#but why do I still lose

[aestatismors]

.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"Why did I do that?"

close up

[egophiliac]

Final manifestations for Book 7?

I'm trying REALLY hard not to build up any solid expectations, because I wanna go in ~fresh~! they're already so far away from anything I thought would happen (not in a bad way, I'm just accepting that I'm on Miss Yana's Wild Ride at this point and we're seeing this thing through 'til the end, by gum). so it's nothing too major, but:

they've been handing new crying expressions out like candy lately, I want to see some delicious Malleus tears.

honestly I want everyone to cry buckets. their tears sustain me. the more Silver angst specifically I get the happier I am.

SILVER!!!! 👏 VANROUGE!!!! 👏

just let him have this. the poor boy's been through so much. let him have his big "I'm proud of you, son" moment with Lilia.

I'm 100% expecting Grim's arc (and probably whatever's going on with Crowley) to be its own episode, but a nice hook to leave us hanging on would be good!

a nice hook though, please, I don't think I can take another "Grim is attacking us! now wait eight months to find out what happens :)" cliffhanger...

some Meleanor? as a treat? just a little bit, a tiny quick flashback or something, please Twst I just, I just want to see her again. let her have a little ghost cameo like Dawnathan Knight got. Lilia and his kids are all having their big group hug or whatever and she can gently fade in to be all like

(turning asks off until I'm done playing, SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE Y'ALL)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[umblrspectrum]

my text disappeared here when i posted. what happened

[just-null]

HELLO HANTENGU NATION (5 people)

I'VE MADE AN [unofficial] HEIGHT CHART FOR MYSELF

Hantengu: 5"5 (166cm) Sekido: 5"9 (175cm) Karaku: 5"9 (175cm) Urogi: 5"9 (175cm) Aizetsu: 5"9 (174cm) Zohakuten: 5"3 (160cm) Urami: 8"5 (257cm)

[little aftermath under the cut]

they're so annoying. peace is nonexistent... they're the best ever.

[radpool]

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself

to hold on to these moments as they pass

- counting crows, a long december

detail below the cut (and wolverine angsty musings in the tags lol)

[batcavescolony]

To like comics is to ignore comics.

When your favorite character has existed for 80+ years, has had 100s of writers, has changed over and over again, sometimes they got it wrong. You have to decide what to ignore for your own sanity.

[tackykachowch]

This is what they should've added to Jinx's design in season 2. Btw

UPD: I also want to add this screenshot of my tags on my first ever post about Jinx because I still agree with what I said

[bring-onthe-rain]

dude I just saw someone say that Stobotnik is queer baiting when Stone is literally like this for all three movies

[egophiliac]

they're baaaaaack

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[arttsuka]

Some past fiddlestan? (Like Ford just went through the portal. He gone now. Past. Yk?)

The mystery misery yaoi

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

heeyyy gaaanggg

the pose and the background of the album version (left) are based on oingo boingos only a lad album art. not cause i think he has anything to do with it but just cause ive been wantin to draw that pose for like. weeks and i didnt know who to put there. so why not my latest bug man.

[ruporas]

special operatives (silly interaction beneath read more)

[ID: Digital Art in color of Trigun Maximum, characters included are Wolfwood, Elendira, and Legato in a casual meeting situation. The piece consists of orangey yellow lighting and purple shadows. Wolfwood sits on the left side, facing Elendira who’s on the right. He’s seated on a plain wooden chair with one knee up and he’s holding the strap to his Punisher in his left hand while his right sits against his thigh, He has an irritated expression as he speaks to Elendira. Elendira is sitting in a fancier seat, her right arm rests against Wolfwood’s propped up knee, her left hand holds her suitcase. She’s sitting cross legged with an amused expression. Legato can be seen in the back at the center of the image in his mobile body case, one of his eyes shown to be glaring at Wolfwood. End ID]

[ID: Sketch, uncolored comic. Elendira says to Wolfwood, “I’m not telling you to dedicate yourself to him, but just accept the situation at hand. We could get along better if we were on the same page.” Wolfwood responds, “Don’t peg me me for an optimist. I’m not dumb. But, I’m also not going to just live in resignation. Plus, I don’t have any interest in getting along with ya.” Elendira coos, “Aw, you sure? I have a wonderful shoulder to cry on when the weak people you’re trying to protect eventually dies in the coming months. Though, I guess it’s fine. Someone like you might just die before then anyway...” She snickers in her hand while Wolfwood is speechless and just glares. Legato is faintly drawn in the back, glaring at Wolfwood, muttering “worthless” repetitively. End ID]

[ramshacklerumble]

slow down, it’s a science / he’s been waiting / to bring you down / snake-eyed with a sly smile / he can hold you / and shake you, child

twst fic | 440 words

Gia peeked into the Mostro Lounge’s VIP room through the crack between the doors. The lights weren’t on, but an alertness humming through their veins told them the room wasn’t empty. They slipped in, quickly and quietly shutting the doors behind them before the lights and the noise from the lounge shattered the calm.

Stepping through the darkness with the deftness of someone unfortunately familiar with the room, Gia caught the dark shape of the couches around the coffee table. An even darker shape sprawled across the one on the left— a shadow over shadow.

Gia avoided that couch and instead slid into the empty one on the right. They’d barely taken off their second shoe when the darker shape chuckled.

“You’re skipping, too?”

Gia looked for a glimmer of gold from the shape and found none. The creature, despite acknowledging their presence, kept his eyes closed. “On break.”

“Mm…” He said and didn’t follow it with anything else. It was probably not a reply and more a hum born of sinking back into sleep.

With a soft huff— what Gia wouldn’t do to be able to fall asleep that easily— they laid on their side. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to take a nap, but their body would surely welcome the rest.

“Gia.”

Their eyes snapped to the fluttering glimmer of gold now taking them into focus.

“C’mere.” said Floyd. They couldn’t see his smile, but they could hear it.

“…What?”

“You heard me.”

They didn’t get up immediately. Even though hearing their name in his voice hadn’t lost its novelty and always came with a shiver up their spine.

But they moved slowly off the couch, slowly around the coffee table and slowly sat on the edge of his couch. They sensed rather than saw his hand rise up and grab hold of their braid and start to tug down.

Likewise, he must have sensed the tension squaring their shoulders and balling their fists because he giggled. His weight shifted. His hand slipped around their back, pulling them down. Down. Until their head rested on his chest and they fit snugly between his legs.

Floyd shifted some more as if reaching for something over the back of the couch. Fabric rustled and weight fell on Gia���s back. His blazer. Another weight. His other arm.

Gia felt the deep rise and fall of his chest as he let out a sigh. Gia waited for him to say something else— he never did.

It was still dark, but Gia curled their fingers into the cloth of the blazer and pulled it over their shoulders, hoping to cover their face.

—

ngl i feel really self-conscious when i try to delve into the softer aspects of gia and floyd’s dynamic because when i look at floyd leech, i do not think ‘soft’ and sometimes i debate whether or not i’m delving into ooc territory, especially when i take in account that i wrote this a few weeks back when i just needed something self-indulgent. but like…listen. they’re in this weird place where they’re kinda testing out…whatever this is. gia is touch-starved and has secretly been thinking about this whole thing since it happened and floyd is…honestly just curious to see where this whole thing goes, getting under gia’s skin all the while.

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @winterweary @thehollowwriter @harryinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@s-t-y-x @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade @oya-oya-okay @scint1llat3 @welcometomypersonalhell098 (dm to be added)