#just felt the need to share

[sleepytr4sh]

I can't I just stayed up all night watching Mario Bros videos I feel like this image

[yes-im-youtube-kids]

I forgot to say that on my trip one of the camp counselors camp name was Wolverine. I swear he was queer my gaydar was fucking spazzing he just was and I could tell. And it was like. Woah. I had never met a queer adult in person, and the feeling I got even tho he never actually said he was, was just. Wow. Like—there are people out there, that exist, that I can visually see and speak to and they’re there, that are queer. We exist as adults. We grow up. That feeling—just wow. I know the majority of this site is queer teens and young adults but like. It’s so different to actually meet someone in person. Really seeing that they are real. You’re all real but like. I guess my adhd doesn’t let me believe something even if I know it, till I see it. It was just that feeling. To know that, hey, you have a future. You grow up. There are other people like you out there. That, yknow, exist. As fully grown people. The feeling of meeting a queer adult for the first time. Woah.

[somereaderinblue]

Yk tfw a detail you put into a work ends up having even more depth/symbolism than you intended? That's how I feel the longer I look at the epithet I gave Tesla in the Purple Hyacinth AU.

During the first stage of planning, my good friend Shadsie suggested "Ghost of the Sands" which alludes to her canon-fate/ghost appearance in Trimax. I ended up running with the ghost theme bcz 1) it sounded cool & 2) I liked how the allusion doubles as a reminder that tho this is the same character, she is NOT living the same story.

Then I began to build Tesla. I researched synonyms for ghost, purple & disaster and settled on Wraith, Violet & Calamity. Boom, just like that it happened again.

Wraith was an extra letter from the word 'wrath', reflecting the anger & ruthlessness Tesla is capable of. Violet is a shade of the colour she associates with love but it's one letter less from 'violent' which encompasses the world she lives in.

I had the persona, now I had to focus on the person. I like to think I've come a long way with her, esp since canon & fanfics can only give you so much to work with. When I talked abt her with other moots, she wasn't just a concept but a character. And it's through conversation that a perception of said character can change.

I made a joke with sapphofinch that involved PH!Tesla messing with someone, being an overall chaotic gremlin. Then I paused & realized that the 'supernatural' angle I gave Tesla rlly did suit her character a lot.

When we think supernatural, ghosts, monsters, curses & the usual horrors are what comes to mind. But if you look deeper, it also includes mischievous creatures, cunning spirits & other beings that can offer protection, healing, strength. All of which fits PH!Tesla to a T.

*smh* In this day & age where creativity is being put through the wringer no thanks to AI, I'm once again in awe of how human creativity, have it be from someone else or even my own, continues to surprise us in ways AI never could.

[silly-lil-scribbles]

man i love chou so much

[il-re-kaneki]

Still can't believe I've been on this hellsite for 12+ years, that's crazy.

[dozzlegramcracker]

A picture created by ai using others stolen art to combine and make the picture is not art.

if you generate ai art or are associated with it in any way, do not interact with me.

(Image is not mine, Source: Artstation)

[templeofshame]

[poematticdeer]

I just read some lines in a book so it felt like sharing..

"Expecting things to be bad is the best way to be pleasantly surprised when they're not."

Ironically, this is something too optimistic about.

[itneedmoreshit]

over half a bottle of wine deep and just. i have so much to give. and what i have to give is beautiful and wonderful and anyone would be lucky to have it. and if they don’t want it that’s their fucking problem. and if anyone out there is feeling like i am and feeling feelings for someone who doesn’t want them like just know anyone who doesn’t want your energy is not worthy of receiving it. ok??? like i am only just now realizing that my shit is great and it still hurts that other people don’t want to receive it but i’m only just learning that it doesn’t invalidate my value and i’m being so real that is hard to figure out but HUGE. you are exactly who you need to be and the people who are meant to be in your life are going to love what you’ve got. fuck everyone else.

[pirateprincessjess]

When I was a child I was struggling at school, and I was unhappy, so my parents started taking me to a therapist. I ended up telling this therapist that I wanted to be a girl. I hadn’t heard the term transgender yet, but I knew I wasn’t a boy.

This therapist told me that it was a fetish. It was my first time hearing the word fetish. She told me that wanting to be a girl was something bad that I should be ashamed of. I was told not to tell my parents because they would be disgusted, and that if anyone found out it could ruin my life.

I held onto that shame for a decade until my senior year of high school when a transgender student started going to my school. I never met her, but I saw her around, and heard people talk about her. This was a transwoman living her life openly and publicly. She was doing the very thing that I was told would ruin my life, but her life didn’t seem ruined. She had friends, and seemed happy. Happier than me.

A year later in October 2013 DC comics published Batgirl #19 by Gail Simone. In this issue Batgirl’s roommate Alysia Yeoh came out to batgirl as a transwoman. Batgirl was so loving and accepting in that moment. My favorite superhero didn’t see anything wrong with being transgender. I sat at my computer reading peoples reactions and reviews to this comic for hours. I sent the author an anonymous message on tumblr thanking her for helping me find the strength to love myself.

I still had a long way to go before I was able to come out, but these things helped me start to heal. This is why visibility and representation are so important. Seeing another trans person in real life, and seeing trans people in the media I was consuming helped me be less afraid, and helped me hate myself less. In october 2019 I started HRT at 25 years old. Nearly 5 years later I’m happier than ever, and I love life.

[neymiiie]

I love the class 2-F trio (someone has probably done this before)

[hanafubukki]

Lilia wondered if you knew what it meant to be loved by a fae. Did you truly?

To be loved by a fae meant to be worshipped.

To be loved beyond eternity.

To have lasting memories that would never fade.

To be found in all lifetimes until the end of eternity.

Silver and Sebek knew, having grown with faes and learning their culture.

Silver, even as a human, had learned and readily accepted it but he grew with such knowledge.

Sebek had grown knowing such from his mother and grandfather, even his father knew what it meant to be loved by a fae and willingly accepted it.

Lilia watched as you dozed on Malleus’ lap, the prince stroking your hair with a loving gaze upon you.

You, who were loved and cherished by him and Malleus, two powerful faes who made nations tremble at their power.

Lilia knelt by your side, kissing your forehead. His own blessing mixing with Malleus’s, marking you theirs.

Lilia knew that in time you would realize what it meant to be loved by them, maybe you already had.

After all, you loved so gently yet passionately. You loved with your entire self. It was only proper for that love to be returned just as intensely.

He knew you would never come to danger, not with them protecting you: the Dragon and the General of Briar Valley.

You were also protected by the Knights of the Future King of Briar Valley, both of whom considered you family.

You were loved and cherished, and will continue to be so by all you have come to know and will know.

And of course, especially by them.

Tagging @masquerade-of-misery my fellow comrade of this ot3 🫶💚

[nipuni]

Photos at Madrid's Victory ball! 💃

We attended our first ball! It was such a dreamlike experience!! It was also our first time doing Regency reenactment so it was a challenge. We haphazardly put together some looks, had a great time learning more about the fashion and the dances and met a bunch of lovely people from all over the world. The palace was stunning, the live band was wonderful and the food delicious, it was an unforgettable night 🥰

[bionicboxes]

kicking his ass is like a sport to me

[wildsaltair]

Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)