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tgcg · 4 months

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candid detail. my biggest project so far

hey happy new year

CG: DAVE?

TG: yeah?

CG: SOMETHING’S KIND OF FUCKING ME UP RIGHT NOW AND I NEED TO TELL YOU SPECIFICALLY ABOUT IT IN CANDID DETAIL.

TG: oh shit

===

TG: yeah whats up

TG: not too often i get to be the sole audience to karkats grievances

CG: PFF, BULLSHIT. YOU'RE PRIVY TO WAY MORE ABOUT MY GRIEVANCES THAN BASICALLY ANY OF MY SURVIVING AND PRESENT FRIENDS, BY A SIGNIFICANT MARGIN, AND YOU KNOW IT.

TG: yeah and im boutta add another im like broses up on that hill bundled up in a long ass list of things that make the homies upset

TG: lay it on me

===

CG: OKAY. SO.

…

CG: I’M KIND OF THINKING ABOUT JUST. US AND OUR BRO-DOM.

===

TG: oh

CG: LET ME FINISH.

CG: ALL THIS TIME I’VE BEEN FUCKING FORCED TO SPEND IN THE DREAM BUBBLES MADE ME REALISE SOMETHING, AND THAT’S THAT…

===

CG: THIS IS KIND OF RARE, RIGHT?

TG: what

TG: us

CG: YEAH! LIKE… THERE’S SO MANY THANKFULLY DEAD KARKATS I’VE HAD THE INSURMOUNTABLE GODDAMN DISPLEASURE OF FAILING TO AVOID THAT DON’T LIKE YOU, BARELY MET YOU, OR EVEN JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU.

===

CG: IT’S THE RARE AMBIVALENCE THAT REALLY GETS TO ME. I ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND A TIMELINE’S KARKAT FIRMLY DECIDING THAT THEY HATE YOUR ASS. NON-ROMANTICALLY I MEAN. THAT HAS BEEN ME, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. BUT THERE WAS NEVER, EVER!!! A POINT WHERE I JUST FELT NOTHING ABOUT YOU AT ALL.

CG: EVEN WHEN I INITIALLY HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF SEEING YOUR DOUCHEBAG SPECTACLES YOU GOT FROM YOUR BRO ON THE SCREEN, I AT LEAST HAD A STARTER DISH OF SKEWERED CONTEMPT TO WHET MY APPETITE. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE NOT FEELING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER ABOUT YOU.

===

CG: ONE TIME I MENTIONED YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A THREE-WAY ARGUMENT AND ONE OF THE OTHER KARKATS SAID "WHO?"

CG: "WHO?"!!!!

TG: now thats fucked up

CG: IT IS! AND THAT'S WHAT MADE ME FIRST REALISE THAT NOT EVERY KARKAT IS GETTING TO HANG OUT WITH EVERY DAVE, AND VICE VERSA. AND THIS IS GOING TO SOUND LAME AS SHIT IN A WAY THAT I’LL NEVER EVER LIVE DOWN, BUT. I FEEL BAD FOR THEM ABOUT IT! YOU KNOW?

===

TG: well you always feel bad about around and towards other yous so thats

TG: wait

TG: is or is not the nature of this moment of self-pity fuelled by malice anger disgust or any similar terms slash phrases

CG: I MEAN, FOR ONCE? DON’T GET ME WRONG, THE MALICE ANGER DISGUST ET CETERA IS STILL THOROUGHLY PERMEATING THE WHOLE ORDEAL. THE DAY I LOSE CONTEMPT FOR MY ALTERNATE SELVES IS THE DAY I GET TAKEN OUT BACK AND PUT DOWN LIKE THE LAME HOOFBEAST I’VE ALWAYS DREAMT OF BEING. BUT…

CG: I ACTUALLY JUST FEEL SAD FOR THEM, STRAIGHT UP. INDEPENDENT FROM TERMS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED.

===

TG: damn

CG: AND THAT FEELS INCREDIBLY WEIRD TOO. I CAN’T EVEN ARGUE WITH THEM ABOUT IT, IT JUST MAKES ME FEEL THIS SHITTY, SHOCKINGLY QUIET… GRIEF? ALMOST? FOR THEM. GENERAL NON-TROLLIAN FEELINGS. AND EXCEPTIONALLY NON-STANDARD IN A KARKAT-TO-KARKAT CONVERSATION, AS YOU MIGHT HAVE GUESSED.

CG: BUT I KNOW IF I TOLD ANY OTHER EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED REFLECTION OF MY OWN FECULENT INNER FILTH TO TALK TO YOU, OR EVEN JUST LOOK AT YOU ONE TIME, THEY’D ONLY SEE IT AS ANOTHER PERSONAL AFFRONT. LIKE I JUST TOLD THEM "HEY, SHIT ALL OVER YOUR FROND AND SNIFF IT, IT’LL BE AMAZING JUST TRUST ME, ABSOLUTELY ZERO REASON NOT TO."

===

TG: you come up with the most potent mental images man youre the wordmeister of viscerally gross as hell vocab

CG: THANK YOU.

===

CG: AND LIKE… SHIT, I DEFINITELY WOULD’VE FELT THAT WAY BEFORE I GOT TO KNOW YOU! I UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THOSE IMBECILIC NOOKSTAINS BETTER THAN ANYONE EVER COULD, DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS.

CG: KARKATS UNIVERSALLY DECIDING THAT THEY JUST CANNOT LIKE YOU ON PRINCIPLE IS A CRISIS OF SHIT HAPPENSTANCES. THE HAPPENINGS ARE ALL OUT OF WACK, COSMICALLY.

CG: LIKE EVERY ME WRITHED OUR WAY OUT OF THE BROODING CAVERNS AND THE FIRST CONSTELLATION WE SAW PEELING THROUGH THE EXOSPHERE, TWINKLING IN THE REFLECTION OF OUR HUGE RED GANDERBULBS, WAS A PAIR OF SHADES GETTING COVERED IN GASOLINE, FOLLOWED BY A CONSTELLATION OF A LIT MATCH.

CG: A SIMPLE EQUATION WITH A VERY SIMPLE SOLUTION.

CG: A SYSTEMIC EPIDEMIC, IF YOU’LL PARDON MY BULLSHIT.

===

TG: it is a goddamn catastrophe sweeping the karkat population

TG: presidents on the headlines trying to get karkats everywhere to stop quarantining their asses and have a real heart to heart among themselves about the issue but they keep isolating anyways

CG: I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL A PRESIDENT IS. YOU’VE FAILED TO DESCRIBE IT AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A POORLY-SELECTED "DUDE CONDESCE" WHO DOES NOTHING PRODUCTIVE AND THEN EITHER DIES OR RUINS EVERYTHING, OR SOME CHAOTIC COMBINATION OF THE TWO.

TG: well that is exactly what it is but wait good point

===

TG: tragedy strikes as the karkat population reveals it doesnt generally know what a president even is so it means jack shit to them that this dude is trying to get their attention

TG: and mr president he is getting voted the fuck out of office over this blunder just an embarrassing display

TG: the public trust has plummeted off the fucking chart and cratered the damn ground like a meteor

TG: or he could be the tenth to die in office yknow there was a pretty big stretch of no in-office deaths til 2009 so maybe some catchup would be good for everyone

CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER PRESIDENT, AND THEN KILL HIM?

TG: not me personally i just wanna be there and see it also is that dream bubble fucking huge or what

TG: must be the size of

===

TG: jupiter

===

TG: look all im saying is the end of the world coincided pretty notably with a dry spell in the presidential kill:death ratio

TG: i was tragically too busy not dying to see obama die live on television when an errant meteor hit the white house that was my one chance

CG: PFFFT.

TG: i want to keep a comically aloof finger on the pulse of the shit but i do not want to be among the shit

TG: but anyways guess its my turn on the pedestal

CG: BE MY FUCKING GUEST.

===

TG: yknow uh im not gonna lie if present me went back to me age thirteen sippin my dubious aj in my pre-apocalyptic layer of hell that was texas and told me

TG: hey that gray text dude is probably gonna be your best friend if you give him a shot yall could be sweet bros in real life itll be awesome

TG: i mean disregarding the fact i already doomed that guy because i dont remember that happening to me

TG: id probably be casting some wicked aspersions on that shit

===

TG: our whole friendship feels like a plot twist to my damn life story

CG: I HEAR YOU.

TG: its like our narratives bumped into each other hard on the street and decided yknow what yeah this pavement is pretty cosy lets talk about your dad

TG: but

===

TG: dont get your think pans too wrapped up in that different timeline stuff

CG: IT’S THINK PAN. SINGULAR. NOBODY HAS MORE THAN ONE THINK PAN, EVER. IT IS A SINGULAR ORGAN. IF YOU WOULD LET ME READ A TROLL BIOLOGY BOOK TO YOU ONE TIME WE’D STOP BUMPING INTO THIS ISSUE.

TG: gotcha and no

CG: OBVIOUSLY.

TG: but anyways dude look

===

TG: i am literally a time dude and i can tell you right now with all the sage wisdome of my knightitudes

TG: not a good way of looking at it

TG: ive met daves that didnt like you either it doesnt affect jack or shit because those daves arent me

TG: like they are in a way but

TG: me and all those other guys spent the whole game honing down these doomed timelines to a fine point and that point has obviously involved a whole lot of hanging out with you

CG: …

===

TG: so

TG: maybe they just missed the point while you and me were on the breaking edge of that shit

TG: we got to the bottom line of it so it doesnt matter yknow

CG: HUH.

===

TG: and i mean plus

===

TG: ive seen a handful of alternate daves and karkats who get along uh great apparently so

TG: yknow

===

CG: WHAT?

TG: you know what i fucking mean im not saying it

CG: ROLLING YOUR SHOULDERS AND SAYING "yknow" GENERALLY DOESN’T CONVEY FUCKING ANYTHING MEANINGFUL IN A CONVERSATION, DAVE.

CG: I’M NOT A PSYCHIC. YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN. IN CANDID DETAIL.

TG: its besides the point anyways

===

TG: the point is its you right here that matters overall and you right here is chilling with me so thats gotta mean at least one or two things

CG: OKAY, OKAY, YEAH… I GET WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. I REALLY DIDN’T THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT.

CG: YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND BY NOW HOW IT’D BE REALLY FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRAP MY THINK PAN AROUND THE CONCEPT OF ME BEING THE RIGHT VERSION OF ANYTHING.

CG: BUT I FEEL LIKE THE AMOUNT OF TIME WE'VE SPENT TOGETHER CUMULATIVELY IN THIS TIMELINE MAKES UP FOR THE AMOUNT OF DAVES AND KARKATS WHO NEVER SPENT ANY AT ALL, BY AT LEAST TENFOLD.

===

TG: heh yeah

HAHAH.

===

CG: GOD. WHO WOULD’VE GUESSED THAT KARKAT VANTAS WOULD GET TOO FAR INTO HIS OWN THINK PAN ABOUT THIS BULLSHIT, RIGHT?

TG: stop repeating the words think and pan i get it already

CG: ARE YOU SURE? TOTALLY SURE? ABSOLUTELY ASSFUCK CERTAIN OF YOURSELF?

TG: yes dude

CG: ALRIGHT. KEEP IN MIND THIS WILL BE ON THE TEST LATER.

TG: im acing that shit i swear to god youre gonna eat your damn foot

CG: STRUT POD

TG: when i pass that shit to oblivion

TG: youre gonna regret doubting me

CG: OKAY, DAVE. THEN EXPLAIN TO ME WITH ALL YOUR SAGE WISDOME: WHAT IS A "LUMPSQUIRT"? AND REALLY, TAKE YOUR TIME THINKING ABOUT THIS. GOD KNOWS WE'VE GOT MOMENTS A-FUCKING-PLENTY TO SPARE.

TG: as the literal god of time in your local area i sure as hell do

CG: GO ON THEN.

===

TG: …

TG: pass

CG: EXACTLY.

CG: ANYWAYS, I’M STILL GOING TO GO AROUND FEELING ANOTHER LAYER OF PITY FOR THOSE GRAY BULGEMUNCHERS THAT DON’T GET TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU. NOT THAT ANYTHING ANY KARKAT COULD FUCKING DO WOULD EVER MAKE THEM DESERVING OF IT, BUT THAT’S ANOTHER CAN OF DIRT NOODLES ENTIRELY.

TG: yeah i feel bad for anyone who isnt buddy-buddy with the david stri too

CG: OF COURSE YOU DO. I’M GLAD WE’RE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE.

===

TG: but also

TG: any dave who missed out on a slice of the realest homes in paradox space is a tragedy in my eyes

CG: Y--

TG: let me finish

TG: i just dont let it get to me so much cus… first of all ive been having to not let time shit get to me this whole damn game but also

TG: i know i have you here and thats whats important

TG: ok not "have" just

TG: how the fuck do i phrase that

TG: i know whatever is happening with other "us"es whatever shits goin down

TG: i can wake up and watch movies with you or hell i can even hang with you in there if i bump into you and thats what matters to me in this bro-dom thats what i wanna do

TG: and thats some real shit i just said feel free to co-sign it

CG: …

===

TG: karkat i meant it

CG: … THANKS.

TG: no problem

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #this is literally at the image cap i hope you all like it #comix #candid detail

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kittikaiju · 1 year

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Lil space kitty~ Art by me. Original design by superwolf11000 on deviantart.

#art #digitalart #digital art #AC #ACs #cat #celestial #chibi #cute #cutie #feline #kitty #stars #Twinkle #constellations

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livlaughloveluke · 2 months

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𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐥.𝐜 🐡

daughter of hypnos! reader x luke castellan 💤

headcannons in which luke is dating the sleepiest girl around💘

“and i know you’ve been having nightmares lately, and i’m sorry i fall asleep first” -faye webster

he totally calls you “sleepy.”

it started off when he was a dumb teen, just him being an idiot and teasing everyone. but i mean, the name wasn’t exactly incorrect. and so it stuck, carrying along as you grew into a young adult and began dating !

he’s such a sweetheart when it comes to you. while he gently yells at the campers for their lack of effort, he would never even think about raising his voice when speaking to you. even if you skipped training because you “needed to rest.” (you had slept a full ten hours before)

but when you did show up for archery or sword fighting, he’s over the moon, showering you with praise.

“that was amazing!”

“you did so good today, sleepy.”

(you shot two arrows and then dipped)

nightly stargazing!!

you and luke spend hours laying on top the grassy hill, staring above at the twinkling stars. you pointed out all the constellations, and luke would point to a star and say it was yours.

“thats our star, babe.”

“luke that’s part of the orion.”

he would sneak into your cabin on his restless nights, and you would comb your fingers through his hair to send him into a deep sleep. and you made sure all he had sweet dreams instead of his haunting nightmares.

reading him stories all the time !

he hates reading, since all of the words get scrambled and it hurts his brain to put the letters back together. but when chiron adjusts the temperature so it would rain and water the strawberry fields, there wasn’t many indoor activities to do. so, you let him pick a book you could read together on those rainy days.

after a week visit to your home, you brought back your record player and some of your favorite vinyls, and luke was absolutely fascinated. he never really listened to music before, so hearing such majestic sounds was a new experience. now every time you travel back into the world, he requests a new album. he’ll listen to it on repeat until you’ve acquired a different record.

you would share abstract stories about monsters, greek heros, and other intriguing topics to the campers around the bonfire, while luke stared with hearts in his eyes. he like to think that one day, hundreds of years from now, a camper would be reciting a story about you and him. the daughter of hypnos and the son of hermes, two children who were the closest depiction of soulmates ever known.

secret weekly sleepovers in cabin 15 were a necessity !

he always showed up with a bouquet of wildflowers, and one small yellow daisy for each of your siblings.

all of your brothers and sisters loved him, constantly dragging him into family board game night.

similar to stargazing, watching for clouds !

when you had free time, you were constantly laying in the dry fields and staring up above at the clouds, trying to picture them as objects.

“it’s a cowboy hat!”

“that’s clearly a toad in a sailboat.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #liv’s writing !#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan headcanons #pjo #percy jackson

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satorkive · 3 months

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A MORTAL AND A GOD 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ SATORU

gojo satoru, the strongest and the most attractive man who graced this earth, thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

and that’s objectively true.

when the ivory-haired boy first met your breathtaking face, he was stunned.

he was cracking a joke with suguru when you stepped inside the classroom.

and wow. you managed to make their breaths away by just existing.

he even heard suguru muttering ‘holy shit’ before he immediately closed his mouth. even yaga-sensei stared at you (not in a creepy way, no). he seemed in awe.

your teacher cleared his throat and gestured for you to introduce yourself.

your steps were light and graceful, like a ballerina dancing on a platform. your skirt bounced around your legs and it made you look like a girl getting ready for a dance.

you waved your hand and gave them a smile that could even save them from having expensive electricity bills.

“hi! i’m [name]! nice to meet you!” your mellifluous voice rang around the room and suguru couldn’t help but cursed again.

“holy fuck.”

“geto.” yaga’s deep, thunderous voice made the student’s face cold.

your giggles feel like a twinkling bells during christmas that satoru didn’t speak for the whole day.

that’s how impressive your presence affected him.

since then, he has found himself wanting your attention. he wants those pretty, pretty eyes of yours to always bathe him with attention.

his nickname for you was bambi.

you are like a deer—wide, expressive eyes surrounded by long lashes; nose that scrunches up cutely when he does something silly; lips that always seems to be pouting and begging to be kissed; and those freckles. god, those beautiful freckles that look like constellations and can probably map the universe if someone wants to.

he would gladly smooch that lips if only suguru and shoko stopped being hindrances!

suguru, the traitor, seems to be in competition with satoru. his upturned eyes crinkle at the sight of your beaming face whenever you talk about clouds, flowers, and nature with him. he also can’t take his eyes off you. you are like the sun—beckoning everyone to have a light of yourself. you are the only thing that put a smile on other people’s faces. you bless them with your unending kindness, stunning grace, and a heart of gold. if heaven is a sight, you surely are it.

shoko, the betrayer, wants to hog all your divine attentiveness. being the sole student in medicine, she finds herself being enamored at you when you asks her questions regarding her technique. how does it work? how sure are you it will work? can anyone do it? can i see you do it?

when she sees how celestial your presence emits around her, she now understands why suguru can’t stop staring at you and why satoru can’t stop rambling about you.

satoru. oh, satoru.

poor satoru who can’t still figure out why your lips smile brighter when you see him. he can’t still figure out why your steps are full of pep. he can’t figure out why you almost do a pirouette when you turn back to look at him. he can’t figure out why your cheeks seem to have a color on it.

poor, dense satoru.

all he wants to do is to be yours forever and ever; because no woman will ever be it for him as he is yours and you are his and he knows—he knows in his life that if a devil ever lays his eyes on you, he will bend on his knees and repent because—

you made a god like him leave the heavens and on bended knees; crawling to you and kissing your feet like a devoted prayer.

#🫧 — riri’s love letters!#i love ‘toru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff

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astraystayyh · 2 months

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red lollipop.

f2l. tension and mutual pining under the stars.

a red lollipop.

that is the most recurring vision in felix’s dreams, the scarlet candy swirling around his mind in abstract shapes, draping his sleep-state with saccharine thoughts.

felix realized that he liked you because of one singular red lollipop.

he had known you for as long as his memory allowed him to recall. years of friendship where you had laughed until your stomach ached, but also dried his tears and held his hand until his darkest nights passed. wherever you were, so was he. his one platonic pilar in life.

so, when felix watched you indulge in a red lollipop on a random summer afternoon, he felt distraught, to say the least.

the candy swirled around your tongue absentmindedly, its vivid hue imprinting itself onto your glossy lips. your eyes were cast on the open book before you, and the lollipop seemed to liquefy and drip on felix’s cheeks, for they were blooming with a blush he had never sported before.

felix wanted to kiss you, suddenly, without a previous warning. he imagined pressing his mouth onto yours and letting the sweetness of your being run through his, over and over again, till all he remembered was the chant of your name and the taste of strawberries melting on your mouth.

it is weeks later and you are sucking on another lollipop right now. only this time you are looking up at the sky, stars scattered like gems reflected in your eyes— a mirror crafted solely to capture the beauty surrounding you.

you love stargazing with felix, dragging him with you each time the weather forecast predicts a clear sky. the blanket you laid out feels soft beneath your bodies, but it pales before the softness of your hands as they brush against his own, each time you point out a star that twinkles a bit more than the rest.

he’s awfully quiet tonight, afraid if he opens his mouth then the only words that would spill out would be “you’re so pretty” and “please, please kiss me till i can’t breathe.” so, he chooses silence, his gaze subtly lingering on your form, his eyes fixated on that damned lollipop.

“you know, i think astronauts missed the prettiest constellations,” you muse and he hums, intrigued, tilting his head to look at you.

you prop yourself up on one arm, your hair cascading like a blanket over the contours of his face, its ends brushing against his cheeks akin to soft feathers. you nudge the lollipop to the right side of your cheek, a gentle smile playing on your lips as you gaze down at him.

felix’s gulp is awfully audible in the quietude of the night.

“they missed this one,” you trace with your finger over his freckles, as if they are coffee-stained stars forming constellations of their own. you then follow the trail over the bridge of his nose, your finger lingering just above the slate of his cheekbones, gliding slowly over the freckles beneath his eyelids.

his heart hammers in his throat, pulsates in his knee and stomach— you are bringing each one of his pulse points to life with your touch.

you are flirting with him, right? friends don't gaze at each other like this, with pupils fully dilated and a hand delicately grazing their cheeks as if tending to a fragile china vase.

he’s too far gone in you to back out. he yearns to find out, now.

so, he boldly plucks the lollipop from your mouth, guiding it teasingly over your lips, leaving them coated with the sticky sweetness of red. His breath catches as you tilt your head, a silent dare in your gaze, and the stars above fade into oblivion as he gazes at you – you, whose essence is crafted from moon dust itself.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers quietly.

“i thought you’d never ask,” you smile softly, before leaning down to press your lips on his own. they remain there for a few seconds, unmoving, but felix grows greedy as his hand untangles in your hair, moving you even closer to him.

your lips move in a steady rhythm and felix feels drunk on the softness of your lips, on the way your mouths meet only to part once more, on the dulcet way you bite his lower lip, on your saccharin taste tinted with strawberries and summer fields.

“i… i like you so much it’s driving me insane,” he confesses, chest heaving. “can i be yours? please?”

felix dreams of the lollipop yet again that night, red like the blush that sprouted on his cheeks as you kissed him again before you freed him from his longing, ‘yes,’ you said, ‘i’ve only ever been yours’. red like the blood coursing through his veins carrying your name to the chambers of his heart. red like the marks you left on his neck, collarbones and chest, anywhere your lips could reach, everywhere your love would be felt in.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #felix x reader #felix fluff

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zemi-noelle-art · 1 year

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Made a set of 2 hairclips to match my twinkle constellation JSK!

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actual-changeling · 7 months

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Crowley screamed for Her when he fell because She wasn't the one who cast him out, she couldn't have been; the love so bright it blinded him whenever he reached for it was real, is real, it has to be.

He did not scream for God or the Almighty, he cried for his Mother, the one who had smiled at him with a tenderness unlike any other and named him Starmaker.

They rushed by him, his stars, when he fell, colourful streaks blurred by the tears in his eyes as the grace defining his every cell left him, scream after scream. Crowley called for Her, seeing blinding white taking shape, and he dared to hope, stretching out an arm right before the flames of hell swallowed him whole.

In his weakest moments, curled up on the concrete of his balcony with his face bared to the sky, he tries to believe that a hand, slender and familiar, had been reaching for him. Tries to believe that She still loves him, that She never left him even though he left Her.

Crowley stretches one hand skywards, watching the stars twinkle between his fingers, and all he has left to offer is a whisper, the same question that ripped him away from everything good, everything light.

"Why?"

Every time, he asks. Every time, all he receives is silence, and then he waits until dawn washes away his creations. Crowley unfurls his wings on those mornings, presses them to cold concrete and metal in a doomed attempt to try and soothe the ever-present burn caught in his feathers.

If he closes his eyes, dizzy with uncried tears and cramping muscles, the morning sun slowly warming on his face, it almost feels like it did back then when he was tumbling through nebulae and constellations; rage and disappointment both so laced with fear they became one and the same.

Sometimes, when the tethers connecting him to hell and earth are two shackles holding him down, he thinks about flying as high as he possibly can just to let go and feel the air rushing through his feathers - so he can pretend there is nothing waiting for him, nothing but stars and more stars, and empty spaces for him to fill.

When he inevitably moves, his wings stiff but momentarily soothed, he remembers that he doesn't need to do anything at all to reclaim that feeling. It is enough to drive too fast with too much fizzling rage only to let himself be broken apart by his longing when Aziraphale is always, always an arm's length away.

Crowley lies on his back, the Bentley cold beneath him, one hand stretched out to the sky, reaching for the stars, reaching for him, his eyes violet, his lips familiar.

Sometimes he still thinks he can see Her reaching for him as his wings wither and his stars burn.

Sometimes he thinks he can see his angel looking back, his tears blinking comets burning up in the atmosphere.

Sometimes he thinks he never stopped falling.

edit: now with amazing art by @ghoullerr 💚💚

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #found this in my drafts and spontaneously decided to finish it #kinda tempted to turn this into a full fic #<- they say while pointedly not looking at the mountain of wips behind them

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her-penetrating-soul · 2 years

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"Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn."

~Mahatma Gandhi

#her penetrating soul #constellations #twinkling stars #stars #night sky #moonlights #dreamlike #soulful #soulful beauty #soulful love #soulful expressions #soulful sentiments #soulful moments

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itsvelyria · 4 months

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"sleepless nights w the f1 boys"

Charles Leclerc

his fingertips, rough and dry, are warm as they sketch circles into the back of your hands. you're uncertain of whether he's even aware of it — gaze lingers on your lover, distracted by his gentle charting of constellations in the midnight sky. his voice, a steady murmur, narrates the story of cygnus' lost love and delphinus' persuasion. the chilled air is held at bay as you remain nestled at his side. soon the night softens, inky blue yielding to pinks and oranges as you trade dreams and stories, your heart filling as fatigue settles into your bones.

Carlos Sainz

late-night drives through deserted city streets unfold like a poetic journey. the hum of the engine blends seamlessly with the laughter that fills the car. childhood stories are shared, echoing through the serene space beyond. with each turn, memories are etched into the fabric of the night, becoming invisible threads that linger in the quiet hours that follow. carlos’ handprint on your upper thigh tingles long after parking, sending sparks up your spine as you two head back up to your shared bed.

Danny Ricciardo

the moonlight casts a soft, clandestine glow, accentuated by the fairy light someone had left hanging. rusty bulbs flicker as danny pulls you up by the hands, the out-of-bounds rooftop transforming into an impromptu private dance floor. below, the city is sleepless and alive with its pulsating energy, serving as your silent witness. the faint notes of your paramour’s cologne, a blend of skin and soap, envelops your waltz as you rest your heavy head against his chest. he hums an all-too-familiar melody and in this suspended moment, time seemed to stretch.

George Russell

on cozy nights in, you both find yourselves entwined in a nest of blankets, a sanctuary of warmth. the orange glow from your nightstand delicately paints the walls, creating a cocoon that shields you from the chill outside. amidst the quietude, secrets and dreams are exchanged like cherished treasures. a small flame is kindled in the tranquil space you've carved out for each other — a haven where the moments hover, suspended in the the warmth of your shared breaths, as sleepless nights turn into timeless memories.

Lando Norris

in the realm of virtual gaming marathons, the hours extend into early mornings, a landscape illuminated by the lights of your screen. shouts of triumph and screams of anguish punctuate the air, interweaving with playful banter that colours the room. oceans away from the love of your life, his laughter still resonates through your headphones as he achieves a triple-kill. you cherish every digital heart he sends through your private chat, a reminder of the connection you share despite the physical distance.

Lewis Hamilton

in the tranquillity of midnight, a serene park becomes your canvas for shared introspection. the world transforms into a tapestry of silver and shadows as you two embark on a quiet stroll, hands entwined. conversations unfurl like the delicate petals of snow-white lilies, their fragility mirrored in the hushed murmurs. the night air carries whispers of dreams and aspirations that mingle with the rustle of leaves underfoot. in the hallowed stillness, your footsteps fall into cadence on the gravel path, heartbeats synchronizing like a ballet telling the story of forging connections.

Max Verstappen

beneath the vast expanse of twinkling stars, you both pitch your tents on damp grass. the crackle of a campfire and the rustle of pine trees create the soundtrack to this new chapter in your relationship. flickering flames cast dancing shadows on max’s face as he concentrates on roasting marshmallows. the stars above interrupt every shared gaze and every brush of your hands. the magic sparkling in the inches between your frames settles deep into your bones, destined to be a memory never forgotten.

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daosies · 4 months

Text

counting!

4 things yuta loves about you.

okkotsu yuta ♡ gn!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, smitten yuta, reader orders udon, injuries (blood, gore), reader has heavenly restriction

notes: YUTA NATION ... RISE ... !!!!

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way stars form in your eyes.

He likes the way your irises twinkle, the way you fumble over your words as you struggle to explain your thoughts when talking about something you like. Yuta likes the way you lean a little closer to him, the sound of your voice growing louder as you tell him about the greatest part of the show you’re watching.

Hm, is all Yuta thinks. Maybe I should watch that show too.

“Yuta,” you say, “are you even listening?”

He blinks once, then twice, before offering you a kind nod and a fond smile.

“Of course.”

He swears he’s listening, but his gaze can’t help but trail over the flutter of your lashes and the bridge of your nose. Yuta swears he’s listening, but he finds himself fixated on the glimmer of your pupils, captivated by how you stare directly into his.

His breath hitches.

“I was never into volleyball before,” you continue on with your rant about a particular sports anime. “But wow, it really is a great sport!”

Yuta hums in response. “Really?”

Only when you direct your attention elsewhere does Yuta regain his ability to breathe. He heaves out a sigh, watching you greet the rest of the second years before glancing down at his forearms.

A great sport? he wonders, tracing his finger over some of his faded scars. Would you find him great if he played volleyball? Would your eyes light up with constellations, with entire galaxies, when talking about him too?

Subconsciously, his gaze finds its way back on you. Yuta thinks he is trained to see you, to perceive you. He thinks that, no matter where he is, his eyes will find you, and they will cherish you in the center of his pupils, the windows to his soul.

Yuta thinks that you own these eyes of his, this soul of his.

Toge sits down next to Yuta, and even though the bottom half of his face is covered, Yuta can tell that the boy is looking at him with a knowing expression.

“Tsuna mayo?” he asks. Yuta slumps in his seat.

“Do you think I have a future in volleyball?”

“Okaka.” Toge deadpans.

“Right,” Yuta affirms. “Guess not.”

Once more—as he was made to do—Yuta’s gaze finds your form. He observes how the sun pierces past the windows of the classroom, bathing you in a golden light. He observes how words spill quickly from your lips as Maki and Panda laugh at your jumbled syllables. He observes the way you shift your weight from one leg to the other, giddy with excitement.

Then, you smile. It reaches your eyes, crinkling them slightly, and Yuta feels his heart pounding against his chest. His ribs threaten to break from the sheer force, and he feels himself grinning in return.

“Sujiko.” Of course, nothing slips past Toge’s eyes, and the cursed-speech user merely stares at Yuta with incredulousness.

“It’s nothing,” is all Yuta says. He hides his smile behind the palm of his hand, pretending to glance outside the window and observe the scenery.

As he was made to do, Yuta finds you in the reflection of the window. He always finds you, his eyes are naturally drawn to you, naturally made for you.

His smile grows wider, and his heart threatens to lurch from his chest completely.

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way your smiles reach your eyes.

He likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle a little, the way you glow. No matter how many times he’s seen it, Yuta’s stomach begins to flutter a little, the beat of his heart suddenly becoming too much to bear as it pounds against his ribs. Every time you smile, Yuta finds himself mirroring you; it’s contagious, really.

“What did the ocean say to the other ocean?” Panda asks. Nobody responds. “Nothing, it just waved!”

Nobody laughs. But Yuta notices the way your lips curl into the slightest of smiles, the way you glance away in order to hide it from Panda, who’s eagerly searching his classmates’ expressions for an ounce of mirth. Yuta notices the way your hand comes up to your face, awkward coughs escaping your lips in an attempt to mask your amusement.

He sees your smile. He sees the way your eyes crinkle, the way your irises glimmer. Yuta sees all of you, and he thinks—knows—that he loves all of you.

“Hah, Yuta found it funny!” Panda exclaims. At some point, Yuta began to smile too. He doesn’t know when it happened, but while he was observing the twinkle of your irises and the curl of your lips, he began to mimic your countenance, your demeanor. At some point, Yuta’s eyes began to glimmer like yours, his smile meeting his eyes as his dark irises crinkle a little.

At some point, Yuta began to act like you. He began to pick up your mannerisms, the habits of yours that he loves most. He integrated them into his being, placing parts of you delicately into his bones, his blood, his very essence. Somewhere along the line, Yuta became a part of you, a mirror of you.

“Right,” he says, letting Panda relish in the glory. Yuta’s gaze—as always—finds you, noticing the way you heave a sigh of relief, grateful that Panda didn’t catch you laughing at his lame joke.

Again, he smiles. It’s the kind of smile that meets his eyes, the kind of smile that makes his eyes shimmer.

It’s the kind of smile that is vaguely, no, utterly reminiscent of yours. It’s the kind of smile that he loves, the kind of smile that he engraved onto both his memory and his face.

Okkotsu Yuta likes your smiles so much, he made it a part of himself.

Tap, tap.

Okkotsu Yuta likes your habit of tapping things whenever you’re nervous.

Tap, tap.

He thinks it’s endearing, the way you have subconscious ticks that nobody else seems to notice. But Yuta was made to perceive you, to observe you, so of course he notices. He notices how the pace speeds up whenever you’re especially anxious, how you sometimes tap your finger against your own leg when there’s no surface nearby.

Yuta wonders if you know how his heart matches that tempo you set, how he accompanies you like a violinist to a piano. He wonders if you know how he was made for you, how his heart beats to the flick of your hand.

Tap, tap. Thump-thump.

“Are you nervous, Yuta?” you ask. The two of you sit side-by-side in the back of Ijichi’s car, heading towards another one of the higher-ups’ missions. This time, the two of you have to exorcise a special grade curse.

“No,” he lies.

You grin. “Right.”

Yuta wonders why old men are forcing high schoolers to do their bidding. He wonders why it has to be you, because Yuta is willing to fight anything any day if it means you’ll be safe. He’s willing to fight a thousand special grade curses all at once if that’s what it takes for you to look at him the way he looks at you, the way he was made to do.

“If you get hurt,” Yuta says, staring directly into your eyes. “You’ll tell me, right?”

Tap, tap. This time, your index finger comes to rap against his arm.

“Yeah.” You look out the window. “And you’ll tell me, too.”

He smiles. “Of course.”

Tap, tap.

Because Yuta trusts you, he doesn’t force you to utter more reassurances. Because Yuta trusts you, he doesn’t egg you on when he sees your gaze becoming distant, looking past him even when you stare right into his eyes. Yuta doesn’t say anything, even though he knows that look in your eyes—the kind of self-sacrificing, heroic look that makes him want to fall in love with you and hate you all at the same time.

Love, because Yuta loves how justice-driven you are. Hate, because Yuta hates how you don’t prioritize yourself. He hates how you don’t see yourself the way he does.

The way he does, through those rose-colored, lovesick lenses of his.

Tap, tap. The next time you tap against a surface, it’s on the handle of his katana. He’s staring down at your battered form on the floor, his lips trembling as his mouth hangs slightly agape. Yuta doesn’t know what to make of himself, he doesn’t know where to put his hands and how to bring you to safety. He doesn’t know where to begin.

Should he call Ijichi? Or should he carry you out of the area? Yuta managed to eliminate the special grade curse, but not without any repercussions. While fighting, he was clumsy and accidentally got hit, causing you to use a lot of your cursed energy on healing him when you should have been healing yourself.

I’m so stupid! he berates himself, his fingers quivering as he attempts to patch up the gash on your side. His heart aches and aches, weeping within the confines of his ribs as he tries his best to ignore the warmth of your blood on his skin, the way it soaks his entire hand even though there shouldn’t be that much, there shouldn’t be any blood at all.

Yuta doesn’t know why you would waste your technique on him, knowing that he has the ability to heal himself. At the same time, however, Yuta knows; he knows you healed him because his own healing is messy and unrefined, because your healing gives an additional curse energy boost. He knows you healed him because it’s in your nature, because that’s the kind of person you are.

“[Name],” Yuta says, his voice wavering as he struggles to face you. His eyes are fixated on your wounds, his palms applying pressure to them as he attempts to heal you with whatever semblance of a reverse curse technique he has. “Please… please tell me how to heal you.”

You have a unique form of Heavenly Restriction that allows you to heal others and yourself. This form of restriction stops others from healing you at all, and any attempt to apply some sort of reverse curse technique will only result in a nullification of cursed energy.

Yuta knows his question is stupid—how can he heal you if that’s in your restriction? Still, he asks. He begs you, urges you, to tell him how to heal you, to tell him how to take care of you, to help you, to save you. Because the blood staining his fingertips is becoming overwhelming, because he hates the sight of you on the floor, bleeding out, waiting. Waiting for Ijichi, waiting for death to take you in its tender embrace.

Yuta doesn’t want death to take you in any embrace, tender or not. And maybe he’s being dramatic, maybe everything will be okay, but to Yuta, it’s not. You being hurt is not okay, you bleeding out is never okay.

Tap, tap.

“It’ll be okay, Yuta.” Even now, it’s you comforting him. It’s you reassuring him, with your gentle taps against his arm, your gaze tender yet determined as you cradle him in the center of your pupils. Yuta likes the way you look at him, the way you say his name, the way you exist with him.

Tap, tap. Again, your fingers lead his heart. Thump-thump. It’s yours. All yours.

He forces a smile. “Yeah.”

With you, Yuta thinks everything will be okay. He feigns ignorance to the way his hands feel warm—too warm—as his pale skin stains vibrant red. He feigns ignorance to the way your eyelids lower, the way your gaze becomes unfocused, the way your taps become softer.

Everything will be okay. You said so.

Tap, tap.

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way he can always predict what you’re going to say.

“Yuta,” you whisper, the end of your pencil coming to poke the boy’s shoulder. “What if we went to karaoke later?”

And a photobooth after, he thinks. “Today?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, trying to keep your voice low. “And we could go to a photobooth after!”

He smiles. “That sounds good. What should we eat after?” he asks, yet he already knows the answer. Udon, he thinks, you like udon when it’s cold out.

“Udon,” you respond, leaning closer towards him. Yuta’s breath hitches, his hands becoming clammy as his eyes trace over your features. From the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips, your countenance makes a lover of him, his thoughts, his being belonging wholly to you.

Again and again, Yuta falls in love with you. The flutter of your lashes and the excited tone of your voice (which slurs your syllables, which crinkles your eyes) makes him love you as if it were the first time. The taps of your fingers and the stars in your eyes reminds Yuta of everything that he’s ever hoped for, of everything that is worth the world, of everything that gives him purpose, reason.

When school is over, Yuta lets you drag him by the hand, relishing in the way your fingers fit perfectly around his. Yuta traces the pad of his thumb over your calluses, tenderly massaging them in an attempt to ease the stiffness. Yuta follows you, not caring to look behind him, not caring to ask where you’re taking him.

(It’s not like he needs to, anyway. Yuta knows your favorite places, your favorite streets. He knows your favorite paths and your favorite restaurants. He knows where you’re taking him, but even if he didn’t, he’d let you string him along anyway.)

Yuta likes the sound of your singing voice, even if you hit all the wrong notes. Yuta likes the look of your face in the silly, absurd filters offered by the photobooth. He likes the way you squeeze his hand whenever you tug him to cross the road, the way you swing his arm a little when you walk down the street.

“May I take your order?” a waiter asks.

Kishimen udon, Yuta thinks, his face resting against his palm as he stares at you from across the table. Kishimen udon with narutomaki.

“Kishimen udon with narutomaki,” you reply. You don’t notice the way Yuta’s gaze is fixated on you, the way he hasn’t spared a single glance at the menu since the moment you two arrived. You don’t notice how Yuta’s pupils have your silhouette imprinted on them, the way your figure is etched into his very bones.

(It’s a part of him now. Your image, your smile, your very being is tattooed into Yuta’s bones, carving him in order to become someone like you, to become someone for you.)

“And you, sir?”

Yuta smiles tenderly. It crinkles his eyes and creates stars in his irises. “I’ll have the same thing, thank you.”

From the glimmer in your eyes to the taps of your fingers, Okkotsu Yuta loves you. All of you.

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