#maybe this is a thing now???

[twinklyylights]

Ian stops in his tracks at the sound of Mickey’s voice. He pops his head into the doorway of their bedroom, where Mickey’s been for the last 45 minutes.

“Huh?”

Mickey pauses the YouTube video that’s playing on his phone. He looks up and smiles at his husband.

“’Said come in here with me. What are you doing out there anyway?”

Ian shrugs.

“Finished my book, put the dishes away from last night,” he lists off. “Nothing really.”

“Good. Come here.”

Ian listens to that. He joins Mickey on the bed and settles in for what he already knows is a compilation of prank videos.

“Comfortable?” Mickey checks, looking down.

“Very.”

The video he’s watching cuts then, and a Walmart ad takes over the screen in front of them. Mickey rolls his eyes at the unnecessary interruption, but Ian doesn’t mind it. He’d rather talk to Mickey, anyway.

“Your birthday is coming up,” he says softly. “’Gonna be thirty.”

“Yeah,” Mickey replies easily. “Thirty,” he repeats, mystified by how nicely it rolls off of his tongue.

The video starts up again, but Ian pays it no mind and continues to use the time to pick at his husband’s brain.

“How do you feel about it?”

Mickey doesn’t answer that immediately. Instead, he waits until he sees the end of a jumpscare, and then he locks his phone and turns his eyes toward the ceiling. He lets out a breath, but it isn’t heavy in his chest.

“Honestly? I’m pretty fucking excited.”

Ian grins. He presses a kiss to the side of Mickey’s face, and lets his lips rest against the stubble there for a moment just to breathe Mickey in.

“Looking forward to anything specific?”

Mickey thinks on that silently. Lately, it’s been hard to find the words for all the positive feelings swirling around in chest. The ability to even have so many was never something he ever saw for himself.

“I guess just being able to look forward to shit, you know?”

And Ian knows what Mickey means by that. He feels his husband’s words.

“The suns finally out.”

Mickey smiles.

“The suns finally out,” he agrees.

A comfortable silence falls over them after that. This time, Ian isn’t the one to disrupt it. He startles a bit when Mickey speaks.

“What are you getting me, anyway?” He wonders out loud, doing his best to maintain indifference in his voice. Even though, all he wants to do is laugh.

Ian snorts. He pinches at Mickey’s belly, and it makes him squirm.

“I am not telling you.”

“Oh C’mon, man,” Mickey argues, “I’m entering a whole new decade. Beating all the fucking odds, I can’t a get a little hint?”

“Nope. Just gotta trust me.”

Mickey turns his face then; he meets Ian’s eyes.

“I can do that,” he promises sincerely.

And sure, Ian’s talking about the gift he won’t reveal, but Mickey’s thinking far past that.

Because he trusts Ian with everything.

He trusts Ian with 30. With 40. With 50 and the salt and pepper hair he knows he’ll be sporting.

He trusts Ian with all his birthdays.

With all his years.

[phanfuckingtasmal]

im sorry but i cannot stop thinking about isha's pastel memories that play during her sacrifice scene.

look at how full of colour this beautiful fuckin shot is:

it's been well established in episodes 4-6 how grim and dark the undercity has become under cait and ambessa's new rule. but look at how isha sees/remembers it - because of jinx.

jinx, who went through a severe childhood trauma that has carried over into her present self - she covers extremely destructive weapons and grenades in bright pinks and blues, neons, childlike doodles, graffiti. (joy and destruction, powder and jinx, a contrast so striking it becomes like a signature for her).

and then we see the world through isha's eyes. when we meet her in episode 2, she's running through sewers, from goons dressed in black; it's grimy and grim. and then all of her recent memories are done in these childlike pastel, almost crayon-y sketches. because what isha saw was jinx covering a dark and grim world in colours.

and so isha covered her world in colour, too.

because jinx made her world bright.

isha looked at jinx and saw the child in her. she saw powder and she saw jinx. she saw joy and destruction. and that's why jinx gave isha so much hope. isha knew the world was grim and dark - but then she watched jinx, and she learned that you can paint over all that grim darkness with neon blue spray paint.

that's why isha believed in hope. that's why in her final moments - in a scene that is lit dimly and dramatically - she sees nothing but a bright world coloured in pastels.

never underestimate the hope of a child.

[gongyussy]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[chloesimaginationthings]

The story of Ballora in FNAF..

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[xxplastic-cubexx]

obligatory beach divorce doodling

bonus rough cover redraw of x-men #41 (1995) But Beach Divorce below cut

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[tempo-takoyaki]

"Are you satisfied yet?"

[gravitysoda]

using his cuteness to manipulate the target...

[astronnova]

danny phantom cast explorations and thoughts :v

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Liam was a boy, and then a man, who suffered so much trauma and pain. He was bullied as a child and then lived a nightmare that I think none of us can really imagine of having that triggering experience replicated on a literally global public scale. He became a man who inflicted trauma on others. He was an addict who was unable to find a way out of that disease, and now never will, but who was open and vulnerable about his struggles. He was an incredibly talented musician and artist and an absolutely integral part of one of the most important bands of a generation; his voice and songwriting and skill in the studio shaped every aspect of what One Direction became at their best. He loved that band and being a part of that experience with his whole being and would never have stopped celebrating what they meant to us and to the world. He had problems and did bad things; that doesn't mean he was a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved and helped to heal- everyone deserves that- and the fact that that's not something that can ever happen now is devastating. I was very distressed by many of his actions; and I cared deeply about this man I didn't know and wished for better for him than this outcome.

I'm so deeply, deeply SAD tonight. I'm sad for Liam, who will never now have the chance to look back on this hard time and reflect on how far he's come, and for Liam's family, for his parents and his sisters who loved and supported him so much, and for everyone in the 1D band family and circles. And I'm sad for us. It feels like nothing will ever be quite the same, and that's hard and sad and shocking. It's a special kind of doubled grief, to mourn the loss of the person, and also of what he meant to us in this strange world of parasocial fanning, for the real him and also for the version of him that we made up and attached so much meaning to and for the escape that brought us. For him, and also for the easy uncomplicated joy of listening to those beautiful songs from happier times, which might never feel the same again. For the other boys, who we love so much and wish we could shield from suffering and loss and pain. For our fellow fans, who we also worry about the impact of this on. Everything about this is terrible, and I am sending so much love out to all of you. We are not alone, and it's okay to feel complicated emotions and it's okay to mourn and it's okay to care about how it effects you and your life, whatever you're feeling- it's okay. We are here with you. We are 1D family.

[ikiprian]

Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

[hinamie]

sidelong