#also I hope you don’t mind me tagging you

[firstkanaphans]

GMMTV 2025 Tier List

Thanks to @rythyme for the template. You can make your own here.

Overall, I was very pleased with this year’s line-up. I think it’s the most solid line-up we’ve seen from GMMTV, possibly ever, and the people complaining about it are simply never going to be satisfied by anything GMMTV does. 

A break-down of my S and A tiers can be found below the cut:

Ticket to Heaven (S): I was raised in a Southern Baptist church which, for those unfamiliar with the different sects of Christianity in America, is basically a cult. I have a lot of unprocessed and unhealed religious trauma that still fucks me up to this day, but for some reason, I gravitate towards shows like this that show gay characters overcoming the struggles I’m still fighting. I’m very excited for this one and I think it’s perfectly cast. It’s giving me ITSAY meets Your Name Engraved Herein vibes and will probably make me cry, but I’m not mad about it.

Girl Rules (S): Toxic Yuri? Yes, please! To be quite honest, I’ve never been a huge MilkLove fan, but this trailer totally changed my mind. I think I just haven’t vibed with the characters they’ve played in the past because Love in this??? Oh my god. She’s going to kill me. All of the girls were hot and horny. What more could you ask for?

Dare You to Death (S): Listen. Do y’all remember that Amazon show Panic? I was obsessed with it for no obvious reason because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even gay, but this is giving me that and I literally cannot wait. I also adore that they’ve finally let JoongDunk switch up their roles so that Joong is the one that actually gets to emote this time because boy does he look pretty when he smiles. 

Cat for Cash (A): Oh my god it’s so soft 😭 The found family feels are getting to me. I think it’s very obvious from this trailer that they only have concepts of a script right now, but I have high hopes that this could be something really special. P’Au was the director of MSP which is one of my favorite BLs of all time. He’s been stuck doing Japanese adaptations this year, which I don’t think he likes or excels at, but I’m excited to see him tackle an original script in the genre he’s most comfortable with. He’s P’Aof’s protege and their styles are very similar. 

Love You Teacher (A): This is my “hear me out” of the day. Age regression isn’t a trope I’m familiar with and I do have some reservations, but boy did this trailer make me feel things. If this was just a basic amnesia plot, it would probably be S tier for me. I think it was perfectly cast and I’m willing to reserve judgment until I see the finished product. P’Dome of Peaceful Property fame is directing, so I’m expecting that same brand of “romcom” where it’s actually not a romcom at all and instead makes you cry every single episode.

Only Friends: Dream On (A): I was going to put this in B tier, but EarthMix fucking on stage in an empty theater bumped this up to an A for me. I fully expect to enjoy this version of Only Friends more than the original because the original stressed me the fuck out. This time, I have no skin in the game and can just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Melody of Secrets (A): I’ve watched this trailer like four times and I still have no clue what’s happening, but I like the vibes. ForceBook proved in Peaceful Property that they can take on a serious script and I’ve always felt that Book especially is highly underrated as an actor. I’m excited to see them branch out and try something different.

Tagging a few people whose tier lists I would love to see, but feel free to ignore: @doublel27, @mbjw, @wangxianinventedromance, @elliebirdwrites, @khaopybara, @moonkhao, @boozles, @scrumptiousstuffs

And everyone else please feel free to participate and tag me in yours as well!

[aventurineswife]

hii there!! this is my first request ever— so sorry if its bad and u dont need to do if id you’re uncomfortable ofc :)) ive had to leave people whom i thought were good friends many times, or ive been abandoned by them and its happened again recently—

so may i ask that you write something with either aventurine or dan heng (u can pick one or both) seeing the reader in their room in the aftermath of having to leave another friend or group of friends? the scenario i have imagined is that the reader is also feeling alot worse than usual since they are starting to feel that they might be the problem. theyre crying about it in their room where the other hears them and comes to check the reader out of worry. the reader talks to them about it and the other comforts them and promises that they wont have to worry about having to leave or being abandoned by them.

so sorry if thats an odd, specific request 🥹🥹 i adore ur writing and i thought it would be cool to ask!! feel free to change anything as you see fit :)

“You Are Not the Storm”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reassurance, can be read as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness and self-doubt, Emotional distress and crying, Themes of abandonment and self-blame.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, anon 😕 i totally get where you're coming from, I had to leave a friend too because of personal reasons and this has happened to me throughout my life, so I totally understand you. I'll be your friend if you'd like. Hope you like this!

The room was quiet save for the muffled sound of sobs. The soft light of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks across the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed, head buried in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The hurt was raw, cutting deeper this time. The thought repeated in your mind like a cruel mantra: Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.

A quiet knock came at the door. You barely registered it, lost in your spiral. Then the door opened gently, and a familiar voice called your name.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Aventurine’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes were filled with worry. He leaned casually against the doorframe, trying not to overwhelm you with his presence. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. That’s unlike you.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied, though your broken voice betrayed you.

Aventurine tilted his head, his hair catching the moonlight. “You don’t look fine, darling. And I don’t like hearing you cry.” He stepped into the room, crossing the space between you in a few strides before kneeling in front of you. He reached out, but his touch was tentative, giving you space.

You hesitated but eventually let the words spill out. “I had to leave again. Another friend, another group… It keeps happening. And I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I always the one who ends up alone?”

Your voice cracked, and tears welled up again. Aventurine reached out, this time cupping your hands in his gloved ones. His expression softened, his usual flamboyant charm replaced with a rare sincerity.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Listen to me. This—what you’re feeling—it’s not because you’re flawed. People come and go in life for a thousand reasons. Sometimes, it’s not about you at all. And sometimes… people just don’t see the brilliance that’s right in front of them.”

You shook your head, your doubts still gnawing at you. “But what if it is me? What if I’m too much? Or not enough?”

Aventurine gave a small, sad smile and squeezed your hands. “You’re enough. And anyone who makes you feel otherwise doesn’t deserve you in their life.” His eyes gleamed, his usual playful confidence creeping back in. “Besides, have you considered that maybe you’re just too fabulous for them to handle?”

Despite yourself, a faint chuckle escaped your lips, and Aventurine’s smile widened. “There we go. That’s better. Now,” he said, sitting beside you and throwing a casual arm over your shoulder, “let me make one thing clear. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn like that. You’re stuck with me, darling.”

You leaned against him, letting his warmth and words sink in. For the first time that night, the weight on your chest eased, just a little.

Dan Heng stood outside your room on the Astral Express. He’d been walking by when he heard the faint sound of crying. At first, he thought it best to give you space, but his worry won out. Quietly, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” you said, your voice weak.

Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. You sat curled up on your bed, clutching a blanket tightly.

“I heard you,” he said simply, standing a short distance away. “Are you… okay?”

You shook your head, and Dan Heng took a cautious step closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated before nodding, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’ve had to leave my friends again. I feel like I ruin everything. Like I’m the problem.”

Dan Heng was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture calm and unthreatening. “I don’t believe that. You care deeply about others—that much is clear to anyone who knows you. Losing people hurts, but it doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

Tears streamed down your face. “But it keeps happening. How can it not be my fault?”

Dan Heng looked at you with quiet intensity. “Because sometimes, people grow apart. Or circumstances force things to change. It’s painful, but it’s not always within your control.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to carry all that blame alone. And you don’t have to worry about me leaving. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

His words settled over you like a soothing balm, and you felt yourself relax slightly. Dan Heng reached out, his hand hovering before gently resting it on yours. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m here.”

And you believed him.

[holy3cake]

WIP Wednesday!

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

Thank you for the tag my lovely @lancedoncrimsonwings!!

Okay so we're still on Chapter 15 of In his Father's footsteps, my TLK Aethelbert TLK fic! I'm getting there, about 2000 words in so I need to keep going lol! Here's Eadgyth stirring the pot again:

“I came to fetch my horse. I’m leaving.” Eadgyth sniffled, shuffling to the stall opposite him. Osbert’s frown deepened, and he detached from his mare. Dróttning trotted moodily, but Osbert was not deterred by her warning stamp. Instead, he walked over to the stall and watched Eadgyth groom her horse. It was a beautiful Halflinger, and Osbert was surprised that he hadn’t noticed the creature yet. Its elegant mane had been styled perfectly, the golden strands reminding him of Bebbanburg beach. The horse nuzzled against Eadgyth, gentle temperament calming her frayed nerves. Even though it couldn’t quite smile, the horse was radiating a joyful aura, and Osbert was shocked that someone else seemed to have such an intimate relationship with their loyal friend. Perhaps it was that connection that allowed him to reach out, to stop her from leaving in such haste.  “You’re leaving? Why?” Osbert asked, leaning against the stall.  “It’s clear that Aethelstan doesn’t want me here! I have brought him misery.” Eadgyth’s sadness evaporated, her previous solemn mood replaced by anger.  “I am sure that is not true. Did he tell you that?” Osbert felt the divot in his eyebrows continue to grow. Why would Aethelstan be so cruel to his own sister?  “No. But he dismissed me! He is acting cold with me. I do not know what I have done wrong.” Eadgyth stroked her horse, leaning against him. Osbert opened the wooden gate, joining her side as she eyed him curiously.  “Perhaps he is in shock to see you. It has been a long time, Eadgyth.” Osbert reminded her.  “I know. But…I thought he would be happy. I missed him dearly…” She looked up at Osbert, the pain and despair clear in her eyes. It was her sullen expression that struck Osbert’s heart, and he had a brief recollection of something Hild had once told him. He was hopeless when it came to sad people, like a hunter to a hog. Despite only knowing Eadgyth for about ten minutes, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a friendly hug. Her tiny hands reciprocated immediately, and he smiled softly against her back.  “Give him time. I will speak to him, he is not an unreasonable man.” Osbert spoke against her cape, feeling her hands bunch in his shirt.  “You know him well then?” Eadgyth murmured back, sounding hopeful and curious.  “W-Well. Yes, I suppose.” Osbert almost choked, forgetting himself for a moment. Did he know the King well? Did it count if he knew what Aethelstan tasted like when he came? Or what glorious moans he made in the throes of passion? Osbert was alarmed for a moment, suddenly struck with a realisation.  Am I just a lover to the King? Does Aethelstan favour me for my body, but not my mind?

I also did a moodboard for my OC Turketyl, he is mentioned a few chapters prior! My little murder priest ehehehe. In case you ever wondered, this is what Turketyl looks like:

No pressure tags: @grinningkatz @lord-aldhelm @paula-in-dreamland @book-and-music-lover @synintheraven

@errruvande @persephones-journey @waterfallsilverberrywrites @thenameswinter99 @bilbotargaryen

@whitedarkmoonflower @thelettersfromnoone

[darkkitty1208]

@ra-con-teur asked:

Thank you for the prompt, lovely! 💖 I went sort of loose with this one, hope you don’t mind! Also, to others: I tend to have prompts be sent through the ask box! :D This one’s fine though :P

The biggest, fattest, juiciest thank yous to @janora00 the absolute SAINT for reading this over for me and helping spot mistakes/tweaking bits. Oh, and for somehow convincing me this work isn't shit. I love you, babes.

handle with care

Summary:

Reigen has a bad day. Luckily for him, Serizawa's there to sort him out.

Word count: 2,512

Tags/Warnings: References to Depression, Reigen Arataka Has ADHD, Trans Reigen Arataka, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smoking

AO3

It hits Reigen immediately when he wakes up that day. A tightness in his throat, the taste of dread thick on his tongue. There's a kind of heaviness weighing on his chest, keeping his limbs pinned down onto the mattress.

Reigen heaves a heavy sigh. He catches movement to his side, the sound of rustling sheets. He turns to look.

Serizawa's shuffled closer, chest rising and falling in steady breaths as he continues to sleep. Reigen feels his lips tug in a fond smile at the sight—he could get used to waking up with a warm body pressed to his side like this. He turns back over, however, not wanting to disturb the man.

The clock on his nightstand reads a blinking 6:07. Of course, his inner alarm clock has decided to wake him up bright and early on a weekend of all days. It doesn't help that he's already feeling the start of a headache building tension in his temples.

He rises to sit upright slowly, movements deliberate as he tries making as minimal sound as possible, eyeing Serizawa all the while to make sure he doesn't accidentally wake him up. They've had a rough week; Serizawa deserves the rest.

The cold of the floorboards shake off the rest of his drowsiness away when his feet swing gently off the bed to meet it. The blanket slips away from his—now that he's realised—completely bare torso and the springs of the old mattress creaks at him as he lifts his weight off of it to trudge quietly into the bathroom.

He makes quick business emptying his bladder, and less quicker business washing his hands. And then he takes a moment to just stand there, staring at his reflection. Sandy blonde hair ruffled in every direction, darker roots beginning to show. He hopes the pallor has to do with the unflattering lighting of the bathroom's fluorescents; he knows, at least, that the shadows are. The dark rings under his eyes, though, are unmistakable.

He scowls at it.

His eyes trail down to his torso. They fix themselves on the two, crescent marks under his chest. He lifts a finger, drags a nail lightly over the skin. It sends a twinge of nothing up his nerves.

He looks further down, to the slight pudge around his stomach, pokes it a bit.

The light above him buzzes horribly, adding to the steady pounding in his head. It hums its way down around his nape, settles there heavily.

He picks up his toothbrush, squeezes some paste onto it, scrubs it against his teeth mechanically.

The buzzing overhead only grows louder.

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. Most days they’re easy to ignore; shoving the build of something tense in his chest by forcing his best customer service grin on his face, blaming the slight quiver of his fingers on too much coffee, chalking up the slight shortness of breath on years of habitual smoking finally catching up to him.

Reigen knows how to handle himself well. 

But it’s on days like this, where there aren’t any clients to perform for or stacks of paperwork to fill or walls of text in his email inbox taking up his screen begging to be answered, that Reigen lets himself slip between the cracks. It’s in moments like this, as he takes another drag out of his cigarette, feeling the sun kissing the bits of skin not covered by Serizawa’s shirt he snagged from the closet as he stands in the balcony, that he lets himself unfurl; lays himself bare to pick at the delicate parts. 

The nicotine doesn’t give him the right kind of rush it did in the past, dulled into the numbness that it is, but it takes some of the edge off. 

He watches the smoke disperse into the steadily brightening sky. The clouds roll ahead to a destination only they know. He leans forward on the railing, watches the city as it wakes up, the hustle and bustle beginning to sound itself into the air. The tinkle of a bell from the bakery a couple blocks down, their employee arriving for opening time. The absent swoosh of tires from the cars passing along the street. The distant rumbling of a train from the nearest station, which he knows is filled with bleary-eyed people commuting god-knows-where on a weekend like this. 

And him, standing uselessly on his balcony overlooking the view of life unfolding before him as the sun greets the sky a good morning, as if mocking his sour mood.

He turns to the steaming coffee he let cool on the small table he keeps at the corner, an ashtray resting beside it with dry flakes of cigarette residue marking the clear, glass base a darkening grey. He lifts the cup, ignores the slight tremble, takes a sip. He places it back down with a clink. 

He hears the sound of the balcony door sliding open just as he turns back to watch the streets below. He hears more than sees Serizawa shuffling quietly forward, slumping onto his back to hook a chin over his shoulder. His arms reach to wrap securely around his waist. 

Reigen lets Serizawa’s heat—he naturally runs warm, is a fact he’s come to find delight in—seep into his bones. He closes his eyes, letting the morning air finally wrap around him when he had been too occupied by his own thoughts. 

"You're smoking," Serizawa points out after a while, voice gruff with the lingering bits of sleep. Reigen can feel the way it vibrates against his shoulder, down his back. He flicks the dust off his cigarette, watches it fall from a height. 

He hums. "Yeah," he says, "I am."

Serizawa's head shifts where he lays it on his shoulder; probably to avoid the hard jut of his bone there.

"You said you quit."

Reigen leans his weight back into Serizawa, who somehow still holds himself steady on his feet. "Yeah," he says, and his voice feels a little far away. He looks down at the cigarette, held between his index and middle fingers. "I did, did I?"

They lapse into silence at that. Usually silence doesn't work well with Reigen—he always needs some sort of stimuli, something to keep him talking, moving, doing. Silence compels him to fill it. To keep himself from being left with his own devices that are his thoughts.

Now, though, Reigen lets the silence settle over them, broken only by the occasional swoosh of tires or chirps of birdsong. 

It's Serizawa who eventually speaks up again.

"Something on your mind?" he asks conversationally. Something about the way he says it reminds Reigen of himself—he wonders if Serizawa picked that up from him. Sometimes he indulges and thinks Serizawa picked up plenty of things from him.

"You know. Just..." He takes another drag, just to have something to do with himself, blows it out slowly. "stuff."

"Stuff?"

He hums. "Stuff."

"Ah." Serizawa's hold around him tightens minutely before relaxing again. It feels firmer than it did before, though. "It's one of those days, huh?"

Reigen finds himself cracking a small, private smile at that. How is it that Serizawa knows him so well?

He hums again. What more is there to say to that?

The silence stretches a little longer this time.

"We should make breakfast," Serizawa suggests, being the breaker of the silence once again.

"I thought you said you weren't the breakfast kind of guy?" And it's true—Serizawa mentioned once about not being able to eat immediately after waking up. He'd need a couple hours before being able to consume anything.

"Well..." He feels Serizawa's head loll slightly to the side, "you are," he says, simply. "And, um, this—" He gestures at the health hazard concoction and equivalent of a death wish that is his coffee and cigarette, "doesn't exactly count as breakfast, Reigen." His hand returns in its spot on his waist. And then lower, "and I know you don't like eating without company." And as if that isn't enough to make his heart swell... "Let me make you breakfast. I want to.” 

He presses back, closer. Greedy. The late November air that previously bit into his skin melts away. 

“I think we still have some eggs in the fridge,” Serizawa muses, “I can have tea, first."

Reigen turns his head slightly to meet Serizawa's eyes. He wants to say thank you, maybe I don't deserve you, and if he were a little more daring, maybe even an I love you, you know that? but as it stands, Reigen Arataka is a right, darn coward. Instead he settles for, "We... really need to go grocery shopping, huh?"

Serizawa chuckles at that, low and reverberating and slightly surprised. “Yeah, probably,” and then a grimace. “Definitely. We do.” 

Reigen chuckles back, and some of that tension in his head ebbs away. 

“Let’s get back inside?” Serizawa tilts it up at the end in his delivery to make it sound more like a question. 

“Sure. But let me just finish this—” 

His cigarette floats out of his fingers, leaving a gentle static buzz on his skin that he easily identifies as Serizawa’s aura, and the butt is quickly stubbed onto the ashtray. 

“Hey!” Reigen says, with no real bite. Serizawa gives him an apologetic smile, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. 

“Sorry. Shall we go back inside now?” 

Reigen knows he isn’t really sorry. He rolls his eyes, but smiles back anyway. “Fine. Let’s.” 

Reigen watches as Serizawa patters about the kitchen. It’s not usual that they bother to cook on the weekends, usually relying on their usual takeout orders, but Reigen can never refuse a homemade meal. Even if said meal seemed to be plain eggs. 

He doesn’t have much of an appetite currently, but he knows Serizawa wouldn’t have that. So Reigen sits, waits, watches. He feels a little useless. 

It doesn’t take long for the restlessness to push him to his feet. He sidles up Serizawa’s side, not really knowing what to do with himself. Serizawa flashes him a quick smile before turning back to seasoning the sizzling eggs. 

He hooks a chin over Serizawa’s shoulder. When he doesn’t say anything, Reigen deliberately drapes himself over his back, wrapping him in a hug from behind like Serizawa gave him in the balcony. 

He’s probably being less helpful now than he was before, but Serizawa doesn’t seem to complain. So he stays. 

Serizawa hums for a moment, using the spatula to check if the eggs’ undersides are cooked so he can flip them over. They aren’t. 

He sets the spatula on a clean surface, tries to find Reigen’s hand that rests on his hip. He lays a palm above his hand, holding gently. 

“So,” Serizawa says, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Do you… need to talk?” 

Reigen considers it for a moment, stares ahead at nothing in particular. Something about this angle—the way it conceals his face—makes him feel… brave. 

“What is there to talk about?” he mutters, “I… wake up. I feel—” he gestures vaguely at himself with a free hand, “like this. That’s all there is to it, you know?” 

Serizawa, ever eternally patient, just hums. 

“Does this… happen often?” 

Reigen bites the inside of his cheek, feels the sting. He releases it. It turns into a dull ache. “Usually when winter rolls around,” he says, and it’s the truth. Winter meant the days would blur together, time would lose meaning, that haze would settle into his head to cloud his days over with something dull and empty. “It’s…” He sucks in a breath. “It’s ridiculous, you know? I didn’t even— nothing could have triggered this. I…” 

“Hey,” Serizawa admonishes him softly, “Hey, now. Arataka,” His thumb swipes softly again, halting to squeeze his hand. “none of that. It’s not ridiculous. Everybody has bad days.” 

“I know,” he says, “I know. It’s just that I…” 

There he goes, going all wistful again. 

“I just…” he shrugs, looks down at the floor. He huffs at himself. “I have you now, ‘Tsuya. And all the others. The kids, the office, hell, even Dimple. Everything’s— everything’s going well,” he says, “So, so well.” So well he doesn’t know what he’d done to ever deserve all this, if he ever did. He pulls away from the hug for a moment, eyes still on the floor. “So I don’t know why I still… I—” Serizawa squeezes his hand tighter, turns around to face him, and when Reigen sends him an appreciative look, he catches a glance at the soft gaze in his eyes. It’s almost too much for him. “I… should be more grateful, you know? For all this.” For you, goes unspoken, like many things he keeps behind clenched teeth, behind lips sealed from truth and vulnerability, too accustomed to the poison of deception. 

His shoulders slump. Something like exhaustion bleeds into him. He hasn’t even done anything. 

“I think it would help…” Serizawa says, gently, “if you maybe try counseling.” 

Reigen tilts his head with a frown. “...Me?” 

Reigen doesn’t seem like the type of person to need counseling. Serizawa, on the other hand, has been through rough patches in his life that take time to heal. It makes sense that he takes counseling. But him? 

Reigen’s just an average man. He has no tragic backstory to claim, no childhood trauma to justify himself with. He’s not the kind of man to need that sort of thing. 

“It helps to have someone… detached, to listen. Someone who isn’t, um, invested in your life. Or something like that,” he explains, “Someone impartial. Especially if they happen to be a professional who has all the tools to help you.” Serizawa seems to take a moment to arrange his words at this. “I… It helped me, anyway. Counseling. I have you, of course, and everyone else, and it’s… nice to have a support circle, but— you know. It helps. And— and I just…” Serizawa fixes him with a look so sincere it makes Reigen’s throat feel constricted. “I want to be there for you, ‘Taka. You just have to let me in. But I understand if you need… space. Not everyone’s ready for that sort of thing.” 

Reigen searches his face. And then he feels a smile bloom from his lips, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, not daring to speak any louder. “I’ll— I’ll uh, consider it. Counseling, I mean.” 

Serizawa gives him one of those small, soft smiles he adores. Reigen feels his own wobble slightly, before stretching into something genuine. 

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. 

But, as he takes one look at Serizawa—

“Uh, wait. I think the eggs are burning.” 

—he realises, maybe, he doesn’t always have to deal with them alone. 

[butteredfrogs]

@finallittleguy

1965 Philco Portable Television Advertisement Detail From the October 16th, 1965 issue of TV Guide. (via: archive.org)

[loopyarts]

Happy Germa 66 day 6/6

#ジェルマの日

June 6 is Germa Day in the Japanese fandom and I thought it would be fun to join in on the event.

[zyxwvutbackwards]

You don’t understand,,. This dynamic. Is everything to me

ANYWAYS ignore the three art style changes please - this was supposed to be a doodle page and I tend to doodle using multiple different styles 😭

Emo Friend by @stnaf-vn , if you don’t mind the tag!

[virgothozul]

I-

hum.

[diy-dentistry]

@justanotherfanartist

As I twin myself I can guaranteed you that this is 100% cannon

North and South ft. The obligatory tacky matching twin shirts

[age-of-moonknight]

“Reborn,” Moon Knight: Fist of Khonshu (Vol. 2/2024), #2.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[kinos-fortress-2]

im so sick... draws this fucking guys

[mxmarsbars]

minecraft is fun

[macabreblublu]

Saw a tweet by @golswia and inspiration struck and what better way to redraw this as a gift :D?

Just as I was searching for a fun way to warm up with a Crowley piece, their beautiful illustration saved me before I could drown in art block :’)

Anyways, me drawing long haired Crowley will never end✨✨✨✨✨

Hope you’ll like it!!!

[delineate-creates]

With the recent DDOS attack on AO3, I’ve seen some people sharing epubs of the fics they’ve downloaded. I’m a BIG fan of downloading fics — not just for situations like these, but for the pure fun and convenience of it! I love highlighting and making notes for all my favorite parts, and if the mood strikes me, I’ll even bust out Calibre and transfer them to my kindle with their own little custom covers.

The day before my last big road trip, I decided to do some very quick cover art for a few fics I had in my downloads. I wasn’t originally planning on posting them, but I thought maybe if someone else had saved these fics recently, then they might wanna use them too. These are all tomarry and all fantastic! ☺️

Fics pictured:

Kisses Cursed by @paper-ramblings

What Souls Are Made Of by Emeralds_and_Lilies

Lover’s Spit by @pinktom and @k3uuu (note the content warnings but PLEASE god read this one!!!! 😭)

***If any of you authors actually prefer not to have your fics downloaded, please let me know and I’ll edit this post. Don’t wanna step on any toes! 🖤***

[coldpintglass]

Perhaps even more surprising, as he gets to the bar and orders a pint, is the presence of two of his young team mates. Why aren’t they on the lash?

There was David Beckham nattering away to some pretty young girl at the bar, all gorgeous blonde hair, charming smile and London accent, a complete package if the way the lady was giggling as he spoke to her was any evidence.

Gary Neville on the other hand.

Well.

---

Roy Keane's pint is ruined by Gary Neville, then life happens and he realises, perhaps Gary wasn't drunk.

(Or: a go at a semi-serious age regression fic)

[james-spooky]

this is a test