Tumgik
#my silly girl!!
uu-tella · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Happy Birthday GINA!!
This is entirely based on this extra explaining that Gina and Ichico chose Tella's new uniform. I like to think that Gina uses Tella as a living mannequin to play dress up with (and he can't really say NO, can he?)
Art by: @lovethedanielhd
104 notes · View notes
stargirl230 · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
you’re my hero!
bnha doomed yuri was not on my 2024 bingo card
(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)
12K notes · View notes
cyberiapinksosa333 · 1 year
Text
“wtf is wrong with you”
you mean like today or like in general?
27K notes · View notes
tooquirkytolose · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dark Magicks
11K notes · View notes
doctorsiren · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
i present another offering of a meme redraw for y’all
4K notes · View notes
foolsocracy · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
anon sent an ask abt roy and garth but it vanished into thin air so this ones for you, wherever you are
4K notes · View notes
glockzap · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
kaboom
6K notes · View notes
araneapeixes · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
silly comic idea I've been chipping away at :) welcome tomy shadowheart poly shipping propaganda show
4K notes · View notes
lolapath · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ahhh my favourite drink 🍷 the og post (Ig?)
6K notes · View notes
petrowriting · 3 months
Text
the revelation that claudia’s rebirth was such a twisted and horrible moment, with louis dragging her like she was a thing, a stranger who neither of them knew but he kept saying over and over “our daughter, our beautiful little daughter” to lestat, really solidified the way she was never the main character of her own story. she was always an accessory to some or the other of louis’ whims: his guilt, his loneliness, his conflict of being a killer, his rocky relationship with lestat. there was love there, love from both her fathers, but it was never enough. lestat saw her too much as a wretched mirror held up to his own self, and louis was always too steeped in his own feelings to care enough about hers. claudia’s story truly was the greatest tragedy in this tale, treated horribly by every man around her, even her fathers, relentlessly exploited and brutally ignored, always second and never first. the only one who loved her the way she deserved to be loved was madeleine, and the moment she truly had her, her happiness was torn from her. and just before she died, she got to see someone actually choose her in her entirety, not for what she can be but for who she is, and it still wasn’t enough. she still burned alive in the sunlight. the love was there, but it wasn’t enough to save her.
4K notes · View notes
thetinyscald-blog · 1 year
Text
she do be hitting that yoinky sploinky
Tumblr media
11K notes · View notes
tomboyyyaoi · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
i think often about how mizuki used to cover her mirror....
3K notes · View notes
noecoded · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
that boy is a MONSTER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
4K notes · View notes
veryluckyclovers · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
so epic
3K notes · View notes
moondirti · 1 month
Text
working at a hardware store, you're too familiar with the odd customer. couples who come in with specifications so detailed, you can only imagine they're for kink purposes; women old enough to be knocked out by the fumes of the paint they purchase, looking to remodel after their husbands passing; men on the verge of a mid-life crises, more devoted to their lawns than they are their families. and though it takes a couple hours of dedicated customer service to get them out the door, satisfied with their purchase, that comes with the job that sees you paid. so it's not so bad. generally fine.
a one and done sort of thing.
(of course, that's because none of them hold a candle to this freak.)
cargo net, nylon cordage, duct tape, disinfectant. all that's missing is a shovel, and the police wouldn't fault you for calling this purchase in.
"moving?" you ask, tongue lashing against your best interests in face of the oppressive presence across the counter. a monster of a man, almost too big to fit through the store. thick arms and neck, a healthy serving of fat over every muscle, filling the space of his shirt beyond what it was sewn to handle. the camo balaclava is both ridiculous and an essential component to the intimidation he strikes in you, framing a set of eyes that squint at your remark.
(jesus, you didn't think people like him existed in real life.)
he looks like he's about to bite back, but decides against it.
"hunting." he says, then nudges the objects towards you like he has somewhere urgent to be at 10 pm. but okay, fine, you can take a hint. you scan the suspicious list of things and tally up his total.
"uh, 85 quid. thanks."
"bloody extortionate." the man mutters, stacking his purchases upon one, curled arm, before throwing a pink note your way.
nonplussed, you don't notice the offence immediately. the matter of payment is instead superseded by his offhand exit, his shoulder shoving open the door, head bowing to shrug out. and you watch as he walks across the parking lot, long strides taking him there in three steps, and watch as he slips around the brick perimeter. only then does your stomach settle.
but at that point, it's far too late.
50 pounds stare smugly up at you.
that asshole underpaid you.
by the grace of the gods (your manager), your shift ends soon after. it's a wonder you manage to get to your car at all, migraine splitting your skull in two. though it should be doing something to alleviate the pain, all your body wants to focus on is the lightened bulk of your wallet, now missing 35 quid after paying the difference out of pocket.
you take the time once you're seated to smash a fist repeatedly onto your steering wheel.
"fucking fuck! cock sucking bastard, son of a bitch!"
the screaming, though cathartic, drills your sorrows further into your head. you're temporarily blinded when your head slams back onto the headrest, phosphenes overwhelming your vision. little stars, ropes, knives and dots dancing over the windscreen.
it's a miracle you're able to discern the eyes in your rearview mirror as real.
"well, which is it?" the brute from earlier derides. his hand comes over your jaw, big enough to trap the whole lower half of your face in his grip. tucks his pinky under your chin, too, the makeshift muzzle keeping you from biting. it's all you can do to breath — long, filtered gulps of air, the space between his fingers smelling of salt. something sticky smears onto your nose. "am i a bastard, or the son of a bitch?"
not a one and done thing, then.
1K notes · View notes
theberzattos · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
02.02 ― 02.09 THE BEAR
9K notes · View notes