#beige sofa cushions

[yaguniversity]

Patio Roof Extensions in Miami

[forever-lunasea]

Contemporary Living Room - Living Room Medium-sized modern open concept living room with a bar, white walls, a stone fireplace, a ribbon fireplace, and no television.

[racingpit]

Farmhouse Dining Room in Columbus Inspiration for a large cottage medium tone wood floor great room remodel with gray walls and no fireplace

[happythebluecat]

Boston Living Room Enclosed Example of a mid-sized transitional enclosed medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room design with gray walls, no fireplace and no tv

[homespuntheatre]

Enclosed Living Room in Boston An illustration of a mid-sized transitional formal living room with beige walls, no fireplace, and no television, and a medium tone wood floor and brown floor.

[rocketjumper]

Great Room Dining Room Columbus Inspiration for a large cottage medium tone wood floor great room remodel with gray walls and no fireplace

[indiemitchell]

Enclosed in New York

[kazuos]

New York Large

[richtigezahnpflege]

Farmhouse Dining Room in Columbus

[mastermigraciones]

Orange County Family Room Open

[rilayagifs]

Eclectic Living Room in Houston

[swanatlast]

Transitional Living Room in Boston

[beansprean]

He did foreshadow this... Happy Halloween!!!! 👻

My Familiar's Ghost part 61

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Black panel on black background. In the far distance, faint speech bubbles. 1b. Repeat, panel lightens to dark gray, speech bubbles start to draw nearer and more into focus, but the text is still illegible. 1c. Close up on vampire Guillermo's eyes as they flutter open, a few stray blue sparks still reflecting in his iris. A fuzzy black fog begins to retreat from the edges of the panel, and speech bubbles come into focus enough to make out the words: '-let him beat the stupid shit out of you?' 'No, he was just very fast, and-' 1d. A wobbly panel from Guillermo's POV, still slightly blurry, fingers of black background shredding the edges of his vision. Nandor is close, still wearing the clothes from Panera and visible from chest to mouth, head turned toward Nadja who is positioned slightly behind him, Dolly in her lap. They are wearing matching purple gowns with a star pattern. Laszlo is visible from hip to shoulder in purple trousers and waistcoat, sleeves rolled up and held with garters, sitting on whatever surface Guillermo has found himself on and facing his wife. Nadja is yelling at Nandor, 'And now you've killed him dead and let him bleed on my sofa!' Nandor sputters back, 'It's not his blood!' 1e. Repeat, the panel wider and slightly less blurry as Guillermo wakes further. The three vampires and Dolly stop bickering and whip their heads toward Guillermo as he shakily announces, 'I...I'm home...'

2a. Shot of Guillermo laying on a sofa from the vampires' POV as he props himself up on one elbow, squinting and confused. He is still wearing the same striped button-up and chinos from before, but the blood stains have faded somewhat and viscera has been cleaned from his face and hands. Offscreen, the others react: 'Guillermo!' 'It's moving!' 'Guillermo?!' 'Well fuck me sideways, look at that.' The background outside the panels is progressively lightening to gray. 2b. Close up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he leans into view, eyes wide and concerned, one hand hovering towards him as if unsure where to touch. Behind him, Nadja leans forward with a sincerely happy grin, Dolly smiling from her lap. Nandor asks anxiously, 'Guillermo, are...are you...?' A voice offscreen interrupts, 'Wait!' 2c. Repeat. Colin, wearing a beige striped sweater, squeezes into frame between Nandor and the Nadjas, pushing them out of the way with his hands on their faces. Nadja and Nandor make identical expressions of wide-eyed annoyance. Colin looks desperate and worried, shouting, "Guillermo!!" 2d. Wide shot of the couch, Guillermo now sitting up fully with one foot on the ground, hands limp in his lap as he slumps forward. His eyes are closed and there are swirls of nauseous green floating around his head. Colin kneels beside the sofa, leaning toward Guillermo with his hands braced on the adjacent cushion and staring at him anxiously. Colin says, 'I have something very important to tell you.' Guillermo shakily asks, 'What is it, Colin Robinson?' Colin replies, 'You just lost the game.' 2e. Repeat. Guillermo goes a bit grayer than usual and rocks backward away from Colin, head flopping back as he squeezes his eyes shut as if to fight off a wave of nausea. A few wobbly waves of energy lift off his body and he lets out a loud but tired 'Ugh'. Colin wheezes out a laugh and whips his head back toward the other vampires with a huge excited grin on his face, eyes glowing bright blue. Offscreen, Nadja snaps, 'For fucks sake, Colin, he is limp and weak enough already!' Simultaneously, Laszlo praises, 'You did it boy, good show' and Nandor demands, 'Colin Robinson, stop draining him at once!' /end ID

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Looks like we'll be taking Cacoa to the vet today. Her anal glands are blocked again. Last three times this happened, it was around $450 USD because she also had to be sedated. Now she's 18, which makes sedation high risk, and we're broke. I have a Care Credit card, but the interest on this thing is ridiculous.

[Image id: a solid black cat sleeping uncomfortably on a beige sofa cushion]

This used to happen every 6-12 months, then we got a few years of no issues, but the last four have been repeats of this issue. She got very little sleep last night, she's eating and drinking, urinating just fine, but can't have a bowel movement due to blockage and pain. Last year, just before we pulled the carrier out, she went to use the litter box, and very loudly managed to unblock the glands. Not this time though. She's grooming enough to cause bleeding.

Commissions are open for as low as $20 USD, there are posts in my shop starting as low as $0 USD, and I accept donations through multiple options. Everything is pay-what-you-want with minimal amounts, so feel free to increase what your payment is.

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[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.2 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.8k) fluff, pro-hero shouto todoroki is not good with kids (lying), natsuo is the most big brother that ever big brothered, someone pls give the poor assistant a raise, i truly believe that shouto hyperfixates on random things for a few weeks at a time and you cannot change my mind, also i promise the 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 is coming.. i just need to set the mood first.

p.1 - YOU ARE HERE - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

“What was I like when I was five?” 

“Uh, dunno? Guess you were kinda—hey!” Natsuo doesn’t even manage to finish his thought before something (apparently very pressing) on his end of their phone call distracts him. “Aoi! You little—get down from there! Motherf—“

Shouto listens to the chaos unfold with a completely unchanging expression.

“Tou! Talk to your uncle for a second. Your brother's gonna break his neck!”

There’s a scuffle, and before Shouto can so much as protest there’s a little voice greeting him on the other end of the line.

“Hi Oji-chan!” Touma, Natsuo’s 7-year-old, says cheerfully after having evidently been handed the phone.

He hears a little giggle and the sound of his brother squawking incoherently somewhere in the distant background on their side of the call. This is immediately followed by a series of very loud crashes and a panicked string of words which, even in his limited knowledge of childrearing, Shouto's fairly certain kids are not supposed to hear.

“Hello,” he greets his nephew curtly. “If your father’s busy, I can—”

There’s a bit more shuffling, some disgruntled grumbling and laboured panting, and then Natsuo is taking the phone again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the older man says breathlessly, and Shouto stares up at the ceiling over his sofa blankly. “Oh, okay, what were you asking about?”

“Me. When I was five.”

“Oh, yeah!” Shouto’s brother laughs. “Dunno. You were round, I guess? And pretty squishy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Natsuo laughs, loud and carefree like he always does. “Well, what did you mean, then?”

“What kind of stuff did I like?”

There’s a thread hanging from Shouto’s sleeve, and he fiddles with it while he speaks with his brother. It’s distracting, but he can’t quite grip the troublesome string to pluck it loose since he’s using his other hand to hold the phone to his ear.

Natuso hems and haws as he mulls Shouto's question over for a bit. “Soba and chewing on things, mostly.”

“I liked chewing on things when I was five?” Shouto’s reply is flat and unamused. He shifts to hold his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he lays back against the cushions of his sofa, snapping the string off easily once he has the use of both his hands.

“Yeah, you were always bite-y,” Natsuo replies simply.

The youngest Todoroki sighs. He rolls the thin bit of thread between his fingers for a moment, watching how the ends split and fray, then flicks it away disinterestedly.

“What’s all this about, anyway?”

There’s a significant amount of racket on Natsuo’s end of the call, but Shouto suspects that’s a fairly normal thing for his older brother’s home. What with two kids and more pets that Shouto can keep track of, there’s always pandemonium happening whenever he stops by to visit. He can’t help but think it’s a miracle that Natsuo managed to find anyone who would willingly subject themselves to that, let alone a partner as normal as the one he married.

“Nothing really,” Shouto mumbles. “Just curious.”

“Well, Yumi would remember that stuff better than I do anyway,” Natsuo chirps. “You could always ask her!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Shouto nods even though he knows his brother can’t see the gesture. 

They end the call with vague plans to meet up for dinner the following week, though these plans often end up getting rescheduled or completely forgotten about in the stir of their busy adult lives. Once the line disconnects, Shouto is once more left staring up at the boring beige ceiling of his living room.

His apartment is always just a bit too cold. It’s been that way since the day he moved in. His hope in choosing such an upscale domicile had been that he wouldn’t run into issues like this one; it was newly constructed after all, and cost enough that things as simple as climate control shouldn’t be a problem. But no matter how much he fiddles with the thermostat, no matter the time of year, there’s always a chill that seems to linger in his quiet home.

He blinks up at the ceiling and listens to the pitter patter of rain outside.

It’s been raining for days now, with only the occasional break in the downpour that never lasts more than a few hours. His last four patrols have ended with him towelling off in the changing room at his agency, using his quirk to warm the terrycloth before he ruffles it through his drenched hair. His costume is fairly well-insulated, and repels the rain, but he still always feels so soggy by the time he gets home.

Suddenly, he thinks about a little yellow raincoat, and the thump of rubber boots.

Truthfully, Shouto’s not sure why he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that strange encounter from a few days prior. The little boy in the yellow raincoat and the ill-fated, crumpled receipt.

Maybe it’s because he can’t remember the last time a kid was less excited to meet him. 

Maybe it’s something else.

Shouto’s expensive sofa creaks as he pitches himself upwards, reaching out towards the tablet he’d left resting on the edge of his coffee table. He unlocks the device, and realizes he’d left it open to a news article about the Recycling Hero he'd been reading earlier in the day.

He’s been reading a lot about Reductro lately—just about any resource he can find. News articles online, press releases, pamphlets that environmental activists are handing out on street corners. Hell, half the hits on the the guy's Heropedia page from the past week were probably thanks to Shouto.

Just earlier that very day he’d even placed an order online for a copy of the Recycling Hero's newest book.

Reductro, Shouto recently learned, has dedicated his life’s work to inspiring meaningful environmental changes around Japan; he uses his quirk that is capable of breaking down plastics and other complex carbon compounds (as well as his doctorate in Ecology and Environmental Science) to make significant improvements to the climate and the country. The man has a way of speaking that’s neither overly sanitized nor pedantic and inaccessible; kids love him for his exciting way of talking about the environment and why they should care about it, but he's equally capable of putting on a suit and addressing a crowd of adults. Above all else, he seems to be truly passionate about the work that he’s doing–a conclusion Shouto has inarguably come to through his extensive research, and by watching just about every video he's managed to track down online.

He hates to admit it, but the guy is kind of… really cool.

He gets why Naoyuki was so obsessed with him.

Shouto taps around the surface of the tablet for a moment, pulling up an article about a documentary that Reductro is in the process of producing about microplastics. He scans through the article—making a mental note to look up when it will be coming out and see if his secretary can get him an early cut of it—when an image at the bottom of the article makes him pause. It’s a recent photograph that, according to the caption underneath, was taken only a few weeks prior when Reductro was giving a presentation at a local elementary school.

A little voice rings in the back of Shouto's mind, from a rainy day not unlike this one.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!”

Naoyuki may have been a bit of a menace, but he was well-intended. And ultimately Shouto has him to thank for opening his eyes to the prestige of the Recycling Hero.

He stares at the image lighting up the screen in his hands for a moment, his eyes scanning over the name of the elementary school a few times as an idea begins to take shape.

He reaches instinctively for his cellphone.

“Good evening, Shouto-sama,” Shoto’s assistant and secretary, Takahashi, answers on the second ring—just like he always does. “Are you well?”

“Hi,” Shouto greets the man in a relatively abrupt manner, brushing off pleasantries for the sake of saving time. “How hard is it to find a kid?” 

There’s a few beats of silence as Shouto’s question lingers over the line.

“Such as a missing person’s case?” Takahashi-san finally responds, though the usually proper and eloquent man sounds uncharacteristically baffled. 

“No,” Shouto shakes his head. He thinks about his next words carefully. “If i know where a kid goes to school and his first name, could you track him down?”

“Track… him down?”

For all the hard-fought takedowns Shouto has made in his career as a hero, he sure is losing this battle.

“He’s not a criminal or anything,” Shouto explains, and Takahashi hums understandingly, but it sounds sort of like when an adult is placating a child. “I met him in the street the other day."

"I see."

Shouto knows he still doesn't get it, and he wracks his brain for a way to make this whole situation make sense, even though it doesn't.

"He’s… a fan.”

Lying is bad. Shouto knows this. He happens to pride himself on knowing the difference between good and bad, as a matter of professionalism. But Naoyuki is a fan, for all intents and purposes.

Just not his.

“Oh,” Takahashi-san sounds more at ease now with this half-truthful revelation, “very well. I don’t suppose it would be all too difficult to find the child’s information. I'm sure the school would be willing to forward contact information for a legal guardian if your office were to reach out on official business.”

“His mother," Shouto replies immediately.

“Pardon?”

“He, uh..."—Shouto fiddles with the tablet in his left hand—"The little boy. He was with his mother when I met him. She’ll remember me.”

“I see. Please forward me the name of the institution and I’ll reach out to the school administration first thing in the morning.” Takahashi has always been exceedingly competent, since the first day Shouto hired him. He’s a bit stuffy, and Shouto’s pretty sure he’s never seen him smile, but the young hero strangely admires the man's no-nonsense sort of antiquated way of doing things. “I assume you’re looking to send some sort of gift. Perhaps a signed poster? Some merchandise?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says, nodding. Then he pauses. “But not mine.”

“Oh?” the man on the other end of the line—who Shouto now realizes is likely at home during his off-hours that he rudely interrupted—sounds puzzled again. 

“Takahashi-san…” Shouto stares down at the tablet in his hands, still open to the article he’d been reading before he picked up his phone to make this call. “Have you ever heard of the Recycling Hero?”