#like jesus christ if i like girls and guys

[sabrinasopposite]

imperfect for you.

pt. 3 of drinks or coffee / college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

my boy, come take my hand throw your guitar and your clothes in the back seat my love, they don't understand but I'll hold your hurt in the box here beside me

summary: after months of dating, its time for y/n to meet the baker family. yet charlie is a bit scared that y/n will see the chaotic, dozen of people in one house. will she still love him even though he was living in a imperfect home? of course she will.

Winter wraps itself around New York, weaving frost over windows and tucking laughter into scarves. The city glows—streetlights pooling golden halos onto rain-slicked sidewalks, store windows dressed in garlands and ribbons, the hum of holiday music slipping through every doorway. Y/N stands at the threshold of something new, something unfamiliar yet warm, as Charlie laces his fingers through hers and says, “Come home with me for Christmas.”

She hesitates, but only for a breath. Home. The word tastes like cinnamon and wood smoke when he says it.

So, she goes.

Charlie’s family is chaos incarnate.

The front door barely swings open before he is ambushed—small bodies colliding into him, voices overlapping, warmth pressing in from every direction. The house is alive, a living, breathing thing pulsing with energy, tangled in fairy lights and the scent of home-cooked meals. 

Y/N watches, wide-eyed, as one of his younger siblings nearly topples a Christmas tree in an attempt to tackle Charlie, and another is running circles around the kitchen, holding a turkey baster like a sword. And within five minutes of stepping fully into the Baker household, she understands why.

“Charlie’s home!”

“And he brought a girl?”

“Everyone act normal—DON’T TACKLE HIM—”

But it’s too late. Three of his younger siblings have already thrown themselves at him, clinging to his legs, one of them scaling his back like a small, determined koala. A dog is barking somewhere. A toddler is crying. A rogue soccer ball goes flying past Y/N’s head.

Charlie groans. “Jesus Christ, guys.”

Charlie catches her glance, and his expression shifts—something between an apology and hesitation, as if he’s bracing for her to be overwhelmed, for her to see all of this and think too much, too loud, too wild. Y/N is still processing the sheer volume of the house, but she’s chuckling when someone yanks her forward and traps her in a surprisingly strong hug.

“You must be Y/N!” She blinks as she is pulled back at arm’s length, coming face-to-face with a girl who shares Charlie’s sharp jawline and mischievous eyes.

“I’m Lorraine, one of Charlie’s many sisters,” she says with a grin. “Come in, come in, don’t be shy—we don’t bite. Well, Kyle did once, but he’s been trained out of it.”

A ten-year-old across the room scowls. “That was one time!”

Charlie sighs heavily. “Y/N, this is my family. Family, this is Y/N. Now, let’s all behave like normal people for once in our lives.”

Dinner is a symphony of overlapping voices, dishes being passed in a rush, elbows knocking, laughter rising and spilling over like an overfilled glass. Charlie’s dad tries (and fails) to carve the turkey without making a mess, his mom keeps swatting away small hands that sneak rolls from the breadbasket, and someone is telling a story that no one is really listening to, but everyone is enjoying anyway.

“So, Y/N,” one of Charlie’s older sisters asks, grinning across the table. “How exactly did my brother, of all people, manage to date someone like you?”

Charlie groans, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my god. We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we are doing this,” another sibling chimes in. “Because, come on, Charlie. We’ve seen your past choices.” “Beth,” someone coughs not-so-subtly.

Charlie shoots a glare across the table. “We do not need to bring up my ex right now.”

Y/N hides a smile behind her glass, watching as Charlie sinks lower in his chair, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment.

“I don’t know,” she says, feigning deep thought. “I guess I just really like mechanics who secretly have a soft heart and buy their girlfriends cameras for no reason.”

There’s a collective aww from the table. Charlie turns bright red.

His mom sighs dramatically. “Finally, someone who actually likes him.”

Charlie throws his hands up. “Okay! That’s enough! This is my girlfriend, not my public humiliation tour.”

The table erupts in laughter. Y/N, watching the way his family teases him but loves him so effortlessly, just squeezes his hand beneath the table. He glances at her, and the frustration fades into something softer, something quieter. There’s a beat of silence. Then one of the younger kids asks, dead serious, “Charlie, what’s it like having a girlfriend? Like, what do you do?”

Y/N barely has time to stifle a laugh before Charlie groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh yeah, we need to talk about this,” another sibling chimes in, leaning against the kitchen counter. “How did this happen? Who asked who out? Did Charlie say something dumb?”

“Probably,” someone else mutters.

Charlie drags a hand down his face. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N grins, propping her chin on her hand. “No, no, I’m actually curious. Please, continue.”

Lorraine smirks. “Okay, so here’s my theory: Y/N fell for him first, because look at him.” Charlie scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re decent-looking, I guess,” she continues. “But let’s be real, it was probably one of those ‘brooding mechanic with grease on his arms, pushing his hair back while fixing a car’ moments, right?” “Oh my god, shut up,” Charlie says with a groan.

Y/N, still laughing, the siblings start to join the theories like:

“I believe that Charlie magically poisoned her because, as if a beauty like her could fall for him.”

“I think Y/N wouldn’t fall for his stinky mechanic look—unless they match their freaks.”

“Or Charlie fell for Y/N first! Look at her, I mean… Maybe we need to save Y/N from Charlie!”

The table explodes with laughter as Charlie turns a shade of red previously unknown to mankind. Y/N chuckles but then places her hand on his arm. “Well, I always liked Charlie in my own way, but I met him at this super lame party. Yet he made it more interesting than I thought it would be—also, he asked me if we could go after the party to a coffee shop.” She smiles softly.

Charlie chuckles and nods. “Yeah, ever since then we’ve gone regularly to this coffee shop; it’s our thing now. Oh, and now I can do photography because of Y/N!”

The whole family falls silent because they’re in awe of the two of them. They continue to talk about the little dates or funny memories that Charlie and Y/N have collected over the months.

Later, when the meal is winding down and the warmth of the evening settles, Y/N leans close and 

murmurs, “I think I like your family.”

Charlie huffs a small laugh, still looking sheepish. “They’re insane.”

“They’re you.” He opens his mouth, but before he can say something self-deprecating, she adds, “And at least I have plenty of brothers and sisters-in-law now.” He freezes. His ears go pink.

Y/N just smiles. She doesn’t press the moment, just lets it settle—a whispered promise in the space between their laughter. But later, when he’s cleaning the table and she passes by, he hooks a finger into her belt loop, tugging her close for half a second. No words, just the warmth of his touch, just his lips brushing her temple in the quiet acknowledgment that he heard her, that he felt the weight of what she meant.

That he wants it, too.

The stars are strung low in the sky when Charlie drives them out past the city limits, to where the snow lies untouched and the air smells like pine.

They park beneath an open stretch of sky, the windows fogging from the heat of their breath, and Charlie reaches for his guitar from the backseat.

“I didn’t know you played,” Y/N murmurs, tucking her chin onto her knees, watching him.

Charlie shrugs, hands skimming the strings. “I don’t… really. Not in front of people.” He strums a few chords, then glances at her with something hesitant, something vulnerable. “But I wanted to play for you.”

The first notes come tentative, like he’s testing the shape of the song against the silence. Then, as he finds the rhythm, he loses himself in it, fingers moving with a quiet confidence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N watches, her heart catching somewhere between the melody and the way the soft light of the car dashboard paints him in gentle golds. She reaches for her camera, snapping a picture before she can think too much about it.

A moment caught. A memory pressed into permanence. When he finishes, the last notes fading into the hush of night, he sets the guitar aside and turns to her.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She already knows.

Still, when he cups her face in his hands, when his lips meet hers—slow and deep and full of things unspoken—she melts into it like she belongs there.

“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth.

And Y/N, with winter curled around them and the whole universe narrowed to this moment, smiles into the kiss.

“I love you too, my love.”

💌: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @angelsgalore @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @tinainaction @seulgi-burgundy @floralscented @artyandink

p1 pt 2

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage Problems Chapter 2

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings:  language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky rushed home after work that day.  The presentation had gone well, securing his bonus, but had run over the time he’d originally planned.  He had texted Y/N, but never got a response.  He got home as fast as he could, walking into the kitchen to find it empty.  Fuck, missed dinner, he thought, chastising himself as he unloaded his things and cleaned them.  He walked toward the sound of the kids’ voices in the front room.  They were all spread out on the floor doing homework, spouting off endless questions to Y/N, who was trying her best to help them while also mediating between Winnie and Becca, which seemed like a constant these days.

“Mama she won’t stop brushing her eraser shavings on my paper!” Winnie whined, trying to shove the eraser bits back toward Becca.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Becca whined back.  “Not everything I do is to spite you.  Maybe if you wouldn’t sit so close to me they wouldn’t land on your stuff!”

“Guys, please,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Hello my loves,” Bucky called out, trying to distract them.

The kids all looked up at him with smiles on their faces, quickly getting up and giving him hugs and greetings before sitting back down.  Bucky moved over and around them to Y/N, kneeling down next to her.  She gave him a small smile in greeting.  “How did your presentation go?” she asked quietly.

“We got it,” he replied, smiling at her.  

“Congratulations,” Y/N’s smile widened.

It was one of the few real smiles he’d gotten from her in a while, and it made his heart soar.  Before he could say anything else the girls were bickering again, and James started firing off questions.

“Quit with the eraser!  Geez, do you just not get it so you keep having to restart?  How stupid can you be?”

“Mama, did you sign that form for the field trip yet?”

“I’m not the stupid one, you are!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“And I have that bake sale coming up, did you sign up for cupcakes?  Or muffins?  Your cookies last year were good.  Oh and my soccer uniform is all grassy, did you wash it yet?”

Y/N shut her eyes tight, trying to breath through the mounting noise.

“Guys,” Bucky said in a warning tone.

“Dad she’s being so annoying.  Why can’t you just leave me alone?  This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have plenty of friends.  You wouldn’t know anything about that because all the friends you have are just guys trying to date you.  How does it feel knowing that they don’t actually care about you, just what they can get from you?”

“At least I can get a date.”

“Mama, what does she mean what they can get from her?”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” Y/N screamed, standing up fast and pushing away from them all, covering her ears.  “SHUT UP!  ALL OF YOU!  JESUS CHRIST!”  They all froze, staring at her in shock.  “No, James, I haven’t done any of that yet.  It will get done eventually.  As for you two,” she pointed at the girls.  “I know you’re both in a very weird stage of teen years right now, but if I hear one more mean thing said between the two of you I will ground you both for the rest of the school year, do you hear me?”  They both nodded quickly.  “I cannot stand this anymore.  This constant bickering, the noise, the incessant leaning on me for every little thing.  I’m so sick of the same thing day in and day out!  I’m done!”

Bucky stared at her in shock.  She had yelled at the kids before during rough moments, but this was different.  Y/N looked at them all with a deep look of disgust.  “I love you all very much.  But this is absolutely ridiculous, and I will not put up with it anymore.  I deserve better than this endless, repetitive, tedious bullshit!  Don’t I?”  Bucky stood up and walked over to her.  She had started crying as she spoke, and as he cupped her face in his hands she looked up at him, her eyes pleading and exhausted.  “Don’t I?” she cried.

“Yes, you do,” Bucky whispered, nodding as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against her forehead.  “Just breathe, pretty mama.  Breathe.”

Y/N sputtered, her hands in fists at her sides as she closed her eyes.  She let herself relax against him for a moment, but just as suddenly as it started she shook her head again and pulled out of his grasp, sniffing hard.  “I…I’m fine, I just–” she glanced at them all, her face twisting into a look of horror.  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, then turned and ran up the stairs.

Bucky watched her run, sighing when he heard their bedroom door shut loudly.  He turned to look at the kids, each of them with a look of shock and sadness on their faces.  “It’s gonna be okay, guys,” he said quietly, sitting down on the floor with them again.  “Mama just needs some time.  But she’s right,” he said, looking down at his hands then at Becca.  “Becca, if what Winnie’s saying is true, you need to find better friends.  Boys, especially at this age, aren’t worth it.”  She frowned and looked down.  “Winnie, you need to let Becca have her time away from you.  Just because you’re both close in age and go to the same school doesn’t mean you’re both the same.  She is her own person, and you are your own person.  Does that make sense?”  Winnie’s lips tightened, but she nodded.  “James, I know you mean well, but asking a lot of questions all at once is very overwhelming for Mama, and as much as she is willing to help you, she needs a breather just like everyone else.  Got it?”  James nodded sadly.  “As for all three of you, you’re old enough now, and your mom and I have taught you enough by now, to be able to handle yourselves more.  That means from now on you’re responsible for knowing your schedules, taking care of yourselves with your personal hygiene, cleaning up after yourselves, and as of now you’ll be responsible for getting your lunches for school ready, preparing your own breakfasts, and making sure you’re out the door on time for the bus.  Also, laundry,” he said, glancing at James for emphasis.  “Your clothes, your problem.  Do you all understand?”

They all nodded solemnly.  “Good.  We are going to have to work together to take the brunt of the work off of Mama.  She’s done too much for all of us for too long.  Which makes her an amazing mother and wife–” he stopped, nearly getting choked up on his words, before quickly clearing his throat.  “But it’s too much for just one person to handle.  We are a family, and family loves and supports each other, right?”  They all nodded again.  “Okay.  Are you all done with your homework enough for tomorrow?”  

“Yes,” they all said in unison.

“Great.  Then go get ready for bed,” Bucky said.  “Good night, my spawn.”

They all giggled and gave him goodnight farewells and hugs, gathering their things and putting them away before trudging up the stairs to get ready for bed.  Bucky sighed as he stood up again, stretching before looking around the main floor of the house.  It was mostly pretty clean, so he got to work cleaning up the last few little messes and things he could see that needed to be done, then ate the leftovers from dinner.  

When he was finished the kids had all settled down in bed, and he tucked them each in before heading to his bedroom.  Bucky hesitated at the door, unsure of how to broach what had happened.  He knocked lightly, waiting to hear anything, but after a moment of silence he slowly opened the door.  He peered in and found Y/N already in bed, her soft snores the only sound in the room.  Bucky walked in and closed the door quietly, walking over to her side of the bed and kneeling down.  She was already in her pajamas, and judging from her makeup free face and the puffiness of her eyes, she had cried as she got ready for bed and up until she fell asleep.  Bucky’s heart broke for her.  He and the kids had been leaning on her for everything for so long.  They had taken advantage of her.  She had been suffering silently because she felt like she could only depend on herself to get things done.  He reached up and gently wiped away the last bits of tears that were still wet on her face, then leaned forward and kissed her nose.  “I’m so sorry, pretty mama,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.  I love you.”  

Y/N squirmed a little in her sleep at his touch, but didn’t wake, letting out a short hum as she readjusted herself.  Bucky smiled at her, fixing the blanket around her and tucking her in before getting ready for bed.

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

Man, this pisses me off so bad. If you're a woman who relates more to males than other women, it's because you've decided to focus more on how you're different from other women rather than how you're like them. You will literally never have more in common with males, and males do not feel the same way about you. These cute little posts that you write about how you love males more than your fellow women? They do not write the same thing about you. They hate and mock you constantly. Anyone remember "Cis women need to shut up"

"As a cis woman, I agree"

"You need to shut up, specifically"

?

Yea, that's how they feel about you and your solidarity.

The difference between lesbians and trans women in female spaces is the fact that lesbians do not have high rates of violence. There is no group of women that outclass men in terms of violent tendencies. Trans women retain the rates of male violence that regular men do. I'm not saying you have to treat trans women like they're all violent beasts, but if you can't see why female people would be uncomfortable with male people in their spaces, you're either naive or genuinely unsympathetic towards the very real fear that women have of being subjected to male violence. You can't say trans women and lesbians are similar because, unlike males, there is no statistical evidence that lesbians are highly likely to take advantage of a woman. If it turned out that 98% of rapes were committed by lesbians, I would 1000% understand why straight women don't fucking want to be around me. Have some fucking empathy, holy fucking shit. Even if you are completely on board with trans women being in female spaces, at LEAST acknowledge that it makes sense for women to be concerned about who is allowed in their spaces. It's crazy how I could tell someone I have a fear of dogs because one bit me when I was a kid, and they'd put their sweet pooch up, but God forbid a woman be cautious around a demographic who commit 90% of all violent crime. Oh no. That woman is suddenly a terf bitch.

I have nothing in common with trans women. I don't care how much pain they have experienced. We are not the same. When I was twelve, I cried and I cried as I put my palms together to pray to a God I hoped would be able to take away my homosexuality. I didn't even grow up in a particularly homophobic family. Both of my parents were accepting of me, but I still sat in the dark of my room, tears streaming down my face, as I prayed to have my sexuality changed.

Two years later, one of my friends made a joke about me dressing to impress my crush. She said my crushes name---a feminine name. A girl sitting in earshot heard her, turned to me, and asked me with disgust if I was gay. I said no without even thinking about it. It absolutely did not help that we were in a locker room with other girls. I was aware of my sexuality by that point, but I was 14 and unable to hold my own against a girl looking at me like THAT. For a few weeks after that, that girl made comments about how she was "watching me".

I know pain, I know discomfort, I know what it's like to feel predatory. Seeing feminine women, especially if they're white, makes me feel like an alien. I look at them and think "how are we so different? I see none of myself in you."

Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes we're not similar at all. But guess what? That doesn't mean I'm similar to a straight male. Fucking hell, sometimes I'm not similar to other lesbians. That's completely normal. I think OP needs to read better work by cishet women. If you think that there is not a single piece of cishet female writing that can move you more than something written by a male, you're not looking in the right places at all. I don't understand why some LB women seem to think that the very act of someone being a straight woman makes them incapable of relatability. Of course it makes sense for you to be cautious. Lesbians deal with a lot of alienation and predatory feelings, but if the very ACT of a woman being cis and straight makes you feel like she has absolutely nothing in common with you...? The issue lies with you. YOU are the one othering THEM. Not the other way around. You're the one who has decided that a few cis straight women othering you means that they ALL will so you'd better beat them to the punch. You're the one who has decided that your relationship to womanhood is so astronomically different from straight women that nothing they say speaks to you. That's INSANE. Do you realize how much you have to alienate yourself from womanhood to feel more relatability with a male person than a female one? Idk how to tell you this, but it is highly probable that the most cis, most het woman you have ever met has had a period. It's highly likely she's been harassed by a man. It's highly likely she's been made to feel inferior by way of being born female. No, they can't relate to the experience of being a lesbian who is made to feel predatory for no reason, but to say that nothing a cis het woman says/experiences can move you at all? Nothing they say can make you feel like your experience with womanhood and hers are similar? Do you realize how you sound? "Trans women have been harassed by men and made to feel inferior, too!!" Okay! So you should be able to relate to cis women in the way you do trans women, right?

I told my discord server that I was nervous about my future roommates. I showed them photos and someone said "all this tells me is that they're feminine and white" and I literally think about that all of the time. I was projecting. I was so scared that these white, feminine, probably straight women were going to judge me for being a black lesbian that I didn't even realize that I was the one violently judging them based off of nothing but their skin color and their femininity. I knew nothing about them. I STILL know nothing about them. I've barely spoken to them. But already I had labeled them as unrelatable judgemental women because of how they looked. Hold on. Wasn't I the one afraid of them judging ME? How could I be so afraid of them judging me for being a black lesbian when I was the one judging them already? What sense does that make?

You guys are so busy writing off cis straight women as unrelatable bigots that you've failed to see that you're the one who is extremely prejudiced against them. And I absolutely fucking know someone is gonna read this and say "well, you can't say that all trans women have male violence patterns and dahdahdahdah" and it's like. But YOU can say that cis straight women are so unbelievably different from lesbian women that you'd rather say you're more similar to a straight up fucking male???

I'm not saying it's not a little jarring to see women who are so different from me. I'm not saying I haven't been burned before and there's no reason for me (or other lesbians) to be cautious. But I will literally ALWAYS have more in common with cishet women than I ever will a man pretending to be a woman.

One time I had a professor. She was on the older side (I'd say 40's) and white. Not the type of person I'd think I'd click well with. She was straight and married with children. One day we talked after class, and the only thing that ended our conversation was the fact she had an event she had to go to. We would've talked longer if not for that. She emailed me a little while later to tell me that she enjoyed our chat. After that, she actually hugged me on two occasions. You wouldn't think we'd have common ground. An older, straight, married white mother and a young black lesbian. Both of us are "cis" but I can tell you I relate to her much better than I ever could someone born male.

I once had a personal trainer who was a feminine woman. She had acrylic nails and everything. One time she said that she couldn't hug her male friends anymore because she had a boyfriend (he wasn't the one enforcing that rule. That was something she personally felt). Also not someone I thought I'd click well with. But we did. One time we had a really productive discussion that was actually derived from the conversation with my professor. I felt very close to her in that moment. Our conversation came to a close because she had another client, but I still think about that convo.

There have been so many fucking times where I thought "this woman is not like me. Look at her." But what I realized was that I was the judgmental one. I was the one deciding we were different, not her. I was the one writing her off. I was the one convinced we had nothing in common.

I am BEGGING you not to alienate your fellow women. There are no inherent traits that make you unable to relate to other women. No amount of whiteness or cisness or straightness can make a woman completely unreachable. I am NOT talking about political parties or views so don't fucking try me with that shit. Obviously that puts a wedge between people, but someone simply being born cis and het does not make them alien from you. For God's sake, look at the fucking MeToo movement. Women from all fucking backgrounds who share an experience that an unfortunate amount of women go through. Women from all different races, sexualities, etc. who came together to talk about how they've been subjected to sexual violence. Ellen degeneres was one of them. How does that fit into your "lesbians and cishet women cannot relate to each other" spiel?

OP's post has 130k notes and it makes me fucking sick. Holy crap y'all, we need more solidarity than this. Other women are not your enemy. I'm begging you to reconsider your approach to women who are different than you. You are missing out on people who can love and support you in a way that literally no male can. You are depriving yourself. Just because a few cishet women in the past alienated you, does not mean that you have to continue their legacy. Let it go. Everyone on earth can see you embracing your hatred of women, and you wonder why your fellow women never hug you? They fucking can't! Put your hatred down and make space for the love that comes with realizing that you absolutely are like other girls!

[moonlitkissing]

It's that time of night when calling up a friend and asking for casual sex feels like a good idea

[spitblaze]

when heterosexuals do literary analysis of works in which queerness and the persecution thereof are major themes which they just completely skip over or call 'confusing relationships'

[mrbrightxside]

Ya no se si me gusta pero..... Hm... Nature.

[thatrandombystander]

Jesus fucking christ every single sequence with Val in The Silt Verses has me having to pause the episode to go

[marinsawakening]

The reason Links Meet AUs are so popular isn't rlly bc ppl like the idea of game crossover tbh. If it was Zeldas Meet AUs would be about as popular, which they are demonstratably not. The reason they're so popular is because it allows ppl to have interesting character interactions without even once having to think about anyone other than a white boy.

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

what the fuck

[themyscirah]

Vanessa didn't even die and yet her story is still sadder and more fucked up than jtodd's. He wishes he was on her level

[courtillyy]

god im so pissed at how they are having the focus be on bela and this new guy instead of bela and her actions and mental heath and internalised misogyny !!! jesus christtt

[thebigqueer]

its so crazy to be in non-queer-friendly spaces because to me i think its just so normal to see queer people making out becuase i have a larger support group and a lot of the spaces and activities i do are very queer-friendly. but then i get hit in the face when im not in a queer-friendly space because all of a sudden everyones riled up by two girls making out on the wall at a party and its like i should have expected that but also its the biggets culture shock ever

[xxplastic-cubexx]

saw a panel of krakoa charles on twitter while scrolling today and dear god those child bearing hips and tiny waist are insane i still cannot believe they gave him that LIKE THATS RLLY WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE DURING KRAKOA. hes such an anime girl

every time i see krakoa charles i get a mini stroke like they really printed twink charles for a whole era.....

[todayisafridaynight]

sometimes i get nishiki i really do

[youaremysunshine-court]

The saddest thing is the witcher could have portrayed healthy found familial relationship in a non-traditional way, but they went and forced yennefer into the role of mother, geralt into the role of father, completely did away with jaskier, and didn't even bother to consider that every single witcher in Kaer Morhen could be considered ciris father, but no, there's a husband and a wife and a child and that's all there is to it

[reallapiscake12]

Hey Pressure fandom can yall be fucking normal about the Zerum drama for once

if the majority of the fandom acts like this then yeah i have no issue not interacting with it 💀