#/chinhands.

[fish-tetris]

thinking about how law was (apparently??) being raised in the one piece catholic church™. thinking about how he specifically refers to the victories of the strawhats as miracles. thinking about how luffy has a god's devil fruit. thinking about law inclining his head and closing his eyes like he's praying towards the end of gear 5 luffy fighting kaido. is this anything.

[foxprints]

Yet more Murderbot studies lol. It's just too much fun to draw!

[yorshie]

Safe With Leo

bayverse leo x female reader

SFW, reader in peril off screen, injured reader, Leo pining like a TREE, new nickname acquired, reader is not coping well after violence.

(I think the backstory me and @fuckedupcleric decided to go with was reader got carjacked then Leo did his own carjacking to get her back, but it's up for reader interpretation)

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His voice was low and even, at odds with the way his hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides. Your gaze lingered on where the right was freshly bandaged, the strips of linen tight, the smell of ointment heavy in the air surrounding him.

The hallway where Leo caught you skulking wasn’t very wide. His shell blocked most of the light from the arcade around the corner. You tried, and failed, not to shrink in on yourself, despite the little voice screaming at you that it was Leo, the one person you always felt safe with. Should always feel safe with.

“Can’t sleep.” You told him, finally, honestly, too tired and too jittery to be able to stand the beeping and sterile cleanliness of the needle room. Your voice was a croaky thing, raw from screaming and sobbing yourself hoarse. Your ears rang, where you had deafened yourself in the enclosed space. Your palms and feet were raw, bruised from the concrete and trying to scratch yourself free. Your arms stung underneath where you were gripping onto your biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. You could feel the deep cuts littered there, even through the bandages underneath the soft sleep shirt covering you. Covering you, you reminded yourself.

Safe with Leo, you told yourself again.

He let out a slow, heavy breath, the kind you were used to hearing directed at Raph, or Mikey, when either was being particularly annoying. It twisted something deep inside your gut, soured the saliva in the back of your mouth. The feeling of being trapped settled back in your gut when he swayed to the side, creating a space for you to slip past him.

He followed you, like a hound shadowing your footsteps, raising the hair along the nape of your neck. You heard him huff, the noise quiet, before he dropped back another step.

His voice was soft, but firm, when you reached the atrium, “Turn left, head to my room.”

You stalled, foot catching on the cold floor, a wince pulling at your mouth before you could hide the pain, “But-”

Leo shook his head, closing his eyes to dismiss your protest, “There’s no way you’re going to sleep on that couch, blossom.”

Blossom.

That was a new nickname. Before tonight, he’d always used your name, formal and polite, or on the rare occasion, if you were being especially sassy, he’d drop ‘princess’ in a smooth and silky voice that never failed to shut you up in a way Raph couldn’t when he teased you.

Tonight, however, Leo hadn’t whispered your name when he’d scooped you out of the trunk of the car hours before. No, it’d been blossom he’d pressed against your bloodied hair, voice wrecked and shaking as he’d cradled you in his arms and bared his teeth at Donnie when his brother had tried to take you away. It had been blossom he’d cooed at you while holding you still so Donnie could bandage the cuts on your arms, back and legs while you cried.

It’d been blossom he’d whispered when everything had become too much and you’d curled up into a little ball, the last word you’d heard when Donnie had ushered everyone out of the needle room.

Hearing it now, your feet resumed automatically, not ready to press and ask questions, not liking the newfound uncertainty that surrounded your feelings where Leonardo was concerned. 

He shadowed you all the way to his room, his normal, soothing demeanor gone, feeling more like a caged animal at your back than the friend you had grown to know these past two years. 

You stalled just inside the door, taking in the neat and orderly room that you’d only seen in passing before. “I don’t… think I should be here.” 

It felt sacrilegious. A privilege you hadn’t earned. An insight to Leo that made your palms sweaty and itchy and your stomach feel like lead. You wanted to be here…

You feared it.

He was watching you with an unreadable expression when you turned. “Do you want to go back to the needle room?”

Needle Room. Just the name sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps and chills breaking out as you recalled the phantom smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant.

“No,” you whispered, too tired to keep the petulant edge from your voice despite the fact you knew he hated it.

Leo sighed again, his shoulders moving with the motion, and you idly realized his hands had yet to move, or unclench, from the rigid way he kept them at his sides. “Then, you,” He tipped his beak towards you, then to a point across the room, “bed.” 

He waited, patient as the moon, for you to cross the room, silent as you pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets. You weren’t sure what to make of the way his eyes lingered for a moment, or of the way tension seemed to bleed out from his frame.

“Get some sleep.” He offered, voice noticeably softer, closer to that rumble you remember from the nightmare of your rescue. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

You watched, unblinking, as he turned and disappeared from the doorway, not even a scuff of his feet to announce his departure. 

Maybe you were dreaming, maybe it had been a fictitious Leonardo that had offered the one thing you’d dreamt of, the one thing that you were sure you’d never get to experience. The one wish you’d squashed and squeezed, hoping one day it would disappear completely.

You were in his space. You looked slowly around the room, taking in the little pieces of decor, and the way everything was set just so. It screamed Leo, down to the soft blue blankets you were curled up under. 

Safe. The room told you. Safe from prying eyes, from staticy emotion boiling off other’s bodies, from questions you weren’t in any state to answer.

Safe with Leo.

Your eyelids fluttered, tension bleeding out of your spine with every deep inhale, letting the stale scent of teakwood and jasmine on the sheets, the incense from across the room, the tea on the little table beside your head, swirl together, lulling you to sleep with the scent of Leo.

Safe with Leo.

[wellofdean]

Not to discourse, but...I do not understand at all why people think Jensen Ross Ackles is gonna answer questions about things that haven't happened yet in an ongoing story in any kind of way that tells you anything concrete about what is going to happen, or what his character is going to feel or do, when his character has not had a chance to feel or do them yet? Do people really want him to start spinning fucking yarns up there?

Also, I cannot understand why anyone wants him to?! Like, thank you Jensen for NOT TELLING US. I don't want to go into it having been told what to feel and think about it! I want to see it, be surprised and experience emotions that aren't just the smug satisfaction of watching what I already know will happen play out. Like, when Supernatural returns, y'all know they are not going to just immediately throw the whole cow to us piranhas, right?

And while I'm here, on my horse, I would also like to say that I can't help but feel that this whole discussion that I have seen elsewhere in my feed here, is predicated on the idea that Jensen has not known ALL ALONG what character he was acting or what Dean feels and thinks, and that he is not good at his job. Does it ever occur to people that he DOES KNOW, because he is, in fact, fucking great at his job?

One of the best things about that guy is the way he does not say anything coercive EVER about this story or his character. He is letting his work as an actor speak for him, AS HE SHOULD. Do you feel like there is a deep sadness in Dean? A loneliness and an unspoken inner life? A desire for something more? Do you feel like he has made it clear in a million tiny ways that Dean cannot carry on without Cas, but that he fucking tried because Cas died to save him, and he had to make it mean something? Did you not see how he hugged that fucking dog that one time?? Do you not watch Dean, and see these things? These things are the actual content of the actual narrative. The narrative is the place where Dean's feelings and thoughts and actions are stored. Jensen speculating about it on a con stage is not a thing I even sort of want!

If you are disappointed that Jensen did not say: oh yeah, they will RESOLVE IT (nudge nudge wink wink har har har) my question is: why don't you trust your own eyes? Why do you think he is not in control of what he is putting across as an actor? Why do you need him to tell you, in kindergarten terms, what happened? Why don't you want to just watch it and be surprised by joy? The truth is, he has been very consistent in his responses to these kinds of questions, AND he made a whole season of television (TW) with his production company that is consistent with everything he has said. What can he possibly do to satisfy you?

I can only say that personally? I AM SATISFIED. Dean is Dean, and I love him. Jensen made him, and I love that guy's work. Please make more of him, because I cannot wait to love Dean some more. I am here because it's fun, and I am having a good time. Y'all should try it!

[recent-rose]

i jsut think its so funny and interesting and hmmmmm that ratio meets sunday and has one conversation with him basically and goes 'oh yeah this guy is the same breed of crazy as aventurine (who needs therapy yesterday)' and then sunday is control/fate/future and aventurine is chaos/luck+chance/present. both of them hiding their true selves/feelings behind facades, and it being commented on directly in the narrative. they both even have/had a sister they depend on. like they're PERFECT narrative foils. they're perfect reflections of each other.

[waveoftheocean]

me while drawing trigun: i want to draw more trigun _(ÒωÓ๑ゝ∠)_

[solargeist]

"What are you even doing here?" Grian grabbed Martyn's shoulder and dragged him to the side into an alley way.

"Don't worry. It's a rescue mission. We're here to rescue you!" Martyn let himself get yanked off the main square full of other Watchers. Grian was fully aware that there was no way the Watchers didn't already know that there was a Listener out and about in their streets.

"Rescue mission? We?"

"Yeah? Me and Jimmy mostly, but Pearl managed to get her hands on the uniform." Martyn says with pride, giving the outfit a little spin for a very stunned and disbelieving Grian. "Not sure about the holes in the back though. Seems like an odd design choice from such a conservative group."

"It's for your- our wings-" Pearl knew about Grian going to this Warcher conference. He had been formally invited to attend and even speak on some topics that he and the Watchers still agreed on. He was almost sure that this was Ather's idea. An olive branch of sorts.

Of course, Pearl would cause trouble about this.

Grian took a deep breath and raked his hands over his face as the Listener thought about his words. "Oh. Oh! That's what these are for then?"

To both his horror and amazement, Martyn leaned own and hiked up the skirt of his stolen uniform. There was a bag that was hidden by the long fabric. He undid the zipper and pulled out the cheapest wings Grian had ever seen. The elastic tool was caked in more glitter than there really had any deserving right to be on an article of clothing. Grian genuinely thought the rubber bands used to hold that thing to anyone's back would cause them to snap.

"Who gave that to you?" Grian really couldn't hide the almost horror from his voice.

"Jimmy said he had Heard Warchers have wings, right? I geuss he picked these ones out."

Grian wanted to rip his scalp off his head. "Of course."

"Don't worry." Martyn said again, trying to sooth as he put his bag away and attempted to put the wings on. "Like I said, I'm here to rescue you. We'll get you out of here in no time!"

"I am here of my own volition." Grian felt himself say distantly as he watched Martyn struggle to get the bottom of the shawl unbuttoned without taking the whole thing off. "I- Martyn that isn't going to work."

"Course it will!" He said cheekily. "Besides, I'm sure they won't even notice you gone. You don't have to pretend to want to be here."

Grian took a deep breath before stepping forward, undoing the back button that kept the shawl flat agaisnt a Watcher's back over their wings. He helped Martyn slip the restrictive cords over his arms before getting them situated back into the long sleeves.

"Okay, Look, I mean, look, Martyn. I can't leave just yet. I actually got somethings to do before we go."

"Do you have to?"

"Martyn, I was Invited here."

He pauses. "You were?"

Grian rolled his eyes. "For a Listener, you are very bad at paying attention."

"What do you expect me to do right now then?"

Grian stepped back and tried not to look at the glitter on the wings. "I geuss you walk beside me and we pretend I don't know you while I do all of the talking until we can both go home."

"Why are you here willingly on a Saturday?" Martyn asked, baffled.

Grian suppressed another eye roll. "I'll explain later, as of now... well, lunch starts in half an hour. I hope you can actually can pretend to be mute and only listen, er, Listen for now. Because if you cause any problems, I'm not gonna come back for you."

This was a lie and theh both knew it, but Martyn folded his arms and looked down at Grian. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

"Good. Let's to. Keep your mouth shut, Martyn." The two stepped out of the alley, the taller 'Watcher' following behind the shorter.

-Lunar, who is typing this out on a new phone and is having a fucking nightmare of a time doing it

they are so ridiculouS

[basilone]

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

is this God leading me to deeply study something, or is it an ADHD hyperfixation/imprinting on the book of Galatians

[fisheito]

Me: (staring at eiden) ugh why is he so amazing

Friend who doesn't play nuca: ... that's just.. some guy?

Me: (turning toward them with excitement gleaming in my teary eyes) I KNOW, RIGHT?????? 🥹

[idiopathicsmile]

i just—sometimes i love nerds so much. i love the enthusiasm and attention to detail that drives people to collect and share reams of hyper-specific knowledge. recently, for reasons of [REDACTED], i've come into a situation where it is important that i learn a bunch about the Fair Folk very quickly, and when i brought this up, the people i was talking to were like, "oh, you have to meet with our friend! they're an expert in this kind of thing!" like. i know people who know a Fae lore expert??? this is a real type of adult out in the real world you can actually meet??? it's just so fucking cool.

[essektheylyss]

I need to know about the details of how mirrorhawks are hunted given they seem to be a pretty major product in terms of viable sources of protein in the Un and even the Company soldiers in the entourage seem to consider them with apprehension. How dangerous of a profession is this. What is the extent of the market for mirrorhawk in the Highest Light. Are there differences between the mirrorhawks hunted from the upper Un compared to those near the Mediun. Are some considered more of a delicacy versus bottom shelf products. Can you order mirrorhawks on the half-shell or does the mica's antigravity or general sharpness get in the way. Does it have to be processed specially to remove any mica from the flesh. Are there frequent product recalls because mica was found in canned mirrorhawk. Are there concerns about ecological sustainability. What is the current health of the overall mirrorhawk population in the cosmos.

[twst-the-night-away]

If you have a TWST fanschool -

What is your school's reputation in Twisted Wonderland?

What are they known for?

What is the stereotype about their students?

[alicentive]

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

OUGHHHHHH LIGHT WITH THE ASIAN ‘FAMILY OVER INDIVIDUAL’ VIRTUE AND L WITH THE ‘IDGAF’

L would 1,000,000% pretend to be disabled. I’m not even joking. If he was considered intellectually disabled and in need of a caretaker, Light would be OBLIGATED to care for L for the rest of his life. It also gives him an excuse to be living with his parents, even as a very successful grown adult, who could, ostensibly, move out and hire a maid.

Soichiro doesn’t believe in mental health but L is such a terror coming home from the orphanage, he ends up in disabled schooling. He probably just doesn’t attend high school (not required in Japan) and his parents let him, because he’s disabled.

(Actually he took the US GED while in the area for a tennis tournament, and he got an online college degree shortly after.)

L drops the bomb that he has a college degree the day Light announces his acceptance to To-oh, mentioning off-handedly that he’s actually going to To-oh also, to get a doctorate in public policy.

Nobody believes him, at which point L produces the paperwork, and the ‘congratulations on getting into To-oh’ party becomes ‘holy shit L how the fuck did you get into To-oh’s GRADUATE PROGRAM’ and Light is FUMING because THIS WAS HIS MOMENT!!! He was supposed to prove once and for all that he’s better than intellectually-disabled, high school dropout older brother! He’s never been so humiliated before in his life!

I can’t decide whether it’s be funnier to make L also drop the bomb that while he’s been handling paying all the bills for the family he’s also been, yk, paying them, and he insists on paying for their (obviously shared) housing, since ‘raito-chan will be helping me with my housework’, or if he just doesn’t mention it and makes Light pay the bills because he enjoys seeing him struggle.

"soichiro doesn't believe in mental health" is such a sentence i think i wheezed aloud. as for that last part i offer the third route of "L pays the housing bills but light finds out when he inevitably hacks L's computer, which results in a yelling match because can't light just have the good job between them, goddamn it." with an undertone of "if my older brother has so much fucking money then why isn't he spoiling me more" because i think light yagami makes a fantastic trophy wife. he wants a nice tailored suit. buy your little brother a nice tailored suit, L.

anyway misa comes in with a steel chair because i just think she would be enamoured with the fact that light is such a dutiful little brother and he's smart and he's gorgeous. but it's misa who figures out that L is probably the smartest guy in Japan aside from light, and it's misa who realizes something's up with the yagami brothers. in every universe misa stymies L and makes both him and light uncomfortable in the face of her intensity and i think her and L should have a yandere-off

[karliahs]

does anyone want 800 words of nearly contextless dialogue, that is just shinsou and midoriya being weird friends? just pure self-indulgence that would not leave my brain until i wrote it? you're welcome

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Izuku says, still staring at their server. 

“You’re about to go try to save someone you just met from their own personal problems. Again.”

“Don’t you think she seems sad?”

“She’s sad because you’re not eating your dinner.”

Izuku pointedly grabs another bite of food without looking at the bowl. 

“Try focusing on yourself for once,” Hitoshi tries, because apparently he loves fighting losing battles. 

“I’m focused.” Izuku goes to grab some more food only for his chopsticks to clank against the table. He turns his head at last and notices that Hitoshi has moved his bowl away without him noticing.

Izuku pulls the bowl back. “You should come with me to talk to her once we’re done eating.”

“Why?”

“You’re good at talking to people.”

Hitoshi gives him his best blank, intimidating stare. It isn’t nearly as effective as it used to be.

“You are! Your quirk requires you to be.”

“My quirk requires me to be good at antagonising people.”

“Which means you’re used to watching people, gauging their responses, figuring out what makes them tick,” Izuku lists, gesturing at Hitoshi with his chopsticks. “You can use that to help people just as easily as annoying them.”

“Why, when I’m so naturally talented at annoying people?”

“Because you’re a nice person who likes helping people.” Izuku gives him his sunshiniest smile, and Hitoshi swears he dials it up a few notches just to be annoying.

“Our friendship was a mistake.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Izuku says, entirely unphased, looking back over at the server again. He’s become immune to Hitoshi’s grumbling way too fast.

And yeah, it really is too late for that, which is why Hitoshi lets himself get dragged into talking to the server about what’s bothering her, which ends up involving a recently retired underground hero and an illegal fighting ring, because of course it does. This is just what happens when you hang out with hero course kids. Never mind that Hitoshi is one too now. 

.

“You two are in each other’s pockets lately,” Aizawa comments. “What happened to not wanting to make friends on the hero course?”

“Midoriya’s an unstoppable friendship machine,” Hitoshi answers. “Plus, he’s secretly deeply weird.”

“You didn’t figure that out at the Sports Festival?”

“He’s secretly deeply weird in a fun way, not just a terrifying way.”

Aizawa sighs. “I’m not sure if I should be more worried about you corrupting him or him corrupting you.”

“Both,” Hitoshi says, and does his best impression of Aizawa’s creepiest smile.

He’s rewarded with an even deeper sigh. 

.

Hitoshi can’t deny he’s a little nervous about facing off against Bakugou. Bakugou has been getting somewhat better at managing not to respond to Hitoshi’s taunts, and Hitoshi’s hand to hand has been improving fast but Bakugou is still a dangerous opponent to fight effectively quirkless. 

Izuku pulls him aside right before he goes in. “Ask Kacchan how Hana-chan is doing lately.”

Hitoshi raises an eyebrow.

“Just say that, word for word. He’ll answer.” Izuku gives him a tiny, halfway to devious grin. 

Hitoshi can’t help grinning back as he pulls down his cowl. “Got it.”

It works like a charm, and afterwards Bakugou strides over to Izuku. “The fuck have you been saying to him, Deku?”

“Word for word what he said to you,” Izuku answers, and there’s some of his old nervousness there but not much. “I didn’t actually tell him anything. I just knew you’d assume I had and freak out.”

Bakugou growls. “I have embarrassing shit I can tell people about you, you know.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Izuku manages to look absolutely unphased in the way most guaranteed to piss Bakugou off, and sure enough he makes a wordless noise of rage.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Hitoshi says, and throws an easy arm around Izuku’s shoulders to lead him away. “You’re a genius and I’m buying you food,” he says to Izuku, as soon as they’re far enough away.

“You’re a genius,” Izuku answers. “The way you snagged that mine with your capture weapon! And oh, I had some thoughts about increasing agility in your costume design…”

.

Aizawa snags Izuku with his capture weapon and deposits him next to Hitoshi.

“Man, I can’t wait to be able to do that. With anyone, but especially you.”

“Why especially me?!”

“You’re so scoopable, just as a person.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Both of you get back to the dorms or you’re spending a week cleaning up the support course workshops.”

.

“Hey, so I had a thought.”

“Oh no.”

“So, your mom probably has embarrassing pictures of Bakugou as a little kid, right?”

“Hitoshi,” Izuku says, already so full of dread. 

“Just saying, I whip one of those out mid-battle and there’s no way he’s not letting me trip him with a brainwash.”

“Hitoshi!” Izuku repeats, face in his hands. “We’ll die.”

“Nah, did you see us in that last team game? We’re unstoppable together.”

Izuku eyes him, and even through the hands covering his face Hitoshi can see a pleased flush.

“So, about those pictures…”

“Hitoshiii!”