#the next 9 months???

[wethecelestial]

"good news! it's not covid, just formaldehyde" and other sexy texts you may receive from the medical students in ur life

[goodstuffexe]

"Yeah I just look at it sometimes."

- Gem, the manic elf dream girl in her head dungeon everyone

[that-g3-artist]

Fairy boys

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Buy me a coffee?

[rubiisun]

KND ART DUMP!!

[saiyan-druid-art]

Arthur & Charles from my fic Arthur Morgan's Journal ✍️

[fallowfrog]

aww yeah jojo time

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[sopheadraws]

First round of "sketch" requests 🚀✨

Closeups below the cut.

I digitally removed some pencil indents and smudging on the closeups, but they're otherwise the same as the full page.

@connormurphysreanimatedcorpse @starmaniswaitinginthesky and @acrowbyanyothername <3

[age-of-moonknight]

“Tigra,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #2.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[dent-de-leon]

Do…do you think there’s a chance we’ll get another animated mighty nein teaser by the end of the year—

[runawaycatwalker]

Part 24. Misaligned Approaches (Oni-Chan 2.0, part A)

< First | < Previous | Next >

Bonus: The bread lesson Rolland teaches Adrien immediately before this page takes place that I had to cut to save space.

Description below the cut

Alya sits on Marinette’s chaise lounge looking at her phone.  Marinette looks upwards, clenching her fists in vindication.

Alya: Preliminary results about Catwalker are in.  Verdict: Pretty skeevy.

Marinette: I knew it!  Tell me everything!

Alya scrolls through the messages on her phone.

Alya: My informant doesn't have any concrete evidence yet and most of this is just vibes, but...

Alya: Catwalker did specifically mention you by name.

Marinette: What??

Alya: When confronting my informant, Catwalker got defensive and asked if 'someone Marinette knows' sent them.

Marinette places her hand on Alya’s shoulder, looking shaken.  Alya looks up at her with a look of uneasiness.

Marinette: Does that mean he knows you're Rena?

Alya: Or he might be on the verge of discovering your identity.  Either way, I'm certainly not comfortable working alongside him anymore.

From behind, we see Marinette hold a hand up to the sky and clench her other hand in a fist in resolution.

Marinette: Because of Mayura we can't just fire him, but we can contain him.  We'll rely on the rest of the team for all battles and restrict his interactions with everyone.  If he steps out of line, all bets are off and we treat him like he's another akuma.  And we keep investigating.  I just know that he's up to something terrible right now and we've got to put a stop to it!

Rolland shuts a book between his hands entitled Pain.  Adrien holds up a hand and offers a wishful grin.  Behind them is the cabinet of things in Rolland’s living room, including the Lost flyer of Adrien, which is draped over a box.

Rolland: So: Shall we bake?

Adrien: I sure wouldn't mind if you showed me how to make baguettes...

Rolland: Bahaha!  Baguettes!  You are in no way ready to bake baguettes!  No, we start with something far more traditional: the boule!

Rolland holds up a finger.

Rolland: But first: you must wash your hands.

Adrien: Of course!

Rolland: And take off that ring.

Adrien: Wh—what's wrong with my ring?

Rolland grab’s Adrien’s hand and points at the indentations in his ring.

Rolland: Just look at it!  Flour is going to collect in all of those crevices!  It is much simpler to just take off your ring while baking.

Adrien looks at his miraculous in thought.  Behind him is the sink with the handle of a knife poking out of it.

Adrien (internally): I shouldn't take any chances of being caught without wearing my miraculous.  But maybe if I don't stop wearing it...?

Adrien kneels on the ground and uses a knife to cut through the front rubber part of his shoe.

Rolland: What are you doing?

Adrien: Making a hole in my shoe! If I can't wear my ring on my finger... I can still have easy access by slipping it on my toe instead!

Adrien turns his knife aside and uses his other hand to slip his miraculous through the new hole in his shoe.  Rolland’s hand reaches down from above dangerously close to the knife.

Rolland: You are using one of my knives to cut through rubber?!

Adrien: I'll clean it after I'm done, don't worry.

Rolland: That is not the point!

The knife’s edge cuts the back of Rolland’s hand.

Rolland: Give that b—Aaack!

Adrien touches his hands to the bottom of his face.  One hand is still holding the knife, which now has a small spot of blood near the tip.

Adrien: I'm so sorry!  I didn't mean to—!  Please don't fire me!

Rolland: Oh, hush.  It's barely a scratch!

Adrien: I'll get the first aid kit!  Where's the first aid kit?  Do you have a first aid kit?

Rolland: I'll handle that without you.

Rolland waves his hand grumpily.

Rolland: You just worry about washing up my knife!  Without cutting anything that is not food this time!

Adrien: Y-yes, sir!

Rolland slams the doors between the kitchen and living room shut, so that Adrien is alone in the kitchen and Rolland is alone with his collectibles.

Rolland (internally): Don't lose your temper, Rolland.  Baldy's still a child.  He's probably never been in a kitchen before.  Whoever raised him had no idea how it's done.  Teaching him that is your job now.

Rolland digs through the box on his cabinet, one hand picking up the Lost flyer to move it out of the way.  As he does so, Oni-Chan teleports behind him with her sword pointed over his shoulder.

Rolland (internally): Now where did I put those banda—?

Oni-Chan: Where are you keeping Adrien Agreste?

Oni-Chan grabs Rolland’s shirt and holds her sword above his head threateningly.  Rolland is still holding onto the flyer and looks panicked.

Rolland: Aahhh!

Oni-Chan: Tell me where Adrien is before I strike you right where you stand!

Rolland: You mean the missing angel boy?  I don't know!  What does a Chinese monster want with him?

Oni-Chan swings her sword.

Oni-Chan: I'm not a monster!

Rolland has now become frozen in place, covered in splotches of white, red, and black.  Oni-Chan stands behind him, looking back over her shoulder.

Oni-Chan: If anyone else stands in my way, they're getting petrified too.  And for the record, I'm Japanese.

Oni-Chan kicks down the doors into the kitchen.  No one is there, only a slight movement of the window drapes in the background.

Oni-Chan: Hi-yaaah!  Shadowmoth!  He's not here!

Shadowmoth (over akuma connection): The old man must have seen Adrien somewhere.

Oni-Chan: The only sign of Adrien anywhere is on the flyer that man was looking at!  Wait...

Oni-Chan, a butterfly light mask in front of her face showing her communication with Shadowmoth, grabs the Lost flyer and slices through Adrien’s face with her sword.

Oni-Chan: I was promised the ability to track the last person who saw Adrien, but these powers sent me to someone who was just looking at an Adrien picture!

Oni-Chan throws up her hand in frustration.  There is also a closeup of Shadowmoth (also with the butterfly light mask) from his lair, holding out a hand negotiatingly.

Oni-Chan: Do you have any idea how many people are looking at pictures of Adrien?

Shadowmoth: Millions every day.  ...I presume.

Oni-Chan: I will not sift through millions of people merely because you gave me unusable powers!

Shadowmoth: Would you rather I take your powers away and leave you without any leads at all?

Oni-Chan: No!  No, I'll keep my akuma.  But I'm not going to try to get Ladybug and Catwalker's miraculouses for you until after I find Adrien.  You want me to help you?  You help me first.

Shadowmoth: I could create a sentimonster to destroy all instances of Adrien's image until you find the real one.

Oni-Chan: Then do that!

Shadowmoth: I'll need time to prepare the amok.

Oni-Chan starts to teleport away, her expression resolute.

Oni-Chan: Well, I'm not wasting my time waiting.  Have your sentimonster summon me when it's ready.

Cut to Adrien and Plagg outside Rolland’s residence, watching as the light of Oni-Chan’s teleport flashes through the window curtains.  Adrien still has the knife and replaces his miraculous back on his ring finger.

Adrien: Do you think Oni-Chan really came here because Rolland saw me on Marinette's flyer?

Plagg: Probably not.  Akuma powers usually work however the akuma expects them to and Rolland was the last person to see you.

Adrien: But her expectations just changed.  So maybe people seeing pictures of Adrien will be tracked by her powers now?

Plagg: Even if you do turn out to be that lucky, you're still better off being Catwalker instead of Adrien.

Adrien: Right.  Plagg, claws out!

--

Bonus Scene:

Rolland holds up a hand invitingly.

Rolland: Baldy, you have returned from your morning walk!  Now we can begin your lessons in flour!

Adrien: Yeah, okay.

Rolland: What do you mean 'okay'?  I thought you wanted to be my apprentice?

Adrien pulls off his beanie, looking discouraged.

Adrien: Sorry, I just saw a friend and he... Never mind.  It's nothing.

Rolland: Nothing?

Adrien: Bread is the most important thing, right?  Teach me everything I need to know.  I'm... ready.

Rolland: You are not quite ready yet.  First...

Cut to Adrien taking a bite of bread, happily going ‘nom! nom! nom!’.

Rolland: ...You must eat!

Adrien: Ooh!

Rolland: It's from yesterday, but it is better than nothing!  We French know the value of bread, for we remember the days when we did not have it!

Rolland holds up the book Pain : pour les enfants! and reads to Adrien as he finishes his bread.

Rolland: This is today's lesson: how wheat shortage caused the Revolution!  Wheat gives us flour, flour gives us bread, and bread is life!  And when the wheat harvests failed, we survived by eating whatever awful bread from bran we could afford—if we could even afford that!

Rolland points to a picture of Marie Antoinette holding a purple rose in the book, which has the caption “Qu'ils mangent de la brioche”.

Rolland: But who wasn't starving?  The nobility!  They still ate fancy Viennese breads made with refined white flour!  And while France suffered, Marie Antoinette had the gall to tell us ‘Let them eat cake!’

Adrien holds up a correcting finger.

Adrien: Isn't that quote apocryphal?

Rolland: What?

Adrien: No one ever verified that it was Marie Antoinette who said that.  And even if she did, she would have been just a kid at the time.

Rolland: Bah!  That’s not important!

Rolland holds up the book in front of his face.  On one page, a pie chart with 75% blé (wheat) and 25% seigle (rye).  On the other page is a guillotine surrounded by bread and centering the French flag, below which is the caption “Pain d'égalité”.

Rolland: The point is that the people of France revolted because of this, because of bread!  And once we got rid of those pesky nobles, France could have one bread: the bread of equality!  It would be made from all our grains, from wheat to rye, and everyone would eat it!

Adrien: Sounds much simpler.

Rolland: Very simple!  But it wasn't to be.  People still want their fancy flour.

Rolland holds up his wooden peel in one hand and his metal peel in the other in a pose reminiscent of the painting Liberty Leading the People.

Rolland: But once there was no more shortage of wheat, the government decreed that bakers must follow strict rules.  You want to make a baguette?  It must be the right size and made with the right ingredients!  You run a boulangerie?  You must make your bread on-site!  And you must never close shop without warning!  We do this so no one will suffer the pains of being forced to eat terrible bread—or no bread—ever again!  Because here in France, that is how it is done!  So: shall we bake?

Below are the same images as above, only without text:

[inesvazquezart]

Aaaaand last one of the drawing challenge. Of course I had to include Anya. Spy x Family is awesome, though lately it felt like the slow burn was burning too slow, so it was 🔥 that in the latest updates we had a nail biting spy arc!!

[angstycloud]

Happy Anniversary to all the fandoms that released on September!!! I was able to finish the whole drawing before October starts, now I can rest...

Me, after finishing doing the late anniversary art before October starts....

[n1blakelover]

ive seen some people saying that they don’t think team rwby (not counting ruby) are on the verge of their 20’s but i have literal proof that they definitely are almost 20 (for ruby, 18)

blake, weiss, and yang have all been 19 since at least volume 6 or 7. same thing for ruby being 17 since volume 6 or 7.

now here are their birthdays to show just how they definitely are on the verge of their next ages:

blake: january 19 (oldest)

weiss: may 15th

yang: july 28th

ruby: october 31st (youngest)

based on their birthdays, if ruby has already been 17 for a while (it has been at least a month or two since they have been in atlas around a month then adding the amount of days and/or weeks other than atlas when they were already that age) then that means blake’s 20th birthday should be coming up pretty soon

[regscupid]

8/28 prompt: injury - EMT regulus, james is concussed (712 words) - @jegulus-microfic

James has done many, many stupid things in his life. When he was twelve, he broke his elbow throwing himself through a window during a very intense game of indoor football. When he was sixteen, he tried to stand up on the back of Sirius’ motorcycle as it was moving– leaving him with road rash and his parents banning both of them from standing within twenty feet of the bike for a month. At nineteen he drunkenly fell off a roof at a party, though the tequila made the stitches fairly painless.

Where he always excelled in school for being naturally book-smart, he could be right stupid about his physical wellbeing. A skateboard he’d never once attempted to ride in his life and a metal railing along a concrete staircase he decided he was skilled enough to ride on later, that fact is only further drilled into his head– along with a deep ache and some ringing.

Sirius frets over James, crying heavily when the ambulance arrives. As soon as it’s stopped moving, he flies up to tell one of the EMTs what happened, while the other EMT dashes forward with a bag in hand before dropping to his knees beside him.

James feels the breath in his chest catch when his eyes meet the most beautiful ones he’s ever seen. Grey and piercing, a bit familiar but captivating in a way he didn’t know possible. Then, he takes in a stuttered gasp when his eyes flicker over the rest of the man and realizes it's not just his eyes, all of him is like that. Severe cheekbones, an angled jawline, sharp, narrow shoulders. His eyes reach their final destination and James wonders if he could soften the hard set of his mouth. He doesn’t know if it’s the head trauma speaking but he decides immediately that he needs to get injured more often if it means this man will come rescue him.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

“James Fleamont Potter,” Even in his current state, he can hear how breathless he sounds.

The beautiful man gets a crease between his eyebrows when he brings out a little flashlight and shines it briefly in both of James’ eyes.

“Alright James, do you know where you are?”

“Uh, the ground,” James knows it’s the wrong answer when he narrows his eyes and opens his pretty mouth to say something so he rushes to correct himself, “The stairs in front of the university library.”

“Alright, good. That’s good.” James practically beams. “What’s today’s date?”

“The twenty-eighth? I think?”

“That’s correct. Are you able to recall what happened here?”

James grimaces, not keen on recounting his stupidity to the man he’d decided might be his soulmate for all he knows. God, he hopes so.

“I was uh, trying to ride down the railing on that skateboard. But I don’t know how to skateboard. So I… fell. Like, halfway down.”

The man rapidly blinks three times in succession. Takes a frankly well-concealed deep breath, and nods his head once. A stretcher shows up beside them and James realizes the other EMT rolled it out and Sirius was standing next to the ambulance on the phone, likely speaking to Euphemia or Remus.

“I see. Well I don’t think it’s anything serious but we’ll have you at the hospital soon where a doctor can get a better idea. Sound good?”

“I’ll go wherever if you’re there.” James says without a moment’s hesitation and almost regrets it until his pale complexion allows an obvious blush to spread across his cheeks and ears.

The other EMT snorts loudly. James doesn’t know what the guy looks like, his eyes don’t leave the man’s face.

“Alright, James, up you go.” The man doesn’t meet his eyes as both EMTs move him to the stretcher. James almost, almost pouts.

“I’ll drive, Reg.” The other EMT slaps Reg on the shoulder, causing his blush to return in full-force.

“Evan I swear to-” He hisses.

James is making the delightful realization that that means he’ll be in the back of the ambulance with him the whole ride, before his train of thought is interrupted by the sudden paling of Reg’s face. He follows his line of sight to an equally pale Sirius.

“Regulus?”

[bushcloverprincess]

'This had happened several times Yamanaka family was regarded poorly by Konoha people's prejudices due to Sai's dark past' - Boruto Novel 2

Ino sacrificed her clan's reputation by marrying & sharing the Yamanaka surname with a former ANBU from Root ❤️‍🩹

@saiinomonth