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dragonsdomain · 5 months

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Blob Ghost Supreme chapter 4

AO3

Chapter 3

The colosseum was packed when it came time for the final battle. Eager ghosts were pressing in from all sides, forming a writhing dome of ghosts all trying to press towards the front. Walker's police ghosts had to be working overtime to maintain a shield around the arena to keep any ghosts from pressing too close.

Sam and Tucker probably would have had a very hard time seeing the fight if they hadn't been inexplicably invited into the fancy leader booth.

Tucker looked over at Sam with his eyebrows up high. What did she think about this? He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam shrugged. So she wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Tucker sneered at her for being a hoity-toity rich girl.

Sam sneered back at him for insinuating that this had anything to do with that, and really, shouldn't he just be being more grateful? Be polite, Tucker.

Tucker rolled his eyes. Fine.

Tucker turned to the tall clock man beside him. He was apparently the Observants' boss who he'd heard about. "So. Who're you rooting for?"

Sam snorted, covering her face, and Tucker raised an eyebrow at her. If she was going to be judging him for committing high society faux pas, the least she could do was telepathically tell him what he was doing wrong.

Clock man, ahem, Clockwork, laughed. "It would arouse a great deal of trouble if I were to claim anything other than impartiality. Though I can guess who you are rooting for."

Sam looked up again. "If I may, how did you know Tucker and I knew Phantom? We didn't even know back then."

Clockwork's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Time is irrelevant for me. I have forgotten more things than either of you have ever known."

Tucker grinned. "Is that really something to brag about, Grandpa?"

Sam choked down a laugh, which somewhat stifled the effects of her pointedly elbowing him. "Sorry about my friend. He doesn't mean any disrespect."

Clockwork shapeshifted into a young man. "No worries. It's refreshing."

Sam coughed awkwardly. "Do you know much about the other finalist? I'm afraid I haven't heard much about them." Sam neglected to mention that she and Tucker hadn't watched any matches which didn't have Danny in them.

"He's rather mysterious," Clockwork said, but there was a knowing twinkle in his eye. "He showed up through a portal the day before the tournament, and quickly established himself as one of the most brutal and promising competitors. His skills are quite impressive. I know many ghosts in the audience are rooting for him."

Sam rolled her eyes, muttering to herself. "Power this, skills that. Isn't trial by combat archaic?"

Clockwork laughed, and Sam blushed. Tucker smirked at her. "Many ghosts believe power is related to the depth of one's connection to the ghost zone," Clockwork explained. "Therefore, the ghosts with the most power will be the ones with the strongest connection to it. Usually, blob ghosts are known to take on a weak appearance because they're close to passing on. Those types of souls have little reason to develop any power or reputation. A lack of resolve."

Sam glanced out at the throngs of ghosts in the audience. "I guess that'd explain why people don't really want a blob ghost on the throne, because they'd expect him to leave them before long."

Clockwork nodded. "Yes, likely. Though there are also reasons they're sensitive about the matter. Ghosts care greatly about appearance and change theirs to match how they wish to present themselves."

Tucker frowned. "But we haven't seen any ghosts doing that." He glanced up. "No, wait! Skulker!"

Clockwork chuckled. "Usually it's accomplished through magic, not technology, so it'd be less noticeable. But yes."

Sam started out across the audience, eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, so... if what Skulker did was common... how many of the ghosts out there..." She whipped back towards Clockwork. "Is this common knowledge? Are you supposed to be telling us this?"

Clockwork waved her off. "I can tell anyone whatever I please. Now take a seat. The final round is about to begin."

Sam pulled back and plopped down into her seat.

Tucker leaned over to her and whispered. "What did you mean? I'm confused."

Sam shook her head. "I don't know. It's a long-shot. I'm probably wrong."

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that what we thought about Phantom having something to do with Danny?"

Sam shushed him. "Not so loud! I don't know." She sighed. "I'm just wondering, I guess, how many of these ghosts are hiding something?"

"Something like..." Tucker prompted.

Sam frowned, then whispered in Tucker's ear.

He pulled away from her, wearing a baffled grin. "That is crazy. It'd be hilarious if you were right."

Sam shrugged. "Well I'm probably not. Now let's watch this battle. Let's hope Danny wins instead of this nasty-sounding other guy."

...

Danny clenched his jaw as the gate opened into the arena, and he and his opponent both floated out.

His opponent was large, but in a way that was far more solid than the tornado from the qualifying round. He was shaped like a muscular human, but his skin was blue like a corpse, and blue fire consumed his head in place of hair. His gaze rose from the ground, and locked with Danny's. It stabbed into him, the sharp, uncanny smile, the red eyes that looked so sickeningly familiar. Danny had some sense that he'd met this ghost before, that he hated him, that he was afraid of him.

"Welcome, denizens of the ghost zone, to the final battle of the Ghost King Tournament! Blob Ghost Phantom versus Dark Dan!"

Dan lunged. He was where Danny was in an instant, and his clawed hands whipped the air inches from his face.

Danny pulled back, zipping towards the opposite side of the arena again to get a little space to think, but after only another instant Dan was on him again, grabbing at the air he barely halted before. Danny put up a ghost shield to block Dan's claws and ecto-blasts, but Dan grabbed his shield with him in it and pounded it against the wall only three times before it shattered, leaving Danny breathless.

Danny slipped out of the way again just before Dan could grab him. He started darting erratically through the air to try to keep away from Dan, and it worked for a couple of seconds until an ectoblast hit him. It flung Danny against the wall, but he bounced off of it harmlessly.

Dan frowned when he saw that Danny was fine, and Danny rushed out of the way again. He finally managed to pivot and get a few shots in as he flew away, but Dan dodged two of them harmlessly and blocked the third with what looked like his bare hand. Danny gulped and continued trying to avoid Dan's shots. He needed a second to think.

Dan's fist hit him from the side, launching Danny into the wall. Danny bounced off of it and onto the floor, and he pulled up spitting sand out of his mouth.

"So that meager form did have one advantage after all, does it?" Dan said, cracking his knuckles. "Interesting."

What did he mean did? Danny was right here! Maybe Dan wasn't talking about him at all.

Danny fired off some shots of frost, but Dan broke through each one with relative ease. Danny continued his game of keep-away while he tried to charge up an especially powerful blast of ice, though when he managed to fire it off, Dan dodged out of its way. Danny gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to beat this ghost? This was so frustrating!

Danny started curling power around his space core, channeling its destructive force and creating another black hole.

Dan flew right up to the hole easily and extinguished it between his fingers with a condescending smirk. He blew away the smoke on them.

Danny froze. "What?!"

Dan smirked. "Oh, my pathetic, inferior self. Let me show you how it's done."

Dan brought his hands together and pulled them apart to create a black hole of his own. Danny's eyes widened as the circumference of the hole in turn grew larger and larger.

"What are you doing?" Danny screamed as he pushed himself against the wall as far from the ball as possible. "You'll destroy the arena!"

"If that's what it takes," Dan said casually.

Danny set his jaw in determination, then surged toward Dan's black hole like the other ghost had just a second ago. He opened his mouth wider than he ever thought was possible and swallowed the black thing whole.

Dan stared at him dubiously. Danny stared back, hoping his chest wasn't about to implode.

After a few seconds of them staring at each other and the audience staring at them, nothing had happened, and the ghosts in the stands let out a collective sigh of relief.

Danny opened his mouth to yell at Dan again, but the force of the black hole suddenly blasted forth out of it as a void-colored laser, directly in Dan's face. Danny tried to force his jaw shut; he wasn't trying to kill anyone, whatever this was, but it took several seconds before he was able to.

When the power finally depleted, Danny could see that the arena had finally met its match. A hole had been burned clean through it and the hall behind it, with the pale green of the ghost zone sky visible at the other end. Danny gulped. "Dan?"

There was silence for a second. Then a small, round shape pushed out of the wreckage at the end of the tunnel, steaming. Danny squinted. It looked like a large green water balloon. It looked like him.

Dan the blob ghost floated dazedly out of the tunnel, then flopped to the ground on the edge of the arena.

Danny blinked, looking around at the audience. That wasn't real, right?

Up in the fancy booth, the two familiar figures of Sam and Tucker stood up and started to applaud. No one else followed, the entire audience held in stunned silence.

The announcer Observant was frantically whispering to the other Observants beside him. Finally he spoke. "So, um. Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. Dark Dan was a blob ghost this entire time. How cowardly of him to hide it! Surely no one else would be able to relate to something so foolish—"

Clockwork took the microphone from the Observant's hand. "On the contrary, I think we can all learn from this. While some ghosts like Dan and Skulker may disguise their true self, it is the one who showed the truth despite its humility who ultimately won this tournament."

Clockwork swept his arms wide towards the audience. "For too long we've assumed that a ghost's appearance defines them. We have passed off blob ghosts as weak, to be ignored and forgotten. But as we've seen today, that belief does not hold water. It is an impression of a more ignorant time. In fact, perhaps a small appearance, rather than demonstrating any kind of weakness, shows confidence, and a strength more than any other."

Hushed murmuring trickled through the audience, ghosts looking at each other in doubt. Sam and Tucker had stopped clapping when Clockwork spoke, and now Sam was glancing around anxiously as Tucker attempted to give Danny an encouraging smile.

Johnny 13 jumped up onto the wall and pumped a fist in the air. "Hail King Phantom!" he screamed, then, with a pop, turned into a small, dark green blob ghost.

Several members of the crowd gasped.

Ember McLain hovered above the crowd and thrust her guitar into the air. "Hail King Phantom!" and she shapeshifted into a squishy blue fireball.

Danny's jaw dropped. Her too? How many of them were secretly blob ghosts?

One by one, each of Ember's bandmates also floated up and turned into blob ghosts of varying colors. Danny could only stare. The murmurings of the audience members had taken on a different tone, them turning to each other with looks on their faces not of shame or anger, but of awe.

A couple of ghosts started to filter away. What, were they blob ghosts too and didn't want to show it?

Those who remained, though, gradually started to also turn into blob ghosts. Danny recognized several he knew. The vine ghost from the first round shapeshifted into a roundish bramble. The tornado ghost turned into a more peaceful-looking sphere of wind. Technus abandoned an avatar he'd been hanging out in to reveal his own sparking blob ghost form.

Danny gaped as the silhouettes of the audience melded into the pleasant appearance of a ball park. Every one of them. "What?" he asked again, dumbly.

A blue blob ghost with a clock pinning a cloak around its neck floated down to him. "Clockwork?" Danny asked, extremely confused.

Clockwork nodded. "We're all blob ghosts. The archaic belief that that appearance was weak has been holding us back for centuries. By winning this tournament, you showed everyone here that they don't need to be ashamed of what they really look like."

"Wait, they all have shapeshifting magic? Does that mean I have shapeshifting magic too?! Teach me how to--"

Tucker crashed into Danny from behind, and Sam was quick to follow, the two pinning him in a hug.

"That was so awesome!" Sam shouted. "I was kind of worried you were about to lose, 'cause apparently he's your evil future self and everything, but you totally kicked his bu—!"

"Evil future self???" Danny spluttered.

"Oh, yeah. Clockwork told us." Tucker said.

Danny stared at him, then said hopefully, "I grow up to look that cool?"

Tucker shrugged. "I mean, I guess? Anyway, you're the ghost king! This is awesome! You're an inspiration!"

Danny looked up at the crowds of blob ghosts floating around each other joyfully. So everything they'd been saying about him had been because they were just ashamed themselves. And now they finally felt proud enough to take their true forms. They looked so comfortable, so happy.

Danny looked back at Clockwork. "Okay, but seriously. Show me how to shapeshift into something cooler!"

#my fanfics #blob ghost supreme #Danny Phantom #blob ghost Danny au #crack #tw violence #ectoimplosion2023 #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Clockwork #ghost king Danny AU

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gobblinggreen · 9 months

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i was so surprised when i got to the tgcf fandom and found a bunch of hua cheng TOPMEANDOM hcs like lol i wasn't expecting that at all. i thought we collectively saw him as the y/n enthusiast who was just waiting the opportunity to put his hair in a bun and drop an apple so he and his 800 yr crush could finally fall in love. im rambling. what i mean is: hua cheng cries during sex. the longer he and xie lian are together, the worse he gets.

#tgcf #hualian #the supreme ghost king can't have his husband riding him into oblivion because he starts ugly crying halfway #its really awkward to all the parties involved so they just go missionary #doggy is also a no-no bc hua cheng could NEVER do that to his highness are u kidding me

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comicwaren · 1 year

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From Avengers Vol. 8 #063, “The Battle of One Million BC”

Art by Javier Garrón and David Curiel

Written by Jason Aaron

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darkfireumbreon · 1 year

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I know why this ‘look’ happened now and it’s actually really funny

#heaven official's blessing #heaven official’s blessing book 4 spoilers #heaven official’s blessing novel spoilers #just some supreme ghost kings hanging out

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gojonanami · 2 months

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❝ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐃 ! ❞

❝ A GOOD GIRL SUMMONING THE KING OF CURSES -- WHAT COULD GO WRONG? ❞

✧ pairing: heian form! ryomen sukuna x good girl! reader

✧ summary: you've always been a goody two shoes -- or so your friends say -- so what happens when you decide to do the first bad thing you've ever attempted and try summoning a demon -- and it actually works?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dub/con / non/con (dead dove, do not eat), reader summons sukuna accidentally, monster fucking, corruption kink, reader is a virgin, dom! sukuna, heian form! sukuna, four arms, mouth stomach, size kink, oral (f + m) (f receiving via mouth stomach), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, degradation kink (slut, whore), overstimulation (f! receiving), description of violence (no violence happens), art by @/danXL4 (on dA), dividers by @/saradika

✧ wc: 4,916

Summon a demon in your apartment, they said. It would be fun, they said.

‘They’ meaning your stupid ass friends who were too fucking scared to stay here with you while you did it.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through, preferably before you sat in a circle of blood (animal blood taken humanely that could not be used — don’t worry, you weren’t completely insane), and painted the symbols around the circle in the living room, your carpet rolled up, and on the precipice of unfurling, and your coffee table pushed aside.

Your phone buzzed with messages in your group chat:

Don’t do this, girl.

Another message.

What if it’s real? I don’t want something to happen to you - like I rather not have this on my conscience

What heartfelt pleas, you shook your head, as you put your phone on ‘do not disturb,’ and propped it up before opening the camera app and hitting record.

Your fucking friends — it was all their fault to begin with.

You grit your teeth, you are tired of being boring. You were always studying, always coming home early, always getting to class on time, always the fucking good girl, never getting fucked up or fucked for that matter. And your friends always taunted you for it — told you that you never lived a day in your life, that you’d always live sheltered in your apartment with your books and your streaming apps (which, you admitted, did sound pretty good to you) — but you wanted to prove them wrong.

All the fuck they did that was daring was go to supposedly haunted sights and get the piss scared out of them — like yeah, that really was the wind, not some fucking ghost. If it was a ghost, pretty sure they would choose someone better to haunt — not a bunch of fucking pussies.

You needed better friends.

So for once — if only to get them to shut up — you wanted to do something crazy.

You don’t know why a demon summoning was the hill you had chosen to die on, but you already climbed your way to the top of the hill, you supposed, so you might as well die on it. You looked through the Reddit thread you found on demon summoning (of course the most reliable of sources), looking over the incantation you were supposed to read, as you turned on your camera.

Fuck. This was going to fucking dumb. You grabbed your lighter, lining up your candles around the circle, before kneeling in front of it.

“To summon the King of Curses,” you read before you scoffed, what the fuck were you doing? ‘The King of Curses’ — they couldn’t even come up with anything more creative than that? Like no latin? Or even japanese folklore — no, instead the most generic ass of names, “To summon the King of Curses, you must read the following incantation,” you glance at your phone’s camera with lips pursed — you were going to prove a point — but why did it feel so goddamn stupid?

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, as you suck in air between your teeth, and sighed, before reading the incantation: “Rise, Disgraced One — Oh, the King of the Golden Age that reigned supreme,” there was a chill that grazed the back of your neck, a slight breeze that raises goosebumps along your skin, “Open the Gate of Hell and let the King corrupt you. Fuga,”

The flames on the candles shoot to the ceiling, as a scream lodges itself in your throat, as you barely scramble back enough to avoid getting your face burned off. The fire licks the ceiling, and a thick cloud of smoke floods your apartment, sweeping through the apartment, as you begin to cough, eyes burning with tears.

“What the fuck—“ you reach for your phone in your pocket only to realize it’s still set up to record in that fucking mess of flames. You’re frozen, as you stand trying to recall what they taught you about fire safety growing up — is opening a window a good thing or a bad thing? Where’s the fire alarm? Do you even have a fire extinguisher? Thinking dangerous things through wasn’t your specialty, you supposed because you never did them.

Fuck, if you died, you would become a fucking ghost and haunt your friends.

But the flames ebb away, leaving some scorch marks on the ceiling (fun thing to explain to your landlord), as your lungs struggled to cope with the flood of smoke dispersing, the cloud so thick, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The haze seared at your throat, drawing a smoker’s cough from your lungs, while your eyes could barely open, waterlogged by the sheer amount of tears spilling.

You gently wipe tears away from your eyes, as you blink them away, until you stumble to your window to throw it open, coughing, as you stick your head out.

“What the fuck,” you mumble, throat raw — was it the candles you bought? Were the candles somehow really fucking defective? Or did you somehow actually summon a demon? You snort, no, it was probably the candles. You leaned against the window sill, letting the smoke escape — as you finally were able to breathe again.

You sigh, shutting the window, turning back around — only to find four eyes staring back.

He was huge. A hulking mass of muscles, four arms, instead of two, and each one was possibly wider than your head, no shirt or covering to find the exposed skin — his dark blue pants hung low around his waist and above it was a weird groove in the middle of his stomach.

Your eyes raise as he lifts his arm, as you flinch, but he only rakes his fingers through his dark pink hair, pushing it back roughly. showing off the hands of black around the middle of his bicep and his wrists. Broken lines wrap down from his shoulders into jagged points that end in the middle of his chest. Black dots adorn the sides of his shoulders, hollow vacuums that stared back at you.

Two eyes on each side of his face — but his right eyes were raised, as if he bore a mask made of wood or raised skin — you didn’t know which — fused to his face. But something told you — as you took a step back — it wasn’t something you wanted to find out.

“Are you the brat who dared to summon me?” And you freeze at the sound of his voice, ringing with such a weight, it nearly brought you to your knees. Your eyes fell to the ground, unable to bring yourself to look at him — your heart rattling against your ribs. His presence was a pressure, the air around you seemed to still, his voice ringing in your ears. Your muscles were drawn taut, unable to move — shivers ripping down your spine.

“Yes,” you manage a whisper only, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

He gives a small chuckle, “So submissive for the one who dared to summon me,” his heavy footsteps out of the circle, melts the candles beside his foot to puddles of wax, “it has been eons since I’ve been able to roam free—“ he inhales, as you stand frozen, hearing his hulking form drawing even closer, “I can smell the humans, roaming free, wriggling like worms in the crevices of this place — I can’t wait to massacre them,” and then he pauses a moment, as he considers you.

“Brat, look at me,” you swallow, as your head slowly rises to meet his gaze, his form towering over you, standing two steps away from you, letting you dwell in the void of his shadow, “tell me, what did you use to summon me?”

You blink, “I found it—I don’t know—“

“Read it to me,” he orders — there’s no option to disobey, unless you’d love to be met with certain death. So you move slowly to your laptop, reading the incantation again, “‘and let the King corrupt you. Fuga,”

His eyes narrow, as a slow smirk settles over his features, a smirk that sends an icy chill down your spine, “Woman, you have no idea what you’ve done, have you?”

Two of his arms are crossed while one of the other’s reaches for you — and your eyes shut now — you are surely dead, but instead of a hand around your neck, you feel fingers grip your chin.

You wait for the embrace of death (at least maybe you’d find better friends in the afterlife), but it never comes, instead you hear a deep chuckle, as another arm curls around your waist and brings you flush to him, “You humans are so tiny, so fragile, one wrong move and i could break you,” and another large hand is slipping down the curves of your body, “I suppose I’ll have to be a little careful — only for this to work, and I suppose for your benefit as well,” and your eyes finally dare to open and peek at him, only for his face to draw near, breath warming your lips, “I’m going to savor corrupting you, little one,”

“What the fuck—“ you try to break away, but his grip is like iron shackles around your wrists, as he forces your arms around his waist, caged in by his own arms, “please let me go—“

Before you can even finish your plea, his lips meet yours, swallowing your gasp with a smirk. His large hands around your waist left no space for retreat, not that you’d make it far even if you tried. His kiss sent a slow burning heat throughout your body, a spark that grew in your belly that ignited when his tongue slid into your mouth. His touch only added fuel to the flame — his hands skimming over your sides slowly like warm honey sliding down your skin.

He parts your kiss ruined lips, not before his teeth bite down on your bottom lip, a smirk on his lips as he sees your saliva slip down the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted and puffy as he drags his thumb down them, eyes blown out with pleasure.

“That’s it, give in,” and the haze that settles over you is thick and unforgiving, unable to see anything but the King of Curses before you and unable to need anything but pleasure at his hands.

“Please,” a small hint of resistance remained stubbornly — you couldn’t let this monster have his way with you — for fuck’s sake, much less lose your virginity to him, “I can’t,”

“But you want to,” he hums, as large fingers tug at your flimsy shorts, the fabric tearing with ease, until it was in shreds, a shiver running up your spine at the thought that your limbs could have been too, “your mouth says one thing, brat, but your lower lips,” a thick finger presses at the wet patch on your panties, rubbing against your puffy clit, “say another,”

You whimper, as his finger bears down harshly through the thin fabric, “please,” you swallow, as he leans down to lick the drool from your lips, “please—“

“Please, what, little one?” he chuckles, as he presses wet kisses up your jaw, “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me,” your knees are beginning to buckle, as the ache between your legs only grows, “I know you must look pretty when you cry, so do you want to cry for me, brat?” and his piercing gaze nearly brings you tears along, “because I can give you something to cry about,”

“Do you ever shut up?” you mutter, but that only seems to make the corner of his lip tug upwards.

“I can make you shut up,” And two hands squeeze your hips roughly, while another slips under your shirt, “No undercovering? It’s as if you wanted this all long,” he chides, a huff in his voice, as his finger teases your pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling, drawing a yelp from your lips, “hoping for an incubus or some other curse or demon?” he’s tugging down his pants, revealing his dick—-if you could call it that.

Fuck, was that a cock or another appendage all together? Far thicker and longer than any male anatomy you’ve seen depicted or described in even the filthiest corners of the internet — pretty veins running up the sides, as a mess of pre-cum dripped off the engorged tip, flushed red with need.

“Why did you summon me?” he demands to know as he leans down to take a nipple between his lips, and you know you have no choice but to answer.

“I wanted to prove to my friends that I wasn’t—” it was so pathetic now, as you stood before a literal deity of death, “wasn’t just a good girl,”

He chuckles, a bark more than a laugh almost, as you swallow thickly as your eyes can’t tear away from the sight of his dick — would he kill you with it instead of his hands?

“Well, you aren’t anymore are you?” he scoffs, and you fail to notice his hand shifting to tug your underwear off, a gasp ripped from you, as another hand brushed against your bare cunt roughly, “Look at how fucking wet you are already, slut, so much already leaking all over my fingers,” he shows you the strings of pre-cum connecting his fingers, before he brings his fingers to his lips and his tongue darts out to lick them clean, “I’d say no respectable woman would be dripping this much if she was so good,” he hums, before sighing mockingly, “although, perhaps I should preserve your sanctity, even a little. It would be unfortunate to leave you like this — even more so, to leave myself like this, but if that is truly what’s for the best—“ his grip begins to loosen, but your fingers find his shoulder.

Two words manage to leave your lips — and you don’t know whether it’s that you’re under his spell or under your own — but you know that you need this “Don’t go,”

His lips curl. He wasn’t going to begin with — but it was so much easier if you gave in.

~~~

“C’mon little one, you were so eager only a moment ago,” The King of Curses chides, amusement threaded through his tone from behind you, watching as you nearly straddled his stomach — though you had realized it wasn’t just a stomach. A tongue flicked out over lips that formed over the middle of his abdomen, right under you.

“I didn’t know—“ your cheeks warmed, your walls fluttering at that thought of that tongue against your leaking cunt.

“Yet you’re so eager,” he scoffs, before using a large hand to tug you against it as two hands settle against your waist to hold you in place, “and I’ve run out of patience, so be a good whore and take my cock,” and he’s pushing your head down, sharp fingernails digging into your scalp, as his large cock slaps your face, smearing his pre cum over your cheek and lips.

Your lips part, the tip of your tongue tracing his weeping slit, drawing a hiss from his lips, before your mouth engulfs the head, while your fingers curl around his thick base. And as you do, you feel his tongue drag over the length of your cunt, making you gasp around his cock.

His mouth and tongue are even larger than the one on his face, slurping and sucking, as his tongue begins to work its way inside your needy cunt.

“Don’t slack, brat,” his hand pushing your head further down on his cock, nearly burying your face in his pubes, “come on, do a good job, and I may even give you the pleasure of being fucked by me,”

You force yourself to focus on sucking his cock, tracing the pretty veins with your tongue, before suckling at the tip, savoring the groan you draw from his lips. The squelch of your cunt as his tongue begins to fuck you open, thicker than even four of your fingers, fills your ears. Two of his hands find your tits, tweaking and twisting your nipples, squeezing as he presses the flat of his palms against your breasts, only for tongues to dart out from his palms. You gasp around his length, as his other mouths suck at your tits, swirling their tongue around it.

His hips jerk against your mouth when your fingers cup his balls, and he thrusts, “You can do better,” he grunts, as his tip grazes your throat, his mouth closing around your clit and sucking, hard, and you’re grinding on his abs and mouth now, toes curling as you cum, and his mouth only eagerly swallows it, the sticky release coating his abs.

His cock twitches in your mouth as you moan around it, as you recover from your orgasm, beginning to suck at his cock, nearly high off the pleasure, as you fondle his balls, bobbing your head up and down, until he’s finally groaning, his hot release flooding your mouth.

“Don’t waste a drop,” he growls, as you swallow it, blissed out and panting, as your lips leave his weeping cock, slapping against your cheek as he lifts you easily and places you on your back, “don’t tell me you’re done after that, little one,” and your eyes slide down to see his somehow still erect dick, standing tall as he kneels on your bed, his hulking form burying you in his shadow, “because I’m far from done yet,” his cock twitches at the sight of your lips, a swollen mess from sucking him off, a mix of his cum and your saliva all over your face.

“Please, I can’t—“ you whine, shaking your head, but two hands are already spreading your folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as if already craving to have his dick buried in it.

“Your cunt seems to disagree, little one,” as he drags a thick digit around your clit, before pinching it, as you keen under his touch, “you’re drenched for me, begging for me to take you,” and his thumb is now rubbing circles around your puffy clit while he sinks a finger into you knuckle deep, “I just have to make sure you can fit me in this tight hole of yours,” your head falls back against the pillow as he’s knuckle deep, another large finger already pushing into your slick walls, “still so tight despite all the time I took to open you up,” he clicked his tongue, a smirk on his lips, as his fingers find the spongy spot that makes your fingers fist at the sheets, as your release squirts over his fingers, your body boneless as pleasure buzzes through every inch of your body, until you finally start come down.

But as soon as you even begin to, his fingers begin to move again, fucking you through your orgasm, and quickly into another.

“Ngh, no, no, not yet—” your voice is caught in your throat, words leaving your lips in a hurry because you know surely his fingers would rip any coherent thought from your mind in a moment.

But he does not relent, only finger fucking you harder, “I have to be careful to open you up, otherwise, I very well may break you in two, wouldn’t I? Such fragile things, you humans are — already squealing? I haven’t even added a third finger yet,” he scoffs, as he hums, “have you not been deflowered yet, brat?”

And your pussy gives a telltale flutter that only has his lips curling further, a flash of his canines sending a chill down your spine, “I-I—”

“No need for your answer, pet, your body gave me the answer itself,” he hums, “then this will take a bit longer than I thought—” as his fingers curl and drag over your walls, before scissoring apart, “I’d prefer for you to be conscious when I take your virginity, but I don’t mind if you’re not,”

And a fourth finger presses at your slick hole, making you whimper, “Please, I can’t—” but he does not relent, four fingers now fucking you open, as your mouth parts in a silent scream, back arching as they work you open. Your body lies on slick drenched sheets, the smell and sound of your arousal only making his need grow, holding back if only not to ruin you completely — he needed you still, needed this to work. And he wasn’t sure what’d happen if he’d break you completely — and he knew he could far too easily. Already he could feel your blood rushing under his touch, the small gasps and moans could turn to screams with just a finger barely lifted, the slick painted over with scarlet.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. Not when he’s so close. And soon enough he won’t need you — but he can only cross that bridge when he gets there.

Or rather, when you get there.

~~~

“Brat, c’mon, keep your eyes open, we’re almost there,” Sukuna barks, as his fingers grip your chin, and force your gaze to him. How many orgasms had he given you? Seven or eight ? Maybe more. Sweat and cum clung to your skin, sticky and hot, as he continued to fuck you open, “think this virgin hole is finally ready for my cock, listen to it,” the loud squelch of your cunt as he thrust his fingers in and out had almost become white noise to you — and the sweet stretch of your pussy around his fingers had become second nature.

And finally he’s pulling his fingers from you, digits shiny and dripping with your release, sliding down your palm and wrist, as he brought them to his mouth to lick it clean, before offering it to his mouth on his stomach as well. He watches you all fucked out before him, legs spread along with your cunt that fluttered around nothing, waiting for him to slot his cock between your folds and sink in. He grunts, fuck, his balls still feel so full, even after cumming down your throat, aching to cum in your sweet cunt, see him fill your womb with his seed, the sweet release he had been craving for far too long.

“You still want my cock still, little one? Or are you too tired for it now?” he drags his leaking cock over your dripping folds, letting it tease your swollen clit as his pre cum mixes with your own, “maybe I should leave you like this, let you beg and beg for me until you’re writhing for me,”

You’re panting, the ache inside your pussy too much for you to bear — you were melting without him inside, the only thing to quench your need, your thirst — he was the only thing that could even begin to make it ebb.

“Please, please, my King,” your words are nearly sobs, pretty tears slipping down your cheeks, as your chest heaves with need — want far gone several hours ago, leaving only you with a desperation that would drive you mad, “I need you, need you take me, need you to fuck me,”

And his lips curl, “I thought you’d never ask, brat,” and he’s settling himself between your parted legs, pressing them back against your stomach, “although even if you didn’t, I’d help myself — because you summoned me after all, didn’t you, little one?” As he uses another arm to cup your chin, “watch me as I sink into you,”

Your cunt quivers as he presses his head to your entrance, as he uses your slick to wet his cock, “I’ll go slow at first, but once I’m inside, I have no intention of stopping, no matter how much you beg,”

It was a warning, a warning that there was no going back — but there was no going back from the moment you summoned this curse onto your doorstep — there was a descent into depravity, and how quickly you’d make it to the bottom.

The tip of his cock barely parts your folds, and you’re already whining about how full it feels — your walls fluttering as if trying to either accommodate his girth or push him out all together. He saw the faint drip of scarlet as he worked himself in, inch by inch — as your fingers found purchase in his forearms, nails digging crescents into his flesh.

“F-fuck, ngh, Too big, Sukuna, I can’t—“ and he can already feel your pussy give the telltale flutter of an orgasm, a cry ripped from your throat, as you cum, walls only pulling him in deeper and deeper — as if they never wanted to let go.

And finally, finally, he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush to your aching cunt, and he stills — it had been so long since he had enjoyed the body of a virgin, but he was sure you were the sweetest and tightest cunt he’d ever had.

Your cries made him scoff, tears streaming down your ruined face, it made his cock twitch —you were so small compared to him, a tiny pebble waiting to be crushed, but instead he held you in the palm of his hand. You were his to have, his to break, and his to corrupt.

“I told you there was no stopping,” he grunts as another hand settles on your stomach, on top of the slight bulge that came with his cock sinking into you, “can you feel me touching the deepest parts of you?” And he takes the whimper as a yes, “get accustomed to it, because this cunt shall be my breeding ground for as long as I see fit,”

And he finally pulls out only to sink back into your sweet depths, knocking the breath from your lungs. He starts slow, if only to spare you from breaking — because he knows so easily could. The wet squelch of your cunt rings in his ears, as he watches his thick cock sink in and out of your pussy again and again.

“Look at you, barely able to take my fingers and now you’re taking my cock so well,” he groans at the sight of your stretched pussy, as it took his cock over and over, molding its very shape to his length, as the slap of your skin against his became like a metronome, “such a perfect little whore, aren’t you?” and you moaned at his words, the sound of which made your cheeks burn with shame — “don’t worry, even if you aren’t, little one,” his fingers find your clit, rubbing and twisting until you come again, hard, your back arching as you do, fingernails nearly drawing blood from his arms as you do.

He hums, as he only fucks you through your orgasm, even as you try to squirm away from him, it’s all in vain — because you’re his now, “Oi, brat, where are you going? You won’t like what I’ll do if you try to get away again — your only place now is under me,” and his hands find his way under your ass as he shifts you onto his lap, “or on this throne,” and he fucks into you, brutally, again and again, your arms clinging around his neck desperately, as a hand on the back of your head guides your lips to his, “tongue out,” he orders, and you do as he says, as the two of you meet in a sloppy kiss.

And his hands shift to your hips, bruising as they help you ride him, meeting his thrusts with your own, until he’s finally hitting your cervix that has you squirting, drenching him in your release as your walls shudder around him. And his lips leave yours a moment, before they kiss down your jaw to your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a yelp from your lips.

He groans, a guttural noise from his chest, as he notches himself as deep as he can before cumming, his hot release spurting out and painting your walls, as he continues to fuck it deeper and deeper, the snaps of his hips finally slowing, as he pulls away from your neck, enjoying the blood that pools in the ridges of his bite mark.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you?” he hums, as he cups your lolling head, eyes thick with sleep and body heavy with exhaustion, you hear his quiet voice murmur, “I was only going to corrupt you for the sake of completing the summons you gave — I had no choice if I wanted to stay on this plane, but,” he hums, as pulls his cock from you with a gasp on your lips, before he has you flipped onto your stomach in a moment, sheathing his thick length back into you in one thrust, “I think I just might keep you, brat,” your eyes flutter shut, as his words fade from your consciousness, until a mean spank to your ass jolts you from your retreat into Hypnos’s arms.

No — as you turned your head ever so slowly to get Sukuna’s face in your periphery — you only answered to one god now.

The King of Curses’ lips curled in a cruel smirk, as he drew his hips back before slamming back in, “Let’s show the world truly how depraved you are, brat, hm? Together.”

✧ a/n: this is my first time writing sukuna so i hope i was able to do him justice. i was gonna do the whole two dick thing, but i was already like...this is complicated enough lmao.

✧ taglist: @pricetagofficial, @kentocalls, @angie-1306, @fayyyrieee, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz, @viveriens, @sunflowmaryam, @eclipsephase, @merrymonkey, @leilannnnnnni, @spider-fan72, @temptationville, @gojos-princesa, @yell0wdreams, @achelliescomedown, @hiyori-ii, @bunninio, @grunge-mo0n, @diogodxlot, @littlecrybabys-world, @esuz, @unnamedflwr, @lemonpoppy-seed, @corkedscrewslocked, @bsaeshell, @methodofawesome, @rinvrin, @noveltywilbur, @ch0c0bsess, @sarcasticbitchsblog, @simpingnbitching, @aethyrite, @aitheria, @sweetpanda15, @daddytojji, @kindadolly, @kimnamjoonsbigtoe, @catsgomurp, @dhoranbolt, @kariatenoh, @hanxyy

#sab [mlist]#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fanfiction #ryomen sukuna fanfiction

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kimbapchan · 2 months

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[Reversed AU] The Four Great Calamities/supremes. Special thanks you to t_aera on AO3 For the names/titles of each ghost king/supreme!

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #mxtx reversed au #xie lian #shi qingxuan #wind master tgcf #lang qianqiu #mei nianqing #hualian

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lemonzestedtea · 5 months

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the significance of the number, 3 in tgcf gets me every time.

xie lian's third ascension is when everything changes (for the better)

hua cheng introduces himself as "san lang" when he meets xie lian after his third ascension. "san lang" means "third son." it's the third time, or the third form (his third life, if you will) that hua cheng has met xie lian in.

there are three calamities (if you ignore bai wuxian, and if you still count qi rong as a calamity)

there are multiple trios — xie lian, mu qing, feng xin; shi wudu, he xuan, shi qingxuan; shi wudu, pei ming, ling wen; and so on.

there were thirty three officials who disgraced xie lian; and were consequently destroyed by hua cheng.

hua cheng released three thousand lanterns for xie lian.

he also died three times for xie lian; first as hong hong'er, second as wu ming, and third as the supreme ghost king.

all this information, coupled with the fact that three is considered a lucky number in chinese culture just makes me feel so many emotions

#these are just things i noticed #i feel like that one meme “i have connected the dots”#feel free to add more!! i think i would probably find more if i went through the books #these are all just from my memory and i read the books last year ok #i just love them so much can you tell #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #xie lian #hua cheng #heaven official's blessing #feng xin #mu qing #shi qingxuan #he xuan #beefleaf #hualian #xianle trio #xianle quartet

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ghostbsuter · 6 months

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"That's all, thank you, Bruce." Jazz could cry from joy and grief, their uncle was so kind to take them in after she'd got danny and herself out of that house.

"Of course, if you need anything else, don't hesitate."

Danny perks up at that, jumping away from his seat and rounding on the man.

"You got an empty meeting room I could borrow? I have to prepare a court meeting."

Surprise colours Bruce and he's quick to smile.

"Of course, Alfred can lead you to it, but out of curiosity. What court meeting?"

Blinking confused, Danny turns to jazz. "I thought you told him everything?"

Jazz blinks back, just as confused. "I did? I covered the ghost situation, the government, and our parents. Was there more?"

Clarity rains on Danny in small steps, he curses, hand already pulling out a dollar and giving it to Alfred.

"Okay– jazz you should sit down."

"What? Why?? Danny?"

She was ushered to his previous seating place, Bruce and Tim watching, calculating.

"Okay so, don't kill me for this. I might have forgotten to tell you something."

Alarmed, Jazz attempted to stand up but was pushed down once more.

"Remember the big bad evil king I fought and won against?"

"Yes?"

"It was right of conquest. Congrats, your a princess."

Her brain shortcuts, it takes a moment for her to reboot.

("Undead royalty. Huh, that's a new one."

Bruce sighs at Tims comment, fingers pinching his nose.)

"You're a prince." She observes, slow.

"Yep."

"And you forgot to mention it."

"Yep..."

"I want to see the castle and have a week of vacation. You're going to introduce me to all your court members and give me a full tour of your apparently new dimension." It's not a request nor a demand, she's getting it.

Danny won't be denying her that.

"Planned and dealt, anything else, Princess Jasmine?"

She scruncles her nose and gives him a shove.

"Never call me that again."

"Yes ma'am, supreme sister of all."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #Danny forgot to tell jazz hes high prince #congrats sister your a princess sister now #THE princess siter #pls dont kill me - danny #bruce and tim are watching with popcorn #fuck we have royalty what do we do #but thats also my nephew and niece shit #batman mode cant handle this as bruce nor brucie

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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Broke: danny has the worst luck in gotham. Woke: gotham rolls out the red carpet for the ghost king. All the public transport runs on time, he finds a winning lottery ticket worth $500 laying on the sidewalk, all the criminals' guns jam when they try to target him. Batfamily thinks he has luck powers. Bespoke: GK danny so powerful his mere presence burns away half of gotham's curses and makes every shade in the city visible to normies. Panic and chaos reign supreme.

Danny: simply chillin in Crime Alley

Danny: Sees the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne. Talks to them about how proud they are of their son.

Batman: fully frozen on a nearby rooftop too scared that this is a hallucination or he’s been gassed and this is fake.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #this is truly fucking wonderful I’m-#anon #Gotham in general being like ‘hell yeah ghost king finally someone of power let me show off’ is just SO GOOD #your brain has so many wrinkles my friend

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mishacakes · 6 months

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how do you connect to your character? like how do get to know them so well? how do you pick out their likes, dislikes, habits and those itty bitty bits about them? I've been struggling to do that for sooo many of my ocs, and i'm also at a lost of how to design them. like i once had a clear idea of what kind of character they are, but i wanted to change them a bit, make them a little better, and i feel like I've lost that character and that character i'm working on doesn't exists, no matter how much i loved them and enjoyed writing an drawing them. this has happened with every single character i made and it just makes me think that i may not be cut out for drawing or writing characters. i look up to you so i thought of asking you for help

sry for the long rant idk wat im doing

HELLO HELLO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! So basically I took this question and turned it into a 1.6k word essay on writing characters and how I like to do it, so, uh, hope you enjoy!! and hope it helps!

OK!! character writing. How do you do it? or, well, how do I do it. I’ve got a few methods that help me out the most and are the most fun for me to think about. Here’s my big secret, if it’s not fun I don’t do it. I’m not here to do homework I’m waaayyyy out of school. I’m a legal adult. I pay my taxes. I’m not gonna do something that doesn’t give my brain the good fun juice. Anyways. My methods are: symbols, archetypes, and character inspiration. I use all these to figure out the CORE of a character, their very beating heart, and most importantly, what haunts them. Everything about a character, in my opinion, comes from this core and their ghost. Their habits, their fears, their joys, their coping mechanisms. So long as you have a clear grasp on their heart, you won’t go astray. Let’s dive into it! The characters I’m going to be using to describe how I use these methods are Alice and others characters from my webcomic—namely Edith, Hatter, and Rougina—and Tomiko (you know her you love her, catgirl supreme).

Symbols! I love using symbols, they’re something that can describe a character through metaphor, even without going into detail about their whole backstory and habits. Tomiko’s symbols are lanterns (specifically light), cats, ghosts/yokai, shapeshifting, and gold. They all work to further her character as a rough around the edges monster cat with a heart of gold, who uses shapeshifting as a method (both literally and metaphorically) to mold herself into what others need her to be. Alice’s symbols are hearts, eyes, and flesh in general. Try picking one general symbol (the ocean, the forest, the city), and see how specific you can get from there. Or pick a god or goddess that resonates with your character and see what symbols are used for them. Rougina (the antagonist in my webcomic) is a war goddess fallen from grace, and is symbolized with land and volcanoes, so I’ve used volcanic plants to evoke her. Personally I also love going through the tarot for symbols, assigning a tarot card to characters (of the major arcana) is a fun exercise. Which leads us nicely into our next method:

Archetypes! The tarot deck’s Major Arcana is pretty much only archetypes. The Empress as the Mother. The Magician as the Wise Mentor. The Tower as The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen Oh Jesus Shit. These can help a lot with who your character is. I’m extremely storytelling oriented, so it helps me knowing What Role a character serves in the story they inhabit. Another thing I love in archetypes in the Zodiac. Yes, I am an astrology bitch. The whole reason I love talking about my methods is my Sag rising, I love giving my wisdoms. But astrology can be used for writing, and not just for excusing and not reflecting on shit behavior (can’t help being a gemini!). The zodiac is FILLED WITH ARCHETYPES!!! From elements to how they function! The four elements (you A:TLA bitches know this), and three modalities. If you’re interested please watch Eugene’s Rank King video, it’s very informative on the signs. Also many symbols! For example, Alice is a Taurus—May 4, Alice Liddell’s birthday—so she’s pretty stubborn while also loving creature comforts. Tomiko’s birthday is August 23, making her a Virgo, so she likes being precise in her work. More archetypes you can look for are DnD classes! I love using that to design costumes. One of Edith’s recent costumes is very wizard inspired, since that’s the class I see her having as she’s very studious and driven. Heck, all of Alice and the Nightmare is derived from the character archetypes of the Alice in Wonderland characters! Rougina is specifically the Red Queen, NOT the Queen of Hearts!! The confusion started with the 1951 Disney animated movie when the two characters were merged!! Lewis Carroll himself said the two were different! The Queen of Hearts is an “embodiment of ungovernable passion” and the Red Queen is “the concentrated essence of all governesses”!! GOD!!! Tim Burton meet me in the fucking pit you’ll pay for your alice crimes. anyways.

Archetypes help a lot in costumes too, figuring out what kind of fashion they’d like to wear. You can start broad and get more specific with it (like going from a wizard type character to a wizard character with steampunk themes). Fashion is just an extent of character. What are they comfy in? Are they confident in their body? What colors do they like? Bright high fashion or simple dark sweaters? Ryoko Kui is a master of character design I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend checking out her work.

Another method I like using, specifically for Alice and the Nightmare characters, is what I call the “three trait method”. When I was in middle school we did a production of Alice in Wonderland (I was the White Knight), and too many girls auditioned for Alice. So the director’s solution was to split the character into three parts, and assigning each part to an actor. Her temper, her intelligence, and her innocence, all used in different scenes. Now I use that to think about my own Alice character, except with “polite, temper, and curious”. Edith’s keywords are “nervous, tactical, and intelligent”. Hatter’s are “kind, enthusiastic, and intuitive”. Using keywords can help figure out how they’d react in a situation, what side of them would shine the brightest. Hatter’s want to help everyone is his kindness, but overstepping his bounds can be attributed to his enthusiasm. Edith can know what path to take in a pinch, but her nervousness can freeze her in place. Reading the source material helps a lot with Alice characters too, which brings us to our final point:

Character inspiration!! The art of taking things you like and shoving them into your own characters and stories. DISCLAIMER THO!!! If you take things without really EXAMINING what about them you like, WHY you like them, and how you’d like to evoke that same love in the things you make, the interpretations can come off as shallow. (for more on this subject, watch HBomberguy’s RWBY video essay, specifically the section on “anime homework”)

Tomiko’s biggest inspirations are Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi, April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, Power and from Chainsawman, San from Princess Mononoke, and Mei from LMK. It’s a good cocktail of aloof, biting, vicious, weird, fierce, loving, and bright. Figuring out what I love about the characters and what I want to write in a character like that helps a lot in writing Tomiko. It’s also really fun in a sense for screenshot redraws and memes.

Music is also a HUUUUUUGE source of inspiration for me, I love making playlists. And even as playlists can change as characters grow and change, having a couple of core songs still helps me ground to that character’s center. For Tomiko it’s “Make Them Gold” by CHVRCHES, and “Nice Girl” by Ashnikko. Alice’s is “Headlock” by Imogen Heap and “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, Edith’s is “Warrior” by Kimbra, and Hatter’s is “Dementia” by Owl City.

Ok, we’ve gotten though symbols, archetypes, and made a couple of banger playlists. Next is something that can help write your character, the Big Lie. The thing that keeps them up at night. Their biggest fear, their ghost, what haunts them. What’s holding them back from their goals? What do they need to overcome? That can be as central to their theme as any symbolism. For Tomiko it’s the lie that her emotions don’t matter, only what she can do to be of service to her mother. Her arc is about overcoming her dismissing her own emotions and learning to not run away from the people who she truly cares for. Alice dismisses the literal ghost that is haunting her believing that that will let her have a normal life. Edith pushes down abilities that come naturally to her for fear that she’ll be exiled, not just from society, but the world. Rougina believes she must burden the world’s problems on her own shoulders with no one’s help. The outer character and the inner ghost can reflect, mirror, and inform each other.

Now, listen, sometimes characters are hard to get to know! Tomiko was lol. Quinn was for a looong time. And in times like this, I just, let them be. I listen to some music to get inspired, and let them tell me about themselves when they feel like it. And they will, it just take a little while. And a few dozen quick exploration drawings. But they come through. Also, try not to get bogged down with habits and little details of their character, keep their core in mind, what their heart is. Start broad and get specific. That way, if you feel like you’ve lost your way or the character feels different to you, recenter yourself at their heart and go from there. Or, if you find that their center no longer fits, don’t be afraid to change it! Characters are meant to be fun! First and foremost!! I make characters cause I like writing and storytelling, and drawing little comic for fun and me time. Sometimes characters stick around, sometimes they fall by the wayside. You really have to find what sparks joy, and chase your bliss!

So as long as you have your character’s essence in your hands, and you WANT to keep working on them and drawing them, there’s really no wrong way to go. This whole essay I’ve given is just a set of tools that works for ME, and I HIGHLY encourage you to find stuff that works for you! I really really hope that all this has made sense and isn’t just the ramblings of a madman. Good luck and happy charactering!!

#meesh blabs #misha writings #character writing #happy reading and happy writing!#THANKS FOR ASKING <3

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