#and i felt so. okay?

[stil-lindigo]

warmth.

a comic about not being alone.

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creative notes:

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all my other comics

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[paperglader]

i just feel like someone should take one for the team and write the fanfic where miss homotron goes to dragonstone on foot, meets her situationship’s new lover, and immediately goes like blind with jealousy and fury (rhaenyra, as always when alicent’s near, looks and behaves like a very confused kicked puppy)

i just need homotron and saphotron to meet, so the real war can begin

[anna-scribbles]

loveybug and catwalker from @blur0se @pisoprano and @asukiess beautiful minds

[marisashinx]

Silver often forgets what happened in dreams when he wakes up...

[mobius-m-mobius]

#happy anniversary to remembering this actually happened 😘✌️

Loki S2 Anniversary x Episode 5 - “Science/Fiction”

[obsessedoverwater]

Sometimes the doomed old man toxic yoai gets so bad you just have to start writing about fucking revenge guac to get over the pain.

[slfcare]

the most difficult thing about growing as a person socially, as in getting out of your shell and noticing that you are, is that there will still be times when it doesn’t feel like you’ve grown at all! times when you can’t really connect with anyone around you, times when you fail to enter into an existing conversation, times when you say the wrong thing (or nothing at all when in hindsight you probably should’ve). but that’s also kind of the best thing, because that’s the thing that helps you realize that sometimes, it’s not you or your lack of skills or any shortcoming. sometimes certain environments just aren’t for you and certain people aren’t your people, and that’s okay. that’s human. it’s okay to not feel the progress you have made all the time.

[userjiminie]

jiminie got his wish, after all ♡ inspo. | interview | AYS cr. ouranxingg

[doctorsiren]

Also I must know, is Fiddleford in the Monster Hunter Pines AU at all? I ask because I love him. He seems like the kinda guy who would have loved to stay in the lab and make cool adventure gadgets. That man was destined to be The Guy In The Chair.

I am obsessed with the idea of the Stan Twins and Fiddleford being a weird little trio it delights me.

Okay okay okay okay so my main issue with having Fiddleford there is the whole Emma May situation. We all know how highly Stanley thinks of family, and I don’t think he’d be too keen on this science guy abandoning his wife to help them out, so he makes Stanford make Fiddleford make Emma May come along and she actually turns out to have skill in hunting and such, so she gets to join the twins and gets to use the crossbow :)

This is also because the original concept for this AU was made on the idea that Stanford and Stanley make up much sooner (because them fighting makes me sad ☹️☹️☹️) and I don’t like the idea of Fiddleford still abandoning his wife (and in canon, his son, who doesn’t exist in this AU because uhh its earlier in the timeline) and I thought she deserved to come along 😁

Stanford and Emma May bond over Fiddleford, Stanley and Emma May bond over being good with weapons and not getting what their respective nerds are saying, and Fiddleford and Stanley can bond over Stanford I suppose HAHA

[itslilacokay]

oh would you look at that

part 1!

[inzuinzudesu]

Translation: "Goodnight, Kakashi."

Another piece I drew from a while ago! Somewhere deep in my heart I kinda wish Obito'd won and just like put the world to sleep ya know, but then there'd be Kaguya and everything?? I'm actually not quite sure, that part is very blurry in my mind. Well point of this one is, I just wanted to draw something that looks sweet and sad and bitter and everything in between. Not sure if it really got across, I personally love this though 😭😭😭 Really went overboard with the effects but ummm I'm just extra okay spare me The original file is quite big, I had to compress it so the quality went down, you can't really zoom in all that much. Kinda sad that I can't share that, but oh well 😓 I feel like I can ramble on this site for some reason, and it's quite nice, even if nobody reads this haha

[syrupbitee]

free my boy from his own show he did nothing wrong

[shima-draws]

Just got back from seeing Sonic 3 and HOOOOOOLY SHIT y’all. Oh my fucking god. OH my god. Ohhhh my g o d

[shoujoegg]

finished painting studies w/ the og dregs....

[gummi-ships]

[teddybeartoji]

it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right