#let him be. he's studying

[watmalik]

Logan when the fanboys call him or Wade straight 🤨

[egophiliac]

i love your riddle design so much, he's so pointy and british. so gracious. do you think he would enjoy a brazilian goiabada

thank you! ❤️🖤❤️ it's just. important to me on a level I can't explain that Riddle have an extremely pointy nose that he can stick into everyone else's business.

also goiabada is sweet and fruity and red, I think he would like it very much indeed!

not me stealth-editing because I forgot his antenna whoops

[hinamie]

congrats on your recovery n all yuuji but unfortunately for you I thought the scars were cool >:/

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Another year has passed, and with it the opportunity to reflect back on all that has happened. While my growth was not as dramatic as last year, I can still see lots of positive change.

I'll never have enough ways to say thank you for all the love and support you have given me this year. On to 2025!

(2023 summary here!)

[rabiesgiver]

Dream eater 🍬💤

[shotmrmiller]

single dad simon would frighten the fucking block into giving bub more than that meager singular bar of chocolate and this is the one time he won't budge even for reader. more candy or he's taking it.

[leashybebes]

more of this. it's happening, y'all

On Thursdays, Evan works in a queer friendly bar. That mostly means women who want to drink and dance without being bothered by creeps, sheltered college students testing the waters, and people who wander in and only belatedly clock the rainbow decor. The last couple of weeks there's been a guy in his section he's not sure how to categorize. He's about Evan's height but broader - really buff, and classically handsome in a sharp jaw and killer cheekbones way that Buck's a little envious of, honestly. He could clean up in WeHo, could probably have any woman in the bar come running if he'd look up from his string of nasty craft beers that he occasionally chases with a shot of Jack and actually smile at someone. Evan's willing to bet he has a great smile, but he also has a closed off air like a forcefield around him.

"Hey," Evan says when he collects the empty glass from the guy's latest gross beer. He also hands over a napkin with a phone number courtesy of the cute blonde, or possibly her cute brunette friend at the end of the bar. "Couple ladies over there trying to get your attention."

"Oh." The guy looks at the napkin like it might bite him. "Uh. I'm not - I'm not interested."

Evan shrugs. "Your loss, man."

The guy uses one fingertip to nudge the napkin back towards Evan. Swallows sharply enough that Evan can track the motion of it with his eyes.

"I'm gay."

"Yeah? In that case, the dude three seats down is gonna be delighted."

The guy blinks a couple times, sneaks a glance down the bar like he thinks he's gonna get slapped for it.

"Not tonight," he says.

Evan shrugs. "Get you another gross beer?"

The guy looks at him, and it's not the smile Evan was imagining, but it's at least half a smirk, and it makes a line next to his mouth deepen, almost a dimple. "Should you be calling the drinks you sell gross?"

"Call it as I see it, man. I like Bud Light and cocktails, so."

"Jesus Christ."

"Evan, actually," Evan tells him, with a grin.

"I'm Tommy."

"Hey, Tommy. So. Gross beer or fruity cocktail?"

Tommy looks at him, eyebrows drawing together, shoulders going a little tight. "Is that a dig?"

Evan replays his words. "Oh, shit no! Not at all! Fruity like containing fruit, not fruity like fruity. Who even says that anymore? I wouldn't, I mean - I'm an ally!"

Tommy looks, honestly, a little baffled by Evan's whole existence which is unfortunately not a look he's unfamiliar with.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night," he says, and Evan's heart sinks a little. Tommy looks like a guy who desperately needs to cut loose.

"Nah, c'mon, I just accidentally hate crimed you, let me make you piña colada. On me."

Tommy relaxes a tiny bit. "Okay. Sure. Thanks, Evan."

[tw1nkee28]

Into the Eye of the Beholder.

★ ——----------—— ★

★ ——----------—— ★

Bell, my muse 🫶

I love you Bell

They could never make me hate you 💔

[thebrainrotsreal]

Minor spoilers idk?? Still on my make the bug boy look buggy propaganda, while I'll still on a drawing kick again! Give him is mama's eyes you cowards, hot pink! Idgaf if they all got hot pink eyes, give it to him.

[consultingfujoshi]

yea this hits

[alkalamity]

Hear me out. Ratiorine AU where Aventurine is a mer captured by a group of researchers and Ratio is the scientist brought on board to teach him how to speak and access his intelligence levels.

[choccy-milky]

average seb and clora study session

[usertoxicyaoi]

"Did you really reach the west gate? Then, why didn't I see you?"

THE ON1Y ONE (2024). EPISODE TEN.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[leglessstreetlights]

fleshing out my Relativity Au some more, i fujking love these guys, they're so-

part 1/ part 2