#see you next week my friends

[dcfanficsgallore]

Hi hi! Guess who crawled out of their cave to watch Creature Commandos? Meeee! And here are the thoughts you did not ask for:

Uhh spoilers ahead? Obviously hehe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!! It's heeeeere!!!!! I thought it would only be trailers and stuff for years!!! Yes I knew of the release date but still!

I saw somebody theorize that clayface is imperssonating the princess which, yeah... That makes a lot of sense.

Ninaaaa I love you baby! Please be okay after this and don't become all jaded and stuff. Why is she in prision I wonder... She is so sweet and nice.

The Bride is such a tragic character... I don't... Even know how to comment on it. I mean... I have my daddy issues and stuff, but hers are a lot more... Developed

Rick Flag Sr. Being the straight (hah!) man among these wackos is very fun to watch

Phosphorus being the only *villain* villain of the bunch is rather nice to see, keeps the team from being all edgy and gives them a reason to be in prision

G.I Robot and Weasel are only comic reliefs so far so I don't have many opinions other than I want to see bro kill his Nazis :( They are very funny though

Now... Circe! And her henchmen. Can I just say, I love that her henchmen are a bunch of dumb dumbs that absolutely never interacted with a woman before. Making "Nice Guys" the Cannon fodder has never been so justified. Circe herself is not very developed yet, but I love her powers and the fantastical, magical part of this show gives me hope that this universe will have Zatanna and the rest of the Justice League Dark will appear!!!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Knowledge Revenge.

[marlequinncos]

I couldn't get Fitzjames' cunty little fur-lined coat out of my head after finishing "The Terror", so I decided I needed my own version. I found the base coat secondhand, modified and tailored it, and hand sewed on the faux fur trim. Maybe one day I'll make the screen accurate version, but I'm very happy with this for now.

[newttxt]

and thats a wrapppppppp!!

from the 10th and final chapter of utilities included

masterpost

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[front-facing-pokemon]

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Running into a dating dilemma issue I have not encountered in quite some time. Starting talking to two different people on an app at around the same time, went on a date with one of them last Saturday. It went surprisingly well, even fooled around a little for the first time in a long while. We have a second date at an arcade planned for this Sunday.

Other person was a little slower on the draw (not as timely with responses) and has offered to meet up this Friday. They seem nice enough, but now I'm kind of focused on the first person- but obviously that connection is also still in the exploratory stages and there are no guarantees that anything else will happen with them. I'm not great at dividing my attention when I'm interested in someone but I also don't want to count any chickens before they hatch (the chickens in this case being a meaningful or at least ongoing sexual relationship 🐣)

So the dilemma is: do I still go on the date with person #2? The way I see it I have three options- agree to the date and see where it goes, decline the date, or put it off until next week and see how I feel after the second date with the guy that I already met. I feel like I should make a choice soon but I truly don't know which one 😬

[lyknest]

because i needed this on my blog!!!

[villa-kulla]

@ the mag7 fam, I realize I have no way of convincing you this is not a 'and then everyone clapped' fake post, but i LITERALLY MET MANUEL GARCIA RULFO this weekend at a TIFF party, and we LITERALLY SPOKE FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES

Takeaways:

he is really ridiculously handsome, excellent brown eyes, A+

really not as tall as he seems in character, and much slighter, i may have to revisit how 'looming' i've written him in fic lmao

(on that note it is biZARRE meeting someone whose character you've written fic about, that is the first time that has happened to me. i can only be grateful i haven't written too much with him, i'd have withered if it was ethan hawke or LBH lol)

he was extremely friendly! and as it transpired he lived in my hometown for about a year so we just chatted about that. he loves poutine and hates the winter, and he has my full agreement on both counts 👍

he also appears to be dating vincent d'onofrio's daughter which is sO cute, the mag7 fam lives on 🙌 (she is gorgeous btw. and I don't think this is like a 'scoop' or private info or anything lol, I asked if he had anything going on at tiff that day and he was very openly like 'no only next week, today I'm just supporting her!)

(also the context for All This is my gentleman friend is a journalist and i joined him at TIFF for the weekend and basically larped as a famous person all weekend lol good times. weekend was crazy but this part felt the most relevant to tumblr)

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Creator: Mm, art block. What to do...?

Creator: What do you think, wackus bonkus?

"Wackus Bonkus" (Hand): make angst

Creator: ohh, you naughty wackus bonkus

[sugarsnappeases]

just did a fifteen hour shift i WILL kill myself if anyone attempts to make me move for the next fifteen hours

[ra-vio]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[silversoulstardust]

just came off a 14 hour shift and I am completely depleted and emotionally charged and idk I find myself ruminating on the fact that my parents probably don't love me as much as they claim to be because when I asked if they'd be willing to visit me (700€ flight away) they'd only do it if I paid for all the expenses and arrange everything for them. like am I not worth saving money for to visit? do they realize I can easily be the estranged no-contact daughter? my dad gets over a 1000€ for his monthly pension and I gave both my parents 400€ allowance each month. they could easily come and see me if they truly meant their words when they said they care. and no I'm not jealous of my dead brother but I have to tell you for comparison that my father invested his pension money in my brother by opening a small (failing) business and bought him an apartment.

I've never asked a single cent from the moment I got my degree.

[mangofresca]

zephyr | 18+

ii.

“We could leave, y’know.”

Romano startles, head turning over his shoulder as if he were searching for a spy, a conspirator. Sometimes, that’s not unlike how Portugal feels here, always a little too relegated to the outside for comfort, too close to the inside for tranquility or freedom.

He shakes the thought away, eyebrow raised in question at the only other person here who hasn’t exhausted him yet.

Romano’s eyes flick from his face to the windows, to the rain pelting the windowpanes, and he scoffs. “And do what? Get soaked?” His fingers tap the glass in his hand, and Portugal watches with muted disinterest as the wine rocks back and forth, back and forth, an ocean all its own, confined and confined and confined.

“Better than staying here.” Staying here and playing pretend with a government who can only just tell him and Spain apart, and Portugal doesn’t have the stomach anymore for the accent or the language or the face of it all.

Romano tsks, and, for some reason, this infuriates him, as if Romano is content to sit here and be lessened, nothing more than a jewel on a crown on a head who so blatantly picks favorites. Like they’re above it all, the two of them.

He turns, and he leaves, and he doesn’t care enough to see if anyone watches him go.

vi.

“That was–”

Portugal is already pushing up off the bed, flicking hair from his eyes. “Want a drink?”

“Obviously,” Romano snorts, but he sounds like he’s amused, and when Portugal turns around to look at him, all he can see is the way Romano’s lips curl around his teeth, how his cheeks look when he smiles.

ix.

Romano snores when he sleeps, raspy and rough, and when his hair falls in front of his eyes, his nose crinkles with the tickle of it, too deep in dreams to bother moving it away.

We shouldn’t be doing this, Portugal thinks, because things are messy, only getting worse, and he doesn’t understand how Romano doesn’t grow restless beneath a thumb that demands obedience, that is all too comfortable pressing down on the pulse of their throats, hard enough to feel it beating, not hard enough to choke.

“I wish this was easy,” he says instead, and his skin goes cold when he realizes he means it, green eyes already looking down at tanned legs tangled with his, errant curl brushing his collarbone.

He’s gotten used to that, too.

iv.

Portugal can see him on the docks again, hair just as windswept as that first time, waves falling over each other to brush against dark eyelashes, to curl into knots at his hairline.

Spain’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, smile tipping into something that more resembles a bridler than a brother. “You look like you’re thinking hard,” he says, and Portugal hears the warning in it like a bell tolling within his head. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” Portugal replies. The weight on his shoulder feels suffocating.

vii.

“We should have sex here,” Portugal says, out of the blue and apropos of nothing, voice hushed into a conspiratorial whisper when he leans himself into Romano’s ear.

Romano coughs, splutters, eyes narrowing when Portugal only grins at him.

“Not now, obviously,” he continues, because his brother is here, and his—their, because God forbid any of it is really his—government, too, and he isn’t stupid enough to try anything here, now.

Romano wipes the coughed wine from his lips, arm crossed over his chest as he settles back into the wall behind him. “Please,” he says, and he already sounds scandalized and petulant, “as if I’d settle for anything less than a bed. You think I’d let you fuck me on a settee? Not a chance.”

“I think,” Portugal replies, smiling, “you’d let me fuck you anywhere I want you to.”

Romano scoffs again, furious and blustering, but his shoulder brushes Portugal’s arm, and he doesn’t move it away.

v.

Lively doesn’t adequately describe it when it finally happens.

Romano has him pinned up against the library wall, holding Portugal’s wrists against hand-bound books and shelves which haven’t been dusted in God only knows how long, but all Portugal can think is how difficult it is, when kissing Romano, to push him away, to have him be the one pressed between linen and literature.

He manages, only just, and the heady, groaned gasp of surprise he receives pleasantly makes it worth his while.

x.

Portugal can see him on the docks again, hair wind-knotted and wild, exactly like it was that first time, exactly like the second, like every other time, every other time.

He can’t discern the expression on Romano’s face, too far away for detail, sunlight blinding on wave-crested waters, but he can see him turn around, see him walk away, back to that house and that voice and that hand and that crown.

He almost regrets leaving without a goodbye, but he knows, is certain in the knowledge, that expectation for their kind is the heartbeat of disillusionment, and he doesn’t have it in himself to be disappointed by someone so supine as to find comfort here.

Nothing ever gets resolved with avoidance and shame, but their arrangement never really did have room for much else, anyway.

iii.

He has a dream, then, that lingers worse than a bad hangover or a bloody wound. Maybe it’s years after their last conversation, or maybe it’s days, or maybe it’s hours; he can’t be bothered to keep track, not that their kind usually does when it comes to time.

(Hard. He wakes up hard, and that’s not how his dreams usually go—or, not the ones with Romano, at least.)

Romano was over him, or under him, maybe—not that it matters, because it doesn’t matter, not really. What matters is that Romano was close, breathing against his neck, sighing his name, and it’s—

It was slow, the way they moved. Tender, close.

Odd.

viii.

He’s gotten used to it—the way Romano’s voice hitches, goes taut, tight as his white-knuckled grip on pearl-hued sheets. He’s gotten used to it.

He’s gotten used to it.

i.

They meet officially, formally—and notably without supervision—on the docks of Almería, both windswept and water-worn, and it makes Portugal wonder how long Romano had been standing there for him to look like that, like he himself had blown in with the breeze of the ocean, side-swept bangs tangling into soft knots at his temples.

He is sure he himself is no better, likely worse—a ribbon can only do so much with the whipping winds that dance themselves through his sails—but he doesn’t bother brushing his hair from his face before approaching, grin ticking at the corners of his lips.

Romano blinks at him, hazel eyes owlish before settling into something calmer, almost bored. “Oh,” he says, “it’s you.”

Portugal smiles and tips his head. “Hello,” he replies. Always best to start with hello.

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally