#i'll figure it out one day lol

[bacchuschucklefuck]

we let the ocean drown out our voices/enjoying the bitterness/in the chaotic light, I close my eyes and see

[confessionseddie]

EDDIE DIAZ — 911, 2.11 "New Beginnings"

[galactaknightyaoi]

☀️ IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! 🌙

This is my gift to myself :) I drew my favorite guys ever.

For a while I've been itching to draw the wedding outfits from this post again. I made them up on the fly as I was drawing, but I actually really like how they ended up turning out. They're super cute!! (though, yet again, you can't see almost any part of Dedede's outfit... 💔)

But then I couldn't get it out of my head to make a companion piece for it, with their mirror versions. And so. I did. What they have going on is a little bit messy, though...

Marriage or divorce!! Take your pick.

[lunarharp]

shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

[rheakira]

Happy Valentine's Day! 💛💚

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Night Pool Ruki Mukami Acrylic Photo Card

[bigmammallama5]

My parents bought their 4 bed 3.5 bath house 32 years ago for $145,000 (originally $200,000). This summer a similar house a block away (similar age, 4 bed 3.5 bath, slightly smaller lot) went up for $800,000. It's since been reduced to $650,000 and they put some more work into it, but it's still on the market. I know interest and investment and overall cost of living raise prices, but that just seems like highway robbery to me.

[pizzadatez]

listen idk how many people can relate to this but i can't stop thinking abt. f/os that are touchy without even realizing it.

like !!! they always have an arm slung around your shoulder , or a hand placed on your back , or sometimes their fingers will barely graze over you because your presence is just so magnetizing to them. whenever you sit next to them there's a slow shift as they lean into you, gradually, maybe snaking a hand over yours or settling their head against your arm ...

... but then the moment anyone calls attention to it they're confused. maybe they'll be hanging out with a colleague or you'll just bring it up in random conversation , but when someone points it out they have to pause and self-reflect. me ? touchy ?? what are you talking about. when did this happen. (as if they haven't been non-stop holding your hand for the past 30 minutes)

[kitkatsgalore]

you have my soul, you have my heart ♡

[read-write-thrive]

I would love to hear more about the 'Charles’s best-friend’s-brother elaboration' :D

Absolutely!! So I say elaboration bc it’s basically me making a fic out of this post of mine where I talk about Charles getting into ska punk from a friend’s older brother (and definitely having a crush on him but Charles doesn’t know that at the time ofc)

The whole idea came about when I was doing research for what concerts Charles could’ve realistically gone to (which I listed out in a different post here) and started realising that Charles is actually a few years too late for the peak of 2nd wave ska but dies just before 3rd wave ska begins!!!! I’ve seen some people try and have it as his dad getting him into the music when he was a kid but 1. I hate his dad and 2. His dad would’ve been too early for 2nd wave imo. So, to split that time difference, I came up with the best friend’s brother idea! I was also playing around with Charles having cousins who were into ska punk, or maybe running with some older friends, but this way I get to also explore unknowingly bi baby Charles 🩷💜💙

As for what I’ve got so far: I’ve got about 600 words and a vague outline and that’s about it 😅 I’ve written an intro from Charles’s POV (the whole fic will be third person limited---I’m trying to practice Charles’s voice!) as well as the beginnings of the scene where the DBDA (specifically Crystal) ask about how Charles got into ska punk and he ends up having some Realisations iykwim

With the outline I’ve also got the names and ages of the best friend and his brother, so Neville Brown (born 1973) and Roger Brown (born 1969) are in their early stages!!! I chose Brown since the original inspiration was Hobie Brown from ATSV, and then Neville is after Neville Staples from The Specials and Roger is after Ranking Roger from The Beat. I’m not super well versed in the subculture/genre (so if these people or bands are problematic someone lmk lol) but I am in a class on Punk culture this upcoming semester so I’m hopeful that will translate well for this fic!!!

Tysm for asking !!!!!!!!!! (and sorry that this is like a whole wall of text lmao I haven’t talked about this one much !!)

[starryseasart]

whalefall windup doll stop putting her in Situations!!

[tricos-here]

I was scrolling through your art tag and please ma'am, I need more of Mei please please pleaseplease

sorry best I can do is a bunch of unfinished sketches 🫡

[teyrnacousland]

I think it's fun that different characters give a different time period for how long Rook was in the Fade Prison. Both because everyone's perception of time is different (and gets weird when you add grief to the mix) and because it means we can headcanon how long it took each specific Rook to get out of there based on how well we think they'd have managed their regrets

[violent138]

[cuttledreams-bugs]

me trying to hype myself up to posting online again despite The Horror

[lenievi]

Just something short I wrote for "I can’t believe you were that stupid" Saturday prompt over at 30+ fanfic discord.

Might potentially take place in the same 'verse as this and this snippet. Just weeks later and after Cosette gets married.

warning: mentioned canon Valjean's self-harm. first draft.

Jean Valjean/Javert

It's kind of (my idea of) fluffy – for the two of them.

---

Valjean rolled up his sleeves. Before he could take the sickle, Javert caught his elbow in a firm but gentle grip.

“I can’t believe you were that stupid,” Javert said, carefully tracing the burn scar on Valjean’s forearm with his fingers.

It had been a week since Javert learnt about its origin, but except for a few furtive looks at Valjean’s forearm, he hadn’t mentioned it again. Valjean would prefer if he'd forgotten. The notion of Javert caring—caring about him and his well-being—was still strange. Strange and yet… not entirely unpleasant.

Valjean shrugged. “What does one more scar matter?”

Javert dug his fingers into Valjean’s flesh and raised his head, his other hand falling. His throat worked. Valjean could see that there were things Javert wanted to say, but he seemed to swallow them and stayed silent.

Valjean sighed. “I told you they had been threatening Cosette. I couldn’t have them bother us again.”

“I know.” Javert’s grip softened; his thumb caressed—for there was no other word than that—the skin around the tender scar, sending shivers down Valjean’s spine, and as he had done for weeks, Valjean ignored the sensation.

“I knew I could handle it,” he said instead. Even after twelve years, he could still remember the searing pain caused by the stolen coin he had taken from the fireplace in his house in Montreuil and clutched hard in his palm. That one, he’d deserved; the other one, he’d done for Cosette. He’d never regret it, for she had cared for him when he’d returned home. Washed his wound, sat with him, loved him. He would treasure that memory forever now when she was married and not by his side anymore.

“It was still foolish of you,” Javert said, letting his hand fall.

An odd sense of disappointment washed over Valjean at the loss of Javert’s touch, and he quickly grabbed the sickle. The garden had been overgrown and needed a lot of work.

But he didn’t move.

When Javert had looked at him with eyes that seemed to try to penetrate his mind and read his thoughts in Montreuil, Valjean hadn’t been able to break their eye contact for fear of looking weak and guilty. Now, he didn’t want to look away and instead, it was Javert who often couldn’t maintain the contact for long.

Javert ran his fingers over the workbench and removed some of the soil that had been forgotten. “Yet, you continue to astonish me. You’ve always done things that haven't benefited or harmed you. Even—” Javert stopped himself. “No matter.”

Despite the time that had passed, it was still bizarre hearing Javert, who had never stopped to consider someone else’s reasons or circumstances in the past, who had only assumed that everything Valjean did had been to gain something, speak like that.

“I only did what I had to do. You must know what it feels like now; you let me go.”

Javert frowned. “That was different.”

“Was it?” Valjean remembered Javert’s shaking shoulders and sobs as he clutched the fireplace mantel in the drawing room on rue de l’Homme-Armé. He remembered what had come after, Javert’s despair and desperation as he clung to Valjean in a strange imitation of an embrace.

“Yes,” Javert said, and he sounded almost sure. “I didn’t let you go.”

No, he didn’t. That Javert was here in Digne with him, was proof enough. “No, you didn’t,” Valjean agreed and nodded at the wall above the workbench. “Take the other sickle and let me teach you how to use it. If you are to stay, you can be useful.”