#so here we go ig

[withoutzeuzey]

redrew this with my oc Elvan after seeing this post some months ago but i never finished coloring it until now haha

it'd be so cool if more people redrew this pic with their oc!

[raltsraltsralts]

it’s her barbecue

[linearitie]

blood and water [chamber & chamber drabble]

Pairing: chamber & chamber, platonic? (i can't even call it that) Word Count: ~650

-

His mirror glances over. “Something is on your mind.”

Chamber crunches the bottle in his unsteady hands, his mouth dry as he shakes his head. The hazy air clutters his mind, and the neon lights of the Tokyo nightlife only worsens his headache. He glances down at himself, already seeing the spots of red decorating his suit, future bullets in his chest at the betrayal.

“There’s nothing.” He manages a small smile, staring back into cautious eyes. “Rest assured, brother.”

“Is that so? I can recognize this look anywhere.”

The next moment feels stretched out in its silence. A steady drone of music and chatter serves as a backdrop to unending thoughts, pulling Chamber downwards into a deep spiral. He takes a sharp inhale, his smile briefly flickering at the sudden question, before shaking his head again. Vibrant blues and pinks bring about darkened shadows on his double’s face, and a feeling of fear rests in his stomach at the uncertainty of this situation. There is no face to read and therefore no control to be had – and thus, Chamber hopes he isn’t giving himself away too much.

“No, nothing at all.” His voice is steadier, the word spilling out in a low drawl. He feels the air shift with a newfound suspicion, undetected prior. “You can have faith in me.”

“In this line of business?” His mirror scoffs. “Faith kills. You expect openness between partners, especially in a duo like ours. If you end up staying silent on something critical to our mission, then it isn’t just one of us who dies. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

Chamber shakes his head again. The water in the bottle ripples from the adrenaline. “No, not at all.”

“Hm.” He tilts away from their bench, arm dangling off the rest. “Then, why lie?”

Chamber takes a deep breath. There’s a faint sense of alarm: the nearly limp frame against the wooden frame, holding just enough energy to keep itself up, reminds him of his own combat preparation. Always have them believe you are there to just talk. Nobody anticipates a man that can pull weapons out from thin air. He turns away, unsure if they need to disrupt the night with an array of bullets. Words jumble together in his head, forming a blip of a sentence that will hopefully maintain the peace for a little longer.

“It’s not… relevant to the upcoming goal. My troubles are with the interpersonal relationships I have with the agents of the Protocol. It is nothing like how Legion functions, and thus not worth sharing to ask for advice or help on navigating this situation.”

“That’s it?”

“Why would I lie? Do you not trust me?”

“No, no.” Finally, a chuckle. “I thought it was more serious than that. You aren’t getting along with some people on your team… and you’re sad about that?”

Chamber frowns. “A reductive way to phrase it.”

“You can call it reductive, but I see it as the truth.” His mirror turns back around. In his expression is a mixture of disappointment, of pity, of loneliness that is simply too far gone, of determination that fights to overshadow everything. “You’ll eventually realize that everyone is just there for the plan. We use them to achieve our goals. That is their penultimate purpose in this life.”

Purpose, Chamber echoes.

“With that, you’ll take a look at those interpersonal relationships that you’ve formed. Once we reach the end, then you’ll see.” There is just enough light to catch sight of the grimace in his mirror’s lips. “Everything you’re worrying about now is meaningless. It might bring temporary joy, but you’ll lose the Protocol. I’ll lose the Legion. The only thing we’ll have left is each other – so why offer genuine care to what will be dust in the end?”

[soranker]

98 lovemail doodles >_<

[nanihirunkits]

WE ARE | EP11

[girlsdads]

Max shows up on the Monday following the worst week of Daniel’s life with two dirt bikes in the back of a truck like he’s Bella from fucking Twilight.

He’d said as much that Thursday, a text that read simply: I’m coming to Perth. Daniel’s phone has been on Do Not Disturb since Singapore, but Max’s message had flashed bright in his peripheral vision as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to ignore the gnawing pit in his gut. Daniel had pictured Max tapping Notify Anyway with the tip of his index finger, T-rex style.

He hadn’t known how to say Please don’t make this harder, hadn’t had the courage to say I need you here, so he’d sent back: Ok.

And now he’s sat here on the porch in the same baggy t-shirt he’s been wearing for days—discolored sweat stains and all—watching Max back a pickup truck down the dirt driveway. He can’t remember the last time he saw Max behind the wheel of something like this, sturdy and substantial. It feels like a first, a brand new thing for only this version of himself—Max Verstappen driving a truck.

Max smoothly pulls into a full stop, the ignition rumbles then dies. Daniel’s bare feet hit the dirt before Max even opens the door, a feeling that can only be relief blooming inside his chest. He’d said he would come, and he did, steadfast through it all.

Max is wearing travel clothes, basketball shorts and a hoodie, ankle socks and a pair of slides that look more like shower shoes than sandals. He looks tired, like he’d texted Daniel on Thursday and hasn’t slept since. Daniel knows he’s looking pretty shit himself, knows he’s been wallowing a bit hard, sue him. Still Max smiles like Daniel’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

It chokes him up just the same as the first time, almost a decade ago. That clogged-up cotton-y feeling in his throat is love, probably always has been—he’s not too chickenshit to admit it to himself now, after everything. The realization feels precious.

“Hiya, Maxy.” Daniel feels like he hasn’t spoken in years. His voice wobbles, stupidly. He’s squinting against the sun and the hot sting of tears. Max reaches for him.

All of his metaphorical strings cut, he falls into the soft bulk of Max’s chest. The gasping breath he takes as he presses his whole face against the crook of Max’s neck and shoulder feels like his first in a long, long time. Underneath the smell of sweat is the familiar clean scent of Max’s jet cabin. Daniel inhales and inhales, letting it fill his lungs like life support.

Max’s arms around him is the only homecoming he ever needed.

[triple-pupil]

Forgot to post her.

[arolegos]

im way too scared to say this on main but icl i love lloyrumi n' i love ur lloyrumi art ... can u draw them more for me ... maybe dr harumi meeting sora and jordana like 'damn lloyd they js like us fr fr ???'

i love when the relationship dynamic is "kiss marry kill? all of the above"

[nomiyakazehaya]

a tired and disappointed mom i've been wanting to draw that one tfp concept art for a while, and since my internet decided to implode on itself, i decided to do exactly that to cope 🥲

some silly alternatives under the cut bc i thought they were funny 😂

[turtleblogatlast]

Man “Battle Nexus: New York” was a great episode but I do have one major gripe with it.

Like. Raph being paired up with Ghostbear? Makes sense. Works great. Works amazing, even.

Mikey being paired up with Meatsweats? Yeah that checks out!!

Donnie getting…Hypno…? I mean. I guess Donnie doesn’t like magic so it kindaaa works but Kendra would have been a much better choice to me personally. Maybe Big Mama didn’t wanna include a human or something…

And Leo getting…uh…one of the Sando Brothers???? Of all villains? Nah let’s be real, his main villain is more Big Mama herself (or Leo could be considered his own worst enemy lmao-). Hell Hypno would have probably worked better here considering their shared love for magic tricks and stuff, but Carl Sando????

[transprodigalson]

roman roy × my poetry

[loquatenjoyer69]

He wants the loquat because he wants, like most people, to be happy.

Matoba is Matoba. The exorcist world is dying, families are losing their power, but there are still those who want to see the Matoba house brought to its knees, and even in a world like this where the competition is not what it used to be, it's still crucial to maintain the family's power. One slip could reveal a fatal weakness. A single crack could bring the whole house down.

Matoba is Matoba. A fifteen year old boy knows the histories of all the notable exorcist families, because he has to. If you're Matoba, you have to keep tabs on everyone. The Natori house was once powerful enough to rival the Matobas; their proprietary paper techniques allowed them to commune with the gods. Now all that's left of them is a child who knows nothing of his own legacy.

"The Matoba clan might not always be at the top, either, you know."

"Ahaha, I don't know about that... I won't let it fall." It's not allowed.

Every month, a hideous dark mass of a creature comes after him, trying to eat his eye out of his skull. Every Matoba head for countless generations has lived with this. The previous head's face was unrecognizable by the end. A fifteen year old boy is already preparing to take on the role with unwavering confidence. A single crack could bring the whole house down.

Exorcists gossip, exorcists scheme, they plot against each other and try to gain power. Youkai are unpredictable and dangerous; they can be powerful, but they often impose themselves on humans and cause them to suffer. If you can learn how to control them, you can wield that power. You must not let the youkai catch you, or the Matoba's power is no more.

Matoba Seiji is the head of the notorious Matoba clan, dispatching dangerous youkai with ease, spying on other exorcists, keeping the enemies of his clan in check, always carrying the umbrella when he needs it, always with that smile on his face. Matoba has perfectly mastered the art of protecting Matoba.

At twenty-two, he's been doing this for a while now. The small talk, the plotting, the bribing, the arrows, the umbrellas, the monthly visits from a creature hellbent on devouring your eye, it all becomes part of a routine, and at the same time, it gets tiresome.

Incidentally, Matoba Seiji likes sweet things. Incidentally, Matoba Seiji has a fondness for cats. These are essentially fun bits of trivia about him; they're not evidence of anything.

Incidentally, sometimes it seems like he's going out of his way to help people without them knowing. It's just easier that way; it's just more efficient.

None of this means anything. Maybe Matoba is the hard ground in winter: dry and barren, all life asleep underneath, waiting for spring (winter has been going on for years now). Maybe he's a summer harvest: the product of deliberate and painstaking cultivation under the heat of the sun. Maybe he's the spring: full of potential, just starting to blossom. Maybe he's the fall: dying, though he doesn't know it. Maybe people aren't like seasons at all; they're actually more complicated than that.

Summer is loquat season. Under the blazing heat of the sun, in the damp and sweltering air, the sweet loquats are ripening on the branch. Years ago, Matoba Seiji would admire them every day on the way home from school. It's wonderful how something so sweet and delicious could come from nature. Years ago, someone else was there, and they both got to taste the loquats. It's funny how things don't always work out.

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN | 201218 • GOD'S MENU

[knightwhoisni]

Shots of Leon S. Kennedy in the Resident Evil 4 Remake Chainsaw Demo

bonus:

[byfulcrums]

Fucking around with the HSR text thingy

[zhuletta]

Don’t ask me what rune Link’s using just know Zelda likes it