#so fml

[collectorandcreatorofmanythings]

ALRIGHT THAT'S IT

FINE

FUCK YOU

*embraces the tumblr cringe*

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

[fuckonami]

Security Units have morning routines too.

[allysketches]

this drawing started off as tv crowley and aziraphale dressed like their book cover counterparts, but then I got carried away and it turned out... not being exactly that anymore 🤷🏻‍♀️

so... late 80s/early 90s au? (aka. literally the book lol)

[satsuha]

everything will be fine

[bootpoot]

lazy loop thing

[vanishintoyou]

oh my fucking god i don't have any clothesssss

[druid-for-hire]

“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it?"

isn't it kind of crazy that mulcahy is enlisted. he isn't even drafted. do you think he enlisted because he's such a man of action that he saw where he was going to be the most needed and went, both entering the most hypermasculine space possible after being abused growing up about how he isn't man enough & risking life and limb, while hanging onto his softness and decency. a move that he keeps echoing throughout the show when he does stuff like stare down the soldier with the gun or deal with the black market to get supplies & echoing his people's devotion to continuing to secretly preach in the hills on rocks under threat of death by english priest-hunters. isn't it kind of crazy how he gets there and is basically the acting chief mourner as the sole person around for miles who is responsible for giving every dying soldier's last rites and spiritually processing the dead. isn't it kind of crazy to enlist as a psychopomp. isn't it kind of crazy how he does that and is so insistent with continuing to be helpful and assists in OR so much that the surgeons trust him to take over in triage or stand in for a nurse when there aren't enough hands to go around. isnt it kind of crazy that he does all that and still doesn't think he's useful

[viarayy01-blog]

places in 5!!

[sushiisiu]

thisis so fuckin embarrassing but the spirit of jayvik just wormed its way back into me after i realize how close arcane s2 is

[starfaiinight]

// major unstable universe spoilers

PACK IT UP EVERYBODY PACK IT UPPP

(open the cut for black bg version)

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Legit so fucking mad.

I had a dream I was a member of some black ops space marines unit and the leader of our unit was secretly my wife. And the only reason she proposed to me was cause she was there to see the entirety of my cringe fail cadet days and couldn't stop thinking about me. Also, she could rip aliens in half with her bare hands.

I have never been more upset to wake up.

[kittykatstiles]

we never got a chance to see stiles and derek finding a spot to hide and ended up being trapped in an enclosed space with derek standing behind stiles chest to back as his big hand wrapped around stiles’ waist and another over his mouth while whispering “can you just be quiet?” lowly in his ear fuck my stupid baka life

[parkercore-69]

hey its the cute, marketable versions of sam and max!!

[justvea18]

Patroclus and his little sister, Myrto

[rillils]

thinking about how bucky always says steve’s name like it comes right from his soul.

thinking about the innocence of that one sweet syllable leaving his lips in kreischberg, when he’s strapped to a table and barely keeping his grasp on reality, and how he smiles when he says it,

“steve”,

tender on his breath, and how he sighs it again while steve gathers him up into his arms, like it’s a balm, like it’s all the solace he needed, like this is all it took to make his pain go away for a blissful moment.

thinking about how cautiously he keeps his distance from steve in his apartment in bucharest; how he tries to protect himself, protect them both, by acting like he doesn’t remember – and still he slips up and says,

“you’re steve,” soft and a little hoarse and all too intimate, like it was only yesterday that he last called steve’s name out loud. and then he tries to fix that by attaching “i read about you in a museum” at the end, but it’s too late, his heart has already spoken before his mouth could stop it, the cat’s out of the bag now and there’s no shoving it back in.

thinking about how he wakes up later, finally in charge of his own body again, sore and exhausted and confused, and steve’s name is the first word on his lips, again, always,

and it’s so raw and vulnerable and it sounds so much like “i’m sorry”, sorry i lied to you, sorry i’ve been away for so long, sorry i’m still a weapon they can use against you, and it sounds a little bit like surrender too, like he’s done denying how he feels, and you can see the relief in his smile when he finally admits that of course, of course he knows steve, he’s in the marrow of bucky’s bones, a hundred years of torture couldn’t sap him out of bucky’s system – and bucky knows that because they’ve tried, they’ve already tried and it didn’t stick.

how many times do you think he curled up in a corner of his cell, back when hydra was first breaking him, and whispered steve’s name over and over in the ice-cold silence, reaching for any feeble memory of steve’s face, his voice, before it slipped between his fingers again?

how many times do you think they dragged him out of his cryo chamber, soaked and trembling, and heard him murmur steve’s name before he was even fully awake?

bucky didn’t even realize he’d said it, or what the word even meant. all he knew was the sudden sting of a slap across his face, and vicious hands pushing him into the chair more brusquely than usual, and not even knowing why.

how many times do you think he rolled over on his lumpy mattress in bucharest, only half-awake, and mumbled steve’s name, hand seeking the warm body that was supposed to be there next to him, chasing the dream-like memory of blond hair tickling his nose in the morning, of cold toes pressed against his shins and a slim arm slung over his waist – just to wake up in the gray light of dawn and find that he was still alone?

how many nights did he spend in wakanda, lying alone in his bed, warmed only by steve’s voice on the phone promising him “soon”, “just a couple more weeks”, telling bucky how much he missed him? how much did his chest ache every time he murmured that final “goodnight, steve,” before they hung up, just so steve’s name would be the last word he said before he fell asleep?

but i like to think that there comes one morning, eventually, when bucky wakes up to an arm wrapped protectively around his waist, and two cold feet tucked between his ankles, and the inviting warmth of a body pressed snugly at his back.

he calls the name softly,

“steve?”

and the man curled around him stirs, snuffles against the meat of bucky’s shoulder, pressing a drowsy “mmmm?” into bucky’s skin.

bucky only realizes he’s smiling when he goes to turn his face into the pillow, happiness flowing fire-bright and golden in his veins.

“shh, sorry, sorry,” he shushes steve quietly, burrowing back into his embrace, as far as steve will let him. “go back to sleep, doll.”