#Self-Formation

[quotefile]

If the child is not yet master of their own actions, if they cannot obey even their own will, so much the less can they obey the will of someone else.

The Absorbent Mind, p.259 Maria Montessori

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the shape of you, something new.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[qiinamii]

quite the poet, quite the inspo

[pummelingbat]

Persecution Complex, or: "Just You, Me, And The Weight Of Your Dead Girlfriend Between Us"

[bishy437]

🐹

[x]

[droopywrites]

did you ever did a part 2 to jjk dudes meeting their child who’s from the future?

⋆｡Part || of JJK MEN meeting their future kids｡⋆

Author's notes: I don't think I've posted it! Considering it kind of left my mind and the old draft is gone, but I did write everything I remember here. Also, it's like 3am and I wrote this crying, not proofread.

CW: Swearing, killing, cannibalism(?) like mention of eating people, children.

Pronouns used for the kids: She/her for Geto and It/its for Sukuna.

Part | (Warning, it's from 2021)

Geto

Starting off strong with Geto.

Definitely another girl. He's such a girl dad.

On a regularly scheduled day like always; it was wake up, talk with his connections, mingle with his family, check on Mimi and Nana, see whatever the hell the non-sorcerers wanted, get greeted by a little girl that wasn't supposed to be on the estate...

What the fuck.

How did she even get here? Why is she here?

Geto would stare at this child in confusion and look around, waiting for someone to claim her.

He has a soft spot for children. Sorcerers, of course. Non-sorcerers, debatable.

So, low and behold this little girl running up to him to clutch at his robes. Him trying to pry her off of him with her relieved cries of "Papa! Papa!" escaping her lips.

Papa?

Holds her by the shirt's scruff like a cat and squints, ready to scold her but pauses when he sees her face.

Because, holy shit, that's literally his twin. And suddenly every rare hookup played in his mind.

But no, she looked no older than 3. He hadn't been with anyone at that time, or ever yet. Not that far.

Drops everything for the next couple of days just to make sense of the situation, only telling his beloved family.

Mimi and Nana fawn over the idea of a little sister but are a bit restrictive if it's not a permanent thing.

The girl didn't speak much except for addressing Geto, the twins, oh and you.

You...?

You.

You.

You, who had just returned from your trip overseas to oversee some tasks involving curses.

You, who the little girl immediately ran to and called "Mama! Mama!"

You, who Geto stared wide-eyed at and surprised as you two tried to settle the fact nothing even happened between you.

Yet.

When that little girl eventually left to her own time, with everything still fresh and confusing, Geto eventually approached you.

Because, well, he wanted to see that little girl again.

After few dates, then a relationship, then marriage. Maybe.

Sukuna

Listen, he is NOT spreading those cursed genes of his pre-human/post-cursed-spirit.

Man hates love.

But, during the Heian period. When some stupid kid wandered into his life as if it always belonged there, maybe, maybe, there was something else in that space in his chest but hunger and his definition of love.

So, there it was. Whatever it was. Standing there with large eyes focused on him with a semblance of admiration and malice.

"What are you looking at, brat?"

"You."

The audacity of this thing. He killed it immediately.

And then it came back. So, he killed it again. And again. And... what the fuck.

This little shit was persistent.

His kid. He doesn't know how. But definitely his kid.

A worthy successor? Fuck no, he's not dying or leaving it as some birthright to a hindrance.

Learning of its origins was pretty interesting, to say the least.

"Not a human? I figured. A curse made from me, huh? Someone weak must hate me so much."

That meant a human parent. Or multiple human parents. Gross.

He wasn't getting into that.

The kid was though.

It often visited this village to... eat? Kill? Fight? Whatever makes it happy.

...

The hell do you mean it was visiting its human mother?

It had a mother? It had a mother that cursed him so much it resulted in a personalized cursed child?

He could see it stare longingly at that woman's village and before he could even kill her, his offspring said goodbye.

"I'll see you in the future, yeah?"

And then Sukuna was sealed.

He probably searched for his offspring in the Modern era.

Author's notes 2: Stopping with these two because it's been a while since I've posted seriously on this account, 2 years? Maybe I've gotten better, maybe not. This was the idea but with updated better minds. Maybe I'll do the others separately again, Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, Toge. Just did the adults first. Doing Choso and Higuruma definitely.

[sunshine-biter]

Moon when y/n enters the daycare at night

[soupysundae]

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

[sleepsucks]

[tea-cat-arts]

A series of mxtx couples as silly little creature designs for my shop. I had a lot of fun making these ^w^

[quotefile]

The truth is that the personality can only develop by making use of its own powers.

The Absorbent Mind, p.254 Maria Montessori

[zamjd]

Of Optical Illusions and Cloud Formations

DWASDJHWAJSHD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA💕💕💖

Love, me love the fanfic so much :))) by @perpetual-stardust

Apologies the qual is horrible, I should have used a bigger sized canvas ;-;-;-;;-;-

Anyways yippe! I'm done, please go read the fic- the writing is really good and it's so-sososososso AA

smaller shots undercut w/ image text typed + Explanation

These are some personal headcannons for Y/N :DD I like to think they have the equivalent nerd love for clouds as much as I do ^^

(Texts: Daycare Assistant Y/N (Except they really like Clouds)

I call it the Alto Collarus *Full name is actually: Undulatus Alto Collarus, It got shortened bcs it sounds better

If a child gets curios on what the clouds are, Y/N will not hesitate to squat down and explain each in a way that children finds entertaining

(Both are kept in the security desk))

One of the first interactions in the story :) Jazz haaands~!!

(Text: Y/N: Which is why we'd only be six feet away from the opening as opposed to standing in the debris of construction

Moon: Hmm, I think you are forgetting one part that has yet to be mentioned...

You said we, last time I checked, you do not have a wire of which you can use

Plan failed)

This was a funny interaction, I wanted to play with the expressions here and my own interpretation for both isabella ad Dominic- Though I should have took my time on their colors ^^; hehe

(Text: Isabella: Mr. Sun! Do you love the color of the sky?

Sun: Hmm! I don't know! I think it'd depond on... which one.

He knows (Does he know I have a Tumblr??, Do they have Tumblr accounts??? DO THEY KNOW SANS?????))

DWASKHD AUGHH MMMM AAAAAAAAAA💖💖💕💕💐💐💐💕💖💖💕✨

THIS FUCKING- STARDUST- AAAAAAAAAAAA- WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD AT WRITING IM GONNA BITE YOU(/j) CRYING DURING THIS PART I- THIS WAS SO GOOD- PULLING ALL MY HEART STRINGS AND I WAS SUPRESSING MY SCREAMS WHY ARE YOU RAAAAAH!!!💕💕 (IDK IF YOU CAN SEE IT BUT THERE'S THE SOOT TRAIL UNDER Y/NS EYE AAAAAAAAA UDHAUSHDJH RAAGHH!!!! HE SO CARE AAAAAA)

[mordcore]

[feelo-fick]

miscellaneous au doodles + a VERY self indulgent song lyric comic :D

+ extra evil comic below the cut :

"chil!" "don't look at me like that..."

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[rosedom]

Venti my beloved with A, D, I, K, M, V

Did I go to the max? Yes. Is it because Venti is literally my favorite and I'm madly in love with him? Also yes

-🌙

"you have summoned VENTI for the event . . ."

A/N : I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM TOO !! i can't believe this is my first drabble with him ,, i need to spoil my precious more . . .

✦ㅤㅤA = aftercare (what he’s like after sex, what he needs from his partner)

venti's the absolute SWEETEST during aftercare ,, no matter what happened—even if it's himself who's left all doe-legged and weak—, he'll fuss over you (but please fuss back, he deserves it !). he'll run his fingers through your hair, always needing to touch you in the aftermath. as you're busy running a damp cloth between his legs, he'll be humming, soft, a gentle melody that reminds you that he's here, that's he's happy. after sex, he's always happy, content: that's all you need.

well, that and a bath. it's not proper aftercare with venti if the two of you don't end up swaddled in the hot, bubbly water of a bathtub. he'll always end up in front of you, his back pressed to your chest with your own thighs bracketing his; he'll turn around, too, try n' bathe you and lather you up with softly scented soaps. it will be quiet between the two of you save for the gentle movements of the water and his quiet humming. bathtub cuddles until the water starts to get cold . . . then toweling each other off, dressing each other, and ultimately falling into bed with one another: all part of venti's ideal aftercare agenda.

✦ㅤㅤD = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

baggy pants and tight tights = perfect leeway to hide a plug. i don't even care: venti is SUCH a sweet lil' anal whore (in the best way possible). i'm not a fan of this word, but there's no other way i can describe how terribly he loves playing with his other hole. there's been many a time where he's kept a plug—small, for when he's out n' about—nice n' snug, a heavy weight in him that he feels as he lounges about. he won't wear it when others will be near, no; but for when he's around windrise? when he's out where nobody will find him? yeah<3

poor guy has definitely gone through a few too many boxer-briefs, tho, the most of them all ruined with his slick when he plays like this . . .

✦ㅤㅤI = intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect !)

a poet in the streets and a poet in the sheets. though he may not be in charge, here, venti's still endearingly romantic. he's got an obsession with your heartbeat, too, always trying his damndest to press close to your chest to hear the steady—or labored, depending on if it's your cock thrusting up in him or your fingers—beating of your heart. and even when venti's half out of his mind with pleasure, he'll still find a way to murmur sweet nothings to you: it's all, "I'm—I'm so lucky to have you," and, "i love you, love y—mm !"

as long as he can hear you in any way, he's content: sex-loopy and happy in your arms.

✦ㅤㅤK = kink (one or more of his kinks)

i see a lot of fics talk about a worship kink, but i don't really see it in the way it's commonly portrayed . . . see venti as being a tease about it, of all things, but he would never say, "won't you worship your god?" he would never put himself above you in that way.

but i'm not done. no, not at all. really, he'd melt with body worship—the type he doesn't ask for, but the type you readily give. he'd flush so prettily if you kneel at his feet, tenderling holding and kissing up his tender calves; his blush'd spill down his throat and chest, body so pink in his embarrassment, as your kisses travel higher, higher. he revels in the body worship—only if it's of your own volition—, in the soft presses of your lips against his skin ! it's not a power play, in this way. it's a tender devotion—the same one he shares for you.

and, less poetic: size kink. this guy's body is simply so small. anybody would be large next to him, in him. there's jus' something about a deity's submission . . . somethin' so sweet to me <33

✦ㅤㅤM = motivation (what turns him on and really gets him going)

the littlest of things can get venti's heart beating, but the thing that gets him most, time and time again, is your voice. he's so used to being talkative, for holding up the conversations (which are in no way one-sided ! don't get me wrong ! venti and you are just like that yapper x listener duo<3), that whenever he hears your voice, he always gets lil' butterflies swarming in his belly, a small typhoon of love and lust. especially at night, when he's cuddled into your side as you're dozing off, and you're talking back to him in that sleepy n' raspy voice . . . mmm, you almost know not to talk past 10 because if you do, he'll definitely jump your bones.

he swears he could write sonnets about your voice alone—but, first, he needs you to fuck him silly !

✦ㅤㅤV = volume (how loud he is, what sounds does he make, etc.)

the absolute loudest in bed. you're making him feel good, and he wants to make damn sure you know it (and maybe half of mond while he's at it). it only makes sense that he'd be able to be played like an instrument at that. it's simple: different things make him make different sounds !

for example, suckling at his cock all soft n' sweet makes him gasp, makes each breath leave him shakily . . . his sounds of overstimulation are always hitching cries, these sweet things that come crawled out of his chest. and, god, he always makes the prettiest lil' whimpering whine when you slide in that first finger, right up to the knuckle in his quivering cunt. no sounds of his are truly comparable—they're all gorgeous in their own right, after all—, but my favorite may be the whine he does when you're fucking him, balls-deep and with your own cockhead bumpin' his g-spot, and you reach down to his taint, to his unused lil' hole, all empty n' twitching as his cunt gets all your attention ><

no matter what play you do—nipple, cock, cunt, ass, thigh-grinding, clothed, whatever—, venti is not secretive with his sounds. good thing he's the anemo archon; elsewise, you'd have to have three foot thick walls to prevent him from disturbing your neighbors.

i may have pushed forth my own kink agenda a bit too much . . . haha, oopsies. i'm starting to fall off in the intimacy category 'cos there's only so much i can say without being repetitive between each character/ask o(￣┰￣*)ゞ

6 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .