Idk Wtf Im Doing With Icons Anymore. How Do People Do Icons???

idk wtf I’m doing with icons anymore. how do people do icons???

adds the other new oc I made, but the pending new oc I was creating doesn’t have a name yet. All I know is that she’s a ballerina who’s forgotten she’s a mermaid...

This is Yoona Hong! I’ll do her tags later, seeing how I was surprised I’d find her an FC. o_o

jk. i’m running on dumb energy juice so I’m making him a blog.

someone smack me if this blog only has Hawks on it. Cause that means he gets his own blog.

They are asking a man to ignore the hundreds of life he can save in the blink of an eye.

From her hand, her special dust rests until she blows upon it, the glitter-like content drizzles above and onto him before she's taking flight, up into the air and simply waits, unable to contain her laughter. " A little sparkle seems to be what you need, " she muses, her fairy-like wings fluttering to keep her airborne. / for hawks!

unprompted! || always welcome || @apricifate

          Hawks blinks, looking seemingly bewildered by the legitimate sparkle that's been tossed his way. Honestly, his feathers are built for speed and aerodynamics, thank you very much. His feathers ruffle and flap behind him and he runs a hand through his wind-swept hair. An easy grin makes its way onto his face before he flaps his wings, amusement lighting up his lidded amber gaze.

          ❝Nope,❞ he drawls, with one flap and he's suddenly next to her with a slight pout before it quickly morphs into an amused grin. ❝I'll have you know my wings are ❛a precision instrument of speed and aerodynamics.❜ Sparkles will only get in the way, love.❞

@yiqiannian​ asked:

She fidgets nervously, her long ebony hair pulled neatly into a braid down her back with her bangs covering most of her eyes. Thankful that Midoriya is the one that noticed her, he smiles gently at her before turning his head. “Todoroki-kun! Aikawa-chan is here to see you!”

Mineta and Kaminari are making surprised exclamations while Iida and Uraraka are trying to calm their classmates. Ashido is gushing despite their efforts as the petite girl waits for his arrival.

When he does, Utau gives him a small smile as Midoriya had the mind to close the door behind them for privacy so she could hand him a small and neatly wrapped bento box in a baby blue handkerchief with simplistic white seashell patterns.

     Still copying notes over to a more organized notebook, Shouto hasn’t looked up since Aizawa left them to their study time. Noise drowned out as he focused on his work, despite the inevitable classmate trying to hold a conversation with him. Each movement of his hand is slow and methodical, careful of the bandages and minor burns on his palms from their training earlier. It hadn’t been bad enough to go to the infirmary, just another pain to tolerate.

     Midoriya’s voice seems to be just the right pitch to cut through the din of the classroom, mismatched eyes finally tearing away from his work toward his surroundings. Aikawa-chan? Had he promised to meet her and forgot? No, he definitely would have remembered that. Maybe he’d left something in the nurse’s office the last time she’d healed him. That had to be it.

     Packing away his belongings, Shouto doesn’t notice that all eyes are on him as he makes his way to the door. Ignoring their pervasive questions, he’s glad when his friend shuts the door behind him, if only for the quiet it brings.

     “Did I leave something in the clinic again?” He begins, a simple question she could answer silently. He never liked to pry, but he did figure out rather quickly that she was mute or at least didn’t like talking. Which was fine, he didn’t really like to either, or rather, he didn’t know how to speak to others in the same way everyone else did.

     The proffered lunchbox was clearly not his, but seemed to fit her style, so it was safe to assume it was her own. Had she… made a lunch? She had to know about LunchRush, but… she’d put so much effort into making one of her own and was offering it to him? He can’t be sure what it means, but he supposes the thought is what counts. Even a mystery thought.

     “For me?” Taking the bento, he holds it with great care, “We could share it. I’d hate for you to give up your lunch on my account.”