#newest addition

[lovemeafterhrs]

[looneyspacecholo]

[justalonelybitch]

"Wanna join"..... um, how to put this delicately.

Uuh yes absolutely!! I will happily declare myself the eccentric wine aunt

Welcome to the family!!! Can you bring me some wine? I could do with some right now. This family is stressful but entertaining.

[dkettchen]

More lesbian sanami was requested, so please have one of the many headcanons that live in my brain rent-free

[guardian-angle22]

TK/Carlos + Touch

↳ 5.05 Thunderstruck

[sherrymagic]

Yin Anan via @/gemsstone

[thegabberwocky]

Well

[bumpintheroad]

~*❀ just a girl and her toys ❀*~

[lushpeonies]

She's Sun. The sun of the universe.

LOVE PATTRANITE LIMPATIYAKORN as SUN

23.5 องศาที่โลกเอียง (2024), eps. one to six

[heisenpink]

hanged them up at the shrine

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

I’ve started referring to fandom’s tendency to heterosexualize mlm relationships as the Sterek Effect. yk, when you have one dude always feminized to high hell while the other becomes an egregiously hyper-masculine caricature of himself??

they could be the same height, age, status, build, temperament, physical prowess…doesn’t matter. one’s in a short skirt and the other can bench press 873 pounds.

[up-beattt]

Bruce Springsteen + reds

Photos by Charlyn Zlotnik, Lynn Goldsmith (1978), Gie Knaeps (1993), Danny Clinch (2004), Rob DeMartin (2024)

[serenescribe]

thank you @oddberryshortcake for letting me write something based on this absolutely heart-wrenching post! i am in shambles from the newest update. spoilers ahead.

“Silver,” Lilia whispers, in a voice that breaks as it spills past his cracked lips.

Lilia pays no attention to the way his knees ache, kneeling for as long as he has been, the thin fabric of his stockings rubbing raw patches into his flesh. Nor does he focus on any of the other ailments afflicting him — the blanket of fatigued exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, the throbbing agony pulsating through his head, the scratchy dryness itching up the inside of his throat. The only thing he has eyes for is his son: Silver, who lays in his arms, cradled close to Lilia’s body, his head lolling against Lilia’s chest.

Silver’s eyes remain firmly shut. He is still asleep.

Oh, Lilia’s heart crumbles with each ticking second, eyes fixated upon the slow rise and fall of Silver’s chest. He is not dead — Not yet, a terrible, pesky part of Lilia’s mind, words uttered from the lips of a disillusioned general, tells him, to which Lilia bats away, trying to ignore the thought. The sight of his breathing should fill Lilia with relief because it means Silver is still alive.

And yet, Lilia can only hang his head over Silver’s body, cradling him even closer, arms wrapped protectively around the body of his son, his child.

“Wake up, Silver,” Lilia murmurs into his ear. He blinks, eyes wet and heavy, feels something sliding down his cheek — a single solitary tear, but not alone for long. Wet droplets land on Silver’s body, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. How long has it been since Lilia cried like this? He cannot remember. Seven hundred years spent alive does that to someone — it numbs their heart, dries their tears, makes it nigh impossible to cry, especially when so much of their past is occupied by something as numbing as the wretched consequences of wars long fought.

Silver still does not stir.

Distantly, Lilia notices the faint tracks marring his cheeks, echoes of tears long since shed. He reaches for it with a thumb, swiping at the dried stains, as though wiping it away could erase all of the pain Silver must have gone through in his dream. He knows enough of what happened, knows of it from what the others has told him, and it makes his heart shatter — the thought that Silver had nearly succumbed to his own blot, all because he found out his past, a past Lilia tried to hide for fear of Silver being judged for the sins of his fathers, breaks something nestled deep inside of his chest.

Lilia closes his eyes. “I love you,” he breathes, words he has been so terrified of saying all these years. He does love Silver, truly — but to utter those three words, the words a young Silver have always said to him so freely with that beaming smile spreading across his chubby child cheeks… For years, Lilia has evaded ever speaking them into reality, to return the obvious affection of his son instead of laughing it off and saying “I know.”

And as a consequence of that, Lilia is now far too late.

He knows he is not alone in this room. He can hear things — conversations that swirl together, hushed murmurs, snatches of his name and Silver’s own, footsteps and doors creaking open and shut. He can see things — in his peripheral vision mainly, shadows that approach and depart, the occasional sight of footsteps slipping into view. He can feel things — a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, fingers reaching out to stroke Silver, all touches that Lilia shrinks away from, pulls Silver away from. Because as far as his addled mind is concerned, the only thing he can process right now is him and his son.

A memory haunts him: He is a few years younger, finding Silver for the first time. He uses his magic to explore his memories, discovers the identity of the child in the cradle, and finds out that he is the spawn of his enemies. And yet, all Lilia can focus on is the knowledge that Silver was fated to slumber until his true love woke him up, an unending rest only broken when Lilia stumbled upon him.

He is Silver’s true love, and Silver is his.

“Silver,” Lilia tries again, his voice cracking into splinters as he forces his name past his lips. “I love you. Wake up.”

Silver is his, isn’t he? Just as he is Silver’s — an absolute truth that Lilia turned a blind eye to for years, too scared to reciprocate the emotions swirling about his soul in full force, to unleash the depths of his love for his dear son. If Silver could wake from the throes of a sleep that had addled him for four hundred years all because of Lilia’s love for him, a love he had not realised the extent of when he found Silver for the first time, then surely he can do the same now, right?

Surely Lilia’s love for him, a love he knows now to show freely in the way he hugs him close, presses kisses against his forehead, will be enough to wake him… right?

So why is he not waking?

Why is he still asleep?

Is his love not enough? That cannot be the case. Lilia loves Silver — with all his heart, with all his soul; they have been bonded since the moment Silver was born, the invisible strings of fate entangling the two of them together before either of them knew it. Lilia is the key to Silver’s lock, his very presence opening the boy’s heart, dispelling the effects of a curse that has kept him in stasis for four long centuries. His only mistake was not showing his affections sooner, of keeping his heart carefully guarded until it was far too late.

So why then?

Why won’t Silver wake up?

[fineapplequeen]

Just a lil silly thing.

[bonniesband]

guys I swear I’m alive I’ve just been really really into building lately

[justsomeoneunordinary]

See, I don’t usually like to think that Hashirama would’ve killed Tobirama if Madara hadn’t given the choice between Tobirama and Hashirama, because those kinds of thoughts usually only come from the anti Hashirama side of the fandom which I could not agree less with if I tried.

But.

The fact remains that Hashirama at some point went from “I will protect my last brother at any cost” to “I will kill anyone who threatens Konoha, even if it were my brother or even my own children” and it’s never fucking shown when that change exactly happened.

Was it when he reached adulthood and he realized for himself that the bigger picture—in his case, peace—matters more than anything else? Was it after Konoha was built and he became Hokage and his responsibilities grew? Was it after Madara left and his heart grew cold?

I imagine it must’ve been a mixture of being Hokage and therefore having more people to protect besides his direct family, and Madara’s betrayal that must’ve struck him pretty badly that he let his heart grow so cold to the point he’d rather kill his best friend/brother/child if they in any way threatened the village resp. peace as a whole than attempting to talk with them first.

But the question remains: What would have Hashirama done if Madara had demanded Tobirama’s life with no other option? I don’t like to imagine that he actually would’ve killed Tobirama, but as much as I devour fics in which Hashirama goes absolutely batshit after his brother dies with relish, canonically speaking, peace would always be Hashirama’s biggest goal. And it’s driving me utterly nuts that I cannot for the life of me say how Hashirama would’ve reacted in this scenario.

Anyway, Idk where I was going with this, I just had to think once again about this and what a fascinating character Hashirama actually is and how little we know about him at the end of the day…