#now for behind the scenes tags
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[Image description from alt: A colored, half body digital drawing of @arytha 's OC Yuri. He is dressed in his usual green turtleneck and white lab coat. He is holding a clipboard to his chest with one arm and holding a pen to his face in the other hand with a contemplative expression. Behind him is a red circle made up of many numbers, and each zero is differentiated in a pinkish color. The background is a gradient of a deep mauve on the top descending to a dull light blue on the bottom. End image description.]
Good coping mechanisms 101: Begin and devote yourself to an experiment that lasts thousands and thousands of years so you can never address your traumas properly!!!!
#guy ever of all time!!#now for behind the scenes tags#apparently it is not easy to get text in a circle#so it's actually digits of pi bc i needed lots of numbers -> put into word do word art to make it a circle#-> save screenshot of it -> put screenshot thru website that makes the white bg transparent that doesn't give viruses -> circle text pic!!#also I like my newly (as of a few months ago) coloring style of adding fun colors in shading + lighting :3#i was scared of gradients before but now I'm like woah.... sick...#anyways. thank u mara for making yuri he is so cool!!#and your other ocs too which I will draw at some point :o#norstrume art#norstrum art
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#--/ art#--/ story#ava the dark lord#⬇⬇⬇ context in the tags ⬇⬇⬇#alan becker#animator vs animation#animation vs minecraft#ava the chosen one#it is done !! ok ill give y'all the intro context synopsis now#the story goes that way way way way before Showdown cho and dark used to sneak into abandoned-looking buildings in the city at night#and one such target they stumble upon happens to be a storage room containing artifacts from Minecraft#the most interesting being the beds.#on this particular outing cho and dark were returning from other shenanigans and could use a place to rest. perfect!#dark belly-flops onto the right bed (scooting them out of alignment) and strikes a pose.#while chosen is shoving them back together again... oh. he's already asleep? ...???#!!! the beds draw you in if you get too close!#so what was supposed to be half an hour at most rest turned into the whole night. they skedaddled and forgot about the freaky beds.#until. a certain someone goes and dies :333#you get it now ! ! !#it was dark diesn't ALL ALONG-#yeah and then for extra spice i threw in that the hooded stick King meets with during his episode to buy a command block...#...happens to own that storage room.#thus and so begins more brand new shenanigans with dark interacting with this shady rando. i call em seafoam#i highly extremely doubt there's a tag for seafoam . . . wiki calls them only 'hooded stick figure'#anyhow. behind the scenes this was also a practice of drawing things in 3D... keeping on model... and composition for storytelling#and i learned some things about how Whiteboard works too :o i. didn't know about the fill tool. it is cool#yayaya!! so that's been in my head for a while.#thx for reading <3 <3 ill be posting some close-up shots of this and other things i put on the whiteboard later#Minecraft bed
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Speaking as a complete Max Jagerman stan,, the way the fandom has completely butchered his character. Did we watch the same show where he has an established god complex making him believe he’s better than everyone else or ,,,
#at the end of the day#max is a villain#based on the one line alone#his homelife MAY be rough#(I speak as someone who took that line and RAN)#but he definitely would not have forgiven the nerds easily if he had survived the Waylon place#and if he did#he’d have likely JUST stopped bullying THEM#side eyes Reese and PJ I’m so glad u loved guys#and we saw it with Callahan in yellow jacket#he’s likely started on Hannah behind the scenes#he wouldn’t have stopped w her either if that was the case#basically#tldr#the guys a villain at the end of the day and got babygirled and now everyone forgot the true meaning of his character x#and now#for some real tags#starkid#npmd#max jagerman#track 14 on FITF
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people who still hate Joe Alwyn need to get a life asap
#i said what i said#so many bad takes you guys are acting like he forcibly locked her up for two years when she chose it herself and she was happy with the#decision sure things ended and maybe it wasn't very best breakup or wtv but holy shit do you realise the speculations you make are so#fucking invasive the same thing you hate the other people doing to taylor's life and not to remind you that you have zero fucking clue of#what goes on behind the scenes you take these bits and pieces of crumb and exaggerate it to something so much worse#mind you this was the same man y'all worshipped before the breakup oh because he was the epitome of calm gentleman#and now i see a post with tags “go out fucking loser” like wow. just wow.#not to mention how his humanitarian act of signing ceasefire got turned around to thing about taylor like guys. guys. big news. but#advocating against genocide and accepting all the blacklash that comes with it isn't that simple maybe pic up that brain from football#ground and think again
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The audio drama really went for the heartstrings with the Wen remnants like holy shit really just had to show this mans forming connections with these people even more huh
This is one of the other lines that has killed me each time I am a SUCKER for repeated phrases gaining new meaning
#my art#I don't think I can do justice to just how this scene FEELS like you see him in soul-crushing loneliness#and slowly the world lights up again like the donghua really hit it visually and the audio drama hit it audibly so i'll just cry over here#fyi these are now totally behind where I am but I'm trying to catch up- hard to do all of it at once lol#i don't think anyone is checkin the grandma wen tag so there's less characters her than usual#wei wuxian#wei ying#wei wuixan#a yuan#wen ning#wen qing#wen qionglin#wen sect#mo dao zu shi#mo xiang tong xiu#mxtx mdzs#mdzs fanart#mdzs#mxtx#mxtx fanart#founder of diabolism#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#the untamed#lan zhan#lan wangji#wen yuan
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hey! i’m so in awe of your art! can i ask how you get your pictures of your traditional art so nice? i want to start posting my traditional art but the lighting is so bad, i have no clue how people do it flawlessly
Hello!! Sorry for the delay ahh but I would love to share so we have whalemack here to help me explain
So my plain old pictures don't look great either, I never post without at least a little bit of photo editing. I usually go from this:
To this:
using an app called Snapseed!
You really just need decent/even lighting and an okay camera. I use my iPad camera and make sure there's no shadows over the drawing and it usually works out for the sizes I draw at
And here I made a video of how I use Snapseed to edit my traditional art - it's a bit of an older tutorial but I use basically the same process still. If you end up using that app too you should obviously mess around with it and see what works for you! I haven't had any real issues with it and I've been using it for years, so I don't know enough about other apps to recommend other options 😅 but it's definitely worth a look
Hope this helps, good luck! 💕
#not art sorry guys#well. sneak peek at the next post#now that we all have wymack on the brain for. reasons#okay what are my tags again#behind the scenes#art tutorial#asks
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Utterly Defeated (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#<Sticking to my tag so they're all together ♥#Dexter Favin#Max Vyer#But really that's ZEX in there! What's left of him anyway ;;#ZEX#Hhhhhhh it was so goooood and saaaaad <3 <3#Helix is a tragedy - on repeat in my mind ad infinitum#I made most of these upon initially reading - and then I had to sit on them through all of October!! Can you imagine the impatience??#I've been absolutely chomping at the bit for these hhhhh feelings!!! So many!!! Max's eyes and ZEX being behind his single remaining ;;#Dex wanting him to be safe and knowing he used to and now he can't offer it anymore I jifdsahfdjsaf#Have I mentioned I love them lately I love them <3 <3 All of them! Dex and Max and ZEX! And DAX I'm sure ZEX misses him so badly#In a way it was good that I had a bit more time to set it down and come back - I reread it very recently hehe <3#I still get teary at some scenes ah </3 It's so beautifully sad#But it also gave me some time to finish ZEX starting to shape the word ''Max'' and then back off it ahhhh it hurts!!#The rest were at least all lined at the time - came back in to tone some recently but they were all ''finished'' October 1st ah#Especially of Dex waking ZEX to call him by his title hhh they both just want peace so badly but it looks so different to both of them#Lingering on his scar and then carding through his hair <3 Comfort and softness and it's all not enough#His scar is quite fun to draw as well ah - scars tend to be like that haha ♪ The stitches and discolouration give it a unique look!#And the way his hair pulls back from it ah#I had a lot of fun with his hair hiding his bandaged eye as well - just barely peeking out always just enough of a reminder#And all his lying-down poses - his hair is fun to pose like that as well#One of the original Landel doodles of ZEX talking about what Hell would look like for a VUX really struck me as well#Dex can't help him in so many ways ehn </3 He wants to! But he wants Max and he just can't have him anymore#Hhhh it was such a good read <3 <3 <3 Thank you again to Zarla it really made and still makes me happy to read it ahhh ♥♪#Now that I've (finally!) gotten my thoughts out I can read the other!! Yay!!
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IN THE DREAM I DON’T TELL ANYONE, YOU PUT YOUR HEAD IN MY LAP ; SHOKO IEIRI
synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko.
word count; 4.5k
contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)
a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.
the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.
it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.
you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.
the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on.
apathy, maybe.
or bloodlust.
the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.
(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)
she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it.
so why hasn’t anyone said anything?
you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.
no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that.
no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.
not since gojo died.
shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.
(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)
shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.
but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.
(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.
how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.
and yet no one says a thing.
everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice.
this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.
still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?
”i brought you coffee!”
making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.
(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)
and she looks exhausted.
try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.
shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.
when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.
(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)
shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.
hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.
(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)
shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.
you look away before your eyes can read another line.
leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.
(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)
”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”
shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”
she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.
that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.
(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)
but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.
looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.
”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”
”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”
short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.
and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence.
a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.
the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.
you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.
but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.
there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.
you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.
she doesn’t have a choice.
(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)
”hey. shoko?”
she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.
you take a deep breath.
”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”
silence.
for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all.
like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.
frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.
to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.
(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)
shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.
but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.
”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”
not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.
(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)
you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.
trying to reach her.
”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…”
staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”
you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.
a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.
but the choice was never hers.
a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.
isn’t that just too cruel?
they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called.
shoko, someone needs healing, come quick!
shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.
shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?
none of them deserve her.
you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.
something ugly claws its way up your throat.
none of them deserve her. especially not him.
what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.
why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?
you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?
— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does.
what shoko deserves is to live a normal life.
and she never will.
it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.
you wish you could bring her with you.
you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.
maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you.
maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.
there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.
— but you can’t ask her.
you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.
she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking.
a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.
”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”
shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand.
shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.
tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart.
(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)
then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.
”i’ll give you free pastries.”
a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.
her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.
”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.
”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”
she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?
then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”
”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”
this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.
(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)
a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”
”haha…”
shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.
shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.
and then you realize your mistake.
a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.
(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”
”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”
”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”
”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)
by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.
they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.
but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.
(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)
you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.
you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.
she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.
you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.
she did all that she could.
but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.
(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)
before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.
the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.
it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.
it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.
(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)
all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.
you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.
eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat.
she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.
“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”
you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.
don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table.
shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay.
“you’re — you’re the only one i…”
she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to.
you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.
please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.
a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet.
you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.
“i won’t.”
and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.
“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”
three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years.
and for a second, you think you might say it.
you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.
but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn’t. so tightly that it hurts a little.
and you swallow the words, once more.
right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.
she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.
so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.
shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.
you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.
for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.
ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.
it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.
in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…
— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.
#the wlw urge to leave everything behind and start a bakery together……#idk how to feel abt this i just!! needed to get some shoko thoughts out!!! she’s my fave jjk girl and i love the way her grief is portrayed#i just hope gege does her justice but i have a good feeling that he will!! if not its on sight#she’s so special to me. the airport scene hurts sm because she really is all alone now :(( its so fucked up i SOBBED into my pillow#well i mean. she still has ijichi. and i love him dont get me wrong but like. STILL#im delusional tho so i think next chapter shoko will use her rct to heal gojo#and then we’ll get a scene of him leaving the airport with shoko. trust me gege and i are like this🤞#sorry for basing all my titles on siken poems. anyway go read ’i had a dream about you’ its so shoko#shoko ieiri#shoko ieiri x reader#shoko ieiri x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk spoilers#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#jjk 236#jujutsu kaisen 236#…. i think. thats all the tags…….
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actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.
#hal jordan#empyrean posting#ok going in the tags because im not actually v confident in my understanding of his character. i read all of his 80s/90s stuff but forgot#90% of it but ANYWAY.#so much of him just does not make sense with how geoff johns characterises him and his relationships with his parents particularly the#parallax stuff simply because of how much his relationship with the guardians and their apathy/'betrayal' is influenced by hal's original#relationship with his dad. like at its heart it's pretty much the same dynamic in how hal blindly trusts and sort of idolises the guardians#despite their repeated infractions in hope of... something in return just as he had with his father and the abuse he suffered at martin's#hands. that's what makes his anger at the guardians make sense when it does show itself because the relationship parallel didn't stop there.#as with martin hal gets nothing for his devotion. he gets nothing for doing everything that's asked of him and more and it ends the same way#too: with a man in the sky burning like a newborn star. and you lose so much of that nuance and intrigue behind that if you just make#jessica the 'bad one' because!!! you cheapen it!!!!#the whole idea of hal is that he has his father's face but his mother's scars#(to me). in the sense that they both reacted to martin the same way with that cognisance of who he was as a man yet inability to pull away#because... love. both the love they had for him and the conviction that he did or could love them too. and jessica arguably did eventually#but also she didnt did she? because she held onto that notion of love till the very end. the few scraps she had she ballooned outwards until#they became the whole. but hal didnt have even that and he spent his whole life chasing it & running away from wanting it at the same time#like i think there's something so interesting to the fact that he had to be convinced that flying was what he wanted to do. how much of that#was touched by his father? the fear that he was already too much like him than he could bear to be? he already had his face now he had his#dreams and longing for the sky. how much more could he have before he began repeating the cycle?#and at the end he even had his father's death. burning in the clouds. like there's so much there and that's not even touching on how it#impacts his relationships with other heroes. not just in the sense of why did kyle clark and diana get to keep their close yet complex#relationships with their moms when hal had to lose his (although yeah why did they) but also just how he lets himself come across to them.#because it's on purpose right? that he lets them think his reflection of his father is born out of unadulterated love for a man worthy of it#? he has his father's job he wears his father's jacket he smiles his father's smile. what else are they supposed to think.#and isnt that interesting!!! that this man who is so committed to being good & just can lie so casually to people he thinks of as friends!!!#can you see how that might be his mother through and through!!! in how she might have glossed over the abuse to other people and herself!!!#can you see how in spite of it all he might want to be perceived as his father that paragon of masculinity and resent that he is not!!!#do you understand how everything he loves has been poisoned!!! im thinking of that scene where he tells bruce about watching martin die &#wouldnt it have been so much more interesting through this lens. how he is both revealing & obfuscating at once. i hate the change sm
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Not to like gas myself, but I really think I'm devouring these poses right now 👀👀
#WIP#behind the scenes#coming soon#cotf tag#finally figured out how to insert objects and now I'm addicted lol#the wolf and the witch#adie....the hell are you doing rn
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To all sfth fanfiction authors/readers: there are some weird issues happening with the sfth tags on ao3, namely that the ship tags are all being sorted under the Beetroots & Murder fandom for some reason.
Here's an example. The ditch ship tag (which hasn't been wrangled yet btw and that's another issue) being listed as a child tag of Beetroots & Murder.
This is really just a minor issue that shouldn't affect user experience at all, I just thought it would be worth sharing just in case :]
Also, I know that a lot of us are very frustrated at the fact that the Shoot from the Hip - Fandom tag redirects to British Comedy RPF, and I've emailed the ao3 team about both problems. Hopefully I'll get a reply soon, but they're also probably quite busy, so it could take a while haha ^^;
#shoot from the hip#sfth fanfiction#I've been checking sfth ship tags everyday to see if they've been wrangled#but alas they haven't :(#hopefully the email puts sfth ship tags onto the tag wranglers' radars though#there are a couple ship tags that have been wrangled but the majority of them are not and I'm not sure why#there are some weird ship tags like egbert & sally that have been wrangled#but then the ditch and bubbamiah tags aren't#idk what goes on behind the scenes so I'm not blaming ao3 for any of this#it just kinda sucks :/#I haven't been actively in a fandom like this before so I'm not sure what we should do but for now it would probably be best to just wait#since we don't wanna rush the wrangling team either
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horrible teeth man alert ☝️☝️
#Uhhhh..What do i tag this as#egaeus#edgar allan poe#<-my dumbass mispelled it.. Forgive me…#nightmaretheater#time spent on canvas - 2 hours#ive been brainrotting about this guy for like 2 days straight#clothes specifically inspired by his look in the dark eye#(and that one scene. you know the one)#however.My headcanon rules.Sorry! Piebaldism attack#its hard to tell but the stuff behind him is mesnt to be be bookshelves but.Warped#this man and his mental sicknesses interest me#you should read berenice maybe#okay.Im really hungry right now
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I'm throwing all pretense of podcasterliness to the wind on this week's blog as I present to you… my favourite cats from the Belfast Cats Protection shelter website 😻
Read it now and let us know which one you'd be taking home! 💖 And of course, as if it needs said, PLEASE feel free to share your cat pictures with us any time!
#monstrous productions#behind the scenes at monstrous hq#you can always tell when its my turn to write the blog#because you get dopey clip art graphics instead of beautiful concept art and sketches#sometimes this is a cat blog#a very well-earned tag this week#if you cant support us right now please share so others see!#this is some HIGH quality content available for JUST £1 a month!!
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heading into the three part finale and all i need is one (1) more morpherine moment tbh. there hasn’t really been an opportunity to bring it up the past few weeks but i need a follow up on “naked logan” being a scenario that madelyn plucked from morph’s head
any interaction will be a morpherine win for my overly-obsessed brain (smiling so big when they are standing next to each other) BUT YEAH i still cant believe they just dropped that on us and have yet to elaborate of course cuz there are Plot-Wise much more important things to be worrying about but HELLO? of all the things to make morph see i feel like we should not be brushing past that its got to be brought back up At Some Point right 😭
#maybe its cuz at that point i was still used to the og cartoon vibes which was. A Kids Show ik that was gonna change still got whiplash#DEFINITELY NOT ANYMORE that has been well established and i think im used to that now. please 97 dont prove me wrong#x-men 97#xmen 97#x-men 97 spoilers#xmen 97 spoilers#<- tag in case ppl are like rlly behind on 97 i guess im jst beingsafe loll#slightly unrelated but i am also still fearing for morph there is nothing hinting at anything I Dont Think im just scared#wait back to related if this was the cooler timeline they would have a parallel where we get a shower scene but for realsies 😋#NOT LIKE THAT but
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Thank you sm for 1K here as well as on Shitter <3 <3 Here is a 4koma of a nightmare I had recently that has haunted me for days :^)
#feeling very shy n anxious now NGL and this comic doesnt help cuz its so fukin stupid lol but alas... I persist#still studying behind the scenes still learning n growing n workin on thangs etc etc thx for understanding <3#Comic#4koma#percomic#Anthro#One Piece#do I tag this as verdof LMFAOOO#I need to draw them fr after this tbh.. the dream kinda got me into it ngl haha They're p cute#TW spiders
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so Funny Story
y'all know all-stars: behind the scenes. ofc you do. my ongoing td oneshot series on ao3, all with the premise of allstars being scripted, excuses for silly interactions and character introspection, blah blah blah.
so the most recent episode saw Cameron getting kidnapped by Feral Zeke, and for Plot Reasons I needed an intern character. so I just decided to make up a random nameless Camera Intern. Then just for logistical reasons I had to give them a name, so I pulled a random name out of the air and Maya the Camera Intern was born.
but the funny thing is
up until about a week after I published Boy Meets Feral Mutant
I COMPLETELY FORGOR THAT I ALREADY HAVE AN INTERN OC WHO WOULD'VE ALREADY BEEN WORKING ON THE SHOW AT THIS TIME
HARPER
My daughter was right fucking there the whole time and I just. forgot. that I could Easily have neatly slid a TDN reference into this series. lmao
(oh and not to mention im not the only person with an intern oc and my mutual @tpher not only has one available (Danny) but he's a cameraman. HES A CAMERAMAN THE EXACT ROLE I NEEDED I SUCK AT THIS LOL)
so including Delaney, I now have THREE separate intern ocs. rip
anyway here's Maya bc I am incapable of making throwaway characters apparently
#total drama#corn speaks#tdn harper#maya the camera intern#they have a tag now! i guess!!!#all-stars: behind the scenes#as:bts#all stars behind the scenes#all stars: behind the scenes#my oc#td oc
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