#everything is illuminated fanart

[azrielfiend]

i love them there is not enough fanart for this movie so i have made it my goal to reach at least 50 fanart for it

#my art #alexander perchov #jonathan safran foer #everything is illuminated #everything is illuminated fanart #MOUTHFUL!! #digital art #digital artwork #my god this is brainrotting me so much #i love them #my gentlemean nerd and jock trope thingy going on but the jock is actually really polite towards him #PLEASE WATCH THIS MOVIE OR THE BOOK #the movie has really good ost it made me sob

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 5

Word Count ~5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, mild body horror and violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

The power is restored later that evening.

You are still sitting on the living room sofa before it happens, still tucked against the doppelgänger. Listening to the death of the storm outside. Watching the gray light oozing through the windows grow dimmer.

“How far did you walk to get here?”

“Not far. The delivery truck broke down about a mile from your house.”

“I’ll give you a ride back into town tomorrow, then. You’ll need to get it repaired as soon as possible.” It was strange, planning things with the imposter like this. As if you were truly allies and not sworn enemies. “What are you going to do once you move back?”

“I haven’t decided my next course of action yet.” His thumb is caressing the line he’d carved on your arm. Gentle, absent strokes.

A blossom of light suddenly illuminates the room. Electricity. You sigh with relief, straightening. You notice your panties still lying on the floor where he’s discarded them. The things that had seemed forgiveable in the darkness now feel indecent under the lighting. Like you’re being judged for your transgressions.

You look at what had once been Francis Mosses and your heart turns over again. And this is why you’ve done it; all of it. Because the sight of him instantly weakens you. You can’t help yourself.

His clothing, still in a state of half-on, half-off, is rumpled, still dirt stained from his trek to your house.

“I’ll draw you a bath,” you say. “While I make dinner.”

He rises, hastily fastening the button of his fly so the work pants don’t drop to the floor. The belt buckle he leaves as it is, the end with the metal piece jingling as he walks, following you up the stairs. The farmhouse squeaks in protest with each step. A heavy tred, though the milkman had never seemed anything but lean. Perhaps what was dwelling inside lent the extra weight.

You turn the lights on as you go, making sure every corner is devoid of shadows. There’s a tiny linen closet in the hall you retrieve a bath towel from. You’re considering what clothing you might have that he could wear while you wash his. Something a former boyfriend had left behind, maybe. You lean and turn the faucets of the claw foot tub on, testing the water temperature and adjusting accordingly.

“I have to find something for you to wear. Just leave everything on the sink and I’ll wash it for you.” You’re about to exit the room when he halts you, fingers lightly closing over your forearm. The previously injured one.

His lips touch yours. Just once. Just for the feel of it, to place a reminder there. You were his.

The deceiver releases you, working on the buttons of his work shirt’s cuffs. You duck out of the bathroom, making your way to your dresser. Nearly every piece of furniture in the home is hand made, built to last. Solid pine, the scent of it still strong after all these years as you begin rummaging inside. There, at the bottom. Shoved way back. Undershirt, briefs.

You snatch at them and return to the other room. Finding the imposter nude, standing beside the tub. You blush, not looking directly at him as you shut off the faucets. You test the temperature a final time and decide it’s safe.

“Soap, shampoo. Here’s a wash cloth.” You point out the items. Wondering if these creatures ever bathed. If cleansing their true form was ever a concern.

One foot sinks into the water. The other follows. He sits down slowly. A little sigh escaping at the feeling of soaking in the warmth.

“I’m going to go start supper.” You close the door softly behind you, descending the stairs. Considering your options for a meal. You’d never gotten a chance to check the garden earlier, so fresh vegetables were out. Canned ones, then. Green beans and instant mashed potatoes from the box. Leftover meatloaf from the previous evening. A quick, easy meal to prepare. Your eyes linger on the bottle of milk in the refrigerator. Not from Francis’ company, but a reminder nonetheless. You shut the fridge again after grabbing the necessary ingredients, then preheat the oven.

It doesn’t take long to get things ready. How strange to see two place settings on the oak kitchen table. You hadn’t had company over in a long time.

Still no appearance from your current guest. You walk to the foot of the stairs. “Francis! Dinner is ready.” You were still unsure how else to address him. It just seemed easier to call him that. If it bothered him, he didn’t reveal it.

The pretender returns just as you’re pouring two glasses of iced tea. You’ve never seen Francis with wet hair; it lies so dark and flat when it’s wet. The clothing you’ve lent doesn’t quite fit right, a little loose on the shirt and tighter on the material clinging to his hips.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to offer you. I wasn’t expecting…”

“It’s fine.” He holds out a hand, turning it over to stare curiously at new wrinkles along each digit.

“You pruned up. Spent too long in the water,” you explain. “How was the bath?”

“Enjoyable.”

“Good. Have a seat.” You drag the chair out slightly and he finishes the task, settling at the table about to be laden with food.

The dark eyes follow your movements around the kitchen. Potholders in hand as you remove the reheated dish from the oven. It seems too quiet in the house. You wish you had switched on the radio in the living room. Just for the comforting sound of background noise. Something to soothe your frayed nerves.

You sit across from your guest after you’ve filled both your plates. He still hasn’t touched anything. Hesitant. Waiting. And then you realize it. Francis would have said grace. You close your eyes and bow your head, reciting the words. “Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts that we're about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

A soft echo of the last word. You wonder if it would be considered blasphemy, what you’ve just done. The invader participating in it. You’ve never been overly religious yourself. You suppose you’ve committed far worse transgressions than this one over the course of the day.

The dark haired creature lifts a spoon and takes a tentative scoop of the white mixture, bringing it to his mouth. Considering the taste. “Good.”

You realize you’re starving and you dig in. Stabbing the loaf and cutting off a piece, blowing on it to make sure it’s cooled enough before taking a bite. Still moist. Your grandmother’s recipe. The figure on the opposite side of the table mimics your actions. “Careful. Don’t burn yourself. It’s still hot.” You hate burning your tongue. That awful soreness, the awkward numb feeling.

It doesn’t take long for the imposter to clear his plate. “Seconds?” He nods and you push back your chair, lifting his plate and returning to the counter. The glass he refills himself from the pitcher on the table. “Have you eaten before this?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t…” He pauses. “Different than this.” He seems reluctant to elaborate and you’re not sure you want him to, so you let the subject matter drop, setting another helping before him and retaking your seat.

You struggle for a safe topic of conversation. Everything you think of, each query you seek answers for, seem anything but. This domestic peace between you feels fragile. You’re not sure how long it will last.

After the meal concludes you bring your dishes to the counter and the false milkman copies your actions, piling them next to yours beside the sink. You let the water run hot and then plug the drain, filling the sink halfway. You squeeze a generous dollop of dish soap from the bottle tucked on the rim of the porcelain basin. A little too generous, maybe. There are a few little iridescent bubbles that drift through the air in front of you.

One arm tucks around your waist from behind. Lips beside your ear. You struggle to scrub the plate in your hands, your heart pounding. A throbbing further down. Still hungry for him.

He hums Francis’ song. You feel tears welling in your eyes again. The dish you set in the drying rack nearly falls, your wet fingers clumsy.

“Did he suffer?”

The humming stops. “What?”

“Francis. When you took him over. Was it quick, at least?”

“Yes.” He could be lying, of course. But why would the alien care about your own comfort?

You pull the drainer from the sink and the water level begins descending, the last of it suctioned inside with a loud squelching noise. He’s still holding you. His breath warm by your cheek.

You can see nothing through the window above the sink. You stare at that void, blinking away the tears.

***

You’d forgotten about the bloodstains on Francis’ work shirt.

You’ve just begun lathering the fabric with soap in the bathroom sink upstairs when you notice the incriminating flecks.

Hydrogen peroxide will remove them. Erase those traces of the milkman’s lifeforce that had spattered upon his surrender.

It makes you want to weep again.

Once your chores are completed you take your own bath.

You don’t linger. You’re thinking of the doppelgänger resting in the chair in the corner of your bedroom. Trying to figure out where he’ll spend the night. The living room couch, maybe.

The mirrored medicine cabinet is clouded when you emerge. You swipe at it ineffectually with your towel, still damp from your body. The one the creature had used lying in a pile on the floor by the tub. You toss it into the hamper before dragging a comb through your hair and brushing your teeth. Hastily sliding into a sleeveless nightgown. Tiny lilacs printed on the fabric. You have them growing in the side yard, the perfumed scent when they’re in bloom wafting over you when you walk by. You touch the purple satin bow at the scooped neckline. A delicate little detail.

Those dark eyes watching you as you begin to strip the bed. He moves to assist you in stretching a fresh fitted sheet over the mattress. You can hear the drip of the water from Francis’ clothes hung to dry over the tub in the next room.

He sits on the side of the bed while you rub moisturizing lotion into your elbows, over your hands and arms. Legs once you’re seated on the opposite side. He’s moved so that he’s propped upright against the carved headboard, lower limbs stretching out along the length of the bed. Inviting himself in. Maybe it was better this way. At least you could keep an eye on him. Not worrying and wondering what he was doing downstairs all evening.

You switch off the lamp on the nightstand and lie down. Hear him scoot lower until he’s resting next to you. There’s just a top sheet at the foot of the bed. It’s really too warm for more than that. Through the cracked bedroom window you can hear the crickets chirping near the foundation outside. You turn away from him, reclining on your side, facing the wall. Willing your eyes to shut, to get some rest.

Succeeding.

You awaken and it’s still dark in the room. There is a hand on your bare shoulder, stroking circles along your deltoid muscle, grazing the path where your neck meets your shoulder, dipping into the hollow above your collarbone.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, and you hold your breath. Wondering again over how fast your body reacts to his touch, to his voice, to everything. “What are you doing to me?” As if you are the one caressing him in the middle of the night and not the other way around. “What is this feeling…this ache…”

You turn onto your back. He reaches blindly for your face. Following the angle of your jaw. His thumb seats in the dip in the edge below your bottom lip and he tugs gently, your mouth opening. His mouth finds yours. Tongue slithering between. You whimper. Your fingers seed in his hair. Still slightly damp. Refusing to dry in this humidity. He reaches for the hem of your nightgown, sliding the cotton material upward. Immediately at your panties, eagerly working inside. A heavy sigh of satisfaction from him. You gasp, your legs falling open. So wet already. Your body not caring if this isn’t really the man you love. It wants this. It craves this forbidden touch.

He’s so, so good at the touching. Retaining everything you’d showed him previously. Expertly manipulating your clit. Thrusting inside of you. You moan into his mouth. The side of his throat. You lap at that skin. Rough now. The first pricks of new growth of facial hair coarse against you.

“My sweet girl. Mine. You’re mine.” You do not protest. Your hips are lifting, grinding you against his fingers. It doesn’t take long to find your release. Your nails rake his back. The praise spills from his lips. The claims that you belong to him continue. His possession. His. To do with as he wishes. “Touch me, love. I need you.”

You find his cock leaking against the tight fitting underwear. You shove at the elastic top, releasing it partially from its confines. Stroking. He shifts positions, resting on one forearm. Fucking into the tight ring of your fingers. “Francis.” He’s not him, he never will be, but it’s so easy to pretend when it’s like this. In the dark and the heat of the summer weather, from the exchange between your bodies.

“I want to be inside of you. I want…I want…”

His breath shudders and his hips stutter as his orgasm rocks through him. Spilling hot seed over your fingers. The mattress dipping and creaking as he drops his full weight down onto it. You slip out of bed, padding barefoot into the hallway to retrieve a wash cloth. Washing your hands at the sink in the bathroom before bringing the dampened material back to the imposter in your bed, dragging it over his skin until you’re satisfied he’s clean.

You leave the soiled cloth on the nightstand, lying back down with your back to him again. He pulls you against him. The curves of your bodies fit together like spoons resting stacked in a silverware drawer. Your hands rest on the forearms curled around your torso. Feeling the threads of his body hair. He breathes your name into your neck and you shiver. There are still so many hours before dawn.

***

The week of your suspension passes quickly.

Francis’ doppel has already moved back into the apartments. Calls made. To the milkman’s employer. To the DDD director. He says he seemed placated, but you know better. They’ve been alerted. They’re going to be watching him closely. Both of you.

You like having him visit your home far more than you should.

It’s beginning to feel comfortable. A routine developing. He helps you sand and repaint the front porch once the weather is no longer humid. Tending to the garden. Mending the fence bordering the side yard. Replacing the broken bracket for one of the pantry shelves. Tightening the gasket under the kitchen sink when you hear water dripping during dinner one evening. There are endless repairs when one owns a home. Especially one of this age. It’s strange to see the imposter working so diligently to maintain it.

Stranger still how much you enjoy him in your bed.

There are many kisses and touches. Moments of taking each apart with hands and mouths. You learn each other’s bodies. You know he wants even more of you. You want it, too. But you’re reluctant. For so many reasons. Fearing an accidental pregnancy not the least of them.

The guilt of betraying the real Francis that still haunts you.

***

Your replacement as doorman had not been very tidy.

The desk is cluttered with papers, confiscated entry requests and identification cards. Pens no longer in their cup beside the phone. The day’s listing taped sloppily to the wall beside the window so it hangs at an angle.

You spend some time rearranging things. Restoring order. Internally, you’re trying to get yourself back into the right frame of mind. You have a duty to protect the residents. The replicants are not welcome. Never to be trusted. Francis’ copy is the only exception.

You shouldn’t be making it.

He’s there at your window later that day. Looking tired. Thrusting his ID and paperwork through the narrow slot at the base of the glass. Merely for show, of course. There is a security camera inside the office now. That video feed being constantly monitored by a DDD member. You’ve already warned him about it.

There’s an extra piece of paper beneath the entry request form. A small scrap with a torn edge. You tuck it into your palm quickly before reviewing his documents, then handing them back with a smile before pressing the door to allow him to enter.

You make a show of shifting some papers, your back to the camera as you quickly unfold the secret message. An invitation to come to his apartment once your shift is over. It wasn’t wise to draw attention to him. But you find yourself unable to resist the offer. You see the pilot that lives near Francis leaning in the open doorway of his residence as you exit the elevator after your workday ends, smoking a cigarette.

“Mr. Rudboys,” you greet him, nodding. “I’m just dropping off some paperwork for Mr. Mosses.”

He grunts, a smirk twitching his thin lips. “Sure you are, doll.”

Your spine stiffens in embarrassment, your neck warm beneath your shirt collar as you knock on the apartment door.

Your lover opens it and you hastily bid farewell to his neighbor before you enter, closing the door behind you with a little sigh of relief. “I think he might suspect—” You don’t get a chance to finish as his mouth covers yours. “Francis,” you gasp.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, planting kisses along your throat, unbuttoning the top of your blouse and seating his lips in the hollow there. “This tedious work routine is unbearable.”

“I did warn you. You have to earn a living. Pay bills. I still don’t understand why you wanted this.”

“It’s not the mundane work ethic you devote yourselves to that we’re interested in, I assure you.” He nibbles your ear.

“So why do it, then?”

He sighs, his affectionate gestures ceasing. “Do you really want to talk about this right now? I had envisioned a rather different evening for us. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“I found something I know you’ll like. Come here.” He leads you into the living room. There’s a tan object resting on the coffee table. The length is too short to be a suitcase, the height making you realize what it is a heartbeat before he lifts the lid. A portable record player. Beside it, a shallow stack of vinyl albums. “Saw it in a shop window on my route downtown. I’ve no idea if you like those artists, but…”

“Francis.” You cover your mouth with your hand. You can hardly believe it. Such a thoughtful gesture. From the intruder or some sentiment of the man he’d taken over. You don’t know which is which. You never have.

“Try it out,” he invites.

You already know which record you’re going to play. At the very top of the pile you see Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s collaboration. You slide it from the sleeve and place it on the turntable. Setting the needle down gently on the ebony disc, you grin when it starts to play.

“Turn the volume up. It’s only fair, considering.” He nods towards the direction of the apartment where Mia Stone and her fiancé reside, a mischievous smirk on his features.

You comply, still uncomfortable with making it too loud. “Dance with me?” You’re not certain if he knows how. But the memory is there for him, plucked from the depths at this hour of need. His hands rest on your waist. You twine your arms behind his neck.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees

Dream a little dream of me

He turns, lifting you easily. You smile again, allowing him to pull one of your hands free to clasp beside you as you rest the other one on his shoulder, swaying gently as your bodies move in a tight circle.

Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

The doppel leans suddenly and you gasp, but his hand is strong against your lower spine, the other holding your hand tightly. The throaty male singer’s voice begins the next verse as you’re lifted upright again.

Stars fading but I linger on dear

Still craving your kiss

Now I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear

Just saying this

“I thought you didn’t like music,” you murmur against his ear, lifting slightly on your toes.

“It’s growing on me.” You draw back to find him smiling. Francis’ smile. Your heart lurching in your chest again as the artists’ voices join together.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Leave the worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever may be

You've gotta make me a promise, promise to me

You'll dream, dream a little dream of me

The song ends. His hands cup your face. “Sweetheart.” His mouth hungry on yours. “Come to bed with me, love.”

You nod, following him to the bedroom. Undressing each other. Practiced at this now, clothing quickly shed. Not stopping to move the comforter, pressing your naked body down on top of it.

“I want to be inside of you.” He says this often, and it frightens you as much as it thrills you.

“Francis…”

“Let me in, love, please. My special, sweet girl…” His hand wedges between your thighs. Never once has he forced you. Never once have you denied him. You open your legs and he straightens, kneeling between that v shaped space. Running his erection along your pink flesh, parting your nether lips, spreading the slick from your core through them. Massaging your hooded button. Pausing outside your entrance. Waiting for your permission.

“Please,” he says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him say the word.

“Okay.”

Pressure as the fattened dome violates your canal. You gasp and his hands instantly reach to soothe you, caressing your thigh as he thrusts inside gradually. He leans his weight forward in small increments, bringing your legs up as he goes. Pressing deeper inside of you. Still more than you’re used to. There’s a burn accompanying the stretch as his prick fills your pussy. A kind of raw ache when he is fully sheathed, bumping against the edge of your cervix. Lifting his hips, the shaft sliding back. Thrust in again. A slow rhythm that you know belies what he really wants. His arms tremor with the tension on either side of you. Your knees hug his ribs. He kisses you and you rock against him. The movements become easier. A wet sound every time he bottoms out, his cock fully buried, the base of his groin tapping your own.

“So perfect, love. So tight around me.” He’s already perspiring. He hadn’t opened the window. The air in the room is stale and warm. You taste the salt of his leaking sweat when he kisses you.

“Francis. You feel so good…” The discomfort has subsided. Now, every motion brings nothing but pleasure. Your nails dig into his shoulders. The warning your mind attempts to deliver is ignored. You want this. You want him. You’ll worry about the consequences later.

He moans loudly. “They’ll hear you next door,” you caution.

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at your throat. “I want to mark you again. Somewhere everyone will see.” Sucking kisses near your collarbone. Moving back to your neck.

“Oh, Francis, don’t.” You know how difficult it is to conceal a hickey. You can’t allow it. Imagining greeting the residents with a bloom of raspberry on your throat after the fragile vessels beneath had burst. It was too much.

“A different kind of mark, then. Like the one I made before. Somewhere they won’t see.” There is still an ache to the healing wound he’d previously left. The sutures have been removed, the edges knitting together nicely. “I like being able to feel you when you’re not with me.” He thrusts back inside you. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” His pelvis jerks faster, his passion building once more. A hand snakes between your bodies, thumb stroking your clit.

“Oh…” Your hips roll up, making that finger collide more firmly. The familiar sensation of release building inside of you. The coil tightening. “Francis…”

“Cum for me, love. Want to feel you around me.”

Your lower spine is on fire. You can’t hold back any longer. You climax, the walls of your canal spasming around him as the pleasure wracks through your body. Trying to milk your partner’s release. It’s working. You recognize the tell tale shudder. The way his breathing becomes ragged. “Please let me,” he says again, his voice full of need.

“Yes.”

A sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh escapes him. His mouth at the place where your neck and shoulder meet. An instant of heat and needle sharp pain. Something piercing you. Not Francis’ teeth, but belonging to the thing inside of him. The hurt vanishes, replaced by another sensation. You’re warm again. Your body ready for another release. The wave of a second orgasm dragging the doppel through his own. You feel the wet heat of his ejaculate filling you deep inside.

The damp skin you’re clutching ripples. That hazy shimmer visible when he draws back slightly to regard your features, still buried in your womb. You haven’t seen this struggle for many days now. Nearly forgetting its existence. Allowing yourself to be deluded.

Now reminded as the imposter fights for control. The hand that had been draped loosely against your throat tightens slightly, a sharp prick of claws digging into that soft skin, nearly enough to invade that barrier. Your eyes widen in alarm. “Francis,” you manage to choke out.

He abruptly releases you. Looking at his hand as if it’s foreign to him. The movement beneath his flesh stops, the halo fading. He is whole again.

“I’m sorry. I was overwhelmed, I…” His voice trails off. You struggle to move and he withdraws. You feel his cum dripping out of you, staining the blanket beneath you. “Sweetheart.” Worry in his eyes. Touching your cheek. Your force yourself not to flinch. Not to think about the unnatural seed he’s just filled you with. What that union could possibly result in.

The bite he’s left tingles. You reach for it absently, the flesh warm beneath your fingers. It’s slightly raised and firm. Like getting an insect bite, your body reacting to the venom injected.

“It will go away. I didn’t…it’s not deep.” His fingers nudging yours, feeling the injury. “Sweetheart. You’re so quiet. Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know.” There are so many of each, all competing to be heard and felt. “I think…I think I’d better go home now.”

“Stay,” he pleads. This sudden begging of his, you’re not sure what to make of it. “Even if not for the night, just stay with me.”

You shake your head. “I should go. It’s well past curfew.”

“I don’t care about your stupid government’s rules,” he snaps impatiently.

“I do. I have to live by them.” You move to sit on the side of the mattress, his hand reaching for you, settling on your scarred forearm.

“I thought about you all day. All I wanted was this. To be with you.”

“Francis. I can’t stay. Truly. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bend to retrieve the nearest article of clothing you can reach.

“You’re upset with me.”

“I’m scared, Francis.”

“Of me?”

“Yes. No. Not just you. Everything. You guide his hand to your abdomen. “What will you do if there’s a baby?”

“Is that what you’re so concerned about?“ He sighs heavily, looking relieved. “I’ll protect it. Just like I’ll protect you.”

“They would never let us keep it. Not your species. Not the organization. The DDD would dispose of it. Your race…you wanted it for an experiment. You told me that.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“You know what.”

You swallow thickly. “This is so dangerous. And you act like it’s not. They’ll kill us, Francis.”

He shakes his head firmly. “No. I won’t let that happen. Did you notice there were no doppels today?”

“I did. It’s unusual, but it does happen on occasion.”

“That’s because of me. Because they recognize this.” He caresses your marked arm. “No one would ever dare harm you.” His fingers now on the new puncture he’d created.

“Even if that’s true, it won’t stop the DDD.”

The imposter cups your cheek. “You’ve done something to me. Not something visually apparent. Something inside. I have to be with you.” He kisses you, the intially chaste gesture deepening and your hand relaxes, dropping the garment you’d retrieved back to the carpet. “Stay with me. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You can’t refuse.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader #milkman x you #francis mosses #milkman

[xagave]

pleasepleaseplease recommend some danphan fics!!

Sorry these are on ff.net I was into danphan before AO3 was really A Thing. Invisobang also just completed and a whole wack of new fics are also now out for your enjoyment so I suggest taking a look there too Lab Rat - Danny (as Phantom) is captured by his parents and vivisected in the lab. THE MOST iconic dp fic from this era of fandom and also the first dp fic I ever read which single-handedly got me into the fandom. I also recommend anything else by this author[sequel]

Pits - Danny is captured by Walker and thrown into the Pits to fight for his life. HANDS DOWN my all time favorite dp fic. I drew a bunch of fanart for it and never showed the author LMAO [sequel]

In The Way - A twisted tale of a summer spent all alone

Wondering - Danny's been captured and tortured by his parents, but he refuses to say a word until his psychiatrist starts connecting the dots. Can he risk keeping it a secret any longer?

Dreams of Light - A cute box ghost fic with a fun twist at the end

Phantom's Sketchbook - Mr. Lancer finds himself in an unparalleled situation, he has access to something which can give him incredible insight into the personal workings of Amity Park's local ghost teen hero, Danny Phantom

Masks - Lancer has had enough of his most enigmatic, frustrating student Daniel Fenton and forces him to stay in detention with him until Danny tells him The Truth. A story examining Danny's relationship with the human race. Another BIG FAVE of mine [sequel]

Darkness - Part 1 of Illuminations saga. [part 2][part 3][part 4] Maddie and Phantom are trapped in the dark and must work together to avoid dying. I don't remember much about this but I do remember it being super creepy and I bulldozed my way through all 4 parts so it must have been good lol

I'm Still Here - Danny's been locked away in a forgotten thermos, buried in the backyard for 70 years. When he's finally released, happy isn't the word he'd use to describe his new life

Real Life - A very creepy take on ghosts and the events of the show, where they're more inhuman, feral, and scary. I don't remember much about this but it's unfinished

Lopeholt - Valerie must survived the night in the third scariest place on earth. **VERY** creepy, I remember reading this in the dark and it gave me nightmares. Another top fave. I def recommend reading anything else by this author

Running to the Enemy's Arms - Danny runs away and ends up on the doorstep of the person who's dead last on his list of favorite people - Vlad. Danny/Vlad father son relationship. A fun and interesting view of what Danny's life would be like had he been the son Vlad always wanted. Incomplete but also another BIG FAVE of mine. Tolerate the first 1-2 chapters and the rest is golden

Checkmate - Vlad forces Danny to leave everything behind in order to save Jazz's life. But just when the billionaire believes to have won his chess game against his young rival, Danny makes a single unexpected move.

A Secret Uncovered - Danny's transformation is caught on tape and now the whole town knows who he is Photoshop - Dash and Kwan find an old class picture and start having a little too much fun on Photoshop. Will someone's secret be revealed?

Chained - It starts with a fire at the Guys in White headquarters, where a vengeful Valerie stumbles across an imprisoned Danny Phantom. It starts with injustice. But what happens when justice and revenge are confused for one another? Where does a hero end, and a villain begin?

Phantom of Truth - Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth… except, perhaps, herself [Sequel]

The Soul Sepulchre - Something foul is stirring in Amity Park and it all starts in the bowels of Amity Park's Museum of Natural History

Moral Code - Moral code says to never kill or capture a specimen that you did not weaken yourself. Maddie finds Danny Phantom wounded late at night after a hard battle. After she helps him, she finds there is more to him than she ever thought possible. Mother/son bonding

Connections - Maddie knows that the Booo-merang has keyed into Danny, for whatever reason, so what's she to think when she sees it collide with Phantom? [Sequel]

Isolated - It's just a wish that's been granted with the wrong twist, but for Danny, it's a nightmare that's become reality. He's stuck as Phantom, his family's hunting him, and everyone who can help him is gone

Little Earthquakes - They say that a man is defined by what he does when he thinks nobody's looking. Does the same hold true for ghosts?

Tortured Truth - Danny's parents discover that the ghost boy is half human. Now that they've captured Danny, will he submit to torture and reveal himself, or is the revelation just the beginning of their problems? [Sequel]

Estrelas - AU. Sam's attention is captured by a lonely ghost haunting her grandmother's attic…and discovering his secrets will take everything she has.

Criteria of Life - Every living thing must follow the Laws of Life; however, Maddie wonders if Phantom can somehow follow these laws as well. The fact that he is a ghost is putting a knick in her plans, but what if Phantom can follow the Laws of Life?

#ask #danny phantom fic recs #i have soooo many danphan fics to rec but alas tumblr character limit #def recommend checking out invisobang though #it was my first year participating and i cant wait to look at everyones stuff when i have the time :0

[namakooo]

What art program and brushes do you use? tips on lighting? your illustrations radiate warmth 🌻💛

Thank you!! 🌻💛

This post got a little long, but I've answered each question so if you're curious, it's under here!

Art program?

I use Clip Studio Paint EX and Procreate! I mostly use CSP for my animations and Procreate for my illustrations lately, but I've used CSP for a lot of my illustrations too.

Brushes?

For CSP: I mostly use variations of the default "Design Pencil", each tweaked to fit different needs. Sometimes I use brushes I made myself, but these three are my main ones.

For Procreate: I use the HB Pencil for my lines and Tinderbox for my colors (both are default brushes).

Lighting tips?

This is a pretty big question! I could spend hours talking about this, but I tried to put together some very basic tips.

Figuring out where shadows go:

Light generally comes in a straight line from the light source, and everything it hits or touches is the illuminated area.

Everything it doesn't touch, either because it's an area at an angle it can't reach, or because something is in the way, is the shadows!

Thinking about where the light source is, and where it can't reach or what obstacles are in its way are helpful things to think about when figuring out shadows.

Reflected light:

This is a little more specific, but once you figured out basic lights and shadows, reflected light is another element that's useful to know.

Every object reflects a bit of the light it receives, which affects the colors of the other surrounding objects. The reflected light is of the color of the object it's reflected from.

Rendering details in light and shadow:

You'd be surprised at how much you can get away with not rendering the details that are in the shadow, as long as you render the ones that are in the light.

In this Trigun fanart piece I've skipped most of the details that are hidden in the harsh shadows, but kept a lot of the details on Vash's boots for example.

Unless the focus of the piece is on something in the shadows specifically, you can simplify a lot of the stuff that's not in the light!

🌻

If all of this confuses you, that's alright! Learning takes time, and small steps are still steps forward!

Rules are also there to be broken depending on your goal for your art, so you don't even have to follow them if you don't need them. I break these all the time too.

I hope these tips can be helpful in any way! Happy fun lighting!

#ask #art tips

[sashi-ya]

月が綺麗ですね > 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚝?

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 ᴅᴀʏ ᴏɴᴇ > ʙʏᴀᴋᴜʏᴀ ᴋᴜᴄʜɪᴋɪ x ғ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

♡ request: Anonymous asked: hi sashi, could you please write day 1 for Byakuya x fem! reader with she/her pron? thank you very much ❣ ♡ tw: byakuya swimming naked. sfw mostly. I saw this fanart on twitter today and I totally created this story based off it٠ wc: 2.8k ٠ ♡ masterlist ٠ taglist: @zella07 @jin-supremacy01 @stygianoir @alexkanroji

You are like the Sun, everything orbits around you. Him, like the Moon, shines in the dark, using your light to illuminate passionate nights.

The camps with your squad have become usual. Normally, Kuchiki taicho wouldn’t come with you at all, but things have become slightly serious. Him, as the liable and powerful captain, had to take responsibility in the recent dangerous happenings.

“Renji will lead half the squad set for the east side of the woods” he commands. The red-haired vice-captain nods, ready and happy to be assigned important tasks. Their relationship have grown stronger every day, not only because they are family now but also because since the Quincy war their bond had become a necessity to fight. Many had been the things Byakuya learned with his near dead experience, and trusting in others was the main one.

“(Name), with me. We are patrolling the north entrance” he orders. A direct command that makes you shiver. Every time he pronounces your name, your heart skips a beat or two. And who wouldn’t feel this way? If the most handsome -and severe- man is your captain….

You nod, acknowledging his order and with a straight back and stiffen muscles -and a heart that beats faster than it’s humanly possible- you follow him. Carrying the basic camping stuff isn’t a problem to you, however your clumsiness is something to take in consideration. And, it’s not that Byakuya isn’t a gentleman, but you refuse to give your adored noble captain the tasks of an officer. You wanna prove him right, that him choosing you to be his officer has been the best decision.

However, as if destiny wanted to mess with you, a slippery rock plays a trick on your balance. The sound of the many tins hitting your head and all around you alert the dark haired man that as fast as he is comes to your rescue.

He crunches right in front of you. He isn’t big like other captains, but he is imponent. His strong reiatsu makes you slightly weak whenever he is close, and now he is closer than ever.

“You silly kid… I told you to give me something to carry. Are you ok?” he asks, posing his gloved, refined hand on your head. The little voice inside you screams that you aren’t, that him touching you is only making it harder for you -and your body-.

“Uh… uhum… yes! I’m really sorry, Kuchiki Taicho” you ask for forgiveness, closing your eyes and bowing before him. It’s true that the times he scoff had been counted with the fingers of a hand, but tonight the sweetest melody abandoned his lips in the form of a sweet laughter.

He doesn’t speak. That’s just him. But he picks the many things around you, and with no effort he offers you his hand to help him stand up. “Come on, we are about to get there. You may have scratched your knees but I will take care of it when we get there, ok?”

The tingling sensation of his palm against yours it’s something you are sure you both can feel; his softened stare, that’s usually so harsh, feels like the sweetest balm to everything bad that ever happened in your life.

You walk for some minutes more. He is probably right, underneath your hakama there is probably a little bloody spot on your knee, but there is nothing a strong Shinigami like you couldn’t take.

Byakuya choses a perfect spot. Or maybe everything he does it’s perfect to you. Close to a pond, on a little valley in between the tallest trees, where the moon shines the brightest and there is no need to further illumination.

After he took the time to cure your knee, with utmost care, even if you only had a scratch (and your heart about to explode due to his soft touch and your leg expose right before his eyes), you ran to set up the camp as it is proper.

“What a romantic spot…” you murmur while putting up the tent. Thing that you thought you said low enough not for him to listen… however, nobody is as sharp and aware to his surroundings than Kuchiki Byakuya himself.

“It certainly is, (Name). I didn’t think you were into romanticism” he says, ready to cast Bakudo #30 to light a bonfire for you to cook.  

You widen your eyes, turning around your head slowly and steadily. “Why did he- why-?!” you think, wanting to hit yourself right in the head for speaking too loudly. You cross sights with his dark blue eyes that always remind you of a summer night, even if some say his look is as cold as ice… you can only see warmth and kindness, a soul that’s been misunderstood for so long already…  

You give him a small smirk, looking at his hands right after. Your cheeks are burning, more, perhaps, than the fire itself. You can, however, use the corner of your eye to see his reaction. The last trace of sharpness finally abandons his countenance, and a soft smile matches yours. His lips look way more kissable when he does that, as if he was pouting on porpoise to tempt you.

He clears his throat and then calls you. “Are you hungry? You look tired” he asks; there is nothing Byakuya cares more than the wellbeing of his squad subordinates.

You didn’t lose much reiatsu during the day, but you could try his culinary skills just for the sake of enjoying it. Even if it’s pretty weird for you that he knows how to cook something. A noble like him probably never had to lift a single finger to do anything during his soul life.

However, you assent. “I could use some food, Kuchiki Taicho. Should I cook som-”

“I’m the one offering you. You don’t have to cook. Come here when you are ready with the tent. I will prepare us something”  he cuts you short, making you bite your lips after flinching to his sudden reaction. Usually, you wouldn’t let a man shush you, but Byakuya is surely off limits.

You quickly finish the chores assigned, and with a big smile and your fists on your hips you proudly look at the perfectly put up tent in front of you. You think of how much of a reliable officer you are… “Good, I hope it’s comfortable enough and proper for a noble like him. I made sure there is plenty of cushion so that our ba- our… OUR BACKS?” you realized there is just one tent. For you and him. And, of course, you understand that surely you aren’t sleeping tonight. Or at least you are doing it sitting outside of it.

“I’m finished, Kuchiki Taicho” you whisper, not to scare the captain away while he hums and turns around a semi burnt… fish?. You trust that everything he does is perfect right? But that poor roosted being doesn’t look that delicious as you thought it would.

“Good. You have great camping skills officer. Please enjoy my grilled fish with seaweed. I call this dish “the Ambrosia of Seaweed Ambassador” he proudly hands you a skewer with what he calls “ambrosia”.

You bite the insides of your mouth, you can’t and you won’t laugh for nothing in the world… even if it’s kinda -well, a lot- ridiculous. “Th- thank you, Taicho!” you chime, inspecting the black crusty surface of the fish. You take it to your mouth, thinking that even if it looks disgusting, he took the time to cook it just for you. And surprisingly, maybe because love is blind -and now tasteless- you don’t find the food horrible. In fact, you like it.

“Ohmf, Kuchiki Taicho! You were right this is actually really good” you tell him, looking his face transform from proud cook to depressed captain. How dare you even showing him you weren’t sure of his words?

“I’m glad you like it, (Name)” he says, as serious as always but looking to the side with his mouth pressed in a fine line. You wish the fish would be as bad as it looked so that you could at least be punished for hurting such a soft soul.

The night goes by with no hollows appearances whatsoever. Both have forgotten the gourmet situation and soon started chatting about random Gotei 13 issues. Contrary to what many people could think, having a good conversation with Byakuya is pretty easy. Or at least with you. Both flow with the other, and that’s something he surely took in consideration when bringing you with him.

You, who aren’t really tired but rather nervous, yawned as he has for the first time in front of you, tied his hair up in a messy bun.

Him, suspiciously worried about every move you make, bends just a little forward to place his hand on top of your knee. “Are you tired? An officer shouldn’t be on duty if really tired. Please, go have some sleep I will be on guard”.

You gawk. Why is he so soft with you? “But Kuchiki Taicho I-“  you stop your own words, Byakuya’s dominant stare is enough for you to obey. “I will go get some sleep, yes. Thank you captain!” you say, turning back and running to the tent.

You feel extremely guilty -and frankly sad- for leaving him alone in the middle of such a beautiful night.  As the time passes, you finally hear something besides the crickets and frogs singing the song of the night; the sound of water splashing. “Could it be… that he is swimming on the pond?”

Of course, your curious, and rather voyeuristic tendencies, pulls you from the tent to go see if he was indeed swimming. As you walk in between the trees, hiding under the shadow of big leaves bathed by white rays of moonshine, you device his shihakusho perfectly folded over the ground. His captain haori -no more a cheap garment, but full of gold details and blue royal fabrics- rests aside too. Senbonzakura is nested in between his captain attire and on the side something metallic that shines with the moonlight but that you don’t really care for its existence.

Yet.

As for Byakuya, you notice the water of the pond splashing pretty far from where you are, so he won’t see you.

“Oh, his clothes are really close to the bonfire. I should move them aside, we don’t want them getting burned” you giggle, taking your hands to your mouth. It’s impossible, in fact, for you, not to imagine him swimming completely naked as you notice his pristine white underwear also folded there. “Taicho… you are such an exhibitionist…” you joke, taking the clothes in your arms.

And, by those destiny turns -and your clumsiness- you decided to walk all the way from the tent to where you are barefoot… and that tiny metallic thing that was shining and you didn’t bother to identify before, stabbed your right toe.

Of course, your first reaction, if you were a professional in keeping it quite would have been to suffer in silence…. But you aren’t one. And your swearing, followed by your fall, alerted Byakuya who got out of the water like some kind of merman. Pretty dramatic if I may add.

But it wasn’t the fact that you fell, but the moment your hands thrown his clothes into the bonfire. You watch them turn to ashes in just one second, and even had the time to ask yourself who the fuck made those clothes that inflammable.

You realize what you have stepped on was nothing but Byakuya’s dearest hair piece, his noble status indicator (as if the rest of his looks didn’t show it enough), his Kenseikan. And now, only that, his captain haori and Senbonzakura are what’s left of his clothes.

You bite your lips, and slowly look towards the pond. You’ve never seen Byakuya’s eye twitching, but now you do. His mandible muscles tense, and he is far from looking like the calmed and collected captain he is. The water of the pond only covers down his belly button, and his pale fit chest and abs shine with the moonlight.

“(Name)… are you- are you…” he tries to calm himself. You can hear him breathe through his nostrils. “Are you ok, (Name)?” he finally asks, keeping his distance inside the water just enough for you not to see him naked.

You immediately put yourself on all fours, and with your head almost buried into the rocky ground, you plead for mercy. “I- I am. I am so so so sorry, captain. I only wanted to help. I- I’m really sorry. I’m giving you my shihakusho! It’s not worth it of a man like you but… here, hav-“

“(NAME)! NO! YOU ARE NOT GETTING NAKED TOO!” he shouts, amazed at how you were willing to stand nude in front of him just to give him your clothes. “Go search for some blankets! I will wear that!” 

He was right, even if you maybe secretly would have loved to get naked with him. But, never mind. He was right.

“OH YES YES, SORRY TAICHO!” you say, running to your tent -stepping on the fucking kenseikan once again, and swearing the Kuchikis for such stupid idea-

As soon as possible you run back, carrying some blankets on your arms. You notice his milky skin all bumpy, and his cheeks sprinkled in soft pink. His arms are crossed over his chest and you could see how torn he is in between looking like a manly man than doesn’t feel ashamed for his body, and the fact that he is almost dying because of his nudity show.

“Come on, Kuchiki Taicho. I won’t see” you say, spreading your arms with one of the blankets to wrap him up like a mother would do with his kid after a bath.

He is willing to say something, you might as well could have left the blankets on the floor and turn around. But you didn’t, and he won’t bother in explaining anything else. He wants to get out of the pond as soon as possible.

With your eyelids shut tight you hear the sound of his body getting out of the water. You imagine the many drops running through every accident of his anatomy, how beautiful his skin might be looking under the white moon, or how his hair may be falling on his wide masculine yet delicate back.

You feel his body against the fabric you are holding, and almost like automatically you surround him with your arms. Hugging him and still with your eyes closed you stay that way, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin mixed with the refreshing smell of the Seireitei waters. You feel the dripping of his hair on the back of your hand, and the way his chest goes up and down against your body.

“(Name)…?” he asks, pulling you out from the real ambrosia he was mentioning back then.

You quickly open your eyes to discover your face as close as possible as his. Your noses so close, your lips even more. You should let him go, but your body won’t respond. He should push you away, but his body doesn’t respond either.

“I-…” he wants to say something, and maybe if you should let him go he doesn’t really want it to happen. He wants to stay in your embrace, he wants your body against his.

You soon realize that what you are doing it’s at least inappropriate and try to let him go. But he won’t allow you. His now blushed cheeks and his trembling body is all you wanna hold tonight.

“Taicho… do I let you go?” you ask, pulling from the insides of your shame pit that question. “No- I mean, at some point, yes. But- I’m cold… I- I- you are like a sun… you- you gave me the heat I need during the nights“ he stutters, poor man… so strong, and yet so shy when it comes to a woman. Shy, and a poet too.

“We can stay this way…” you whisper, smiling and fixing your gaze into his indigo irises.

He imitates you, taking a quick look at how you are on tippy toes to keep him covered. The noble scoffs, it’s cute to him. “Close your eyes…” he commands, and you obey immediately.

The warmth of his closeness gets even closer, and you can feel the soft surface of his rosy lips against your forehead. “You silly, are you ok? It’s the second time you fall today. Would you mind walking with me to the tent?”

“I would prefer if you can escort me there… but what it’s gonna happen with your clothes, Taicho?” you joke, letting the blanket slowly fall in between him and you. Byakuya catches it quickly before falling even further, tying it around his hips and then grabbing your hand.

“I have a spare change of clothes inside the tent with my stuff…” “TAICHO?! You- but-” “Heh… You silly, come on. I don’t want you to fall again”

It’s too late… I have fallen in love with you… ♡

#byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki imagine #byakuya x you #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x you #kuchiki byakuya x you #byakuya #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya kuchiki #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach byakuya #sashi ya #bleach x reader

[caterkinnie]

Vil, idia and jamil with an s/o who likes to draw ship art of him and themself a lot?

How do they react to ship art of you and him...? (Vil, Idia, Jamil)

summary: oh yes, let's be realistic, you're into fandoms, a lot. And you're pretty good at drawing too! Which means... You could draw yourself and your boyfriend doing cheesy couple things!

genre: fluff, romantic

warnings: not proofread. im sleepy

Vil is aware that some of his fans… write and draw things about him.

He knows about fanfiction, and while it isn't as common as self-ship art of him — he has seen it before.

He's pretty neutral about it, as long as it doesn't go too far it's fine by him!

Vil knew you liked to draw, sometimes he liked to stare at you wondering what you were drawing. Admiring your beauty as you moved your pencil along the paper, but you always seemed to shy away whenever he tried to take a look at your drawings.

One day, you were showing him a little doodle that you were proud of. Vil picked your sketchbook to see it upclose — and to also take his chance to finally see what you hid in those pages.

And when he saw… well you've never seen him smirk so brightly. Oh, stop feeding his already big ego please, how is it possible that someone with SO MUCH pride like him could get even worse? Well, you somehow did it!

'Oh, my~ Why would you try to hide this from me, darling? I don't think someone has ever drawn me the way you do. Hm..? Why would I not like it? Your art is beautiful, just like you.'

Oh… Self-shipping… Idia's guilty pleasure….

He acts like Oh No That's Cringe but deep down he's a shameless self-shipper. There's nothing he wanted more than his favorite character to tuck him in bed and give him a kiss on the forehead.

And actually… He felt like that for you for a long time– No, he does still feel that way!

He has a bit of experience drawing, so Idia actually drew a picture of you and him holding hands. But he blushed so hard he impulsively burnt it.

One day, after a long day of gaming, you were sleeping on his bed and he decided to stay up a bit more to get some levels. — it was late, almost 2 am. And Idia finally decided to join you for sleep.

But your sketchbook was laying on the table, earlier you showed him a doodle of one of your favorite characters and forgot to pick it.

It took everything from Idia to not open it and see what you hid in there, and even then it wasn't enough.

With the lights of the computer that slightly illuminated his room, he decided to take a peek through the pages.

At first it was just normal drawings and fanart, nothing weird — until he saw a drawing of him, which made him even more curious. He kept going until he saw a drawing of him kissing your cheek and Idia almost dropped your sketchbook.

He put it in your backpack and sat on his bed, muttering about something — Idia almost didn't notice when you woke up and called his name in a worried tone.

Idia was so incredibly happy and it made his heart almost combust but– gosh he will never tell you about it.

'Oh god how is my partner so good at drawing and why is it so cute why do I look so good in here does s/o think I look like this IRL ahhh I want to see it again but i shouldn't–'

Jamil, unlike the other two, does NOT understand fandom culture at all.

He has seen Idia once or twice muttering about idols or manga but he personally does not understand the obsession behind it. I can see him being the kind of guy to enjoy reading as a solitary hobby, but that's it.

That means, he doesn't know about shipping.

But Jamil knows you DO know about this stuff, and he'll let you info-dump about whatever you want.

He has seen you making fanart once or twice, and he really does love looking at your drawings!

But, every time he asks if he can see your whole sketchbook, you say no — and he doesn't understand why.

He lets you be… At first, since he likes his privacy a lot. But… Jamil can't help but feel a tiiiny bit curious.

His master plan to see what you hide is that whenever you show him some of your art, he'll ask you to search for another drawing you made before. In hopes that whatever you're hiding will appear "accidentally".

And wow… he wished he could tease you about it but… it's such a cute drawing of you hugging him and you both are smiling and the drawing is so good–

Oh gosh his ears are burning, and why are his cheeks so warm?

He doesn't know what to say, you broke him.

'A–Ah… No! I do… I do like it a lot– It's just… You should… If you want… I'd like to see more of this, if you'd like to show me. You're… really good at drawing.

Reblogs are appreciated!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #disney twst #twst headcanons #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader

[jadenvargen]

Came here to say that I’m so delighted and excited to see Oil! fanart!!! I never predicted or imagined someone else would be drawing and thinking about these characters too... Your comic with Eli was incredible! It’s one of my favorite scenes in the book... I’ve been giggling and clapping my hands like a seal irl at everything. The way you draw the poses, characters, and expressions is lovely.

yayyy haha❤️❤️❤️i’m so glad u like it! the book characters are soo funnnnn glad u are likeminded. me and my friends had real good fun this winter reading the play version of the book and it’s driving me a little bonkers. So much fun!!! still thinking about this part LMAO illumination dance party ending

[herrscherrofyatta]

End to Beginning

prologue

pairing: Tomo x F!reader

warnings: a hint of Kazuha x reader could be taken platonic or romantic, Ei/Shogan slander, future spoilers for Scaramouche lore, reader is described to have long hair like Ei, tomo aint dead, I changed a few things obviously cuz Tomo is alive..., slow burn, death, betrayal, one sided for a couple chapters, blood, angst, angst and more angst :)

just a heads up, I already commissioned a couple fanart of reader so I'm not changing how she looks, I got hate for it in the past

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The unconscious bodies of Watasumi's soldiers lay on the cement floors. Gorou and Kokomi lay among those unconscious as two figures stood in the middle of this scene.

"Why did you....who are you really?" It began to rain, soaking Tomo's blonde hair as the loose strands began to stick to his face as he stares wide at the figure in front of him.

Cold, emotionless eyes stare back at him, they seem to glow a bright purple as thunder roars in the background, finally illuminating the answer to his question.

It was only for a quick second, showing the true side, but Tomo finally realized who this person finally was.

Taking a step back from shock, his eyes only seem to widen more in fear and anger.

"Raiden...Shogan..." He mutters, "why are you a complete split image of her?"

The purple haired woman remains quiet, her gaze never leaving his as he begins to think of everything they been through together.

"...was everything a lie?" He said angrily, gritting his teeth at her.

Her brows almost seem to furrow in sadness of a moment as she quietly sighs before turning around.

Her hair that was usually up in a high ponytail, tied with a ribbon, was let down.

"Answer me!"

He shouts after her as she begins to leave only for him to be met with a blade pointed at his neck.

He glances down at it before closing his eyes.

"Kazuha knew, didn't he?"

The woman stays quiet, her eyes seeming to soften at the mention of him. Tomo opens his eyes again to look at her.

"He knew who you really were all this time and never said a word..." He let out a dry laugh, the rain around them started to pour harder but neither of them cared.

Looking at the woman in front of him, he takes in her features, (h/c) hair with light purple strands, he eyes the necklace hanging from her neck, remembering the day he gave it to her.

"It was you, I should've seen it from the beginning."

He mutters, his finger twitch slightly at his side, itching to summon his sword.

"You killed her," her eyes pierced down at him, reflecting no remorse, "it was you who killed my mother all those years ago."

The sound of thunder always reminds Tomo of that day

It was supposed to be him, he was supposed to be the one dead and not the other way around.

Alive, breathing...

His eyes wander to the dead vision in his hand, the electro glow that used to glow....only the dead gray color takes its place.

His fingers grasp the item because he takes a deep breathe, taking one last glance at it before putting it back in his pocket.

A raindrop hits his face face as he looks up at the darkening clouds growing above.

Calm before the storm. As they say.

"Tomo," he looks to where his name is called, to see Kazuha holding a crate in his hands, "Beidou said to take these to the Harbor."

He smiles at him, "right, let's get to work." Walking away with his friend, they take a small boat and take it back to Liyue Harbor.

Hours later, finishing up the work Beidou left for them, Kazuha waves at the salesman after tidying up the crates they delivered.

As they walked back to where they left the small boat they tied up, walking by the Funeral Parlor and the bridge.

"Comrade, I haven't seen you in some time." A voice says as they walk by two tall people, one with ginger hair and the other wearing a straw hat, hiding their appearance.

"What business do you have here? Or did he send you here for something?" The ginger says to the other and as they walk by each other, time seems to freeze for Tomo.

He looks at the figure, catching a glimpse of purple hair before time went on as usual.

Frozen in place, Kazuha seem to notice and stopped walking, glancing back at him confused.

"Tomo? Is something wrong?"

He looks up at him before looking back rapidly, watching as the ginger and the other figure walk away.

Kazuha tilts his head to the side, confused at his friend's strange behavior.

"No...nothing." Tomo turns back around, feeling a bit off.

"Let's head back."

a/n: finally got this published, I'll probably update like once a week, I want the chapters to be longer

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thetwinkims @xiao-loyal-simp @somemydayy @slvdsjjk @valeriele3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin impact tomo #tomo x reader #kazuha's friend #scaramouche #ei raiden #raiden shogun #✧everlasting series✧

[azrielfiend]

okay i know i just posted a beautiful art piece of everything is illuminated fanart but i drew this ELHP ME THE CONTRAST

#my art #everything is illuminated #everything is illuminated fanart #alexander perchov #jonathan safran foer #doodle #tw waterboarding #DO I EVEN TAG THAT? #he only did it for a few minutes its okay jonfen forgives him

[aristotels]

Thinking about art and fiction and concepts of ownership and honestly it's kinda fucked that collaborative and transformative storytelling is literally as old as time and one of the most basic human instincts that exists, but the only good word it we have right now is "fanfiction"

and when you tell people you write fanfiction they think you're some kind of cringe weirdo and possibly pervert and then the whole thing gets derailed by this bizarre side discussion into how "No it's not all porn, it's absolutely everything and anything imaginable, duh, but like, even if it were all porn, that would also be okay". Like I'm all for pointing out the double standards about how published authors who put sex into their stories don't lose any respectability (especially if they're men, and especially if the sex is cishet), but the second I, a fanfiction person, add a romantic arc into my plotty casefic suddenly I'm a fujoshi with shipper brainrot etc etc-

But it's tiring that this is even a focal point

My favourite funny and sad thing is watching people (usually dudes) who clearly either view themselves as above fanfiction or have simply never ever thought of themselves as "the type" to do creative writing discover The Fanfiction Urge, because the way they express it is like. An increasingly passionate and detailed video essay about how Movie should have gone instead, or, my favourite, a story about something cool that happened to them in XCOM or Darkest Dungeon or some other Difficult Game For Serious Gamers and by the end of the post they're legitimately just writing prose. Like look at this! LOOK! Damn if this person didn't speedrun the gamerbro-to-AO3 pipeline just for a sec. And not that there's anything wrong with those formats but it makes you wonder if that's something they'd be interested in exploring more if their wings got unclipped

Or DnD. Small wonder that TTRPGs are becoming so popular when they're one of the few increasingly non-cringe ways to do the extremely basic human urge of Tell Story Collaboratively

A friend of mine had this to say recently about his own struggles with this kind of internal bias:

i'd like to try out Thousand-Year-Old Vampire (a solo role-playing game with minimal rules to make you write your own narrative) and my toxic masculinity is getting in the way. discouraging thoughts include: i'm not creative enough; creative writing is for Floofy Humanities types and i am a Cold STEM type; it's not a real game unless it has Systems that you can Study and Master. would anyone like to say something encouraging?

and honestly that's incredibly illuminating innit isn't it. The splitting off of creative activity (not just fanfiction, either) into something only for Floofy Humanities Types but not Serious People and the way it's linked to whether or not you can make money off it... oof.

This became a long post thank you for your patience

ngl i just dont rly care that much for fandoms... i like fanfic, i read it and write it, but i dont rly see fandom as my identity or smth i particularly care about, to me all of it is just the same as me playing with barbie dolls.

i dont think its something special that can be compared to actual literature and i think there are certain problems w booktok people relying on tropes that come from fanfic mentality. its just not the same, and i do wish people who like fanfic would sometimes also read.......some actual books sometimes

i just generally dont see what youre describing as some huge thing or problem, i think anti-kink ppl doxxing artists is the major worrisome thing when it comes to fandoms, but i think the doxxers also take the whole fandom experience too seriously

and i say this as someone who also writes fanfic, so like, it rly isnt me going "fanfic authors/readers are stupid", i find fanfic super cool to explore yourself, fanart taught me sooo much as an artist, i even enjoy roleplaying; all of this serves a very real purpose of exploring things as a human in realms of fiction, and pre-existing characters make that easier. i think that can be very useful, we learn about ourselves through books and stories. i just think fandom should be treated the way it is - playtime with toys ✌️

[bcbdrums]

Remember Me

AO3 | FFn

A Soul Eater story. Short missing scene from episode 40.

Inspired by this amazing fanart.

--------------------------

Remember Me

"Will you remember me, after I'm gone?"

"What?"

Stein listens to the familiar way the response is voiced. Timbre high, breathy, with the final consonant punctuated just enough to add weight to the question. He can read the weapon's thoughts in that single word.

What does he mean by 'gone'? Why will he be gone? What will be the cause? And the meaning that grounds Stein to the moment the most—don't go.

"I think..." Stein continues, not answering the spoken nor the implied questions, "I would like to be remembered."

"Stein you're... It's... You're stronger than this. I know you are."

"Hmm," is the slightly sighing, slightly scoffing response Stein gives.

He begins to turn his head up from where it's set back against the wall, and the pain the movement causes brings him a greater awareness of the environment.

He is in the very back of his lab-home, in a small room little used except recently by Marie. Someone has drawn back the curtains that keep the world from getting inside, allowing sunlight to break through and illuminate the destruction his madness has wrought. Furniture overturned, objects torn apart, everything scattered across the floor as if a robber had broken in and a fight had ensued. And there is blood staining everything, because there is always blood.

Stein wonders what injuries will be revealed when he finally does try to move.

The skittering creatures and dark hands that threaten to squeeze the life from his throat have gone. So has the rain of blood that was nothing like the real thing now that he can see it before him. He's aware of a slight chill and realizes one shoulder of his coat has fallen down his arm, but he makes no motion to correct it. His glasses are gone too.

He wonders what brought him back this time, can't remember any specific word or action that did it. Only that the pressure, the madness, retreated suddenly. And then he became aware of a familiar, welcome soul at his side.

In his periphery, less than two feet distant on his right, he can see the dark trouser leg of the weapon standing next to him. He's not leaning against the wall but facing it instead, and Stein painfully tilts his head up just enough to see that Spirit has his left arm folded high on said wall and his forehead is rested against it. His eyes are closed and his face is twisted in anxiety.

Stein licks his lips, tastes drying blood. He stares.

If this is to be his last true moment of sanity, he wants to memorize every detail. He wants to recall the way Spirit's brows pinch together as they always do when he's stressed. The way the skin of his cheeks have paled indicating it's not anger that has his mouth twisted into a snarl. The way his hair just brushes his shoulders, and how that one longer strand falls across his face and yet never seems to bother him.

That hair. It's always been better, somehow, than the blood that Stein can feel seeping out of him in undiscovered wounds. Better than the trails of it he can see on the floor, than the dark stains of it on Spirit's cuff. Somehow Spirit's hair has had more life to it than blood ever can. Perhaps because it doesn't control life, the way blood does, so can never herald death. Or perhaps simply because it's so near his expressive eyes.

Stein suddenly blinks out of his study. Blood. On Spirit's cuff. He reaches out unthinkingly and touches it, so lightly that the weapon doesn't notice.

"Did I hurt you?"

Spirit opens his eyes, and Stein forgets where he is as clear teal eyes fix upon his face.

"No," Spirit replies with a slight shake of his head, and Stein believes him.

Spirit is staring down at him. Despite how expressive his eyes are, and despite how Stein spent the better part of five years simply staring at them, learning to the read them and know his weapon's thoughts... He doesn't know what Spirit is thinking.

"Will you...remember? Me?" Stein voices again, the words heavy with their years of memories, and he knows the look that enters the older man's eyes then.

Pain. Fear. Words he wants to say but holds back with his breath.

Spirit's lips part in silence, and when he does glance away he bites his lower lip and gives an uneasy sigh. Stein slowly sets his head back against the wall and lets his gaze drift over the room, to a panel of sunlight on the bloodstained floor.

It occurs to him then... This is the only time since Lord Death brought them back together that they've really been able to be alone, to talk as just themselves. Not as duty-bound meister and weapon, not as teachers at the academy, not as doctor and death scythe... But just them. He wonders if Spirit knows it too.

Of course, he thinks ironically, he has to barely have a hold on sanity for the conversation.

"If...if I say yes..." Spirit begins hesitantly, and Stein can't help the slight warmth that curls through him. Spirit could never deny him anything. "Will you promise me, Stein..."

Stein shifts slightly, focuses his gaze on Spirit's bright, unblinking eyes.

"Will you promise me you won't give up?"

For a moment all is still. And then the corners of Stein's mouth make an almost imperceptible turn upward.

As much as he has learned to read the weapon, likewise the older man knows exactly how to read him and follow the trail of his thoughts to every possible conclusion. And Spirit isn't wrong in what he is thinking.

A bitter ache settles over Stein's chest, because he knows now that that path is closed to him.

"I promise."

The choking darkness begins to lift, and the resolve in his own voice surprises him. But it shouldn't, really. After all, Stein could never deny Spirit anything.

Spirit doesn't turn, but he does reach down to where Stein is seated, his fingers lightly curled and hovering near the meister's shoulder. When Stein reaches up he's surprised to see blood on his knuckles, but then a vague memory of striking out at the creatures and the groping hands reminds him of the source of the small wounds. He wonders how the other more serious ones he can feel occurred while he was lost to the madness.

The touch, slight though it is, is like electricity. Warm and life-giving and making him believe he can at least try to follow through on the promise. He allows Spirit to help him to his feet, takes a moment to let the dizziness pass as he presses his hand to a wound at his hip, the act of standing causing it to re-open. He takes a slow breath through his nostrils and doesn't say anything.

"Let's ah...let's go back to the lab," Spirit says a little uncertainly, starting slowly for the corridor. He makes no move to release Stein's fingers, and the meister follows obediently. "Where's Marie?"

"She's..." Stein trails off as his brow furrows. Where is his other weapon?

In the doorway Spirit pauses, turns to look at him as he puzzles over the question. Stein listens to his sigh and doesn't need to look up to know disappointment will have joined the other emotions in the teal eyes.

"Have a seat," Spirit says, finally releasing the slight hold on Stein's fingers to gesture to the eyesore of a couch that Marie had placed in the great room of his office.

Stein swallows and slowly steps past Spirit, releasing the pressure on the wound in his side. He straightens his coat before sitting, hoping the weapon won't notice the more serious wound, and then tips his head to rest on the back of the couch and closes his eyes against the spinning of the room.

A multi-colored, multi-legged creature flickers through the blackness in his vision, and Stein opens his eyes again.

"I'm supposed to be reporting to Lord Death. I'll...see if I can find someone to clean up that room for you. All right?" Spirit says and starts to turn for the door.

"Spirit."

The meister is relieved to see his weapon stop immediately, turn on his heel and the muddle of emotions in his eyes melt away into nothing but concern. But the words Stein had been about to say have left him, his mind falling blank under the kind gaze from clear, teal eyes.

Apparently words aren't necessary as Spirit approaches the couch and kneels in front of him. A hand settles on his shoulder and Stein again feels the electricity, the warmth. Not a true resonance, because he doesn't dare expose Spirit to his mind the way it is, but just enough of a connection that he feels he can actually make good on his promise.

"Please." Again, the timbre of the weapon's voice rises. The word comes out on an exhale, and the end of the word is precise.

Stein simply stares, again memorizing as much as he can while his mind is his own. The crystalline intensity of teal that seems to stare straight into his soul. The feathery halo of red that perfectly frames gentle cheekbones and a strong jaw.

It's almost enough to banish the dancing of technicolor creatures that are beginning to swarm the edges of his vision again. Almost. But he ignores them if only for one last moment of clarity. One last look at his weapon.

"I..."

"Please, Stein. Don't give up! Try to fight it!"

Stein's voice is lost again, lost somewhere between the dark forest of hands that waver behind the protective shield that surrounds him with his weapon's presence, and behind the sincere care of a friend.

"I have to go... Just try. I'll come back."

Spirit's hand leaves his shoulder, taking the warmth with it. The creatures skitter closer and the dark hands eagerly surround the weapon as he retreats, moving past him and snaking slowly toward Stein. He draws his elbows up to the back of the couch as if readying to flee, but the rest of his body is as lead. Too weak to fight anymore. Except...

"I'll try," he echoes, and Spirit stops at the door and looks back at him one last time. Stein's gaze pierces beyond the eel-like arms coming closer and the bright things hovering near his feet to look at the grim set of the weapon's jaw. But his eyes rise higher, to a pair of narrowed, giant yellow eyes above the door and a forked tongue that flicks toward him suddenly.

His throat tightens, and he lowers his eyes anxiously to the weapon.

"I'll come back."

It's on that promise that Stein sets his hope as everything closes in. Spirit vanishes through the door, taking his radiance and sound mind with him, and then the whole of the lab wall seems to disappear to be replaced by three massive, ominous eyes arranged like rosebuds, red and twitching and bleeding evil that sings toward Stein with dark purpose.

The strange, dazzling creatures skitter upon the sofa toward his knees. The eyes blink and a static begins filling his ears, getting louder and louder until he can hear nothing but noise and the fearful hammering of blood in his ears. The forked tongue darts out of the swarm of arms to lick his face as the black hands get closer, only inches away now.

Stein closes his eyes to all of it. Pictures teal eyes and red hair, clings to the image. And as he feels the creatures attack and the hands close around his throat, before the madness can steal his breath fully, he parts his lips one last time.

"Remember me."

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #spirit albarn #franken stein #death scythe #stein #spirit #crossstitch #dr stein #dr. stein #professor stein #spiritstein #steinspirit #stein x spirit #spirit x stein #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #i feel like i'm missing some tags oh well #spein #i hate that one

[mephitsguidetothemultiverse]

A figure, tall and completely dark save for a blank white comedy mask, approaches the camera. "Welcome, future travelers, allow me to introduce myself," it says with an unnaturally polite candor and a distorted unrecognizable accent. It gives a sweeping bow before looking down the barrel of the camera to speak. Rather, one assumes it is looking that way, its mask does not have eyes visible in the eyeholes. "My name is Mephit, and I am a traveler of the multiverse, and this-" it makes a grand sweeping gesture to the darkness slowly illuminating with rows of fluorescent lights turning on with a clunk to reveal... endlessly many books behind it "- is my library, also known as everything one could ever need to know about traveling the multiverse."

Hello all! I am Jax, I am a writer who uses they/them pronouns and loves to write about weird interesting ideas in science fiction, horror and fantasy. More to the point, I'm really bad at writing random chunks of worldbuilding and never do anything with it. So to help me try and organize this stuff better, I've decided to turn it into an ongoing writing project!

This project will be about a mysterious and learned figure named only Mephit (it/its pronouns) who travels the multiverse to study new and interesting things and people but has become bored with its seemingly endless life as of late. As a result, it has taken on a project whereby it releases articles and videos about all the different things one could research in the multiverse to various points in space/time! For our universe, it chose this blog where you will get to read all about the many weird and wonderful universes and their different denizens, flora, fauna, buildings and more! For those who wanna play along with this story, I will be making as few posts as possible in my own voice as possible for effect, with one exception! I do intend to use the AMA feature from time to time to answer big questions about the blog as "Curator Jax" at my discretion. I won't have an answer for every question asked this way right away as I'm coming up with everything as I go along, but also I may just decide a question's answer would be too boring, inappropriate, irrelevant or spoilery to answer at a given point in time. If this happens, do not spam a question for interaction. If I don't answer a comment or an AMA, don't ask it on every video until I do, don't send it a dozen or more times to any inbox of mine in a short time, and don't start leaving a bunch of negative comments and asks as retaliation. I will block on the first offense for these behaviors in order to curate a good experience for all readers as well as to protect my mental health. On a lighter note, feel free to leave as many positive comments as you want ANYWHERE! Included in positive comments are excited tumblr noises, memes, excited gremlin behavior, fanart (but please don't comment fanfiction, post fanfiction and @ me in it instead) and references to characters and scenes from your other favorite works. Seriously on that last one, if you wanna make a reference to the 1983 science fiction and swashbuckling fantasy film and box-office flop Krull on a random post you can, and do not police people on the references they make unless it is actually offensive. Uploads will be done on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for now as I can, but I am new to this and don't know what I'm doing so I may change that schedule as I need to prevent burnout, engage more, etc. Please bare with me, I'm excited about this project and hoping I can stay with it long term and make something I'm proud of and that you all will enjoy! Now, without further ado,

Welcome to the Multiverse!!

#blog intro #pinned intro #intro post #writing #my writing #writeblr #horror #fantasy #science fiction #mephit #original character #blog rules

[bubheart]

Secrets left for the moon.

Characters: Keith Howellx"you"

For: @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady ccc different universe, same love. ♡

Prompt: D-3 Enemies or Soulmates? Yes.

Words count: approx 900-1k

Notes: Banner is my fanart…

I have loved you from the very beginning. Long before I knew what to call it, I knew its taste in my mouth. I have loved you without words, without sounds. It was you and I, not yet us but it was happiness.

Or so I used to believe.

Tonight, a ball is held in the castle to celebrate the start of the noble season, when aristocrats gather in the capital. Nothing too unfamiliar, nothing too genuine either. Picture here the stiff smiles of men, there the copious perfumes of women as they all try to conceal the face of their putrid avarice.

Some of them approach me, hands rubbing against each other, eyes scrutinizing every one of my movements. They say “Your Highness, I am most pleased to see you in good health!” with their mouths, thinking “How boring! This prince is a ghost.” in their hearts. And they laugh. Mocking my lack of charisma and drive.

My head spins from embarrassment. Still I can feel the corner of my mouth splits into a smile and my throat rips itself to reply “Thank you very much.” My own hypocrisy lingers on my tongue, like the stinging acidity of a lemon. So I let my body rest in the warmth of the chandeliers and drown my consciousness in the clamor of the violins. Slowly. Painfully. Erasing my very existence in the shadows of the illuminated ballroom.

Thump thump…thump thump…thump thump

Aah, there you are.

The rhythmic pounding of your heart resounds in my head. It has always been. On sleepless nights, I try to follow its song in my dreams where I would chase the faceless image of you. A fog with no form and no warmth when you slip through my fingers.

But the sun is a jealous god. It rises in the sky from the other side of the world too fast, too early, pushing the shy moon relentlessly behind the horizon. It burns the last whispers that remained unsaid on my lips. My love, our secrets are left for the moon.

Yet this time is different. This time, your heartbeat continues to grow louder and louder in my head while my own heart tries to reach it. Harder and harder, crashing itself against the cage of my ribs like waves on the shore. The heat rises in the room. I can feel beads of sweat dampening my shirt making it stick to my skin.

“Ah!”

In a jolt, my hand clutches at my chest, my breath catches in my throat.

It hurts!

A sharp pain like I’ve never felt before pierced me. A dagger had found a new home in-between my ribs. Did my heart finally break free from its cage? I can’t say. My head is a swollen water balloon ready to pop and spill its content all over the ballroom floor. The heaviness of carrying a water balloon as a head seems almost too much for my neck and in a flash of delirium, I wonder if it will not simply snap under the weight.

It’s hot.

It’s burning.

I’m on fire.

Before I realize it, my feet are already dragging my body towards the balcony, desperate for fresh air. It’s a cool spring night outside yet the soft breeze that gently rustles the leaves on the trees doesn’t chill my scalding skin. My ragged breath echoes distantly with the muffled sounds of a walz. The clicking of heels and a voice brings me back.

“My apologies but I saw you looking unwell. Should I call for someone?”

I whirl into the direction it comes from. I see you standing before me. Finally. The warm orange light of the ballroom candles meets the softer blue light of the moon on your skin. The golden beads that constellate your clothes shine like stars. And suddenly, I’m an astronomer longing for the skies. Everything comes into focus again, a calm reassurance settles in me.

I have found you. My soulmate.

“…Yes. I’m alright. Thank you for your concern.” a man replies in a low, confident voice. “I wanted a bit of fresh air and we have such a pretty moon tonight.”

He smiles at you without making any abrupt movements. Embarrassed, you almost fumble over your words to apologize for interrupting his contemplation.

“Would you do me the honor of joining me?” he continues, always charming.

Don’t do it. Don’t get closer to him, I beg you! But I can see your cheeks flush at his proposal. Shyly, you move towards his outstretched hand. Until you grab it. I have never cursed my own passiveness as much as now. I can’t even talk! I can’t warn you about the light that glows in that man’s eyes when he looks at you. I am here but my lips are tied! All I can do is hear you both sing the melody of love in canon. You smile unaware that my heart breaks a little bit more each time you look at him that way. He is not who you think he is!

Anger builds up in me. I was burning before but now my body is growing numb from the cold that took over. The grounds are shaking under my feet as I silently watch, standing at the border of insanity. I want to break this man’s hand as he brushes your hair behind your ear. It takes everything in me to not rip his heart out as he slowly touches your cheeks. Murderous urges are gnawing at me from the darkness.

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. However right before he kisses you, as you await it with your eyes closed, he turns his gaze towards the French window but you and I are the only ones reflected in it. The man’s eyes meet mine. His face distorts in a wicked smile then I understand.

I am him and he is me.

Keith and his alt and a soulmate. That was the concept…I did my best to convey it. I hope that you liked it and that there wasn’t too much typos. Oof…

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen prince keith #ikepri keith #keith my man ❤️ #different universe same love ccc

[bibliotheksbewohnerin]

the Baldur's Gate brain rot worm is real, there's ✨illuminated✨ fanart happening and everything

#listen i know the anatomy is wrong but i was at a point where i couldn't really fix it anymore #and also i feel like you can get away with this in pseudo medieval art #please note the owlbear

[llondonfog]

https://twitter.com/qrioic74/status/1607341507740307456?s=46&t=pezuQvLExpYdpGnnwiscTg

This one art with silver falling into a deep sleep after pricking his finger on the spinning wheel and Lilia there man this art rrly makes me feel a lot

THE FACT THAT SO MANY OF YOU SENT ME THIS LINK!!!!!!!!! you all know just what Hits The Spot and it's my favorite father son duo in Pain yet again :')

okay but everything about this art is just Perfection.

The dark inky tears running down Malleus' face as he looks on in absolute horror as to what he's done to his very own family, one of his precious guards, their vulnerable human child, cast down at his feet by his very hands. The way he's illuminated in that sickly green, awash in his own haunting power

The way that Lilia is cradling Silver's head with such tenderness as he checks his pulse to make sure that his son is still alive from where he's clearly fallen down the stairs and could have smacked his head, not even paying attention to Malleus as his first priority is his son, always his child. The despair he must be feeling knowing that with his magic drained, there may be nothing he can do to save his son.

The fact that Silver must have been either attempting to reason with Malleus to get him to halt his overblot, or was tempted just like in the story to approach and prick his finger, how long were they in that tower room alone before Lilia found them, how long was Malleus staring down at Silver's motionless frame coming to terms with what he's started

this fanart has such a hold on me, if it's not obvious :'))

#twst spoilers #I WANT TO FRAME IT AND STARE AT IT FOREVER #THE PAIN IS EXQUISITE

[tired-biscuit]

I know you said "thirsts" but can I do cutes instead?

I was looking for Rock Lee fanart to share and I found a beautiful picture of Rock Lee and Gaara going to the Disney Parks (#13 in this collection on Pixiv).

So I've got some ideas about the two of them going to Disney World (the Florida one since that's the one I have experience with):

~Lee is the biggest Disney fan ever. He's the one buying them matching shirts/hats before they even leave for vacation. Gaara, meanwhile, is the one meticulously planning everything. (Hotel, transportation, meal reservations, etc.)

~Lee insists on wearing the shirts on the way there, and informs Gaara that he looks adorable in the red and white polka dots about every ten minutes.

~They arrive at their hotel in the early afternoon (Polynesian Resort - so Lee can ride the monorail every day and Gaara can enjoy the use of plants in the decor), then head for the parks.

~They do Epcot first (they want to devote a full day to Magic Kingdom). Gaara loves Living With The Land, and rides it multiple times while admiring the greenhouses and the different technologies and techniques shown for growing plants. Lee, meanwhile, goes nuts designing his car before getting on Test Track, adjusting the curves of the shell and the power of the engine until the very last second.

~They're both entralled by IllumiNations* (the fireworks show). Gaara almost cries. Lee full on sobs.

~They spend a full week exploring the resort, and each day they go to a different place.

~Gaara's favorite park ends up being Animal Kingdom because he loves being surrounded by nature, though his favorite ride remains Living With The Land.

~Lee's is Magic Kingdom because it's full of the spirit of youth. He likes all of the rides pretty much equally, but his favorite thing period is meeting the different Princesses.

~They take so many pictures. Lee's favorite is the two of them holding each other in front of Cinderella Castle, Gaara's is in front of the Tree of Life.

~Lee gets chocolate all over his face while trying to eat a Mickey Bar before it melts. Gaara thinks it's adorable.

~They absolutely don't want to leave once their vacation ends, and Lee secures a promise from Gaara that they'll come back again someday.

omg that was so cute to read, my smile grew bigger and bigger through the entire thing 🥺

i've only been once to disneyland in paris, so i have no clue what disney world is, but if it's anything similar to that then, ahhhh they'd be so precious during the rides and while taking pictures. i just know lee puts his hands up into the air and screams "yeaaaah!" during every more 'intense' ride and gaara is just subtly shaking his head and smiling 😭💛