#i think ill be finished with it in about a week?

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! How are you doing? ♡

I wanted to tell you, that your stories with Sirius are one of my faves ♡ They're so freaking comforting 🥹

I've been really struggling with arthritis lately because of weather, my dance classes are getting more difficult for me because of it, which is taking a toll on my mental health. I feel really lonely, useless and like a prisoner in my own body.

Do you think you could write chronically ill girlfriend reader x Sirius in a comforting fic?

It's okay if you don't wanna, I don't want to pressure you ♡

Take care and thank you✨️

Hi angel, I’m sorry not being able to dance has been getting you so down! Thank you for requesting <3

cw: chronic pain, reader has a not-super-healthy attitude about pushing through, also I’m editing and posting this on mobile so apologies if it’s rough

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 530 words

Sirius is being very kind in not mentioning the shimmer in your eyes as he massages cool gel into the aching joints of your knee. Your legs are bent across his lap, and his hands are gentle and intentional, soothing away the pain as best he can. You’re already in your dance clothes.

“Do you want to try rating it?” he murmurs.

You shrug, defeated. “Six, I think.”

Sirius hums. He kisses one knee before moving onto the other. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know.”

“I do want to go.” Your voice comes out more ardent than you intend. You’re not sure who or what you’re arguing with, but it’s not your boyfriend. “I’m going to be disappointed if I skip it.”

“Okay,” he says. “But is it going to make you feel better or worse to go when you’re feeling like this, lovely?”

That’s the question. The last few weeks have been an experiment in dejection. Go to your dance classes, and you’ll be in pain; you’ll feel stiff, and slow, and embarrassing. Don’t go, and you’ll feel pathetic; not good enough to even try, still in pain but lazy on top of it, an art exhibit on the human phenomenon of succumbing.

“It’s going to be a hard day,” you admit, “but I think I’ll feel better if I try to go.”

You can feel Sirius watching you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t be too tough on yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Sirius nods. You get the sense that he doesn’t like your decision, but he understands that it’s yours. He straightens your knee out a hair to rub some gel on the underside, and you hiss.

“Shit, sorry—aw, baby.” Squinting your eyes in pain has caused a stray tear to tumble from one, spilling down your cheek. Sirius has to know it’s not his movement which truly caused it, but he acts like it was anyway, cooing as he kisses it away. “I’m sorry, lovely girl. I didn’t realize that one was still so stiff.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. Your cheek is warm where his lips touched.

Sirius goes back to massaging your knee, even more carefully now. “Remember that if it gets to be too much at dance, you can always leave early. You can call me, too. Actually, call me no matter when you finish, I’ll pick you up.”

“Why would I need you to pick me up?” you ask him. Getting to and from your class isn’t usually the issue for you.

Sirius shrugs. “Just in case you’d like a hug with some urgency.” He flicks his gaze up to you, winking. “The hug can come to you. Maybe some kisses as well, if you’re very nice to me.”

You press your lips together as you look at him, overcome by a soul-splitting affection. It makes your heart feel too big for your chest.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Oh, it’s selfish, really.” He presses his fingers into the side of your knee, one eye on the clock so he doesn’t make you late. “The sooner you call me, the sooner I get to come kiss you. Everybody wins.”

[enquire]

Disability Pride Month 2025

Once again, this is late pride month art haha. My spoon levels have been fluctuating a lot the last couple weeks, but I was finally able to get back to this one and finish it.

This Tsurugi and Yamato come from a story I wrote called The Yamato I Used to Be, which I wrote for Disabilty Pride month last year. That fic is a little personal to me, as it draws from some of my own experiences as a disabled person and explores disability grief. This is mostly on Yamato's side, and the changes he's experienced and how he feels about them, something he's processing alongside Tsurugi during a chess match.

If you didn't know, there is a disability pride flag, and I think it's very pretty. If you want to learn more, I've left some info below, along with some of my own headcanons/interpretations of the DRA cast when it comes to this topic.

I spent some time looking into the symbolism and the creator this month: The disability pride flag was created by Ann Magill, and was redesigned later thanks to community input; with the visual elements changed to better accommodate those with color-blindness and visually-triggered disabilities.

Gold: Neurodiversity (Ex: Autism, dyslexia, Tourette's, etc cognitive/intellectual conditions)

Here's what all the colors represent:

Red: Physical Disabilities (Ex: Arthritis, MS, spinal injuries, amputations, etc)

White: Invisible Disabilities and Undiagnosed Disabilities

Blue: Emotional and Psychiatric Disabilities (Mental Illnesses such as Depression, Anxiety, etc)

The faded black background represents grief for those victimized or lost to ableism-fueled violence/abuse, along with the rage and protest against mistreatment.

Green: Sensory Disabilities (Ex. blindness, deafness, or other sensory conditions)

(note, there's a lot of overlap between these colors. Cerebral palsy, for example, could fall under red and gold. Also, many of us have comorbidities, including myself-multiple colors apply to me.)

I know neither disability pride month or this flag are obscure, by any means, but I rarely see it in art; frankly, I hardly see disability pride art in fandom spaces in general. (Compared to LGBTQ+ pride month for example) Honestly, I've never drawn it myself, and I've been a little hesitant to be more well-proud-about it, haha. I think this is something that can happen a lot for me when it comes to interpretations and headcanons surrounding characters, too. It can be intimidating to share this kind of stuff!

The multi-color design includes all six standard international flag colors, representing the widespread and global nature of the community. The colors, along with the diagonal band, represent light and creativity cutting through darkness; the barriers that isolate or separate us from the rest of society.

On that note, if you've made it this far, (thanks!) and here's some of my own interpretations and headcanons for the DRA cast when it comes to this topic. Some of these have come up in fics, conversations, or art before, but not all probably. Not going to go through all of my reasonings today to avoid more rambling or spoilers, but maybe I'll go into it more if people are interested.

disclaimer: if you don't see them this way, that's completely understandable. Some of these have more clear evidence than others, and almost none of them are undeniable.

Tsurugi: PTSD or CPTSD, Autism, hemiplegia or hemiparesis. (I have seen probably the most different interpretations and headcanons for him. He's fascinating) On the autism side, I feel like a his rigid mindset as well as how he interacts with others would neatly be supported by him being autistic. Also, I like headcanoning him with RBF / not being the best at breaking eye contact/making expressions or using body language that don't come off as aggressive/angry even when he isn't. Worth noting that there's a lot of overlap between PTSD symptoms and Autistic traits.

Yamato: AuDHD (I find myself putting this guy in different positions ability/personality/circumstances wise depending on the story and enviornment tbh... But I like to incorporate his ch.5 self and give him things like communication issues, brain fog, poor memory, or other things I experience, depending on where he's at.)

Yuki: DID (I won't get into the rest, but it is clear that this guy experiences dissociation at the very least, this is something we can see happen multiple times during the story IMO) Sometimes I give him autistic traits too, to be totally honest. It's... not always on purpose- I think my autism slips into the characters I write sometimes. /hj

Kinji Uehara: Autism (particularly on the affect and socializing side. He seems to interact best with others one on one and enjoys thoughtful conversations; could seen as be highly empathetic and also possessing a flat affect.)

Haru being ADHD and Kakeru having Anxiety

(I blame my friends for making me think about these two HCs)

I'll be so real, I feel like so much of the DRA cast can easily be viewed as neurodivergent... they just, do not act very neurotypical IMO okay?

Anyways, that's enough rambling. I'm being brave and sharing my niche interpretations so be kind to me /silly (Also, feel free to share your own headcanons, thoughts, and ideas/theories if you'd like) Maybe if this goes well I'll do a proper post about it someday. Either way, I can say you'll probably notice some of these in my fics.

[inorganicorgan]

Burrergh I'm making horrible progress I haven't even started chapter thr-

Oh

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

i didnt write my essay for this 👍👍

im so festive with my red and green color combos n whatnot

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Don't forget about tidbit Tuesday!!!!!!!

:)

THANK YOU LOVE!! ok some of you will recognize this!! I'm back on this fic bull shit n I'm so close to finishin it I can TASTE it AGH!! but for now have my almost done bs EEK!! (tag list for y'all who were followin this!!! @kalied0skull @trevination @im-a-loaf @newsies-united )

Darry never really prided himself on the whole... parentin thing. It didn't come natural to him like it had their ma n da. Aw hell, even Soda was better with their kid brother then him. Somethin Pony had reminded him of. Incessantly.

His patience always walked the razors edge n Pony seemed to love nothin more than to sharpen it. To to fry n fray n dance on the live wires til he got shocked. To his infinite surprise. Every goddamn time.

His fingers tighten on Pony's bicep n to the shock of no one, Pony thrashes in response. On instinct, Darry digs further in, pullin his kid brother flush against his side n leanin down to hiss in his ear just loud enough the ma next to them in line certainly hears. She side eyes Darry absently n he roundly ignores her. Who was she to judge? Her son mindlessly gnaws on his own knuckles, small n round n decidedly years from Pony still writhin for all he's worth. Though maybe you wouldn't be able to tell. Pony's tantrum rivalin anythin he'd thrown when they were still young n it had been their mama's hand he clung onto, not Darry's he'd batted away.

God. Where had the time gone? Pony had been that small once. Darry was sure of it. Hadn't it just been last year? The year before?

Pony's bony elbow collides with Darry's hip n he turns dark n scowlin eyes on his brother. The wistful memories drop right away.

He stops fightin with the groceries in his hands, droppin them down to the nearest shelf n snappin Pony up with both hands.

"Lil boy you keep this up n you're gonna get popped. Is that what you want Ponyboy Michael?" This is not his best move. But usually it's enough to stalemate Pony into behavin til they can at least get back to the goddamn truck n out of the judgemental eye of apparently every single parent in Tusla.

The words sound clumsy n awkward in his mouth. Like he's parrotin someone else. But he always felt that way nowadays.

Pony goes completely still. Which was... not what Darry was expectin. The kid had been sore for the past week. Somethin achin in him n makin him lash out. More then usual. Darry expects him to huff, to cuss low under his breath. To stomp his foot like he's still five n ain't got no goddamn manners.

"Answer me, Ponyboy." N he probably shouldn't have sounded so goddamn angry still but Pony's got his chin buried in his chest n is, Darry assumes, glarin hard at the dirty tile ignorin him. He gives his brother a short shake n he finally whips around.

His eyes are filled with tears. His storm green eyes welled up n threatenin to spill past eyelashes wet n clumped together.

Darry stomach sinks. Jesus Christ. He really wasn't good at this parentin thing.

His knees hit the grocery store tilin hard enough to make them crack. He doesn't notice. His fingers are still dug into Pony's slight, runner's shoulders 'n he winces. God. Rough without meanin to be. Pony won't look at him, starin past, over his head, somewhere a million miles away.

"Pone?" His eyes snap down. N they're not wet n wobbly anymore, he's got that church fire blaze of anger that blacks out that grass stain green on the pants of all his jeans.

"Fuck off, Darry." His voice comes out a snarl, all clipped n bared teeth n bitin blind to avoid gettin bitten. N Darry knows that. He knows Ponyboy. But it doesn't stop the tumblin words that rise straight up his throat. Anger that's genetic. Stubborn in the bloodline.

"Ponyboy Micheal you are fixin to get more then popped. You better pack that shit in right now. I dunno what's been goin on with you lately but you're dancin on my last nerve, kid. Fix the attitude cause I'm half of the mind to fix it for ya." Darry's still crouched in front of him, peerin up into the indignant plains of Pony's face which is a goddamn blessin cause it means Darry catches it.

There's a look. Somethin that flashes between the embarrassed flush creepin high up his neck n the downturned set of his brows that mean an argument is well on its way. A brief flash that makes his eyes flutter half closed. Those tears wellin up n ebbin back like the lake waves.

Then it's gone. N he's bitin again. "You can't say shit like that, Darry. You can't-" His fists clench n he takes a half step back, jerkin half from Darry's hands. He kicks once at the ground n hits the tile just right to make the rubber squeal. A dark mark on the white ground trod grey like a tire strip on a drag line. "You ain't ma!"

If everyone wasn't lookin before they are now. Hot, judgmental eyes burnin into the back of his neck. But the only ones he can focus on are his kid brother's as he hovers an inch beyond Darry's reachin hand. Patient as he ever is. Waitin for his next move.

For a long moment they're both perfectly still. Pony's chest jack hammers up n down, up n down, up n down. Darry's fingers open, close, open. He pulls one long breath in, past cracked lips, dry throat, empty lungs.

"Move." His knees protest. His back uncurls as he stands, drags himself up to his full height. The kind that still dwarfs his kid brother. Fourteen for ten months. Hell. Where had the time gone.

Pony, to his credit n rapid loss of ground n eyes, (green again, dark with tears again), looks for a moment like he might fight it. His mouth falls open, breath shallow n light n whistlin past bloody, chapped mouth. "But-"

"Pony. Move." N maybe it's the way his eyes flicker around the sparse inhabitants of the grocery store like he's seein them for the first time, or the low note of warnin in Darry's throat, or sheer instinct, he takes a jarrin, jerky step forward. Toward Darry. Toward the door. Either. Both.

Darry's hand comes back down on Pony's shoulder, gentle, hoverin touch that guides him out the line of shufflin, nosy folk. (That they had almost been to the front of. But that was his lil brother for ya.)

He's half waitin for Pony to shrug it off. Pony who, all his life, had taken trouble with the kinda grace their parents had desperately tried to rear into the rest of their heads. Who had cried at just a stern word from their da. A flash of disappointment in their ma's eyes. The same kid who hollered now til his throat bled. Shouted n yelled himself hoarse.

'Cept... he's not doin any of that now.

He pulls up short n Darry nearly slams into him, takin a half step back. Pony mutters somethin quiet n rushed, words spillin over his lips like the creek in the summer they used to sail those lil paper boats down.

"What, Pone?" He sighs, softly, leans down to Pony's bloody mouth, skin peeled from lips in that nervous habit their ma never got the chance to break him of.

"The groceries." He points back across the store to the stack Darry had forgotten. Haphazardly leanin on a random shelf. He should feel bad about that. Causin more work for someone. But right now, it's the least of his worries.

"We'll come back for them. Move Pony." He turns again n nearly stumbles over Pony still stock still in the middle of the walk. N Darry is not an especially patient man. He ain't. Maybe he wishes he was. (He does. God. He does.) But he ain't.

"But-" (He sounds so small. He should think about how goddamn small his lil brother sounds before he-)

"Pony. Fuck the groceries." Pony jars once, blinks green eyes the same color as that ice box that had come with the house. The one their pa had loved so much. The one that had finally died three years before he did-

Fuck. Those tears are back. N this time they overstay their visit. Rivers n rain n back yard creeks n the spray off a fountain Pony still couldn't stand hot n trailin over the freckles he hated n the scars fadin from childhood a thousand years ago.

"Oh Pony." N this is the final sign. The one long past the others he'd foolishly ignored. Not the cryin. The involuntary jerk of tears that ran in the family somewhere between Soda n Pony but had missed him. But, instead, how Pony doesn't even seem to register it.

There's no furiously wipin at his cheeks. No frantic move out of anyone's watchin eyes. He doesn't bite his lip or blink away the wetness or smother it down bitin blind.

No. He drops his chin to his chest n lets out a single, strangled sob.

Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty.

N they're long passed words now. So Darry doesn't bother. Just wraps one arm tight around his kid brothers' shoulders, pulls him flush to his chest, n turns towards the door. Pony, for once, doesn't protest. N that is far from a comfort. He buries his head into Darry's shirt, arms wrapped tight around his stomach, half stumblin blind, lettin Darry pull n push him gently to the exit.

There's two men, maybe boys, hoverin beside the crooked n hinge broken door that is a relief so tangible it tastes like blood in Darry's mouth. Their eyes are like birds of prey. Hawkish n laughin as they watch Pony, too grown to be bein dragged out a store like a toddler n too distraught to protest.

N it's the set of half laughin mouths n cigarette-stained tongues that finally snaps Darry's last nerve.

"I dunno what you boys find so fuckin funny. But I'd suggest movin the hell along before I let my fist do the talkin n show you somethin I find hilarious." Temper, temper. Somethin else their ma had never gotten to breakin.

They jar, eyes widen n spines pulled up taught like puppets. Had figured Darry would pass by. Say nothin. Let them snicker behind open palms. At his lil brother. The same lil brother he'd cracked knuckles on Soc jaw bones for. Even when Pony's eyes flashed dark with anger, judge, jury, executioner. Accused him of sellin out for high class friends.

He shakes his head. Those years were behind him now.

Pony lifts his tear- streaked face off Darry's shirt, blinks against the harsh fluorescents up into his older brothers' eyes. Years melt off him in this moment.

But then he turns n the vultures catch looks of Pony. Fourteen n ten months. N his pride comes rocketin back. The hot flush bloomin over his shoulders so hot Darry can feel it through his track shirt. Grass stained n ripped n damn near grown out of n an odd out of place thought slips through his mind that he'd have to make sure they had enough money for another.

"C'mon Pone." N his voice is gentle this time. He forces it to be. Low n urgent n soft. Pony freezes anyways. He's got the kinda eyes that can pin people straight to the wall when he wants to. N he choosin to now. Darry can feel him tense, the shift in his spine as he bristles up, clenches fists. Provin a point now. Barin teeth to prove he's tough. N Darry gets the sudden feelin of holdin onto the leash of a guard dog raisin hackles.

The boy down the street had one of those. Back when they were real lil. Some of the older boys used to go round the alley n holler at the poor thing. Throw rocks n dirt n whatever else those greasers that were more hoods could get their damn hands on. One of them had hopped the rickety cross hair fence one day. On some stupid childhood dare. N the dog had simply done what it had been taught to by nature or neglect or pure instinct. N bit.

He'd never seen the dog after that.

Pony's lip curls n Darry's hands snap tight around his kid brother. Pull him back n away mid lungin step. Hand on the collar. N cause Pony is Pony, he digs his heels in.

Darry was gonna hunt these boys for sport. Jesus Christ they'd been so goddamn close. He gives Pony another half insistent tug towards the door, the truck, hell, the goddamn parkin lot. Anywhere but here. But now he's decided to shrug Darry off. Or at least try to. N Darry's beginnin to take back all that shit about protectin his stupid kid brother cause maybe the lil ankle biter needed to be humbled now n then.

Pony bares straight white rows of teeth n scowls. "The fuck are you lookin at?" It comes out high n shrill n angry n still wet with the tears now dryin n forgotten on his cheeks.

Darry's seriously considerin makin good on that idle threat to pop him cause the eyes are back n burnin n Pony should know better than to make a scene but jesus he was sure actin like he didn't. But before he can even think to snap Pony up, one of the vulture's head tilts, mouth fallin open wide, n he laughs.

Darry's eyes snap up. Dark n blazin. That coal stoked temper that flares along his knuckles, up his collar bone. Anger that matches the embarrassment paintin Pony's neck like a bruise.

That echoin hyena laugh, harsh edges that make Pony flinch back, ever so minutely, back into his brothers arm encirclin hammerin shoulders, cuts itself off. Drops down like a missed step the moment the vulture catches Darry's eyes.

Fuck that. No one laughs at his lil brother.

"Move the fuck along." N his voice is low, scrapin like the grindstone. A warnin n a promise. The boy's jaw snaps shut fast enough it clicks. There's only one last lingerin glance, somethin wary n askin, before they both dart away.

Pony has the goddamn audacity to kick the fuckin tile again. "You didn't have to do that."

Jesus Christ.

"C'mon." Pony scowls again. Or scratch that. He thinks he scowls. But it's more of a pout. Eyes softenin n distant again. "Kiddo." Darry allows the stern edge back into his voice, just enough to get Pony movin again. His head whips back around from where those palm sunday leaf eyes trail after the empty aisle. He half jumps, that instinctual lil hop that comes from knowin you're in trouble.

He narrows his eyes again n Darry rolls his in return, juttin his chin towards the door. This time Pony, thank all the saints their mama had ever believed in n Pony ever wore the necklaces for, doesn't fight. Three steps to the door. Two. Pony kicks it open n Darry really should scold him for that but the smell of a passed storm paintin the cement tastes like their ma's old perfume n reminds him pick your battles, pick your battles.

The spring air is cool in Darry's lungs, somethin that could turn hot n punishin in a month or a week but for now smells like all things fresh n bright. The sun runs gentle hands over the ache in his shoulders, gentle fingers against his cheeks.

He sighs, fills up an open mouth, the eyes gone from his back n the only thing warm on his neck the soupy afternoon sunlight. His body unfurls like a dandelion. Their pa had made wine from them one summer. Had let him have just enough to coat his tongue n it had tasted like everythin bright n warm n alive.

N his work ain't done yet, but he allows himself one single moment of peace. Of the sounds of their feet as they tap across the broken asphalt, the cars as the whistle n click n sigh down the streets, a bird callin from a roof, some punk kid callin from a street corner.

N then Pony grinds to a halt. Darry groans. Somethin still childish n impatient. Where was the kid that trailed along at his heel like a lost dog? Stolen by time n replaced in the night by some long-legged gangly brat.

He corrects himself internally. Jesus christ he sounded like Steve. Their pa had always been so patient. The gene musta skipped him. Skipped Pony too. He was only patient as a side effect of bein stubborn.

"Pony-" He sighs, the name a groan on his tongue. Pony's down, half hunched over, pullin at somethin growin between the cracks in the beat-up parkin lot five years past needin work. "Pony?"

He half straightens n Darry can finally see what he's got held tight in two shakin hands. A flower. Somethin small n slinkin, fallin through all the right gaps. Darry recognizes it, or at least he thinks he does. Somethin scratchin at a place in his brain he can't place.

[theygender]

Coming to terms with the fact that I may not be writing this essay

[fiendishartist2]

random astroboy doodles that idk if i'll finish

[the-heron]

And I want to go home,

but I am home.

very late birthday gift for @solittles

[autism-corner]

first week nartfight attacks yayyay =w=bb

@avirtualdrive /// @box-flop /// @belphieslilcow

@soapori /// @spikedpunkz /// @shootingstarrfish

(top) SmolMS /// (left) Nebullart /// (right) Angeldoll

SugarryBiscuits /// @belphieslilcow again :3c

[good-beans]

Misc 0312 art no one asked for but it's be annoying about sona time!!!

< Obligatory "I should have been there" art -- no shade on Amane, the line just drove the point home very well. I found this translation in a youtube video and like it better than the one on the wiki

> Old and new sketches, meme to explain how their symbolism pairs, and bonus 02-06! I had a cute one saying that "can I try rizzing you up/please please please" to Mappi but my art app ate it :(((( Please just imagine it in beautiful hilarious detail ty 🙏

Aaand one super extra cringe one but I've come this far already

[ramblingoak]

I need at least five people to tell me they’d read this Regency!Copia x Violet Bridgerton fic that has invaded my brain.

[failedcoinflip]

one solid week of this bullshit please thank unsaved spike pit run for resetting what was like 2 hours of struggling ... siiigghh... (day 7)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

charlies turn for the reference sheet beam

[2-faded-memory-2]

reverend hale from beverly whos special interest is witchcraft and whos books are weighted with authority. guys. guys reverend hale