#and don't worry! it's still my birthday!

[crabsnpersimmons]

AAAAAH! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (I don’t know if I’m late or not, time zones-)

Made a Sun and Moon doodle for you! Love your art so so much!

AAAAAAA IT'S THE BOIS! I LOVE THEM THANK YOUUU 💛💙💛💙💛💙

[zipsunz]

saturday morning cartoons 🥣

[cleocatzby]

Who am I without my ReminderGB™?

[uter-us]

radfem help !!

2 of my little cousins (14yrs and 15yrs) are both girls dating boys right now, and together we are coming up with a "dealbreaker list" of things they will never put up with from their bfs! and also we are including positives, like so they aren't just looking for the absence of bad things, but actual positive things

what do yall think are the most important things to add? (i put extra info in tags)

Thank you so much!!!

[xxmandaveexx]

Happy Birthday Austin! ♥️

Today is your day and it's a VERY special day indeed. 😊

I hope you have a good one! Go have some fun today and make sure you go ham on some good birthday cake too. 🎂😋

[schnaf]

day 23 aka THE COUNTDOWN IS OVER - jungsu's past birthday brrrr ppoppos

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 5: Regrets

Read here on AO3

Greed wasn’t the type of guy who had many regrets. He went for what he wanted when he wanted it, and he didn’t waste time moping over what might have been. 

Oh sure, some things stuck with him, (Like blood swirling through dirty water, limbs floating by as he failed again and again to strike a single blow against the bastard who’d done that. Like blood on his own hands and a small body crumpled on the floor of the nightmarish tunnel he’d been told to guard, a face that became familiar too late stuck forever in an expression of betrayal.) but for the most part he let any regret he might feel go as he focused on his next big plan.

Even now that he was dying for good when he should have had a few more centuries of life in him, Greed didn’t have any regrets. It had been less than five minutes since he’d found out he’d been deluding himself about what he wanted for his entire existence, but he’d always been quick to adapt.

He’d found his way to what he’d truly desired regardless.

Ed was a good friend. That was why so many people cared about him. And it was obvious he cared about Greed, even if Greed never got around to telling him he felt the same way.

He hadn’t thought that Lan Fan girl liked him at all, but now she was looking up at him with hurt in her eyes, like she really cared that he was dying before they could get to know each other better. She was tough as nails, that one, and the most loyal person he’d ever met. It was a pleasant surprise that she had any positive feeling for him at all.

And, of course, there was Ling.

Ling was…everything. 

Everything a guy like Greed could hope for and more. 

Kind enough to want power not for himself but to help his people, and selfish enough to refuse to trade any of those people to get it. Smart and calculating, ruthless when necessary but never needlessly cruel, fucking deadly with a blade. 

Not to mention perceptive enough to see through Greed’s bullshit, with all the patience needed to ease Greed into seeing through it himself. Greed probably never would have recognized that what he truly wanted was friendship–much less admitted to it–without Ling’s influence.

Ling was the best friend Greed had ever had.

Leaving him hurt. Lying to him hadn’t felt too great either. 

But it was the only way to keep his father from killing Ling too, so Greed didn’t regret that either. He was far too greedy to let someone kill his best friend.

No, Greed didn’t have any regrets as he looked down, taking in the sight of his friends one last time. It really had been enough.

Ling looked away from Greed, which was a little disappointing. From his vantage point, drifting away above the battlefield, Greed could just barely hear Ling say Lan Fan’s name.

The girl nodded once, a determined look on her face, and then…threw something at Greed? 

Rude! No respect for the soon-to-be dead.

Whatever it was seemed to warp in shape as it sailed through the air, its arc unerringly bringing it right between Greed’s eyes. It was bright red.

Greed realized that it must be the philosopher’s stone Lan Fan had found right before it hit him.

The untethered, floating sensation that had been carrying Greed out of this lifetime disappeared, and he felt he’d been swimming in a giant tub when the plug was pulled, carried down and down by an irresistible current. 

The sky and the battlefield and his friends all disappeared, and Greed found himself once again suspended in a familiar, red-tinged void. The screaming around him was as loud as it had ever been–something you got used to and stopped hearing unless something reminded you to listen after a while–but Greed could tell that it was different than before. New voices from a new stone.

(Greed wondered if he could talk to all of these souls, get to know them like Ed’s dad had done for the ones in him, or if you needed to start that right after the stone was made so people didn’t have time to lose their sense of self.)

Something shifted again, and Greed found himself looking across the void of souls and into Ling’s face. Just like old times.

Ling didn’t struggle to find his footing this time, body and mind already accustomed to sharing this space with Greed. After barely a second to reorient himself to the new stone, Ling’s eyes locked onto Greed and he surged forward.

And punched Greed in the face. 

Once again, rude! Everyone was attacking him today, and he didn’t even have his ultimate shield in here to protect himself.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You idiot,” Ling snarled, winding back to punch Greed again.

Greed was ready this time, and projected an arm for himself to catch Ling’s hand. Ling reached to hit him with the other hand, and Greed caught that too. Ling struggled to keep swinging at Greed, but the homunculus didn’t let him go.

“Why am I an idiot? I just saved the day, ya know.” This really was not the reaction Greed was anticipating for his noble sacrifice.  

“You were only thinking about yourself!”

“That’s kind of my whole deal, Ling.”

“No it isn’t,” Ling insisted. “You know it isn’t. And you lied to me! You promised we’d rule Xing together and then you left me.”

Ling was crying.

Ling was sobbing, and he’d stopped trying to pull away from Greed’s hands, clinging to them instead.

“You left me,” Ling repeated. “I was all alone. I don’t want to be alone like that again. It doesn’t matter if Lan Fan had a philosopher’s stone, I need you.” 

All the regret Greed hadn’t felt as he was dying slammed into him now. 

He hadn’t meant to upset Ling. He’d never wanted to make Ling cry. He’d been trying to protect him, to save him.

Regret and guilt churned uncomfortably inside of Greed.

Hesitantly he pulled Ling toward him and into a hug. Or as close to a hug as two soul projections–one human shaped and the other mostly a floating face–could have.

Ling went easily, wrapping his arms around Greed so tightly it might have been a problem if Greed needed to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Greed murmured, the sound nearly lost to the cacophony around them. “It was the only thing I could think of to keep you safe. Father was going to kill you, too.”

“We could have fought him together,” Ling argued. “We should have fought him together.”

They really shouldn’t have–they would have both ended up dead–but Greed didn’t say that. Instead he just rubbed a hand over Ling’s back in a way he hoped was soothing.

“Please don’t leave me again.” Ling whispered.

“Never.” Greed wrapped his arms even tighter around Ling. “I’ll never leave you again if I have any choice about it. I promise.” 

He hoped Ling believed him, but he couldn’t be sure how much trust he’d damaged with his one and only lie.

Ling pulled back, and Greed reluctantly let him go. 

He didn’t go far, just putting enough space between them to look into Greed’s face. 

Before leaning right back in and kissing Greed.

Greed’s mind screeched to halt. This wasn’t something he’d ever expected, and only partly because in this form Greed didn’t have what would traditionally be considered a human mouth.

Ling was amazing. Ling was perfect, really, and he was a prince. He could have anyone in the world, so why the hell was he wasting his time kissing Greed?

Ling pulled back when Greed didn’t respond, too stunned to kiss back. The prince looked embarrassed and a little afraid.

“I’m sorry,” Ling rushed to say. “I should have asked first, or–or not done that at all. I was just–I was so scared when you were gone, and then I was so relieved to have you back, but that’s no excuse. Please forgive me, we can forget that this ever–”

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Greed took Ling’s face in both his hands and pulled him in for another kiss.

It was better than Greed had ever imagined, and not just because he’d never let himself imagine it. He’d wanted it, of course. Ling was his person, the one he could admit–at least to himself–that he cared about as more than a possession even before he’d realized that he wanted that with the others too. Ling knew Greed better than Greed knew himself, and that went both ways. Of course he wanted Ling to be his in every way.

But people had to want to belong to him, or there wasn’t any point to it. And Greed still wasn’t sure what Ling saw in him.

He definitely saw something. He pulled Greed impossible closer and deepened the kiss.Greed was a bit worried at first about his own sharp teeth, but judging from Ling’s enthusiasm, that wasn’t even a problem.

Eventually they pulled apart again, and this time Ling grinned at Greed.

“Does this mean you still want to come rule Xing with me?”

Greed laughed and tucked a bit of hair behind Ling’s ear as he answered. “Yeah, of course I’ll rule Xing with you. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was no King of the World, but Greed had never truly wanted that anyway. He would gladly rule a country with Ling. He would gladly rule just one clan with Ling.

Greed would happily move to a farm and rule nothing but a bunch of chickens if Ling asked him to.

He knew the hurt was still there from his lie, from his near death. He could feel it in the way Ling clung to him, afraid he’d disappear if he let go for a moment. 

Greed would spend the rest of their lives making that up to him. And with the brand new philosopher’s stone within them, he would have plenty of time to do it.

[idaten-jump]

Chilli earring joke based on this post.

Poor Taiga answering zoom calls for his brother all day and this is the thanks he gets!

[lady-starkiller]

the fact I wasn't alive to go to a bruce springsteen concert in the 1980s...FUCK

[the-magpie-archives]

Hey um. So it's my birthday party tomorrow, and i was just wondering did you maybe wanna come and talk about emulsifiers or something? I'm sure you have lots of interesting things to say about emulsifiers.

[something-about-sunflowers]

You ever find yourself like. Planning something nice for someone else. That you don't have to and are not expected to do. And like. Having to stop yourself and remember that. Nobody does that kind of shit for you?

[notasapleasure]

I'm covered in paint, we still need a few ceilings to go up, there's all kinds of stuff to do before we can even think about moving in but....it is going to be SUCH a lovely home when we get there <3

[steampoweredskeleton]

Ignore

[narukoibito]

since feeling is first who pays any attention

Summary: Ginny has done her fair share of watching Harry over the years.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This was originally a gift for the wonderful @remedialpotions for the 2020 Harry & Ginny Discord's Incognito Elf gift exchange that I always wanted to rework before posting! I decided to expand it and add more missed moments, one for each of Ginny's years at Hogwarts.

Special thank you to @takearisk-ao3 who not only beta'ed last minute but also created the above beautiful banner when she had no idea what this story was about aside from my poor vibe descriptions! And, hah, it's my birthday again, so why not post today?

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world

my blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry —the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph

and death i think is no parenthesis

— e. e. cummings

i.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. It’s her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t seem the least bit upset.

Harry Potter.

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she has always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here in their ordinary home.

He isn’t what she expected—isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different. He wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying or of doing everything her brothers could and more. Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in.

Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found a comrade in Ron instead.

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older. Or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the apothecary Mum sometimes takes her to. Pretty and kind and not at all dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

“Going to ask for his autograph, Ginny?”

Ginny lets out an uncharacteristic squeak as Fred sidles up against her, with George flanking her other side.

“Or are you going to yell at us about how the great Harry Potter is different?” George teases.

“Not just brave—”

“But humble too!”

“What a catch.” Fred pretends to swoon.

“If only he’d notice me, Fred.” George sighs dramatically.

Ginny glowers at them, shoving away from her hiding spot. “Stop it.”

“Or what?” Fred and George laugh, loudly enough that Ron and Harry glance over curiously. Already she can feel her face flame even as her eyes narrow.

“Or I’ll tell Mum about that powder you snuck into your rooms.”

She turns her heel just in time to see her brothers’ faces drain of color. With as much dignity she can muster, she storms back up the stairs. She immediately collapses on her bed, but the soft afghan does nothing to ease the embarrassment that burns behind her eyes.

The worst part is that there’s no one for her to talk to about how seeing Harry Potter—or him looking at her—sets off a blazing sensation somewhere in her chest that horrifically travels up to her face like a rash. It’s foreign and strange, nothing she’s ever experienced before.

She has no one to talk to about it. Ron has hardly spared her a second glance since Harry arrived. Fred and George tease her mercilessly. Percy, preoccupied with his shiny badge, just tells her she should focus on her studies so she can be a prefect like him one day. And there is no way Percy or Mum would let her borrow an owl to send a letter to Bill or Charlie.

Maybe some things are best kept secret. She’s used to taking matters in her own hands, picking locks the Muggle way after watching Fred and George do it. The hum of power under her fingers when she steals their brooms reminds her that age, gender, and size don’t define her. She’d rather they stop being berks and let her fly with them, but she has grown to love the uninhibited freedom of flying at night. And it’s made a touch sweeter by the thrill of something being just hers in a house and family where everything is shared.

Still. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in.

She’s brimming with foreign feelings, the bursting anticipation of finally, finally going to Hogwarts. It’s all she’s ever wanted since Bill went, so much that she snuck into his luggage, craving escapades and escape. All these feelings are strangely accentuated by Harry Potter in her home.

She lets out a sigh, finally unburying her flushed face. Her gaze falls on her cauldron, filled with the fanciest, most expensive, brand new books that Harry Potter had gifted her (her, not Ron, not anyone else). The thought makes her insides flutter.

Maybe if she studies hard, Harry Potter might see that she’s not too little and annoying. Maybe he will tell Ron to let her stay, let her join them.

Ginny is pulling out Year with the Yeti when a small black notebook slips onto the floor. She stares down at it for a moment, temporarily dazed. Had Dad bought this for her?

The little journal is faded but retains a simple prettiness, almost as if there’s more to it than its worn cover. Something about it seems to draw her in. Mum always says never judge a book by its cover.

She leans down to pick it up, and a small thrill shoots up her arm. Her fingers skim over the clean, crisp pages.

She hardly ever gets anything of her own.

So unaccustomed to being without someone her age, she’d taken to chronicling stories, events, and adventures—placeholders for the real thing—as a way to cope without her brothers. Dad would peek into her room sometimes, his eyes twinkling when he caught her writing. He must have known she’d want to remember every moment of her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny presses the book against her chest, falling back onto her bed.

How much of it will be filled with the Boy Who Lived?

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[dazais-guardian-angel]

delighted that i'm so much more fond of chuuya at this point than i was just a couple years ago. it took the stormbringer play, the cannibalism play, and the fifteen manga (still haven't gotten to those two novels in their entirety, I Will Soon I Promise), it took 6ish+ years, but i can confidently say I Get It Now. Now i just need asagiri to break him (affectionate) in the manga and actually give him a character arc already <333