Tumgik
#yet so nervous
introspectivememories · 2 months
Text
too many of you guys think nico is the loser and not lewis for letting the divorce go on for so long. like they're both losers about each other. emotionally constipated idiots who can't talk about their toxic homoerotic friendship that imploded on itself like 8 years ago and are now making it everyone else's problem. yeah nico's on television or in beer gardens talking about lewis all the time but like every other month some reporter is like "lewis, what's your favorite moment in your career?" and lewis no hesitation is like "oh man, karting, y'know? everything was simpler then" and then spends another six months skirting around nico's name. like this whole thing they're doing in the media isn't some kinda extended foreplay for them. they're both still pressing on the bruise to make sure it's still there!!! every few months, they're literally just asking on public television, does it still hurt for you like it does for me? and like clockwork, someone will release new information about them or one of them will say something about each other (in my heart, he's still my best friend/yes... and teammate) and the answer will remain the same, yes, of course, always.
605 notes · View notes
sysig · 4 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Recently had a silly Handplates dream where Papyrus was trying to snoop around Gaster and Alphys’ lab, but didn’t know who Alphys was and so was trying to pass it off as his own lab lol (Patreon)
#Doodles#Dream log#UT#Handplates#Papyrus#Gaster#Sans#Alphys#And also he was Big Brother Papyrus to a babybones Sans lol#I doodled them as close to the dream as possible so if it's silly or doesn't make sense take it up with my subconscious lol#I remember Gaster had a reputation for being very charming and charismatic which ?? Sure okay lol#He was also quite smiley - personally I read that as him putting on a face to the public but even that seems out of character for him lol#Everyone else was pretty much as usual - Alphys small and nervous and Papyrus loud and bombastic#I don't remember what exactly he was looking for - doubly weird 'cause I hadn't reread him and Sans exploring yet! :0#Just of them moving into their house - though I did read a bunch just before sleeping so safe to say I can attribute that lol#This was the only really clear part of the dream - the rest was just scrolling scrolling scrolling pages and pages of comic panels#Can't imagine why lol#Also intercut with some of the poses I ended up doodling before - surprise! They were dream doodles lol#Also in case it's not clear - Alphys was Very Much Present while Papyrus was trying to pass himself off as the name on the door lol#Oh yeah I'm pretty sure he was also speaking in WingDings thus why Alphys didn't immediately call him out lol#The room was quite cute actually - not at all the sterile grey of the True Lab#Warm and wooden with high windows nearly covered in clutter and paperwork with a desk in the middle lit by yellow light#Cozy#Barely evil-looking at all
413 notes · View notes
portsandstars · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
205 notes · View notes
kiiingsnake · 10 days
Text
Tumblr media
in the meantime: elden ring yuri
123 notes · View notes
cyath · 5 months
Text
How are we feeling about book 7 coming out this month😀?
Tumblr media
322 notes · View notes
choochooboss · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ingo Bracket 8 match may not be going in Breakmas's favor; it seems the bosses haven't realised this little guy is their real opponent and are now busy taking care of him! They're still searching for this sneasel's Poké Ball to keep him extra safe!
This adorable looking little warden is from Team Conductors: PMD AU by @teamconductors! I would imagine warden Ingo being rather confused at the situation, being carried around by his younger self, on the other side of law..?!
Link to the original meme in the comments!
@ultimate-submas-tournament
471 notes · View notes
palskippah · 11 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hi!
Mario’s distaste for mushrooms is so funny and it gives material to draw stuff like this hehe
(Based over a fic I read years ago where the guy craved a fruit that literally every single person in that world hated and so he ate it shamefully ajksdjsad here Mario just eats angrily bc he hates it)
Also I say that at any inconvenience regarding the pregnancy Mario goes >:c to his belly, like he’s mad at the babies asdlaskd and Peach plays along.
(Also- sorry to people that actually speak italian, I did translate what Mario’s saying in google akjdjksdak he’s saying btw “how dare you two? To betray your own mother...”)
480 notes · View notes
theorahsart · 5 months
Text
I've read several ancedotes in this book about Robspierre that make me convinced he was autistic, and then read about this hilarious incident the other day on Tumblr, and felt compelled to draw a silly comic about it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
202 notes · View notes
uhbasicallyjustmilex · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
505 live at bbc studios, 2010 (x)
258 notes · View notes
Text
"evan, i find you adorable". adorable as in able to be adored. as in capable of being adored. as in i find you worthy of adoration. adorable, from the latin adorare (to worship) to adorabilis (in the sense 'worthy of divine worship') to the current day adorable. as in maybe if we had made it to the movies or if eddie didn't show up, i could've showed you just how much i want to worship you. as in i look at you and there is a font of adoration in my heart for you. adorable as in i flew into a hurricane with you and yet this date is a thousand times more thrilling than that. adorable as in there is a person in your building who saw me jump up and down like a little kid in the lobby after i had kissed you for the first time. adorable as in i kissed you and immediately thought fuck i could do this forever if he lets me. adorable as in i want to press kisses to your birthmark. adorable as in i spent the entirety of the days leading up to our date wondering about you, if you liked your coffee with two sugars or one. if you liked storms or if the lightning strike had put you off on them all together. if you liked cats or dogs or if you were the kind of weirdo who liked goats instead. if you thought about the kiss as often as i did. if your stomach tangled into twisted knots as saturday drew closer. if you would be agreeable to sitting in my lap. if you would blush as prettily as you did the day i kissed you. if your world also realigned when our lips met. if our orbits had matched up now that we flew into a hurricane together. if the gravitational pull between us had finally been too strong for either of us to resist that night in your loft. or maybe, more simply, adorable as in, "evan, i find you adorable."
113 notes · View notes
guardian-angle22 · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"You haven't changed a bit, huh."
665 notes · View notes
theminecraftbee · 11 months
Text
you know, there are a lot of posts about how transitioning as an adult is like going through puberty all over again. and I’m not medically transitioning (at least not yet, maybe one day), so I don’t know if I ever expected to exactly experience that. after all, my hormones are at normal adult levels for someone on birth control. but no, some of the stuff I experience does make me feel like a teenager awkwardly becoming an adult again, actually.
see, I’m attending a friend’s wedding, and I need new formalwear for it (protip: it is generally frowned upon to wear a wedding dress to someone else’s wedding, and that’s the last formalwear I purchased). and I just… really didn’t want to wear a dress, so I went to go get a suit. and I didn’t know how to get any of the required clothes for it and had to have a salesperson help me figure out how dress shirts work and nervously stood there while getting shown how to try stuff on and it really did feel like I was a lost teenager, despite being, you know, almost twenty-six.
but also: I own a three-piece suit now! it’s grey! it looks pretty good on me! I even got a blue tie with bees on it! so it was worth the temporary embarrassment of suddenly realizing I don’t know how men’s formalwear sizes work and, oh god, why are there so many variations of “white dress shirt” what does this mean.
and I figure as I very slowly work up the confidence to be out more irl there will be more and more moments like this, and I’ll lament the fact I didn’t do all this stuff as an actual teenager, but as weird and scary as it is, so far, it’s been worth it.
328 notes · View notes
unclewaynemunson · 1 year
Text
Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)
As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.
'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.
Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'
'Hm?'
'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'
Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.
'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'
'What? No, it wasn't... No.'
'The Hobbits guy?'
'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'
'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'
Eddie rolled his eyes.
'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'
'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.
And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.
Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.
Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.
So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.
The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.
'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.
Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.
'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'
And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.
'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'
Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.
So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.
---
Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.
It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.
Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.
He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.
After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.
So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.
---
'Got mail for ya.'
An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.
'What's this?'
'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.
Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.
He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.
Tumblr media
'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.
Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.
Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.
'That from the boy you met on the train?'
Eddie nodded.
When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.
'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'
He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.
---
Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'
'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.
'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.
'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'
And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.
'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.
Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.
He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.
'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'
A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.
Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.
'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'
Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.
'I wish I could hold you, right now.'
Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.
'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.
'D'you want me to?'
He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.
'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'
Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3
@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3
Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic​ @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys​​
688 notes · View notes
toxictoxicities · 3 months
Text
youtube
It's finally out
92 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
You're wasting your tongue with lame excuses and lies
Now what's on your nasty old mind?
“Who Really Cares” TV Girl album cover redraw
60 notes · View notes
halos-little-freak · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Look how far we’ve come my baby…
'Cause we made it, underestimated and always underrated
1K notes · View notes