#but sometimes they don’t know it

[chasingthestarss]

James: What did you think I just kissed you all those times for shits and giggles??

Regulus: In my defense you did get a kick out of sticking your tongue down my throat in public places.

James: Well yeah, but that’s because it annoyed Sirius and it was funny.

Regulus: Yeah I enjoyed that too.

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[evidently-endless]

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[yuwuta]

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

[housecow]

i love when a feedee is obviously a little dumb… like, awww you really couldn’t stop, could you?? no wonder you’re so big. did the thought to stop eating ever cross your mind, or did you just finish everything on your plate because that’s what you were always told to do? did you even realize your portion sizes were getting bigger, too? i bet you get a little mad when people point out how much you’re eating. of course it’s not your fault, you didn’t know any better..

stupid feedees that have to be told they’re out of control. they think they’re not even that big yet

[batwynn]

One of the top ten funniest/best experiences of being a (any creative field) creator online is seeing someone tag/comment something completely different than the intended message or subject of the art/photo/story was, and it genuinely doesn’t matter if it’s not what you intended for them to experience with the thing because they got something out of it and as wild and out of left field as it is, it’s just… good.

And I don’t mean people who do the willingly misunderstand no reading comprehension and likes to yell at people thing.

I mean someone tagging suburbs on a photo of an extremely rural house. I mean someone writing an entire mini fic about an art piece that is so far from anything you were thinking of when you drew it but it’s got that heart and soul. I mean someone tagging their masc af bestie in a post about sparkly magical girls with ‘this you?’ and you can’t tell if it’s irony or genuine gender fuckery or both. I mean ship or fandom tags from 900 fandoms away on your Marvel ship art. I mean those ‘that’s me’ tags on frog pictures. I mean the seemingly random stories of life events someone went though that are followed up with the person looking concerned in the drive through window jpg. I mean the ‘wish that was me’ tag on an anime clip of someone burning alive. I mean shared experiences and ‘damn bitch you live like this?’

It’s all good. I’m beyond thrilled that you experienced something. I don’t know what it is, sometimes, but that doesn’t matter. You experienced something. And I just think that’s cool af.

[ghostbeam]

I bet choso is so weird when he’s into u like u go out with friends and he just stares at u and it’s like that for weeks like he just doesn’t say anything to u first ever but he’s just. Always there he doesn’t really know what to do about it but he knows in his brain ur already his and like sometimes he’s next to u in the bar like on guard looking over your shoulder and u don’t even realize it until u turn around and more often than not he scares the shit out of you but eventually u get kind of used to him always being there and you’re not sure what changed or if anything ever did but now your leaning into him and letting him hold his arm across your chest protectively and sometimes he gets this scary look on his face when people look at you but honestly you don’t even mind it

[aliosne]

Saw a post about working class butches in physical labour jobs and wanted to make my own, so: I love you butches who do childcare or early education. I love you butch nurses. I love you butch house cleaners and janitorial staff. I love you service industry butches. I love you butches who do sex work. I love you working class butches who do “feminine” jobs you are cool as hell

[steddieas-shegoes]

AU where Steve has decent parents. They aren’t great, but they’re not bad. They show up for major things and tell him they love him, but they don’t understand him. They don’t get that he needs more than that.

So Steve’s nanny keeps in contact with him even after she’s let go because “Steve doesn’t need looking after” at the age of 10. She checks in with him all the time.

Ms. Munson is always bringing him a dish from her own dinner with her brother and son, making sure he has someone at the awards days at school, makes sure he has gifts at Christmas that he’ll actually like.

But she never invites him to her home and it doesn’t hit him until his senior year of high school that she’s Eddie Munson’s mom, that they live in the trailer park that he was never allowed to go to, that her brother must be Wayne, who took him fishing once when he got his heart broken by his first girlfriend.

He’s a different person now, but not to Eddie.

As time goes on, and he experiences more trauma than any single person should, and he gets Robin as a platonic soulmate, he realizes that Ms. Munson still shows up. His parents don’t bother much anymore, but she does.

And two days before spring break of ‘86, she sends Eddie to Steve’s house with a care package.

When Steve shuffles through the items, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he finds a bag of pre-rolled joints.

Eddie comes up with excuses, brushes it off as just a friendly gesture for someone his mom cares so much about.

But Steve won’t hear it. He asks him to stay and smoke one with him, take the edge off since he’s been dealing with midterms.

They get high on his back patio, talking and laughing late into the night, so late that Eddie almost worries he’ll have to go to school in his clothes from the day before.

Steve won’t hear it, offers his shower and his “most metal” clothes- his only black jeans and a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off- and says he can sleep there for the couple of hours left before school.

Eddie wakes up to Steve making coffee and toast, using the jam his mom had included in the care package and a smile that made Eddie’s cynical heart flop in his chest.

Eddie didn’t think the next time he saw Steve would be when he was holding a broken bottle to his neck, terrified of everything and everyone, but the moment they had a second alone, Steve hugged him close.

“It’s a shit way to be welcomed into the group officially, but I’m glad you’re not alone.”

Steve and Eddie were inseparable while fighting Vecna, both of them insistent on protecting the kids.

When Steve managed to get Eddie to the motel the Munsons were staying in after El managed to get rid of Vecna, Ms. Munson was standing at the door with tears in her eyes.

“My boys.”

She patched them up, better than any doctor probably would have, giving them small kisses on the head when they winced in pain.

And eventually, she tucked them into one of the beds in the room, ignoring how they hadn’t stopped holding hands for the entire night.

She’d been hesitant to introduce them; Eddie, for all his talk of accepting people for who they are, struggled to accept how much she did for Steve, not understanding why he may need it.

But it seemed like she didn’t need to force anything. They found their way together in the end.

[perpetualcynicism]

“May I hold you?” you ask Jing Yuan one afternoon as you lie sun-warmed in his garden. 

You almost think he is asleep until he invites, “Please,” carrying a smile in his voice. 

With ginger movements, you reach over and place your hands on either side of his face. It begins as mere holding, but soon you find your touch roaming. You smooth your fingers over his eyebrows and trace down to each side of his jaw. From here your hands climb up again, and once more back down, mapping out each crevice and dip of his face, his skin, his bone, until you are certain there is no part of him remaining that you do not know better than you know yourself.

You play this game with yourself, sometimes. You imagine people not as people, but as planets. After all, what is a person anyway, if not a world of their own? You trace the ridge of his nose, and imagine there lies a mountain range. Around his eyes you find oceans. Where his cheeks dip, there are valleys, and a river runs between his lips.

“What are you doing?” Jing Yuan asks. There is an element of amusement to his question, but his voice is primarily gentle. Endeared.

You still your hands. They rest on his cheeks while your thumbs brush back and forth over his skin, holding him. Though the world melts back into the familiar shapes of his face, there is still an assured sturdiness to his features which is grounding; a gravity which draws you towards him, as if you were the moon to his planet. Small, perhaps, and bare, but casting light on him wherever you can.

You answer, “I think I’m holding the world in my hands.”

You feel Jing Yuan’s smile through the way his cheeks press into your palms. Two hands cover yours, large and calloused, but gentle, and hold yours securely in place against his face. There is the tender press of lips to your skin as he turns his head enough to kiss the inside of your palm.

You hear Jing Yuan’s smile through the way his words come warm and bright and filled with adoration. You wonder why you thought him a planet, when he is so clearly the sun.

“And I am being held by the universe.”

[ciearcab]

annual philza for the masses

[ewwww-what]

Just watched boys night. Will never be normal again.

[somerandomdudelmao]

@tapakah0

This little bunny means the world to me

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”