#will the jokes be over soon?

[messrsbyler]

you. yes you, person with rejection sensitive dysphoria. this message is for you. your friends DON'T hate you. they aren't mad at you. they aren't talking behind your back or wished to cut their friendship with you. they love you and treasure you and they are good people who wouldn't hurt you like that! ok, that's all. have a nice day.

[choccy-milky]

MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕

[go-star-sailor]

transfem wirt truthers wya

[soaptaculart]

Zelda & Link 🫶

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a joke. they were supposed to be in steve’s backyard with all their friends and family in shitty lawn chairs, holding cans of budweiser and jamming to whatever song eddie was in the mood for that day blasting through the speakers. steve was supposed to be in front of them all in a tuxedo t-shirt and powder blue dress pants, flowers in his hair that had been teased to high heaven and dark black sunglasses to keep out the bright sun. that’s how they had planned it all those years ago when they’d been high and drunk and young and in love.

but somehow instead, the yard is full of flowers and benches that hopper and wayne put together with spare wood for everyone to sit on and there’s an archway at the end of the aisle and soft acoustic songs spilling gently out of the speakers. steve’s still at the front, that was always supposed to happen, but this time he’s wearing an actual tux, light cream with a boutonnière and everything, and his hair is pushed back just so. there’s no flowers in his hair and no sunglasses but it’s cloudy enough of a day where he doesn’t really need them anyway.

they weren't even supposed to do this. there wasn't supposed to be a grand entrance and a walk down the aisle, no flower girls or ring bearers or anything remotely traditional. but what started off as, "well, i wouldn't mind walking down the aisle," and "i think exchanging rings would be cool," and "who cares if it isn't legal, i'm going to marry you anyway damnit," turned into this beautiful day of friends and family and love.

robin’s standing beside him in a tux of her own, pinstripe grey donning a pocket boutonnière that matches nancy’s bouquet, with a few notecards in her hands. and speaking of nancy, she’s heading down the aisle in a flowing dress, and when her eyes catch robin’s, she crinkles her nose before blowing her a kiss. she stands opposite of steve as eddie's not-quite-bridesmaid and grips her bouquet tightly, her eyes never leaving robin's.

and then there's dustin. he's in a tux that matches steve's and he has his curls pushed back with probably too much gel and a tie that suzie got him for their 3rd anniversary. the best thing he's sporting, though, is the smile on his face and the ring box in his hand and the joy in his eyes as he looks out at the crowd. having him there as best man and smelling the cheap cologne he wears so he seems more grown up calms steve's ever beating heart enough to where he doesn't think he'll throw up from nerves anymore.

all of their loved ones are surrounding them in clothes steve’s never seen before but he couldn’t care at all what they’re wearing because they’re all smiling wide and bright at him. he catches himself rocking back and forth on his feet so he shakes out his hands and holds them behind his back to distract himself. his stomach is rolling with waves or butterflies and when he catches joyce's eye in the front row, she mimes taking in a deep breath which he instantly copies. the soft grin she sends in return tells him that he thinks it could actually work to settle him. mothers have that healing way about them.

he’s never been good with weddings, always fidgeting in a too tight suit his mom picked out, but he never thought he’d be this antsy at his own.

steve's just about to give up and sprint down the aisle to get eddie so they can run away together and leave nerves and or butterflies behind him, but then the music stops. he sees lucas changing out the tapes quickly, giving a thumbs up to mike who throws one to will who runs back behind the shed to where he knows eddie is waiting and when will pops his head back out to run back to his seat, it hits him.

he's getting married.

steve doesn't have time to think about it anymore than he already has been for the last 8 years because eddie's coming around the corner of the shed.

'here comes the sun' is playing out over the speakers, soft and perfect, and eddie's smiling, wide and beautiful, and steve can't help but mirror it back to him. the clouds overhead seem to hear them, hear the song and hear their hearts beating in time with each other, because as soon as eddie gets to the aisle, bright warm rays of sunlight peak out and make the rhinestones he demanded line the lapels of his own black tux shine like real diamonds.

steve stops breathing. he swears he does, and he knows his family are all feeling the same way. he can hear a few gasps, hears joyce muttering what she thinks is a silent, "oh my god," in hop's ear, and watches how wayne stands up just a bit straighter from his front row seat.

eddie glides down the aisle like the drama king he is, soaking in the looks from everyone they care about and soaking in the sun that seems to come out only for him. it's like the sun knows he's a star, too, and wants to come out to be with one of it's own. eddie's always been sunshine and starlight and a blinding thing to look at and take in. he's the light, steve's the moth, and a few clouds on their wedding day could never change it.

"well, that was insanely good timing," eddie whispers to steve once he reaches him. his grin softens and he brings up a hand to wipe gently at the tear tracks on steve's cheeks. "hi, baby."

and steve can do nothing but choke out a laugh, catching eddie's hand in his own so he press a kiss to his palm. he thinks he can feel eddie's heartbeat against his lips and, even if it's his brain playing tricks on him, he likes the sentiment that it brings. "i love you so fucking much."

it's eddie's turn to get teary-eyed and the sun glints off the tears that fall down his cheek before heading back behind the clouds, dotting quick-to-fade sparkles on his face like a wedding present.

steve kisses him. he can't help it. it's nothing but a fast press of lips, watery smile to watery smile, and everyone is cheering except for robin.

"hey! it's not time for that yet," she says with a pretend scowl, arms pressing to each of their chests to keep them apart. it's enough to leave nancy giggling where she stands behind eddie, her laugh like bells bouncing off of the trees surrounding them. "just give me like ten minutes and we'll have you married and you can kiss all you want then."

steve swears he can hear mike groan at that which cause him to grin which cause eddie to grin back and then they're holding hands like it's the only way to get through the next ten minutes. and it might just be the only way to get through it. knowing them, if they didn't hold on tight, one of them would make a move first and there'd be hands around waists and fingers tangled in hair and robin would hate them forever because she wouldn't get to do her speech.

it's after vows are shared, after rings are on fingers, after kisses are pressed to lips and cheeks and temples and hands and everything else they can quickly reach, that the two of them get some peace. everyone is inside eating snacks and drinking cheap champagne, and it goes unspoken that they're going to take some time for themselves. take some time to bask in their new maybe not-so-legally real but as real as could ever be in their hearts marriage.

they make their way, hand in hand like they've always been meant to do, to a table set up for them. eddie pops a bottle of champagne that they pass back and forth between themselves as they share cheesy smiles and champagne-laced kisses. and it's as they look into each other's eyes, fingers lacing so their rings clink softly against each other, that the sun peaks out to say hello once more.

[tomatoart]

team fortress three

[amazingdeadfish]

Silly doodle to pass the time.

[vicsy]

charlos + wine

"I know your father is planning my murder right now," Charles says under his breath, then breaks into a fit of bumpy giggles.

It's like sandpaper to Carlos' ears.

He maneuvers Charles past the master bathroom door, then shuts it hard as if they're being chased by wolves. Carlos turns around to the sight of Charles leaning back on the designer bathroom counter next to the marble sink, warm and languid, his smile digging into the dimples on his cheeks, almost the same as when he hurriedly pressed a pristine, white cloth napkin to Carlos' ruined dress shirt and said, sweetly, to his mother's face across the dinner table – ah, I'm so terribly sorry.

"Charles," Carlos breathes out, awfully measured. He looks down at himself, the front of his shirt soaked in red; he looks up at Charles, at the silver of his collarbone, taunting, and then at his lips – parted, enticing. Red.

He is never hueless, a speck of color in the eyes of a charging bull with a knife stuck in his neck. Some of the red has rubbed off on Carlos, too. Perhaps it's just the wine sticking to his skin.

"Oops," Charles whispers. Tilts his head, neck bared, one of his beloved chain necklaces pooling in the hollow of his throat. A flutter of his inky-black eyelashes, a picture of tarnished innocence.

Perhaps not.

Downstairs, gathered in the isolation of a spacious dining room, a heated exchange in Spanish bounces off the walls, collides with the ceiling, making the floor beneath Carlos' feet vibrate and wobble. Charles' genuine sweetness is a perfect cover for the sharpness of his teeth; he bit the hand that's been feeding Carlos for decades without a second of hesitation once he felt it reaching for his neck. To Carlos, Charles' smile – bloody in the aftermath – was sugary and dauntless.

Or maybe it was the wine that spilt from the the glass held in his father's hand raised for a toast of mockery.

Carlos' jaw clicks. The lock on the door does, too, when he turns it without breaking eye contact with Charles, staring him down still as he undoes his shirt – a button, then a step forward; another button off and Charles hoists himself up on the counter with little grace. Carlos had gone up to change out of his ruined clothes, Charles following him purposefully, but now his vision tunnels on the distinct shape of Charles, unmarred by the heady scent of wine from a bottle that's older than both of them. His restraint fades. Carlos inhales, nostrils flaring. His shirt is gone, nothing but a handful of fabric fisted in his hand, and Charles' knees part, inviting, beaconing Carlos with a call that drowns out the rest of the noise.

"Ay, of course. Oops," he repeats, mimicking Charles slightly, eyes squinting and his breath momentarily caught. With ease, his body slots into the cradle of Charles' spread legs. He's leaning back, practically lounging, drawing out time like torn out strings. Carlos knows why, what purpose it serves. He reads it in Charles' gaze skirting over his bare chest, in the corner of his wine-stained lips when he tilts Charles' head up with a finger pressed under his chin. "It's better if you're quiet then, since you made a mess. Yes?"

Charles' defiance knows no bounds and Carlos envies him, wants to steal it for himself but Charles is in the one who relents in the end, cuts the rope before it snaps. The soft edges of him were never a curse in Carlos' eyes but he's failed to learn how to let go in time, an old dog that has run out of its tricks. And it's familiar – the way Carlos has to do nothing but Charles mouth drops open after time stretches into something unreal, just enough for him to slip the wine-soaked shirt past his lips and wait for Charles to clamp onto it, ostentatiously obedient. Carlos caresses his cheek with shaky patience, then passes his fingers through Charles' silky hair. His eyes flutter shut.

It's when Carlos moves, in the sliver of a moment when he's out of sight, pressing his face into the crook of Charles' neck and grabbing onto his waist. Downstairs, a storm brews and scratches against the door, but they're fused together now, uncaring. Carlos' lips mouth an absence of earnest words up the column of Charles' neck; he reaches down to unzip Charles' pants, wrapping deft fingers around his shamelessly hard, wet cock. Carlos steadies himself now, leaning into the habit with a few strokes. So predictable.

Charles' fingers dig into his shoulders like talons; another trap closes in, tears into his flesh but Carlos doesn't mind.

He'll blame it on the wine.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence (or more) fic about it.

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 76: louis wain

[jichanxo]

grown man calls you his kitten in front of your friends, what do you do? (aka what happens when @four-white-trees and I have been very bad influences on each other)

[dungeons-and-dictions]

Charlie didn’t get the family discount after all, huh

[linktube]

damien's three celebrity crushes! x

[lang-shih-na]

the very first words out of shih-na's mouth to lang after admitting to being a spy and a murderer are flirting with him. you really have to respect a girlie who shoots her shot even in her darkest hour

[peachsukii]

You know what one of my favorite things to read and write is?

Platonic love.

Friends you’d trust with your life, never hesitate to hold or hug, the ones you can kiss on the cheek and it’s not weird, just affection for someone you love so deeply and dearly. A silent protection and understanding, a bond that’s unbreakable.

Platonic love evolving into romantic love is beautiful, but knowing you can love more than one person in different lights is so comforting.

[hella1975]

hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

[neim-batteries-not-included]

It’s asexual awareness week!!! I present the most aware asexual!!!

(Possible eyestrain and trypophobia, vague spoilers for tma under the cut)

That is not his cardigan. You can decide whose it is, but it’s. It’s not his.

(Click for better quality)