#HE NEVER WANTED A HAND!!!!

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[lunacias]

these are the silt verses, and I name our disciples thus

[willowser]

HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............

i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.

("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")

you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.

your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.

truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.

it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.

or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.

enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.

—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.

it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.

you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.

"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."

"i already have."

"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."

and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—

shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"

you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."

that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.

much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.

there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.

and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.

[screwpinecaprice]

Just a silly guy, with silly silly thoughts.

@glowweek Day 2

Casual | Surprise

A casual surprise?😬😬😬

[hyunpic]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNJIN 🖤

[bluerosefox]

Same As The Day I Lost You

I...

This came to me as I'm making dinner so I'll be quick.

What if we mix deaged Danny and twin/older sibling (either one works) Damian, AND he gets tossed to his sibling in a last minute escape.

Like what if he was fighting Vlad who was doing his whole "denounce your father and join me as my son Daniel!" Thing while in the Zone and knocks Danny into something that's floating in the Zone with the ability to deage or was hit by a new Fenton or Plasmius invention while fighting in town that accidentally deages him.

Danny, who in this was adopted, gets put back to the age of six. The same age he had been found by Jazz in a 'haunted' forest Jack and Maddie were visiting/investigating while also using that time as a family vacation. (They were shocked to see a little boy with a stab wound bleeding out and rushed him to the nearby town, almost completely forgetting about the glowing green tiny puddle they found nearby and bagged most of it as evidence when they heard Jazz's scream of terror over finding the hurt little boy)

The sudden revert into that traumatized age, along with the child response to a fight or flight scenario, and add Danny's deepest need/wish to be protected his child fogged mind wishes to go to the one person who always made him feel safe.

His twin/older brother.

Just as quick as it was with Danny being turned into a child, his ghost powers ripped open a portal and sent Danny to the person he wants to be with...

Only he didn't know that right at that moment his seventeen year old twin/older brother is currently fighting the League with his family's help (his mother was trying to convince him to return to the League and be it's heir) in Nanda Parbat (the very place Damian lost the last/only person he knew loved him without any strings attached.)

So imagine everyone's face when a portal opened up, some muttering its a new pit being formed before them or something, and crawling out of it is a very scared and confused six year old Danny.

[raepliica]

h/c vashwood on the brain again

[bookshelfdreams]

That is certainly - a statement.

What about Jim, who both metaphorically and literally discovers a path for themself beyond what they were raised to be? What about Pete, who learns to overcome his toxic masculinity, his posturing and self-importance? What about Ed, whose entire story is about deconstructing the performance that is expected of him?

What about, oh, idk, our main fucking character Stede Bonnet, whose arc starts with him literally breaking out from the hetero marriage he was forced into despite never fitting in? Who tries (and initially fails) to build a community where he can be himself? Whose entire story is about discovering his own queerness! He starts out not even able to put a finger on WHY his marriage made him feel so suffocated, and then journeys through s1 until he reaches the emotional climax - "His name is Ed"!

Contrast that with Izzy, who has to be dragged into a supportive community kicking and screaming. Who rejects care and compassion, even at his worst, who has to be forced to accept help. He receives the leg and calls the crew a homophobic slur for it, ffs. Only after that, only when people refuse to let him push them away, is he able to poke his nose into something approaching positive human connections. And that's a powerful narrative, sure, in it's own way; but it's hardly the Ultimate Queer Experience, and it's definitely not the "only queer arc".

And Izzy never lets go of the old ways. He never abandons the Blackbeard-era pirate lifestyle for something more positive, not fully. And that's okay, because ultimately, his arc isn't even about himself.

It's about Ed.

Ed keeps repeating toxic relationship patterns, and Izzy is a part of that. He's linked (on purpose, and I wish it had been done more explicitly) to Ed's father; because Izzy represents the poison that was instilled in Ed from a young age, and that has become so entrenched in his system that he can't imagine a life without it. He keeps Izzy around despite being hurt by him because Izzy is predictable, and in that, is safe, even though he hurts Ed; at least it's a hurt Ed is familiar with and can rely on.

When Izzy slowly changes it's to show that Ed is growing beyond the little voice in his head telling him to reject softness, that he can never be loved, that We're just not these kinds of people. If Izzy can evolve from someone spitting boyfriend at Ed like it's a slur to someone congratulating him on getting laid by that same person, Ed can overcome his inner demons telling him the same thing.

That's the point of Izzy's arc. And this is why he has to die, because Ed can never be truly free as long as Izzy is around. So Izzy goes, quietly, peacefully, and releases Ed of the poison; apologizes to him, tells him I was so wrong, and I am so sorry, because that's what Ed needs to hear to move forward.

And that's such a kind, positive way to end the story of Izzy Hands.

[in-the-multiverse]

You only knew a world of caution, mistrust, betrayal

Never the soul bound, to care and look out for someone…anyone

Never the tightly woven teams, to trust a chosen few and cherish each hour with them

No wonder you look around and ask

“When did everyone go soft?”

[bishicat]

"Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.

you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.

when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.

“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.

“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.

“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.

“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.

“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.

you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.

you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.

“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—

“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.

[liauditore]

it's gotta be you.

[ohitslen]

Promises

He should know better. 

Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised. 

Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.

He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment. 

He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies. 

Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.

A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.

It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.

He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit. 

But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.

He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them. 

So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.

For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.

For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.

He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.

He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.

He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.

He should know better.

But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?