This was my art school’s water fountain. Drink from them wolf tiddies
Assignment misunderstood. I have now built a city.
Give it a day
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER


TVSTRANGERTHINGS
RMH
Jules of Nature
Sade Olutola
almost home

JVL
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kiana Khansmith
trying on a metaphor

pixel skylines
Mike Driver
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

izzy's playlists!
occasionally subtle

seen from Türkiye

seen from France
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seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from Greece
seen from France
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seen from Vietnam

seen from France
@littleplebe
This was my art school’s water fountain. Drink from them wolf tiddies
Assignment misunderstood. I have now built a city.
Give it a day

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A blog for the Darcy Lewis fans
Here you have it, a tumblr blog dedicated to the character played by Kat Dennings on the movie Thor.
The goal (if ever there was a goal to a blog) is to post, catalog, share anything to do with her, her relationships and all the fanarts that can possibly pass our way (seriously, ANYTHING)
To familiarize yourself with this blog, I strongly advice to read the guidelines and if you need to refresh your knowledge you can read the about darcy page.
The ask box is always open, don’t hesitate.
I will try to post everyday - of course, real life can be a bitch, but you know how it is.
I PRONONCE THIS BLOG OPEN BITCHEZ!
This was posted June 13, 2012.
It has been 7 years, 2 months, and 25 days since @fuckyeahdarcylewis went live, created by our fearless leader @usedkarma. This is its first ever post.
Usedkarma started something incredible. She made a home, a playground, a community–a safe space–for anyone on the internet who had watched Thor and thought: “Hey, that girl Darcy Lewis? She’s pretty fucking awesome.”
I’ve been thinking a lot lately of what this fandom means to me. So I started looking through my own blog’s archive. This shit is old, you guys; all nuts and bolts and a slow progression of me finding my footing in this world, navigating fandoms, mental and chronic illness, college, and feminism. And in an odd but truly wonderful design of fate, I discovered that I announced my entering of the Darcy Lewis fandom (and the soon-to-be-posting of my very first tasertricks fic) the same day FYDL was created.
I can’t express what this means to me. I’ve been in this fandom forever. Not always active, not always present, but Darcyland has that kind of staying power where I can never really forget it or let it go. You outgrow ships and fandoms, but at the core of it, Darcyland was the first of its kind. It was the first time a community was so damn wholesomely joyous, so excited, everyone and I mean everyone was so happy to be here, to have this place where we geeked out over Darcy, the MCU, our headcanons, created fanart, made gifsets, set up challenges weekly! Everyone was so fucking supportive and nice and that fact alone is singlehandedly the reason all the bullshit we were getting from some of the Marvel fans rolled off us like water. Boy, did we get shit from them. From passive aggressive to downright nasty. They’d come to our inboxes angrily calling us insane and gross for loving Darcy and shipping her with MCU characters the way we were. And you know what Darcylanders did? Smiled even wider and shipped even harder.
And you know what? The Darcyland community is still here. Going strong. It means something different for everyone. For me, it was my happy place. I entered Darcyland as an unhappy 19-year-old premed student who found the most supportive and kind community that uplifted me and inspired me. And it’s still my happy place. I found my best friends here. I shared my journey through university with Darcyland. Shared creative works and excitement and energy here. Seven years. God.
When I think of Darcyland, I think of this post. The level of joy that came with it. It’s still with us today. Yeah, a lot of us aren’t pleased with how things have been going in the world, in the MCU, you name it. But this? This is ours. We made this. Usedkarma built this playground and we’re still here doing our thing and having fun and having events and starting conversations. We’re awesome, you guys–and it doesn’t matter if you’ve been here seven years or seven minutes, because the result will always be the same.
Darcyland is a home with its door always open, a community built on joy and love, and you better believe we’re not going anywhere.
I’m comparatively new (only started writing for the fandom Summer 2017), but I’m still excited to be here!
This says it better than I ever could. Darcyland gave me a fandom home. Before that I drifted, never quite putting down roots in live journal or fanfiction.net. I wrote some very small things on my lj but never felt any sense of community or friendship until I started reading Darcy Lewis centric fic when the Avengers hit the screen.
I lurked for awhile when I found @fuckyeahdarcylewis on tumblr and started looking at content and reading fic on ao3. Come November I signed up for tumblr and within a month or two I wrote a few drabbles for Darcy, they were probably terrible and I may have lost them but I wrote them with encouragement from @melifair all those years ago.
Darcyland May night be perfect but as far as fandoms go we’re damn near close to it. I’ve made some very good friends in this fandom. Yes, some of them have moved on and that’s okay, that’s life, it hurts but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m still making friends here. I’ve learned so much about myself with the friendships I’ve made the stories I’ve woven, and the journey I’ve been on with my mental health.
There are so many fantastic people in this fandom, past and present and I love you all. Thank you, @usedkarma, for founding Darcyland and giving us a community. Thank you, Darcyland, Past and present for being that community.
Guys, I’m legit crying, I’m a blubbering mess on a hormonal Sunday, I hate you lol
On a serious note though, I’m freaking glad what I wanted 7 years ago is exactly what happened and is still happening.
Reading this blog helped to create a community that in turn helped fantastic warrior souls like you reading this post right now, like the three wonderful women that added something to this post, well, I know it sounds corny but it makes my life brighter. Sometimes you forget but you are reminded you are a part of something bigger. It truly is the butterfly wings effect but with positivity.
I’m so proud when I read a trollish post on the tag that absolutely no one is answering, as a result discouraging the haters (I remember a time when I was reading them all the time, it was tough for my morale but when I asked darcylanders on the blog NOT to answer, it worked so thank you for following me on that path).
It’s crazy how we managed to make this little corner exist from little material and made it a reflection of self-discovery for a lot of different women throughout the world. And if it thrieved the way it did, I think it is because we stayed honest and uncompromising. And I feel sad for the haters tbh, they really don’t have what we have. And look, I think we all have a hand in the character coming back in the MCU, it probably means we’re onto something ^^
Yeah, I got the idea for the blog and I still take care of my baby but boy, oh boy, you guys are the real deal, the true north, the gems on a fantastic crown I polish every day with affection. You have a community because you all bring something magical.
I love everyone in this bar.
Hands down the most accepting fandom I’ve had the pleasure to dipping my toe into. You started this long before I had an inkling about this corner, but the fandom fostered here definitely made me want to be a part of it and jump in. Thank you, FYDL, for all your hard work over the years. It’s amazing that a character we haven’t seen in so long is still going so very, very strong.
It might not be as active as it once was, but it was ours, damnit
☆ put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity ! 🌷
Thank you! We're always in need of some positivity in this household.
big fan of the idea that Stark Industries starts selling basic household appliances once the weapons manufacturing gets dropped. SI toaster. SI curling iron.
But with this idea I also need there to be a “stark industries households” youtube channel that is, technically, an official SI channel. But it’s not in the slightest used for marketing or anything of the sort. Tony is the only one with the password and every video uploaded is tony going through how to use that machine.
Someone can’t figure out how to empty their damn fancy vacuum and they look up the model on youtube to figure it out, and are greeted by the CEO of the company doing a WILDLY informal tutorial on how to use it and common issues and such.
The videos are often shot by DUM-E or U. Tony often looks very disheveled, and sometimes there’s unrevealed projects just sitting out in the background. Tony acts like he’s talking to an audience of five people and usually there’s five or six videos uploaded back to back, CLEARLY shot in one sitting.
(Tony likes doing them because it’s a very simple way to ease the “Tony stark dead at ___” headlines without doing a damn press conference. The videos also make people a bit less intimidated by him, and he rarely gets to interact with his creations in an authentic way with an audience.)
Tag people you want to get to know better!
Thank you @pollydoodles. I haven't been tagged for one of these in a long time.
Last book: The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski. A friend of mine got me into it. Turns out, it's a bit different from the show. Different in a good way.
Last song: Fate of Ophelia
Last movie: I regret watching Anaconda. I knew I shouldn't have, but I love Jack Black.
Last series: Adolescence. I recommend it.
Sweet or salty: Both. I do have more of a sweet tooth but I'm trying to give up sugar.
Coffee or tea: Oh my goodness, I love a good lemon iced tea or peach iced tea. I like coffee as well, but not as much as tea. This development is fairly recent.
Working on: What's Your Name. My very very very very very very old shieldshock WIP.
tagging @pegasusdragontiger @thesunflowersqueen @typhoidmeri @melifair & anyone else who would like to play.

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Has anyone written a Stranger Things season 5 fix-it? A story that actually makes sense, as opposed to the slop they tried to force down our throats last month?
if you leave a long and kind comment on my fanfiction, I’m afraid I will have to ask for your hand in marriage
my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."
You Can Rest Now
Pepper Potts one shot
Summary: Pepper wanted Tony to rest—she told him as much as he drew his final breath. What she didn’t expect was how impossible it would be to live with the silence he left behind.
Word count: 1.1k
It starts with the sound of the wind. Outside the window, the trees shift like they’re reaching for something. Pepper stands for a moment in the doorway to her daughter’s room, watching the pale glow of the nightlight trace soft shadows on the walls. Morgan is tangled in the sheets, a faint frown on her face even in sleep. Always dreaming hard, just like her father.
Down the hall, the house stretches quiet and long around her. Most nights she really tries not to end up in the study, but her feet take her there anyway. She tells herself it's just a habit. It’s not–it’s gravity.
The room still smells like him.
Not in a romantic way–not like cologne or leather or any memory she'd gladly drown in—but in the way metal and heat used to cling to his skin when he came in from the lab, grinning and bleeding from the knuckles, already talking too fast about some breakthrough she didn’t quite understand but loved to hear about anyway.
She should have cleared it out by now. That’s what people do–process, move forward. Donate what they can’t bear to keep. But this house isn't a shrine, its just a place where he lived.
She opens the cabinet low to the floor and pulls out the box she hasn’t touched since the funeral. It's labeled in his handwriting:
KEEP!
The box is crooked, the cardboard bent with time and carelessness. He must’ve packed it years ago and never thought about it again. That was Tony—set something aside and forget it until it mattered again. And it always did, eventually. Pepper lifts the lid.
There’s no order to it. Just layers of life–a disassembled pair of red tinted sunglasses from the Monaco race. The tiny magnetic chessboard they used to bring on flights. A pack of gum he never opened. The Iron Man press pin he gave her the day after the press conference, when he told the world who he was and handed her a bottle of champagne with no glasses.
Pepper picks up a crumpled note, unfolds it. One of his napkin scribbles. A rough sketch of some suit mechanism she doesn’t understand. Across the bottom, scrawled in blue ink:
Lunch? Or are you pretending to be busy again, Ms. Potts?
She remembers that day. He was three floors down, texting her from the same building instead of walking up the stairs. She’d ignored him, so he sent DUM-E to bring her a smoothie five minutes later. She laughs, short and breathy.
It’s not that she wants him back. That’s too small a phrase for it. She wants him here. She wants the heat of his voice in the next room, the weight of his head on her shoulder when he’s tired but won’t admit it. She wants to hear him swear at the coffee machine and then drink the whole cup anyway. But grief doesn’t give, it only transforms.
She doesn’t cry. Not right now, at least. She’s cried before, in random, private moments when the world didn’t need her to be strong. But tonight it’s not the kind of sadness that overwhelms. It’s the kind that settles. That tucks itself between her ribs and makes a home there.
Pepper pulls out an old photo near the bottom of the box. They’re both in it, arms slung around each other, grinning so widely it’s almost foolish. She’s in one of her early Stark Industries suits—power heels, sharp shoulders, hair pulled tight. He’s in a t-shirt that probably cost more than her car at the time. He looks happy, and so does she. But there’s something behind her eyes that she recognizes now, a kind of bracing.
Even when he was hers, she never stopped preparing for the moment he wouldn’t be. Not because she didn’t trust him—but because the world always seemed to want more of him than it gave back. Pepper had spent years negotiating that balance. First as his assistant, then his partner, then the mother of his child. Tony gave everything he had to everything he loved, and she loved him for it. Even when it meant learning how to live without him before he was gone.
Now, she just has to do it for real.
She sits on the floor and leans back against the bookshelf. The wood is cold through her sweater. She presses the photo to her chest for a second, then sets it beside her knee. The box is still open.
There’s a faded scrap of fabric near the bottom—a fragment from the first prototype of his nanotech suit, soft and silvery. She remembers him showing it off like it was magic. For a man of science, he always believed in wonder. Pepper closes her eyes.
“Sometimes,” she says aloud, “I hate you for leaving.” The silence that answers her is patient. “Not really,” she adds, quieter this time. “But sometimes.”
It’s not a bitter hate, and it’s not sharp. Just an ache that flares up when Morgan asks a question that Pepper doesn’t know how to answer—like why head to go. Like what kind of father only gets to tuck his daughter in for five years.
Pepper had told him it was okay to rest, and she’d really meant it. But resting means someone else has to carry what’s left behind. She does. Every day.
Pepper leans forward, fingertips grazing the rim of the box. She lifts out a strawberry necklace—the one he gifted her after a petty argument, engraved with her initials. It's frailer than she remembers. She wears it sometimes when she’s alone. She hasn’t told anyone that–she might never.
Because no matter what anyone else says, no one knew Tony like she did. Not the press, not the Avengers. Not even Morgan. She hopes that someday her daughter will understand that loving him wasn’t a choice—it was like orbiting a sun. It gave her light, and it also burned. But god, it was beautiful. She runs a thumb over the cool metal.
“Wherever you are,” she whispers, “I hope you’re causing problems.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. She leaves the box open when she finally stands. She doesn’t need to finish sorting it. It’s not about closure. It never was. It’s about holding the pieces long enough to remember that they’re real. That he was real.
Not just the man in the suit, not just the one who saved the universe–but the man who danced with her barefoot in the kitchen. The man who got sunburned trying to build Morgan a treehouse. The man who once told her he loved her more than physics.
Pepper walks back through the hallway, slower this time. She pauses outside Morgan’s door and listens to the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. And then, quietly, she whispers—almost to herself, almost to him:
“You were always enough.”
Notes: This was heavily inspired by a tiktok edit I watched that I will link right here. ILY SO BIG MY BEAUTIFUL ANGELS (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚
This is beautifully written.
Absolutely wild to me how sometimes you don't even realize the way you'd been taught to perceive things as a kid was kinda fucked up, actually, until decades later.
Example:
As a kid, I constantly lived in fear of damaging shit in my parent's house. The walls. The floors (especially the floors. The wood was beautiful. Shiny. But so easy to scratch). The cabinets.
As a sixteen-year-old, I once took my car to the dealership after work and paid a very dear sum of $250 ($10/hr cashier salary) to fix a slight scratch in the paint because I knew if my father saw it there would be hell to pay. It didn't matter that I parked far out, like I'd been taught, and someone scratched it anyway. It was my fault. I failed in my duties as a steward of my vehicle.
Every time I scratched a rim on a curb while parallel parking or got a door ding or, god forbid, didn't wash and vacuum that car every weekend, it was treated like some sort of moral failing.
Last year, when my husband and I first moved into our house, he scraped the side of our car when parking in our (Very Narrow) garage. When he told me, my first instinct was to be afraid for him. Like something terrible was going to happen to him because of this mistake. I urgently reassured him that it was okay, it was an accident, I wasn't mad. Baffled, he was like, "Yeah? I know? Like, thank you for the reassurance, but I'm only a little annoyed, I'm not upset. It's just a car." And I had to take several minutes to process that. It's...just a car.
We keep the car tidy. We maintain it. But we wash it maybe 4x a year. We only vacuum it after dirty road trips or when the dog hair starts to get annoying. It has scrapes and dings and the leather seats have stains. But that's ok. Because it's just a car.
This morning, I realized that a small rock had gotten embedded in the felt foot on one of our bar stools. Neither of us had noticed. There are now scratches on our beautiful hardwood floor. My immediate response was fear accompanied by a heavy measure of paralyzing guilt. "I'm so sorry," I told my husband, "I should have noticed. I'll figure out how to fix it, I swear. I can probably sand down that section and match the stain and--"
"Whoa, hey," he said. "It was an accident. And it's fine. Floors are going to get damaged. They're floors. We live here. There was damage in places before we even bought the house, remember? It's not a big deal. It's just a floor." Right. It's just a floor. Right.
My husband's mom is visiting and this afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitchen looking at the scratches on the floor, I offhandedly asked her if my husband had ever broken or damaged anything as a kid. "Of course," she said. Household items. A TV. A wrecked car during his teen years. I asked how she punished him.
"Why would I punish him for things like that?" she said. "They were all accidents."
Right. Of course. Right.
I feel this in my bones.

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Hello. I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given my stories, so I'll just say that you're a wonderful person. And that you have single handedly inspired me to finish What's Your Name. I've been working on the second chapter for a while because I don't like leaving anything incomplete, but your comments really motivated me. To the point where I ended up writing and editing 15k words of chapter 2. I still have a lot more to write but for the first time, the finish line is visible in the distance. Thanks to you.
Hi @littleplebe,
First of all, thank you so much for sending this message. I'm so happy to hear that my comments and likes have been supportive and making you smile. That's IS what they are for! <3
I'm glad that you've been feeling inspired and motivated! I love "What's Your Name" so much, that's why I keep coming back to reread and reenjoy it over and over again... and I'm sure I'm not the only one! ;)
I'm happy to hear that you've been writing more of it and you're seeing the finish line in the distance, and I really hope you're enjoying your writing process. ^_^
All the best, take care of yourself, and when you share more of "What's Your Name", you know I (and many others) will be there like a shot to read it! ;)
Much love! xoxo
I'm really enjoying the writing process, yeah. Well, parts of it. There are times when the characters won't cooperate or when the flow won't flow. But I bet every writer faces that problem.
Just a few thousand words to go and then I think I'll be ready to post Chapter 2. I don't know how many of my readers will come back but at least I know I have you. And I'm really excited!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He Wears More Plaid Than Guys on Hallmark Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers Characters: Darcy Lewis, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova Additional Tags: Steve Asks Darcy Out, she has no idea, none! - Freeform Summary:
Someone needs to explain to Darcy Lewis that Steve Rogers asked her on a date.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
What A Horrible Time To Be Alive Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers Characters: Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sarah Wilson Additional Tags: Jane and Darcy go to JASNA basically, Which actually sounds really fun, But I wanted to write Darcy being cranky about Regency fandom, and the whole ‘its so romantic!’ thing Summary:
Darcy doesn’t know why she let Jane talk her into going to an entire Jane Austen conference, much less a period-dress Regency ball. She misses ice, television, polyester, and her normal life. She’s not even going to dance with Captain America.
Everyone.
Read this now.
New Fic: Come Down to the Sea
You want a ShieldShock pirate!AU? Well, I got you covered.
Just do NOT look for historical accuracy.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Shieldshock by one of my favourite writers. Now that's what I wanna see when I login on tumblr.
he’s asking for more cuddles

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The price of freedom is high.
-Captain America
Woah, I made this and I don't even remember when and how. Like, it's animated!
Guess it's been so long, I've forgotten I was kinda sorta decent at making graphics once upon a time.
me: i'm just going to write for fun, no pressure. also me: sets unattainable goals, overthinks every sentence, and spirals into self-doubt me: fun. this is fun.