#EVERYBODY GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW!!!!!

[chrometheraptor]

Helsknight and Tanguish from @silverskye13’s incredible fic, Redstone and Skulk <333333

they mean the world to me ougiauaosgsiegdjdd

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[terreurihardlyknowher]

est ce qu'il y a des français dans la salle

[mariatesstruther]

“living with maria is sort of like living with a rainbow”

@marceltheshellwithflipflopson DONT DO THIS TO ME FRIEND

[hellonerf]

i love crazy contrasting 1p2p in every way(not every way). so i always subconsciously have 2P rusame be friends. unlikely friends etc. in whatever weird school au theyre friends. meri was probably bullied until he started hissing at other kids or something while rus2 was just like huhh okay yeah okay what fine. rus2 found him in a broom closet and it was as awkward as it sounds. in the weird stuckin1Pcoldwar au i have theyre friends also in the torturous existence. 1P rusame is too weird life is too short lets tomodachi✌️

[soullessjack]

conservative X-men fans will see a franchise about an oppressed group of people who fight for their civil rights and freedom in a world that sees them as freaks and monsters and imagine themselves being on the mutants’ side but then can’t even handle masculine cis women in sports or a man with painted nails or cisgender teens on puberty blockers for health issues.

conservative X-men fans will see that oppressed group of freaks and monsters constantly facing the threat of an apocalyptic future specifically caused by hate mongers in powerful positions who very blatantly will and do destroy the same humanity they claim to be protecting if it means destroying Those Freaks and think “wow cool robot.”

conservative X-men fans will agree with the villain who was based on Malcom X and specifically came to hold his beliefs through surviving the Holocaust and claim that he can’t even be considered a villain anymore because his ideology makes sense and is consistently proven right by the humans’ unwavering intolerance, but go into hysterics the minute a real life minority holds any sort of hatred or resentment toward their oppressor.

conservatives in general will always pretend that the media they consume doesn’t have any deeper meaning or purpose other than being entertainment slop because they almost always retreat into media for some type of “comfort” or escape from having to acknowledge reality and their own bigotry. they want the freedom to be bigots without any pushback or consequences so they surround themselves in an echo chamber of fictional characters and universes who can’t argue with them or tell them they’re wrong and bad.

conservatives have to constantly and deliberately turn their brains off to consume a specific piece of media because they know that they would be the villain in it if they gave it an ounce of deeper thought and that’s exactly why they push back so hard against anything that drags them out of their comfy echo chamber, anything that threatens their blissful ignorance.

they thrive on the idea that their media isn’t “that deep” or based in/affected by reality; that there’s no such thing as representation or allegories or coding in media (and alternatively, that representation doesn’t matter or is just propahanda). they thrive on willful ignorance and they want to convince everyone else to be just as ignorant and the death of media literacy is exactly how they’ll achieve it

[collgeruledzebra]

GODZILLA MINUS ONE

[hearts-hunger]

“What do you think of Molly?” you asked... he looked across the living room at her. Her emerald eyes widened and she looked away quickly. Danny’s cheeks glowed as he looked back at you. “She’s okay,” he answered... He chuckled, glancing back over to her, admitting it out loud. “She’s pretty far-out.” - Summer In The City by @gretasmokerising

[iwakuraz]

exams JUST ended and now immediately, on the first day back to normal classes, my english teacher is suddenly telling everyone that we're all gonna have to write and then read a speech out to the class next lesson. and we weren't ever told about this speech before today

[titsthedamnseason]

i feel so happy because the past few years idk there haven’t been that many book releases i felt THAT excited about but this year i get double kl walther, carley fortune, emily henry, finlay donovan series is ending, burn bright, new taylor jenkins reid….WHAT A TIME TO BE ME

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

All the things I'm never going to experience properly again... all the things I'll never do because It'll feel wrong.... all the things I'm never going to have the right way because people will never see me the way i want them to..... this shit sucks man

[pardonmydelays]

some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person

[trans-yllz]

rereading tgftos on this train trip wuhg I forgot how much it Gets me

[cuips-not-cute]

um excuse me sorry for barging in like this but i simply had to know how it feels to be SO COOL???? like all the time??? and do so many things and have so many adventures while ALSO being the coolest guy around????

kissing you kissing you KISSING YOU !!!

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

my mother keeps inviting me to go swimming with her and my sister at the local Y and I keep being like... ma'am I LOVE swimming but we're having an unseasonably dreary spring and I don't really want to go to the pool on a day that's already cool enough that I'm wearing a sweater. I want to go to the pool on a day when it's sunny and warm. sunshine please come to me I want to go float on my back for 2 hours while my sister makes friends with the female lifeguards

[marypsue]

Oh hey, it's Sneak Peek Sunday! Have some fic about it.

This is another sample from former heroes who quite too late, part three in the AU where (almost) all the Hawkins kids have powers.

...

Heather Holloway barely manages to slam on the brakes when something flashes out into her headlights.

By the time she gets her breathing back under control, her heart lurching back down out of her throat, whatever it was is gone. The dark trees on either side of the narrow road have swallowed it up without a trace.

But Heather could have sworn she’d just seen a kid run across the road.

She debates with herself for one long, agonising second, before she shifts her beloved little Chrysler convertible into park and kills the engine. The sudden night hush swallows up its rumble like it was never there, the faint tick tick tick of hot metal parts cooling under the hood blending seamlessly into the rustle and chirrup of bugs in the trees and the soft susurrus of a breath of blessedly cool wind through the leaves overhead. She doesn’t think she hit – whoever or whatever that was, but she came pretty damn close. And if it really was a kid –

Heather listens, hard, for anything that might sound like footsteps. Like a human voice.

There might be a rustle, a crackle, off to the right of the road. Like small feet pattering over decades’ worth of fallen leaves. Like a small person pushing their way through the brambles and brush scattered between the trees.

“Hello?” Heather calls, pushing open the driver’s-side door. “Is somebody there? Hey, are you okay?”

The looming mass of dark trees doesn’t answer her.

Heather steps out of the car, looking back and forth along the road before she shuts the door behind her. The heavy metallic chunk sounds obscenely loud in the quiet of the night.

She doesn’t see approaching headlights in either direction. And there’s really no reason for anybody to be out this way at this hour unless they’re coming back from the pool. It’s probably okay to leave the convertible, for a minute or two. Heather crosses in front of her car’s nose to step onto the grassy sliver of shoulder between the road and the trees, passing through the glare of her headlights. The pool of light they cast on the road, catching motes of swirling pollen and the occasional whirling mosquito hanging in the air, only makes the lowering twilight around the car seem even darker.

Heather thinks she can faintly make out, in that dark, a small white shape retreating between the trees.

“Hello?” she calls, again.

Again, only the soft hush of the breeze answers her. And a crackling sound that could be distant thunder.

Heather glances back at the road, but her own car is still the only one visible. The headlights dim to a dull brown, then flicker out, briefly, as she watches. Leaving it sit with the lights on can’t be good for the battery.

She takes one last glance over at the trees, where she thought she’d seen the white shape. But there’s nothing there now. Maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe it’s just the dark, and her own worry, playing tricks on her mind. Nobody’d answered back when she called out. She hasn’t heard anything that sounds like a cry of pain, and she’s pretty sure she managed to brake before hitting anything. If there’s a kid out here on their own – and that seems less and less likely – they don’t want to be found.

And Heather doesn’t really want to let her car die in the middle of the road. Even if there is almost no traffic at this time of night.

She hurries back through the headlights, watching them carefully for any more flickers, startling a little when she catches sight of her own shadow moving in the pool of light they cast out of the corner of her eye. The heat of the day is starting to fade as the last of the sunlight drains out of the sky, and the little breeze that’s making the treetops whisper is chilly in just a polo shirt and chino shorts. As soon as she gets back in the car, Heather’s pulling on her sweater.

A sudden flapping, rustling commotion overhead has her looking up, just in time to catch a flock of dark-winged shapes fluttering against the starry blue velvet of the sky. Bats.

Maybe she’ll put the ragtop up, too.

It takes her a few minutes of struggle to get the top up and fastened into place. Heather’s just climbing back into the car when she hears the rattling thrum of another engine, coming up the road from behind her. Her timing is, apparently, perfect. She twists the key in the ignition and shifts up into first, pulling right to let the headlights now shining in her rearview mirror get by her.

But the white panel van coming up her tailpipe doesn’t pull out around her. Instead, it drives right up behind her, those headlights blinding in her rearview. It keeps riding her bumper as she shifts up through the gears.

Heather’s got no idea who it could be, but she can’t say she’s impressed. If they were going to wait for her to get up to speed, then maybe they should’ve waited. Driving like this out here, they might actually hit that kid Heather saw.

If she really did see a kid, that is.

And, she thinks, watching anxiously in her rearview mirror, if they keep speeding up, sooner or later they’re going to rear-end –

There’s a sudden burst of light, a headlight flashing on, glaring directly through the windshield and into her eyes. Heather glances down from the mirror, and chokes on a yelp as she slams on the brakes for the second time in fifteen minutes.

She only just has time to wonder who the hell drives a motorcycle at night straight down the middle of the road with no lights on, before the nose of the van behind her collides with her rear bumper and turns the world into a terrifying fairground ride. The woods around her flash drunkenly in her headlights as she spins out, tires screeching, heart hammering, the sharp taste of blood in her mouth as she desperately tries to wrestle the convertible back under control –

The ride comes to an abrupt, jarring stop. Heather never knows what, exactly, she hit. Or what hit her. The last thing she knows, after her head bounces hard off the steering wheel, is the quiet scrape of her door being pulled open, and lowered voices arguing about something her stunned mind, barely clinging to consciousness, can’t understand. Strong, broad hands under her arms, pulling her gently but inexorably from the car.

And then nothing but darkness.