#ANYWAY. having a moment ignore me

[welcometogrouchland]

I love it when "they should be at the club" is like, an actual character dynamic, with person A looking at person B as they work themselves to the bone/throw their own happiness away for the greater good/take on more responsibility than anyone could ever hope to bear and they're just like. Hey. You should be at the club

[walkerrenee]

sometimes i randomly remember how insane maggie stiefvater was for making ronan lynch—a man that can create reality—a man of god, when he himself is a god of a man. then to take this man and have him be not only in love with, but a literal soulmate of a man named adam. parrish. adam parrish. who, mind you, lives above ronan's very own place of worship. and is the namesake of the first of mankind that the bible says god made from the literal dust of the ground (adam parrish: comes from nothing, hair "dusty" in color) and appoints him to care for the garden of eden (adam parrish: sacrifices himself to ronan's sentient forest). then has adam viewing ronan as a god and ronan saying "maybe he dreamt (created)" adam???? like who just fucking writes that and goes about their life?

[leopardmuffinxo]

i wouldn't want to be with anyone else

[sweetsouldhavernas]

Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David ↳ UNDER COVERS

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

GIRLKYUUUU

[starry-bi-sky]

im on my hadestown bullshit again but im also still on my SVSSS bullshit too so au where Shen Yuan gets transmigrated into a nameless NPC sometime after Bingge merges the realms and becomes the demonic emperor over like, basically everyone. And Shen Yuan manages to become an immortal cultivator and has a few years to himself to explore the world he's in, conveniently avoiding Bingge the whole time. Until eventually Shen Yuan joins what is essentially a traveling theater group.

They all love the strange stories he tells, ones he claimed he learned from far away places, and eventually ask him to write one as a play so that they can share it with the world. He does one better and writes a musical and slightly xianxia-izes Hadestown so it fits with the times better.

Eventually they learn everything, the music is st up, their lines learned, and the group rents out some kind of low-class stage for a night in a town that's neither too big nor too small. One that Bingge is conveniently passing through.

The actor for Orpheus falls 'sick' the opening night, and Shen Yuan gets convinced into taking the role by his. He has the prettiest voice, and he knows Orpheus' lines and character the best! Shen Yuan agrees.

Bingge attends that night too, and sits in the far back, in a seat where nobody can see him that well.

There is nothing to prepare him for the Tale of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Not the actor, who looks distressingly, uncannily similar to Shen Qingqiu, from the sharp curve of his jaw to the sound of his voice. It's Shen Yuan's saving grace that he has just enough differences that Bingge doesn't fly to his feet immediately.

Not the character Orpheus either. Who shares a distressingly similar worldview to the one Bingge once had a long, long time ago. A young man, a boy really, with so much hope for the world around him to near the point of naivety. Who believes that there is still good in the world and the people around him.

There's nothing to prepare him for Epic III. A song the lone Orpheus sings to convince Hades to let him and Eurydice go, one that rends Bingge of his flesh and leaves him feeling raw and wanting.

Suddenly he's no longer watching the stage; he's on it, standing in Hades' place, jaded and bitter and cold and reigning over all. Having become cruel like Shen Qingqiu once was. He stands in Hades' place, tall and imposing and powerful.

And there is a shadow of the past sitting at his feet. A boy in love with the world looking up at him, stripping him down to his soul, and asking him where he's been. Bingge stands in Hades' place, and just like that, becomes a man again.

[skitskatdacat63]

2011 Italian Grand Prix - Vettonso

[zukosdualdao]

i will never understand when people act like zutara shippers are reaching when we say the crystal catacombs scene is intensely romantically coded because like... ignoring literally all other context (which does have other hallmarks of romantic coding, but literally pretend you don't know anything about the show or scene for a second)... what would you think happened in this picture?

would it .... would it maybe be an interrupted almost-kiss

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[vodkaslyme]

I'm glad Fields of Mistria is at least a little more lenient with how you gain relationship w characters than Stardew was, bc as much as I love March as a character something I don't love about these kinds of games is the way their arcs/behaviour doesn't progress at all unless you're actively giving them gifts and talking to them every day (neither of which March deserves at all btw). Just rubs me the wrong way that the solution to jerk characters in these games is always to placate and rehab thier behaviour instead of the narrative/your accomplishments working towards that instead.

Idk. I think a lot of ppl have no problem kissing up to tsundere types in games but I'm like entirely too autistic and too "it's the principle of the matter" to be able to? If March is supposed to develop from being antagonistic and rude then it feels shitty that it comes from undeserved, infinite olive-branches and not just the natural progression of time/story? So at least I can mostly ignore him, tho as a consequence it takes fucking ages to increase his hearts passively that way. You can rebuff and scold him in the 2 heart event and I hope they carry that "I'm not taking your stupid ass bullshit, March" energy for the future hearts too. Because I'm out here infrastructure/farm-maxing, I'll spoil him w conversation and gifts when he figures his shit out on his own lol and we get on neutral ground.

Also I just generally don't like how abrupt his change towards you is on Friday nights. I get it's supposed to be comedic but when he's randomly only nice to you when he's drunk, and he's the only character who's Friday night interactions don't seem to have any bearing on his disposition or dialogue with you after (yet everyone else references their Friday night interactions w you and each other) it makes it feel almost non-canonical as opposed to a hidden quirk of his.

Also idk, "only nice when drunk" isnt the incentive to befriend him the devs think it is lol

[koka-mi]

Oh my gosh whyyyy am I so obsessed with numbers I don't like it at all this is driving me INSANEEEE😭😭IT'S GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS THE DAYS GO BY AAAA

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[evansbby]

my opinion on the Blake lively situation

[erumai-maadu]

Sakura comes home after the second stage of the chunin exams with her hair short and her face set with grim determination to be stronger.

Her mother is distraught, eyes the choppy bob critically, before letting it go and telling her that it'll grow back quickly. She's young, after all, and her hair has always grown quickly.

But Sakura keeps trimming it, never letting it grow back out to the length that she was so proud of before. She feels freer without it, somehow. Her head is lighter, no longer pulled down by the weight of thick hair and people’s expectations.

It doesn't matter any more when people eye her bruised knuckles, the scars scattered on her body, the eyebags from long shifts at the hospital.

Short hair is more practical for a shinobi, after all. At least, that's what she tells her mother. They've never met the Hyuuga, so it doesn't matter if it isn't necessarily true.

Besides, Sakura isn't Neji, with his impenetrable defenses. She's a brawler with fists that punch through rock and shatter bones, and she cannot afford for someone to grab the hair that would whip around in the devastating blasts left in her wake.

Sometimes, she can still feel the Sound shinobi's hand in her hair, the burning pain in her scalp. Lee and Naruto unconscious on the ground and her weak, useless body trembling in fear.

Other nights, she feels the cold wind, a gentle pinch and a murmured "thank you" on the back of her neck. She sees Naruto's wide smile, a promise to bring him back to her, back to the village. Naruto and Sasuke with their backs to her, always in front, always walking away, leaving her behind.

Sakura trains with a savage ferocity that few can match. She needs to be better, always moving forward, so that some day, she can overtake Naruto and Sasuke.

There are times that she wakes up with a scream caught in her throat, hand reaching for a kunai pouch that isn't there. She gets up and sneaks out, runs to the mountains behind Hokage rock and pummels the rocks until her fists are bloody and her fears are assuaged. The weak little girl died in the Forest of Death, cut out of her along with the long pink locks she discarded.

The weight that was holding her back is gone. She will not be left behind. Never again.

[flowercrowngods]

The grass is warm and soft beneath him as Steve gazes up at the stars shining down on him in those constellations he knows so well. It’s a crisp and clear night, a light breeze chasing away the last remnants of the midsummer heat, and Steve is smiling up at the moonless sky. Beside him, Eddie has his eyes closed and Steve is pretty sure he’s asleep, but Steve has never minded being alone with the stars.

They know him. They know all his secrets. 

They know how he longs to reach for Eddie’s hand where it’s lying between them, palm up and so very inviting. They know of his yearning heartbeat and how it is reduced to flutters when Eddie is around with that beaming smile of his. 

The stars know Steve Harrington better than he knows even himself, but they keep it a secret among the universe, shared only on moonless, cloudless nights. Like this one, with Eddie here beside him. 

“Did you know you always smile when you see the stars?” 

Eddie’s voice is too soft to really startle him, but Steve's heartbeat picks up anyway. He couldn’t fight the smile even if he tried. 

“Do I?” 

Eddie nods, the grass rustling beneath his head, and Steve looks over to see Eddie’s eyes still closed. It’s what makes him keep looking. The stars won’t tell.

“Yeah,” he breathes and Steve’s eyes fall down to his lips. “Makes me think like you’re in on some cosmic secret sometimes, Stevie. You one of them?” 

“One of what?” Steve whispers back, his hand inching closer to Eddie’s. Not to touch. Just to make sure that in another universe, another Steve will take that hand. 

Eddie smiles as if he knows, as if he feels that other universe inside his chest, but he doesn’t reach out. “The stars. A fallen one, maybe.”

Steve huffs out a breath and tears his eyes away from Eddie to look back up again. “I’m not a fallen star, Eddie.” 

“Hmm,” he hums, and Steve wants to wrap himself up in it. Curl on his side and rest his head on Eddie’s chest, ask him to hum for the rest of their lives, or so long as the stars will cover them. “Tell me about the stars, then? And why they make you smile.” 

Steve swallows and searches the sky for answers. He could. He shouldn’t, maybe. But he wants to. Right now, with Eddie’s eyes closed, their hands almost touching, their smiles refusing to leave, and the stars above them glowing and twinkling so kindly, Steve wants to tell him. 

This is it.

But if he closes his eyes, this can be just like any other night Steve has spent telling the stars about him. Only this time, Eddie is here to listen. 

“It’s because they know,” he whispers, heart beating in his throat now, choking off the words.

“They know?” Eddie prompts after a while, just as quiet, just as trembling. 

And now Steve reaches out with his pinkie and hooks it over Eddie’s pointer and middle fingers. “They know,” he repeats. “About you.” 

Slowly, achingly slowly, Steve caresses Eddie’s fingers with his own until their hands lie on top of each other, slotting together perfectly. He hears a hitched breath and wonders, fears, aches, for all but a moment. Until Eddie’s thumb comes up to draw tentative patterns on Steve’s palm. Until Eddie is moving closer to rest his head against Steve’s, never once letting go of his hand.

“What about me?” he whispers, and Steve finally opens his eyes, shifting until their foreheads are touching, and looking down at their joined hands. 

“Just that… I really, really like you.” 

Another hum, and this time Steve can feel it making its way through his body. It makes him shiver even on a warm night like this. Makes him yearn for more.

“And that’s making you smile?” 

He’s helpless. Now that he started talking, now that he took Eddie’s hand, now that they’re sharing the same breath, Steve is so, so helpless. But he’s not scared anymore.

“Yes.”

Eddie’s free hand comes up to rest on his cheek. Not to pull him in for a kiss like Steve thinks for a second, but just to hold him. Maybe in another universe they’re kissing. In this one, Eddie is cradling him like he’s something precious. It feels even more intimate.

“You’re doing nothing to convince me that you’re not a fallen fucking star, though, Stevie.” 

Steve laughs softly, sounding almost giddy to his own ears, and lifts his hand into Eddie’s hair. 

His tone shifts when he continues. “I’m not even entirely sure you’re real right now.” 

Along with Eddie's tone there was a shift in the very fabric of the universe that leaves Steve breathless. He swallows and angles his face closer to Eddie’s, feeling brave because Eddie is still here, still talking like that, and maybe, maybe… 

“I’m real, Eds,” he breathes. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” And it feels like he’s saying more than that. So much more. “Are you?” 

Eddie nods again, bringing his face even closer until their noses are touching and he breathes a tiny, “Very,” against Steve’s lips. 

And then, covered by the kindest glow of the stars above them, Steve claims Eddie’s lips in the softest, slowest, most genuine kiss. 

for @withacapitalp in the hopes that you'll have a kind and gentle day, or something to come to that could feel like a hug 🤍

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my favorite things about getting older is that I’m just more sure and more confident in taking control in social situations and making other people feel at ease. I really love it!