#disaster quartet

[corrupted-inkwell]

Introducing my DP OC: Dionysia Nova! Casper High's new foreign student. A greek vegan girl in dark clothing, certainly not the criteria of the popular so she's quickly labelled an outcast, (once more). Sam urges the boys to adopt her in the trio, even tho Danny and Tucker were hesitant at first. After hanging out for a whole semester and facing numerous challenges they quickly develop a bond as a troublesome quartet always finding themselves in ghostly shenanigans.

My style vs as close as I can to the DP style

Work in progress doodles:

She's a work in progress. The whole AU is a work in progress and I'm trying to figure out where to fit it with the canon timeline. Maybe somewhere midway season 2. But seeing as the DP OC Parade Event is in the horizon it gave me more motivation to start fleshing out AU more. Also I gotta figure out what to name it.

I also have a DP Collage/Uni AU and a DP x Arcane AU stewing my brain simultaneously. Help.

Fun fact: initially the OC was created in elementary school because I had a crush on Danny (like all of us) but now that I'm all grown up, rewatching it, I'm rebirthing the OC because I believe Sam deserves a girl best friend. (don't get me started on the underutilized female characters of the show I won't stop talking for DAYS) so yes I'm throwing this shameless almost self-insert girl in the universe to bring all the DP girlies together.

[green-hat-boy]

KyJay doodle assortment + Disaster Super Bestie Quartet + an extra bit of Stan practicing makeup on Sky + L + ratio. Several of these were made before I made my refs/finalized the AU designs.

[illdothehotvoice]

Anyways with Walpurgisnaught Rising coming out y'all better start acting real normal about Homura real quick

[clioerato]

Guys, pause. This is just character exploration, okay? I’m still trying to figure out whether I feel cozy in this concept or if it weirds me out in all the wrong or right ways.

So—Robin is Steve’s platonic soulmate. They’re basically conjoined twins, himbo and bimbo, two chaotic halves of one disaster queer brain cell. They finish each other’s sentences and even kinda look like they were separated at birth.

And then Eddie shows up. And suddenly everything gets complicated for Steve, because now he’s wondering… does he need to start creating some space between himself and Robin? Not that he would—he’d sooner chew off his own arm. But like, is Eddie cool with Steve talking to Robin about sex? Taking bubble baths with her? Kissing her forehead and napping in her lap?

But Eddie—somehow—makes their platonic trio work. He’s just as comfortable with Robin as he is with Steve. He does her laundry and writes a song that includes a trumpet solo just for her. There’s always a spare toothbrush and pajama set in his trailer them. He bought pads for her and they both, Steve and Eddie, have a calendar of her cycles. And they’ve all grown disturbingly comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed (platonic).

Lines? Blurred beyond recognition. Especially once they move to Chicago and rent an apartment together.

At some point, each of them has a mini existential crisis like, “Is this… normal?” But they talk about it (because emotional maturity, surprisingly), and eventually land on: if it works for them, then it works. Full stop.

They’ve got a trio situation going on, which could technically be disrupted if Robin meets someone she wants to move in with. Or maybe that girlfriend fits in so well they become a quartet. Who knows.

Yes, Robin does date in Chicago. She sees girls, she has a good time. But she doesn’t feel the need to get too serious. Moreover, there is something about their experience with the Upside Down that makes it a little difficult to build relationships outside of the group. It may not be a healthy story, but Robin is okay with it. I mean, she’s already emotionally entangled with two disaster men, even if it’s platonic.

Things reach new levels of “Wait, what?” when Robin, nearing 30, agrees to be the surrogate for Steve and Eddie’s baby. (Biologically this is Eddie's child, because Steve and Robin are literally one being, they decided this together) She goes through IVF, and they’re both with her the entire way. And in the end (because let’s be real, everyone saw it coming), they raise that kid together. As three.

Untraditional? Absolutely. Dysfunctional? Maybe. But it works.

[storks-notlarks]

these are a DELIGHT!

the spellcoat family sketches

[rosierin]

when the world isn't kind (at least they are) | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n)'s day has been a string of minor disasters. she’s cold, wet, and one comment away from crying. lucky for her, she lives with three people who know just how to fix a bad day.

a/n; thanks anon for the request!! i enjoyed writing this ☺️

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

She hadn’t woken up in a bad mood.

In fact, she’d actually felt kind of hopeful. The sky had been soft and grey, the air cool enough to wear a sweater, and she’d hummed her way through brushing her teeth, already thinking about the green tea and toast she’d have before work.

But the kitchen... had other plans.

No green tea. No jam. Just an almost-empty jar that looked like someone had scraped it clean and then smugly put the lid back on. She stood there for a moment, toast in hand, chewing on dry disappointment and reminding herself it wasn’t a big deal. Minor inconvenience. Not the end of the world.

Then she missed her bus. Not by a lot—just enough to watch it glide past her like a cruel joke, her half-eaten toast still in hand. She stared after it, mouth full, heart already starting to sink. The next bus was late. The air was muggy. Her tote bag strap kept slipping off her shoulder.

By the time she got to work, the café was already drowning in orders. They were short-staffed, the espresso machine was being temperamental, and one of the to-go lids kept popping off no matter how hard she pressed it down. A customer complained that her “vibe” was off. Another one yelled at her because they ordered almond milk and somehow got oat. She burned her hand. Her manager raised an eyebrow like it was her fault the universe was visibly against her.

Still, she kept it in. Smiled when she had to. Made it through the day on muscle memory and caffeine and one lone protein bar she found at the bottom of her bag—probably the one Suna gave her earlier that week. At least it was her favourite flavour. Small mercy, she supposed.

When her shift finally ended, she didn’t even clock the clouds until she was pushing the café door open. The bell above her jingled. The air smelled damp.

She stepped outside—and sighed. A deep, resentful, resigned, and exhausted sigh.

Rain.

Not the soft, misty kind—the drizzly kind she could potentially work with. No. It had to be the cold, needly, drench-you-in-seconds kind.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting.

And of course. Of course.

Today of all days, she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella.

Because why would she? The morning had been grey, not stormy. And she was tired. And her brain was full of everything except weather.

So she just stood there for a second. Let it hit her. Let the water soak into her sleeves, her shoes, her skin.

Then she walked. Head down. Shoulders hunched. Rain dripping from her hair and one minor inconvenience away from a full-blown breakdown.

By the time she pushed open the front door of the apartment, all she wanted was a bath. Maybe a hot chocolate—if they even HAD any—and then bed. No boys. No banter. No dinner table nonsense. Just steam, silence, and sleep.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit and quiet. It smelled faintly of something Osamu had probably cooked earlier, something homely and rich. Her keys clinked into the bowl by the door as she slipped off her shoes with a sigh, water squelching in her socks.

From the living room, she heard the low murmur of the TV. Suna’s armchair creaked slightly, and Osamu’s spoon tapped against a bowl. Neither of them called out to her, but she felt the shift in energy—the subtle way the room quieted at the sound of the door, like they had somehow already picked up on her bad vibes.

“Hey,” Osamu said, voice low and even. Gentle, but not pitiful.

Suna’s eyes flicked toward her, taking in her drenched clothes and the unmistakable aura of someone on the brink. “You okay?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded once, already moving toward the stairs. “Just gonna shower.”

Neither of them stopped her. No jokes, no teasing. Just a quiet “Alright,” from Osamu and the return of the TV hum as she trudged past them.

But then—

From the kitchen came him.

Mister Tactless himself.

Atsumu, barefoot and fresh from a snack raid, rounded the corner with a slice of cold pizza in his hand and a mouthful of something stupid to say.

He barely looked at her before the laugh slipped out.

“Shit—ya look like a drowned rat.”

It wasn’t cruel. Just thoughtless. Reflexive. The kind of teasing that normally earned him a shove or an eye-roll.

But tonight it landed differently.

Her breath caught in her chest, like something inside her clenched all at once and just... snapped. She didn’t even say anything. Just… stood there, dripping on the hardwood floor, lip trembling before she could stop it.

Atsumu blinked. The smile slid off his face.

“Wait—hey, I didn’t—”

Her hands came up to her face, and then it happened. The kind of crying that didn’t make a sound at first—just shaking shoulders and a sharp inhale, like her body was trying to hold it in but failing.

Osamu stood up, face hardening as he shot Atsumu a look. Suna didn’t say anything, just dragged his chair in a slow pivot to glance at the scene.

Atsumu was frozen. Like someone had unplugged his brain. Even the pizza seemed to droop slightly in his hand.

“Shit, okay—c’mere.”

He set his food down and crossed the room fast, arms hesitating for a half second before he wrapped them around her, warm and solid and stupidly gentle for someone who’d just called her a wet rodent.

“'M sorry, ’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, rocking her a little like that might help. His voice was quiet now, words pressed into her hair. “'M sorry sweetheart. I thought you’d joke back. I didn’t know, I swear."

She shook her head against his chest, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

“No, it’s not you,” she mumbled, voice watery. “I just… I’ve had a really shitty day.”

She didn’t pull away right away. Just stayed there, tucked into him like she was trying to disappear. Her breath hiccupped against his chest, damp clothes clinging to both of them now.

Atsumu ran his palm up and down her back in slow, shaky sweeps. Like he wasn’t totally sure it was helping, but couldn’t stop himself.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

She exhaled through her nose, shaky and tired. “Just… everything. It honestly just felt like one thing after another. I kept it in all day and now it’s like—” She pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s stupid. I just wanna take a bath and go to bed.”

“S'not stupid.”

He said it instantly. No teasing. No grin. Just a low murmur with an edge of guilt clinging to the end of it.

“Alright,” he added after a pause, stepping back like he didn’t want to crowd her, “Go run yer bath. I’ll heat somethin’ up in case ya get hungry later.”

She nodded, still blinking back the last of her tears, and gave him a tired half-smile. Not quite forgiveness. But close.

He watched her retreat down the hall, water still trailing behind her, and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink.

Behind him, Suna muttered mockingly. “Drowned rat?”

Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bathroom filled with steam in minutes, fogging up the mirror and softening the harshness of the day. She sank into the water slowly, letting out a shaky breath as the warmth wrapped around her like a balm. For the first time since she’d woken up, her shoulders started to lower. Her jaw unclenched. Her eyes fluttered shut.

The bath salts she’d been saving for a “bad day” finally got their moment. Lavender and eucalyptus curled through the air, calming her nerves as they prickled beneath the surface. Her hair was damp and messy, her eyes still puffy, but the silence was kind. Her breath came easier here.

She didn’t stay in long. Just long enough to stop shaking. Long enough to feel like herself again.

After wrapping herself in her softest pyjamas and towel-drying her hair, she padded barefoot back toward her room, ready to collapse into bed and forget today ever happened.

But when she opened her door, something else caught her attention.

There, sitting neatly on the centre of her bed, was a single daisy from the living room vase. It was slightly crooked, like it had been plucked in a hurry. Next to it sat her favourite kind of chocolate bar—half-melted around the edges like someone had clutched onto it too tightly.

A folded scrap of paper sat beneath the daisy. Her name jotted across it in messy, slightly smudged handwriting.

She recognised it instantly. Picked it up with a curious hum.

Sorry again for earlier. You’re not a drowned rat. Also Samu said I’m banned from the kitchen so if you’re hungry I’ll just order ya somethin. Just say the word. Please don’t hate me. – Tsumu ♡

She stood there for a long moment, lips twitching into the kind of smile you don’t even feel at first. Then she placed the flower gently on her nightstand, unwrapped the chocolate, and read the note one more time—tracing her thumb over the messy little heart at the end.

And just like that, the heaviness in her chest loosened a little.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being alone anymore.

She padded out of her room and down the stairs, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. Her hair was damp and slightly frizzy, her cheeks still a little pink from the bath, but she didn’t care. Not anymore.

Suna looked up first. He didn’t say anything—just raised his eyebrows slightly in greeting and moved his legs so she could sit down.

Osamu glanced over from the armchair. “There’s soup on the stove,” he said casually. “And hot chocolate in the thermos.”

Atsumu twisted around on the couch, too swift for it to be casual. His face lit up in that boyish, unfiltered way he never quite managed to hide around her.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Feelin’ better?”

She nodded, curling up between him and Suna with a tired little sigh. “Yeah.”

He draped an arm over her blanket cocoon, hesitating for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was still in trouble.

Then she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Forgiven.

They watched some random show for a while. Nothing important. Nothing serious. Suna handed her a mug of hot chocolate without looking. Osamu disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared with a warm bowl of soup and a slice of bread, setting it on the coffee table like he could already sense her hunger even before she did.

No one said much.

But her eyes stopped stinging. Her chest felt a little less heavy. And when Atsumu nudged her knee and whispered, “yer the cutest rat I've ever seen” she rolled her eyes—but smiled this time.

The world hadn’t been kind to her today. But her friends were.

And that made all the difference.

[cowboyod]

˚ · . Espresso

summary - You and Spencer get ready and party with your friends in celebration of their new marriage.

warnings - none! just fluffy nonsense

pairing - Spencer Agnew x reader

featuring - Courtney Miller, Shayne Topp, Arasha Lelani, Angela Giarratana.

word count - 960

note - First time posting a fic and first time writing one in a while! It's a little silly. Let me know what you think!

“Spencer, come on! We’re gonna be late!” you shout as you struggle to put your shoes on while moving to the front door. Spencer was in front of the bathroom mirror fidgeting with his tie trying to tie it correctly. His tongue pokes out of his mouth in concentration. 

“I’m almost ready, I promise,” he replies. 

You poke your head into the bathroom and watch your boyfriend struggle to put the final details of his outfit together. 

“Oh, honey. You’re too cute. Here.” You cut in front of him and have an attempt at the tie. Spencer puts his hands on your hips with a light squeeze. 

“You look beautiful, baby. Look at you!” You smile as you fidgets with the tie. You got dressed up in a nice, semi-casual dress. It's a short, green, fit and flare dress you got a while back with nowhere to wear it to. It's one of your favorites in your closet.

“I will look at me when we get this tie perfect” Spencer lets out a breathy laugh and you pat his chest to signal that the tie is tied. You turn around in Spencer’s arms and look at the cute couple in the mirror with soft smiles on your faces.

“We’ll be the second cutest couple at this party!” Y/n giggles and rolls her eyes.

“Okay, let’s go! We’re already running behind!”

~~~~~

You and Spencer arrive hand in hand to Shayne and Courtney’s apartment, gift bag at the ready. The newlyweds were celebrating their marriage and decided to throw a cute little house party with a handful of their friends.

“You made it!” Courtney exclaimed when she heard the door close behind the two new guests.

“Hi, babe! Congratulations, we brought you guys a little gift!” You hand Court a little bag that reveals two shooters of alcohol with their names and wedding date painted with cute little designs. “Spence and I each painted one of them!” 

“Oh, stop! This is so cute!” They draw out their words slightly. “Shayne is gonna love them too! You guys are so thoughtful. Angela did something similar, we’re gonna have the cutest little trinket collection!” Courtney the two of you hugs and makes an exit to check on some other guests. 

Spencer ends up on an armchair chatting with a few work friends, drink in hand made by the one and only Tommy Bowe. The party was very sweet and calm when the couple arrived but now you join a group consisting of Angela, Arasha, and Courtney, creating a quartet of chaos. 

As Shayne talks to Spencer and the others in the living room about some of the music he’s been listening to, the four make an entrance, all sporting various blonde wigs.

“Did somebody say Sabrina Carpenter?” Courtney shouts, leading the way to the front of the living room; now stage. “Hit it, Ang!” Angela starts playing ‘Espresso’ from her phone as the group begins singing off key and dancing poorly in front of the room. 

You hear Shayne’s infectious laugh pour out of him as he watches his wife bring extra life to the room with a silly performance. The show is a disaster, just how they planned. You and Angela bonk your heads against one another while dancing poorly, leaving everyone in a fit of giggles. You hold your head, laughing, and head over to where Spencer is sitting and you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

“My head hurts, Spence” You drag out the last vowel in a whine, feigning a frown on your face. “Will you kiss it better?” Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Ew, no” you scoff at him and pout. He leans close to you, pauses and then kisses your pout away. “This wig is ridiculous, where’d you even find that?” You nod your head towards Court and take the wig off.

“Courtney had them in a random closet. Here.” You place the wig on his head. “You’re so pretty now!” 

“Was I not pretty before?” You shrug and Spencer scoffs with offense. “Shayne, aren't I so pretty without the wig? Y/n thinks the blonde is really working for me.” 

Shayne lets out a laugh and takes Spencer’s side. The two of you bicker back and forth and giggles are heard throughout the room. “I think you’ve had too many drinks, babe. You obviously have clouded judgement if you think I’m prettier with the wig on.” You laugh and nods your head, finally giving in.

The party begins to wrap up and Spencer takes notice of your sleepy eyes. You and Spencer say your goodbyes and congratulations to Shourtney before leaving and Spencer offers to swing by in the morning to help clean. “Thank you, Spence. I think we’ll be okay, you two have a good night!” Courtney hugs Spencer bidding him goodbye.

“Thank you for the gift by the way. Courtney was super excited about it, it’s very sweet. We’ll have those for a long time.” Shayne says quietly to you. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you both like them. You two are so great together I’m so happy for you both. Thanks for having us.” Shayne puts his arms around you and gives you a big hug. “Thank you. You and Spencer are next I’m sure.” 

Spencer takes notice of the little blush on your cheeks as you finish your farewells and turn out the door. 

~~~~~

He offers his jacket as the couple walks to the car and opens the door for her. “Home?” 

“Yeah.” a soft smile appears on her face. “One day we’ll throw a party like that.” Spencer hums.

“Yeah.” He reaches for her leg across the console. “I love you.” She puts her hand on top of his.

“I love you too.” 

[goldfades]

never gets old ─── luka dončić⁷⁷

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | how valentine's always goes for you and the mister, because it never gets old and you don't need big gifts to show your love.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluffy as hell, literally that's it

The apartment smells like pancakes.

It’s the first thing you register when you blink awake, eyes still hazy with sleep, the soft weight of Luka’s arm slung lazily around your waist. The second thing you register is the sound—low music playing from the speakers, something easy and old-school, mixed in with the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. And then there’s the warmth, the way Luka’s body practically molds to yours, his breath steady and slow against your shoulder.

Valentine’s Day.

You smile before you even fully open your eyes because you already know exactly how today will go. Because it always goes the same way.

No grand surprises, no over-the-top displays, just the two of you in this home you built together, moving through the day like second nature. Luka, who wakes up before you on mornings like this just to make breakfast (even though he’s an objectively terrible cook, but it’s the effort that counts). You, who will pretend not to notice the flour dusted on his sweatpants when he inevitably burns the first batch and has to start over. The way he’ll kiss your forehead when you shuffle into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and act like he’s been cooking for years—like there isn’t a half-disguised takeout bag sitting in the trash from his backup plan.

The best part? It never gets old.

The first time Luka tried to do Valentine’s Day the way he thought he was supposed to—the big, flashy, dramatic way—it had been a disaster.

Not because he didn’t try. If anything, he tried too hard.

It was back in the early days of your relationship, when the world had just started paying attention to him, and by extension, to you. Luka was still getting used to the constant eyes, the cameras flashing whenever you so much as held hands in public. Back then, he was convinced that he needed to prove something—not just as a boyfriend, but as Luka Dončić, rising NBA superstar, man of grand gestures. So he did what anyone with too much money and too much influence at their disposal would do: he went all out.

A private rooftop dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Dallas, complete with a string quartet playing love songs in the background. A designer dress he had custom-ordered weeks in advance, along with the matching jewelry set that made you blink at the price tag in disbelief. Rose petals scattered everywhere—on the table, on the floor, even in the damn elevator up to the rooftop. And, of course, the final touch: a professional photographer hired to capture every single moment of the night, so perfectly curated that it barely felt real.

It should have been a dream. It should have been perfect.

It wasn’t.

Luka was nervous the entire night, checking in with the waitstaff every few minutes, his knee bouncing under the table. You spent half the dinner making small talk with the photographer, who was taking pictures of you at every possible angle, until eventually, you both looked at each other and realized—this wasn’t you. This wasn’t your relationship.

By the time dessert came, you could tell Luka was exhausted. He was trying so hard to impress you, but the thing was… he never needed to.

So you leaned across the table, rested your hand over his, and with the same quiet certainty that had always been there between you, you told him, This isn’t us.

And that was it. That was the moment things shifted.

Instead of finishing the dessert, you both left the restaurant, ditching the whole thing in favor of picking up burgers and fries from the nearest drive-thru. Luka had laughed—one of those real, unguarded laughs, the kind that made his whole face light up—and you knew then that this was what Valentine’s Day should be. Just the two of you, doing something easy, something simple, something that felt like home.

So that’s what you did every year after that.

No more extravagant plans. No more performances for the cameras. Just warmth and routine, the kind of love that settled into your bones and stayed there. A day that belonged to you, and only you.

Which is why, now, as you roll over in bed and hear Luka humming softly in the kitchen, the smell of slightly burnt pancakes filling the apartment, you can’t help but smile.

Because this?

This is perfect.

--

The pancakes are slightly overcooked.

Not burnt, exactly, but just enough that the edges are crispier than they should be, a little too golden-brown. Luka doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he’s just pretending not to—because he’s already drenching his stack in syrup, more than any normal person should ever use. You watch as he drowns the plate, then tilts his head at you like he’s waiting for judgment.

“You gonna say something?” he asks, chewing as he gestures at you with his fork.

You pick up your own, cutting into the pancake and taking a bite, chewing slowly just to mess with him. It’s not bad. A little dry, but nothing a good amount of butter and syrup can’t fix.

“I mean,” you hum, swallowing, “it’s not exactly a five-star meal, but I will say it’s an improvement from last year.”

Luka scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, last year’s were better.”

“Luka, you set the fire alarm off last year.”

“I was testing it.”

You roll your eyes, but your laugh slips out before you can stop it. This is how it always is—easy, warm, the kind of comfort that settles into your bones. The TV plays softly in the background, some random show neither of you are paying attention to, and the morning light spills through the windows, painting the apartment in soft gold.

And then you see it.

A small, perfectly wrapped box sitting on the table next to Luka’s plate.

You narrow your eyes. “Luka.”

He doesn’t look up, just keeps eating like he doesn’t hear you.

“Luka,” you say again, this time more pointed. “What is that?”

Finally, he leans back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and gives you that look. The one that’s all boyish charm, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “A gift.”

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “We said no big gifts.”

“I didn’t say it was big,” he says, shoving another bite into his mouth.

“You do this every year—”

“And you love it every year.”

You can’t even argue with that, so you just shake your head as you reach for the box, fingers tracing the smooth edges before carefully peeling back the paper. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, is a delicate gold bracelet—thin and dainty, the kind of piece that looks effortless but still means something. It’s simple, but there’s something intricate about the way the links are woven together, like they’re unbreakable. Like they’re made to last.

You blink, touched in a way you don’t quite have words for. “Luka.”

“You were talking about it the other week,” he says, watching your reaction carefully. “Figured I’d beat you to it.”

You remember, vaguely, mentioning something similar offhandedly—something about how you liked the way it looked, how it wasn’t too flashy but still had weight to it. You hadn’t even realized he’d been listening that closely.

You swallow past the warmth climbing up your throat. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah,” Luka grins, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes crinkling at the corners, “but I like spoiling you.”

You shake your head, fighting a smile as you slip the bracelet onto your wrist. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

He’s not wrong.

So instead of arguing, you reach across the table and take his hand, fingers slotting easily between his. “Good thing I don’t mind.”

[iamhereinthebg]

Heya Anon! (I speedran this doodle because I got emotionnal)

I see the vision, I used to be insane about the possiblity of a Teru and Nene's friendship, they would be so so funny together :DD

I also like the idea of Teru needing a friend who is more.. chill ? Nene judges him a lot for random stuff in canon but it's really not the same as Akane or Aoi who are just 'this guy is truly insane ._.' (and good for them tbh love them a lot) And she still goes sparkly eyes for him sometimes even when he says the most insane things and I like that sm

(in french he says: "And well, I am the embodiment/personification of beauty" I find it wonderful either way)

And Nene having someone who could teach her stuff about the supernatural world while judging her hard af for how she acts around them sometimes would be a really funny dynamic too. None of them would have chill with the other but I think this is why it could be so good. And Teru would be overjoyed to teach her stuff (in the hope she would destroy Hanako, this is the true motivation)

They truly would be a no braincells duo

(an old doodle I still love a lot this guy is a disaster at handling people showing emotions in front of him)

And they do care for each other in canon , their teamup for the new timeline was really cute :DD

(I am just sad we didn't have much but lol I won't talk about the disappointement that this arc is for me :'))

I agree that they would watch random stuff together especially because Teru doesn't have much knowledges in that and Nene may have... too much. I truly think they could be great friends (and Nene has the patience of a saint have you seen her with Mitsuba or even Hanako? ToT She would be able to handle Teru)

I used to be obsessed with the Survivor quartet as I call them (Akane, Nene, Teru and Kou) and I have a tag for them #survivorquartet with random doodles/hcs if you need more stuff :DD (most are really old so some of my opinion has changed izvkdvd)

Little comic I did of them that I still love a lot, help this poor girl she needs it

And don't be ashamed to post if you want to, I am sure you're not the only one liking this friendship :DD Especially since you're talking about a fic! This means others people like it too! (and even if that wasn't the case, be free Anon this is honestly how you can have the most fun in a fandom, my main metaphor is the sandbox in a corner doing whatever and sometimes some people go to talk with you, this is the funniest part of being in a fandom for me :))

And if you're bothered about the ship you can just say in the tags that it's platonic. That's something I did once and most people respected to not tag it with the ship name ^^ Fandom and posting are supposed to be fun so you shouldn't feel pressured by it but I understand if you're scared/don't know if you wanna post, take your time :))) I believe in youuuu

I hope you have a great day Anon and thanks for the ask it made me happy to retalk about them :DD

[uss-edsall]

On 9 November, 1942, flying off the coast of Casablanca, French Morrocco in support of the Operation TORCH landings, the Piper Cub (under the name L-4 Grasshopper) made her official combat debut in the Second World War. This once-civilian plane had been bought by the U.S. Army to function as "air observation posts," flown by pilots in the U.S. Army Field Artillery, attached directly to battalions. Her concept, proven in training maneuvers, was as aerial reconnaissance; aerial photography; single-person transport; air ambulance; and in particular, reconnaissance and artillery observation. She would prove to be perfect for all of these roles. She would go on to have an incredible record during the Second World War, one of the best planes built for her particular role, with over six thousand of them bought by the U.S. Army. She was small, she could handle landing tiny fields, she was stealthy, she was dead simple to repair and reliable in the air.

But on that day? For that mission? There were only three Grasshoppers, and it was an absolute disaster.

The three planes were attached to the 3rd Infantry Division. Their pilots were hurriedly brought to USS Ranger (CV-4), aboard which were three L-4 Grasshoppers in bad condition. All their efforts were getting the planes ready for flight. What the pilots did not know was that their commanders, from colonels to generals alike, did not prepare properly for their debut.

On 8 November American troops stormed ashore at Safi, Casablanca and Point Lyautey. The next day, Ranger turned into the wind, the pilots got aboard the planes. In the 35-knot wind the instant the ship's crew let go of their tails, the planes hopped off the deck and were in the air, sixty miles from shore.

Three miles from the beach, the allied invasion force appeared. Transports, destroyers, the light cruiser USS Brooklyn. Aboard the Brooklyn alert officers and anti-air gun crews spotted the L-4 Grasshoppers.

There was nothing in the allied aviation recognition books that resembled the L-4 Grasshopper. None of the artillery pilots' superiors had properly distributed warnings that the Army had procured the civilian planes, and were using them for the first time.

The Brooklyn's anti-air weaponry opened up. 5" shells, 40mm bofors, 20mm Oerlikons reached out to lick at the Grasshoppers. In the first flak burst the quartet of little planes scattered, diving for the deck. Captain Ford Allcorn leveled off at twenty feet and started juking like mad, gamely going for the beach leading his flight. Every other ship, seeing the Brooklyn open up on the unfamiliar planes, joined in.

The artillery pilots had not the fuel to return to the ship, even if they'd been trained in carrier landings, which they weren't. Land was their only option for salvation. Shellfire blew out Allcorn's windshield, shot off one of the doors. As the Grasshoppers juked and weaved, bullets splashed into the water all around them. A hundred feet from shore, they levelled off and gunned their throttles to the maximum - 80 mph - for the safety of the shoreline.

At which point the pintle mount machineguns on tanks ashore opened fire on them. For nobody had told the Army troops of the 2nd Armored Division either about the Piper Cubs, and seeing the Navy so enthusiastically shooting at them, they joined in. .50-calibre bullets ripped into the Grasshoppers, betrayed by their own.

Captain Allcorn's engine cut out after several tanks' machineguns stitched bullets across the frame, and five bullets tore into his leg.

The wounded planes got to the shoreline. They flew over the armor, guns straining to shoot at them, desperately trying to get to the safety of the Fedala Racetrack, where they were supposed to go. Allcorn spotted a relatively flat area and pancaked in, crawling out of the mortally wounded flaming bird before the fuel exploded.

And then the Vichy French opened up.

Lieutenants Butler, Shell, and Captain Devol (one L-4 having carried two of them) were taken prisoner after crash landing behind Vichy French lines, but were released when the French in Casablanca surrendered two days later on 11 November.

Amazingly, despite all this, nobody had been killed.

Captain Allcorn was the first Army aviator in the ETO to fly off a carrier, the first in combat, and the dubious distinction of the first to be shot down and the first to be wounded. Captain Allcorn, from his hospital bed back in the States, wrote a report about it all that even reached the Chief of Staff General Marshall's desk. He argued that this disastrous beginning was not the death knell of the Grasshopper. He concluded, perhaps rather dryly, that there was seemingly a failure to communicate between the Army and the Navy. His report helped the Piper Cub / L-4 Grasshopper survive the event, to go on to become one of the most produced aircraft of the war, and most widely used.

Even today, almost four thousand of the nearly twenty thousand Piper Cubs built are still in the FAA registry.

[sagesparrow394]

More thoughts about my Just QSMP With It fic I’ve just been idly collecting in my drafts as I work on the next chapter, and am now sharing to cope with the fact that I’m caught up on Riptide

Chip would 100% hit on Melissa, not realising she’s actually just Roier in drag. It takes ages for him to find out because Gillion also doesn’t realise it’s actually Roier, and Jay thinks it’s absolutely hilarious and decides not to say anything. Ollie’s probably the one who in the end drops the bomb

The Prime Defenders’ first meeting with Etoiles goes a little awry. They see the distant green figure and hear a distinct French accent and immediately go ‘are you fucking kidding, LE FROG IS HERE?!??’ Dakota probably tries to kick Etoiles in the face before he realises it is not, in fact, Le Frog

When everyone starts to notice that Chip, Jay and Gillion all have the same tattoo on different parts of their bodies, it leads to various conspiracies across the islanders. The most prominent one is that the Riptide pirates must be in a polycule of some kind, all dating the same person who has the initials ‘NK’

Jay, Troy and q!Slime unexpectedly bond over their shared experience of bad fathers. Chip and Will initially vibe over their shared experience of being walking corpses, but then they find out they both have shitty brother figures and bond further over that

Troy sets up a sledding boot camp for the islanders and eggs and regularly arranges races and tournaments (it’s how he copes with missing an entire racing season while he’s stuck on the island). He initially tries to befriend Baghera because he finds out she lives in a castle in snowy mountains, and wants to get her to agree to let him make a sledding circuit nearby. It turns out they really match each other’s energy, though, and they end up becoming besties

Cellbit and Roier becoming oddly protective of the William and Dakota and kind of acting as father figures… It’s because Cellbit sees himself in Will, and Roier sees Bobby in Dakota

Similar thing, but it’s Dakota, William and Vyncent all gravitating to hanging out with Gillion because, well… Tidestrider, the ability to manipulate water, a pretty positive vibe. To quote Vyncent, “he’s like Tide if he was okay with murder and not obsessed with beef stroganoff”

WD, Jay, Bagi and Tina - definitely become the disaster sapphic quartet. Runt and Mouse are their emotional support honorary members

This is so cursed, but I’ve decided that all the JRWI groups choose to live on the Albatross while they’re trapped on the island, and I suddenly had the thought of one of the Defenders or Wonderlust gang finding Gillion’s copy of Dark Puckered Hole onboard and reading it… My instincts say Troy, it awakens something in him-

(I know canonically Charlie said Gillion threw the book away into the Black Sea when he was done reading it but idc, it’s still on the ship to me)

[book-challenger]

Travel Destination: Nigeria

Onyeka and the Academy of the Sun by Tolá Okogwu

Onyeka has always been uncomfortable with her hair, people always stare and whisper behind her back, until her best friend nearly drowns and her hair comes to life and saves her.

Her mother reveals a shocking truth Onyeka’s psycho-kinetic powers make her a Solari, one of a secret group of people with super powers unique to Nigeria, where she’s sent to train, however she’ll soon have to put her powers to the test against a battle between truth and lies.

Noor by Nnedi Okorafor

AO has never really felt...natural, and that's putting it lightly. Her parents spent most of the days before she was born praying for her peaceful passing because even in-utero she was "wrong". But she lived. Then came the car accident years later that crippled her even further. Yet instead of viewing her strange body the way the world views it, as freakish, unnatural, even the work of the devil, AO embraces all that she is: A woman with a ton of major and necessary body augmentations. And then one day she goes to her local market and everything goes wrong.

War Girls by Tochi Onyebuchi

In a war torn futuristic Nigeria ravaged by climate change and nuclear disasters, where the lucky ones have left the planet and those left survive using mechs, bionic limbs and artificial organs to protect against the harsh environment.

Two sisters dream of more, peace, hope and a future together, and they willing to fight an entire war to get there.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor

Twelve-year-old Sunny lives in Nigeria, but she was born American. Her features are African, but she's albino. She's a terrific athlete, but can't go out into the sun to play soccer. There seems to be no place where she fits in.

And then she discovers something amazing--she is a free agent with latent magical power. Soon she's part of a quartet of magic students, studying the visible and invisible, learning to change reality. But will it be enough to help them when they are asked to catch a career criminal who knows magic too?

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

When a massive object crashes into the coast of Lagos, 3 peoples life are intertwined, Adaora the marine biologist, Anthony a rapper famous through Africa and Agu a troubled solider.

In a race against time to save a country they love and the world itself.

[jadeazora]

Still wild she killed them, for like, hundreds of years.

(what is it with most of the SV Legendaries being killers or bringers of disaster or whatever? The other Raidon ended up accidentally doing the Professor in when they took a hit meant for your Raidon, the Ruinous Quartet brought disaster to a greedy king and almost destroyed the whole kingdom (which probably cost many lives), and the L3 may have killed Ogerpon's partner going by how severe her reaction was.)

[joshsilverseyebrow]

type o negative for Heavy Metal Ink

translation:

BLOODY KISSES FOR YOU (the dark side of life of type o negative)

Type O Negative wants to smash your ears and delight your eyes. The Hardcore Quartet- Singer/Bassist Peter Steele, guitarist Kenny Hickey, keyboardist Josh Silver and drummer Johnny Kelly turn up the decibels, musically and dermagraphically.

Tattoo caught up with the Brooklyn-based band while they were on tour with Danzig. Josh Silver, 32, the most tattooed of the group, was interviewed by phone from Denver about music and ink just before the band hit the stage. Years of slumming in obscurity are the lot of many hardcore bands, and Type O Negative has had its share of poorly paid gigs and even worse press. But in the last few years, more and more bands have broken through, bands like Pantera, Megadeth and Metallica, selling records in record-breaking numbers without becoming commercially dull in terms of sound. Although Type O is still a household name among headbangers, the band has certainly taken flight.

Bloody Kisses is the band's third album, but the first to draw some attention to them. The first album, Slow, Deep and Hard, and an EP with the clever name The Origin of the Feces - a live album that is a parody of a European tour that turned out to be a total disaster - sound harder, but only give a hint of the studio know-how that would be demonstrated on this third album. Bloody Kisses is a dark, almost grueling work with thick guitar solos and gothic church organ music, but it has better melodies and is better produced than many of the swill-and-puke records.

that you can find in every hardcore store. Peter Steele, the singer/songwriter, paints dark clouds over his landscapes and holds them there with his throaty voice, which is somewhat reminiscent of David Bowie in his rock phase, at least when he had terrible stomach aches. Somehow the whole thing sounds good, even if some of the songs are much too long and the sitar-cum-violins are a bit out of place.

The specialty of this singer, who is almost two meters tall, seems to be despair, which he also wants to deliver with a loud, angry knock on the door. Steele writes in the foreword to the CD: The entire work is dedicated with respect to those who felt unconditional love and whose hearts were ripped out in the most tasteless way: Do not build your joy on the actions of others, for what is given can be taken away. No hope = no fear.*

The keyboard player contributes to this: .The first album was written four years ago and came from anger. This one is sad and depressed. The same feelings, just turned inward and given atmosphere." High-profile tours with Nine Inch Nails, Mötley Crüe and Danzig have given Type O the opportunity to record more and more drums. +

melfelle. They'll probably be on the road again this year, this time with hardcore heroes Pantera.

The band's sound is reaching a wider audience mainly through cover versions of Black Sabbath songs on the Nativity in Black: A Tribute to Black Sabbath album, on which Type O can be heard alongside well-known bands from the hardcore scene such as Megadeth, Sepulture, Faith No More and White Zombie. "We've been covering Paranoid for a while, and the guy who produced Nativity in Black really liked it.

But Megadeth already had that on the LP, so he asked us to do another song," Silver recalls. He's been getting tattooed for 15 years, with many of his best pieces being cover-ups, mostly done by Andres Elston at East Side Inc. in Brooklyn. Silver also has his very first tattoo, a classic Grim Reaper inked by the late Brooklyn Bill.

Elston worked on Silver's entire back and left arm, among other things.

The back piece (which took more than 32 hours to complete) is also worthy of at least one love song: a large stained glass window with an angel in front of whom a huge demon comes through the floor, surrounded by demon pillars. Elston covered an old demon that "was created by someone a long time ago."

other things—and magnified the subject, one might almost say, in a touching way.

"For me, my back shows two sides of man, mainly evil, so evil dominates the picture," Silver explains. "It represents human nature." The duality of human nature is also represented on Silver's neck, with two Chinese characters representing love and hate: our two strongest impulses," says Silver.

Mike Perfetto inked Silver's biceps, including the octopus and "Made in New York Graffiti," among other things. On the back of the left bicep are two roses: in memory of my brother who was killed twenty-two years ago," says Silver. That and the Japanese symbol of death come from an "obsession with death because I feel guilty about outliving my brother." Chest pieces by Shotsie Gorman (the ghost) and George Blue (the split-footed, covered skeleton figure) complete the main works on Silver.

Type O Negative already has enough material for a new album, but with Bloody Kisses still packing enough momentum, the band should soon be back on the road across the country.

—Frank Booth

[novankenn]

So Maifa Au. So Mercury is sent after Jaune by his still alive abusive father. So when Mercury is about to attack Jaune and Pyrrha but them Mama Arc steps in to deal with it. Cuts to Mercury crying on the couch with some and hot chocolate and a blanket telling him about his terrible father and how he didn't even want to do this. Mama Arc does on him then cuts to Arc sisters wailing on Marcus.

Date Night Disaster

(A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs)

Pyrrha was and Blake were hurting. Whomever this guy was, that ambushed them outside the movie theatre, he was good. Hampered by nothing having their weapon s, and also needing to keep Jaune and Blake safe, the pair of "former" assassins, ran, dragging their dates with them.

It was almost a good plan, but the jackass was fast and agile, meaning he was going over stuff Blake and Pyrrha had to take Jaune and Yang around. So for a good twenty minutes of a running fist fight the quartet found themselves in front of Pumpkin Pete's Novelty Store. Blake used her keys and got them all inside. Locking the doors the quartet backed from the plasticized-plate glass windows and doors.

"We just have to hold tight. The alarm should be going off, and someone will be by to check the store out." Blake panted out, as she and Pyrrha kept Jaune and Yang behind them.

"Are you guys okay?" Jaune asked.

"Who the fuck was that psycho?" Yang snapped.

"He's an asshat whose after Jaune." Pyrrha replied, her emerald eyes watching for any movement. Any sign of a threat. "We'll be safe here. It's like Blake said. Security should be around soon."

"Why is anyone after Jaune?" Yang asked, her voice filled with anger.

"It's complicated!" Blake snapped.

"Then uncomplicate it!" Yang snapped back.

The conversation died at that point as the glass of one of the doors exploded towards them, followed by a arrogantly smirking grey haired young man. He said nothing as he just came at them like a whirlwind of strikes. Both Pyrrha and Blake took multiple stiff hits from his feet and shins, before they could recover from shielding their eyes from the flying glass.

It was Pyrrha trapping on of the bastard's legs under her arm when he landed a side kick to her ribs, that gave Blake a chance to go on the attack. Blake was fast, but not a powerhouse, so while she was getting hits through the guys defenses, they weren't doing near enough damage.

"Pyr?" Jaune was at her side trying to help her up as Blake took the fight to their attacker. "Pyr!"

"Yang!" Pyrrha shouted, as she climbed to her feet gritting her teeth against the pain in her side. "You and Jaune get out of here!"

Blake was starting to get pelted by hits, so without waiting for an answer Pyrrha rushed in. The guy was a much better unarmed combatant than either Blake or Pyrrha. As the two young women specialized in bladed weapons. They were by no means slouches... they just didn't have the skills to counter the rapid kicks he was favoring.

Trapping his leg again, Pyrrha tried to grapple him. A knee strike to her chest, followed by a jumping spin kick to her head sent her spinning towards the floor. Blake knew just from how Pyrrha was stumbling that she just had a bell rung.

"Goddess of Death... what a fucking joke." the man quipped with his ever present sneer. "You're both jokes. The great Nikos, and Belladonna. You're nothing without your tools..."

"Hey asshole!" Yang shouted. "Behind you!"

"I'm not stupid enough to..." the sound of twenty pounds of sheet metal, electronics and plastic slamming into flesh, followed by a grunt of pain cut off the asshat's comment.

Blake stood there in shock. Yang had used herself as a distraction so Jaune could... rip the till from the counter with his bare hands and then swing it into the guy's shoulder and head like a flail using the power cord.

"Blake!" Yang yelled trying to get the cat faunus' attention.

"Fuckers!"

"Yang look out!" Jaune shouted, as their attacker recovered and decided game time was over. Blake dashed forward blocking the vicious strike with her back, sending her and Yang sprawling along the floor.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha screamed as she stumbled towards him, as the tall blond covered up and took a kick to his forearms that should have cracked his skull. Jaune went down and down hard. Pyrrha shoulder checked the grey haired asshole aside, and dropped down overtop of Jaune, using her body as a shield.

When a follow up attack didn't happen, Pyrrha looked up with blurry eyes. Her mind found it hard to register what she was seeing. Their attacker was getting his ass kicked by Deery, of all people! Pyrrha's vision swam and a second later she blacked out.

Deery was not happy. The store was a mess, the front door was broken, and her staff had been assaulted, along with her friends. Deery decided she would worry about explanations after. This young pup thinking he was hot shit, needed a lesson in humility. Deery's hands and feet moved with precision. Blocking, countering and redirecting every strike from her opponent, while also punching through his defenses... which he didn't have much talent for.

Snapping a kick of her own out, catching his leg with the flat of her foot, she threw him off balance. That was the beginning of the end. A blazing flurry of punches, open hand strikes, forearms and elbows peppered the s mug little shits' chest shoulders and neck, rocking him to his core, and dropping him unconscious in seconds.

"Deery?" Blake asked weakly pressing her hand to her side. Pain obvious on her face. "What?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

"What was that shit?" Yang asked, her split and swollen lip making her words sound slightly distorted.

"Self-defense course. I took it at the community center." Deery replied, "Good course, you should look into it. Great exercise. Check on Nikos and Arc. I'll take care of this..."

As the pair of young women supported each other in the walk towards their friends, Deandra "Deery" Thistle dragged the unconscious young man into the back staff room. Propping him up in a corner, she checked him over. He was breathing, which was a good sign.

Deery sucked on her front teeth as she confirmed something she had felt in her short confrontation. She sighed as she looked at the prosthetic legs hidden under the loose track pants the young man was wearing.

"Well kid you're in for a very tense talk with an angry momma bear real soon." Deery muttered as she rose and left the staff room to check on Blake and her friends.

/==/

Mercury Black awoke feeling like he had been hit by a truck, then backed over and hit by it again. Groaning he opened his eyes and blinked them back into focus. It was then he realized he was sitting on a couch, with a quilt draped over him. He also noticed his prosthetics were missing.

"Good you're finally awake." came a stern voice. Mercury turned his head to focus on the individual who was speaking. "Well I guess some introduction s are in order. I am Prismeya Arc. You are Mercury Black. You tried to kill my son, at the urging of your shit for brains father."

Mercury swallowed. He had failed the job. If he got out of this alive, his father was going to kill him.

"Now normally you wouldn't be sitting in my house, having a chat with me, all things considered. But your situation is special." Prismeya sat back in her plush arm chair and swirled her glass of red wine. "And just so you know. Everyone is a little roughed up, but they will survive. In fact you answered a couple questions for me, so thank you for that."

"Questions?"

"You need not worry about those. That's a family matter." she took a sip of her wine. "I do have a question for you, and I do hope you answer me truthfully. Did your... father..."

"Yes." Mercury answered knowing exactly what was being asked.

"I see. Excuse me a moment." Prismeya set her glass down, and picked up her scroll. "Did you here that Saphron?"

There was a pause as she listened to this Saphron, who had to be on the other end of the call.

"Good. Are all of you ready?" Another pause.

"Perfect." Prismeya gave Mercury a warm smile before speaking again. "Remove him."

The scroll was set down, and Prismeya picked up her wine glass again. She gave Mercury a soft smile before taking another sip.

"Now. Let's have a chat about your future."

[lady-of-ocs]

SEASON 2! SEASON 2!

GUESS WHO FINISHED SEASON 1!!

ME! I DID!

I ENJOYED IT VERY MUCH! It's consuming my life, actually. Literally all I've done in the past few days is binge it.

(This is a longer ramble so I'll put a cut in the post!)

So the game with Aoba Johsai. I knew that Karasuno was going to lose (I'd seen plenty of spoilers, such as the crying while eating scene) BUT IT STILL MADE ME SO SAD? SINCE WHEN DID I CARE ABOUT VOLLEYBALL? SINCE I STARTED TAKING AN INTERESTED IN THIS SHOW, THAT'S WHEN. I was honestly really proud of everyone during this game even though they lost. It was really close and I know that makes it that much harder that they lost. This game had me stressed out fr fr. On one hand, fuck Oikawa. On the other, he definitely grew on me. As I said in the last post, he and Iwaizumi are a fantastic duo and I live for their dynamic (you annoy me but I know you better than anyone and I love you for it). Iwa denies it, but they definitely have that bond of trust. Side note, their chant in the English dub had me fucking rolling. What IS this. Also, get that poor chanting guy a water because his voice was absolutely shredded by the end of the game. Since I mentioned the dinner scene, I just wanna say it broke my heart. Had to get up and take a walk (but that was mostly to get food lol).

SUGA MY ABSOLUTE LOVE OF MY LIFE. HE'S SO TALENTED AND WARM TO THE OTHERS AND YOU CAN TELL THAT KAGEYAMA RESPECTS HIM SO MUCH. Kageyama's attempt at a smile like Suga had me absolutely cackling. I am right here with proud parents daisuga, that was absolutely delightful.

TSUKISHIMA YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD! Enough said.

SOMEONE SAVE MY POOR BABY YAMAGUCHI, HE LOOKS LIKE HE'S GOING TO DROP DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING COURT. I need to hug him, actually. Me, watching him bounce the ball before serving: hey doesn't he bounce it off his foot Yamaguchi: *bounces the ball off his foot and chases after it* Me: oh bless him someone please hug that boy

I wasn't worried about the third years leaving (I have seen Battle of the Garbage Dump prior to this because I like watching things out of order I guess- jk I'd had a bad day and it was the only Haikyuu thing I could find in English dub at the time) but I was really intrigued by how they approached it. My respect for Suga is through the roof. Again, husband material. He and Asahi are tied for my #1 husband spot (though I'm certain Kuroo will rise in the ranks as I watch more of season 2).

SPEAKING OF SEASON 2! I have started that as well! Just got through episode 4! Hello to Asahi's little hair string, you will always be famous (I genuinely am loving his hair this season. I'm a fan. He's so soft how can anyone be scared of him???).

I'm sure that Ushijima will also grow on me but BITCH HE'S ON MY HIT LIST RIGHT NOW. AND I MEAN THAT IN A LITERAL WAY, I WANT TO SLAP HIM. YOU TELL HIM HINA BABY.

I love these four absolute disaster idiots. Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata, and Kageyama, you are the funniest, I fear. Idiot quartet. Bless them.

HELLO SAEKO! She's an absolute delight. They did not need to make her boobs jiggle but it makes me laugh. She and Tanaka are disaster siblings and I live for it. THANK YOU FOR BRINGING MY IDIOT DUO TO TOKYO, QUEEN.

YACHI!!!!! YACHI IS HERE!!! She's such a sweet innocent summer child. Bless her, she's my daughter. I went through a whole rollercoaster of being like "oh, Yachi's mom is HOT," quickly followed by "oh, I'm not sure I like how she treats Yachi," and eventually fell on "OKAY SHE'S HOT AGAIN NOW THAT SHE'S TREATING YACHI BETTER!" Props to Mr. Random Business Partner who was actively speaking up to Yachi's mom about how she treated her daughter. Love him, actually. So proud of my baby for standing up for herself though and I love her friendship with Hinata already. They're so cute.

Side note but how is Yachi not canonically queer? THE VERY FIRST THING YOU HEAR FROM HER IS THAT KIYOKO IS CUTE??? AND SHE'S SO DISTRACTED BY KIYOKO'S BEAUTY (there are literally sparkles and a pink tint to everything) THAT SHE JUST MINDLESSLY AGREES TO WHATEVER KIYOKO SAYS??? THERE ARE GAY THINGS HAPPENING ON MY SCREEN. MOST CANON GAY CHARACTER GOES TO YACHI, EVERYONE.

They all really changed their shirts in front of Yachi. RIP, girl. RIP

Their welcome to Yachi was so cute. I need to lie down.

IT'S NOT QUITE TIME FOR THE SUMMER TRAINING CAMP YET BUT WE'RE GETTING CLOSE!!! MY BOY BOKUTO HAS FINALLY APPEARED AND I'M VERY HAPPY TO SEE HIM! HEY HEY HEY TO MY FAVORITE IDIOT OWL. And, of course, I'm very pleased to see Nekoma! I'm glad that Hinata has a little group of friends (Kenma and Inuoka) there! Also, I'm very excited to see more Lev because he seems really cocky right now and I kind of want to knock his 6'4 ass down a few pegs. P.S. Yamamoto is so fucking funny actually.

SO ANYWAY THAT WAS A LONG ONE BECAUSE I WATCHED A LOT OF EPISODES. EXCITED TO SEE MORE OF SEASON 2 BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I'VE HEARD IT'S A FAVORITE IN THE FANDOM.

I have also further fleshed out the oc. Keep waiting. Might post about her once my winter break starts.