#and i needed to cheer myself up

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[beefcakekinard]

They're halfway through the world's most grueling game of poker - seriously, why bother to teach himself how to whistle The Good, The Bad and the Ugly when all his coworkers are so bad at this - when Buck's phone starts buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.

Buck breaks from staring at his cards to check the caller ID, and his face melts from constipated-and-or-in-thought to something obnoxiously smitten. He tosses his cards down and folds himself out of his seat, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Tommy," he says. He ducks his head, grinning, and blushes.

Intent on making fun of him, Chim turns to Hen - just in time to catch her trying to sneak a peek at his cards.

-

"You know, the other day, Tommy said-"

Happy for him, happy for him, happy for him, Chimney repeats in his head. He grunts as his shovel hits a rock too hard, sending an ache radiating up his bones. The air is hot, dry, and suffocating, and they've been digging this line for hours - god only knows where Buck is finding the energy to keep talking like he is.

Happy for him. Happy for him.

Buck launches full-throttle into another anecdote. Chimney bites his tongue.

-

Buck doesn't seem to notice Tommy until he's standing right beside the pub booth they're all crammed into.

"Tommyyy," Buck says breathlessly, drunkenly, dragging out the final syllable like he's forgotten to stop. Judging by the dumb joy on his face and the way his eyes are all but literally sparkling, Chim would put his money on Buck forgetting he was saying anything at all.

"Hey," Tommy says as he insinuates himself closer into Buck's bubble. He cradles Buck's upturned face in his hands and kisses his forehead. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Buck sighs.

Maddie jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. Tucked into him, her eyes bright in the low amber lighting and her cheeks flushed in a way identical to, well, something he shouldn't be thinking about in public, Howie feels his heart do a loop-de-loop.

In the corner of his eye, Buck and Tommy are still wrapped up in each other. Yeah, okay, he gets it.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

was talking to my brother the other day after i rewatched dark phoenix and he was like 'why is everyone so mean to charles in this movie?? were they always this mean to him ?? is it cause he's bald now- he lost his pretty privilege??' and i fear i havent recovered

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Takara no Vidro Iwase Yoji as Takara Episode 10

[cuubism]

I've been sitting on this little happy ficlet for absolute ages because there was a time I thought I might incorporate it into another fic. That seems increasingly unlikely though, so here it is.

--

The Dreaming was beautiful when Dream was happy.

It wasn’t always beautiful, though Hob would never say those words to Dream. It was always magnificent, always awesome in the old sense of something grand and beyond understanding. It was terrifying sometimes, too. But in Hob’s opinion, the Dreaming was really only beautiful when Dream was happy.

Like now.

Lying on his back in the wildflowers, bare arms thrown back above his head, dressed down in a black t-shirt and long flowy skirt, feet bare. Happy crinkles at the corners of his closed eyes, the barest hint of a smile that might have been bright as the sunrise for how it looked on Dream’s usually subtle face. The bumblebees and dragonflies that kept landing gently on him and brushing off again in cheerful spirals, as if delighted by their creator’s presence.

Hob had never been to this part of the Dreaming before, which, admittedly, wasn’t saying much when the Dreaming was effectively infinite. Dream had brought them to an expansive field of yellow grasses and rowdy wildflowers of green and teal and mauve and a hundred other colors one would never see in the waking world. It wasn’t Fiddler’s Green; it was wilder than that: rock bluffs dotting the fields in the distance, an endless grey-blue sky that was clear for now but threatened to tip towards rain at any moment, sweet warm wind that tugged on Hob’s hair with grabbing hands. A fierce, untamed landscape holding itself gently, for now.

That was the way Dream was beautiful, Hob thought.

He leaned on his elbow, looking down at Dream’s peaceful expression where he lay beside him. As he watched, an iridescent wasp lit upon Dream’s nose, its six sharp legs stark against his pale skin. Hob moved instinctively to scare it off, before remembering that this was the Dreaming, and stilling his hand.

The wasp didn’t try to sting Dream, of course it didn’t. This dream space lived on the border of danger, but wherever it touched Dream, it turned soft, indulgent, adoring.

Dream opened his eyes to look at the wasp. He didn’t say anything to it, at least not in any way that Hob could understand, but he stroked a very light finger along one filigree wing, and it flitted off again, away back to its hauntings.

In its absence, Hob traced a fingertip down Dream’s profile, in much the same way he had touched the wasp. Dream’s eyes fluttered shut again at the touch.

“They all love you,” Hob said.

Dream hummed. “I feel a particular accord with this landscape,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips at Hob’s words.

“Yeah, it reminds me of you. More than the Dreaming as a whole usually does.”

“Oh?”

Hob sat upright and tugged Dream up with him, brushing strands of grass from Dream’s hair. Then he kissed him softly on the lips and said, “Constantly on the verge of thundering.”

Dream grumbled under his breath, something about making it rain in Hob’s flat later. Hob just kissed him again, this time on the cheek, saying, “That wouldn’t be the most fun way to end a date, darling.”

“I suppose not.” Dream leaned back to meet Hob’s eyes, his expression now glinting with mischief. “I did have other plans. But if you insist on thundering.”

He blinked, and the sky split open with a tremendous crash, rainwater pouring down in a torrent that soaked them both immediately to the bone. Hob noted with amusement that Dream was letting himself get wet, too. His shirt was sticking to his narrow frame, skirt clinging to each bend of his legs. And his normally fluffy hair was unmentionable.

Hob grinned widely at him, water streaming over his nose and lips, dripping into his eyes. “The things you will do just to have your way.”

Dream’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Must I have you struck by lightning, as well?”

“C’mere, you.” Hob dragged him into a hug, wet and sticky and clinging, as the rain kept pounding down and sinking into the grass around them. Flowers were nodding under the weight of the droplets, and the corners of the sky had gone dark and grey — but Dream was happy, was the thing. Hob could tell by the way he let Hob manhandle him into the hug, pressed the side of his face against Hob’s, the twitch of a smile on his lips that Hob could feel against his cheek. Storms in the Dreaming were so often indicative of Dream’s sadness or rage, and it was thrilling to be caught up in one that was born of playfulness instead.

The rain was even warm.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob told him.

“Everything you say is at random,” Dream complained, somewhat hollowly considering he still had his fingers clutched in Hob’s dripping shirt.

“Nah. You just don’t understand the incredibly complex workings of my mind.”

He could sense Dream’s eye roll without having to see it.

“Isn’t it simple enough to just know that I always think you’re beautiful?” he asked, quieter now and almost hushed out by the rain. “It’s like the sky. It’s really always beautiful, but sometimes you catch it at a certain angle and you think, oh.”

“I am, in fact, also the sky in the Dreaming,” Dream said — just to be ornery, Hob thought. But then he said, softer, “You have a gentle perspective of me.”

It was true, Hob thought, that most might not look at this tempestuous landscape with generosity, might not be so easygoing about its overbearing rain. But Hob saw Dream smile and all he wanted was to tip his face up into the storm.

He ran his hands through Dream’s sopping hair. “You can count on that.”

[kazuhas]

💗💗💗

[lynzishell]

The Present ❤️ Selvadorada

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: The sun is starting to go down; we should head back. Atlas: Yeah, you’re probably right. There’s a lookout over here. Do you want to check it out real quick? Or should we turn back now? Asher: We can take a look. A few minutes won’t hurt.

Atlas: Did you mean what you said earlier? That your wish is to be with me forever? Asher: Of course I meant it. Atlas: You know I want that too, right? Asher: I know.

Atlas: The only reason it didn’t occur to me to wish for it is because I’m already yours, for as long as you’ll have me, and I hope that’s forever, but I don’t want it to be because of a wish, I want us to be together because we wake up every day and choose to be.

Asher: I want that too; you know I do. The whole wish thing, it was just a hypothetical.

Atlas: I know. It’s just… Look, I don’t know how to do this, so I’m just going to ask you, okay? Asher: Ask me what?

Atlas: Will you marry me?

Asher: Really? Atlas: Really.

Asher: Hell yes, I’ll marry you!

Atlas: I love you. Asher: I love you too. Atlas: Not to ruin the moment, but we only have an hour to get out of here before it gets dark. Asher: Shit. Okay. Five more seconds and then we can go.

[krimsnkramsart]

[solanj]

[multicolour-ink]

Baby Mario and Baby Luigi all swaddled up.

Baby Mario wriggling closer to Baby Luigi like a determined caterpillar.

[stbot]

Willow (2022) is a romcom, change my mind

[mjn-air]

[bipolareffigy]

Adamantium poisoning this, expiring healing factor that…what if they see it coming. What if Worst Logan and Wade learned from Prime Logan and they find a way to stop the poisoning. What if there was a new procedure to strip the adamantium from Logan’s bones and give him centuries that he didn’t have before because they can’t bear to be apart.

What if Wade and Logan are both there, at the heat death of the universe, the last ones to see what the world has become, and they can handle it because they will be together.

What if they get to exist as the only living beings forever, and they have no one left but each other.

What then.

[shakingparadigm]

It's a bit silly that found it unlikely for Luka and Till to be the final match back then. The more that I thought about it, the more it made sense. Sure, Luka and Ivan are incredibly similar in terms of personality and image, but in terms of circumstance Luka and Till are opposite sides of the same coin. I really couldn't envision a better matchup.

[surreal-duck]

snail in my ear telling me to draw them 32098 more times: me, listening to the snail:

[cremedensada]

quick art. whitney and meiko (my pc) at the park or something.