#just majoring in history of art lol

[mvrdermeharder]

So in the wake of ch 294, i’ve been thinking about what’s left for Kaiser’s development…

Unfortunately, as i had expressed in one of my prev posts, i think his story has a very high chance of ending in tragedy (by which i mean death).

BUT, as he’s my fav trash boy, i’m not willing to give up on hope just yet. So i kinda want to ramble a bit about Archangel Michael’s history and iconography to find a leeway towards a better ending… and i’ll possibly do a deep dive in another post.

As i’m in the midst of editing… “deep dive” lmao as if this post didn’t end up as long as it did.

So basically, it’s a fact that bllk is full of christian symbology and references (mainly when it comes to kainess, to be specific), and it’s obvious that not only Kaiser’s given name, but also his appearance is inspired by how Saint Michael is represented in the most famous paintings:

Long(er) blond hair, androgynous facial features, wearing a blue tunic + often a red piece of cloth floating around him (Kaiser is permanently wearing these two colors on his body: red eyeliner tattoo, blue rose tattoo. Blue is also just his signature color in general.)

But here’s what i find even more interesting: Kaiser’s character is not only based on Archangel Michael, but it also incorpores a lot of visual elements that Lucifer is represented with (Lucifer is God’s ex-favorite angel, who CHALLENGED AND REBELLED AGAINST GOD, so then God kicked him out of heaven basically… you’ll likely know this angel by the name of Satan)

Now, the representations of Lucifer/Satan vary throughout history, with the earliest representations being in Egypt… so i won’t mention everything bc we’d be here for hours, instead i’ll just boil it down to only those characteristics that Kaiser and Lucifer have in common in SOME representations.

So, Lucifer/Satan is often represented as the most beautiful angel of all, sometimes in blue/red clothing, completely nude, OR in a demon like form: a goat-man with hooves, horns, and bat like wings. In the panel below, Kaiser takes up an anthropomorphic form (humanlike traits mixed with animalistic traits) as he immerses himself in his own malice: his legs and feet remind me of the hooves of a goat-man, aka Lucifer.

So despite Kaiser being a sort of reincarnation of Archangel Michael, his personality morphs into that of the cruel and sadistic Lucifer. He wants to rebel against God, he longs to cast his malice on the world’s football players to feel joy (just like how Satan finds enjoyment in tormenting humans), and in the latest chapter he claims that it was wrong to let go of his malice towards Yoichi, and that he should rely on his malicious urges to steal…

(For context, i’m using panels w the official translations, NOT the more widespread PO2 ones)

So now that i’ve explained how Kaiser takes on the characteristics of both of these angels, i want you to scroll back a bit to the paintings of St. Michael.

What we see in these paintings is the battle between St. Michael and Lucifer. We see Michael stepping down on Lucifer, in a complete victory. (The sword in his hands represents rightful justice, but that’s not very important rn)

And the way i see it, the manga might follow this story. But not in the traditional way of physical conflict between two bodies, instead, it’s an incredible internal and psychological conflict!

The great battle takes place in Kaiser’s mind, and if Kaneshiro intends to follow the famous biblical story, this conflict will end with the “defeat” of Kaiser’s unhealthy mentality (=defeat of his satan-like qualities).

Or at least that’s what I’m hoping for w this theory. I really don’t want to see my boy dead due to his fucked up mentality (Mick Moon theory… oh how i loathe u)

Paintings that i’ve used for reference:

Guido Reni - Archangel Michael defeats Satan

Luca Giordano - Saint Michael

Antonio Maria Esquivel - The Fall of Lucifer

Luca Giordano - The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - (Little) Saint Michael

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - Saint Michael Vanquishing Satan

Francisco Goya - Witches' Sabbath

[jamtamart]

i do sometimes worry i come off super pretentious and up myself whenever i share my thought process on my own art, or even just posting my art in general . i promise i dont take myself too seriously !!! i promise!!!!!!! its all just intrigue for me. simply the fact that i have had art theory/history as one of my main special interests since i was a kid, and then coincidentally became an artist a couple years down the line as well !! 😭😭😭😭 and i like seeing what i can implement into my own work, esp when i constantly hear ab how ppl think that side of art is boring/unnecessary. i dont rly have any opportunities in my day-to-day to infodump or just talk about that sorta stuff in general too so i gotta take what i get yknow

[bmpmp3]

Audine :)

[tsubasaclones]

the worst part of college is the goddamn art history discussion posts every week

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#REAL!! #how is the argument that people would like female characters more if they were better written #but then alicent was changed to be better written in the show and suddenly it was #well we would like her more if she was more shallow again :) (via @claraisms)

#they are LYING #they wanted it to be black & white they cannot stand a grey area character unless it is an attractive man #they cannot fathom liking a woman who isn't 10000000% in the right at all times #and they hate female villains anyway. they wouldn't understand book cersei if dnd had given her to us they already hate show cersei #if they were given he's in the walls i am a genius cersei they would just be ableist AND sexist instead of just sexist (via @ecce-felix)

‘alicent would be better liked if they’d just made her an evil stepmother’ stupidest discourse i literally don’t believe you. i’d love her like that book alicent is my friend but people couldn’t even handle her being a bitch after half a season establishing her as an absolute victim of targaryen power and her father. even in the book where she’s a manipulative harpy antagonising her stepdaughter she’s still explicitly in sexual situations with targs as a child it just isn’t interrogated as something that shaped her. ‘female characters just aren’t as complex/well-written as male characters’ but when they are the actress gets death threats

[captivating-flavors]

mine | caleb

pairing: college au caleb x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: you're going on a date. caleb wants to stop you.

words: 1,221

warning(s): possessiveness, obsessiveness, mc being referred to as caleb's adoptive sister

a/n: ok its like almost 3am and i got work tmr lol but i got so inspired whilst i was on my way home from work today so i kinda just finished this like half an hour ago and in one sitting and so yeah this is pretty much unedited andddd i sort of told @mayooness that i might make a part two of this into either a jealous caleb smut or fluff but i still dk (also putting into consideration the fact that i suck at writing smut, so the jury is still out) anywaysss enjoy? reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

masterlist

Caleb is a Grade A pretender. Especially when it comes to you.

The first time was in ninth grade, when he had to pretend that he didn’t have a crush on his adoptive sister’s best friend, as she teased him for his attentiveness towards her best friend as he handed you his umbrella and had to walk through the rain home.

The second time was two days after the first incident, when he had to pretend that he was fine as one of his classmates asked you out.

The third time was later that day when he had to pretend that he had no feelings whatsoever towards you when his sister teased him for being jealous of the classmate who asked you out.

Of course, with them being tight as thieves, she knew he was lying. The three of you grew up together, so of course she also knew that he had a huge crush on you. She knew she wouldn’t mind you dating him, all she wanted was for the two most important people in her life to be happy and if that’s with each other then so be it.

From then on, Caleb has definitely lost count of the times he had to pretend that you were nothing more than his friend or his sister’s best friend.

That ends today, though.

Ah yes, he should probably start with a little bit of a life update and context first.

It was yours and Caleb’s second year of college and you had just been cheated on by your moron of an ex a few months ago. Caleb had been there for you, as he always was. He comforted you, kept you company, even warded off unwanted advances from the other guys on campus.

The pretty, heartbroken art major. That was what people were saying about you, unbeknownst to you of course (because Caleb made sure of it!). Your douchebag of an ex had cheated on you with a professor and it even made headlines for a local newspaper, so of course it was like an open secret.  

It had been a few months, but you still weren’t ready to date, obvious by how you kept rejecting advances here and there (fret not, the creeps and the ones who couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer were all handled by Caleb!), or so Caleb thought. When he heard from his sister, who went to a different college, that you called her to tell her that you had a date with ’Devon’ from Art History, he knew he had to rush to your apartment.

The two of you lived in the same apartment building, but he lived on the floor above you. The two of you had each other’s keys so it was normal for the two of you to drop by unannounced at each other’s places.

“Y/N? You home?” Caleb called out as he closed and locked the door of your apartment behind him.

“In here!” You responded, your voice slightly muffled, coming from the direction of your bedroom.

Caleb walked past the entry way and the kitchen to get to your room. As he reached the open door of your room, he saw that you were wearing a bathrobe and that your hair and makeup was done. There were also several dresses laid out on your bed.

Oh, how it killed him to know that you had dolled yourself up so, so prettily for someone else.

“Perfect timing! I need your input.” You beamed.

“What for?” The pretender was back at it again.

“Which one looks better? This one?” You asked as you held out a yellow sundress in front of you before putting it on your bed and grabbing the other dress, “Or this one?” You asked again, this time holding a light blue midi dress.

“The blue one. Where are you off to?” Caleb tried his best to keep his tone to his usual light and cheery tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we have plans for tonight?” You said distractedly as you grabbed the yellow dress and turned to put it back on your closet. Caleb could only watch as you walked towards your bathroom with the blue dress in your hand.

“No… we don’t. But I was about to ask if you wanted to go to that new café that just opened a week ago. I knew you wanted to try their cheesecake.” He answered as he heard the shuffling sounds of you changing in your bathroom.

“Oh. I can’t… uh… I’m going on a date tonight.” You responded as you walked out of the bathroom, now wearing the light blue dress he had chosen. The sight of you looking so beautiful sent short circuited his brain and it was like no words could come out of him at the moment.

He blinked and tried to keep it together before saying, “Oh? Whom with?”

“This guy from my Art History class. His name’s Devon.”

“That… sounds nice.” No, no it doesn’t. He wanted to delete the guy from the face of the earth.

You gathered your phone and purse and walked towards the door as you said, “Yeah, I’m actually running late. He says that he’s picking me up at seven and its…” You put on a pair of heels before pausing to glance at your watch and pointed out, “Oh! Won’t you look at that. I’m already five minutes late. I gotta run. See you later, Caleb!”

No. No. No! There was no way he was going to let you go on that date. Especially when you’re dolled up that pretty! There was also no way that he’s letting you go to another jerk who didn’t know you as well as he did. He didn’t even know this ‘Devon’ guy, but Caleb was sure that the guy didn’t deserve you and won’t be able to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

You reached out your hand and opened the door to your apartment. The door, unfortunately, didn’t manage to open all the way for you to go through. Caleb rushed towards you and planted his palm on the door, slamming it back shut.

“Caleb.” You said, trying to stay calm and not flip out at the fact that Caleb was going to make you extra late, “What the heck are you doing?”

Caleb had your back flushed against his chest, “Caleb. Let me go.” You still had your hand around the handle of your apartment door.

He took your hand and spun you around, so you’d face him, before planting both his hands right on the door, caging you.

“What are you doing?” You asked once more, looking up at his much taller frame.

Caleb looked down, let out a dark chuckle before looking right back at you, “I can’t let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re mine. I’ll be damned if I let you go on a date with another man. Not again.” He leaned down and moved his face closer to yours.

You gulped. You had never been this close to him, so of course there was an unfamiliar nervousness that crept down your spine, “Caleb, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been right here all along. When are you going to realize that?” He said darkly before slamming his lips onto yours.

-

taglist: @mayooness

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[rayroseu]

IM GOING CRAZY THE COMPOSITION OF THIS CARD IS SURREAL HELLO I REVIVED

The point of view and Silver's character taking up majority of the canvas to symbolize this is HIS moment, The way he unsheathes his sword!!! On Dawn's sprite, it looks like its just a glowing light, but on Silver's art here it looks like a glowing metal !! THE WAY HIS HAIR FLOWS AND HIS ARMOR GLISTEN TOO THE NECKLACE AND AURORAL RING AT THE VERY CENTER OF THE PIC HE'S SO VIBRANT AGAINST THE DARK ATMOSTPHERE OF THE ART WHICH MAKES HIM MORE EMPHASIZED😭💖💞💖💞✨✨✨

HES SO COOL THEY ATE ISTG FINALLY ITS A CARD THAT TRULY HIGHLIGHTS SILVER AS A KNIGHT !!!!!

I also love the little details that his armor glows in a purple light, maybe not because of magic, but because one of Malleus' attack is a PURPLE FIRE, Silver's magic is light so ofc it'll reflect its surroundings (like with this card where he's surrounded by a dark pink mist probably from the smoke of the purple fire(?) on his armor and silver hair

The POV of this card also parallels General Lilia too.

worms eye view, focus on the weapon, one eye visible, 3/4 angle, fighting stance position, flowing hair, glowing cape--

Silver back in his last birthday card also said this line, very obvious but I'm still impressed at how this card really matched his new SSR

It literally has the same pose for both Malleus and Silver, the same composition and lighting, the final chapter is just Malleus and Silver possibly repeating the history that Lilia doesn't want to relive again, I feel like I'm gonna cry in the next chapter 😭💔💔💔

additional but I love the little sneak of Malleus' tail here, you KNOW ITS REALLY HIM BECAUSE OF THE TAIL END 😭💞💖 HE'S SO COOL IN HIS DRAGON FORM PLEASE DONT KILL HIM 💔💔💔💔

also side note Malleus' dragon wings have really translucent skin(?), I already knew their wings are semi see through considering this sprite of Meleanor with faded, pale colored wings, but with Malleus I guess its more translucent and more purple?? But it could also appear mkre translucent bcs his dragon form is behind a light source which makes it a bit look like its glowing--

I hope there'll be a trivia about his dragon form, I'm so interested how can he fly with such thin and translucent wings !! but I know they wont elaborate and they'll just magic it away for the explanation lol

side note but what i love the most about Malleus dragon form is that his wings looks like dragonfly wings with its transparent skin and root-like textures on them✨

Meleanor has them too? But her art is on Chibi form so her details on her dragon form is generalized (its the lines on her wings that suppose to signify the skin of her wings are crumpled and with root-textures like Malleus' has)

EDIT

ARMOR OF DAWN SILVER BEING A VOID MAGIC ATK LILIA DUO SSR CARD STOPPP ITS ITA A PARALLEL TO MALLEUS DORM UNIFORM SSR IM CRASHING OUTTT 😭😭��✨✨✨✨

[darqx]

Well i talk about it talk about it talk about it

The beginning of FUNKY TOWN is still stuck in my head.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Thanks, I'm glad my art improvement is noticeable :D I have actually KIND OF redrawn scenes before such as

and a bunch of frames from

so who knows i might do some more at some point lol!

YOU GUYS STILL SEND THEM TO ME :d

I don't actually get that many, i just tend to answer months worth all at once so it looks like a lot haha. I also don't answer a bunch of them if I've already answered something similar before or the answer is in my FAQ. Though I'm going to be honest some of the asks that get sent to me I don't think anyone expects me to actually answer, because they're just weird enough that if i turned off anon i'm pretty sure no one would be asking them.

My free time (...when I'm not procrastinating |D ) is trying to be spent on BP so I currently dont have any plans beyond the fun little doodles and animatics and stuff that I usually do. Gato is working on YKMET so if you guys like Strade then you have that to look forward to :)

(Why thank you!)

The armour follows his usual colour scheme which is gold on black.

You can tell this ask is from January lol.

Thanks haha my colouring style layers colour over colour so colour over grayscale always just looks oddly muddy in my POV |D ESPECIALLY LIGHT COLOURS LIKE YELLOW.

Demons can traditionally reproduce within the same species or with a compatible species.

Psychology, Law or Politics. I think these are the top normal majors you could take where the info you learn from them could be really useful in not getting fucked over and/or fucking someone else over.

I haven't been asked to make chibis for Gato this time around so you'll probably be getting something different for your finished runs!

Demon Commons.

All demons have some sort of specific mark that they are born with (anywhere on their body). The exact reason why has been lost to time, but it often gets used for identification. Here are some of the rest of my demon characs:

Hm, if I have to consider real life anatomy (nooooooo XD) the yellow is probably his iris.

Man i've answered so many asks i sometimes only remember saying something when another asks sounds familiar lmao 🤔 Ok; Rire, as a demon of station, has been captured in the background of some historical paintings and photographs, sometimes without his knowledge but always to his amusement later when he finds out. Like just imagine you are intensely studying art history and in those paintings of events with lots of people in it, suddenly your eye happens to catch upon a tall dark haired figure wearing sunglasses from that time period somehow blending in amongst everyone else there.

He has no particular preference in this regard.

Rire doesn't have like 🤔...a set criteria as it depends entirely on certain whims; like whether he is looking for business or pleasure, what he's feeling like at the time etc. If it's purely business then there are types of people he would approach that he wouldn't otherwise if it was for mainly entertainment.

They probably average out at about room temperature - they tend to reflect environment temp a bit and the main part that's closest to his back will always be a bit warmer than the rest of the ichor.

Probably not

They are evenly matched

Thanks very much! :D

Rire has been around for a while so yes he would have witnessed a bunch of things in human history. Who he met and who he made deals with is up for debate.

He is "polite" so he would thank you, at the very least. And yes they are his signature flower lol. It wouldnt be any special..er than receiving any other flowers though to him - we are the ones ascribing the meaning to it.

Two for the price of one 🤌🏻 Also this is an insanely old ask but yes you have permission to do fancomics or whatever with him |D

Anon, considering most people know him from a weird "dating sim", I dont think this is as startling an ask as you might think haha.

if it makes you happy.

Pick a nice smell that you particularly jive with and it would be that. This is individual specific so if a whole bunch of people are around Rire they may each perceive something different.

I get asked this question a lot |D I'm gonna be real with you guys - i haven't actively thought about a canon design for his parents because i'm kind of lazy to (since right now i dont need to know what they look like). Until that happens you guys will just have to go off the vague text descriptions i've given before :p

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friend of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a friend at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[nerdykorgi]

QUICK YAP SESH: Location of Gravesfield from The Owl House

so uhm, while I am finishing the rest other art things I did decide at like 3 am to find the supposed "actual" location of Gravesfield. At least, what town would most likely be Gravesfield if it were real.

I used a lot of info from the wiki and that cool official Gravesfield Website Mock-Up that John Bailey Owen posted. (this thing in case no one knows what im talking about)

Anyways to get started, here's this poorly done thing i made in google draw lol, hopefully you can actually read some of it oof. Its color coded to the info below:

Firstly, I do find it interesting how Conneticut was actually the FIRST colony with a relatively large witch panic in the American colonies, happening 40 years before the infamous Salem Witch Trials.

To start off I think the most poorly backed-up possibility is Hamden.

The reason im suggesting Hamden is because it is Dana's hometown and she said she has taken a lot of major inspiration from it. Like churches and graveyards.

However, the reason I'm not drawn to it is because not only was it founded 1786, way over a decade Gravesfield was said to be founded, I also couldn't find too much about Hamden having Witch trials, but if they did it definitely wasn't as big as Wethersfield's or Hartford.

Now I'm basically stuck between Litchfield and Wethersfield.

Litchfield:

Litchfield I was drawn to because of its name really. It means Field of Corpses and that's basically the same thing as Gravesfield lol. On top of that, it also holds the county seat of Litchfield County, something Gravesfield supposedly is as well. (In modern day context of course.)

Also Gravesfield was said to be along Conneticut Route 109, putting right along either Washington pr Litchfield (which J. B. Owen said was probably false on the Washington part but at the same time he uses an image of Washington's river as stated below)

The thing is though, like Hamden it wasnt founded until the 18th century, and there was no witch trial things that i could find. :/

Which then led me to Wethersfield:

Now Wethersfield is WAY more appropriate in both time, setting, and history. Wethersfield was one of the first colonies to be pop-up around the correct time for the Wittebane brothers to arrive in Connecticut. Wethersfield was founded in 1633-34 and Gravesfield in 1635 (Mind the brothers were said to arrive in 1613 I think it was, either this was a continuity error or they were among the very first settlers in Gravesfield.)

Random but it was also called Watertowne before it was changed to Wethersfield.

Anyways, In the Mock-up website we can see at the top, a banner picture of a winding river. Now i did google search this image and it is actually Washington Ct, womp womp, but I think it could actually be pointing to another more prominent river in Connecticut and that's the actual Connecticut River, which Wethersfield is conveniently placed right next to.

Now lets look at a map of Wethersfield:

river, check check, and HOLY SHIT THAT COULD BE THE FLOODED GRAVEYARD LOL (where i circled) Sadly, Its not actually, but it shows how similiar the geography possibly is.

I think last and most importantly however is the fact that Wethersfield is known to have some of the earliest of the witch trials in Connecticut at the time. (There were 9 documented accusations and only 3 executions, one of which was a woman who openly admitted to using to witch craft, Mary Johnson, and a married couple name Joan and John Carrington.) This goes very well with the whole Witch Hunting thing.

Lastly I think the cherry on top would be that they both just look incredibly similar lol:

Also fun fact, If the Wittebane brothers did actually arrive in 1613~ they would have been among the Dutch settlers rather than the British, whom were the ones to found Wethersfield. Take that information how you will but I am certainly going to make some kind of headcannon out of it lol

Anyways more art soon once i actually finish it, but please, Let me know your guy's thoughts :D !

[thebearer]

Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

[lume-ish]

This started out as mostly a building study/practice drawing buildings/understanding dimensions/depth etc. I dont really like how the hotel looks anymore so i might end up redrawing it if I ever get the motivation lol.

Anyway, it ended up as a sorta au? OJ won the lottery and finally started his dream of opening a hotel; except he's very bad at it.

After buying the land for a questionably cheap price, he began tearing down the buildings left by the previous land owners and started construction in the foundations of his hotel. Alas, OJ is not an architect, a lot of his lottery winnings ended up going towards fixing the damages caused by the poor foundation; which just ended up costing more than it would have to have built the building with good sturdy foundation.

In comes Paper, a just graduated Major in Accounting, with minors in business and art history. He's spent a couple years working at a coffee shop looking for work, which is where he first meets OJ.

OJ coming to terms that he can't do this on his own began looking for help with the Hotel. He puts up "Help Wanted" fliers everywhere, most people turned away after getting a closer look believing the Hotel to be a "waste of money" and "the building equivalent of dominoes lines up in a row just waiting for the odd breeze to knock everything down".

Anyway, Paper ends up working with OJ, starting out as just an accountant and helping OJ with his finances but later becomes a co-owner of the Hotel.

Their first tenants are a strange duo, they showed up at random one night, mumbling to themselves about the land and about a "Meeple" and haven't left since. The 2 are pretty reserved and stick mostly to themselves. A lot of strange noises are often heard coming from their hallway, and strange lights flashing under their door can be seen at night.

I imagined it to be very Gravity Falls esc. Idk like the vibes/the story of it all just instead of supernatural more subterrestrial/sci-fi? if that makes sense? Like more unexplained science/eldritch horror kinda?

Like Testtube and Fan would start as sort of mysterious/cryptid-type of neighbours you see once and awhile walking in the hall at like 3am but turn into quirky pals you go alien watching with.

Like throughout the story the crew(OJ, Paper, Testtube, Fan, maybe others) start out as trying to get used to eachother/dealing with their own individual issues into learning the strange history of the land the Hotel rests on.

Anyway, theres more to this au, but idk it'll probably just end up in the pile of WIPs

I want to make a comic or maybe a fic of it but idk I don't really have that kind of time/art stamina.

[thisoneblackjacket]

Theory: Potential timeframe of when one of the Christmas commercials aired (based on the Homewarming update)

Greetings everyone! I'm so excited for the latest update happening next week (looks to be Spring themed 🌈🌺)

Aside from the amazing art, voice acting, and general content we'll see soon, I'm excited to more info behind what happened to the show... especially more clues as to the timeline!

See we generally know how long the show lasted, and we can only assume all the products/ads/content discovered so far were released in between those years, making a timeline out of what we have is tricky....but fun to guess!

Which leads me to that Homewarming update kinda late I know 🎄Obviously they would air all the commercials we saw during the holidays, but I always did wonder which specific year that would be...

But now I believe I have a reasonable guess (at least...for ONE of the commercials)

That's right, I'm talking about that HOOPLAH ad.

Aside from just...the concerning amount of advertising WH surrounded itself with while it aired....this one ad was especially horrid to think about...

I mean, trying to sell cigarettes using a children's show is scummy. And based on the Barnaby's Tobacco Pipe you could have bought at the time....

It's clear what their intentions were

Of course, I think this is meant to be a nod at how some smoking ads were like in the past, the first example popping in my head would be the Flinstones ads from the 60's (example below)

But...since it was a cigarette ad, I think it narrows down when it would have been able to air, due in part of the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act of 1970. Which among other things, prevented any major broadcast mediums (radio/TV/etc) from airing all cigarette commercials:

Assuming our real-world history is the same as WH's, this would mean that the HOOPLAH ad would not have been able to air during more the half of the show's run. And assuming this commercial actually did manage air in general...

That means that we're looking at this ad airing in either 1969 or 1970!

What does that tell us ultimately?

....not much I know lol, but I just found it so neat that even literal public health legislation can be used as a clue to speculate the timeline of this puppet show arg! And hey, maybe this can mean that all the other Christmas commercials we saw would also air at the same time but hey who knows

Thanks if you read this far, this has just been scratching my skull lately, so I had to share it, even if it ended up sounding convoluted/too long. Looking forward to that spring update!

Tldr: The HOOPLAH ad likely aired in either 1969 or 1970, since the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act of 1970 prevented any cigarettes TV commercials from airing after Jan 2, 1971. This may even suggest the other Christmas Ads from that update aired those same year(s) too.

[sp00kymulderr]

sixteen shades of blue

prologue - a barely blue

professor!Dieter x reader

words: 800~

warnings/tags: no major warnings for this part. Reader is not a student. University admin stuff lol, write what you know and all that. Fantasizing about the hot professor who can't deal with basic admin tasks. drug use mention (Dieter, duh). Feelings. Hands. Unedited, unbeta'd, written on my phone I'm sorry for mistakes!

a/n: Happy birthday to my brainrot bestie @chronically-ghosted!!! this is a short little thing which hopefully will lead into a bigger thing one day but I know you have been waiting for him for so long so I'm introducing art history professor!Dieter today especially for you.

"Can you go check 16a?" Your boss calls over to you at your desk, "Looks like the register didn't go through"

You sigh to yourself but respond with a 'sure'.

16a is one of the smaller lecture halls on this side of campus; a quick job but not one you should be involved in, not that you'd ever complain about that - a people pleaser to your core, saying no to a work task felt like you might just die.

You stop short of the hall when you hear his voice, confident and excited, your heart skips a beat when you realise just who is teaching in 16a today.

Dieter had walked into your life when he joined the academic staff of the university a year ago. He was like a whirlwind and a calming breeze all at once, nothing like the stuffy, stuck up professors you usually worked with (worked for, in their minds). Dieter was everything they weren't.

You slip in quietly, and don't make yourself known straight away. He's talking about Cezanne - a particular passion of his - and you enjoy the way his hands move as he speaks, bringing the words to life, giving them a flow and a flourish. One of the rings on his fingers glints in a ray of light, drawing more attention to his hands.

You've thought about those hands a lot. His use of them to express himself. How he moves them in a pattern on any available surface when he's lost in thought. The smooth strokes they help him make on a canvas. He'd set up in one of the campus studios outside of hours to work on his own paintings, and you'd stumbled in following the smell of weed when working late one day. You promised to keep his secret safe if he'd let you watch him paint. It was mesmerising to see him work, to see his talent. He's a wonderful, albiet unconventiional professor, but it's clear his real love lies in making art himself.

You'd thought about his hands in other ways too, ways that made things inside you flutter and heat up. How his touch would feel, fingers dancing on your skin, tracing art on you, making you his masterpiece.

You have to shake the thoughts from your head. It's not appropriate, you're at work. Finally you clear your throat and he turns, a smile immediately lighting up his face, brown eyes deep and excited as he looks you up and down without much subtlty.

"Give me a moment" He says to the class, holding up a finger and barely turning his gaze from you, "Examine that reduction of natural form, and then we'll discuss it"

"Hey" You say quietly, stepping forward. He leans into you, a gesture that feels exceedingly intimate despite the students sat behind you.

"I was thinking about you this morning" Dieter says with what feels like a shyness, an admission, "My muse" he adds, and your heart does a little flutter. He'd been calling you that since you inadvertently helped inspire him on a new work one evening.

"But I'm guessing you're here because i've messed something up, right? Is it the stupid registers again" He sighs dramatically and you can't help but giggle.

"I'm afraid so" You nod and step towards his laptop.

"I hate these fucking things" He groans as he watches you access the system and press a few buttons, he's technology averse and you do feel for him in that sense, but you appreciate that he doesn't complain about your systems and processes that make your job easier.

"Remind me to show you how to use this when you're not teaching, okay?" You mutter, entering some final data and stepping back to the door.

"Thanks. I don't know how this place would even function without you..."

You look away, embarrased at the compliment. He's always telling you how much you help him, how good you are at your job, but it never gets easier hearing praise like that. Especially when you'd like to hear different praise coming out of that mouth, plush lips whispering against your ear while he...

You cut the thought off quick and scurry to open the door, but before you can leave he turns back to you and grabs your hand with a gentle hold. Not entirely appropriate infront of a class full of students but you can't pretend it doesn't thrill you. His large hand is warm, the slight press of his rings is definitely not unpleasant. You’re about to get lost in your horny imagination before he speaks again.

"I'll be in the studio later, come by and see the new piece?" He draws right in, so close you feel his breath, speaking in a near whisper. His eyes are almost pleading, wide and waiting and you could dive into their depths.

You squeeze his hand a little and let an easy smile play on your lips. Youd' hoped he'd ask, it had been a while since you'd seen his work, had him all to yourself... it sounds like the perfect evening to you.

"Nowhere I'd rather be"

[auckie]

I think the things that offend me most nowadays in like, smaller interpersonal interactions rather than grand, sweeping trends in culture, are when people chose to not partake in a wide set of things. Like musical close mindedness, or refusal to try different foods from different cultures. Not watching an entire subset of films bc they’re ‘french’. Avoiding reading bc you say you have adhd and it’s too hard. Like dude I get it, I’m busy. I can be picky. Everyone can. But the willful ignorance of closing yourself off to those VAST portions of the human experience, and not having curiosity and a lust to learn and explore art that was made by someone worlds apart from you either in terms of their culture, era, whatever. I dunno man it just pisses me off so bad. I think it’s arrogant. Like oh you’re comfortable in your safe little bubble huh? And you’re enforcing its barriers with the excuse that you’re autistic and have sensory issues. With music made by black people?? lol okay. It is pretty presumptuous for me to assume malicious intent but I think those prejudices are borne from either the comfort of being someone who’s wealthy and probably white not feeling the need to learn past what they think is enough, or it’s a reflection of a society that’s taught you to prioritize what it shills— popular, current (white, depending where you live ig) artists who are making streamlined, easy to digest content. Often when I meet people with these issues they’ll have one particular ‘niche’, and it tends to be like. 70s music. Victorian literature. Anime and Japanese games. But they’re still not really investing beyond the media presented. Like there’s so much more to Japanese culture than liking some cartoons put out between 2010-2020. You don’t gotta become some sorta Einstein who learns the background of every little freak in FGO yeah. But don’t you wanna aim higher? Aren’t you interested in any of the historical figures? And nothings wrong with hopping onto a trend. You read Dracula bc of that Dracula daily thing. Cool! Read more. Some people will say they’re chronically ill or disabled and can’t get outside. That’s okay. The internet is full of things you can read other than fanfiction, YouTube has a shit ton of free music. There’s Wikipedia and free articles online if you have questions about things. Yeah nobody is spending four hours a day looking at the national archives website and studying art history but it’s imbued in the things around you, and youll absorb it ambiently as you go along. you dont have to be a jack of all trades and cover every major genre of every major medium, but it never hurts to try! I really love seeing ppl ask too. Bc it can be kind of humiliating to admit to what seems like some jackass hipster that you’ve never delved into, idk, Serbian films (lol not that one). And hopefully if whoever you’re asking will give you honest good recommendations and not berate you. I’m kind of berate a straw man rn I guess. The hostile tone def doesn’t lend to an atmosphere of sharing but I cannot tell you how many times I’ve rbed anything involving specifically jazz only to see someone rb and add the stupidest comment on the post, or in the tags, or go into my inbox to be like waaah I don’t like jazz bc it’s boring and old and for pretentious hypocrites who hate neurodivergent people! Like what are you TALKING about. Fine if you don’t like it but don’t try and rationalize that as a moral standing you shit lark. And just as they’re allowed to dislike jazz I’m allowed to not really enjoy people who don’t like jazz. Or country. Nautical knots. Knit wear. Watching urbex YouTubers get their shit rocked by squatters. Korean food. Pachuco fashion and stupid ugly low riders. Bollywood films. and they don’t want to try any of those things either yknow? The next thing I’m getting into is circuit bending.