#i wish i could find that post again

[redysetdare]

someone made a post on here mentioning the song "turning out" by AJR as being aro energy and y'know what they were right and now I have a new vibe song

[juicysnoop]

watched like 7 seasons of buffy in half a month something is wrong with me anyway ... him

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[silentsockfeet]

with the obvious addendum that act 3 isn’t out yet and we can’t form true opinions until the show’s officially done, i’m still really feeling like it could have maybe benefited from a third season. they’re hitting all the right plot points and those moments are full of really intense emotion, but everything in the middle feels so underwhelming in comparison and so much of it still feels rushed to me. idk

[javierduffy]

in my head, kieran survived the o’driscoll kidnapping, but by the time he’d got back to shady belle after someone found him bleeding out in the street and took him to the doctor, the gang was gone, and he took the opportunity to escape the gang lifestyle, running off to strawberry and beginning work with the timber folks

years later, you can find him at pronghorn ranch in epilogue 1, lovingly tending to the horses in the barn when you go to scoop the manure, and he’s made an honest living for himself. and the o’driscolls are gone because sadie killed then all and he is finally safe and happy is anyone listening can anyone hear me

[slingbats]

just a reminder that I have this community going here on tumblr!

The header and icon are Gotham, but I really want this place to be able to open up to a lot more verses with more interpretations of the characters

as someone who doesn't delve into the tags/tumblr's search feature very often, I want this to be a place where people are encouraged to self-promo their works that they're proud of, or share works from others that they think deserve a spotlight

link to the community, for any interested

not spoiler free!

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

Steve is worried. He has a first date tonight. A first date with Eddie Munson.

He’s not worried that it’s Eddie. He’s excited about that. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone new since Nancy Wheeler crushed his heart in the fall of his senior year almost two years ago.

He’s worried because for him, dates usually mean dinner, maybe a movie, and then getting hot and heavy in the backseat of his car or, if he’s lucky and his parents are out of town, on the couch in his family room. He’s not worried about the dinner part. He knows he and Eddie can hold a conversation; that’s the good part about being friends first. And it’s not the sex he’s worried about, either; he’s always been good at that. He usually just does what feels good and he can’t imagine it would really be any different with Eddie. He knows it’s going to feel good, he can just tell.

What he’s really worried about are the scars on his side. He can’t do much to hide the scar around his neck, jagged and still pink. He’s resigned himself to strange looks and whispers in the supermarket. But he’s done reasonably well at hiding the, quite frankly, alarming scars that cover the better part of his left side, the skin knotted, raw, and shining. Of course, Eddie knows about them and he knows how Steve got them. Steve knows that Eddie has his own underneath all that denim and leather he’s always wearing, but it’s one thing on Eddie and a completely different thing on Steve.

Steve had watched all summer as Eddie had embraced his scars, calling them badass and doing nothing at all to hide them on days spent by Steve’s pool with the kids. The scars looked good on Eddie, Steve couldn't deny that. But Steve didn’t feel the same about his own and he rarely felt bold enough or confident enough to take his own shirt off, even on pool days. No one had seen Steve’s naked body since before Spring Break and he was nervous to take his clothes off in front of anyone, but especially in front of Eddie, who was so confident and hot in his newfound hero status, with the scars to prove it.

Steve wasn’t stupid. He knew the reason most people wanted to go on dates with him. It was partially his reputation, but mostly because of the way he looked. That’s how he’d built his reputation, after all. Now, the one thing that had gotten people to look twice at him had been compromised. He wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be now, in a post-Vecna world. He wasn’t sure what he had to offer anymore.

He stands in front of his mirror for a long time, in just his dark wash jeans. He examines his torso from every angle, wondering if there’s a way to hide the majority of his scarring from Eddie. Maybe if the lights are really low and Steve’s distracting enough in other ways, he can keep Eddie’s focus away from examining his body too closely...

Steve sighs before pulling his striped polo over his head, careful not to muss his hair. He glances at the clock and realizes that Eddie will be here any minute to pick him up. Eddie had insisted on taking Steve on their first date together, arguing that Steve’s gotten to take out a ton of girls but never had the opportunity to be taken out himself. Steve couldn’t really argue with that logic and it had made something warm and fuzzy spread through his chest that he wasn’t sure he should examine too closely at this stage in the game. He’s just happy to have Eddie’s attention on him, when he’s spent the better part of the last six months agonizing over how to get Eddie to even consider going on a date with him. Turns out, all the agonizing was for nothing. Eddie had made the first move, asking Steve to dinner when he’d picked up the kids from a one-shot campaign last Saturday.

The doorbell rings, right on time, and Steve practically runs down the stairs, grabbing his Member’s Only jacket on his way to the door and slipping it on as he turns the knob and swings his front door open. Eddie’s already grinning on the stoop.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Eddie says to him, gesturing towards the van. Steve can’t help but smile in return.

~*~

Steve was right. Dinner goes so well that he’s somehow ended up at Eddie’s trailer, on Eddie’s bed, with Eddie’s tongue in his mouth. Eddie’s bedside lamp is still on and Steve is distracted by trying to figure out how to turn it off without making this weird.

Before he can come up with a game plan for Operation: Turn Off the Fucking Lamp, Eddie’s kissing down the side of his neck, sucking on his pulse point and sinking his teeth into the vulnerable skin there. Steve lets out an embarrassing sound, halfway between a whine and a whimper, and can’t help but thrust his hips up against Eddie’s, which has Eddie chuckling against his neck and heat flooding Steve’s cheeks.

Eddie’s hands travel down Steve’s chest to the hem of his shirt and Steve can’t figure out a way of doing this without taking his shirt off. He doesn’t want to derail where this is going because it feels so good and it’s Eddie and he’s wanted this for so long, longer than he’d like to admit. So with one last longing look towards the bedside lamp, Steve allows Eddie to pull his shirt up over his head and only briefly mourns its loss as Eddie flings it across the room like it’s personally offended him. Eddie wastes no time in getting his lips back on Steve, trailing kisses and soft bites across the skin of his chest and down to his stomach. Steve can’t help but wince just a little as Eddie’s lips graze the skin of his scars.

“Everything okay up there?” Eddie asks, lips still ghosting across Steve’s skin.

“Yeah, all good.” Steve’s voice is more high pitched than normal, a little breathless. He doesn’t want Eddie to stop, not at all. He just doesn’t want him to look too closely either.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Eddie breathes out before continuing to trail kisses across Steve’s stomach. 

“I am?” Steve can't help but ask and even he can hear the surprise in his own voice.

That makes Eddie pause and Steve worries for just a minute that he’s revealed too much too soon. He’s worried that Eddie is going to pull away and say something about how this has been fun, maybe they can do something again next week. That had always been Steve’s go-to move when a girl had done something off-putting on a date and he never really wanted to see her again.

Eddie sits back slightly on his heels so that he can meet Steve’s eyes. The look on his face is so soft that Steve feels that warm fuzzy feeling spreading through his chest again.

“Of course, princess,” Eddie tells him and Steve believes him. Eddie smiles softly, reaching out his hand to brush his thumb across Steve’s cheek. He leans down to press a small kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, cupping Steve’s jaw. When he pulls back, he smirks before pulling his own worn black t-shirt over his head. “We match. Don’t you think I’m beautiful?”

“Fuck,” Steve whispers, before reaching out his hand to brush his fingertips against the skin of Eddie’s stomach. “Yes.”

Eddie leans back down to kiss Steve fully on the mouth. He spends the rest of the night thoroughly demonstrating that Steve has absolutely nothing at all to worry about. The bedside lamp stays on the entire time.

[late-night-vocaloid]

wait wait put your favorite vocal synth songs that you don't necessarily know if people would know in the tags (any level of popularity dw too much about it), the kind you can't stop replaying. what would you tell people to go listen to right now.

[midnightmoodlet-art]

I wanted to interpret what he'd look like without makeup 🫣

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[skunkes]

beginning to understand the power of a traditional sketchbook

[twilight-princess240]

I'm probably going to regret posting this and might delete it at some point, who knows, but I want to get this off my chest. I'll probably regret doing this on a public post on Tumblr later.

Is it weird to miss someone who you've only talked to briefly on here who deactivated their account for a reason or another, and since you don't know if there's any other social media out there they have along with the fact that you still didn't talk to them much, you'll probably never encounter them again?

Because that happened to me. I found an account by chance while perusing Tumblr, and I was interested in what posts were on there despite them being 18+ and NSFW. I honestly liked the content when looking through it and I even sent a message through the ask function admitting as such despite being unusually shy for some reason, maybe because at the time I didn't post anything (until my rant about my girl Alyssa Targaryen not too long ago) and I usually prefer to keep to myself.

I admittedly wasn't sure what the response would be and suddenly I felt like the biggest shrinking violet on the planet at the time. It was probably because it was the first time I had ever sent an ask on anyone's account, not to mention this was probably the first guy I reached out to on my own initiative outside of those I was already comfortable around on Discord. I was so nervous and to a certain extent, scared, because even though I was 22 at the time I never knew I could be so shy. I must have been pretty red in the face from my shyness too.

But he reached out to me about my ask through Tumblr's messages function, and he was honestly really kind. In the first message he sent to me, he thanked me for the kindness in my ask, and I was so surprised that he directly reached out to me that not only did my shyness kick in full force, I admittedly didn't respond to it for a month. When I finally responded, he understood I was shy for reasons I couldn't explain at the time, and surprisingly, despite my shyness still lingering, I felt comfortable around him. He assured me that he didn't feel uncomfortable about the fact that I liked a lot of his posts, which I was feeling really conscious about and had admitted to him. I felt like I could come out of my shell at least a bit, open up a little, at least to the point where I was willing to keep talking to him if we could. There were times where there were bumps in the road, where I wasn't sure if we had gotten off on the wrong foot or something or I was wondering if I was annoying or a load because of a tendency to just run my mouth at times, but overall I honestly enjoyed talking to him and his company even if it was solely through Tumblr's messages function.

However, it wasn't for long. We only talked for a few months, and even then, it was really brief and spread out partially due to different time zones. He was dealing with a lot of hate from anons who knew they could get away with it because they could hide behind screens. It was one of the key reasons if not the key reason why he eventually deactivated his blog, last year actually, and probably hasn't returned. Our final exchange, in October last year, was me wishing him luck since he was deleting his blog and possibly not returning, and he thanked me and wished me the best as well. And we both moved on with our lives.

But here's why I think I'm weird when concerning this topic and for even writing all this. It's because somehow, I miss him and feel a wish to reconnect with him and talk with him again. Aside from us talking very sparsely, I'm not sure if we even really knew each other after our message exchanging. As a result of all that, I feel like I shouldn't miss him. Yet I do, and I feel a strange desire to reconnect with him and talk with him again. I try to quash those feelings because not only will it probably never happen, to an extent I feel like it doesn't feel right to miss him and want to reconnect with him after only exchanging messages with him briefly and it being almost a year since he left.

Oh boy, this was practically an essay. While I do feel a bit better about getting this off my chest, I'm probably going to be cringing at myself for this and considering when to delete it as well. It scares me a bit, the fact that even though I didn't mention the person's name at all, someone might still figure out who I'm talking about and somehow get it to him. Well, it's still up in the air as to whether this is going to be deleted or not, but it all depends on how much I regret posting this and how mortified and conscious I feel at least a bit later over even writing this to begin with.

[lightningbig]

I know everyone has been talking about the psychology study u could be doing rn with qsmp but can we please talk more about the linguistic study of it bc it's so fucking COOL

[hellsite-yano]

Can't remember how exactly I came across this post (think I was just fucking about in random tags) about a transwomen describing her experiences after being raped by a transman and her explaining that she didn't report it because she didn't want to subject him to the brutality of the police. Now I get the logic somewhat, and I appreciate the rare genuine commitment to prison abolition I guess but surely leaving the known rapist within a community of already vulnerable people is just as bad if not worse right?? Am I missing something here?

[whoredmode]

killbane and his son matt whom he hates

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'