Latest Posts by theresstillsomethingimustdo - Page 2
View between villages. Posting it here because apparently the YouTube video is unavailable in some regions agajsbs
I love insults like landlubber and cityslicker, look at this idiot not used to areas and situations
i might elaborate later but fanfic replies literally develop writer’s metacognition and make them better writers
I wanna pick baby rin up and smell his head...
Wikipedia / Image from pinterest / Machiavelli / George Santayana / Thucydides / Image from pinterest / Abba - Waterloo / J. M. Barrie - Peter Pan / Fibonacci spiral / Unknown
BIG JOHN FANCAM ❤️
rockstar kaiser bc all my friends drew this a few months back but i never did HAHA
Katsuki’s right arm still trembles sometimes.
Rarely, usually so imperceptibly that no one would even notice, but today you do notice, as he reaches for a glass of water set on the coffee table before you, and knocks it over, simple millimeters off its trajectory.
It’s a silly, inconsequential mistake, not anything you haven’t done once or twice even this very week, but as the water spills to the ground and you, too comfortable in the arms of your lover as you lay on the couch, move a little too slowly to catch the glass from rolling off the table and shattering on the ground, you can tell that this has become more of an issue than it should be.
A pause hangs in the air with the crash, then a heavy silence over the next split second, enough that you can feel even your heartbeat slow to a stop with the aggrandized gravity of the situation.
Then, without a word, Katsuki moves you gently out of your cuddle and disappears into the kitchen. As his figure disappears, you can see him holding onto his right arm, bent at an angle, with his left hand. In some ways, he almost looks like he’s accosting a criminal, not a part of his own body.
You know better not to move in closer to the glass, lest he find you and start to complain about not taking your safety seriously, yet you find yourself practically on your knees, quickly picking up small pieces of glass from the carpet. You are, of course, careful, and nothing cuts into your skin more than the pain you can tell he must be feeling does in your chest.
Katsuki returns with a dustpan, a small brush, and a rag draped over his forearm, and stops, standing a few feet away from you. The majority of the broken glass pieces are collected into a small pile next to you by that time, you working ever so quickly, and when you look up at him, he’s scowling, but no longer at himself.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Moving into the space quickly, he kneels and cleans up your collected mess. Setting the glass aside, safely collected, he murmurs,
“Show me your hands.”
Obediently, you offer them up, and he checks every one of your ten fingers, twice, then sighs.
“Stop cleaning up my messes. I’m not a child.”
You nod. “But you’re the man I love.”
Katsuki looks at you for a moment then quickly forces his glance elsewhere. The sweetness in your eyes is too mollifying; he can practically feel his entire spine turn to jelly when it comes to you.
But still you place your hand on his treacherous right arm, rubbing your palm gently over scars, calloused bone and roughened skin.
“It’s fine. Just an accident.”
You don’t need to say anything more. He sucks in a deep breath, pauses, then kisses your lips.
“Yeah. Just an accident.”
did you know that i love her?
margaret houlihan ⋆ girlfriend is better
"doesn't this charater under insane stress going through extremely traumatic events realize how inconvenient their irrational emotional reactions are to the people around them?" well, see, you're not gonna believe this, but the thing is,
Got reminded again of my old coworker who was a massive misogynist but also trans inclusive. Told me he believed trans women are indeed women because "only women would be stupid enough to want to be women"
I wonder what he's doing now
i have this constant feeling of wanting to leave all the time, i don't know when, i don't know where, but i only know that i want to leave
so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
kim dokja really introduces us to yoo joonghyuk like yeah this is my favourite character in the whole wide world, he's singlehandedly kept me alive for 13 years, he's my idol, he's an incredibly written work of art. also he sucks so bad and i want to hit him with my car. brother if your biggest inspiration in life chokes you when you first meet you might need to look inward
Liking character is fun until you think about them and you just have to stare at nothing for a few minutes because of how tragic
And mauybe you are almost crying but you are having fun
1. Us Against You by Fredrick Backmam| 2. It Chapter 2 (2019)| 3. Stand by me (1986)| 4. tumblr text post| 5. The Kids From Yesterday by My Chemical Romance| 6. It by Stephen King| 7. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara| 8. Oscar Wilde 9. Thanksgiving 2006 by Ocean Vuong
i never had any friends later on like the ones i had when i was twelve. jesus, does anyone?
“You have crazy eyes,” Oikawa says offhandedly, setting a glass down and leaning hard on a wooden table, long legs crossing over each other elegantly.
“I do not,” Iwaizumi retorts. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Mhm,” Oikawa pushes his head into the other man’s line of vision, dodging as Iwaizumi unfolds his arms to make an attempt at pushing him away, his gaze locked on the other side of the deck all the while. “Nothing’s happening, that’s why the vein in your forehead is about to pop. You’d think he’d notice the big dumb guy staring at him this whole time.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” says Iwaizumi, casually posing his arm to rest on the table, open palm up.
“Maybe he has noticed and he’s just ignoring it?” Oikawa squints, dropping his (prescription, but don’t you dare tell anyone) sunglasses down his nose for dramatic effect. “A braver man than me, then.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Iwaizumi says, but his fingers twitch, not quite a fist and not far from being one. His eyes are an olive orchard burning. As Oikawa said: crazy.
You are: oblivious, blithe, gorgeous. The tops of your shoulders are sun-warmed and you’re swirling a glass of red in your hand, the contented lilt of your smile familiar to him after many nights watching your favorite wine stain your lips. He sees you sway a little, your eyes popping wide as you realize all too quickly that you might be a little further past tipsy then you’d thought, and the bastard you’re talking to puts his hands on you. One on your shoulder, one on your waist to steady you.
Hajime’s always had a penchant for parkour when he’s drunk, and you and he have been taking sips of each other for days now. He slams a palm down on the hard wood, momentarily airborne as he jumps over the table and cuts through the other people standing around to get to you.
“Hey,” he says, grin looking a little feral as he watches the hands on your waist come off. The guy’s movements are jerky, looking at him like what the hell, man? Iwaizumi has no idea why.
“Hi, Haji,” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. “This is Naoto. He’s from the same place I am, actually.”
“Cool,” Hajime says, extending a hand to shake like he learned at networking mixers at UCI. Naoto stares at him for a second and then takes it cautiously, wincing as Hajime crushes his fingers in his best arm-wrestling champ grip. “Good to meet you.”
Naoto clearly does not think it is good to meet him. He steps back upon release and makes a rushed goodbye to you, citing a group of friends he suddenly needs to find urgently. You smile and wiggle your fingers at him vaguely, already far more focused on the sun setting over the waves past the terrace than you are on whatever is happening between the two of them. Hajime steps up behind you, sliding a hand over your waist, his palm covering the surface area touched by Naoto. You put a soft hand over his, stroking slowly over his calloused knuckles, and hook your other arm back to tug him forward so he’s pressed against your back, bending so he’s cheek-to-cheek with you, watching the water undulate.
“You havin’ a good time?” His voice is a little rough from the clear liquor he and Oikawa were drinking paired with the effort of keeping his voice quiet, his concern just for you.
“Yes, sir,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. You hold it across your chest and he wraps his fingers around the delicate stem, putting his mouth right over the print yours left. “You?”
“Of course,” he says. “It’s beautiful out here. I think Shittykawa got sunburnt on the beach, though.”
“His fault for being pale,” you wave your left hand dismissively. He wants to pin you like a butterfly, your wrist arched gracefully against the darkening sky. “He has all those fancy skin creams to stop it from flaking, too.”
He feels a little bad for abandoning his best friend, but when he turns his head to check on him, the other man has reunited with Makki and Mattsun, who are all clustered together while taking photos of the two of you. Oikawa’s features specifically are spelling out something very smug and that will be very annoying for Hajime later. Iwaizumi concludes that he will probably survive thirty seconds without direct entertainment from him.
“He gets bad flush, too,” he thinks aloud. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“See?” He hums and rubs his thumb over your top where he’s holding you with the right hand, soothing circular patterns. He can almost feel you purring. “I can always tell when you’ve started drinking for the night because Kawa gets red and you start running around and climbing things.”
“I don’t,” he protests, but it dies in his throat. You shake in his arms as you laugh.
“You always do. You tried to climb up my balcony once, remember? You said you could beat the elevator up.”
“I would’ve done it if security hadn’t come out,” he grumbles. You take your glass back and put it on the railing. It’s perilous, but Hajime doesn’t say anything. If it spills over your outfit, he’ll follow you back to the room and help you change.
“When I met you, I didn’t expect you to be the crazy type,” you say, turning so your lips brush his skin as you speak. “You seemed so steady compared to Kawa.”
“Only crazy about you,” he says. You sigh happily and melt back into him. He exhales slowly, a controlled breath, and wonders how a bastard like him got so lucky.
