#his smile is something else

[wasabi-gumdrop]

local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6

[mgu-h]

contractually obligated energy

[theloveinc]

Togame Jo’s greeting kisses to you are always way too long.

The kind of affection that’s usually savored in private, instead displayed wherever, whenever, and every single time you see each other—he always takes two to three minutes just to kiss you hello, abandoning the task at hand (dozing off, attending to Choji, managing the Shishitoren) to mosey your way and pull your lips to his in something just a little too sloppy to be sweet, but a little too sweet to be… too distasteful.

Everyone’s used to it by now, even Sakura, knowing that when you arrive, there’s always a going to be a pause in action just for the sappy display of Togame drooping over you and announcing you to the crowd physically.

(What’s not readily exposed, however, and especially not in a room full of men, is that it’s not just a kiss Togame’s giving you, not just a hello that he hides behind his long bangs and your cheeks between his warm hands, but the kindest stare and sweetest little whisper, “missed you, baby,” as he wraps you up in his arms.)

[platoapproved]

armand + :)

[sersfandomthings]

wanderer

(referenced from that one shot in the 3.3 interlude quest)

[fisheito]

everyone gets a turn in the ridiculous skintight edmondsuit. or at least, .everyone SHOULD

[worstloki]

AU where Loki doesn’t interfere with Thor’s banishment at all and it takes Thor years to prove himself worthy and when he returns to Asgard everything is just. The same. Nothing seems to have changed at all and everyone greets him like his absence was a minor obstacle that didn’t fundamentally change Thor and the worst part is Loki stepped down from the place as regent without any delay and Thor can’t help but feel there’s something underlaying the way his brother looks at him now and won’t let him touch him and Thor doesn’t know what he could have missed because he doesn’t think he would have found anything wrong with the things around him and how everyone behaves if he hadn’t spent time on Earth reflecting.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

killer deliberately provoking people into attacking or hurting him—especially anyone who claims that they “don’t want to fight him” or “don’t want to hurt him”—sometimes for the purpose of satisfaction and validation in the belief that pain will always be a part of his existence and everyone feels the same urges to hurt or be hurt that he does and everyone would love the chance to hurt him if he just let them or gave them a valid excuse.

he really likes provoking the so called “pacifists” into doing horrid shit like snapping his bones or you know almost killing him cuz its just further proof that he’s right

[painted-bees]

I'm tipsy and thinking abt how margie being absolutely shitfaced drunk has consistently served to soothe Raf's paranoia each and every time it has happened.

Because when he gets drunk, he kinda becomes his worst self--the version of himself he has kind of internalized as being his "true" self; very reactive, defensive, spiteful, cynical, self pitying...

Margie drunk, on the other hand... is just... Margie, but more. Drunk margie is just... Margie on blast, lmao, more laughing, louder laughing, more affectionate, more vocal about all the things she likes and loves, more physically affectionate, more ridiculous. It's just her with all her filters and inhibitions removed, and so she's just... all of her traits are dialled to 10 and are largely socially unacceptable from anyone who isn't a lightweight drunk girl. She's a lot more trusting, too. Of everyone. She's usually very trusting, but unuprisingly, drunk margie is irresponsibly trusting.

If Raf's paranoia were to latch onto anything, it might be the notion that her drunken behavior is affirmation that he's not special--that she just acts and feels this way around literally anyone who's nice to her.

But that's not a very meaty bone for his thoughts to gnaw on--because it's always been very obvious that Margie just... loves people. And she loves being loved. She's been very straightforward about this since the very beginning. There were never any illusions about it. Still, his is the bed she returns to sleep in every night. None of these other motherfuckers at the party can say that for themselves.

When she drunkenly utters, "Let's head home," it's only ever to him.

[give-grian-rights]

there was this headcanon that i Think about ALL THE TIME about how Cleo cannot regenerate her skin. so the Hermits donate theirs. except Cleo decides to make it a funny psychological horror where she chases them (hermits who consent/have almost normal body) down for sport.

shes a Hermit so OF COURSE they'll help but like god you just gonna chase us down? slowly? like a a damn horror movie? huh? okay. rude. so they trade favors and bribe her to get moved down the list.

i have NO IDEA who made it i had to have seen it 2-3 years ago but its just one of those things in my general belief system. because all the cHermits are just freaks to me

[irraddiated]

he's fine

[willowser]

continuing with the vibe from earlier, pre-whatever canon dabi is truly, genuinely just horrible.

a surface glance wouldn't show anything more than an acquaintance-ship, but there's just something weird and different in the way you two are around each other. it's not super often, but when you are, you either enjoy a content silence or share a conversation that's only just riveting enough to keep you both present.

you ask him things about himself that he doesn't want to answer, that he refuses to, but you just kind of roll your eyes and try to hide your smile when he says something smart in response. you share a drink or two. a glance that feels too curious. there's not enough touching involved to be considered significant, but at one point you share the same breath and the air is so immediately tense and severe that you know you've crossed some kind of line no one else has with him.

but—it's undefined. unacknowledged, in truth, and dabi doesn't ever approach you on his own, nor does he give you his attention if he can keep it to himself. it's entirely too confusing, but what could you expect from a man of his status? asking for any clarification would only give you the kind of harsh end you don't want.

you leave it alone, for the most part. let it grow when it can, but you don't overdo it; if you and dabi happen to find yourself at the same club at night, you'll share a wave and maybe even have a quick chat with him outside as he smokes a cigarette.

which is exactly what you intend to do—before a man buys you a drink at the bar.

he's handsome and flirty enough that you let him, entertain his small talk and laugh at the cheap, somewhat raunchy jokes he tells you. it's all genuine, and while dabi is still lingering at the back of your mind—at the back of this club, somewhere—you allow yourself to be appreciated in the way a normal man would. not some wordless cat-and-mouse game that's too confusing to be even a little upset about.

you don't even know where dabi went, when the man excuses himself to run to the bathroom, and you do peek around for him. you really do want to have a quick chat before either of you leave because you don't know when it will be that you see him again, and you like to make the most of your chances. there's some thrilling side of you, too, that wonders if he even cares at all about the drink in your hand, or the man who bought it.

that question is answered—wordlessly, as always—in a horrific fit of chaos.

a thick cloud of smoke spreads through the club like wildfire, bringing screams of terror and a panicked mob with it. people are trampling over themselves to get from one side of the building to the doors; drinks are being flung and shoes are being lost and some are even on their knees, vomiting.

dabi follows the crowd lazily, lit cigarette in hand. there's a frightening char to his fingers that you know didn't come from just that, but he passes you without saying anything. only staring, tense and severe, before shuffling out with the rest.

and you finally see, at the back, the remains of your flirty, handsome man: whole, for the most part, except for the partfectly shaped handprint that's been seared through to his skull.

[fbfh]

thinking about how whenever you kiss Eric you end up with black and white makeup smeared all over your face. you look like a crackhead juggalo. you look like jaden smith covered in kylie jenner's foundation after making out at the movies. you have all this black and white makeup blurring into a gray around your mouth and neck and he thinks it's hilarious. you forget to scrub your face and neck down with micellar water ONCE and sarah and albrecht will never ever let you live it down.

[oh-no-bummer]

OBSESSED with the weird dynamic between Ayden and Emhira. The dawnfather and the Matron of ravens, "you cannot heal everything" Vs the constant attempt to do so. The dawnfather says I love you all, clarifying this sentiment in such a moment of division and LOOKS at her last, separating her from the all? Or making sure she knows she is included? And what is reeling me is that a very long time from now, when the gods will have returned to the eternal beings they are, they will each choose a twin as their champion. Does the dawnfather choose Vex as a response to the matron choosing Vax, is it just that they cannot help but being parallels, life and death always circling each other. Now that I think about it , Whitestone is obviously a big worshipper of Pelor with the suntree being a symbol of him and life itself and the de rolos if I remember correctly also worshipped the matron. It's just so interesting to see all these connections that have always existed but have not yet existed.

[clownsuu]

Hey, uhm, hope I'm not bothering you today. I'll just drop this here. It's the continuation of what I wrote form the Mob Au. Hope you like it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47292106/chapters/119165542

That's all. Goodbye. Have a nice day.

oH SHID ITS THE FIC HELL Y E A H-

[saltoru]

gojo “go get my card, sweets” satoru