#yeah ok sure

[jazbell]

whatever. go my sillies.

[fawn-with-fangs]

am i the only one who doesn’t feel emergence or caramel?

they’re absolutely amazing but i don’t feel emotionally connected to them like i do every other song.

but play anything from this place will become your tomb and suddenly i’m six feet under. you’ve just reminded me of whatever i’ve associated with that track.

idk… guess i just need to wait for the full album to come out 💔

[kittiewales]

look at him bumping into her on purpose and shit

[diamonds-at-y11]

”Why do you persist? After everything I’ve done?”

“Because I love promised you.”

[dichromaniac]

[random-kido]

Uh-oh someone just realized how co dependent their teammate was of their roommate

[lana]

several strange women seen circling the drain after man cuts hair

[swanerotica]

lana del rey haters be like " lana fans are so toxic !!" and then call u a dumb hoe for defending her

[adreamthatsworthkeeping]

"Maybe if we find our time capsule our parents might get back together!"

[shadowdemon-esq]

some of y'all be acting like you've never had a tasty meal in your life, yet anyone can just go down to mc Donalds and yank on the clown's balls until he gives you a burgers????

[smtsmtblablabla]

Yeah that was one of the things that bothered me the most at s2. And also like, it was always SO clear that Vi had a special place at Vander's heart. SHE was his little girl, even that flashback scene backs this up with him choosing her name and all. Like, it would have made so much more sense if she was more involved in bringing him back, if she was the catalist for him gaining his consciousness back.

Season 1 put such a heavy emphasis on the idea that Jinx and Silco were family. We saw them hug each other, we saw silco cradle her as a little girl, we saw her climb in his lap like she was a little girl, we saw silco kiss her forehead, and not only did we see all of this physical behavior, we also had tons of dialogue that backed up this theme.

"Who, Jinx? She works for him. She's like his daughter."

"Let's just say I didn't always see eye to eye with my old man. She'll come to you when she's ready."

"This is for your own sanity. I once had a daughter."

"fear haunts us all, child."

"Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?"

"You're my daughter Jinx, I'll never forsake you."

So clearly season 1 wants us to know that Jinx is Silco's daughter and Silco is Jinx's father. So why was this completely abandoned in season two? In season two, NO ONE refers to jinx as Silco's daughter, Jinx herself NEVER refers to herself as his daughter, and she never refers to HIM as her dad. No no on the contrary, when Vander comes back she's calling him dad left right and center despite the fact that she never called Vander dad when she was little, when he was still alive. This is so odd to me because I'm fairly sure that Jinx spent more time with Silco than she did Vander.

[spacizia]

he’s just a swinging space age bachelor man!!!!

[arcanegifs]

Here are some Season 2 Arcane GIF comparisons before and after I color and sharpen them! | Season 1 Comparison GIFs

[keferon]

“Mistakes on mistakes until” ch 69 spoilers below!

Ahahahahahahah here I go again

Mistakes on mistakes until until I can draw Jazz with my eyes closed

I woke up, checked my phone, woke up for real and decided that whatever plans I had for this day yeah no they can wait a little bit kfkgnfk

Also. Consider listening this while reading. Or don't who am I to tell you what to do~

[daftmooncretin]

last three seasons spn are crazy. its just dean being borderline suicidal while sam tries to fix it by basically dangling his keys at him and going : “dean look! cowboys!” “dean look! strip club!” “dean look! haunted action figure.”

Meanwhile castiel is like i see that dean is suicidal, this is clearly my fault so i will remedy this by dying.

[seumyo]

If ghosts were real—well, Bakugou didn’t believe in ghosts, but if they did exist—they lived in the spaces people left behind.

And you happened to have left behind too many.

It wasn’t just the obvious things. Not the clothes still folded in your drawers, untouched. Not the way your books still sat on the shelves, the spines cracked from overuse, the pages filled with notes in the margins. Not even the stupid coffee mug you always used, the one you once swore made everything taste better, still sitting exactly where you left it on the kitchen counter (because it had his and your face printed on it).

No, the spaces you left behind were quieter. More insidious.

Like the empty seat across from him at the dining table, where you used to sit, eating straight from the pot that one night because, “Why dirty another dish?”

Like the sound of the bathroom door not opening in the morning when he’s actually using the toilet—dammit, you didn’t even have the care in the world to give your boyfriend some privacy—the absence of your muttered complaints about how the water took too long to heat up.

Like the other side of the bed, cold and untouched, where he still reached out in his sleep, half expecting to find you there. Anticipating to hold you closer to him.

Grief was a strange thing to Bakugou.

It wasn’t like pain. Pain was easy. A broken rib, a busted lip, the sharp sting of impact—those things, he knew how to handle. You grit your teeth, you clench your fists, you keep moving. That was what you did. That was the kind of man he was.

But grief wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t a punch he could take and shake off. It was a weight pressing down on his chest, invisible but suffocating. It was the silence of an empty apartment. It was the echo of your voice in his head, the way his brain still filled in the blanks in conversations you should have been part of.

It was standing in the grocery store, staring at the shelf, reaching for the brand of tea you liked before stopping halfway, fingers hovering in the air, before dropping his hand back to his side.

What was the point?

He hated how much space you had taken up in his life. Hated how even in your absence, you still lingered, threading yourself through his routine, his thoughts, his goddamn muscle memory.

But more than anything, he hated how much he wanted it to stay.

Because if ghosts were real, then maybe—just maybe—you weren’t completely gone.

He hadn’t cried. Not when he first got the news. Not when he stood at the funeral, jaw locked so tight it ached. Not when he walked through your apartment alone for the first time, every corner of it filled with your presence, your things, the remnants of the life you lived.

But tonight, he was exhausted.

Physically. Mentally. It comes down on him like something tangible, something inescapable—all at once.

And for the first time in a long time, he spoke into the silence.

“…This is fucking stupid.”

His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse.

Nothing answered.

Of course, nothing answered.

Still, Bakugou exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’d be so pissed at me right now.”

The quiet stretched.

Bakugou let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. But look at you. Still haunting me, huh?”

His eyes flickered to the couch, where you used to sit cross-legged, laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to listen to whatever bullshit he was ranting about while actually getting work done.

A strange, bittersweet feeling lodged itself in his chest.

“…You remember that time you swore up and down that ghosts were real?” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I told you you were full of shit.”

Silence.

His fingers curled into fists. “Kinda wish you were right.”

No answer. No sign. Just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint buzz of the city outside the window.

But in the quiet, he thought—just for a second—he could hear it.

A breath. A whisper of movement. The sound of something shifting just out of sight.

He knew it was nothing. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

But still, Bakugou closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself pretend.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.