☀ midnight sun

[animentality]

[fox-moblin]

Wouldn’t leave my mind sorry

[rectanglefeet]

[incalculablepower]

“You sure you’re Muggleborn?” Ted asks, looking at Dean across the fire they’ve made. 

“I’m not sure,” he replies. “I mean, if my dad was a wizard, he never told my Mum. But talking to her, doesn’t sound like he ever told her much of anything.” He’s drawing patterns in the dirt by his feet with the tip of his wand.

The light from the flames flicker over Dean’s face and Ted can’t shake the familiarity that washes over him. He looks so much like that quiet kid all those years ago, the signmaker in Diagon Alley. What was his name? And whatever happened to him?

[cyberdelph]

by @428_yotsuya

[surii]

OUR BELOVED SUMMER (2021- 2022) dir. Kim Yoon Jin

[myelocin]

to remember love in kyoto | miya atsumu

synopsis: at fifty five, his hair’s black and grey, while he remembers how he’s loved you all these years the same. 

genre: angst | wc: 800+

a/n: on today’s episode of nikki enabling me here we have this fic. and for full effects pls imagine atsumu in a singlet

commissions | ko-fi

Growing old for Atsumu feels like he flew through time. And here he is, thirty five years down the line, still taking the same walks and eating the same meals at the same time wondering where the time had gone.

Fatty tuna on a small plate, and a bowl of rice in the middle. A cup of lukewarm water to his right, then a melon bread for dessert if he’s feeling it for the night. Most nights, he doesn’t anymore, but because a memory comes once every so often, he finds himself keeping it there for just in case.

For the week, he bought seven; a single piece for Monday through Sunday. Considering that today’s already Saturday and he’s only got two more left in the cupboards, he supposes it’s been a good week.

Admittedly, it has. The years have been kind to him.

At fifty five, he’s not blonde anymore, but he insists that the few specks of grey do him more justice than the bleach ever did. He’s a little temperamental when it comes to getting caught in the rush hour, but he’s still the uncle that chooses to stand in train-rides, rather than sit on the seats reserved for the elderly.

Keep reading

[jangmanwolf]

good lord

[elenafisher]

In the film, [Florence] Pugh’s adult Amy outlines this philosophy in a monologue that illustrates her maturity. “I’m just a woman,” she tells Laurie (played by Timothée Chalamet, another Lady Bird alum) while both are in Europe.

[Greta] Gerwig didn’t have the speech in her script initially. [Meryl] Streep convinced her to include it, pointing out to the writer-director that she had to make clear to the audience why there’s so much pressure on Amy to marry, and to marry well. Amy is the one tasked with keeping the March family afloat, given Meg’s marriage to a poor teacher, Jo’s refusal to be engaged to Laurie—a man she considers more of a brother than a lover—and Beth’s illness.

Amy is the sister with the greatest understanding of how her femininity could work for her. “There’s something about Amy,” Gerwig said. “Jo can’t put her ego aside long enough to get what she needs to get, but Amy can. It’s just, I loved that [Europe] section of the book … I wanted that feeling in it, of Amy’s utter practicality when it comes to how to get ahead.”

Greta Gerwig’s Little Women Gives Amy March Her Due

[hayamidate]

[mangopng]

🍌🍌🍌🍌

[jimporcs]

My fanart for Yuji Nishida as a Fukurodani player! 

[heartshapedglassesandbubblegums]

[落書] MHA x 逢魔ヶ刻動物園  by 閒雲野鶴

* Permission to upload was given by the artist. Please rate and/or bookmark their works on their pixiv. Do not repost, edit or remove credits.  

[evelyn-art-05]

Your Power

[nezz12]

Smile!

Anon asked for Shoto with F1 Expression + Fool Color Palette 💕😊

[myelocin]

Can you do a parenting scenario for Atsumu

for someone as expressive as atsumu, it surprises you to see him as still as this. 

it should have been your turn to get up and check on your newborn tonight, knowing that atsumu had to leave for the airport in a few hours. but when you wake up in a jolt and the clock says that it’s four in the morning and there’s absolute silence in the house--when there should be some crying right about now, you’re up on your feet and headed towards the nursery without any second thoughts.

atsumu’s face is what greets you when you finally make it inside the room. and he’s looking at you calm, with a smile on his face that quells your prior anxiety in an instant. then, you notice the sleeping baby cradled in his hands--tufts of hair with a color that’s a shade darker than yours, and rosy lips set in a smile that told you she felt safe.

so you relaxed and stood by the door, shoulders instantly sagging and heartbeat slowing. slow--like, the tune of the melody atsumu’s humming in her ear that matches the beat of the slow cradle he holds her in. 

“what do you think she’s gonna be when she grows up?” he asks, and when he looks at you, you offer him a shrug in response.

because you don’t know. she’s only been in you and atsumu’s world for a mere three weeks, after all. but when you make your way to him, steps slow and deliberate, you let yourself lean down and meet her forehead with a kiss.

atsumu, beside you, hums--in the way that sounds like he’s whispering a secret. 

it baffles you, because three weeks ago he was standing in this very nursery arms jittery and eyes in a panic because he realizes he’s become a father despite not knowing how to be one. and you know he likes to be prepared; much like you--because the unprecedented was truly as daunting and terrifying as it sounds. 

but three weeks later, the two of you, despite still being as unsure of how cradling a life worked, find yourselves calm in a nursery at four in the morning because a sleeping baby smiled to the both of you in her sleep.

she’s cooing, and your heart melts. atsumu asks the question once more--this time, in a voice even softer. 

so you answer, “she’s gonna be someone great,” in a tone that tells atsumu that you mean it.

[myelocin]

if your slots are still open, I love baby's breath and atsumu pls!! 💓

aaaaaa my fave flower too!! ;w;

-

flowers, for you, were much more appreciated for the sentiment in their meanings than rather the colors of their petals. 

roses, atsumu gave you on your first date. where he stood a little awkwardly in front of your house, his hair gelled back looking as unfamiliar as the look of evident nervousness on his face. still, when you kissed him, the warmth on his cheeks bloomed to the color of the roses you held in your hands that night. 

daisies, he left on your locker next to a note with his scribbles that was meant to serve as an apology if he couldn’t walk you home. he apologized often, you realized, and only laughed when osamu broke the news that their mother’s garden had been the one to pay the price for atsumu’s consistent “i’m sorrys.”

and your favorite perhaps, were the stems of baby’s breath that made it into your wedding bouquet, kitchen counters, and with the congratulations balloons that atsumu left on your bedside table. 

“she looks like you,” you hear him say and when you look at the sleeping infant in your arms, you only smile because in a way she really does. 

“she’s probably gonna be like you, though,” you reply, whispering back to your husband who sits beside you looking at his daughter with eager eyes. 

“i’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” you hear him say, and when you meet his eyes, you laugh. 

“i married you after all, didn’t i?” you ask, leaning forward to peck him on his cheek. atsumu beside you nods, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing at your words. 

“you wanna carry her?” you ask him again, and when he holds out his arms looking as uncertain as he did the night he first gave you roses, it only takes one look from you for atsumu to smile again and hold out his arms.

his breath hitches, eyes glaze over, and he feels his heart thrum the second he feels his daughter’s warmth over his skin. 

“i’m actually a dad now,” he says, a little breathlessly, then looks at you like you just gave him galaxies off the tips of your hand. 

“and you’re doing great,” you reassure, watching him with tears welling over your own eyes as atsumu slowly rocks her back and forth, placing feather light kisses on her forehead as he whispers i love you, again and again.

“i love you,” he says for the fifth time, and when he looks at you, you see nothing but tenderness in the purest form of love.

and when you smile at him, he knows you’re telling him the same. 

-

[myelocin]

the truth in vulnerability | miya a.

synopsis: your husband has a habit of crying, ever since he laid himself bare to you. your daughter, on the other hand just liked to poke fun for it at times. atsumu never minds, and you know that, though.

characters: miya atsumu, you, your daughter

genre: fluff, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1300+

a/n: welp i lost my shit at this r we surprised. 

if somebody told miya atsumu that he’d be married before thirty with a sassy daughter that has him saying yes to her every whim without any sense of hesitation from his part, he’d laugh them off and compliment them maybe at their brave attempt at a joke.

but of course, because life was interesting like that—here he is, at twenty eight years old, waking up with his two girls in his life that bring him all the joys of the world with just their smile. the girls in question, of course, being you—his wife—and your four year old daughter whose giggle greets him right by the door everyday he comes home.

atsumu thinks that this must be the kind of love people fight wars for. the love he found in you, even as years had come and passed, still feels like day one. it’s still you, he thinks to himself. because no one else has come close to making his heart skip all those beats he thinks it probably shouldn’t be skipping.

Keep reading

[myelocin]

Heartbeats | Miya Atsumu

Synopsis: To learn that love is patient, and love is kind, again, when you’re twenty four, fresh out of a broken engagement, and wondering if you can find a home along the wildflowers beside the road you thought you’d be walking on is a little daunting. Miya Atsumu comes, presence steady instead of a whirlwind, reminding you that while love is everything that hurts and heals, at the end of the day, it is what never fails.  

“Hell is lost inside this heaven we’ve made.”

And you’ve made this. A makeshift home with a stranger who’s stuck in the inbetween with you. Awkward pauses, starless nights, and a love you never thought you’d find in the midst of what hurt the most. 

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Reader

Wordcount: 14,700+

Genre/Tags: Slice of Life, Comfort Fic, A look through the years, Implied NSFW themes, And-They-Were-Roommates, Romance, A lot of fluff LMAO, Slowburn

A/N: This is a commissioned piece by Hana! Thank you SO much for letting me write this T__T  <3 Playlist

commissions | ko-fi

“Love is patient.”

It starts like this:

It’s you in a room, an empty space on your finger, and the after effects of a goodbye dissipating far too quickly for you to get a grasp of what has happened. You think that maybe you should be staring at the walls, or perhaps pouring your heartaches into metaphors found only in poems, but you do none of that.

Instead, you’re angry.

There’s a flame you know was ignited all because of sin, so with that in mind, you validate all the reasons why you’re so angry. The room’s really just empty, and it’s just you sitting up in a chair, staring at the table with the final remnants of the love that once was scattered and torn at the edges in front of you. You tell yourself that you’ve got a whole lot of nerve opening pandora’s box like this again, but because love is patient, you tell yourself that this is what needs to be done.

It’s you, looking at your own situation from a third person angle and having to constantly remind yourself to breathe and take it slow, because a step at a time is all you can really do when the world weighs too heavy on you.

So you breathe, even if it’s a little shaky. You blink at the ring on the table, and the note with a past love’s handwriting scribbled across the page, and remind yourself that while love used to be that—right now it isn’t.

Keep reading

[bowokuto]

very nice to see that nothing has changed at all with this man