#this was too sweet ahhh

[tinalbion]

🩷BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people you adore! Absolutely no pressure but. It's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out <3🩷

My fellow slasher fucker! I love how passionate you are with your stories and strive to be as dedicated as you!

Oh my goodness WHIMSY AHHH no I will cry!

That's seriously so sweet of you to say and honestly WAY too kind. I love and adore your works so much, the writings, the art, it's all beautiful. You, my fellow slasher fucker, are another reason I keep doing what I'm doing. Love you lots, my friend!

[kendyroy]

Very very random Hugh Jackman appreciation post cause I love him and he’s so adorable. Dude’s literally a ray of sunshine and his little snort deserves to be shared to the world…

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I'm trying to find and capture images of our great predators.. before our greatest predators kill them all and stick them on some club house wall.."

"Good luck with that" 1/~

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[kitkatsgalore]

you have my soul, you have my heart ♡

[ruporas]

hello hello! I hope you don't mind me dropping by but I just want to say I love your art so much, the way you draw vashwood is just so sweet and tender but can I just ramble about the way you draw Vash especially? More specifically, the way you draw his expressions when he's looking at Wolfwood???

I just LOVE the way you draw Vash's expression because the way you make him look at Wolfwood is so soft 😭😭😭. There's just something about it that's so tender, like whenever I look at Vash's expressions in your art I just think "that is genuinely someone who loves another person with all their heart" and it just mends and breaks my heart at once, you capture Vash's love for Wolfwood in ways I can't explain 👏

It's unbridled love mixed with the fear of hurting Wolfwood in their relationship. It's wanting to spill so much affection but holding back in fear of messing up. He looks at Wolfwood like he's longing for him so earnestly be it pre-relationship or even when they're already dating it's just so??? 💕💕💘💞💖💖💞💕

There's just something so tender and heart wrenching at the way Vash looks at Wolfwood in your art, it gets me really emotional and I hope you have a lovely day/night for real <33!!!

ouuuuu thank you so so much for your kind words and for taking the time to tell me this T_T !!! i'm glad my expressions for vash's longing gazes at wolfwood is well done enough to have this sort of response to it…

he's the kind of person that has to hold back in both words and touch when it comes to love, when it comes to wolfwood, but i think it's a difficult emotion to restrain, especially when wolfwood is kind enough to let it be.

ultimately, what they're allowed to have is the inevitable shared spaces during their travels, it's the other's physical presence, being next to wolfwood, being able to take him in through the way he simply exists. smelling smoke, seeing smoke, seeing the cigarette between his fingers, seeing the crosses littered across his person, the rosary snug around his neck, his scruff at his chin, messy bangs, messy hair, tired eyes, the canine that peeks when he speaks, and a voice carrying heavy words, but honest, and kind, and one vash could never get tired of hearing, like how he'd never be tired of just looking at wolfwood.

it's of gratitude, it's of sorrow, it's of grief, it's of love, praise, adoration, it's desperate and it's full of yearning. at first, it's a gaze he feels he has to be satisfied with until he's learned that he's allowed for more and at that point, when wolfwood has given him so much, how could he look at him in any other way?

in any case, i def like to make it known and parade around vash's deeeeeep deep deep feelings of love towards wolfwood, so i'm very happy to know i can express that clearly through his expression alone. i Also just love wolfwood so maybe the projection goes from the heart of the artist to the heart of the art.

i ended up collecting a few caps of his expressions just out of curiosity for myself :3 i have much to improve still, i'll keep on drawing vash's loving self until i can get the ultimate loving expression down!!

[minophus]

SHIT ASS comic i dont like that much

[giggly-squiggily]

Kurama cares for Yusuke so much that sometimes when he’s comforting him, he accidentally calls him kit or cub in this essay I will-

Edit: Reread the ask and now I gotta change things up janznansn 😭💀🙏🏻

*screeches*

OH MY-

Kurama who’s always the first to calm someone down and provide comfort cause he’s the oldest and therefore “big brother” of Yusuke and Kuwabara- always giving pats and words of console whenever things get difficult or exhausting or they just need someone to tell them things are gonna be okay

Originally Yusuke refuses to accept anything of the sort at first cause he’s all “I don’t need anybody” but after Genkai and the dark tournament and the whole thing he finds himself leaning just a little (keyword: little) bit on Kurama and his honey coated words that seem to make him feel safe and less like he’s alone fighting his demons- literally and internally.

Yusuke after a particularly bad event happens is trying not to- what? Scream? Cry? Kill everyone and then himself? He’s frustrated and angry and wants to be alone but doesn’t want to be alone and Kurama’s right there whispering his soothing words and petting his shaking back and at some point he hears “It’s quite alright little kit: just let it out” so he does and it’s the first time he’s cried in years and it feels both horrible and amazing and it isn’t until after many many days that he finally asks “did you call me…Kit?”

And Kurama’s just: “…….Oh.” And gets all flustered and red as his hair while he’s looking away and Yusuke does another thing he hasn’t done in what feels like eons: he laughs cause it’s so rare to see the usually smooth fox demon embarrassed and it makes Kurama’s heart do little flips he can’t explain and then and only then does he know things are truly gonna be okay.

They never share any of this with Hiei and Kuwabara cause Yusuke would likely set the world on fire but also I like to think they kinda already know? Yusuk is still Yusuke but he’s no longer nearly as angry or stressed and Kurama seems a bit more relaxed and the vibes are better than ever and everyone feels closer than before.

That was a hell of a ramble whsnwnsnwn the point is I LOVE 😍😍😍😍😍 Thank you for sharing this darling thought with me! 🥰🥰🥰

[good-beanswrites]

Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖

Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!

Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.

Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.

“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”

He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.

On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.

(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)

He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.

“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.

“How are you holding up?”

Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.

Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.

“I’m still working on it. These things take time.” 

“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.” 

“Your interrogation… I know.”

Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?” 

Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.

“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”

“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”

“...Everything.” 

Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.

Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.

“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”

“You can’t be so sure. The–”

“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?

“I would.”

Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it. 

“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”

Minato cracked a smile. 

“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”

Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”

“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?” 

Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing. 

“Well, it should be impossible. But…”

They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato. 

“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”

“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”

Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.

“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”

“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’

“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”

“The fuck does that mean?” 

“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.” 

Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him. 

“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”

“As if you could stop me!”

He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.

---

After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.

Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax. 

The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people. 

Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance. 

He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past. 

“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”

He inhaled sharply.

It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations. 

Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.

His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.

Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him. 

“You did it. My god, you did it.”

He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears. 

For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest. 

Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.

Talk about impossible. 

[sunugf]

oh i'm gonna be so annoying about this album..... i even took notes while listening to this just now...

[eeblouissant]

I have no idea if it's available anywhere any longer but Bea was on a episode of Soap (Susan Harris's show before Golden Girls) and ok. You HAVE to at least Google this because because her outfit is incredible. A+ costume design. Her hair and makeup is gorgeous too. Also because she played a guardian angel / God's administrative assistant in Heaven??????

ooohhhhh anon…. I have seen 🫠 allow me to bless the rest of you (who may not have seen) with the lesbian dream that is Bea Arthur in Soap:

&&&& i was able to find a clip!! oh my goodness !!!!!!

[datastate]

aaaaaa

[knizuu]

you're out here doing god's work with that luxury au..................

AH!!???/positive WAHDFUHH?!?!?!?/positive SO POSITIVE BTW-

WHAGFRE R THATS GENUINYLY genuinely omg me- SUCH A SWEET COMPLIMENT aHHHHHHHH

I FEEL LIKE A GIDDY MESS BAAHWAHWBSEDHEFERJGejkb-

I SWEAR-YALL ARE SO KIND WKDFEJGRAERHGHGGH/positive yet again-

[killuaisaprincess]

emoticon

From Killua! (My little kitten):

‘I love you, Gon!’ ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

Cute. Gon smiles.

Killua peeks over shyly, biting on his sleeve and he squeaks when he notices Gon looking.

Really cute.

He’s too shy to say it out loud and that almost makes it better, Gon’s grin grows.

Gon sends a text and Killua looks down at his phone.

From Idiot! (My Gon ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა PS. I’ll kill you if you ever show him what his contact is. Leorio and Alluka. I know you’re looking at my phone!):

I love you ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Killua gasps.

“G-Gon! You’re gonna brick my phone!”

[fruitsyrups]

What is it about PB that makes me have so many thoughts about her that are so hard to articulate... all the PB analysis I see is about her morality and stuff which is cool (except when people are WRONG. Hah.) but also I wanna see more analysis of her relationships and stuff. Like, to friends to family to her citizens to marcy (marcy is her own category). Because that's the part I like thinking about the most but I can't put those thinks into words so I want someone else to do it for me. It's bedtime-o-clock I might be a little incoherent

[cynophagia]

I got to see him again <3 under the cut if anybody is interested. his taxidermist is wonderful we get on really well and hung out for a few hours today while our puppies played together. i was so happy to see his nose and his paws again that i cried and i patted his little frozen head. amy totally got it LOL. under the cut if anyones curious. I miss him so fucking much i'm so excited for him to come home again in a few months.

cw for dead frozen skinned dog. plz dont get me banned