Day 1 of Pride Month: We begin with “The Icon” 👠✨ 🏳️🌈
I had a surge of creativity right after watching the 2nd movie, and I just finished this piece just right in time for this month 🩷
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
Peter Solarz
One Nice Bug Per Day
$LAYYYTER

@theartofmadeline
h
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada

seen from Canada
seen from Kuwait

seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States
@allbutwrong
Day 1 of Pride Month: We begin with “The Icon” 👠✨ 🏳️🌈
I had a surge of creativity right after watching the 2nd movie, and I just finished this piece just right in time for this month 🩷
JOAN CHEN in Montreal, My Beautiful 2025
Considering how approving and encouraging Miranda was at the prospect of Andy writing the book about her, imagine a fic where they went all “The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo.”
They’d sit down together, Miranda would give all the juicy details of her life, her job, the industry, her marriages, her enemies, her lovers and Andy would write it all down in order to write the book.
Miranda would drop vague hints about being in love with someone she shouldn’t have been decades ago, how inappropriate it was and how it could never have been.
Obviously because Andy can’t leave it be, she’d dig into that.
Through it Andy would realise that Miranda had actually been in love with her the whole time they’d worked together and even afterwords, which is why she pretended to not know who she was despite still thinking of her often.
And then once she’d figured it out, Miranda would be all
“You took your time.”
God I wish I had the time to write a full fic like this 🤣
Having plenty of other unfinished projects that I could be working on as a leisure activity while taking it easy and resting, I instead decided that the most important thing I could draw as today's little doodle is drunk-ass Gandalf passed out face down on his own big naturals.
Saw the movie tonight. I'm so happy.
an ao3 author is never late, nor are they early; they post precisely when they mean to
the only place I'm not chronically late from
Do let me inside (Atsu x Oyuki)
A/N Ok, so back in AO3 I got prompted with writing these two being jealous and then life happened so I'm fulfilling this prompt about a month later xD Anyway, back to my bs. Hey @allbutwrong remember when I re-prompted you some jealousy? My answer to that ;) Love ya'
Do let me inside A03 Version
---
Red Crane Inn was packed; the feeling of warmth from bodies enjoying sake and conversations as the cold roared outside one that Atsu could feel against her own skin, as if a weight quietly applying pressure to her body.
It was weird still. Sometimes. To be so surrounded.
She had gotten used to solitude in a way that kept the figment of Death as part of her for long enough so her revenge could be achieved. Whilst haunting there was very little time to spend amidst the living after all.
It did not matter much now, however, as she had been sitting in front of her own drink for a while now: soaking herself with the echoes of conversation that swam around her, back muscles settled and locked in place as much as the ones on her upper legs. Comfortable but not enough for her mind to fall into the lull the promise of warmth kept on roaring towards her. Enough, however, for her drink to have gotten lukewarm, she noticed, filtering the liquid through slightly parted teeth.
She noticed Ran coming into her space a little just as she settled the drink back to the table, eyes fixated forward. The no-nonsense woman spotted her and maneuvered through those that had already sought refuge from, the bowyer informed Atsu, plopping next to her, quite the nasty storm. One still growing in strength. Not a weird thing to happen in Teshio Ridge, Atsu was sure of it, but slightly earlier in the year than might have been expected.
Still focused, still paying little to no attention to the world outside beyond the details she considered important enough to notice -such was the picking up howling wind that began to rattle outside, muffled groans from a far too full wind scattering on the surface of the inn's walls. Never mind that, Atsu considered Ram as the other woman nodded to herself once before seemingly coming to a decision of her own, falling silent but smug with the expression of one finding a place to sit at in a far too full inn whilst others envied her position.
Not like Atsu wanted to pay her more time than the one she had already given her: lowering her eyes to her hands, adjusting the center of gravity of her body once again, taking inventory of the way her muscles settled and moved, protesting from the tense nerve coiled within her but not enough to cause her any worry, Atsu allowed for her face to give out fully to the one in front of all that had decided to make a stop at the inn for the night.
Oyuki.
Oyuki did not sit at the very center of the room: her voice would have gotten trapped below the stairs that lead to the second level of the inn (And she had replied and informed as much to the innkeeper when the man had offered her the warmest, most comfortable spot inside the whole place a few hours ago, when they had arrived to the place with a story about needing a bodyguard on this sometimes meandering paths Teshio Ridge had.) The older woman sat slightly off-centered, shamisen angled, fingers restless and eyes lost as melody rose from her. Beautiful, gorgeous.
Atsu watched while Ran commented on the performance in a way that she considered good enough to warrant an appreciative grunt from Atsu herself. Not like it mattered much, of course. Not while Oyuki played.
Because she knew what others saw when Oyuki played: the softness of her movements, the way she brandished music as if calling forth the wind and nature Atsu wished to repossess, each note a snowflake that divided endlessly while calling forth emotions Atsu found herself on the precipice of falling if she dared to listen for long enough. And, at the same time, Atsu saw and knew that beyond the music, Oyuki listened. Intently. Listened to the men, the bandits, rather, that had sat at her left; the ones that had arrived a little before the sun had begun its descent and had moved some smaller group away so they were able to sit closer to the 'Songbird of Ezo'. Listened to their comments, the ones directed at her -and for which Atsu wished her own hearing was worse than what it was-, and the ones muttered rather than shouted.
Mutters about empty roads and poor travelers, about the best spot to trap some girls trying to bring water from the calmer side of the river, of kids running with throats full of information. One that they could be scared out of. All of it.
Oyuki listened, quietly anchoring herself onto Atsu's eyes as she did so. 'Do not let go of me' She had made Atsu promise and Atsu had agreed to the request, sensing the anger bubbling within Oyuki from having yet again to keep the place that had transformed into her own refuge, safe again, recognizable, to those that considered it Home.
They had not truly spoken of the anger that the promise hold, the worry for violence about to burst, but Atsu had needed little information when it came to protectiveness, when it came to death itself. She had agreed, had remained trained on Oyuki: feigning herself while tightening her own tendons, refusing to let go until Oyuki signaled her so.
(She owe it to them all after all. Some old woman had left a letter and a request atop one of the forgotten shrines that had already been left unused for some time already. She had not necessarily called for the Onryō -the one that many had begun to mention as shadow-made revenge who had gotten back to the realm of those that did not breathe after Saito had been fed his own heart. She had not called forth for the spirit that no longer seemed to haunt Ezo but, she signed off, for anyone that cared enough. Oyuki had brought the letter to Atsu: face guarded but eyes bleeding as she had known that Atsu would indeed care. As much as Atsu had known herself unable to deny a direct request from Oyuki)
So, bandits.
When Oyuki had told her her plan, back at the homestead, Atsu had considered time. Time spent. Time that had shaped around the one passed since Saito. Since Jubei. She was not out of practice, she reasoned, hating how open her own wording left her, but out of touch.
What if, she had pointed out, as Oyuki explained how she would become center and bait so Atsu could cover the exit strategies, she failed. Oyuki had smiled in response, moving withing Atsu's space and fixed some errand strand of hair out of Atsu's view while locking eyes with hers. "I'm sure you will know what to do." Atsu had felt tongue-tied then, a splattering of red siting on her cheeks by the time she had registered the cackling of Kiku at her back. The kid, as always, getting to understand more than Atsu felt she did herself.
Oyuki had smirked then, moving away just as Atsu had gone for her waist, fingers slipping when they had tried to grab the cloth that covered her and Atsu had cursed her hands more than she had been ready to admit.
Now, as she watched while the men leered at Oyuki, her mind racing back to the assuredness Oyuki had gifted her back at the homestead, she willed her face to remain inscrutable while waiting for the signal, eyes zero-ing on Oyuki, nodding in soft and slight acceptance when the older woman's eyes sought hers.
Impatience was an easy trap to fall onto. A grounding presence was what Oyuki most desired. What Atsu would always allow herself to be after everything that had transpired.
So focused she was, so utterly fixated, that when she saw movement on the corner of her eyes, she did not register the hand outstretched towards her general vicinity as Ran's.
It was instinctual. She stopped herself before using one of her katanas but her posture changed, shoulders angling so she had more of her front covered and safe hd the hand that was fast approaching was armed. A gesture that, while turning, broke the life-line created by her eyes onto Oyuki's.
It had been some time since she had reacted this way but Atsu's mind sensed the movement in a far too quick succession to the tension settling on her muscles; on the need for her katanas to be used, on the increasing heat around her, on the laughter and the noise that created a blanket, trapping her thoughts and chaining them to her to the point of asphyxiation. And so, before she was able to recognize the movement for what it was, someone reaching for the abandoned carafe, the corner where she was grew colder, darker. To Ran's credit, the other woman merely sat back on the balls of her feet and rose both of her hands in quiet acceptance of the space requested.
"I only wanted some of that" Posture lazy but slight tension around her shoulders betraying her words, Ran pointed to the forgotten sake. "No need to murder me for it."
I think I might be about to send a deranged email
Couldn't find an email address so it was instead a deranged form submission
HUGE NEWS
All this sh*t I’m engulfed in must be fertile land for something better to grow. Right?
so make it
Cunt
someone please write a canon divergence fic where atsu doesn’t forgive oyuki, become enemies and hate fuck PLEWAASSSEEEEE