#i can invision this as a comic in my head but i think if i drew multiple panels in the hazbin style my arm would explode

[newsies-demon-ducks]

lucifer: lily, can i talk to you for a second?

lilith, after returning: sure sweetie what is it?

lucifer (quietly): what the fuck do you think you're doing?

lilith (about vox): I'm getting to know my new husband!

lucifer: you're flirting with my new husband!

[english-history-trip]

Ever see a depiction of St. George and the Dragon? It's pretty fair to say if you've seen one, you've seen them all: Georgie on a horse stabbing a flailing dragon creature, princess piously kneeling in the background, vague landscape alluding to the homeland of the artist's patron.

The most varied part is the dragons. No one had a real definition for the thing, it seemed. For your pleasure and entertainment, I have ranked some medieval depictions based on how impressive George's feat seems once you see the dragon.

Paolo Uccello, 1456

This is a terrifying beast. The hell is that. Uccello was one of the first experimenters with perspective, so the thing also looks surreal, like it's taking place on Mars, or a Windows 95 screensaver. I would not want to fight that, I would not want to be tied to that. (Sometimes the princess is tied to the dragon for some reason.) 10/10

Horse thoughts: Maybe if I look at the ground it will be gone when I look up

Unknown artist, c. 1505

This is a rare change of form for the dragon; it's the only one I've seen actually flying (or at least falling with style). It doesn't look particularly deterred by the spear through its throat, either. Also, George looks appropriately nervous. On the other hand, it hasn't got teeth, it seems to be fuzzy rather than having scaly armor, and George is bolstered by his army of Henry VII and his children, most of whom definitely didn't actually die in infancy. Still, wouldn't want to fight it, wouldn't want my pet sheep near it. (Sometimes the princess has a pet sheep for some reason.) 9/10

Horse thoughts: I am so glad I wore my mightiest feather helmet for this

Raphael, 1505

We are coming to Dragons With Problems. This guy looks about comparable in size to George, and does have wings, but doesn't seem to be using these things to his advantage (and has he only got one wing?) And how does he deal with the neck? He does have a comically small head, but holding it up with such a twisty neck seems complicated at best. But most egregiously, he is doing the shitty superheroine pose where he is somehow simultaneously showcasing his chest and his butt, with its unnecessarily defined butthole (more on this later) (regrettably). 8/10 bc it's Raphael

Horse thoughts: AM I THE BESTEST BOI? AM I DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB? WE R DRAGON SLAYING BUDDIEZ

The Beauchamp Hours, c. 1401

We had a spirited debate about this one at work. Again, the dragon has gotten smaller, and this one hasn't got even one wing. He's basically a crocodile. So the debate became: would you want to fight a crocodile if you had a horse and a pointy stick? Would the horse trample the animal, who can't get on its hind legs, or freak out and throw its rider? Would the pointy stick be enough to pierce the croc's thick hide? In this case, George seems to be controlling his horse and putting his pointy stick in the dragon's weak spot, so we can be impressed by his skill and strategy. However, his hat is dumb. 7/10

Horse thoughts: Dehhhh

Book of Hours, c. 1480

Here we have the same kind of croco-dragon, but George's focus on his strategy has gone out the window. He's flailing around, not even looking at his target, he's about to lose his pointy stick, he hasn't got a hand on the reins, and his sword seems to only be poking the invisible dragon over his shoulder. All he's got going for him is that his hat is slightly less dumb. 6/10

Horse thoughts: Yay, new friend! Come play with me, new fr- what is happening

Final dragons put behind this Read More for your safety:

Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1432

I'm thinking this guy is at least semi-aquatic. Webbed feet, wings that seem more like fins, bipedal but top-heavy, jaws that seem more for scooping than biting. Maybe she's crawled up here from the nearby body of water to lay her eggs, and this is all a big misunderstanding. Moreover, George's dagged sleeves seem entirely impractical for the situation. 5/10

Horse thoughts: i got my hed stuk in a jar and now it is this way forever

Unknown artist, c. 15th century

I hate this. I hate everything about it. Why has it got human eyes and teeth. Why is its nose melting. Why has it got a dick on its face and balls under its chin. The fin/wings are back but they look even more useless. Also, George is shifty as hell, schlumped over in his saddle with his bowler hat thing over his eyes. The baby dragon at the bottom eating some hapless would-be rescuer is kind of metal. 4/10 at least the thing is gonna die

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Crack

Book of Hours, c. 1450

Remember what I said about the buttholes? First, sorry. Second, yeah, we're back to that. I'll admit this one is less about the danger from the dragon itself than the very specific choices the artist has made. They didn't need to do that. It's a lizard. They don't even have. And it's like they had an orifice budget and they skipped an exit wound for the spear to focus. Elsewhere. It's so detailed. And George had an even dumber hat. 2/10 take it away

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Weed

Book of Hours, c. 1415

This is just bullying. There isn't even a princess. That is clearly an infant. Look at that smug look on George's face as he swings his sword that's bigger than the whole little guy. This is the equivalent of when DJT Jr. hunted those sleeping endangered sheep. 1/10

Horse thoughts: ....yikes

And this is the previous one, but now the baby dragon is cute. He's chubby. He's got toe beans. He's Puff the Magic Dragon. His eyes have already gone white, implying that George is just kicking its corpse around for funsies. What's the difference between the dragon and the lamb in the background? That the dragon is dead, like our innocence. This George is truly deserving of the dumbest hat of all. 0/10 plus one more butthole for the road

Horse thoughts: Perhaps it is we who are the buttholes.

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

[kaeichi]

mixed drinks, mixed feelings.

[wc: 1.9k] ex fwb! gojo. sfw. angst. alcoholism. hurt/no comfort. you and gojo are teachers at jujutsu tech.

“hey, gojo?”

“...”

gojo hates drinking.

you're not sure who this imposter is—this slumped figure who is currently hunched over the sticky countertop, tangled white hair sprawled messily against the dark sleeves of his arms, accompanied by four almost-empty shot glasses nearby. no, the man you know has never even taken more than a couple sips when the staff goes out for drinks after work hours, nor could he barely tolerate the smell without gagging, his beautiful face contorted almost comically into unequivocal disgust, so whoever this is in front of you couldn't possibly be him.

around an hour ago, the crew decided to head over to the nearest izakaya to celebrate nanami’s newest promotion at his job. he may have left jujutsu tech a long time ago, but he remained close friends with everyone nonetheless. it was only after multiple rounds of drinks that you realized how gojo has mysteriously disappeared for a suspiciously long time, and everyone was too buzzed to notice. after checking the bathrooms and excusing yourself outside, a strange feeling washed over you; for some reason, you eventually found yourself making your way to the bar right across the street.

it seems that one way or another, there is that invisible string that persists, faintly pulling you towards none other than gojo satoru.

tentatively, you lean down, a hand reaching over to gently shake his shoulder. the overwhelming stench of liquor invades your nostrils, but you resist the urge to withdraw, your concern winning over. “you alive, gojo?”

“…it's satoru,” he groggily mumbles.

sighing, you drag a bar stool to sit beside him, observing the uncharacteristically disheveled male. the sight is so bizarre that it makes you audibly laugh in disbelief, and you're tempted to snap a picture for blackmail purposes—he deserves it, you think. just because it's him. what the hell happened to the suave, well-groomed, overly confident sorcerer that you know? the man with very little to no apparent weaknesses at all?

even the strongest has his moments, i guess. if you recall correctly, this might be the first time you've seen him so openly vulnerable. you try to will away the strange sputtering in your chest.

tugging at his wrinkled sleeve, you urge, ��look at me.”

no response.

the drinks you've consumed earlier are now starting to take effect, a light headache incoming as you try to think of what you should do. you count one, two, three, before a haunting realization comes to you, making you grab a fistful of his snowy tufts and forcefully gripping it upwards. his eyelids twitch, adjusting to the light after previously being closed shut. when he finally opens them, your breath gets caught in your throat—his once brilliant azure eyes are now a bland gray, with a hint of red rimming the outline.

“gojo?! christ, snap out of it! why can i touch you?”

somehow, the fucker still manages to smirk.

“why not? you've never complained about it before, so why start n—” you let go of his hair, letting his forehead slam back on the counter with a dull thud. he makes a dissatisfied noise, whiny and drawn out, before groaning, “who do you think i am? i can sense your presence way before you came here—my infinity wasn't off this whole time. and again, that's satoru for you.”

that gave you little reassurance, unsure whether or not to fully believe him—especially in this sorry state. despite his devilishly good looks and capabilities, gojo satoru is lame, a menace, and acts like a fool most of the time; but even you know that's a ruse. right now, there's no silly antics, no mask to hide behind, no façade to protect himself. even his fancy sunglasses are long forgotten on the ground below him.

“care to share what's on your mind, my dear friend?”

the seemingly disoriented colleague of yours adjusts his head so he can face you, still leaning against the dirty wood as his lips pull into a pout. “your dear friend, huh…”

“what was that?”

“nothing,” he then sits back up, his voice back to a normal volume. “so? wanna take a shot with me?”

you try your best to refrain from grabbing him by the hair again and slamming his head downward, on purpose this time. “you already drank a whole bottle back at the izakaya, and even that's pushing it. what's with you?”

his glassy, bloodshot eyes regard your stressed expression for a moment before he turns away, opting to stare at shelves of alcohol displays in front of him. “do you remember how megumi acted the first time he met you?”

…of course he'd ignore your question. having a conversation with someone like gojo will never be as clear-cut as you’d like it to be.

still, you decide to entertain him; it is a nice memory after all. fushiguro megumi, one of your students, who is also the little kid whose sister you coincidentally saved from a near death experience many years ago. little megumi came up to you after learning what happened, his head bowed low as he muttered his sincerest thanks in a small, quivering voice. you had kneeled down to his eye level, assured him not to worry about it, but he refused to look up, nor to even budge an inch. then as a joke, you told him to give you a nice big hug if he wanted to thank you more, and he complied, much to you and (especially) gojo’s surprise.

“mhm. didn't know you were the sentimental kind. is that why you refuse to get drunk?” you tease.

“whatever. i've been taking care of that brat for over ten years now, and he's never given me any kind of gratitude or affection whatsoever.”

“...have you ever thought that maybe it's because you have a personality issue?”

“that's not the point!” he whips his head to you, glaring at you with such venom that you can't help but grin widely. he immediately stops scowling at your reaction, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before he averts his gaze once again. “i… understand him, is all i’m saying.”

“you ditched the group and went all the way here, alone, just to reminisce about the past? you truly never change, huh? you're still as dramatic as ever.”

“disrespectful little sh–” and he's back to glaring at you with a subtle sneer. “why'd you even come here?”

“first: you can't call me that, i'm older than you,” you click your tongue. “second: why not? are you telling me to leave or what?”

“no, seriously. why?” gojo repeats.

at this, your brows crease together. why what? “because i was concerned?”

“why…” he sinks further into the counter, head in between his crossed arms, much like how he had looked when you first walked in.

“i don’t get what you're trying to… are you asking me why i’m concerned? well, why wouldn't i be? it's not like we're not friends outside of work. of course i’d—wait, where are you going?”

you quickly hop off the stool when the tall sorcerer abruptly stands up, now briskly walking away and heading towards the exit. you call him a couple more times but he doesn't bother to look back, and you resort to nearly running to be able to keep up with his freakishly long legs. right before he rounds the corner of the street, you harshly pull his wrist; at the contact, he jerks his head back, dull gray eyes flashing angrily.

“is that all you see me as?” he yells, his voice echoing through the dark, empty street. you’re taken aback by the harshness of his tone, letting go of his wrist in surprise. “tell me no. lie to me at this point. did all our nights spent together mean nothing at all? i was just a quick fix for you, wasn't i?” the volume of his voice raises even higher, and you frantically wave your hands at him to stop.

“no, that's not true! i—” now you understand why he's been drinking irresponsibly. fuck. if you knew this is how it’d end up, then you wouldn't have started anything with him in the first place. you don't regret anything, but is it really worth ruining your precious friendship? all the years of your youth shared together has now gone down the drain, all because of a couple of drunken nights?

“—then why don't you look at me the same way as you do with nanami?” he says, and your stomach drops. one look at your shocked expression and gojo already knows. he knows, yet he needs one last confirmation that comes directly from your mouth, no matter how excruciating it is. “tell me i’m wrong.”

“i’m sorry, go–”

“it’s satoru, damn it.” this time, he doesn't scream his words, nor does he ball his fists so tight that his knuckles blanch. instead, what comes out is merely a quiet, trembling whisper.

you wince at the sheer amount of emotion behind his words, the feeling of guilt heavy on your shoulders.

“listen to me, satoru. there's nothing going on with me and nanami. and what you and i both have– had, is in the past now. you know why we can't be together, right? i can't leave my dear students behind.” the two of you are well aware of that predicament; you and him can never have a real relationship, unless you're willing to risk relocation to kyoto prefecture.

would you really do that for someone you're not even 100% sure you're in love with?

“then stop pretending to care about me. stop doing all this like you mean it,” the white-haired male spits out. you look down, a hand reaching in your pocket for the discarded sunglasses you've picked up earlier, gently placing the pitch black lenses over gojo’s face.

you want to say it's for his sake, but truthfully, you just can't bear to look him in the eyes anymore.

“but that's the thing; i do care about you. and i never stopped caring about you. you're such a great person, satoru,” you assure him with a much softer tone. before you know it, you're reaching towards his face—however, as soon as you made contact, your palm seems to burn from realization (of him further misunderstanding your actions? of you knowing your place?), making you quickly retract your fingers.

you pretend you don't see him chasing after your touch.

“please believe me when i say this,” you continue. “you deserve someone who's just as kind as you, someone who actually deserves your love, and i’m not that person—”

“kiss me.” you nearly lose your balance as he suddenly places his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, his voice breaking as he pleads. you're glad you can't see his eyes anymore—it might shatter your already fragile resolve even more. “i don't care. i don't care if you're not the right person, or if you think you're undeserving of my love. none of that has ever mattered to me. so please, kiss me. just one more time.”

huffs of your breaths mix together, faint white clouds forming in the chilly night. your heart shivers with anticipation as your gaze lingers on his soft, familiar lips for a moment too long.

one,

two,

three.

“…i can't. i'm sorry, gojo.”

for being the strongest sorcerer alive, he’s undeniably and pathetically weak when it comes to you. for being the strongest, he can't even snap that thin, flimsy cord, unable to sever that invisible string that ties you both together.

gojo hates drinking, but he would down glass after glass until his body gives up before his mind does. he absolutely hates drinking, but he hates uncertainty and loss of control even more.

[marvelsage]

Avatar: The Way of Water

Part2 pt3

Your clan lives in the deepest depths of the ocean. -an ocean based clan

I had seen a drawing of Na’vi ocean based form a while ago and got some major inspiration:) I lost the page though so if you see this and know what I’m talking about then you kind of get the idea

When your fellow brother, Tonowari had sent a signal to talk, you had not expected for him to be accompanied by Jake Sully and Neytiri. It seems they did not expect for you to be, you in all your oceanic glory. Your people were different, living in the depths of the ocean had altered your genetics greatly to where your skin were a a few shades lighter than the Omatikayan. Your bottom halves while in the ocean were ‘fish’ like, often being referred to as mermaids. You had similar tribal tattoos to the Metikaya along the lengths of your legs and face. They called your people the Tìkakrel Turku, the Blind Spear for your eyes were near white and your people of great huntsman, in and out of the water.

Wading in the shallows of the shore, you and a few of your people had arrived just after eclipse to play it safe. Slowly you broke through the surface and as you all ascended from the water your bottom halves changing to legs, a few metikayin offering wraps to cover up. Jake and Neytiri had not been expecting for you to do all…that, more so Jake than Neytiri as she had grown up with hearing stories of your people.

“Olo’eykte Y/n.” Tonowari and his mate, Ronal greeted as you reciprocating the gesture keeping an expressionless exterior. Doing the same with Jake and Neytiri before being lead to a marui to discuss. For a moment nobody said anything, they were having a silent conversation between one another as you observed them all, you didn’t mean for your gaze to be so intimidating as it rested. Eventually, you broke the ice having given them enough time to speak up first but they didn’t so you did it.

“Well…” For some reason this startled them and you couldn’t help it but it caused the slightest twitch of your ear.

“You are familiar of the war with sky people , yes?” You nod as you could practically feel the scars littering your back and chest sear. You turn to Jake as he takes the lead in what has been happening and why they were in the Metikaya Clan, they had not been there long only a few weeks so far.

“Hm and what does this have to do with me and my people?” They were once again glancing at one another before Neytiri and Ronal had enough and took the floor.

“They seek alliances-”

“-we ask for your alliance and security of our family.” Your ears twitched at the women, especially Neytiri finding it hard to believe that she, a mighty warrior, you had also heard of would come to you for this. It just goes to show that nobody is invisible or far from the great mother after all you guessed.

“We will work for it as well, just like we do with the Metikaya. We just…our family and these people, all of our peoples in this time need to have one another’s backs. The sky people are evolving along with us and the only way we can survive this is by uniting.” You admired the speech from Jake Sully finding it comical to believe he is the great Toruk Mokto as he could have fooled you for a poet.

But still the message is there and it made you think, turning to your accompanying members for further input. This put Jake and Neytiri on edge as they saw a few head shaking, they held each other’s hands tightly in anticipation. Eventually you return to the group and stalled setting your gaze amongst each and everyone of them as you spoke.

“You ask for unity, we can do that, yes. Security of your family, we can provide it. But listen and hear me when I say this…” Emphasizing the ‘hear’ leaning towards them, gesturing between one another.

“If it comes down to you or my people, I must put us first do we understand? Because at the end of the day it is what we all must and will do, yes?” Tilting your head as they all took a second to take in what you said and in their minds knowing you speak truth.

“Good. We will have lessons after your day lessons with the Metikaya.” They agreed even though you weren’t really asking it was more of a statement but with that you ended the meeting and retreated back into the ocean.

“Wow. They are-”

“Intense, intimidating, stern…”Tonowari lists off to Jake as they all rise to leave the marui.

“Yes.” Patting his shoulder he smiles nodding.

“It is the very reason she is Ao’nungs second guardian.” They leave with that and break off from the two leaving Jake and Neytiri taken aback.

[sing-me-under]

now that they’re all laid out and colored, it feels very power rangers for some reason.

Anyway, this is me combining my favorite elements of Tim’s costumes. It’s basically an adult Tim Drake AU (because DC refuses to give us a canon adult Tim— LET HIM AGE PLEASE) as a follow up to this post.

Here’s some notes:

Tim is lithe and does not build up defined muscle easily. I should do more anatomy studies at some point, but Tim’s strong suit isn’t brute strength anyway.

I’ve taken to calling this the Pilcrow AU, but honestly, I’m just so obsessed with Tim’s self-image in the Unternet essentially just being a caped Nightwing that this could also be Flamebird design.

The single stripe on the side is supposed to mimic the Pilcrow symbol (¶) but I didn’t want to make it too obvious because then it’d feel too similar to Anarky’s A.

WINGS. GIVE HIM BACK HIS WINGS.

The wings have magnets in them that can connect to the arm bracers for more precise control. They’re more for gliding than sustained flight, but I could picture a jetpack or something being hidden in there.

Beak mask.

I miss Tim’s spiked skater boy hair, but the middle part is fine. I like to think the y-axis of his hair has a direct correlation with his emotional stability. His hair spiking up is when he’s emotionally not-terrible and his hair is long when he’s extremely emotionally unstable (ex. Red Robin 2009). I cannot stand his undercut in the current mainline comics. He looks like a fuckboy.

He’s got a lot of invisible pockets and hidden compartments. Some of them are just blended into the fabric.

The black sides against the black underwing feathers helps prevent enemies from striking precise blows. It’s an optical illusion.

20-something year old adult Tim is 5’7”. Cass is like 5’3” and Steph is 5’10”. I will not take any criticism. When Tim was a teenager, before his final growth spurt, he and Cass could swap clothes. Meanwhile, Steph has always been taller than him and will continue to hold it over his head.

[indiana-jonas]

The two invisible steps before you make something

When I made comic strips in the past I would often jump straight into drawing the first panel. I’d just wing it and then improvise each following panel. Sometimes it worked out.

An improvised strip from my old series “Us with plants on our heads.”

But often it just turned into nonsensical crap.

I don’t get this one myself.

I often started drawing a strip and gave up cause I didn’t know what to do.

I thought I was supposed to be able to fart out great comics with ease. But I squeezed and squeezed. I was too eager. Without being aware of it, I tried to do 3 steps all at once. To continue this (f)art metaphor - before anything comes out of you, you’ve gotta 1. find something you want to eat, 2. digest it, 3. let it come out. The problem was that I hadn’t eaten or digested anything.

To put it in a more dignified way.

The first step is to search,

the second is to make sense of,

the third is to make it.

I used to skip the first two steps, I wanted to get straight into making shit. But that often turned into nonsensical crap, or I would run into a wall and give up.

The third step (to make it) is the most obvious one. Despite it being the most obvious step, I got completely stuck on it because I hadn’t gone through the first two.

If you are reading this, it’s likely you already know how to make something. I think these first two steps are identical no matter what medium you are creating in. So I will take the liberty of not going into detail about how to make something.

Instead of trying to think of products first, what any creative person should try to do is think, search and wonder. Think about real things, notice what makes you feel stuff - what is close to your heart if everything else is stripped away? Ideally projects will emerge from the collection of the thoughts you have collected, or at least be designed/conceived in a way that can package your thoughts as nicely as possible.

Search

There’s nothing quite as uninspiring as a blank canvas. 85% of the time a blank canvas only makes me feel dread or boredom. If you come up with a great idea while looking at a canvas it’s not because you looked at a canvas, it’s despite looking at it. Whatever great ideas I have managed to conjure while looking at that white rectangle has always come from something else - an inspiring movie scene, something from my day, a lingering thought, or a line from a song.

Now I’ve abandoned blank canvases, I never start from one. Neither when I write or draw.

Instead, I live in search of noteworthy thoughts. Regardless of whether you know what a thought will be useful for, jot them down somewhere.

To search is just to live life with a keen eye, ear and heart and to make sure you don’t forget.

When I stare at a blank canvas The Search becomes stressful and I want to avoid it. But in reality, if I admit that The Search is part of the process, it becomes the most peaceful and interesting step of them all. It’s just living with a secret mission - to be human and to find out what’s special about that to you.

And of course you need to make sure you don’t forget those thoughts for the next step.

Make sense of

Now that you’ve been out in the world and discovered stuff, it’s time to sit down somewhere, sift through and examine your haul. You might be overwhelmed by how much is in there. You’ll never be able to use everything. So you just gotta use your intuition. See what stands out, group things, talk with someone - do ANYTHING you want with it until you find what’s hiding there.

Your notes are a collection of countless puzzles. Some puzzles are hundreds of pieces big, others are just one or three. Some pieces fit into more than one puzzle. You don’t know. Often you’ll have to find a few pieces in your head to complete a puzzle, while other pieces might still be hidden out there in the world.

The way to make sense of a puzzle is to try to put it together, or to be literal; try to explain it as clearly as you can. Ask yourself, “how can I prove to someone else that this is true?” And ideally not just make them understand it, but also feel it. That’s the puzzle you gotta solve.

Let me give you an example.

I found myself frustrated that we live life too much through screens and I want to make a Space Deer comic strip. That’s the idea I want to make sense of and the filter that I will examine my idea through.

First I will ask myself, “ok, why is that idea true?”- I think life needs balance, you shouldn’t stare too much of it away through a pixelated representation of it. Then I ask myself, “how should we live then?”- We should go outside and get our boots in the mud more, what we will really remember is probably gonna happen out there. And then I try to think of a situation where I can show as clearly as possible that this is right. I’m afraid this message might be tired or preachy, especially if I would aim the message directly at someone like us (you know, someone who’s currently looking at a screen). Luckily the imagery of my comic gives me other symbols to play with.

So I thought of how I could show that in four comic panels and wrote down this.

Space Deer walks on a desolate planet. They encounter a mars rover. They scream “get out here and live!!” NASA people see Space Deer through their screens.

It’s simple, but it gets the idea across. Normally I would like to make it clear that Space Deer is really out there and living freely, to show what these researches are missing out on. But in the comic we will see Space Deer explore and go on all kinds of adventures, so that’s something I didn’t feel like I needed to put more emphasis on. I trust the reader to make that connection themself.

Sometimes making sense of an idea can be much harder, in this example the idea was an entire puzzle on its own, or maybe I had the remaining pieces in my head already. Sometimes all you need is just one piece in front of you to know where to look for the rest.

Make it

And then of course the last step is to just make it. (Step 4 is to share it. Step 5 is to repeat it.)

I have made decent comic strips despite jumping straight into drawing, or so I’ve thought. Thinking back on it, I just managed to search and make sense of an idea as I was drawing. I didn’t magically skip two steps, that’s impossible. I was just not aware of what I was doing.

Now that I know the steps, I’m much better at understanding why I tend to get stuck in different parts of the process.

In reality these steps are not always as clear cut. They will blend into each other, you might do some back and forth, making sense of and making something is a fuzzy line. This is not so much a step-by-step process as it is a journey you have to go through. It has definitely helped me to be more methodical and intentional about it though. I’ve set myself up in a way where it’s fun for me to get each step done. I might go into that in the future.

If you only take one thing with you from this - I hope it’s that you will be aware of and feel more at peace with the first two steps.

--------

If you found this interesting then you might enjoy these blog posts too.

When you don't know what to draw

I will never find my art style

Lazy imagination isn't bad

Thank you for reading my thoughts!

[katherinecrighton]

Nuts and Bolts: Some Writing Advice

(Reposting a 2013 post from the Anna Katherine co-tumblr)

A friend of mine awhile back asked the aether for some practical, straightforward writing advice, which I assumed meant nuts and bolts stuff.

This is what I ended up writing to her.

(Caveat emptor: 1. The reason advice looks contradictory is because it literally is different for everyone — shit that works for one person won’t work for someone else. Just stick it in your toolbox and move along. 2. I will say obvious shit that you already know. Because it’s possible somebody else doesn’t. 3. You may totally disagree with anything/everything I say, oh my god, that’s fine.)

1. Use the word “said.” Throw in a “she declaimed” every once in a while if you like, but don’t do it all the time. Feel free to put in no dialogue tags at all, if it’s clear who’s speaking. But “said” is free and generally invisible to the reader (and the goal is to not remind the reader that they’re reading).

2. Writing advice for short fiction and writing advice for novels are and writing advice for one genre versus another are all going to tell you slightly (or wildly) different things. So, you know, watch out for that. I suggest switching mediums entirely, and try reading up on screenplays or three-panel comics.

3. Stick your finished draft into a Kindle or some other robot reader, and have a mechanical voice read the story to you. It’s a step removed, and you’ll hear where it clunks. Make notes as it goes.

4. If you don’t have a robot reader, read it out loud to yourself. Actually out loud. Put check marks wherever you cringe. It’s where the reader will likely cringe too.

5. Start your story at the point of change. It’s more interesting. Backfill with exposition a couple of paragraphs later.

6. Sometimes, if I’m writing a one-off, I pick a motif and stick with it as a lodestone for all my descriptions. It’s a way of creating a sort of subliminal mood and atmosphere for the reader, while at the same time maintaining a nice sense of continuity.

7. The English language likes to hear things in threes. Three bears, three nights, three wishes, and what with one thing and another, three years passed. English also likes iambic pentameter and any other rhyme or rhythm scheme it can get its hands on. Readers want language to both have a pretty meaning (three brothers seek their fortune) and a pretty sound (now is the winter of our discontent). The fastest way to do this, and not have it be totally obvious, is to combine the two. Have three lines of description, three examples of something, three jokes — and do it semi-regularly. It creates a rhythm in your work, like a heartbeat. Study other people’s stories and see if you can find where they’re doing the same or similar things. Count stuff.

8. Then, later, fuck with your readers by breaking the rhythm. Stop the heartbeat. Miss the step. The reader will get nervous and uncomfortable and have no idea why. Makes for good tension.

9. Other things that make readers uncomfortable: Set dressing. We’re used to visual mediums. If you want to set up a really uncomfortable scene, describe key things around it going in, and make it clear that it’s Not Okay. A pair of scissors that have been left half open. A door that is not entirely shut. A radio caught between two stations, the garden hose still left running. Nothing overt, nothing obvious – just stuff that feels uncomfortable to read. Do enough of those in a row, as you head toward a confrontation, and the reader will be a ball of avidly reading tension by the end of it. 

10. Graphic sex scenes are equal to action scenes. In both instances, know where everybody is, and what everybody’s doing. Describe with more physical action than you think is necessary. If the reader doesn’t know where everybody’s limbs are and what tools are being used, then they’ll get confused and bored. You can always edit later.

[scribblemakes]

I really love your Disconauts AU however, ever since I've gotten into it I've been haunted by the concept of Harry helping Kim out with learning some of his psychic powers and they're trying to learn/relearn clairvoyance using each other as practice and for a split second Kim catches the sight of the halo behind his own head from Harry's point of view.

I was very torn between him being scared of the devotion and pedestal-placement OR mr Respect Me I'm A Competitive Authority Figure liking it at least a little, so I went with the option that lets me make him blush a bit of course. Also a little bonus:

ALT in images, long text-only ID below the cut:

[ID: Seven panels of a comic about Kim and Harry from Disco Elysium done in a Psychonauts art style. The comic is done as a collection of coloured sketches.

The first panel shows Harry laying on the ground in front of Kim, who's sitting on a couch. Both of them are missing their jackets and are in their shirts and pants only. The dialogue reads: Kim: "So, we've tried levitation-" Harry: "Both got it." Kim: "Telekinesis-" Harry: "You're better." Kim: "Invisibility-" Harry: "I-" Kim: "Detective." Harry: "Barely, but you've got to admit I've got great marksmanship."

The second panel shows a close up of Kim's face and the wall behind him. Kim looks unimpressed, saying "Sure", while a burn mark on the wall is visible behind him. He also says: "Only one we haven't tried is clairvoyance."

The third panel returns to the first angle, with Harry on the ground, as Harry scratches his beard. The dialogue reads: Harry: "What's that one?" Kim: "It's the ability to see through a person's eyes (or a camera)"

The fourth panel shows Harry sitting up with an excited expression. The dialogue reads: Harry: "You can do that?! Kim we've got to try it!" Kim: "I don't know detective... It can reveal private thoughts."

The fifth panel changes to show Kim as he sits on the couch, over the shoulder of Harry. The dialogue reads: Harry: "You can try it on me! I tell you all my thoughts anyway." Kim: "Fine, fine. Just once, alright?" Harry: "Mhm!"

The sixth panel shows Kim using a psychic power on Harry, his appearance changing to show what Harry perceives him as. The only changes are that a Halo appears behind his head, he's in his usual plain-clothes work outfit, and he's smiling. The dialogue reads: Kim: "Khm. I'm not sure I'm doing it right." Harry: "Yeah?" Kim: "The only differences are that I'm smiling and wearing my jacket. I also have a hal-"

The seventh panel shows Kim dropping the clairvoyance and returning to his previous appearance. His glasses are completely white to hide his eyes and his ears are red. The dialogue reads: Kim: "I think that's enough for today." Harry: "Aw, okay."

The bonus panel shows the electrochemistry archetype looking up at Kim while he looks down at it with a curious expression. He then uses clairvoyance on it and looks surprised, but his appearance (as EC sees him) isn't shown.

/End ID]

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

A Favour from Ademara; in which Somnus forgets to act hostile to the dream druid who's stalking him and now he's in a devil's bargain that parallels his previous delusion about being the Chosen of the Lord of Storms (whoops)

Ademara's dialogue and design by my benevolent DM @iknikblackstonevarrick!!

IDs below (copied from alt text)

1: A comic page with five panels, showing Somnus in a dark room with the Cloak of Elvenkind rendering him partially invisible. He is a built South/East Asian man with shoulder-length brown hair. In the first panel, he swats at a dragonfly buzzing around his head. The text box reads: "Wish these things would leave me alone..."

In the next panel, his attention is still on the dragonfly, but a pair of hands reaches out of the dark, one of which is gripping a knife and positioning it in front of his throat.

In the next panel, his throat has been slashed, with the other mysterious hand holding his forehead in place. He is wide-eyed and slack-jawed as blood sprays all over the panel. The text box reads, "What?"

In the next panel, he has been stabbed again by a different hand, this time through the back of the throat. The hood has been dropped from his cloak and is losing the enchantment, while he reaches for his sword in its scabbard.

In the last panel, he has fallen to the floor, blood pooling under him and eyes rolling back in his head. The colour has begun draining from his face, and a dragonfly is resting on his cheek. The page around the panels gradients from white to black as he goes unconscious.

2: Continuing from the previous page, the first panel is a close-up of Somnus' eye, slightly bruised, half-closed and rolling back. A golden dragonfly rests on his cheek. The next panel is similar to the first, but the colouring of the scene has changed, his eye has widened in shock, and the blood and dragonfly are gone.

The eye panels are set on a background of a stormy sky, which becomes a full-page illustration of Somnus lying in a grassy field with Ademara sitting perpendicular to him. Ademara has her legs crossed and her chin resting in her hands, and is smiling at him. She is a skinny, pale woman with bright red hair and a perpetually dreamy expression.

3: A page with five panels, in which Somnus sits up and talks with Ademara. Somnus touches his neck, where there is no trace of the wound but his previous lightning scar is pale and prominent. Somnus: What happened? Ademara: You would know better than me. Somnus: I really wouldn't-- I didn't see anyone-? We were in there less than a second. I-- Send me back. Please. Bring me up?

When he makes the request, he leans in to Ademara pleadingly, catching her by surprise. Lightning strikes in the background of the final panel.

4: A page with seven panels. Ademara appears thrilled by Somnus' request, her eyes alert for the first time. She hooks a lock of his hair behind his ear and asks, "Can I count on you to do something for me?" He looks uncomfortable, watching her hand.

He turns away from her and says, "I won't hurt anyone," to which Ademara pouts and thinks, "You're no fun," only for him to continue, "...that I care about." She smiles, satisfied.

Taking the back of his head in her hand, she leans in closely to whisper in his ear, "I'll keep that in mind." An even bigger lightning strike throws them into shadow.

The final two panels cut back to the material plane, where Somnus is lying unconscious. Blood has continued pooling under him, but colour is returning to his cheeks and his black eye is gone. The lightning scar visible on his neck is glowing. In the final panel, he explodes into lightning, hair and eyes crackling bright white. The sound of thunder cracking is shown with the word, "KA-THOOM!"

5: Somnus as the Tempest, with his eyes and hair filled with white lightning and electricity crackling around his drawn sword. He is dripping with blood from his neck although the wound is closed, and the lightning scar glows through the blood. There is also blood on his sword, his cloak, and the rim of his shield. He is mid-motion, one foot lifted from the ground and glaring out towards the viewer. The backdrop is dark, and he is surrounded by swirling wind.

6: The same as the previous image, Somnus as the Tempest, with text making it into a comic book cover. The comic is titled "Somnus" and shows the issue number 27. The logo is "ISG" in a crescent moon, and the artist is "gender binary is for losers". The tagline reads, "Return of the Tempest!" and there is also a fake barcode.

[evegoldenwoods]

I couldn't resist making a very low effort comic based on my textpost about Cori's crush on brnine.

---

Transcript:

A two page comic of Cori as an adult. Both pages have the same art, which shows Cori at the sink in the middle of washing dishes. She has one gloved hand on her head and there are deep blush lines gesturing at her embarrassment. Behind her we can see a wall and a fridge with some magnets, including a Partizan Pizza magnet, a note that reads "buy milk" and a picture of her and her girlfriend kissing. Cori is saying "Nooooooooooooo" as three memories hover in bubbles over her head.

Memory 1: Cori clapping as the captain gives a speech.

Memory 2: Cori doodling over a report on Invisible Minotaur Sightings. She has doodles some hearts, some sparkles, and a fancy initial B.

Memory 3: Cori on the couch watching a movie. Brnine is next to her, and Phrygian is next to Brnine. The TV says "I can no longer conceal it". Cori is hugging a pillow and looking at Brnine out of the corner of her eyes. She's blushing as she says "D-don't you think this scene is romantic?". Brnine is not really paying attention to her, as they're talking to Phrygian. Phrygian is saying "He's being rude. Why doesn't she just leave?" and Brnine is replying "I dunno, Kesh shit."

Page two has the same art, but the memories have been replaced by a conversation between Cori and her off-screen girlfriend.

GF: You okay babe?

Cori: Not really. I'm having an emotional crisis.

GF: Oh no!

Cori: Have you ever realised that what you thought was a crush was actually displaced yearning for a parent who was there for you and you couldn't tell because you were raised in a cult and it doesn't matter anyway because you still acted like a lovestruck idiot?

GF: Ummm.... My friend's mom once told me not to call her ma'am so I replied "Should I call you Mommy instead?".

Cori: We should have let the stellar combustor explode.

[weirdmageddon]

long meditation on jade and dave's relationship - part 1

here's a three-part heavy homestuck meta. took me about 3 days to scrobble together and format and everything

part 2 part 3 cooking

i apologize in advance for the disorganization of my thoughts. after writing it i realized this is probably one of the clearest glances into how my mind thinks associatively so everything relates in some way to something else in here. the foundations for my thoughts might be invisible to others because they can’t see the connections ive built upon but you can probably see them here, and that strong foundation is also why i care so much about them and why i chose to lay it all out. sometimes i feel like i have Got to get this tangled associative web out of my head and into some form of writing so other people can be like, “oh so This is why you have so much to say” and can just. see into my head and where it all comes from for me. people have expressed interest and the general opinion tends to be that people like hearing my thoughts a lot so yeah. pov you are in my brainwebs. seatbelts everyone get on the magic school bus in that bitch

some time ago i saw this post i saw as i was going through florals jade tag again. my homestuck hyperfixation flared up again and ive been hyperfocused on dave and jade and particular just absolutely entering these monotropic black holes over them and turning them around at different angles and looking at discussions and what people thought both now and in the past and now that im older i can appreciate them even more. ive always been a fan of dave and jade both, but i cant even lie dave has my whole heart so maybe im biased as well. but i like to believe that regardless of my liking for dave and interest in not even x-ray scanning him just straight up 3D mri scanning him and rotating him in my head that my argument is still very reasonable. i just understand his psychology a lot

i want to preface this by saying i absolutely love floral and im so glad she’s on the hsbc team because i know she can do jade harley justice. one of the best jadesters fr. we all come into media analysis with different personal experiences and perspectives, and i understand this was from her perspective as someone who had run ins with dumb boys and relates a lot to jade which is why she can put so much love into her <3 i just found myself disagreeing with some of the arguments that she presented in that post just as a peer who also read the comic from my own perspective. keep in mind i also love jade to bits and want the best for her

so yea this isn’t a targeted post at all. it just got the juices flowing and inspired me to actually write my pre-existing thoughts down and i used it as a springboard for them

i think it ended up being pretty insightful overall especially because i was stoned as fuck writing it and ive come to realize being stoned amplifies and improves the output of my deeply inwardly associative thought processes tenfold. or maybe weed just changes how significant it feels. maybe a little of both

part 1: on using davesprite as a basis for interpreting jade's relationship with all daves

i love what hussie does with alternate versions of characters and. it’s one of the coolest things about homestuck’s characterization. like floral quoted:

… we see that Jack is a simple man, no matter what name he goes by. He is, if not much else (and he’s not), impatient and violent. We only got the briefest glimpse into these qualities when we were first introduced to him on Derse. But now we get to spend much more time with him, albeit in the form of a completely different character. This is another bit of sneaky utility provided by this intermission tangent. It serves as an arc to help indirectly characterize the villain of the early acts. Having multiple copies of a character operating in totally different circumstances turns out to be a great stealth characterization tactic, and it gets used much more aggressively later in the story. In fact, it proves to be inseparable from one of the story’s most essential themes. (Hussie’s Intermission commentary)

so i agree in principle and think the alt self thing is fucking brilliant

however, i disagree with the argument it’s supporting.

So, not the same character, but if switched, I would go out on a limb and say that Dave would experience all the same issues as Davesprite did, but without the “bird” part acting as an easy explanation. That doesn’t make Dave responsible but it does speak volumes to how their personalities respond to each other, insinuates that a relationship involving any Dave would end badly for Jade and that “Real” Dave indeed has Some Issues To Deal With.

i don't agree that dave and davesprite should be compared in this context. yes they are splinters of the same character and floral is right on the money in that canon deflecting the relationship failing on "bird issues" doesn't really explain anything meaningful, but i do not think its the case that all of jade’s relationships with dave are doomed to fail because of what we saw with jade and davesprite.

yes, if switched, dave strider would be practically identical to davesprite since they were the same exact person until a branch in the timeline

however, it's the unique things davesprite has been through that made him like this. davesprite has baggage that dave doesn't. a timeline where john was tricked into fighting his denizen early and died and jade couldn't get in on time and was presumably wiped out dinosaur style on earth. with alt future dave's year-worth of knowledge, gear, loot, and experience, he rescinded his player status and "realness" as a human person to be a game guide for his naive past self right before the timeline split in order for himself and his friends to continue existing.

that would mess anyone up mentally. it's no wonder he's jaded, no pun intended. he's depressed as shit and bitter and probably has trauma issues unrelated to his bro, though they do compound on it. yes they both experienced bro's abuse but i'm talking about the differences between alpha timeline dave and davesprite; right now im not going to talk about things that are the same about them prior to the timeline split because it applies to them both so it's redundant.

essentially what's setting them apart is their experiences playing sburb, their chronological age (alt future dave/davesprite had been making timeloops over a span of four months and he says that in total the time from his chronological perspective is close to a YEAR in sburb grinding shit out before he goes back), their relationship to their friends and how their friends see them and how they see themselves, their ontological natures as beings, what their purposes are.

davesprite had his ontological status as a person and purpose changed. he assumed he'd be the one playing and doing important main shit in the alpha timeline with all his friends but then it turns out that wasn't the case due to the events that went down in his timeline. and becoming a sprite solidly changed his degree of existence. davesprite's best friend john asking if he can talk to "the real dave" is when i think he realized just how fucked up his existence as a person has become despite him doing pretty much everything for everyone for nearly a YEAR before the alpha timeline was even able to get properly started. if davesprite didn’t exist, nobody would have (john needed to live to do ectobiology). davesprite knew this and weaponized it against john who john treated as a secondary, lesser dave. so of course he’s kind of an asshole. it’s like his efforts and sacrifices meant squat to the people he considered his best friends because they didn’t experience it. to john he just suddenly appeared from the future and became a sprite.

this is heavy shit for davesprite that alpha timeline dave does NOT have to go through and it did change him in ways that cannot be said about alpha timeline dave. this is not a universal dave experience. so while it’s true that dave has the capacity of act like davesprite under those exact circumstances, alpha timeline dave didn’t undergo those that led to davesprite’s more miserable traits. therefore i don’t think it’s fair to conflate jade’s failed relationship with davesprite in particular as informing of how most of jade and dave’s relationships would unfold, because davesprite has been in exceptionally tragic circumstances, coming to terms with the state of his own existence. the last thing davesprite needs is romance. alpha timeline dave does not carry this burden.

Everyone believed that what was creating the dissonance wasn’t a central part to Dave’s character but an aftereffect of Bird Syndrome. Which you can’t blame them for because there’s nothing that would lead them to think differently. Every character besides Dirk is completely in the dark about Bro’s abuse and Dave stated he’d probably never tell any of the Betas. Which is fine, no one’s owed to know somebody’s baggage. But when you don’t give people a means to understand what you’re going through, especially when it leads you to hurt them, its only inevitable everyone’s going to be confused and going to come to conclusions using what they do know.

rebuttal to this: as i said earlier i don’t buy the whole bird issues thing and i get the handwaviness about being fused with a bird being john’s explanation for davesprite’s bullshittery. however i think it’s important to mention that john and jade both question if becoming a sprite might have had something to do with his change.

being fused with a bird never bothered him, as jade says. it was all the other baggage that came with the prototyping.

this includes playing the game for way longer than anyone else and mindlessly grinding from the ground up for about a year, then turning himself into a game construct and having his ontological level of existence as the platonic ideal form of dave strider lowered in the eyes of his friends.

JOHN: like what? JADE: its hard to explain JADE: just some slight differences in personality i guess JOHN: he still raps sometimes. JADE: yes... JADE: so? JOHN: i just thought i would mention that. JADE: ok i will admit i cant really tell if his rapping style has changed JOHN: trust me, it hasn't. JADE: i dont know if the differences are because he is a sprite JADE: or because he lived for a while in a different timeline... (p.4733)

JOHN: why is he such a basket case? he's like regular dave, but like, aloof enigma edition. JOHN: maybe it's because he's part bird? i think becoming a bird and a sprite did something weird to him. JADE: i dont think being a bird ever bothered him JADE: like i said... its all more complicated than that JOHN: normal dave was so much more level headed. JOHN: i have to admit, i spend a lot of time wondering what he and rose are up to. JADE: me too JOHN: ehh... JOHN: maybe it's for the best he broke up with you. JADE: why? JOHN: well, what kind of future do you think you would have with him? JOHN: he's a sprite. like really, what even is a sprite? how long do they live? will he still be around if we win the new game we are allegedly trying to get to? JADE: i dont know (p.5294)

as for the bro abuse thing, i can’t tell if floral’s position here is that davesprite is fucked up and had a failed relationship with jade because of bro’s abuse, and that dave would also necessarily have failed relationships with jade because he had the same experiences and also doesn’t tell anybody? the wording there is kind of vague and can be interpreted in different ways but that’s how i interpreted it.

they are right that bro’s abuse is something dave keeps to himself. but remember that dave has also deluded himself about it to cope. he doesn’t know what to think of it himself. both alpha timeline dave and davesprite have this baggage, but we explore it more with alpha timeline dave.

i know dave said in the post-retcon timeline when having a conversation with dirk that he could never tell karkat all of this or any of the betas about his abuse. but i still find this pesterlog interesting and i want to put a spotlight on it. even while dave was still chugging that copium, jade was the person he was closest to opening up about the nature of his relationship to his bro at this point. remember this is quite early on in the comic and he didn’t have 3 years on the meteor to contemplate it yet when he said this to her, his bro had just died at this point

GG: anyway dave im really sorry about your bro/dad GG: you were pretty close with him right? TG: meh it was a pretty bizarre relationship by any standard TG: fightin off wave after wave of face pumicing puppet ass every day TG: always being on guard for stealth attacks in the middle of the night while getting up to go to the fucking bathroom GG: heheh TG: but i guess it all sorta amounted to some vague unspoken semblance of kinship TG: if thats a thing TG: like if honor among thieves is something then lets call it camaraderie among ironic rapping roof ninjas TG: but thanks GG: sure TG: i thought about taking his sword TG: when i was there TG: but i couldnt TG: couldnt really bring myself to try to pull it out it was too weird GG: dave we have to stop him!!!!! TG: what GG: jack! GG: he shouldnt get away with this TG: you think (p.3204)

even if he’s in denial about it, deciding to point out the positivity he can rationalize about it to avoid spending too much time thinking deeply about it (it makes him uncomfortable), he’s getting closer to acknowledging the truth here that shit wasn’t normal, about it being “bizarre” and you can tell hes being genuine here when he thanks jade for her concern about his loss

dave then continues talking about his thoughts/feelings on the situation after jade says “sure”, as if he took her concern as an invite to open up about his thoughts even when it’s something vulnerable for him that he tried putting on false bravado in front of terezi about. jade then abruptly changes topic to what’s to be practically done about these tragedies—dave was still on the topic of his bro and she changed the topic to jack noir without clarifying, hence he goes “what”

this is interesting because terezi tried to get something out of him about this and was met by riddly puzzlecock and false bravado but he’s pretty straight up about his current feelings with jade. basically it really depends on the person dave is talking to.

in this specific argument, floral approaches grimbark jade solely from the position of her being uninhibited which is true in many ways, but grimbark jade is also quite nefarious and not in her right mind. i think that even if jade were unihibited and spoke her mind, she wouldn’t have it in her push the mayor into lava to get dave to fight her. thats the evil. floral does acknowledge this in a separate post though, but it’s not really touched on in her argument im discussing. i also want to reiterate that even though it might seem like im violently ripping this post limb from limb its really just something to bounce my pre-existing thoughts off of. this is all written with civility towards and respect for floral

even roxy says something about this—that the schtick doesnt suit her. like it doesnt feel like something she’d have the natural capacity to really be without some external influence

ROXY: so alt grannydaughter english ROXY: whyre u part dog + evil lookin JADE: DO NOT CALL ME THAT!!! ROXY: what JADE: my surname is harley not english JADE: but you may refer to me as jade, or ma'am if you are feeling especially nervous and deferential JADE: which as it turns out is the way you should be feeling about me, ALWAYS >:B ROXY: LOL!!! JADE: lol WHAT ROXY: jade i am in no way buying that ur normally this pompous and tyrannical ROXY: the shtick rly doesnt suit you its so obvious (p.6291)

so i don’t think everything jade says here should be taken to heart about her real feelings or how she would express them if she was being genuine as her normal self. we know jade can get mad but i think we’re giving her evil possession a little too much credit

that’s why i was personally disappointed in grimbark jade when homestuck was ongoing, is it felt like it didnt really give us anything? it was like empty calories while just waiting for the regular jade to come back which she never did. it is interesting to look at in retrospect to see if there’s anything there but…grimbark jade isn't exactly a reliable narrator. i guess none of them are but like, especially not grimbark jade. if i can’t separate what’s genuinely jade under this mess from what isn’t then what’s the point?

like for example this was left out of floral’s argument when showing this part, but in the comic grimbark jade tells dave that he’s “more messed up inside than davesprite” …. right after dave wouldnt comply with her demands to fight her and doesnt want to fight lord english. that’s…not really telling about anything at all for either of them. jade is evil and if things dont go the way she’s programmed to get them to go she’s gonna flip her lid. this is what i mean about her not being in her right mind

JADE: the fact is youre going to have to rely on those powers if you want to stand any chance against a lord of time JADE: it is safe to expect he can only be challenged by someone with a similar command over the aspect DAVE: why is that safe to expect DAVE: where are all these presumptions coming from DAVE: if you can use swords why dont you take the welsh cueball sword and fight him yourself DAVE: i bet you could fuck him up DAVE: youre probably even more extra strong now that youve succumbed to the bark side DAVE: did you ever think about that JADE: dave i am perfectly aware of the awesome powers granted to me by the bark side JADE: it does not matter JADE: i cant be the one to wield your sword against english JADE: it has to be you JADE: it is the will of the empress, and thats final DAVE: the empress can suck it DAVE: i have no intention of fighting him DAVE: and this isnt even me pulling more lame self aware reluctant hero junk DAVE: i am just straight up not going to do it DAVE: see thats not reluctance its just petulant refusal on my part DAVE: reluctant hero shit is when the guys like aw shucks i dunno if i wanna but deep down we all know he really does DAVE: but i really dont DAVE: why should i DAVE: i dont give a damn about lord english or his nebulous atrocities out in nowherespace DAVE: what kind of villain is someone you never met who hardly did anything evil to you or your friends directly DAVE: or even to anyone in your universe for that matter other than through some vague insidious influence DAVE: who even is this guy and why should i hate him DAVE: am i really supposed to be pissed off at a green muscle monster i never met DAVE: cause i aint pissed off at no muscle monster DAVE: hell wasnt he in some ass backwards way responsible for us existing in the first place? DAVE: or all of humanity for that matter?? DAVE: maybe i should thank him before chopping him up via welshscalibur JADE: jeez you sure have some issues JADE: honestly it has become very tiresome listening to this sort of thing JADE: i thought davesprite had problems JADE: his issues i could kind of understand JADE: i thought you might be different, being the alpha dave and all JADE: but no JADE: you might be even more messed up inside than he was! DAVE: what DAVE: why are you dragging that guy into this (p.6385 / 6386)

part 2

[canmom]

do you think music is more prone to like, subculture-identification than other media? like genres of music tend to be very strongly associated with fashions, demographics, specific ways of living right?

the phenomenon is also kinda there in other media - being into e.g. anime or 'arthouse' films or superhero comics carries a certain amount of signification with it for example - but music seems to take it to a much greater level. taste in music is supposed to say a lot about a person, and it's a matter for severe judgement in a way that seems to go a lot further than even, say, the disdain people have for shounen or marvel fans. or is that just my imagination from not having managed to learn the codes in the same way yet?

for a long time i took a pretty defensive/cowardly posture over this, if someone asked what i was into i'd answer vaguely or say i mostly listen to game soundtracks or something. i am trying to kill the invisible music cop in my head and learn the vocabulary now to give a better answer so i can find more music to listen to. so far that is leaving me with way too granular a model, like it's hard to go from like minor keys or suspended chords to like, oh, i should search for this genre on soulseek lmao

i think the general solution to cringe when you're autistic (and in general) is mainly to have a strong enough sense of yourself that you don't care what people think of you, and then just be really passionate over some niche thing so that people will be like "i don't get it but i'm glad she's happy or whatever". nobody actually cares as much as they act like they do. if they like you then they might even change their opinion about your fave thing. but if you don't really feel like you know the territory it's hard to project that confidence because nobody wants to unwittingly be like 'hey i like this genre that signifies being a french racist' or some shit

[beesmygod]

Referring to your additional last post where I believe you are saying that exhausting yourself with tricky social media is not worth the effort as you will be in the same spot you "began" - I would like to know if you feel satisfied with the balance of your output and the response. I always told myself that if I ever make anything that supposedly would interest some people I have yet to meet that I would be satisfied and would be able to do it for just the joy of friends. But I have befallen ill to the call of clout, the lack of numbers having deemed my art worthless and I know many artists quit due to it. I have friends/associates who keep their heads up until in a bad moment they break and lament that they are not where others (popular artists with big clout and opportunity) are. Did you manage to free yourself from that? Or are you supressing it and turn out stronger than most? Because from the looks of everything you are exceptionally strong. I hope your relationship with your art and comic will be met with the same strength. (Apologies for going on Anon - I do not know how to communicate with people nowadays)

no need to apologize for any of this, ever. honestly, it's a difficult to breach subject and a prods at raw nerve that every artist has to tend to at LEAST once at some point. and i think you would have to be superhuman not to feel this complex mixture of contradictory emotions and grapple with it frequently. you want to be seen and heard because that's what art is. why deny the truth: artists crave a sympathetic audience!

remember that you're a human person. you're complex and contradictory by nature; you contain multitudes. you can want multiple things at the same time. it's not a crime to yearn or to express frustration with feeling invisible or underappreciated. i just did this for a week straight lol. i think part of an artistic career is having to face some of this head-on and interrogate yourself. feel the bad feelings. get rejected over and over. it is a career comprised of constant rejection for nearly everyone. and it's extremely hard to put on a happy face and jump back in day after day.

and look, sometimes you lose the battle with yourself for your soul. give yourself the grace when you realize you have. try and learn from it. or don't. it dont mattah. none a dis mattahs

when it comes to numbers, you have to ask yourself: what number will make you happy? when will it be enough to satisfy you? this sounds really confrontational lol but imagine im asking these like "where do you see yourself in the next 10 years?". it's worth interrogating. you do not want to fall into the pit of trying to fill a hole with numbers.

i am absolutely not free of it. not even close. i am shocked to hear that i appear strong given how i feel and behave on any given day. its just a combination of avoidance, suppression, and keeping expectations low. the mantra is: you cannot be rejected if you don't apply, emotional outbursts are like blood in the water to people who dislike you, and expect to be ignored; if you aren't then it's a pleasant surprise.

[miyuhpapayuh]

three.

Zora and Nique sit on her L-shaped sofa, while she fills her friend in on what's been going down.

“You told him where you work??”

“He saw the logo on my jacket, girl.”

“And you ain't cover it??”

“Damn, is he a murderer??”

“That's how you treat ‘em!”

“Yeah, well…”

“Well…?”

“He's different.”

“Wow, you ate them words up!”

Zora rolls her eyes, holding her hands up.

“Yeah, you were right. He's real cool people.”

“Wow, I was right!” Nique claps.

“Aight, don't gloat yourself outta my apartment.” She points, right as her phone begins to ring.

It was Leon.

“Ooo put it on speaker!”

“No? You don't know how to act.”

“Oh come on, I just wanna know what he sounds like!”

“A man. He sounds like a man.”

“Zora, spare the drama and answer the phone.”

Sighing, she answers the call and reluctantly places it on speaker, greeting him.

“Hey Leon,” an effortless smile makes Nique squeal behind her hand.

“Hey Zora. How ya doin’?” His buttery, deep voice comes through.

“Ooo, it's so deep!” She whispers, but it's more of a yell.

“I know!” Zora responds in the same fashion, before answering him.

“I'm good. How was your day?”

“Eh, no broken glass stories today, so I guess that's something, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, “that's something.”

“I'm stalling, but I wanted to ask if you'd like to come with me to one of my favorite spots. It's a food joint, called What The Fries?™.”

The gasp she lets out enthuses him, same with Nique.

“Sorry, I just always wanted to check it out. I've never seen fries be created in so many ways! I'd love to go with you.”

He smiles bright like she can see him.

“Yeah? Well I'm glad I get to be the one to take you there. And it's better than you're expecting, I promise. How's about this Saturday? Are you working?”

“Uh,” she ponders for a minute, “no I'm actually off, so that's perfect. What time were you thinking?”

“Hm, maybe around three? Sounds good?”

“Sounds good.” She repeats.

“Great, I'll send you the address.”

“Okay,” she says, “can't wait to indulge and talk without an extra set of eyes on us.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I know right. He been keepin’ his distance?”

She takes the phone off speaker and continues talking, making Nique roll her eyes.

“He has! I'm shocked, actually.”

“Well good. His job description ain't said nothing about him harassing you, so it should always be a good ten feet–”

“Mm-mm,” she cuts him off, “twenty-five feet. His ass needs to be damn near invisible.”

He laughs, agreeing with her. “Yeah, he does seem like the hardheaded type.”

“He was pressed as hell once you left. It was really comical.”

“What he say?”

“Asking all these questions about who you were and why you mean mugged his dumb ass, as if he ain't already know.” She snickers.

“You tell him?”

“Nah, I like watching him squirm. Ain't no satisfaction in telling the enemy his just desserts is comin’. Gotta watch it play out if he feelin’ froggy.”

“Tell him to leap, cause I stay ready.”

She was giggling way too much for her own liking, but damn he was hilarious. She knew he was serious, too.

“He don't heed warnings, neither. So y'all might be squabblin’ for real.” She says, looking over at Nique, who's got a huge smile on her face.

“But, anyway. I gotta go. I kinda abandoned my friend to talk to you.” She jokes, earning a shove from her.

“Ah, tell friend I said wassup!”

“He said wassup, friend.” She repeats, looking back in her direction.

She clears her throat and shouts out a hey boyfriend, earning a shove of her own.

“I like her,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I'm sure you do.”

“Well, I'll let y'all get back to it. I look forward to Saturday, ma'am.”

“So do I, dear. You have a good evening.”

“You too.”

After hanging up, she didn't even turn her head good before Nique started.

“Do you hear church bells?! Cause I do!” She snickers.

“Man, come on. We just met like three days ago.”

“And? I ain't seen a smile that big since what's-his-name.”

“Mm. Don't bring that bitch up.”

“Hey, I offered to get the cops called on ‘em, he got warrants and he looks terrible in orange. That's a hit I'm ready to put out, but you won't let me.” She shrugs, making Zora laugh.

“Cause he ain't worth it. He’ll get caught up on his own time. Now, onto more important matters.”

“Yeah, like you got a bodyguard now. Someone scared freckle-face’s dumb ass??”

“I know, I was shocked too! But Leon's got this intimidating stature, especially if you're a scrawn-no-brawn like Cory.”

“How mean was that mug, chile?”

“Vicious,” she snorts. “You'd think Cory crossed his ass in a past life or something. It wasn't friendly at all.”

“That boy better keep it cute,” Nique shakes her head. “Cause I'd hate to attend his funeral.”

“Dramatic as hell. He not gon die— not at the hands of Leon, that is. I can't save him from nobody else.”

“Hell, I kinda wanna see ‘em fight now!”

“Me too!” She laughs.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Saturday rolled around quicker than Zora anticipated, and she was kinda relieved that he'd planned such a low key first date.

The sun was back, high in the sky, giving her motivation to pull the three day old bun from her head and pick her curls out. She was very grateful that the hair goddesses were on her side.

Mid-seventies weather called for a sundress and she picked the bright orange one from the stack, feeling like an extra spice would do her day some good.

Framing her chestnut curls around her face, she added her new tiger eye bracelet to the nameplate necklace and studs that are always on her person.

Sliding her feet into her wedged sandals, she grabbed her keys and headed to the long awaited spot, where Leon was happily waiting on her.

As if her scent got there before she did, he'd looked up the moment she walked up the sidewalk to the outdoor seating, where he was perched on a bench.

“Hey Zora, you look beautiful.” He greets her with a hug, both of them holding on a little longer.

“Thank you, Leon. You clean up nice.” She responds once they let go and she can take in his fit; a crisp white tee, light wash jeans and seafoam air jordan’s.

He looked good.

He smiles, thanking her before holding the door for her as they head into the white, brick building and order their food.

“I'm paying, so don't try and give me the runaround.” He half jokes, and she just looks up at him and sighs.

“Fine, fine.”

It didn't take her long to figure out what she wanted to indulge in, once she saw bacon, cheese and fries in the same sentence.

Leon was in the mood for a burger and loaded fries, same as hers.

Grabbing their food and heading back outside, the pair get comfy on the bench he was sitting on when she first arrived, sitting a few inches apart.

“Try it,” he nudges, while she stares at it, trying to find a place to attack it.

“I gotta find the right forkful, hol’on,” she chuckles, sticking her fork into the left side where there's a hunk of bacon and cheese.

Taking a bite, she sighs while chewing. He watches with an amused smirk.

“Does that mean you like it?” He asks, biting into his own burger.

“Yeah, it's really good,” she goes back in for a couple more bites, washing it down with her soda.

“How's your burger?” She asks, looking over at him.

“It's delicious. Second time I've had it, it hasn't disappointed me.”

“Good. Now, let's get into the warehouse job you got. Is it like Amazon?”

“Honestly? My granddad got me the job, to keep me outta trouble, but yes it's like Amazon. Smaller scale."

“Mmm, so you are trouble?” She smirks, amused at his laugh.

“I used to be a hothead, I guess you can say. But once you hit thirty, you look around and don't see the people you used to run with no more or they're bad off because the bullshit we used to get into done caught up with ‘em, and I didn't want that to be me. I try and live the straight and narrow life these days.” He explains.

She nods.

“Well, turning over a new leaf is always a good thing. I'm proud of you, even though we've only known each other for about a week.” She smiles.

“Has it been a good week?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she nods, “it has.”

“I love to hear that.”

“I love to say it. You know how many times I've tried to connect with these mamas’ lil dusty sons and they're all simple, slow and stupid? Too many.” She says with the straightest face, making him contemplate on holding his laugh in or not.

“You can laugh, but I'm serious,” she says, not even getting the sentence out as they both cave, wiping tears away as they come back to the point.

“I'm sorry, mama. That was too funny.” He sighs, and the nickname he'd just donned her with doesn't escape her.

“I-I'm serious, it's real bad out here, so don't make me take my words back and fight you.” She points her finger at him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he flashes a smile. “I promise. I've never stepped out on anybody that ever gave me the time of day.”

“Mhm,”

“You don't believe me? You can personally ask all both of ‘em.”

“All– Leon, you've only had two girlfriends?” She questions, squinting at him as she takes another bite of her fries.

“What I gotta lie for?” He asks with another chuckle.

“I'm sorry, and don't take this the wrong way but… you are too fine to have only gone steady with two women.”

“While I'm flattered, I'm serious. My first girlfriend, Tia. We were in kindergarten, and while you don't think that's serious, we went steady all the way til seventh grade.”

“Really??”

“Yeah, we'd been neighbors since diapers or whatever, and our parents always said we'd either be enemies or friends, and we doubled it on the good side!” He laughs.

“Aw, that's the cutest thing I've ever heard. Seven years.”

“Yeah, you don't think about it when you're a kid, but yeah we were about thirteen or so, shared our actual first kiss and then things got all weird. Puberty was and still is the blame and we've actually agreed on this.”

“Was it an ugly breakup?”

“As ugly as it could be at that age, I suppose. She crossed the fence like usual, but she didn't look happy. In fact, I remember her crying and I didn't understand it then, but I totally got it years later. She felt like we couldn't be in a relationship and be friends like we were, and of course cause we didn't even know how to balance our own feelings, at the time. But I was angry. Accusatory, knowing I couldn't blame her for feeling the way she did, and we didn't talk for a long while.”

“Wow,” she says, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, I apologized, of course.” He laughs, making her do the same. “And she forgave me, and I was able to forgive myself. We're not as close as we used to be, but anytime she needs ol Leon to be a friend, I'm here.”

“Aw, how sweet of you.”

“Yeah, I do what I can, ya know?”

“Mhm. So what you do to the other one?”

“Oh, I'm sure you don't wanna hear about that.” He shakes his head.

“See, it's something you're afraid of sharing with me already?”

“Nah, it's just a little less cinematic.”

“So? If you're telling it, it's gonna be animated anyhow.”

“Cheap shots just keep getting cheaper,” he singsongs.

“Tell the story, Leon,” she mocks in the same fashion.

“Alright, fine. Sophomore year of high school to a little after our college graduation. Candy. Yes, that's her actual name. She was the wild girl to my wild boy. Anything you think we got into, we did it twice.” He shakes his own head.

“Tagged a building?” She asks.

“Try the whole neighborhood.” He scoffs. Her mouth drops.

“Y'all cut curfew and snuck in each other's dorms, didn't you?”

“We got caught so many times.” He answers, shaking his head at himself, again.

“Lord have mercy, I'm not gon guess no more.”

“Good, cause the answer might’ve been the same.” He laughs.

“Okay, alright. So what happen? She find another wild boy?”

“She found many other wild boys and left my ass in the dust, yes she did.”

“Damn, that's so harsh.”

“Can you imagine one of 'em being your friend?” He adds, making her mouth drop open again.

“What?!”

“Yeah, I definitely beat his ass.” He nods.

“That was my follow up question! I'm glad you did, cause what the hell? How'd you–”, she recollects and lowers her heightening tone, “how did you find out?”

“A little after graduation, she was supposed to be going to get her nails done with her girls for the party that night. But instead, she'd buttdialed me while they were making out. She told him that she was gonna dump me and they were gonna move in together and whatever the hell else.”

“I know you not supposed to lay a finger on her, but did you flick her ass in the nose at least?” She asks, reminding him of his fiery ass aunt.

“Nah, I got sisters to handle that. But even then, she wasn't worth it. Her stuff was definitely waiting for her on the curb and I went on my way.”

“Wow, I'm sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugs. “It's not the worst thing that's happened.”

“Yeah, I understand that. We've all got our woes.”

He nods, and they take a few minutes to continue eating. Enjoying the sun as it gets to its most golden point, shining down on their kissed skin.

“I get to hear about your woes?” He asks.

“Eh, they end up just like Candy. Their shit on the curb,” she clears her throat, “maybe a tire or three slashed.”

He gasps. “What??”

“You only get in trouble if you slash all four. If you're gonna do it, do it correctly.” She quips.

“Touché.”

“Plus, he deserved it. He slept with the bitch that tried to break into my car.”

“That pretty little bug over there?” He points just down the way.

“Yeah, she's been thuggin’ it out with me for a while now.” She gives a fond smile.

“Did you beat her ass?”

“And his, too.” She says with a roll of her neck, causing another gleaming smile and hearty laugh to come her way.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Stepping out of her wedges, she cracks her toes on her plush rug and sighs. The stereo is currently playing one of her old mixes off a burned cd. Her phone starts ringing, sending her back towards her bed to retrieve it.

“Hey ma,” she sings.

“Hey, my baby. How was your day?”

“It was actually really good,” she nods, placing her phone on speaker and she shifts through her t-shirts.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Ugh, Pamela, don't be so nosy.” She snorts, knowing her mother would jerk her collar if she were near.

“Zora-Jean.”

“You and Nique, and that damn Zora-Jean! Please!” She laughs again, pulling the dark green, ninja turtles tee from the pile.

It's country, I know. But I love it. What else was your middle name supposed to be?” Pam questions.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I'll relax. Just a little. Ooh, I wasn't supposed to tell on her, but she's been riding me all day bout shit— Nique first-named you on the phone the other night.”

“No she didn't!” She hollers.

“Yes she did!” Zora hollers back.

“Lord have mercy, Ima have to kick her where the sun don't shine.” She says, making Zora fall out in laughter.

“You so crazy, girl,” her mother remarks, as she comes back to. “But, why was your day so good? Yeah I'm being nosy, cause you usually always telling me about Cody… Cody?”

“Cory.”

“Yeah, him. Or some patron and their rude asses. So wassup? You find you some new flowers? Ooh, did you see the ones I shared with you?”

“Yes ma, I saw them. I liked the red bunch, that was really pretty, but no I already have my bunch for the next two weeks.”

“Okay so…”

“I met a man.” She smiles.

“Oh, you met a man.” She draws out.

“Yeah, a man.”

“Alright, what's different about this one?”

“He's an open book. First time I've seen, wrapped in mahogany brown skin. He's so fine, mama.”

“Ah, he knows how to communicate? Don't applaud a fish for swimmin’, Jean.”

Zora sucks her teeth, plopping down on the bed.

“You asked what was different, that's different. Jesus ma, relax.”

“You and this relax,”

“Try it, sometime. I think he's cool. He's a goof. Real tall and lanky, but muscular where it counts, like a voluptuous woman loves, apparently. That's what I seem to keep attracting, so… maybe this time it could be different. Can we leave some room for some hope? That's a lot for me too, but i'm doing it.”

Pamela sighs, taking in her youngest daughter's words.

“I hear you, baby. There's always room for hope.”

Ch 4

@sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ghostfacekill-monger @harmshake @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @twistedcharismaaa @soufcakmistress

[luciano-nightstar]

Sharing some of my unfinished Nimona aus because... well... I just thought of sharing it, Part 2.2

This the second part of my last post about the tale of the Blackheart angel

(I don't actually know the whole storyline of the comic version. I've seen a few pictures, but not really enough to say I've read it)

After Ambrosius was taken in by the institute, he met Ballister, a teacher who trains the students at the institute to become knights. - (You might think that this is some kind inappropriate adult x teenager relationship kind of shit. But I swear in the judgement of the ✨oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale✨ that it's NOT what the backstory is about, okay? Ballister only fell in love with Ambrosius AFTER the event of Nimona)

Ballister would be there to help Ambrosius with his studies and defend him from the other trainees when they bullied him.

Ambrosius first idolize and looked up to Ballister because if his skill and teaching as a knight and because he defended him from the bullies. But in the later years he secretly fell in love with him (like he always would).

During the jousting competition, Ambrosius has to win a joust against his teacher in order to be proven that he can become a knight. Of course Ballister wins the joust, Ambrosius hated loosing and shot Ballister's arm off. - (I am again debating if Ballister should actually loose his arm or have angelic regeneration...)

Skip to Nimona and Ballister's argument. When Nimona scratches the back of the couch and starts to turn a bit monstrous, instead of grabbing the sword, Ballister turns into his fallen form as an act of defense again Nim.

Skip again to the battle. Ballister tries to calm the the monster form of Nimona, but in the end he was forced to defend himself (and the kingdom) by turning into fallen form and defeated the monster with his demonic side (or powers). (So that means that Meredith's device is not broken, ✨yay✨)

Skip to the hospital scene. Ballister did not have a broken left arm because of ✨angelic regeneration✨. Speaking of regeneration, he secretly made Ambrosius's healing progress faster while he was in the coma.

✨ Design Ideas ✨

This is my original idea for his design

Five eyes (Two version if it because I thought it looks cool in my head and I couldn't choose which one) -Version 1: two above his normal eyes and the third vertically on his forehead. -Version 2: two below his normal eyes and the third on his forehead.

Black horns curving backwards with a red vein-like design, two gold halos with eyes criss-cross covering his normal eyes.

Six "burned" wings; The feather color/design is from black on the top, to a mix color of black and gold on the middle, then fading to light gold on the bottom. (why do I have an addiction to adding gold? ;-;)

A long black tail, a red crystal with black vein coming out of it on the center of his back, and black marking on his arms and legs.

Yeah the design is the same as the Golden Guardian but in a fallen form.

Some headcannons

(Some are reused from the Golden Guardian au. Also, same thing, your guess on which one is cannon on my au)

Ballister can hide his wings, halos, horns, tail, and his many eyes.

He can make himself invisible to humans and other creatures. Another fact about his invisibility is that he can make himself visible to whoever he chooses.

Another idea on how Ballister escape other than using his invisibility. There were times when Ballister would have had no chance to escape, and when the guards finally caught up to him, they would see that he was no longer there. I had this idea where Ballister can turn into a shadow and hide within shadows of other objects or just easily escape.

Since I heard that Nimona can see the dead, I thought of this idea that even if Ballister is in his human form to others, he's always in his fallen form in her eyes.

There was a once time during training years when Ambrosius accidentally finds Ballister in his fallen form. But since he only witnessed it once and has a bad memory, so he has already forgotten about it.

Speaking of bad memory. When Ballister is alone and/or comfortable, he would temporarily reveal his fallen form (but only inside the house), and Ambrosius would freak out it. (Cue brosius screaming for the second, maybe third, time of the month after seeing Bal in his fallen form)

I thought it would be wholesome that Ballister would carry Ambrosius and fly with him on a peaceful and quiet night. Sometime Amb would enjoy the ride, sometimes he would be frighten from how high they are and would hold on tight to Ballister.

A few moments when Ballister would secretly use his powers when fighting alone with Ambrosius. But he mostly is against using his powers in battle because "it wouldn't be a fair fight."

In rare moments, Ballister would use his wings to hold brosius close.

Ballister normally has his horns out, but only inside the house. Because Zee likes to look at it, touch it, and even sometimes try to decorate them with gold accessories. Blackheart's tail is actually sensitive to he rarely let's Amb touch it.

There were a few conversations of Nimona trying to convince Ballister to start a cult because of the whole fallen angel thing.

Meredith found out when Ballister was stretching his body and (unconsciously) stretched his wings too. This is my thought on what her honest reaction was. "Oh, cool" *continues to do whatever she was doing*

This is very long, but not as long as the golden guardian version. Anyways, I also tried to color the names and used as many nicknames as I know because I thought it would look cool. Also, sorry it took long, I lost motivation and my au notes.

Peace out~ *locks myself back in my room*