#thank you for the request!!! <33

[desertduality]

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride. 

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt. 

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer. 

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked. 

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave. 

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van. 

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability. 

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.   

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed. 

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all. 

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through. 

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it. 

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it. 

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time. 

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was. 

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed. 

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him. 

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile. 

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street. 

It really was quite a nice neighborhood. 

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed. 

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

[taohs]

Levi Ackerman gifset request for @smol-ackerman​ ♡

[reactionimagesdaily]

could i please get a couple images of being just. bonedead tired comatose lifeless ass mf. love this blog btw

I have the perfect goddamn collection for you

[bat-luun]

hiiii u summoned me :3

have u been listening to suckening? if so maybe a silly doodle of ur fav character? persnaps? if not then maybe just one of ur fav pcs in general :D love the art as always <33

havent kept up w suckening since ep 3 help mee😍

[itoshi-s]

@mejxmemkodofoof requested: yandere!rin + "I want to keep you all to myself" // no lukewarm love v-day event !

cw: suggestive, dark content, yandere, implied noncon. mdni

rin has never put much thought into how intense he experiences things.

if anything, it only ever helped and brought him so much praise - enough to make it feel like he's about to choke on it. hardworking, passionate. he'll get far in life - in football, or anything else he puts his mind into. (bold of them to think he's ever going to quit. not happening, until he climbs his way to the very top - he's not a quitter, never has been.) he can and will achieve everything his heart desires. that's how he is - calculated and controlled, focused and rapt. yet underneath, his heart thumps and blood boils, every nerve sparks as passion runs rampage in every cell and flickers behind turquoise irises, that perhaps look all too crazed all too often.

rin never really paid attention to his instinctive yet driven nature - not unless it was on the field and devoured every single player in his path.

not until he's met you.

one look at your face - bright and inviting, eerily familiar and nostalgic, as if he's been longing to see you for his entire life and then some - and it's like something awakens, splinters deep inside and pulls at his heart until it swells against his ribcage.

it's only natural you end up in the passenger seat of his aston martin later that night, all smiles and gentle laughter. a saccharine melody that still sounds so, so sweet, despite the booze you've been sipping on the past few hours, concealed in bright, blue syrups.

rin feels it's ironic. perhaps, there might be something just equally bitter laced underneath the vibrant teal of his eyes, too.

something to knock you off your feet, creep up on you - hit it's high when you willingly, stupidly take, take, take even more. something so honeyed, sugary sweet - all until it makes you hurl.

if everything rin's ever felt was intense, then your presence must be an entire tidal wave. it steals his breath away, brings his hands to a tremble when he laces his fingers with your own, holding you down and urging the highest pitches from your swollen, glossed lips. it eats away at his insides, dismantles any illusion of control, and throws him off the edge - right into your warm embrace.

you want to take things slow - that much he grasps from the convo you share next morning, sipping on some brazilian blend that suddenly tastes sweeter than ever when shared with you. rin watches you, teal eyes observant, and if the way his gaze follows your every notion is anything to go by, the must not be tired at all; not even from how he's had you pressed into the sheets until the sun started bleeding through the blinds.

he can take things slow. he can, for you. rin understands - he really does - when your eyes widen a bit upon his casual comment on how he has practice later today and therefore cannot take you to dinner like he wishes he could. he understands when you sheepishly admit that you have recognized his face from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

he doesn't mind. if anything, he's grateful he's barely a blank page to you. and fine, maybe the suddenly timid behavior of yours makes something deep inside him corrode into something ugly and possessive - but again, rin pays no mind to it.

to you, he can be anything and everything you want him to be. not just the national team's captain, not the star striker, not a name plastered with all the possible titles one could dream of. for you, rin can be anything your heart desires - you just have to let him.

and it's a tough, bumpy road to make you love him as much as he loves you. a reality check of sorts, one that suddenly rips off any bandage rin has tried to slap on the sweltering passion, seeping out the jagged wounds his adoration for you inflicts. it's an endless cycle, but he can make it just fine.

rin can take it.

he can see some more of the gentle smiles when you bid him goodbye at your doorstep, hair still disheveled and eyes hazy with sleep that he knows you'll get right back to as soon as he walks out. you need your rest after all - you're going out later that night, for one of your friends birthday - dressed up like his eyes on you are not enough, as if you've got someone else to impress.

he can force himself to nod and even offer a rare, small smile when you insist that he doesn't need to come and pick you up. don't be silly, rin. i'll text you when i'm home if that makes you feel better? it won't - but he appreciates the effort and deludes himself that you honestly, truly want to ease his worries away, even the ones you're the very reason for.

he can push the sour ache that rips its way through his chest when you turn down his offer to take you out - again. he's not throwing you on deep waters, doesn't push or nag. and yet, your eyes refuse to meet his own - perhaps fearful he'll find the uncertainty simmering behind them - when he suggests you attend one of his teammate's party together. as casual as it gets, but still not enough to not scare you away. rin, don't get me wrong, it's just... you said we don't need to rush, and it's a lot. everyone will know.

it irks something, he has to give you that. for a second, it seems like you want to make him feel dumber than he is. of course everyone will know - that's the point. it annoys him that you keep acting as if you're delusional, not noticing the not-so-subtle signs. but it's okay.

it's you, so for now, it's okay.

it's okay, until it isn't. rin has it under control until you force it right out of his hands, smooth the creases in his knuckles out with saccharine words that bleed into the humid midnight air and bounce off the egyptian cotton sheets.

"you're not telling me enough," you whisper into his bare chest, and maybe if it wasn't for the sleep overcoming your senses, you would've heard - felt - the erratic beat of his poor, poor heart. "y' need to talk to me, rin."

and talk he does. it spills out, all of it - all the passion he's so well known for, that floods the field and soaks into the turf, leaving no spot unsoiled by this overwhelming dedication of his. but this time, it seeps into you - something far more fragile, perhaps naive for thinking that you can handle it - handle the entirety of him.

clammy hands find their place on either side of your face, cupping the soft plush of your cheeks with utter care - a distinction to the sharp, overwhelming desire ripping through the turquoise eyes you thought you knew.

"i want to keep you all to myself," rin confesses at last and feels his chest hollow at the way your body tenses up - almost jerks away from the sheer force behind his words. "and it scares me. i want you, and i love you. you just need to let me."

perhaps, he was delusional.

almost childishly, foolishly so, for thinking that it wouldn't scare you, too.

but he held onto it, tight until it broke skin and stung. as if you were a storm and the remnant of hope was his lifeline, something to cling to as he continues to wish the greed eventually dies down. but it never does, instead feeds from the confusion and sheer panic that arises when days pass by and you grace him with less attention than he's used to - that you've gotten him hooked on.

it's unfair. it's scary and intimidating and unlike anything he's ever felt before - and he's felt a lot.

and when rin feels something, it hits him full force and knocks the airout of his lungs. when he loves, it's until you're choking on it, inhaling his devotion with every desperate breath - you might not know it yet. maybe he doesn't, either - but his instincts has never failed him yet. right now, they're louder as ever and tint his vision red - the color of passion, the very thing that clings to him every step of the way, and makes him who he is.

rin feels a lot, but he's learnt to live with it. wild and impulsive, yet collected and steady - two sides of one coin that he knows how to balance just fine, but somehow, when your face comes to mind, he cannot bring himself to do it.

he can keep it together for a little longer, and maybe smile a bit while he's at it, too. you're just a smidge too reckless, forget about the lost pair of keys far too quick than he'd like you to. they were never lost in the first place, instead safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket - a fucked up souvenir of sorts, maybe - but that you're unaware of. and yet, you still don't pay it much mind anymore. who would even want to break in here, rinnie? - then, a laugh, one that he doesn't reciprocate - c'mon, it's not a big deal.

he wishes you could keep the same attitude until a couple nights later, for when you stir awake in the dark, only to meet his frenzied eyes - but you don't, and perhaps he pushes his palm against your mouth a bit too rough, yeah, but it's what he has to do.

rin hopes you understand - just like he understood you.

as he licks the tears off your warm cheek and forces his other hand between your trembling thighs, for a split second he thinks that it's the least you owe him.

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[bayfuzzball7050]

Kakyoin saying there's no mirror world and Illuso hitting him with that "Uhm actually 🤓☝️"

Im sorry if this ain’t exactly hat you were looking for but I was giggling my ass off making these 😭😭

Bonus:

[juiceofmoons]

I see the ashes up in the sky I can hear your voice I reach out my hands toward you What I get is an empty heart

Skz Songs as Moodboards:

୭🌱♡-⋆｡˚🍄-𓄹-˚

Bang Chan -> FNF

Requested by -> @sulfurcosmos ⋆｡˚

༓pins༓

[totaled-drama]

The piece of Raj and Wayne playing Mario Kart was super cute.

Imagine them playing team or 8-player smash with the others and just trying double team everyone to be the last two!

I feel like we, as a fandom, tend to forget that Wayne and Raj are actually very competitive.

[strayz]

jisung's method of applying perfume  ♡ for @mybodyfails

[desertduality]

Scar & Grian (platonic) movie night for a writing prompt ^^

Okay this one I can actually classify as a snippet ajksdkj it's just under 500 words. I hope you like it!! :D

----------

“I brought blankets!”

Scar’s triumphant call is the only warning Grian gets before the world goes dark, several pounds of fluffy knitted wool landing directly on his head. Grian grunts and sputters as fibers stick to his tongue, flailing his limbs in an attempt to remove himself from the impromptu bindings. He surfaces with a gasp, blankets falling into a pile behind him, hair staticky and sticking up at odd angles. He whips his head around to glare at Scar, standing behind him doubled over in breathless laughter. 

“Just for that,” Grian says, turning back to fiddle with the projector. “I get to choose the movie.”

Scar’s laughter cuts off comically fast, and Grian has to bite his cheek to suppress his own giggling, giddy excitement bursting behind his ribcage. It’s way too fun to rile Scar up. 

“What, no!” Scar cries, and Grian doesn’t even have to look to know he’s doing his best begging eyes. “You said you’d watch Star Wars with me! You pinky promised, Grian!”

“One of those blankets was weighted, Scar. You could have killed me,” Grian says, turning around, and— Yep, there were the eyes. He steadfastly ignored them. “Or worse, you could have broken the projector.”

“Fine,” Scar replies, sitting down crosslegged with a huff, leaning back against the couch and starting to remove his leg braces. “Movie night is sacred. I won’t throw things on movie night.”

“Any other time is fair game,” Grian agrees, nodding, grabbing the remote and scooting backwards until he’s next to Scar. “Alright, which one was it that you wanted to watch?”

“We should marathon,” Scar suggests brightly, producing a bag of popcorn out of thin air and loudly opening it. “We can start with the first one. Not the prequels, the actual first movie.”

“Just a heads up, I will be falling asleep,” Grian warns, clicking onto the first movie and tugging blankets over them both. “And that is not an invitation to draw on my face.”

“Make it through the first movie, at least, and I’ll spare you,” Scar jokes, flinging a piece of popcorn at him with a cheeky grin. “If you don’t, I do have a sharpie with me. Be warned.”

“I can’t believe you plan for this stuff,” Grian complains, rolling his eyes with a quiet laugh. “I’ll try, Scar. Happy?”

“Do or do not,” Scar says imperiously, eyes flashing with gleeful mischief. “There is no try.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I love you, too!”

Grian shoves Scar lightly on the shoulder, both of them with amused grins on their face, and popcorn bounces out of the bag onto their laps. Just a typical movie night, really.  Leaning back into the couch cushions, Grian points the remote and presses play. The bold yellow text starts scrolling down the screen, music blaring from the speakers, and Scar cheers. Grian sighs, longsuffering and fond, and sets the remote down on the ground.

(He wakes up in the morning with poorly drawn cat whiskers on his face, looks down at Scar snoring on the floor next to him, and happily returns the favor.)

[marblerose-rue]

click for better quality!!

crookedstar/request!

I NEED TO REREAD WARRIORS crooked is so very <33

[http-byler]

it isn't byler but would you possibly do el & lucas for 3c? i just love them!! but if you're not feeling it, dw about not doing it!!

here you go!! hehe :3

for this drawing meme!! <]:3

[oh-gh0st]

jyushimatsu hugging shinrei from behind and his sleeves are tied into a ribbon around her ^_^

i couldn't fall asleep for an hour after i saw you sent this ask last night

[bayfuzzball7050]

I humbly request you draw Shizuka with the sniffles (because I am currently sick)

Thank u

(She went out without a coat)

Translation of what josuke’s saying:

“And I told you. ‘It’s not cold out!’, ‘You’re exaggerating!’ And you see? Divine punishment.”

(It’s funnier in Spanish I swear 😭😭)

Bonus shizuka with an sprained ankle cuz I have an sprained ankle too:

[harukapologist]

You're feeding the 0103/0301 shippers rn so i am begging you once more

Fuuta and haruka on a dinner date!! And haruka has a nice little collared white shirt on and fuuta has a fancy blouse and they share a plate of spaghetti and do the thing where they both eat the same noodle AND THEY GET PULLED TOGETHER AND !!

They kith :3

WAAAA SO CUTE.... I love this trope sm thank you for this request anon ily/p this is my first time drawing this trope, so I hope it looks good :D

Also, I'm very happy to serve my nation (0301/0103) hehe

[juiceofmoons]

"The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming." -Al Stewart"

Skz as Gemstones and Rocks 20/∞

Amber -> Han 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Requested by -> @eternaletain

*pins*