#ta da i did it

[twinknote]

death note characters as dog breeds

light: shiba inu (independent, vigilant, stubborn, cute and idealized but can actually be very bitchy and weird)

misa: pomeranian (royal history in britain, giant personality in a little body, intelligent, very affectionate, often mischevious)

L: briard (confident, intelligent, needs a job to do/mental stimulation, wary of strangers, protective, do i even need to mention the hair)

mello: german shepherd (intimidating, courageous, intelligent, confident, vigilant, wary of strangers, can be kinda neurotic, esp if not given a task to focus on)

near: australian shepherd (intelligent, loyal, extremely strong work drive, wary of strangers, stubborn, needs mental stimulation or they will destroy everything you love)

matt: irish setter (affectionate, goofy, eager to please, intelligent, calm demeanor, needs mental stimulation or they will start bouncing off the walls)

mikami: akita (built af, stubborn, courageous, intelligent, loyal, protective, tendency to be a little blockheaded sometimes)

takada: afghan hound (dignified, intelligent, gorgeous, independent, hypoallergenic, loyal, can be a bit aloof with people/strangers)

[mienar]

late rainy nights

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[hue-kangz]

Drummer Kai MAMA 2024

[yuesya]

Ryomen Sukuna, the double-faced specter. The undisputed King of Curses, who had claimed the title of Strongest in his time.

… Versus Gojo Satoru. The Strongest sorcerer of the modern age –the strongest by a wide margin. In this world, at least. Back in his own world, where everything (hopefully) hasn’t gone to hell in a handbasket, Geto Suguru can confidently say that it’s Gojo Satoru and Gojo Shiki who hold the title of ‘Strongest’ together between the two of them.

Suguru had never paused to think what the world might be like without them. Either of them. And in this strange new world that he’d been thrown headfirst into without any warning, in this world where Shiki doesn’t exist and Suguru himself is dead and Satoru is left to carry everything alone, it…

It means that Satoru says that he will face Sukuna by himself, and everyone else nods along to this like it’s a foregone conclusion. As if it’s only natural. And perhaps it is, and Suguru knows that Satoru has always enjoyed a challenge, but–

It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Even though rationally, he knows that the Gojo Satoru in this world isn’t his Satoru, Suguru can’t help but worry for him, even despite the smooth confidence that the other man wears like a second skin. His friends and students in this world worry too, but Suguru can see how a not-insignificant number of them also look like they can’t fathom the thought of Gojo losing.

Because Gojo-sensei is the strongest. Invincible. Immaculate and utterly untouchable, and there is no one else who comes close to approaching him.

(“Stay with us, Suguru?”)

… Suguru worries for him.

It’s why he remains at the outskirts of the battlefield, when Gojo clashes with Sukuna. Hovering, watching, as the two sorcerers tear apart their surroundings; bridges collapsing and buildings ripped apart like wet paper. Suguru himself is a Special Grade sorcerer, but the level of a fight like this remains a cut beyond him, still. Just the multiple back-to-back Domain Expansions alone would’ve been more than enough to kill him several times over. He can feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck at the cursed energy saturating the air, and the sheer power that they throw around so easily…

It’s something that he’s only ever witnessed from Satoru and Shiki before.

…

He doesn’t know how to describe it. In the aftermath of the single most destructive release of Hollow Purple that Suguru has ever seen, Gojo’s victory appears imminent. But even riddled with injuries and missing half his body as he is, Sukuna looks up with Megumi’s face and smiles, baring his teeth as he brings his hand up in a sharp slashing motion, and–

And something inside Suguru twists, blood thundering in his ears, and his reaction is entirely instinctive. Probably the result of one too many heart attacks that Satoru and Shiki have put him through over the years, if he’s being honest here–

Rainbow Dragon, the most powerful defensive cursed spirit in Suguru’s arsenal, falls to the ground in a spray of red-violet blood, sliced in half. It does not move again, and Suguru knows that it will never move again –his connection to the cursed spirit had been severed instantaneously.

But it’s worth it. Because this means that, instead of having his upper torso separated from the rest of his body, Gojo is only missing an arm and a good portion of his shoulder. It’s his right arm, though, which isn’t good; he’ll need to regenerate the limb in order to form seals for his techniques with his hand–

“… Geto?”

“Gojo,” Suguru returns breathlessly, and then there’s no more time for idle talk. Not when Sukuna laughs, and falls upon them, already having healed from his own wounds –grievous wounds that would’ve killed any other sorcerer three times over. Not when the demon is somehow able to cut through Gojo Satoru’s Limitless technique, how is that possible?!

They struggle, and fight, and do their best. It’s not enough. Suguru and Gojo aren’t as in sync with each other as they need to be against an opponent like Ryomen Sukuna. And while Suguru is a Special Grade sorcerer, he’s not a Special Grade the way that Gojo and Sukuna are–!

Even so, Suguru grits his teeth and fights, tooth and nail, because the only other alternative now that he’s well and truly involved in this (as if he could turn his back on Satoru, any version of Satoru) is to give up, and Suguru refuses to do that.

… Is this how I’m going to die?

…

In the brief instant right before Suguru knows that he is about to face certain death, when his mind is only full of an endless refrain of Satoru, Shiki, somehow–

Sukuna stops.

The monster puppeteering Megumi’s body freezes, and looks upwards. It takes a moment for Suguru to register this odd, odd reaction, and he…

… he can’t exactly blame him.

Because when Suguru decides to take his chances and glances upwards himself to see what suddenly caught Sukuna’s attention, it’s abundantly clear that there’s something wrong. The sky –pulses, for lack of a better word. A strange sort of ripple that materializes in this space without any rhyme or reason, before it stretches open, a yawning circle of something–

Something–

Nothing.

Everything.

… What opens up in the sky in this moment is a chalice of purest darkness, overflowing with brilliant light. The frozen dawn, wrought with evening stars. There are flames curling within ice, meteorites shattering into dust, entire galaxies that wither and bloom–

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s utterly incomprehensible. Suguru stares up at the yawning, gaping maw of– of something, surely, but at the same time he doesn’t know what he’s seeing at all. Infinite possibilities, finite endings. Suguru stares and stares, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, but the more he peers into that unfathomable void in the sky, the less he can decipher from it.

It’s… almost as if his mind simply refuses to register what he’s seeing.

Then, there is a hand.

A pale, white hand, reaching out with open fingers splayed into the air. And he does mean white, alabaster-white. The hand is followed by a slender wrist, than an entire arm, and a shoulder–

… It’s a person, that much is evident from the humanoid form. The towering creature that emerges from the hole in the sky is most certainly not a person, though. In terms of size, it’s probably large enough to rival Mahoraga. And in terms of color, their coloring is wrong.

White. Solidly stark-white, like a statue carved from marble. A flawless and unblemished human form, to be sure; a distinctly androgynous work of perfection that cannot be mistaken for anything other than unnatural.

Two arms fall down at its sides, while two more sweep out with palms faced upwards. The creature also has two heads. One is attached normally to the body as a regular human would be, while the other is offset slightly above it, much like an attentive brother overlooking his sister from behind, for all their eerie similarities–

–hold on just a fucking moment.

That’s… holy shit. Holy shit. Suguru knows those faces, would know it anywhere, even on his deathbed–!

His mind promptly short-circuits at the mind-shattering revelation. It takes a solid moment, before he’s finally able to loosen his tongue enough to speak again.

“… Satoru,” Suguru whispers disbelievingly, hoping against hope and knowing what he sees down to his very soul. “Shiki?”

What the hell. What the hell.

Suguru, his beautiful, beloved, utterly mad lunatics say to him, voice sweet and ringing with dual-toned laughter. Never play hide-and-seek with us like this again.

[kopivie]

trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

[moeblob]

it is almost midnight why am I still drawing art ...

[pieflavoredartz]

happy jjk day, have sum edits :]

OG AFTA THE CUT

( also do me a big fat favour n be PG in the tags for the toji ones, im not too comfortable seein too suggestive commenst on my stuffs, thank you :]] )

[diabolicjoy]

mittens !!!! pattern X - i modified a bit because my yarn was a bit more thick, so i shortned a few rows of the colorwork & added the burnt orange details instead :)

[leechandoki]

My brain did a thing and honestly, I don't ship them BUT DAMN I FUCKIN' LOVE THE DYNAMIC AND I'M HERE FOR IT! STAINMIGHT COME GET YOUR TREAT!!

Kofi | Post+ | PayPal | Stripe | CashApp | Society6

[sungiftedbard]

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋!!!

To drop the anxiety and the wondering if they do or they don’t, here’s a post to make it nice and clear to me (and you) that you wanna ship with my muses.  All I ask is that you 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐘 for which of your muses this would be directed at (especially if you're a multi-muse!)

By liking this post, it means you are okay with the following:

Romantic shipping: Kissey kissey, romantic dates, and possibly intimate things. I send you all the romantic shippy memes and we drown in it.

Platonic shipping: Friends. Pals. Allies. Besties.

Familial shipping: Family. Siblings. Maybe adopted? Could be good or bad.

Enemies: I hate you and you hate me. Rivalry. It's complicated.

[timcurry-imgoinghomedotmp4]

felt like useless shit today but i did actually manage to do stuff so ta-da list 5/23 let's rock and roll

signed the new addendum for my lease, allowing me to have k in the apartment, starting june 1st, and told the landlord I'd get the rent to him by then so now i don't have to worry about it

made plans to introduce k and my soon-to-be roommate's dog on sunday and monday

folded almost all my laundry from a couple days ago and tidied my room a bit

successfully improvised my dinner. actually made something tasty with reallllly limited options

pushed the peanut on the ISG museum application

showered after so many days of not doing it, good lord i had such a weird block about it but i got CLEAN

did some training/hide and seek with K this evening

made coffee and stuck it in the fridge so i can have iced coffee tomorrow morning when it's hot as balls

played like 4.5 hours of disco elysium this morning/afternoon

victory from messaging l and m yesterday: i have plans to hang with them this weekend

rsvp'ed to g's memorial day bbq on monday

[shuruzy]

body practice... decided to use Quin as my training partner since they've got Forger Muscles & i dont draw or talk about J:USTICE characters enough

[nautilus-null]

And then I redrew it

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

for everyone who was a fan of this post, i humbly offer you this, pulled from my drafts of the last chapter of eat shit and live blitzwing which will get updated soon i promise! 

Emily’s divorce is finalized when Alexandria is six months old. 

The papers had been signed, the amount of child support had been agreed upon, visitation times had been chosen, and Tom had begged for a second chance all the way up to the end. The whole ordeal would’ve been done sooner had it not for the courthouse being closed for repairs after yet another Autobot-Decepticon scuffle. 

Teresa comes home with a bottle of whiskey that Emily just knows is ridiculously expensive. They have drinks on the back porch after Alexandria goes to sleep, sitting in comfortable silence, listening to the faint noises of traffic and insects chirping in the spring night. 

“So, now that child support is gonna start coming in, I’ll start looking for a place,” Teresa says after a while. 

Emily glances over at her in shock. “What?” 

“You won’t need help with the mortgage anymore,” she points out as she takes a sip from her glass. “So I will get out of your hair.” 

“I—wait, no,” Emily says, sitting up straighter. A whopping nine months sober and only occasional sips of wine here and there for the past six have destroyed her alcohol tolerance. She’s only two drinks in and feeling dizzy. “No, no, you don’t have to go. You can stay.” 

Teresa gives her a look her fuzzy brain deciphers wrong and she quickly adds, “Unless you want to leave, which I totally get! I know living with a small child isn’t ideal and—” 

“I like living here,” Teresa interrupts her. “I like it here. I like the house. I like the location. I like Alexandria. I like you.” 

They both go silent for a long moment, just staring at each other. Condensation drips off the side of Emily’s glass and onto the wood below. Teresa’s hand is shaking ever so slightly from where it rests on the arms of the chair. 

The honk of a distant car breaks the silence. 

“I—uh, it’s good that you like it here,” Emily says, turning away to stare down at her feet. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” Teresa adds, her voice wobbling ever so slightly. 

“I mean, you’ll get to pay less in rent, which is nice.” 

“Super nice.” 

“I’ll use the extra cash on renovations, I guess,” Emily murmurs. 

“I would like that,” Teresa replies. “I would like that a lot.”

They split shortly after, Emily headed for her bathroom and Teresa promising to take care of the remaining dishes. 

Emily lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why her stomach had twisted so tight and her brain had been rendered useless at Teresa’s words. Yet there had been so much emotion behind them. She didn’t say it casually, like someone commenting on a meal at a restaurant or a pair of shoes. No, there was something in her voice there. Something she hadn’t heard from the woman before. 

She digs her palms into her eyes and groans. She shouldn’t be thinking this over that hard. After all, the situation was weird to begin with. The woman her ex-husband had been cheating on her with had moved in as her roommate. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she could be attracted to her. 

At least, that’s what Emily told herself as she begins to drift off to sleep. 

[oceanera12]

So... This is Now a Thing

Hope to see you there!

[ohh-fiddlesticks]

NEW AND IMPROVED PROMO !!

> HELLOOO my name is Micah and this is my 🎉 selfship blog 🎉 !

> i can be your (somewhat inactive) homestuck and 90s sitcoms mutual

> i use he/him and i am rather gayass for certain fictional men! specifically dave s.trider and c.handler bing

> this blog is a sideblog, i have main but its a #secret, you’ll probably be able to tell its me though if i follow you lol- just look for the dave pfp and u’ll probably recognise me

> i’m usually not too active here bc i’m afraid of being ‘cringe’ or w/e but i plan to change that >:]

> ALSO!! I DRAW STUFF SOMETIMES

> full platonic & familial f/o list + dni in pinned !

> rbs appreciated but idm!

- pr0ship, n.sfw/18+ blogs dni!