#it's refreshing to use colors again

[domi091]

You looked at his brother weird

[egophiliac]

hear me out

silver vanrouge ❌️

silver draconia ✔️

malleus beats lilia to the punch

[damienns]

My GIF Making process: Screen capturing using MPV player, Organizing files, 3 Sharpening settings, Basic Coloring PSD + Actions set

This is a very long post so heads up.

I’ll try to be as thorough and true as much as possible to the way I make my gifs (I already use Photoshop Actions which I’ve long since set up but now for this tutorial I’m reviewing them to show you the exact steps I’ve learned to create my gifs 😃) and present them to you in a semi-coherent way. Also, please bear with me since English is my second language.

First things first. Below are the things and tools we need to do this:

Downloaded 4K or 1080p quality videos (let’s all assume we know where to get these—especially for high definition movies and tv series—so this post doesn’t get removed, okay? 😛)

Adobe Photoshop CC or the CS versions can work as well, but full disclosure I haven’t created gifs using the CS versions since 2020. I’m currently using Adobe Photoshop 2024.

mpv player. Use mpv player to get those frames/screenshots or any other video player that has a screen grabber feature. I’ve used adapter for the longest time but I’ve switched to mpv because the press to screenshot feature while the video is playing has been a game changer not to mention ultimate time saver for me. For adapter you need to play it in another video player (like VLC player), to get the start and end timestamps of the scene you want to gif which takes me ages before I can even open Photoshop.

Anyway! Please stop reading this post for a moment and head over to this amazing tutorial by kylos. She perfectly tells you how to install and use mpv player, both for Mac and Windows users.

One thing I have to share though, I had a tough time when I updated my MacOS to Sonoma since MPV is suddenly either duplicating frames or when I delete the duplicates the player seems to be skipping frames :/ I searched and found a solution here, though it didn’t work for me lol. My workaround for this in the meantime is decreasing the speed down to 0.70 then start screenshotting—it’s not the same pre Sonoma update but it works so I’ll have to accept it rather than have jumpy looking gifs.

Now, after this part of kylos’ tutorial:

you can continue reading the following sections of my gif tutorial below.

I want to share this little tip (sorry, this will only cater to Mac users) that I hope will be helpful for organizing the screenshots that MPV saved to the folder you have selected. Because believe me you don’t want to go through 1k+ of screenshots to select just 42-50 frames for your gif.

The Control + Command + N shortcut

This shortcut allows you to create a new folder from files you have pre-selected. As you can see below I have already created a couple of folders, and inside each folder I have selected screenshots that I want to include in one single gif. It's up to you how you want to divide yours, assuming you intend to create and post a Tumblr gifset rather than just one gif.

Another tip is making use of tags. Most of, if not all the time, I make supercorp gifs so I tag blue for Kara and red (or green) for Lena—just being ridiculously on brand and all that.

Before we finally open Photoshop, there's one more thing I want to say—I know, please bear with me for the third? fourth? time 😅

It's helpful to organize everything into their respective folders so you know the total number of items/frames you have. This way, you can add or delete excess or unnecessary shots before uploading them in Photoshop.

For example below there are 80 screenshots of Kara inside this folder and for a 1:1 (540 x 540 px) Tumblr gif, Photoshop can just work around with 42-50 max number of frames with color adjustments applied before it exceeds the 10 MB file size limit of Tumblr.

Sometimes I skip this step because it can be exhausting (haha) and include everything so I can decide visually which frames to keep later on. You'll understand what I mean later on. But it's important to keep the Tumblr 10 MB file size limit in mind. Fewer frames, or just the right amount of frames, is better.

So, with the screenshot organization out of the way, let's finally head over to Photoshop.

Giffing in Photoshop, yay!

Let’s begin by navigating to File > Scripts > Load Files into Stack…

The Load Layers window will appear. Click the Browse button next.

Find your chosen screenshots folder, press Command + A to select all files from that folder then click Open. Then click OK.

After importing and stacking your files, Photoshop should display the following view:

By the way, I'll be providing the clip I've used in this tutorial so if want to use them to follow along be my guest :)

If you haven't already opened your Timeline panel, navigate to Windows > Timeline.

Now, let's focus on the Timeline panel for the next couple of steps.

Click Create Video Timeline, then you’ll have this:

Now click the menu icon on the top right corner then go to Convert Frames > Make Frames from Clips

Still working on the Timeline panel, click the bottom left icon this time—the icon with the three tiny boxes—to Convert to Frame Animation

Select Make Frames From Layers from the top right corner menu button.

So now you have this:

Go and click the top right menu icon again to Select All Frames

Then click the small dropdown icon to set another value for Frame Delay. Select Other…

The best for me and for most is 0.05 but you can always play around and see what you think works for you.

Click the top right menu icon again to Reverse Frames.

I think Photoshop has long since fixed this issue but usually the first animation frame is empty so I just delete it but now going through all these steps there seems to be none of that but anyways, the delete icon is the last one among the line of feature buttons at the bottom part of the Timeline panel.

Yay, now we can have our first proper GIF preview of a thirsty Lena 😜

Press spacebar to watch your gif play for the very first time! After an hour and half of selecting and cutting off screenshots! 😛 Play it some more. No really, I’m serious. I do this so even as early (lol) as this part in the gif making process, I can see which frames I can/should delete to be within the 10 MB file size limit. You can also do it at the end of course 🙂

Now, let’s go to the next important steps of this tutorial post which I’ve numbered below.

Crop and resize to meet Tumblr's required dimensions. The width value should be either 540px, 268px, or 177px.

Convert the gif to a Smart Object for sharpening.

Apply lighting and basic color adjustments before the heavy coloring. I will be sharing the base adjustments layers I use for my gifs 😃.

1. Crop and Resize

Click on the Crop tool (shortcut: the C key)

I like my GIFs big so I always set this to 1:1 ratio if the scene allows it. Press the Enter key after selecting the area of the frame that you want to keep.

Side note: If you find that after cropping, you want to adjust the image to the left or another direction, simply unselect the Delete Cropped Pixels option. This way, you will still have the whole frame area available to crop again as needed and as you prefer.

Now we need to resize our gif and the shortcut for that is Command + Opt + I. Type in 540 as the width measurement, then the height will automatically change to follow the ratio you’ve set while cropping.

540 x 540 px for 1:1

540 x 405 px for 4:3

540 x 304 px for 16:9

For the Resample value I prefer Bilinear—but you can always select the other options to see what you like best.

Click OK. Then Command + 0 and Command + - to properly view the those 540 pixels.

Now we get to the exciting part :) the sharpen settings!

2. Sharpen

First we need to have all these layers “compressed” intro a single smart object from which we can apply filters to.

Select this little button on the the bottom left corner of the Timeline panel.

Select > All Layers

Then go to Filter > Convert for Smart Filters

Just click OK when a pop-up shows up.

Now you should have this view on the Layers panel:

Now I have 3 sharpen settings to share but I’ll have download links to the Action packs at the end of this long ass tutorial so if you want to skip ahead, feel free to do so.

Sharpen v1

Go to Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen…

Below are my settings. I don’t adjust anything under Shadows/Highlights.

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Click OK then do another Smart Sharpen but this time with the below adjustments.

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

As you can see Lena’s beautiful eyes are “popping out” now with these filters applied. Click OK.

Now we need to Convert to Frame Animation. Follow the steps below.

Click on the menu icon at the top right corner of the Timeline panel, then click Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips

Then Convert Frames > Convert to Frame Animation

One more click to Make Frames From Layers

Delete the first frame then Select All then Set Frame Delay to 0.05

and there you have it! Play your GIF and make sure it’s just around 42-50 frames. This is the time to select and delete.

To preview and save your GIF go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)…

Below are my Export settings. Make sure to have the file size around 9.2 MB to 9.4 MB max and not exactly 10 MB.

This time I got away with 55 frames but this is because I haven’t applied lighting and color adjustments yet and not to mention the smart sharpen settings aren't to heavy so let’s take that into consideration.

Sharpen v1 preview:

Sharpen v2

Go back to this part of the tutorial and apply the v2 settings.

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 20

Radius: 0.5

We’re adding a new type of Filter which is Reduce Noise (Filter > Noise > Reduce Noise...) with the below settings.

Then one last Smart Sharpen:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.3

Your Layers panel should look like this:

Then do the Convert to Frames Animation section again and see below preview.

Sharpen v2 preview:

Sharpen v3:

Smart Sharpen 1:

Amount: 500

Radius: 0.4

Smart Sharpen 2:

Amount: 12

Radius: 10.0

Reduce Noise:

Strength: 5

Preserve Details: 50%

Reduce Color Noise: 0%

Sharpen Details: 50%

Sharpen v3 preview:

And here they are next to each other with coloring applied:

v1

v2

v3

Congratulations, you've made it to the end of the post 😂

As promised, here is the download link to all the files I used in this tutorial which include:

supercorp 2.05 Crossfire clip

3 PSD files with sharpen settings and basic coloring PSD

Actions set

As always, if you're feeling generous here's my Ko-fi link :) Thank you guys and I hope this tutorial will help you and make you love gif making.

P.S. In the next post I'll be sharing more references I found helpful especially with coloring. I just have to search and gather them all.

-Jill

[cinnamon-flame]

@jumalanpelko

A page redraw dedicated to my favorite line from the comic, cause "Tell them I am your favorite" lives rent free in my head.

I never even touched the polyline lasso before this, the first hour of drawing felt like some kind of ego death but after that it just became really relaxing and I'm really glad I tried it out

[elizakai]

gahdamn being in a fandom for close to ten years makes a bitch forget vital canon information

[badkatdesigns]

Amazing what a hairdye refresh/bangs trim combo can do for one's self image

[thecoochiefairy]

scorpio. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 7.5K word count. blackfem!reader, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, butt stuff, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f] [m], nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ from baby phat, to juno, to now—love this lil’ couple, real bad. but besides that, just wanted to do a lil something before my bday, march 8th. happy birthday to all my pisces babies. this one’s for you. also, imagine there goes my baby by usher on a loop. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ ; valentine’s day.

visual. visual. visual.

YOU WEREN’T GONNA CRY IN PUBLIC. A weak smile presented through your cupid’s bow lips, passing back a soft greeting of ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ as you exited the building, representations of love everywhere you went. You refused to show your vulnerable side somewhere no one cared to listen—your job.

To be honest, you should’ve gone home early. Your Mach and Mach satin bow heels echoed along the coffee shop as you waited for your strawberry refresher, a mixture of coconut milk making the drink your favorite color of pink. You started off having a good day—until it wasn’t.

Pulling into the garage of your high rise apartment, you pressed the button attached to your sun visor to activate the gate closing, parking your husband’s blacked out G Wagon in his reserved spot. The minute you shut off the ignition, you press your forehead against the wheel, letting out a deep sigh. 

You didn’t want to sell yourself short—but being pregnant might’ve been easier than going back to work. While Onyankopon was enjoying the luxury of off-season, you took your opportunity to put the bug in his ear of working again. Even if he wanted another baby. 

You had a masters degree in Marketing you desperately wanted to put to use, so when you finally got that interview, your pretty smile and charisma returned you with a position in management—but that unfortunately came with a price.  

Business calls, meetings, lunches, sales pitches, meetings, sales pitches, business calls again. You were becoming piled with the same rotation of bullshit, and although you loved your job, you felt exhausted. 

Through all of that, you still had a husband and now  eleventh month old baby to go home to. Onyankopon supported your desires of going back to work, but with your schedule compiling more of work and less of your family, he was beginning to have something in common with his baby boy, Salem—he missed you. And today of all days, you were coming home later than you were supposed to.

It seemed as if your feet ached the closer you became to removing your heels, swiftly unlocking the front door of your apartment— to your surprise, bouquets of roses are the first thing you see. Signature red to rosy pink, a selection of your favorite flowers sit along the marble island of your kitchen. 

Onyankopon always had it set to one of your playlists, R&B strumming through the inputted speakers along the ceiling. The room had a shadow of mulberry, LED lights vibrating the instrumentals of each song playing, accompanied by the living room's lamp. 

There was your husband—legs spread along the sofa as he leaned his large upper body on the arm rest, pressing a pouch into your baby’s mouth to feed him. You’d just redone his cornrows, his lineup equally sharp as he cut his hair and goatee on a daily basis. He couldn’t stand looking scruffy, even if you liked the look at times. Tattoos cover his arms, camouflaging his throat, stick and pokes littering upon his face. The black top he wears hugs his muscular build, grey sweatpants showing the print between his legs, unable to conceal his gifted genetics.

Your face softens at the roses, turning your attention back towards your husband and baby on the sofa. It makes your heart melt. 

Your voice is gentle as you question, “You’ got those for me?”

“You thought you wasn’t finna’ get nothin’?”

He glances up to your form through hooded lids. His voice was thick with his New Orleans accent, the timbre always making your heart swoon, just like when you met him in college. 

“I was hopin’ you’d be home before them’ shits wilted.”

You pull your curls behind your ear, your face flushed at the sweet gesture. But your body also feels heavy, and you’re unsure if you should even acknowledge that. 

You sigh, “I wasn’t able to get you anything in time—I told you I didn’t want a gift. And I wasn’t gone that long, Onyankopon.”

“Stop allat’,” he smacks his lips, “You was gon’ work through the entire day, have yo’ nigga by himself on Valentine’s Day.”

“Boy, hush. Love on yo’ baby for Valentines,” you remind, leaning down as you begin slipping your heels off your pained feet, “Is he starting to like the carrot pouches?”

“He ain’t takin’ to it like he should,” he says, making eye contact with you, ���C’mon.”

“C’mon, what?”

“Tell me about work. I can see it all in yo’ face.”

Work. 

That was the last thing you wanted to think about. You pad your feet over to the kitchen island, tossing your purse onto the marble as you reply, “Let me tell you. Remember how I was supposed to create this mock sales pitch and make my own bottle of wine?”

“Yeah. You was actin’ like you woulda’ had to sell that shit to the President.”

You roll your eyes as you come closer to him, “Anyways, I literally worked my ass off—made an entire script, PowerPoint, even had someone in my team create a label for my bottle! You know what them’ niggas said?”

Him being messy, he plays around as he responds, “What they’ said, girl?” 

“That my idea was generic—that it seemed rushed, facile, and derivative. My three hour presentation seemed plagiarized?” You frown, “Do I look like the type of bitch to be looking over at somebody else’s work?”

“Mama, you know how these corporate niggas be. They want you to come up with their billion dollar ideas in exchange for a penny.” 

He presses Salem’s pacifier into his mouth, closing the top on the baby’s food as he continues, “That’ job is bullshit anyways.”

You frown a bit, “It’s not bullshit to me, Ony. I’m really trying to show them I belong there. It’s not easy being the only black woman in management.”

“I’m hearin’ you,” he responds, “I just think yo’ time is more important than tryna’ spend it impressing a bunch of white folks.”

Back to the point of not crying in public—now, you weren’t in public. You could appreciate your husband trying to give sound advice, but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. One thing since your pregnancy—it gave you the ability to cry at the drop of a hat.

Your sight becomes blurry as your face warms. You press your palms to your eyes, sniffling to stop the tears that roll from your vision. 

“I feel so stupid.” 

His brows furrow at your reaction, his large palm stretching from the plush sofa, gently pulling your wrist in his hold to climb along his lap. 

“Don’t say that. Why you cryin’?”

“I worked so h—hard,” you cry, “And they didn’t even like it. I did all that for nothing…”

“Baby, that don’t’ mean you’ stupid, aight?”

 He wraps his free arm around your form, other still holding Salem even closer.

“It ain’t for nothin’. You still got that degree. Ion’ know how many times I said you can do this shit on your own.”

You’re becoming more upset by the second as you rub your eyes that drop tears, nose and cheeks swelling as you softly weep, “What if I c—can’t do it by myself, Ony…”

“And who’ you think I am? You think imma’ just let you fail? Nah, baby. Come on…” 

He rubs soothing circles on your side, pressing a hard kiss against your temple while holding you tight against his sturdy frame. The baby in his arms cooed as he could sense the change of atmosphere—even he started crying.

“Ah shit,” Onyankopon mutters, holding both of you to his chest, “Baby—You can do anything you set yo’ mind to. You could send a nigga to the moon if you wanted.”

That makes you softly giggle, feeling his thumb swipe the tears against your reddened face. Your eyes flicker over to Salem who creates a deep pout within his full cheeks, tiny cries ejecting as he was seemingly empathetic of his mother’s emotions.

 You reach over Onyankopon’s lap, pulling his chubby frame into your arms as you coo, “Don’t cry, baby. Mommy’s just a lil’ dramatic.”

“You and Say-Say got the same theatrics, I swear.” 

“Very funny—I’m so dramatic, but don’t you want a lil’ girl? What would you do with two of me?” You scrunch your nose,“And that’s why I’m not getting pregnant again.”

His hand moves to the underside of your chin, forcing your gaze back towards his face as he gives you a smirk, “You know you gon’ be pregnant again, quit bullshittin’. I be giving you that Daddy di—“

“Onyankopon,” you warn, “Language in front of Salem. Besides that, thank you for my flowers,” you lean forward, pressing kisses to his jaw, “They’re so pretty. You like my lil’ work outfit?”

You always dressed to match the theme of the holiday. The off shoulder black long sleeve you wear tucks into a matching pinstripe miniskirt, sheer tights with pink bows to match the heels you previously wore. Your dark curls always sprawled around your face, Vera Wang thinly squared frames tipping at your freckles nose, complimenting your slender eyes. 

You can’t help but giggle as he grunts, dipping his finger under your skirt, tugging at the pink panties he knows you wear.

“You know pink’ my favorite color too.”

The way you relax under his hold reminds you of another factor with it being the middle of the month—you were ovulating, and every little touch, the flick of his eyes, the attraction in his smile. It makes your legs throb. 

But yet, you pull yourself back as you sigh, “I gotta work on my new sales pitch.”

“You been workin’ on that bullshit all week,” he says against your neck, the hot breath against your sensitive skin making  your thighs clench, “Why you denyin’ a nigga?”

You press your fingers to his mouth, “I’m not tryin’ to, Ony. They want me to present again tomorrow. Just give me some time, and then you’ll have all my attention, okay?” You promise, “Have a lil more daddy time with your son.” 

“I’m tryna’ have some daddy time with you, girl,” he gruffs, “Fuck that job. I’ll drop some bands on that ass right now, give you yo’ fuckin’ salary in one’s.”

You stand from the sofa, dipping your lower body in his face, giving him a silhouette of your frame. Your curls hang to the side as you swirl your hips, “Like that, huh?” lifting up the material of your skirt, bouncing your ass playfully. 

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he groans, giving a harsh smack at your ass, “Look at that ass bounce, baby. I swear, you be playin’.” 

You giggle as you pull your skirt back down, “I will be in our office, Onyankopon. Try giving Salem a spinach and apple pouch, and bathe him in the rice milk soap before you put him to bed—his skin has been irritated with that other body wash.”

“You’ a demon,” he groans, letting his eyes linger on your body, “Aight, Aight. Heard’ you.” 

The next couple of hours are somewhat peaceful. But another con about going back to work—Salem nor Onyankopon were used to you being gone as often, so the minute you were home, they wanted to be in your skin. It wasn’t a bad thing. It just made things a bit more difficult when you wanted your alone time—like now. 

You used a bit of your baby’s body wash as you showered, loving gentle scented products, dabbing a bit of your vanilla body oil along your caramel skin when you stepped out. Your cotton white slip dress hugged your child bearing hips, dark curls damp as they reached your lower back. The moment you were doing your face care routine, you heard Salem wailing, and you had no choice but to go calm him down yourself. You also spent time with  your two Dobermans, Zulu and Roux, bending down with a giggle as you fed the both of them. 

Onyankopon’s eyes were on you. You were used to him staring, but maybe you didn’t catch the way he looked at you today. Valentine’s Day wasn’t relatively important for either of you, as Onyankopon treated every day full of love—showering you in gifts, loving you physically, mentally, emotionally—but tonight was different. Maybe he was starting to feel like everyone else but him was getting attention from his wife. 

You’re now in your home's office, wine in one hand as you’re comfortably seated on the cream colored sofa, small desk in front of you as you type away on your pink Macbook. An unknown amount of time passes by, before a knock sounds at the door.

When it opens, a shirtless Onyankopon enters. It’s as if his tattoos create another top for him, arms swelling in muscles, abs sculpted to perfection. His durag covers his head, black silk allowing his silver nose ring and earrings to glow under the office lights. A weak smile comes to your face as you see him holding two plates, using his knee to shut the door as he comes in.

“Hi,” you softly smile, “You okay?”

He was so wrapped around your finger. His dark brown eyes drank in the sight of your body, the dress tight along your curves, your dark hair making your honey freckles appear lighter, glasses perched atop of your nose. 

The dimple in his right cheek peeks through his grin, “Lawd, can’t a nigga come check up on his ol’ lady without a reason?” 

He gives a gentle kiss on your cheek, leaning in close, “How long ‘you been cooped up in here, baby? And when you’ last ate?”

“Ate during my break,” you quietly reply, “I’m not too hungry, love. I swear. I’m almost done with this power point.”

Your eyes lock to what smells like Cajun pasta, the shrimp and sausages wafting in your nose. You were actually starving.

“Nah, don’t even do allat.’ I know how you get when you be workin’,” he smacks his lips, “You need to eat.”

You sigh, glancing at the clock as you see it’s nearing midnight. You had to be back up at seven, and you had only done one part of this presentation. 

You glance back to your husband, forcing a small smile as you repeat, “I’m good, baby. How are you?” You question, placing your hand around his arm, pulling him to sit next to you, “Salem give you a hard time going to sleep?”

“Yeah, but he’ good now.” 

He sits next to you, setting your plate down as he glances back to your work. A frown plays on his face as he feels the tension within your body, noticing the exhaustion in your eyes. It was clear you were pushing yourself, and it bothered the hell out of Onyankopon.

You notice the scowl on his face, still typing as you sigh, “You came in here to berate me?”

“I came in here to check up on yo’ hard-headed ass,” he gruffs, leaning against the back of the couch. 

His gaze softens as it traces your features, the determination in your eyes as you try to finish your presentation, “But I’m tired of you runnin’ yo’self into the ground. You’ been in here for hours. Can’t it wait til’ the morning?“

“I have to be back up by seven, and my presentation is at eight. I just—“ you take a deep breath, having the urge to cry again, “I just wanna get this finished before I knock out.”

Onyankopon gives a long sigh, hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against his bare chest, “Damn, aight. My fault, Mama.” 

He pressed a kiss at your forehead, resting his chin against your curls. His large body was warm, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin cotton of your dress.

“I got you sum’.”

His voice catches your attention, leaning yourself up a bit as you say, “Me? Ugh—Ony, no more gifts, baby,” you lightly pout, “You’re the best present I could ask for today.”

“Stop allat’,” he teases, pressing a kiss against your pouting lips, “It ain’t nothin’ crazy.”

He leans behind the couch, pulling a dark brown bottle in between his fingers, “It’s some warming oil. You always be’ saying how yo’ feet hurt, I thought a lil’ massage would help that tension. C’mon.”

He stands from the sofa, reaching his hand out for you to take. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Where we’ going? Baby, you know I gotta finish this.”

“You ain’t about to finish shit til’ you get yo’ ass up and let me do this for you. “

When he used that voice, you knew there was no argument. You pull off your glasses as you stand from the sofa, taking his hand and allowing him to guide you towards your shared bedroom. When the door opens, you’re presented with a massage table. The mattress atop of the mahogany wood holding it up looks soft, a fluffy neck pillow perched at the top. The room smells of mint and lemon, lights dim as your playlist returns to your ears.

Dammit. Your freckles shine as those tears you’d been holding back revive themselves, leaning your face into your fingers as you sniffle, “You didn’t have to do this for me. I’ve been such a bad wife…”

Despite being a little frustrated, he never felt that way. You were pushing yourself too hard, again, always trying to please everyone at your job. He just wanted to distract you.

“You ain’t no bad wife,” His thick hands swipe away your tears, the pads of his thumbs tracing the shape of your freckles, “You’re doin’ what you love. Nothin’ wrong with that. Stop allat’ cryin’, and come get comfortable on this table.”

He was right—you were stressing yourself more than you needed to. You nod your head, wiping your eyes as his taller frame cradles over your smaller one, pulling at the straps of your slip. 

Your voice is soft as you say, “I love you, Ony,” lifting your feet to get out of the dress, turning your head back to meet his lips that dip down to find yours.

“I love you more.”

You lay along your stomach against the table, pressing your cheek to the soft pillow beneath your skin. Your body practically anticipates his touch.

He grabs the body oil he’s been keeping warm in the pot next to him, letting it drip along the balls of your feet. The minute his thumbs dug into your soles, your fingers scratch at the material of the table, holding back the groan you wanted to release. His grip is steady, knowing just how hard to apply pressure. The heel of his palm slowly massages the flesh along the back of your calves, working up higher.

You expected this to feel good, but it was too good. Your lower body begins to feel loose in tension as his palms knead into the back of your thighs, almost causing your legs to go lax. It’s when his palms lightly graze the inner flesh of your thighs, that your body tenses just a bit. A different rush of pleasure comes from that action, that it has you subtly adjust your lower half.

His gaze is low, eyes peering down at the curves of your body. He can feel the way you tensed against his touch, your thighs subtly brushing together—it coaxed him further, returning his hands to your calves, starting the process over.

Your curls hang over the table as you hide your face within your left shoulder, eyes peering behind to watch him. When his palms slide above your thighs, gripping the flesh in his hold, your body shudders, a flushed giggle spilling from your lips, the spice of the oil wafting in your nose. 

You fully giggle as you feel him lean down to catch the skin of your ass in his mouth, grunting as he messily kisses the flesh, “All this shit mine,” swatting the skin with his fingers. 

You breathily muse, “You’re supposed to be massaging, Ony.”

He chuckles against you, tongue flicking out in return, “I am massagin’. Just addin’ a lil extra.”

A sharp inhale drags from your lips as he runs his tongue against your spine, turning your head opposite of him as you relax against the pillow, arching your body up to meet his mouth.

He slowly works on your upper back, fingers tracing along your shoulder blades, hands sliding down your bare arms. There wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t being tended to, his lips pressing against your neck.

“Turn over for me, Mama. I ain’t done wit’ you yet.”

You turn yourself onto your back, hair sprawling around your face as you breathily exhale, watching him tower over you from this angle.

“There you go,” he drawls, his hand rubbing along the side of your cheek. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

It was now a different sensation, having his touch along the fronts of your legs instead of your backside. Onyankopon was slow, taking his time, his hand slipping along the inner part of your thighs as his other palm worked along the outside.

The music seems to pool into your ears, and your entire body becomes warm without the oils assistance. The closer he comes, you raise your fingers as you slide them across his lower stomach, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen with a slow flutter of your lashes.

His abs flex against your touch, the muscles rolling as your fingers traced the shape. Bible scriptures, your baby’s name, meaningful symbols inked along his skin like pen to paper.

“You tryna’ start sum’? C’mon now, I’m tryna be good, Mama.”

“So handsome, baby,” you lightly drag your teeth into the plush of your lips, “Sorry.”

He grabs your bottom lip, pulling it free from your mouth, “You ain’t slick,” He grunts, “But you’ cute for tryin’.”

It had to have been the wine you drank—your lower half throbbed at him daubing oil along your thighs. Your hips nearly grind at the touch of his hand, spreading your legs a bit wider. 

You can’t stop yourself—the last swipe of his fingers draws into the bare dip of your pelvic. You whimper, your hand along his abdomen tugging down to his sweatpants, rubbing against the fabric of his bulge. He could hear the way your thighs squeezed together.

Onyankopon leaned forward, catching your plump lips with his own. It was quick and rough, even a little needy.

His hands then caressed you from your jaw, back to your shoulders, all the way down to your hips. Your body swayed with each touch. 

“Ony…” you call softly, “I want you, baby…go slow…”

“I ain’t no gentle nigga, Mama. You know that,” his head sinks into the crook of your neck, tongue lightly brushing your collarbone, “But I’m not gon’ rush this, shit is too muhfuckin’ good.” 

He takes your lips, your head knocking back as his mouth clouds all of your senses, making your head spin with every kiss he gives. Oil still splays along his fingers as he draws them down your body.

 When his mouth pulls from yours, he’s mushing his lips along your nipples, sucking the brown buds into his mouth, the feeling making your head fall farther back onto the table, gasping lightly in response. 

His mouth trails from one of your nipples to the next, teasing in between gentle suctions. Once he left, they’d already pucker back to their perk shape—a mixture of saliva and oil along the brown of your skin. The warmth of the lubricant rushes against your chest as he pours more, squeezing the flesh within his palms, knocking your breasts together with a grunt.

“Pretty ass fuckin’ titties.” 

He’s back to kissing you. Your bottom lip became trapped between his teeth, tongue soothing the flesh with a sensual swipe against the softened texture. Your body was moving with his at one point, slowing when you felt his palm swaying up and down against your stomach, each time reaching lower. 

The further he got, the more your body began to tense. It’s up until he slides his palm all the way down, the tip of his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, swiping over your clit. His mouth catches yours as you whimper again,

instantly catching his wrist in your hold. 

Even with you holding him back, Onyankopon keeps up the slight, gentle stroke, dragging his middle finger down and back against the bud. The faint pressure makes your hips twitch. His lips just barely touch yours. 

“I got you, Mama. Lemme’ play wit’ it.”

It makes you clutch onto him tighter, a breathy whine releasing as he slowly begins to rub at your clit again. 

Onyankopon parted your mouth back open to invade you with his lips, capturing and soothing all of your little noises, his touch—it drowned around you.

You shudder out another breath as you slowly nod your head, spreading your legs a little more. You look down as you watch him pull back, dropping saliva from his mouth, letting it slide in between your folds, coating the oil slick between his fingers. It makes you shiver. 

 Onyankopon lowered his brows as he used two of his fingers, sliding back up your folds, keeping them there. God, he knew he was getting to you. His fingers rubbing in a motion along your clit makes you pant against his mouth, the gush of your pussy beginning to register to your ears, your face now entirely hot. 

Your thighs tremble as you have the urge to close them, keeping your fingers tight along his wrist. But as he continues, your hand weakens to hold him, too distracted by the wave of pleasure rushing against your lower body. 

The pleasure goes from being good, too good, to all too much, Onyankopon’s fingers sinking into you, your mouth parting as you whimper deeply, watching the way they disappear beneath his palm. You hide your face within his chest as you whine, legs vibrating as if you’d been tased. 

“Why this shit so fuckin’ wet?”

You pull him back into a kiss, crying against his lips as he fucks you with his fingers. His eyes bore into yours as he grunts, “You gon’ let go of my hand?”

You finally release his hand, spreading your legs even more as you allow his fingers to go deeper, nearly pulling your mouth away from his as you tremble, “Want your mouth, Ony…”

“That’s what you want, huh?” 

“Mhm.” 

“My mouth?”

“Ony,” you pout. 

You could admit—you hated when you got like this. When he made you so horny that you begged for his touch, his mouth, anything he could give you. That’s when you turned your body along the massage table, leaning against the soft flesh of your stomach, imbedding your nails into the back of your thighs as you spread your opening to him. 

Bubblegum pink complimented your brown flesh as you whimpered, “Come eat me, baby.” 

His pupils darkened as you begged him. Your body jolts as you feel a harsh spank, your jaw dragging along the material of the table as you could feel his mouth hovering along your pussy, yet he wouldn’t make contact. 

“You gon’ feed me?” 

Your hips dip lower, desperately trying to find his mouth as you pout, “Promise. Lemme’ feed you, Ony.”

His nose brushes against your clit. The sensation causes you to lightly buck your hips, a deep chuckle rumbling against your thigh in return. 

That’s when his mouth finally buries between your legs—Onyankopon’s tongue languidly swipes the entirety of your pussy in a slow drag, trailing upwards against your clit, making you shakily gasp in response. He laps against your pussy, almost as if he was licking a piece of candy instead of his wife, the warmth of his mouth surrounding your lower lips.

His tongue is thick, hot, and wide as he embeds himself between your folds, sucking and slurping, the wet sounds echoing in the room around you. He groaned against your pussy, tongue swirling around your opening as he teasingly thrusted inside, earning a soft whine from you.

“Ain’t finna’ give you my mouth forreal,” he murmurs between your pussy, “You need this dick, huh?” 

He sucked at your clit, his tongue lashing and circling the swollen bundle of nerves. He enjoyed you, his jaw nearly pressed against your pelvis as he feasted.

Your mouth parts lightly as you reach from behind, sliding your palm against the material of his durag. His mouth was always so wet, so loud against your pussy that he grunts, “Always got me makin’ a fuckin’ mess on this bitch. You hear me, huh? Need you droppin’ on this dick like you know it belong to you. You listenin’?” 

His words create more waves of pleasure, clenching your walls in need of something to fill you. You need him.

 You grind against his mouth, riding the air for that sensation—you turn your head back to him, “Put it in, Ony,” you’re so horny, you beg as he shakes his head in your pussy, legs trembling so violently that your toes curl.

Turning back to see him pulling his dick from beneath his sweatpants made you want to put your mouth on the weight of his tip, but not nearly as bad as you wanted him inside of you. It was a dark pink, hefty as it slapped at the swollen lips of your walls, nearly bouncing off as he rubbed the shaft along your core.

Your folds begin to spread open, sucking in the girth that stretches you the minute he begins sinking you down on it. Your eyes flutter chaotically, rolling entirely back as that uncomfortable pinch returns, being overpowered by a wave of pleasure—you feel full, so full that you whine, “Mmmph,” dropping your hips down, your ass clapping along his abdomen echoing against the room. 

Your eyes flicker to him from behind, curls falling around your face as you softly cry, “Dick so big, baby...”

“This yo’ big ass dick,” he promises, the wet noise of his tip entering your core, slowly dragging his length against your walls as you drop down— the feeling was unmatched.

His palm finds a grip on your shoulder, your body so sensitive to the touch that you’re aroused to any movement. You don’t know what comes over you, but you’re dragging yourself slowly off his dick, up until the tip kisses your entrance, rolling your hips back down, your pussy squelching as air pushes from your walls at that. Your lips part as you moan at your pussy being filled again. 

He grunts, a slow burn making its way through your thighs as you reach back to take a firm hold of his sweats, dragging them down further to expose his balls. You sank down against his lap again, moaning at the pinch of your walls being stretched. You began to find a pace, a soft echo of skin clapping together as the head of his dick hits against your cervix, pressing and prodding at it, you whimpered, “Missed you so much, baby.” 

The table creaks, the noise of your slapping thighs becoming louder as you bounce on his lap. His dick shifts in and out of you, Onyankopon’s grasp sliding down to your hip as he glares, “Shit, Mama…hollon.”

His dick throbbed within your walls, stretching you open as you took him inch by inch. You’re still dropping, coming down as you keep your eyes on him, “Feels like forever since you’ve been in me, baby,” you’re whining, “Fuckin’ love you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh shit,” he cusses under his breath, “Why you fuckin’ me like this?”

He spreads your cheeks, the weight of his thumb finding your hole. Your brain fogs as you register his voice, vibrations rumbling in your head. It made you gasp and shudder. 

Onyankopon’s breath hitched, head knocking back as he looked down, seeing his length become more coated with your cream each time he pulled out. 

 “Nasty ass lil’ bitch—this pussy mine, huh?”

You could barely respond, barely think for yourself as he held you against him. The only word you managed to pant out was, “…Yours, Ony. Spank me,” you’re whimpering, “Spank me, baby.”

Onyankopon’s hand found the curve of your ass again, slapping it, the skin rippling against his touch. His grip was firm, slapping the same spot repeatedly, making you moan. His fingers find the wetness that trickled from your core, coating the fluid against your hole, pressing his thumb further into it. 

He could smell that Italian bergamot in your hair, he could taste the sweet tang on his tongue from eating you before. He needed more. He needed to take more. He groans, picking up his pace as he slams his hips into yours, his dick buried to the hilt, the wet slap of his thighs against yours drowning out your cries. 

"Look at that," he said, voice husky and rough, "Look at how fuckin’ good this shit looks. You mine, you ain't never fuckin' leaving me, who else gon’ fuck you like this?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth parting as it nearly drooled, “I love you so much,” you shudder, “Oh my god,” placing your hand behind your back, wanting him to hold your arm in place.

Onyankopon’s fingers lace around your arm, slinging it around your back as he held it in place, slamming his hips against yours faster, fucking you harder. His dick throbbed within your walls, deliciously splitting you in half.

Nose buried into the crook of your neck, he caught himself inhaling the aroma of the products you used to wash yourself, always reminded that you were the mother of his child. He groaned against your ear, the wet heat of his breath giving you chills.

His fingers found the skin of your cheek, yanking your head to the side, taking your lips into a hard kiss. He sucked your lips into his mouth as he grunted, “You gon’ cum on it?”

It’s in that exact moment that your eyes flutter shut, trembling out a gasp against his mouth— Onyankopon feels as you coat his pubic hairs, clear fluid rushing out your folds like a violent chill. You lean along his shoulder as you murmur, “I’m cumming,” legs vibrating as he slows his strokes, letting you feel all inches of him.

Through your rapture, it’s as if your system is liquored with caffeine—you pull him onto the table, straddling his lap as you slide your tongue along his jaw, dragging it up his lips to pull him into a kiss. Your giggles are sultry, wanting more, needing more of him.

Onyankopon was a little caught off guard. Nonetheless he lowly chuckled, returning the kiss, sucking at your bottom lip. His hands explored your body, roaming across your back, down to your hips, squeezing at the curve of your ass.

 "That wine getting to yo’ ass—You ain't tired?" He murmured, voice low and deep, "You want more?"

You nod your head, running your mouth down his abdomen as you kiss the curve of his muscles, “Just need you to lay there, Daddy.”

You’re going lower, up until your lips wrap along his balls, sucking them into your mouth indulgently.

Onyankopon eyes lowered ,"You ain't got enough stamina for all that," rubbing his fingers against your scalp, "And you know I love that shit,” he then groaned, watching you suck on his balls, tongue wrapping around them, massaging within your mouth. He felt his dick jump again, throbbing against his leg.

The sight of your husband made you even hornier. From his nose ring shining under the lights, to his tattoed face sultrily glaring at you. You’re already sliding his tip on your tongue, wrapping your fingers at the base as you pull your mouth back, feline eyes locked in his as you drop spit along his length. You then wrap your lips along his dick as you suck him into your mouth, moaning as your eyes roll back.

You were so pretty to him—from your freckled cheeks glimmering like pure honey, to the dark curls framing your round face and slender eyes. His dick was a challenge to take in fully, though you’d try anyways. Onyankopon’s tip throbbed against your tongue, his eyes fluttering shut for a mere second as you sucked him in. He felt his tip meet the back of your throat, grunting in response, fingers delicately scratching at your scalp, pushing your head down as he growled, "God damn baby, God damn.”

The growl that rumbled in his throat was loud, enough to send shivers down your spine, eyes dilated as he stared down at you. His fingers pushed against your scalp, encouraging you to continue.

You’re a sight to watch. You’re whimpering each time his tip hits the back of your throat, slapping his dick against your tongue. You moan each time it connects with your mouth.

The way you moaned. How it sounded, how it looked on you. He hummed back, throbbing between your lips, "Pretty ass, keep suckin’ that shit like that."

Seeing his pleasure sent you a new wave of euphoria. You’re sucking harder, faster, nearly whining at the pleasure that radiates through your own body.

Another wave of lust rushes over you. Onyankopon watched as you slid him out of your mouth, the slow trail of saliva was nearly too sexy, your fingers wrapping around his dick again, stroking him off.

“You want my pussy, baby?”

His brows furrowed, a low, raspy groan followed by a chuckle, "You know want that shit. So fuckin’ bad,” He murmured, the head of his dick flaring at the word, "Come drop it on me.”

You climb forward, placing your feet along the soft material of the table. The curve of your silhouette is all Onyankopon can watch, tracing your frame with his eyes as you pull his tip between your folds, the gummy flesh engulfing him as you sink down. You breathily gasp as you lift yourself halfway up, back arching as you grind your hips back down.

His head kneeled back, the feeling of you nearly too much to handle. His tip kissing at your cervix made him bare his teeth, feeling the tightening of muscles, "Ride this muhfuckin' shit," he breathed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

“Just need you to relax, baby,” you softly repeat, slowly grinding yourself up, sinking yourself back down. You drag your teeth along your reddened lips, knocking your eyes down as you moan, “You’re such a good husband, Ony…” 

You’re rotating your hips, wining yourself against him, curls swaying around your face and shoulders. The way his eyes lowered is different from most times—he always had a dominance to him, but as his abdomen tightened, he was losing that restraint.

"You fine as fuck— Naaaah," he murmured, a longing in his voice as his hips stuttered, “Fuck, you can’t be doing allat’.”

A soft whine rolls off your tongue as you lock your palm against his thigh, using the leverage to drop yourself down onto him, the arousal splattering between your hot skin. You take his hand as you suck his fingers into your mouth, swirling your hips as you lowly giggle, “Lemme’ make you feel good,” your amusement thrumming into a whimper.

The hand that rested on your hip gripped tighter. His fingers pressed harder against your flesh, now rested on your collarbone, "Don't tease a nigga," eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted. You pull up your hips, slamming them back down, Onyankopon’s face twisting as he grunted, “Ooh, shit.”

The weight of his words made your thighs quiver, legs trembling as you kept the rhythm, sliding yourself down his lap as he ground himself up into you. You’re bouncing your hips against his lap, his tip jutting between the folds of your pussy each time you come up, teasing your clit that has Onyankopon growling.

“So pretty, Daddy,” you compliment, “Cum in me, I want another baby.”

His head tilted back, eyes rolling as you said that. A soft moan escapes him, hips twitching, "You talkin’ crazy," he muttered, a nervous chuckle in his voice, "C—Chillout’.”

“Salem needs a sibling.”

You lean yourself down, face inches apart as you bounce your ass on top of him, whining within his ear. It’s when he shoves his fingers into your hair to place your face within his neck, that you hear a whimper pass his lips. It makes you smile, like a seductive demon, turning your cheek to him as you whisper, “Sound so pretty, Daddy.”

“S—shit, Mama.” 

Onyankopon’s moaning, your lips pressing against his jugular was almost suffocating. His mouth parted, breathlessly, his toes curling and his balls twitching, and that familiar rush came over him.

“Cum in me,” you whimper above his parted lips, his eyes rolled back as grind your hips down, “Fill me up, baby.”

The heat between your bodies grew, Onyankopon’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he moaned even louder, fingers scratching into the soft flesh of your thighs, hips, lower back, anywhere he could find. The rush of his release was too much, the slow build-up nearly unbearable as a warmth fills your walls.

Yet, he doesn’t stop there. His fingers were hooked into your waist, pulling you up, forcing you to come down on his dick as he grunts, “Told you to stop teasin’ a nigga," plop, plop, plop, the wet squelch of your walls was his favorite sound as he fucked into you—aside from your sobs, your eyes well with tears as you hold onto him, feeling a violent course of pleasure running through your body as you tremble, “I love you.”

“Stop cryin’,” he grunts against your lips, “You ain’t gotta cry to let me know you love me, I know. I love yo’ ass too, so cum all on this dick.”

His name left your lips, a loud, desperate squeal, and he loved hearing it. His mouth captured yours in a deep kiss, his tongue delving into the warmth of your mouth as another orgasm hits you, swallowing your moans, burying himself as deep into you as he could, as he was able.

The only thing heard at this point is the continuous song on a loop. You’re breathless above him, lazily trailing your mouth against his lips. The feeling is ticklish—so much that you give him a small giggle, cheeks warm at your own actions. 

“…Ony?” 

“Yeah?”

He chuckles between his breaths, feeling your body grow lax against his. He could see the exhaustion within your eyes, the way they grew a little hazy. 

“You ‘bout to knock out.”

“Mm—Mm,” you shake your head, “I’m hungry.”

“You hungry?” he raises an eyebrow, “Yeah— the way you was ridin’ my shit, you should be.”

“Onyankopon.” 

He laughs again, “Why you callin’ me? Can’t even get mad at that. You was’ on my shit like it was a muhfuckin’ saddle.”

“Oh god,” you place your hands over his face, “I was gonna get serious, and you’ playing. Can you stop?”

“Aight, I’m sorry. What you’ need, Mama?”

You sigh, pressing your lips together as you look at him. You then say, “Thank you…for all this. Going back to work after Salem has been really scary for me. I know I can do whatever I set my mind to, but…I miss being at home. I miss you, I miss Salem. I want another baby, Ony. Forreal this time.”

His brow quirks an inch, surprise flashing in his eyes. 

“You serious, right now? You not playin’ with me?” 

You can’t help the smile that grows along your face, “I mean it.”

He cups your face, drawing you in for a deep kiss, “I’d love nothin’ more than another baby with you. Can’t wait to see you waddling yo’ ass around the house again.”

You roll your eyes, returning the kiss with a couple of quick pecks. You then say, “I um…also might’ve lied to you about something earlier.”

“About what?”

“…I might’ve bought you a Valentine's gift when I said that I didn’t,” you admit, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. 

He grins, “Oh… oh, you actin’ bad. Real bad.”

“Oh? Then you must not wanna hear about this Cartier watch—“ you shrug, patting his face as you get off of the table, humming as you begin making your way towards the bathroom.

His mouth falls open.

“Hollon’—you serious right now?! Forreal?!”

“I think I hear Salem crying,” you tilt your head, “Don’t you?”

“You think you finna’ leave after buying me a gift like that? Girl, I’m finna put two more babies in you!” 

“Get back—you too freaked out!”

You take off into the bathroom, a full laugh choking from your lips as you feel arms tug around your hips, trapping you within his hold. And when the door slams, you giggle as he shows his infinite affection to you—as he always did.

[obsesssedblerd]

MORE SUKUNA WITH HIS LITTLE DAUGHTER PLS PLS PLSSSSS I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE ❤️❤️

Picky Eater

Sukuna takes a small breath to calm himself, then picks up the small bowl full of fresh baby food. What is it that you usually say? Third time’s a charm? 

He uses the plastic spoon to stir it a few times, then scoops some up to present to his daughter, who was sitting in her high chair in the kitchen. “Here. Eat.” 

The baby looks at the spoon full of yellow mush with her red eyes, then faces him and whines in disapproval. Sukuna groans in frustration. “You are not making sense, brat. You cry because you are hungry, but you do not eat. You did not want the green food, the red food, or this yellow food. What is it that you want?” 

Her little face scrunches up, and Sukuna knows it’s because she’s about to wail. When the first cry builds in her throat, he reaches forward to grab her from her high chair, putting her against his chest and gently patting her back like he’s watched you do countless times. “No, none of that. Crying will not get us anywhere. Besides, your mother is resting. Waking her up is simply not an option.” 

The doors to the kitchen open, and he sees Uraume there, holding a bowl of purple-colored baby food. “I apologize, Lord Sukuna. I left the other maids in charge of preparing food for the little princess, and they did not follow directions.”

The tiny girl in his arms coos excitedly upon seeing Uraume, and their eyes soften as they reach a hand out, allowing the baby to wrap her entire hand around a single finger. “She prefers when her food has blueberries mixed in it,” Uraume explains. “Lady [Y/N] and I discovered this two weeks ago.”

Without a word, Sukuna sets his daughter back in her high chair, then offers a spoonful of the new food to her. To his relief, she eats it. He exhales, then thanks Uraume as they exit. “So it seems that you are extremely picky,” he says to her as he continues to feed her, some of the spoonfuls far more messier than others. “That is not surprising. I also eat only what Uraume prepares.”

The doors open again, but this time, it’s you; yawning as you walk in, all refreshed from your nap. You analyze the scene in front of you, then snicker as you grab a wet napkin. “There’s food all over her face.” 

Sukuna sees that his daughter’s face is practically covered in messy purple blotches, then shrugs as he looks over at you. “She ate most of it, though. She—” He stops when he hears faint splashing, then turns his head to see the baby playing in the remainder of the food, making quite a mess all over her clothes, the high chair, and even a bit of Sukuna's face. 

“You brat,” Sukuna grabs the napkin from you, and begins to wipe her mouth and hands as you start laughing. “That is food, not paint for you to throw around the room.” Hearing you laugh, the baby joins in. Sukuna rolls his eyes, and you step in, grabbing your daughter from her chair. 

“Okay,” you say in-between laughs. “It was time for her to have a bath anyway.” Your eyes land on the multiple bowls of untouched baby food, then you look back at Sukuna, who was using a damp towel to get any of the purple mush off of his face. “I can tell you’ve been at this for a while. I should’ve told you that she’s picky.” 

“Picky and very spoiled,” Sukuna comments with a grunt.

“Mhm.” You hum. Your daughter giggles, and you kiss the only part of her face that’s not messy as you ask him, “And who is the one who decides to spoil her?” 

“Spoiling her is not my original decision. The little brat has inherited your technique.” 

You raise your brow in confusion. “I don’t have a technique, Ryo.” 

The princess is distracted by the bracelet you’re wearing, because she babbles excitedly as she reaches for your wrist. You smile while watching her, and unbeknownst to you, Sukuna is watching you both. Similar smiles, he notes for the millionth time since you gave birth to your and his daughter. Whether it was you or her, both smiles had the same effect: weakening his heart and getting him to do whatever you wanted. 

“You do,” he says simply. And it’s powerful, he doesn’t add.

[damnyousubdermalirritants]

UPDATE: NOVAVAX NOW AVAILABLE!!!

Hi everyone, it's been about a year since I posted about updated COVID vaccines and it's time for another update if you are in the US:

THE BRIDGE ACCESS PROGRAM IS ENDING!!!!

If you are uninsured or your insurance does not cover covid boosters, please schedule a new booster appointment before the end of August because the Bridge Access Program (the way the government will still pay for your booster) ends in September. The updated mRNA boosters from Moderna and Pfizer are available now. Go Go GO!!!

Shitty, I know! If you can call your congressional reps, the FDA, the CDC, whomever to tell them you want this program to continue/be reinstated, that would be great. Also, while you're at it, call the FDA to tell them to expedite the approval for the updated Novavax booster (3017962640).

The new Novavax vaccine is designed for the JN.1 strain which is one of the most recent mutations of the virus going around. If you have insurance and can afford to wait, I highly recommend getting the Novavax booster when it becomes available.

We are currently in the largest Covid summer surge since 2021

If you haven't had a booster in the past six months you are essentially unvaccinated. New strains with different spike proteins keep evolving faster than vaccine development and distribution can keep up. All that said, getting Covid is not a moral failing. If you do feel sick, take a rapid test! If it's negative, test again a day or two later. It is better to know than not to know. Here's a refresh on how to take a rapid test correctly:

If you do get Covid, it is worth getting on antiretrovirals within the first week of symptoms to reduce the overall viral load your body has to fight. If your insurance doesn't cover Paxlovid or Remdesivir, here are other low/no-cost ways to access it:

If you get sick, rest radically even after you stop testing positive on rapid tests. Avoid exercising for at least eight weeks after the fact to reduce the risk of developing long covid.

Regardless of your vaccination status, masking with a KN95 or N95 respirator (or equivalent standards in your country i.e. FFP2/3 in the EU) is the most reliable way to protect yourself and others. If Covid protections are a financial burden, there is likely an active Mask Bloc near you doing free distribution of respirators and tests that would be happy to help you. Here's a global map of them from covidactionmap.org

Some quick tips: if you're wearing a bi-fold mask, flatten the nose-bridge wire completely, then mold it to your nose on your face for a better fit. The best mask is the one that you will actually wear regularly to protect yourself. I really like the selection of styles, sizes and colors from WellBefore:

As school is starting, getting you and your family boosted is one of the best things you can do to protect yourselves. Masking is perhaps even more important. If you can advocate for updating and regularly changing the HVAC filters at your local schools to MERV-13 or higher to keep the indoor air cleaner, that can also make a big difference. Better indoor air quality in schools helps protect kids from illness, allergies, wildfire smoke, and more per the EPA's website.

These are steps you can take to improve air quality at home as well. Corsi-Rosenthal boxes are low-cost and highly effective for cleaning the air indoors.

Here's a map of clean air lending libraries for getting access to air purifiers for events from cleanairclub.org

[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.

[lovelake]

WITHOUT A SHRED OF BAD (GOOD) INTENTIONS

Old habits die hard. He can’t seem to stop paying you nightly visits with rose-colored glasses.

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | MDNI, dead dove do not eat, non-con, stalking, drugging, dry-humping, breaking and entering, 700+ wc

note: drabble again ^_^ because i’ve been struggling to find the time and energy to write LMFAO sorry for the inactivity. if you don’t want to see this type of content, please use the filtering system to curate your experience </3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Doting eyes and bruised knuckles caressed your moonlit face. Each and every detail was committed to memory so he could sketch it out later on.

You were his entire life: the heavenly scenery when he so much as blinked, the movie star in all his dreams at night, the muse behind his art, his will to live. 

He didn’t have bad intentions when he broke all the padlocks you kept buying, how else was he supposed to get in and carry out his purpose?

He was doing you a favor! He selflessly endured insomnia and (unbeknownst to you) gifted you his sleeping pills so you could get a good night’s rest. You deserved to be loved and pleasured, and was the only person who fit the bill for the job (according to an unreliable source, him).

At least, that’s how his sick mind tries to justify his actions.

It was a simple routine. He started with the most loving and tender action of them all—a forehead kiss. Soft and loving, the touch lingered like a balm while he slowly peeled your blanket off and nudged you towards your side.

Though he was impatient, he stayed away from your lips. You’d come around and love him back. Your first kiss with him would be of your own will. Ironic, considering how far he’s taking all these other unwarranted touches.

What would you taste like? Plain unscented chapstick? Cherry gloss? Cocoa butter vaseline? Bloody, from chapped and cracked lips? It doesn’t matter, he’s excited for the future.

“Are you cold?” Faux concern coated his whisper, he rubbed your goosebump-covered arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up.”

Nuzzling against the crook of your neck, he got his dose of his favorite aphrodisiac. Honestly, it was becoming a problem as of late. All you had to do was pass by him in the hallway and he’d get hard from your scent, his mind would take him back to moments like these. 

With an arm hooked around your stomach, he pulled you closer to him. His hand then wandered south, dipping underneath fabric to find its destination.

The crickets outside were overshadowed by the sound of his breathing gradually growing heavy with each flick of his hand. Sheets rustled. His hips—once pressed snugly against the back of yours—were chasing friction.

You needed this. Poor thing, you’ve probably been so stressed as of late. He’s seen you studying for hours on end at the library. He was here to relieve you, you’d wake up feeling refreshed tomorrow.

Between huffs, open-mouthed kisses were desperately littered across your neck, like you’d slip out of his arms if he stopped for even a minute.

He’d be the only person to touch you like this, he’d make sure of it. Nobody loved you as much as he did, he’d dispose of anyone who challenged that.

“Mm…” Biting his bottom lip didn’t work. Your neighbors must think you have a boyfriend at this point, his broken whimpers weren’t quiet by any means. 

If that’s the case, they probably pity you because he never lasts long. Alone, he could cum to the thought of you in just a minute or two. It’s not like he can help it! You’re on his mind all day long, of course any stimulation would set him off.

“Please,” it was unfair how good you made him feel, all you had to do was be in his presence, that’s all he needed for his stomach to start feeling hot.

He buried his face against your neck, hand coming back up to hold your hip for leverage. You’d feel the ache there later. He should feel gross (he didn’t), his pants were all sticky now, and he’d have to walk back home like this. 

Your heart was slow and steady from slumber in contrast to his as he traced shapes against your skin and whispered sweet words against the shell of your ear. That’s what good boyfriends do, right? Aftercare? He’s just getting some practice before that dream comes to fruition.

His smile was blinding in the dark. After a couple minutes, he reluctantly parted from you and tucked you in.

What would he go home with this time? Another piece of clothing from your laundry basket? One of the fragrances sitting atop your counter? He couldn’t get too greedy, he limited himself to one item per week.

You sent him to heaven and back. He deserved to see flames instead.

[pearlieprincess]

HIIIIIII!!!! sorry if this is like a stupid ask lol, but could you do a stamp tutorial? your stamps are always so high quality oml, how do you resize your gifs and images???

HIIII and no worries, I can totally make a stamp tutorial! (⌒▽⌒)

I’ll be going through on how to make a normal image stamp and then a gif stamp. By following these two tutorials, you’ll be able to make stamps just like these!

PROGRAM USED ★ Ibispaint

STAMP TEMPLATE BY ★ AHMED-ART on Deviantart.

To start off, you must find an image you’d like to make into a stamp. Then, find a stamp template you think would pair well with your image. There are many different types of stamp templates out there and you can find a lot of them on Deviantart.

Make sure to read the terms of use for the template before using though! Here is the template I will be using for this tutorial.

Making stagnant stamps is easy once you got the steps down. You can use any art program and follow a similar process, but I only use Ibispaint to create mine.

First, create a canvas that is the same width and height as your stamp template. This one is 97x57. Most stamp templates have super similar proportions. If you are unsure of your stamps dimensions, you can create a 100x100 canvas then crop it around the stamp template once you have inserted it.

(Brush icon -> Canvas button -> Trim)

To get higher quality on the image inside your stamps: the closer the better! For example:

See how the first stamp’s image is rather far away? This makes the quality appear much lower. However, once you zoom in, it becomes higher! So I recommend finding images to create stamps out of that you are able to zoom in on so the quality can pop.

You’ll need to erase the parts of the image that don’t fit inside the stamp so it remains transparent around the border.

If you want to change the border color of the stamp, fill in the canvas with the color you want. Then, clip it to the stamp border. Lastly, go and set it on multiply. This will change the stamp borders color!

If you want to put a line texture on your stamp, you can utilize the ruler tool in Ibispaint to draw lines over your stamp.

I’ll add these every once and awhile to my stamps for fun. If you set the opacity of the lines to 10%, it’ll end up looking something like this.

And that’s the completed stamp!

Changing the border color and adding the line texture is completely optional, though it’s always fun to customize stamps!

PROGRAMS USED: Ibispaint, Ezgif

GIF stamps are a little trickier, but the process is not too difficult once you got it down!

First, find a gif that you would like to make into a stamp. I’ll be using this one!

if you want to have a different colored or customized stamp border, you must edit it on Ibispaint before like explained above.

You can combine the layers and save them transparently so it’ll end up looking something like this.

I made this one blue and added a gradient to it to match the gif I want to make into a stamp! You can add a gradient to the border by adding a darker color onto the multiply layer then using an airbrush to blend both colors together in the middle on both sides of the template.

Now, open up Ezgif and click the tab called Crop. Then, insert your stamp template there. The way I find the dimensions of the inside of the stamp is by cropping my way around the inside of the template.

The dimensions inside this template in particular are 91x51. This is what we will resize our gif to! Before we can do that, click the crop tab again at the top of the page to refresh it and then insert your gif. This isn’t required to do, but I like to crop my gifs a bit so they focus more on what is going on inside my stamp. Like I said before, the closer the better, as it will make the quality higher!

Now that we have our cropped gif, click the tab called resize at the bottom of the page. The dimensions of the inside of this stamp are 91x51, so insert those numbers in the width and height boxes to then resize the gif.

Next step is to click the overlay tab at the bottom. You will need to click the button that says “extend canvas size” so we have room to overlay the stamp template on top of the gif. After extending the size, upload the stamp template as an overlay where it says choose file.

On computer, after clicking upload image, you can just drag the stamp template over the gif and situate it. However, you can also figure out the number coordinations to fix the template ontop of the gif by messing around with it a bit. I make my graphics on my phone so I use the numbers instead of dragging.

Left means to move the template left or right depending on the numbers you insert. Top moves the template up or down. The left for this template is 42 and the top is 21. It takes a bit of messing around to find the exact numbers.

Now that the template is ontop of the gif, all that is left to do is to crop the space around it. Click the crop tab again at the bottom of the page and then click where it says “trim transparent pixels around the image.” This will easily crop the extra space around the stamp.

Click download to save your gif and that’s it! Here is the finished product!

The whole process for making gif stamps is always the same, the only things that can vary or change are the dimensions of the gif (so it can fit inside different templates) and the left/right.

I hope you find this tutorial helpful and if anyone needs anything else explained, let me know. These stamps are free to use if anyone would also like to use them.

Happy stamp making everyone! 🩷

Dividers (c) @coco-coquette

[cosmosluckycharms]

can we get more incorrect quotes?

like this time with miguel + reader but also damion and penny

i mean like if you INSIST (i love making these)

spider!reader, peni & damian : *screaming*

miguel: *runs into the room* What's wrong, damian ?!

spider!reader: Wait, why are you asking damian that when peni and I are also here?

miguel: Because damian wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

spider!reader: The scariest president had to be Rushmore because he had four heads.

peni: Yeah, it’s a good thing we captured him in that mountain, even if we have to live in fear of the spell wearing off.

miguel: Do you two still believe in that legend? Come on, Rushmore was killed a hundred years ago! We’re safe now.

damian : You people have clearly never taken a history lesson. His body was never found.

miguel: Are you laughing at that video of peni and damian fighting?

spider!reader: No.

spider!reader: I'm laughing at the comments.

*The squad is visiting a store late at night to return a DVD for spider!reader*

damian: I forget—what happens if we don’t return the DVD before midnight?

miguel: Then spider!reader gets charged extra. It’s called a “late fee”.

peni: Or was it zombie apocalypse? Eh, I don’t remember, but we can’t afford either.

peni: *clicks pen*

spider!reader: *clicks pen in response*

damian: Stop that.

peni : Stop what?

damian: You’re talking about me in Morse code!

spider!reader: Yes, that’s what we doing. In our very limited time, we took a class on a very outdated, very unnecessary form of communication just so we could talk about you in front of you. Congrats, you figured us out!

*later*

spider!reader, to miguel: That’s actually exactly what we were doing.

peni: Can I be frank with you guys?

damian: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is going to help.

spider!reader: Oh! Can I still be spider!reader?

miguel: Shh. Let Frank speak.

miguel: I just watched peni jump off of a spinning chair. Luckily, she wasnt hurt that badly. But the whole time, damian was screaming for help, which caused spider!reader to run in to help peni. Just note that all of this happened in the span of six minutes.

miguel: What do you three have to say for yourself?

peni:

damian:

spider!reader: Oops?

damian: miguel, we're hungry!

peni: miguel! What's for dinner?

spider!reader: We're hungry, miguel!

miguel, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams*

miguel: Why are you two always out during rainstorms?

spider!reader: It’s so peaceful and refreshing. I love the smell of rain.

damian : peni bet me I couldn’t get struck by lighting, but she's WRONG.

miguel: *points at peni* A human turtleneck, *points at damian * a narcissistic monster, *points at spider!reader* and literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met.

spider!reader: And who am I? Describe me now.

peni, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

damian : Gray.

spider!reader: Grey.

peni, turning to miguel: Now tell them what color you think it is.

miguel: Dark white.

spider!reader: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out.

miguel: Fucking damian and peni were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

*The gang when they drop food on the floor*

miguel: Aw man. *Throws it away*

spider!reader: Five second rule!

damian : Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor*

peni: *Sobs on the floor*

spider!reader: damian's out the will.

damian: That’s honestly fair. I deserve that.

miguel: Wait, you have a will? Already? You haven’t even graduated.

spider!reader: I’ve done some things in my life. Upset the wrong people. peni, you have a will too, right?

peni: Lots. Good luck figuring out which one’s real.

spider!reader: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions.

damian: Ridiculous. Give me some examples.

miguel: Wasps?

peni: Terriers?

spider!reader: damian.

damian: What’s it like being tall?

peni: Is it nice?

spider!reader: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

miguel: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

peni: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

damian : *crouches down*

spider!reader: *kneels down*

miguel: *sits on the floor*

peni: peni: I hate all of you.

peni: damian got into a fight.

spider!reader: That’s bad.

spider!reader:

spider!reader: Did he win?

peni: Hey, spider!reader, have you thought about having children?

spider!reader: ...

spider!reader: Does looking over you and the others not seem like I already do? Because I promise you, it sure feels like it.

peni: But we're not childr-

spider!reader, already distracted: DAMIAN, PUT THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER DOWN!

damian: You're pathetic!

peni: You're pathetic-er!

spider!reader: You're both losers.

damian: Comparing spider!reader and peni is like comparing apples and oranges.

spider!reader: We’re both unique in our own ways?

damian: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

peni: Which one of us is the orange?

spider!reader: damian, peni, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing?

damian, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that peni is sitting atop: Oh nothing much.

peni: I love you too :)

peni: I know we’re not exactly friends, but-

damian: What do you want?

peni: I've been stuck with spider!reader for 2 weeks and they've been drinking all the soy sauce.

peni: Help.

spider!reader: I will find us a covered wagon and horses. spider!reader: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone.

damian: Oh, please. We're not children.

*spider!reader leaves*

damian, casually: ...Eat shit and die.

peni, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

spider!reader: damian, we need that!

damian, holding peni over a trash can: Nope.

spider!reader: Gimme it—

damian: It’s garbage.

peni: How are we supposed to put a tracker the size of a penny on spider!reader without them noticing?

damian: Hey, spider!reader, I bet you 5 bucks that you can't swallow this penny.

spider!reader: *takes and swallows tracker* Pay up, loser.

peni: ...

peni: What’s your favorite color?

damian: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature.

peni: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP?

damian: My favorite color is red.

damian: We vegetarians love the environment. Carnivores are sick freaks.

peni: How can vegetarians possibly love the environment.. you keep eating all the fucking plants.

haha i love damian and peni my sillies for weal

[urcoolgf]

THE GOOD HOUSEKEEPING SEAL

pairing. bf¡drew && singer¡reader

content. fluff

summary. ever since you && drew started dating, you've been more inspired than ever, so—before your newest album drops—you wanna give your boyfriend a sneak peak (based on 'R.E.M.' by ariana grande)

drew knew dating a popstar was dangerous. one wrong move, and a whole album about his mistakes would hit the shelves in no time, but you were worth it to him. plus, he didn’t intend to make any mistakes with you.

the two of you had met about 6 months ago, and everything had been basically perfect. the type of perfect that had you slightly worried, but—for once in your life—you decided to just go with it. you had bad relationships in the past which left you with a deep mistrust when things were going well, but something about drew just made you feel so safe.

you knew it wasn’t easy dating you—not only were you a popstar (he was used to the fame anyway), but you over complicated things and just made yourself hard to love as a way of protecting yourself. in just 6 months, drew had taken those guards down—and even though it scared you to death—it was refreshing. life felt beautiful again, like you were finally seeing in color after years of living in black & white.

before you and drew met, you were so uninspired, so unmotivated that you were questioning if you even wanted to be in the industry anymore. you thought you had lost your touch. lost your voice. but, drew changed all of that. lyrics had been flowing out of you like a waterfall as the two of you had gotten closer.

your next studio album ‘sweetener’ was set to drop in two weeks. the name implying that drew had been the sweetener to your previously sour life. all throughout the writing and recording process you had left drew in the dark. it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, or want him to hear your work. this whole album process had been so new and vulnerable, and it made you scared.

you knew you wanted to share at least parts of your album with drew before it released for everyone—the album was for him after all. so, one day, when the two of you had nothing else to do, you suggested a trip to the studio.

you and drew were currently on the couch of your apartment in new york city, he was watching something on tv while you indulged yourself in your current read.

“hey, baby? how about a little trip down to the studio?,” you asked, a soft smile on your face. drew just looked at you—almost like he didn’t believe you.

“the studio? you want me to come?,” he had always respected your decision to record alone, so when you offered to take him with you he was shocked to say the least.

“mhm. jus’ got a few things to wrap up before the release,” the look in his eyes already gave you your answer, but you awaited his response anyway. your big doe eyes distracting drew just a bit before he finally answered.

“yeah, of course, baby. let’s go. i’ll drive,” he said, a huge smile took over his face as he quickly stood from the couch, moving to grab his keys. you giggled as you stood after him, following him to the door to put your shoes on.

on the way to the studio, you told drew where to go since he hadn’t been there. his hand covering your thigh, fingers circling the soft skin with a featherlight touch.

once you had arrived and parked, you led him to the studio door, unlocking it with your key. once he stepped inside, he looked like a kid in a candy shop. he took in all the different computers, speakers, audio boards, and the glass wall separating it all from the artist. you made your way inside after him, closing the door, and taking a seat in a chair by the audio board table.

“this is incredible, babe,” he said, moving to sit in the seat next to you, “so, what’re we doin’ here?”

“i actually don’t need to wrap up anything,” you said sheepishly, “i wanted to let you hear some stuff before the album drops… if that’s okay with you?,” you were nervous to say the least, sure he had heard your other music that was already released, but none of that was about him. you felt like this album was the best thing you’ve made—it was everything you had been striving to create your entire career—so, yeah… there was some pressure on you right now. drew could sense it. gently moving his chair closer to comfort you, placing his arm around your shoulder and rubbing soothing circles into it.

“‘course i wanna hear, baby. wanna hear everything you make,” he said quietly. his warm smile made your heart skip a beat.

“‘kay,” you replied. your voice so soft it was almost a whisper. you moved to open the audio file of the song you had been most proud of. it was the fourth track on the album, and it had turned out exactly how you wanted it to. you called it R.E.M. to insinuate a dream-like state, and the instrumentals that accompanied it only added to the ethereal vibe of it.

you made sure your computer was connected to the speakers in the studio, so that drew could get the full experience, before hesitantly pressing play.

the dreamy beat had started playing, and there was officially no going back. drew just looked down, taking in the beat. he had a focused look on his face that made it seem like he was really listening—which he was.

mm-hmm

last night

boy, i met you, yeah

when i was asleep (sleep)

you’re such a dream to me

you watched as drew’s expression softened. he looked back up at you, wide-eyed, to find you already staring at him in anticipation for his reaction. he didn’t say anything while it was playing, just listened intently, looking back at you every so often so you could visibly watch his heart melt.

before you speak, don’t move, ‘cause i don’t wanna

wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up (don’t wanna…)

wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up

boy, you’re such a dream to me

if you can believe, babe

boy, you’re such a dream to me

excuse me, um, i love you

drew’s soft chuckle rings through your ears, his beautiful smile leaving an imprint on your heart. he still doesn’t say anything, just taking in all the beautiful melodies and adlibs you conjured up in this masterpiece of a song.

i’ll get you out my mind, mhm, i tried to

but i just want to stand and yell

i will never dare to tell

think i heard some wedding bells, shh, keep it to yourself

is this real? (is this real?)

drew’s head snaps up at the last verse—wedding bells? his heart had never felt as full as it did in this moment. he leans over—arm still around your shoulders—and gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek. his mind now clouded with not only your soothing melodies, but images of your wedding—you walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, flowers everywhere, slipping a ring on your finger, and making you his forever.

i could buy you anything, but i cannot buy you

before your boy gets smart, i would never try to

you know i’m thinking to myself, "what happened, why you?"

but when i see you in my dreams, psh, i knew

you know how to treat it, you know how to eat it

you know how to beat it (i know how to keep it)

the good housekeeping seal

(bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum)

‘the good housekeeping seal’ is a term for a ‘stamp of approval’ commonly known amongst celebrities. it means a product has been tried, tested, and determined a good product. the line made drew laugh, as if he had gained the ‘stamp of approval’ from you. he laughed on the outside, but inside, his heart fluttered. you had opened up a little about past relationships, and the fact you considered him one of the good ones meant a lot to him.

the song finally came to a cinematic end, your vocals carrying the beat to a close. drew didn’t even know what to say—it was phenomenal. everything about the song was perfect, he could only imagine how the rest of the album sounded…

“y/n… that was—holy shit, that was phenomenal, baby,” he turned his chair so he was facing you head on, his hands coming to rest on top of your knees.

“really? you liked it?,” you asked. your bright eyes made drew swoon. the fact you thought he wouldn’t like it amazed him.

“liked it? it was heavenly. i felt like i was floating,” he smiled, getting all excited to share his thoughts with you. it warmed your heart to see him passionate about something you were so passionate about.

“and the adlibs in that back were just amazing. everything felt like a dream,” he continued.

“yes! that was the goal. i wanted it to feel almost surreal because… well, because that’s how you make me feel,” you looked down as if you were nervous to say the last part. drew brought his hands to your cheeks, pulling your face back up to face his.

“listen y/n… before i met you, i thought my life couldn’t get any better– i had movie contracts i would’ve killed for a couple years ago, friends i never thought i would have, i was working with directors i never dreamed would even know my name. i thought i had it all. life seemed exciting and promising, and i saw everything in vibrant color… at least i thought i did. i never knew how dull my life really was until i met you. these past 6 months have been unbelievable, and now i can’t even imagine how i was satisfied with the life i had before you…,” his blue eyes stared right into yours, admiration consuming them.

his words felt so sincere, something you haven’t heard in a long time… maybe ever—you just lost it. tears began to fall from your eyes. drew’s soft hands immediately moving to wipe the salty drops away.

“i love you… so much,” your words were broken by soft sobs. drew pulled you into him, his tight embrace giving you more comfort than you knew was even possible.

“i promise, baby, i love you more,” he said softly, running his hand down your back, slowly rubbing up and down to calm your cries.

once you finally pull apart, redness staining your cheeks. drew looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen, and you weren’t sure he was even real at this point.

“so…,” a breathless laugh escaped you before continuing, “wanna hear some more?”

“c’mon baby, you already know my answer,” drew smirked, moving back to put his arm around your shoulders to listen to the next track you played.

track 2. title: ‘blazed’.

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[httpuckdrop]

surprise! – ws2

in which will comes back from a road trip to the best surprise ever.

pairing: will smith x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship!au

word count: 1.5k

warnings: hmm suggestive mentions

author's note: aaaa will will will !!!! sped-wrote this on the subway to school today lmao. will will will <3 do well tomorrow pls <3<3(i will love you either way)<3<3 (oh and the tattoo pic is just for the location! couldnt find a pic for what i was looking for but i think you get it!!)

will has never been the biggest fan of surprises.

instantly, when he hears even the word "surprise", a lump forms in his stomach. he's far too used to bad pranks and letdowns; plus, if it's actually a positive one, he has a habit of feeling like he doesn't quite deserve the surprise he's given. in conclusion, he usually gently declines when offered a surprise.

however, the second his eyelids flutter open this morning, he sees the sweetest surprise he's ever gotten. it's you, laid in his bed, with your head on his pillows.

you weren't there when he went to sleep about seven hours ago.

will has just been away for a longer road trip, and the team was supposed to arrive back home yesterday evening – but their plane got delayed, and he couldn't get back to his apartment until well past midnight. he had to reschedule the welcome home-dinner to 24 hours later, and you'd told him that you had a busy day in uni and couldn't see him until then. needless to say, he had not expected to see you here and now.

there's no better view to wake up to, will thinks every time he finds you in his bed. your tousled hair on the pillow, your slightly parted lips, your rosy cheeks… you're something surreal, like a goddess sent from above, a true blessing to his life. he's never been so thankful for anything in his life.

his instincts take over and he can't hold back from reaching forward with his hand, letting the palm of his hand smooth over your cheek and jaw, before ending up at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your locks. he knows you're still fast asleep and he doesn't want to wake you – you've been working so hard recently that every hour is important – but he really can't stop himself from pulling your head closer, meeting you halfway and pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. as much as he regrets his actions when your eyes begin to open, he's also thankful because when those sweet pearls look into his eyes, a jolt of excitement shoots up his spine.

"will?" you ask softly, blinking as you regain consciousness.

he chuckles at this. "you're the one who came into my bed when i had no idea," he says with a grin. "i'm the one supposed to be confused here."

a giggle flies from your lips and your eyes flutter shut again. "touché." you lean forward a little, letting your face nuzzle into the skin of his neck. "but you've been gone so long… i barely even remember what you look like."

"guess we have to refresh your cute little brain, hm?" you feel his adam's apple bob when he speaks, and it makes you sigh from content.

he's actually here. he's back. back in your arms, in your eyesight, in your life.

life tends to get so bleak without him. or, maybe it's better to twist it the other way: everything gets so colorful with him. the gray skies, that boring bowl of yogurt for breakfast, the routine errands. with will, it's all so much more bearable. every day is full of excitement, warmth, love.

he reaches for your sides, big hands wrapping over your curves under his old boston college-shirt you're wearing. when you finally retrieve your face from his skin, he instantly captures your lips in a slow and lazy kiss. you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the softness of his strands between your digits, and oh how badly you've missed this. his curls, his lips, his skin. the tender touch of his fingers as they trail higher and higher, the little sounds of pleasure he's unable to hold back, the taste of his lips, his natural scent combined with the lemony detergent he uses on his bedding. it all takes over your senses; everything you can think, feel and breathe is him.

you push him onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips, though not once separating your lips from his. the kiss is soft and unhurried; his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart race. it starts out as a sweet, slow kiss but quickly becomes more heated and passionate the longer it goes on. you can already feel his excitement poke up at you from below, and you can't help but grind down ever so softly against him. he grunts against your mouth, his hands on your hips suddenly gripping a little tighter and helping you repeat the action as he deepens the kiss. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, meeting yours and you can swear you feel lightning pass through your body.

it takes everything you have to pull away. he chases your lips when you do, but your hands on his shoulders pin him back down against the mattress. "i have a surprise for you," you breathe out.

usually, those words trigger a certain type of emotion in him – but that's not the case when they fall from your lips.

will has come to learn that when you're the one who has a surprise for him, it's always good. well, everything that has anything to do with you is good, he thinks; but when it comes to you, he has a different type of trust. the words even bring a smile to his lips this time. "you being here is enough of a surprise," he says, though he doesn't mind the way you sit back. his eyes follow your every little movement carefully, eyes widening when you reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in just a white, lacy bra. it's not a new one – will has seen it plenty of times before – but it still has his heart racing. "well, i can't say i hate this type of surprise…"

you scoff at him and consider flipping him before you decide against it. instead, you let your hands wander to your back, unhooking the clasp and letting your bra slide down your arms and off your body.

will's breath hitches in his throat, and he finds himself wishing that time could pass by slower. he could spend all day just staring at your tits and not get bored for one second. his hands travel up from your hips, unable to think about anything other than feeling the softness of your skin, the bump of your nipples under the pads of his thumbs, the weight and roundness against his palms. unfortunately, you swat his hands away, sighing. "you can't be patient for just a second, huh?" you complain.

will just shrugs, hands wrapping around your waist again as he watches you throw the bra onto the floor. "you're just too-" he cuts himself off when you turn your upper body slightly, arms reaching over your head to give him a proper view of his surprise. "what the fuck…"

again, he can't hold back from touching you, but you don't stop him this time. his eyes have zoned in on the upper part of your ribs, right on the side of your breasts, where he sees it.

a little tattoo. #2.

he can't pull his reverent gaze from it, thumb brushing over the ink softly. it's easy to tell that about a million questions are swirling inside his little brain, but he settles for just a few. "a-are you kidding? how- you-" he stutters, looking like a toddler who's just seen a unicorn for the first time, and you're amazed that you could get this much of a reaction from just a little ink. "when did you get this done? how is it healed already? does this hurt?"

you giggle. "it's a little sore, but it doesn't hurt," you tell him. "you've been gone so long that i had plenty of time to get it done and let it heal. been dying to tell you about it- almost sent you pictures a week ago."

"good thing you didn't," he says, eyes flickering up to yours for just a moment before looking back down again. "i would've been an awful teammate. locked up in my room all the time… thinking about you even on the ice…"

he pulls you up a little so that you're seated on his stomach instead, just so he can tilt his neck up to press a kiss to the tattoo. a sigh leaves your lips and your eyes flutter closed.

"this is so fucking hot, you know that, right?" his lips brush against your skin again, very gentle since he's still a little scared of causing you pain, but he just can't stay away. "you're going to drive me crazy. i'm not sure if you'll ever be allowed to leave this bed."

"sounds fair to me."

[artist-issues]

I Hate How She Talks About Snow White

"People are making these jokes about ours being the PC Snow White, where it's like, yeah, it is − because it needed that. It's an 85-year-old cartoon, and our version is a refreshing story about a young woman who has a function beyond 'Someday My Prince Will Come. "

Let me tell you a little something's about that "85-year-old cartoon," miss Zegler.

It was the first-ever cel-animated feature-length full-color film. Ever. Ever. EVER. I'm worried that you're not hearing me. This movie was Disney inventing the modern animated film. Spirited Away, Into the Spider-Verse, Tangled, you don't get to have any of these without Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937.)

Speaking of what you wouldn't get without this movie, it includes anime as a genre. Not just in technique (because again, nobody animated more than shorts before this movie) but in style and story. Anime, as it is now, wouldn't exist without Osamu Tezuka, "The God of Manga," who wouldn't have pioneered anime storytelling in the 1940s without having watched and learned from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the 1930s. No "weeb" culture, no Princess Mononoke, no DragonBall Z, no My Hero Academia, no Demonslayer, and no Naruto without this "85-year-old cartoon."

It was praised, not just for its technical marvels, not just for its synchronized craft of sound and action, but primarily and enduringly because people felt like the characters were real. They felt more like they were watching something true to life than they did watching silent, live-action films with real actors and actresses. They couldn't believe that an animated character could make kids wet their pants as she flees, frightened, through the forest, or grown adults cry with grieving Dwarves. Consistently.

Walt Disney Studios was built on this movie. No no; you're not understanding me. Literally, the studio in Burbank, out of which has come legends of this craft of animated filmmaking, was literally built on the incredible, odds-defying, record-breaking profits of just Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, specifically.

Speaking of record-breaking profits, this movie is the highest-grossing animated film in history. Still. TO THIS DAY. And it was made during the Great Depression.

In fact, it made four times as much money than any other film, in any other genre, released during that time period. It was actually THE highest-grossing film of all time, in any genre, until nothing less than Gone With the Wind, herself, came along to take the throne.

It was the first-ever animated movie to be selected for the National Film Registry. Actually, it was one of the first movies, period, to ever go into the registry at all. You know what else is in the NFR? The original West Side Story, the remake of which is responsible for Rachel Ziegler's widespread fame.

Walt Disney sacrificed for this movie to be invented. Literally, he took out a mortgage on his house and screened the movie to banks for loans to finish paying for it, because everyone from the media to his own wife and brother told him he was crazy to make this movie. And you want to tell me it's just an 85-year-old cartoon that needs the most meaningless of updates, with your tender 8 years in the business?

Speaking of sacrifice, this movie employed over 750 people, and they worked immeasurable hours of overtime, and invented--literally invented--so many new techniques that are still used in filmmaking today, that Walt Disney, in a move that NO OTHER STUDIO IN HOLLYWOOD was doing in the 30's, put this in the opening credits: "My sincere appreciation to the members of my staff whose loyalty and creative endeavor made possible this production." Not the end credits, like movies love to do today as a virtue-signal. The opening credits.

It's legacy endures. Your little "85-year-old cartoon" sold more than 1 million DVD copies upon re-release. Just on its first day. The Beatles quoted Snow White in one of their songs. Legacy directors call it "the greatest film ever made." Everything from Rolling Stones to the American Film Institute call this move one of the most influential masterpieces of our culture. This movie doesn't need anything from anybody. This movie is a cultural juggernaut for America. It's a staple in the art of filmmaking--and art, in general. It is the foundation of the Walt Disney Company, of modern children's media in the West, and of modern adaptations of classical fairy tales in the West. When you think only in the base, low, mean terms of "race" and "progressivism" you start taking things that are actually worlds-away from being in your league to judge, and you relegate them to silly ignorant phrases like "85-year-old cartoon" to explain why what you're doing is somehow better.

Sit down and be humble. Who the heck are you?