#so.... sigh. idk
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vse-kar-vem · 27 days ago
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why is my self esteem so weird broo
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nathaniacolver · 2 months ago
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arcane ships be like
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i love a show that teaches equality (😭😭😭)
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hinamie · 2 months ago
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make it vicious, take a stab
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heartorbit · 2 months ago
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happy halloween! 🎃🐈‍⬛👻🐇
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crowatyourwindow · 3 months ago
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Kenji and his cow Hanako II were the best duo from wan change my mind
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swordfright · 10 months ago
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this might just be because i'm a bit older than your average mcyt fan, but it makes me kind of sad to see all these younger fans scramble to wipe their mcyt fanworks off the internet the second a content creator is revealed to have done something awful.
don't get it twisted, I'm a big believer in rescinding financial support to ccs you no longer agree with or admire by unsubscribing, deciding not to buy merch, or refusing to give them ad revenue by watching their content. if you don't feel comfortable giving someone money, don't give them your money. material support isn't what i'm talking about here - I'm talking about fanfic, fansongs, fanart. yknow, content that fans create for themselves and each other, stuff that's not for ccs.
in the past year (and especially the past week, obviously) i've seen tons of mcyt fans saying they're planning to delete their art (or that they already have deleted) because they don't want their work to be associated with content creators who behaved badly, and that they want "a fresh start." I've seen fan writers say the same thing about their fics. and like, this is fine, do what you want with your stuff, but i'll be honest...it does make me sad that so many younger fans seemingly have been made to feel such a high degree of responsibility for ccs that they're unable to enjoy fandom (a thing that is FOR US! FOR YOU!) or take any measure of pride in their past fanworks.
again, at the end of the day you should do what you want with your own shit. but what i will say is, if what you want to do with your work is delete it, at least think first about why you're considering the nuclear option. you aren't responsible for a cc's behavior, and that goes for literally anyone who's ever had a hand in making anything you like: books, movies, games, anything. you shouldn't be made to feel ashamed of having created fan content for a piece of media that a shitty person was involved in making. straight up, this kind of shame isn't something i believe should exist in fandom, because it's parasocial in the same way that positive emotions towards media/creators can be parasocial.
and also, as someone who's been involved in fandom for a long time, i can say with confidence that creators will keep disappointing you like this. there are shitty people out there. if you're searching for a piece of media with zero shitty people ever involved in the project, you will not find it. i'm not saying this to normalize shitty behavior on the part of creators, I'm saying this to emphasize that bearing the shame and guilt of every creator to this degree is not sustainable or healthy (and it's not how fandom used to operate, but that's a conversation for another day, perhaps.)
i understand why so many folks are considering deleting their fanworks, and if that's you...think about it before you do it. that's all i'm asking. you don't want to create a habit of divesting yourself of all evidence of having been passionate about art created by someone who sucks, because if you do get into that habit, then your chances of ever truly enjoying a fandom again are, unfortunately, pretty slim.
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spliceyblues · 3 months ago
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Painting the roses red, and many a tear we shed.
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orbch · 5 months ago
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“why are you drawing season 1 tua fanart?” because season 4 was so bad it made me want to die. next.
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inzuinzudesu · 19 days ago
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A Christmas gift for @kawkawsrii! Happy holidays!
Bonus: they went to the grandline and will come back in part 2???? i hope so?????????
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Bonus 2: cute ass lil shits whom i desperately wanted to put in but couldn't cuz i'm silly like that
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izsheum · 1 month ago
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(Left) imagine being so insufferable that you get sent to the enemy team as a weapon of mass annoyance…(and are probably sent right back)
(Right) see they argued a LOT in earthspark and let me tell you right now. it Could mean nothing. it Could.
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sighs dreamily…..screamer…
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i was giggling to myself while making this erm
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and ykw i think they WOULD be kpop fans and i’m not just saying that because i am. i’m not!! (they’d love red velvet)
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capquinn · 26 days ago
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I really want fries as a finishing the week treat but it’s so cold out and I’m too lazy to get them. But I was thinking about Quinn and pregnant reader in that situation. Quinn would give her that 🫤 look and sigh after she’s been going on and on about her pregnancy craving and no matter the weather or time of night he always goes out to get it or find the closest thing to it. He’s such a softie and drops everything to do anything for her
It starts off innocently enough — just a passing comment as you're cooking dinner.
You’re standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, when you spot the empty pickle jar on the counter. The sight of it stops you mid-stir, an ache blooming in your chest that you hadn’t even realised was there. The sharp tang of vinegar was just a memory now, thanks to Quinn, who had polished off the last one earlier. You stared at the jar for a long moment, then inhaled deeply as if to steel yourself, catching the faint scent of peanut butter still lingering in the air from his afternoon snack.
“We’re out of pickles,” you announce, the words coming out sharper than you’d intended.
Quinn doesn’t even look up from where he’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone.
“We’re going grocery shopping tomorrow,” he replies casually, like it’s no big deal. “We’ll grab some more then.”
You nod, swallowing down the disappointment. Of course, it’s fine. Quinn already does so much for you — too much, honestly. He doesn’t complain when you wake him up in the middle of the night to rub your back, doesn’t bat an eye when you cry over commercials. The least you can do is manage a craving for one night.
But by the time the soup bowls are empty and the dishes are drying in the rack, the craving is no longer something you can brush aside. It’s no longer just pickles. It’s pickles and peanut butter. Crunchy peanut butter, specifically, the kind you already have in the pantry. And the thought of it — salty and tangy and just a little sweet — is like a loop stuck in your brain. You can feel it growing, blooming into an obsession you can’t shake no matter how hard you try.
So you finally bring it up as you’re both clearing the table.
“You know, pickles and peanut butter would taste so good right now,” you say, hoping maybe speaking it out loud will get it out of your system.
Quinn pauses, plate in hand, and gives you a skeptical glance. “Pickles and peanut butter? Together?”
You nod, setting down the glasses you’ve just picked up from the table. “Yeah. Like, on the same spoon. Or maybe a pickle dipped in peanut butter,” you add, tilting your head thoughtfully.
He squints at you like you’ve just suggested something completely alien. “You don’t even like pickles.”
“I know,” you say, exasperated, “but it’s a pregnancy craving. I can’t explain it.”
Quinn smirks, a playful glint in his eye. “So, the baby’s got you craving… that?”
“Apparently,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual, though you can feel the craving getting worse now that you’ve spoken it into existence.
It comes up again later as you sit cross-legged on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while Quinn flips through TV channels.
“Pickles and peanut butter,” you murmur under your breath, almost to yourself and from the corner of your eye, you catch Quinn’s side-eye, his brow quirking as he lowers the remote slightly.
“You’re still thinking about that?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, though there’s a hint of skepticism, like maybe he’s hoping this craving had run its course.
You glance up, shrugging as you bite your lip.
“Yeah,” you admit, and then, add quickly, “but it’s fine. I can wait until tomorrow.”
Quinn’s gaze lingers on you for a beat, and you can feel the weight of it. He’s studying you, half waiting for you to crack and half trying to decide if he needs to intervene now or risk hearing about pickles and peanut butter in his sleep.
“You sure?” he says finally, his tone light, but there’s something else beneath it — like he knows you’re holding back.
“Positive,” you say, nodding firmly.
And for a while, you convince yourself that it's true. That you're completely, utterly and positively sure that you can wait until tomorrow.
So you curl up under the blanket with Quinn, his arm draped loosely over your shoulders, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm — a quiet, familiar rhythm that usually soothes you without fail. The TV hums softly in the background, and his chest rises and falls against your side, steady and warm. It should be enough.
But it’s not.
The thought of that perfect salty-sweet combination gnaws at you, persistent and unrelenting. You try to distract yourself, to focus on the show Quinn seems semi-invested in, but every passing second feels like the craving is growing claws, digging deeper into your resolve.
You take a deep breath, glancing up at him. His profile is soft in the glow of the TV, his expression relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he absently strokes your shoulder. He’s content, comfortable. You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.
Almost.
“Before I say something,” you start, your voice tentative, measured, the prelude to what you know is a plea, “just remember that I’m carrying your baby.”
Quinn doesn’t even blink. His lips quirk into a small smile, his thumb pausing mid-circle on your arm.
“Our baby,” he corrects gently, his tone warm, teasing, like he knows exactly where this is going. Of course he knows. He always knows.
You hesitate for a beat, building up your courage before blurting, “I’m really, really craving pickles and peanut butter.”
His head falls back against the couch, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he drags a hand down his face.
“Baby,” he says, his voice full of mock exasperation, “it’s pouring outside. You said it could wait until tomorrow.”
“I thought it could,” you insist, sitting up straighter, as if that’ll help your case. “But I’ve been thinking about it since dinner, Quinn. I don’t think I can sleep until I have it.”
He looks at you, his brows furrowing just enough to show he’s debating his options, though you both know there’s only one.
“I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate,” you tack on, your tone earnest as if that might tip the scales further in your favor.
Quinn exhales a long, dramatic sigh, one that would almost sound convincing if not for the way his lips twitch at the edges, betraying the affection underneath. There’s no real frustration in him — just the soft resignation of someone entirely smitten, hopelessly incapable of saying no.
“You haven’t even asked me anything yet,” he points out, tilting his head as he meets your gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a flicker of amusement he’s trying not to show.
It’s infuriatingly endearing.
“Will you please go get pickles?” you ask, your tone so sweet, so endearingly earnest, that he doesn’t stand a chance.
That gets him.
His lips twitch, fighting off a grin, as he pushes himself to his feet, stretching with a dramatic groan.
“The things I do for you,” he mutters under his breath, the corners of his mouth betraying the tease.
He disappears down the hall, and you hear the faint shuffle of a jacket being pulled off a hook, the jangle of keys being found. When he returns, he’s already slipping his arms into the sleeves, his shoulders settling with the kind of resigned acceptance that says he knows this is his life now — and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He moves toward the door, stooping to pull on his sneakers, the drizzle outside faintly tapping against the windows. Just as he’s tying the laces, he glances back over his shoulder, one brow quirking in that playful, knowing way that makes your heart squeeze.
“Anything else while I’m out?” he asks, his tone warm and teasing, like he’s already resorted to a grocery list. “Ice cream? Chocolate syrup? A gallon of peanut butter to get us through the next week?”
You laugh, shaking your head as you peek over the back of the couch.
“Just the pickles. And maybe… the good kind?” You ask innocently, like maybe you’re asking for too much at this late hour.
Quinn groans, a sound full of exaggerated exasperation, but the grin tugging at his lips gives him away.
“The good kind,” he repeats, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, like the words themselves are some great inconvenience. “I’ll see what I can do.”
But there’s no hiding the fondness in his eyes as he steps closer, moving behind the sofa. He plants his hands on the cushions, leaning over until his face is just above yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin with a quiet kind of devotion. Then, he presses a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the steady comfort of his presence.
“You owe me for this,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to that warm, teasing tone that makes your heart flip.
You tilt your head toward him, grinning as you meet his gaze, your affection spilling over. “I’m giving you a baby, Quinn.”
He exhales a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like he’s indulging some monumental injustice. But the way his lips twitch, the faint curve of a smile tugging at the corners, gives him away.
“Yeah, you are,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a gesture so instinctive, so achingly gentle, it makes your chest tighten.
There’s a flicker in his eyes of pure adoration that doesn’t even try to hide. It’s the kind of look that says a thousand things he never could — about how much he loves you, how much this life you’re building together means to him, how he’d cross any distance, brave any storm, just to see you smile.
And then he huffs, a soft sound somewhere between affection and surrender, before leaning down further, his breath warm against your skin. His lips brush against yours, soft and deliberate, the kind of kiss that’s all tenderness and quiet longing. It lingers, unhurried, his hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you right there, as though this moment is his anchor before he steps out into the cold.
“Be right back.”
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hinamie · 5 months ago
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alongside someone like you
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#itafushi#fushiita#fanart#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk 266#jjk leaks#i feel like i say this after every piece at this point but iam once again. SO TIRED#collapses dead#cries i did it again i ws up all last night finishing the first 1.....tht one took *counts* 8 hours...#got 3 hrs sleep n picked up where i left off on th second one at 8 in the morning#2nd one absolutely ruined me n made the third one feel like a herculean task . even tho its literally just them on a bed#rooms....KITCHENS......beloathed!!!! public enemy no1 kill on sight!!!!!!#hell is real and they make u render different rooms of houses from scratch no perspective tool no clue what ur doing#n they see how long it takes u to completely lose it#clipped yuujis bangs back tho n i thought tht was cute . silver linings#1ST ONE WAS SO FUN ALSO idk if its bc outdoor environments r forgiving or bc i had more energy n was fresh faced n hopeful or what#but it is by far my favourite. once again pulled out nearly every nature brush in my arsenal#third one meh simple safe soft w/e i was just so exhausted after th kitchen tht working on it was such a slog#oh ya i added a bunch of scars 2 yuuji's arms n lobbed off his ring finger sighs the yuuji injury list (tm) grows every minute#also HINA USE YELLOW CHALLENGE CLEAR golden hour in2 sunset my beloved <333 easy warm light + safe homey Peaceful vibes...bless#cries eternally thinking abt them let us have this let THEM have this pls thank u#ok i need to not look at these anymore take them enjoy my contribution 2 the domestic itfs pile
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lave-ium · 3 months ago
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i <3 u not
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ruubesz-draws · 11 months ago
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Godsh I wish that were me...
Redraw of the Godzilla version cos now it's canon that Minus One likes Monsterverse MV the most!
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forgettable-au · 3 months ago
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FORGETTABLE AU: PROLOGUE
[MASTERPOST] [NEXT CHAPTER]
PAGES:
(1-9) , (10-13) (14-17) , (18-20)
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bones-of-a-rabbit · 4 months ago
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had the absolute stupidest idea for an au and now it's y'alls problem. im lazy so im gonna steal the explanation i put in discord instead of explaining it in a brief, succinct way:
ok so. monster in lethal company, the maneater(???) thing, the one that looks like a harmless lil baby bug creature at first and cries a lot and when u don't b nice to it it turns into a monster and gets ur ass. so monster sun/moon that start off in a very vulnerable tiny baby state but r actually just like healing or smthn and Reader is the only one of a team of ppl thats nice and protects them and then later one of the ppl tries to/maybe accidentally almost gets Reader hurt and sun/moon go full angy and yeet a mf and then reader is like 'oh my god i have been letting those monster things sleep in my BED what if they have been planning to EAT ME' and sun/moon are like 👁️👁️💕💕 hi we love u
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