When I read a fanfic I like, the author becomes a mini celebrity to me. So when an author with a work I like kudos’ or comments on my own fanfic I just-

THIS THIS THIS

tw: child abuse, alcohol. homophobia

Indiana is a wasteland and so is Billy. Neil's teaching him lessons, more than usual and Billy has nowhere to go. He can't afford college, not when Neil takes whatever Billy's got.

Neil calls him faggot and loser and he’s right and Billy has every word carved into him. Fear is with him every day, because Neil watches him constantly. It's like his room gets smaller and smaller.

Billy needs distraction, so he drinks, smokes and gets into fights. If there's only pain, it's drowning out whatever’s going on in his head, he's forgetting that all Neil says it true, that a future is something he can only dream of.

He's halfway through a bottle of whiskey and he's hurting, his left cheek throbbing.

The world is already blurred. Billy prefers it that way. He doesn’t want to see it.

"Jesus, Hargrove, are you alright?"

He has to blink, one, two, three times.

Harrington wears his stupid flawless designer shirt, hair on point and brown eyes big and so fucking beautiful.

"Get lost," Billy spits, because Harrington can't stay here. He's stopping Billy from drowning.

"It's Sunday morning," Harrington says. He sounds worried and Billy's stomach twists. He tries to remember the last time anybody worried about him that way.

He can't think that, because there's a hole inside him the size of his mother. It's his fault she's gone, he's sure. She left without a word, but luckily Neil has lots of words to call his son.

"Amen." Billy just takes another big gulp.

There's a hand on his, touching him lightly where he holds the bottle. Billy flinches, lets go of the whiskey.

He hears glass shattering, but he doesn't look. He's staring in Steve's eyes and he's so fucking scared. He isn't even sure why.

"I can bring you home," Steve offers. "You shouldn't drive, it's too dangerous."

Billy laughs. Home is thousands of miles away.

He stops when Steve's hand, still unbearably warm against his own, squeezes his. Neil is calling him a faggot in his head, the word echoing in his skull.

"Then we're going to mine," Steve decides, an unreadable expression on his pretty face. The whiskey blurs that too. What a shame.

Billy follows Steve. The world around him is blurred. Steve is the only thing Billy can see.

This one is for the ornithologists!!

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finally, it's completely canon

gifs by @alexisrosemullens

okay tumblr’s exclusion from the twitter social media ban list is hilarious but genuinely we do not belong on there. if a real human person asks “where can i find you on social media” and your choice is a swift death or revealing your tumblr, most of us would simply expire. half of y’all change urls every week like you’re in witness protection. just imagine for one second attaching your wholeass government name to your latest two am clownposting and tell me that didn’t send a cold chill down your spine. the only place i ever want to see the words “connect with me on tumblr!” is on the ao3 profile of an author i’m actively stalking. anyone in the world can follow me except anyone i personally know. antisocial media.

fully obsessed with the people in the notes who are like “i don’t know what y’all are worried about 🙄 i simply curate an entire dummy tumblr account connected to a different email address where i reblog a regular stream of cute animals and aesthetic pictures of old buildings and then give that url out instead” like they’re maintaining a deep cover identity for a cold war spy. completely normal behavior.

a funny thing about this being one of my more popular posts is that in all truth i DO tell people out loud that i'm on tumblr, and the myth that this site is dead is so pervasive that it absolutely does not matter. i can say “i have a tumblr” present tense, or “i am going home after work tonight to spend a ridiculous amount of time on tumblr,” or even “here is a direct link to a post on my personal tumblr blog, that i made just now today about a currently happening event,” and they’re like “wow i remember hearing about tumblr. how many years ago is this from?” it quite simply will not sink in. great news for the “i do not wish to be perceived” crowd we are actually comically impervious to it.

Tony and his strange comfort preferences

In Tony’s cabin in Endgame, I noticed that the chairs Tony and Pepper have don’t look very comfortable (to me at least). But knowing Tony I’d say you could give him a stump to sit and he would be happy with it.

Or, actually, he would prefer sitting on the floor…

Tony “not a chair person” Stark.

I think I’m going to think about this youtube comment forever

Source

Source

Buntaro : I hear you stuck pistols in Omi-san's face. Fuji : I was only doing my duty. Buntaro : Where did you learn to use guns? Fuji : I had never handled a gun until then. But I would have pulled the trigger. Buntaro : Omi-san thought that too. Fuji : I never understood why Omi-sand didn't try to take them away from me. Buntaro : I would have. Fuji : I know, uncle. But I would still pull the trigger. I want to be of use to the Master (Blackthorne), so I will surely blow any man's head off to protect him, and the honor of our house.

James Clavell's Shogun (1975), Chapter 34, Page 543

I like how Yabu slowly looked up at the mention of his province, looking perplexed, like a mix of amusement and insult. While in the background Blackthorne is asking Mariko what is going on now.

One thing I love about this show is the attention to detail. The characters may not be speaking but their actions and expressions tells a story. You may missed them the first time you watch it.

Things that work in fiction but not real life

This post breaching containment has taught me that a lot of people seem to think they can accurately profile complete strangers. For the record, no the fuck you can't.

you can kinda tell bobby wanted to tell them his team would look for them but he realized how delusional he would sound