#ahahahaha lmao

[fonkdonkisreallycool]

drawing the lawyers is always great fun :)

(i did this with ohuhu!)

[krysmcscience]

BILLDUMP TIME (with transparency, because I can). Don't mind me, I'm just yeeting my goofy art at some way more talented individuals out of nowhere and then hauling ass back to the security of being a weird silent lurker ahaha

@tesscourtes and @beccadrawsstuff, respectively! These two Bills make a little prism of sorts together because of their recent crossovers on Patreon~ :3c Speaking of which, I highly recommend supporting both these artists! They do fantastic work! (TessCourtes and Beccup)

@qoolk on the left, and @monobmp on the right! I am such a sucker for these outfits~ OuO Go and check these two out, their art is phenomenal!!! >u<

@1spooky2me The most difficult Bill of the lot for me to draw, ahaha... Their art is so incredibly consistent and dynamic, I am, a little envious <:,) A little envious, but mostly impressed, so go look at their amazing art, what are you waiting for

And finally, @ckret2, whose writing is sublimely in-character and just a delight to read - they're a great artist, as well! I simply Could Not resist drawing their Bill in this ridiculous incredible and very fashionable pink feather dress, even though he only briefly wears it in their fic, so I also did a little bonus doodle of him in his standard hoodie to make up for it. XD (Also, as far as I'm concerned, Bill and Mabel were both correct in that lime green accessories make the dress Much Better.)

This is just a small selection of the human Bill designs I enjoy. I may draw and post more later on, who knows! Feel free to reblog with some neat Bill designs, either your own or by other folks - if any of the designs particularly call to me, I'll add them to the little list I've got going~ :D (Alternatively, if you really like my stuff and want me to draw something specific, you could...mmm...perhaps, commission me...? OuO)

Also I'm tagging Billford because uhhhh yeah, sorry not sorry, every single one of these Bills is getting shipped with Ford by the artists in some way or another, lmao

[princesstarfire1234]

TLDR: I fucking despise ship art and fanfics that infantilize Orion Pax / Optimus Prime

Okay so I just wanna put my thoughts out here right now because I've not seen many people talk about it and it honestly bothers me a lot...

So, it's no secret that I ship MegOp and stuff right? I like and have reblogged a bunch of art of them before and I will keep doing so, but something about how this place (or more certain parts of the fandom) portray the ship gives me major icks and I fucking hate it so much

Detailed thoughts under cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Case in point, a massive part of the TFP fanbase likes to ship Orion and Megatronus and I get that, I get why people like shipping those two but it's the WAY they do it. A lot, not all, but most of the fanart surrounding Orion Pax and Megatronus is him being like the smaller and more submissive one of the relationship which fine, whatever, but most people just end up drawing him REALLY small like ik he's shorter than Megs who was a gladiator and all that and he was an archivist but jesus christ... Aside the size which is weird and all but it's really all about the rampant infantilization of the guy. When they remove all agency from the character and act like Orion is gonna fucking combust the moment someone confronts him or tries to fight him like no... I've not read Exodus but I don't think Orion being a nerdy book guy is gonna make him THAT soft, this is still the same mech who became PRIME like cmon

I don't know the exact words for it other than "infantilization" but like y'know what I mean right?? I'm not gonna name blogs but there's this one AU on here where Orion is blind and it has this cutesy artstyle which is fine but I vividly remember reading a comic on that AU where some thugs confront Orion and he's all like sobbing and shit and has to be saved by someone and it's... so you made him disabled and also a crybaby and absolutely incapable of anything??? Does that NOT give you an ick of sorts or seem weird??? God I don't even know anymore because I've seen many people seem to like that so I'm just scared I'm the weird one and wrong for this lmfao... Maybe there's smthn im not getting, you tell me

Anyways this post is getting real long, but this kind of "infantilization" also applies to certain fanarts of TFA MegOp, I always thought the ship was bordering on kind of strange (since TFA Optimus is like the equivalent of some 20-something college dropout and Megatron is implied to have been doing the war stuff way way way back like Ratchet's time) but I won't get into that, I just don't ship that certain brand of the characters myself, but it's fine, do what you want with it. Just know that I have seen art of those two where they treat TFA Optimus as this sort of incapable cutesy uwu boy (aaaghh)

So yeah.... hahahaha stop infantilizing characters and taking a ship where they're both grown ass big men and like straight up turning the other one into some weird ass incapable version of the character that lacks any and all agency and honestly bordering on being really icky as fuck, thank you, idc if you make Optimus the bottom or whatever, that's not what I mean, cya ✌️

[satzy]

=D

I love it, every time I watch it! Lol!!

[twistedappletree]

honestly just want a modern comedy AU where the juniors get hardcore into the same masked metal band but whenever they try to schedule going to a concert together, LSZ always has something come up on the same dates as the concerts. eventually, he just tells his friends to go without him and since JL has money, he’s like “let’s go VIP so we can meet the band!”

and when they finally go backstage to meet them, guess who’s a member of the band? 🙃

[sugoi-writes]

I thought I would take a crack at some Rosie drabble/smut, because @bat-boness and this amazing piece of ass I mean art

Oral, female receiving. Lots of build up, tension, and Rosie being Rosie. TEEHEE

You were nervous, eyes wide with lust, but also full of... anxiety. Rosie had been around for a very long time. She was a mature woman, a tall glass of water, and most troubling:

She knew exactly what she wanted, and when she wanted it. And if she didn't like it, she'd be the first to let you know. Or worse...

Pleasing any overlord would be a daunting task. But seeing a disheveled yet level-headed femme fatale settling on the edge of your bed made your breath hitch.

You were lightly pushed onto your back, sputtering as her silken, black slip gown was thrown to your face. You resisted the urge to inhale the scent. The offer of her perfume and natural smell mingling in your nose was a very tempting notion...

You cast the garment aside, eyes still wide, before your jaw practically hits the floor. There before you, the demoness was clad in nothing but modern undergarments, adorned in adorable cannibal skulls and iconography. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, your core seizing at the sight.

Rosie could see you worry, and immediately her expression turned mischievous. Her shoulders shimmy back and forth slowly as her fingers hook into the hem of her panties, teasingly shifting the hem lower and lower. Your mouth ran dry as the bones of her pelvis shifted, her cunt nearly bare before you.

"Don't be scared, Doll... Let Ms. Rosie take care of you~"

You were rendered speechless as the panties were pulled down to her knees, her velvet, porcelain cunt on full display. You may not have been a cannibal, but you wanted to feast on the sight before you like a crooked vulture. You subconsciously lick your lips, sitting up on your elbows as she rids herself of the panties entirely. She makes a big show of reaching behind her back, brows raised as she bites her dark lip. The both of you sigh in unison when her bra comes unclasped, mounds bouncing resolutely. The pale overlord practically giggles, playfully rocking her tits back and forth with another sensual shimmy. You were unabashed, eyes following her movements with an intense desire. You wanted to pop her hardened nipples directly in your mouth, suckling and biting them until she saw white...

"Doll~ It's rude to stare, you know~"

You snap back to your senses, a heavy sigh leaving you," Rosie... I don't ask for much..." Rosie tilts her head at you as your eyes dart downward, focusing on her wet, glistening heat. Your fists ball up as your sides, knuckles turning white as you dare to not look away.

"Please, for the love of Satan, sit on my face."

A surprised snort, a laugh, and then... a scarlet blush adorns her delicate face. Oh, you were serious.

Rosie practically purrs as she watches your eyes dilate, unable to look away from the junction between her thighs. A dark, mischievous chuckle brings your eyes to her face. She crawls over to you, trailing wet, open mouthed kissing up your body, starting at your knees. You sigh at every point, hands coming up to cover your face in embarrassment. When she makes her way to your jaw, she smiles down at you, eyes full of a sensual gleam. Your hands are removed from your face, giving you the chance to look into her eyes. You see your disheveled reflection in them, practically moaning at the sight.

"Careful, Dollface..."

She pushes you hard onto your back, scooting upward until she straddles your head. Her aching core was dangling just above your welcoming face, puffy and ready for the taking.

"You won't be able to stop once you get a taste~"

She wails with surprise as her cunt is slammed onto you mouth, her head thrown back in rapture. You dig your nails into her hips, locking her in place. She grabs fist fulls of your hair, hissing as your tongue lapped at her clit desperately.

You didn't mind the growling and the tugging at your scalp. There was a deep, animalistic part of you that hoped this would never stop. And you wouldn't, until the overlord bowed to your whim, unable to do anything but scream and whine your name.

[singsweetmelodies]

if i had a nickel for every time charles leclerc went to watch a basketball game, met up with esteban ocon there and then proceeded to not post any pictures with him at all/cut him out of the photo dump.... i would have 2 nickels. which is not a lot but it's funny that it happened twice

[sunshines-legacy]

I can imagine it now ☁️ ✨ twinkle sounds, eveything gets wavy and distorted, fade to imagination ✨ ☁️

Post hogwarts Sebastian bringing home a gift for his family! It’s that new dog breed that everyone’s been talking about. Sunshine almost cries as they hold the little puppy. She may be a cat-person but she’s a dog person for sure. And then they have babies and the babies grow up with the puppy 🥹🥹

[overlymetaromantic]

is maki ever gonna rip off the bandaid.......... does he shower with the bandaid on..............

LMAO listen it's part of his look!!!! It's a key part of his character appeal!!!! He's in too deep to abandon it now!!!! 😂

[seiya-starsniper]

retired Dream is a fuckboy?? 👀 (also lol that tried to autocorrect to ‘fun boy’) xo @hardly-an-escape

Oooooo yes, this one is so much fun! And retired Dream can be both a fuckboy and a fun boy, as a treat 🤣

The basic premise for this one is Dream becomes human, but Hob tells him to go live life as he pleases (an echo of what Dream told Hob when he was first immortal) and Dream...goes off to travel and work off thousands of years of sexual tension 😂😂

The whole thing started off in this short fic I wrote ages ago and since then I've just been prodding at it and trying to give it a real plot and not just make it a pwp lol. Here's a little bit of the fic now in the initial draft!

Murphy, as promised, does not disappear the next morning. In fact, he gives Hob a rather enthusiastic goodbye that has the immortal seeing stars and questioning whether it was possible for an orgasm to detach one’s soul from their body. Wherever he’d learned that trick with his mouth, Hob was tempted to send the other person a gift basket. And maybe a proposition of his own.  “Don’t be a stranger,” Hob says, as he kisses Murphy goodbye in his doorway. “And you should send me some selfies of any new piercings you get.” Murphy smirks against his lips. “Only if you send me one back. Preferably if the reaction is…positive.” Hob snorts. “Real roundabout way to ask a man to send you a dick pic, Murphy.” “I have been told one needs to be—subtle with such things,” Murphy replies, fluttering his lashes as he steps back from Hob and into the hallway. Hob unashamedly rakes his body over the form of his friend, his now friend with benefits they’d decided last night, and hums approvingly. “You know you never need to be subtle with me,” Hob says. “I think 600 some years earns you the right to be as crass as you want. It’s good for a man’s ego too, you know,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows. Murphy rolls his eyes. “Goodbye Hob,” his friend says. “I’ll see you around.” Then he’s turning and walking down the stairs towards the building exit. Hob is almost certain the man is sashaying his hips on purpose, giving Hob one final show before he’s gone for who knows how long.

[hart-on-my-sleeve]

Please make chart explain your head canones please only if you want to dont feel you dont want to

You can't just ask that and expect me to not answer 🤣

I'm calling this the Jimmy Ship Spectrum... May be edited in the future but that's where I'm at right now bahaha

Adrian - Total golden goals right here. Protective. Sassy. But let's Jimmy do his thing. Perfect combo.

Terry - he'd treat him SO right. One of the guys that would come outta nowhere kind of thing, but if Terry ever asked... Well you can't say no to Terry now can ya?

Greg - He edges Brutus out just by a little bit, but I can absolutely see them together. Greg is a softie and would fight anyone for Jimmy. The calm to Jimmy's excitement

Brutus - The most similar to Jimmy. He's not as energetic, but he's positive and nurturing and a show off. They'd be the couple you don't want to fuck with.

The Rougeous - I don't have a deep analysis of this. I just think they're all cute 🤣

Roddy - Can really go either way. But would they absolutely be kinky as hell? Yes. Hundred perceeennntttt. 🥵

Honky - It's like Jimmy does all this good stuff for Honky, but Honky never reciprocates. Sometimes, on the rare occasion he does. But he really is a bad boy. It's the attractive bad boy relationship that you know is gonna hurt you.

Hulk - ugh. Uuugghhhh. They don't match each other's freak in any way shape or form. It's like Hulk has blackmail over Jimmy to be with him. Very toxic. Very using the Jimblies. >:(

The Hart Foundations aren't in there! I think they'd kiss once be like "hm." And then continue to be the best of bros. Too much like fraternity bros to get into ship levels.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk-

[acoraxia]

i missed you I watched elementals today with my friend, thus, short ficlet about mistyembers (2k words, and a little messy)

———————————————————

Hm.

It’s annoying.

Almost truly tedious. 

Hong Hai’er isn’t one to be sentimental about the past nor does he try to touch anything that comes with it. He leaves the events of the Samadhi Fire behind, he craves nothing of the past even if it means moving on from the fact his father left and his mother rejected every idea he had with a hint of malice. They’re growing now, being better parents, and he dubs everything down to stress and the inability to stop Heaven’s wishes of having his father imprisoned for over a hundred years. He doesn’t linger on it anymore, he moves on; and he stands there, garage and storage room burnt and charcoaled, wondering why he feels such an intense amount of woe over the fact he’s lost contact with her for over a year now.

He doesn’t miss the ice cold touch of the Bone Spirit’s hands, the shrill laugh that came with it—he steps over broken glass shards and his lips twitch in disgust at the ash piles that he steps into when he tries to dodge a car fragment. It’s been… well, a rough start ever since they moved so far out from the city where his Uncle now lingers. He’s kept in touch with him, brought important matters to his attention, and the two often see each other when he comes by, gift in hand, ready to greet his mother and father with a smile. Still, he wishes he has stayed in the underground areas of the giant, technology driven city than having agreed to move to this wasteland of an area. It’s empty and it lacks humidity. 

He misses the beach, all of a sudden.

His relationship with water has always been tied to her, after all, and no matter how many times he refreshes and reloads and pieces his phone back together he hears no word of her. He looks on the positive, as Xiaotian would put it, and thinks she’s merely forgotten how to use the damn device despite his numerous well-written instructions being given to her with the object—he breaks one of the door handles to his newest vehicle and throws it down on the floor, hissing under his breath.

He lost contact with Chenxia for a few months when his father got possessed. She’s an acolyte for the very Master Subodhi that his uncle trained under, her hair long and black, eyes filled with a calmness to them that he could live without, throat drying at the thought of seeing them again after so long; she’s been near him since he studied under Guayin, learned her ways and was handed back to his parents after years of lectures and teachings—and he can never forget the cold, gentle touch of her hands on his, the way his embers seemed to shine brighter around her. She used to smile at him with calm and patience that could rival the lakes of purity that he’s seen in his travels. 

Chenxia is—familiar, to put it simply, and he feels anger boil up inside him when the very last trace of her is ruined and gone by a mere misdemeanor from a bastardous spirit, upset that Heaven could not adhere to her ‘perfect world’. The selfish witch. 

He sniffs. He runs a hand through his hair, annoyed at how easily it flares up into flames now.

Chenxia had always had a never ending flow of patience for him; she combed his hair and calmly asked him to remember to breathe when his fire got too out of hand, her hands untouched by the scorching flames that moved towards her as if she were made of wood. It was beautiful, somewhat, that she managed to find a way to help him control his fire until it did nothing but keep her warm when his emotions got out of hand. She was everything.

He wants to revive every cursed spirit and deity that had a hand in the ice witch’s plan solely to deliver them to Diyu himself. His teeth grind against each other out of habit, his mind focusing on how every rainy day was a reminder of her and her quiet voice against his cheek, pressing cold touches to his skin.

He misses her.

His phone buzzes when he manages to get to the supply closet that was somehow untouched by his flames, broom in hand when he squints at the messages from Xiaotian and Sun Wukong. He opts for the latter, the annoyingly bright comments of optimism that the boy would bring were not favorable for the demon at the moment. He’d rather tell Sun Wukong that he’s busy than deal with his acolyte.

It takes three messages before his patience runs out over the long intervals between texts and he just calls the damn simian, sliding his gloves on as he prepares to start reworking on all his inventions.

“Oh, bad time, kiddo?” Sun Wukong sounds… light, as always. Not the same voice he feigns when talking to Xiaotian or Xiaojiao, it’s a voice Hong Hai’er has grown up with since childhood, light and airy, like a sun’s warm ray on a snake’s back during spring. Warm. “I thought I could deliver you some good news today.”

“Please, Uncle, I’ve no time for your trickery. I have work to do, something you couldn’t even fathom considering you barely even attend all those Heavenly Court meetings about the ‘calamities of the world’ or whatever else happens up there—”

A choked laugh. “Who told you that’s what they do?”

“Nezha, of course.” He slides his goggles on, frowning slightly when he sees how dirty they are.

“Kiddo, Nezha doesn’t even like those meetings.”

“My point stands: I’m not going to waste time talking to you about whatever random person you bumped into or how inaccurate the latest movie about you was when I could be doing something more productive.” Hong Hai’er snatches a rag from his desk and promptly begins wiping the glass on his headwear, narrowing his eyes when the stains don’t come off. “Besides, don’t you have some scroll pieces to sort through?”

“Funny that you mention it, dearest nephew of mine, fellow member of the forged fires trio of the Heavens; did Xiaotian tell you what happened in the scroll during his time there?” He avoids the question. Of course he does. 

Hong Hai’er scoffs. “Of course not. That boy is taking after every single toxic trait that flows through your peach infested vain—”

“So he didn’t tell you he saw Chenxia?”

Hong Hai’er swore, once, that he’d learn to control his emotions. He’s touched water with gentle fingers, watching it curl and coil around his own hand with a tenderness he wouldn’t ever forget. He’s learned to channel his energy into more productive things—his inventions and vehicles, machinery—and he learned to meditate to channel his inner flame.

And yet his phone nearly shatters from the way his hands burst into flames, fire licking at the nearby wrenches and screwdrivers, nearly melting with the intensity that comes with it. His eyes are burning —from tears? desperation?—and he screams into the phone about the information. He rambles and goes off on a tangent, eyes burning harder until he digs a palm into one, squeezing it shut to try and smother the flames out of existence. Sun Wukong waits, disturbingly patient, and asks, “When are you free?”

The remains of his sigil on the perfectly cut green grass of the temple base are going to remain for a solid year, seeing how deep they settled into the earth, and Hong Hai’er stands there with a black shirt and disheveled hair, his goggles sitting skewed atop of his head. The Monkey King raises a brow and Hong Hai’er coughs into his fist, waving away traces of smoke as he vanishes the goggles and fixes the jacket tied around his waist. A hand comes to stop him from moving further, profanity and insults sitting at the top of his tongue when his Uncle—Gods help him—proceeds to dust off his shirt, brushing away traces of ash and smoke.

“Gotta look good for your lady, kid,” he coos and Hong Hai’er almost burns him to a crisp right there and then.

The temple is nothing to bat an eye at; it’s pristine and clean—no doubt taken care of by the several acolytes running around, exchanging jokes and going off about lessons from their master. He eyes the youngest group, watching the way Wukong trails behind just enough that he expects him to tear away from him and go join them in their mischief. They carry on the hallways, the young adults promptly ignoring them as they do, surely already aware of their arrival by Hong Hai’er’s entrance.

(He makes a quiet, small note to open a portal further away from the temple next time, wringing embarrassment out of his system by saying it was a spur of the moment decision, nothing else.)

And—he’s quite sure he’s never felt this awkward to stand on the open area of the tree infested entrance to the temple. It’s hidden away, kept from mortal eyes, and yet, somehow, the group of miscreants had managed to find it—ah, no, they were taken to this place by the immortal master himself. Of course. How else would they have found the very home of the calmest person he knows? The one who stares at him now, with dark gray eyes and uncertainty on her face when they step into the clearing. 

He looks to Wukong for guidance—a loud ‘are you serious?’ leaving his mouth when he finds the simian is absent from his side. He’s alone. With her. With Chenxia. 

Gods.

Her hair is longer. She’s tied part of it into a top knot, her outfit still the same color as the other acolytes in the temple. He remembers her in brighter clothes, more reminiscent of her smile and better suited for her eyes. He wants to ask about it—and then she moves closer to him and he frowns, arms crossing over his chest to try and hide the rapid beating of his heart. Blood pusher. It was messing with his head, somewhat, how calm she was in approaching him. He should be angry—snap at her for not calling or informing him of her whereabouts—and yet when she reaches up to brush a smear of oil from his face he softens, fire soothing into a candle-like ember instead of a raging storm.

It’s terrifying how he leans into her touch, sighing out in relief when she smiles at him, familiar and comforting.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she murmurs, bringing another hand to cup his face in its entirety. “I—your friend, Xiaotian, he-”

“He is not my friend,” he mumbles, turning his face to press a chaste kiss to her palm. It’s funny how she laughs at that, quiet and secretive, and he makes an effort to press another kiss for good effort. “I should be mad at you.”

“I know,” she says. 

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I will,” she lowers her hands onto his neck and then his shoulders, holding her gaze steady as she does. Her eyes are serious and Hong Hai’er’s softness leaves him in small, gentle waves.

He reaches up and grasps her hands, gently, into his hold. “I… was beaten up by Sun Wukong when an immortal bone spirit possessed him.” She blinks, startled, and he laughs at that. Because it’s funny how easily her expression changes. “I’ll… tell you everything. Then you can explain what happened.”

Her lips twitch. “Alright.”

Hong Hai’er inhales, tugging on her hands until she’s closer to him, tilting his head down so he can press his forehead against hers, her skin cool against him. She closes his eyes after a heartbeat and he follows suit, inhaling the smell of the ocean breeze and soothing meadows. 

“I missed you,” she says against his lips.

“Me too,” he answers and then leans in.

[good-beanswrites]

Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store. 

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore. 

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath. 

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her. 

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death. 

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno. 

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying. 

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well? 

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe. 

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”

[twistedappletree]

Jin Zihao 🌻

[berryblu-soda]

HELLO EVERYONE!! I'm going slightly insane and making Sharon a fandom oc, what yall think 👀?

Picture Jay, incredibly disoriented and with fuzzy memories ending up picked up by the administration, Sharon is assigned to show him around, they start out well enough but the closer they get the more they banter

By the end Sharon is outwardly Jay's worst enemy, but also his office bestie and when one is there the other is nearby

When the ninja get there to take him back Sharon is the one who persuades him to go, handing him the gi he was found in, they keep in contact via email later on (lmao)

[moriment-o]

thinkin bout theys similar cheek marks :D

ram gave me hella meliora vibes (esp zenith!) ever since his trailer dropped but imagining him talking about asses wobbling is pretty funny ngl