#I HATE THIS ]]

[inlovewithl3vi]

It wasn’t uncommon for Diavolo to walk into the HOL for no reason. Sometimes he just got bored of wanted to visit Lucifer and would just walk over.

What was uncommon was the fact that it was completely quiet in the house. There was no fighting, no talking, not even the sound of someone’s footsteps.

At first you might think nobody was home, but the lights were on and the door was unlocked. He walks around for a minute or two before walking into the living room and finding Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan sitting together.

Of course it’s a surprising sight, you’d expect two fights to be happening at the same time not to mention the fact that Levi was actually out of his room for once.

“Ah there you all are. It’s more quiet in here than at the castle for once!”

He’s immediately shushed by Mammon

“MCs asleep! Do ya want them to wake up and kill us?”

Dia stares at them blankly. Surely a human can’t be that scary… until Lucifer speaks up.

“The last time Asmo woke them accidentally he wasn’t the same for a week… he still won’t talk about what happened”

Eventually Diavolo just nods and sits down, joining them in their silence now more afraid of the human he chose to bring.

[digriv]

This is my favorite part of this 8 part comic btw.

— The fact that Xisuma calls Docm Doc

— The way that, as the stress amps up and Doc gets damaged, his voice gets fucked up too. It's all scratchy and distorted and I love how Shep shows that

— The fact that Doc loses his arm and just. Can't move for a bit. In fact, he's so filled with [android version of pain] and stress and a little confusion and fear, that he freezes up, his mind sorta having to catch up.

— The fact that Etho's a man on a mission (kill grian), so he's just trying to maim them so he can get out. He rips Doc's arm most of the way, then shoves him and it really keeps him down (for like, 15 seconds, though it also impairs him in the following fight. Very clever attack.)

— The fact that Xisuma's frozen, too. Xisuma can't move, you see how he freezes up in part 2, when Etho pulls out the back-of-the-neck port? How he stills, shock and fear and disbelief so, so present in the lines that sit above him.

— How Shep illustrates thirium!! I love it!! How Etho's left eye is just bleeding profusely and the fact that, when Doc gets damaged, thirium drips on his speech, and fills the air around him, and manages to distort his hearing, all very visual to us (and probably him, just not in a literal visual sense).

I reread this (soon to be) 8 part comic all the time, just to experience all the secondhand emotion again. Just to get to this part and the last— how Etho's determination turns into fear, and that turns into terror, and how his efforts are in vain and he's killed and Doc feels that.

Doc might've won the battle but he DEFINITELY did not lose the war, nor does he feel like he's won. Because, in a way, Doc fucking dies in that moment because he was in the cockpit as Etho died. He was both the aggressor and the victim as Etho died, and that's traumatizing. Not to mention his arm being ripped off and Xisuma nearly getting badly hurt.

Cause, in a way, Doc can stop worrying about his own damage and himself. As long as he doesn't implode from stress, X can repair him. But even a slight bonk on the head can leave X with irreparable brain damage, and Etho was slamming steel against X's helmet and it broke within a few swings. If Doc checks his fact database, steel + biological creatures (especially + blunt force trauma) does NOT turn out well.

Anyways that's why I love this comic so much. When the fic is posted, idc if it's 2AM ,, I'm readng it lol :]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [PART 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Finally! Part 3 is here!! yippee!!! As a refresher, this takes place at the beginning of season 9, when Doc and Xisuma try to boot Etho back up after he shuts down pre-Season 8 Finale, set to the vibes of Joywave’s Destruction from DBHC Etho’s playlist! Ouguguh I’ve been looking forward to posting this part so much; it has some of my favorite shots so far… something about the grey-fade of Doc going into shock, something about the last two pages with xisuma and doc’s expressions… idk!! i really loved working on these :] Hope you’re enjoying the horrific, horrific ride!! =w=

As a partially insignificant but Special-To-Me note: Xisuma has always referred to dbhc doc as “Docm”— this is actually the first time X ever calls him “Doc.”

[missanchimissesyou]

I hate, HATE being a crybaby. Oh, im tearing up because you raised your voice at me? Oopsies sorry about that! Ah, am i crying over a what was "joke" to you but deeply hurt me? Whoops, silly me!

[lcvelust]

Family Line / Sirius Black

Sirius runs away from home.

Rapid footsteps were heard outside, followed by a hurried rapping of knuckles against the door; the sound breaking the stillness that had comfortably settled itself in the room.

You raised your head in alarm, nearly dropping the book you were holding, and perching your mug atop the coffee table. Standing up abruptly, you made your way to the door, the floorboards creaking beneath your weight and harmonizing with the nerves clawing at your skin.

“Who’s there?”

You ask quite defensively, thick pulses of air escaping your mouth— ragged breathing reflecting on your chest that heaved harshly.

“I—it’s me. Please, let me in,”

His voice was filled with hurt, and you felt your brows etching together in worry. Pulling your lips taut, you breathed, “Sirius..?”

You were met with his pained expression as you cautiously pulled open the door; his long, usually neatly tousled hair, was matted against his forehead. His jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, unzipped— and he looked more disheveled than he would ever will himself to be.

Words were caught in your throat, as you stared at his face that was bubbling with emotion, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. Without a second thought, you pulled him into your embrace, hand going straight to his back like it was second nature.

You gently closed the door with your foot as Sirius clung to you desperately, seemingly wanting to keep himself grounded as he let a sob force its way out of his mouth.

His touch burned you, making your heart skip beats as he clutched at your shirt, out of breath and hurting. His pain was raw and palpable, and you could feel the weight of it seep into your own chest, a knot tightening there that you couldn’t quite untangle.

“I.. I left home,”

He mumbled against your chest, his voice muffled as he looked up at you through red-rimmed eyes, his words stumbling over one another like broken pieces of something too fragile to hold.

“Regulus. I convinced him to come with, but..” he hiccupped, his body trembling with a pain that went beyond words, “He’s far too gone.”

He smiled bitterly, eyes darting from one of your features to another, as if searching for something to anchor him. He fidgeted with his hands on your back, unable to still himself.

You nodded, your heart aching for him, urging him to speak, to let it all out— to unload the burden he’d been carrying alone for so long. You were there, all of you, to listen.

Slotting your palm against his cheek, you gazed into his face, soft and open now in a way he had never allowed to be shown to anyone else. His gray eyes fluttered, flickering with emotion, and you could almost hear the whispers of wounds that you know will take a while to heal. He tilted his face into your touch, and you felt an ache behind your ribs, the ache of something more— something you had never quite allowed yourself to understand until now.

“Oh, Sirius,” you cooed, your voice trembling with sorrow for the boy who had never quite known peace inside of his own family. You broke away from the hug gently, your fingers running through his hair, soothing him with the simple, tender gesture.

“It’s not your fault, love,” you murmured, your voice low, wrapping around him like a blanket of warmth, the words flowing with the kind of certainty you had always wished to offer him.

He blinks, and you feel a twinge of fondness racking through your body, settling at your stomach as you lead him to the plush couch in which you’ve previously sat.

“It’s not your fault that you couldn’t have saved your brother from your parent’s grasps. I’m sure he made his decision long ago. Regulus isn’t a child anymore, Sirius.”

He looked down, a sniffle escaping him as he leaned his head against your shoulder, his breath shallow and uneven. The silence between you felt like a conversation in itself, a heavy, thoughtful kind of stillness that enveloped the room.

His body shook with the force of his emotions, the weight of the years pressing down on him, and it seemed as though all the walls he had built around himself were crumbling. His usual cocky, defiant demeanor had faded, leaving behind something softer, more human. And still, he tried to form coherent thoughts, words slipping from him like water through a cracked vessel.

“I know.. It’s just that he’s my little brother. I loved him.” His voice cracked, and the words tumbled from his lips with an agonizing rawness. “I love him.”

You sighed, your hand finding his, holding it with gentle reassurance. You rubbed his shoulder in slow strokes, your own heart pulsing with a rhythm that mirrored his own tremors.

“You did your part, Pads.” You said softly, your voice like a quiet lullaby meant to soothe. “You gave him everything you could. He knows that, deep down.”

His body relaxed a fraction, his sobs turning into quiet, shuddering breaths, and you could feel his tension ease, if only for a moment.

You let the quiet settle around the two of you, his head resting on your shoulder as you both sank into the cushions. You could feel the warmth of him beside you, the weight of him grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain.

“I know you’re tired, Sirius,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your hand tracing circles on his back. “You’ve been carrying this for far too long. Rest.”

“Can I stay at your place for a while? Just until I find somewhere. Please.” He spoke after a moment, voice small, fragile, and breaking something deep inside you.

“As long as you wish, Sirius.” You whispered back, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His lips curved upwards, slow and weary, as the tension in his body finally began to give way to the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for days.

You watched him closely, the peace settling over him like a delicate, fleeting thing. His eyes fluttered shut, and you pressed your lips to his temple, a soft, lingering kiss— one filled with all the affection you had for him.

Even just for a night, the world outside would cease to exist. There was only the two of you—the quiet, steady rhythm of your breathing and the warmth of his body against yours. The chaos of the world could wait. Right now, Sirius needed peace. And as you held him, as you cradled him in your arms, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he would find it here, in this moment.

“Oh, how Regulus had grown up without you.”

[aeriinwonderland]

⧉ 📓𓂅 ✿ i just need some space. ⌑

[ijustwanttorest]

[hoeerror]

the girls who are in my group at work don't want to talk to me, dumb bitches 🖕

[all4minnie]

ew LMAO. this was something i made at like 4am a few days ago, I didn’t know what to do with it so i’m posting it. This is literally my very first post 😭🙏

A Forgotten Place, A Familiar Face

PAIRING : former UA student!reader (who lost their quirk) x class 1-A

SUMMARY : After the war, you lost your quirk and faded from the world of heroes, retreating into a small, forgotten life running a diner. Years pass, and your old friends from Class 1-A have moved on—except, they never truly forgot you. One day, unexpectedly, they walk into your restaurant, small-group-reunion being held, and the emotional weight of their return shatters the walls you've built around yourself. As you struggle with the feeling of being forgotten and unimportant, they remind you that you’ve always mattered to them. Over time, with their support, you rebuild your sense of belonging and finally find peace in knowing you are truly seen and loved.

WARNINGS : emotional/angsty content, mentions of self-doubt and self-criticism, mild injury (cutting finger), depictions of tears and breakdown, themes of Isolation and feelings of being forgotten, mentions Inability to keep up with others, emotional recovery and reconnection. (If i forgot anything, lmk!!)

THEME : angst, isolation, reconnection, self-worth & validation, regret & acceptance, fluff (?) at the end. (girl idfk, this my first time)

The clock on the wall ticks steadily. The greasy kitchen exhaust fan hums, and the sizzle of a fresh batch of fries fills the air. You wipe your hands on the apron, an over-worn, faded thing that’s seen more than a few messes. The restaurant you run isn’t much—a hole in the wall, really. It used to be a bustling place, full of potential. But now? It’s the same old regulars, the same tired faces. You had to let go of the hope that you’d ever make it big.

Your quirk—the one that once made you stand out among heroes—was gone. Disappeared when you almost didn’t make it out of that final battle. That was years ago. You weren’t a hero anymore. Hell, you weren’t even really a part of the world you once fought for.

You used to be close to them. To everyone. Class 1-A. You were all a team once, fighting side by side. All kinds of situations were you all, inevitably, pulled together even more. By tears? Stronger. By laughs? The bond was one you couldn’t imagine breaking. But that was before your life changed, before you were forgotten— A shatter of the world off somewhere new. But it wasn’t new to you anymore, years in this dump of a place. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone reached out. It didn’t matter though, did it? You couldn’t force people to care. They had moved on, just like the world did after the war.

The bell above the door rings, cutting through the usual quiet hum of the diner. You don’t think much of it at first. Another customer, maybe. The door opens with that familiar creak, and you glance up automatically, your attention barely wavering from the plates in front of you. But something stops you—a voice.

“Hey, is this the right place?”

You freeze.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s so familiar—so unbelievably familiar that you feel like you've slipped through a crack in time. You look up, your eyes locking onto a face you haven’t seen in years. Izuku. His green hair, his nervous smile—it’s all the same, just as you remember. And behind him? Faces hard to forget. You almost can’t believe it. For a moment, your mind refuses to process what’s happening. But then, it hits you—the reality of the moment crashes down.

You weren’t expecting them. You hadn’t even thought about seeing them again. Yet here they are, standing in the doorway of your small, worn-down restaurant like a dream you once had, a dream you couldn’t quite let go of.

Before you can react, the plate in your hands slips, the porcelain crashing to the floor with a sharp, deafening sound. You gasp, eyes wide, your heart racing in your chest. The room feels too small. Too tight.

You kneel to pick up the pieces, your fingers trembling with the weight of everything that’s suddenly come flooding back. You reach for the shards, but as you do, your finger brushes one of the edges. A sharp pain slices through you. You barely register the blood beginning to trickle down your hand as you pull the glass pieces into your palm.

It’s funny. The glass is sharp, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the emptiness in your chest.

You let out a shaky laugh, but it’s hollow—empty. Like a laugh you’ve been practicing for too long. A joke you’ve told so many times that it doesn’t mean anything anymore. “Look at me... pathetic, huh?”

You don’t even try to wipe away the blood. The cut is small, but it stings, and it’s enough to remind you how much you’ve been pretending. You’ve been pretending to be okay for so long, acting like this quiet life you built for yourself was all you could ever have. But now, it’s so painfully obvious that you aren’t okay.

“I... I didn’t think anyone would come looking for me,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Guess I was wrong. I mean, you’re here, right?” You wince as the blood keeps trickling down your finger, but you don’t even care anymore. “Huh. What a coincidence..” A scoff of a laugh escaped you, a deep sorrow tugging at your heart strings.

The rest of the group seemed to be frozen in place. That’s funny. Just like how you’ve been feeling for years. Then, as if something had clicked, Izuku steps forward, his voice soft but full of a sorrow you haven’t heard in years. “we... we thought you were lost. No one could find you. No one knew where you went.”

You chuckle bitterly, a tear slipping down your cheek that you hadn’t even meant to shed. “I guess I wanted to be lost,” you whisper. “I didn’t want anyone to find me. I didn’t want anyone to remember me... because I didn’t remember who I was anymore.” You wipe at your cheek, as if the tears are somehow less real if you ignore them.

Katsuki’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, surprisingly gentle. “You think we forgot you? After everything, you think we’d just moved on?”

You shake your head, the laughter slipping into something darker. “I didn’t even move on, Bakugo. I couldn’t. I just... stopped mattering. People forgot, and it was easier that way. Easier to pretend I was never meant to be part of all that hero stuff. I wasn’t a hero, not without my quirk. Not after everything.”

You shrugged.

You stop talking, the words sticking in your throat. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? The world’s gone on without you. They’ve gone on without you. New lives. Beautiful ones, too. You’re too deep in the excuse of yours to even envy them anymore.

But then, before you can close off again, Ochaco steps forward, her voice soft and warm. “You don’t get to decide you don’t matter. We get to decide that. You’ve always mattered. You always will.”

Tears fill your eyes again, more freely this time. “I thought... I thought I was just... forgotten.” Your voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers, kneeling beside you, his hands gently taking yours. “We should’ve tried harder. We should’ve done more.”

You pull your hand away slightly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault. I... I was the one who disappeared.” You swallow, trying to force the lump in your throat down, but the words spill out anyway. “I didn’t think I was ever going to be here again. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you guys again.”

“We’re here now. We’re not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

And then, in that moment, it all falls away. The weight of the past, the years of solitude, the feeling of being invisible, all of it disappears. You’re not the same person you were when you lost everything. You’re someone who is finally seen— truly seen. And for the first time in so long, you can breathe again.

The restaurant is busier now, the scent of sizzling food mixing with the laughter of old friends catching up. The once worn-down walls are brightened, the mismatched tables now having the touch of home. Your apron is cleaner—neater—but it still bears the marks of a life lived in small moments, a life rebuilt piece by piece.

And they’re all here— your people, not just as memories but as the living, breathing souls you thought you'd lost forever. Izuku, with his ever-present smile; Ochaco, light and bubbly; Bakugo, still as blunt as ever, but with an unspoken warmth underneath; Shoto, Mina, Kaminari, and just a few other people you’ve fallen close to, back into the piece of the puzzle board once missing. They’re not just visitors. They’re friends. Molds of your soul.

You stand behind the counter, wiping down the counter when Sero calls you over. “Hey! come sit with us. We’ve got something to talk about.”

You look at them—each face as familiar as your own reflection. But this time, there's no doubt. No fear of being forgotten. No sense that you don’t belong.

You smile, that same old, genuine smile that had been buried for so long. “I’m coming,” you reply, your voice steady now, the cracks filled with something solid—hope, maybe. Or maybe just the quiet joy of knowing you’ll never be forgotten again.

As you join them at the table, the weight of the years lifts. It’s just a group of old friends now, no longer separated by time, by distance, by the fractured memories of the past. You are seen. You are loved.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel... whole.

ALRIGHT this was low-key gonna just sit in my damned drafts but i’m fighting that urge. maybe AT LEASSTTT one person will like this so 🤷‍♀️ we ball nonetheless. it’s low-key poorly written, barley even authentic and genuine but i just wrote it to feel something. ANYWAY!

[cookieluverr]

[sammythesalmon]

YES AKECHI I REALLY WOULD

[bee-the-aa-fan]

what if no 🥰🥰

what if i kms instead 🥰🥰

here’s another au but what if darry went with dallas to get pony and went into the church fire instead of sally and was the one to get hit by the plank and have his back broken?

[dameronalone]

oh gee discord should I try adding numbers? should I try that???? should I try adding numbers to the end of my username so that it's individualized and only mine???? should I try adding numbers??????????

[deeeaahh]

[evan-buck]

LOKI 2x01 Ouroboros / 2x06 Glorious Purpose

[lemonadeandlanguages]

It's honestly so weird seeing trees with yellow leaves and ads for pumpkin spice lattes and a million tweets and posts about how fall is finally here, only to step outside and be hit with a wall of humid summer-like heat