#These idiots istg

[emtearzz]

POV: Susato isn't home

[reikurusu]

#Kazuki, control your husband pls

[shadebloopnik]

I just want Alastor and Lucifer's relationship in canon to develop enough to be chaotic besties. Like- we all know this alr, but they'd work SOOOO well together- Dramatic and emotionally passionate, with his sarcastic dark humor murder bestie its a fucking sitcom guys comeon-

Imagine a scene of Lucifer practicing talking to Lilith, just pouring his heart out in a declaration of love. And then it pans over to Alastor in a blonde wig, still with his suit and all, just going "Hmmm! No😁", and Lucifer throwing a book at his face like "TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. Alastor dramatically sighs and fixes his wig with a "Ohh alright old chap." He clears his throat and takes a deep breath and-

Pulls out a stack of papers with 'DIVORCE' scribbled messily on it and says in the most feminine sounding voice, "Now darling if you'll just sign here-"

Lucifer tackles him.

[kogglyuffs]

just noticed i never posted these purelily week thingies what the hell

[krisseratops]

I'm so. So normal. About. This. *Chewing on furniture*

Ughhh, today I spent the entire day thinking about spidervenom…!

I unfortunately have too many wips to work on anything with them now (plus, this week was full of Bad Days™ for me…), but I thought I might share a wip that has been gathering dust in my folder for a loooooong time now! The title is “5 times when Peter and Eddie didn’t kiss (and one time they held hands)” and it’s based on this idea that with the reality being rewritten so that Peter technically never married MJ (“One more day” was the name of that storyline in the comics…??) he instead has space to develop feelings toward Venom and this is a bunch of moments, mostly following the canon events, depicting their shifting relationship with each other.

Their first kiss wasn't, technically, a kiss. A tease, maybe. Definitely a joke. But a kiss...? Peter wasn't sure if he counted it (Eddie did, though). Simply speaking, he went too far with his comedy routine this time, got too caught up in his banter and mock-flirting. Laughing at the Symbiote's infatuation with him, not treating it as something serious, using it as the butt of the jokes. "You need to get over me, this is getting seriously embarrassing" and such and so on.

And obviously, the never dying "Alright, let's kiss and make up!", Once he webbed them up, after sending them crashing through a wall. It wasn’t a kiss, really. He had a mask on, after all. Venom's maw was sealed shut with the webbing as well. It wasn't a kiss.

Until it almost was, because when he leaned away, blank white eyes were wide with bewilderment, and the monster in front of him grew still and silent. He laughed awkwardly, breath tripping over his throat. "Aw, look at you getting flustered over a little smooch!", he quipped, eager to get away. Snap of a wrist and he was gone, not a single glance back left. He remembered feeling angry at Venom for making it weird and at himself, for feeling angry at all. It was stupid, almost as stupid, as feeling guilty over it.

There was no reason for telling this to MJ, right? She wouldn't want to hear about his heroic escapades anyway. Especially not if they involved Venom, even if they would be presented as a punchline, a pathetic loser, wincing in ridiculously parodied expression of disgust. Because it could have been disgust. Venom’s face was covered and their eyes weren’t exactly the most easy to read. Common sense prompted they were repulsed by the very idea of their “arch-nemesis” kissing them, even presented as a harmless joke. That’s why, there was no need to mention this to MJ. Telling her would mean agreeing with the insane thought that there was anything important to tell. And there was not. There was no reason to feel guilty.

Because this wasn’t a kiss.

There was another time, though, that could have been a kiss. Should have been, maybe. Anyway, that was what Peter thought now, looking back. It was a kiss he never got, but, at the moment, needed. Only at the moment, he would have regretted it so much afterwards. 

That’s why Eddie was glad of the absence in its place. It would have added so much more wrongness to a memory already filled with a sense of misplacement and dissonance. Because, well, they really were out of place at Peter’s flat. He knew it, and Peter knew it, and the Symbiote knew it, maybe the most painfully of either of them. But there was nowhere else they could go, they needed a shelter and an ally. And Peter wasn’t really the type of person who would close doors in the face of the wounded and vulnerable. Even if the wounded in question tried to eat him a few times in the past and was now ruining his carpet with green drool. Which didn’t mean he was going to take it without complaining a little. Or a lot.

“Great, just great, whenever I think my bad luck finally achieved its peak, it’s ‘Surprise! Think again!’,” he wailed to himself, as he helped them to the couch. “To go from sharing an apartment with the most beautiful woman a guy could ever imagine dating, to hosting a slimy monstrosity - that has to be a new record of misery reached in a week!”

“A girl has left you? That’s what you’re worrying about?” Eddie snarled at him, his anger equally fueled by the necessity of relying on their foe and the needles of jealousy bleeding through the bond. “Carnage is out there, changing this god forsaken city in his own butchershop and you cry after a girl?!”

“First of all, I wouldn't say ‘left’ is exactly the right word to describe it,” he huffed. “We needed a break, that’s all. Happens sometimes in relationships, not that you would know anything about that.”

They rolled their eyes. The very idea that Peter could have anything worth competing with a shadow of their symbiosis was vastly ridiculous.

“We don’t care about your private life, Parker”, Eddie said, as they tried to settle on the couch in a position that would do the least damage to their bruised ribs. “Only whether or not you’ll join us once we recover our strength. Why, afterward, you can return to crying your eyes out, be our guest.”

Seeing Peter from this close felt weird, especially, since he appeared to indeed cry his eyes out barely seconds ago. Something squeezed Eddie’s heart at the notion, his Other, he assumed, must have curled around it, disturbed by proximity. He wanted Peter to just leave them alone, shut up, and let them sleep. This small room will surely be uncomfortable enough even without his presence around.

“And what if I won’t?” Peter’s voice was bitter, though there was no sense of intention in it, that is, one beyond getting on Venom’s nerves. “Maybe MJ is right, maybe I should sit this one out. Have some ‘me time’. Catch up with tv series. Bake cupcakes. Maybe I don’t want to, I don’t know, have my life ruined over and over again, because some freaks decided to go on a rampage!”

Before he could react, they grabbed him by his collar, tugging close, to shoot with a look of utter resentment.

“Listen chucklehead,” a low growl vibrated through their whole torso, settling on Peter’s face like icy dew, “Joke like this once more, and we’ll eat your spleen, got it?”

Words were followed by a curse, as they grabbed on their wound, bothered by the sudden movement.

“Well, if aren’t you mister persuasive, where did you learn such diplomatic demeanor-?” Peter tried barking back, supporting himself over the couch’s back. But the last part of the sentence stumbled over his throat and ended in a whine. From the few inches that separated them, they could see the threat of tears glistening in his eyes. Before they could fall out, he ran a hand over his face, covering the glimpse of emotions with irritation. “What did you even do to yourself? Should you bandage those or something?”

That felt terribly inadequate.

All of this felt unnatural to them, all of them. Not the banter, spite and anger, of course not. But everything accompanying them was off by a mile. No masks to hide faces, no punches and jaws clenching to tear limbs. This… this was too normal, too everyday-ish, too vulnerable for both of them.

“My Other should be able to close it up overnight,” Eddie mumbled. “It looks worse than it feels. Nonetheless, we still request your assistance.”

“I know, I know…” Peter sighed, bending closer, to get a better look at his chest. “What a wonderful profession heroism is, at first it was the papers, then the common people, but now even my villains are giving me lectures…”

The moment was laced with alarm, and surprise, and wrongness, so much wrongness. They weren’t used to being this close to each other, not without a clawed hand safely locked on the neck, or webbing fastening said claws to a wall. Peter looked up and the longer they were caught in the misplacement of it all, the worse it got. Because Eddie could feel his Other flowing close to the skin, almost pushing at it, conflicted between its hatred for Peter and yearning to be closer. Because Peter could feel the warmth of Eddie’s body and he felt so painfully human at the moment, beaten up and a bit upset, with just a splinter of fear dug in the pupils.

Eddie licked his lips.

Peter swallowed down.

And he was so lonely right now, so helpless and freshly torn open, so well aware that once tomorrow he would leave to fight, because of course he would, he would return bruised and bleeding, maybe won’t return at all, and…

Peter leaned in.

Just when Eddie leaned away.

Peter went to the kitchen right after, jumping up from the couch with energetic babble about having to change his bandages and how Eddie is not allowed to touch anything and how if he catches him messing up his books then, well, Peter might not be able to eat his spleen, but he’s creative enough to come up with something else.

The moment passed and it was for the best.

After that, they didn’t really work together for a while. Well, there was that one time in the court. But aside from that, Peter and Venom mostly were on their own ways, only occasionally clashing. And then, Eddie and his Other were both on their own ways too. He didn’t really monitor what was happening to him afterward. Partly because his own life was, as usual, in shambles. Partly because seeing Eddie like that, sick and broken, stripped of the anger to hide behind…

He tried to do better and that was all that mattered, really. 

But then Anti-Venom appared. And surely enough, he was still trying. That was one thing Peter had to give to him. He also brought to mind a vision of a healing injury, with bones fused all wrong, festering. It was as if Eddie finally took a step back from one kind of madness, after which he jumped head first into one just as deep and unhealthy, just neatly tweaked here and there. 

This kiss would have been the most feverish one. As well as the one Peter was the most grateful that it never came to happen.

The whole experience screamed “fever”, honestly. Oozed illness.What made it worse, was that it did make sense for Eddie to act this way. To swing back, so hard, from one direction to another. Who else, if not Eddie, would have come up with an idea that the best course of action to convince Peter that he’s all better now, “on the side of angels” and not crazy at all, would be to kidnap him? What he didn’t expect was the talk about friendship, along with the overfamiliarity. Then again, there was always this tension between them, wasn’t it? Flirting in the background of a deadly battle.

And that was what he was doing then too. Old habits die a slow and painful death, only to be zombified back to life, don't they?

“What would you think of me, if I’d let you take my mask off on a first date?”, he quipped, to Eddie’s dismay, as he struggled to peel the cloth anywhere above his mouth.

“You act like I’m Electro or Sandman. I’m on your side now!”, he huffed.

One of his claws strayed from its place, lingering for a moment over Peter’s lips, leaving his body frozen dead.

Oh no, he wouldn’t, blinked in his head before the monster in front of him hesitantly crouched down. Orange eyes were unreadable, and yet, there was an air of uncertainty, something just a step away from… what exactly? Peter refused to pinpoint.

Before, though, he even began to figure out what in the hell he would tell Carlie, Eddie backed down.

“...I get it.” His voice, although still changed by the slime covering him, got a softer quality now, with a tingle that paired with anybody else could pass for embarrassment. “I need to earn your trust. And I will.”

Later, he thought that perhaps this time it was Eddie who really needed that particular kiss. But he couldn’t have given it to him. He just couldn’t. 

Right?

[timethehobo]

Quick break doodle but I’ve been playing SS KTJL and honestly game flaws aside, I’m just happy to finally play as the rogues. Loved Boomie years back, still enjoying him now.

[hoarder-of-dragons]

[Meanwhile Back on Earth] Crowley, drunk : I mean, I thought I did everything right. He was certainly giving hints yesterday but if i wasn't distracted by the demons trying to fucking attack the bookshop I would've been more receptive. And why did he leave for Heaven when he knows he can't the change its's bureaucracy! And to leave me here and say he forgives me like the bastard he is well I ought to....I ought to...What should I do? The Ducks: ..quack? Crowley, still drunk: THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING

[sam-sessington-the-third]

fullfilling my saimatsu dreams by drawing them kissing and hugging and happy because i love them sm and chapter 1 never hapened right

[tategaminu]

Rayla and Callum were willing not to see each other again and sacrifice their happiness to save everyone else

This is exactly the reason I need them to be selfish and choose their happiness together over the greater good‚ let them be selfish

[whatermelown]

Hey! wassuh! So my new year's resolution is to be more active on my socials balanced w/ school SO I HOPE Y'ALL CAN BARE WITH ME SKSDFRH (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ),,, SO AS A STARTER HAVE MY TWO OG HYPERFIXATIONS! MY BEBES! MY PATOOTIES! MY BLORBOS! MY REASONS WHY I SCREAM AT 2 AM BECAUSE OF FLUFFY CRINGE!

[thebus1boys]

isaac 😭💀

[i-eat-mold]

i will not lie this whole platform is hilarious to me. I dont even have 1k followers here yet (not something i care about) but i am really close to. this blog initially wasnt even supposed to have one single follower. some of my art posts make it to several thousand notes but only if theyre fanart which is understandable. all of this is normal. but somehow SOMEHOW ive created some sort of mold cult which exists parallel to the bsd fanart in this blog. my average shitpost or mold preaching gets more notes than any of my non bsd art and more notes than the non-art posts of many of my mutuals that have several thousand followers. i did not mean for a single second for this to happen. Yet i will embrace it

[atlas7seo]

Sometimes I feel like people failed US History and this recent election and talks about tariffs really do prove that. I mean did literally everyone collectively forget about the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act and those major repercussions? Btw that act happened in 1930. There's a reason President Hoover's name was used to refer to Shanty Towns in the Great Depression. Or the fact that almost all tariff acts within the last 80 or so years have either been expanding negotiation for world trade or deliberately decreasing tariffs. And the one time in 2002 where steel had tariffs placed on it, it was repealed in under a year because the cost greatly outweighed any benefits.

Does anyone remember the last time Trump tried to make tariffs in 2018? How many people credit it to be one of the largest tax increases in US history!?

Are people really that stupid? Like it's literally a REQUIRED part of our general education. Why do you think it is!? So people can actually make smart decisions.

[starry-dork]

Day 3 of kymanweek:3

First kiss/ high school

[pininghermit]

That thing called L...

AN: ughh just feels because I am listening to sappy music

Genre: PINING

Pairing(s): D x Reader

Summary: Fear, humiliation, greed, longing, lust- whatever this is, it is the undoing of him.

No, you do not miss him.

It is simply natural to notice the absence of a lover. It is acceptable, even expected, to think of him as you wash the dishes. Or to search for his tracks when you’re looking for your cat, the thankless imp who seems to take every chance to slip away.

Somehow, your foolish heart searches for the famed hunter in the mundane of your life.

No, you do not clean your room for him. You do not dust his side of the closet, running a hand over the empty space where his belongings once hung. You do not do it expecting the weight of his luggage to fill it again.

Neither do you sit by the sunlit window, practicing the careful mending of worn cloaks in hopes that your hands will remember the skill when he returns.

Because you are not waiting for him.

You are not bothered by his absence.

Yet, the act of waiting has left you raw, exposed to the agony of hope. The hurt that comes when waiting stretches unfulfilled.

Will he return?

Will there be word of him, a sign to soothe the ache gnawing at your heart? Or has your beloved found another home, another hearth to warm his restless soul?

Despite your constant denial, your heart cannot help but tug at these painful musings.

Like raindrops racing down the cold pane of a window, your thoughts tumble over each other, wild and uncontrollable. And just as your eyes chase the path of an unstoppable single droplet, your heart speeds at the mere notion of his return.

You tell yourself that you would understand, should he choose not to return. You tell yourself that you would endure it. But the words are hollow, weak, a thin veil that fails to mask the truth.

If he does not come back, you will be left here, forever bound to the weight of an unfulfilled love.

He would not condemn you to such a fate, would he?

D does not rush through his travels for you. He does it for the coin.

Doesn’t he?

He does not take risks to shorten the path to your home. No, he simply cares for his horse, who will surely appreciate the careful strokes of your gentle hands.

He returns for the cat, the one he always finds sneaking into the woods, as mischievous and restless as you.

He seeks the hands that mend his cloaks, patching even the smallest of tears with such careful precision. He is thankful for that. It has to be gratitude, doesn’t it?

But then, why is it that any scrap of paper he comes by is filled with the scrawls of your name?

He writes it once, thinking it will be enough, but the pen lingers. He writes it again, and again after that. The curves of the letters feel almost aching, beautiful against the page.

He tells himself he writes it to remember. To capture its form in ink because he cannot bring himself to say it aloud. What it would do to him to hear the syllables fall from his lips, he does not know, and he fears to find out.

Yes, fear. That has to be it.

D fears you.

Yes, that must be it, he tells himself.

What if you were to turn your back on him? What if your kindness no longer belonged to him? What if your home, your warmth, your touch, all of it were to disappear? What then?

He knows the answer. Without you, there would be no destination for him but his own destruction.

Fear, humiliation, greed, longing, lust- whatever this is, it is the undoing of him. It undoes him slowly and beautifully, like the fraying edges of well worn cardigan, that has on numerous cold nights offered comfort of warmth.

And so, when the tug of his seams pulls him toward you, he follows.

For no existence in this world can resist the pull of its end.

[bees-figurines]

Rip Andrew Minyard you would have loved Bluetooth noise cancelling headphones back in 2006