#to convey anything to them

[mekatrio]

thank you jin 🥺

[frostgnawdraws]

was thinking about the prisoners missing antler and what could've happened to it and landed on the hc that it was growing towards their head and would have hurt them if it continued so it was cut off when they were a kid/teen and their antlers were still in velvet. so here's a shitty ibis paint doodle of them pre-antler chop with their silly fucked up antler lol

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[mellosdrawings]

OOOOOO CAN I ASK HOW WOULD THE N2 SQUAD REACT TO EACH OF THEM DYING?

What have you unleashed?

(WARNING: Angst, allusions to death, all that fun stuff. Nothing graphic tho, don't worry)

Jamil

He shouldn’t be surprised.

Well… He isn't surprised. Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things. Not for more than a few months, anyway.

Every once in a while, life takes pity on him and throws some nice, agreeable news his way. Just enough so that he lets his guard down. Just enough so that he allows himself to think maybe things will get better. Just enough so that he can pretend he isn't chained to a fate he will never escape.

A letter to NRC, a plan that goes a little too well, a couple of upperclassmen who seem to genuinely love him for who he is and not who he pretends to be.

So of course it doesn't last. Life gives and life takes.

Kalim follows, Octavinelle gets involved, Leona and Vil-

Well…

He isn't surprised.

Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things.

Vil

They look at him like they expect something from him. Horror, anger, ugly tears maybe. Just a reaction. Anything. Anything at all.

Vil doesn't give them that. Doesn't give them an opportunity to pity him. Doesn't give them food for gossip. Doesn't give them any material to make this topic last for any longer than it has to.

He knows how it works. Someone snaps a pic of him at his lowest, someone records his voice breaking during an interview, someone catches his lips tremble for but a second, and everybody will start talking about it again. And again. And again. For as long as there is a reaction from him. For as long as the topic attracts views.

Suffering brings more views than success.

So Vil doesn't react. Doesn't say a thing. Doesn't acknowledge the topic.

Better to be a cold asshole for a few weeks than to hear about it for years.

And in the darkness of his own room, where there is no camera, no eyes, and no ears to witness his grief-

Vil cries himself to sleep.

Leona

It’s just sand.

Only sand.

For miles and miles, further than the eye can see, nothing but sand.

Ruggie had the clever foresight to send all of Savanaclaw packing when Leona got the news. They would be sand too otherwise.

Who cares.

Who fucking cares.

He could turn the whole world to sand and it wouldn't be enough.

He might as well turn his own heart into sand.

It would hurt less.

[jesuis-assez]

↠ Tim & Lucy ↳ 5x04 - The Choice

[gardenofhope]

are you and your sibling fucked up from the same traumatic experience but in different ways or are you normal

[hexados-on-a-string]

ghosts can't haunt ghosts silly, must be your mistakes then !

[wojtekaneko]

Yay! Tanabemas!!! Here's my gift for @desfraisespartout - some domestic scenes with the girls!! They're having fun, going places, and generally being together c: Wanted to draw them for a while now, and I'm happy how they turned out ^^ (close-ups under the cut)

[just-a-mod]

Inspired so incredibly heavily by this animatic

my partner has been singing this for days now, but i slowly started noticing they would change the lyrics

we've been having one of our shared lads singing this song, so we edited the song as if a third party was wittinessing

we wrote it from Ares POV

just this small bit, because honestly i think some one else may be able to not only sing it but perhaps mix it better to match Ares's marching motif, so we're throwing it into the fandom to see if any one else thinks it's neat

here is how I wrote the edited lyrics

Bold/Red is Ares, Italics is the Aresettes(little wispy guys who back up gods some times in song)

-

Nothing to stop them from taking her love and more and then they'll

hold her down while the gate is opened hold her down while they get a taste hold her down while they share her spoils

they will not let any part go to waste!!!

here and now, there's a chance for chance for action!!!

here and now, you can take control take control!!

here and now, burn them down to ashes

channel the fire inside of your soul and-!!!

Strike them down STRIKE THEM Strike them down D Strike them down O Strike them down W Strike them down N Strike them down Strike them down!!

Strike them down

Channel the fire inside of your soul and-!!

STRIKE!!

-

absolutely do not claim anything as ours, and if any one does do anything with this, we'd love to see ^-^ if not, hope you enjoyed the idea

[suddencolds]

.~

[captainkingsley]

Ashton is going to wait for Fearne to make a move after all of this. They're not going to step out of their lane and try to bring back the playful game of stealing back and forth, but they are going to keep an eye out just in case.

He won't admit it. He'll be happy with friendship, of course he will be; this is the first group of friends they've got that haven't pushed him away. But there's going to be that little spark in the back of their head that waits for Fearne to make any indication that she has feelings beyond that.

Something in his pockets goes missing and his heart skips in hope, only to feel a lump in his throat when he finds that trinket in another pocket. When he really has misplaced something and Letters turns up with it in hand, he'll try not to look disappointed.

It won't be immediate, when it happens. Whether it be after the Feywild excursion, or after the scouting mission, Ashton will find that something really has gone missing — a chain, his gold pouch, a piece of jewelry — and he'll chalk it up to his own forgetfulness. Just something misplaced because Fearne isn't advancing with their little game anymore.

Until he catches a glimmer of silver or the fabric of their coinpurse, hanging from one long, clawed finger.

That, combined with a small, almost imperceptible smile, will let them know that things are healing over.

(And when they check their pockets later, there's a slip of paper with Fearne's sprawling handwriting on it. A request for them to see her, and she'll return his belongings at the price of a few words.)

(Some of the words hurt. Not all of them. Some of them are good. Those words make him cry more than the ones that hurt.)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I can't do much productively during the heat wave/health issue flare up/etc. like work on my games or anything where I have to sit at the computer/type for long periods of time, BUT.. I did passively sculpt a few tiny foods lol. I wanted to do one of my bigger usual sculptures, but those take so much more time and concentration, I thought something small just to keep my hands busy would be better.. close up photos look kind of weird and blurry from my camera settings or something, but overall they came out okay, especially in person.. Nearly the only reason I ever wanted to buy dolls as a kid was to get my hands on the miniature foods and plates and stuff that came with them, I've always just been obsessed with small versions of things like that, so.. why not make some! lol

[phoenixcatch7]

The thing with stories of any type is that everything is a translation. Sometimes literally, from the author's own head, from another language, from book to TV.

Then there's things like visual metaphors, props and fake backgrounds, set pieces, onomatopoeia, paragraphs of description that everyone will visualise slightly differently, animated contortions, unrealistic but helpful sound effects, camera angles to emphasise mood.

In fantasy or scifi settings you can't even assume they're speaking the language you do. That their culture is exactly what's shown and nothing more.

So much of what makes up good world building is shorthand, is making it work to the audience, is using something in the right context rather than digging up every detail that would make or break the illusion.

A character in a magical world, or even simply a non English speaking country, would not use the same curse words. Leather could be presumed to be cow but could just as easily be any number of bizarre creatures. Booking a hotel could require a very different system to one we're used to. Champagne, the word, wouldn't exist without France but it carries the meaning of expensive alcohol for celebrations and parties, the readers would understand what it means.

Tolkien did it with LOTR and it was a masterpiece. The prevalent themes of dark and light being mere shorthand for expansive good and evil, used to convey the messages it needed rather than entirely new words the readers wouldn't intuit? The characters not even going by their actual names? A whole entire conlang that never even gets mentioned in the actual story??? That's a man who has a grasp on how tightly interconnected the world, history and culture all reflect each other. I mean of course he did, it was his job, but what he did was nothing short of fantastical.

All this to say, I believe this is the root of all world building. Cohesive, well balanced, feasible, detailed-but-not-too-much, no words that'd break a reader's/viewer's immersion, expansive enough, realistic, resonant, coherent, believable. All of it, whether fantastical or realistic, stems from one thing.

Is this a good translation of what you had in your head?

[aturinfortheworse]

Had the most incredible thrilling experience at work today, the experience I have been training for my entire life, and it was just as good as I hoped.

at lunch one of the other teacher aides was like "Urgh have you guys had any year 9s today? they all keep asking me 'miss hypothetically if 13% of people were committing 50% of the crimes what would you do?' which is obviously bait so I just keep telling them 'I'm not answering that.'"

and I try to restrain myself but I really do rant about this for a good fifteen minutes on our way to assembly

where a year 9 once again asks her this questions. and she comes and GETS ME and says "Hey did you wanna talk to those boys about the crime thing?"

DO I EVER. I sit down with the boys. They ask me the question. I say "Who established the laws in this scenario? Does one group of people control the laws?" so we quickly establish that we're talking about Australian law (which is weird bc this fact is from the US).

Then I ask "Why are they committing more crimes?" He doesn't know; he insists it's just a hypothetical. I ask him how we can be expected to solve a problem without knowing what causes it: he doesn't know.

"What kind of crimes are we talking about?" he doesn't know. "How do we know that 13% of people are committing the crimes? He doesn't know. I suggest that maybe 13% of people are being charged with 50% of the crimes; he agrees. Apparently this kid's friend said that we should kill the 13% of people; I suggest that maybe that would just leave us with the criminals who are better at not getting caught. Or maybe there's a bigger police presence in their area. Maybe the law affects them differently.

I point out that it's not just hypothetical. In Australia, Aboriginal people are disproportionately represented in prisons. Part of the reason for that (although not a main one i believe) is that Aboriginal communities can literally have different laws. The Northern Territory has bans on alcohol in some Aboriginal communities, which means there are more laws for them to break.

This kid is having the worst day of his life. I am having the best day of my life. My teacher aide friend is having a great time watching. Eventually I let him go free, but not before pointing out that hypotheticals are never just hypotheticals, that I understand he's only asking this because it's funny, but that when he does that he is spouting literal Nazi rhetoric. He is not a white student.

God I hope another student asks me, or even asks someone else within earshot of me, but I have a feeling they'll have lost interest.

[unriding]

Moze was known for being sneaky and basically invisible, since barely anyone sees him while he sees everyone and everything. It might be creepy to think about, but this didn't intimidate you at all. Rather the opposite - this was one of the reasons why you became interested in him.

But your beloved would've never guessed that you can be the sneaky type too. At first, you sneaked into his heart slowly and carefully - and now you are sneaking sweet little messages on sticky notes everywhere he could see them.

Be it in his lunchbox, in his trouser pockets, on his daggers,.. everywhere he would find a sweet message like “Remember that you are so, so loved by me, Moze! ❤️” which he certainly wasn't used to seeing, but he didn't mind it in one bit.

He actually adores it and they became one of his favorite parts of the day - besides the part where he would see you.

So don't be surprised when you find a sticky note with the message “I love you, Evie.” one day too, and of course - he would've sneaked it into your lunchbox, too while watching your reaction in the shadows, slightly smiling to himself.

~ 💐 (18th door of the advent calendar)

[the-acid-pear]

Having thoughts about Davetrap... Honestly the fact that he's So sentient is so tragic to me. It's like he said he's still a person he just looks different. Even the fact that he still needs food and is eating rats (which he ripped foxy's leg to do so better, unforgivable) yet seems capable of leaving but thing is WHERE to, y'know... I think this is a reality for most non human characters in this game but him being in such a state of disrepair definitely doesn't help, i mean, he literally couldn't be sold off, something he was clearly upset about (I also like that he called the maze shit a gig like that's cute, that's just his job).

Like its just, Dave was never much of anything, at all, we don't even know if this guy has a fucking home, but he still had some things in his favor, he was still somewhat well put and social and shit, so for him to be left like this it's like... I said it like thrice but its tragic its just tragic, man OT2