pixel skylines
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
i don't do bad sauce passes
★
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Three Goblin Art
Kaledo Art
DEAR READER
Cosimo Galluzzi
roma★
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
tumblr dot com
Janaina Medeiros
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Stranger Things
Misplaced Lens Cap
Claire Keane
Origami Around
taylor price
art blog(derogatory)
seen from India
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@umyeah-no
the “sexy lamp test” but for disabled folks: if you can replace your disabled character with a beloved pet dog that needs an expensive surgery to survive then you have to throw out your manuscript
“The Family Dog” by Deaf artist Susan Dupor, 1991
My man if you care
happy pride month!
happy pride
Eastasiasoft has announced that Hakuoki Memoirs: Drifting Clouds (Hakuouki Shinkai: Ten'un no Shou) will be released in English for the Nintendo Switch in 2027!
"Reunite with beloved characters and get to know them like you never have before! Hakuoki Memoirs: Drifting Clouds is a 'fan disc' expansion to the romantic tale of heroine Chizuru and the handsome warriors of the Shinsengumi. Explore a variety of character-focused vignettes set between the chapters of Hakuoki: Chronicles of Wind and Blossom and make key decisions for Chizuru along the way.
Previously unseen events and moments of romance unfold in gorgeously illustrated style! Engage in sweet, funny, lighthearted and sometimes surprising dialogue localized in English for the first time and immerse yourself in authentic settings inspired by the history of Japan’s Edo period. As an essential new supplement to the series’ core narrative, Hakuoki Memoirs: Drifting Clouds becomes an essential part of the definitive Hakuoki experience!"
You can visit the official site here! Limited and standard physical editions will also be available in addition to the digital version. They will be available to pre-order on Playasia starting Thursday, June 4th (11:00am ET / 8:00am PT / 4:00pm UK).
✨🤍🩷🩵🤎🖤❤️🧡💛💚💙💜✨
you guys are bonkers
OP aycenewman1231 on TikTok ♡
do you ever become obsessed with a character and you just go "of fucking course its that one" at yourself because you are so incredibly predictable
y'all remember when we glomped?
obsessed w this person in the replies
Babe wake up, new all time great image just dropped
jjk + textposts IV
this job market is a fucking nightmare
your erotica doesn't need to align with your principles. you can find something hot and not believe it should be the way of things. you can play out dynamics in kink that shouldn't be replicated societally. what gets you going is not an indictment of your character
Tumblr puritans when the speculative author writes fiction depicting a hypothetical interaction between characters who don't exist which didn't happen in reality
why her?
why anyone else when she exists?
immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again
he remembers the first time you left him, the way you gently gave into the fever and went. the heat of your skin rose and rose, then it was over, and then you were gone. he gave you one last kiss on your cracked lips and pretended you were there to feel it.
he mourned, of course. harder than he had ever mourned any other lover he had ever entertained.
it was fifty years later before he saw you again. a baker's daughter, softer around the waist, with the same laugh you've always had. of course, you had no memory of your past life, but you fell into loving him like it was habit.
that death was the hardest.
Heat took you once again, this time in the form of fire. the bakery's flame caught your skirt and you along with it. by the time you were saved, it was too late. the final days of your life were spent in horrible pain, crying and screaming and begging for death. by the time it came, it felt overdue.
the cycle kept repeating. the two of you would meet and within five years, you would die. illness and childbirth and a stray bullet from war; even in the lives he tried to avoid you, tragedy would follow. once, you had married another man, only for him kill you within the month.
the worst part, he thinks as he stares at the most current iteration of you, is that his chest still flutters with joy when he sees you for the first time. that, despite the trauma and heartbreak and horror, he still loves you more than anything.
He can feel it coming this time. There's a tickle in the back of his mind, like a click ticking down each second he has left.
"You've got-" He tugs the laces of your boots, your foot stepping up on his thigh. He loves kneeling over like this, at your feet. it reminds him of the very short life you had as a princess. "To tie your shoes better."
"What's gotten into you?" you laugh. "I'm not made of glass."
He lets you pull away, sitting back on to his heels. It's amazing how little your face has changed over all of your lives, how you still look the way you did when he first laid eyes on you, just with more lines around your smile. This is the oldest you've ever been-- and maybe ever will be. "Are you sure? I could swaddle you in bubble wrap, just to be safe."
You roll your eyes with a smile. "Sure, I'll just walk around the office covered in bubblewrap. My boss will love that."
The itch in his head gets stronger.
"Why don't you stay home for work today?" His hand runs up your leg, more appreciative than sexual. "Spend the day with me."
He leans forward and presses his head into your thigh, the way you've always been weak for. Your hands immediately find his hair and scratch his scalp, your body's tension giving in just a bit.
"Well..."
"Please." He's not really speaking to you. "Just give me one day."
You give in gently.
"Anything for you."
.
It happens three hours later.
You're laughing, pulling your shirt back on post sex. Lately, you've been insatiable and he knows why.
"I'm just saying-" you muse. "we're stable, we're in love. I'm just waiting for the ring."
He knows. He still has your original ring, the one he always takes from your finger before burying you.
"I'm not getting any younger. I wanna have babies and t-"
Your eyes shift a bit. It's subtle, until you make this garbled sound, not quite a word at all, like your tongue has disconnected from your brain.
Before he can get up, you're on the ground. Just like always, you're give into death gently.
The beat of your heart is gone before he can even call for help. By the time the EMTs arrive, you're cold. They cover you with a blanket, like it saves your diginity as you wheel you out of the apartment building. He cries, just like he always does, when the doctors tell him it was an aneurysm, that nothing could have saved you.
That's the horrible truth he needs to learn to swallow. Nothing could have saved you. Nothing will save you.
For the first time in centuries, he speaks to the thing that made him. It comes only in the deepest of nights, when the winter air is most bitter.
"Why do you curse me like this?"
The voice tastes of forgotten pine, a species now lost. "Why do you speak in tongues I do not know?"
The language should be dead, but it rolls off his tongue as easily as it did back then. No written word, no official name in the modern tongue: a secret between him and the monster he's bonded to.
"You take her from me, life after life." He never ages, but he feels young again, angry, reckless. "You lied to me when you promised a painless life. You lied when you promised no one else would die."
The wind howls with insult. There's a moment where he can feel it there, hunched and hovering above his shoulder, maw gaped and empty.
"The only lie is the one you tell yourself."
It's gone again, nothing but a whispering voice on the breeze. Without worshippers, it no longer holds much power. Without him, it would fade into nothing, just like the other forgotten gods.
"I know your mind does not fail you. You remember your first meeting with the girl."
"In the summer fields."
"Ach. Your lie." It growls its words. "That was her second life."
He has no answer to that. No, he had met you in the fields, right after the grain had sprouted. The memory is his prized possession.
"You play your tricks again."
"You truly forget the face of the woman you sacrificed in my name?" The hiss runs a chill up his spine. "The one who you killed with your own hands? The one who's blood you drank to live for all eternity?"
Blood is always the price. He had taken a woman from the neighboring village, covered her face in cloth so he could not see the tragedy he was committing. The ritual was long, grueling, and the girl had almost died too soon multiple times, but she fought to live, fought against his hand-
"No." Those screams. Were they yours? "That's- no."
"You had chosen her to die, so you may live."
His stomach turns as he remembers the taste of your blood on his lips, the metal aftertaste as you fought with the last ounce of life-
"Now, she dies."
