Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
noise dept.
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tumblr dot com
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JBB: An Artblog!
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blake kathryn
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we're not kids anymore.
titsay
⁂
taylor price
dirt enthusiast
i don't do bad sauce passes
AnasAbdin
seen from Italy
seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Lithuania
seen from Sweden
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Slovenia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
@ripmornings
happy pride to everyone in the community!! happy pride to those who are out, those who are not, those who aren’t sure of their identity yet, those who don’t use labels, those who don’t feel seen, etc, etc. stay safe and don’t be ashamed to be yourself.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
June 1st is TOMORROW. It means that GAY PEOPLE will exist, but only for ONE MONTH. Do not forget to buy your tickets to see them NOW, or else you will have to wait AN ENTIRE YEAR to be able to meet them AGAIN.
Hey! Mario was just wondering. Could you'a put a vending machine here? In the middle of this crowded intersection?
MY FINGERS BARELY EVEN TOUCHED YOUR STUPID FUCKING AD STOP REDIRECTING ME TO THE APP STORE
Favorite tropes tag game
I got tagged by @morninglesss ! Thank you for the tag <3
slowburn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut and fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high-school romance or middle-age romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbors or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or genderbend (neither)// angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane
going to a fanfiction author’s profile and seeing that they’re over 30
let’s hang out with mama
I found some flipnote brushes, and I'm having a blast! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
I really like winnie the pooh, Can you draw winnie the pooh pleaseeeeee
Happy 10 year anniversary to this absolutely foundational post
steve harrington's hands... rt if you agree...
Family
even in the afterlife, satoru still has a hold on you
two years after satoru's death, you were still stuck. you were suspended somewhere in between moving forward and barely holding on. the letter he left for you when the day finally came still sat on your dresser, untouched. it felt heavier than it looked, like it was watching you, waiting. you refused to open it, painfully aware of what it would do to you. opening it would undo everything—the slow, careful work you put into rebuilding yourself from nothing.
people loved to talk about the five stages of grief like they were checkpoints, like you could just move through them if you tried hard enough. you’d gotten stuck on two: denial and depression, looping endlessly. acceptance felt impossible. it meant admitting, fully and finally, that he was gone. and you couldn’t do that. you didn’t want to. as stupid as you sounded, holding the small parts of him you still had left kept him alive in a way.
his sunglasses sat in your nightstand drawer. sometimes, on quieter days, you’d put them on and let yourself pretend. it always brought you back to the beach—to that one perfect afternoon. you could still take yourself back to it if you tried hard enough: the sand slipping between your toes, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the breeze tugging at your hair. and satoru laughing, bright and loud, crouching beside his absurdly large sandcastle.
a kid had come out of nowhere, eyes wide as saucers.
“did you make that?” he asked, pointing at the castle and the ridiculous moat satoru had just finished.
“you know it!” satoru grinned, ruffling his hair like they’d known each other forever.
the two ran off to make an even bigger one than before, declaring you as their official judge/photographer. the photo was tucked away in your wallet, edges a bit worn from clutching to your chest folding it carefully multiple times. both of their eyes sparkled, satoru's usually pale skin slightly tanned. you'd give up everything to relive that day again. just once.
his blindfold was tied loosely around your favorite stuffed animal, the fabric slightly frayed now. that day he had won it for you at the local fair was the day he stopped wearing it around you.
“i want to make eye contact with you,” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
all you could do was look away, flustered at his gesture.
“but doesn’t it overwhelm you?” you’d asked quietly. “and make you tired?”
he shrugged. "yeah, but it's worth it."
then he leaned in, close enough that you felt his breath before his words.
"you're worth it."
everything shifted after that.. he started turning off his infinity around you, too—just in case you wanted to pull him closer. just in case you needed him.
the bottle of his cologne still sat on his nightstand. you never moved it. when his pillow finally lost his scent, you started spraying it onto your pillow so your dreams could be filled with him. it just enough to trick yourself, just enough to blur the line between memory and dream. it was the sweetest kind of torture, sleeping as much as you could so you could be with him. in your dreams, he was still there. still laughing, still warm, still yours.
and then you'd wake up.
and it would hit you all over again: cold, sharp, unforgiving. the empty space beside you. the silence. the way everything felt just a little too big without him in it.
it was a cycle. a painful, deliberate one. but in some sick, twisted way, it worked. because in your dreams, he was still there. still laughing, still warm, still yours.
the space he left behind was too noticeable to bear when it stayed empty.
so instead, you filled it the only way you could,
by finding him again, night after night, in your dreams
© megumour — do not copy, translate, or reupload my works.
more gojo
a/n: some satoru angst to ease the pain?! thank u to @newpersonsameoldmistakez for this request!!! i missed writing angst
Happy 1 year to the crux
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
36 with Stevie would be so cute! please!
absolutely agree that anything to do with steve and a bed would be cute. just dreaming of that bed hair the next morning, ahhh. ☆ send me a prompt ☆
slumbering searches ─⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ steve harrington x reader
36. unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping
Steve tried to fall asleep with you, he really did. His body felt lethargic, and it screamed out in relief as he finally lay against your plush mattress. He could feel his limbs ache with the desperation to recharge, but it was his mind that just couldn't settle. His thoughts were loud and running wild, and it made him cringe at the lecture you would give him about having a coffee too late into the night.
You were always right, and he knew that you knew, but sometimes he liked to keep it to himself. It maintains the illusion.
He tried an old wives' tale first, but counting sheep in your head was much harder when they kept getting intercepted by the ideas and questions that racked his brain. And suddenly, sheep number twelve was in Family Video, trying to remember whether he had locked the front door after closing. Steve pursed his lips - if he didn't, it would just have to be a tomorrow problem, that he would most likely hand off to Robin as he caught up on a nap in the back room.
Counting sheep quickly became a hard no.
Mrs Wheeler once told him that Mike had trouble falling asleep as a child. She would heat up a glass of warm milk, and then he would 'be out like a light', or something like that. He didn't pay much attention, too busy staring at Nancy during an awkward dinner at their house.
He tried to pull himself away, eyes watching how you maintained steady, sleepy breaths with your back turned to him. It made the corner of his lip pull up, before he stood quietly, his sock-clad feet pondering through your apartment. He soon had a warming mug between his hands, hip leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom. He still watched you, admired you, thinking of how lucky he was to even be in the same vicinity as you.
But after a long sip of the milk, Steve's face screwed up. He couldn't deal with it being by itself, the taste not to his liking- rather tempted to pour another cup of coffee, but that's how he got into his current predicament. He sighed, placing the mug down on a table behind him before crawling back into bed.
Insomnia 1 - Mrs Wheeler 0.
Steve settled onto his side, facing your back. He dreaded the thought of just waiting it out. The boredom, the annoyance. All he wanted was to fall into a deep slumber.
It always surprised Steve how intertwined you both were; able to read each other like a book after all these years. It was as if you could feel his struggle as your arm reached behind you, hand sliding over the sheet before your fingers slid between his. A satisfied hum pushed past your lips, but you didn't stir, still sleeping.
Steve, however, grinned widely. He was completely enamoured with you. He let you drag him back over your side before you held his hand under your chin, your face nuzzling against him as you remained linked together. He shuffled closer with his nose dragging over your bicep, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades. His leg was tucked underneath one of yours soon after.
It was as if you were magic. The moment he felt your heart beat, the way it was so steady, and how it reverberated into his chest... it was the perfect lull that he needed. He matched your breathing and inhaled your scent, instantly calming him. Steve smiled against you and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, before finally falling asleep.
