Fake fic title: dark as a lake
Oooh....I think this would be a flashback-flashforward fic of Pete "platonically" hanging out with Patrick by the Lakes and remembering his dead boyfriend he used to hang out by the Lakes with...so sad. So angsty.
4 notes
·
View notes
Hey hey! Since you just reposted the academy lifting drabble (and I remembered how much I love it), could you draw Renji squatting/Rukia glowering at his can? If the spirit moves you 😅
Illustrate my own fanfic? You don't have to ask me twice.
God, they're so aggressively stupid, I love them so much.
63 notes
·
View notes
Making fan trolls again is all fun and games until you have to come up with typing quirks
8 notes
·
View notes
Saw the two mentioned together a few times n now im surprised nobodys drawn the Voices from Slay The Princess as Disco Eliysium styled portraits. Cracks knuckles. Guess theres a niche only im capable of filling after all uwu
3 notes
·
View notes
Jake walks a fine line; the line between nothing and everything. For better or for worse, it's all just part of the job.
All his life, he's had to make do with nothing because that's how it was when he found it. Keeping a hidden box of snacks in his room for when his mom locks him in his room for hours on end and the pains in his growling stomach becomes too much to ignore. Ripping the bottom of his pants up to stop the all too fast blood pouring out of him when he wakes up lost in the desert, separated from his troop and badly injured. Staying awake for days on end, ignoring his burning eyes and swimming head, when his band of mercenaries managed to piss off the wrong rivals. Always coming in when all hope was lost and managing to make something out of nothing. Sometimes all he could manage was the bear minimum, but it was enough to keep them alive and fighting.
But now Jake has his own life, his own friends, his own brothers. Khonshu is less of a problem and Steven's homey flat is a good refuge from danger. Now he has everything. He can eat a big breakfast with several courses just for fun and because he can. There is always food in the fridge. He knows where the first aid kit is in case he knicks himself while shaving and needs a bandage to stop the blood. He can stay up late, partying and seeing the sights; music pumping through his veins and giving him the energy to stay awake until the sun comes up. And then he can drag himself home, not bothering to wash the glitter off, and curl up in their soft bed, savoring the silky sheets and plush pillows, until the late afternoon sun spills in. He can indulge because he's safe now. They all are. There's no more danger, no more living off bare bones, just excess everywhere he looks. He could get used to living like this.
23 notes
·
View notes