#might watch something idk

[denpadokei]

whoops

[seiwas]

you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.

among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.

they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.

(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)

“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.

you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.

he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.

“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”

[iizuumi]

Side effects of wearing your Kaiju suit too often ,,,, Part 2

[meaningless-mayhem]

Being asexual and possibly aromantic but also being a huge shipper and hopeless romantic is such a wild experience ngl. I'm always freaking out about my favorite ships and giggling internally reading ship fics, getting invested in characters finally kissing or reading about their pining and their love and I think "I want what they have!!"

But then sometimes you have a slamming realization that your sweet shipping scenarios you imagine in your head look totally different irl and that you are extremely aspec.

One time I went down a YouTube rabbit hole and stumbled across Vsauce's "Why Do We Kiss?" video and let me tell you. When I saw that stock video footage of two people kissing each other I was a little flabbergasted lmaooo

[cessmaga]

ok but hear me out them actually as a team

tell me if some y'all want to add someone idk

[tempestmothstorm]

crazy how the sanshee plush is one of the few actual direct confirmations on what a non-act 2 Natsuki’s home life is like because of how cagey she is on literally everything. Like this isn’t anything surprising or something you wouldn’t be able to extrapolate from the games but unlike everything else we know about her the implications are right there on the tin.

They literally did the character bio trope where where all the likes are normal but the dislikes are about their very specific trauma it’s just so funny they did that on the plushie card

[gayspock]

i love it when a tv show has lows that are so low you're so ashamed to ever show it to anyone ever but then highs that melt your brain a bit, like, "good fucking god, this is genuinely such an astounding piece of craftmanship... my perception of the medium, and perhaps of myself, has been challenged/changed in 40 minutes" but you cant even express that to ppl without feeling like youre fucking deranged bc my god the lows .....

[zivazivc]

Sorry if this has already been asked before but why did the band break up? And did they break up on decent terms? Do they still talk to each other sometime?

It has been asked before, I just never answered jshfbdjcbh I'm still piecing everything together and stuff is changing or getting tweaked all the time, so I'm always super hesitant about answering these types of questions, afraid that people will take whatever I say as the final answer. So basically what I'm going to answer now will already contradict what I told some people already. And maybe in the future the story might go a little differently too (although I'm pretty satisfied with the current events)

Uhhh, get ready for a long info dump. I didn't expect I'd write this much...

Floyd basically stayed with the band for 8 years (from 14 till 22) and got pretty messed up in the process. The rest of the guys are all quite older than him so I guess I could say they were more responsible, or at least had a better understanding of their own limits (also they grew up in this kind of environment or grew up aware of it, while Floyd was oblivious and naive about all of it) and while they do get drunk and do drugs often, none of them are really dependent on them. They are also pretty good judges of character and know how to avoid trouble. Floyd on the other hand drove in with no breaks and constantly got himself in trouble that the rest (mostly Les) had to drag him out of. He also developed bipolar during this time (in my story Floyd constantly fluctuates between being saturated and being desaturated because of this) and his manic and depressive episodes started getting out of hand after his teenage years. (None of them are aware it's a mental disorder that's making him act so out of character.)

Floyd was becoming miserable because of this and all of his problems pilling up, and started blaming Les for the way he was. Les never argued this which only fueled Floyd to blame him more. In the end he was getting so frustrated and irritable that Floyd constantly tried starting arguments with him, even putting him down and getting aggressive at times because Les gets very unresponsive and closed off during personal conversations (guy is a giant onion of suppressed trauma that Floyd is hellbent on peeling open).

Eventually there was one fight too many, terrible things were said, some objects flew through the air, and Floyd walked out (or Hed kicked him out, I haven't decided yet) with the promise of going home and never seeing them again.

So, yeah, it was very messy and Floyd was the primary asshole, even though he's not really to blame either...

But Floyd didn't make it home (was too scared to sneak through Bergen Town to get to the tree (i don't think i can judge him for that either)) and he just returned to the reckless lifestyle, this time without anyone being there to keep him safe. So if he was messed up before, this is the time period where he got absolutely fucked up. This is also when he got heavily addicted to sour worms. And when he chronically slept around (half the time just to get offered free worms or have somewhere to sleep, other times because he was having manic episodes and was feeling hypersexual). (This is also potentially the period when he had the two eggs with that techno troll, but I'm still thinking if I want that to be canon to the story or not.) During this time he also grew to become very anxious and his self-confidence went to shit when he was being himself.

Then after about three years of that, he bumped into Les at some party. He wanted to dodge him out of shame but Les grabbed his arm and manhandled him outside to talk. Floyd felt like shit about the way they had split up and tried apologizing for all the stuff he had said and done to Les, but Les wasn't having any of that because he wasn't angry at Floyd, he was just worried about him. Les is also insanely empathetic like Floyd, and he knew that Floyd never really meant any of it, and that he was just looking for an outlet when he was hurting. Also he does think he is to blame for the way Floyd ended up.

Les wanted to know why he didn't go home like he had said (because that was the only reason Les had even let him walk out in the first place). A few exchanged words later and Floyd broke down telling him all the awful things he'd done, and Les promised to help him, feeling insanely guilty. Floyd wondered if he was allowed back in the band but Les made it clear that the band wasn't good for him and that he was never taking him back. Instead Les helped him go though rehab. I don't think trolls have those institutions (or at least not many are aware of them or how they work (I'm sorry but I refuse to believe the Trolls world has internet and cellphones, Mountrageons can keep that for themselves lol)), so it was more or less just Les finding Floyd a job and his own place to stay in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where he had no option but to detox, and constantly checking up on him to make sure he was doing okay. During this time they grew pretty close again. Or maybe the better term would be that Les slowly started putting his walls down again.

Hed needed a while to warm up to Floyd again. He's almost as protective of Les as Les is of him, and he resented Floyd for the way he had treated him.

Flea is pretty phlegmatic when it comes to any sort of arguing or drama. He was casual about seeing Floyd again, they were never super close anyway.

And Liv, she left the band when she and Hed broke up (haven't decided if that happened before or after Floyd left), so Floyd didn't get to see her again after bumping into Les at the party. And I haven't thought yet if they'd ever meet again somewhere later in life. But if they did, I think they'd both be happy to see each other.

Anyway...

Floyd managed to detox and successfully kept the job for about a year, but then he became manic again and messed it all up. After that he returned to his nomadic lifestyle, but he never fell as hard as those three years again. In my story Floyd's life is a constant cycle of getting his life together and fucking it up and booking to the next place. And he and Les are trapped in a never-ending cat and mouse game where they're both trying to fix each other.

So, uh, Les and Floyd are still very close and see each other somewhat often...

(sometimes monthly, sometimes yearly)

Yeah...

I am so fucking obsessed with them I'm gonna hurl. Please take this song before I combust:

[veliseraptor]

Pete was hungry.

Of course he was hungry; he hadn’t had any blood for days. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long it had been, without the reference of regular sleep. All he knew was that it’d been a while, long enough that consciousness was starting to get blurry and he was having a hard time thinking of anything else past the need, the hunger. 

He hadn’t been this hungry in a long time. Definitely not since he’d started working for the Theerapanyakuls. It took him back, in a bad way. 

He was supposed to be dead. He’d expected to be dead. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

Pete’s eyesight was sharp enough to see the door move before it opened and he closed his eyes and went limp, hoping to look unconscious. Footsteps on the floor and he could sense it even from here: fresh blood. Living flesh. His mouth watered and his fangs lengthened involuntarily, all his thoughts washing out to a red, desperate haze of want. All his control burning away like he would in sunlight.

“Hello again,” said Vegas’s voice. “How’s my pet?”

Pete tried not to move. Tried not to twitch. He imagined getting free and sinking his fangs into Vegas’s neck and even now flinched away from the idea of hurting, biting, one of the family. 

“Stop pretending,” Vegas said. “I know you’re awake.”

Pete pressed his cracking lips together and opened his eyes a sliver. Vegas was lounging on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned as usual, and Pete’s gaze zeroed in on his exposed throat, the motion as his heart pumped hot blood through the artery there. He could hear Vegas’s heart beating, or maybe that was just the roaring of hunger in his own ears.

Vegas just looked at him, lips curling into a mocking smile. He didn’t seem scared, or concerned, or any of the things most humans might feel in a small room with a hungry vampire on the verge of losing control. 

Vegas stood and moved closer. Pete tensed, body bracing for pain even as it screamed at him to attack. 

Vegas clicked his tongue. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you,” he said. He leaned forward and Pete clamped his mouth shut before he could lick his lips. “Poor boy,” Vegas went on. “So deprived.”

Just kill me already, Pete thought, but he didn’t say it. He’d started to wonder if Vegas was planning on starving him to death. It would take a long time. 

That’d be a good thing if he’d been hoping for rescue, but nobody was coming for him. 

Vegas reached out (the fine veins in his wrist, right there) and caught Pete’s chin, grasping it almost gently and turning his head back and forth like he was trying to find his best angle. 

“I could fix that,” Vegas said. 

Please, howled the increasingly animal part of Pete, but he had enough of himself left to recognize that anything Vegas offered him was going to be poison somehow. It was just so hard to think, to remember that in the face of the wanting.

“Not interested?” Vegas said. “Let’s see if I can change your mind.”

He left the room again and came back with a glass, a towel, and a knife. He sat down on the floor leaning against the bed, set the glass down next to him, held out one arm, and clenched his hand into a fist a few times. 

Then he took the knife and sliced into his own arm at the elbow. 

Shallow, but the veins ran close enough to the surface that it started bleeding fast; Vegas grabbed for the glass and tipped his arm so the blood started to dribble into it. His eyes stayed on Pete and Pete’s eyes zeroed in on the blood. He could smell it from here, sharp and tantalizing, and Pete jerked involuntarily against his bonds.

“Oh,” Vegas said, smile filled with vicious satisfaction. “You are interested.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Blood dripped into the glass, spattering the sides. It welled up bright, fresh red in the crook of Vegas’s arm. Pete was so hungry.

“Should I ask what you’ll give me for it?” Vegas asked. His voice was casual, just the slightest edge of mockery on it. 

“Nothing,” Pete croaked. 

“Mm,” Vegas said. “Stubborn.” There was a finger’s width of blood in the glass now. Vegas’s eyes were fixed on Pete, nailing him to the floor. 

“I don’t want it,” Pete lied. Vegas laughed.

“That’s weak,” he said. “You don’t really expect me to believe it, do you? I know you’re hungry. I can see it. If you got loose right now would you even be able to stop yourself from draining me?”

Maybe. Pete had good self control. It felt shaky right now, though. 

Vegas bent and straightened his arm, refreshing the flow of blood. The smell was stronger now, brighter. Pete wondered how it would taste. He’d never had blood like this, almost straight from the vein. And Vegas just watched him with that smug, vicious little smile. 

“Look at you,” he said. “Good Pete, Tankhun’s loyal little dog, and when it comes down to it you’re just another blood-addicted animal.”

Shame washed through Pete but it couldn’t get much of a purchase when it was set against the hunger, mindless and terrible. He could feel himself starting to tremble with it.

Vegas set down the glass and picked up the towel, pressing it to the wound he’d made. He held it there, eyes still on Pete. Pete’s hands curled into fists and he had to focus to relax them. 

When Vegas pulled the towel away the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He picked up the glass and swirled the blood inside around like it was wine, then pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to Pete. The smell of blood got even stronger and Pete just managed to keep himself from lunging toward it. 

“Here,” Vegas said, voice low. “Let me give you a taste.”

Pete should have said no. Should have tried to resist. It was almost a relief that there wasn’t much he could do to stop Vegas from putting the glass to his mouth and tipping it, blood lapping at his dry, cracked lips, still warm. Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head at the first taste, and he didn’t know if the intensity was for how long he’d gone without or because of how fresh the blood was. 

Then blood filled his mouth too fast and he was choking, his head jerking back so it spilled down his chin and over his chest, dripping onto the floor. The glass pulled away and Pete let out an involuntary sound of loss before he could bite it back, his mouth and nose still full of the smell of taste and smell. 

There was a strange mix of expressions on Vegas’s face: satisfaction and scorn and a touch of disgust. 

“What a mess,” he said. “Look at all that wasted blood.” Pete stared at him, dizzy and embarrassed and furious. And still hungry, appetite barely touched by the little he’d managed to swallow.

“Still,” Vegas said after a couple seconds of silence. “Maybe we’ll do this again later. If you’re good.”

Then Pete was alone again. The blood itched as it dried.

[fountainpenguin]

Barely two minutes into Grian's Ep 8 and I'm losing it... what a fantastic task, oh my gosh. Jimmy on Discord haunting him from beyond the grave...

Every bit of that so far, from "No way!" to "Prove that you can see me!" and "This- This is mad-" is gonna make awesome 'fic material...

Jimmy: "And you're looking at Etho and ZombieCleo"

Grian, panicked, cutting him off: "Okay okay okay okay okay!"

[mettywiththenotes]

Imagine au Powder and Ekko being discovered by au Viktor, who mentors them

[silverware-is-interesting]

WOE! object show doodles be upon ye!

idk some doodles and some ss redraws of object shows i enjoy

[luifaro]

holy fuck had everyone except mira die in battle for the first time (isabeau was technically just frozen but...) and oh my god. i've never seen that screen before siffrin died saving their friends. the way the text grew slower and slower as they struggled...

hollyy shit... letting siffrin sit for a bit with his friends while i type this.

[thensocrates]

I can't wait to see the communitys reaction to the karakasa movie (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

[kaisollisto]

i promise you won't even know im there

[nandermoenthusiast]

and if adam hazbin hotel dies for real and doesnt return as a sinner in s2 and the fandom forgets about him, then what am i gonna fucking do