#words with min

[splenderai]

silly comic idea where hob is flopped out on his bed scrolling through social media, and then there's a shadow looming over him and he looks up to find meowrpheus staring down at him, saying in that deep voice of his:

have you entertainment on your phone, hob gadling ?

[ando666detonao]

don't you ever read a piece of fanfiction so good you just

[pants-lint]

Just had a Thought and now I'm curious. What's you guy's strangest comfort media? It doesn't have to be strange as in like creepy/fucked up/whatever, it can just be smthn a lil odd.

[raepliica]

Take to the skies

...and fly free

[asoftepiloguemylove]

BUT WHO COULD LOVE ME? I AM OUT OF MY MIND // IVAN & TILL

pinterest // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Anne Sexton Complete Poems of Anne Sexton, "The Papa and Mama Dance" // Fall Out Boy Hum Hallelujah // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Ernest Hemingway The Garden of Eden // Florence + the Machine Grace // Elliot Wake Black Iris // The National Daughters of the Soho Riots // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Mitski I Guess // Adam Silvera They Both Die at the End // Lorde Writer in the Dark // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Margaret Atwood Cat's Eye // Chris Abani Dog Woman // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Warsan Shire Souvenir, "Our Men Do Not Belong to Us" // VIVINOS Alien Stage, "ROUND 6" (via youtube) // Louise Glück Faithful and Virtuous Night

[dittydipity]

going INSANE. what is he thinking. why did he say this. why does he do all of this. i am thinking so hard.

we know he's seeking arceus to recreate the world bc in his eyes the world is cruel and unjust and it needs to be destroyed and remade. he's set himself on a mission to create the better reality he's envisioned for his whole life.

but everything else he does. the way he spends his time on pasio making people smile with togepi. even if he justifies it as something purely transactional to get more customers, we know he doesn't really take his merchant job seriously. the way he loves his pokemon so much that they will pop out of their pokeball to excitedly tell whoever will listen how much they love volo back. him trying to capture these moments of happiness tangibly because they never last long and can be wiped away any second.

he still hangs onto hope so much despite what's implied to have happened to him. in spite of all the anger and bitterness that's festered in him, he doesn't really want to destroy everything as he says.

it all started with a wish for the world to be a better place, for the good in the world to outweigh all the cruelty. he's still trying to spread what happiness he can.

but at the same time his past drags behind him and reminds him that he can't afford to trust in the goodness of the world.

that self-assigned mission to usurp arceus's power and rewrite everything.. to him, it's his duty now. he has to do it for himself and, as he rationalizes to himself, for the world.

so he ignores the flaws and holes he finds in his own reasoning. he can't help but seek out the brightness and happiness and goodness that does exist in the world, yet he has to dismiss it to justify his goals.

... all this to try and explain to myself why volo's asking all these questions and making all these comments that seem to go against what we'd expect given his ulterior motive and plans. and it's like he's asking the few friends he has to remember him as the one who seeks joy, even when he does the worst to fulfill his dreams

[raplinenthusiasts]

bangtan gif challenge ☆

↳ stage mix (one song) + your bias → make it right & yoonkook

[beybuniki]

Any bkdk Valentine art?:)

gay chicken

[kth1]

yoongi surprised by the d2 crowd cr. kiila_true2me

[uselessimpulses]

the names nicholas d wolfwood

[splenderai]

imagine if the titan quests with arven were like a buzzfeed unsolved style comedy with arven being this hardcore believer in the existence of these titan pokemon and the protag is like lmao nah but tags along for the hell of it & just hijinks and shenanigans ensue

[rjshope]

elven princes for my dearest @magicshop🌿

[gunsatthaphan]

thank you @ cherry magic for not cursing the 11th week 🥹🫶🏻

[sugajimin]

yoongi in black suits   ♡ part 1

cr: mots 7 :the journey:namuspromised,mots 7:the journey talk show: 0613data)

[faggotdraws]

Don't want to weep for you, I don't want to know I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow

Mojo Pin - Jeff Buckley

[softlyspector]

pairing; joel miller x f!reader

wc; ~0.6k

a/n; Happy Friday! Have a drabble! I wrote this when I was supposed to be working (a classic, we love to see it) on this very snowy afternoon. Inspired by some of the insane posts I've made about Joel's arms . Also, this is a very tiny apology for the grief brain fic I inflicted on some of you earlier this week.

Anyway, here is a love letter to Joel, and his arms and hands. Feral arm posts here and here.

You would never admit it, but the first thing you ever noticed about Joel was his arms. If he ever asked, and he never ever would, you tell him something more romantic - the lines around his eyes, the hazel of his irises flecked with green. He is, at the core of himself, a little bit of a romantic.

He'd like to hear that kind of thing, even if it made him squirm, even if it might embarrass him. He would still like to hear it and would never say so.

But you hadn't noticed those things.

You'd noticed his broad shoulders and his thick arms folded across his chest, the way he shifted on his feet and scanned the face of each person that came through the door of the restaurant. And even though it had been a bit of a blind date, you'd liked that the face he was looking for had been yours.

His eyes landed on you and only then did you see his salt and pepper hair, the lines by his eyes, the crease in the center of his bottom lip, and the scar on the bridge of his nose. Still, all of that came second to the forearms crossed over his chest, the way they strained at the rolled sleeves of the button up he wore. The veins that pooled blue and green beneath warm skin, collecting in strong looking, well worn hands.

It didn't matter how you ended up on that blind date together, set up by friends of friends, but you would forever be grateful that you had.

And, you didn't know it then, that it was important that you get the first impression just right. That you wouldn't just like his arms and shoulders and the shade in his eyes, but that you would like pretty much everything about him. You would love almost everything about him, and the things you didn't you could deal with well.

Even much later, you would love those strong hands that never seemed to be anything but just that, strong and sturdy, careful and protective. Sometimes teasing, somedays anxious.

You didn't know that the chorded muscle and fine veins would one day be scarred but hold you just the same, that you'd trace that thick muscle and vein in the dark of night, the tug of his arms pressing you more firmly into his chest, a place you'd always be and feel safe. You didn't know then that his would be arms you would watch flex in the early morning light as he: pulled a shirt on over his head, peeled an orange for you with deft fingers and handed you each slice, poured a cup of coffee for himself, braided his daughter's hair.

The same hands that would pluck all the mushrooms off your slice of pizza before it was handed to you, even if he teased you as he did. The same hands that would cradle your fingers in his when you needed to check your blood sugar and couldn't be bothered, so he did it for you.

It was something of a miracle, then, that he found you funny and charming when the first thing you said to him, instead of hello, was, "I bet phlebotomists love you."

You winced, and then been equally as charmed, when he replied, "Are you one?"

"What?"

"A phlebotomist?"

You blinked at him, surprised. "Well, no."

"Then it don't matter what they think, does it?" And then, tilt of his head, one big have stroked over his bearded chin. "What makes you say that anyhow?"

There was a glint in his eyes, teasing like he already knew exactly what, even if he shuffled his feet, a little awkward with it.

You smiled. "If this date goes well, maybe I'll tell you."

He offered his hand to you, veins curling like smoke beneath his skin, “Joel.”