyes reflected upon on the painting, adoring the idealized love presented on the art. Something awakens within him. The feeling of love. A person walks beside him, admiring the painting he also admires.

Satoru, who connects people’s hearts with his Six Eyes, falls in love at first sight with a human in front of this painting. He lovingly gazed on the person on his side. The person unable to see him anyway.

Ironically, that was his supposed target for his mission.

Who cares? Rules are made to be broken. Cupids deserved to be loved too.

Every day and night, he always follows them like a guardian angel instead of a Cupid. He always look at them with adoration just like that painting. He was inspired. Deeply in love.

When the person is sleeping in the bed, he is always beside them, looking at them lovingly with his Six Eyes. Wanting to give them a kiss on their lips, he leaned over. A realization comes to him and he started to look upon the mirror on the bed side that shows only the reflection of them without him. He needs to be a human, a mortal to show his love to them.

Raining, he goes out on the street letting himself get rained on. Embracing himself as a human who is capable to love and able to connect with his love. He abandoned her identity as a god, as a Cupid. With his arms open wide on the rainy skies, accepting the feeling of love wholly.

Satoru, now visible to human eyes, he make known himself to the person he deeply desires, the one he deeply want to showered his love on. The person stood there, transfixed on his cerulean eyes, literally love at first sight, they accepted him. Both felt the love, the joy, and the desire of one another. Happily in love everyday. Sharing kisses, hugs, cuddles, comfort, going on dates, name any sweet couple would do. Satoru truly meet the love of his life.

-

One fateful day, Satoru sighed deeply knowing his actions have consequences which he broken the rule and failed his supposed mission, which is his lover. He knows that someday or sooner a Cupid will intervene their relationship. A god like him and human should not fall in love, the rule shared between Cupids.

He received a call to his lover to meet along the way for an afternoon lunch. Satoru excitedly responded, grinning and saying “See you love, I love you so much.”

“Me too, I love you Satoru.” The call dropped.

While walking along the cobbled streets, Satoru can’t helped but he feels that someone is watching him. He felt someone send a fellow Cupid to do the work.

Once reached in the pedestrian, his cerulean eyes immediately found his lover in the other side. His lover recognized him too, both lovingly smiled and wave at each other. The traffic lights went yellow. Until, a Cupid with sharp, onyx eyes appeared on the scene. His smile faltered.

Suguru, a Cupid known for his long, luscious raven hair, was called down to correct the responsibility of his fellow Cupid. There is a sweetness and bitterness that comes with his onyx eyes. As a usual Cupid he can able to make people fall in love. He can also make a fellow Cupid give a realization. The pain of being a Cupid. Unable to show love as ironically given the duty to make other people love. Many Cupids had been gone through his eyes and which is why he was gained a name “Cupid of Judgement”.

Satoru know that this time will come, still shocked, stunned once he saw Suguru just behind on his lover. His cerulean eyes meet the judgement stare of the onyx eyes. Sadness and hurt reflected on Satoru’s face as Suguru once shifted his gaze to his lover. Suguru made Satoru’s lover fall in love with another mortal.

The traffic lights went red, people started to cross. The once human who fall in love in a cupid-turned-to-mortal was no longer there. Their gaze no longer connected with Satoru’s and shifted to other person. They were unable to see Satoru once again as they crossed paths. He looked back as he witnessed the moment of the reality. Six Eyes reflected bitterness.

“So this is what humans called pain huh..” He felt broken-hearted.

Suguru disappeared after depriving Satoru of his love. Satoru realizes his fate of what he really was. He shed his last tears as a human and returns back to a Cupid once again.

[mustangbby]

-> theres no place quite like here

synopsis -> you take shenhe to a gorgeous location to spend your lantern rite together. the whole purpose? was to catch a glamorous sunset.

warnings -> none! pure fluff.

a/n -> someone plz know what song i quoted. i will be so happy if someone can recognize these lyrics omg

w/c -> 907

“shenhe, come on! the beautiful sunset is only preserved for so long. blink and you’ll miss it!” you rushed your wife out the door, keeping an eye on the outside to make sure that tonight, this visit will be worth it.

she sighed, proceeding to put on a pair of shoes quicker than the pace she followed before, as you were anxiously bouncing on your heels. she didn’t necessarily understand what was going to happen, she just knew you were excited.

as soon as she had her shoes on she was dragged out the door, immediately forced into a sprint. she was surprised with how long you were able to run for- but she also kept your speed. 

you ran what felt like the extent of liyue until you got to the heart of yilong wharf. you stopped running, cuing her to also stop too. you bought a few snacks, hastily pulling a pouch of mora out of your pocket and likely tipping those stall owners a fair amount, you took off into a sprint once again. 

but this time, there was mountain climbing involved. you groaned, looking back at shenhe, who simply nodded and told her where to go. you climbed ahead of her, but she took a more advanced route, giving you time to breathe every once in a while. that didn’t slow your pace, though.

finally, your awaited destination was just a large rock away. the sun was also, finally in the perfect position, making the skies a beautiful mix of purples, pinks, and reds. you did your last climb and layed on the ground of mt. mingyuan, exhausted from all the effort you made to come up here. 

“what was the point of this trip?” questioned a very confused shenhe. you giggled a little bit.

“look behind you, shen.”

and that she did. you could see her eyes glimmer with elation. once she saw the gorgeous sky, she nodded, flashing a small smile in your direction. there was nobody else up here- it showed nobody wanted to do the actual work of climbing such a distance, but that only meant that it was all the more special for the both of you. 

shenhe got up and walked to the spot you patted next to you. she sat down, crossing her legs and sitting straight up. sometimes you admired how she had such perfect posture, and this was one of those times. well, assuming adeptal arts practice good posture, you picked up where she learned it from. you straightened up under influence from the white haired woman inches from you.

you wanted to hug her, bring her in tight to your body, but you thought to let her have her moment. she seemed to be admiring the view in front of her, signaling she doesn’t get to see these things too often. 

“you know, sunsets like these are hard to come by around here. i’ve heard that inazuma has the prettiest by far,” she starts, and you look out at the horizon alongside her. she stands up, walking towards the mountains edge. “but i do not believe that it can pass over this one. i haven’t seen anything like this, even with my moments living up on the mountain tops with master.” 

you nod, and she looks back at you. 

“maybe it’s so pretty because it’s the lantern rite. or maybe it’s because you are alongside me on this fine night. but one thing i may have to say is that theres certainly no place like here.” 

you smiled. you were glad shenhe liked it, you had planned this out for months, just waiting for the right day to give its chance. and it seemed it was that day- the same day as the glorious, big fireworks that happen every year go off. 

“shenhe, you know the fireworks go off tonight, right?” you put a serving of tofu into your mouth, having bought a bag of almond tofu from a local vendor below. “i would’ve brought you to liyue city if the day wasn’t as gorgeous as it is now. i know you dislike crowded areas anyways, so this played well in our favor.”

she nodded, taking a seat on the cliffside. you crawled through the small patch of grass separating you from her, and took your seat right next to her. you offered her some tofu, which she accepted and slowly ate a piece before looking back out, the sky being a dark blue, reminding the world that the day doesn’t last forever. 

after a few hours of either talking or just basking in each others presence, you saw the first gorgeous ray of pink fire, signaling the first firework has been shot off and the show has started. you felt like you had front row seats; though liyue was rather far from your current location, the fireworks were big enough and set off in an easily accessible place, even allowing people from dragonspine to see if they’re at a certain angle. 

you felt shenhe sigh on your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smile slightly, hugging her back, scooting back a bit as to not fall off the cliff. 

you both watched the rest of the show, getting up and heading home when it was over. you genuinely had a fun time tonight, and though she didn’t show it, you could tell shenhe did too. what a life, you thought.

[tspud-whiteboard]

[Full Previews, Final Files and Extras can be found on GoogleDrive!] !!! THE DEADLINE HAS ARRIVED !!! (End of June it was) I am currently working on putting together the final files, but as this might take a while, YOU CAN STILL KEEP SENDING ME YOUR FELLAS! Once I’ve prepared the actual, finished, fullsize versions, this pinned post will unpin itself and I’ll put a different one here, with the final previews, the download links and some information what the future may hold... maybe I’ll do a Season Two if the interest is there. But we’ll have to see about that. For now, [SUBMIT MORE] like the wind while you still can! Hello, hello! Welcome to The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe Whiteboard Collaboration (a just-for-fun fan project)! I’m assuming that you found your way here because you’re well aware what The Stanley Parable is, and that you are curious to know what a Whiteboard Collaboration might be about!

Let me cut straight to the case then. It all started in 2023 - the 27th of April, to be precise - which just so happened to be the One Year Anniversary for the release of The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe on Steam and consoles, along with the historically very important and internationally renowned - or at the very least grudgingly accepted - 4/27: STANLEY DAY!

To celebrate the occasion, and only one day too late on the 28th, an idea came forth to put together a Whiteboard, containing all those Stanleys by all the fan artists out there (all credited, of course!), a worthy tribute to the Man of the Hour! And as you can see... we’ve already got quite a few collected!

But why stop there? Since plenty of people also came up with their own Narrator designs, and there’s a good few Timekeeper-Settings-432s and Curators, and plenty of other characters (defining the term loosely here), we might as well give them all their own little space to look absolutely dashing next to each other! Imagine, all those different designs, united in one glorious collection!

My point being... I’d love to see yours in there as well.

So... how can you join in?

The gist can be found up there in the first image, but let me also put it into text form down here, with some extra information:

[Submit] your Stanley, Narrator, 432 or Curator mugshot (or all of them at the same time!). You have [some other canon TSP favorite]? Go ahead, submit ‘em, too! We’ll find a spot. The format of the picture needs to be 300px (width) x 400px (height) to fit with the others. I can resize and cut them into shape if needed, but it’ll be easier on all of us if I don’t have to do that. All pictures will have a small white frame added by me afterwards, to give them that authentic printout flair.

Should the [Submit] button not work for you (I triple-checked and it works for me, but then who knows what this thing does while I’m not looking), sending your artworks through PM or tell me where you posted them is fine as well!

AUs and all art styles are fine! Please only submit one picture per character (if you have more than one design, maybe pick your favorite, or elegantly squeeze them into one picture. If you absolutely cannot decide, sending two pictures per character is okay, but I’d like to cap it there to give everyone equal amounts of space.

Must be Safe For Work!

This is also very important: Tell me how to credit you! Your name will go under your artwork, I do have to put something there. I’ll likely default to your username if I have nothing else to go by, but it’s best if you directly tell me, right there in your submission.

I will publish your submission(s) on here as soon as I’ve added it to the queue, so you’ll know it went through okay, and so you can show it around to others if you wish! (I can’t do that with PMs, of course.)

THE DEADLINE: Please try to submit your artworks before the End of June! Yes, 2023. This month. In this year. There’s a chance I’ll change this if a sudden influx of new entries rolls in, but as of now it looks like it’s a good time to start wrapping this up. I want my life back and all. ...But prove me wrong, why don’tcha? Why not tell your favorite TSP artists that they NEED TO BE ON THIS THING? NEED TO! WE CRAVE THEM, PRECIOUS. ...Sorry, got carried away there.

I give updates regularily. Previews of the latest Whiteboard statuses, questions that need answering, sometimes I might just add some nonsense rambles, all inclusive, for free.

The FINAL files, whenever they’re ready, will be 8000x4000px in size each and are mostly a much bigger version of the previews, with maybe a few small changes for the aesthetics.That’s quite massive. Humongous. It’s really impressive to browse all those artworks next to each other at that size. Here’s the [Google Drive] link, for all to download from and share around. So far, you can always find the latest Previews and a bunch of random Extras there, along with the first fullsize Stanley board as a test. Please do make suggestions if there’s better options, or if you can’t drive the Google.

I also post on Twitter and the Crows Crows Crows Discord server (fanart channel). If either of those are more comfortable options for you, or if you know someone on there who might also be interested in joining this collaboration, maybe poke me so I can give you directions. Or you might be able to find it yourself, I’m not actively hiding them away. Not even passively.

I think that’s all for now! If you have questions, suggestions, reservations, my Asks should be open. Looking forward to hopefully a lot more additions to the Whiteboards, there’s quite a few of you guys I’d loooove to see on there!

[lintwriting]

i think i really love how visceral the politics of signalis is. not just in the in-your-face propaganda aspects. but like, the way it dooms the narrative.

the whole plot of signalis is based around two entirely disconnected settings -- the Penrose ship and the Sierpinski prison. They are so disconnected from each other across time and space that you spend the whole first half of the game disoriented by the whiplash these two locations give you.

and personally? I stayed confused until I realized what connected them:

they're the two branching paths of Ariane's future.

after her military service, she gets a state letter informing her that if she's not accepted into the Penrose program, she'll be sent to Sierpinski, a "re-education" camp that's actually just a prison mine.

And, to her luck, she "somehow did end up joining the Nation's Penrose Program, the same one on the posters she had seen years prior."

I love and hate the way the wiki frames it, because yes the Penrose space expedition program seemed preferable to the prison camp.Yes, she had seen posters of it and glamorized it as a new start for her. After all, she was an art-obsessed outsider in a world where people molded into being unfeeling machines, where art is frivolous and degenerate except for how it serves as propaganda. Why not dream of a new planet?

But it's all a lie. The Penrose program sounds too good to be true for Ariane-- how can this under-qualified, ostracized freak get accepted into such a prestigious program? -- because it IS too good to be true.

The truth of the program is that it's a glorified propaganda tool, and a useful way to get rid of political enemies. Just send them off into space and tell them it's for the good of the empire, to find new planets to colonize. Then, after 7.74 years of loyal service to the program, tell them:

If you have not found a suitable world for landing by this point, accept that you will not. Find solace in the thought that others might be successful where you failed.

Remenber, you will die having served your Nation by partaking in a glorious demonstration of our power. --- End of decrypted transmission ---

As you are probably aware, your ship's spare parts and rations will soon be depleted.

Penrose is ostensibly about founding new colonies on different planets, but the reality is that these vessels seem to have very little planning put into them, like throwing darts at the wall and hoping one of them will stick. Some people wonder about the efficacy of wasting ships of supplies for this seemingly useless endeavor, but they're missing the point and buying into the propaganda.

The truth is that Ariane was just a pawn for their political power play, quite literally a demonstration of their power, like a horrifying version of The Tallest sending Invader Zim on a useless quest to conquer Earth to keep him out of their hair, like Ozai banishing Zuko off to chase a hundred year old myth. And it cost Ariane her future.

And like, that means no matter what, Ariane never had a future. Penrose is death by space, and Sierpinski is death by mines. She never had a choice, only the illusion of one, because she was doomed by the political reality of living in under an authoritarian state that would never value her.

And like, it's so impossible to ignore the similarities of this to the Cultural Revolution in China. I think the retro aesthetic of the nation references that, along with the Chinese characters littering all the walls.

Ariane's story reminds me a lot of Ye Wenjie's story from the 3 Body Problem, as a similarly powerful woman who also dooms the whole world because of the ANGUISH of the Cultural Revolution destroying her future.

Except, unlike Ye Wenjie, we're not going to get a bunch of assholes calling her an Eve, doomer of mankind. Instead, the story actually succeeds at portraying Ariane as a tragedy doomed by the narrative.

[thusspoketrish]

FINAL Chapters | The Art of Getting By

Chapter 12: If You're Not Made For Me, Why Did We Fall In Love?

Chapter 13: Take Care

Excerpt, Chapter 12:

It begins as a subtle discomfort, a nagging sensation at the edge of Harry’s consciousness.  It’s easy to dismiss—a minor annoyance he brushes aside as he goes about his daily routine. But with each passing day, it grows: a persistent prickling heat that seeps into his thoughts, slowly unravelling him.  At first, it’s the small things: Will’s smug face grates on his nerves. Therapy sessions with Healer Adebayo run too long for his liking. Even his cup of tea scalding his tongue feels like an offence.  But soon, Harry begins to see things that shouldn’t exist here: flashes of a dark shadow, figures laughing at and taunting him in the corner of his vision, vanishing before he gets a proper look. They all vaguely resemble re-animated bodies of students he’s seen scattered across the grounds of Hogwarts. At night, his dreams twist into nightmares plagued with screams and faceless figures contorted in agony. Memories of running from the spray of spells, of his classmates being struck down, feel like he is reliving the Battle. And there are always those crimson red eyes, watching Harry, painfully ripping through his mind every night.  The nightmares bleed into his waking hours. He hears voices—whispers that seem to materialise from thin air, hellbent on mocking and condemning him. They recount his every mistake, list the names of every life lost, and lay the blame for their deaths on his shoulders.

Read The Art of Getting By on AO3, here.

Please mind the tags and warnings for this story.

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I need to give another shoutout to my glorious beta, @youknowyoudid for the phenomenal work she's been doing in triple checking over these chapters again before posting!!! Thank you!!! x

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Image Text:

The Art of Getting By

If You're Not Made For Me, Why Did We Fall In Love?

Written by Trishjames and Edited by YouKnowYouDid

(Image Below): Take Care

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Chapter 12 Playlist:

SYML: Fear of the Water

Björk: Stonemilker

Regina Spektor: Hero

Moses Sumney: Me in 20 Years

Isabella Summers: I Can See Clearly Now

Chapter 13 Playlist:

Beach House: Take Care

Joji: Like You Do

THE END.