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#*months later*
spilledkaleidoscope · 6 months
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disco sapphics... second kiss? 👁👁
idk if I wanna draw it but I'm picturing Harriet getting overly excited after seeing the Phasmid
and then Kim is putting her foot down like two kiss in one day? We are never talking about this again
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arvandus · 9 months
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Helloooo~
This goes without saying but congrats on your followers and you deserve every single one and more 🖤
For your follower event may I request Alkaline By Sleep Token with either Inumaki (jjk) or Dabi (mha) whichever one you’re feeling- dealers choice!! Tysm and as always- thank you for writing amazing things!
Inumaki didn’t know what to do with you. You were a wrinkle in his organized life, an anomaly that caused his mind to glitch whenever you were near.  You were a distraction, a problem, and yet he couldn’t deny that a deep, secret part of him enjoyed it. There was something about you that brought color into his world of sorcery and curses, that eased the crease that rested between his furrowed brow and lightened the weight of his shoulders.
You liked him; he knew it in how you acted around him, the way your gaze always caught his with your affection for him framed in the laugh lines around your eyes.  It was evident in the way your hand lingered on his arm when you touched him, in the closeness of your body when you stood next to each other.
It both terrified and excited him.  It made his mind fog over, made his eyes stare too long at the shape of your lips, and his flesh to goosepimple at the feel of your fingers against his skin.  It was a guilty pleasure, and torturous.  So very, very torturous.
Because he could never bring himself to give in, to reciprocate your affections. Not with the cursed speech tattooed across his tongue, a cage of lines and circles that kept him isolated, separate from others.  It forced the burning words of love and wanting to sit behind his teeth, souring his palette until he thought he would choke on them.
Inumaki would have to learn to be content with what he had (or in this case, didn’t have).  You were with him now, as a friend, and it was enough.  It had to be enough.  That was what he told himself, at least.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t a sentiment you shared.
It was a star-filled, cloudless night as you two sat upon the rooftop.  Inumaki often came up here by himself to enjoy some alone time, and to relax from the constant pressure of having to be cautious with his speech.
Except this night, you had found him.
“Can I join you?” you asked.
He didn’t have the heart to say no, despite his logical brain warning him of the dangers, so he nodded.
You sat yourself by his side and looked up at the stars.  You didn’t engage in conversation; you didn’t ramble about your day, talk his ear off, or force him to answer questions he couldn’t answer.  Instead, you were quiet company, and Inumaki felt himself shift from alert to relaxed within a matter of minutes.
After a long while, you finally spoke, your voice quiet so as to not disturb the night.
“I see why you like to come up here...” you commented as you stared at the sky.
“Salmon,” he affirmed.
“Thank you for letting me be here.”
He stared at you for a long moment, the tips his fingers humming with the desire to follow the curve of your jaw, to memorize the angle to memory.  Instead, he returned to gazing up at the night sky as he fought the flush that threatened to creep across his cheeks and paint his ears in the moonlight.
After some time, he began to stand in preparation for leaving, allowing his body language to speak for him. Let’s go in.
But instead of following him, your hand reached out to his, your fingers interlocking.  “Please... can we stay just a little longer?” your voice was soft, your eyes slightly downcast.
Inumaki returned to his seat next to you, his eyes watching you carefully.
You sighed as you fiddled with your fingers.  “I guess... I wasn’t entirely honest about my reason for joining you... but there’s something I wanted to talk about.”
Inumaki’s heart skipped two beats before quickening to a battle drum pace beneath his rib cage.  No... surely you weren’t going to...
“Toge, I—”
“Stop.”
Your words stuck in your throat and you stared at him in shock, your eyes brimming with hurt tears. He’d used his cursed speech on you.  You, his best friend, stripping you of your agency.
Inumaki instantly cursed himself.  “Caviar...” Shit.
He hadn’t intended to use the ACTUAL word.  But he panicked, and it escaped out of his mouth before he could catch himself.
This was all wrong.  It was all going wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all.
You stood up to leave, but his hand shot out to catch your wrist.  You turned to look at him, and he could only hope that the apology in his eyes was loud enough for you to understand.
I’m sorry.  Stay.
Through some blessing, you understood and sat back down; but Inumaki’s cursed speech was still in effect.  He needed to release you.
“Speak.”
“I love you.” The words blurted out of your mouth before you could shape and mold them to your liking, yanked forth by the power of his cursed speech.
You stared at each other dumfounded – none of this was going how either of you had hoped.
This was why Inumaki never spoke.  There was too much room for error, and the consequences could be far worse than a love confession.
Your eyes began to water as you looked down in shame.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this...” you whispered. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t want to...”
Guilt twisted every nerve in Inumaki’s body, and all he wanted was to figure out how to fix this, how to make it right.  He kept your hand in his and placed it on his chest as his other hand tilted your chin up to look at him.
“Tuna.”  Look.
You did, your eyes meeting his.
“Tuna mayo.”
Your face scrunched up in puzzlement.  To communicate his point, he let his thumb lightly ghost over your lips, his gaze soft. Your mouth parted slightly as you gasped.
“... Really?” you asked.
Inumaki nodded.  A slow smile spread across his lips, and he tapped his own lips with his index finger.
“Whaaa?” you flushed.  “Here?  Now?”
“Salmon.”
Your heart was dancing somewhere between your chest and your throat.  You leaned in towards him and he waited patiently.  But you hesitated halfway, your lips inches from his, as you began to second guess yourself.  Were you sure that’s what he meant?  What if you translated it wrong? What if he meant something else-?
Your thoughts were cut short when Inumaki closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours.  You leaned into it, allowing the soft feel of his mouth to chase away your doubts, like the sun chasing a morning fog, leaving nothing but warmth in its wake.  After a moment, he pulled away slowly, his nose inches from yours as he looked into your eyes, his thumb on your chin.
“Tuna mayo.” He repeated.
“Tuna mayo.” You replied back.
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enden-k · 6 months
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Hi ! I saw your art on my dash for some time now and just wanted to ask, do you read fanfic ? Cause of yes, I think you could greatly enjoy heartslogos' works on AO3, since they do a lot of Haikaveh with great characterisation ! Anyway, I hope you're having a wonderful day, don't forget to stay hydrated and take good care of you. You're doing so much great work for the fandom, it's really appreciated. May the Muses gives you inspiration for drawing as you intend to ! - 🎐Anon
uhh yes i read a lot. however, mostly kavetham (but also haikaveh sometimes) thanks tho
also thanks for thinking so, have a nice day as well
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tohellandback99 · 1 month
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…………………And I’m still trying to figure out how I did this with Raul 😂
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ramblingoak · 2 months
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Feeling the urge to redo my masterlist but also holy shit I’ve written too much and I don’t want to mess with all those links 😩
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jalabharmooton · 3 months
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| @benblackwood | | setting :: carriage to dorne | | summary :: on the journey to dorne qorban and ben travel to sunspear |
The lord of Maidenpool didn't speak for this journey. He didn't speak on their stops along the way, he rarely spoke when camps were set up and he spoke even less when it was time to travel once more. His father used to tell him that a man's voice was something one earned the right to hear, that conversation with a Mooton was a courtesy and not an expectation. He had no courtesy for the boy in front of him. Someone he once thought of as a man, someone he once thought of as worthy of respect and grace. Someone who deserved a chance. But he didn't.
What made him special was being young once upon a time. Nothing special. One of many boys to fight and survive the dance, a green boy becoming a man of crimson. The difference? This one was a lord. Was he the only to walk into battle with the death of his father and family on his shoulders? No. Death followed them. The stranger sat at their tables, sat at every table. Qorban went into his feast hall surrounded by empty chairs and servants. Empty plates and too much food for one man. HIs sisters were not going to walk through his door and sit down. His daughters no longer laughed.
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And the man before him, he found humor in his fuckery. Bloody Ben Blackwood, the boy knight who survived the dance only to let fire rain down on them once more. Flame, decay, destruction, and death all punctuated by his stupid smile. His stupid laughter. And now, now the King sent him with an offer of nothing for the Princess of Dorne with this fool.
His King was a fool as well. Qorban never wanted to admit it. Qorban never wanted to listen to those who doubted the man he supported over CIan Tully and now he wondered if he made the right choice. Would the bastard Tully have made a child his hand? Would he have kept him as hand after his actions resulted in the deaths of his spy masters family? Casimir Tully who sent him with the man who is the reason his children were dead. They didn't respect him. They respected no one.
"When we arrive," the lord of house Mooton finally spoke, staring through the man sat across from him, "don't make a fool of yourself. Do not try to charm the Princess or any woman of her court especially if you are having a meeting. If someone wants to fuck you they will make it clear without lifting up the corner of your mouth in some futile attempt at wit. Are we clear? You have blood of Lys use it to your advantage. They do not care about the dance nor do they care of your moniker. We betrayed these people for nothing. And the King offers them nothing. Let us leave with something more than humiliation, can you do that Lord Blackwood? Can you carry yourself like Hand of the King or shall I conduct meetings while you giggle in the gardens?"
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i-identify-as-cheese · 10 months
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coming out to yourself as non-binary and finally feeling comfortable using they/them pronouns is all fun and games until you realize
ah fuck, hablo español
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hyba · 8 months
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Hi Hyba! how you going? I see about the tip about writing with spreadsheet and I have to say is amazing! Have a good day @letswritestories101
Hello hello! So sorry that it's been a while. I really appreciate your lovely message ^^ I've been crazy busy with lots of major changes in my life so I haven't had the desire to be active on tumblr much. But it's really lovely to come back and find such a supportive message <3 Hope you are doing well!
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No comment has ever given me more motivation to write that this one has
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badolmen · 3 months
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WARNING 18+
19
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Myself included tbh
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roaldseth · 24 days
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Still rather surprised that Flanagan appeared in the zine as much as he did with 3 total appearances.
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simsplayernotfound · 1 month
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obsessed with this garage i'm decorating
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foldingfittedsheets · 2 months
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I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.
I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.
“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”
“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.
But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.
They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.
That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.
A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”
I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.
Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.
At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.
Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.
“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.
“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”
Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.
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its-tortle · 2 months
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— taylor swift albums as months of the year —
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monstermonger · 4 months
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I recently bought an art book on Caspar David Friedrich, whose emotional work stuck with me since I first saw it in a museum years ago. Over the course of a few weeks, I read about his life and at the same time did studies/interpretations of many pieces. It was a really enjoyable and fulfilling project; here's a good lot of them together :)
I was happy to see many people enjoyed Friedrich's work+my interpretations while posting them individually. It took way too long, but I FINALLY set up a print shop for some of these + some other pieces for those who expressed interest. Thank you so much!
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