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highlynerdy · 3 months ago

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"I do it because I want to protect him from the world, and sometimes from myself. I want to tell him every secret I ever had, and yet I never want to make him choose, to see the hurt in his eyes, to put this, too, on him. I want-I want so many things. Sometimes, I just want."

Turning The Page by @queerofthedagger / art by @schweetheart

I started this fanARTifact in July 2021 and finally, finally finished it in September 2024. Click below to see so many more pictures and read probably too much about the project.

This project was a LABOR OF LOVE because y'all...I failed so, so many times during the making of it. I had grand dreams of all the things that I was going to do and learn and every single time I tried something it was like the universe telling me to go ahead and go fuck myself, we're not doing that. But it's done and I'm pleased with it. I hope Mona and Schweets are. Let's talk about the process.

I read this story back in July 2021 when it came out and immediately wrote @schweetheart on July 23, 2021 to ask if I could use her art for the back because it was such a crucial part of the story.

She graciously allowed me to use it, and even sent me a high res file so I could have the portrait of Arthur printed on art paper.

THEN. My brilliantly stupid self decided that just making the book wasn't enough. I mean, I had already done that for Arthur's journal back in 2020 and I am nothing if not a nutter about learning to do new things, especially for my fanARTifact series.

SO. I'm going to learn to make paper. Yeah. Totally a reasonable escalation in terms of new skills, right?? ......... Nope. I bought a small 5x7 mould and deckle to practice with and some cotton linters to make the pulp. Twas. A. Failure. I didn't have a press or the felts or the sizing needed to make the paper actually, ya know, usable. This was the first time I put the project down for a while.

Moving on to another new skill in late 2021, I decided that I wanted to make the walnut ink myself. Luckily, I was part of a pigment subscription in 2020 (that is a hell of a nerdy statement, even for me) and had all the supplies in my art studio to attempt this endeavor.

I didn't fail this part! Fucking huzzah for small miracles. Now I had two small bottles of black walnut ink to use for the calligraphy that I wanted to do for some of the excerpts. Except now I was stuck again on the paper making part so I put it back down again for an eternity.

Picking it back up in late 2022, I asked Mr. Highlynerdy to make a custom size mould and deckle for me so I could have long pieces to fold for my signatures. It was his first time doing anything like this but he's a buddy and a pal and gave it a try. Surprising no one if you've read this far, we both failed this part. Even now, I'm still not sure we succeeded but eventually we did get something workable. And considering professional mould and deckles cost in the hundreds of dollars...yeah, it'll do.

It took a hot ass minute for me to feel ready to attempt the paper making again but once I was ready, I ordered wet, pre-beaten pulp from Twinrocker. A very curt man on the phone helped me figure out what I needed and added internal sizing to the pulp I ordered. I didn't take pictures of any of the paper stuff because it was very messy and annoying. Once again, Mr. Highlynerdy helped me rig up a drying box with tri-wall cardboard and ratchet straps and a box fan. Once the paper was dry, I used a gelatin mixture to paint on external sizing. Since I'm primarily a painter, I needed the paper to be able to handle ink, paint, pencil. Sizing paper is the only way to do this, but no worries, I won't go further into the nerdy details about this.

Once the paper was ready, I decided to sew the text block. Here's another part where I failed YET A-FUCKING-GAIN. I talked before on Arthur's Journal post about how books were very, very rare in the 6th century (Arthurian period), but BBC Merlin is soooooo anachronistic that it's fiiiiiine to just do what I wanted. HOWEVER. I did want to try to do visible spine binding. But. Unfortunately I had gone ahead and used all of my paper to bind the text block as if I was going to case it in. FUUUUUUUCCCCCK. It's fine. We're fine. Come on, brain. What can we do.

Well, what we CAN'T do is use a piece of leather from my large remnant that I bought for my first journal because someone - FUCKING ME - measured and cut the last piece NOT TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THE WIDTH of the text block. So now it doesn't fit. And refusing to buy a new piece of leather I'm forced to pivot once again.

I decided to cut the leather spine even shorter, buy some wood pieces and sand them, paint them a matte black, and then glue the leather to those pieces. Cool cool cool. We're moving on. I tested a lot of different glues for this and good ol' super glue ended up being the clear winner. Cue putting this project away again for a whiiiillle.

In October 2023, I decided to pull it out again and do the calligraphy and drawings I wanted. This story has so many gorgeous parts but I finally decided on the first page, the last page, and the page about Gaius.

I mixed my handmade walnut ink with my beloved Finetec gold and used the quills I bought from John Neal Booksellers to practice my Uncial. I shouldn't have been rusty after lettering an entire fic for this fanARTifact, but I was.

The little dragon was inspired by medieval manuscript dragons I found.

Narratively, I loved the idea that Merlin's writing would start off soft and delicate and become stronger by the end of the journal. Also, I loved that the end word "WANT" would be just gold because the ink blend changes throughout. Something magical or whatever.

This part needed tears. They might have been real ones...

Annnnnnnnd, the project was put down again until a few days ago when I decided, after getting back into Merlin fic, I needed to buck up and finish it.

I did so many tests for the cover. I tried embossing, carving, and debossing and hated all of them. I settled on painting it with acrylic paints in the shape of a Celtic knot sort of pattern. I originally wanted to do a triskelion but after reading a bit about how some asshole groups have co-opted the symbol for shitty purposes, I decided against it. It's a mix of black and gold and it's hard to capture the depth of it through photos...eh, I did what I could.

Still. Something wasn't quite working with the brown leather and the black covers with the new symbol so I broke out my matte black leather paint and decided to go all black.

All I had left to do was glue in the text block and it would be done! And that still took me a few days to work up the courage. The book opens nice and flat, which will be good for me as I will use it as a sketchbook.

Sitting here, on September 1st, I have completed a project that taught me many new skills and also taught me a lot about humility and perseverance. There was no way I was going to abandon this project, and maybe I should have started over many of the times, but I am quite in love with the final result and I just hope that it does it's inspiration proud. Thank you @queerofthedagger Mona for all you create and share with the Merlin fandom, and thank you @schweetheart for allowing me to use your gorgeous art.

Also, you may see quite a few other fanARTifacts in this photoshoot because I will use any opportunity to show them off lol.

If you read to the end of this, you deserve a cocktail and a cookie. Thank you. ��✨✨

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whileiamdying · 5 months ago

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All the Films in Competition at Cannes, Ranked from Best to Worst

The twenty-two films that premièred in the 2024 festival’s main program offered much to savor and revile.

By Justin Chang May 26, 2024

The seventy-seventh annual Cannes Film Festival came to a startling and joyous conclusion on Saturday night, when the competition jury, chaired by Greta Gerwig, awarded the Palme d’Or, the festival’s highest honor, to “Anora,” a funny, harrowing, and finally quite moving portrait of a sex worker’s madcap New York misadventures. It was startling because the movie, though one of the best-received in the competition, had not been widely tipped for the top prize, which seldom goes to a U.S. film; with “Anora,” Sean Baker becomes the first American director to win the Palme since Terrence Malick did, for “The Tree of Life” (2011), thirteen years ago. And it was joyous not only because the award was bestowed on a worthy and remarkable film but because Baker used the occasion to deliver the best, most eloquent and impassioned acceptance speech I’ve ever heard a Palme winner give.

Reading from prepared remarks, Baker singled out two other filmmakers in the competition, Francis Ford Coppola and David Cronenberg, as among his personal heroes. He dedicated the award to sex workers everywhere, a fitting tribute from a filmmaker who has put their lives front and center, with drama, humor, and empathy, in movies like “Starlet” (2012), “Tangerine” (2015), and “Red Rocket” (2021). He tossed some exquisite shade in the direction of the “tech companies” behind the so-called streaming revolution—including, presumably, Netflix, which came away as one of the night’s big winners; its major acquisition of the festival, Jacques Audiard’s musical “Emilia Pérez,” won two prizes. And, in a moment that drew rapturous applause, Baker delivered a plea on behalf of theatrical films, declaring, “The future of cinema is where it started: in a movie theatre.”

I was fortunate to see all twenty-two films in the Cannes competition on the big screen, projected under superior conditions in houses packed with fellow movie lovers. It’s my hope that, when these movies are released in the U.S., as the great majority of them likely will be, you will seize the chance to see them on the big screen as well—even “Emilia Pérez,” which Netflix may not keep in theatres for long, but whose bold dramatic and stylistic risks have the best chance of winning you over if they have your undivided, wide-awake attention.

I have ranked the movies in order of preference, from best to worst. Here they are:

1. “Caught by the Tides”

Jia Zhangke, a Cannes competition veteran, has long been the cinema’s preëminent chronicler of modern China (“Mountains May Depart,” “Ash Is Purest White”), mapping its social, cultural, and geographical complexities with great formal acumen, and also with the longtime collaboration of his wife, the superb actress Zhao Tao. Jia’s latest work, drawing on an archive of footage shot in the course of roughly two decades, unfurls a story in fragments, about a woman (Zhao) and a man (Li Zhubin) who fall in love, bitterly separate, and have a melancholy reunion years later. It’s an achievement by turns fleeting and monumental: a series of interlocking time capsules, a wrenching feat of self-reflection, and a stealth musical, in which Zhao dances and dances, standing in for millions who have learned to sway and bend to history’s tumultuous beat.

2. “All We Imagine as Light”

As the first Indian feature invited to compete at Cannes in nearly three decades, Payal Kapadia’s narrative début (after her 2021 documentary, “A Night of Knowing Nothing”) would be notable enough; that the movie is so delicately felt and sensuously textured is cause for outright celebration. Winner of the festival’s Grand Prix, or second place, it tells the story of two roommates, Prabha (Kani Kusruti) and Anu (Divya Prabha), who work as nurses at a Mumbai hospital. It teases out their personal circumstances—Prabha’s estrangement from her unseen husband, Anu’s frowned-upon romance with a young Muslim man (Hridhu Haroon)—with a quiet truthfulness that, like the glittering lights of the city, lingers expansively in the memory. (A forthcoming Sideshow/Janus Films release.)

3. “Grand Tour”

The Portuguese director Miguel Gomes (“Tabu,” “Arabian Nights”) delivered some of the most virtuosic filmmaking in the competition—as the jury recognized by giving him the Best Director prize—with this characteristically yet extraordinarily playful colonial-era travelogue. Shifting between color and black-and-white, set in 1917 but full of fourth-wall-breaking anachronisms, the movie tells a story of sorts about a roving British diplomat (Gonçalo Waddington) and a fiancée (Crista Alfaiate) he’s in no hurry to marry. But its true fascination lies in the humid atmosphere and wanderlust-inspiring splendor of its East and Southeast Asian locations, ranging from Singapore and Bangkok to Shanghai and Rangoon. It’s a movie to get lost in.

4. “The Seed of the Sacred Fig”

It’s impossible to absorb this blistering domestic drama without thinking of its dissident director, Mohammad Rasoulof, who recently fled Iran after being sentenced to prison and a flogging. (His appearance at his film’s première made for one of the most emotional moments in recent Cannes memory.) Shot entirely in secret, the story follows a Tehran-based husband (Missagh Zareh) and wife (Soheila Golestani) who are increasingly at war with their progressive-minded young-adult daughters (Mahsa Rostami, Setareh Maleki) during nationwide political protests led by women. The result is a thriller of propulsive skill and blunt emotional force, marrying the muscularity of an action film to the psychological intensity of a chamber drama. (A forthcoming Neon release.)

5. “Anora”

The director Sean Baker is near the height of his storytelling powers with this dazzling (and now Palme d’Or-winning) portrait of a Manhattan strip-club dancer (a revelatory Mikey Madison) who impulsively marries the ultra-spoiled son (Mark Eydelshteyn) of a Russian oligarch. Much comic chaos ensues, some of it pushed past the brink of plausibility, but Baker’s multifaceted love for his characters proves infectious and sustaining, as does his belief that acts of unexpected kindness can redeem even the darkest nights of the soul. (A forthcoming Neon release.)

6. “The Shrouds”

Early on in this elegantly sombre yet mordantly funny new movie, which stars Vincent Cassel, Diane Kruger, and Guy Pearce, the director David Cronenberg, a master of cerebral horror, unveils his latest invention: a technologically advanced burial shroud that allows people to watch a loved one’s body decomposing in the grave. So begins a drolly fluid inspection of classic Cronenberg themes—the deterioration of the flesh, the instability of the image, the paranoia-inducing incursions of technology into every aspect of life—but imbued with a nakedly personal dimension that the director has noted in interviews; the story was inspired by his wife’s death, in 2017, from cancer.

7. “Megalopolis”

In this legendarily long-gestating passion project, which I’ve written about at length, Francis Ford Coppola posits that our fragile, battered civilization is headed the way of the Roman Empire. The grimness of that prospect is unsurprising from a director accustomed to peering deep into the heart of American darkness (the “Godfather” movies, “The Conversation,” “Apocalypse Now”). For all that, the filmmaking here glows with a particularly hard-won optimism, even a welcome sense of play—borne out by an ensemble of actors, including Adam Driver, Giancarlo Esposito, and especially Aubrey Plaza, who fully embrace Coppola’s rhetorical and conceptual flights of fancy.

8. “The Substance”

Sympathetic or sadistic? Feminist or misogynist? Coralie Fargeat’s body-horror bonanza, which won the festival’s award for Best Screenplay, has been one of the competition’s more polarizing hits, which is unsurprising; divisiveness should be expected from a story about an aging actress and TV fitness guru who, desperate to regain her youthful bod of yesteryear, effectively splits herself in two. Whether the outlandish premise (think “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by way of “Death Becomes Her”) and its blood-gushing fallout withstand intellectual scrutiny, there’s no doubting the ferocity of the two leads, Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, or Fargeat’s sheer filmmaking verve as she pushes her ideas to their sanguinary conclusions.

9. “Motel Destino”

Just a year after the Brazilian director Karim Aïnouz appeared in competition with a surprisingly stiff-corseted English period drama, “Firebrand,” it was bracing to watch him rebound with the competition’s most sexually uninhibited and flagrantly horny title; corsets don’t apply here, and even underwear proves blissfully optional. Set at a seedy roadside motel where the clientele never stops moaning, it’s a feverishly shambling erotic thriller starring three very game actors (Iago Xavier, Nataly Rocha, and Fábio Assunção) in a romantic triangle that plays like James M. Cain with sex toys—“The Postman Always Cock Rings Twice,” as it were.

10. “Emilia Pérez”

A trans-empowerment musical set against the backdrop of Mexico’s drug cartels might sound like a dubious proposition on paper, and, for the many detractors of this genre-melding big swing from the French director Jacques Audiard (“A Prophet,” “The Sisters Brothers”), what actually made it onto the screen was no better. But I was disarmed from the start by Audiard’s quasi-Almodóvarian vibes, his touchingly imperfect embrace of song-and-dance stylization, and, most of all, his three leads: the remarkable discovery Karla Sofía Gascón, a scene-stealing Selena Gomez, and a never-better Zoe Saldaña. All three (along with Adriana Paz) were recognized with the festival’s Best Actress prize, awarded collectively to the movie’s ensemble of actresses; Audiard also won the Jury Prize. (A forthcoming Netflix release.)

11. “Oh, Canada”

After a tense trilogy of dramas about male redemption through violence (“First Reformed,” “The Card Counter,” “Master Gardener”), the writer and director Paul Schrader has taken a gentler turn with an adaptation of “Foregone,” a 2021 novel by the late Russell Banks. (It’s his second Banks adaptation, after the 1997 drama “Affliction.”) In exploring the fragmented consciousness of an aging documentary filmmaker (played at different ages by Richard Gere and Jacob Elordi), Schrader bravely forsakes the narrative fastidiousness of his recent work and takes on grand themes of memory, mortality, and artistic self-reckoning, to formally ragged but sincerely moving effect.

12. “The Girl with the Needle”

This stark and terrifying black-and-white drama from the Swedish-born, Polish-based director Magnus von Horn (“Sweat”) was perhaps the competition’s bleakest entry. Set in Copenhagen immediately after the First World War, it pins us so mercilessly to the hard-bitten perspective of Karoline (an excellent Vic Carmen Sonne), a factory seamstress who becomes pregnant out of wedlock, that we scarcely notice her story shifting in a different, more sinister direction. It’s a bitterly hard-to-stomach brew of a movie, at once hideous and beautifully made, with a chilling supporting turn by Trine Dyrholm as a friend whose interventions turn out to be anything but benign.

13. “Three Kilometres to the End of the World”

The setting of this well-observed but emotionally opaque drama, from the Romanian actor turned director Emanuel Pârvu, is a small rural village where a closeted teen-age boy, Adi (Ciprian Chiujdea), is brutally beaten after being caught in an intimate moment with a male traveller. Pârvu teases out the legal, psychological, and moral fallout with the pitch-perfect performances and laserlike formal focus that have become hallmarks of new Romanian cinema. But, though the movie is persuasive enough as an indictment of small-town religious fundamentalism and homophobia, it proves curiously incurious about Adi’s perspective, to the detriment of its own human pulse.

14. “Kinds of Kindness”

After his Oscar-winning period romps “The Favourite” (2018) and “Poor Things” (2023), the Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos scales back—but goes long—with a sprawling, increasingly tedious compendium of comic cruelty. My favorite of the film’s three disconnected stories, all featuring the same actors, is the one where Jesse Plemons (the ensemble M.V.P., as the jury recognized with its Best Actor award) plays Willem Dafoe’s Manchurian candidate; my least favorite is the one where Emma Stone joins a sweat-worshipping sex cult. The one where Stone slices off her finger and cooks it for Plemons falls—much like the movie in Lanthimos’s over-all œuvre—somewhere in the middle. (A Searchlight Pictures release, opening June 21st in theatres.)

15. “Bird”

My admiration for the English filmmaker Andrea Arnold (“American Honey”) is such that I’m eager to revisit her latest rough-and-tumble coming-of-age story and find that I undervalued it. Arnold is certainly skilled at integrating recognizable actors, which in this case includes Barry Keoghan and Franz Rogowski, into her grottily realist frames, and she has an appealing lead performer in Nykiya Adams, as a twelve-year-old girl who overcomes persistent abuse and neglect. But the story may lose you—as it lost me—with a magical-realist turn that magnifies, rather than minimizes, the tortured-animal symbolism that has often dogged Arnold’s work.

16. “Beating Hearts”

An exchange of insults at a high-school bus stop provides a saucy meet-cute for a good girl (Mallory Wanecque) and a ne’er-do-well boy (Malik Frikah); so begins a raucous and endearing love story for the ages, in which the director Gilles Lellouche, with outsized glee and little discipline, merrily appropriates the conventions of classic Hollywood musicals and gangster flicks. The result is much too long at nearly three hours—the story spans several years, with Adèle Exarchopoulos and François Civil playing older versions of the two leads—but I can’t say I didn’t warm to its rambunctious cornball charm.

17. “Limonov: The Ballad”

Why make a film about Eduard Limonov, the globe-trotting Russian dissident poet and punk provocateur reviled for his pro-fascist sympathies? The filmmaker Kirill Serebrennikov never musters a satisfying answer in this muddled English-language bio-pic, despite an energetically uninhibited central performance by Ben Whishaw and a cheeky panoply of filmmaking techniques—jittery camerawork, lengthy tracking shots—meant to catch us up in the épater-la-bourgeoisie exuberance of Limonov’s revolt. Considering his earlier work, I prefer the rebel-youth vibes of “Leto” (2018) and the dazzling cinematic assaults of “Petrov’s Flu” (2021), both of which also screened in competition here.

18. “Parthenope”

Nearly every new picture from the Italian auteur Paolo Sorrentino could be reasonably called “The Great Beauty,” the title of his gorgeous 2013 cinematic tour of Rome. (It left that year’s Cannes empty-handed, but won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.) His latest work remains most intriguing for its ambivalent but still sensually overpowering vision of the director’s home town, Naples, from which springs a modern-day goddess, named after Parthenope, a Siren from Greek mythology. She’s played by Celeste Dalla Porta, a great beauty indeed and an empathetic screen presence, though only fitfully does her character seem worthy of this movie’s epic enshrinement.

19. “Wild Diamond”

Another disquisition on beauty and its discontents, this time from the débuting French writer and director Agathe Riedinger. She hurls us the life and busy social-media feed of a nineteen-year-old, Liane (a terrific Malou Khebizi), who has nipped, tucked, and tailored every part of herself to realize her dream of being selected for a hot new reality-TV series. Part influencer-culture cautionary tale, part bad-girl Cinderella story, the movie glancingly suggests the soul-rotting effects of beauty worship, but it falls victim to the trap that Liane is trying to avoid: in a sea of worthy candidates, it doesn’t especially stand out.

20. “The Apprentice”

Donald Trump’s attorneys have threatened legal action to block the release of this drama about his early rise to fame and wealth under the mentorship of the attorney Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong). It speaks to the useless proficiency of Ali Abbasi’s movie that the prospect of such censorship provokes more indifference than outrage. Shot to evoke cruddy nineteen-eighties VHS playback, the movie is well acted by Strong, Maria Bakalova as Ivana Trump, and an increasingly makeup-buried Sebastian Stan as Trump himself, depicted from the start as a sack of shit that gets progressively shittier. It’s not dismissible, but it’s hardly the stuff of revelation, either.

21. “Marcello Mio”

In this trifling meta-comedy from the French filmmaker Christophe Honoré (previously in the 2018 Cannes competition with the lovely “Sorry Angel”), the actress Chiara Mastroianni embarks on a strainedly whimsical personal odyssey to examine the legacy of her late father, the legendary Italian actor Marcello Mastroianni, and her own conflicted place therein. To that end, she spends much of this overstretched movie in “8½” and “La Dolce Vita” black-suited drag as she navigates a roundelay of industry in-jokes; among the French cinema luminaries making appearances are Fabrice Luchini, Nicole Garcia, and, most welcome, Chiara’s mother, Catherine Deneuve.

22. “The Most Precious of Cargoes”

The French director Michel Hazanavicius continues his uneven post-“The Artist” run with this animated Second World War fable, adapted from a 2019 novel by Jean-Claude Grumberg (and narrated by the late Jean-Louis Trintignant). It has an affecting opening stretch, in which a baby girl, thrown by her desperate father from an Auschwitz-bound train, is rescued and raised in secret by a woodcutter’s kindhearted wife. But when the child’s provenance is discovered, stoking local antisemitism, the movie becomes a bathetic wallow in Holocaust imagery, drowned in an Alexandre Desplat score whose every surge turned my heart increasingly to stone. ♦

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stephpotterart · 4 months ago

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The Night Garden

My piece for What We Create In The Shadows Volume 4! Technically I made 3 pieces for the project, two of which are in the background of my final illustration (because I like to make things hard for myself lol). I wanted to show the juxtaposition between Nandor's past as a blood thirsty conqueror, and his present life on Staten Island. I wanted to show him caring for a hoard of night blooming plants, as a form of self-care after his foray into self help books. Included are Arabian Jasmine, and Moonflowers, which are overtaking his old portraits, as he grows and moves on from his history.

The zine is still available until July 28th, proceeds go to PFLAG! It contains some of the most beautiful art and writing, which should come as no surprise, given how loving this fandom community is. The zine also has some incredible interviews with cast and crew.

Thank you so much to the organizers who put this amazing project together, and my love and thanks to the other contributors; this was my first time working with you, and you were all so warm and welcoming. I couldn't have created this piece without the support and feedback from all of you. I am honored to have worked with you on this project!

You can get the physical zine here or a digital copy here

@wwcitszine

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #nandor the relentless #kayvan novak #my art #artists on tumblr #wwcitszine #wwcits #what we create in the shadows #zine promo

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unorcadox · 6 months ago

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[now also on youtube!]

it's... NOT Bandcamp Friday, but you know what i'm releasing them anyways fuck it! i'm finally releasing essentially my best work pre-Hollow Skull Sunday School, a double EP: Self Portrait and With Friends! these projects originate from 2021 at the peak of the weirdcore craze, and i think they're probably the closest i'll ever get to making something that sounds like weirdcore music. they're quirky, uncompromising, ominous, and i think a lot of fun. check them out if you'd like :)

#music #my music #musicians on tumblr #unorcadox #electronic music #bandcamp #bandcamp friday #<- leaving the tag on bc why not!#nintendo dsi camera goes crazy for making silly images #u can actually find the original releases of these 2 on this blog if you go back far enough but like shhhhh #if you remember the hand EPs... this is them so go listen ^^

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celepom · 2 years ago

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For Transgender Day of Visibility, here’s several books about Gender that I haven’t recommended before (I Think)!

Fine: A Comic About Gender

By Rhea Ewing

As graphic artist Rhea Ewing neared college graduation in 2012, they became consumed by the question: What is gender? This obsession sparked a quest in which they eagerly approached both friends and strangers in their quiet Midwest town for interviews to turn into comics. A decade later, this project exploded into a sweeping portrait of the intricacies of gender expression with interviewees from all over the country. Questions such as “How do you Identify” produced fiercely honest stories of dealing with adolescence, taking hormones, changing pronouns—and how these experiences can differ, often drastically, depending on culture, race, and religion. Amidst beautifully rendered scenes emerges Ewing’s own story of growing up in rural Kentucky, grappling with their identity as a teenager, and ultimately finding themself through art—and by creating something this very fine. Tender and wise, inclusive and inviting, Fine is an indispensable account for anyone eager to define gender in their own terms.

Galaxy: The Prettiest Star

By Jadzia Axelrod & Jess Taylor (Illustrator)

It takes strength to live as your true self, and one alien princess disguised as a human boy is about to test her power. A vibrant story about gender identity, romance, and shining as bright as the stars. Taylor Barzelay has the perfect life. Good looks, good grades, a starting position on the basketball team, a loving family, even an adorable corgi. Every day in Taylor’s life is perfect. And every day is torture. Taylor is actually the Galaxy Crowned, an alien princess from the planet Cyandii, and one of the few survivors of an intergalactic war. For six long, painful years, Taylor has accepted her duty to remain in hiding as a boy on Earth. That all changes when Taylor meets Metropolis girl Katherine “call me Kat” Silverberg, whose confidence is electrifying. Suddenly, Taylor no longer wants to hide, even if exposing her true identity could attract her greatest enemies. From the charming and brilliant mind behind the popular podcast The Voice of Free Planet X, Jadzia Axelrod, and with stunningly colorful artwork by Jess Taylor comes the story of a girl in hiding who must face her fears to see herself as others see her: the prettiest star.

To Strip the Flesh

By Oto Toda

A moving collection of six short stories that explores what must be stripped away to find the truth and celebrates the beauty of embracing who you are. Chiaki Ogawa has never doubted that he is a boy, although the rest of the world has not been as kind. Bound by his mother’s dying wish, Chiaki tries to be a good daughter to his ailing father. When the burden becomes too great, Chiaki sets out to remake himself in his own image and discovers more than just personal freedom with his transition—he finds understanding from the people who matter most.

Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston

By Esme Symes-Smith

In a magical medieval world filled with dragons, shape-shifters, and witches, a twelve-year-old hero will search for their place as an impending war threatens. A thrilling middle-grade series opener that stars a nonbinary tween and explores identity and gender amid sword fights. My name is Callie, and I'm not a girl. I am here as Papa's squire, and I want to train as a knight. In a world where girls learn magic and boys train as knights, twelve-year-old nonbinary Callie doesn't fit in anywhere. And you know what? That's just fine. Callie has always known exactly what they want to be, and they're not about to let a silly thing like gender rules stand in their way. When their ex-hero dad is summoned back to the royal capital of Helston to train a hopeless crown prince as war looms, Callie lunges at the opportunity to finally prove themself worthy to Helston's great and powerful. Except the intolerant great and powerful look at Callie and only see girl. Trapped in Helston's rigid hierarchy, Callie discovers they aren't alone--there's Elowen, the chancellor's brilliant daughter, whose unparalleled power is being stifled; Edwyn, Elowen's twin brother, locked in a desperate fight to win his father's approval; and Willow, the crown prince who was never meant to be king. In this start to an epic series packed with action, humor, and heart, Callie and their new friends quickly find themselves embedded in an ancient war--the only hope to defeat the dragons and witches outside the kingdom lies in first defeating the bigotry within.

I Think I Turned My Childhood Friend Into a Girl

By Azusa Banjo

It's a familiar story: a popular high school student gives their plain friend a makeover and transforms their life. But this time, the path to a new life isn't quite so straight and narrow. Kenshirou Midou has loved cosmetics all his life, keeping his obsession secret from almost everyone except for his childhood friend Hiura Mihate. One day, Kenshirou gets permission to practice applying makeup on Hiura, and the results are earth-shattering: Hiura's appearance transforms from a plain, undersized boy to a pretty, petite girl, and Kenshirou discovers just how freeing it is to apply his passion! Yet he's not the only one who finds the process liberating. Hiura likes the makeup, and the subsequent dress-up in feminine clothes, and decides to start wearing the girls' uniform to school. Kenshirou doesn't understand if he's unlocked something in Hiura, or if he's simply seeing a new side to his childhood buddy that he never noticed before. What are these feelings bubbling between them now--is this attraction truly new?

My Androgynous Boyfriend

By Tamekou Wako and her androgynous boyfriend don't exactly have the most traditional of relationships. She spends her days working hard in the world of publishing, while he spends his time obsessing over fashion and makeup--all with the goal of making himself beautiful just for her. This romantic slice-of-life story is about love, relationships, and breaking with tradition!

#Transgender #LGBT comic #queer #gender #graphic novels #manga #transgender day of visibility #book recs

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cierraonline · 27 days ago

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That’s So Beautiful

chapter three: that’s so beautiful

Masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

THE O’CONNELL HOUSEHOLD

"Said out loud," Billie sings, rehearsing the line. Over the past three years, so much has changed for the trio. They went from being ordinary, talented people with individual goals to a signed group under Darkroom Records, unified by a shared mission: to complete their debut album. For Storm, it's even more ambitious, as the label head wants her to create an orchestral version of the album as a standalone project. On top of it all, they're filming a documentary for Apple TV.

"Nice," Finneas compliments, working on digitalizing the orchestral demo Storm created to align it with the pop culture standards of a regular album.

"Said out loud."

"That sounds good."

"Come here," her friend's voice drifts in, almost like a distant echo.

It might be something that shouldn't be...

Said out loud.

"Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now," Billie sings, as Finneas makes technical sound adjustments. Storm watches closely, trying to absorb his production techniques, unfamiliar yet intrigued. The violins duel with pounding drums, taunting like fighters, until the music transforms into a pulsing bass beat.

"That's dope," Billie nods in approval, clearly pleased with the evolving sound.

What do you want from me?

Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering?

What do you know?

"Ouuu!"

Why aren't you scared of me?

"I'm so proud of that one," Billie grins, pulling Storm close as they dance, sitting together on the bed.

Why do you care for me?

When we all fall asleep,

Where do we go?

"That's cool, right?" Finneas turns his spinning chair to gauge his bandmates’ reactions.

"I'm a genius!" Storm does a little hop, still in Billie’s hold.

"Yes, you are, kitten," Finneas smiles, nodding approvingly.

"This is what I want the album to be called." Billie opens her journal, revealing her title: "When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?" She shows the camera. "I actually drew this song and had Storm turn it into actual words."

"So far, the process for this album is Billie visualizes the concept, I translate her drawings and emotional descriptions into lyrics," Storm explains, pulling out her own journal, filled with polaroids of Billie’s drawings and next to them are her handwritten lyrics. "Then, during composition, Billie and I choose instruments based on the mood. For ‘Bury a Friend’, we wanted it dark and tense, so we leaned heavily on strings to make it feel like an ancient Roman, dark duel." She reveals her iPad, where she’s recorded each instrumental layer on BandLab. "Once the orchestral part and my layered vocals are done, I hand it off to Finneas to digitalize, replicating it with his setup. Finally, Billie adds her vocals, and we adjust as needed."

"This is the drawing of this song—it's all about monsters under the bed. I want to incorporate wings and do a scene where I drink black liquid, my eyes turn black, and then I bleed black tears."

"That's quite morbid, don't you think?" Storm raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I'm only fourteen. What kind of song do you think I can create that matches that?"

"If I have to, I’ll tape you to the couch and make you watch ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’," Billie smirks.

"That's evil," Storm pouts.

"Anyway," Billie flips the page, smiling as she shares her journal. "Here’s a self-portrait. This is some weird doll, some random guy, a foot. There are drips, and you can decide what they are. There's some bitch. There's a hairy vagina. There, a-- a dick.," she says, giving the camera a tour of her eclectic drawings.

"That's cool."

I can't say no

Boom, step on the glass,

Staple your tongue.

"Can we bring it back to the bad dream theme?" Finneas asks, looking for direction.

"The concept is realizing that what you’re experiencing isn’t just a nightmare; it’s actually sleep paralysis," Storm explains. "In songwriting, there’s a rule to hint at the truth without naming it outright. Based on YouTube videos, people with sleep paralysis feel like their eyes are glued open, trapped, only able to see a figure lurking in the corner."

Then my limbs all froze,

And my eyes won't close.

And I can't say no, I can't say no.

"Step on the glass, staple your tongue," Billie jumps up, thrilled as she belts out her favorite line.

XXX

“So, this isn’t the first shot,” Billie says to the camera as she films her mother, Maggie Baird, who’s sitting in a chair with Storm sitting on the table positioned in front of her mom. “But this is the angle I want once it zooms out—not fully to the side.”

“What are you doing right now?” Patrick O’Connell questions his daughter as he watches the scene from a distance.

“Shut up!” she quickly remarks, turning her attention back to directing. “And not to the front, just, like… so that…”

“Pepper, uh-uh,” Maggie scolds Pepper, the family dog, as the dog goes to chase after something that catches her eye.

“The chair leg, that’s, like, in the middle. So I want it to start…” Billie tunes out the background noise and continues directing for her upcoming music video.

“Where’s that cat?”

“…with nothing in the background—”

“Give her a gold star.”

“With nothing in the background except… except the white cyc and the white table.”

“Can I ask a question?” Storm raises her hand.

“What?” Billie looks up from the camera view.

“Why am I sitting criss-cross on a table in front of your mom, Mags?”

“Because that’s what you’re going to be doing in the video.”

“Who said I want to be in the video?” The white-haired girl raises her left eyebrow in confusion.

“I did. Now shut up, look possessed, and pass the cup over to my mom,” Billie curtly demands.

“Yes, Mommy,” Storm’s eyes widen in mock shock as she follows the demand.

“Once it gets to this point, I’ll take a drink. Start drinking it. I’m not sure if I want it to stay here while I drink, or if it should come up to me while I’m drinking it—” Maggie sets down the cup, thinking the action was finished, causing Billie to pause mid-thought and redirect her. “Wait, keep drinking. I’m still deciding if I want it. 'Cause I don’t know if I… or—want it to stay diagonal. 'Cause I’m not sure if I want it to…” She stops abruptly, realizing she’s rambling. “What am I even saying?” she exclaims, frustrated.

“That’s what we’re all trying to figure out,” Storm comments, struggling to follow Billie’s verbal brain dump.

“Did I tell you to talk?” Billie turns her head toward her best friend.

“No.” Storm drops her head. “I’m sorry, Mommy Billie.”

“Stop calling me that!” Billie exclaims, a laugh escaping after. “I don’t know if I want to see… Okay, wait. I’ve decided. It’s gonna be here. Once I start drinking, and I’ve been drinking for a second, it’ll come and stay even with this leg in the middle, and exactly parallel to the other leg.” She steps closer to her mother and zooms in on the camera. “Come in so that my face is centered. I think I’ll grab the glass with my left hand so that the shot makes more sense.” Maggie follows her daughter’s vision and adjusts her hand. “Thanks, Mom,” Billie chuckles. “Then you’ll see the black goo disappear as I drink it all. And then Storm will reach over and slowly take the cup away.” Storm, obediently following directions, places the cup back in the center of the table and pauses as a thought strikes her.

“Wait, am I the demon in this video?” She turns to Billie, who’s still recording.

“And then I’ll just look into the camera,” Billie decides to ignore the question and continues with her director’s notes.

“Am I?” Storm repeats.

“And then it’ll stay right there. Don’t zoom! Don’t do any of those flashy moves these bozo filmmakers try to add just to keep things interesting.” Billie’s tone grows stern as she emphasizes her creative control.

“You’re working with a great director,” Maggie interrupts her daughter, not wanting her to get too worked up or overly demanding about the video’s details.

“Shut up!”

“He’s a genius.”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m telling you, don’t be an idiot. Don’t move the camera, and as I look into it, the black will drip from my eyes.”

“I just want to know whether or not I’m the demon in this video?” The camera shifts back to Storm.

“Yes, you are. Happy?” Billie finally answers.

“Why a demon? Can’t I be something friendlier?” Storm gives her best puppy-dog eyes, hoping it’ll sway Billie.

“No.”

“Okay,” Storm sighs.

“Billie, be nice to Stormy,” Maggie chides her daughter, giving Storm, who’s like a second daughter to her, a gentle pat.

“I’m always nice to her. Right, Peaches?”

“N-”

“I’ve got a mini-verse ball with your name on it,” Billie offers a playful bribe, knowing it’ll work.

“Billie treats me so well,” Storm offers a big smile. “She treats me so well I wouldn’t know what to do without her.”

“See?” Billie turns to her mother with a triumphant look.

“That was just sad, Stormy,” Maggie playfully shakes her head.

XXX

In a scene that felt like a manifestation of their dreams, the girls found themselves on set for ‘When the Party’s Over’. After an hour in makeup applying prosthetics for the black tears Billie envisioned in her video, they were ready to film. On a wide, white podium, Storm sat perched with her mouth agape and head tilted, mimicking possession. Billie, seated in front of her, held a cup of black ink, a crucial prop. Slowly, Storm extended her hand, taking the cup from Billie in a deliberate, practiced motion.

“Put it down. Slowly.” The cup touched the table with a soft clink. “Reset it. We’ll try it again.” After another cut, they repeated the scene because Billie wasn’t sure what expression she wanted for the next shot.

“Cut. Cut, cut, cut, cut.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do,” Billie voiced her frustration as they reviewed the playback.

“Keep an eye on the shot when Storm takes the glass, and it’s still in the air before she sets it down. I think you break character when you feel like the camera isn’t on you anymore,” the director began before Billie interjected.

“It’s still capturing me?”

“Yeah, so the idea is for you to stay in character until the camera is solely back on you for your ending expression,” the director explained.

“Got it. But I can’t tell when it’s fully back on me, so if you could call it out, that’d be great.”

“You want me to say, like, ‘Billie camera’?”

“Yeah,” Billie agreed, adding specifics, “or just, ‘Camera’s coming back to you.’ Then I’ll know to get my face ready.”

“Okay. Cool.”

Once again, they went over the scene, and this time they completed it without issues.

“Cut. Yeah.” The crew applauded as the shot concluded, Billie’s face smeared with black ink while Storm remained fixed, staring at her.

“For the next videos, I’m directing them all myself,” Billie declared, walking off set hand-in-hand with Storm as they headed toward her mother.

“What?” Maggie looked at the girls in confusion. “What happened?”

“He just wasn’t it. The video wasn’t it, but I don’t want to make everyone redo everything,” Billie shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “He only took some of the notes I gave him; the rest was his own ‘creative vision’ or whatever.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Storm tried to comfort her friend, hopeful that this was just a minor issue that would fade once the project was finished.

“No, it’s not,” Billie sighed, looking to her mother. “The whole point was for Peaches and me to end forehead-to-forehead, white eyes meeting black eyes. Not with us at a distance, black eyes meeting black eyes. Peaches’ signature look is white eyes—when has anyone ever seen her with black eyes?”

“Did you tell the director you wanted Stormy with white eyes?” Maggie attempted to stay neutral, hoping to salvage the experience.

“Yes!” Billie exclaimed. “He said her white eyes wouldn’t make sense with the black goo. But Storm having black eyes makes even less sense! She looks weird with black eyes—everything about her is practically white except for her skin tone. But no white eyes, yet they’re okay with a red lip?”

“I looked weird?” Storm asked, looking up at Billie.

“No,” Billie sighed, pulling her friend into a hug, resting her head on top of Storm’s. “You looked fine. I’m just aggravated that I took the time to plan this video, and I wasn’t listened to,” she mumbled into Storm’s white hair.

“Call it a lesson learned,” Storm offered optimistically. “Now you know what you like and don’t like, and you’ll know what to do for the next ones.”

XXX

“Record this,” Billie suddenly stood up behind the studio microphone. “Record this. Oh.” She put her hand to her mouth to remove her Invisalign, sucking slightly to keep any drool contained.

“Oh, my God,” Finneas laughed.

“Eww,” Storm grimaced, instinctively touching her own Invisalign.

“The first track of the album should just be that,” Billie laughed, plopping onto her brother’s bed.

“All right, I’ve taken my teeth out. Let’s make an album,” Finneas jokes.

“I’ve taken my teeth out,” the girls laughed.

“My Invisalign has…”

“I have taken out my Invisalign…” the trio chanted together, adding to the joke.

“I have taken out my Invisalign… and this is the album,” Billie grinned. “Peaches, you should take yours out, too.”

“That’d be a spit nightmare,” Storm shook her head, shivering at the thought.

XXX

"Blocking an intersection during rush hour traffic is not permitted unless you entered the intersection on a green light." Billie’s goal for the year is to get her driver’s license, and she’s very determined—even if it means studying after a two-hour session in Finneas's studio. “Under any circumstances, even if your light is green, unless you have the right-of-way or a green light—it's under any circumstances,” she read aloud. “Because if there’s traffic and it’s stopped, you can’t enter the intersection. That blocks everything. That’s illegal. Yeah, so... no.”

“It’s called ‘don’t block the box,’” Storm chimes in from her spot, lying with her head on Billie’s lap.

“Yes, correct.”

“That’s what they say in New York. ‘Don’t block the box,’” Maggie adds to Storm’s comment.

“That about vagina,” Billie shakes her head. “And how do you know that?”

“You literally won’t stop reading the handbook out loud,” Storm sighs. “I’m pretty sure if I wanted to take the test, I’d pass.”

“You could take it and get your learner’s permit,” Patrick suggests.

“No, thank you. I’m meant to be driven, not the person doing the driving,” Storm says, a little sass showing through.

“You gonna be my passenger princess,” Billie babbles in a baby voice, covering her best friend’s face in kisses.

“Get off me!” Storm laughs, trying to push Billie away, though she’s still lying on her lap.

“Never!”

"I’ve always wanted to drive. I just, like, love cars,” Billie says from the passenger seat of her dad’s car, talking to the camera facing the back seats. Today was the day Billie was officially given legal permission to start learning how to drive, having passed her permit test. “Of course, my mom has a van, my dad has a Mazda, and Finneas has a Honda Fit, so I’m just, like, drowning in losers.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Maggie laughs at her daughter’s comments.

“All I want is a matte black Dodge Challenger.” Billie stops mid-sentence as her phone vibrates in her lap. Picking it up, she sees a text notification from Storm. “Peaches just texted me,” she announces to everyone in the car. Opening the text, she finds a picture. “Ahh, my best friend loves me!” she cheers, bouncing in her seat and tapping the roof of her dad’s car. She turns her phone to show everyone the picture Storm sent.

“She bought me gifts, decorated my room with balloons, and I’m pretty sure those are Polaroids of us hanging from the ceiling,” Billie gushes, turning the phone back to herself to admire the picture.

“That’s so beautiful,” Maggie smiles, clearly appreciating the special friendship her daughter shares, something many people long for.

taglist @allaboutnayeli @zendayasredbottoms @tacoboutstuff @jules19sstuff @siyuziii @danc1ngqu33n @christiniawcb @riddlette13 @thebignunfun @xxloveralways14 @lordfarquad-k @rhearipley-69 @danversrailme @amberg1998 @zzzz-zzz1 @htttpcasti @lidiyabest @wwelovergirl @lesbianpoetess @jamiemundy7773 @pixelorange06 @steampunkprincess147 @brbblog123 @h3artss44le @harajukub4rb1e @billiesrighthand

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frost-queen · 1 year ago

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Black rose in a sea of red (Reader x Jerry Baynard)

Requested by: @alicethewriterandfangirl , Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: TW! Selfharm! You are upset of how your friends have such amazing lives while yours is terrible. Coming from a bad home, your coping behavior is self harm. Struggling with the idea of wanting to end it all, is Jerry there to save you from doing so.

The chattering died away when Miss Stacy settled everyone down. Specifically Anne who was proclaiming her opinion as loud as she could. Almost standing on the table to declare her words. Diana was tugging at her dress to pull her to sit. – “Miss Cuthbert if you please.” – Miss Stacy said giving her a stern glare. Anne chuckled settling down. Ruby was still whispering to Tillie. With one look of Miss Stacy pressed Ruby her lips together with force. Billy snorting across the classroom at how silly she looked.

Miss Stacy cleared her throat letting his chuckle die. When finally the peace had settled clasped Miss Stacy her hands together. – “I hope you all brought your assignments that I handed out last week.” – she started. Anne who was always eager already set her basket on the table, ready to show it to Miss Stacy. Miss Stacy smiled politely ushering her to wait. – “You may all set it on the table if you please.” – she continued giving the signal.

Everyone ducked down to reach in their baskets to set their work of art on the table. You felt uneasy taking out your artwork. Glancing to the side you saw Charlie’s piece of art. Billy and Paul laughing loud. – “Is that an aardvark?” – Billy joked laughing his ass off. Charlie groaned. – “No! It’s a dog.” – he mumbled setting his hand under his chin, pushing his artwork closer to his chest. Gilbert turned around in his seat looking at Billy’s work.

“Is that a self-portrait?” – he said snarky. Billy mimicked a childish laugh, annoyed by his words. – “Well yeah yours…” – Billy got a bit up to look at Gilbert’s work. Gilbert moved aside on purpose for him to see. – “Well yours… yours…” – Billy said trying to find an insult. Gilbert was smiling beyond himself when Billy couldn’t find something bad to say about it. – “I thought so.” – he said turning back around silencing Billy.

Paul laughed loud at how Gilbert had left Billy speechless. Across back by the girls was Anne proudly showing her masterpiece to everyone. – “Did you do this stitching?” – Diana asked pointing at it. Anne shook her head. – “No, Marilla helped me.” – she then pointed at some paint work. – “This is Matthew’s work, and this weird thing was added by Jerry.” – she finished pointing at a wobbly thing at the top. Diana held her art up. – “My mother helped as well. She painted the flowers.” – she commented.

Ruby got up waving her hand in between them for attention. – “My mother helped too! She did this, this, and this.” – she said pointing at several things in different angles. – “What did you do?” – Tillie replied as it appeared Ruby’s mother did everything herself. – “I did this.” – Ruby answered annoyed pointing at her name written in the corner. Diana rolled her eyes at how silly she was.

Seeing their work you rather wanted to crush it or throw it out of the window. Compared to their, yours seemed like it was made by a child. Also hearing them speak so lovingly about how their parents helped out felt like a punch in your gut. It was something you could only dream off, having a loving mother. Your mother didn’t help in your project. You dared ask her one time. That didn’t end well.

You got yelled at for ruining her moment and annoying her with silliness. Looking at your art again of paper mâché you noticed the dent of where your father had stepped on it. On purpose or accident. It didn’t really much as it had ruined it much. Seeing your friends talk so godly about their parents made you want to cry, pull your hair out and scream your lungs out. Ruby and Tillie turned around to you.

“Let me see yours Y/n.” – Ruby spoke as Diana and Anne looked over them. You pulled it closer to your chest, shaking your head. – “It’s…it’s terrible.” – insisting on it. – “Come show us Y/n.” – Tillie said pulling at your hand. You really didn’t want to show her, finding it unworthy. Ruby helped her to pull your hand away. Tillie then snatched it from you. – “Hey!” – you called out catching the attention of some boys across and Miss Stacy who waited to see where this was going.

Tillie held it up before her looking at it with a questioning brow. – “Did your mother help out?” – Ruby asked probably not meaning anything with it. She was always this innocent and naïve, yet it struck a nerve with you. – “No!” – you called out snatching the art from Tillie back. You then it on the ground setting your foot hard on it. Everyone gasped loud at your little act. – “Y/n!” – Miss Stacy called out concerned. You let your fingers brush automatically over your inner arm, knowing of the scars lingering there.

“Brute.” – one of Billy’s friends called out. Miss Stacy shushing him immediately. Miss Stacy approached you, kneeling gently down to pick up your crushed work of art. – “We can still mend this.” – she said with a warm smile. You shook your head. – “It is broken!” – you answered. Just like yourself. Turning your face away from her, you felt ashamed.

Ashamed and unworthy. Truly wondering what the exact point of you was. Not one of them here knowing a darn thing about your family. They had no idea with their wonderous lives, living like princesses. While you crawled through the gutter with no way out. Consistently surrounded by darkness. The only way out of the sinking was the carving. The marks on your inner arms that helped you coped with it.

Miss Stacy reached up to take your hand. The second she had your hand, you pulled it away. Needing to escape you took a run for it. – “Y/n.” – Miss Stacy called out as some jumped up. Gilbert being one of them. He wanted to run after you as Miss Stacy held him back by his shoulder. – “Let us give her a moment in solitude.” – Miss Stacy said sensing you didn’t want any company at this moment. – “But…” – Gilbert started seeing Miss Stacy shake her head.

He sighed deep, slouching his shoulders. He returned to his seat. Miss Stacy set your artwork on her desk, seeing how sloppy it was once your foot had tackled it. You ran frantically into the woods away from the school. Unable to cope with it. The sugary of your friends biting like sour in your flesh. Their life was something you could never achieve. Not with the home situation you have now.

A mother and father who barely looked at you. A brother who tackled you whenever he pleased. All the workload put on you. Treated like dirt by your own family. Never once said an ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you.’ Maybe this was just how things were meant to be. Unloved. Panting loud you kept running coming into different parts of the woods.

Jerry was whistling loud, carrying a sack over his shoulder. He had come back from the market, making his way back to Green Gables. Something caught his sudden attention as he noticed it was you. – “Y/n!” – Jerry shouted happily waving your way. He frowned when you didn’t seem to see him. Simply running past. Jerry lowered his sack questionable. Why weren’t you at school? Why were you running away? Was everything alright?

Feeling a bit worried he picked up his sack again, going after you. Near a shack crashed you down; out of breath. Leaning against the wood you let your head fall back. Still panting till your breathing steadied. Then the thoughts came. Those dark thoughts that always pushed you to the edge. You already know what to do. Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a sharp object. Then slowly pulling your sleeves up. Scars of old on your flesh.

Those dark thoughts became louder as it made you bring the tip of the sharpness to your wrist. Tears rolled down your cheek as your hand trembled. It would take one impulsive thought for you to bleed. Bleed till your life would slip away. Why shouldn’t you do it? What good was there in this life? There was no one to pull you out so it was easier to just accept it and be rid of this hell.

Gently setting the tip deeper onto your skin, your sight got blurrier from your tears. – “No!” – you suddenly heard startling you so hard, the tip had pressed deeper into your skin. A single drop of blood forming. Jerry rushed over to you, grabbing the sharp thing from your grip, and throwing it as far away from him. – “Don’t you dare!” – he breathed out.

“Don’t you even think about it!” – he said a bit firmer kneeling down in front of you. Grabbing your shoulders, he pulled you close to his chest for a hug. – “Find hope in the hopeless.” – he told you. – “I don’t know what made you do it, but please don’t. I don’t want to lose you… I don’t.” – he embraced you tighter fighting the urge to cry himself. – “Please Y/n…” – he whispered out as you started crying louder.

In the brink of almost doing it was Jerry there to pull you out. – “We’ll figure it out together. I am fighting for you, and I don’t want you to give up.” – wrapping your arms around him, you hugged back. – “Jerry…” – you cried out. Jerry simply held you, no needing an explanation. Just holding you. In that moment where he knew you needed to be seen, heard and loved.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year ago

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Would love your take on kates authenticity plant please. It was discussed on a UK show a few weeks back and authentic was the word I kept hearing. The host had kids in Thomas's when the then Cambridges went and everyone loved kate there

Oh boy, this is where I lose the Kate stans.

Let me preface this by making two points. First, I wasn’t always a Kate fan. I thought she behaved very well during the courtship (particularly during the breakup) and I loved the wedding (particularly the Halo tiara), but I was disappointed during the first years of the marriage when they weren’t working full time, and she seemed to be hopping from project to project haphazardly. That was not what I expected from a woman who had graduated college, who seemed to have a serious interest in photography and art history, and who had handled the intense press scrutiny of her dating years with dignity and effectiveness. I was very critical of her at this point.

And so were others. I don’t think Kate was perceived as “authentic” back then, as evidenced by the brutal Hilary Mantel essay that compared her to a mannequin and the reaction to her National Gallery portrait. The woman in the portrait was mature, self-assured and professional, and that was simply not the image Kate was projecting at that time.

But it is the image she’s projecting NOW. This Princess of Wales we are seeing now with the professional suits, ambitious projects, polished family image, and artistic patronages is what I expected to see from the disciplined, family-oriented, savvy St. Andrew’s graduate who married Prince William. I think this is the authentic Kate, finally growing into her role. It’s amazing to me that the artist captured that so perfectly way back then.

And I think that’s why she is getting the (well-deserved) accolades now. The post-2011 fairy-tale princess in bouncy curls, stiff coatdresses and matchy-matchy clutches never seemed quite real, but the post-2021 princess in boot-cut slacks (so like her college jeans) and pussy-bow blouses (just like in her portrait) with her tote bag and Starbucks cup seems very real. This Kate—with her Norfolk country house, Range Rover public school runs, cozy family pics, and adorably unruly youngest son—is exactly what we thought she would be.

She’s the same Kate we saw from 2004-2011. She’s family-oriented, disciplined, self-controlled, discreet, stylish, and reserved, and she doesn’t pretend to be anything else. She likes the country, photography, skiing, and tennis, and those are interest she has genuinely held for decades. She sticks by her family and supports her siblings. She still wears the same Penelope Childers boots. She still skies in the same French resort with her family. She has had the same nanny for more than a decade. She wears the same designers. The only deviations I have seen in my years of royal watching is that Mustique is not a preferred beach vacation spot anymore (I guess because the in-laws have their own resort) and there have been a distressing lack of Kiki purchases lately. Otherwise, she has stayed true to type.

Now, that’s real authenticity.

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tepli-mravenci · 1 year ago

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Be like me

> attend a college for game design

> get assigned to do a "self-portrait" student short film (min 1 minute long, max unspecified) for whatever reason as one of the final projects of the first year

> write a script about how much you love cemeteries

> get the script rejected, apparently not being "personal" enough

> get mad and write a script about a 1900's lesbian tragedy taking place entirely at your favourite cemetery inspired and centered around your favourite grave statue

> the script gets enthusiastically approved

> shoot a 9 minute silent black and white short film about 1900's lesbians starring you and your roommate as said lesbians

> make 25% of the movie including the credits to be shots of various graves

> PRESENT said film in front of all your classmates and teachers, with it also being by far the longest film presented and the only one with (attempted) period costumes

> get a C+

#random #last year was fun

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dykekingofhell · 5 months ago

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okay but i am endlessly fascinated by the book version of “did you eat the baby?” daniel never asks the question but the underlying tension is there during the entirety of NOLA reunion, what will happen to this infant? this child’s innocence becomes a symbol of the last vestige of louis’ humanity as he holds it and rocks it while speaking to lestat who by this point had been rendered an object of simultaneous monstrosity, pity, and yet still love. will he consume it, destroy whatever small part of him still left that feels? will he feed it to lestat, sacrifice another child to his love for him? this scene likely never actually happened judging by the vampire lestat but it’s still important that louis constructs it. he saves the child, returns it to its crib, walks away from lestat. he attempts to project to daniel a version of himself that after everything is still bound to human morality and sanctity of life. and it’s important that he himself believes in this portrait, that he will continue to struggle forward in his vampiric existence attempting to bargain with morality, to not take further innocence from this world (and to not make another claudia, another child dead or undead, it’s one and the same). yet simultaneously, how does he respond at the very end when daniel doesn’t buy into the morality tale he’s attempted to spin his life into and doesn’t see vampirism as a curse to be feared and fought against when infected with? violence. a final warning to daniel yes, and also a reminder that even when he returns the baby to safety he is still a monster containing cruelty and the capacity to kill. did he eat the baby? was the baby even real? does it matter? the baby changes nothing but louis’ own self perception.

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #loustat #boss makes a dollar i make a dime so ill write about vampires on company time #vampire chronicles

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hanaluna111 · 10 months ago

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Be mean to me

Ryomen Sukuna/Female! Reader

Summary: After a chaotic party you decide to end your relationship with Sukuna genre: light angst, college au (reader is in college) warning: usage of alcohol, toxic relationship, foul language, mentions of cheating, MDNI! Notes: Can´t write for shit (!!!) but Sukuna has me in a grip, english is not my first (nor second) language, so bear with me :( Words: 4.1k

"Where is your boyfriend?" Nobara questioned, sipping from her drink as you both held a conversation in the kitchen, not ready to return to the party. You shrugged your shoulders, still irritated with Sukuna, who had decided to ditch you for his friends.

The semester's coming to an end, which meant the exams were around the corner, your days consisted of relentless studying and last-minute reviewing until the late night.

The last time you saw him was weeks ago and you would have preferred to stay at home and catch up with him when he invited you to his friend's party.

He had grabbed your waist and asked, “When was the last time we did anything together?”

His hot breath on your neck, “Just this once, can't you just put your studies aside and have some fun.” pressing soft kisses on the most sensitive part, causing goosebumps all over your body. You loved him, and he knew you would never want to turn down his wishes, even if it meant going against your better judgement.

As soon as you stepped through the door, he promptly disregarded you to catch up with his friend Uraume. “I'll be right back, babe,” he said, not noticing your dumbfounded expression. Unbelievable, why did he make you come here only to brush you aside? You really looked forward to spending time together, but it appears you were the only one.

Sukuna was not the man you typically go for. He always carried himself with a slightly arrogant attitude and smug sense of self-importance, attracting followers wherever he went. You bit the inside of your cheek, taking in how the crowd parted for him, the girls eyeing him up and down like fresh meat, oblivious to his taken status. Can you blame them? He had it all – handsome features, an impressive physique, dyed hair and those delicious tattoos, which only added to the allure of the “bad boy” image that he projected. He was the type of guy every girl would love to have but knew they shouldn’t, as heartbreak was never far from him.

When starting a relationship with Sukuna, who was never interested in serious relationships and changed girls faster than his underwear, you knew that it was a risk. However, you were willing to go all in and prove that Sukuna could change for you.

The majority didn’t believe you both would last long which made you desperately prove them the opposite.

The first time you saw him was as a model for your anatomy class, the memories of it come flooding back to you.

You had been excited for this course, finally elevating your skills on how to draw realistic figures and portraits. However, you would’ve never expected an utterly mesmerizing, one-of-a-kind men stepping through the door.

Reflecting back on that moment, it wasn’t a surprise for someone like Sukuna to jump at the opportunity to showcase his body as he craved the spotlight and thrived in it.

His face took your breath away; you found yourself mesmerized by the black lines tracing the sharp contours from his cheeks to his jawline, soft amber eyes gazing intensely at you, appearing almost crimson. The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, you felt every memory and emotion of yours is laid bare for him to experience.

He was the first to break off eye contact to talk to the professor, and you slowly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. At once, your heart began to return to its natural beat as your body loosened from the intense grip of his hypnotic eyes, no longer victim to his spell.

You allowed your eyes to travel; the sight of his muscular physique fills your entire field of vision. The fabric of his black shirt was almost stretched to its limit, the outline of his well-defined abs prominent underneath, and his bulging biceps straining against the fabric, the seams ready to burst open any moment now. Protruding veins ran down his hands, where rings decorated his fingers and nails painted a deep shade of violet.

Your eyes travelled lower, feeling the tension building in your core, your mind going dizzy with desire. He wore loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and you just knew that his legs were muscular underneath. He moved slowly, starting to remove his clothes, and you weren’t sure if it´s just your imagination, but it felt like as if he was taking his sweet time stripping, showing off his bulging biceps as he moved his arms up.

Now only standing in his underwear, you observed his body in its full glory, covered in a series of precise lines, tracing the outline of his muscles. You couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to run your fingers along his firm muscles, itching to trace every line and curve of his tattoos. Or how his long, slander fingers would dig into the soft flesh of your hips while your hands were busy roaming over his chiselled chest and broad shoulders. At this point every rational thought was thrown out the window, every fibre of your being in need of his touch. Sukuna´s toned body was the result of endless hours of intense training and dedication, that even the gods themselves would be envious of such perfection.

Raising your eyes once more, you were met by the sharp gaze of Sukuna, one eyebrow raised mockingly, and a smirk slowly spreading across his plush lips.

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment and your pulse rising. Shit, how obvious was it that you were checking him out? His smirk grew wider as he noticed you flushed expression, a malicious idea forming in his mind. While he was talking to the professor, he had felt you shamelessly admiring his toned physique. His need to humiliate you almost as strong and evident as his desire for admiration.

“Want me to take my underwear too?” he taunted you and made sure to stretch the fabric of his underwear with his thumbs, taunting with what lies beneath.

Utterly and completely mortified, you wished for the ground to open up and swallow you whole as you looked down on your blank canvas.

Asshole

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N, are you there?" Nobara nudged you in the side with her elbow, shaking you out of your daydream.

"Sorry, I was completely zoned out," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I can tell," she chuckled, "Felt like I was talking to myself for a second there.”

She grabbed your arm and gently pulled you out the kitchen. "Let's get moving, I can't stand seeing you waste your time sulking instead of partying.”

You were met with loud music thrumming in your ears, bones vibrating due to the heavy beat, immediately filling your body with energy. Nobara took you to the dance floor, pushing through the swarm of dancing bodies before turning to you and taking your hands in her. “Come on now,” she shouted “it’s time to bust a move!” you laughed for the first time since you arrived, putting your arms over your head and swaying your body to the beat.

The air was heavy with your laughter mingling with the pungent scents of sweat, perfume, and alcohol. Immersed in the moment, your worries dissolved as you danced your heart out, lost in the music, enjoying yourself despites your boyfriend’s sudden disappearance. The all-too-familiar aching feeling in your heart, which was a constant companion since you started dating him, slowly faded into the background.

As you lost yourself in the music, you didn’t even notice Sukuna walking towards you, his eyes followed each of your movements, appreciating the way your dress swirled and puffed around you like a wave as you spun. You were all he saw in that moment, the only thing that mattered to him, the sight of your twinkling eyes and your childlike smile brought out a soft grin across his face; there was something building in his chest every time your presence filled his senses, it felt like a pressure, restricting his oxygen flow. He didn’t understand why his chest tightened ever so slightly with each breath, but he also wasn’t afraid. Instead, he welcomed that foreign feeling, desperate for it to continue grasping him. He wanted more, he needed more.

Strong fingers wrapped around your waist and snapped you out of the dance as Sukuna greeted you with a sly smile across his face.

He drew your body closer, his heat seeping into your skin and making you feel hot. “Missed me?” he mumbled against your neck, his lips planting a soft kiss and sending shivers down your spine. You gave him the silent treatment as you couldn’t shake off the hurt of his abandonment earlier in the night.

When he attempted to kiss you, you moved your head at the last second. His hot breath touched your ear, a subtle sigh leaving his lips before locking eyes with you, a subtle twitch played on his smirk. “Why, is something the matter?” he asked, his grip tightening around you.

Annoyance flashed through his eyes, but as soon as he saw your crumbling expression, his attitude shifted drastically as he softly cupped your cheek, stroking it with the rough pad of his thumb. “Talk to me, baby.”

This wasn’t the first time that Sukuna had left you behind for his friends, you recalled the multiple times you had already spoken to him about this. God, it’s all so frustrating; Growing tired of his constant antics, you looked away, heat gradually crept up your neck. He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. Matter of fact, he should be the one to try and talk to you not the other way around.

Sukuna seemingly read your mind, understanding the reason for your upset. “I am here now, aren’t I?” he husks, angling your head towards his. You were frustrated with him, not liking the idea of brushing the issue under the rug once again and letting him get away without consequences. No, this time you wouldn’t tolerate his disespect. You were, after all, his girlfriend and not just a plaything.

The words had instantly left your mouth, your voice shaking with uncertainty as you felt him pulling away from you. “You keep doing this to me,” you pleaded with him, feeling downright deceived by his nonchalant attitude.

“Am I not a prior- “

“You´re making a big deal out of nothing. I'm here with you now, isn't that enough?” he huffed, his glaring eyes boring into yours. To him it was a pointless argument that didn’t need to happen.

His sudden outburst left you speechless and you were unsure what to say or do.

The sharp sting of his words clawing its way deep into your skin, leaving your emotions all tangled up in a confusing mess – was it not possible for you guys to have a conversation, why did it always have to end up in an argument?

Noticing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, he ran his fingers exasperatedly through his hair, not sparing another glance at you. It was clear that he was through with the entire situation, disregarding your feelings.

“Come find me when you’ve calmed down.”

You wanted to call after him, but the harshness in his tone, and the way he abruptly turned and left you behind was to much for you to handle.

Instead, Nobara put her arm around your shoulder and guided you to the kitchen.

With emotions running wild, you found yourself pouring alcohol in your red cup and immediately gulping it down before pouring another.

A part of you wanted to chase him down and tell him that you were through;

but another dumber part of you wanted nothing more than to apologize him and take fault for the whole fiasco.

As if you did something wrong.

Your blood boiled at the pathetic thought, as you replayed the scene in your mind. Shame filled your mind, the realization that you were allowing yourself to be disrespected repeatedly made you more furious than the thought of him treating you with such.

“Son of a bitch, how dare he,” Nobara barked furiously, her loud voice echoed through the room. “His sorry ass should be glad to even breath the same air as you,” she continued, slamming her fists on the table with aggressive force, causing the liquids in your cups to slosh around, threatening to spill out.

She paced back and forth in front of you as she ranted, “He´s just- argh- I’m gonna beat him up.” The heat of her anger seemed to hit you like a blast of hot air. You’ve had only seen her so worked up before when Yuji went on a date with his former classmate Yuko, but she couldn’t longer handle the way her best friend was being treated in her relationship, taking every hit and blow. She always knew he was bad news.

Finally standing still, she puts her hands on your shoulders, a hint of frustration crossed her face as her eyes seemed to pierce through your soul, not giving you a chance to hide your emotions. „Are you happy with him?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. Your brows knitted together in confusion, having not expected that question, her words lingering in the air like a ghost.

It was those five little words that brought the truth to the forefront, releasing all the pent-up sadness that had built over time. Despite your attempt to hide the rough patches of your relationship from your friends and play everything off as alright (as they constantly told you to not involve yourself with Sukuna), you could no longer suppress your trembling within you, a sob left your lip shortly after.

It was as if the dam had broken, anger and hurt crashed relentlessly into you like strong waves to the point where you felt like drowning in an endless ocean of misery and despair, all for the sake of keeping the relationship afloat. In the expanse of your love for Sukuna, you found yourself submerged, desperately seeking to inhale fresh air, yet your lungs filled with salty water, the burning consuming you. Meanwhile he was standing safe and secure at the shore, looking down on you and simply watching as you struggled to keep your head above the water.

“No,” you replied quietly, your eyes darting around the room. “I feel like everything I say or do pushes him to the edge. He…He’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Shoko started shaking your shoulder, her tone stern. “You seriously need to-”

You interrupted her, admitting, “But…I don’t know if I am ready to leave him,” the internal conflict evident. Yes, you were be angry and hurt, however you still loved him enough not to want to lose him over something like this.

Those times when he didn’t act like a total jerk, he acted gentle and caring– a side not many got to witness, not even his younger brother Yuji. So, giving up on your relationship and leaving after he showed you his vulnerable side felt like betrayal on your part.

“Huh?” The air felt thick and heavy between you both. With her mouth wide open, Nobara’s face was frozen in a look of disbelief, as is she couldn’t believe what you were saying. How the hell did she miss the severity of your situation? She took a deep breath to gather herself, trying to find the right words before focusing her attention back on you. “How about we leave the party, hm? Sleep it off for now, and then you can tell me everything that has been going on with you two.”

Up to this point the alcohol hit you hard, spinning your head and clouding your thoughts.

You knew she was right, and you gladly accepted her offer, ready to end this chaotic night. But before that, “I need a cigarette.”

Exiting through the kitchen door, you both stepped into the garden, the warm summer breeze enveloping you, the air refreshing and calming. Looking around the garden, you spotted familiar faces such as Yuuji and Megumi, talking to each other. It has been weeks since you last saw them, and you wanted to catch up to them.

Suddenly, a fleck of pink caught your eye. You turned your head and saw Sukuna, leaning casually against the wall, an unlit cigarette between his curved lips. His eyes were fixated on someone before him, flickering with a flirtatious glint. When Sukuna looks at someone, he can make one feel like the only person in the world, the intensity of his undivided attention will leave you intoxicated, craving it like a drug you couldn’t live without. It’s the same look he gave you back in the early days when he´d forced you to talk after class with him. Now the same flirty look is directed at Mei Mei, who had positioned herself dangerously close to him. One hand lay rest on his bicep, while the other held the lighter, her eyes glued to his lips, waiting for them to curl to light up his cigarette.

A pang, no, explosion of jealousy seared through your body- a flaming hot flush spread from your cheeks down to your neck as your thoughts scrambled to make sense of what you were seeing. Tears started to form at your waterline. “This must be a bad dream,” you whispered to yourself, praying any seconds now you´ll wake up at your desk, your sketches splattered around as if no time had passed.

But as hard as you pinched yourself, the nightmare didn’t end, and instead you were haunted by their presence, her wandering hands on his arms, bodies almost flush against each other.

Your trembling hands clenched into fists as you tried to contain your anger.

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, but all the words are caught in your throat. Even through the ringing of your ears, you could hear the sounds of their laughter, echoing in your head, as if mocking you.

Suddenly, you were embraced in a big hug from your friend Yuuji. “Hey Y/N, what’s up?” he beamed at you, his loud voice almost bursting your ears as it pulled you out of your thoughts, only for you heart to drop in your stomach as your boyfriend looked in your direction. While you half-listened to Yuuji's endless ramblings, your attention was solely fixed on Sukuna's stupid lips, losing their smirk, his stupid eyes widening for just a split second and his stupid hands finally pushing Mei Mei away. As he walked towards you, you couldn’t help but wonder, would he have kept on going if he hadn’t been caught?

“Don't make a big deal out of this, okay? Just trust me." Your mouth hung open in shock, your brain struggling to process what he just said. You would’ve thought he´d come here to at least give you a half-assed attempt at an apology, and maybe show remorse for his actions, but even that was too much for his pride. The way he looked at you, his eyebrows pinched together, made your pulse rise, your body ready to lash out and hurt him as much as he hurt you.

You were reminded of all the times you were sticking up for him, fighting tooth and nail for your friends and family to give him a chance. He promised to try his hardest for this relationship to work, and like a fool, you trusted him. You should’ve known that you can entertain Sukuna for so long before he gets bored. “You left me to hang out with your friends, after you convinced me to come. You´ve been shitty and moody, ruining my entire night. And now you have the audacity to ask me to trust you, after I caught you cheating on me?”

“I´m not fucking cheating on you,” he sneered, eyebrows pinched together. Being so caught up with your boyfriend, you didn’t realize that everyone around you was silently watching and listening. But he did as he whispered through clenched teeth, “And stop making a scene, are you trying to get attention?”

A dry laughter escaped your throat as you began to walk away, far away from him. “I guess you´re right.” The tears burned your eyes, but you refused to let him see them. At this point you had no energy left, exhaustion finally caught up on you, the only thing you wanted was crawling into your warm and cozy bed. “I´m done with you and done with this relationship.”

“What do you mean done?” he asked, his quick footsteps almost catching up on you and he was hoping that you would slow down. “Babe, just wait a damn minute.” he called, an exasperated sigh followed. Soon he overtook you with his long legs, his big hand circling your wrist, his grip as firm as cement, in vain you tried to pull your hand away.

“I shouldn’t have let her put her hands on me like that, I admit it,” the timbre of his voice changed, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you´re allowed.” You didn’t feel any comfort; his words rang empty.

“Yeah, right.” Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, remembering the scene earlier, tugging at your heartstrings. You saw it in his eyes, how he almost gave in to temptation if not for Yuuji´s loud voice interrupting them. How could he not? Mei Mei is beautiful vixen. It´s obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that she was trying to seduce him and even someone as smart and quick-witted as Sukuna isn’t immune to her charms, as he is, after all, just a man. “Did you forget that you are mine, not hers? Did your thick skull seriously forget you have a girlfriend again?!”

“No. But do you seriously expect from me to totally ignore other women, because you´re acting like a jealous bit-”

Slap. The crisp thud of your hand slapping across his face echoed in your head. There´s a lingering tinge of numbness in your hand, but every fibre of your being was engulfed by an intense flame, that it didn’t matter. Sukuna held his now red cheek, the sharp pain left him stunned.

“Don’t you dare insult me,” your voice rose. “You humiliated me in front of everyone! Are you that desperate to entertain any girl who looks your way?” chests flush against each other, your eyes shoot daggers as you tried to contain the rage you felt.

“Do you honestly believe I´ll just sit quietly and watch while you cheat on me?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You may think you´re some kind of king, who can do whatever he wants. Well, newsflash, you´re not. You´re a nobody, a mistake. It´s over now, you’ve had your fun with me.”

He stood tall and broad, his muscles quivered with barely restrained fury, like a force on the brink of explosion, but he still managed to display a vicious grin that promises nothing but bad intentions. “I can't say I had my fun with you, can I?” His breathing became unsteady.

“Didn’t even let me fuck your stuck-up ass,” he sneered, each word he spoke was like a thundercrack landing nearby, the impact making you flinch. It hurt. It hurt so much, that you were unable to stop the tears pouring down your hot, blotched face.

“Aw, don’t cry baby,” he taunted, his thumbs wiping the tears from your face, smearing them all over your cheeks. “It's cute how you thought I actually cared about you. You were nothing more than a project for me, you know? Just wanted to see out how long it'd take for little miss prude to open up her legs for me. I guess we'll never find out now.”

He leaned in, grinning, whispering in you ear like it was some secret. “What a shame.”

With your eyes growing distant, you felt his sharp claws piercing your heart, squeezing the life out of it. Like the cruel monster he is, Sukuna ripped your heart violently from your chest, held it in his hand and feasted on it with his sharp fangs. His eyes turned cold, relishing the pained expression on your face, enjoying the sound of your gasps as it was some kind of sweet music to his ears.

In a swift motion, you rushed out of the garden, leaving him with his heart still intact while yours is shattered into a thousand pieces, Nobara quickly rushed up behind you. Once you were out of his sight, she wrapped her arms around you in a comforting hug as you screamed all your pain in a torrent of tears and sobs.

#jjk #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #light angst #no happy ending #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader

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