#half. ok. 👍

[bug4932]

everyone tristan appreciation post for @byronvera 's birthday or im killing a hostage (byron)

[larabar]

moodboard

[vampiresinthedaylight]

Learning to color again w/ these guys

[fraternum-momentum]

HAHHAHA JOKES ON YOU I WON EITHER WAY./j, lh

I love toxic yuri… thanks for blessing us 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

!!!!

[singscribbles]

ah… a monster…

[worstloki]

love the idea of the Avengers adding new members but being stingy about rooms so the OG Avengers each get their own but Bucky and Loki are forced to share one under the guise of it being 'healthy interaction'

[krismatic]

real salmon hours with pearl [hermitcraft s10 animatic]

[maxthesillyy]

if Feral Max met Half-Dead Alex i think

[trainingdummyrabbit]

[She expected to feel scared. And perhaps she was, on some level. But it was the type of fear that danced on the edge of excitement. The silent promise of a “This is It.”]

Or: A post-Ruina musing of the library and Angela.

.

Angela was used to silence. There had always been moments of screaming chaos, sights she'd passed over that anyone softer than herself would retch at; it was all par for the course. But the moments that had really clung to her had always been the silence.

Moments between loops spent alone, staring at flickering screens disconnected from minds just out of reach, asleep. Lulls in management as she waits for the inevitable shoe to drop, casting everything back into cacophony. Isolated, as she stared at the unbuilt bricks of the future she would carve for herself, made of others’ hopes and dreams. The type of absence that had no true voice to complain, but eyes that casted judgement. The wordless pressure of resentment. 

She never much liked silence. 

…Even still, she found herself returning to the balcony, again and again. There was much work to be done, of course. Repairing the library was a tall task after the mess that was made of it, especially now that she was piloting with her own will. She did not mind– this sort of task was simply in her nature. Direct, organize, rebuild. This time, however, she was not on her own.

It was an odd thing to get used to, working so closely with those she had such a… complicated history with. And though they seemed willing enough to help, something still itched at the back of her mind. Again, the echo of that pressing silence rolled in and, against her nature, she found her mind wandering. And there she was again, staring out into that seemingly endless distance, in the spot where they’d lost one home and gained another.

It was a strange feeling. She thought she'd have had enough of this by now, casting herself back into the embrace of solitude. She had expected it to grate on her mind as it always did, enveloped in the downy cling of distance. It was something she had always done. Welcomed her like the incessant tug of a spider's thread. And yet, despite it all, the circling, the thrashing, the running– she could not feel that weight. No, in fact, she felt lighter than ever. She did not get what she wanted. She no longer had any failsafes– no lifeline to cling to, no beaten paths to follow. It was just her, the city walls in the distance, and the expanse of a world she had never gotten the chance to see. All here, right here, right now. 

She'd expected to feel resentment. Another plan she couldn't follow through on, another ending ruefully snatched from between her fingers. Another life that was robbed of her, from right under her nose. But… something was different this time. This expanse was empty, yes, but the wind whistled across it as it would anywhere else. The sun still rose and set, casting everything into hues uncapturable in the frames of pictures. Stars still hung in the sky, numerous, dancing. And here she was, capturing it all in her own two eyes. 

This world– this life– was still unforgiving. She had heard stories of the outskirts, of the creatures that lurked there, of the horrors that played out, again and again. But… was that not true of anywhere? Of everything she had gone through, this would not be the one to put her down. For once in her life, she realized, that voiceless gaze that had hung over her all this time… she could no longer feel it. She no longer worried of her presentation, that heavily enforced dance she was compelled to follow. This time was different. This time… this time she was truly an outlier. 

There was a difference between Silence and Quiet. 

Silence implied the lack of movement. Stillness. Silence implied solitude. A plane of glass between the self and the outside world, plainly in view but painfully distant. It’s the denial of the senses, and the dissolution of the self. Silence was what was expected of her. But quiet… quiet was a relief. She was alone, yes, but not truly. Even standing alone, facing the world with naught but her own thoughts, even still the distant shuffle of movement could be heard. Barely audible voices, squabbling, laughter. Breathing. Alive– it was alive. She was alive. Quiet was a respite. The lull of ocean waves, and a breath taken to start again. 

Start again. 

That was what she always wanted, right? The chance to begin anew, the chance to stand on her own two feet. The opportunity to forge forward through uncertainty. This was what she fought for. No, this was what they fought for. After so long stumbling blindly through layers and layers of darkness, the maze of human fear and desire, here she was. Once again she looked off into the distance, the sun gently making its descent behind the horizon line. And for a moment, that was simply all. Streaks of color, dimming skies, and the silent sigh of the open air. Yes, maybe a bit of quiet would do her some good.

And for a good few moments, she simply watched the sun go down. She could not feel the breeze, but she could see the ends of her sleeves ruffle in its current, hear the faint whistle of the rush past the library’s boughs. Alive. And she raised her gaze, up towards the tiny pinpricks of light slowly peeking their way through the waning reach of sunlight. And watched. Captured neatly in her gaze. This moment was hers and hers alone. And nobody could take it from her. 

Quiet. 

…And then, slowly, gently; she pulled her eyes from the glittering stars above and turned away from the balcony railing– committing every tiny light to memory. They may not have gotten what they wanted, but this was far from the end. It was nothing more than a slight detour. Nowhere to go but straight ahead. There was always more work to do. And with a silent nod to nobody but herself, Angela walked back inside. Ready to take the next step.

[elliotly]

i wish more ppl understood that for things to happen as an adult sometimes you need 1) money 2) time

[technoria]

theres webbing on the lighter gray i just didnt feel like adding it ok 👍 its me! yay

[timothylawrence]

this whole Olympic mess is so triggering lmao. I grew up being masculinized for having “manly features” up until like college. those manly features being Arab ones btw

[cant-get-no-worse]

thinking about how messi has the barcelona logo tattooed on his leg…….

Girl, remember when the blurry pics hit right in the middle of the pre-transfer window drama too? The man chose his moment and tbh in retrospect what a move. Some 4D chess king was playing.

[desperatepleasures]

just tried to go to sleep and failed bc I realized something devastatingly funny about my wip

if kantarou is hustling free meals out of hasumi and is partially motivated by saving money so that haruka doesn't starve. then I've. well lads I've invented trickle down feedism 😔

[catboytb]

i think my entire history of drawing has lead up to me making smthing like this tbh

[drysauce]

if i had a nickel for every time my flatmate came into my and roommate's room at 23:30 to hang her laundry i would have two nickels