#also happy birthday to you too!

[kimtaegis]

Destination: your heart Estimated Time of Arrival: whenever you need him ➤ for @jung-koook ♡

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[ruporas]

the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in.

happy birthday vash! (ID in alt text)

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be��the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[joshdonnas]

“The President, while riding a bicycle on his vacation in Jackson Hole came to a sudden arboreal stop.”

1x01 "Pilot" (sep. 22nd, 1999)

The West Wing was first aired 25 years ago and history was made.

[erigold13261]

AAAAAH! I LOVE THIS! HE LOOKS AMAZING!

I adore the colors that you do! They always look so good! Thank you so much!!! <3

@erigold13261 haha I may have… made you smth 😎

Some more. Cus they also looks nice BAHAHAGA

[paladinsbrainrot]

happy 53rd birthday to this dork hope he falls down some stairs next

[magicshop]

his smile could cure the world ♡ [for @morshiberna ♡]

cr. 0613data

[hermanubis]

Blood & Stars / Tears & Time

[lovestraykings]

221023 case 143 ending fairy // i.n 💖

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 84

Amity Park absolutely adores her little ghostling, her little Gatekeeper who was of her own ectoplasm, reborn from her own blood in the center of her new heart. She absolutely adores her baby, practically a newborn, being only a year dead! 

So of course she had to gush and boast about her little phantom to the other city spirits! They all got together to gossip sometimes after all. And both Smallville and Fawcett started to gush about their own little ones back! 

Gosh they should set up a playdate at some point, her little phantom could use some friends in the mortal realm. Well some more friends, three is obviously not enough. Oh, Gotham and Bludhaven have come over as well! It’s a playdate then! 

Now if only each of their world’s timelines were synced up, but at least everyone is around the same age! 

[hanjlsung-archive]

HAN SKZ-RECORDS as ALBUM COVERS i n s p o for @strayklds (happy belated birthday my em) ♡

send me a 💌 [ + bias and/or color] and i'll make you a lil set ♡

[aka-indulgence]

More HT!Sans thoughts! I have so many thoughts of him shdnjfg

Have an idea for a siren/mermaid story for a while

You're a mermaid living in a village near the coast, in shallow waters. A deep sea cecaelia monster has repeatedly preyed on your kind, and the village has decided sacrifices are the best course of action. Of course, you end up on the menu, tied to a rope anchored to a boulder on the coastal dropoff where the shallows suddenly disappears to dark blue depths.

It’s quiet. No one visits the dropoff. Not only is it spooky and below you is just a cliff that drops into nothingness, surrounded by more nothingness on the surface, it’s where predators can hide anywhere. Especially predatory sirens.

It’s bad to struggle, nothing makes yourself a bigger neon sign that says “I’M INJURED! EAT ME!!”, but if you don’t try to get out of these ropes you’ll almost definitely be eaten.

It’s terrifying, you’ve been tossed aside by your village to be eaten by a horrible monster, spending your last moments struggling at the cliff’s edge, utterly helpless, panicking, and dreading what may swim from the deep.

And of course, something does.

You suddenly feel a tug on the rope tying you down. You turn to see a giant octopus skeleton on the boulder, one tentacle wrapped around your rope. He’s even more terrifying than you thought; a giant skeleton cecaelia with that one blood eye staring at you from dark eyesockets, a giant, horrible crack on his skull, with a wide hungry grin.

The bait worked.

You can do nothing, with every tail beat all you do is exhausting yourself, while the cecaelia has no trouble wrapping multiple tentacles on the rope to reel you in. Then, you’re face to face with the beast.

“what a pretty little snack you are, mermaid.”

You trade the bindings of rope to the bindings of his tentacles, and he brings you down to depths you’ve never seen, to his den.

… and then scary romance stuff happens eheheheheh

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2024):  ↘ D-DAY | HAPPY BIRTHDAY HWANG HYUNJIN❣️

[hailsatanacab]

Happy Ghouls and Gangs DPxDC Bang event posting week!! Here's what I've been working on for the @dpxdcbigbang 🥰

Summary:

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. He spends it taking care of the manor and watching over its inhabitants, just as he does every other day. It’s an exhausting, never-ending task, that he wouldn’t change for the world. But that night, he is confronted by a stranger in his rooms with a copy of every single soul-binding contract he’s signed for the protection of his family. The new Ghost King wants to update his terms and conditions.

Alfred POV, Ghost King Danny, with some Post-Vivisection goodness and only a little (a lot) of blood and gore and medical fun, but that's for later. Not for the squeamish, please check the tags!!

Snippet under the cut!

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth.

He wakes up early enough to be ready to greet Master Duke with breakfast when he shambles into the kitchen, he cleans, he greets the rest of the manor’s residents when they finally make it downstairs, he cleans, he goes down to the cave to rouse Master Tim from another sleepless night, he cleans.

It’s a quiet day, or as much as one can be when the place he calls home is filled with vigilantes.

He drops off Masters Damian, Tim, and Duke at school and uses the rest of the trip to pick up some groceries for dinner. Coq au vin tonight, he thinks, it’ll be perfect for the changing of the seasons. A mushroom and lentil substitute for Master Damian will do lovely.

The rest of the day is spent preparing the meal and doing a spot of gardening before it’s time for the school run again. He can’t help but smile fondly as he listens to them needle and tease each other, only stepping in when it starts to become too pointed.

Yes, it’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. It’s at night when it all changes.

There’s a ghost waiting for him in his room. 

A soft glow emanates from the creature’s vaguely transparent body and a crisp frost creeps slowly across the floor, sparkling in the darkness like diamonds.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” it says, the voice bouncing off the walls so that it sounds like hundreds of beings instead of one.

Fear squeezes at his heart and the air in the room turns dark and heavy, so that Alfred struggles to breathe. His mouth is dry, his head is swimming, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to survive the night.

[darlingcloudie-9]

Happy birthday Blue from Pokéspe one OF THE PRETTIEST CHARACTERS IN FICTIONAL MEDIA EVER OH MY GAHHHHH 💗💗