#anyways. have this nonsense. <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[xxplastic-cubexx]

welcome back to my accidental newfound journey to redraw every frame from this movie i GUESS

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."

[oifaaa]

I think one of the reasons why people think Duke is the least insane or most normal member of the batfam (aside from the just not knowing much about him) is bc hes the only bat who hasn't had beef with another member of the family I mean Duke even gets along with Jason - anyway my solution to this is that Duke should get to physically fight another member of the family and my personal pick is obviously Tim Drake

[bookrat]

A pair of Scutellosaurus have a disagreement

[snapbackslide]

happy october 🎃🏒 | 24.10.01

[lefthandarm-man]

Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanoff Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

[intotheelliwoods]

IM FREE-

Unemployed and out of school once again-

2AL will return to you all shortly o7 <3

[ambivartence]

happy birthday to my favorite kuromi lino enthusiast mel @lee-minhoe 💜

[mayordea]

“go on, praise me like a god!”

[borderlandsmostwanted]

I think the twins had the potential to be the best borderlands antagonists if they were handled properly. Like if gearbox pulled more from reality it could have been a really interesting concept about parasocial relationships, the dangers of blurring the lines between online and reality, and how idolization can turn someone into a faux god

[weirdlybeans]

CM x Halloween x Dead By Daylight crossover

[steddiehyperfixation]

it means "i love you" (steddie ficlet)

When Eddie was little, his mother used to hold his hand and squeeze it three times. "It means 'I love you'," she told him, demonstrating one squeeze for each word, "and if you want to, you can give four squeezes back to say 'I love you, too'." So little Eddie squeezed back, that time and every time.

It was something that was just theirs, a silent communication, a wordless comfort. Oftentimes it was spontaneous, just gentle, random reminders of affection whenever the feeling arose, but sometimes it was purposeful, meant to be felt deeply as an encouragement or a reassurance.

On Eddie's first day of preschool, he held his mother's hand as she coaxed him through the doors of the classroom. He hadn't wanted to leave her side, but she had smiled at him and squeezed his hand, and it was those three squeezes, sending the warmth and promise of her love through their hands, that had given him the courage to let go and bound fearlessly into the fray of the other children.

On those dark nights when Eddie's father would get a little too drunk, a little too loud, a little too angry, Eddie's hands and his mother's would find each other and squeeze. The gesture was grounding, protective, safe. Eddie could never be afraid as long as he was holding on to her love.

When Eddie's mother got sick, her health gradually deteriorating until she was bedridden and weak and could barely even speak, she still reached for her son's hand and spoke with those three squeezes. I love you. Eddie squeezed back four times. I love you, too. She held onto life as long as she did for him, he knew that, but she couldn't hold on forever. Her hand went cold and still in his and Eddie, only eight years old then, gave three last squeezes as the machines flatlined and the doctors rushed in and a nurse carried him from the room.

That was the last time he ever used that gesture to signal his love.

Over the next twelve years, Eddie found other sources of love and warmth and safety, found it in the bonds he formed with his friends and his uncle and the little lost sheep who wandered into his D&D club. These relationships did not lend to hand-holding, though, and he had since learned how to express his affection for the people he cared about through words and favors and casual, friendly touches instead, and so Eddie never shared the little language of hand squeezes with anyone else.

Until now. Until Steve.

Steve Harrington has become Eddie’s biggest and brightest source of love and warmth and safety. Through the craziness of Vecna and the Upside-Down, through the trauma of almost dying and the long process of recovery, Steve was by his side the entire time, and Eddie has grown to care for him deeply. He doesn’t just love him, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with him, actually.

They’re dating now, finally, after all the months of flirting and pining ultimately led to confessions and kissing, but it’s only been official for a few weeks. Surely it’s still too soon to be dropping the L word already. Not that Eddie would know - he’s never been in love before, never even really been in a proper romantic relationship before. He doesn’t know what the normal timeline is for this sort of thing. Steve is the one with all the relationship experience, he’s the one who’d know, and so Eddie is waiting for him to say it first.

It’s getting increasingly harder to keep it in, though. Sometimes all Eddie’s love just bubbles over, the emotion growing too big for his body and demanding to be expressed. Right now is one of those times. He can’t explain why - it’s not as if Steve is doing anything different or special; they’re just sitting across from each other in a small diner booth, knees bumping together under the table, Steve talking around a mouthful of cheeseburger as he tells a story about something stupid one of the kids did earlier - but Eddie can feel his heart expanding and his chest growing warm, and he feels like he might burst. He laughs at the story and makes a comment to continue the conversation as he catches Steve’s hand, holding it across the table and releasing his bursting affection with three quick squeezes. I love you.

Steve doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know the code or its intended response. He just smiles, squeezes back only once, and gently, idly, rubs his thumb across the back of Eddie’s hand. And that’s enough. Eddie doesn’t need Steve to know what it means, not yet. It's enough, for now, just to hold his hand, just to say it without saying it. 

Eddie starts doing this more often. Whenever his love threatens to overwhelm him, his hand finds Steve’s and squeezes three times. I love you. There’s no pattern to these moments, at least not one Eddie can predict, the feeling arising randomly and without warning at anytime, anywhere: on dates at diners or watching movies on the couch, during mundane tasks like cooking breakfast or cleaning up after hosting friends, in the middle of a kiss or in the bedroom, in the car with a gaggle of teenagers in the backseat or in the middle of Steve’s work. 

Steve still doesn’t know what it means. But Steve is smart, observant. Eddie can tell he’s starting to figure out that it means something, can see him piecing together the way those three squeezes are always accompanied by a softer smile or a deepened kiss or a gentler touch. 

It’s another few weeks until Steve one day returns Eddie’s squeezes with three of his own. ? ? ? The gesture is experimental, unsure, the meaning close but not quite there. Eddie’s breath catches anyways, his smile going soft and his cheeks flushing pink. He squeezes Steve’s hand four times. I love you, too. And Steve knows then; Eddie watches his eyes flash with understanding as it finally clicks in his brain. He doesn’t say anything, though, neither of them do. Steve just pulls Eddie closer and kisses him, soft and slow and deep, and Eddie melts into him.

Now the sun is rising, morning filtering through the window and casting streaks of light across Steve’s bed where the boys lay curled around each other. Steve is still asleep, snoring peacefully in Eddie’s arms, but Eddie is awake, quietly admiring how perfect Steve looks under the soft glow of dawn. The stripes of sunlight illuminate his bare skin with gold, highlighting the adorable little moles on his cheek and neck and shoulder. Eddie kind of wants to bite them. So he does. Because he can. 

Steve yelps when Eddie’s teeth latch onto his shoulder, driving his elbow backwards into Eddie’s stomach to push him off. But Steve is used to occurrences like this by now, so his shove is light and his tone is affectionate as he rolls over to face Eddie and mumbles, “You’re a menace.” 

“Not my fault you look good enough to eat, Stevie.” Eddie grins at him before pouncing again, smothering his boyfriend with more bites and kisses. 

Steve laughs and his attempts to shove Eddie away lack any real effort, until he finally retaliates by finding the secret ticklish spot on Eddie’s side, sending the other boy falling off of him and into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. 

“No fair!” Eddie gasps through his laughter as Steve tackles him with tickles. He admits defeat fairly quickly, breathlessly insisting, “Okay, truce, truce!” 

Steve lets himself be pushed off and settles back onto his side beside Eddie. His chuckles fade into a sweet smile, his eyes bright and shining as he stares at Eddie with an expression of pure adoration. Eddie feels his heart bursting again, the feeling growing bigger and bigger with every second that Steve keeps looking at him like that. He wants nothing more than to reach for Steve’s hand and squeeze three times, but he’s a little afraid to now that he's sure Steve knows what it means.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve speaks after a few moments of silence. 

Eddie shifts onto his side to face him completely. They're barely a breath apart. “Yeah?”

Steve touches Eddie's arm, starting from his shoulder and trailing down. His fingertips are so light as they skim the soft skin of Eddie's forearm and the palm of his hand, Eddie very nearly shivers. Steve slides his fingers between Eddie’s, closes them around his hand. “I love you,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand as he speaks, one squeeze for each word.

Eddie is overflowing, heart filled to the brim with all the love he has for Steve and all the love he feels in return. His smile spreads so wide his face might just split in two. He moves their hands between them, twisting their arms so that he can press a kiss to the back of Steve's hand. “I love you, too,” Eddie says back, with one squeeze for each word.

It's something that's just theirs now, this little language of hand squeezes.

(also on ao3)

[candycatstuffs]

Doof 101 was THE superior post pnf timeline and had the most potential for continuation actually

[rev-velvet]

AAAAAAAA Congrats Team Past!!!!! There’s something sentimental about the Squid Sisters getting that one last win, but together this time. Don't get me wrong, I 100% wanted Present to win (since I was y'know on the team), and Future fought hard. But I don't know, maybe it's the fact the last time they participated in a Splatfest it was straight up against each other, and then in the second game they literally WERE fighting each other. So for them to win the final(?) Splatfest together is just cathartic. And in a way it kinda puts the final lid onto the New Squidbeak Splatoon story line. What started out as Cuttlefish trying to relive the past turned into what it is today and for the near future. ALSO OFF TOPIC BUT I love the cute little moment Deep Cut had after the score reveal but I DO NOT like how foreboding Frye's words were like girl take that back of course you're all still gonna be together in the future right Nintendo?

[sen-ya]

let me tell y'all this week has lasted for YEARS. My ass is KICKED. sorry for not being responsive to comments/asks/messages this week 🥲🥲🥲

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!