#it made me emotional writing this

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[ashes-in-a-jar]

I'm choosing to ignore the theory that they are putting up a front, only being business partners with similar goals and knowing way more than it appears

I choose to believe this is what Gerry is like when brought up in a good home

I choose to believe Gertrude Robinson is a good parent

[tshortik]

I love you messy artstyle i love you visible brush strokes I love you textures and rough edges I love you imperfections I love you roughness and colour blobs I love you scratchy sketches and bold stylisation and dirt and imperfections I love you ugly and raw emotion!!!!! ❤️

[frenchphobe]

griddlehark modern pen pal au where they don’t know each other but are assigned as pen pals for those pen pal projects you get in middle school and it just turns into them sending each other hate mail and somehow they just keep going for several years, even though they dont rly have to

[asoftepiloguemylove]

"IF ONLY SOME PEOPLE CAN HAVE IT, THAT'S NOT HAPPINESS. THAT'S JUST NONSENSE. HAPPINESS IS SOMETHING ANYONE CAN HAVE."

pinterest // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // Hozier Shrike // Samson Regina Spektor // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // @tordenvejr // pinterst // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // Louise Glück The Triumph of Achilles // Natalie Wee Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines // pinterest // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // Phoebe Bridgers Punisher // pinterest // Sarah Ruhl Eurydice // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // pinterest

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[blackbatcass]

the first thing every dick grayson writer has to keep in mind is that he is defined by his kindness. second thing is that he’s an asshole. third thing is that he’s so, so angry. fourth thing is that he loves donna hinckley stacy troy more than life itself.

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[atzfilm]

fragile truth. (m) – preview

《 how could i know that i'd wake up feeling more? 》

— best friend!wooyoung × f.reader [estimated 10k.]

— broken up with for the nth time after endless trying, your best friend invites you on a photography vacation with him to osaka, japan.

could it be that you're just friends? the soft touches, kisses a bit too close to the corner of your lips? how tightly do your bodies have to touch before either of you admit it's not just for a quick hug?

— f2l, smut.

snippet:

he laughs as your hold wavers above him, sweaty fingers gripping the metal sliding. he reaches out, his own touch keeping yours steady. the action isn't unusual – more often than not he'd help you with a quick readjustment with his skin gracing yours. and more often than not you'd swat his fingers away and insist that you can handle it on your own. so this should not feel different. your breath should not hitch, your heart should not rattle against your ribs. your eyes should not tear up as you look at his mole through the small viewfinder of the polaroid.

you should not yearn for your best friend like this.

his fingers are gone from yours sooner than you'd like, he himself repositions his body. the silhouette of his body is darkened against the city lights. it is a brilliant shot, as expected from him. he rests his head on his folded palms, gaze focused ahead of him. you notice how his hair has grown since you’ve last seen him, strands once tucked behind his ears wisping against his lifted cheeks. your pointer finger presses the shutter, the click matching the thumb of your heart. his smile widens as he moves away, thanking you softly and lifting the camera from your hands.

“thank you pretty,” he presses his lips against your temple. they seem to linger for half a second longer than need be before pulling away. unless, of course, this is all in your head. “are you okay?”

you hum, looking up at him. his thumb lifts up, wiping a tear resting at the corner of your right eye. he shows you it, before wiping it on his sleeve.

“must be the wind.” he notes.

you can all but agree.

"definitely."

POSTING — TBH

[cookiekissers]

can we please get a buring spice x fragile reader, like they want to help and fight/hunt but physical can't because they are that fragile, simply bumbing into another cookie could cause them to crack!

Do Not Go Gently

[Burning Spice Cookie x Fragile Reader]

I was inspired and tried something a little different with this so I hope you like it! and Burning Spice redemption anyone? B)

The life of a Wild Spice was fraught with constant struggle and danger. If you were weak, you would be ground into dust, either by one of the other tribes or by the Great Destroyer himself. And you happened to be one of the weaker spices.

Delicate and fragile by nature, your main ingredient was parsley. The harsh desert winds of your homeland often left your leaves and dough brittle. The stronger Wild Spices almost always belittled you and your small tribe as you barely etched out an existence. You weren't tough and built with natural armour, like the Pepper Pangolins, or strong like the Saffron Buffaloes. But if there was one thing you were, it was tenacious.

When the Great Destroyer returned, you feared that your inherent frailness only spelled ruin for you and your tribe, soon to join the scattered remains of your ancestors. Despite the risks, you boldly joined the other Wild Spice leaders and offered your loyalty and service to Burning Spice Cookie.

He had looked over you and laughed, calling you weak and pathetic. As you knelt there, showing your sincere devotion, you thought it was all over for you. Still, Burning Spice miraculously passed over you and left you be. The Great Destroyer was not known to spare those he thought weak, so you could only imagine that he saw something in you that you hadn't. Since that moment, you were inspired by the Great Destroyer, not out of fear but admiration. You knew he didn't care for you. With a sweep of his hand, he could wipe your existence from this earth in seconds. But still, you fought hard and trained harder until your dough was cracked and crumbling to show that you had a right to continue living. Burning Spice Cookie had spared you. Your life had to mean something to him.

The little thing kneeling at his feet was pathetic. A Cookie so fragile that their dough cracked at the mildest of strikes was not worthy to be in his presence. And yet, instead of hiding from his inevitable fury, here you were. Burning Spice had to admit, you had guts. He didn't want to waste his time crumbling you himself when he knew you wouldn't put up a good fight. It would be far more entertaining to watch you struggle, only for you to fall to your unavoidable fate.

And yet...

That moment never came. Regardless of how grievous your wounds or the crumbling of your dough, you threw yourself back into battle again and again. Unafraid of the death that awaited you. Burning Spice Cookie found himself almost... fascinated by you.

You were so fragile, doomed to fail. And yet... you fought to cling a little longer to your short, pathetic life.

It reminded him of a time long past.

One day, after Burning Spice had enough of the annoying thoughts of you buzzing around his head, he decided to pay your tribe a visit. All the inhabitants of your tribe weren't as tough as you, which was somewhat of a disappointment. They scurried into their homes, terrified of him, or fell to their knees, grovelling at his feet for mercy. But you... you remained standing, like a resolute warrior, poised as if death were coming to claim you. You were unafraid. You had accepted it, but that did not mean you would go without a grand fight.

He approached you, ignoring the rest of your tribe, and you bowed your head in respect to the Great Destroyer. You didn't bow as deeply as you used to, but Burning Spice let it slide.

You had changed. Your eyes held a solemn understanding, and your dough was now riddled with scars, honourable rewards of fighting to see another day.

Burning Spice Cookie watched you, realizing he had no words. Why had curiosity brought him here to see you? He couldn't come up with an answer. His previous excuse of being amused by your antics had faded into something... else.

You broke the silence and invited Burning Spice Cookie into your humble home, and he accepted. Your tribe was astonished at their leader, who stood fearlessly in front of the Great Destroyer, and he had not razed their village to the ground in retaliation.

"Well, this is a surprise." Burning Spice Cookie mused. It was still surprising to him. Destruction was the end of all things, whether by his hand or not. But you stood in the face of it and fought it. Refusing to meet it on its terms.

"That I'm still here?" You replied bluntly, an amused smile on your face. Burning Spice Cookie would usually have felt excitement upon discovering a Cookie like you - someone who could ignite his passion and provide a worthy challenge now that you had grown stronger against all odds. However, that’s not how he felt at this moment. It wasn't even boredom. Instead, he felt the same solemness reflected in your eyes.

Burning Spice Cookie asked you to be his right hand. The request came so suddenly that it left you momentarily stunned. All the strife and gruelling work you had endured had finally paid off in a way you never could have imagined.

"Yes, I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." You said, quickly bowing your head deeply in gratitude.

Burning Spice Cookie knew that your luck was going to eventually run out and your fragile dough would crumble, slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Like with all things, it was inevitable, regardless of how hard you fought to cling to your pitiful life.

But he would be there when it happened, he would watch you. He would burn your rage into his mind as you descended into the endless night, fighting and spitting for just one more day.

Once you joined your ancestors, he would remember you. Always.

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[yuechicake]

It’s not as if Mhin wants to do this. It’s not as if they’re particularly attached to her in any way, not when she gets blood all over their floors and lounges carelessly in their home like she has every right to be there. But she comes, and they admonish, and she smiles, and still they bring out their city of bandages and disinfectants and ointments.  Li is a law of nature, and so Mhin is helpless: it’s like how the tides are pulled by the moon, and the sun rises in the east each day, and the planet revolves ever so slowly on its axis. It’s simple cause and effect, unchangeable scientific relationships that govern their world. If Li is a wound, then they, by all means, have to be a remedy.

(commissioned from hejee)

[themeraldee]

Homelander with an SO who makes things like clothes, blankets, etc and homelander comes home to the penthouse and there's the softest blanket he's ever felt, like specifically ordered fluffy fabric that wouldn't bother him and on the corner is his hero name embroidered in soft thread.

Maybe he was complaining about having to get a new one due to never being able to find ones that felt right so his SO went. "I know what I must do."

You can't tell me he wouldn't be sobbing!!

Not only is this handmade by his SO, made with all the love and care, specifically with him in mind, from the fabric to the the embroidered details, it's also exactly what he has always wanted.

He was so attached to that baby blanket of his. The only reminder that he was a sweet innocent baby at one point. So now it brings him back to what it would be like to have a blanket made for him as a child, made by someone who wholeheartedly loves him. Being in someone's loving care and attention. And if that doesn't heal a part of his inner child.

He's clutching it so gently, worried that holding it too tight might damage the fabric. This is officially his most prized possession.

You find him in his penthouse, curled up on the couch, clutching the blanket close to himself, tears down his cheeks.

Immediately worried you're running up, sitting right next to him already trying to get him to share what's wrong.

He's sniffling, his voice all wet and choked up as he says.

"You made this... for me?" His lip quivers as another round of tears make their way out.

"Yeah. Of course I made it for you. I know you've been complaining about the current one and-" He doesn't let you ramble on about why you made it. Because it doesn't matter. You made it for him. Not bought or gotten someone else to make it. No. You poured your heart and soul into this blanket and now it's his. And it's perfect.

He hugs you tight and you feel the sobs shake through him as you coo sweet words in his ears about how much you love him, stroking his back and his hair. After calming down he settles against you, the blanket already drawn up around him while you both spend the rest of the day lounging on the couch, just being next to one another or watching movies.

All while he softly strokes his fingers over the embroidered corner. It's already obvious that nobody could pry this blanket from his dead cold hands.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

fantasy au whiteboard scribbles <3

[irisbaggins]

Spoilers ahead for the finale!

An aspect of the final battle that got lost after Viola's amazing attack, was the fact that Tula nearly killed her son. And that, I think, is something I would really like to delve my teeth into, to properly look at what happened.

The thing that struck me the most during Tula's attack on her son, was that Jaysohn did manage to snap her out of it. In the context of the story, Jaysohn grappled his mom to get her to stop, and even after getting viciously bit by her, he still managed to get her back to herself. He managed to get to his mom fast enough, and used himself to protect the others from the mindless being Tula had become. And, even when faced with near death, this little kid manages to get back up and attack the creature that did this to his mother. Not once did he blame her, having understood enough about the situation to realise his mom was not in control. He knows, he understood, that this was Phoebe, not Tula. And so, the moment he is able to free his mom, still wounded and near death's door, he goes after Phoebe so that his mom won't be taken again.

Tula, however, was aware of everything she did to Jaysohn. She was painfully aware of how badly she hurt her son, how she nearly killed him. And, as Brennan describes;

She is broken, in a way she has never been before. She nearly killed her baby, used as a puppet because she's alive when she should have been dead. The Blue that keeps her alive is what nearly caused her to kill her son. Tula nearly lost everything, yet, once more, it was hope and love that brought her back once more. Her son brought her back.

However, she was silent for the rest of the battle until Phoebe finally fell, and Jaysohn nearly died. She was quiet, too horrified with what she nearly did. Perhaps, had more time been afforded to that moment with Tula and Jaysohn before he decided to retaliate against Phoebe, there would have been...something...that went on. A focus on the fact that it was Tula who went for another member of their family, whilst Ava went for the ground and the reactor. What would that do to her, I cannot help but wonder. What did that do to her, in the immediate aftermath, when she could slow down and process what happened. She must live with the knowledge she nearly killed her own child, and that, had he been just a little weaker or just a little slower, she would've succeeded. She might have been able to bring him back, like she did with Sybil...but she would have to live with the knowledge that she took her son's life. And that thought is horrifying.

Yet, it makes her gentleness with Lukas later all the more significant. Even with the blood of her son on her hands, she still chooses to hope for a better tomorrow. She still chooses to give Lukas - and herself - another chance, another tomorrow. Bad things could have happened, but they didn't, and they all made it out. The "what ifs" will remain in the shadows, in the nightmares, but in the daylight, she will keep her head high. It doesn't lessen the impact of her deeds or her burdens, but it can make them bearable. And, with the addition of her son's refusal to blame her, it makes it just the little easier. She deserves a new tomorrow, too.

[poems-of-the-anentomologist]

Pride Poems Day #4 Theme: Transgender

Children of the Stars

Midnight.

I’m alone in my bed.

I get up stretch, and head outside.

Change into my favorite hoodie,

Walk to the field by my house.

Sit under the powerline, pull out a sheet of paper

How to see the Children of the Stars Step One: On a clear night, go out to a place where the sky is open & visible Step Two: Make sure you are alone, only certain people can see them Step Three: Look Up.

I look around,

I am alone.

I look up,

And I see them

They dance and laugh among themselves

One glows pink, but she’s wrapped in blue

Another glows blue, but he’s clawing at the pink surrounding him

and handing it to her

There’s a yellow one dancing by themself on the horizon,

One flickers between so many colors it’s hard to tell what they are

A red and green band plays music in the corner

All around there are so many

Colors abound.

Some are gray, with only the faintest hint of color glowing from within

They haven’t yet realized they are children of the stars

Some people want to kill them, hurt them, twist them inside out

They haven’t realized they are killing the children of the stars

I’ll remember you, Children of the Stars

Never let another sun set

Where you aren’t loved ever again

I'll love you, Children of the Stars

For as long as I am alive,

There will never be a sunset

Where you aren’t loved ever again