Im Proud Of Him - Tumblr Posts
Fact #90
Source: Club Penguin Times, issue #284
Thomas: *isn’t taken care of his mental health properly*
Janus:
Guys...
Mr. Saturn
I'm a vagina having millennial whose own father has gone from excusing the pussy grabbing tape in 2016 to now, eight years later, landing on whining about how both sides are bad and wishing Mike pence was an option. It's been so fucking disappointing.
Seeing Jensen ackles say this in public is beautiful.
Jensen and why he chooses Harris
🪐 — edward teach ;
he waits for hatred or disgust to crawl into stede’s words. waits and waits for it to hit him straight to the chest, like a fatal wound delivered with inescapable good aim. it’s no less than what he deserves. but nothing of it comes, not in the slightest — the only thing he hears is wretched sadness. and regret, too. so much of it edward nearly chokes, chest tightening painfully at each intake of breath. he can’t breathe right, like something is pulling him underwater and he can never gulp down enough air before he goes down again. right hand curls, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and it doesn’t stop when it only finds the flesh of his palm, it doesn’t stop when skin tears and he starts to bleed ( better his blood than the sight of stede’s own ). it grounds him, at least a little. not nearly enough. what he needs is what he can never have: stede. stede touching him, his arms keeping him afloat like he did in his dreams.
❛ i killed the writer boy. toss’d him overboard. ❜ and that can’t possibly be stede’s fault now, can it? no, that is on his hands alone. ❛ so why shouldn’t you— what else can you be here for? ❜ now that anger doesn’t fuel him anymore his voice sounds weak, on the verge of breaking. he is so tired of pretending to be dealing with this any better than he is. it doesn’t take long now — a sob wrenches itself free from his throat, and it’s like a dam finally bursting open. edward doesn’t have the strength to hold back tears any longer, so he lets them fall down his cheeks in messy rivulets, streaked with black, his head still hung low.
IT’S THE MENTION OF LUCIUS that makes stede feel suddenly ill, his stomach rolling unpleasantly like a ship in a storm. the scribe hadn’t been left on that god-forsaken spit of sand with the rest of the crew, but nor had jim or frenchie, & yet only the later two had been waiting safely aboard the revenge upon his return. & stede flinches at the thought that the boy had died all thanks to him, all because he hadn’t been there to keep him safe. the regret overwhelms him for a moment, makes him nauseous. perhaps lucius’s ghost would appear to haunt him now, waterlogged & deathly pale with seaweed in his hair. but the broken sob that escapes from ed’s lips returns stede’s attentions to the present — he will have to assuage his guilt about the boy later, somehow. edward’s face is downturned, its expression hidden by his long loose hair. but the flickering candlelight glistens against wet tear-lines that track through the black paint ringing his eyes & trail down his cheeks. & stede can’t stop himself any longer, the instinct to comfort his beloved when he is in pain far stronger than the need for self-preservation. he takes half a step closer, a hand gradually extending until his fingertips make contact with edward’s leather-clad shoulder. ❝ oh, ed. i do wish you hadn’t done that — after all, it was me you should’ve been angry with, not him. ❞ when he doesn’t instantly lose his hand for its impudence, stede allows it to slide slowly up the shoulder. it moves only a meager degree at a time until the fingertips catch on ed’s long hair, gently brushing a few fallen strands back so that he can see more of his face. it is contorted in pain, streaked with tears & black paint, but he’s still beautiful. ❝ but that’s not why i . . . i came back for you. because — ❞ his voice is breathy & breaking as he chokes back the heavy lump in his throat, still fighting to keep his own tears from falling. ❝ because i love you, ed. ❞
Don't mind me. Just walking to the park
Mingyu for Calvin Klein is my official death.
MINGYU for Calvin Klein
@asteriskheart asked : birthdays huh. it takes a moment to remember, the significance of what a day like this represents. there’s never any effort to care about any others besides his own (and by extension his brothers) beyond the need to use it as an excuse to remind himself of how great his own existence is. the actual thought of broadening it past that capacity feels…really damn weird to be honest; makes him scratch that irritating itch at the back of his neck, face scrunching in contemplation. What was it people say again…? ❝ happy birthday or whatever, nat. i think i got that right… ❞ oh, wait. ❝ aren’t i supposed to give you something ? i don’t have anything on me but i caaaan steal you one free item ! hell, maybe even two since i’m feeling so nice today. also can’t forget the birthday beats ! you don’t have to worry too much about that part though, it’ll just be some super light taps. ❞
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 moment of pause, waiting for the other to finish forming his thoughts, and smiling once he got the words out. Wow, what a step for him! But perhaps he is too eager, advancing to the above and beyond ( and the slightly illegal? ) where simple happy wishes would suffice. A simple girl ( and a law abiding citizen who also likes to feel her arms without bruises ) with a clear and illuminated path to her heart-sleeve, Natalie laughs as she imagines just what sort of trouble he can get himself into — the thought that it’s for her sake instead of the usual chaos is… sweet? She thinks so. He’s got the spirit, at least!
“ Thanks, man! You got it perfectly. ” Almost but she’s very giving today, and most other days, so he gets points for it. “ Haha, there’s no need to give me anything! I appreciate you being here. And, uh, I think I’ll pass on the taps! I would like one non-crushing hug in their place though! ”