#note-taking app

[nolifetillcoffee]

Notion

Notion เป็นแอปพลิเคชันหนึ่งที่ได้รับความนิยมมากในหมวดหมู่ Note-Taking หรือประเภทการบันทึกข้อความ และบล็อกนี้จะแนะนำให้รู้จักแอปพลิเคชันตัวนี้ Continue reading Notion

[blueskittlesart]

job application

[moriki-ki]

Bird sketches

[ofbatsandballads]

i’m aliiiiiive!!! please have this offering that I started writing last month and finally finished this month (it is literally the only thing keeping me going imagining this rn). anyways, i’ve always thought that jay would be great with periods bc one: he’s a grown ass man who knows it’s perfectly natural, and two: he’s seen way, way worse on a nightly basis. also he’s a yearning lover boy who would take care of his partner like they were precious.

tw: explicit discussion of menstrual cycles (symptoms + treatments + the messes that come with it), moderately suggestive at the end

Thinking about Jason Todd who is so good at handling your period that he ruins you for any other man. You wake up to the telltale ache in your lower belly and the feeling of damp fabric sticking to your thighs and you just know. Your face burns with embarrassment and you foolishly contemplate if there’s some way that you can extricate yourself from his arms and change the sheets without waking him. But Jason has a sixth sense when it comes to you and he’s fluttering his pretty seafoam eyes open the second he feels your breathing shift in rhythm. He smiles sweetly at you and hums as he pulls you closer. Normally you’d snuggle into his chest and savor the warmth he provides, but right now you can feel the blood slowly seep out of you, your back and belly feel like someone is stabbing you, and you’re so frustrated you could cry.

“Good mornin’, baby,” Jason yawns.

“Morning, Jay,” you wince. “I’ve got to get up, angel. Can you let me get up?”

Perhaps your pain drifts into your tone because Jason’s gaze sharpens, all traces of sleep vanishing.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong, ma?” he asks, eyes scanning you like he’s assessing for injuries.

God, he’s going to make you admit it. Your face burns hotter.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say unconvincingly as a cramp tears right through you. “Just have to get up and change my clothes. And probably our sheets. I’m sorry, Jay, I should’ve known it was coming.”

You hope he gets it without you having to say outright that you’ve gotten blood everywhere. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You choose to focus on the wall right over his shoulder instead. You’re bracing for some reaction of disgust or annoyance, but Jason is surprising as ever.

“I’ll get the sheets, sweetheart,” he says softly, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “You just get yourself a shower and try to relax. I know our water heater is shit, but try to get it as warm as possible for yourself, okay?”

Oh. Oh, he’s perfect. You already knew that, of course. It's just nice to be reminded of it.

“You’re not…upset?” you ask hesitantly.

Jason just laughs low and gentle, soft as the sunlight that filters through your bedroom window.

“Baby, why would I be mad about a bit of blood? It’s natural. Far more natural than all the times I’ve come home bleedin’ over everything,” he reassures you.

He kisses you sweetly and rubs your lower back before ushering you off to the shower. You do as he says and you swear that he’s magic or something, because against all odds your water stays hot the entire time. You get out warm and refreshed and find that Jason was true to his word. Your bloodstained pajama shorts have been removed from the bathroom floor and replaced by a fresh pair of your underwear and a set of Jason’s soft black sweatpants. Beside the fresh clothes sits the dark gray set of towels that you two always use when Jason comes home bloody and bruised. They’re warm to the touch, likely straight from the dryer, and if you loved him any more you think you might combust with the sheer energy of it.

You will explode with it, you realize, when you see him in the kitchen chopping up fresh fruit for your breakfast. Jason sees you and the blend of fondness and concern in his eyes is a testament to how much he loves you.

“I read somethin’ about how fresh fruit helps with period cramps, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try,” he explains a bit sheepishly as he pours you a glass of orange juice.

You nod and hum softly, your throat suddenly choked with emotion and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You can’t help it. You literally throw yourself at him. Your hands grasp his sleep-tangled curls and you kiss him desperately, messy and warm and full of love. Jason’s left panting, his lips kissed red and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you’re done with him.

“If I knew fresh fruit would get me that, I’d be goin’ to Louie’s produce stand every fuckin’ morning,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“You do know you’re perfect, right? And I can’t possibly live without you, right?” you confess.

You’re holding on to him so tightly that Jason might just be inclined to believe you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, because I’ve got no plan of goin’ anywhere any time soon,” he whispers sweetly. “Now drink your orange juice.”

Jason is true to his word. He stays by your side all day. He lets you cuddle up to him and steal his body heat for your own, only making a few little jabs about how he’s “nothin’ but a personal space heater to you”. He presses his big, warm hands to your tummy when your cramps hit and rubs firm circles that miraculously ease the ache. Your beloved heating pad serves a dual purpose wedged between his stomach, bruised and sore from a few hard hits on last night’s patrol, and your lower back.

When evening comes and you start to drift in and out of consciousness, body exhausted from the pain and hormones ravaging it, Jason cradles you in his arms and carries you to bed. You’re hazy and tired, but you still giggle when he cleverly lays down your fluffy, waterproof blanket. It usually serves to protect your poor sheets from your rather…messy sex life, but it works just as well in this instance.

“You’re a very smart man, Jason Todd,” you say as you make grabby hands at him.

“Hm. I try,” he replies.

The second he’s within reach you’re burrowing into him again. Jason, as always, obliges and wraps your entire body up in his. A sense of peace and pride courses through him at the satisfied sigh you let out.

“Y’know what else helps with period cramps?” you ask through a yawn.

Jason just watches you lovingly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as he shakes his head.

“Orgasms,” you nod sagely.

Jason snorts loudly, his joyous laughter echoing across your bedroom walls. You smile and think that you’ve never been happier, body actively fighting against you and all.

“Uh huh. Sure. Maybe we can work on that one in the mornin’, ma. Now go to sleep,” he says, his face lit up with a boyish grin and a warmth in his sea green eyes.

You hum in agreement and smoosh your face into his chest. He’s warm and he smells like cedar and something distinctly Jason, and you can barely keep your eyes open a second longer. You idly hope you dream of him when you finally fall asleep.

“I love you more than all the stars in the universe, Jason Todd,” you murmur sleepily.

“I love you more than life itself, sweetheart.”

You drift off to sleep nestled between the warmth of your lover and your electric blanket, content and happy and vaguely looking forward to the promise of trying that one in the morning.

[morganbritton132]

Every day I get on here and I make a post to put more unhinged Steve Harrington content out there. It’s not glamorous work and I’d prefer someone else to be doing it but here I am. Doing my part.

[stil-lindigo]

reverb in an empty hall.

prints (all proceeds go towards aid for Gaza)

[pizzazz-party]

my first reaction to this line probably should not have been: "baby want smoko"

[darqx]

Bought the most expensive Pencil™ of my life to test out drawing on an iPad whilst I was on hols

[artiststarme]

Eddie and Steve only break up once. It’s not because of a fight or a disagreement. There’s nothing nefarious about it but it isn’t quite a mutual decision either.

They break up at Steve’s request for a night so he can properly commiserate with Robin about being single.

He felt like he can’t accurately discuss her feelings and feels badly about giving her advice that he can’t even fathom anymore, not since falling in love with Eddie. As her bestest friend and the co-owner of their shared brain cell, he decides to fully support Robin by being single with her for a night.

He plans on going to gay bars with her, hyping her up as the best single wingman he could be, and commiserating the impossible dating scene with her. That’s not quite what happens though.

Instead of having a fun night out on the town as single queers in the big city, Steve spends the night wrapped up in Robins arms under a fluffy blanket on the couch wailing about not being loved anymore and Eddie breaking up with him.

Robin very much thinks it’s real, very much hates Eddie for approximately 14 hours for breaking Steve’s heart and comforts Steve to the best of her ability. She even watches sucky rom-coms with him and listens to Tears for Fears on repeat.

They cuddle together on the small couch in their apartment, loving each other and scolding Eddie in solidarity. Robin spews words of anger towards the dumbass metalhead that decided to break her best friend’s heart so callously on a random Friday night. And for no reason as well! Blasphemous in her mind.

She stews quietly all night and much more loudly when she and Steve are awoken to Eddie bringing them coffee and waffles from their favorite cafe down the street.

When she finds out that they only broke up for the night and it was very much not real, Robin is absolutely furious and makes them take her to a Blondie concert in revenge. It’s the least they can do after stressing her out so much in just one night. Deep down though, she’s happy it wasn’t real because she can see how happy they are together, if not the stupidest people she knows.

[steddieas-shegoes]

He’s not sure why he even comes to these parties anymore. He used to sell at the frat houses, made his rounds until he was out of product, made more money than any minimum wage job he could find near campus.

But he hasn’t in a while. Months, at this point.

It’s just that every time he came to one of these idiotic showing of riches and popularity, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen was sitting in the corner of the kitchen watching with a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes he stood in a group of people in the living room, but never contributed to the conversation. Once, Eddie saw him swinging his feet back and forth in the water of the hot tub on the back patio with three different couples making out inside it, completely zoned out.

Eddie needs to keep an eye on him. Hence, he attends the stupid parties.

And it’s stupid, to go through so much trouble for a guy he doesn’t even know, who probably doesn’t even notice him back. It’s stupid, but Eddie’s never claimed to be very bright.

Which is probably why he walks up to the guy when he’s about two seconds from punching Tommy Hagan, grabs his wrists, and tugs.

“The fuck are you?” He asks Eddie, reasonably confused and angry at being interrupted by a stranger.

Eddie could feel his pulse against his fingers, swore he could feel a spark of electricity flow between them.

“Eddie. Just leave him. Whatever he did isn’t worth it,” he said through clenched teeth.

His fingers tightened around Steve’s wrists as he considered trying to pick him up, throw him over his shoulder, and walk out of this party entirely.

“How the hell do you know?” Steve wasn’t trying to pull away.

Eddie didn’t let himself think about that too much.

“I just know nothing Hagan does is ever worth trouble for you. C’mon,” Eddie tugged on his wrists again, and this time, it seemed to catch the guy off guard.

“Didn’t know you were into freaks, Harrington,” Tommy said as they took a few steps away from him. “If you’re gonna be gay, you could at least have taste.”

Eddie froze.

The guy, Harrington, tried to pull his wrists loose, but Eddie didn’t let him.

He turned to Tommy, the guy who almost got him arrested for selling at his party only a few months ago, and smirked.

If he was gonna out someone to a stranger, Eddie had no problem doing the same right now.

“And you just sucked my dick because you wanted to add it to your résumé?” Eddie grinned at Tommy, who quickly looked around to make sure no one else heard.

“As if I would-“ he tried to say, but Harrington cut him off.

“You forget you say shit when you’re high. You told me about it already. I think your exact words were, ‘he had the best dick I’ve ever seen, Steve.’ Or am I mixing that up with another dick?” Steve pulled one arm loose from Eddie’s grip, brushed hair from his face, and let it relax at his side.

Eddie could let go now, he was sure if anyone would start something at this point it would be Tommy. But Steve wasn’t trying to pull his other wrist loose and Eddie liked the warmth of him in his hand.

“Whatever man, just go. You don’t even wanna be here,” Tommy turned and left before Steve could respond.

Eddie finally let go, but he didn’t like the immediate sense of loss that filled his chest.

“You always interrupt strangers before they fight?” Steve asked him, hands shoved into his pockets.

Eddie really looked at him, inspected him. He only ever saw him at these parties, so the lighting was shit, but he’d noticed the dark shadows under his eyes a while ago. He noticed that he held himself in a way that showed he was always ready for a fight. Steve’s hair had gone flat over the last month or so, not nearly as voluminous or shiny as it had been at the start of the year.

“Are you okay?” He asked instead of answering the question.

“I’m fine, dude.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t seem okay.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Just seems like something is bothering you,” Eddie wouldn’t push more, not if Steve was actually gonna get mad. But something told him that nobody pushed Steve to talk enough.

Eddie had Wayne back home, and his friends in his band here, and a couple coworkers at the bar he worked at twice a week now that he could joke around with. Steve didn’t even seem to have the people he hung around with.

“Why does it matter to you if something is bothering me?”

That’s a fair question. Why does it matter to him?

“Maybe because I just wanted to help. That’s what people do, right?”

“Not for me, usually.”

Eddie stepped closer, barely leaving space between them. “Well, I am.”

Steve stared back at him, shoulders dropping and eyes losing that angry fire.

“Why?”

Eddie was an idiot sometimes, but he was able to read people pretty well. It’s what kept him safe for most of middle and high school, and made him friends in college.

He knew what it looked like to be lonely and depressed, and Steve had check marks next to both of those.

“You wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked, once again avoiding his question.

“And go where?”

“I’ll show you my favorite getting high spot.”

“I don’t really smoke with strangers,” Steve seemed nervous.

“You don’t have to smoke. I’m just gonna show you the place.”

He watched Steve think about it, noting the way his brows scrunched together, how he bit his bottom lip, how he looked at the ground instead of at Eddie.

“Fine. But if you murder me in the woods, my mom will have you hanged,” Steve finally said.

“Hanged? Do they even do that anymore?”

Steve giggled. “Probably not. But she’d find a way.”

“Well, I’ve got no interest in murdering you, big boy.”

The blush that filled Steve’s cheeks was stunning. A perfect pink dusting his skin, giving him a healthier glow than what he’d had for a while.

“What do you have interest in?”

Eddie could say any number of things to flirt, make his true intentions clear, maybe even go straight back to his single dorm instead of showing Steve anywhere.

But Eddie figured that’s all Steve was used to, or maybe he was always the one who had to put an effort into things.

Maybe he wasn’t used to getting treated like a human being.

“I’d like to get to know you. Parties like this aren’t really a good place to learn about someone’s favorite song or what they snack on when they wake up in the middle of the night.”

Steve seemed shocked by this answer, but his features quickly melted into a soft smile, one Eddie would want to see every single day.

“Fine. But it’s not a date,” Steve held out his hand, ready to be led.

Instead of lacing his fingers with Steve’s, or even just grabbing his hand in his palm, he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist again.

“We’ll see.”

———

On graduation day, Steve and Eddie found their way back to their spot, one they’d probably never visit again.

Eddie’s fingers were curled around Steve’s wrist as they stood facing each other, close enough to feel each other’s breaths against their lips.

Nearly two years together, nearly 300 trips to this spot, and more than 500 dates that they never called dates.

And it was just the beginning.

Eddie leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s gently, keeping it soft so they wouldn’t get carried away.

They had to meet Wayne at the Italian restaurant in less than an hour and then Steve’s mom expected them back at Steve’s apartment for a wine and dessert celebration.

They wouldn’t be properly alone like this again for at least a couple days, but they didn’t have time to do much about it right now.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered as he rested his forehead against Steve’s.

“I love you, too,” Steve said back.

He didn’t have dark shadows under his eyes anymore, spending more nights sleeping in bed with Eddie than awake at parties he didn’t want to be at. His hair had most of its shine back. He’d put on a few pounds after joining the gym again, using it as an outlet for stress instead of hiding in corners at parties where he would drink just enough to get buzzed four times a week.

He made friends with Eddie’s friends, plus some of his own when he got a part time job at the coffee shop on campus.

Steve never spoke to Tommy again, at least as far as Eddie knew. He didn’t seem interested in being his friend again, and once he told Eddie more about their “friendship”, he couldn’t really blame him.

“You ready to go see Wayne?” Steve asked him, probably more excited than even Eddie was.

Wayne and Steve bonded quickly and they’d probably spend most of the lunch talking about sports and where they would go fishing this summer.

Eddie nodded, but he pulled something from his pocket before Steve could pull away and start walking back to the car they now shared.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, pointing towards the envelope in Eddie’s hand.

“It’s a gift from me to you. Well, I guess both of us, but I really got it for you.”

He handed it to Steve, who opened it quickly.

He pulled out the paper inside and Eddie watched his eyes fly across the words written there.

“Eddie.”

“Stevie.”

“You got us a trip to Italy? How the fuck did you get us a trip to Italy?” Steve was looking at him, eyes wet with tears.

“Doesn’t matter how. Wayne gave us some money for it, so did your mom. I’ve been saving for a year. Want us to have something special before we have to start working.” Eddie kissed his forehead. “Plus I want any excuse to see you in some of those see-through linen shorts.”

Steve’s lips were on his, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist to hold him there.

“I’ll wear them every day,” he gasped as he leaned in for another kiss.

Eddie laughed. “You won’t hear any complaints from me, sugar.”

“I can’t believe you did this. All I got you was a t-shirt.”

“You know I love t-shirts. I know you love Italy. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but kissed him again.

His eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you gonna propose in Italy?”

Eddie snorted. “Why would I answer that question?”

“Because! I have to know!”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure I have a nice outfit for pictures, dumbass.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. You look good in everything,” Eddie kissed the top of his head before he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist and tugged on it once. “Let’s get to Wayne before he sends a search party.”

Eddie smiled to himself as they walked to the car, Steve’s rambling about what he wanted to do in Italy keeping his mind from wandering too far. He couldn’t help thinking about the ring he had stashed away in his guitar case, though.

Italy was the perfect place to propose.

[nolifetillcoffee]

Goodbye Evernote

Evernote แอปโน้ตจดบันทึกระดับแนวหน้าที่เริ่มมีคู่แข่งมากขึ้น Continue reading Untitled

[mispatchedgreens]

communal spaces! are the heart of any throuple! (2 versions bc im just an indecisive baby)

it's @zukki-week and day 1 was domestic

[thesunflowerdyke]

I’ve seen so many posts on here lately with people referring to their partner as “my butch” and my heart is literally fluttering from the mere thought of being referred to like that one day.

[silusvesuius]

5 angry men

since i drew the elefant here anyways i'll put some heads of young bokeem i drew too. i love him so bad he's def in my top 5 of most favorite faces of all time. he was so gewd in dead prezidents that if i had a $day OC it would just be his character in that (snitches on everyone and gets everyone thrown in the slammer but it's okay because a fire soundtrack is playing in the background)

[tohruies]

never apologise for rambling in your answers to selfship asks... i am (and certainly your other friends are) like this when i/they see a paragraph+ long reply~

in general i hope you don't feel like you need to apologise for being eager and earnest over something that brings you joy n comfort ♡ your happiness = your friends happiness

[inkyrainstorms]

oh what a nice young man, i sure hope he doesn't take the same pitfalls as his idols and do something that will haunt him forever in the form of his sibling :)

AFK?????????.?.?.?.?????.? FUCKING HELL AFK GET BACK HERE YOU CSNT THROW THIS AT ME AND THEN L E AV EWHAT

I sure fucking HOPE SO.

god what happened to Hyde. What happened

an experiment gone wrong, leaving him hospitalized, and when Jekyll visits, guilt ridden and teary-eyed, when Hyde wakes up again after days, weeks—

Hyde won’t even look at him.

Won’t listen.

there’s nothing Jekyll can do to fix this. Any of it.

When Hyde is finally discharged, he shakes off Jekyll’s hand and stumbles off of that bed, ignoring the wheelchair they’d provided and hissing in pain as he crumples to the floor, and muttering curses the whole way (maybe he lost his voice) (maybe Jekyll is imagining him cursing, maybe he’s pretending everything is still normal) (what kind of injury is it, what happened)

in the months that followed, Hyde didn’t speak to him once. Even when his voice came back (if it left at all)

When Jekyll got the news that he’d been accepted at Oxford, that he was leaving the country — Hyde looked him in the eyes for the first time in months.

He’s known Hyde his whole life. He could see what Hyde meant from his eyes alone. He could see the mixture of relief and fear and anger hardening into something that screamed “good riddance”

When Jekyll left, Hyde didn’t even say goodbye

Jekyll couldn’t blame him

—

He tried, those first few months. Sent letters. But none of them ever got a response. When the first one came back, “return to sender”, Jekyll felt himself smile, an ugly little thing that held no joy, no bitterness. Some unnamed, third emotion between the two. Relief, maybe.

“Good riddance” he tried to say, but the words tasted like ash and caught like glass in his throat until all that came out was a choked, wet sound. It didn’t matter. At least he knew where they stood, now.

He kept that letter, and every single one written after it, in the bottom drawer of his office table, the one that locked with a little silver key that he never went anywhere without. He never looked through them, either.

And yet.

No matter where Jekyll fucking turned, his stupid brother was there. He took to covering up the mirrors. Took to cutting his hair even shorter than he’d kept it before, trimming the sides until they were just stubble.

When he got really, really shitfaced one night, early in those years before he’d started cutting his hair every damn month and it was growing out in that choppy, awkward way hair did, he looked in a mirror and laughed. He hugged the bottle to his chest, kneeling on the floor of his dorm, and giggled at his reflection.

“What,” he slurred, Scottish accent thick, “You want some too, Hyde? This is my bottle, you get your own.”

And then, despite himself, Jekyll started crying.

He woke up that morning, face sticky and mouth tasting like shit, and stumbled straight out of his dorm — throbbing headache and all — to get his hair cut so short he could hardly recognize himself anymore. Lanyon laughed at him, when he saw him later that day. Jekyll just shrugged, told him he was trying something new.

And it was better this way. He had to believe it. This was better for the both of them.

—