#<- intended platonically or romantically

[shyhandart]

[clumxy]

bro's been through some shit

[t052ther0b0t]

My fav0rite spidermen :)

I made thiz bef0re the m0vie :)

[hermitscratch]

imp n skizz + 27... the besties. did you know skizz irl sometimes kisses impulse n the cheek. to annoy him

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

27. A platonic kiss, Impulse/Skizz, 873 words

This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life.

The exhilaration of starting anew had hit him full force. The space between seasons had been spent dreaming up builds of grandeur, and he was finally able to see what he was working with. Better still, he had a partner in crime to share his vision with. Providing Bdubs his first clock was a point of pride, and Bdubs had accepted it with promises of a great future ahead of them.

He'd made momentous progress. Maybe not on the scale of Doc and his villager operation, but the humble underground iron farm he and Tango constructed would serve them well. The land that would become a sprawling cyberpunk city was sectioned off. His strip mine was fruitful, piles of diamonds to be fashioned into armor and equipment as needed. Everything was coming up Impulse.

When the day was over, the rest was well-earned. The Mountaineers, as Scar had named them, reconvened to share dinner around the fire. He took the chance to wash up in the river- a water well would be a tomorrow project, once he had a place to lay his head that was more permanent than the blocked off mouth of his cave- and laid down for a good night's sleep.

...Any minute then.

Impulse rolled onto his back and sighed. It didn't feel right, and Impulse knew what was missing.

This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life, because Skizz was there.

Skizz was there, and so much as thinking his name made the thread connecting them hum. Before Skizz was a hermit, when Impulse had been summoned and made the decision to stay, it was easy to ignore. The proximity now, though, made it impossible. His very soul knew its other half was near, and Impulse longed.

Skizz hadn't wanted to be coddled. He was determined to stand on his own two feet in this server of building gods and redstone masters. It was with full support that Impulse had agreed to let Skizz forge his own way, neighbors instead of roommates.

...But surely Skizz wouldn't mind a late-night visit, right?

Impulse relit the torches by his bedside. He didn't change, just throwing on his shoes. On his way to the door, he wondered if it would be worth taking his wings out. It would make the trip incredibly short, at the cost of nearly guaranteeing he'd spend all night at Skizz's. He wouldn't mind, but if Skizz did...

"Aaah!" A yell made Impulse jump as he opened the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. An equally startled Skizz stood in the doorway, a hand on his chest as he settled down. "You scared the dookie right outta me, dude," He said, heaving a breath, "Don't you know it's like, dumb o'clock in the morning? Nice jammies though," Skizz snickered.

Impulse snorted. Skizz was wearing a matching set. "These old things? Aw, they're nothin'," Skizz barks a laugh, and Impulse chuckles with him, a line of tension leaving his shoulders, "I know it's dumb o'clock in the morning, what're you doing at my front door?"

"Well I- y'know, I was in the neighborhood," Skizz started, wings held around his shoulders like a mantle, "And I'm thinkin' to myself, I think, y'know... I'm really feelin' it! And if I'm feelin' it, my best buddy over here, Mr. Impy Dimpy Dippledop, well, he's gotta be feelin' it too, right? Am I right? I bet I'm right," Skizz poked at Impulse's cheek.

Impulse huffed fondly, lightly smacking Skizz's hand away. Nobody could manage to be longwinded and straightforward like Skizz could. "I might've been on my way to yours for the same reason," Impulse admitted.

"Good thing I beat you then," Skizz cackled, "I don't have a bed yet!"

"Skizz!" Impulse laughed, "That's the first thing you do!"

"I was excited, okay? Some stuff fell through the cracks!" It only made Skizz laugh harder, "Are you gonna invite me in or not!"

"Okay, okay," Impulse placated once their laughter calmed into the occasional giggle. He stepped away from the doorway and gestured Skizz to follow him inside, "Come on in, make yourself at home. Don't forget to shut the door behind you."

Impulse heard the door close. The place was basic, really, meant for function over form. A double-wide bed, some chests for storage, and the simple wall that separated the space from the outside. There was a joke on the tip of Impulse's tongue, something about excusing a mess that wasn't there, but it's forgotten the moment he feels arms around him.

Arms, and then wings, warm and white and all-encompassing like a blanket settled around his very soul. If Impulse looked behind himself, he was sure Skizz's halo would be showing. In turn, Impulse's horns grew. Dark scales climbed up his arms where he held Skizz's arms across his chest, and his tail found purchase around Skizz's leg.

Skizz squeezed him in a hug, lowering his head to leave a kiss in Impulse's hair before burying his face in it with a content sigh that made Impulse want to melt into bed and never get up again.

"Yeah," Skizz mumbled, soft and tired, "This is home."

[planerot]

This is a very silly idea, but it refuses to leave my brain so might as well put it here (This is set sometime after Cars 3 by the way):

Lightning picks up a new game he’s interested in (the exact type/genre of game doesn’t really matter, it’s just some multiplayer game) and starts to play whenever he has time or needs to unwind after a long day.

He intentionally picks a username that is so generic/weird that there is no chance anyone would guess his real identity since, as much as he does love his fans, he really just wants to be able to play normally and not be treated like a celebrity for once.

After awhile of playing, he eventually notices a certain player he plays alongside/against a lot and decides to strike up conversation via the text chat. The other player is a bit prickly at first, but the two actually start getting along and friend each other in the game.

Whenever the two are online at the same time, they team up and play together, slowly becoming close friends as they get more comfortable with each other.

Lightning is completely unaware that the person he’s playing with is, in fact, Jackson Storm, who is also doing his best to stay anonymous.

Both of them are completely blind to who the other’s identity and thus shenanigans ensue as they try and not give away who they really are, not wanting their accounts to be linked to their real identity.

So they would both try and lie in the most believable way possible, neither picking up on the fact the other is also lying, thus leading to conversations like:

Lightning: if you don’t mind me asking, what do you work as? you seem to travel a lot for your job

Jackson (literally sitting in his trailer after a race): …

Jackson: accountant. wby? you seem to travel a lot for work as well

Lightning (typing the first thing he thought that sounded believable): trucker :)

Just the idea of them HATING each others guts in real life but being best buddies in game, venting to the other person in game about something said person literally did/caused in real life but NEVER connecting the dots about each others identity is very funny to me.

[trekkingthroughthestargate]

Has anybody ever thought about the absolute heartache associated with Spock canonically not remembering a lot of his life prior to his death as per the conversation in The Voyage Home "Not lie, just... exaggerate. You've done it before, can't you remember?" "The hell I can't".

The moment is played for laughs, but Spock genuinely cannot remember. He can sense a familiarity with his crew - Kirk and McCoy in particular - and by the end of The Voyage Home has rediscovered a new friendship and familiarity with them.

But all the memories they made beforehand? They're just not there.

How many times did Kirk or McCoy start reminiscing about something that happened during their five year mission, only to be met with a blank, but polite, stare from Spock. When McCoy almost dies of cold on Rura Penthe, does he recall Sarpeidon (All Our Yesterdays), and how gently Spock cared for him then. Even in the midst of everything he was going through, did he wonder if Spock even remembered that shared experience? When Kirk finally tells Spock that he had to sacrifice his own son to get him back, does he think back at how Spock had tried to comfort him when he lost his brother and sister-in-law. Did he realize that every time he's suffered a loss (with the exception of the loss of Spock himself), Spock has been at his side to provide comfort. Did he wonder if Spock even remembers that, or if he even realizes that to Kirk recovery from grief requires his calming presence?

How many times over the rest of the years spent together did they still feel a sense of grief over what they lost, made all the more potent by the ever-present bittersweet reminder in their lives in the form of the newborn Spock. The same comforting, logical, frustrating, loyal, impossible, dependable presence... just with fifteen years of camaraderie lost.

Yes, they have Spock back. And they will take whatever version of Spock the universe has blessed them with without complaint. Even if Spock had walked away after the Fal-tor-pan and never remembered them they would have counted themselves blessed by the knowledge that even if he doesn't know them... at least he's alive. And they got so much more than that. But for the rest of their lives, they are fighting a deep sense of grief at the time that was lost, the memories that were lost, the shared experiences that are now only shared between two... not three.

[fagdykepearlescentmoon]

there is something so terrifying about wanting to be held, a years deep ache in my bones, like a child sobbing pleading for someone to notice, to care.

come here darling, I swear I will not bite, come here please, smooth away the cracks in my skin, piece me back together with the gold of your love, like the japanese would repair their pottery.

there is something so vulnerable about wanting to be touched, undoing me with a mere brush of the fingers, peeling back my layers like the skin of an orange, and each golden segment of my soul, is an offering (i love you).

oh, do you think you could hold me? just this once? kiss the backs of my knees when they ache? trace the divots of my spine like exploring a foreign land? memorize the shape of my nose, my jaw, my eyes, turning the terrain of my body into something familiar.

Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask for such a thing, I have always been a rather demanding creature, a dog, scratching at the door, begging to be let in.

I will be gentle I swear, curl up in your chest, your ribcage can be a temple, your heart the god I bow before, praying you might hold me, if only for a little while.

[space-dem0n]

She cant move

REBLOGS > LIKES

[cryoux]

Alhaitham with reader who has chronic pain (from Eleazar)

Pain was a constant thing in your life. As far back as you could remember, you'd felt pain every day of your life. Sometimes, it was on the surface, manifesting in an itch that hurt to scratch but was agonizing to leave alone. Or it could come as a pounding headache, threatening to knock you to the ground with each new wave. There was even pain in your very bones, the supposedly solid structure of your skeleton suddenly feeling brittle and frankly useless. 

Pondering thusly: if you felt pain each waking hour and even seeping into your sleep, did you really feel the pain at all?

It would be nice to consider these fascinating questions, maybe write an essay about it - if only you could find yourself mobile enough to hold a pen.

Today, it was your wrists. Stiff, brittle, useless. There was no hope of doing anything today, or even tomorrow, for that matter. It was all you could do to lift a cup of water to your lips. Archons, you hated this feeling. Most days were completely fine, you could almost forget about the lifelong agony, the torture of merely existing. Not this time.

Still, you refused to wallow in bed. Instead you unwrapped the binding bandages over your arms, closed all the windows, locked the door, and tried to do anything to pass the time. Solitaire, a game of chess (playing as two nonpartisan people, of course), cleaning dishes (you only broke two!), and sweeping until the floor was spotless. At some point, you'd stupidly tried to wash the floor on your hands and knees, only to be stuck there in agony for fifteen minutes.

Useless. You felt so useless, not only to yourself, but everyone around you. Constantly asking for deadline extensions, unable to finish in-class assignments, incapable of doing the simplest household chores. Here you sat, here you stayed, and only here you allowed the silent tears to fall.

A knock on the door startled you, and you reeled in shock before hurriedly wiping your eyes dry. Could it be your research partner, wondering why you hadn't met with them today? Or maybe it was your neighbor, who saw all the closed blinds and wanted to make sure you were alright.

For some reason, the actual answer surprised you more than the other two unlikely events. You rolled the sleeves of your jacket down before you opened the door and peeked out, but it appeared there was never a need for the secrecy. There at the door stood Alhaitham, solemnly meeting your gaze. 

Though he didn't speak, you could feel the questions burning into you. You both loved and loathed how easily he could read you; it made for easy communication on your part, but you could never hide anything.

Maintaining the silence was a simple task. You turned away from him, retreating into the darkened house without even closing the door - you knew Alhaitham would take care of it. Did you particularly want him here right now? No, not like this. Not with how vulnerable you felt.

"You didn't call for me."

You flinched at the sudden rumble of his voice. There was more intrigue than concern in his voice, while his expression gave nothing. The only thing that you could deduce was that he wasn't entirely happy with you.

"No, because I'm fine." A lie. Both of you knew it, and Alhaitham sighed to indicate as such. 

"You're not fine. And frankly, it's insulting that you'd assume I would believe that." He wasn't mean about it, he was simply telling you to cut the shit. You knew he wasn't truly insulted; there were plenty of other things to stroke his ego.

You scoffed. "Maybe I am this time. You can't dictate how I'm feeling." The argument was ridiculous as you said it, and you could hear the exasperation building in Alhaitham.

"Your bandages are off, meaning you haven't left the house, nor do you plan to. The blinds are all closed because you don't want to risk anyone seeing you right now, the chess board is one move away from checkmate, you haven't put your books away," Alhaitham strode through the living room as he pointed out each miniscule detail that you had long since given up on. "The counter is wet," he nodded toward the kitchen, where water was sitting all over the counter, "There's this bit you forgot to clean up," he lifted a small piece of the porcelain plate that had met its demise earlier that day. "And there is a straw in your cup." He finished his little walk through, circling back around to stand in front of you. You couldn't quite meet his gaze. "Shall I continue?"

The more he had pointed out, the worse you felt - seeing as you couldn't, he would have to clean most of these things. Adding chores to his schedule was the last thing you wanted to do. You shook your head, unable to keep the words in any longer.

"I didn't mean to leave everything out. I was just trying to pass the time, and everything I tried went wrong. I couldn't even stay asleep long enough for a nap, and the bed isn't made, the laundry is still outside, the floor is half clean, I broke two dishes not just the one, I dropped my hair brush in the bathroom, I can't make food for myself, I'm-"

You were silenced by a firm grasp on your aching wrists - firm, but not the slightest bit harsh, and you dared to raise your eyes up to meet his.

"Honestly," he huffed, "You're impossible." How had he known where you were going with that? How could he tell you were spiraling before even you realized it? Alhaitham gently tugged you to the couch, sitting you both down. The sleeves of your jacket were gently rolled back up, exposing the horrid sight of them. You tried to pull your accursed hands away, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, the green of Alhaitham's Dendro vision began to glow, and a faint light emanated from his hands on your wrists.

Within moments, the pain in your arms began to ebb, and you felt warm as sunlight on a lovely spring day. Shocked, you stared at where he held you, watching the scaly appearance of your skin reverse its effect ever so slightly. What in Teyvat was this?

You opened your mouth to inquire as such, but he silenced you almost immediately. "I encountered Tighnari today. He recently wrote a comprehensive analysis of The Withering occuring throughout Sumeru. Eleazar is linked to it almost directly; it seems he even has some firsthand experience." Alhaitham never met your gaze, as if he was just a little shy. "Since dendro seems to temporarily reverse the effects of Withering, I thought I should try…" in a rare moment of uncertainty, he paused. "...something."

His words were truthfully the only cure you needed.

After a bout of silence disturbed only by internal thought, you cracked a smile. "So you thought if you infused your hands with dendro, you'd take some of the pain away." These words seemed to be correct as Alhaitham's green eyes narrowed, almost reminiscent of a pout. How cute.

"It was only my hypothesis." He grumbled.

"Well it was correct." Your smile was soft, as soft as the grip he had on your hands. Beneath the layers of sarcasm and apathy, every now and then a spark of emotion would shine through, and you lived for each one of those moments, where you could finally see Alhaitham's humanity once more.

[training-trio-irl]

Let’s end this. Together.

[iicomet]

"psst-" "...?" "chung myung-ah! come here." He tilted his head at the voice, seeing the head of his senior peeking out of the window. He would've cursed the person out if it were anyone else, to be honest. But, it was his senior, one of the few people in Mount Hua who tolerated and even loved him like a younger brother despite his attitude. He couldn't even see their face, only staring at their eyes with confusion. It was late at night, and everyone was asleep. Why was his senior, the most well-behaved disciple in the entire sect doing outside his window at such a weird time? Surely they're not drunk, or hoping to attempt something strange. His senior wasn't the type to do something like that. ...Or were they...? Reluctantly, he walked closer towards the window, the only source of light in the dark room. Finally, he sees his senior's face, their bright smile evident on their face. They weren't drunk, he could see now. "...?" They only ushered him over to move closer to the window, passing him a box of items once he was deemed close enough. As he looked down upon the mysterious box, they used this opportunity to pat his hair, chuckling softly at the touch of scarred fingers against fluffy hair. They had always wondered, how did he get his hair to look like that? "i hope this makes you happier, sajae." They said, smiling gently. In the midst of the darkness, he felt as if the sun reflected it's rays on his senior's face instead of the moon, for it brought a sense of warmness into his heart in this cold night. His hands held onto the box tightly, as if scared to drop something so sacred to him. For a moment, he felt as if the room had brightened up lightly, as if a person's presence could bring this much light to a place. Before he could even thank them, they had disappeared, leaving behind the fragrance of plum blossoms in the winter, a scent so strong yet so faint at the same time. His eyes slowly trailed to the box in his hands, opening it slowly to reveal beautifully made mooncakes, packed neatly as if the person took great care in their art. A smile graced upon his lips as he took a bite out of the mooncake, feeling the soft yet slightly tender texture of the delicacy he loved so much fill his mouth with joyful goodness. Immediately his day brightened up, and he had forgotten the reason why he was so frustrated even when it was late at night. The salty and sweet taste plagued his senses, and he wondered how his senior knew. However, even if he spent the night awake thinking about it, he would never get a definite answer. After all, it's his senior. Someone who knew how to cheer someone up even in the darkest times.

[bungobble-my-balls]

Re-reading the bsd manga and picking up more stuff now and it is an experience.

Because Asagiri and Harukawa wtf is THIS

You can't just drop this and never bring up these two together again.

I know WHY this is here. It's at the end of volume 10 where it's revealed that Gin is Akutagawa's younger sister, so it's art showing the two younger sister's in the Mafia and the ADA.

But WHY do they look so good here! They look straight up devious too like they know something or have secrets?? Naomi I am looking directly at you because you look so suspicious here but I don't know what to suspect you of.

They're back to back and melding into eachother like they're rivals or something too, this single image feels so important but it's literally the ONLY mention we ever have of these two at the same time.

This literally gives me the same feeling of looking at art of sskk in the ying/yang position or soukoku in opposing/matching colours.

I know it's probably because they're the sisters in opposing organisations but why does this art make me feel like this is much less about their organisations and more about THEM opposing/paralleling eachother.

I am now hoping so much that this art is also foreshadowing because whatever this art of them and whatever dynamic it implies is just so interesting to think about.

[extraemopossum]

silly Susie and kris doodle :)))

Alt version

[paperglader]

Jackie and Shauna are definitely winning at most fucked up canon wlw pairing at the moment... Just watched heavenly creatures for the first time and some things are clicking.

Once you realize that Jennifer's body and heavenly creatures set the tone for those two from the start everything sort of makes sense.

[ball-of-butter]

i remember being genuinely scared to ship mareven because im a toddler that uses tiktok so my first intro to mareven shippers were just crazy maven stans who romanticise his mental illness. i remember one so vile i had to comment hate on it because they were bringing my bae mare into this like mare get behind me rn. and then they doubled down saying her rejection to maven made him more mentally unstable LIKE it was her responsibility???

[meatlessmcmuffin]

messiest ever 20 minute sketch but do u like girls