For the good ol' days @amortentiando - Tumblr Blog

rocky: im not a scientist, im like the least qualified person on this ship, the only reason i survived while the actual scientists died was pure dumb luck :(

ryland grace's internal monologue like every five seconds: oh my god this guy is like a supergenius, he's literally the best engineer i've ever seen, there's no way every other eridian is this smart, like do you even KNOW how cool you are-

steamingketchup

been phm pilled since I read it last summer so here’s a funny that’s been living in my brain since then

full thing below

bulkhummus

its a long journey to erid

melandrops

the aroace read of ryland grace is so personal and haunting. "you don't even have a dog." was it not enough to love the world for the sake of living in it. was it not enough to live for the thrill of discovery. was it not enough to smile at your students. was it not enough to be afraid.

rovermcfly

rocky's crew dying from radiation exposure, something humans go to great lengths to prevent and are very scared of and ryland's crew dying in their "sleep" with nobody watching, something eridians go to great lengths to prevent and are very scared of. cool book that is easy to read through your tears.

thehatakewereop

The thing about Kakashi is that if he gave any of his adult friends a genuine, full-armed, lean-into-it hug, they would pat his back and then later run to the other friends’ houses and go “we’re putting kakashi on suicide watch again”

threerustyleaves

#man would try to tell his friends he appreciates them#and they would instantly be on the radio like#code black#i repeat code black#he's pulling a His Dad#and it's probably gonna be tonight

joenicolo

Nicky's sass standing there with his hands in his pockets scalding his husband for going to see Booker fucking sent me sky high. Joe looking like he was about to burst into tears?? Omg give me strength. It would have taken everything and more for him to tell Nicky that he needed 'alone time' to cover up the fact he was visiting Booker. Nicky was like, alone time?? Every morning for a thousand years without fail he tells me how much he has missed me while we were sleeping - alone time my ass... Nile, girl, get in the car....

itsanidiom

Joe: I need some alone time

Nicky: The idea that this man wants to be parted from me for even a second is extremely suspicious

It was a cold autumn morning when Iruka noticed the first wrinkle on Kakashi’s face.

The sun had just risen and was lighting the bedroom, and they were sleeping together — which was not always possible, since Hokage duties often required Kakashi to leave before the sun even came up. But on that particular morning, Iruka woke first.

He looked at his partner sleeping peacefully beside him — which was also somewhat rare. Kakashi could usually sense when he was being watched, even while asleep, and would wake up immediately. For a while, Iruka simply watched him in silence, taking advantage of that rare opportunity to study every line of his face, so beautiful and so serene in the comfort of the bed they shared.

And then he noticed it.

There, between Kakashi’s eyebrows, was a small mark in his skin — one that usually only appeared when he furrowed his brow in concern or frustration over something. But now, for the first time, Iruka realized the little wrinkle didn’t disappear anymore, even when his face relaxed.

The thought made warmth spread through his chest, the kind of love and happiness he only ever felt with Kakashi. He couldn’t stop the almost sudden movement as he lifted his thumb and brushed it over the small line on his skin, waking his boyfriend immediately.

“You have a wrinkle!”

Kakashi furrowed his brow in confusion — which only made the line deepen — and let out a sleepy, puzzled sound.

“…Don’t tell me you’ve only now decided I’m too old for you.”

Iruka rolled his eyes, exasperated, but a smile spread across his face.

“No, it’s just that I never—”

He cut himself off before finishing the sentence, realizing how heavy it might sound, and his excited expression softened slightly. “There was a time when I didn’t imagine we would make it this far.”

Kakashi shifted in bed, turning toward him and wrapping an arm around him, brushing a few strands of dark hair away from Iruka’s face.

“To the point of watching ourselves get wrinkles?”

Iruka nodded.

“During the worst times we lived through, there were moments when I couldn’t imagine you coming back home,” he admitted. “I couldn’t see a future where both of us were still alive. But…”

He ran his thumb lightly over the small wrinkle on Kakashi’s forehead again.

“Here we are.”

“Mm.” Kakashi studied him for a moment, thoughtful, and then suddenly poked his ribs, making Iruka yelp and laugh. Still smiling, he held Iruka’s face just like that and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back and running his thumb over the little creases that appeared beside his mouth when he smiled widely.

“You have them too. But only when you smile.”

“Lucky for you my best smiles belong to you.”

#kakashi hatake #umino iruka #kakairu #kakashi x iruka #kkir #kkiru #naruto

On why men fear death — by pleiadesmoons

70k words

Complete

Alternate universe | forced proximity | rivals to lovers | forbidden love | slow burn

#kakashi hatake #iruka umino #kakashi x iruka #kakairu #kkir #kakairu fic #Kakairu fic recs

roseofithaca

Arthur, sliding a photo across the table: I need you to shoot this guy in the leg.

Charles: This is a photo of you?

Arthur: Dutch wants me to go robbing with Micah.

HI HELLO I KNOW I HAVENT LOGGED IN HERE IN YEARS BUT IM BRAZILIAN AND I JUST WANT TO SAY WE BANISHED FASCISM TODAY!!!!!!!!!!

#brazilian elections #brazil #mine #brazilian

amortentiando

From the series of: Wolfstar raising Harry

Harry loved Sirius’s drawings.

Since he discovered them, stored in a box on top of a closet, he’d sometimes spend hours looking at them one by one. Most of them were drawings of Remus, of course, and contained a signature of Sirius Black and a date written in ink in the corner of the sheet, all dating from 1975 to 1979. Most of them were clearly captured moments at Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor common room, or in the boys’ dormitory, as his godfather himself had told Harry. Some showed Remus sitting in an armchair by the fireplace reading a book, others were doodles of his profile sitting on a chair in the classroom a few feet away. One showed Remus sleeping on some pieces of parchment on a table, and on another he held a cup of something steaming, while sitting on a window, looking outside.

Harry loved each of those drawings because he felt like he could almost be there, feeling the moment when he looked at them. He had found one of his father, fallen asleep while sitting with his cheek pressed to his hand and his crooked glasses, which Sirius said was one morning when he fell asleep in the middle of Professor McGonagall’s class and ended up getting detention for it. Sirius let Harry have that one, and the boy hung it on the wall next to his bed. He loved looking at his father every night before going to sleep, and wished he had one of his mother too. From the pictures, she seemed so beautiful. Harry even tried to ask his godfather to draw his mother, but he said he didn’t know if he could draw anymore and that he certainly wouldn’t remember her features so perfectly to do so. Even though he couldn’t quite explain why, Harry felt very sad that night and Remus realized that when he went to say good night.

“Your mother was amazing, Harry. She was beautiful, not only on the outside but also on the inside. She and I were great friends. You have every right to feel sad that you haven’t met her. ”

“That’s not it,” the boy replied. “Not exactly.”

“So what is it?”

“It’s just… you and Sirius don’t remember what they looked like anymore. In time, you’ll will forget even more, and I will never really know, and they didn’t deserve it. To be forgotten. ”

Remus couldn’t answer for a moment. He nodded, swallowing hard, and finally murmured:

“You’re right.”

Sirius didn’t know what gift to give Harry on his eleventh birthday. He always gave him a toy or they went to meet some place the boy really wanted to meet, but this time Harry was already too old for toys and he wanted to give the boy something more important to celebrate his eleventh birthday and his entry into Hogwarts, when the official invitation finally arrived. But July came and it was almost over and Sirius didn’t know what to give him until Remus told him what Harry had said about his parents, and he figured out what to do. He would try to draw a picture of Harry with his parents as best he could.

However, Sirius soon came to the frustrating conclusion that he definitely didn’t know how to draw anymore. His skills were nowhere near what they were before, during his hot , inconsequential youth, when art was part of who he was and there were no other worries, when he had not lost the people he loved most and everything was still easy. Or maybe it was easier because back then, when he managed to name his feelings for Remus, he just had to look at the boy to feel all the nerve endings in his body inspire to put on paper what Lupin really was: a masterpiece.

It was with this in mind that he stopped wiping the quill on his face absently and looked at Remus, that was facing the other way in front of the sink making coffee and wearing a frayed old shirt that had once belonged to him – or so he thought, but couldn’t be sure. For so many years they had been sharing everything, that even most of his clothes already belonged to both of them. No, Sirius thought, sitting at the kitchen table with the parchment and ink in front of him. I still see a masterpiece when I look at him. I could still draw him on every inch of this scroll without even having to look at him for long. But the problem, he soon realized, was that Harry was right. It wasn’t Remus he needed to draw, it was James and Lily. And he no longer remembered his friends’ faces, the little details that made a difference, that made the drawing more real.

Black dropped the quill on the paper and sighed heavily, scratching his eyes with his hands and resting his face on his palms. He felt Remus approach from behind and kiss his cheek close to his ear as he dropped a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. They had both woken up just minutes ago, it was still early Monday morning, and the first thing they did, as always, was to check the mail and go to the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” Remus sat next to him and pulled out the newspaper to read.

“Harry was right when he said that. I don’t remember them anymore, not everything… Not enough to draw them.” Sirius sighed heavily, staring at the sketch he had tried to start.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Sirius.” Remus touched his arm. “Harry will love it anyway, you know that.”

“His birthday is tomorrow and I could barely get started on it yet. And you know how I hate doing things in half…” Sirius ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Isn’t it ridiculous? That I’ve forgotten them? He was my best friend. My brother.” He looked at Remus, bewildered, searching for some words of comfort. “Do you remember them?”

Remus dropped the coffee cup in his hands and turned to his husband.

“Do you know how much time has passed?”

“Ten years,” Sirius concluded, without much thought. In October of that year the death of James and Lily would complete ten years. Time had literally flown by, for if Sirius thought of the beginning, in the first weeks after their death, when he thought he would never recover, he could see the great path they had taken. It was only a few years ago that they stopped scratching each calendar day, another craze they had acquired together, to count the days they had survived missing the Potters. Each scratched day was both a victory and a deeper pain. Each scratched day was like a burden to both of them, a reminder that no matter how many days were scratched, the pain would not pass, the longing would always be there, and they would never return. It was then, realizing that this was doing more harm than good, that Remus decided it was time to stop. Sirius still remembered the night when, before bed, his husband stopped in front of the fridge with his quill in his hand and stared at the calendar for countless minutes. Finally he took it from the refrigerator door, dropped it on the floor and looked at Sirius. The only thing he said was “do it” without explaining anything. “Do it, and we’ll get it over with. And leave it behind.” Sirius took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the calendar. He muttered a spell that set the paper on fire and they both watched it burn for a while.

The other day, the longing was the same.

“Ten years,” Remus agreed, bringing him back to the moment. “It’s too much time. You can’t remember everything, Pads. It’s not your fault. I don’t remember them either. But we still remember the main things, the most important moments. Nothing can take it from us.”

Sirius nodded, he was right. Remus always knew what to say. He then felt one of Remus’ gentle kisses on his lips before the man turned back to the Daily Prophet on his hands.

Sirius took a sip of his own coffee and looked back at the parchment, determined to try his best. He dipped the tip of the quill in ink, but when was about to begin, Harry appeared in the kitchen yawning and shuffling his feet. Sirius quickly pulled a sheet of newspaper over the drawing and dropped the quill. He watched the boy stop in the middle of the kitchen and scratch his eyes, adjusting his glasses in place and running his hands through his messy hair. He blinked a few times and looked at the two men sitting at the table before smiling and saying good morning.

For a moment it was as if Sirius saw James Potter for the first time again, on the Hogwarts Express platform. The boy, growing taller and slender every day, with round glasses and tousled, minimally curled hair, had the same dark skin as his father, the same careless, quiet expression, almost the same voice and manner. Sirius could see, for a brief second, James Potter’s face perfectly in his mind. It was a brief, fleeting image, but it was enough to make him sure he could finish that drawing now.

“You look so much like your father,” he said, unable to hold back the thought.

“Except the eyes,” Remus added, also watching the boy.

“You have your mother’s eyes” Sirius agreed and smiled.

#i think this deserves more recognition #so im reblogging myself #since no one else will #wolfstar #wolfstar raising harry #wolfstar au #hp #the marauders