#and i gave you an apple

[raccoonskoodilypoopdungeon]

the yugioh lore writers cooked with this one

got fucking nuclear @'d by this image on discord so im blasting all of you too now

[ittybittyluci]

Lucifer heard Satan talking shit:

Idk this popped into my head a couple days ago and so naturally instead of working on assignments I started drawing this instead. Didn’t expect it to turn out as well as it did.

[twistedappletree]

I don’t know why people are saying the Hansry reunion at Suchdol was underwhelming?? Look at the time they’re in, they can’t exactly go around screeching their feelings for each other—but if Henry stands up for Hans during the talk with Hanush about his wedding, it’s so bloody obvious how in love Hans is with Henry.

That speechless, longing look he gives Henry when Hanush says Hans isn’t happy about the wedding, and Henry looks directly at Hans and says with intimate understanding, “I can see why.”

The conversation with Hans after Hanush leaves where he tells Henry how worried he was about him, how Henry promises to tend to his wounds later and Hans’ voice softens in the cutest way because he’ll do just about anything to be alone with Henry again.

Hans mentioning finding somewhere more ‘private’ for the two of them to live together while Hans actively sabotages his wedding at every turn (lmao love him for that).

And when Hans says, “You and me… I guess we’ll have to wait and see” - if you listen to the determination and thought in his tone, this isn’t him saying he’s laying down and taking whatever is being forced on him. It’s him promising Henry that there will be a ‘you and me’ regardless of what happens. Which means even if he does get married, he’s going to find a way to still be with Henry—status and expectations be damned.

They literally cannot live without each other, it’s absolutely disgusting and perfect and horrible and lovely and devastatingly beautiful, I hate them so goddamn much (affectionate)

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)

[comradekira]

seven & tuvok, when not engaging in their mutual affinity for silence, discuss matters incomprehensible to most. you just would not get it

[zeaceos]

Happy birthday, Aubers

[electrozeistyking]

Tiny Disassembler Tries To Put Himself in Second Food Coma; Girlfriend Won't Let Him

(you better believe that first time was an accident)

[ihavesomejays]

face yourself

closeup under keep reading

[normal-person-i-promise]

hushed affirmations and gentle caresses

arataka reigen x female reader

no tws :] just a bunch of fluff and kissing

first chapter here, though its not needed to understand this one :> it makes more sense though

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

★ ★ ★

You wake up a little earlier than Arataka does. It's about... 10, 10 in the morning, when you awaken to see he hasn't woken up yet. The city outside your bedroom window is alive with the weekend chatter and the excited footsteps that come with it, though it's barely audible; you're too busy focusing on Arataka's slow, steady breathing as his chest rises and falls, studying the way his eyes would flutter as he shifts, trying to get comfortable...

You're still nestled comfortably in his arms, that familiar scent of his sharp cologne and the soft cotton of his white dress shirt bringing a sense of peace and comfort to you. He's warm, his arms wrapped around you almost protectively, your head resting on his chest as you lay on top of him — he's like the cutest, most comfortable pillow you've ever slept on.

And he's going to have the worst hangover.

You lay there quietly in Arataka's warm embrace, just... Staring up at his calm face, his kissable lips set in a slight smile, his eyes shut tightly as he dreams. His golden hair is disheveled, his bangs out of place and in a halo on the pillow.

He's so... Cute, god...

You find your hand on his face: tracing his jaw, feeling the sockets of his eyes and running your fingers through his hair, cradling his cheek and running a thumb across his lower lip — you're almost playing with him, like a child with a new doll, toying with and pulling whatever you can. It's hard to resist, after all; he's too cute not to touch.

Arataka doesn't awaken, thankfully.

You free your other arm from his embrace and now bring both your hands up to his face, a mischievous grin plastered on yours as your gentle hands settle on him. Pinching his cheeks, squishing and pulling them like a grandmother with her grandchild, you coo and fawn, mumbling and murmuring about how absolutely adorable he is. You run your hands through his messy hair, adjust his soft, white dress shirt, fidget with the digits of his fingers.

It's only a second later when Arataka stirs and you panic to rapidly remove your hands from his face. He shifts you in his arms, his eyes fluttering open slowly, slowly, taking a moment to focus before they find yours. He seems to short circuit as he stare at you in confusion, before—

"EH?!"

He pushes you off him quickly, scrambling to put some distance in between the two of you. He stares at you, shaken, before the events of the night come rushing back to him — it causes his face to flush a bright, bright red for just a moment before he hides his face in his hands.

Arataka grumbles and groans in embarrassment, and you can't help but find it absolutely adorable.

You were so... Warm, in his arms, it felt so... So right, like you were supposed to be there, and, oh— last night, your touch? Your sweet, sweet hands caressing his face so, so lovingly? And, god, your voice, your voice when you asked him if he was okay? The kiss—?!

He bends over on himself in the purest form of embarrassment you've ever seen, muttering and mumbling words laced with regret.

He can't help but... Miss you, though. Miss how nice it felt with you in his arms.

The whole time all these thoughts are racing through his groggy mind, you're staring at him with a mixture of concern and amusement, not sure whether to comfort him or tease him about it.

A splitting headache begins to pound at Arataka's head, an extreme fatigue forming in his muscles and limbs, and a sharp pang of regret starting to stab him in the pit of his stomach. A hangover, and regret.

"God, I messed up..." He mutters bitterly into his hands, low under his breath so that you won't hear. You hear it anyway, though.

"I warned you you'd regret it," you say to him, the smug grin you have plastered on your face audible in your voice, making Arataka grumble even louder. He stays quiet other than that, though.

Your grin widens when you don't hear a reply from him, deciding to see just how red you can get his cheeks.

You lean in close, just enough for your warm breath to ghost over his hands pressed tight to his flushed face. "And who was the one nodding his head when I asked whether he was sure?"

You let a beat of silence pass, before, with a voice laced heavily with a smug grin,

"You, was it?"

You stay quiet for a moment to see his reaction, feeling a surge of pride when you see Arataka's shoulders stiffen as he grumbles louder.

More memories, along with more opportunities to tease him, come to mind.

"And who, pray tell, was the one who asked to sleep in my flat?"

You tilt your head to the side, cradling your chin like a great philosopher pondering a deep question. Your eyes roam around the room for just a moment before they land on Arataka again — and he's aware of how your gaze traces his face, running up and down in an almost fascinated daze. You still manage to keep your tone teasing, though.

"Because it certainly wasn't me."

Arataka makes muffled sobbing noise, almost in pain as you watch the red from his cheeks spill over to his ears and neck.

God, you're so... Annoying, especially when you talk like that, reminding him of all the things he did when he was drunk last night...

He— he was drunk, okay?! He wasn't thinking straight! It doesn't matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he—!

"Stop... Talking..." Arataka groans through gritted teeth, his tone begging and his voice thick with regret.

You arch a teasing brow at him.

"Oh? And why is that?"

You lean in even closer, reaching your hands up to his wrists and wrapping your fingers around them, trying to pry his hands off his face to get a better look at his flushed cheeks. You manage to get them off, holding them near his cheeks.

"Embarrassed, are we?"

Arataka's eyes are wide with fear as he stares at you, his breathing quick and shallow, his face redder than the colour itself. Your eyes fall down to his lips, and his cheeks seem to flush even more, impossible as it is.

His mind is still reeling from the clumsy kiss from the night before — you'd tasted just like the cola you'd drank, your lips cold from the ice and your hands cooling on his hot skin. It felt so... Good, but, god...

Steam almost spouts from his ears as his mind overheats. His expression is overwhelmed as he stares at you with the reddest face you've ever seen on someone, his mouth slightly agape.

Arataka clears his throat, casting his gaze to the side as he struggles to get his hands out of your grasp. You let one hand go, bringing the other into both your hands and beginning to fidget with the fingers.

"Don't... Tell anyone, please," he almost begs in a whisper, his breathing growing shallow as you run a hand up and down his arm, fidgeting with him — bored with nothing to do with your hands. He likes when you touch him. He likes your warm, warm hands on his skin. He likes how you're so comfortable with just... Fidgeting with him like some toy.

Don't stop, please.

"Aww, okay," you say in disappointment, cracking each of Arataka's knuckles with a satisfying 'click!'. He lets you, watching as your hands move from one finger to another, almost mesmerized.

He lets out a sigh of relief at your words, just as you take his other hand and beginning to crack the knuckles on that one, too.

Though he won't ever admit it to you, he likes it. He likes how you handle him just like a little girl with a new doll, he likes how you so lovingly press your lips to his knuckles, he likes how gentle your fingers are as you run them across his cheeks and over his features — it makes his mind go haywire and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He likes you. He likes you a lot, a lot more than he thinks he does.

You let go off his hands, getting up and off the bed. You stretch, your back popping.

"Hey, Arataka," you ask, your gaze growing worried. You reach a hand out to smooth his golden hair down, trying to make it neater — you're aware of the horrible hangover he's probably having right now.

He hums in response, closing his eyes in contentment.

"I'll go get you some painkillers for your hangover, yeah? Make you some soup and toasted bread?"

He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, a low, contented hum vibrating his chest. His eyes are closed tightly, and he startles when you remove your hands and he loses your touch, his eyes snapping open.

"Oh, u-uh, what? Yes, alright, mm-hmm, okay!" Arataka says quickly, embarrassed.

When you get there, Arataka is waiting for you, his cheeks flushing when he sees you again. Every time he lays eyes upon you, the events of last night come rushing up to him...

You prepare his food quickly — it's just a cup of warm tea and a can of boxed soup. You toast some buttered bread as the water boils, and when it's done, you bring the bowl of soup, the plate of toast, and the cup of tea to the bedside table.

He takes the bowl and toast, dipping the bread and biting a piece off with a loud 'crunch!" and swallowing loud enough to get you to know that he's enjoying it. You watch him; you'd prepared a simple breakfast of your favourite flavoured spread on plain, untoasted bread for yourself, and you munch on it as Arataka downs the tea greedily, chugging the soup and stuffing the bread down his throat.

He loves you, he supposes, though he's never loved someone before.

You'd made something for him. You, who's always kind and understanding with him; you, who always jokes with him; you, who he loves with all his heart, had made something for him, no matter how small. Him, Arataka, of all people, was the one you chose to love.

He can't even begin to explain just how much he appreciates you — his words would become nothing more than a mumbly jumble, his manners dissolving into a flustered mess.

"Anything else I can get you?" You offer politely and so, so lovingly, just as Arataka is swallowing the painkillers.

He grins.

"You can get me a kiss, but I—"

You cut him off before he gets to finish, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you. He's taken aback by your directness, his eyes going wide and his body stiffening — though it's not long before he's returning the kiss, closing his eyes tightly and leaning into it.

Pressing your lips gently to his, you run a careful hand through his hair, caressing his cheek with a loving touch. You can feel the crumbs of the toast and the warm taste of the tea and soup on his lips.

He tastes... Comforting, you suppose. A familiar flavour, that scent of the mouth of someone who's just woken up, the warm taste of freshly toasted bread, the salty flavour of the powdered soup. He tastes nice.

You're careful not to make the kiss last too long, in case he loses his breath; and you're taking care to make sure your touch isn't too painful on his head, lest his headache return.

When you break the kiss, Arataka is nothing more than a mess of mumbly words and flushed cheeks, his hands shaky and his eyes wide. He's so, so cute, in the way that he'd struggle to form proper sentences, the manner in which he'd clumsily try to keep you close.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, those familiar butterflies in his stomach making his head spin and his vision swim. You kissed him again, you kissed him again! Oh, god, you kissed him...

Arataka gives you lopsided grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm like he'd just eaten.

"That will suffice," he says with utmost confidence.

Just in case, of course, you kiss him again. He seems to be getting the hang of it — he tilts his head to press his lips more onto yours, keeps a hand to the back of your head to elongate the kiss, runs a hand up and down your spine.

When you break the kiss, you wrap your arms tightly around him, squeezing his ribcage so hard it elicits an absolutely adorable yelp of surprise from him, followed by rushed words to loosen your grip.

You're laying on top of him as you crush his torso under yours, your head resting below his shoulder.

You've noticed he's gotten a lot more confident: he can form proper sentences and talk without mumbling, his movements aren't as shaky and uncontrollable, and his kisses are getting better with each time he practices on you.

Arataka wraps his arms around you as you get settled on him, resting his chin on the top of your head. You're so... Comforting, so warm and soft... You're nice to have in his arms, and he finds himself adjusting you do that you're as pressed up against him as he can possibly get it.

You can hear his gentle snoring after ten minutes or so. You wake him up, saying you're going to go shower for a moment as you slip out of his groggy grasp.

You shower as quickly as you can, changing into your most comfortable pair of home clothes. The soft cotton hands loosely off your frame when you enter your bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as you bundle your dirty clothes and throw it into the laundry basket.

Your eyes fall to Arataka as he stares at you.

"Uh, right, I... Got this. Here."

You rummage through your cupboards. It's only a moment later when you take out a pair of folded clothes, slowly placing it next to where Arataka sits comfortably in your bed, lounging like he belongs there. Which he doesn't does, of course.

"These should... These should fit you," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.

He likes it. He likes you. He loves you.

Arataka, too, showers, though he takes a lot longer. He's wearing your clothes (not that he has a choice, but not that he minds), and, god, he... He loves the fact that what he's wearing now, you've worn before — the cotton of the shirt worn from years of usage, the pants you lended him warm against his skin — and it smells just like you; a warm, soft scent as he slips the clothing on, feeling the old threads cascading down from his shoulders and hanging loosely around his frame.

He finds it... Cozy, and... And sweet, the smell of the laundry detergent and that warmness of the sun. It's so, very, very... Comforting? It's comforting, to him.

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

You're scrolling on your phone when he asks you that question, and you switch it off. Seeing Arataka wearing your clothes makes you feel... Nice. He doesn't seem to be arguing about it, at least.

You shrug, a thin smile on your face.

"Must be weird, huh? Finally getting a girl after being single your whole life?"

You narrow your eyes at him as he sputters, your grin widening as his cheeks flush.

He presses a hand tightly to his mouth, gripping the doorframe as his knees almost seem to buckle. The red from his cheeks is visible even through his fingers.

"You're going— to KILL me," he chokes out, his tone laced with embarrassment.

"AND, FOR THE RECORD—!"

Arataka jabs an accusing finger in your face, and you watch on, amused, as he talks in such a panicked tone that you find it hard to understand more than the first few words. He's shouting, yelling.

"ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS AREN'T EVERTHING IN LIFE! TO NOT HAVE A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IS THE SAME AS NOT HAVING A GOOD MEAL! YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT IT JUST FINE, BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU HAD ONE!"

He scoffs in disappointment, crossing his arms, his tone almost annoyed — though that undertone of endearment is definitely there.

"I'm surprised you haven't learnt anything from working under me."

You roll your eyes.

"You can just say you're bitter about being single. It won't hurt you."

Arataka sputters again, opening his mouth to argue — but closes it quickly, realising that he's just making himself look worse. Instead, he crosses his arms tightly and grumbles, which an adorable display despite his agitation.

You grin, getting up and off the bed to ruffle his hair. He pushes your hand off, annoyance written on his face.

[thecrowfinder]

my fucked up dog who always bites

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.

(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)

[sentientstump]

serious question!

[somegrumpynerd]

Remaining kitties for the garden

Here are all the kitties who didn't make it to the website and their pet screens c:

^The regular kitties (The nothing option would make Error show up and just kinda glare at everybody lol and there would be mirror and paper bag options to see Dust and Horror again)

^The winter kitties (The snow option would bring out Blue and Dream, the christmas lights brought Fresh and the stocking was Ink)

^The special pairs (I don't think any of these made it to the polls lol but putting out a bed would bring Horror and Dust together, putting out a rainbow cushion would bring Color and Killer (this was how you would finally be able to pet him) and putting down comic books would bring Epic and Cross, who would finally purr when pet with his bestie)

[inmyheaddd]

guys i left the house with 3 percent on my phone.... 5 hours later i took a taxi alone WITH MY PHONE DEAD back to my HOTEL like i was basically asking to be kidnapped but its ok i made it back 🤸‍♀️

[creepyscritches]

I get told often at my job that I'm very calming and reassuring and I feel like a white collar therapy horse

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

hi!! let me start this by saying that I love your writing to bits and I'm having a blast with all the extra info we're getting with the asks!!

im case you're still answering them, and since so far no one has taken the bait, I gotta ask: what's up with Hatsume's class and their obsession with Mirio in pez dispenser debris? and do Power Loader and Aizawa have some sort of support group?

(I'll sneak in that it's really funny to me that you wrote pez dispenser debris while procastinating studing for the bar exam, because I was also studing for the bar exam at the time you started posting it, and I procastinated studing by reading it 🤝)

WERE YOU THE PERSON WHO MADE A COMMENT ON ONE OF THE ORIGINAL POSTS ABOUT HOW YOU WERE READING IT AS A BREAK FROM STUDYING

Hatsume Mei and the rest of the support class insist they’re just joking about the religious cult aspect of it all but also everyone’s sort of nervously laughing in the corner because the entire school is increasingly certain that they’re not joking. Basically, Hatsume Mei has such fucking weird girl energy that she has brought a religious fervor to the invention of support technologies. It is a holy mission dedicated to making tech that is sick as fuck. Hatsume Mei infected them all with her maniac energy and they all started acting like her about it.

Power loader doesn’t know what happened okay this class is insane it’s insane and he was busy putting out all the literal fires and then one day he realized they were call each other Sibling and there was a shrine to a wrench with googly eyes in the corner of the room and when he tried to take it down all the students just stared at him, unblinking and still, with hammers and saws in hand, and there’s a white board? No one can use? Because they are manifesting the coming of their Chosen One? He is afraid?? He goes to the Hound Dog and he says “Hound Dog you are the guidance counselor and these kids they need some guidance please go guide them I don’t want to get out of my car in the school parking lot each morning I’m afraid man I’m afraid” and Hound Dog goes to them and he says “heyyyyy kids what’s. What’s up with all this.” And totally fucking normally those demon children all say “oh it’s just an inside joke” and so Hound Dog says to Power Loader “it’s just a joke man they’re kids let them have their fun” but it’s not it’s not a joke they all mean it now. He thinks they’re trying to lull him into a false sense of security so they can sacrifice him to the wrench. He is fighting for his fucking life over here.

He and Aizawa go drinking together every weekend.

One of the biggest issues with support technologies is how they interact with Quirks. Take Izuku. He is a nightmare to make support gear for. Everything just fucking breaks on him. Do you have this sick fucking electroshock bracelets you want him to try out in the field? Haha, no you don’t. You have useless shards of incredibly expensive and completely irreparable plastic and steel. He threw one punch and they blasted off of his body in seven different pieces. Sorry xoxoxoxo.

Mirio, before he was Quirkless? Utterly useless to design anything for him. It’d just fall off his body. They spent every day fighting for their lives to keep his pants on and never even had the option of support items past that.

It’s like that with everyone. You invented these sick fucking gloves that let you climb walls like spider-man? Well they’re not compatible with Bakugou’s Sweat Powers, so fuck that I guess. Like. Some heroes could use some gear, but frankly? Most of their day was designing clothes they could wear without accidentally blasting them off their bodies. Iida was a constant, secret battle against chafing. Before Mirio was Quirkless, they were busting out a loom to weave his own hair together. Everyone had some kind of absolutely disqualifying quality of their quirk that made half their prototypes useless.

They were sick of it. The vast majority of people who became heroes had flashy quirks, and the vast majority of flashy quirks are fucking nightmares to work with. It was ruining their creativity.

Don’t you ever want to go nuts? Full throttle? Plus Ultra? They wanted to stop fighting the Seven Hundredth Battle Against Iida Tenya’s Thighs and start inventing the kind of bullshit that is only legal because the government doesn’t even know to ban it yet. It was their calling. Their holy mission. Completely fucking thwarted by the fact that class a literally has a hero whose quirk means she has to be fully naked for max efficacy. What are they supposed to even do there? Nothing! They’re all so bored!

So they all started sort of joking about Tabula Rasa, the Blank Slate, a figure of prophecy who would come with the most perfect, inoffensive Quirk that was compatible with the most batshit fucking insane support tech they could dream up. Tabula Rasa was their Chosen One. One day, their god of steel and fire and turning and terrible, glorious change, It Who Watched What Wonderful Horrors They Wrought In Its Name And Never Blinked, would bring the Blank Slate to them.

And they were going to deck that guy out in the most unethical bullshit imaginable. They were going to reinvent the gun but cooler and more morally ambiguous for that guy.

Anyway Izuku knew about all this shit and said “oh we can exploit the fuck out of that.”

So he told Mirio to meet him outside of the first year support course workshop without providing any other relevant information whatsoever. Izuku just said that there was someone he thought Mirio should meet, brought him inside, and took him straight to Hatsume Mei. He very loudly introduced Mirio as a third year heroics student so that he could be heard over the din.

He’s Quirkless.

Hatsume Mei turned to Mirio and whispered, with tears in her eyes, Tabula Rasa.

The entire workshop fell into a sudden and eerie silence.

Make him Batman, Hatsume Mei, said Izuku, as if any of this shit were normal.

Hatsume Mei cried harder under the lights of the workshop. She looked Mirio up and down, as if to confirm, and again she whispered, Tabula Rasa.

Anyway Mirio had no idea what any of the ensuing chaos was at the time. There was a lot of weeping in a horrible climax of fear and joy and holding each other in trembling embrace. Lots of “the prophecy” and “I didn’t think I’d be alive to see it” and “I have to go find my blueprint for the gun that shoot knives.”

Hahah, kids.

Anyway, at that time, no fucking clue what was happening. But he knew the outcome would be sick as fuck. So he’s just been sort of going with it since then.

Power Loader immediately left the building and took a personal month. Nedzu asked Present Mic to help cover, who left crying after two hours. Aizawa has told him if he ever asks him for anything ever again, he will burn the building to the ground, and so Nedzu did not ask him.

So he just hired a new substitute teacher for every single day that that room needed staffing, close to all of whom quit teaching entirely after.

Anyway, that’s how Mirio affords support gear despite being independent and generally unpopular. Pretty much every time he swings by the main campus he receives a jet pack that also can control birds and maybe sharks too (they’re still beta testing the shark bit) and he says “Cool!” and puts it on his mortal body. Half of the support class is madly in love with him. However, Hatsume Mei, their High Priest, has stated that their god watches them all with its ever-jiggling eyes and has seen the lust in their hearts for the champion it bestowed upon them and rebukes it. She knows it’d tear them all apart if people started shooting their shot.

There’s no real narrative significance to that story. I just thought it would be funny if Mirio had a fuckton of support gear because he was a figure of religious importance to a it’s-a-joke-not-a-joke cult in the support class.