#I SURE CAN'T

[artilite]

some sort of siffering for @drabdoodler ;;; how is he moving... woah!!

would appreciate it if this wasn't used for pfps for the time being, thank you! <3 (this may change in the future haha)

[saltpepperbeard]

OFMD Week Day 4: Favorite Ships/Fluff

The Kiss (Favorite Moments/Commentary/Fluffy Writing) 💙💋💜

So I've been wanting to step through the kiss bit by bit and point out/wax poetic ramble on about all the intricacies for so, so long. And on a day of OFMD Week dedicated to ships, fluff, and favorite moments, it was a match made in heaven!

I'll go ahead and start with the confession. The careful hesitance, the uncertainty, the moment right there in the air for both of them to take. The way Ed's lips barely even move with the whispered "...you" even when the weight of such an admittance is so strong. Yet, he does it. He goes for it. He finally frees the single word that has been clawing its way out of his chest for weeks.

But the way he's still so cautious, still so unsure. It's new to him. It's new to them both. He's likely never been in such a vulnerable position before. And it's a huge leap to make even if you're experienced anyway.

So, to see him slowly look over to gauge Stede's reaction, to see him so fragile...

...And then to see Stede smile.

Granted, Stede's expression hurts a bit because it's incredulous. The way his eyebrows shoot up—he can't fathom it. His mind can't process that he makes Edward Teach happy. He probably believes he hasn't made anyone happy, ever.

But still, he smiles. Something inside of him sings. Something inside of him rejoices, because Ed makes him so happy too. Ed makes him feel worthy, feel seen.

And that smile is him seeing Ed right back, meeting him in the vulnerability as they have before. Not a look of disgust, or judgement, or anything negative of the sort.

But acceptance. Mutuality. A sunrise over a new beginning.

So, of course Ed has to kiss him. Of course Ed has to take advantage of the moment. Of course Ed has to hush Stede by meeting his lips with his own. Words wouldn't have been as effective. Talking things through wouldn't have sufficed, not when things were so open.

Their mouths had to do a different sort of talking. Their souls had to breathe into each other, to finally meet as they had been wanting.

And oh, how they had been wanting. Even with the muddiness in Stede's mind, even with all the underlying complexities, they relax into each other. There's the split-second jolt of surprise, the utter shock that exists from suddenly sharing such intimacy.

But then their bodies melt. They both fall into the connection. Stede eases himself into it, and some of the tension in Ed's eyes lessens.

Even still, they don't move or actively kiss right away. But why should they? It's new. It's different. It's precious.

It's something to be experienced, something to be savored.

And something to be further explored, eventually.

Again, they meet each other. They know each other. They see each other.

When one body moves, so too, does the other. When one itches to try, to reach out just that little bit further, the other reaches back.

Ed started the kiss. Ed initiated. But Stede finds him—Stede kisses him in return.

And they seem to build off each other, to heighten their dance; when Stede kisses back, when Stede shows he's there, Ed seems that much more invigorated. He eases himself nearer, and pulls their bodies that much closer together...

With Stede following him and meeting his every move.

They're there. They're there with each other. There's nothing else but them in that moment.

Again, Ed steps, and again, Stede meets. A tilt of the head, a glide of their lips, answered by the softest hum. A breathy little something that screams bliss. A tiny noise that says, "I have never known this before, but I want to for the rest of my life."

And Stede's eyes remaining closed after they part really hammers that sentiment in.

His mind may be a mess. His emotions may be all over the place.

But his heart isn't. His heart assuredly isn't.

It is warm, and dazed, and just as dreamy as he.

Because goodness, the absolute fondness in his eyes. The sheer love in his eyes. The difference in his smiles���first stunned, then at home.

And again, another bit of mutuality. A returned breath in the space just for them.

"You make Stede happy."

And oh, how wondrous is that. Oh, how relieving is that.

They make each other happy.

They're in love.

Despite everything, despite what's beneath the surface, despite all that will come, they're in love.

They're there for each other in a way no one ever has been before, and no one ever will be. Ed can hold Stede so softly, regarding him so gently as though he'll shatter. Stede can stare right into Ed's eyes, breathing the same air as though it's the easiest thing in the world.

Maybe because it is.

Because they're in love.

[deadcrowcalling]

me remembering exams start next week

[pride-moth]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fall Out Boy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz Characters: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump Additional Tags: Angst, Introspection, look there's a lot of Pete thoughts you know what this entails, Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), it's not that relevant tho, possibly unqualified ruminations on the burdens of fame Summary:

A bad show in Australia, a jetlag for the ages and the unbearable privilege of gazing at Patrick Stump.

[woahjo]

okay im posting a short fic tomorrow that is very different from the fics ive been posting for the past like... year LOL bc i haven't written porn for porn's sake in a minute... but i needed to. my apologies.

[marlynnofmany]

If the poem is the tiger one, then it just broke out of its cage and can you really blame it?

dude your poem fucking bit me

[annemariearcher]

"HuA ChEnG StAlkEd XiE LiAn fOr 800 YeArS—"

Hate to burst your bubble, but in order to stalk somebody, you actually have to know where they are.

[uncanny-tranny]

Fat people deserve mobility aids, too. No matter if it's connected to their fatness or not, because having a mobility issue that is connected to one's fatness won't change that they're still fat and still have the issue at hand. Fat people don't deserve to "tough it out" because fatness should be this divine punishment doled out to those who "deserve" it. Fat disabled people deserve to have the peace of mind that they can exist in whatever way is most comfortable and accessible to them

[wasyago]

tango doodles

first you make up a guy and then you struggle to draw him correctly

[emeraldscholar]

My country has 'namedays', so every day is assigned multiple names and when yours comes up, you can celebrate ^^ The family car was always named whatever name's day was the one when we got it. The first car I remember, a white Skoda, was called Viola.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[semperama]

The thing that really gets me about "I think it might have been better for him if I was the one who got shot," is like........yeah??? I mean, obviously it would be better for a child if their parent was spared????? That's just a given, why are we even talking about it.

Like, Buck is actually totally and completely rational in saying, "I don't matter as much as you do, because you're Chris's dad." He's not being stupid in that moment. He's stating something that should be obvious. To Eddie. To the audience. To everyone.

But then the reaction Eddie has is soooooooo "what the actual fuck are you talking about" that you realize, oh, that's not how the narrative wants you to see it at all. Eddie reacts the exact same way you'd expect him to react if it was Shannon sitting there saying it would be better if it was her. He reacts the exact same way you'd expect him to react if he and Buck were married and Buck has adopted Chris years ago. He reacts like they are both equally important figures in Chris's life, and it's wrong to argue about who should survive.

Buck takes this very understandable survivor's guilt to Eddie like, "I feel awful that you can't be there for your son, and he's stuck with me instead," and in a moment where most single parents would simply be freaking out about how close they came to leaving their child an orphan, Eddie's response is instead, "Excuse you? That's our son. And he needs you too."

HELLO?? WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE? GET THEM OUT ALREADY.

[megumiifushiiguro]

bye😭—

when every fic is smut...

[dogin8]

[ID: Two screenshots from Queering the Map, taken in Kottayam, Kerala. In the first screenshot there is a map pin that says “Surely, I can’t be the only one!”. In the second screenshot, a second map pin, very close to the first one, says, “No you are not.” The screenshots are from the Tiktok account @/ahecksis. End ID]

[cyborgrhodey]

regina spektor is a violent zionist, but i don't think it's constructive or honest at all for people to be like "well her art was always bad anyway." some terrible people have made great art. This idea that artists with unsavory morals can't make good art (1) only feeds into some people's mindset that if they dislike something, that MUST mean there is something ideologically wrong with it, and (2) some people then take longer to realize the true colors of their favorite artists because... good artists can't be ethically bad right?? and so they hang on to their faves and pretend they are so righteous and defend their every move when sometimes. sometimes you just gotta accept that your favorite art was made by somebody you don't agree with, and you have to identify how much you are willing to support someone like that and what lines you have that can't be crossed

[suddenly-frankenstein]

uhmhmhmmm just occasional thoughts about Daniel's interaction with Marius