#i have no idea what to post anymore

[miwtual]

It was a desperate gamble on a domain expansion lasting two-tenths of a second.

呪術廻戦 JUJUTSU KAISEN (2020—) 2x09, “Shibuya Incident - Gate, Open”

[stealingyourbones]

Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasn’t the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Superman’s friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional being’s reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional being’s powers during a fight. Sure there’s a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.

[citrusai]

taash said "they were doing it" and people ran with the interpretation of an npc that doesn't know solas or the history of the elvhenan even when bellara interjected and said, no, that's not right. that's not how it was for the elvhenan. they formed bonds before they had physical bodies. and people ran to doompost or create weird anti-solavellan shit even though mythal & solas refer to each other as old friends and when she releases him there is no tenderness or love in it. it is the act of unchaining a dog from his post, the stepping down of a general. but to each their own ig.

[heshemejoshi]

the end

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[chellychuu]

[celestecreation]

There's a new shirt in roblox It's called the pickle rock shirt

[stillwaterinc]

i have nowhere to put my batman thoughts so they’re going here

jason comes back as the red hood, planning to take out his little replacement or at least hurt him bad enough that he drops the suit and lets robin die but suddenly, a month before his plan is to start, robin disappears. and so does the joker.

what? jason looks, he scours security cameras and internet forums, even weasels his was into the gcpd’s files and…

nothing. there’s nothing.

no bodies reported, joker’s not in arkham or black gate or any other prison, he hasn’t finally been given the death penalty he just. disappeared.

he can’t find anything on robin either, or tim drake, for months until he stumbles upon a nearly perfect patient file in some hospital records.

nearly. it’d be perfect to anyone else but jason, even years later, can recognize bruce and barbara’s finger prints all over it. it’s a cover. a cover for what though? he reads through the file, tim drake’s file, presumably and finds… well.

someone clearly tortured the kid, and with the meds he was being prescribed it got to him. it would’ve gotten to anyone.

jason shudders reading the initial injury report. electric burns, lots of them, are what catches his eye the most but there’s all kinds of stuff. what catches his eye the most though is the lacerations that had to be stitched either side of the kid’s mouth. shit.

he doesn’t get the full picture, not yet, but pieces are starting to come together. the joker has been missing for a while, just a little longer than jason’s replacement has been in the hospital for some violent injuries.

the joker is missing.

tim drake is in the hospital.

something happened, clearly. the joker did something to tim, something awful, something bad enough that the joker disappeared and the kid’s been in the hospital for weeks.

bruce didn’t make it in time, only this time robin wasn’t dead, he’d been broken.

someone had gotten to robin, to tim drake, before jason could, had gotten to him so badly that even after he was released he wasn’t robin anymore.

not because he didn’t want to be, a few bugs here and there in the manor let him know that much, but because bruce wouldn’t let him.

it comes out, in one of these arguments, that time killed the joker. shot him dead. and jason almost wants to congratulate the kid for it, or wants to strangle bruce and ask him how the hell he let robin, who’s just a kid, tim, who’s just a fucking kid, get anywhere near a position where he had the means and desire to fatally shoot the joker.

because that’s it, isn’t it? the reason jason’s like this, doing this, is because of the joker. jason knows how to use guns because of the joker. he’ll never go to college like a normal kid because of the joker. and now tim.

tim wants to be robin, asks for it, begs bruce to let him back out in the suit and jason nearly finds himself agreeing with bruce. the joker’s gone sure but what if someone else tries the same thing? what if someone tries worse? being in the suit’s already gotten tim this much pain, why risk more?

it hits jason, one night, that he stopped being angry at tim a while ago. a long while. he can’t be angry at bruce either, because the joker is dead. there’s no one to enact vengeance for his death on anymore.

anyways most of my posts are about incest please don’t follow me for batman content

[dawnthefluffyduck]

tell me what you want from me

[rillils]

🌸 post-catws stucky + lovers’ kiss

one.

The thing about grief is, it has a habit of dropping by every once in a while, unannounced and insistent like a nosy suburban neighbor.

It’s a contrary little creature. Some days it strikes hard, and crushes Steve’s chest with the brutal force of a frothing waterfall. Sometimes, though, it comes in droplets; little pills that get stuck in his throat for a minute, until he can swallow them down.

Steve doesn’t mind those too much: sure, the aftertaste is bitter – but there’s always a spoonful of honey at hand to help wash it down.

two.

There’s a morning ritual Steve is particularly fond of.

When the coffee has been made, and the first sip taken, he nudges their mugs to the side, and crowds Bucky back against the kitchen counter, arms braced on either side of him to box him in. Bucky watches him come with a knowing grin, a gleam in his eyes that says, well, all right, he’ll let Steve believe that he’s leading this little dance here, just this once.

But it’s Bucky who pulls him in the rest of the way; Bucky who sets his hands low around Steve’s waist, and brings their bodies flush together from hip to knee, delight written in the pretty curve of his lips.

“Hey there, sailor,” he teases. His morning voice is a dark, rich thing, rough around the edges but soft at its core, sweet with that old Brooklyn drawl that brings Steve right back home.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he chuckles against Bucky’s smiling lips, their breaths warm between them. “Fancy meetin’ ya here.”

It’s a ritual. Aren’t all kisses a ritual? Well-learned steps and a worshipful heart, the motions so ingrained they come naturally to your limbs.

Their mouths brush together, easy. Unrushed, like time will slow down for them if they’ll just deign to ask.

Bucky’s head tilts just so in Steve’s hands, and the kiss opens up, spilling its molten heat on Steve’s tongue, stroking inside to taste him, easy, easy.

It’s a long-practiced dance. If Bucky pushes, Steve will give; if Steve strays to flutter kisses all over Bucky’s bristly cheek, Bucky will grin and chase after him, and steer Steve back towards his lips.

It’s lazy. Uncomplicated. It’s their first conversation of the day, and Steve can just make out the words in the whisper of Bucky’s hair running through the gaps between his fingers; in the hushed rustle of his own t-shirt, when Bucky’s hand slips under the hem and slides warmly up the dip of Steve’s spine, leaving a trail of pebbled skin in its wake.

You’re here, Bucky’s touch says, awed and reverent.

Always, Steve says back, and kisses that vow to Bucky’s lips for Bucky to find later, when he’ll brush his fingertips against it, and the well-loved flush of his mouth, red and sweetly sore, will remind him of this. Of always.

Parting from him is agony, but breathing is an unfortunate necessity in life – so Steve pulls back, though only just enough to drink Bucky in, his arms wrapped snugly around Bucky’s waist to hold him close.

He’s a sight to behold, all soft and loved up and ruffled from Steve’s own hands, his smile like a ripe fruit framed by the fullness of his beard. His eyes crinkle with it, each little crease a testament to his happiness – and Steve knows he’s gonna have to take his time kissing each and every one of those later, or he’ll simply be driven to madness.

He should get to have a whole lifetime of this, Steve thinks – a lifetime to dedicate just to this little pleasure. Seventy years at least, to make up for the seventy years gone by that could have seen them grow old and gray together, but were stolen from them instead – and then seventy years more, ninety, a hundred, as many as his old withering body will stand and breathe for.

This will be his only job: the worship of Bucky’s laugh lines, of the curling wisps of his bedhead, of his eyelashes fanning darkly against the pad of Steve’s thumb. Cherishing this treasure he holds in his hands – the one he once thought gone forever.

There it is now: a little pill lodged in his throat. The cold hand of grief squeezing around his heart again, just for a moment.

Bucky’s palms cup his cheeks, drawing Steve’s gaze up to meet his.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gentler than before, his thumb stroking soothingly over Steve’s cheekbone. “You’ve got your thinking face on. What’s wrong?”

Steve covers Bucky’s hand with his own, turning his mouth to it to kiss the warm, unyielding metal of Bucky’s palm.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he promises, leaning in to nudge to tip of his nose against Bucky’s, like a puppy. “Just busy coming up with an excuse to kiss you some more.”

Bucky’s breath puffs warmly against his lips. “Yeah? Had any luck yet?”

Steve hums pleasantly, “Mm-mmm”, locking his fingers together just above the small of Bucky’s back, and gently sways the two of them from side to side. Bucky snorts, amused, but he allows it; dropping his hands to rest on Steve’s shoulders as Steve rocks them slowly, left to right, right to left.

“Here’s what I think,” Steve rumbles. “I think I ought to give you one kiss for each day we were apart since 1945.”

Bucky stares back at him, his lips parted slightly in surprise. He takes Steve in, wordlessly, studying him from the arch of his eyebrows, to the half-crooked slope of his nose, to the hopeful smile Steve knows he must be sporting right now. There is much left unsaid, Steve can feel its weight hanging in the air between them, recognizes it by taste and sound.

But Bucky’s gray eyes shimmer, nearly crystal-clear, and they fill with the kind of big, heart-twisting emotion that cannot fit under a single label; one that is equal parts ache and tenderness, and Steve understands – his chest feels too-tight around that same ache, too.

“That’s a lot of kisses,” Bucky rasps softly, and his hand skates up Steve’s shoulder to curl over the nape of his neck, herding him one inch closer into Bucky’s space.

“Yes,” Steve whispers, leaning in the rest of the way to mash their foreheads together. He can feel his own heart beat inside his chest, a quick and steady rhythm, and a rushing sense of victory bubbles straight up to his lips, sweet and light as air. “Exactly.”

Bucky laughs, a little wetly, and laughs ever harder when Steve tries to kiss him and gets all teeth and half a nostril instead – his head thrown back and his whole body shaking joyfully, while Steve ducks in to kiss what bristly portion of Bucky’s neck he can reach.

A treasure, Steve thinks.

A treasure in his hands, and forever to hold on to it.

three.

He sits himself down at the table with a sheet of paper, a pen and a calculator, a bunch of dates marked down and circled over and over in the topmost corner.

Bucky watches him from across the room, amused and – Steve believes – a little bit impressed.

“You’re really gonna do this?”

Steve smiles up at him, throwing in one teasing wiggle of his eyebrows for good measure.

“I’m a man of my word.”

It takes nearly a whole hour of focused scribbling before he looks up again, a wide grin lit up like Christmas on his face and a torn piece of paper held up in triumph. “I have the number.”

25109.

Seventy years’ worth of daily kisses.

It’s quite the commitment. It requires dedication. But good things are always worth putting in the work, Bucky tells him, eyes dancing with laughter; and when he settles in Steve’s lap, heavy and warm in Steve’s arms, and brushes their mouths together to claim the first of what he was promised, Steve can’t help but agree.

four.

25109 kisses Steve owes him, and he initiates quite a few; but mostly, he lets Bucky ask for them, when and where the mood strikes him to do so.

When he’s right on the verge of sleep, his face half-swallowed up by his pillow, and he can’t even peel his eyes open long enough to receive his kiss – he just tips his chin up and waits for Steve to scoot closer and find his mouth, drowsily humming in satisfaction.

When he lets Steve slip into the shower with him, and slides his hands up Steve’s chest, sweet and proprietary, and their breaths mingle with the hot steam.

When he’s got his head in Steve’s lap while Steve reads, and Steve’s fingers carding through his hair at leisure; and Steve catches Bucky watching him from under his eyelashes, and trying to hide that private little grin of his, because apparently Steve was silently mouthing the words again without realizing it.

“Kiss me special, Stevie,” he’ll croon, and Steve will know.

And he’ll be all too happy to comply.

five.

Steve is supposed to keep score. He does, too. For the most part.

Once every couple of weeks or so, though, he’ll just so happen to conveniently lose count.

He’ll roll out of bed with singular purpose, and break the tragic news to Bucky over their morning coffee, barefoot and forlorn. Bucky never buys his little sob story, but that never stops Steve from batting his eyelashes at him all prettily, either.

He’ll guide Bucky’s arms to loop around his neck, luring him in, soft and stealthy like a thief, and he’ll mumble real close to Bucky’s lips, “Let’s start over again.”

And Bucky, sweet, merciful, long-suffering Bucky, will accept his fate and be kissed breathless once more, right in front of their placidly steaming mugs.

“There,” Steve will murmur, again, and again, and again. “One down, 25108 to go.”

Oh, one life won’t be enough to see the end of this, no.

And that’s exactly Steve’s plan.

***

little sidenote nobody asked for lol: obviously the number of days/kisses varies depending on when you think the boys were reunited; my wishful thinking headcanon for this specific fic is: post-helicarrier, they find each other again sometime in the fall, 2014. the ficlet is set sometime in late spring 2016, and ignores everything that comes after catws.

[eky11]

He's electric ⚡

[st4rstudent]

bugthinker but I just did whatever to him

bonus slop

[martyryo]

tw: OLD STINKY DRAWING LITERALLY TURNING ONE YEAR OLD!!!!!

Ugh never posted this cause it was before making this acc and I was barely entering the brainrot so yeah, my friend Digi found it on pinterest sjwhhwhebe.

I like the style I used but it's defo not the way I draw anymore (also it took me like 4 hours to color it cause my psychotic ass was scribbling everything with a small brush size, traditional style yk). I will redraw this at some point huhu.

Probably won't be much active the next three weeks cause I'll be on holiday and don't know if I'll have constant access to wifi. I'll draw nonetheless when I have time, , 💥 💥

[somedayslater]

i didnt read the last chapters since i discovered it was the end (but i was spoiled by tumblr lol)... i didnt want to believe it... i want to still look forward to new chapters of No Home :(

For the last few years eunyung and haejoon have been my companions. I healed a little while following the story of eunyung, feeling like its ok to be angry and wanting revenge on your family and the society that continues to want to keep you in a "house" where you are mistreated. How the world isnt made for children at all, the absolute unfairness of it all. That you can choose to keep going, and if you do so its ok to keep your distance with what hurts you.

I healed too with haejoon, who came to terms with the fact that he will always be overcome with sadness and grief from time to time, and when that happens he can only let himself feel and wait for it to pass, and try to look forward to the next day.

Honestly this manwha was the best ever. I couldnt read this manhwa as a form of escapism because it was too real. It pulled strings in my heart i didnt know i had, made me question a lot of things about myself, about others, about my relationship with others. It made me have painful discussion with a few people. Following this manhwa, most of the time, was really unpleasant lol. I hated then loved eunyoung, I liked and then disliked haejoon (yeah sorry haejoon, i think you can be really cruel and stupid and i wanted to strangle you a few times in the last arcs (i would NOT be friend with that guy lol) -thats why this character is so amazing). But i felt so much while reading it i wouldnt trade it for anything. It was funny, it was dumb, it was deep, it was enraging and healing, but most of all it was sincere. The most sincere depiction of what being a person in a deeply flawed society is, and how there's happiness even while surviving.

It was so frustrating to see the manhwa go in a direction i didnt want it to go ! I wanted it to become my cozy refuge, where every problems are magically solved, where haejoon and eunyung ends up understanding and loving each other in a cliché way, where theres a new home with my *fave charas* and its a series of feel-good interactions. Instead the problems kept pilling up, most of them didnt have a satisfactory conclusion, eunyung and haejoon kept hurting each other and distancing themselves. Haejoon just cut contact with his father without knowing what were his nefarious motives or without this guy facing any consequences, we dont know if eunyung's parents will keep bothering eunyung unchecked, we dont know if they're going to be happy and rich, or if, realistically, as orphans without generational wealth and deep traumas, they're going to end up in a shitty life situation.

And i couldnt thank wanan enough for this. They didnt take the easy way, the feel-good way, the way that would have given them a probably bigger fandom so a bigger source of money. I'm amazed by how they managed to hold this whole story so perfectly. Not a single misstep. Everything they draw was where it should have been, every action from the characters were understandable (and frustrating lol), the fucking subtlety of the developing relationships, no deus ex machina and no miserabilism. I didnt always agree with wanan's ethic or what i perceived of it (i think stealing or being violent is ok depending on the context, i dont think working hard to earn money is a virtue) but i respect how they choose to present it. I didnt talk about the other characters because honestly they didnt move me as much (except marie), but i love them so much too. I felt sad that eunyung and haejoon didnt become best friend 5ever (or even lovers hehe) but honestly, understandable lol. If i was one of them i WOULDNT become close with the other at all, so its kinda amazing they could still find this level of mutual understanding.

In short, wanan is an amazing story teller.

And an amazing image-composist (have no idea how to say this in english). The artstyle doesnt look like much, but this gave wanan a wide graphic range to convey emotions that wouldnt have been possible with a more sophisticated style i think -how will i forget the red swirlings mixing with eunyung skin ? The expressions, the choice of colors, the choice in showing something in particular without giving a clear explanation on why (often haejoon's surprised or contemplative face, which made me re-read chapters a few times to try to understand what was happening in his big head). It didnt feel like wanan thought their readers were stupid, nor did they play the fake-deep style. It was perfectly balanced.

And so even if i didnt read it, i have no doubt the end will be the same. Im so sad they decided to end this manhwa, but i know prolonging it would have been greedy and that ultimately, the manhwa would have suffer for it. Some authors do that : they have a popular series going on, and for whatever reason they keep writing new chapters without a clear goal and so the story becomes diluted, messy, useless. I love when they do this, because i can say goodbye to a story progressively as my interest in it wans, without feeling sadness or loss. But it makes me not think of the story at all in the future, since everything that was good about it became buried in new shitty chapters. Because wanan didnt do that, i know that i would think of no home for a long while, maybe forever,

,like i really lost companions when no home ended actually. Because it really, really hurts, knowing i wont be seeing new faces of the no home characters anymore. I know it sounds probably stupid ; i feel genuine grief here lol. I want to know what will happen to them, if they are alright, if they found a place in the world... if there is something to look forward after all, and i really dread not having answers every monday anymore. and the fandom is so small i cant comfort myself by re-entering the no home world every week or whatever... does anyone else feel this way ToT ? maybe i should participate myself but well,, i wouldnt know where to begin...

And saying that ! I'm almost never on this blog, i dont really have socmed accounts, i dont participate in fandoms at all. But I spent a looot of time reading and watching people who does -without being connected or interacting with posts or fanfics at all. AND i really want to thank you all for giving me so much material to chew, posts that made me think, fics that made me smile, drawings that inspired me, witnessing interactions that made me laugh. I was and i probably will continue to be a ghost on socmed, but i really want you to know that you had an impact on me and i was looking forward to your new posts (and will continue to!).

the "every no home chapter is a test of my willingness to Not blow my own brains out" and explosion eunhae monday of @skiptoyuri

the regular nohome posters which makes me happy to check tumblr regularly @shimamitsulover @lesbianpegbar @luckyswamps @tomoyoo @cloudbends @t0a2ter @solcarow @dragon-of-timeless-blue

the awesome artists who keep producing bangers nohome art @gohaejoon @maxsolosur @jjd5426 @bnnuycafe @ct-bunny @lentl-soup @fartaycat @jjd5426 @prokkoli @moxymaxing @ginangtan

the nohome posters that i enjoyed running into @pleuvoire @homolobotomized @podoro-vines @fmet @welpuu @revertrate @obstinaterixatrix @kulluto

the artists that made me interested in checking no home @cienfll @craysmo @ant-eaters @idledee @fruiitlins @froqpi-art @201918b @tinfishmeal @ohrsoh @30mingirlfriend

thanks @ditherslam for the awesome fanfics, obviously i read them all and they're some of my favourites. youre an amazing writer and i cant wait for the next chap of "your atoms"!!

thanks @homeless202 for being an insatiable nohome poster for a while (and @grannykombucha !)

im forgetting a lot of others but i really wanted to thank you all for your time, energy, work. i never interacted with your posts or with you but i really want to convey how cool it is that you all contribute to make no home a more well-known manhwa and the fandom alive

thank youuuu (hope the @ are ok tell me if its bothersome ill delete it)

and really, really, thank you wanan ! waaaa i want to cry

[jessieren]

Music Video Monday

aka I'm out of new tache photos and I just did lots of pretty screenshots of Evans in that music video...

[thelassoway]

Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Season 3 » Casual Sweaters/Jumpers