Costume design is often used by creators as another outlet to express what a character is feeling and their evolution in relationships with others, but it's especially helpful with a character like Izuku who doesn't give away much of himself to the reader anymore... because that's when costume design can do it’s loudest talking.
I can only see the orange appearing in Izuku's costume lately as Katsuki’s complete take over of his heart.
Kacchan saved him, apologised to him, called him by his real name and protectively looked after Izuku on his return to U.A. They started acting like the true best friends they were always meant to be and now the orange is just everywhere, taking up so much space, emulating Katsuki's existence inside Izuku's heart.
This latest colour scheme feels like a statement on the progression of Izuku's feelings towards Katsuki and how they have been piling up more and more because of everything they've been through lately and all of the kindness and care Izuku's received from him. ❤️
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@ceadiis said: ❝ this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. ❞, ❝ it’s only a matter of time. ❞, ❝ you can’t keep running away like this. ❞, ❝ do you remember ? ❞
╰┈➤ STARTER PROMPTS : Assorted Sentence Prompts
— stalking, the predator approaches the prey. dragging behind him, as if tangible, intention to KILL with eyes ablaze. ❝ do you remember ? ❞ comes the slither of the assailant’s voice, shedding behind a shell of what once was. giving way to a monster. an abomination. receptive; instinct motions the nameless to shake his head, but his body stills, for he is stunned like a deer in headlights when blade is forthcoming like a tsunami. he repositions himself, preparing. studying. cloud — piercer has been his response, for as long as he can recall.
this time is no exception.
but the evidence of SIN parries differently this time. expectations are subverted when there is no struggle. instead, it is an effortless swipe that counters each and every method the strategist employs. where a resultant smile flares, creeping along the swordsman’s features — born of his nightmares — which serve to feed into his fears. there is more at play here.
❝ it’s only a matter of TIME. ❞ he cuts in again, both with sword and voice. slashing at any chance for dan heng to retaliate with similar vice. but never should the maw of a dragon be underestimated, for his BITE carries an inexplicable strength.
he sends his spear through with the force of a typhoon.
only for remarkable power to locate no target, much to the thrown feat. his enemy has evaporated around the gleaming sheen of his weapon and its deadly edge. ❝ what — ❞
a swarm of thoughts collide against undefended rationality, and he stumbles with the questions SCREAMING in the back of his mind. grasping reality and illusion has never been easy alone. despite dan heng’s insistence that he can manage, he can handle himself and he can tackle the demons that lurk and lie in wait.
he is proven sorely wrong with the resurgence of the aura, so dearly wished to be foreign. forgotten. needlessly, does he have to remind himself that what his senses latch onto aren’t his. ❝ you can’t keep running away like this. ❞ his head pounds, ceaselessly. was that in the far reaches of his mind ? where ? his vision darts around, head swivelling aimlessly to search for the source.
flipping like a switch, his reflexes snap to life, sparing him of the incoming cleave, lethal in all capacity. the only loss he suffers is the descending locks of ebony, dissolving into the abyssal sea below. neglected in an instant. ❝ this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the LAST. ❞ flies off the steel that soars, with the might of wings that would lacerate. he is an extension of his creation.
sealed by his namesake.
❝ why won’t you understand ? pursuing me is pointless. i will never be able to provide what you seek ! ❞ but as predicted, his words fall on deaf ears, hacked apart by the craft drenched in bloodshed and hatred. emitting blistering rage.
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@isscion said: — ever - hazardous is the tempest that exists in the very core of the being before him , a contrast to the gentle features that kazuha sees reserved for himself & only himself ( he thinks , he hopes , he prays — albeit secretly . ) never were they one to judge or feel threatened , even in the most ferocious of gazes , and now was no exception . it should be , though , even the ronin who felt he lacked a holy mouthpiece knew the thing held close in his hand , in his heart , was akin to merely playing with fire & waiting to feel the piercing burn against his skin . teeth sink into his own bottom lip , the quiet of the room only heightening the closeness he felt , the radiating warmth of their shared wine enough for him to show his cards , to show the thoughts running through his mind . “ you’re no good for me , ” his breath is shallow , blood hues adverting away almost shyly — almost — before turning to face him once more . “ but baby , i want you . ” the ronin doesn’t leave much time for him to react , the small gap of space closed as he leans in , hand reaching to cup his face . “ do you think we’ll be in love forever ? ”
— BOLD as the raging tides under the call of lunar, kazuha rushes in. in intention, anyway. he is to the average passer-by as soft as blossoms blooming in gentle snowfall. perishable at a mere touch. but the wanderer knows better.
he knows his the ronin is as DEADLY as the steel he possesses on his person.
and somehow he manages to maintain a certain fragility — remarkable to mortals alike — despite the hidden lethality swimming in his veins. it is words, he realises, that exist as the aforementioned blade. words kazuha wields and repurposes into the sharp and ominously, fatal blow.
accompanied subtle motions, diaphanous touch, all work together alongside verbal assault, directed to disarm the puppet. and akihiko would NEVER admit to it, but there is something so soothing when it comes to these fingertips that brush and caress. whorls persuasive as a siren’s song.
he is toppling overboard, carried by the voice of the wind, into the arms of the sea.
until he suspends himself with the newly gifted element of the anemo archon and instead hovers over the currents. rippling callously. ❝ love ? ❞ DISBELIEF echoes. ❝ do you truly believe i'm capable of your mortal longing ? ❞ his tone as harsh as nails. . . BETRAYS his truth, for there is no guiding a hand away from immaculate features.
nor does the softness of his gaze falter.
❝ don’t be RIDICULOUS, kazuha. ❞ he scoffs as if it might rub the slate clean. ❝ if you know i'm not good for you, why stay ? ❞ it is baffling to him, truly. why put yourself in the line of fire ? seeking for the unreachable will serve as a prelude to hurt. unbearable flames that lick with the desire to incite SUFFERING.
❝ your life is so short, why waste it on an arbitrary and misguided hope. ❞
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Carmel ur in trouble heehoo
- (( Cansci Mun ))
"When am I not in Mc-Fuckin trouble bitch?."
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He must’ve deleted the first time he posted it because it said TA-NIGHT. I was like baby no the show is tomorrow 😂😂
is he ok
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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Thank you loves!! Good luck and have fun at school to you too 💗💗 I just arrived I have pr class now and I have a presentation wish me luck 😿💗
- 🎀
I'll try my best to have fun. Thank you, bubby 🫠💕 wow, good luck, princess. I'll have my fingers crossed for you 💝💝
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