#this is the last thing i fucking wanted !!!!!!!!

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[ash-and-starlight]

hades atla bisexual simulator

#id in alt text #hadesgame artstyle is the most poggers thing on this fucking earth let me just YOINK steal it #i haven’t played a single minute of hades in my life btw #but i’m familiar with its bisexuality #it calls to mine like a siren’s song #i wanted to add lil dialogue options to them but my brain farted before it got done so. this is what u get :3 #zuko #sokka #suki #yue #pondering the orb #my art #also: LAST ART OF THE YEAR BESTIE BELOVEDS THANK U FOR MAKING THE MORTIFYING ORDEAL OF SHARING ART SO MUCH FUN #KISSES FOR ALL

[prideprejudce]

the fact that reboots used to be like thirty or forty years apart and are now instead like 3-10 years apart is absolutely ridiculous. like are we so trapped in a capitalist hellscape that instead of us naturally cherishing a beloved piece of media like it deserves and looking forward to NEW stories with NEW universes we have to watch the same thing over and over and over again with reboot after reboot after reboot until that media has been so sucked dry that us as an audience are literally sick at the mere mention of it

#harry potter #harry potter tw #avatar the last airbender #disney #disney movies #it’s the same thing with disney and atla and now harry potter #like deathly hallows came out in 2010!!!!!!! why do we need an entire fuckin series reboot??? #besides being able to generate more cash from an already billion dollar franchise????? #I don’t want a retelling of harry fucking potter!!!!!!!! think of something new!!!!!!

[kagoutiss]

pelican town, ‘72

#stardew valley #stardew valley spoilers #sdv #sdv spoilers #grandpa #mister qi #mr. qi #idk how dates work in stardew universe im just bullshittin #i love qi’s huge fucking eyebrows you dont notice them at first but theyre there #(gives our collective grandpa a ponytail) i think he had one. whatever #’why isnt mister qi blue’ my hc is he is blue from long-term iridium supplementation #and was originally just a regular person #but also it’s nice to see ur fav be like a normal human color #if u read tag essays tho consider this: #qi discovers secret to immortality (consuming iridium in a specific manner) #wants to share discovery with his farmer (player’s grandpa) and in that way. they will have all the time in the world to build #a perfect farming/business empire whose legacy will last forever and ever and theyll be 2gether forever #but it turns out. like a lot of normal people would. his farmer does not want to live forever #and obv he doesn’t #in an attempt to try not to ever lose the thing that means more to him than anything else in the world. qi inadvertantly ensures he will #because his farmer is dead. and he’s going to live forever #but. it’s kind of ok. because he has infinite money and was able to figure out how to talk to his dead bf #and now YOU help them fulfill their joint goal of making the farm’s legacy last forever #smile. heart #sobbing

[sheerakk]

#was looking for some fics with these two #I imagine this is one of their first interactions and Hunter is already fed up with Darius #but Darius is just trying to get to know the successor of his mentor and check if he's at least a little bit capable of doing his job #he's also a little weirded out by the similarity between these two #basically I imagine Darius gave him a couple of vibe checks that Hunter had failed #and Hunter takes it as questoning his place in the coven #god darius design is so pink and awful #it's so jover uni starts tommorow #it's like the most boring drawing ever but I'm just still in my I have to get better at backgrounds era #and also if I'll draw 100 awful things I get a decent one eventually #it's like inktober but lasts your whole life and devours your soul in the process #no caption just pure tags now I understand those few people who keep reblogging all my tags cuz I give all the fucking context there #there's probably like 10 things I would spot tommorow that would fix the drawing a whole bunch but I just ...don't want to ig #the owl house #sheerak #the golden guard #darius deamonne #hunter toh #toh hunter #hunter deamonne #toh fanart #the owl house fanart #dadrius #not yet but #you guys most fellow toh fanartists moved on and fanart fiona and cake but I keep brainrotting the same stuff over and over #good old toh trashpile

[mintaikcorpse]

I'M NEVER LETTING YALL FORGET THIS

#bro is NERVOUS #i love this scene a lot bcuz Angel said “who would wanna spend their last days NOT fucking and fighting?” #and he spent his potential last days having a drink with Husk #you could tell he thought about it tho but he hesitated bcuz he doesn't want to rush things or make things akward #THEY'RE JUST <333 #I LOVE THEM #THEY EVEN HAD THE JACKPOT THING LIKE ANGEL FOUND THE JACKPOT #DUUSHERHUTHTHSUEUFNBDD #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

#pr manager is like: andrew… this is the last time i’m gonna tell you #andrew: whats the point of democracy if i can’t exercise freedom of speech #pr manager: andrew it’s no longer about your image #at this point we are concerned the fbi is going to show up #andrew: neil has connections. i’m fine #they thought marketing andrew on social media would be good #they were sooooo wrong #because now andrew has a place to share every insane thing he’s ever thought #for instance—a tweet that just says ‘an alien googling: human clothes’ #he’s on there advocating for lgbtq+ youth you KNOW HE IS #he’s cursing and mildly threatening members of congress for imposing these disgusting bills #one day he tweeted ‘does mitch mcconnell know he’s dead yet’ #when mitch mcconnell stepped down from senate andrew tweeted ‘hopefully next he steps down from life’ #unsurprisingly: this endears him to some people and makes others fucking hate him #and he’s such a shit. he does not care either way #he’s kind of just like: pr manager. you gave me a twitter and told me to tweet. i’m just doing what you asked me #they’ve threatened to change his password so many times #they actually did once but andrew reported the account so many times for defamation and fraud that it got suspended #and he made a new account out of pure spite #his pr manager is like: andrew nobody is going to want to sign you because of your public image #and andrew is like: ?? ok. they can lose every game then #(he knows he’s the best goalie) #ok i think that’s enough for now. however i will probably be back #andrew minyard #aftg #tfc #trk #tkm #the foxhole court #all for the game

[dumplingsjinson]

Character A separates from Character B to take a breather from the kiss, only to laugh in surprise when Character B starts pulling them on top of them.

"What are you doing?" they question, straddling Character B; feels Character B pressing against them. They blink, swallowing heavily; it doesn't take much for them to understand what that means, as they cautiously grind their hips down against Character B's, testing the waters.

Character B's hands sneak up their torso, hands cupping their clothed breasts, massaging them gently as Character A lets out soft little sighs and breathy moans, hips quickening with speed; ducking down to bury their face on Character B's neck every now and again out of embarrassment and to muffle the noises they were making.

"Wait, wait, wait," Character B breathes out, holding onto Character A's hips to stop them from moving. Character A sits up, looking down at them, heart skipping a beat at the way Character B stares up at them with hooded eyes. "We shouldn't be too loud, yeah? How about we go somewhere else?"

#based on personal experience lmfaoofeneklnwf #bc one anon asked me to spill the tea so UHHH #his family members were in their respective rooms and the walls aren't sound proof and considering how noisy i was last time... welfnwelkfn #we ended up going to some park which is like a 10-15 minute drive from his house to hug and makeout #i'm pretty sure he wanted to Do Other Things but in my head i was like “this is a public fucking place so absolutely not ewlkfnwelkfn" #like i'm pretty sure he had other intentions with the context i've given in the prompt lol #cat guy chronicles #writing prompts #prompts #dialogue prompts #smut prompts #suggestive prompts #otp prompts #writing scenarios

[peachyutdr]

i finished it, was kicked out of the game, and then spent the next 10 minutes drawing this. i will now go take a shower, most likely cry, and then go through the emotional turmoil of convincing myself to reset so i can do a geno run. i hate it here :D

#undertale yellow #uty #my art #<- ifg #spoilers under these tags beware. although it is mostly just me being very very sad #that entire thing was heart wrenching. anyways #CEROBAS FIGHT??? HELLO??? #i had to exit out of it the first time (i got to the last phase) to get better items but i came back and won pretty quickly #but THE CUTSCENES?!?!? #JFC NO WONDER THIS WOMANS SO MESSED UP. HER HUSBAND PRACTICALLY DIED IN HER ARMS AND THE LAST THING HE LEFT HER WITH- HIS DYING WISH- COULD #ONLY BE FULFILLED BY PUTTING THEIR ONLY CHILD IN DEATHS WAY. AND THEN WHEN SHE TOOK THAT RISK THE WORST THING HAPPENED AND SHE NOW HAS TO #LIVE WITH THE GUILT OF BEING THE ONE TO. MOST LIKELY. KILL HER ONE AND ONLY DAUGHTER #ALL THE WHILE SHE WAS PUSHING AWAY HER CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND AND CONVINCING HERSELF THAT SHE WAS IN THE RIGHT TO SACRIFICE CLOVER WHO HAD #BEEN ONLY KIND MERCIFUL AND JUST THIS WHOLE TIME. EVEN TO THOSE WHO WERE TRYING TO KILL THEM. FUCK. #AAND WHEN CLOVER HUGGED HER I DOUBLED OVER IRL BC *THATS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED TO DO IN THAT MOMENT* I HATE IT (read: love it) HERE #n dont even get me STARTED on after that. when clover started moving on their own and the gd white screen came up and we got flashbacks of #everyone's words. thats when the tears rlly started coming bc it clicked for me. 'oh. this is it. isn't it?' and IT WAS #WHEN THEY GAVE THEIR FUCKIGN HAT AND GUN AWAY TO MARTLET AND STARLO WELL THATS WHEN I REALLY STARTED CRYING #AAND THE GROUP HUGG #I WAS SOBBING WHENEVER I HAD TO WATCH THEM CRAWL UP AGAINST THE WALL AND DIE AND HAVE FLOWEYS WORDS PLAY OVERHEAD #AND THE FUCKOGN #THE F U C K I N G #AFTEWRCREDITS SCENE WHERE WE GOT THE 'You heard someone calling for help. You answered.' I GOT CHILLS SO BAD #to think that all the other souls have stories just as expansive and emotional as clover n frisks. how fucked up is that. in a good way tho #and finally the last scene where we got all 4 of our main friends sending us off in waterfall and we see clovers items end up in the dump #just waiting to be found by bratty and catty. fucken hell man this was a masterpiece #anyways time to reset and obliterate everyone and never emotionally recover from that ever!! really is feeling like 2016-17 again w the way #this game has me sobbing my eyes out and feeling the guilt of knowing that i dont HAVE to kill them all but im too curious not to #oh well. at least i have the balls to do it this time around instead of letting a youtuber do it for me ig

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

#warm up #writeblr #i spent a lot of time picturing our future #how funny to think: in each version of our future #i was never myself #i was someone smarter kinder braver #better adept. #who could navigate the way you shouted and got angry at small things and never fucking believed the best of me #i would never be needy and you'd never get tired of me #people usually talk about how we picture people as being “fixable”. but i assumed i was the problem. my idyllic picture wasn't of you. #it was a version of me that wasn't ill. that needed no extra help. that could be your wife and happy #the fact i wasn't happy was because there is something so wrong inside me. it's always been that way. i convinced myself: #if i stay i can change. if i stay i can make it worth it. i can apologize and fix this. and make us both okay. #for the last year i've been thinking about how you blamed our whole breakup on me. how it was my fault for whatever thing. #and i agreed with you. because of course i did. you'd trained me to believe everything was my fault . that you wanted to love me and i made #it far too hard. that i was always finding ways to ''set you off'. #a few days ago while i was doing something else #i realized that while i was in crisis you told me to fuck off and find someone else to get help. and you never fucking apologized . #you said i made you do that because i wasn't being sensible. i had been crying too hard to speak clearly. #you said: you're doing this to manipulate me. #you forgave yourself for that. i had to forgive you without apology. you said you were right to react that way. and then you were SO #SO annoyed. any time i said: i feel like you aren't nice to me. it is hard to trust that you love me. #i don't think about you that much anymore. but these days when i do: all i can think is that im not sure u ever really understood kindness #you were the cruelest to the people closest to you. and most of the time. that meant it fell to me.

[macfrog]

wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k 

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.  

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

 So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

#happy max monday is this becoming a thing? can i claim mondays? boomtown rats move the fuck over #i just wanted to sit between joel miller's legs and look up at him all dumb and in love ok? #joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #jackson!joel #joel miller fluff

[madootles]

it’s always october 3rd somewhere

#I cannot stop drawing them #it's fun so fun #shout out to everyone who follows me who has been enduring the last month of this with me #i'm sure it won't last forever but it's nice to want to draw something for once so I will continue to lean into it :-) #edward elric #alphonse elric #fma 03 #fma 2003 #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #although I haven't seen brotherhood in like a decade and I don't even know if I finished it then #it's weird... I vividly remembered 03 but I definitely remember things that I remember from fmab that aren't in 03 #this is barely a sentence... u get it tho #anyway brotherhood #maybe I'll watch it soon idk #I should just read the manga probably #ed's BIG BOOTS #look at them #al in the outfit #idk man cos .... breaks my fucking heart #you really need some recovery time after watching 03 #it's just brutal #this brush has quickly become my favorite i am obsessed clearly #sketch scribble!!!!!! #also I know their eyes aren't dark ok but they are here #ed and al #automail #ok love u bye

[deimcs]

Mystra has dictated the terms of my potential for long enough. The Crown would grant me control of my own destiny at last.

#bg3edit #galeedit #baldursgateedit #gamingedit #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #edits #giffing this man dumping my tav in the very last few second of my second pt just to cope #the funny thing is that varian is 100% on board with the fuck you mystra train #cause it's the exact same way he felt about lolth all his life #but i guess if you tell gale even ONCE that maybe the crown shouldn't get back to mystra #and then try to dissuade him from the whole goodhood powertrip last second this is the result #I WAS SO READY FOR THE MARRIAGE PROPOSAL AND I GOT A BREAK UP INSTEAD #but i'm not even mad about it. you do you baby boy. #get drunk on power and wreak havoc on earth. might as well #ascended!astarion has the funniest reaction to this scene tho #i wanted to add it but he's wearing the ugliest helm on the planet so i didn't

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I am going to make maia arson crimew CEO of this webbed site, as it deserves to be. This is both a threat and a promise.

#arson is such a metal middle name #i want to be named arson and go by Ari for short but im afraid if i did that I'd never get employment #actually lets be real crimew is a fucking metal last name #nonbinary folks really have the name thing down they are GOOD at that shit #sorry everybody i didnt realize its name was supposed to be all lowercase #it is now fixed on the original (obviously) but the version it reblogged has it wrong; sorry

[waitineedaname]

okay I've finished making my big spreadsheet of how mp100 characters refer to each other! some thoughts on this under the cut because it got long

the Kageyama brothers are very polite in how they refer to people. their parents must have really instilled etiquette into them bc no one else is as consistent about using polite honorifics/titles as they are. the only people Mob doesn't give an honorific/title are his brother and Dimple, and the only people Ritsu doesn't give an honorific are Dimple and Shou, who he just calls "Suzuki"

Reigen, on the other hand, is pretty inconsistent and casual with his use of honorifics. he says "Mob-kun" a couple times and "Ritsu-kun" once, but usually they're just Mob and Ritsu (or "Mob's brother" lmao). the only honorific he consistently uses is "Tome-chan"

it's infrequent, but both Reigen and Dimple refer to Mob as "my boy" at some point :') he's their boy!

Ritsu doesn't refer to the Awakening Lab kids at all until he asks their names after being kidnapped lmao the only exception is when he calls out to the older Shiratori brother after the younger one is taken away and he calls him "Shiratori-kun." considering the fact that after asking their names, he refers to both of them as Daichi-kun and Kaito-kun, I think there was absolutely a moment when everyone was freaking out about the Shiratori brothers where he was like "ohhhhh that's his name"

also he switches from "Onigawara-san" to "Onigawara-senpai" when he realizes he's friends with his brother lmao fakeass

even though Mob starts calling Teru "Hanazawa-kun" as soon as they exchange names, Teru doesn't give him the honorific until they decide to raid Claw together. I guess that's the point when he decides they're friendly enough for it? he calls Ritsu "brother-kun" as soon as he realizes they're related and never refers to him by his actual name

everyone calls Teru some variation on his nickname EXCEPT Mob and Dimple. Dimple actually only calls him "brat" and "that guy" for a while until he managed to track him down again during the alleyway incident, which I realized is because he was exorcised before learning Teru's name lskdjflkdsf from the Seventh Division arc onwards, he just calls him "Hanazawa"

I love that Dimple tries to refer to the brothers with cutesy nicknames and both of them are like "if you do that again I'm killing you all the way dead" and he's like "understood." and then refers to them by given name from then on lmao

Teru refers to Dimple as "Dimple-kun" and Tome calls him "Dimple-chan," both of which are SO funny to me because he's way older than them. rude as hell, this evil spirit deserves no respect

Shou doesn't use honorifics or titles for ANYONE. Ritsu is just Ritsu, the Ultimate 5 are all their last names, his dad is just Pops. he also exclusively refers to Mob as "Ritsu's brother" dkfjldskfj

Serizawa alternates between "Shigeo-kun" and "Kageyama-kun" with no real rhyme or reason to it. just seems to depend on his mood I guess

#mp100 #this was fun I liked making it!! #the kageyama boys are so polite #I have some Thoughts about shou being the only one ritsu doesn't give an honorific #I wonder if I can wrangle those thoughts into a coherent post #teru definitely knows ritsu's name so I think calling him brother-kun is just an affectionate thing #or he can't call them BOTH kageyama(-kun) and he doesn't want to call him by his given name #ritsu always calls him teru-san which I think is sweet bc he's the only person ritsu refers to by a nickname #everyone else is always last name #shou on the other hand. I don't think he knew mob's name for most of the manga sdlkjfkldsjf #I don't think he learns mob's name until the confession arc and even then he still calls him ritsu's brother #which is hilarious to me #mob never refers to him by name but I think it's a safe bet that he'd call him suzuki-kun #based on how mob refers to most other people his age/younger #uhhhhh what else #dimple fucking HATES that tome calls him dimple-chan #he complains about it repeatedly in the reigen spinoff sldkjfkldsjf

[hakusins]

tw // scars, blood, bruises, piercings, cigarettes, a bit of ooc?

man, i love whitney

#i know i kept yapping about pink eyed whitney but then pink eyes didnt rlly suit him the way it did in my head..... #so i decided red eyes and ITS HBERFHJEBHRF #CHEF KISS #sue me i have a thing for red eyes apparently #also pls dont look too closely at the tattoos #i just tried to do the approximate shape of tattoos and called it a day #anyways here's my whitney design!! quite different from the first time i drew him #but im a lot happier with this design ehehe #whitney the bully #dol whitney #dol pc #eri the orphan #fan art #art #mine #my fan art #my art #also in the last few panels i forgot to draw his tattoos #and its already 1 am pls let me sleep HJRFERBHF #whitney x pc #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol related #i swear. im Normal about him #scars tw #blood tw #bruises tw #piercings tw #cigarettes tw #a bit ooc but fuck it i just want to play with whitney's hair ok