#this song does things to him

[drinkingbitterboy]

[x] i had to gif the "dolls like you and me" and "rocket ship grease" star treatment moments because it's just absolutely insane

[seungs]

stray kids - sherlock cover (orig. shinee)

[autisticandroids]

FAMINE: That's one deep, dark nothing you've got there, Dean.

[youtube with closed captions]

dean and his father. dean and his family. dean and how bad it is.

(via @closetoyou1970)

[casualavocados]

What about me? Here we go again. You are so annoying. Could you please just get over it? It was only a one-night thing.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10 / Ep. 09

[sallytwo]

be nice to me!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[seeminglyseph]

Apollo's entire vibe in God Games feels like "Dad Said I Had to Be Here" and I feel like that's so Golden Child of him

[sesamenom]

maglor's first time getting to go to a concert / his favorite singer attending maglor's first big concert

[corrodedcoughin]

I feel like Eddie is the type of guy to always have a slide whistle in his pocket and uses it to make incidental sound effects for the conversations that happen around him.

Nobody knows where he gets them all from and they don’t ask incase he takes one out and starts playing with it.

Wayne is so happy every time he loses one of the whistles. He absolutely never tells Eddie when he finds one of the numerous whistles that have rolled under the couch. He has an agreement with Steve to dispose of them secretly and securely.

Except one night when Steve’s driving around town with Eddie, he opens the glove box and there’s a bag full of whistles (seriously nobody knows where he’s getting them from. And in bulk?)

And Eddie is all ‘HEY!’ Which immediately makes Steve tense up in preparation for an argument with his easily antagonised boyfriend about the possible theft of offending musicals instruments.

But then Eddie continues with ‘more whistles! I didn’t take you for a fan dude!!’

And promptly shoves one up each of his nostrils and one in his mouth and tries to play them all at once while demanding Steve watch instead of watching the road.

Steves going to have to think of a new hiding spot.

[askyofexplodingstars]

“Why am I grinning? I guess I've been unusually happy lately...”

vibe song to go w this 💜🖤

[emblazons]

(I do. love you).

Phoenixflare Week || Day 7: Free Day Joshua's Influence on Dion + Futile Devices

[reineydraws]

i just. wanted to draw them kissin'. so here's a modern au mistletoe thing. :') happy december!!! also i think shanks would look amazing in a cream-coloured cable-knit. 😌💞

[triglycercule]

tonight i'm gonna fall asleep and tonight i WILL dream about horrordust if i have anything to say about it,,,, i'm horrordustpilled they're everything to me right now. forever thinking about gshaewru's art of my hc,,,

the reluctant besties that they are. the assholes that they are. killer you should commit a koukatsu by maretu and kill their asses "you will never return here and the dead will not either"

[screechingfromthevoid]

Dorian with the crown keepers in some quiet taverns in quiet towns as they travel, he's always up late. He can't quite fall asleep well. So he sneaks out to a different tavern than the one they're staying at. He doesn't want to risk someone recognizing him in the morning.

At the new taverns, he goes straight to their stages. The emptier the better but it's not hard for him to convince a half drunk bard to get even drunker.

Sometimes he'd sit on the poorly lit stage and strum his mandolin and not say a word at all as he started to pluck out a tune. The chords are simple at first, something he heard in a dream. Every night spent working, adds another measure. Deeper swells and higher jumps. A mournful reverberation. He was stuck for a while.

Until he hears "glad you're not here... wish you were anyways".

Then, disjointed and seemingly unexpected, a reprise of that first plucking, an octave and a half lower. Still major, still jovial. Just. Deeper. Just... Realer.

I'll fix the transition later, he thought.

That's when the lyrics came. They weren't good but they spilled out of his mouth involuntarily. If it were up to him, those thoughts, those feelings would stay caged in his heart. Instead, a room full of strangers knew him more fully than his intimates.

Protector of air, guard of heart, bulwark of us

His simple plucked out tune, a dreamed up melody for a man he could only dream of.

You say you don't lead. But when I look to you, you're drenched in the boreal crux

A deep and quiet start to the encroaching swell, getting louder and higher.

Crowns of spiders couldn't tempt me astray from your due north

Trilled eight notes that felt like crawling legs and whispy silk on the back of the neck.

I thought you might be the wind caught in my sails. Always only you caught in my fibers

His last word carries a sour note, it sounded wrong, out of tune. Like he was.

A storm by another name, gold and red and melting black, tore us off course

Dorian's run was backwards, like he was free falling from a ledge. Accidentals plaguing it's decent.

It's harder than ever to orient through shades of grey and leave behind no remorse...

That reverberation was accompanied by a strain in his voice. Something that happened every night once he made it to that point. It came next to a swallow of something in his throat. That transition came to him, when Dorian thought about what got him out of his slump, he laughed. Bashfully, sheepishly. He always felt his face burn.

My heart aches. Stay steadfast. Fairer winds...

What a thing to say instead of I miss you.

I have stolen a world away. You are there, I am here. And all I want is to be together when we wake

His melody, their melody, picked up again. His fingers started to pluck staccatos in between the languid chords.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or so they say. This distance has only made mine bleed icar

Dorian wouldn't allow himself to end this with a confession. At least, not one of guilt. It wasn't supposed to be about his straying. It was supposed to be about Orym. It was supposed to be about the man he-

I look for the direction ivy green grows. I look to you still, to find my way.

Sometimes he ended the song with another reprise of his dreamy melody. Sometimes, his fingers would slip on the strings and rancid mistakes would ring out into the crowd. It seemed to depend on how hard they fought that day. How much more Opal stained.

Dorian would always thanked the crowd before taking up the coins that were haphazardly thrown on stage. He wouldn't set out a hat or cup, it wasn't about that, but there was always coin at his feet by the end.

He'd walk quiet streets and thought about Bertrand. Dorian understood now, what he said about walking alone at night. He stepped carefully up lulling tavern stairs thinking about picking up a bottle for a round of "what the fuck is up with that" with friend that weren't waiting for him. He slid into the room he shared with his brother, acknowledging every time that this was the first time they did that. They never shared a room or a bed as children. They didn't share much. Now fully grown, he felt they were more childish than ever.

Dorian curled into himself on his cold side of the bed and thought about how he used to have a pulsing heart beat on his skin. Whether it was across his legs, against his back, against his chest. He never felt loneliness like this before. He never felt the absence of someone before.

And he was worse for it

[socially-awkward-chocobo]

Happy Kagepro Day!!!

[soupforsoup]

I don't debate who would've won when Terry was about to throw hands with Robby at the S4 AVT, because the image of The Terry Silver consistently feeling threatened enough by this three apples tall ball of childhood neglect and anger issues, to treat him the same as his main adult enemies (squaring up, making a point of laughing him off like "look how not threatened I am by you") is too hilarious to be a practical question.

In the story of Terry Silver, his biggest adversaries are a middle-aged New Jersey-Italian twunk, a barely functioning alcoholic, his own repressed homosexuality, a man who would rather go on a revenge quest on another continent for his old twink fling than confess his feelings for a woman, and a Literal Teenage Boy