#between me and my friends

[two-ii-tango]

[corvikari]

one of the kids in my moms pre-k class just yelled excitedly “This is from applebees!” upon receiving one of those picture search papers

it was the cutest and most random thing ever and I’m adding it to the things I quote

[xamitras]

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

[inbabylontheywept]

I was walking out of the Walmart today, and a car passed me, and I got this incredibly vivid impression. It wasn't really in words, but if I had to put it into words, the two key points would be

a). I needed to watch that car and

b). That I needed to be careful, because the driver of the car was a massive bitch.

It kind of took me by surprise, because I really had no reason to be beefing with that car, and I also hadn't really had an impression like that since I was religious, which was in my teen years. Right? It'd been a decade since I had a little voice whisper in my ear, and I'd basically written it off as nonsense.

Anyway, I watched the car, because The Spirits or whatever were very insistent that I did. Car drove fine, went into the parking spot, inched forward, and right when it should've just stopped, the driver gunned it for some reason and it ran into the curb and cracked its bumper.

So, the driver got out, and she went to the front of the car to check that yes, she had cracked her bumper, and then she turned to look at me. The parking lot wasn't empty, but we were the only two people standing in that row, and I'd probably been staring at her for tenish seconds now.

She demanded very angrily to know why I hadn't warned her of the curb. And I could have said I didn't know you were about to gun it or is it my job to help every stranger park, or even could you have even heard me, inside your car?

And all of those would have been fine, but I was really, really busy digesting that I had somehow communed with Mormon Jesus again for the first time in fifteen years, and that the communion had mostly been there to let me watch someone park badly (?), so what I responded with was:

"Because it was foretold."

And I can't tell which would be funnier, if she went silent because there's not much to be said to that, or if she went silent because in Utah, she might actually believe me, but we parted ways without more words.

I'm still kind of digesting this myself, actually.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[soranker]

98 lovemail doodles >_<

[paintedcrows]

It's really cute that you're gonna defeat me with the power of friendship and all, but again, I am the Devil from the Bible

(continued)

[lotus-pear]

horrendously late entry for @luneariann’s dtiys!! congrats on one million ely i’m so proud of you <3

[seumyo]

Bakugou didn’t like you.

He didn’t.

You weren’t even in the same class. Barely even interacted. Just two UA students who happened to take the same train every so often. Yet, whenever you were near, he was hyper-aware of you.

For example, he could be in the school’s gymnasium with the rest of the class, resting after a rigorous basketball training, but the minute he caught sight of you in the bleachers to collect the leftover materials, suddenly all basketballs are making it through the hoop.

Not that he cared. He didn’t do it to impress you.

He doesn’t even know what you did to have him notice you in the first place. An enigma that has him hooked.

The train slowed as he approached the station, the robotic voice announcing their stop. Bakugou stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, only to glance at you just as you pocketed your gadget and stood as well.

Just my luck.

The train doors slid open, and you both stepped onto the platform, the cool morning air greeting you. Bakugou stuffed his hands into his pockets, his usual scowl in place, already planning to walk ahead—only to hear a familiar patter of liquid against the pavement below.

Shit.

Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a steady shower. Students groaned, hurriedly pulling out umbrellas—not wanting to be late. Bakugou clicked his tongue, reaching into his bag to grab his own when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you just standing there, blinking at the street.

No umbrella.

Of course.

He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve just walked ahead like he always did. But instead, he found himself sighing—deeply, begrudgingly—before flicking his umbrella open.

“Hey,” he grunted, stepping closer so the umbrella covered both of them. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot.”

You blinked at him, startled. “Oh. Um—” you hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to—”

“I ain’t gonna let you walk in the rain, dumbass.” His ears burned. “Just walk.”

A pause. Then, to his horror, you laughed.

Not scoffed. Not sighed. Laughed.

It was light. Amused. Like he had just said the most funny thing in the world.

His grip on the umbrella tightened.

You walked side by side, your pace naturally slower than his. It was torture. Bakugou had to consciously slow himself down, had to fight the instinct to just power ahead and leave you behind. But you were under his damn umbrella now, and he wasn’t about to be a jerk and make you run after him.

So, he adjusted his steps. He adjusted.

For you.

Oh, god. He must've caught a flu.

It was annoying. Unnatural. But you didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks, Bakugou,” you said after a while.

His chest felt tight.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

He didn’t like you.

He didn’t.

So why was he hoping that the next morning it’ll rain the same and that he gets to go on the same train car as you?

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[canarydraws]

Andromeda 💙💜🩷

[hypertechnica]

THE LOVE TRIANGLE

ford, fidds, and bill are living in a late 70s/early 80s sci fi psychological horror film that was buried upon release due to its explicit gay themes but quickly became an underground cult hit

numerous associations would decry its depiction of homoeroticism between its principal characters, but nobody could deny the surrealist film had its merit. “it’s like someone concocted an unholy combination between the shining and space odyssey and then died of the instantaneous nuclear fallout. why would anyone make this? are they stupid?” one reviewer said.

more alternates + sketch under the cut

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm not going back to Gusu with you.

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[breadandblankets]

au where the bats manage to stay urban legends, sure other heroes know of them, but they help largely from the shadows, they aren't put on display and they're hardly known at All outside of the strange circle of gotham's goons

that changes when duke thomas stares batman down and says on no uncertain terms that he's working day shift

the signal is Gotham's first confirmed superhero, and he wears a bat on his chest

social media goes Wild fighting over whether the Batman existed all along or if someone finally got the tech and powers to make the bat (or a bat) Real

suddenly the world of superheros feels a lot more real to the citizens of Gotham who got used to horrible disasters being either ignored or neatly cleaned away from the public eye, now there's a guy getting thrown through windows and helping grannies cross the street and the war between gotham and metropolis gets even more cut throat