#what we want from them
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GLORY TO THE RISEN GODS
#everyone is obsessing over the new companions meanwhile me:#and yeah i drew these based off 3 dimly lit screenshots so they're probably inaccurate. do i care? no!<3#my art#dragon age#dragon age 4#dragon age the veilguard#da:tv#what is the correct tag. idk#evanuris#ghilan'nain#elgar'nan#<- i hope :)#alongside the egg on this game's roster of antagonists we have: eldritch horror lesbian and evil divorced father#absolutely obsessed with them#man they scene where they come out of the fade from behind solas has been replaying in my head nonstop since i saw it#also just wanted to point out that they said on the q&a that all ancient elves eventually go bald. but elgar'nan actually has hair in the#closeup. therefore i honestly think it's a skill issue on solas' part#also no one pay attention to the fact that i haven't posted art in like 5 months lol <3
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in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!
they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.
they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.
you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.
but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.
where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.
and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?
doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.
but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.
what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.
just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?
your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.
#spilled ink#warm up#writeblr#this is about someone specific but feel free to blorbo on main.#tbh this is familial for me so that is an element but it's also about childhood best friends#and probably about ur enemies to lovers blorbo#(but i want to specifically say if ur partner is like this. not necessarily a good partnership lol.)#(the dynamics at play in familial/friend relationships feel equally important and in some ways are HARDER to escape.#bc we can see that this is a potentially toxic romantic foundation.#but in family ? ...... it's toxic and it doesn't stop u from loving them. bc u always have.#and i think that makes it harder. by a lot. which is what this is referencing).#but genuinely and really truly forever feel free to tag ur potentially toxic enemies to lovers on this and all my poetry#here i'll do one for u - adora & catra :x
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It can't be overstated how powerful the catharsis is when a scene of a character connecting with their wounded inner child is done right. The key poses...the expressions...the timing...storytelling like this can help to provide some healing for so many people in the audience.
#(hear it from me as a former therapist --)#I basically have had many sessions with clients where it's WAY easier to visually show them what inner child work is like#rather than verbally trying to break down the concept and explain it to them in mere words#if you show them visually it hits the subconscious right away. bypasses the conscious mind and cold logic#to show this in the form of art drives the concept home that much more#that's why we need stories about healing done right#the How to Connect Lovingly part is soooo hard to do honestly (speaking from my own personal experiences too)#it's so easy to keep loathing your wounded inner kid and finding him/her/them pathetic#arcane spoilers#arcane s2#jinx arcane#isha arcane#arcane#literally like...now that I have seen this scene I want to dig up the old photo of smol me that I used in my own therapy --#to connect with my own horribly traumatized inner kid
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On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.
Bonus:
#a homestuck walks into an antechamber and asks#hey is anybody going to make this dynamic wholly deterministic and thus dubiously consensual by its very nature#ANYWAY bigger ramble below. scroll down like usual#isat spoilers#isat#isat fanart#isat siffrin#isat loop#sifloop#THATS RIGHT WE'RE STILL SHIP TAGGING IT BABYYYY#in stars and time#in stars and time fanart#lucabyteart#RAMBLE START: anyway i think loop is wrong here. they have it backwards. as-- in my opinion--#the main reason they could be called back into existence postcanon is because *their* wish for help is still not complete#they still need help. siffrin still needs help. neither of them will ever stop needing help.#they will thus uphold the wish until the end of siffrin's natural lifespan.#that said. what does it mean that loop can be so wholly forced to abide by siffrin's wants?#(assuming the dagger cutscene posession is them being forced to uphold the 'help siffrin' wish via harsh universe logic)#[as opposed to something capricious and cruel the change god did. which feels out of character for the change god to me?]#much like how the island wish and duplicate objects are neutered by simply sliding off people's brains...#is loop subtly ushered toward their wish? obviously it's not a full override (see: the bossfight). but is there any interference?#and if so. so what? does it matter? if they don't notice? is it even real if they don't notice?#and even if they do notice. the universe leads we follow. how much do either of them value their free will in a belief system like that?#the whole game is dedicated to siffrin habitually NOT excersizing his free will. doing things the same Every Time.#Loop ESPECIALLY does this. predetermined predetermined predetermined even in the FACE OF CHANGE. REFUSING. ANY CHOICE.#Maybe they'd even be comforted by having a universe-ordained purpose even if it is subservient. even if its to Him.#(though. i can't see siffrin enjoying the idea that someone is subservient TO them... then all their suffering is his fault...)#loop got into this mess via WANTING too much. no more free will. can't be trusted with it. take it away from them.#but yeah. gets my greasy detective pony hands all over this. and everyone please do remember i like to make characters Outright Wrong A Lot
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Thanks for listening to my sad backstory. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan xichen#lan wangji#madam lan#This normally would have been two separate comics but I felt like it was a far better joke to have them together.#Enjoy the rare double feature comic!#I was listening to this episode - scripting out and preparing for a longer and heartfelt comic on this scene.#And then Lan Xichen pulled out his flute and started playing unprompted.#I could not contain my laughter. I know it is trying to be emotionally resonate and the flute is pretty but...#It really does have the energy of “Okay thanks for listening to my tragedies and traumas. I don't know how to segue out of this.”#This madam lan design is inspired by Qourmet's design! Really good stuff that I was not able to do more with in this one panel.#Speaking of...I know it is ambiguous on purpose and we are only told what happened through LXC's POV but...#I always interpreted madam lan's passing as a suicide. I think LXC was told it was illness to soften the blow.#She was stuck in a house with maybe a servant coming by to give her food. One day a month she saw her children.#Of course she was warm and loving in their memories-#She was trying to give them a version of her that would be remembered as such. She wanted to protect them from the truth.#She did her best but she was already dead a long time ago. She must have felt like a ghost haunting a house.#Love to her was waiting. And both her boys inherited that view of love.
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these two are so interesting to me
characters belong to @canisalbus
#clenches fists. im so sosososo normal about them. i think about them a normal amount (lying)#actually the 2nd image is based on some sort of anime couple pose template(?????) that i saw a while back and wanted to draw them in it#but i swear to god i CANNOT FUCKING FIND IT. i was literally knee deep in yuri and yaoi fanart for hours trying to find that god damn photo#but i dont even know who the characters were and pinterest just shows me bakugou and deku making out sloppy style whenever i try#so i gave up an tried drawing it from memory and cried the whole time. i hate anatomy.. but they look so happy so its fine#god whenever i see Lore or sweet little tidbits for these two i want to tear into something with my teeth and throw something /pos#i genuinely want to study these gay little renaissance dogs under a microscope#what fucks me up is the fact that we all know it ends horribly but u cant help loving them anyway.. they are so. incoherent hand gestures#my art#myart#others ocs#vasco#machete#vaschete#furry art#fur#anthro
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Me: [sees everyone talking about how Assad Zaman was "literally" coming up with RPF about himself and Eric Bogosian in an interview]
Me: ah, fandom's doing its little "interpret an innocent comment in Some Kind Of Way" thing again, let's go find the video and do our own critical thinking about what was actually said here--
Assad: What would happen if I said-- [words that cannot be interpreted as anything but RPF fanfic]
Me:
Me: ok fandom gets a pass on this one actually
#interview with the vampire#devil's minion#assad zaman#he's just hit that level of devil's minion brainrot#i've seen it a thousand times#this cast is fully unhinged and I ADORE them#the chaos energy is off the charts#eric out here setting a bad example with his “did u know u can say anything u want in interviews actually :)))” energy#assad seems one step away from getting Marxist about it like#“if rolin doesn't let me kiss daniel in s3 we must Seize The Means Of Production”#baby boy listen... be the change you want to see in the world#if u wanna write ur own devil's minion fanfic and film it on ur iphone i support u 100% and i will get u in contact with the OTW's lawyers#who ironically were invented partially BECAUSE of people getting in trouble for writing Anne Rice fanfic#this is what we call Plot Structure#real life does not usually have such a satisfying Plot Structure but it could in this case if assad reaches level 100 in Unhingery#and tbh i truly don't know that I would put it past him at this point#iwtv
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff#but I also just want to post it and get it out there#fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them#im bad at multiple drafts#my writing#dp x dc#dp x dc au#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#batman#i live to make everybody dramatic#but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic#lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade#and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so#he doesn't need to change for nobody#nor feels inclined to#also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable#jazz: let's unpack that#clockwork: we never do#jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING#wish i could#that is cash money right there#shoutout to 11thsense
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alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3
#my art#pressure roblox#roblox pressure#sebastian solace#painter pressure#thought more abt my headcanons for seb’s anatomy and like. lol that tail is not pure muscle hes got guts in there.#that + the fact that there’s spinal cord in there means itd be a bad idea to try and amputate it#the wagon/eventual wheelchair is mostly for outdoor use i imagine.#<- specificallt]y for outdoor surface textures/debris that’d be bad for him to slither on#also. chronic pain have i dont think suddenly shrinking his whole body did much good for that#i imagine he and painter have like. a pool. to help with that and other needs he has now.#but he wouldnt wanna use it for a long while#there was a sort of. disconnect between his idea of freedom from urbanshade vs the reality of it i think.#like. thinking things could. on some level. go back to normal#and not considering that some of his mutations would be irreversible#and having to confront/cope with/accomodate himself about that#seb wants to be normal again but we cant all get what we want can we!#sometimes healing involves working with or around irreversible change buddy!#btw if feligayzed sees this. hiii hii your au was one of the big things that kicked my brain off on this and i wanna make fanart sometime#oh yeah this is . also.#sebpainter#pressure pathways#pathways#wow i dont think ive written a wall of tags that big in a long time. can you tell im having normal feelings about them
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꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji
warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.
word count ⟢ 963
notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3
“Yuu…” “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”
Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.
“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”
Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point.
Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.
The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves.
“Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.”
After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.
Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.
Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.
“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.
Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.
“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”
Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.
“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”
For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”
Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”
The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.
“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.
“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.
He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.
You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.
“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.”
#please heed the warnings—they are there for a reason!#otherwise i hope everyone enjoys :’-)#feeling a lil self-conscious but fuck it we ball#choso is delusional which i hope comes across in this fic#yuuji is too to an extent but—well. anyway it’s more reciprocal btwn him and reader#i want to return some day and further explore their insane three way psychosexual dynamic But#i wanted to keep it smutty for kinktober#bc that’s what the kinktober gods demand#anyway if anyone has any questions or wants me to talk about this au further i am always ready and willing#i think about them A Lot#dead dove do not eat#— from the desk of#— kamo choso#— itadori yuuji#— jujutsu kaisen#cw dead dove#cw incest#cw yandere#cw drugging#cw noncon#cw forced feminization#choso x reader#yuuji x reader
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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Prompt 291
You know what? I’m feelin’ a Prompt with the whole halfa family, all the clones and everything.
See, Danny? He’s grown up, he’s moved out, started looking at colleges himself after spending a few years travelling and learning about himself without the threat of a ghost attack.
He’s kept in touch with his friends, both living and dead, and ignores Vlad for the most part now that they’ve reached a truce of sorts, and honestly? He’s just living his life.
But see, it’s kind of hard to figure out what college to pick, with his admittedly not-great choices. Look, he might have a new-ish ID but he’s still visibly not exactly human (though thankfully doesn’t have to worry about the GIW after a… summer activity that ended with several missing buildings)
And most people he goes to? Finds him ‘too unsettling’ which excuse him?? How is he unsettling? He’s a twenty-five year old with six kids ranging from one to six! How is that “scary” huh? Ancients, and all this is making him use the cash he’s saved up over time.
And then- as though all of this isn’t stressful enough and he’s not genuinely worried that he won’t have enough money to feed the kids if he goes to school- a hero nearly trips over Jordan and starts freaking out. He is so fucking done.
#DCxDP#Prompts#DPxDC#Mom Danny#Dad Danny#He’s both#Space Core Danny#Sun Core Dan#Moon Core Ellie#Why yes he named his clone-sons after stars#Shadow Core Orion#Bed Sheet Ghost#Earth Core Rigel#Monster Ghost#Light Core Algor#Tiny Ghost#Ice Core Draco#not ghost king danny#danny fenton clones#de aged dan#de aged ellie#adult danny#Which hero with future knowledge stumbles across baby destroyed-the-world-threat?#Wonderful question and go wild with it#Danny just wants to go to college he’s spent so long saving up so he wouldn’t have to use other’s money for it#He’s THIS close to accepting that villain college invitation that he got from Sam talkin about him#”Oh I’m talkin’ to my ex- he just finished destroying a secret government branch look at the sweet crater- he’s askin if we wanna use it fo#for a garden or something what do y'all think"#”Oh yeah those are his kids aren’t they adorable? Yeah he had them with our other ex- no not that one- the hero one- no the other hero one”#It’s an inside joke but the other villain college people do not know that it’s a joke
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doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what
#dimension 20#fantasy high#riz gukgak#very specifically class swap bard!riz#fh class quangle#mm. I may need tags for all the asides Ive been doing lmao#riz's canon design is so coherent and thematically clean that I genuinely struggle to keep up...#bard!riz's whole thing is working out his identity through abject fear so it kiiiinda makes sense that hes got a different thing going#on every year I guess? like lmao the directive I go into each of these designs with changes vastly#freshman bard!riz has to look extremely nonthreatening. and also make you wanna pick him up and chuck him at a wall#annoyingly inoffensive. slides off your memory pretty much immediately. a void of an experience#crucially Does Not Show Teeth While Smiling#sophomore year bard!riz I have been keeping the like. cameraman direction for#I want him to be swimming in clothes a little bit... he kinda lands at like. 80s/90s shlocky horror protag too which I do like#bc what is season 2 to riz if not a horror story lmao#junior year bard!riz I want to be somewhere between clark kent and tintin#the journalist aesthetics is not so clear and easy to build as the detective or spy aesthetics...#but also I just. really like boy journalist lmao this is the BD blood speaking again#and! I actually do draw his hair differently than in my canon junior year riz stuff. its a bit shorter here so it doesn't#obscure as much of his face#its so funny actually going from drawing canon stuff to class swap esp. with riz bc he's smiling SO much here#and it's 100% trained like its crucial for u guys to know he is equally if not more fucked up as a bard#barely anybody can wrangle him in canon it's already been mostly him keeping himself on track. imagine if he actually learned how to act#mmm. I think these designs are still gonna soft change as I draw them. thats fine we have fun#drawing sophomore year bard!riz for those comiclets was fun as hell. I think on this factor alone I call it a success lol
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Council of lovefools.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#jiang yanli#jiang cheng#They don't have an actual sleepover in this scene but the vibes were so sleepover coded...I had to get them cozied up.#Late night talks with friends and family are some of the best conversations.#My siblings and I used to have room sleepovers with each other (Actually an excuse to stay up and talk about runescape)#Currently my flatmates and I also have really great heart to hearts late into the night.#Pondering shit like 'What defines confidence?“ and ”Why are people terrified of letting themselves fall in love?"#All that aside; There is a really great conversation between JC and WWX here. They are so close and yet so far way from each other!#Fundamentally they *agree* about many things - but JC now has to play the role of someone more 'mature'.#His temper is reigned in and he had to take a more nuanced approach. Whereas WWX can be far more reactionary.#JC has changed to become someone more mature (or at least he is trying).#Contrast this attitude with the scene *right* after where WWX literally goes baby mode with JYL. Rolling around going “I'm Fwee years old”.#When children are hurt we comfort them with hugs and warm food and a laugh. It's not enough when you're an adult. It's not simple anymore.#WWX is stuck in the past when everyone else is shifting and moving on! It's a depression allegory (and just...actual depression)#But we also get to see how some things have stayed the same. They still bicker about soup. They still tease. They are still together.#They all care for each other very much but they are struggling against trauma and are not equipped to talk about it.#You can't really blame WWX for being so protective over JYL. But JC is right: “You don't have a say in who she likes.”#It may have started as an arranged marriage but *she* is *choosing* what her heart wants. JC sees that. WWX cannot.#The final act of love is letting go after all.
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I love Bai Long Ma he truly don’t gaf
#man stayed present enough to get recruited into the story then peaced tf out for the rest of it ✌️#unbothered king#bai longma#ao lie#journey to the west fanart#journey to the west#jttw ao lie#my only knowledge of drawing horses come exclusively from mlp fanart that has crossed my path#shoulda given ao lie a cutie mark lmao#my favorite part of watching the 80s tv series is seeing them go what will we do now??! whenever they encounter a land obstacle#and look the solution to half their problems standing right next to them in the form of a horse that everyone keeps forgetting is a DRAGON#he truly could not be ASSED to help 😭#just like me fr#digital art#my art#jttw sun wukong#sun wukong#dude bajie and wujing had no fucking clue the horse was even a dragon there was one episode where the horse finally spoke to chew bajie out#and he went YOU CAN TALK?!! 😭😭😭#it’s such a pity too cuz I thought the human actor for ao lie was very handsome and he showed up like a total of three times or2#this design was actually very inspired by him#he wasn’t even in the ending scene they left his ass OUTSIDE!!!!#HE GOT A REWARD BUT HE WASNT EVEN IN THE HALL TO RECEIVE IT 💀💀💀💀#oh naaah they did my boy so dirty…#I don’t think he counts as a pilgrim I think they literally just wanted him to be the horse#otherwise he woulda technically been er shixiong?#right after wukong
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The sky's a burnt orange, with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow.
The Legend of Ruby Sunday // The Sound of Drums
#dwedit#doctor who#usertennant#userteri#userdiana#susan triad#*#(caption is from gridlock)#everybody please weigh in:#are all the lives we saw fake-susan appear in real?#by which i mean did she actually personally live out each life. even if she can only half-remember them through dreams now#OR#was her face just superimposed throughout the universe a la bad wolf and the dreams were fake images and none of it meant anything#in which case penny pepper bean etc were real people but did NOT actually look like fake-susan. that face was just planted on them for lols#what i'm really asking is: does fake-susan remember gallifrey bc once upon a time she actually lived out the life of a time lord#or does she remember gallifrey solely bc the IMAGE of gallifrey was implanted in her dreams#i don't actually think we're ever going to get an answer atp but i want to know how people are interpreting it!!
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