#so i changed it to hee

[jinnify]

3:00 — lee heeseung

↳ © jinnify — reblogs appreciated

boyfriend!Heeseung prided himself on being great at time management. He was always on time for vocal and dance practice and tended to be out the door and in bed at a time he found appropriate for his schedule. He gasped as he looked up at the clock on the vocal room wall, three AM. Not once had Heeseung found himself in his current predicament. 

He excused himself from his instructor as he looked around for his phone, annoyed with how he had lost it in the small vocal practice room. Once he found it, Heeseung let out a disgruntled sigh as he noticed the numerous texts you had sent, asking if he would be home soon or if he wanted you to stay up.

Heeseung felt a pang of guilt hit his chest as he read what you had sent. You were probably still in your shared bedroom, waiting for him to get home so you could comfortably fall asleep, knowing he was alright. He immediately replied to your texts, asking if you were still awake and telling you it was okay to go to sleep now. Heeseung asked for his lesson to be cut short, and his instructor was more than glad to let him go after also noticing the time.

“Hey, baby. Yes, I know. I didn’t expect time to fly by so quickly! Alright, love. I’ll see you in a few.” Heeseung was a bit breathless as he quickly walked back to his dorm, trying to get back to you as fast as he could without looking like a madman.

He had been away at practice all day and was finally starting to feel the exhaustion settle in his body. He couldn’t wait to fall into bed next to you.

[moncuries]

guess what i watched on new years (a redraw kind of)

[mango-fizz]

back on my bullshit 🫶❤️💕

[cathalbravecog]

high roller posting continues - parent of world's most chuckable kids that spawn out of nowhere

[shima-draws]

Normally Sanji is the most put together person between him and Luffy. He’s probably the most put together person on the entire crew besides Robin. Meanwhile Luffy is a walking disaster, chaos is naturally drawn to him and he’s ALWAYS getting into trouble. When it comes to their actual romantic relationship tho. It’s COMPLETELY flipped lmao

Luffy will walk out on deck with his hair slightly tousled and his vest a bit askew but that’s normal for him. He looks smug as hell but that’s also normal for him. Nobody bats an eye. Then Sanji comes tumbling out of the galley. Shirt untucked and buttoned up the wrong way, hair thoroughly ruffled, clothes rumpled, looking utterly fucking disheveled. His nose is bleeding, he’s stumbling like he’s drunk and his neck is covered in hickies. Everyone on deck proceeds to lose their goddamn MINDS

[hydrngea]

how does your detective feel about not being a detective anymore?

[bitterpngs]

(ids in alt text)

*grips you by the shoulders* listen. LISTEN. tsumiki would 100% listen to metal hear me out. im not saying she’d only listen to it, i think she’d also listen to popular pop songs and all but. metal. metal!! first of all it’s energetic!! like pop can be.

second of all. that is a young teen. metal would be cathartic and soothing. she’d feel content listening to metal because she’d burn through her negative emotions by listening to it. the energy of the music would reflect her feelings. it’d be a private way to work through her emotions!!! i don’t know how to explain it!!!! trust me!!!!!!

third-

[engie-the-profit]

and then infinite googles "how do you exorcise a chaos energy demon and make sure it goes to hell"

also. bonus panel:

[kaiisens]

i haven’t posted art on here in like a year but i love how this turned out so everyone is now being forced to look at it

[caruliaa]

kay i did this last time i changed theme, i want a new hatchetfield theme and pfp nd i like all of these (and making u vote on things) so. VOTE !!! ( if u dont know abt the blorbos for each theme just vote for the aesthetic/vibes u like the most) (and IGNORE THE URL im keeping this one for now its just my old url on my music sideblog tht im saving for a bit and using to show the theme options)

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Having stayed up past my bedtime to finish Episode 7 of Twenty Five- Twenty One I would liked to take a moment to say:

Fuck you@lurkingshan for recommending this stupid fucking fencing show that keeps making me super fucking emotional in a vicious, endless cycle! How dare you make me sob in my living room at one am over a fucking referee call! I thought we were friends, how could you do this to me?!?! Do you harbor any guilt whatsoever knowing that I cried through all three of the episodes that I watched today!!

^Look at my beloved girl, look at her sobbing in the street. This is me, on my couch, right now. Look at what you have done to me!

Anyway, it may not be a BL but I do think everyone should watch Twenty Five Twenty One it is fantastic so far and it making my heart so full.

[pzyii]

This post by @nerdyvocals (sorry to @ you) has been taking up 90% of my brain so I had to do something.....

...

[shima-draws]

Mhmm. Got new OC ideas on the brain. It’s basically the trope of “I thought I lost you when we were kids but you’ve actually been by my side now that we’re adults yet I was too fucking STUPID to realize it was you all along” which is like. MWAH chef’s kiss 😩👌

[tired-twili]

Me explaining to my bedroom wall at 1 am how Leon and Ada are so complex and thier relationship is so complex bcs they have such a strange history and a strong bond but are constantly kept apart by thier work and goals but you can still tell the genuinely care for eachother

[fiendishartist2]

how was the view from the shelf- petscop

The girl with no eyebrows stared back at him.

Red pupils swimming in wide eyes, stark against ashen skin. The flash turned her into a ghost, haloed in white light against the black walls. Her mouth fell agape– whether mid-scream or mid-sentence, Paul didn’t know.

He looked left, tracing the girl’s wide eyes in another photo. She was surrounded by other, more recognisable faces. Taken during Christmas, it looked like, judging by the limp tree lurking in the corner. That was one of the only days of the year Paul remembered visiting The Family, so he scanned the picture for himself.

Jill, arms crossed as to not hold hands with the miserably dull man at her side. Mike, halfway perched on his mother’s lap and grinning up at his brother. Anna and another man, smiling sensibly at the camera and loosely wrapped around each other. Paul glossed over them– it made him a little uncomfortable to see the restraint on their faces. But there, burning a hole in the middle of a mundane family photo, was the girl with no eyebrows.

She was impossibly small, curled against Anna. Her nose was buried in the side of Anna’s stomach, Anna’s arm wrapped around her in turn. Wide eyes behind unkempt bangs peeked at the camera.

Paul had seen these photos over and over again throughout his childhood; they stopped visiting Anna while he was in high school, but Lina tried her best to keep in touch. They still came over for the occasional Christmas, up until he found the game. He knew what each photo contained, when they were taken, who was in them.

She haunted every single one.

Peering over Belle’s shoulder as she did a puzzle for the girl; Anna gave him that puzzle for his birthday, despite him asking for a radio. He couldn’t figure out how the pieces all fit together, so he had to ask Belle to help him. Eventually, she took over and Paul was content to watch his best friend play with his birthday present.

Standing at the edge of a picture, watching Mike and Belle play in the yard; Paul was a shy kid, never wanting to step on anyone’s toes. Even when Anna arranged play-dates at home, Paul would just trail behind his friends while they had fun.

Swaddled in Anna’s arms; Anna was always sentimental, before she became as overbearing as she was now. Paul didn’t actually know much about his parents, but he remembered Anna’s choking hugs. The way his voice muffled against her stuffy cardigans. He cleared his throat.

Paul could place himself in each and every photo hung on the wall and yet.

And yet the girl with no eyebrows was always in his place.

The longer he stared at her, the further he drifted off kilter. Degree by degree, Paul’s sense of reality warped; the photos on the wall were washed away by a swirling sea of black.

How could he know what was real anymore? Rainer cast a spell to change his past. And now the game was invading his life, mangling every part of him until he didn’t fit. Deforming his face until there was nothing left to recognise. Twisting his memories until all that’s left was her.

Would she be there when Paul’s vision cleared?

Would his face replace hers, just as she has done to him?

Would he look in the mirror and see a clear picture again?

Those eyes, that nose; would it be Paul or the girl with no eyebrows looking back at him?

Everything was so blurry– where are his glasses? She doesn’t wear glasses, she’s blind.

Paul needed to get back to the game, but he can’t go back to that room. It’s not his room. It’s not his room. He has a room– this was his childhood home– but that wasn’t his room. She didn’t live here and she’s not in the family photos because she’s not real. Carrie Mark is not real.

You are Carrie Mark.

You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark. You are Carrie Mark.

Rainer wants you to retrace your steps. Her steps. Her steps, not yours. You don’t have a room.

Paul gasped, breathing deeply as water filled his lungs. He’s drowning, drenched head to toe and shivering. It’s so cold. But he can’t stop. He has to keep going, keep running, he has to get home, he has to get home, he just needs to get home.

Left. Left. Right. Left.

He placed one hand on the wall, supporting himself as he leaned over. He’s been running for so long, he’s out of breath. Ragged breaths drawn out of a mouth wide open, a scream caught by the flash of a camera. The blinding hallway light haloed him against a black wall, exposing pale skin. He’s swaying on his feet. He’s been running for so long.

Paul blinked, lifting his head enough to see the photos again.

She’s looking right at him.

He blinked again.

He’s looking right at him.

Here’s a puzzle: the child in the photo wore the face of the girl with no eyebrows, and then the face of Paul Leskowitz. The image of Paul’s childhood did not change. What happened?

Nausea bloomed in Paul’s stomach.

He should finish that game.

[vulpinesaint]

parents really fucked me over with the catholicism name that wasn't a saint. real bullshit. what do you mean both of my siblings got saint names and i got named after a concept. i could have been cecelia