#let.

[paint-brush-anon]

[ painters stuff was moving around randomly again (?) wonder who's doing that... ]

- @protector-and-puppeteer-anons

Sweeeeet mother of Christ, my friend's here! Didn't expect you to come so soon, Wax!

[wisteriasymphony]

every time a tumblr post mlb rewrite mentions the fact that they're taking out marinette's 'obsessive stalker' characteristics an angel gets run over by a steamroller and fucking dies

[soldier-lodbrok]

@holyguardian | X

Oh, he should know to pick his words more carefully. Glenn knew that his speak patterns were so much simpler when compared to Ifalna's. It felt like his words were rock. He was loud and brash and he could move others with them. Call for rebellion.

But Ifalna's way with words? It was like water, clear and beautifully pure. And so persistent and powerful, they would always find their way through even the most solid kind of rock.

Turning his head towards her, he had a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, fishing for her hand to place a kiss against her knuckles.

"I'm not that good with words like this... love, I just tried to be... romantic, I think."

Turning fully towards her, his hand cupped her face, gently picking strands of her long hair to tug behind her ear.

"I know we're not the fire... not in that way. Shinra wants to make us out like we are, but they are the ones who burn down the planet. But, no matter what they try, no matter what they throw our way, we will always persist. That is what I meant. We."

Though even with these kind of deep conversations, there was a bout of mischief gleaming in his eyes: "Well... and I'd burn down the ShinRa HQ for you, which basically is a whole city, so..."

[shyrule]

let wild make mukbang videos

[nyikondlovu]

‘what do you say to the person whose doll is on a murder spree and killed your mom in front of you?’ this question has been running through the 14 year old’s mind for days at times when he’s not sobbing over his mom.

‘what do you say to the guy who makes you shy -the complete opposite of your extroverted self, because of how being around him flusters you?’ he tossed and turned in bed for a week, contemplating this in between mourning his mother.

he ends up with:

“we’re not good together.”

saying that to the boy he liked and had his first kiss with hurt devon, it felt like he had to pull the words stuck in his throat to get it out but he doesn't see an alternative.

‘what do I say to jake?’ devon sighs to himself after junior stormed out of the house to punch jake and stormed back in.

‘i’ll check in on him later.’ he vows to himself.

the podcaster turns back to his friends (are they though?) when he hears jake call his name but, “i’ve gotta go.” is all he says in response and sees as jake’s face crumbles and god devon never wanted to be the cause of the pain he sees in the other boy’s eyes but he’s so fucking tired.

lexy is caught in the middle, does she comfort jake or devon? seeing how indecisive the blonde is, devon makes the choice for her;

“bye.” and turns to leave, ignoring the calls the two other people who know about that horrendous doll make out to him.

his journey home is a blur, his mind all over the place. ‘chucky, mom laying there, jake, mom dead right in front of him, murderous doll, sickening crunch of her twisting her neck too far, boy he likes, doll that killed his mom belongs to the boy he likes..’

-

all jake can do is watch as the boy he’s almost certain he loves walks away.

‘we’re not good together.’

his mind can’t process anything else. is lexy talking to him? he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

‘we’re not good together.’

he makes his way up the stairs to his room, did he do something wrong?

‘we’re.

not.

good.

together.’

that's all that's been ringing in his head for hours. nothing but devon matters in his life. nothing else.

‘i need to see him.’ the curly haired boy decides as he quickly changes from funeral clothes to his regular ones.

‘i can fix this.’ he promises himself.

-

packing for anything other than a holiday with his mom is weird. it’s mind numbingly weird.

he’s never had to want for anything, his mother’s job as detective and the huge amount of money his father left when he died made sure he was always taken care of but now? now he’s almost certainly getting put in a foster home and won’t be able to access ANYTHING without his, absent for most of his life, aunt's approval or until he turns 18.

he’s leaving his home.

he’s leaving his friends.

he’s leaving the people he loves.

he’s leaving Jake.

devon is leaving because his mother was murdered and he will never get justice for her because it was done by a fucking doll that can transfer its soul to the next good guy doll with ease.

his mother is gone.

he doesn’t know how to go on without her.

he doesn’t know how to survive without her calling him in the middle of the night when she’s at the station just to hear his voice, just so she can make sure he’s okay.

he doesn’t know how to go through life without her comforting smiles and warm hugs and forehead kisses.

neither his boyfriend? kind of? friend he kissed? jake nor lexy really checked on him after his only parent passed.

he just doesn’t know WHY to carry on…

all that talk about family and none of them noticed he’s drowning. he’s now reclusive and closed off and no one has said ANYTHING but sure, a ‘family’, devon snorted as he began packing his gadgets.

a knock interrupts his stewing and as the true crime enthusiast looks up he sees the last person he wanted to be around.

“jake.” he breathes out.

“your aunt said i could come down..” the newcomer says, shuffling his feet and feeling awkward.

the shorter of the two sighs, “sure, c’mon in.”

-

jake feels so out of place and for the first time, truly uncomfortable under devon’s usually sparkling and warm dark brown but now slightly cold and unwavering eyes.

‘how did things get so bad so fast?’ he asks himself

he twists the rings on his fingers as he waits for his favourite person to speak but after a few seconds of silence and seeing devon arch a dark eyebrow jake clears his throat.

“i’m worried…about you. i miss you.”

devon can’t help but let out a snort;

“you’re ‘worried’ about me? you ‘miss’ me? bullshit wheeler. you haven’t cared about me since YOUR doll murdered MY MOTHER.” his voice begins to rise much to jake’s surprise:

“of- of course i’m worried about you, you’re not answering texts or my calls..”

“well i’m kind of processing the death of my mother, the possibility that i’m probably getting put in a foster home and, oh! the fact that my life was upended by a doll inhibited by the soul of a murderer from the 80’s.” the darker skinned boy lists, “so sorry if your three texts and two missed calls aren’t at the top of my priority list. for fucks sake i’ve gotten texts from junior every day since...the incident,” jake watches as devon finishes and his heart breaks when he sees the tears, anger and pain in his eyes.

he makes to step closer and hug his…person but only feels a stab of pain when devon flinches and steps away from jake.

“dev, it’s me. talk to me…please,” the curly haired boy begs

-

as much as he wants to fall into the arms of the boy in front of him and sob his heart out, he’s too hurt and feels betrayed by how unconcerned jake was about him in the past week. but when he turns to the other boy and sees just how affected he is devon can’t help but let his body sag as all the anger leaves at once.

“jake…i know your hearts in the right place and that you’ve lost your aunt but,” he sighs and sits on his bed.

“i been going through something too and fuck, it just feels like our relationship is one sided because when you lost your father i made myself available even though we didn’t know each other. i mean how has the guy whose mom died checked in on me more than my -my, more than you?!” at the silence that responds to his wavering voice, devon looks up to jake completely helpless and defeated.

-

‘fuck.’ is all that’s running through jakes mind as he takes in all that’s been said.

‘i hurt him.’

“i’m sorry dev. i didn’t know you felt like this,” he falls to his knees in front of this person who got him through his darkest days without even speaking to him and has been his lighthouse in the fucked up storm that the past month has been since he gave him the fucking time of day.

when all he gets from his typically lively and warm personal sunshine, jake can’t help but reach for the other boy again, breathing a sigh of relief when his hand isn’t batted away when it lands on devons and jake does not waste a moment before interlocking their fingers and just squeezing.

“i hurt you and didn’t even notice. i may be a fuck up in so many areas but one part i never want to mess up is us. is you. all i have ever wanted was for you to see me and see what you’ve meant to me for so long. i mean you’re the reason i stayed every time i wanted to run away,” the artist explains finally baring his soul to devon, someone he needs like he needs air.

even when he hears a sharp inhale at his confession jake keeps going because it’s about more than finally putting his cards on the table but also about letting this boy who means so much to him know how cared for he is.

“you have been so consistent and kind and patient and you have never made me feel less than. you’ve been so rock solid that i took you for granted. devon, i…” he finally falters.

he squares his shoulders, raises the interlocked hands, places a kiss on the back of devons dark one and looks him in the eye as he does so,

“…you?” the dark brown eyed 14 year old in front of him breathlessly prods.

still maintaining eye contact so the kindhearted boy knows he means it, jake finally says:

“i love you.”

-

“i love you.”

‘he loves me?’ this confession both shocks him and is nothing new to him.

his heart aches for two reasons now because devon is fucking mourning but hearing someone finally giving him the support he’s always yearned for so much and didn’t even know fills him with an overwhelming amount of affection that that’s the other reason his heart aches.

the air is still, the room itself seems to be holding its breath like the brunet in front of him still clutching his hand like it’s a fucking lifeline.

‘..he loves me.’ it’s no longer a surprise but a statement. jake said it as a fact. the way someone would state that the sky is blue, hackensack is fucked up or devon is a pan as the day is long.

jake is sure in this statement and as devon looks into his earnest dark hazel eyes he can’t help but surge forward and kiss him.

-

coming here jake never expected to be confronted with how selfish he’s been, confessing his deepest feelings and having probably the only person still alive that he loves kiss him.

It’s uncoordinated and earnest and tender and just so them.

neither of them know what they’re doing but god knows how emotional it is because eyes that have been watering for the majority of the conversation seem to finally be streaming down their faces as jake tastes both saltiness and something so distinctly devon.

-

finally coming back for air, they pull apart but devon makes sure to keep his forehead against jakes.

“thank you for hearing me. thank you for being here. thank you for loving me.” he whispers, “i might not be in love with you but i think i’m on my way to being..” he continues.

“i’m gonna need more time to even begin to heal from this-”

-

“-and i will be here every step of the way j-just let me be. let me make it up to you. please.” jake has lived through enough hell to simply not beg and let things happen the way they want but he’ll be damned if he doesn't do whatever he has to to not lose the best thing that has happened to him in years.

he waits with bated breath;

dark brown on dark hazel,

forehead against forehead,

nothing hidden from the other,

just honesty and cautious optimism.

a long pause then:

the walls devon’s tried to build collapse because at some point, he can’t point out when, jake wheeler became his weakness.

“okay.”

he couldn’t deny him anything no matter how hard he tried, the urge to protect him that he’s had from the first time they truly spoke is still there.

“okay?” jake repeats cautiously, smile starting to over take his face because whether he knows it or not, devon evans is his achilles heel. he would let chucky burn down the world if it meant his angel was warm. if he just asked or even insinuated that it was what he wanted jake would let that crazy doll murder everyone in this town if thats what devon wanted.

but jake knows devon would never ask that of him because he’s the best of all of them. The purest thing to come out of hackensack.

nodding a smile growing on his own face, devon untangles his hands from jakes so he can place them on either side of his...something’s face and with their foreheads still touching, he whispers like a secret only meant for their ears to hear:

“yeah, okay.”

its not an ‘i love you’ but its pretty damn close and they both know it.

[pearonthegas]

let there be room for all of us.

so, i've had this on my mind a lot this week, and just lately as a whole-

obviously, we all know now zhou has been promoted into alfa romeo's seat, and i'm so incredibly happy but it's brought up tons of racism and just a lot of mixed feelings for me about the way pop media is so incredibly whitewashed.

as a hijabi southeast asian girl, representation is not something i've had a ton of. growing up, my friends have all inherently 'whitewashed' themselves because thats sorta just the standard that we've all been held to - the idea that we are only good if we are like the mat salleh (westerners).

when i got into f1 properly this year, i was drawn in because of tsunoda. no, we're not the same race nor do we look anything alike, but seeing just someone who's a little bit like me made my heart so incredibly full, even if somewhere in the back of my mind i know that things like representation in today's media often comes with a price tag attached.

then i found out about alex albon and his returning to f1 next year, and again that same feeling of "there is someone who is a little bit like me" returned, even if we are really not so much alike.

with zhou coming in as well, i truly cannot be happier for the amount of diversity we will finally be beginning to get - and i truly hope that this will further continue to grow in the future.

i come from a small country no one really know much about other than our political state, and for years i have been plagued with the thought that as long as i stay here i will have no opportunities to achieve my full potential, simply because there are no such routes into the bigger global market from here. every success story has come from an outsource, people having to leave home and pay grand sums of money just for their talent to be noticed.

as a person in this world who feels that i deserve to be seen - i'd like to push this idea into as many thoughts as possible: there needs to be space for all of us in all your communities. let us into your clubs and societies, your sports and your films and your television shows. we have more stories than you know, and i promise, we are worth so much more than the words you throw at us. and we can prove it.

[aritany]

Abby I want to tell you that my friend @smol-green-angry is in an RP server called "Snonk" that was founded a couple months ago and history really does repeat itself. For a while whenever I talked to them she would be talking about Snonk. Now whenever I see your posts you are talking about Spronts :/

beatrice i assure you that my desire is not to be talking about spronts

i have a terrible short term memory but it’s not terrible enough