#thanks if you read this far <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[retrogradedreaming]

I need to start thinking of ideas for the prompt list I made to get myself to sketch more in October, but instead I'm drawing self-indulgent comics about cats 😭

[sparkleofstardust]

in light of the recent news that Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi has been found dead after a helicopter crash you might be wondering 'who the hell is this guy and why are so many people celebrating his death??' and i'm here to answer that!

to fully understand what's going on we need to look into Iran's history: when the Iranian revolution in 1979 happened the authoritarian king who was ruling at that time was overthrown, but the ensuing power vacuum lead to the islamic regime seizing power and establishing Iran as an islamic republic

the following years were incredibly cruel to the Iranian people; thousands of people (especially minorities) have been protesting against the strict islamic regime leading to many being jailed, tortured and executed.

and this is where Raisi played a big part: in 1988 he was part of a committee that ordered the execution of thousands of political prisoners who were protesting the islamic regime, earning himself the title of "the butcher of tehran"

do not be fooled by what the state media wants you to believe, the Iranian people are celebrating his death. he was a cruel mass murderer who has destroyed the lives of thousands of people, his death should be used as a time to mourn for all the suffering he has caused, and bring new attention to the political prisoners still being held in Iranian prisions today

because sadly the fight is far from over. many of you have probably heard of the murder of Mahsa Jina Amini back in 2022, causing a new wave of nationwide protests and establishing the "woman, life, freedom" movement. the regime has gotten increasingly cruel in their treatment of the Iranian people, especially women, but the people of Iran are not deterred and keep fighting for a free Iran.

if you want to know how you can help, please keep talking about us. the one thing the regime hates is international attention, and in the past it has been proven that international pressure has stopped the regime from executing various political prisoners. people like Toomaj Salehi are under imminent threat of execution and spreading their names could save their lives. so whether you share social media posts or talk to your family and friends about what is happening in Iran, anything helps 🙏🏼

jin, jiyan, azadi ✌🏼

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could. 

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[taikin4]

the seeds 🛐

[qiornono]

PLEASE PLS PLS read in memoriam by alice winn this book changed my freaking life!!!!!

[boygirlctommy]

i love the bit from oct 17 2020 when tommy and quackity trapped wilbur in a cobblestone box to keep him from pressing the button... wilbur punching through the blocks with his bare hand to try to get to the button... tommy frantically replacing the block in front of him yelling for quackity to do something... the moment when tommy stops, blocks the exit, and tells wilbur to do it. press the button. but then theyd die with him. quackitys like "wait, wait-" but tommy holds his ground and wilbur. ohh wilbur. "why'd you have to make it so hard?"

[ganondoodle]

carefully attempted to draw (still sick); wanted to give Shargon another redesign, this is an older version of him but the basics should also go for his younger self (idk yet about his lung replacement design; arms are posed weird to make anatomy clearer)

(wip, oc art, Shargon, he/they)

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

After @randomationality mentioned Starscream getting thrown around often here, I remembered him being shiny for the first few episodes and decided to do some digging and figure out exactly when he lost the shine.

In Episode 1, while Megatron is still gone, Starscream’s chest has a very prominent shine.

Then again, Episode 2, Megatron returns and he is very shiny.

In Episode 3 he’s not as shiny as earlier (possibly due to the lighting, possibly due to offscreen Megatron) but we do see the glow of his weapon reflecting on his chest.

Same for Ep4, continuation of the Fowler scene. But at the end of Episode 4, Megatron beats Starscream on camera for the first time. And when you watch Episode 5,,,

You can clearly see he’s lost the shine. The same lighting is hitting both of them and while it reflects from Megatron, it doesn’t from Starscream.

Worth noting that Ep 6 does give him back a bit of shine, he never quite recovers to the same degree as the first few episodes. I stopped watching carefully after that point. Make of this what you will. The animators tweaking his design after the first few episodes, or an intentional change to show Megs’ abuse.

[iristial]

The childlike penmanship and utter abundance of hiragana and katakana that has its own implications aside, I was going to talk about how sweet and sad it was that the only kanji Shouma knows is "mother" (母). But then someone told me he also knows the kanji for "help [me]" (助)...that certainly adds to the context of Shouma's memories of his mother mainly being shrouded in fear

[babygirlwolverine]

big changes but the same fluff blog! get ready for double the kisses with deancas and poolverine 💋

deancaskiss >>>>> babygirlwolverine \|/

thank you to everyone who voted in my url poll. y’all chose this url so this one’s for you! and don’t worry, there will still be plenty of destiel on my blog with lots of poolverine too ❤️💛

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 19 — mechanic — 843 words aka motocross enthusiasts to future boyfriends

James hastens to unclip and throw off his helmet. Carelessly, he throws it to the side where it lands with a dull thud in the foliage while he runs over to the person that just slipped off their motocross bike in front of him.

They were racing each other.

He came out of nowhere, appearing on the trail right next to James. As if he’d materialized himself out of thin air. Decked out in all black and bike an atrocious lime yellow-green that doesn’t blend with the background of the forest even if it wanted to.

He’d snaked his way in front of James when their twin paths united again. Two fingers were tipped from his helmet in a mock salute and then he’d accelerate hard and fast, swirling dirt at James’ helmet visor.

And, well. James has never said no to a challenge a day in his life. Especially from such a cheeky opponent. So James had revved his engine and done his best to keep up and find ways to overtake his mysterious challenger.

The thing is, the other guy was fast. Quick and nimble on his bike, winding between trees and seeking out every opportunity to get a good head start. Jumping off hills instead of taking them easier, dangerous maneuvers, snapping branches and leaving behind angry wheel tracks.

And James was chasing. As soon as the trees cleared a little James managed to pull almost level with him. The biker threw multiple looks over his shoulder when he noticed and James’ grin sharpened when he heard a short laugh from his front left. They parted ways when James chose to round a hill instead of going up and over it, slowing down to keep out of the other’s landing range.

But just as quickly James’ smile was gone.

Maybe the ground was muddier than the guy thought or he got too high-spirited. His hind wheel slipped right from underneath him upon hitting the ground again, making him tumble forward with the remaining momentum and his bike sideways.

Now, James skidders down onto his padded knees next to the body laying in the dirt. “Fuck, hey! You okay?”

He gets a groan in response, raspy and breathless.

And then James gets all breathless when the other guy weakly shoves off his own helmet. It’s pale skin contrasting starkly with his all black getup, dark curls tumbling onto his forehead and stormy eyes fluttering up at him.

Oh.

The gorgeous man on the ground grunts vaguely, “Never been better.”

James makes a skeptical noise. “Hey, open your eyes for me again. Can you see clearly?”

Slowly, grey eyes blink open and try focusing on James’ figure kneeling over him. His lips part around a silent gasp once they’re wide open, looking at James intensely. “Um, yeah,” he answers.

James’ mouth tips into a grin. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” the other breathes weakly.

“And your name is?”

“Regulus.”

James hums, “And how many fingers do you see, Regulus?” He holds up 3.

“Three,” Regulus answers dutifully.

James switches his fingers, holding his thumb to his forefinger, the tips of both of them creating a little heart. “And how many now?” James smirks.

Regulus’ wide eyed glance turns into a scowl, lips pouting as he pushes James’ hand away with a grumbling noise. James doesn’t miss the way his cheeks pinken though.

Regulus tries to sit up but he immediately plops back onto his elbows with a groan.

“Don’t be a hero,” James admonishes and pushes him to lay back down.

“How’s my bike?” Regulus wants to know. It’s quiet safe for the sounds of the forest, birds chirping, wind rustling the thicket.

James looks over his shoulder where the lime green atrocious is laying sideways in the leaves. The motor isn’t on anymore but it doesn’t look bent or scratched. “Looks in okay shape,” James replies, turning back to Regulus. He’s looking up at him with an uneasy gleam in his bright eyes. James drives a hand through his hair, licks his lips. Regulus’ eyes follow the motion. ”Easily fixable, I bet,” James reassures, “Probably just some of the electronics impacted.”

Regulus lets his head thump back into the foliage with an unhappy groan.

James grins. “Hey, y’know what? I’ll take you to my mechanic. Guy’s awesome! Funniest person I know and he really knows his bikes.”

James expects Regulus to lighten up and be thankful for the offer but instead he’s met with an almost patronizing smile in return. “Hard pass. I already have a trusted mechanic.”

James narrows his eyes, feeling defensive. “Well, your loss then. Sirius always does a flawless job for a good price. Plus,” he grins again, “His fancy ass espresso machine makes a mean hot chocolate. And he lets me have one every time.” James nods to himself, feeling victorious.

Something flits over grey eyes and then Regulus’ own lips tip onto a smirk. “I know,” he answers and James is properly confused for a few momentps before Regulus goes on. “I bought it for my brother.”

[maliciousmace]

Object show friendships

Yes it's shitty but I had fun all throughout the process of this so I'm sharing my joy with you, also I'm like really sleepy so that explains a lot

Idk they're just so funky <3

(edit: I MADE THE REBLOG THING)

[purplebehittindifferent]

Battle won! You got 66g and crushing guilt!

That’s the end of chapter 2! Who’s ready for chapter 3? ME! ME! But wait- what’s THIS?

Masterpost

Prev (ch:2::8)/ End of chapter 2!

Next (INTERLUDE)

[katsu28]

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp 

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been. 

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly. 

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.” 

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?” 

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.” 

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?” 

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today. 

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.” 

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?” 

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.” 

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in. 

Shit. It was you. 

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though. 

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter. 

“Wait, what—” 

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.” 

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—” 

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes. 

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes. 

Would he do anything about it? Probably not. 

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it. 

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.” 

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.” 

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.” 

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?” 

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?” 

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You. 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered. 

“Well then they’re idiots too.” 

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.” 

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed? 

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.” 

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf. 

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?” 

“Am I allowed to say neither?” 

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would. 

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!” 

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization. 

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly. 

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more. 

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit. 

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor. 

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way. 

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.” 

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out. 

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[diezmil10000]

man i wish i could mute notifications from specific posts here on tumblr. my dunmeshi fanarts are literally eating up my notifications tab and it's impossible to see if people have left nice notes on other posts, which was genuinely the best thing about this app. on top of that, since the anime is basically mainstream, it's also impossible to read notes from people who are insane about it and which i would want to read if i wasn't fed up.

[mappingthesky]

just talk (and i’ll stare at your mouth)

super fluffy mini blurb inspired by that dragcon moment

It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

Jane is several minutes too deep into defending herself and has the whole room in uproar. She’s sitting up straight with one long leg crossed over the other, relatively composed except for the bobbing of her head as she speaks and the mindless point of her finger as she directs her words around the room. Her hair is dark and tied up into one of those messy buns that Nymphia loves so much on her, long tendrils framing her face as she delivers another verbal lashing. Nymphia can’t look away from her, but, then again, no one can. Their friends are hanging on to her each and every word; their laughter echoes around the room, amplified with every add-on. Jane rolls her eyes, and Q is actually red in the face, and Morphine is about to fall out of her fucking chair, and Nymphia is stupidly, deliriously happy.

There was a time when this wasn’t so easy. When Nymphia would watch Jane rile up a room, watch her jaw clench and her temple pulse, and think that she needed to do something about it. A time when she was ready to throw herself between Jane and whatever unfortunate soul had found themselves so thoroughly embroiled in a feud with her, ready to jump to Jane’s defense no matter how undeserving. A time when Nymphia thought Jane needed saving. A time when Nymphia thought she had to prove it - that she’s on Jane’s side, wholly and completely, no matter how wrong she is.

Now, Nymphia watches from where she’s curled up against the armrest of the couch, Jane’s profile silhouetted against the soft glow of the living room light, and can’t help but beam, because loving Jane is so easy. With every stupid word that flies unfiltered from Jane’s lips, Nymphia laughs this hopelessly enamored, completely contented laugh - a hum against the roof of her mouth, high and happy. She looks over at Jane, her face actually hurting from smiling so big, and thinks I could do this forever, just sit and listen to you talk, no matter what you’re saying.

At some point mid-ramble Jane looks over for support, her hand absent-mindedly flying to squeeze Nymphia’s knee. It’s a reminder - for herself, or maybe for Nymphia, or maybe for the both of them - that they’re still in this together, and when her gaze lands on Nymphia, when she catches a glimpse of her looking back with this pure and unbridled adoration, Jane’s head darts back in a double take. All at once, her face splits into this glorious smile.

“What?” Jane questions with a playful tilt to her head, and her voice is softer, gentler somehow, so immediately removed from the rest of the world. Her eyes are widened and interested and still impossibly soft, because it’s Nymphia she’s looking at, and all at once they’re in their own private universe.

“Nothing,” Nymphia smiles, shakes her head, because she doesn’t want to interrupt this - Jane being Jane. “Go on.”

“No, what were you gonna say?” Jane says with a nod, makes space for Nymphia to speak into, even if it's just for her to hear. Her grin is stupid and boxy and Nymphia’s absolute favorite - Jane’s mouth held slightly open, tongue just behind her teeth, like she’s going to eat whatever Nymphia says next.

“You’re insane,” Nymphia says through giggles, because it’s all so unexpectedly sweet, and all her adoration bubbles up and out of her in beautiful, twinkling, head-tilted-back laughter, and Jane is completely entranced by all of it.

“Are you just now realizing this?” Jane says and flashes that smile, that completely fucked up smile where her canines glitter at the corner of her mouth, that shit-eating grin that Nymphia can’t get enough of. “Aw, babe.”

“You’re completely crazy,” Nymphia beams, smitten and sunshiney. “There’s no hope for you.”

“You love it,” Jane’s eyes flare and her grin widens somehow, and Nymphia can hardly stand to look at her when she’s staring back at her with this sort of intensity, when her eyes are lingering on Nymphia’s mouth and she just knows she’s thinking about kissing her.

“I love it,” Nymphia says with a bit of snarl, too excited about Jane to be anything resembling sane or subtle. “I love you.”

Jane’s eyes gleam with an obsessive sort of disbelief, one incisor sunk hungrily in her bottom lip. “You’re perfect,” she says. “I fucking love you. Come here.”

Nymphia is laughing, and Jane’s leaning in to positively devour her whole, and then, from somewhere behind them: “Get a fucking room!”

Jane draws back just enough to call over her shoulder, “See, Q, this is why no one likes you!” and elicits immediate uproar. The whole room dissolves into hollers and laughs and sputtering comebacks, and it’s the perfect distraction, giving them just a few more seconds to themselves.

“God, she’s so fucking annoying,” Jane rolls her eyes as she gravitates back to Nymphia, but her annoyance doesn’t reach her lips. She’s still smiling, still basking in their bubble, looking down at Nymphia as she dissolves into giggles once again and looks so enamored, so proud, because this is what she does it for - not to start fights, not to make a statement, but to keep Nymphia laughing at her.

“You’re so right,” Nymphia looks up at Jane, eyes fluttering. “Should we kill her?”

“Yes. You’re so hot when you’re murderous. Kiss me.”

And then Jane’s there, cupping Nymphia’s face with both hands, pressing her lips to hers in this head-spinning, all-consuming sort of kiss, does it again and again until they’re breathless and well-reminded that none of this matters - not the banter, not who started the fight or who is going to finish it, not Q’s voice already rising in the background, calling Jane’s name over and over again. All that matters is this - Jane drawing back from the kiss, eyes sparkling with deviousness and devotion, looking into Nymphia and saying so freely:

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Nymphia smiles, tilting her head towards their company. “Go!”

“So,” Jane starts up again, leans in to kiss Nymphia one last time, pulls back to address the room with an undeterrable smile on her face. “No, yeah, as I was saying…”

Nymphia falls back against the arm of the couch, her cheeks flushed and her heart full. As she watches Jane now, Nymphia knows better. She knows that Jane doesn’t need saving, that neither of them do, because they’ve already been saved. They’ve already found each other. And when all of this is over, when they send their friends home and lock the door behind them, they'll give in to the sort of softness that only they know. That Jane will wrap herself around Nymphia, nuzzle into her chest and mumble some version of was that too much? And Nymphia will reassure her, even though she doesn’t have to, because she knows she’s already proven it - that she’s on Jane’s side when she’s right, but especially when she’s wrong. That Jane can stand her own, but she’ll never be standing alone. That they have each other, heart and soul, and that means it's all going to end up alright.