#ok my head hurt BYE
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todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago
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Okay stream over and as such no one is safe anymore from my RGGJoposting (sorry in advance), HOWEVER I did want to say...
Of course Mine Himself At Present is the furthest thing from punk, but I believe the reason he has that belt is a nod to Nakamura, who is credited with bringing punk influences to the kabuki scene. (This particular photo was taken years after Y3, but...)
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By the way, Nakamura is how I found out there's a lot of stigma against sons of kabuki actors who choose to play roles of a different gender than their fathers. He comes from an established line of onnagata, so it was a big deal for him to choose to play male roles.
Arakawa was a taishu engeki actor rather than a kabuki actor, which is less steeped in tradition than kabuki, so I don't know if it would've been the same for him doing the opposite to Nakamura. But it's Neat to think of it as a concerted choice for him in terms of feeling that strong of a connection to femininity.
oh fuck yeah punk in the kabuki world WORD UP TO THE LEGEND.....
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xxplastic-cubexx · 2 months ago
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oh noooo or whatever
bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:
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SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut
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collophora · 5 months ago
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Fics rec of the week, and especially if you like well-written Wrecker, is the entire work of @electrikworm on AO3 In order:
The Batch have a terrible day
Human Shield
A peaceful moment
(But go read the others too)
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sadrien · 1 month ago
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🩰 tangled ribbons books available to buy!!
so you all may remember that about 2 and a half years ago (oh my god) i did a limited print run of tangled ribbons! when i did that run, i ordered some extras both in case something happened and so i would have something else on my table as i was doing my first con and i was a little low on items
however, i still have these in stock and i'm trying to clean out some of my stuff, so they're now available on my kofi with some of my miraculous merch!!
you can either buy the book alone for 10 usd, or for 14 usd you can also get a print and two die cut stickers!
not only that, but i do have mystery bags of exclusively miraculous merch for 25 usd if you'd like to check those out! they'll later be listed on my etsy, but for now they're ko-fi exclusive! get it here!
since you're reading this post i'll let you in on a little secret, the mystery bags contain this print and both die cut stickers if you don't want to double buy!
store
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olderwest · 10 months ago
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im gonna go take a nap and you can have whatever this is
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shortcakelils · 1 year ago
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astrobei · 2 years ago
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Something’s wrong.
It’s a quiet afternoon in Will’s room. Mike is here, and this simple fact should be taking precedence over all else. It would be, on any other day — a day where it wasn’t off-puttingly quiet outside. On any other day, it would be all he could focus on.
Not that it’s not important. Mike is here, sprawled haphazardly across him, limbs akimbo like he couldn’t even be bothered to right himself before the need to bodily press every square inch of himself up against Will’s torso suddenly overtook him. It’s endearing, is what it is, even though Mike’s feet are dangling off the side of Will’s bed — they’re getting too tall to be able to lie down like this, side by side and taking up all the room they could possibly want. He’s got his cheek pressed up against Will’s sternum, arms wrapped so tight around Will’s stomach and lower back that it’s bordering on uncomfortable.
Endearing. It’s endearing, the need for proximity. The need for closeness, for touch, for reassurance. Mike wasn’t like this before. Not to this degree, at least. Will pretended to be annoyed by it at first, but the façade hadn’t even lasted a day before he cracked. He needs it too, and they both know it — the rhythmic push and pull of Mike’s breathing. Feeling Mike’s heart beat steadily against his own, separated by a meager few inches of blood and muscle and bone. The kinesthetic weight of a body against his own, grounding him on his off days — days where his pulse is perpetually panicked and off-kilter, threatening to fly away entirely, rendered unsuccessful only by the shape of Mike’s shoulder blades under his palm. The cotton of his flannel button-down, worn soft with use.
Grounding things. Real things. Safe things.
It’s a quiet afternoon. Mike’s foot twitches, suddenly and gently against where it’s pressed up against the line of Will’s calf.
It’s a quiet afternoon, and Will feels off, down to his bones.
Mike might be falling asleep.
Will smiles, hides it in the soft curtain of Mike’s hair where it’s brushing over his neck. Cups a hand around the back of his head and wraps his other arm around his shoulder — tighter, tighter, like Mike might just get up and walk away if he doesn’t. For all his pretending, Will is like this too, now: desperate, a little needy, selfish in small, ordinary ways. Too quick to worry when a call goes unanswered. Too quick to fuss over cuts and scrapes and bruises. He hugs too tight and he kisses too hard and he gets unsettled by quiet, calm afternoons.
He wasn’t ever like that before.
Mike twitches again — so delicately that it’s almost like an afterthought — then his arms tighten around Will’s midriff.
That feels intentional. Even if it hadn’t been. Things with Mike feel intentional. Purposeful.
Even if he is — you know. Asleep, a little.
Will’s room is comfortably warm; the late summer sun has been hiding lately, and the sky isn’t blue, exactly but at least it’s not red anymore — dark and rolling and angry. It’s still, and it’s quiet, and it’s peaceful for the first time in a long time — a long time—
—and still, something’s wrong.
“Will?”
Mike shifts, just slightly, just enough to lean his head against Will’s collarbone and look up at him. He catches the edge of Mike’s expression like it’s a secret, a glimpse of wide eyes, a little confused.
Will peers down at him. “Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t,” Mike says, even as he blinks heavily. He rolls out his ankle, bumps it against Will’s and keeps it there, stretches long and languid, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Will says. If Mike stays like this, if he doesn’t look up any farther, maybe he can get away with it.
Mike doesn’t sound convinced. “You sure?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and pushing himself up, just enough to be able to look at Will better. “You seemed…”
He trails off. Will tucks a stray strand of hair back behind Mike’s ear, from where it had been falling loose and down into his eyes. “I’m sure,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep!”
“You were,” Will laughs. “You were twitching. Like a cat.”
“I don’t twitch,” Mike insists, then pauses. “Do I?”
���Sometimes,” Will admits, then presses a kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “When you’re really tired. I think it’s cute.”
“Stop,” Mike mumbles, but he lowers his head back to Will’s chest. “So mean to me.”
“I called you cute!”
“Mean,” Mike says, sounding like he’s halfway back to sleep already as he snakes an arm back around Will’s chest, hand resting lightly on the side of his throat, just over his jaw. He tangles their legs together, the sheets going wrinkled and bunched up under them. “So mean.”
Will smiles. “Sorry,” he whispers. He glances down at the mess of black hair in front of his face, runs a careful hand through it. Again, and again, and again. Mike makes a small noise, content and pleased, and presses in closer, like he’s trying to vanquish whatever minute semblance of space might have been left between them. “I won’t be mean again.”
It’s a joke, obviously. Still, Will traces apologetic circles into Mike’s back, into the gentle dip between his shoulders. He maps out the planes there, tries to commit them to memory by touch alone, the way he can feel Mike breathe in — slow, hesitant — and then out again — faster, like he’s collapsing back into Will’s body.
The circles give way to shapes, any that Will can think of. Then lines, curved and looping around his shoulder blades, his upper arms. He trails fingers up the back of Mike’s neck, where the cotton of his shirt gives way to a more organic warmth, and scrapes his fingernails lightly against the skin there. Drops another delicate kiss to the sliver of Mike’s forehead where his hair is parted as it falls around his face.
Mike lets out another pleased noise, half-coherent and probably involuntary, and his hand twitches lightly on Will’s jaw. Will bites back a smile, and stares straight up at the ceiling.
Will was never good at this before either — taking the things he wants. Letting himself have things he wants. Something is turning over in his gut, warm and viscous and slow, with each moment of touch he lets himself have, in this newfound, selfish way — through Mike’s hair, down his arms and back up again. Over his back, his shoulders, trailing fingers up his cheeks. He rubs circles into Mike’s temples, watches his brows unfurrow — for once in his life — and his expression go slack with contentment. He wants to touch the corners of Mike’s mouth too, where they’ve turned downwards, vulnerable, half-pressed into Will’s shirt.
He does. He can.
It’s a novel thing, for him, having someone be this close. Having someone be this close just because they want to be, because they trust you.
Will doesn’t know what to make of that. He’s never felt this before, the urge to hold someone so close that all the bad things go away. The urge to touch, the urge to lie here until entropy takes them.
There are no bad things anymore, though. It’s a quiet afternoon, and it’s calm, and it’s peaceful, and—
Will stops.
His hand stills on Mike’s back.
Oh, he thinks, still looking up at the ceiling. Oh.
“Will?” Mike stirs again, and he’d definitely been right on the precipice of sleep this time, judging by the way his voice is dragging on the single syllable. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Will whispers, a little incredulously, as realization dawns upon him. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry too, a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”
Mike taps a slow finger against Will’s cheek and peers carefully up at him. “What is it?
“I,” Will starts, then stops. He’ll sound ridiculous if he says it. Ridiculous and pathetic and— “Nothing,” he says anyway, despite every molecule of better judgment in his body. “I’m just— I’m happy.”
Mike pauses. “Oh,” he says simply, cheek still pressed to Will’s chest. He sounds a little caught off-guard, in a good way. “I— that’s good. That you’re happy.”
The weird feeling in Will’s gut bubbles up, up, and over. “Yeah,” he says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. “I am. You make me happy.”
At this, Mike looks up. His expression is a bit startled, like a deer in headlights. “What?”
Oh, god. Will swallows. He looks back up. “I just,” he says, “I’ve never— I’m happy. And I don’t know when— I don’t know if I’ve ever. Been this happy before, I mean. Before everything. Before—”
You, he thinks. He doesn’t say it, but it goes implied.
Mike is silent.
The weird feeling starts settling back into Will’s stomach, slow and steady like molasses. Shit. That was, objectively, probably a weird thing to say. It was, right?
Oh, god.
Will blinks, once, twice, thrice in quick succession, and keeps his stare fixed on the ceiling.
“Will,” Mike says at last, from somewhere below him. He lifts his head off of Will’s chest, tufts of black hair swimming into view. “Can you— can you look at me, please?”
Oh, god.
Will looks down. “Yeah?”
Mike looks— wondrous, maybe, which is a bit dramatic, but it’s true. “Really?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound freaked out or anything, which is a good sign, but— “I do?”
“Yeah,” Will whispers. “You do. Like, really happy.”
Happy seems a bit diminutive, if Will’s being honest. Whatever this feeling is runs much deeper than that — past contentment and comfort and satisfaction. Ease, maybe. Safety would be closer.
He doesn’t say any of that.
Mike’s cheeks flush a brilliant pink. He splays his palm across Will’s cheek and asks, in mild disbelief, “Is that what was bothering you?”
“It wasn’t bothering me,” Will says quietly, tugging at Mike’s wrist and sitting up, just slightly, leaning back against one elbow. “I’m fine.”
“You weren’t,” Mike says simply, and lets himself be moved. “I could tell. I just— I thought it was something, you know. Worse.”
“What?” Will laughs, and Mike’s expression softens in relief. “Like what?”
“I don’t know!” Mike exclaims, but he’s smiling too. “I just— I could tell, and I didn’t— I don’t know. Never mind.”
Will pushes a strand of hair behind Mike’s ear again, the same one that had been falling back out the entire time they’d been lying together. “I’m sorry if you worried,” he says quietly. “I just— I didn’t know what it was. I’ve never been this happy before.”
“Will,” Mike starts, expression earnest and searching. He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“Sorry,” Will adds, for good measure. Maybe Mike is, like, totally freaked out. “No pressure, or anything.”
“Don’t apologize,” Mike says immediately, frowning. “Never apologize. I just— I’m happy too. You make me happy. Really happy.”
“Well that’s good,” Will jokes, but it comes out halfhearted. “I should hope I’m not making you sad.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “Will.”
“Sorry,” he says on instinct, then immediately bites down on his lower lip. “I mean. Yes. Yeah.”
Mike gives him a look, exasperated and a little fond. “I mean,” he says, then leans forward, all the way back into Will’s space, “you make me happy too. I don’t know when I’ve been— me too, I mean. Me too.”
“Oh,” Will breathes out, in awe, a little bit, of a lot of things — the deepening flush across Mike’s cheek, the ease with which the admission comes tumbling out of his mouth. The simple reciprocity of it bowls him over, like maybe Mike thinks about this, when Will doesn’t know — just how happy Will makes him. “Okay.”
Mike eyes dart between his own. “That all you have to say?” he teases. “Okay?”
“What else do you want me to say?” Will asks, teasing back, a little, but also asking a little truthfully. He’s not the greatest with words, but he’s also not stupid — he understands the implications, here, of what it means to feel so happy around someone that it feels like you’re admitting to something bigger by just saying it. He knows what he’s implying, and he knows Mike is picking up on it, but he doesn’t know how to put that into words — the way his soul feels like it’s stilled inside of him, somewhere, no longer restless or jittery or perpetually keyed up.
He wonders if Mike feels like that too.
The thought, suddenly, is too much.
“Nothing,” Mike says, after a moment. He pauses, then presses a fleeting kiss to Will’s cheek. “Nothing.”
“Mike,” Will says, suddenly, then grabs a hold of Mike’s wrist again. “I— you know that I—”
He feels overwhelmed, a little frantic. He’s sure it’s coming through in his voice. The rest of the sentence hangs there, suspended in midair between the two of them.
Love you, Will thinks. I love you. I love you.
He needs Mike to know.
Mike can’t ever know.
He looks away again, like maybe Mike will be able to tell exactly what he’s thinking just by looking at him.
“Yeah,” Mike is saying. “It’s okay, Will. I know. Me too. Obviously.”
Will relaxes. Thank god for plausible deniability. “Okay,” he says instead, feeling a smile split wide and exhilarated across his face. He feels like he just ran a marathon, and it isn’t until he lies back down that he feels it. The adrenaline, sweet and thick and palpable in his veins. “Okay. Cool.”
“Cool,” Mike echoes, then settles back down on top of him. “Yeah. Cool.”
Will tucks his chin over the top of Mike’s head, running a soothing hand over Mike’s hair. His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure Mike is able to tell. “Go back to sleep,” he says quietly. Mike lets out a noise that might be a laugh, and tucks his face into Will’s neck.
It’s a quiet afternoon. Everything feels perfectly right.
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fortheturnstiles · 1 year ago
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rick danko epic dance moves compilation from don’t do it live at the casino arena 7/20/1976 . hope you enjoy
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bread-is-my-life · 1 month ago
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Chat stainmight makes my head dizzy/srs I need to take a sec hold on
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pup-pee · 8 months ago
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this is b4 theh confused their love or smth
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itissadbutitsmy-artblog · 6 months ago
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of all the things to turn into a ridiculous (cleaned up) long comic (i have PLENTTYY of sketched long comics) i chose: spader skips class
i still dont know how to panel comics but that s what practicing is. for
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sneakyswag · 4 months ago
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Hey guys I got bad sick so I won’t be posting for a little while
(I went to the hospital)
So when I recover I’ll start posting again
*aggressive breakdancing*
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todayisafridaynight · 4 months ago
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dont touch me im thinking of arakawa and sawashiro co-parenting again
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unproduciblesmackdown · 3 months ago
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omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!
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#& [it might be 5am but i'll still see if i can draw some] trackpad homemade reacts. inhales & hands to head/face x9 then walking off#site giving pretty random Suggested assortment there where i was like oh right sure. prob not tumblr keywords captures lmaooo#(plus happened to have it open in firefox) but my god Not the scapegoated literal seers lmfao. whoooo. my god#also it was just really good anyways like right nice. damn#the (queerrr) seerrr the perceiverrr the truth tellerrr the ruinerrr the scapegoat be-errr the internalizerrr the neurodivergerrr#& now i Know there is 0% chance ppl weren't putting ''always a gay cousin or it's you (avuncular edition)'' in that thing#family tree design not even leaving space for the hypothetical kids of this relative we mostly pretend is nonexistent hmm#also that necessarily. it's giving all intents & purposes Disability abt a dozen ways & it's saying [accept that] vs [we'd better fix him]#you don't cite said [it's giving disability] as part of the We All Hate The Horrible Little Freak scapegoating justification & then be like#''actually we don't have to do that anymore b/c he's sooo normal :)'' or not if you're serious about [don't scapegoat your family] anyways#which like oh ok they Are serious so The Weirdo's scapegoating / casting out / lack of support Isn't justified#so he's still weird & you just gotta get over that b/c otherwise. bye. having a natural rat affinity is such a slay btw#& we've all been there like ''you NEVER want two scapegoats talking it's Over if they do'' + littlest kid is like um. they're the best#plankton voice Correct! inhale i'm so impressed like. getting to go ''finally someone Normal'' (serious abt letting someone Be Weird(tm))#which also always counts as like mm hard time suggesting someone's Not queer & also autistic for a start lmao. an award#adding in suggested layers like talking to oneself; talking Oddly / w difficulty; physical uncoordination; rituals ; acting; animal friend#the layer of ''& all that's fine? like?'' again rather than him ever suppressing or even changing it so far as it's suggested#besides that it's observed as Weird like but so? or else what? nonrhetorical: hostility / rescinded support & driving someone off is what?#& that Truth like the [worse treatment / exclusion / scapegoat] oft recipe for someone giving the support they're not getting themself#again Never let the [ppl both experiencing this] talk oh it's So over. or the child who's all i like family support & kindness actuallyy...#obviously also like the complete opposite of billions. knowing what they're about & letting this Just As Beloved crucial guy be So Weird#but billions Also [hmm feels right for our scapegoated guy to Perceive / Tell Truths / openly want/need & then be hurt] now get his ass#anyway [guy who could always go way on could go way on but only has thirty tags & it's 6am & i still mean to try some drawing] voice#remarkable amt of So True & ''it feels like ppl on the same page w/exactly what they're doing are all behind this''#remarkable amount of concentrated My God That Is So A Slay located in bruno all at once. what a gift#sticking to ''sometimes someone In Your Group is Weird. Disabled. deal'' firmly enough there's no ;) oh u can bet we'll Fix Him in the end#everyone always assumes the worst so....me when i'm [always as a kid yearning for Living In Secret Passages]. emile gtmpota?#oh congrats to whatever rando who will be having his dramatic gay reunion w/bruno just out of frame obviously. i perceive#now imagine if That rando was....emile gtmpota! what a crossover event. haunting4haunting. do i have enough tags for this lmao. yea#& having 1 more tag to say: as though the [endless serving] isn't enough bruno's also as close to gender envy as it gets. incl rats; sure
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cthulhum · 5 months ago
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sometimes life is all about whispering "congrats on ur top surgery, king" when dean lifts up his shirt in the mirror in lazarus rising
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akitanerufan · 1 year ago
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hey girl. did you know i like TRANSFORMERS ROBOTS IN DISGUISE SHOW FROM 2015 on netflix And Other Streaming Services (and transformers prime thats why arcee and airachnid are here. But those two shows are connected right like rid literally happened right after tfp RIGHT . )
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the rest is all fixit sorry 💀
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ok byeWAIT okwb ye bye$+$--$+($++-$-
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