#that IS canon idgaf...

[lotus-pear]

top 10 moments before disaster (dazai is about to step on his toes)

[valtsv]

You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the fantasy of yourself as their chosen companion—their trusted right hand when their own fails them—before the sheer laughable impossibility of anyone finding comfort in such reliance on you clamours and shoves its way to the forefront of reasons why that can never be. You understand this. You truly do. It’s only that—

sketched some scenes from my fic

+ better quality under the cut:

[blacktoptown]

AND IM SUPPOSED TO THINK THAT THEY ARENT SOUL MATES???? LOOK AT HOW JOHNNY LOOKS AT V, THIS IS HOW YOU LOOK AT SOMEONE WHO YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH

[nicolulo]

the new atla comic that came out had things i liked & really really didn’t like BUT we also got a lot of new mai content in return soooo they are partially forgiven

so here’s more some maizula for cope 😇

actually can't really forgive them for maizula erasure but i will accept the cute mai panels we got

[eurodynamic]

VENOM "Refuse To Melt" Emote Marvel Rivals (2024)

[naomistares]

do u think they explored each others bodies

[annonnex]

NEW PAINTER DESIGN again i like this one alot its probably gonna be the main design i use for him

Oh also Mackenzie is there too, that was like my first time drawing him from the back its craaaazzzy

[disastertwins9000]

tim and cass

years apart and different ethnicities

but what if like

twins :)

[h20milk]

if i met you when i was younger, i think i would've turned out...

[everfallenwings]

.ೃ࿐ kamisama + kaiser ! -> female reader

michael kaiser had never once felt this low in his life.

he was a cold-blooded killer, a force to be reckoned with, an emperor. reigning from the foreign shackles of misfortune, the moment micheal kaiser picked up a sword, every spirit and human knew he would burn the world if it meant to change his fate—to call his success his.

and it was his; blood was shed, and destiny shifted. michael kaiser was an emperor amongst the spirit-world, and the mere mention of his name would make your blood run cold. in fact, even his eyes tell the same story—demon-like, azure crescents among his angel-like face. the concoction of pure and evil, beautiful and ugly, and to harm and heal made kaiser who he was; the closest thing to a god.

so, if that were true, why was the yokai on his knees, bowing down to a human?

bowing down to you.

when rumours of a young human girl becoming land god of a well-known shrine circulated in the spirit world, kaiser had to check it out himself. his full intention was to laugh at your piteous whining of not being able to take the duties of a real god, not knowing his habit of bullying the weak would bite him in the ass hard.

so there the yokai sat atop a tree branch, watching your poor fingers clawing into another branch as you hung. “the shrine spirits said you’d help, kaiser!— oh, will you? she’s going to kill me!” you huffed, an ivory palm sitting underneath his cheek as he smirked, blue eyes squinting in amusement. “oh, did they?” the blonde coos, peering at the starving yokai quickly climbing the tree, “beg for your life and perhaps i will.” he slowly adjusts his black and red yukata with a huge grin plastered on his face.

you narrow your eyes, choosing silence against the spirit. “really, i keep my promises, human. just say ‘please kaiser, save me and my foolish life!’ and i’ll help you.” kaiser laughs, the azure tips of his hair twinkling in the moonlight. “and why would i do that?! you’re just a spirit, not a god.” you counter, furrowing your brows as his gaze grew annoyed. “i am a god, girl. and if i’m ‘just a spirit’, why do you need my help so bad?” he questions, tilting his head.

a sacred word binding grants the host the ability to order their familiar to any and every request, only sealed with a kiss.

you could feel your blood boiling; a god? there was no way this was the jerk controlling the underworld at the tips of his pristine, lithe fingers. the shrine spirits told you all about it—the tales, revenge, and true torture he put every spirit through. you grab kaiser's ankle as the yokai finally reaches the top of the tree, pulling him down with you.

his face contorts into surprise, then disgust. "you foolish human—all you had to do was say a few words, and now your pride is going to cost your life." he reprimands, yukata flowing along the winds, along with his silky, blue-tipped hair. "tell me this, kaiser." you spat, an uncharacteristic smile planted on your face as the two of you tumbled down severe winds. "how does it feel like being a land-god's new familiar?"

deep azure eyes widen like never before, revealing the prominent streaks of red adorning the crease of his eyes. "you—"

and all it took for a deadly emperor, incapable of change or obedience to be completely at your mercy, was a sweet kiss on the lips. dainty hands cupping ivory cheeks, along with soft lips crashing onto his own. michael kaiser had never felt this low in his entire life, he feels as if the air had been sucked dry from his lungs.

"okay, then. save me, mihya." you pull away, whispering against his cheek.

as the former god of the underworld slashes the yokai after you to bits without a word, his arms pull you into him, providing a safe landing from all the turbulence.

and he's never felt sicker in his life.

[velarisdusk]

I Slept with Someone in Wings of Illyria

A Bat Boys Band AU

word count: 1.5k author's note: i have not been able to stop thinking about bass player az, nor have i been able to shut up about it (exhibits A, B, and C found here lol). i am so taken with bass player azriel that this was originally gonna be a one time thing to get the mf thoughts out of my head, but i may make this a collection of drabbles/one-shots/whatever the fuck. enjoy ! <3 ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The room is sweltering, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and wraps around your throat. Bodies pressed together, arms raised, the crowd surges with the beat, their cheers deafening as the final notes of the song fade out. 

Cassian tosses his drumsticks in the air, catching them with a grin as he leans back, his chest heaving from the sheer energy of his playing. His skin glistens under the stage lights, sweat dripping down the sharp cut of his jaw to his bare chest. Rhysand steps forward, guitar slung low on his hips, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the movement so casual it borders on taunting. 

The three of them are magnetic—untouchable—but your eyes are glued to Azriel. 

The bass still hangs low across his hips, his dark shirt clinging to his chest and arms, every inch of him shining with effort and heat. His hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, but he doesn’t seem to care. There’s a faint curve to his lips as he looks out at the crowd, their screams refusing to die down even as Rhys steps up to the mic.  It’s Wings of Illyria’s last song of the night, and the air is thick with anticipation.

“Alright, alright,” Rhys says, his voice rich and smooth, but it barely registers over the roar of the audience. He glances back at Az and Cass, shaking his head with a laugh, and you catch the way they all exchange a look—silent, knowing.

Cass twirls a drumstick between his fingers, grinning wide. Rhys throws a wink at the crowd, and Azriel… Azriel holds up a hand, palm out, a subtle watch this gesture that has your stomach flipping. 

And then he steps forward.

The moment his fingers graze the mic stand, the noise dips. He leans in, his lips brushing the mic, and inhales sharply. The sound carries through the speakers, intimate, like he’s right there beside you. The crowd freezes, the energy shifting into something electric, breathless. And then, he chuckles.

It’s low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the room is still. And then, chaos. The screams erupt again, louder than before, like every single person in the crowd had been seized by something primal and uncontrollable.

Azriel laughs, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Rhys and Cass. They’re laughing too, Cassian smacking a hand against his drums while Rhys shakes his head, mouthing something you can’t make out. 

But then Az turns back to the mic. 

Your heart stops as he adjusts it slightly, his hand steady, his expression calm but sharp, focused. The moment stretches, and you swear he looks right at you before his lips part, and his voice spills into the venue. 

It’s not Rhys’s voice this time, not the smooth, cocky tone that usually owns the opening of this song. No—this is something darker, rougher, saturated with a raw kind of emotion that makes your knees go weak. You know this part by heart—hell, you’ve screamed it in your car more times than you can count—but hearing Azriel sing it? It’s like hearing it for the first time. 

He owns it, every word dripping with purpose, with heat. His voice snakes through the room, curling around you, pulling you under. The crowd is a blur, the sound of their cheers distant compared to the way your pulse pounds in your ears. 

And Azriel knows it. He’s fully in control, commanding every single person in the room with nothing but his voice and the intensity in his eyes. When he glances over at Rhys and Cass again, they’re grinning like they know exactly what he’s doing—and exactly what it’s doing to everyone in the room. 

You’re breathless by the time he finishes the verse, and when he pulls back from the mic with that faint, wicked smirk, the crowd surges again, screaming louder than ever. 

You scream too, the sound ripping out of you without restraint, caught up in the heat and the pounding bass still thrumming through the room. But then Azriel’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning the sea of faces, and it lands on you. 

Your breath catches. 

It’s brief, a flicker of his hazel eyes locking onto yours, but it’s enough. Enough to leave you wondering if he’s seen you before—if he’s noticed you at every show you’ve managed to get into, always in your usual spot near the edge of the stage, close enough to feel the pulse of the speakers in your chest. 

And then he turns back to the mic, and your chest tightens all over again. 

It’s the way Azriel shifts his stance—shoulders squared, leaning slightly into the mic as his fingers curl around the neck of his bass—that holds you captive. His voice joins Rhys’s in the next verse, a low harmony that wraps around the melody like smoke, rich and addictive. 

When the lyrics take a turn—something dark and suggestive, dripping with innuendo—you swear he looks at you again. His lips curl just so around the words, and the way his hand moves on the fretboard has your pulse racing. 

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. Ridiculous, really, to think that someone like him would single you out of a crowd like this. But as the song builds to its peak, the heat of his gaze feels too intentional to ignore. And then they hit the chorus, when Azriel takes over the melody for one shining moment, he sings a line that makes your cheeks burn, makes your hands curl into fists at your sides. It’s not subtle. It’s meant to be filthy, meant to tease and taunt, and he sings it like it’s directed straight at you. 

The crowd loses it. You barely hear the screams over the pounding of your heart.

He’s still looking at you when the song ends, sweat dripping from his temple as he lets the bass hang low against his hips, his breathing heavy. Cassian slams his drumsticks against the snare one last time, punctuating the end of the set, while Rhysand tosses his guitar pick into the crowd with a lazy smirk. 

Azriel doesn’t move for a moment. He stays there, on the edge of the stage, as if waiting for something. 

And then he winks. 

It’s quick—blink-and-you’ll-miss-it—but you see it. You feel it. 

Your knees go weak, your grip tightening on the barricade to keep yourself steady. By the time you process what just happened, he’s already turning away, laughing at something Cassian said as they disappear backstage. 

The crowd surges again, desperate for an encore, but all you can hear is the pounding of your pulse. 

Your knees are still trembling as the crowd surges around you, voices raised in chants for an encore. You try to breathe, to ground yourself, but the memory of Azriel’s smirk and the weight of his gaze keeps playing on a loop in your mind. 

And then, just as the noise reaches a fever pitch, you see him again. 

Azriel lingers near the side of the stage, his bass slung over his shoulder now, his hand reaching out to clasp the shoulder of a man in a black security shirt. You watch, heart pounding, as they exchange a few quick words, the guard leaning closer to hear him over the din. 

It’s casual—normal, probably—but then Azriel points.

Directly at you. 

You freeze. Your pulse spikes. There’s no way, you think. No way this is happening. 

But it is. His arm extends toward the crowd, his finger cutting through the haze of heat and lights to land right where you’re standing, gripping the barricade for dear life. The security guard nods, glancing in your direction as Azriel leans closer, lips moving again. 

He says two words, slow enough for you to catch even at this distance.

“Blue top.”

Your breath hitches, your gaze darting down to the shirt you’re wearing. Blue. Not just blue—bright blue, standing out against the darker tones of the crowd like a beacon. 

You look back up, your heart slamming in your chest as Azriel straightens, throwing one last glance your way before disappearing offstage. 

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen, every nerve in your body buzzing. Did that really just happen? Your mind races, replaying the movement of his hand, the way his lips had formed those words. Blue top. 

Your gaze darts around, scanning the crowd. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you’re losing your mind because surely he didn’t mean you. But your stomach flips again as you realize—no one else around you is wearing blue. Not a single person. 

It was you. 

Your fingers tighten on the barricade. He had pointed at you. You’re sure of it. And then you see him. 

The security guard is cutting through the clusters of venue workers. Your breath catches when his eyes land on you, sharp and direct. He doesn’t say a word, just jerks his chin toward the end of the barricade, a silent instruction. 

[ironladders]

skybound megatron when i catch you.... when i FUCKING catch you...............

[takuyakistall]

Maybe Silver and wide awake? I hope you have a nice day! ^^

wide awake

Silver can't sleep.

That's a problem. A very big one.

He's not exactly known for staying awake and yet he is and it feels terrible. Silver isn't too keen on closing his eyes and waking up to a morning where he'd just keep on fretting over the same thing he is right now. Sleep was a temporary escape from this looming problem and that brings us the million madol question—what is keeping him awake?

In hindsight, it wasn't exactly a trivial matter that shouldn't mean anything to him. He was a bit clumsy earlier and knocked over a cup of juice all over someone. He was ready to apologize but he was faced with the fact that the unfortunate soul was you and he blanked out for a few seconds.

Maybe even more. Silver knew that was more likely with the way you were standing there expecting an apology but eventually stormed out with your friends chasing after you. Sebek slapped his shoulder and berated him for saying nothing but even without his scolding, Silver's palms were already sweating when the realization dawns on him.

You were mad. Rightfully so.

Silver stared at the ceiling and played out multiple scenarios in his head. Should he apologize first thing in the morning? Should he prepare an apology gift? Or would that seem like he's trying to buy your forgiveness? Oh dear, it's 2AM.

He doesn't know what to do if he has to accept the reality that your opinion of him went down the drain. That was probably the worst outcome for someone who wanted your favor instead. This is bad, it's 3AM.

He closed his eyes. He'll let himself worry about it once morning comes.

... But probably not after a few more minutes of losing his head over it.

[demaparbat-hp]

I love your are so much ! I wonder what mai would look like with your style tho

I love Mai-Mai 🖤

[expiredsoda]

not a word moots.. don't judge me.. scroll away...

anyway great movie was not expecting something like this but hey I'm definitely not complaining 🧍

full page below (slight nsfw warning beware ⚠️

[harveylikestoart]

DC? More D See these NUTS!!!