#just sending me into a spiral

[fruitypieq]

Also I think I'm gonna stay offline (or at least not scroll) for a while bc all those "Don't kill yourself!!!!" posts are having the opposite effect on me for some reason

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

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[nounaarts]

Not feeling the art flow recently, but that's ok :))

All 4 of them won't leave my brain, I hate them all <33

[blossoms-phan]

thinking about this photo

[plan-3-tmars]

I'm not a big fan of the interpretation that hinako had no idea about what was going on behind the scenes of kazui's stage, or atleast the feeling I get from how some people talk about her like she was completely naive or in the dark

I mean, half shows their relationship straining quite clearly. they're shown on opposite sides of the room, not even facing each other. I feel like any partner would start to wonder and have doubts about why things aren't the same as they used to be, why their love isn't spending as much time with them anymore and starting to pick up habits associated with Drowning One's Sorrows in (drinking and smoking)

No, I think she most definitely had her doubts. I think she brushed these aside, justifying them with the whole "he would never" shebang, I mean kazui was the one who asked her out in the first place so surely not? Right?

I think it makes her reaction contextualised a lot more, and it makes more sense to me.

This isn't the face of just someone realising their partner has never romantically loved them, it's also the face of someone whose deepest worries, that they brushed away because they trusted their partner, being proven right.

[mikeslawyer]

bless u the truth or dare no, i’m not kissing you. not like this. byler first kiss trope. you will always be famous

[nashvillethotchicken]

If I had a nickel for every time a member of young money started wylin out for no goddamn reason this year I'd have 3 nickels, which isn't a lot but goddamn control your people

[phoebespenglers]

can we please stop telling people to kill themselves and to rot in hell and that they deserve to be bullied and that they are inherently horrible people who deserve to die and get doxxed. please. can we please stop doing that.

[mindless-maisie]

me vs the urge to get controlled by anons (the urge is winning)

[cybertron-after-dark]

Being constantly surrounded by the presence of a loving God sounds great until you realize you never know when his freaky fuckin eyes are gonna show up to check on you.

And man. They do it a LOT.

[tardxsblues]

[starchasersversion]

going through a sexuality crisis was not on my 2024 bingo card

[devil-in-hiding]

sigh Simon sitting on John’s lap at his desk, cockwarming him

[hellofanidea]

Number 8! BoB ship of your choice!

No. 8 - Loose change and headlights, Babe/Liebgott

Babe didn't know how long he'd been walking. Long enough for the last stretches of sunlight to dip and fade, the warm orange of the summer evening giving way to a vast swathe of black overhead. Long enough for the dimes in his clenched fist to go body-warm and sweaty in the pocket of his jacket.

There was no real direction to it, just a striding pace away. Away from the house, the street, the neighborhood, he grew up in. Away from all of the places he couldn't help but fear he had grown out of.

There was a phone booth on the next corner his feet took him, and Babe finally stopped. It took him a moment to come back to himself, to force his body to remember him and make it open the door and step in.

That was unfair.

That made him sound like he had gotten too big for them. In reality, he had shrunk, under the weight of an MG and a parachute harness, and three years of being steadily worn down by the worst of what humanity had to offer. Even his rosary felt heavy, bending his neck and hunching his back. He had taken his dog tags off the second he stepped foot back in his mother's kitchen, but he still thought he felt them bouncing against his chest sometimes too, the thin metal dragging him down.

Then the coins, sticky from his palm. They slid in one after the other, an almost unreasonable amount. He could have made it a collect, but that meant trusting the other end would accept it, and Babe didn't have the heart for that risk tonight. Besides, dropping the cost of a long distance call out of the blue didn't feel like the best opener.

Time stretched and condensed in the the span it took to give the operator the number and wait for the connection. A few cars passed, the beams of their headlights momentarily blinding Babe every time they turned by. He followed their paths, as if he could travel with them just by staring hard enough.

"What?"

As waspish as the answer was, as shitty the quality of the call, the voice bled all of the tension out of Babe's body instantly. He sagged forward around the receiver with what he hoped wasn't an audible sigh of relief.

"Joe?"

The line crackled sharply.

"Babe?" Liebgott hissed, incredulous and far softer than he had sounded a moment ago. "That you? Are you alright?"

Babe blew out another breath and tried to steady himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just-" His voice caught, and he swallowed hard around the lump forming there. "I just missed you."

It shouldn't have been as hard to admit as it was. They had wound themselves together for a year, been through some of the worst things two people could experience at each other's sides. In Austria, drunk on gin and the promise of peace, Babe had grabbed Joe by his skinny hips and told him exactly what he meant to him.

Then they had come home with a continent between them and nothing but the occasional letter. A twenty minute phone call once in a blue moon. They had come home to ghosts and shadows and the lingering fear that they no longer belonged where they once called home.

Maybe that last one was just Babe projecting, but he would have bet money that Joe felt the same way all the way out in California.

More crackling static from Joe's end of the line.

"It's the middle of the night in Philly, Babe. Where are you?" He asked.

Babe closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the booth. This wasn't helping. None of this was helping. Everywhere he turned he was met with a dead end. Dead end job, dead end conversations, dead end of Bill's fucking leg that both of them refused to acknowledge long enough for them to just fucking talk-

"Still there, don't worry, I didn't do nothin' stupid," he sighed.

I wish I did, he thought, I wish I'd jumped a train like a bum and hitchhiked and actually hiked and was standing on your doorstep, good sense be damned.

The hand not holding the phone had started to cramp and lock up at his side, and he tucked it against his chest. When his hands had refused to cooperate in Bastogne, Joe had given him his gloves, rubbed his fingers between his palms to try and make sure the circulation was going until they unstuck. Babe ached for that now, snow and all, just to have Joe's hand in his, Joe soothing his pain and letting Babe shoulder some of his in return.

"I'm not callin' you stupid, I'm checking you aren't stranded in fuckin' corn country somewhere," Joe grumbled. Babe didn't say anything, just turned his cheek into the receiver like it was Joe's neck, like he could fold against him in silence for a while like they had on the ship home when it was too crowded for anyone to care. There was a long sigh, Joe pitching his voice lower. "Missed you too, kid."

It struck Babe through and through, hit him right where he was already cracking open, and he made a muffled noise of pain.

"Stay where you are," came Joe's hoarse voice, just as the pips started to signal the end of the call. "It'll take me a couple of days, but I'll come. I'll come getcha. I'm coming to getcha."

"Don't, Babe, don't," Joe begged, through what sounded like gritted teeth.

"'M sorry," Babe ground out. "'M sorry, Joe, I just can't take it. I thought I could, I thought everythin' would-"

His voice cracked. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and calm down, breathing hard through his nose and listening to Joe do the same.

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[saltpepperbeard]

the stark difference between this october and last october has my head spinning 360 degrees tbh.

like last october was so joyful and so rich and so beautiful and i would give anything to do it all again, whereas this october is like back to back to back horrors l m a o