sorry these are all kinda old

“I live in my dreams — that’s what you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. That’s the difference.”


Leoprintlevel over 9000 

So Yuri on Ice is over, and 2016 is about to end, too. This year has by far been the worst for me, especially healthwise and that may sound a bit cheesy but yoi kinda helped me to keep going lmao? Motivated me to draw after YEARS? I’m still not a 100% back to my old self but I hope 2017 will be better. Also artwise I hope, since I still have zero confidence in my art (ok sorry this is getting too personal BYE). Anyways I love the yoi fandom it has been by far the best and I’m looking forward to season two! And I wish you all a happy new year!

Btw, I’m kinda having an artblock rn, so feel free to drop me an ask with suggestions of what I could draw next (yoi of course!!)?? Thank  ♡

anonymous asked:

((psst you said u were reading sappy klance fics, would u mind pointing me in the direction of a few? Im gonna read the professor au one I posted rn. dw if u don't want to (: ))

egilrghlladgl i WISH sorry, i was just catching up to some old klance fics that i’d been saving up like dirty laundry but here’s some from my ao3 history:

Sorry that’s all i got, i havent looked at newer ones and would actually appreciate some recs myself

my bookmarked fics

@fictionismynationality asked me to dump the entirety of my bookmark folder on y’all so here’s what i’ve got (somewhat organized)

(mostly does not include all the WIPs and “to read”s i currently have open in my 21 tabs)

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i noticed i never really draw oikawa so here he is

New Perspective (Jun Smut)

Summary: ever since you and Jun started dating, so you he was nothing more than a cute, adorable little fluff ball. He wasn’t really the greasy fuckboy the internet made him out to be. And when he found out that you thought that about him, he was determined to prove you wrong.

(A/N: a quickie smut because I found this old ass request and Jun makes me thirsty. also, not enough people appreciate his fluffy side. sorry this has no ending?? I kinda rushed it because I have all those other projects going oops. also smut warning hehehe; oh oh oh and guess what this bitch it still naming shit after panic songs cause this smut just happened to match this panic song which is also an amazing song-Tanisha<3)

‘Jun is greasy af’

'Jun is the sexy charm of Seventeen’

'Jun’s wink makes me faint’

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The Boy in the Bar ~ smut

Author: completedylantrash

Characters: reader x Dylan O’Brien


Word Count: 1969

Synopsis: You meet Dylan in a bar

A/N: Okay, this is inspired by this picture I saw on Instagram posted by @hollandsobrien and I almost lost my mind and this is what came out of it. It’s kinda short but I had to. I’m sorry.  LOOK AT THAT FACE! 

Cigarette smoke and bourbon. That’s all I could smell in this shit hole of a bar. I’m not complaining though. I’ve spent most of my nights in this place for the past month or so, drowning my sorrows because let’s face it…life fucking sucks.

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anonymous asked:

oh my god i love ur writing so much ur things w zen have me melTING AAA;; do u think u could write fluffy (but also kinda rough/needy it that makes sense) smut for him sometime?? if u dont take requests pls ignore this!! (im on mobile so i cant tell, im sorry)

oh gosh requests~~~~ i most definitely do requests, but at my own pace ahaha♥♥♥ obvs R18 for this one, but there’s some story before the smut (as i always like to say, prose before porn), so all the smut is a little later (skip to there if that’s all you’re here for - i know i’m guilty) i don’t know if this fits the brief but pls judge me i need it


From the moment the two of you met in person, you had been testing him. Suggestive phrases, seductive looks (whether intentional or not), and even the most modest of your clothes had made him realise just how badly he had it for you. Zen considered himself a good guy - he was a flirt, sure, but he would never, never overstep someone’s boundaries. Especially not yours. He adored you too much; he wanted to cherish you, shower you in love and affection, and, most importantly, take time. You had made it clear to him that you… Wanted him… And, oh boy, that didn’t make things any easier, but he knew that he didn’t want to just rush.

“Heeeeelloooooo… Earth to Zen?” You were still calling him that, even now the two of you spoke more in person than on the app.


“You’re staring.” Specifically, staring at that one spot on your neck. Your gorgeous, gorgeous neck. “Zen?”

“Ah!” Snapping out of his daze, Zen shook himself - he must still be exhausted from the party. “Sorry, ____… Just… Thinking.”

A knowing smile crossed your face, and you sunk further into his chest. “Mm, me too. Today’s been a blur.” You paused, and Zen took the opportunity to admire how you nibbled at your bottom lip as you thought. “At least we’re home now, hm? Away from all of those people.”

Whilst Zen considered himself a people person, he couldn’t help but hum in agreement at what you were saying. Being alone with you, relaxing on his sofa, in comfortable clothes and not having to worry about judgements from others was, after the week he had experienced, heaven.

“Hm.” Although he wanted to relax completely, Zen was still not feeling quite at ease. Your mention of ‘other people’ brought some rather… Unpleasant memories to head.

“What?” Zen adored the concerned frown on your face as you turned towards him - he just wanted to kiss the crease between your brow away, forever. “That didn’t sound like a ‘Yes, ____, I too am comfortable’ noise, just now…” You settled your chin against his chest, and Zen felt certain you could now feel his heartbeat, which had picked up quite a bit - he just had a perfect view down your fairly low-cut pyjama top… “What’s up?”

“I hated how those reporters treated you.” Word vomit, Zen thought to himself. He had thought that, being an actor, he’d manage to keep his mouth shut when he needed to, but it was different around you. Before you could retort, he continued, “How they were saying that you were 'eye candy’, and that I was only dating you to 'make me look better’.” His heart rate had picked up again, but for quite a different reason now. “And how one… One of them had the audacity to ask if we’d had sex yet!” He didn’t quite catch the grin on your face as you watched him flush as he mentioned that. “I mean, really… Have some decency, right?”

“Zen?” Your voice was level, and Zen glanced down at you, perched in his lap. He hadn’t really realised that you had moved all the way around, but now, you were closer to straddling him than just cuddling him. “We have time, now.” He knew precisely what you were implying, and he also knew that his feelings were written all over his face. “I mean, I’d understand if you wanted to wait longer, we’ve only known-”


“Yes, you want to wait, or yes-”

For the first time in a long time, Zen wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust his mouth. Well, to speak, at least. He chose to answer your question with a kiss - your mouth moulded perfectly to his as he pulled you closer, pushing himself up, as close to you as he could get. He felt you grasp onto his hair, melt into his mouth, and heard you sigh into the kiss. As much as he could already feel blood rushing south, Zen knew that he didn’t exactly want to do this with you for the first time on his sofa.

“Hey,” your head unwittingly followed his as he pulled back, your mouth seeking his own. “We should…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat - you were making him feel like a pubescent teenager… “… Move? Maybe? Uh… The bedroom.” How he had managed to lose all his confidence, he had no idea. Thankfully, you got the message, and, grasping his hand, led him through the hallways.

It took you no time to re-attach your mouth to his, but this time, Zen felt a little more bold. Prying your lips open was easy enough, resisting the urge to just take you when you moaned into his mouth was less so. Quietly praising himself for making the bed this morning, he backed you down onto the pillows - whilst he may be on the verge of falling to pieces, there was no way he wasn’t going to savour every inch of your body. Hastily, he reached for the hem of your top, breaking contact with your mouth only momentarily to pull it over your head. He squeaked - actually squeaked - when he got it off, “You’re not wearing a bra?!”

“I’m not- What?!” The look of incredulity on your face would have made him faint, had he not found a different distraction. “Zen, no one wears a bra with pyjamas. We were about to go to bed. How did you not realise that earlier?”

“Can I?” He was like a child in a sweet shop.

“Please do.”

Your breasts were perfect. Perfect for you, perfect for him. He couldn’t resist running a thumb across the peaks of them, watching your nipples harden beneath his touch - as he paid more and more attention to them, the more sensitive they seemed to become; without even his mouth, he could already see your chest heaving as your breathing deepened.

“You should make noise if you need to, ____…” He took your left nipple in his mouth, eagerly sucking on the bud, mindlessly squeezing the other between his fingers. He finally heard your sweet voice as he nibbled, not too gently, on your nipple - Zen knew he could do this all night as a particularly forceful bite caused you to arch your chest into him, but your bucking hips reminded him that he had other, equally sweet, things to focus on.

“R-regaining some confidence, huh?” You rested back on your elbows, observing as Zen travelled further down your body. He grinned up at you, toying with the waistband of your pyjamas.

“I’d like to think so…” He tapped at your hips and you raised them, allowing him to pull down your trousers. “After all, I’ve got proof that what I’m doing is working well…” Despite his words, he was quite grateful that you were wearing panties - he wasn’t sure his heart could’ve handled a shock like before. He kissed the spaces beneath your kneecaps, working his way up. He barely had the patience to tease you, but he wanted to savour this. Just as he reached the apex of your thighs, he gazed back up at you. “You’ve soaked these right through…” He could feel his cock throbbing painfully as he took in the scent of your sex - knowing he could get you this wet was making him impatient.

A long finger poked at the fabric covering your sex, and you collapsed back onto the bed, barely holding back your moans. “All because of you…”

He didn’t want to waste time. You were confused as he pulled away, and immediately less confused as he begun to undress - you hadn’t even realised he was still fully-clothed, despite your own state of undress. It didn’t take long before he was stood before you, utterly naked, and you barely had time to drink in his - remarkably - good figure before he was kneeling between your legs, taking your panties off, and matching your state of undress to his. You desperately wanted to have some more fun with that unreasonably attractive cock of his, but that could wait.

“Ah… Fuck.” You barely heard him mutter beneath his breath as he looked at you - whilst some parts of you wanted to hide everything away, you knew that this was Zen. Whilst he was Mr. Perfect himself, he would never, ever judge your body. Especially not now, judging by the look on his face. Whilst you knew that he would love to pay a little more attention to your pussy, today wasn’t the day - he was only there for a moment before lunging over you to the bedside counter; it took him no time to find what he was looking for, and he was back over you once again. 

“____…” Unconsciously passing his tongue over his lips as he looked down at you, Zen took a deep breath. “This is all… Very sudden.” The packet crinkled in his hand, and he looked down at you once more. You were the most gorgeous, incredible, beautiful person he had ever seen, and there was no way he was ruining this. “So, if you’re sure-”

“Hyun, please.” You ground your hips up against his hard member, reminding him of your wetness - reminding him that he did that to you, so, yes, you most definitely were sure. Your eyes were dark, pupils blown, face flushed, and your lips red and swollen; knowing now that this is what he was treated to for pleasuring you, Zen knew it was going to be even harder to resist taking you every night. As if before wasn’t enough of a struggle…

But for tonight, he was more than ready. Rolling the condom over himself, Zen took the time to position himself - he knew you were more than wet enough - before grinning down at you, and finally, finally thrusting into you. Inhaling sharply, he took a moment to revel in the feeling of being surrounded by your walls, pulsing and throbbing around him. You were so, so perfect. You fit like a glove tailored just for him; there was no way he was ever living without this. He needed this.

Zen barely had the conscience to make sure you were comfortable, but once you had - enthusiastically - confirmed that you were, he saw no reason to hold back, allowing himself to simply fuck the person he loved. He loved feeling you wind your legs around his waist as he thrust deep into you, his head coming to rest in the crook of your neck as he groaned, savouring the feeling of your nails on his back. He didn’t feel restricted, embarrassed, awkward… He just really, really wanted to make you his.

Zen felt his teeth sink into the skin of your perfect neck - he wanted to mark you, show off to the whole world that this wonderful, incredible person was all his. You returned the favour; the feeling of your plush lips sucking on his skin drove Zen wild, and he felt his cock throb deep inside of you as your hands tangled in his hair, seeking grip as your moans grew in volume. Your whimpers when he stopped thrusting to stretch your leg over his shoulder were almost enough to send him over the edge, and he exhaled shakily as he looked into your eyes once again.

“Hyun…” He almost growled when you said his name, slamming his hips against yours, sheathing his cock inside you once more. The desperate need for you was taking over him, even as he grew closer to the end. Your moans were only growing louder, and Zen caught a glimpse of you sneaking your hand down to rub at your clit, obviously sensing how close he was to the end.

“____…” He barely recognised his own voice, at this point, all husky, dripping with arousal. “I love you, so, so much.” He was panting for breath, deep, rhythmic thrusts marking his imminent climax.

“Hyun… Oh-” A particularly carnal moan cut you off as Zen thrust perfectly into you, and all you could do was cling to him, desperate for something to ground you. You were just as close as he was, teetering on the edge of bliss, barely able to keep your eyes open as he looked down at you, gaze feral. You didn’t even have the time to see your climax coming - it hit you like a typhoon, wave after wave of sheer ecstasy washing over you as Zen continued to thrust, riding out the spasms of your walls around his cock until he could no longer bear it, reaching his own blissful peak.

It took Zen a while to come down from the high of his climax - he had never, ever experienced anything quite like it. He loved you. God, did he love you. He loved you more than he had ever thought was possible… Maybe now, he could try acting in some soppy romance dramas. He finally understood how someone could love another person more than they loved themselves - not that it had taken sex for him to realise that, but… It helped.

“Hey, Hyun.” He liked hearing that name come from your mouth. “I love you, too.” Your voice was quiet, and throaty, but Zen heard you loud and clear - like a siren, singing a song to entice.

You loved him

Zen couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across his face as he wound his arms around you, pulling your bare body as close to his as he could. You were both sweaty, and hot, and very, very naked, but he didn’t care. He gazed into your eyes, before kissing you once more. You were quickly becoming the most precious thing in his life, and he’d be damned if anything tried to separate you… So, for now, he wanted to be as close to you as he could; mentally, and physically.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to take as much time as I wanted,” Zen laughed somewhat sheepishly. “I just… Couldn’t help myself.”

“Well…” Zen knew what the glint in your eye meant all too well. “We’ve still got all night, no? And morning, and… Day.” Your lips brushed his, and Zen felt as though he had butterflies in his stomach. “We, my love, have the rest of our lives.”

You were, apparently, never going to stop testing him. Not that he had any complaints.

hi guys today (9/3) is my birthday so im interrupting our 6-1 celebration to make a follow forever for my mutuals. ive been on the football fandom for a year now and i wanna thank all those people that has been awesome since day 1 ! i love you all thanks for following me :D also for those ive kinda stop talking to,, im so sorry its not u its obviously me and i love u guys too. sorry if i missed out anyone im getting old

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Request: Do you think you can write some protective/rough Gale Hawthorne smut? ;) If not him, then maybe Elijah from TO please? :) Can I just ask to see if you can try and not make it like he demands a blow job/spanking or something? Just something about those, man - Thank chu :3 – Anon

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: swearing, smut

Word Count: 1139

This is pure smut, btw, and I know it’s kinda short… :/

(gifs not mine, credits to owners)

“I cannot believe you!” He said, voice a little bit louder, a little rougher, and all in all angry. “What?! That I saved your sorry ass brother’s life?!” You screamed back. “Klaus can take care of himself! He’s a hybrid!” He argued. “And I’m a 900 year old vampire, fighting off three vampires! Do you always think that I’m that weak?” You asked, voice cracking. He sighed and walked to you, grabbing each arm tenderly.

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Let’s play a game (M)

Namjoon x Reader x Hoseok

Anon asked: hi!! could you write something where the boys invite you over for movie night and you sit on the couch between hoseok and namjoon sharing a blanket and they both decide to finger you during the movie, trying to make you moan? omg im sorry if this doesn’t make sense I love your work btw!

A/N: ehehe~ so its FINALLY done and honestly idk how i feel about this i wanted to make it different from all the other request fic like this and it ended up kinda long in the process sooo… but anyway I really hope my beautiful anon who requested this likes it feel free to let me know what you think!((another old fic im reposting~ I promise ill be posting something new sooon))

Genre: Mature content a.k.a~ very smuty smut smut~ you’ve been warned~

Word count: 3.7K

I was at home flipping through channels trying to find something, anything, to watch that wouldn’t put me to sleep. When my phone started to ring. I set the TV remote down and stretched trying to reach my cell which was conveniently placed out of reach on the opposite side of my couch. When I finally grabbed my phone I saw Jungkook’s name light up my screen.


“Noona~” he whined out obviously wanting something.

“Yes Jungkook what’s up?”

“How come I haven’t seen you in over two months?!”

“Well I don’t know maybe the fact that we both work for a living.” I rolled my eyes at his question.

“That’s no excuse, we all miss you so we’re going to have dinner tomorrow.”

“I have a thing tomorrow I can't”

Suddenly he put the phone on speaker and I could hear all seven boys objecting and saying “Y/n you have to come please~”

I let out an annoyed sigh which seemed to make them quiet down a bit. “What time did you have in mind kook.”

Jungkook took the phone off speaker but I could still hear the other boys cheering in the background.

“8 O’clock.”

“I can’t guarantee anything but I will try to be there.”

“See ya there Noona~.”

He hung up and I let out a defeated sigh. “What a brat.” I whispered while setting my phone to the side.

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anonymous asked:

Would you do another thing with Daja? Or maybe Lark or Rosethorn. Because I'm currently questioning and I envy the easy acceptance of their gayness/bisexuality. There's no way in hell my family would be okay with me not being straight so yeah, I'd kinda like to live vicariously through them for a bit sorry for asking.

don’t ever be sorry for asking kindly for things, nonny. this one’s all yours.

when they come home from namorn, a lot of things happen—

little bear comes running and cleans all their faces while briar complains about his manly pride and nice clothes (he gives the old pup a belly rub later, when no one but daja can see him go soft and tired, because he knows she will not taunt or comfort, just stand). 

glaki comes pounding out of discipline cottage, wraps around tris like the vegetable garden is twining around briar, the way evvy is pretending she doesn’t want to, and tris pets glaki’s hair and tries not to remember how much she has grown without her.

sandry will step back into her uncle’s court the next day, and she will be sure, suddenly more sure than she’d been the whole ride back, that she had made the right decision. the citadel will smell like sealing wax and old stone and dried ink. when she steps into her uncle’s study, there will be a mantle of responsibility returned to her shoulders that is just the right weight, that is just what she wants. her uncle will look up from his letters and the light of pride in his eyes will be better than all the riches and legacy of the inheritance that she signed away to a good man. 

for now, though: “i thought the snow might give your roots frostbite,” evvy sniffs at briar. 

“doubting my training,” rosethorn warns. “i taught my boy better than that." 

it’s when rosethorn hugs briar that evvy breaks down and squeezes him tight around the ribs. briar presses one cheek into evvy’s kerchief, tangles a hand in rosethorn’s habit and doesn’t let go until he knows he can grin like he can’t smell woodsmoke on even this peaceful air. 

while glaki chases chime around the yard, tris watching like the fond sister she pretends she’s not, while briar teases evvy and sandry buries her face in the sensible cotton smell of lark, daja slips out the garden gate. 

daja climbs over the flat walks of winding circle until she finds frostpine’s forge, its little bedroom tucked above it, the sharp scents of the metals and the rounded undertone of coal and wood. she wishes everything else were so easy to distinguish by smell as copper and tin, gold and iron. 

his hug is bone-crushing, acrid, and his eyes are clever and dark when he pulls back and looks at her. frostpine gives her a spare apron of his that she’s almost big enough to wear now and a hammer that’s swimming with his magics and they strike metal, shape and sweat in silence until the day is over. daja makes hinges and crafts sigils for some heavy lock boxes that she’s sure even briar would have trouble breaking into. she makes a bucketful of nails, for old times’ sake. 

they forsake the warmth of the baths, after, and go plunge into the sea instead, like they’re hot steel they want to quench. daja’s not sure she’s the right temperature for this, the right hue of glowing red. what if it makes her brittle, not strong? what if her ore was poor quality in the first place? a trader turned lugsha, who weaseled her way back in; a woman who loves beautiful women and then leaves them. 

frostpine gets the story out of her, because he is safe the way she has known few men to ever be, because there are few people more patient in silence than she is but he is one. daja has never had a broken heart before, and she has never been one for many words, but she tries to explain. 

sandry will try to help—she will take daja out riding, keep her moving, because that is how sandry outruns her griefs, always has. she pours her heart into other things, other work. 

tris will give her books to read, because they give you a way out to better things, because they give you something to put between your face and a world that’s not interested in looking at you right. 

briar will take her out to meet pretty young women, like delicate flowers, and daja will feel sooty no matter how well she scrubs her smiths’ hands clean. 

but frostpine listens quietly. he asks her if she can smell the little bits of metal in the waves, the buried treasure far offshore. “your nose has gotten better,” he says. “i’m sorry about rizu.” they dry off, then soak in the communal baths after all, and then he walks her back to discipline. he kisses her on the forehead, warm hands on her cheeks, bristling beard ticking her nose, and says, “you might want to talk to your foster mothers.” 

"you know, rosie broke my heart once,” lark says companionably, when daja does ask, shyly, over tea and honey and milk. rosethorn blushes furiously and daja stares. lark starts to tell a story and rosethorn stomps off to find a stronger tea. 

they tell daja stories of lark the young acrobat, who fell in love with every pretty girl who came to her shows and didn’t kiss one. it’s late and they are all sleepy, guards down, when rosethorn talks about the first boy she loved, haystacks and very young promises, angry fathers. lark was the fourth woman rosethorn decided to love, and the other three names roll off rosethorn’s tongue, easy. daja listens hard for something like sorrow, like regret, and doesn’t hear it. 

“we are a lot more than the places we have decided to lay down bits of our heart,” says lark, “or the people we have offered to give our hearts to. but that’s one part of you all the same: who and what and how you love. i know it hurts right now, chickadee, but you loved her and she loved you. that matters, no matter if it lasts. living, you get bruises. you get strong muscles and bones that don’t heal right. you get so many homes and broken hearts. you live in all those places and you don’t always get to choose which ones to keep.”

“you’re a hardy one,” says rosethorn. “you’ll outlive it.”

“what rosie means is: we love you, and we’re here if you need it.”

after, daja climbs up to the thatched roof where they watched clouds get born as children. the sun is rising. she has her heavy brass-tipped staff and her own smallest chisel. she wants to carve something into the metal here, into the life’s story written out in the circling design. it might be rizu’s name. it might be her own. 


Final round of my Brandenburg doodles using using  ヒラ’s old Brandenburg OC design because its my friend’s favorite. 

MHA episode 3 dub commentary

  • “Age: Unknown” i wonder when we’re gonna get canon confirmation for how old All Might is
  • also i enjoy that the backdrop to this scene is a anime render of All might from one of the manga covers/colorspreads
  • i’m sorry is All Might on the fucking cover of a fashion magazine named “Torzan”
  • i always enjoyed how All Might told Izuku that he could be a hero while in his true form. no facades or bombastic masks, just the real Toshi talking to Izuku.
  • also i love this background music
  • i think it’s kinda funny how Izuku is literally on the ground sobbing and Toshi is sorta just… standing there, staring at him
  • i mean they’re happy tears, but still
  • Toshi this kid was just sobbing his eyes out and is so confused and your first response is to laugh and say “YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACE RIGHT NOW!!” Toshi no
  • “DO YOU WANNA ACCEPT MY AWESOME POWER OR NOT!!”  i love the little sound affects of him spitting up a gallon of blood during this line of dialog
  • also i enjoy the difference between Bombastic All Might’s voice and Dramatic Toshi’s voice
  • i always found it kinda funny how they’re in the middle of a residential neighborhood and yet Toshi is just telling the secret of One for All to Izuku without a care in the world that someone might overhear
  • “Someone gave you this quirk…? No way!” “Yes way!”
  • i love Toshi’s dialog omg
  • more fucking amazing background music fuck i love this soundtrack
  • Toshi does this really silly little movement in the middle of this dramatic music and i’m just. laughign. what a dork
  • “Hey, hey, hey! It’s pretty comfy up on this fridge, how are you doing down there!” “NNNNRRRRRGHHHH….!!!!”
  • All Might you little shit lmao
  • what the fuck All Might is 600lbs?????
  • 560lbs IS STILL A LOT OF WEIGHT TOSHI what the fuck how much does he weigh in his true form because  w hat  the uf c k
  • i refuse to believe that Toshi’s true form weighs more than 160lbs
  • the fact that Izuku goes into a mini existential crisis so quickly here kinda makes me laugh
  • don’t worry my child it’ll be alright
  • also the difference between All Might’s voice in his hero form is interesting to me, because he speaks so bombastically towards Izuku even tho there’s no real need to do it, which makes me wonder if it’s just sort of. instinctual by now to speak like that in that form
  • All Might just casually hits his knuckle against the side of the fridge and leaves a baseball sized dent in it
  • the fact that All Might created this ridiculously well planned schedule for the next 10 months of Izuku’s life just shows how fucking smart he is
  • i know i keep mentioning it but i really enjoy the difference in All Might’s voice when he’s in different forms. it’s so subtle but it’s there. Chris Sabat is a fantastic actor
  • i enjoy the different colors of All Might’s shirts
  • i also enjoy the japanese rap here during the great background music
  • poor Inko is so confused
  • ok so i just wanna make a note here that Izuku carried All Might on his back and ALL MIGHT APPARENTLY WEIGHS 560 FUCKING POUNDS
  • Toshi is a harsh trainer
  • more amazing bg music
  • also Izuku’s voice acting during his collapse scene is really great
  • Izuku’s scream of triumph is great and has just the right amount of catching and stuttering to it
  • hearing the word “supercrap” be said in All Might’s bombastic, heroic voice makes me laugh
  • Toshi sounds so embarrassed over how one needs to pass on OFA 
  • “Get out of my way now before I set you on fire.” Bakugou chill, please
  • also i enjoy Bakugou’s pale yellow scarf, it’s so cute
  • “Thanks to All Might… I could actually become a hero!” *trips* “…. Or I’ll just die!!” #relateable
  • fuck Uraraka’s voice is like a combo of Nami’s voice and Duck’s voice and it’s fucking me up yo, that is gonna take a lot of getting used to
  • “HOLY WHOA, I JUST TALKED TO A GIRL!!!!” *dramatic violin plays*
  • oh myg od what the fuck Present Mic’s voice
  • i am gonna have to get used to that holy shit
  • he sounds like Usopp trying to be a DJ an di’m  shak;ghaskg;
  • however i will say that his voice matches the background music perfectly
  • this voice is growing on me
  • idk i just expected his voice to be higher
  • Bakugou, my son, my child, my precious… chill the fuck out yo
  • oh my god Iida is J Micheal Tatum 
  • all these new voices are fucking me up
  • i think i’m gonna get used to Iida’s voice quick tho
  • Iida my boy, you also need to chill
  • the awkward silence after every moment Mic asks for a crowd cheer fills me with joy. he tries so hard and never gives up
  • heard Uraraka’s voice again in the preview and oh man it is gonna be hard getting used to her voice

anyway that’s it for ep 3

When people say they are Hardenshipping Trash

This is what I think of, every time.


Tagged by: @rapsae @cremesuga and @bwipsul (kinda). Y’all are too adorable, I love it.

Tagging some old and new mutuals: @ohsuga / @taeguk / @jiminrolls / @thesixthmonth / @apgujeon / @cypherslut / @sweaterpawsjimin / @jiminspraisekink / @jeonguks / @yoongles / @jimiyoong / @jitonic / @jinchims

Jerome Valeska Imagine:


3: “What are you doing here?”

7: “I really don’t tell you I love you enough.”

Requested by: Two different Anons, I combined them because they were kinda similar.

“What are you doing here?” Jerome asked me as I joined him on the bus of cheerleaders, all of which were doused in gasoline.

“These are my old school friends. Figured I’d pay them a visit before they burn to death.” I smirked, looking around at all the cheerleaders who had done me wrong.

“Please, Y/N!” One screamed.

“We’re sorry!” Another whined.

“Only because it’s convenient.” I smirked. They had bullied me before I was sent to Arkham. Jerome put his left arm around my waist and pulled me into his side while the other held his gun. Greenwood handed me the hose that would soon douse these people in gasoline.

“Give me an O!” I yelled with a smile on my face. When nobody made a sound, Jerome shot the roof.

“Give her an O!” He also yelled.

“O!” The girls whined in unison.

“Give me an N!” I laughed.


“Give me another O!”


“What does that spell?” Jerome asked. “Oh No.”

I started to spray gasoline all over the cheerleaders. Jerome were dying with crazy laughter.

“Go get a lighter, dollface.” He whispered into my ear, a smirk on his face. I handed him the hose and stepped off the bus, police cars were appearing infront of us.

“Might wanna hurry it up in there baby!” I yelled out to Jerome while smirking. I heard him step off the bus and throw the hose to the ground.

“Stand your ground boys, they can’t shoot at the bus.” I smirked.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim was yelling at the cops who had decided it would be a good idea to shoot. We fired back, most of us hitting a person. The cops started to take shelter behind their car doors.

“Aaron! Greenwood! Get the truck started,” Jerome pointed. “We’re gonna blow this barbeque!” Jim ran to hide behind another car that was parked closer to where we were standing. Jerome spun around and shot his gun in that direction. He ran out of bullets before he could do any real damage.

“Light ‘em up!” He yelled, dragging me back to the oil truck, leaving Dobkins to blow up the bus. We both laughed manically as Jerome started to spray more gasoline everywhere. We jumped onto the side of the truck, laughing more as Jerome hit the hose against the tank.

Aaron and Greenwood were driving the car away as Jerome spoke.

“I really don’t tell you I love you enough,” He smirked. “But, what you did back there…was hot as hell.”

“Not too bad yourself, Valeska.” I winked at him.

Has anyone written a fic where Mark has to deliver the 3 pizzas to house 17 (a quattro stagione and a margherita with onion and pineapple), only for the customer to open their door to reveal Eggsy Unwin?

And Eggsy totally being shocked and vaguely upset and all, “Harry?”

And Mark kinda just pauses and is all, “No, but that’ll be twenty pounds.”

And Eggsy’s totally trying not to be visibly upset and is all, “Sorry mate, you just remind me of an old friend.  He, uh, nevermind - here’s the money.”

And Mark’s just terribly curious and asks, “He what?”

“He passed away.  Sorry, bit morbid.  You have a good night, yeah?”

And Mark’s just real confused and he takes the money, rushes back to the tiny vehicle with Gianni and Bridget in labour and is, ya know, rightly distracted with the birth of a new life and all but then a week after confronts Harry with

“Did you die and not tell anyone again?”

And Harry’s just, “It’s a long story.”

Fuck, don’t make me write this guys.  I have a pile of other shit to write.