#and i was like :

[notherpuppet]

Morning After

Part 2/4

Part 1 | Part 3

[artvaris]

Lukanya - King of Autumn The character is from an upcoming series written by Mallory Dunlin. I got to illustrate and design all 4 main masc characters of the series, and this is the last one. One of the main assignments for Lukanya was to make him reaaaally pretty so I did my best ✨

[hel7l7]

I'm too forgiving. I know.

[saltpepperbeard]

HI HELLO??? OFMD SEASON 2 BEHIND THE SCENES???????

[confoodles]

If I had a nickel for every time Mariah played a character that was incredibly attached to their phone to the point of putting themselves/others in harm's way because of it, I'd have 3 nickels which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened 3 times.

[aimseytv]

oddly specific references to old baby photos of us

[biolumien]

when'd you get so cool? (always was)

jo togame x gn!reader pre shishitoren arc, post choji becoming leader mentions of implied violence word count: 1022

“fuck.” 

jo togame, vice captain to the shishitoren, was currently bleeding pretty hard from several gashes on his arms, and one fairly nasty scrape across his face. you’d found him limping back to the ori, his orange jacket draped over his shoulders as he held onto his arm, applying loose pressure over his wounds—and his characteristic orange glasses dangling unevenly against his nose. 

you’d rushed him back to the ori, towards an upper floor where you were less likely to be bothered, and had found the medkit you kept for emergencies like this. shishitoren might be devotees to power, but they didn’t have to be devotees to constant open wounds and injuries. or something like that, 

you held a cotton ball with a set of tweezers, just after you dunked it into some rubbing alcohol, but togame kept jolting—not enough to stop you from being able to disinfect his wounds, but enough that he kept pressing closer and closer towards you. 

“stop moving,” you say, finally exasperated, your cheeks flushed at the proximity. “i’m trying to disinfect your wounds, genius.”

“aww. you think i’m one?” togame’s eyes brightened for a moment as he drawled. “a genius?”

“…” 

the face you made must have been pretty bad, because he snickered, the sound low, almost like a rumbling in his throat. 

“when’d you get so cool?” togame mutters, pressing close to your face. your cheeks are flushed—they must be, and you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. his facial expression falters for a second, wincing in dramatic pain. “mean it. when?” 

in the rundown room of the ori, you feel a sudden rising of chill air, and you shiver, despite the warm heat of togame’s body pressing close to yours. 

“i’ve always been,” you tease. “guess you just haven’t noticed what was right in front of you.” 

bolder than you usually are, at least. you think something curdles in you–shame for saying something so bold, maybe? you worry, for a fleeting, desperate second, that togame’s just going to mock you, but he doesn’t. togame laughs. it’s a nice sound, a slow thing that makes his chest shake with each chuckle. 

“really…” he whistles, the note low. “didn’t realize, then, i guess. my bad.” his nose scrunches when he laughs. your face feels like it’s on fire, and then you realize you have to get back to patching him up—so you cut some gauze with the scissors in your small medkit, gesturing to togame to extend his arm. 

he’s wiry, but you’ve seen this man punch so hard he’s dented metal sheets without even flinching. his arms feel hard. 

“knives do this?” you ask as you tie the gauze tightly around his arm. 

“yeah,” togame says. he stares down at you, a small smirk crossing his face slowly—at the pace of trickling honey. “worried about me?”

you scoff.

“out of everyone, i worry the least about you,” you murmur. and you’re lying, you know it, because you do worry about him–you lie awake in your bed, staring up at your ceiling fan, at ribbons that you’ve tacked up on the blades that flow hypnotically–and you worry and wonder and hope that togame is safe. even though he hits the hardest, he’s built like a truck–he’ll be safe, so long as he plays his cards right. 

“i know you can handle yourself. just wonder if you bite off a little more than you can chew sometimes. with choji, with the rest of them,” you continue, wrapping gauze around his other arm. 

togame’s green eyes darken a little bit–you can see the point at which they harden, like flint. you realize maybe a little belatedly that you’d fucked up–choji was a sensitive subject, even now–you never asked about the depth of togame’s devotion, but he was the self-sacrificing type in the end, too–the kind of man that would wade in the river lethe if it meant that his friends wouldn’t touch the memory-erasing waters.

he’d lose himself if it meant protecting someone else. that’s what scared you, what kept you awake at night. 

“sorry,” you say, picking up the medkit to pull out some bandaids–fabric kinds, that come in a variety of cute patterns. “i know it’s a touchy subject.”

“... s’fine,” togame says, and his eyes stay that strange, dulled color–but the smile’s back, and this time you can realize how fake it is–the edges of his masked facade coming apart at the seams. you fish through patterned bandaids, settling on an orange one with black cats across it. 

“tilt your head,” you murmur. “away from me, so i can put this on. then you’re done.” 

togame does so, his glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose as he looks away. you press the bandage against his face, carefully making sure it adheres. his skin is warm, and you can almost see the places where he’s shaved at his jaw with a razor, and your thumb brushes against the faintest hint of stubble.

“all done,” you say, pulling back.

“thanks.”

togame’s voice is clipped, strained. he seems to be looking at something far away–further than the walls of the ori. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” you ask as he stands up, pressing away from you.

“me? never better,” togame says, and you can tell it’s a lie from the way his smile strains, too strained to be genuine. “don’t worry about me.” he leans forward, taking your hand in his for a moment–and you’re startled by the feverish warmth of his hand for a moment, as he leans down to press a kiss to the tips of your fingers. 

his lips are warm, too–a little dry, but soft. the kiss itself is almost reverent, and you think your breath gets strangled in your throat for a desperate, wheezing second. 

he smiles, almost sheepishly at you for a moment, before he turns and shrugs his jacket on past his bandaged arms, and leaves.

you raise up the hand that he’d kissed, pressing your fingers to your lips contemplatively for a moment–as if you could, by kissing the faint reminder of his ghost, feel his lips on yours. 

[sleepymccoy]

For example, paracetamol is sold as Tylenol, Calpol, or Panadol (depending on your country) but I buy the generic paracetamol cos it's cheaper

Ibuprofen is apparently sold as Brufen, Advil, Motrin, and Nurofen

Aspirin doesn't count, the brand has lost most of its copyright internationally so people just sell as aspirin lol

[hikiclawd]

Hey... *looks at you with my big eyes*

alt ver. under the cut くコ:彡

[theamazingian]

Sonic, out of everything else is the world, inspires me to create like no other. I dunno why!! It was a curse I’m sure!

[teacups-and-saucers]

do you think hannibal did digital art?

cuz, what, is his iPad just for reading Tattlecrime articles??? even his appointments are on a notebook WHAT WOULD HE NEED AN IPAD FOR

[lavendersins]

oh, they're not quiet at all.

[abyssruler]

with all the lyney hype i hope y’all aren’t forgetting the og babygirl⁉️

[stuffeddeer]

Dazai's playful grin falters as you chastise him once more, the words punctuated with his name. His last name, once again.

"Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"

Your playful attitude freezes at his question, your fake pout dropping as you turn slack jawed. "W-what?" A stutter passes through your lips as you just continue to stare.

"We've been dating for a few months now, and you never call me by my name." He plays off his words as a joke, something to fluster you, but with the way his fingers slightly pinch and pull at the edges of his bandages, you can tell he's being vulnerable.

An embarrassed blush decorates your face as you just continue to stare at him.

"I'd like it if you'd call me by my name, love." His flirting isn't helpful. From vulnerable fidgets to a cocky grin, Dazai (for once) inaccurately pegs your blush as a flustered reaction, likely feeling shy at the notion he'd now mentioned.

Inaccurate, because it wasn't a matter of not feeling ready, or close enough, but rather because-

"...What's your first name..?"

-you'd forgotten.

Dazai's eyes widen in a rare expression of genuine shock, his movements pausing at your timid question. The embarrassed blush decorating your face that had briefly fooled Dazai only began to grow.

You bury your face in the palms of your hands and let out a groan as Dazai begins laughing: a genuine, gut laugh that you rarely got to hear.

"It's Osamu," he says politely, not wanting to make you any more embarrassed. As you look up from the palms of your hands, you notice Osamu's soft expression and let out a sigh of relief.

You grin. "Nice to meet you, Osamu."

[barghest-land]

wip for another rdr2 sketch page (it's not all Javier i swear) but he just looks SO-

[moxymaxing]

if you give a fish a family