it's called your face


Alya’s Matchmaker Senses™ were tingling. 

Dark Cupid / Dislocœur


Way to ruin the moment, Alya -_-

He was both beautiful and lethal, in the same way that natural disasters are.

Watchdog AU , waiting for an update, but not forgotten.

'jealous' sentence meme
  • ❝ i don't like the way he's/she's looking at you. ❞
  • ❝ i'm starting to think you want him/her, too. ❞
  • ❝ am i crazy? ❞
  • ❝ have i lost ya'? ❞
  • ❝ even thought i know you love me, can't help it. ❞
  • ❝ i turn my chin music up, and i'm puffing my chest. ❞
  • ❝ i'm getting red in the face. ❞
  • ❝ you can call me obsessed. ❞
  • ❝ it's not your fault that they hover. ❞
  • ❝ i mean no disrespect. ❞
  • ❝ it's my right to be hellish. ❞
  • ❝ i still get jealous. ❞
  • ❝ 'cause you're too fucking beautiful. ❞
  • ❝ everybody wants a taste. ❞
  • ❝ everybody wants your sex. ❞
  • ❝ that's why i still get jealous. ❞
  • ❝ i wish you didn't have to post it all. ❞
  • ❝ i wish you'd save a little bit for me. ❞
  • ❝ protective or possessive, yeah. ❞
  • ❝ call it passive or aggressive. ❞
  • ❝ i'm the type to never sweat no chick/guy. ❞
  • ❝ ain't nobody but you got me stressin' this way, you know. ❞
  • ❝ now the struggle's always real. ❞
  • ❝ girls/boys be steppin' in my face. ❞
  • ❝ you're the only one invited. ❞
  • ❝ how am i supposed to feel? ❞
  • ❝ you're the only one invited. ❞
  • ❝ i said there's no one else for you. ❞
  • ❝ 'cause you know i get excited when you get jealous, too. ❞
  • Pathologist: *enters the morgue*
  • Sherlock: *examining a body*
  • Pathologist: *rolls his eyes* Excuse me, sir, this area is out of bounds to-
  • Sherlock: *still looking at the body* It's okay.
  • Pathologist: *sighs* If you don't leave, I'll have to call security.
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* I said it's fine.
  • Pathologist: *frowns* Why is it fine?
  • Sherlock: *smirks* I'm sleeping with the boss.
  • Pathologist: ...
  • Pathologist: *confused* You're sleeping with Stamford?
  • Sherlock: *looks up; annoyed* The other boss.
  • Molly: *enters the morgue, carrying coffees; irritated* Here's your bloody coffee, you git. Have you finished now so I can do my job?
  • Sherlock: *steps aside; takes the coffee, grinning* Yes, boss.
  • Pathologist: ...

Welp, here they are. The puppet who became a real boy (Pinocchio) and the puppet who became a king (Maven).


Your Call

Originally posted by lowmans

Originally posted by stereocolours

Request: Happy imagine based on the song Your call by Second Hand Serenade 

The sun shone down on you through the branches and leaves of the tree, leaving patterns across your skin.
Your head lay on his thigh and his rough hands stroked gently through your hair.
It was peaceful, a peaceful moment in a life of chaos.
The birds chirped and you could hear children laughing in the distance.
His other hand stroked gently across your back and sent shivers up your spine.
You closed your eyes, breathing in the fresh air mixed with the scent of him.
You didn’t get much time alone with Happy, he was always busy with the club or looking after his mother. You weren’t exclusive, just friends with benefits. But he made you feel alive, and you ached for him when he was gone.
He had come to depend on you, the sight of your eyes burnt through him and he cursed himself.
You were too innocent, too pure, and he was a criminal, a murderer. Hell his friends even called him Killer. But he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t resist you.
You walked into his life and turned it upside down. The sound of your laugh haunted him on the nights he spent away from you, your eyes burned into him overtime he closed his eyes.
He had been with plenty of girls but none of them left him wanting more the way you did.
He watched you as he stroked your hair, watched your chest rise and fall with each breath and your eyes flutter lightly as you looked across the park.
He felt contempt, laying next to you in the grass, the sun shining down on the both of you.
He felt contempt but he couldn’t help but feel the trickle of guilt creeping through him and he tried to push it back.
It was always there, always in his mind when he was with you, a reminder of who he was, who he could never be for you.
You deserved the world, and he was just a criminal.

Happy sighed and you turned to look at him, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you.
He studied the way the sun contoured on your skin, and the sparkle in your eyes.
“You are so beautiful,” He said quietly and you blushed slightly.
You looked into his dark eyes and warmth filled your body. Something inside you changed and you realised you were falling in love with him.
He stared into your eyes too and felt something change inside him, a sensation he had never felt before.
But as he looked closer he saw his reflection in your eyes. His cold face, his murderous eyes that had watched so many people die. He saw the reflection of his butte and he clenched his jaw.
You were too good for him, too pure, too beautiful.
“C’mon, lets go little girl.” He said quietly and you frowned at the sudden change in him.
You stood and rubbed your arms, enjoying the afternoon sun and Happy stood too, his arm touching yours gently and you crossed the park together headed towards his bike.
“So do you wanna get dinner?” You asked, a smile on your face as you looked at him.
His face was expressionless and you felt nerves course through you.
“I cant.” He said quietly.
“O-okay, another time.” You smiled and reached for his hand as you walked.
He moved his hand away and you frowned slightly but tried to keep a straight face.
Silence fell between you as you neared his bike and he sat on it in silence, only looking at you to pass you his helmet.
“Thankyou.” You said quietly and lifted it to your head.
You swung your leg over the bike and wrapped your hands around him. His body was tense as he bought the bike to life and you pressed your cheek to his back and breathed in the scent of him.

He pulled into your drive and turned off the bike.
You swung your leg over and stood, unclipping the helmet ad holding it awkwardly in your hands.
“Do you wanna come in?” You asked him nervously. His body had stayed tense the whole way home and you weren’t sure what you had done wrong to upset him.
“Nah,” He shook his head and looked at you. “I should get back to the club.”
You smile warmly and nodded as you stepped closer to him. You leant down to press a kiss to his lips but he turned his head and your lips pressed against his cheek.
Your heart sunk and you fought back tears as you straightened.
“Thank you for today, Hap.” You smiled nervously.
He grunted and pulled a toothpick out of his pocket. He stuck it between his lips and rolled it along them as he looked at you.
“Bye little girl.” He said, his voice cold.
“Bye, Happy.” You watched as the bike roared to life and he rode out of your driveway.
A tear escaped you as you watched him drive down your street and disappear into the setting sun.
You walked to the door of your house and opened it with shaky fingers.
You weren’t sure what had happened. Everything had been so peaceful, so perfect. You had felt something stir inside you and you thought he had felt the same. You had seen it in his eyes but then he had changed, his expression went cold and now you weren’t sure what to think.
You would give him anything, do anything, to hear him say he loved you. But who were you kidding. You were too different. You weren’t like the other old lady. They were hard and strong and you were soft and sweet. He would never love you.

Four days passed and you hadn’t heard a thing from Happy. He was on your mind constantly. Anything you did, everything you saw, reminded you of him and you found yourself lost.
Now you sat at the table of your quiet house, your phone sitting in front of you.
You stared at it, praying that it would ring and his vice would be on the other end.
But it never rang, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you waited.
You picked it up and spun it in your hands.
You deserved an explanation, at least. The lights of passing cars illuminated the room as you sat in the darkness.
Tears streamed down your face and you wished you were enough for him.
You sat like that for an hour before a rage tore through you.
He couldn’t just leave you with no explanation. He couldn’t just ignore you.
You threw your phone against the wall and watched it shatter into pieces and you stood, grabbing the cardigan off the chair and throwing it over your shoulders.
You pulled your boots on and grabbed your keys, tears still streaming down your face.
You walked towards the door and pulled it open to reveal Happy standing there, his hand raised to knock.
“Happy.” You whispered.

He stared at your tear stained face and swollen eyes and he felt his heart ache inside him.
“Babygirl,” He whispered.
Your arms dropped to your sides and you stared at the hurt in his eyes.
“What are you doing here, Happy?” You asked calmly.
“I came to apologise.” He said quietly.
You raised an eyebrow and leaned against the door frame.
“Look, (y/n), Im not good with this shit. I don’t know how to find the words. But I.. Im sorry I haven’t called. Its just.. Your so good, (y/n), your so beautiful and your soul is so good. And I’m a criminal. Ive killed people, and I will kill more. I know Im not good enough for you but I cant spend another day without you.” He said breathlessly and his eyes were full of sadness as you looked at him.
“Happy,” You whispered as a tear fell down your cheek.
“Im sorry, (y/n), I just had to say it.” He turned around and walked slowly down your drive.
You ran after him and he turned when he heard your footsteps.
“I dont know how to shoot a gun.” You said.
He smirked at you and you continued.
“I dont know how to throw a decent punch and I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle. I cant be as strong as the old lady Happy but I know that Im in love with you. I don’t know if I could kill someone but I don’t care that you have. I don’t care about the things you’ve done, Happy, that doesn’t make you who you are. I cant be as tough as them but you wont find someone that loves you more than I do.”
He stepped closer and his arms wrapped around you as his lips pressed against yours fiercely.
His lips moved against yours and he held your body to his tightly.
“I love you, (y/n).” He whispered against your lips.
“I want you to be my old lady. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend and you’ll probably be mad at me most of the time but I love you. I want this babe but you have to say it, its your call.”
Your smile spread across your face and it matched his.
“I want you, Happy, I want this.”

Lingers Beautifully

Jimin scenario

Genre: fluff

Word count: ~ 2.100 

A/N: This came out of nowhere, but I enjoyed it and I hope you do too. @ my wine buddy : I hope you like this one ;) Feedback, as always, is needed and will be very much appreciated. Leggo!


You smoothed non existent wrinkles on your dress, taking notice of slightly wet skin of your palms. This place was way too extravagant for a business dinner, but maybe that is why your, hopefully, sponsor-to-be chose it. That is - to show you, what kind of restaurant he’d like to stand behind, since you were here to pitch him yours. The fact that this wealthy gentleman agreed to hear you out - someone with close to no experience in restaurant business - was a miracle on its own. His name alone made you nervous and this place just added up to your anxiousness. 

Keep reading


pt. 1  |  pt. 2  |  pt. 3  |  pt. 4  |  pt. 5  |  pt. 6  |  pt. 7  |  pt. 8  |  pt. 9  |  pt. 10

Stiles makes it home.  Mostly.  He has his hand on the knob but then kind of just sinks down to his knees and starfishes face-down over the threshold, half in his apartment and half in the hall.  This feels like as good a place as any to live out the rest of his life, gets a nice draft and everything.

That’s how Scott and Lydia find him when Scott gets home twenty minutes later.

Scott crouches down next to his head and squawks out an alarmed: “Stiles, Jesus, what happened?”

Stiles turns his head so his cheek is pressed flat to the floorboard and he can see Scott’s concerned puppy expression under his fringe.  “I met him.”  It sounds like a death sentence the way he’s said it, all croaky and broken.  In a way, it kind of is so fair play to Stiles.  “I—We talked.  He asked me to come back tomorrow.”  He props himself up with his hands on the floor, halfway to standing but not that invested in it yet.

Scott frowns at him.  “Why do you look like the world just ended then?”  Stiles flops back down unhappily and Scott points a finger in his face.  Literally in his face, cheek depressed under Scott’s fingertip.  He pokes a few more times, says, “Because that all sounds like really good news.”

Stiles shifts his cheek away from Scott, which puts him squashed-nose-down against their floor again.  He blinks into the darkness from his own shadow.  “I’m in love with him,” he mumbles to himself, groans.  “This is so stupid, I know, Lydia, shut up” he points at where she was standing against the doorframe before he returned to his friend the floor and stabs at her with his finger, “—preemptively shut up—but he actually is it.  He’s my person.”  Stiles rolls over like a depressed seal, sits up and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, making starbursts and orange blobs bloom behind the lids.  “I’m… finished.  I just knew it.  He was sitting there, being all—” Stiles lowers his hands, blinks plaintively up at Scott and Lydia, “you know, with the face and the surliness and I thought, I thought, yeah, this face, this surliness, that’s my new forever.”  He drops back down, floor and spine smushed together again.  “Only it isn’t and I am massively, irreparably fucked because he has a girlfriend.  And even if he wasn’t unobtainable, he’s still unobtainable.  In an ‘I have to invent new words because there aren’t ones that so much as touch him’ kind of way.”

Lydia taps the toe of her high heel into his chest and tells him thoughtfully, “You’re depressing, you know that?”  She carefully sips from the same latte cup she had earlier, purses her lips.  “Also, did you say tomorrow?  Your computer science midterm is tomorrow.”

Stiles pops upright, eyes wide. Nooooo.  That can’t—it isn’t—goddamn it!   “Oh shit.  Shit.  Fuck.  Shit.  I can’t meet him tomorrow.”  His midterm’s not until late evening but he hasn’t even started the studying process yet.  Which consists of downing a bunch of his Adderall pills, holing up in the library, jamming all related information that’ll stick into the folds of his brain where it’ll later leak out to be replaced by song lyrics and Friends quotes, sobbing - bitterly, going to the corner gas station for 5am Red Bulls, an hour or so of unscheduled and repeated cat naps while he slaps himself in the face to try to spark consciousness, drooling, desperate crying, panicked reading and, finally, acceptance that he will not pass.  Until he miraculously does (about an 87% success rate on that).

There was no room for Derek in that.  Derek eclipses everything, even the Friends quotes.  Stiles can’t see him and retain anything to do with computers on the same day.

Keep reading


A/N: This is the sadder Little Mermaid where the mermaid princess went to a witch(or in this case, the Dark One) after saving a prince from a shipwreck to get a soul and become human with her prince. In return, the mermaid had to give her voice and when she walked, it felt like tiny swords were stabbing her feet. They actually started bleeding when she danced for her prince. Just some background info. 

Part 2

The temple girl that found the prince on the shore had heard of the prince’s search for his savior and said that she saved him.

He immediately announced that they were to be married and you felt your heart break. You stayed in your room for the day. It was only the second day and you had failed.

Once the moon rose, you heard splashing below your window. Your eyes widened at the sight of your sisters. You immediately rushed down to the edge, smiling when you saw them. “Sister,” Nadia cheered, “We have been so worried. Why would you do this?”

You looked at them with sad eyes. Amphitrite dismissed it, “Never mind that. Y/N, we have a way for you to return to us and be a mermaid again.” You nodded half-heartedly. In the past day, you had fallen in love with being a human.

Lana held up a silver dagger that almost looked like King Neptune’s triton. You took it cautiously and looked at them curiously. “We made a deal with the Dark One,” she explained, “In exchange for a lock of our hair, he gave us this dagger.”

You looked at them angrily. Who knows what the Dark One could do with a lock of their hair? Delora noticed and reassured, “It’s fine, sister. We want you back so badly.”

“All you have to do,” Amphitrite explained, “Is kill the prince and let his blood spill on your legs. Then you shall return to the ocean as a mermaid.” You nodded hesitantly, but they didn’t notice.

Nadia advised, “You should do it now since he’s asleep.” You nodded and gripped the dagger so tightly that your knuckles turned white. “See you soon, sister.” They dove back under the water.

You walked to the prince’s room with the dagger concealed in your sleeve. A guard walked occasionally past his room so you slipped in. The prince laid in his bed peacefully.

He deserved it, you tried to convince yourself. He broke your heart. Even as you were thinking of terrible things, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually injure the prince you had risked so much for, the prince you had saved.

You raised the dagger above your head, prepared to stab him, but your arms refused. Your eyes closed, but it didn’t make it any easier.

That was it. You couldn’t return to your sisters. If you were to die the next day, you’d rather die sooner to rid yourself of the heartbreak.

Your feet carried you to the cliffs next to the castle. You clutched the dagger in one hand, then decided that since you were born in the ocean, you wanted to die in the ocean.

The cliff was high up with a rocky bottom. No one could survive it. You walked to the edge, prepared to step off when a voice came from behind you. “You look lost.”

You turned around to see a boy about your age wearing a strange outfit. It was dark green and looked like it could have been sewn from the things on trees. In the darkness, he emanated a scary feeling.

“What are you doing?” You stayed silent obviously. He rolled his eyes. “I asked, what are you doing?” You couldn’t say anything. “Why aren’t you talking?” You pointed to my throat.

The boy appeared right in front of you, almost pushing you off the edge. He grabbed you before you could fall and you glared at him. “Just step away from the edge.”

The heartbreak was unbearable. You couldn’t bear to be a mermaid again just to dissolve to sea foam like all soulless mermaids did when they died. “Listen, either you come with me or you jump and I’ll just get you anyway. It’s your choice.” His accent was strange.

You didn’t move a centimeter. He touched your throat. “You realized that you’ve been cursed?” You nodded. “Oh, right. I’m Peter. Peter Pan.” He smiled at the end.

Not letting him say anything else, you stepped closer to the edge. “I’ll just come get you,” Peter warned, but you ignored him, closed your eyes, and stepped off to your death.

Except it didn’t quite work out that way.

The falling feeling was brief before you felt more like you were floating. Merfolk were gasping, “Princess Y/N’s an air spirit!”

You opened your eyes to see Peter surrounded by green sparkles, holding you under your arms. He flew above the clouds and you marveled the view. “Princess, huh?” He said smugly, “Of what exactly?” You pointed down below, to the water. “The water? You sure don’t look like a mermaid.” You shot him a curious look, wondering where he was taking you. Peter pulled your body closer to his and whispered in your ear, “Someplace where being lost is ok.”

You tried hitting his arm, but his grip tightened. Your eyes closed as he took you higher in the air. Only two days and you had been on land and in the air. “Scared of heights?” Peter taunted, but you were too broken to respond. The prince would marry the lying temple girl and you’d still be alive when it happened. The Dark One would come for you.

Peter Pan surely couldn’t take you far enough away so the Dark One couldn’t find you. He began talking again, but in a softer tone, “Obviously, you can’t talk, but I really suggest that you open your eyes.” You opened them tentatively, but they shot open when you saw where you were going.

A beautiful green island with a pirate ship docked. White sand beaches and you thought you heard singing in the distance. A smile worked its way onto your face. “It’s called Neverland,” Peter Pan whispered into your ear, “Where lost children never grow old. It’s typically boys, but you can be the exception.”

You landed on the white sand. He touched your neck gingerly. “This is strong magic,” Peter Pan concluded, “After my journey, my magic isn’t strong enough, but in a few days, I’ll be able to lift the spell.” Your eyes widened. This boy could lift a spell cast by the Dark One?

He started walking with his hand around yours, but you gasped as the pain returned in your feet. Peter Pan turned to you, his brilliant green eyes staring into yours. “What is it?” You pointed to your feet and he noticed the slight blood coming from it. “You must have angered someone quite a lot.” You shook my head.

“Surely you didn’t ask for this.” You stared at my hands sadly. Noticing my action, Peter Pan stopped talking and started to carry you. He took you a clearing with little houses set up. There, he set you down carefully on a bed inside one of the houses. “The Lost Boys are asleep, but they will be rowdy in the morning,” Peter Pan warned before pausing. “Once I am at my strongest, I promise that I will help you.”

You stared at the handsome boy, but looked away when the prince came into your mind. Your heart felt like it had shattered into dust, completely unfixable. Peter Pan looked at you for a while, before saying, “I’m also great at fixing things.”

Rosie grinned as she made her way to her sisters apartment. She was excited to share the news about her and Rory to her, even though Alfies words were still in her head about how Lola might not be as thrilled as he was for her. She shook it off, knowing that Lola would be happy for her no matter what.

She got to Lolas door and knocked in a rhythm. “Lola?” She called, a smile still on her face. “Its your little sister!”


anonymous asked:

Could I bother you for a Hiddleston imagine where he and the reader have been in a relationship for long time and he finds her talking got her ex who kisses her but he storms off before anything else happens so he doesn't know the entire story and he goes on a jealous rant about it when she gets home and she explains to him and then he apologizes and he professes his love and make up kisses etc just like tons of fluff I recently developed a crush on him and I don't think its going away soon THNX

Yes you can bother me!  Except it’s not a bother.  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

Slamming the door behind him, he runs his hands through his hair before kicking the chair in front of him.

Stomping around the room as his chest heaves with anger, he rubs his hands over his face before turning towards the wall.

“God DAMN IT!”

Punching the wall as his fist projects through, he rips his arm back as the warm blood trickles down his knuckles.

“For God’s-”

Traipsing to the bathroom as he turns on the faucet, he sticks his hand under the warm running water, hissing at the stinging sensation as he hears the door open.


You had dashed from the grocery store the moment you laid eyes on Thomas.  You had refrained from telling him that an ex of yours was back in town, and try as you might have to ignore his emails and block his phone calls, he somehow found you in the middle of the bread aisle during your weekly grocery run.

“Hey there, Y/N,” he had said.

You had turned, wide-eyed at his voice as your hands began to shake, gripping the cart as your eyes searched for Thomas.

“You keep ignoring me,” he had said with puppy dog eyes, “I just want to talk to you…”

You had told him you didn’t want to talk…that you had moved on and found someone worthwhile.  Someone smart, and kind, and grateful for your presence in his life.

But he wasn’t having it.

He had grabbed your shoulders, tears streaming down his cheeks, and had crashed his chapped, limp, disgusting lips against yours.

And try as you might have, you couldn’t wriggle out of his grasp.

His hands had been strong on your lower back, pulling you closer the more you tried to step away.

And that’s when Tom had rounded the corner.

In a flash of light and a whirl of whimsical obscenities, he had stomped out of the grocery store, gotten into his car, and left you there.

With him.

“See?  He doesn’t care about you,” your ex had hissed as he turned back around to you.

But you were already barging past the employees, working your way towards the back end of the grocery store.

You hid behind boxes, the employees trying to scramble you out without being seen, and you had hopped the bus to get home.

“Thomas!” you yell out in to the house.

Hearing the running water from the bathroom, you shrug your coat off and go running through the house, stopping at the bathroom entrance as your eyes widen at the blood on the counter.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” you coo, rushing to his side as he shrugs you off with his elbow.

“Get away from me,” he bites.

“Thomas, you have to listen to me,” you beg, your hands out, palms out, trying to get him to see your point of view.

“That was your ex.  The ex you said you were trying to get away from.  The ex you said you didn’t love any longer.  The ex you said I was better than!  And there you are, kissing him in the middle of a fucking grocery store!”

As he throws his hands in the air, the watered down blood splattering across the ceiling, your eyes trail up as a tear streaks its way down your face.

“Thomas, he’s been emailing and calling for weeks now…” you trail off.

As your hands begin to shake, Thomas takes in your appearance as his face slowly begins to soften.

“That doesn’t calm my heart much, darling,” he spits.

“I kept ignoring his emails, and started blocking his calls…but…he someh-h-how…”

Feeling your jaw begin to tremble, realization slowly crosses over his face as he grabs at a washcloth and wraps it around his knuckles.

“How did he find you?” he asks, his voice soft and feather-like.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, casting your gaze down at your feet as you shuffle from foot to foot.

“I could never love that man again…not when I love you…”

As Tom’s eyes search your downcast face, he charges towards you, wrapping his arms around you as he holds you close, your sobs coming quick and strong in to his chest as he runs his good fingers through your hair.

“I am so sorry…” he whispers in to your hair, “I am so sorry I left you there.”

“I can’t believe…I just-”

Pulling back as you turn your back to him, you hear him swallow hard as he walks back up to you, his hands on your shoulders as your body begins to tremble.

“I reacted horribly, and I’m sorry.  I just…I got home yesterday, and you weren’t here, and it hurt so much.  I know you had errands to run and things to do…that life doesn’t stop when I’m not here…but then that happened and I-”

“It’s alright,” you whirl around, pressing your palms against his chest as you get a glance of the blood-soaked washcloth, “But we really need to get you to a doctor.  That bleeding isn’t stopping and it should.”

Walking away from him as you grab his coat, you help him slide his tender arm in as you button it up, smoothing it out against his torso before turning to reach for yours.

But you felt his grasp on your arm.

“Y/N…” he murmurs.

Stopping in your tracks as your heart races, he slowly turns you around as he crooks his finger under your chin, slowly pulling your gaze up to his.

“I love you, too.”

And as the tears begin to fall upon the apples of your cheeks, he slowly leans his head in, pressing his lips lightly to yours as you grab the collar of his coat, pulling his body closer to yours as his tongue lightly licks your bottom lip.

“Now,” he says, pulling away as he pants for breath, “Let’s see about that doctor.”


Pixiv -  春日P | Art -  your name.

※Permission was granted by the artist to upload their works.