#is this too late for some of y’all?

[kithtaehyung]

BABBYYYYY, WHAT IS YOUR TIME ZONE AND WHAT TIME ARE YOU POSTING?! LOVE YOUU

WE DROP AT 9:03PM EST BABY❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[thatskindarough]

Running to catch the train (Dec. 2023)

[kevinsdsy]

“no matter what i do it won’t go away.” kevin kept scrubbing the stain on his shirt. he couldn’t even remember who dropped the drink over him, he just remembered he had excused himself from the table and jean had followed close behind him.

jean had followed close behind him. it almost felt like they were back in the nest— back to when when the two of them would secretly look out for each other, even when they were not supposed to.

of course it wasn’t the case anymore.

kevin had left the nest after his broken hand and even jean had managed to get out to be part of the USC trojans’ lineup.

they were just together at the banquet for one night.

jean leaned against the wall, looking at his former teammate with a bored expression, watching as kevin desperately scrubbed his shirt with no improvements to show for it.

“i’m pretty sure you’re making it worse,” jean had commented in french, but kevin ignored him— grabbing another paper towel from behind them instead and dapping it under the water, which was just another desperate attempt which only looked like it was doing more damage. “it’s fine. no one will care.” jean said.

“no matter what i do it won’t go away,” kevin said again, his eyes were glued to the stain, but his breath caught in his throat which finally pushed an alarm button for jean.

“kevin, it’s fine.” he said, pushing himself off the wall and moving towards his former teammate.

“why won’t it go away?” kevin finally turned to look at jean and jean was surprised to find tears caught behind kevin’s eyes.

“stop that.” jean said. “it’s just a shirt. what’s going on with you?” kevin looked up at jean. he didn’t know how to say he didn’t care about the shirt.

it was the guilt which was eating him alive— guilt he had carried ever since he had left the nest. the constant guilt following him around for leaving jean behind in the nest.

they both knew jean would never have followed kevin out of the nest if kevin had asked, but it didn’t make the event easier on either of them.

“it needs to go away. why won’t it go away?” kevin asked again, and suddenly it dawned on him how he wasn’t even making any sense to jean anyway.

how was jean supposed to know he was talking about his guilt? what did it matter anyway? it wouldn’t change anything.

“i’m sorry,” kevin said with a ragged breath. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” kevin repeated.

“stop it,” jean told him firmly. “it’s okay. forget about it.”

[bearotonin-international]

Rise and shine y’all, it’s Salmon Slammin Saturday!!

[mostly-natm]

Best buddies! The three musketeers, even.

[shorthaltsjester]

honestly as someone who has been in various fandoms for a long time now and who also watched campaigns 1 and 2 without really getting into cr fandom it isn’t Shocking but it is annoying how often people will look at the stories that cr tells and make absolute claims about the goodness of characters (goodness here meaning Moral goodness, not I Like This character and think it’s well made goodness, which is a separate post entirely). particularly regarding the gods and pc parents. and honestly like, typically in fandom i get annoyed by people bending over backwards to woobify characters who are active in their choice to be unkind and generally horrible but in the cr fandom it’s tended to be the opposite where like. a character is just. a human being (in the sense of being Average not in the sense of Fantasy Races) and huge swaths of the fandom act like that’s the most unforgivable thing someone can be. and maybe it is, but one of the most powerful things about fiction is that it tends to encourage people to expand their empathy and exercise their ability to forgive. because fictional characters, no matter how much people like to project onto them, tend not to cause anyone harm, so it’s easier to learn how to forgive and accept things you don’t understand without also villainizing them.

this is mostly prompted by the recent 4sd and the fact that matt’s response to what’s up with the dawnfather was a very insistent “He’s not bad!” and also seeing the online reaction to the mention that the matron would punish vax for saving keyleth that has taken the as usual completely bonkers tune that the raven queen (Who When Met With A Brother Asking A God To Kill Him In Favour Of His Sister, Gave Him A Job, and Later Extended His Natural Life To Help Protect The World And Have More Time With His Family And Allowed Him To Visit His Sister On Her Wedding Day) is a horrible evil abusive bitch of a god. like. can we grow up? can we understand the world and fiction that represents the multitudes of experiences found in it in shades of grey? is that too much to ask (i know it is).

but also specifically the like Extremely Adamant way that both matt and laura were like no no no no relvin isn’t Horirble he’s average. he’s not good he’s just. he’s A father, not a good or bad one. and on the surface it’s hilarious that they’re both so like. enthused to point out that he’s Average because typically when people respond to a claim of a characters badness with the level of immediacy they both did it’s a rebuttal of “no, this character is good actually.” but it was just to affirm that relvin did harm imogen, but not because there’s some aspect of his character that is inherently cruel or especially Bad. and like. yeah actually. yeah you should react like that to a claim that this average person who Has hurt someone, the way that nearly every single person has hurt someone in a way they cannot repair, with immediacy to say this person is a Person and thus imperfect and capable of great harm, but that isn’t some all encompassing judgment on their morality or capability to also do good or be fine.

anyway this is kinda just a rant post but also is just me saying i’m very grateful that when surrounded by a fandom that tends to paint characters as Good or Bad and even while using a game that can encourage that with its alignment system, cr has always told stories that see goodness as a persistent choice that might sometimes falter and that can be chosen even after a lifetime of Badness. i can’t remember exactly what the quote was so forgive me if it’s incorrect but when jester is talking to caleb after he claims he’s not a very good person and she says “good people do bad things sometimes. even bad people do good things.” that’s it! that’s one of the most consistent themes across campaigns. and yet.

[lupine-trees]

learn me, love me, let me know

[something, something, learning as a love language. dedicated to the mundane bits of falling. a drabble in three parts.]

word count: ~1,550, rating: t

I.

The routine dictates: Thursdays are for new recipes and bad movies.

Draco stood at the stove, hovering over a saucepan. I want to try to make something for the gnocchi, he’d said, like an absolute fool.

He’d gone rogue, recipe-less, and this was what he got for it.

“Something’s not right,” he called to Harry, who was poking at a puzzle spread across the living room coffee table. “Here,” he said, scooping up a spoonful and carrying it over, a careful hand cupped underneath. He lifted the spoon to Harry’s lips.

Harry tasted, nodded, thoughtful, knees tucked under him on the rug. “Salt.”

Draco huffed. “I added salt.”

Harry grinned up at him. “More salt.”

Draco went back to the kitchen, and Harry, with sudden realization, rose and followed behind him.

“Wait— here,” he called, reaching up to the potted plant on the windowsill and plucking a few sprigs of chive, pulling a pinch of parsley. He made quick work of them on the cutting board while Draco stirred at the sauce, sprinkled in more salt.

“Alright.” Harry passed the board to Draco, who slid the herbs into the pan.

“It’s still—”

Harry reached over him to one of the myriad jars on the shelf, poured just a bit of the powder over the mixture.

“Cornstarch,” he said, a smile easy on his lips. “It’ll thicken. Give it a minute.”

And sure enough.

Draco took a spoonful, warm and fragrant, tasted it, and nearly moaned. Cleared his throat.

“So?” Harry said, leaned back against the countertop.

“Delicious, of course. You’re unbelievable.” The annoyance was put-upon, a convenient cover for an inconvenient truth.

“I think you mean, ‘Thanks, Harry, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’”

“I assure you, I do not,” he murmured, small grin sharp, crowding into Harry’s space, pressing him back against the counter, one hand splayed over his hip.

“Go on, try it,” he said, placing the spoon again at Harry’s lips.

Harry did, and he had no such qualms about moaning.

II.

This part was definitely not routine.

Draco’s flat— once Harry was finally permitted to visit— was, somehow, smaller even than Harry’s own, and more bafflingly, he had crammed a piano into it anyway.

“Are you even allowed to have this here? Surely it’s too heavy. There’s gotta be, I dunno, building codes or something.”

Draco gave him a belabored glance. “That’s what magic is for, Potter.” He gave the piano a gentle shove, and it slid. “Featherweight charm.”

“Oh,” Harry answered, carefully pulling the piano back into its place. “Y’know, I always wanted to learn to play one of these.” He plunked a finger down on a key, trailed a few notes.

“Did you?”

“Mhm. They have one at the Burrow, an old upright heirloom. I could play Jingle Bells, but, well. Doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Here.” Draco lifted the bench seat, pulling out sheets of music, settling them on the stand. “Sit, sit.”

Harry sat. Draco slid in beside him. “Put your fingers here,” he said, placing him at rest on the keys.

So, it went like this: The afternoon was long, bleeding into evening, the music clunky. Harry definitely played Jingle Bells upward of twenty times. Draco might’ve taken the opportunity to lean cozily on his shoulder, to place his hands atop Harry’s for teaching purposes.

“Your neighbors are going to hate you,” Harry murmured, softened by the bottle of wine they’d kipped into about an hour in.

Draco laughed. “You’re unbelievable.” He gave a tug at his magic, and the walls lit up with the delicate web of it. “Silencing charms. Wizards. Magic school. Ringing any bells?”

“Oh,” Harry breathed, eyes trailing the soft golds, the cool blues of the trace magic patterned over the wallpaper.

“Play again,” Draco said, bustling him, their shoulders flush.

Harry let out a sound of protest, his cheeks a pleasant, dusky pink. “I can’t. You play.”

“Alright. You pitiful thing.”

And he did, play, and it was lovely.

But anyway, it wasn’t about the music, really, was it?

III.

The routine didn’t really have a say in the weather, but if it did, it would typically be indifferent to rain.

Unfortunately, the tire had gone out on the Corolla, which meant they were left like so: stranded road-side, with the jack and the spare, but a bit tragically, with none of the requisite experience or education necessary to make use of them.

All this and the rain, which had picked up from a steady patter and was dropping buckets rather insistently.

Harry was holding his best umbrella charm— best being the operative description. The raindrops were sneaking through in patches to where Draco’d laid out the spare blanket from the backseat. He was flat on his back, slid under the car, trying to position the jack, to make it lift, to do something.

The ground, though, was hard and cold and wet. The jack slipped again, dropping the car the few inches it had risen, and Draco shrank back, startled, and swore.

He clambered inelegantly from beneath the car, abandoning the rear passenger tire, the nail jammed into it, flat flat flat.

“Alright?” Harry called over the downpour, offering him a hand up.

Draco accepted, then dusted at his dampened trousers. “It’s no good. I’ve got no bloody clue. The cursed thing won’t stay put, and I—” He felt the frustration crawling up his neck, and left the sentence unfinished, tossing his hands in the air.

“We’ll figure it out,” Harry assured.

“Oh, we’ll figure it out. Brilliant. My favorite plan, the kind that doesn’t actually even exist.”

“We can apparate into town, then come back—”

“I’m not leaving the Corolla,” he said, stubbornly, knowing it was stubborn as he said it, unreasonable.

Harry’s voice was raised, shouting over the torrent of the rain, which his spellwork was doing little to deflect. “Draco, I get it, but the car will be fine. We need to—”

“I know the car will be fine,” Draco interrupted, a hiss, “because I’m not leaving it.” He stalked back to the driver’s side door, pulled it open, hard on the hinges. “And your umbrella charm’s shit,” he flung over his shoulder, before climbing inside and slamming the door shut.

The regret was almost immediate, mingling with anxious irritation and the rain drops sliding cold down his spine, plopping from his hair and onto his nose. The rain was louder, too, inside, pinging off the roof and the windshield. Draco fretted at Harry, standing out there still, nudging at the tire, undoubtedly soaked to the bone.

The minutes stretched, and the tension wilted. Draco folded into the steering wheel, knocking his forehead lightly against it. Just as he found the resolve to go back out, to make it right, to try again, the passenger door opened, and Harry dropped into his seat. His curls were plastered to his forehead, and his glasses fogged in the sudden heat of the car.

“Alright,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “It’s my fault. The car. This whole ridiculous idea.”

He reached for Harry’s glasses and wiped them clear as he could (rain-damp shirt given) before returning them to the bridge of his nose.

“And I’m sorry. For snapping. It’s not fair.”

Harry reached for his hand. “Thanks. But I like the car. And I like the idea. And I… like you. So.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Stop that, now. Try the car.”

“What?”

“Drive it. Just a few metres. To try something.”

“Alright.”

And the car moved, and nothing horrible happened, and really, you couldn’t even tell there was a flat. They stopped, hazard lights still blinking.

“You changed it?”

Harry laughed, low. “Not exactly. Fortunately, though, my levitation charms are less shit than my umbrella ones.”

“You’re… levitating the car?”

“Sure. I mean, we need to get to an auto shop, because I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but I think we’re only about 12 kilometres—”

Draco practically leapt across the console, the need to kiss Harry an absolute.

“Mmph!” Harry muffled against his lips, startled, but he had no further protests. The kiss was clinging, hands all wrapped in hair and around one another, damp and desperate and delighted. They pulled apart, breath heavy, and Draco laughed.

“You’re brilliant. You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you. I love you. I— oh.” Draco stopped short, a blush creeping sudden up his neck.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, and smiled at him, and Draco wanted to sink into his seat.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he murmured, slowly, careful.

“It’s alright,” Harry said. “I did.”

“What?”

“I meant it. Before. I love the car. And I love the idea.” He reached for Draco’s hands again, holding him steady, the way he did.

“And I love you.” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Mostly that one,” he said, dimple flashing, devastating.

Draco’s heart pattered with the rain, and he leaned forward, the grin on his lips barely contained.

“You’re completely absurd,” he said, all fondness and irrepressible warmth.

“And you love me,” Harry whispered.

“A madman.”

“And you love me.”

“Absolutely shit at umbrella charms.”

“And?” Harry said, hopeful and plain, unexpectant.

Draco closed the little distance left between them. “And I love you.”

[solazu1]

I’ve seen so much shitty ship content in the marble hornets fandom since I’ve joined that I’m starting to get sick of shipping as a whole, ngl. I’m staring hard at the main contenders here, Jaylex, Brim, and Jam. Brilex is another ship I see frequently fucked up a lot too, but yea whatever. I’m not condemning people who get it wrong because I’m not the goddamn messiah of characterization either but there’s gotta be a line to be drawn, right? like with all the absurd vaguely uncensored abused x abuser content associated with jaylex, the uncomfortable brim content where every instance of hoody fucking up Tim's life on **PURPOSE** is ignored for the sake of a cuddle or for the sake of sexualization, THE HEAVY OVER-SEXUALIZATION OF BRILEX, and the fully fleshed out personalities of Tim and Jay being washed away and sacrificed for mischaracterized, stereotypical, romantic interactions that really isn’t something the character would ever do but rather something the author wants them to act out. <- honestly the last bit can be applied to all other ships too! And it isn’t my only gripe with Jam specifically but I feel like my specific criticism on it deserves another post that will probably never come haha.

[daincrediblegg]

Oh yeah so anyway part 1 of the lady terror ensemble complete👍

[wwpbviiid]

I’m sooo insane about TMAGP, I dreamt the next episode came out, and when I woke up and couldn’t remember what day it was the main reason I cared was how long until Magnus Thursday, I am losing it over here

[inkats]

merry yaoimas mutuals. (in order, for @starredforlife, @vampyr-bats, maymerdoodle on insta, @littlemoondarling, @bmpmp3) (all of you make such cool stuff I hope you like em <3)

[arolesbianism]

Some concepts for the siblings

[karmicgalaxies]

So many horny Drabble ideas with Logan and Gambit I wanna write but I’m prioritizing the request pile first 😭🙏🏼

[steampunkhobo]

Whenever I finish writing a fic I have an extremely long and belabored editing process and it almost always ends with me getting sick of editing about 2-3 weeks in and going “good enough!” And ladies and gentlemen, we have HIT THAT POINT. New fic tomorrow! It’s good! And it’s really long! I’m tired.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson is the king of consent.