#baby's first attempt at a comic page

[gravygranola]

"Oh shit okay this talk is going to happen earlier than I thought that's okay I-"

"What."

[tales-of-snaktooth]

Welcome, Captain Seaside | Year 287 | Part 1

First (here) | Next

Workin on a comic! As the title says, this will revolve around Seaside's first meeting with the other three matriarchs.

The grump of the hour isn't here yet, but we do have these two bickering!

[rinhaler]

DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Katara would’ve been such a good diplomat (it’s canon)

everyone rightfully hates on the ATLA comics because the politics are baffling and the characterization is even more so…but if there’s one thing we can take away from the dumpster fire that is The Promise, it’s that Katara was BORN to be a diplomat and an international force for peace, okay? Especially since her besties, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, aren’t actually very good at this.

If you haven’t read The Promise, the Wikipedia summary is pretty good. The TL;DR is that Zuko and Kuei agree that the Fire Nation colonies need to be returned to the Earth Kingdom. The colony of Yu Dao is not happy about this because the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been mixing together (under inequitable conditions) for more than a hundred years and “just kick out the Fire Nation” is not as straightforward as it seems, since there are blended families now. Zuko refuses to kick out the Fire Nation people from Yu Dao, Kuei wants to play hardball, and they almost launch another war. Oh and there’s a weird plot about Aang debating whether to put Zuko down like a rabid dog

For all that the Wiki page does a good job of summarizing the events, it forgets some key facts: 

It’s Katara who first starts thinking about new solutions after witnessing the situation on the ground, and then comes up with the idea that Zuko and Kuei should meet and talk about the colonies:

It’s Katara who tells Kuei that Zuko has legitimate concerns (without saying that Zuko is right), when Aang tries to hedge and sugarcoat the truth: 

And it’s Katara who says to Kuei, wait, what the hell do you mean that you have no idea what your people want, that Yu Dao is just a dot on the map for you? We’re getting you out of this stupid blimp and you’re gonna talk to people before you make a decision that affects their lives, you coward

To recap, Katara demonstrates some pretty freaking key political skills, like: 

finding out what people want before making a decision for them 

seeing people as people first and foremost, not as fire nation or earth kingdom 

encouraging her loved ones, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, to resolve a conflict by beginning negotiations instead of brawling like a couple of drunks at a bar / kids on the playground (both analogies fit btw, 13-17 is a weird combination of ages)  

realistically reporting tricky disagreements without sweeping them under the rug

kidnapping a king to the middle of a battlefield to give him a reality check about listening to the people he’s trying to rule

Anyway, Katara is hyper competent at both war AND peace! We see this in the show, with her compassion for the prisoners of the Earth Kingdom (by inciting a prison riot) and the suffering people of the Fire Nation (by committing ecoterrorism), only now that compassion is backed up not only by her fighting prowess and speeches about hope, but actual ability to manipulate the levers of power. 

And have I mentioned that she has the ears of both the Avatar and the Fire Lord and her dad is Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Even if Katara didn’t get a diplomat position based on her skills, or her status as a war hero, she could nepo baby her way in. The fact that she does not pick up a career in international diplomacy is a crime & a colossal oversight from the creators. At minimum you know Katara would’ve established Healers Without Borders or something. She deserves to be yelling at people at ATLA UN and then drafting world-changing resolutions. 

And as a bonus, Katara demonstrates her gift for diplomacy by not smacking Zuko up the head for attempting to legitimize colonization through the argument of economic progress…

…and by not smacking Aang up the head for seriously considering anti-miscegenation as a viable political solution: 

This patience is a new development because show!Katara did not have this in her, but maybe this is what growing up is all about and not just yet another strike on the “comics are wildly OOC” tally

TL;DR: ATLA boys lost their brain cells post-canon. All hail Katara, Sugar Queen of international diplomacy. 

[doe-prince]

I love Golden Shrike! I've had my own comic idea for about a decade now, but I'm wondering, for you, how long did it take you to be confident enough with your art to start your comics? had you attempted panels and backgrounds earlier and didn't put them out because you weren't happy with them yet? I'm almost done with my characters and writing but I'm worried I'm not good enough to actually start doing panels

(these are just my views and experiences! there's as many approaches as there's artists)

I was BAD when I started comics, but then I again I was a kid who didn't care if my bunny-cat-digimon comics weren't good enough, it was just fun to do. Which is what it should still be, fun and a fulfillment to you. I think the happiest an artisit can be is when they can draw like they have no audience.

My comics stopped in my teenhood when I actually wanted to make something good. I made so much groundwork but VERY rarely got to the actual page production because I thought everything should be perfect, but we all know there's no such thing. When I noticed all my attempts were doomed, I stopped making them for like ten years until I was zapped with Fuck It We Ball-mentality. And it's the best thing that has happened to me. Childhood whimsy. Make your own toys.

Did I make test pages for Golden Shrike before starting production? Well, the first page of the comic is a test page. And the second page. And the whole first chapter. I just never stopped. Not smart but it's what works for me. Starting these 'test pages' has kickstarted two bigger comics for me, Golden Shrike and Jet and Harley.

Sure I made couple of style tests for GS even though I had a clear visual vision from the start, but Jet and Harley I just started to draw without any real practice pieces, just based on couple of CSP brushes I wanted to use. This isn't very smart as you'll likely find out later that MAN, this style takes too much effort, but if you're unlike me and don't care so much for consistency, you can always simplify it on the fly. And even I've had to change it: I stopped shading after chapter 5, briefly used 3D assets in upcoming pages, now I'm gonna shrink the font a little. They're teeny tiny things for readers, but huge for me.

There's many comic authors who like to plan every little detail before getting to work, but it doesn't work for me so I can't say much about it. I have a skeleton to follow, but I fully flesh out each chapter one by one when I reach them with pages, because I like to revisit my old visions with fresh brains. When you actually get to work, you might realize some scenes aren't needed, or they'd be better changed. Don't be scared to crack some ribs off your story skeleton. Being too loyal to your old vision can often hinder you.

Starting production is the biggest monster in comic making, but after the first step you'll mow over it leaving it in your dust and create a baby you can be so proud of. I wish you, and everyone else on the cusp of their projects GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN, LOVE YOUR WORK.

[majorproblems77]

New update! New update!

AHHHHHHH

I enjoyed this a normal amount

We got double standing frames in the first 2 pages. Like

Look at him standing there

The :( on legends face is giving me life ngl

Look at Twilights little pout!!!!

Wind and Wars the dynamic duo! This is the whole look of the older brother showing the younger something. Hand on hip, the little smug face!

Like look at these two

I love them, Hands on hip thing again, like the older brother he is!

Warriors being suspicious this entire chapter as well.

From first glance you can see he's looking for something, maybe trying to size Twilight's hits up if he ever has to fight him?

War's isn't looking at him at all. He's still looking around him, checking logs and the like.

Filled with suspicion

We know war's has experienced his men turning on him. Hyrule warriors did that for us. The angry look on his face tells me he's thinking of that. He's thinking that he may have to keep a closer eye on Twilight now.

Then there's Wind

You cant tell me this isnt an attempt at him trying to look like Warriors. The raised eyebrow? The arms, I'm convinced that he had his arms crossed during this questioning. Mainly cause of this

Like come on.

They are brothers your honour and I love them dearly!

Speaking of the sailor

WIND BELOVED BABY! LOOK AT HIM

He's so small I love him, love him so much!

Younger brother vibes here

Man looks like he's about to investigate a crime.

We can't forget about this

Might start calling these three the downfall Trio. I know wild isn't is the downfall timeline but to be honest they are all as chaotic as each other

Wild looks like he's in so much trouble. The wrath of four instills fear into him and we all know it.

OHOHOH AND AND

HYRULEEEEEEEE

the boy got a whole set of panels! I love him. And I AM LOVING THE FULL BODY SHOTS OF THEM AT THE MOMENT.

BELOVED LIFE SPELL CASTING RULIE.

Okay now that's off my chest

Thanks for coming to my TED talk about how I enjoyed this comic a normal amount

Check out the comic here!

All art belongs to Jojo, it's her comic after all!

I just really enjoy it :)

[milksuu]

Do you have any random dad!phel headcanons you'd like to share about how he deals with twins? Because I'm still obsessed 🥲

hc: dad!phel and his twin boy parenting from mom!reader

tw: mention of death, angst, minor injuries

notes: rcv'd multiple req. for this one, so here you all go! between dad!phel and yandere!phel...I can't pick one atm. im obsessed with both. still working on some dad!phel comic pages. stay tuned for those. <3

dad!phel made a special request to be a stay-at-home father for the first few years to raise the twins. just until they were of elementary school age. working from home was a huge help, and none of the his band mates minded. and of course, neither did manager auntie alune. considering she wanted what was best for her brother and nephews.

dad!phel made sure to keep them on a consistent schedule as infants, doing everything from feedings to cuddle times. it took him multiple failed attempts to get them in sync, especially when they shared a crib. if one woke up, then sure enough to other did. wailing and crying. double the sleepless nights for him. he made the healthy-dad choice of switching from heart attack inducing energy drinks to zen-out green tea. but even that was becoming an addiction. at some point he did buy a seperate crib for each. and baby monitors helped help him anticipate when one was stirring, so he could intercept one before the cries woke the other.

dad!phel encouraged the twins individuality whenever he could. naturally, they gravitated to each other whatever the situation was. it was no different between him and alune. except he felt he relied too heavily on his sister most of the time, which made social life difficult for him to navigate through without her. to make sure this wouldn't happen to either of them, he never bought matching sets for clothing or toys. allowing them to decide how they preferred to express themselves. of course, he would never turn down a matching gift set from his band mates or alune. usually he saved those pairs for when they were being watched over by the gifting recipient. it saved him from a awkward situation, made the other person happy, and the twins apathetic. a small win.

dad!phel also encouraged them having different sets of skills and hobbies, to even friend groups. again, not easy when they constantly wanted to hold each others hands for dear life, especially in new situations. it wasn't unusual for one to cry when the other was taken to another activity in their primary school years. it always weighed heavily when the instructors mentioned these outbursts between them. thinking perhaps he wasn't being a good or fair father to them. it took many pep talks from alune and the school counselor that this was normal, and he was doing his best as a single father.

dad!phel was never the best at making lunches...or breakfast, or dinner, or anything culinary related. Everything was either undercooked, overcooked, over salted, or just not the right combination of ingredients. it was one of his sore spots as a stay-at-home dad. the twins stopped complaining when he all but lost it when trying to make a ham sandwich without too much mustard. the twins quickly learned to just say 'thanks dad this is great', feed it to the neighborhood stray or flowers growing outside, and sneak into the fridge later. but they always appreciated when their dad writes words of affirmation on their school lunches, like 'keep on shining my awesome stars', and 'love you to the moon and back'.

dad!phel makes sure the twins keep up with their sign language retention and development, making it a rule for them to always use it at home. believing it will help them bolster their prospects in the future. when they're being rather defiant teenagers, he will only respond to them if they sign to him while speaking. otherwise, he pretends he's deaf rather than mute , and just continues on with whatever he's doing. it doesn't take them long to change their tune, especially if their asking for the latest video game about to release.

dad!phel was and still is the master of all pranks. everyday is a potential battle field of trick mines and purposefully placed banana peels. he has house cameras installed for a reason. watching anytime the twins are hiding to blast him with a double-trouble water gun. little do they know, he has a water balloon launcher at the ready. the twins smarten up real quick, find the hidden cameras, then hack into the security system. uploading and rendering a static image of a 'peaceful' household. then it was dad!phel who had to smarten up real quick. especially when their prank on him almost blew up the neighborhood powerline generator. (he rather not go into details)

dad!phel doesn't have any pictures of mom!reader around the house. ever since her passing, it's been too difficult to have any kind of reminder. a pain that he can't seem to get over, no matter how many support group session he takes himself to along with the twins. but he is trying, for the day he can unbury a single photo he has of mom!reader from the depths of his closet. and buried deep in the recesses of his heart.

"Dad. It's not fair. It's like you just keep her all to yourself," one of the twins stated.

"Sure, you've told us about her, but you've never showed even one picture. So, why's that? Why won't you show her to us?" the other cut in, biting on his words. "Did you even love her?"

Dinner conversation fell to a static silence. It shocked him to his core. He had heard these words before. These whispers. At the funeral. Relatives. Family members. Friends. Conversing in front of him. Behind him. All around him.

[Look at him. He's not even crying.]

[Does he even feel anything? She died giving birth to his children for God's sake.]

[I feel bad for them. Even if they weren't planned. Imagine having to be raised by a father so emotionless as him. Does he even have a heart?]

[Did he even love her?]

His eyes were wide, staring at nothing but a distant memory. Lost to everything. His hands trembled. Reigning them to steady, he placed them on his barely emptied plate. Without a word, he lifted himself along with his plate, sauntering heavily to the sink. Washing, picking, scrubbing. Every spot. Every lie—they were all wrong. He felt everything. So vividly. So painfully. If he surrendered to even a fraction of it, the whole world would break into unmendable pieces. So he couldn't cry. Couldn't feel anything. He had to be strong for her. He had to be strong for them.

"Dad. Stop. You're going to—!" One of the twins rose in their seat, but it was too late. The plate shattered from the destructive pressure, slicing bits and pieces of his hands. He didn't feel a thing. Maybe they were right after all.

The twins rushed to their father's side. One worked on removing the splinters of ceramic digging into his palms, the other pressing wads of paper towels to his gashes and cuts. When the moment settled, the twins sniffed on their tears, hugging him at each side.

"We're sorry dad. Really sorry," one choked, burying their nose into his sleeve.

"We...We didn't mean..." the other hiccuped, dampening his other sleeve. "We just wish we met her. That's all."

In the vacant stare of his eyes, a wetness blurred his vision. For the first time. Since he gathered the two bassinets from the NICU staff. To the moment he stepped into a cold empty home with them. Afraid to even touch them, till they reached out and took hold of his fingers. The tears came pouring, and he felt they would never end. Drowning and suffocating him in such bitter sweet memories.

He gathered his sons in his arm, condensing himself in the comfort of their soft beds of hair. Allowing the tears to stain his face and drip in dollops from his quivering chin.

They had to know. They needed to know. They deserved to know. That he loved their mother more than anything in this world.

And with them, he felt her love every single day.

[royal-ruin]

f1 fanfic recs (part __) max / charles

other f1 fic rec lists here f1 fic rec masterlist here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

i feel obligated to note that i don't read very much lestappen unfortunately so this list won't be very long or very thorough. i know another creator on tumblr @ jennarations published a very long one somewhat recently (?).

do i have to chart the constellations in his eyes? by adoreddaisies (~1k)

[He was tired. Charles was oh-so-tired. All he really wanted to just take a nap. Before he could close his eyes, he felt strangely familiar fingers tugging at his helmet strap. He opened his eyes – he didn't realise he had closed them – and found blue eyes staring back at him.

Max.]

The rest is still unwritten by Snooks10 (~1k)

[Max ran, like his husbands life depended on it.

Weaving his way around the paddock, murmurs of a black flag and unresponsive boring through the crowds. All he could do was get to Charles.]

OR Charles is in surgery and Max is terrified.

I couldn't do it without you by freed0m98 (~4k)

The one where Max and Charles have been married for two years now, and everyone finds out when Charles has an accident.

it was the end of a decade, but the start of an age by charlotte_2005 (~6k)

[The video is four minutes and eighteen seconds long. Max remembers exactly how it goes: the images were seared onto his memory long before he had to deal with each frame being ‘conclusively analysed’ by idiots on the internet.]

Max and Charles are outed in the worst way possible.

*Viva la Miami by Fabby (~8k)

Max raced all over the world and was used to different climates. But there was something about Miami’s sticky, muggy, make-your-phone-screen-fog-up kind of scorching heat that made him feel fucking crazy.

It made him want to strip naked and jump in the bright blue water surrounding his hotel.

It made him want to fuck.

OR: Max and Charles hook up for the first time, and it's very different than what Max had pictured.

basically pure smut, enjoy.

Deserving by WeaglesAndBrobeans (~16k)

Together for two years now, can Charles and Max weather the 2021 season together?

Azerbaijan Abnegation by ProngsfootxJily (~17k)

[Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.”

Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”]

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement.

They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room…

Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

i'm not gonna lie, i don't remember reading this one at all, but it was in my bookmarks so i hope i knew what i was doing.

*every other sunday by Anney (~34k)

[The grainy pictures are pieced together like a crude comic strip, sketching a poorly thought-out narrative arc that somehow made it onto the front page of every sleazy newspaper. 

EXPOSED!: The secret gay double-life of F1 driver Max Verstappen]

Max navigates the aftermath of being outed in the press, and Charles is always there.

*I'll Be Right Beside You by Fabby (~50k)

[Max stared at Charles’ closed eyes and how they twitched in his sleep. Objectively, Max knew that Charles was probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen. But... this was Charles.

Charles Leclerc. 

Big, cry-baby Charles. 

Sauber #2 driver Charles. 

When did he decide that Charles The Driver would become Charles The Boyfriend? 

He wishes he could remember. ]

OR: The self-indulgent Amnesia AU that nobody asked for. This is my love story to Charles Leclerc, thank you for coming along. Warning: this fic may break you.

*If I Could Call You Half Mine by amarynas (~64k)

[Pierre Gasly, 29, and Charles Leclerc, 27, have announced their engagement this morning in a heartfelt Instagram post.  Gasly stated he couldn’t be happier and can’t wait to spend his future with the love of his life by his side.  Leclerc, who is currently the defending champion for his team Red Bull Racing and on a good path to win his third championship title in this 2025 season, said that he is blessed to get to marry his best friend.  The two Formula 1 drivers were the second couple to ever openly come out and disclose their relationship to the public three years ago, after already dating in secret for two years. This had happened just six months after fellow F1 drivers Max Verstappen, 27, and Daniel Ricciardo, 36, had openly disclosed their relationship. Now the public can’t help but wonder: When will those two lovebirds announce their engagement?]

Max and Charles found a place to fit their affair into their lives, where it sits comfortably between secret hotel room meetups and not-so accidental touches in the paddock. But everything changes when Pierre asks Charles to marry him, and Charles says yes.

warning: lestappen have an affair and are cheating on pierre and daniel respectively. i love this fic even though i don't love the cheating. i had a ton of mixed feelings while reading this and i actually loved that. highly recommend reading it. can't listen to "moth to a flame" the same anymore.

[genericpuff]

I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING EISNERS-

i've been finding lately that there are so many topics i still wanna talk about concerning LO and its development and they just don't happen because i get distracted or busy and my brain is like "ok we're just gonna pretend we've already talked about it even though we haven't" JFKDLSAJFDASKLFJSLKA

Let's talk about the Eisners and LO's recent 'win'.

I've already briefly mentioned in previous posts that LO has had a lot of its awards and accolades bought for it. This is especially true for both the NYT Bestseller label (seriously, none of those labels are ever earned, it's not some top 100 list that you compete on, it goes to whoever is willing to pay for it or whoever an editorial column wants to highlight) and, of course, the Eisner Award, which is not exactly an award judged by the industry's finest (the judges this year were made up of largely comic book shop owners and librarians).

But we're not here to talk about that. I wanna talk about what happened after LO won its second Eisner.

First off, the fact that it can be nominated at all when it doesn't even really fit the criteria for their submissions is sketchy at best:

see: "new, professionally produced long-form original comics work posted online in 2022." LO is not 'new'. Sure, it has new episodes, but I don't think that really follows the spirit of what they meant by 'new'. The Eisner doesn't seem like an award that should be granted to the same series twice, is my point, and that's one of the many complaints brought up in the absolute dressing down that LO got in its announcement post on the Webtoons Official IG page.

Of course, you can see for yourself right here.

But for the sake of fun, let's share some of the excerpts here.

(and yes I'm sharing a LOT of these because frankly I don't trust WT to not delete them in an attempt to hide all the shit that's being thrown at their precious "baby")

While names have been censored to protect the users involve, I will say one thing - this isn't some attempt from antiLO/ULO members to brigade the series' win, there are other comic creators in this discussion as well from the Canvas section who aren't pleased with seeing LO win another Eisner when there are multiple new series from this past year alone which deserve more attention than they're getting. Again, see for yourself if you click on the link above, the vast majority of comments on this post are expressing their disappointment and you can tell from how they've been sitting at the top while all the positive comments are being 'pushed' to the bottom - the like counts say it all.

All of this, paired with the fact that LO didn't win a SINGLE user-voted award during the Webtoonies, goes to show that the Webtoons audience is over LO. They're done with it. It's not relevant anymore, the only ones who still keep up with it are the stans and those holding on in the hopes that the story gets around to resolving the SA plotline and gets its TV show (which I've also mentioned has a real possibility of not happening, at least not now when it would count the most LMAO)

It still gets more likes than any other series on the platform (for now) but you can tell during its current hiatus that when LO is out of sight, it's out of people's minds - despite many of these episodes now being weeks old, their like counts aren't going up, no new readers are being pulled in. And the fact that a series with over 6 million subscribers can barely scratch 100k likes nowadays is... really something.

And that's on its free to read episodes, it's FP episodes - where views count the most because it's where LO makes its money and initial views - aren't even a fraction of what the free episodes often take well over a week to gain at this point.

Episode 252:

And the midseason finale, 253:

Compare it to Down to Earth which gets 70k likes on average on its free episodes (though its current new FP is sitting at the 1k mark), is LO still bringing in higher numbers than other series? Yes. But it's clearly falling to a point where it's going to be on par with every other comic on the platform in no time. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like after it comes back from this poorly-timed hiatus, when all of its official fan groups have also been shuttered preventing people from staying in touch within their own fandom.

Awards like the Webtoonies are, while largely just for street cred, still audience-based, and I really hope the fact that the people have spoken not once, but twice through their engagement with the platform - both through the comment section on LO's Eisner win and the votes in favor of other series in the Webtoonies - will be a major wake-up call to WT that they can't keep trying the same things over and over again expecting different results. They can't keep stuffing money into LO as if advertising or awards are the reason LO isn't pulling in the numbers it used to. They can't keep pretending that LO still has the merit and credibility that it once had 5 years ago.

It's like that comparison from Super Eyepatch Wolf talking about why you shouldn't take advice on how to be "successful" from Youtubers who got famous 5+ years ago:

"Say you decide you want to become a carpenter, and particularly, how to build a nice chair. Think about the kind of person you'd want to learn that skill from. Would it be from someone who has built nice chairs every day for 20 years? Or would it be the guy who built one nice chair five years ago out of a special kind of wood that doesn't exist anymore, who has no experience with the kind of wood available to you now?"

LO is a byproduct of a version of Webtoons that no longer exists. It was fortunate enough to join the Canvas section when the Canvas section was still only lightly populated, before WT started trying to sell the idea that anyone could become "rich" on their platform (an idea largely perpetuated by creators LIKE RACHEL who only became big because WT threw all of their money at them), before Greek myth comics became commonplace (again, something that's a consequence of Rachel/Lore Olympus) and before the romance genre became largely filled with problematic "dark" romances (again, see Lore Olympus).

Do you see the pattern of what I'm talking about here? A lot of what Webtoons became known for was a byproduct of Lore Olympus and series like it, because those series did phenomenally well, due to being in the right place at the right time, so WT went "hey, cool, this makes us lots of money! Let's do more of that!" Obviously this isn't to say that Lore Olympus is the root of all evil here OR that it didn't have its own merit back in the day, but if you make a series that blows every other series out of the water in stats, it's only natural for a company to want to pursue more series and story tropes like it in the hopes that it'll replicate exactly what comics like LO did, completely misunderstanding why LO did well in the first place. At the time, LO's art was unique for the platform, and it was tackling a story that was extremely popular on platforms like Tumblr so it naturally gained a crowd.

But that was five years ago. Since then, the WT audience climate has changed dramatically, as it always does every few years; and LO and WT haven't kept up. We went through a phase of BL, isekai, and now WT seems to be in an odd limbo because it's still clinging to a series from three whole lifetimes ago, especially now with so many of its other signature series either finally ending (True Beauty) or walking away from the platform entirely (Let's Play).

At this point, Lore Olympus is a chair that was nice five years ago, but has since started to fall apart - its paint is chipping, and its legs don't stand up so well anymore - and WT is still trying to sell it you as the exact same chair - with cheap new paint and a few bits and bobs attached to try and convince you that the chair is new - but it's long past its prime. This isn't to say that the chair itself doesn't deserve to exist, just that it shouldn't be given so much proprietary advertising and attention when there are so many other works on the platform that deserve to be uplifted and seen.

LO was good for its era, it was successful for a reason, but we're halfway through 2023 and it's painfully obvious that the comic and the platform's audience is ready to move on to new territories. Webtoons just needs to learn to let go.

[orderforbrian]

an old lil comic about selkie parenting 🦭

jon is a good baba, he just gets in his head sometimes - luckily martin is there to support him 😊💞

[Start ID: A four page comic of Jon and Martin from the Magnus Archives with two unnamed babies. Jon is a Persian man with long curly hair in a ponytail and a full beard. He is wearing glasses and a simple shirt with simple pants. Martin is a mixed Polish/Korean man with wavy hair held back in a headband and a light beard. He has a beauty mark under his lip and is wearing a simple t-shirt and pants. He is also wearing a sea glass necklace. Both unnamed babies appear as baby harbor seals initially then as human babies with short curly hair. One has a beauty mark under their left eye while the other has a beauty mark under their right eye. Each seal pelt appears with grey spots and a white underbelly.

1st page: In the first panel, Jon is focused with a baby seal cradled in his lap. Off-panel, Martin says, "Okay, so - you just grab the pelt under their arm like this". In the next panel, Martin has the other baby seal cradled in his lap and is pinching his fingers until one of their flippers. He says, "Right under the armpit. Just like when you're taking off their shirts for bath time." In the next panel, he removes the seal pelt to reveal a sleeping, drooling baby. He smiles and says, "And there! Easy enough!". In the next panel, Jon rapidly pinches and pulls his hand away from the seal baby's flipper. He says, "Nothing's happening..." The seal baby appears unbothered. Martin off panel says, "You're not in the right spot, love.". In the final panel, Jon lifts up his hand in frustration, glaring at Martin. He says, "Liar. You told me armpit...". Off-panel, Martin says, "Well, I guess it's a little more specific than that...".

2nd page: In the first panel, Jon looks down with little confidence. It is presumed he is attempting to remove the baby's pelt again. Off-panel, Martin says, "No, not there. There." Jon says, "H-here??". Martin says, "To the le - stop. Stop, stop. You got it. Right. There." Jon says, "O-okay...? Not really where you said...". In the next panel, Martin laughs, "Jon, you can't - Don't be so delicate, Mr. Feather Light Touch. Really grip it". Jon lifts his hand away with concern and asks, "W-what if it hurts them?" Martin says, "I know it's weird pinching skin but it's okay, I swear!". In the next panel, Jon points at Martin in an accusatory manner and raises his voice, "What about a nursemaid's elbow?". Martin asks off-panel, "A - sorry, a what?". Jon continues, "Precisely. You haven't read the things I've read-!". Martin says, "Jon, dearest. Just try again please." with a simplified expression of him smiling but frustrated by the dialogue bubble. In the final panel, Jon appears at his wits end with wide eyes and a grimace. He says, "It's not working." Martin says, "You've got place and the grip...I dunno, you need the - the intent to take it off." Jon raises his voice again, "Intent? What do you even mean intent?".

3rd page: In the first panel, Jon cradles the baby seal to his chest and heaves out a big sigh, having officially given up. He looks down to the side in shame and says, "Face it, Martin...I can't do it because I'm not a selkie." In the next panel, Martin strokes his cheek with a tender expression and says, "Oh, love. Don't say that...". In the next panel, Martin cradles the baby to his shoulder, supporting their bottom. He smiles down at the baby and says, "I'm just happy you even want to try. Instead of leaving all the selkie stuff for me to take care of." In the next panel, he smiles at Jon with his eyes closed and says, "Why don't we take a break? Pups need to go down for the night anyways."

4th page: In the first panel, Jon looks down with sad eyes and says, "Yes, yes, you're right...Sorry for snapping. It's just...difficult for me to not be good at this. I don't have instincts like you." Martin off panel says, "That's alright, love. Let's try again tomorrow. Plus I want to cuddle." Jon says to the baby, "Right then, sweetheart, let's get you ready for night night." The dialogue bubble continues into the next panel and Jon says, "Just need to get your pelt off first though-". Jon is then holding a pelt in his hand and looking down with a surprised expression. The baby lets out a tiny yawn off panel. In the next panel, Jon and Martin are sitting cross legged from each other, Jon cradling a sleeping baby in his lap and Martin cradling the baby still by his shoulder. Jon continues to look down with a surprised expression. Martin gasps in happy surprise and says, "You did it, Jon! See, I knew you could! No selkie instincts to it-". In the final panel, Jon's eyes are obscured with tears and he has a wavering frown on his face. Martin gets a little teared up as well, still smiling and says, "Oh! A-ah, don't cry! Aww, Jon!!"

End ID.]

[viceroysimp]

meeting ms. fischer (drabble)

[gary/21 x gn!reader]

[very loosely tied to my gary fic but can be read separately]

[you & gary started dating during blue morpho arc & went to hs together at one point]

[i gave gary's mom a random name since she isn't named in show]

i've been sitting on this drabble for the last three months and decided to post it cause why not. enjoy!

-

“If she makes you uncomfortable at all, you say the word and we’re out of there!” Gary says firmly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you both pull into a residential area, having left the bustling city to a smaller suburban neighborhood.

“Gary, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s meeting your mom for heaven’s sake, not a Guild interrogation.” You chuckle, reaching over to place a soothing hand on Gary’s thigh and squeezing gently.

“I’ll take scaphism over this, any day.” Gary groans as he pulls into the driveway, glancing over at you, “You sure you want to do this? Because once you’re in there, my mom will talk your ear off, keep you prisoner.”

“Positive. Now let’s go.” You say with a grin and Gary sighs, unbuckling his seatbelt as he begrudgingly gets out of the car and unlocks the front door to his childhood home.

Being caught up in all the Blue Morpho drama when you first started dating, you and Gary both realized over dinner one night that he hadn’t let his mom know that he was dating let alone now had a significant other.

Needless to say, the moment he called her to let her know, she demanded that she needed to meet you as soon as possible.

An tan, energetic dog comes dashing towards the doorway the second Gary opens the door, immediately jumping on you with its tail wagging happily.

“Oh my god, Lady, no! Mooom, call the dog!” Gary yells out, gently tugging on the dog’s collar to get her off you.

“Gary, it’s fine!” You laugh as Lady happily licks at your hands as you try to pet the squirmy dog, “I didn’t even know you had a dog! How could you not tell me?”

“Technically, my mom got Lady after I moved out to become a henchman so she’s not really mine. She’s super friendly thankfully.” Gary sighed before wincing as he heard his mom’s voice calling from the kitchen.

“Gary, I told you to call me before you got here! I’m still making lunch for the two of you!” 

“Mom, I said not to make anything! We had a late breakfast!” Gary groans, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen.

As you walk into the kitchen, you see an older woman with the same shade of brown as Gary’s hair with slivers of gray showing through, hunched over the stove. She finally turns around, wiping her hands on a nearby kitchen towel as she sees you for the first time.

“Mom, this is my partner, [Your Name].” Gary introduces the two of you, squeezing your hand tightly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Fischer.” You say politely, extending your hand but blink as instead you’re wrapped in a warm embrace instead. 

“Oh my god, no need to be so formal! Call me Irene!” Ms. Fischer teases before pulling away to look at you full on, her eyes assessing you up and down before they widen, “Wait a second, I remember you!”

Gary and you glance at each other confused before saying in unison, “You do?”

“Weren’t you two in the same little comic book club, Gary? Remember you had that meeting here when the school kicked you out for trespassing, thinking you were an adult. I told you they were cute, didn't I?”

“You remember that far back? That was before I even turned 15!”

“I’m not that old, Gary!”

-

After Gary begrudgingly agreed to split the lunch his mom had prepared for the both of you, the three of you were squeezed together on the couch with Ms. Fischer sitting in the middle, a worn-out photo album in her lap, showing you page after page of baby photos of the henchman.

“Mom, don’t show her that one!” Gary protests, his cheeks red as he attempts to snatch the photo of him as a toddler wearing just a diaper with a plastic sword and a paper crown on his head.

Irene’s reflexes are too quick for him, dodging his large hand as she places the photo into your hands. “I swear, I could never get him to take off that darn crown once we went to Medieval Times.”

You reach across her lap to give Gary’s hand a firm squeeze, grinning at the cute photo, “It’s okay, Gare. You were such an adorable kid,” Your hand reached up to squeeze his cheek playfully, “And you got even more adorable as you got older.”

Gary smiles warmly, pressing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. Irene looks between the two of you with a look of admiration before clearing her throat, “Gary, those comics that you got shipped to our house are piling up in your room! Can you please go grab them?”

“Now mom? I can do that later…” His voice trailed off when his mother gave him a stern look. “Alright, fine! I’m going!” Gary groans, getting up from the couch, heading to his old room in the basement of the Fischer home, leaving you alone with Mrs. Fischer.

“I swear, I don’t know where he gets his stubbornness from.” Irene sighs before placing the photo album on the coffee table and turning to face you. “I just wanted to get you alone for just a second to say thank you for looking after my Gare Bear. He’s such a sweetheart and I worry about him doing all that dangerous stuff.”

“Of course, there’s so much to love about him and I’ve always got his back.” You say which Irene beams at, bringing you into an embrace and squeezing you tightly before pulling away, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“And if he ever does something stupid, you call me and I’ll whip him into shape!” She says pointedly to which you hear a groan echoing from your boyfriend as he ascends up the stairs, a box full of comics in his arms. 

“I heard that, mom!”

-

On the drive back to your shared apartment, Gary makes you pinky promise not to tell the Monarchs about his mom’s nickname for him.

“Of course… Gare Bear.”

“[Your Name]!”

[sibillascribbles08]

People who followed me way back when I was posting VHHB may remember I had a personal AU where Donnie was raised by Holly Blue. Yeah my brain kind of blew up with it the other day, adding in Leo being raised by Bueford, the tension between Raph and Mikey being cranked up to ten, and a lot of other craziness

Anyway here's a doodle page.

Couple of other quick points

Donnie's full name in this AU is Belladonna, but Leo still calls him Donnie

Leo's name is just Leo, no longer form

Due to losing two children, Splinter is rather protective over Raph and Mikey and Raph being the big brother starts picking up on this as well, and Mikey finds it suffocating.

Leo and Donnie have known each other since they were toddlers and consider themselves to be cousins (they don't know they're related)

ID under the cut (it's a big one tho oh gosh)

[ID: A massive page of doodles, some colored and some not, for an AU of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Starting in the upper left corner is a two panel comic featuring an alternate design of Donatello. In the first panel he's holding a cigarette close to his mouth and attempting to light it. In the next panel, a voice from someone out of view shouts "Belladonna! Did you steal my cigarettes again!" Donnie drops the cigarette in surprise, and the antenna attached to the ear pieces he wears go straight up.

Just below it are a small doodle of Holly Blue, a mutant wasp, holding a baby Donatello who is reaching for her antenna. And a simple drawing of a shield bug.

To the right of it is a three panel comic. In the first panel is a drawing of Draxum with his mask still on, pointing with two fingers. He says, "Matter of fact, your eggs hatched on the same day." In the next panel is a simple drawing of Donatello and Leonardo. Leonardo is gasping with his arms out while Donatello just looks shocked. In the next panel Leonardo is holding Donatello by the suspenders and shaking him while shouting, "We've not only been brothers this whole time but TWINS?"

To the right of that is a simple drawing of Leonardo holding up a bagel and looking sympathetic while looking at Raphael who has giant tears in his eyes. Leonardo says, "Can I offer you a bagel in this trying time?"

Below that is a drawing of Michelangelo pointing, his hand larger due to perspective, and glaring sharply as he shouts, "I'm 13 I'm basically an ADULT."

In the bottom left is a drawing of Leonardo, his fists on his hips and smiling with his tongue sticking out. Rather than his usual outfit he has a pale yellow bandanna on his head, an off-white tank top, and blue shorts. The tank top has a logo for Bueford's Bagels on it, the design of an ouroborus but puffed up like pastry. The shorts feature the same yellow stripes on his legs.

To the right of this drawing are two small doodles, one of Leonardo hugging Bueford, a snake yokai, and another of a baby Leonardo biting into a bagel that's almost bigger than he is.

In the bottom right corner is a colored drawing of Michelangelo from the back. He's looking back just a bit and glaring at the floor, his eyes in shadow. He's clutching his left arm with his right hand. On the back of his shell is a hazy image of Shredder's face with a crack near the center of it.]

[linesonscreens]

Let's Read Peanuts (Yes, all of it) - January 1953

There are lots of great strips I just don't have room to comment on. I strongly encourage everybody to read the full month at the official GoComics page. Today's month starts HERE.

Jan 7, 1953

Actually, depending on how you play your cards this can get you some serious bragging rights down the line.

Jan 8, 1953

Kids think we adults do this sort of thing on purpose.

And they're right.

Jan 11, 1953

Early Linus has 3 main traits:

He's a baby

He's a weird supergenius with psychic powers

He responds to frustration with violent revenge fantasies

Also I think that might be his first on-screen spoken dialogue, which is hilarious.

Jan 14, 1953

Violet, please dump him.

Jan 15, 1953

This rules. We need to make “non-representational snowman design” a whole thing.

Jan 27, 1953

Schroeder makes a mistake that will haunt him for decades.

Jan 29, 1953

Holy crap you guys, Shermy's still alive!

Thoughts:

If I were asked what my favorite part of Peanuts is I'd probably point to the Schroeder/Lucy (Schucy?) piano chat dynamic. Lucy is terrible to everybody and almost never suffers repercussions for her actions, so it's incredibly cathartic to see her attempts at romance consistently demolished by 40 pound autistic kid with a thing for older men.

I also genuinely love that the strip doesn't handle their interactions as some sort of bullshit tsundere relationship waiting to happen. Where other comics might have depicted Lucy's unwelcome attempts to force a relationship as cute or quirky, Schulz instead depicts them as deeply annoying and consistently has her punished by the universe for refusing to take a hint. It's incredibly funny, and actually does a lot to make Lucy feel human and relatable in the process.

Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say here is please for the love of God stop shipping Schroeder and Lucy together. You sons of bitches are going to give me a brain aneurysm I swear...

[darth-sonny]

Hi Sonny ! I just read all the post I could find on your Prime Leo Au (though I'm not sure I found everything... I don't know if you ever explained why Kraang Prime needed an Host in the first place). And it gave me thoughts !

First about why Kraang Prime wouldn't want Donnie as an Host despite his smart (yes I know we're well past that but bear with me please ?), there's also that Donnie's knowledge and smarts is primarily on machinery, engineering and programing. But considering that Kraangs rely much more on biological means for their technology, that really wouldn't match well. And since I'm a fan of the Medic Leo headcanon, I also headcanon as interested and good at anatomy, biology and biochemistry. So even there he's a better fit for Kraang Prime that Donnie.

Second, remember that 4 (?) pages comic where we see Prime completely possessing Leo and explaining that Leo can't hear them coz in a dream world etc. It made me thought, what if Raph tried to mind meld Leo right then and there in an attempt to reach out to him. Except it doesn't reach Leo of course coz he's in too deep but it does reach Kraang Prime who's in front... And what if Kraang Prime decided to let it happen ? So Raph just mind meld with it for a few seconds ? Wouldn't that be fuck up or what ? (oh and Prime would be a bastard about it too commenting things like "oh~ it tingle", "You wish to enter right ? Very well I'll allow it")

Ans I know this one won't happen officially in the story (coz if so they would realize Leo's touch aversion wayyyy before Leo himself told them) but if the Fam does enter Leo's Dream World, imagine if Prime, that sick bastard, go "visit" Leo at the same time. I already had that idea as soon as I read about the Dream World but it got back full force when I read how Prime was really "touchy" with Leo, making him uncomfortable. There isn't 1 person in this massive family that wouldn't snap seeing this and I would be here for it.

(In fact, if you're still taking art suggestion, I think that it would be very cool if you could draw the moment where Kraang Prime is there "greeting" the Bros in the Dream World while having his hands on a Leo that is frozen in discomfort while the Bros are also frozen but in shock and stupor because they are still processing what they are seeing. Only if you want of course 👉👈 👀)

another long folks strap in!!

also hii @louve-garoue !!

1.) the answer on why Prime needs a Host: it's honestly easier commanding armies when you have a physical body to help you do that, yknow??

2.) yep! when there's an entire race of aliens who's tech is biorganical, it makes sense taking control of someone who knows how the body works in every aspect. also, to Prime, Donnie is just a smarter than everage baby sooooo

3.) shoot! i legit forgot about mind melding when i made that!! but i'm gonna have to disagree with you; the mind meld trick wouldn't reach Leo at all, and Prime isn't going to let anyone in to try and talk to Leo and help break him out. they'd be a huge dick to Raph about that and flaunt it ("awww, our former brute can't reach the Host~, how...tragic")

4.) ooooooooooo, that's gooood!!! it won't happen in the story "canon"-wise like you said, but it is still a good prompt (maybe i'll write it one day, who knows..). Prime just....forcibly and creepily touching Leo while the fam watches and they can't do anything about it and it pisses them off something good is just *chef's kiss*

for the drawing request, here's Prime playing with Leo's mask tails (pretend that they're looking at the fam while they do this, it was three in the morning when i finished and i straight up conked out)

[claypigeonpottery]

Heyyyyy~ I'm just... So in love with all the work you do, they're all so precious and beautiful I'm in tears. Thank you so for what you do, can't wait to buy something you made soon :D

If it's okei, can you please tell the story of how you got into this and how did you progress from being babie artist to now growing artist and how long you've been doing this for? What's your top 3 fav works you've done? Did you eat good food today, if not please dooo. Thenks

thank you! that's very sweet x3 I'm excited to get more stuff fired and up on Etsy, hopefully before the end of June

.

choose three favourites of my work? oh, that is a difficult question.

one thing I really didn't like about my art when I was younger was that it was all very static. it was people sitting or standing, it was still life paintings. one of the things I'm really proud of in my work now is the sense of capturing a moment instead of someone posing, and/or giving a sense of movement

these two are just the opposite of static and I love them for that

and then there's this mug. the design is great, the details are great and I had so much fun carving it. it was honestly just delightful and I wish I'd kept it. I don't say that very often.

all sold

.

I'm putting the rest of this under a cut because I'm going to ramble

I started drawing because I was making silly comics about me and my friends in grade school and through high school (I assigned them all fursonas because I was a really cool 15 year old lol)

I got a little more serious about art in high school, but I never thought it'd be something I'd make money at.

when I was... in my early twenties? maybe 19 still? ah, memory issues, I went through a nine month art program, the 'Urban Canvas' project run by SCYAP (saskatoon community youth arts programming). the program is meant to support young artists, especially those with mental health or addiction issues. and it meant I got paid to draw and paint and create weird shit for 40 hours a week, for nine months. and then some (seven? eight?) years later I got to go through the program again which... honestly I'm so grateful I got to do that. (and SCYAP still supports me, they give me a table at their craft show every year and helped me with my first solo gallery show)

these are some of the pieces I made during my time at SCYAP:

and two very rare pictures of me, posing with two of my master studies. the left from when I was 20ish, and the right when I was... 27ish? (man I'm still proud of that Gentileschi copy)

.

it was after SCYAP when I started thinking that I could actually make money as an artist. so I painted more than a dozen murals, drew a 20-some page full colour comic, painted pet portraits, and sold my own paintings. commissions were more reliable than selling my own work for a long time lol

as for how I got into pottery, my mental health uh... haha. it took a nosedive about six years ago and during some of the worst of it, I was severely agoraphobic. my mom, who has always supported my art, offered to take me to pottery classes with her, in an attempt to get me leaving the house at least once a week. it did help (along with a lot of other things) and once I started exploring the surface decoration side of pottery, things really clicked for me

.

tangent: one of the things that really drove me to progress as an artist was having something driving my work. whether it was preparing for a gallery show or making a bunch of holiday cards or making piles of fan art because I was obsessed. every time I made something, anything, I improved. so when I had a goal that made me create more, I improved faster.

my unsolicited advice: make that weird fan art. it's good for your art. (I was really into tf2 lol)

.

I've tried tons of different mediums and I think it was a great way to help my style evolve.

when you're making art with a new medium, it might take awhile before you're making your own personal work. I, at least, find that I usually have to do some studies of other peoples' art and just try some basic creations before I do anything more personal. but once I'm ready to do MY stuff, I have a new repertoire to pull from. I wouldn't be the potter I am if I didn't have the experiences I got from other mediums

like acrylics (I did a lot of self portraits >.>)

paper flower making

watercolour

collage

cake decorating

(also oil paints, pastels, 3D wire art, crochet, linocut, stone carving, sewing, set painting and quilting. also my spouse and I like to make crafts together, like cutting-construction-paper, gluing-pompoms-and-googly-eyes crafts, because it's just fun to make stuff together)

I'm sure pottery isn't the last medium I'm gonna try. I'll probably get obsessed with carving tiny wooden figurines or making wax sculptures at some point. who knows!

.

and now I'm in my mid-thirties, making art pretty much every day. I've been doing this since I was a teenager, so almost twenty years now.

I never imagined I'd be satisfied with my own art, that I could look at most of my pieces and not see how I could have done it better, but hey, here I am.

.

wow that was rambly. the ADHD really comes out when I'm writing lol. and I did eat real food today! before having some freezies

thanks so much for your ask, hopefully I satisfied your curiosity

[sharky857]

20 Questions for Writers

Got tagged by @valkeakuulas :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25 at the moment.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

It appears that it's 161,853

3. What fandoms do you write for?

This ones (+ some more that live rent-free in my head and never saw the light)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In case Tumblr won't let zoom in on the thing, from left to right: - Unwanted Visitor - Stupid Mistakes - Sour Dreams - Idiot Sandwich - Born Again

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! :D Even for something as simple as a "thank you".

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Something IL related from years ago (not on AO3). Back then part of the old fandom had dived into the doomiest & gloomiest collective musing ever called "okay but there will be one day when all the current humans will be either flippin' old or deceased, and the same can also happen to the leaguers, yanno? There's only this itty-bitty question of how our robutts would go through this. 🤔"

... Fun times. :°D

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Usually, my fics all have a happy (or neutral, at least) ending. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not happened so far. *catch me knocking on wood*

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to write smuts, always following the "here's an actual plot, here's the snusnu part, and here's the ending" kind of scheme.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope, but they also live rent-free in my head.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Does "they pulled a pathetic attempt at recreating one of the fics out of retaliation or something and only made it the cringiest mess ever that everyone brutally mocked them for quite a while until they deleted it" count?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, back when I was moving my (very first) baby steps with English. I would write fics in Italian, and then a friend of mine would translate them in English.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

YES! :D Me and @evol-astraea did it a few times.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My longestest Transformers (G1) fic ever.

The reason: I was so hyper-focused on typing that past a certain point I didn't realise I was NOT saving the progress anymore. Them MS Word did a crash. It was still without that feature to recover the documents, and I never recovered from those +10 pages lost. :°)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Idk, honestly :°°°D

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes, I guess.

And that forever-lingering feeling that there are parts in a fic that don't feel like they convey the specific feeling as they should, but also I wouldn't even know how to tweak/improve it, so in the end I just leave it as it is.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's fun! :D A little less fun when the character is a canon known to have a particular accent, and you, as a non-native, have absolutely no idea how to put said accent into words. :°D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Not really a "fandom" since back then there was just me and this friend of mine, but... Spirou et Fantasio (the 90s toon/comic series).

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I have a quite a few that I like to go and re-read from time to time, but can't pick just one.

Tagging @evol-astraea, @missanthropicprinciple, @antsupuff and @alucardy2000 (shush, comics are a hybrid of fan art & fic 😛)

I'll be following Kuulas' example and leave the blank list of questions down here 👇

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?