#discovered in the drafts

[spindrifters]

sopping wet declarations of love

(with a sprinkling of light trauma)

“Moony—”

“You shouldn't be with me, you should be with someone who’s not going to fall to pieces without any bloody warning, who’s not—”

“Stop it.”

It’s harsh, cutting through the mire, and Remus looks up. His heart catches.

Because Sirius isn’t concerned anymore. Sirius looks downright angry.

“Stop that,” he says again, voice low, almost dangerous, grey eyes and cheekbones sharpened to a flint. “You don’t get to do that. Martyr yourself on whatever cross you like, Remus, but you don’t get to tell me who I get to love. Alright? That. That’s not yours. That belongs to me, and you don’t get to decide.”

His heart drops into his gut.

“What?” he whispers.

Sirius reaches out and cradles him by the jaw, a hand under each ear, eyes burning, and Remus doesn’t know if he’s angry—he thinks he is—but it’s more than that. And Remus thinks he may have swallowed his own throat, too, by now, if he’s heard right.

“Maybe I’m the broken one, really,” Sirius snaps, all the conviction of his eighteen years behind it, “because I don’t think about sex. Not really. Not like that. Not unless there’s the person first, and then it’s all just them. So if that’s what you need, if that’s what you want, we will get there. Because I want that if it’s with you. We’re capable of too much else not to manage it someday. But in the meantime, you do not get to tell me I shouldn’t want to be with you. That is mine. Alright?”

Remus stares, eyes wide. He’s breathing hard.

“You love me?”

A moment’s pause.

“You said... you said who you get to—”

“Course I love you, you terrific knob. Isn’t it obvious?”

Grey eyes soften, palms at his jaw go slack, and Sirius almost seems resigned. Like he’s ready for Remus to bolt. Remus, however, doesn’t think he could find it in him to make his legs move if he tried. He feels frozen, there, tucked up at the end of his bed. Frozen, but for the heart banging against his chest. Frozen, but for the hundred million thoughts racing through his mind, because love is something for other people. Something you can have once you’re fed and healthy and physically able and capable of holding your own and safe and—

And Sirius has set his jaw, daring him to run. Daring him to push back, or argue, or brush it off.

Remus feels the heart in his chest, and the golden glow of light that tethers the pair of them, and the wet tracks on his own cheek he hadn’t been quite aware of before. He feels all that, and then it rises, unbidden, the memory Sirius’s voice, a warm July afternoon by a cool mill pond.

Maybe you’ve just got to make it real for yourself, then.

His own voice, directly after that, echoing in the shade.

You’ve got to believe. You’ve got to believe it’s for you.

Sirius is still glaring, for all it’s softer now, and Remus swallows the lump in his throat.

“I love you, too.”

It’s not a whisper. Not this time. It’s loud, and bold, and nothing more than a matter of stating fact because it is that.

He loves him. He loves him. He loves Sirius Black, in all his beautiful, maddening recklessness and high ideals. In all his contradictory edges, loud and brash and painfully posh, queer and unashamed, gentle and bold and harsh when he wants to be. He loves him for his relentlessness, the push and pull that woke him back up to the world, that drove the promise that there’s so much more still to life.

He loves him.

That’s all there is to it.

So he says it, hands grasped round his wrists, and watches with a thrill as Sirius’s eyes widen in shock.

“You—”

“Yeah.”

“You love—”

“I do,” Remus says, and pulls his mouth in to meet his.

[robustcornhusk]

buddies, pals, comrades, friends, besties, beasties:

[imclou]

@head-in-the-icloud's Dawn and Dusk doodles from last week's magma. Drawing them is so satisfying istg, my hand cramped really bad but i held on til the end for that sweet sweet dopamine

|| Ref Sheet ||

Also this little ref sheet i made back in December.

[hunnam]

[marmastry]

Extra:

Kofi

[poonyo]

Destiny? What would a boy know of destiny? If a fish lives it's whole life in this river, does he know the river's destiny? No! Only that it runs on and on, out of his control. He may follow where it flows, but he cannot see the end. He cannot imagine the ocean.

[quinnylouhughesx43]

my son is so precious. sweetie, stay away from trevor zegras he will ruin your sweet innocence

[fearandhatred]

i was thinking about this line from my fic:

But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys.

and i came up with this. i hope the vision came through

[palskippah]

Hi!

It's almost September (WOOO) (very important month in Chile), so I was listening to cueca AND if I like a character, I will make them chilean, so now Ambrosius is chilean and speaks Spanish when I don't write them all in spanish (where suddenly they're all chilean sjsdk)

SO anyways, HC that he's a güerito (fair-skinned/blond latino asjdka) in the same way I make Princess Peach be one too asjdkd

Translation (sorta, more like adaptation?) of the song he sings under the cut!

1 - Oohhh, darling... if only you kne~w...

2 - That I can't exist without seeing you

3 - I miss you so muuuch

4 - That there's no spri~ng

5 - When you're not pr- (Ballister interrupts him)

7 - --present, I miss you so muuUUch (voice crack ajskda)

There's another part in the song where the woman sings 'how can I forget those (your) eyes, that captivate me so much' but I didn't want to extend the thingy too much askjdas but I like to think that Ballister's eyes are the prettiest Ambrosius' has ever seen and he'll always state his point.

(Same with Movie Ambrosius, Ballister's eyes are to him like a night sky, and he says so, a night sky when it's full of stars - nevermind that the kingdom is probably very light-contamined ajskda imagine they got starry nights too)

By the way I don't know about the context, so feel free to imagine whatever you'd like ;;

[heavenlyyshecomes]

misc readings pt. 11

tech edition

It's not your fault you're a jerk on twitter, katherine cross, wired

Becoming human again: a reading list for the extremely offline, lisa bubert, longreads

The internet is rotting, jonathan zittrain, the atlantic

ambient cruelty, linda besner, real life magazine

Searching for lost knowledge in the age of intelligent machines, adrienne lafrance, the atlantic

Ghosts of the future: the smart home is a haunted house, julia foote, real life magazine

The internet is flat, charlie warzel, galaxy brain

How TrueCaller built a billion-dollar caller ID data empire in India, rachna khaira, rest of the world

Vivid hues: what does it mean to think of the internet as a color? anna rose kerr, real life magazine

Singapore’s tech-utopia dream is turning into a surveillance state nightmare, peter guest, rest of the world

The $2 per hour workers who made chatgpt safer, time

I cut the 'big five' tech giants from my life. It was hell, kashmir hill, gizmodo

Social media is not self-expression, rob horning, the new inquiry

The narcissism of queer influencer activists, jason okundaye, gawker

On losing perspective, or, why i don't give a fuck about geronimo the alpaca and nor should you, rachel connolly, novara media

The exploited labour behind artificial intelligence, noema

The class politics of the instagram face, grazie sophia christie, tablet

Google, amazon, and meta are making their core products worse on purpose, ed zitron, business insider

All advertising looks the same these days. Blame the moodboard, elizabeth goodspeed, eye on design

Seen by, megan marz, real life

[duskier]

cw mommy kink

It took Laswell a long time to get used to the idea that you loved going down on her. That you relished the feel of her cunt on your tongue, her soft thighs and how they hold you tight in your place between them, as if you'd ever give up the tart ambrosia her sex had to offer.

Wrapping your arms under her thighs and holding, squeezing her hips feels like a hug, like coming home.

"Gooood girl, sweet girl," Laswell sighs, gentle fingers petting your head as you settle into your place, knelt before her chair. Nosing her sensible cotton panties to the side and holding them there with fingers hooked in the elastic so you can suck her into your mouth.

The soft praise melts into a low, needy groan. It makes you feel good to make her feel good- little pinpricks of pleasure traveling down your spine at how quickly Laswell melts into your ministrations. You flex and straighten your tongue, diving between her lips.

The world goes quiet as Laswell's thighs squeeze together involuntarily, your ears fully covered. You peek and can see her hands are now at her sides, squeezed into trembling fists.

"Taste so good f'me," you moan and pant against her clit.

Lips never leaving her pussy, the words just had to escape you. You mean it. She tastes like fucking heaven. Not like chocolates or strawberries or whatever else shitty romance books might imagine up- Laswell tastes like sex. She tastes like salty hedonism and tangy pleasure and musky atonement and she tastes like the fucking love of your life.

Her hips buck up at your words, your voice, your praise. She gives a weak gasp, her eyelids heavy as she looks down at you with a dizzy smile. You meet her gaze with a flat tongue wiping up her cunt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to-" Laswell's words are cut short when you repeat the motion. Your entire world is narrowed down to Laswell, how your nose feels being buried against her light blonde thatch of hair. "Know how to drive me crazy honey."

Drawing her clit into your mouth again, you can feel her thighs flex again when she notices your fingers dipping into her pussy. Just two fingers gliding in up to the first knuckle and out with ease, teasing.

Due to being past menopause, it takes much longer for Laswell to warm up to being penetrated, even by fingers. She's also got the refractory period of about two business days, so she usually prefers just one orgasm. Usually. Most of the time like this you make her cum before you get to the point of fucking her, which you're fine with as long as she's happy.

With your tongue swirling around her clit and the smell of her heavy in the air and- fucking hell- the sounds she's making like you're hand delivering her a slice of heaven- you're moaning yourself, sound vibrating against the sensitive bud.

"Honey, I'm close-"

Your tongue doesn't stop swirling her clit, but you open your mouth again, panting.

"Yea?" You ask, the words sounding loose from your numb libs and occupied tongue.

"F-fuck, yeah-" Her hips are bucking erratically now, chasing the swiftly approaching release that has her eyes falling closed entirely.

Your fingers leave her hole, instead taking the place of your tongue. You know how to work her, it doesn't interrupt her descent into madness.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Please, please, please..." Your voice is hoarse, desperate. Like it mattered more to you that she finished than it did to her. "Cum for me, please, lemme see it."

You can see the tendons in her arms flexing as she grips her chair, see how her entire body tenses and relaxes in these slow pulses, crashing waves growing stronger with every circle drawn by your fingers on her clit. She's there, she's teetering at the edge, and you're like a dog wagging your tail looking at a treat in your master's hand.

"Please," You whine, pussydrunk and enraptured at the sight of her. "Please mommy, cum-"

If her mouth hadn't slammed shut, she might have openly screamed. Her knees crash together as her body shakes, her head thrown back. When she returns to you, looking down with heavy drunken eyes, you can tell immediately she isn't done.

"Bed, now." She's breathless.

You don't snark back. You don't question. You're like her personal little soldier, following every order to the letter. You're also so pent up that you don't have much blood flow going to your brain to think of doing anything other than obedience. It's quickly rewarded, it's how you end up with Laswell moaning prettily on your lap, her fingers circling her clit as she slowly sinks herself down on you.

You keep your hands to yourself, letting Laswell take her time. The sight is entertainment of it's own, the flush in her cheeks intoxicating. Every little huff of breath making her chest rise and fall in turn making your mouth water. The crazed woman didn't even bother taking off those panties of hers, just shoved them to the side. Impatient, perfect minx. The lighting perfectly highlighted the gorgeous stretch marks on her hips and breasts, your eyes raking in every inch where you wanted your tongue.

"Say it again," Laswell directed.

Obviously, you didn't need to ask what she meant.

[cinnamonrollsledge]

HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH + BAND OF BROTHERS:

JOSEPH "JOE" RAMIREZ

Born October 5th, 1921, in Nebraska

Died April 8th, 1988 (age 66), in Martinez, California

Joe Ramirez enlisted in September 1942 (age 20) in San Francisco, CA, and he trained with Easy Company at Toccoa. Holding the rank of Private, he served in Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne. He was hospitalized in January 1945, and discharged in July 1945. After the war, he was married for many years, and had children and grandchildren. When he passed away he was buried with his wife, who had passed away 11 years earlier. Further information about him is scarce, but the brief character profile in the Band of Brothers series bible describes him as Mexican-American, and his personality as "sensitive and nervous."

Appears in Episodes 1, 3-8, and 10; portrayed by actor Rene L. Moreno

Sources below

A million thanks to @bleedingcoffee42 for tracking down this info for me!

[badnew2005]

SUNNY IS A LOVE STORY @badnew2005

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson | @boymiffy | @maccymacdonald | Rob McRlhenney, Philadelphia style | Is the Cast of Always Sunny Irredeemable? ceicocat | True Blue, boygenius | @dennisboobs | @starpeace | @chilledmac | @bitseventimes | Rat A Tat, Fall Out Boy | Its Always Sunny In Philadelphia (2005-)

[formelydailynowweeklykillersans]

Day eight: who animated the boi??

Killer sans belongs to Rahafwabas

[mylove-thresher]

whiteboard pissed me off so many times but i forgive it. sigh.

anyway heres cuban harry tony mike (hatsune miku) bc cultural mikus are swagger !!111

tbh im starting to appreciate colour a lot more now that ive done some digital art

the shi going on inside my brain when i see cool colours is very kewl :3

[sainztander]

alain prost & carlos sainz - russia 2018