#but tbh i think it's good writing

[fandesinae]

mmm thinking about .... m&m baby.

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[cloudbends]

something I feel like isn't nearly appreciated enough about mob's arc in mp100 is that his background is... Completely normal. I see a lot of people interpreting mob's parents as neglectful or distant based on the few scenes we've seen of them, which greatly baffles me because their few scenes aim to establish his family life as.. completely normative. They have the normal, average quips of a normal family. And I think it's very unique and refreshing because it means mob's troubles and internal hardship isn't a product of his upbringing, it's a byproduct of a traumatic experience and of his own personality and how it coalesces with his psychic powers. And I personally think more media should acknowledge that some people, even with perfectly normative and healthy familial dynamics and circumstances, will still develop very complex internal issues and personal psychology. and on the same note, some people with perfectly normal upbringing won't feel comfortable to confide in their parents and seek an external authority figure to look up to, which doesn't necessarily mean them and their parents are estranged. I dont think mob's (or ritsu's) life have to be unhappy to legitimize or explain the fact he has the personal struggles he does. Embracing normalcy is the main theme of this series.

[slayerdurge]

the thing that drives me absolutely crazy though is that gortash is presented as this commanding dominating tyrant and yet it's consistently shown that the thing he appreciates about durge (or tav for that matter) is when they're not willing to submit to him & when they are strong enough to either stand against him or to stand with him & when they are his equal.

an insane thing for someone like him to want. you'd think he'd want to rule alone and yet the insight checks all show that he actually prefers to share so long as there's someone around worth sharing with.

"Half a smile shows he is teasing you. He doesn't think for one moment you'd fully submit to him. Nor should a spawn as formidable as you."

[civetside]

When I was thinking about my own headcanons for TLT, I realized that as the only other surviving "child", Ortus as the "older brother" probably had to keep the feral lesbians from killing each other with their teeth.

And of course being encouraged in his poetry by (probably) Gideon, to piss off Harrow.

(I just like how the three surviving children are two feral lesbians, and a mucusy poet.)

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Kira has a nightmare, one night when she's staying at the O'Brien's. Miles and Keiko, sleeping in the other room, don't hear her get up - but Molly does.

And Molly, being clever and kind, knows exactly what to do when someone has a nightmare. (Or, at least, she knows what her parents always do for her.) So she sits Kira down and brings her a glass of warm milk, and sits by her side as she drinks it.

Then, she takes Kira by the hand and leads her - to her parents bedroom. "I always sleep with mommy and daddy after a nightmare," she explains, when Kira stops outside the door. "It helps! Mommy chases the scary things away. And Daddy is warm."

"Molly," Kira says quietly, a little embarrassed, "I don't think your parents want me in their bed. Even if I did have a nightmare."

"No, they won't mind!" Molly assures.

Then, of course, Miles wakes up.

"Molly?" he asks, voice rough with sleep. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, but Miss Kira did!"

And now Keiko's awake, too, sitting up and saying, "Nerys? Are you alright?"

Mortified, Kira says, "Yes, I'm fine, I was just - on my way back to bed. Molly brought me here. I'm - sorry for waking you. I'll just be-"

"You can stay, if you want," Miles offers.

Kira doesn't quite think she heard him right. "What?"

"You can sleep here, if you think it might help," Keiko says.

"Or even if you don't!" Miles adds.

Kira opens her mouth, then closes it again. "I, uh-"

Keiko gets up, and takes Kira, gently, by the hand. Her palm is soft, Kira can't help but notice.

"Brr, it's freezing out here!" Keiko says, tugging Kira along. "You'd better get in before you catch your death of cold. Miles is practically a furnace, so you'll be nice and warm with us."

"And, Molly, you'd best go back to bed, too. You've got school in the morning," Miles says, as Keiko bundles Kira into the bed between them.

As Molly makes her way out, Keiko swings a lazy arm over Kira's back. "Sleep," she hums. "We'll be here in the morning."

Kira, feeling warm and cared for and more than a little overwhelmed, does.

[poke-poke-poke]

Thinking about pkmn social media-- he's giving tips on how best to take care of pkmn that aren't too keen on water (goomy's there for enrichment)

...

his hoodie got soaked,,

[luminique]

hii hii lumii !! I ADORE your interpretation of lighter so far— I love him smm

anyways, I hope my req is okay but I was wondering if you could do a comfort fic ? maybe reader has been a lil distant lately and just in some feels and he gives them a lil talk after being blown off here and there to find out they were having issues w their mental health and not feeling good enough and maybe he’s caught off guard because reader is usually so out going and always has a smile on their face and to see them feel so small makes him wanna take care of them so much and gives them so much reassurance and gentle kisses and cuddles 👉👈

I hope it’s okay !! I’ve been in the feels lately

hi anonn !! im gonna answer this one first because i've been in the feels too and i think we all deserve some reassurance, especially after all of the sad lighter story.

i don't take lighter for the kind to be too intrusive. that's not to say that he doesn't notice the way you're staring off into the distance, as if always having something on your mind. or the way you left earlier than usual for the SoC's nightly hangouts around the fire. or the way you had just been distancing yourself from him.

maybe you just needed a day, or two, and so he waited. he waited, and waited, but it just seemed like it was getting worse. he was beginning to get anxious, coming up with possibilities and worse case scenarios. even his favorite grape-flavored lollipop couldn't reduce the anxiety that was building up inside of him as he followed after you one night.

he shook off his nerves, spending quite a bit of time at the front door of your lodging while in blazewood. mentally practicing what to say so that he wouldn't make things even worse than they already were. one step, two deep breaths, three knocks on your door. he cleared his voice, usually confident and smooth but now carried a hint of worry in it.

"hey, uh... everything alright?"

you could hear the ruffling of his jacket, the soft metal clinks of his gloves. he didn't dare open the door until you allowed him to, so he waited, just like he always had. "lighter? yeah, everything's fine," was that a slight crack in your voice? no, no, he had to have imagined that. he knew it was wrong but he had waited long enough. he turned the knob, opening the door just a little bit but still not walking in.

"you don't have to tell me everything. just... know that i'll be here, waiting for you." he wasn't the best at comforting, nor was he good at even navigating these sorts of things but at the very least, he wanted you to have the knowledge that you had him. it didn't take long for you to finally get up, opening the door that separated the both of you. you looked so... different. the light absent from your eyes, the edges of your lips normally turned upwards but now they weren't. if he couldn't say what you wanted to hear, maybe you'd understand through his actions.

his arms wrapped around you. squeezing you just a little tighter than usual as he somehow made the both of you waddle backwards into your room. he had kept his gloves in his pants, not wanting to hurt you even more with them. his embrace was a familiar warmth, like the fire during particularly cold nights in the outer ring. you could hear his heart racing, was it from nervousness? anxiety? fear? even he didn't know.

he took this as an opportunity to place soft kisses on the top of your head but then stopped all of a sudden. he turned around to the door and realized that it was still wide open. he kicked it close with his foot, feeling embarrassed at the fact that he had to stop because of something so minor. he wanted you to feel safe, to have privacy, to be able to breathe without others barging in. technically, he had invaded this space of yours but you were slowly melting into him, as if you had been waiting for this too.

every passing second hugging you, kissing you, it made his own worries disappear. he hoped the same for you as you slowly spoke to him about your own problems. as he listened, he'd pause every once in while to give you a deadpan stare. not because he was making fun of you or anything, but it genuinely baffled him how you could say such things about yourself. you felt so insecure about yourself and your image, about being with him, being with the SoC. he had to physically stop himself from just blurting "i love you" every time you said something so degrading.

instead, he chose to wait and listen. his calloused hands gently caressing yours, his lips pressing kisses on the side of your head as you nuzzled into him. he loves you for who you are, the person in front of him, not the image that you had made yourself out to be in your mind. but he waits for you to let it all out before he says anything else. he will wait, he will listen, he will always be there for you.

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 11 - Loss

[accirax]

With you being a Wolfgrace shipper, what's your thoughts on the fact that they canonically fucked

I personally think it's absolutely hilarious, and also very telling when it comes to how much trust Grace actually had in Wolfgang

i am under the impression that a decent chunk of my followers are minors, so i'm going to put my thoughts under the keep reading. please don't open this if you're under 18 (or don't want spoilers for P:EG Chapter 1)!

LMAO WOLFGRACE REAL

i guess it makes sense that people would fuck during a killing game (? <- confused aspec), and the clothes scattered around the room also certainly had that... implication. even if Ulysses confirms that Wolfgang was just a messy guy, the fact that it was both of their clothes either meant that they were matching each other's freak or... matching each other's freak 😏

the thing that really gets me about this is the timing. roommates were assigned on the night of Day 2 (area investigation day), and the Ulysses/Grace swap happened on the night of Day 3. meanwhile, Wolfgang turns up dead in the morning of Day 5. this means that, assuming that Wolfgang and Grace were "sleeping together" (AKA, they fucked at night), the fucking occurred on the night of Day 3, Day 4, or both.

DAY 3

if they fucked on the night of Day 3, this means that after swapping the rooming assignments around, they immediately started fucking. was this the purpose of changing rooms? was Grace rushing Ulysses' move out because she wanted to have sex with Wolfgang faster? did Wenona and Ulysses know that this would happen?

LIKE HELLO????

WAIT I THOUGHT THIS SOUNDED SUS WHEN I FIRST READ THE SCENE BUT I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS REAL OH MY GOD. THEY DEFINITELY FUCKED ON THIS NIGHT

we also know that the dorms are not soundproof, and in fact have pretty thin walls, as Damon is able to hear Jett sneeze from in the hallway. Wolfgang's room is right next to Mark, and right across from Ingrid's. i don't know if it's been confirmed which of Jett and Mark and Toshiko and Ingrid's room each pair is staying in respectively, but this means there's a decent chance that any of them could have overheard Wolfgang and Grace fucking. there are children about, you sickos (/lh). is this why Mark is such a hater all the time.

also, fucking on Day 3 means that they slept together on the night before the bonus laundry scene. did Ingrid invite them because she knew there were things she didn't want to wash? ,':/

well now i know what was on your mind, buddy.

DAY 4

Day 4 is funny because it opens up the possibility of Grace seducing Wolfgang into gaming with her. ladies, now you know how to make your man step away from the pachinko ;)

i would also have to wonder what was going through Grace's mind the next morning when Wolfgang woke up with a stomach ache. pussy so bad it makes your partner fall ill. where was i going with this

anyways yeah, it really is crazy that two people who generally seem really untrusting of others were able to grow that close with each other that fast. naturally, just because they had sex doesn't mean that they had to be interested in pursuing anything romantic, or therefore more (emotionally) "vulnerable." however, given how upset Grace seems about Wolfgang's death, and the fact that Wolfgang suddenly started calling Grace "Grace" as opposed to "Ms. Madison" (even if the voice line still says Ms. Madison) at the Day 4 breakfast, I would guess that there was mutual interest to some degree.

that also makes Wolfgang's actions on the morning of Day 5 all the more intriguing. if he really did care about Grace, that in my opinion increases the likelihood that he truly did take the knife for self defense. otherwise, if he became the blackened, he would necessarily be signing either his or Grace's death warrant. he definitely could care for her but value his own life and secret more, but again, it leans towards him lashing out at Diana being a result of the hallucinogenics. i'll have to chew on that more in the future.

thanks for sending in the ask :) it's fun to talk about shipping stuff sometimes, even if it always embarrasses me haha

[inkskinned]

"the strike is gonna kill my favorite shows" babe okay if you don't want to think about the human livelihoods at stake (you should really be thinking about the humans though) like. think about what happens after this. when writing pays you enough to eat; more people get to be writers. more stories. more interesting plots and ideas. think about what gets made when artists aren't starving.

you've been complaining for years that tv is going downhill. part of that is because the writers aren't paid enough - a screenwriter needs to be able to live with a very low paycheck while being virtually anonymous, so as a profession it self-selects for a very slim number of people. part of bad writing is burnout and the absolutely criminal amount of influence corporations have over scripts. writing is actually a craft, despite what people who love chatGPT will tell you - and, as a craft; it takes time, diligence, and support.

and yes, i understand. you have a connection to a piece of media, which is what writers want. but we regret to inform you that your blorbo is as real as the image in the mirror - is your reflection actually you? can the reflection ever show anything but the truth? as writers, our work is the reflection. you can't keep throwing our bodies under buses and then being shocked that our work is bitter, 2d, "needs revision". imagine what gets made when the artist is inspired and has the time, space, energy, and fucking budget to actually make what makes them happy.

i love you so much. but also, really - and for real - before anything else, please remember it's human livelihoods at stake.

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[comradekiwi]

mini bkdk fic inspired by this art! pls go show the artist some love!!

also on ao3 here :)

Katsuki finds him after patrol in his old spot. His very old spot, from decades ago.

Izuku is curled up in a plastic tunnel, hand on his chin and muttering to himself as he scribbles, completely tuned out to the happy sounds of children running around their old playground.

It’s a painfully familiar sight, and Katsuki closes his eyes briefly at the pang in his chest as he sees, for one vivid moment, a four year old Deku sitting in the same red circle, with so much more space for his limbs, yet still equally curled into himself and his notebook. Izuku had always been like that, before OFA, most comfortable in a space much smaller than what he actually occupied, and forever curling into it. It was cute, then concerning, then a thing of the past as Izuku settled into his own skin. Now a nostalgic comfort, evidently.

(He’d been chubbier, freckled limbs in shorts and baby cotton, a mess of curls because Izuku loved to stick his hand in his hair while he thought. And he thought a lot, child of wonder, precious to the stars, the son of fate. Future hero of their time.)

Katsuki set one hand above the opening and leaned in.

“Whatcha doin’, nerd?”

Izuku, to his credit, only startled a little. He flashed wide eyes up at Katsuki, and Katsuki got the pleasure of watching his face light up shamelessly.

“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku said cheerfully, and maybe this was how it should’ve gone back then, too, when four-year-old Katsuki stomped up to this same alcove and asked what Izuku was doing, maybe it did despite little Katsuki’s biting tone, because Izuku was always, had always been happy to see him,n maybe the scene had only been ruined by the taunts that came after. Katsuki didn’t quite remember, but it didn’t matter anymore. All the Katsuki of Now cared about was the poorly hidden affection in the glint of this Izuku’s eyes, adoration made solid and safe and secure.

The playset is a familiar feeling under Katsuki’s now rough palms, soft and intermittently scratched in thin lines. Izuku shuffles over in the tunnel and Katsuki folds his body to fit in next to him, and— the smell rocks him back in time, too, rubber and the tang of dirt so unusually close to his head, dyed plastic and oft-rubbed metal. Izuku’s shoulder pressing against his is a rare sensation, but it feels just as nostalgic, especially in here, backs and limbs curved along the inner surface of the tunnel. Katsuki kicks his legs up and almost knees himself in the face. Izuku giggles, and Katsuki shoulder-shoves him, delighting in how Izuku half heartedly shoves back. Izuku’s legs stay down, protectively, like he’s still that little kid so at home in his own tiny cocoon. Katsuki stares at his boots along the tunnel wall, giant in here, especially with their reach.

He shuffles his shoulders down to match Izuku’s, and leans into his space further to peer at his notebook. Izuku lets him, pointing at the page.

“I’m just lesson planning,” he says, tapping his pen at random notes Katsuki can only barely decipher, “They’ll have a pop quiz a month from now, I thought I’d let them do something fun afterwards as a treat.”

“You’re too soft on them,” Katsuki informs him for the umpteenth time. Izuku laughs at him as always.

“Sure, Kacchan,” he says, and Katsuki will never, ever get over how his name sounds from Izuku’s mouth, melodious like Izuku cradles it on the way out, like he’s singing it. He’s so— enchanting, his boy. Katsuki tries to throw an arm around him but ends up smacking his knuckles on hard plastic, and it stings like a bitch. He does not make a noise, but Izuku coos at him anyway, taking his hand and rubbing it, and Katsuki’s perfectly fine with that. He’s still tracing his notes with his eyes, thinking, always thinking, even as he absentmindedly brushes his mouth over Katsuki’s knuckles in some of Auntie Inko’s Healing Kisses. Izuku rubs his soft lips back and forth over his fingers, fully distracted now, enjoying the sensory stimulation. Katsuki lets him, chest stupidly warm, for a full minute before dragging his knuckles up over Izuku’s cheek, up and down, the skin endearingly freckled and babysoft even in his twenties. Izuku leans into his hand, and finally closes his eyes.

The sun was beginning to tease at setting, and Katsuki watches Izuku turn his head to look out the far end of the tunnel. Sunlight kissed the tops of his cheeks, dragged down his eyelashes. Katsuki couldn’t see much besides the back of Izuku’s head, but even this was precious to him for some godforsaken reason, from his crown to the nape of his neck where green curled enticingly against bare skin.

He leans forward to press his cheek against Izuku’s and look out, too. Some tots stumble over each other in excited giggles, pick themselves up from rubber mulch like they’d already forgotten the fall.

Katsuki feels Izuku’s cheek pull with a smile against his own, and the feeling is so — Katsuki doesn’t have words for it, but he just has to kiss him, so he does, right there in the kiddie tunnel of their neighborhood playground. He kisses his sweet, soft cheek, and then his temple, close-mouthed and drawn-out. He loves him so much. Maybe they’d have their own kids to watch from here some day. Or to seat beside them, an addition to their spot.

Katsuki sat back against the tunnel wall and Izuku ducked his face into his neck, the skin suspiciously warm. The nerd was probably blushing, as if they didn’t kiss, often much more salaciously, all the time. Katsuki rubbed his head with his chin, lasting about ten seconds before digging it into Izuku’s scalp with his jaw a little just to be a dick. Izuku shook him off and pouted even as he leaned into Katsuki’s mouth with the ease of a soul-bound lover, even though they weren’t even engaged yet. Soon, though. Katsuki was just waiting for the right time to really knock his socks off. It was the least he could do, after everything Izuku offered him.

(Love and safety and forgiveness. Somewhere to keep his heart safe, outside of his own body. Atonement and adoration and victory and a home.)

They didn’t kiss for long, they were in public after all, and even if no one could really see much over Katsuki’s shoulders or with the angle from the other end of the tunnel, they were still on a kids playground, and Katsuki was a pro with a reputation to uphold. He was honestly fairly certain a sneaky photo of him gently kissing his lover in an old playset would do wonders for his ranking, but he was selfish anyway, and wanted to keep these moments with Izuku for himself. Wanted to keep this side of himself for Izuku.

“C’mon. I’ll make curry tonight,” Katsuki mumbled against Izuku’s lips, hoping that would be enough for Izuku to pull away, because gods know in this one situation Katsuki is never strong enough to do it himself. As predicted, Izuku slips away with a soft noise that digs into Katsuki’s soul, and starts mumbling about groceries they’ll need to get on the way home, then.

Katsuki knows all that already, that’s why he came here to get him after all, so they could go together, so he takes to watching the dusk sink into the green of Izuku’s eyes, paint a glow into his face and his lips. He shuffles out obediently when Izuku starts pushing him, drags him out with one hand just to see him blush and stutter. Katsuki brushes a hand over the box in his pocket and thinks, maybe here, maybe this time of day, maybe soon. Izuku takes his hand easily and they start the short walk to the grocery store.

Soon, soon. Katsuki can’t wait.

[mongeese]

Now, I haven't actually listened to all that many audio drama podcasts in comparison to other podcast fans, but I really genuinely honest-to-god believe that as audio drama expands as a medium and if fiction podcasting gains mainstream attention that The Silt Verses will be held up as a groundbreaking example of what audio drama can be and as a show that pushed and expanded the boundaries of the medium. Even the roughness of the audio (mainly in season 1 but there are some messy bits throughout the show) I think is an indication of the show's sheer ambition and creative vision, running into the limitations and either pulling back in creative ways or breaking those boundaries. Like imo it's truly unmatched in audio drama productions right now. I've never heard anything like it before. The fandom is not the biggest compared to the really famous podcasts (though it is sizeable and growing!), but I hope that one day TSV gets the acclaim it deserves because it is really, really that good

[eshithepetty]

Thinking about Mob and contradictions today.

About how he's seen as this emotionless, unemotive person, yet he has all these strong emotions whirling on inside him. How he's seen as gullible and air-headed, yet he thinks every little thing through, and only is so easily taken advantage of cause he doesn't value himself. How he's seen as unintelligent, especially academically, yet he becomes so emotionally intelligent over the course of the series. How he's seen as this endlessly kind, endlessly patient and forgiving person, but as we find out in confession arc, he has a deep well of resentment growing inside him that ends in him near-killing his friends out of that anger. How his eyes are red, symbolising both love and passion and rage and danger at once. How his form can change from a monstrous black hole to an innocent, ordinary middle schooler at will. How his hands have both been used to spill blood and gently hold.

And they're not contradictions, really. It's just that he contains multitudes. It's just that he's human.

And he's loved not despite, but precisely because of it. We all are.