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BAD BUNNY is on every character playlist I have officially or unofficially porque el esta duro PUÑETA!

BAD BUNNY Photographed by Jack Pierson for Interview Magazine

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Penelope: I'm going to accept Debling's proposal.

Colin: I'm pregnant...it's yours.

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FREE PALESTINE. BEING NEUTRAL IS SIDING WITH THE OPPRESSOR. ITS A FUCKING GENOCIDE YOU CANT TAKE A NETURAL STANCE

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ooc update: between traveling, getting back into work flow, getting sick with pneumonia, and starting classes again…I’m fairly exhausted. I’ve had some migraines which is always a stress indicator for me. SO— please bear with me as I recover a bit of my energy this week. I’ll be slow, but not ignoring anyone or any owes. just showing myself a little grace. 🫶🏽

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Let writers ramble to you about their stories and they will forever love you.

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After-Action Patch-Up starters

"Hold still, [name], this might sting a bit." "You're lucky it's just a few scratches. You need to be more careful!" "Don't be such a baby. It's just a flesh wound." "I can't believe you jumped into that fray without thinking! What were you trying to prove?" "Here, let me help. I've had my fair share of battle wounds." "Ouch! Warn me before you start cleaning those cuts." "You're a mess. How did you even get into this situation?" "I never thought I'd see you so vulnerable. It's strange." "Let's patch you up before anyone else sees you like this." "You really need to work on your combat skills. I can't keep playing nursemaid." "I've got the first aid kit. Sit down, and let me take care of those injuries." "You did well out there, but you're not invincible. Let me help." "I told you not to charge in without a plan. Now look at you." "It's nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises. You'll be fine." "I can't believe you're complaining about a little pain. You should see what I've been through." "Hold on, I'll get the antiseptic. This might sting a bit." "You're surprisingly fragile for someone who fights so fiercely." "You really know how to ruin a perfectly good day, don't you?" "I never expected to see you in need of my care. Life is full of surprises." "I suppose I should thank you for saving me, even if it means playing nurse now."

[CLEANS] The sender takes a cotton swab and gently cleans the dirt and blood from the receiver's wounds. [BANDAGES] The sender carefully wraps a bandage around the receiver's forearm, securing it to protect the cuts. [SCOLDS] The sender scolds the receiver, shaking their head as they tend to the injuries. [REACTS] The receiver winces as the sender applies antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut on their cheek. [COMFORTS] The sender reassures the receiver, offering comfort while tending to the injuries. [DISINFECTS] The sender pours antiseptic on a wound, causing the receiver to inhale sharply at the stinging sensation. [INSPECTS] The sender inspects the wounds, noting any deeper cuts that might need more attention. [LECTURES] The sender lectures the receiver, advising them to think before acting to avoid future injuries. [SMILES] Despite scolding, the sender smiles reassuringly, trying to ease the tension in the room. [COMPLAINS] The receiver complains about the pain, prompting the sender to roll their eyes and continue their work. [WORRIES] The sender expresses worry, sharing their concern for the receiver's well-being. [TREATS] The sender skillfully treats each injury, showcasing their competence in basic first aid. [ADMONISHES] The sender admonishes the receiver, emphasizing the potential severity of the situation. [ASSESSES] The sender assesses the overall damage, silently noting the toll the fight took on the receiver. [DISAPPROVES] The sender expresses disapproval, stating that putting oneself in danger is not acceptable. [ASSURES] The sender assures the receiver, claiming that despite appearances, the injuries will heal quickly. [HESITATES] The receiver hesitates as the sender reaches for a needle and thread to stitch up a deeper cut. [SYMPATHIZES] The sender sympathizes with the receiver, acknowledging the pain while praising their efforts. [SCANS] The sender scans the receiver's body for any hidden injuries, ensuring nothing was overlooked. [GRATEFUL] The receiver expresses gratitude to the sender for taking care of them amid the discomfort.

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TOM BLYTH as CORIOLANUS SNOW THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES (2023) dir. Francis Lawrence

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The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023) + text posts

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Living again. This series always got me in a chokehold. 😭

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023) + tweets

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The Painted Lady.

One of my favourite scenes in ATLA. A lot of people apparently don't like this episode that much, but I really like Katara focused episodes. I also thought it was very interesting that they also showed the negative effects of the war and industrialization of the Fire Nation also negatively affected their citizens and I like that the Gaang helped them.

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Iroh: Destiny is a funny thing. Keep your heart open.

Zuko:

Katara, Adele voice: Hello

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Frank O'Hara, from “Biotherm (for Bill Berkson)”, The Collected Poems

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buying books & reading books..two different hobbies.

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angst, angst, baby. *in my ice, ice, baby voice*

IF WE RP A ‘ROMANTIC’ RELATIONSHIP:   I want them to argue.  I want them to be sad.  I want them to worry.  I want there to be tension.  Because that’s what a  real  relationship is.  It’s perfectly normal for people to be sad  &  worried  &  fight.  Them being happy  &  loving all the time just doesn’t feel right to me.  It’s not always gonna be happy,  it’s not always gonna be sunshine  &  rainbows.  There’s always gonna be a struggle,  because that’s how they’ll grow  &  they have to solve each problem together.  

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motorcycle diaries.

closed starter for @jcnkyard in response to wanted plot (ft. apollo).

i’ve lost track of how many miles it’s been since rubber first met asphalt. 

i  know this though—it hasn’t been long enough to erase the laughs of momma’s newest boyfriend.

︽ ︽ ︽

there are tears in his eyes as he flips through my drawings. they’re both high, no surprise that after twenty-one years my mother’s taste in men has all but dwindled, sunken to the pits; anything for a hit. 

“you ain’t gonna amount to shit with this, why don’t ya join y’er mom down in the club? i know the feller’s will treat you nice…”

mom’s eyes flash with anger, not at his comments but at me; the little bitch who stole her youth, and if I retort and fail to keep my mouth shut, I’ll fuck up her plug and then nobody wins. i ignore him, fingernails tearing through toughened barrier to draw crescents of blood. they’ll be gone soon enough. 

like clockwork, they disappear into the only bedroom of the trailer, but stupidly her newest companion leaves the keys to his chopper next to my mangled book. i pick up the ripped drawing, finding it ironic that he tore the one of my mother; she was sober in this one, a posed memory I had of her, retelling me about her life in france. before my father, before her fuckup—me. 

it’s not the first time the thought has crossed my mind, to just leave this shit behind, but it had never been so tangible before, dropped right into my hands. i look both directions, as if someone were watching me and would jump out to my surprise. no one does, and for once i decide…stop being the scared little girl you hate being; be the woman you always shout to be. i grab my bag off the floor, an old leather backpack thrifted from the rich kids on the outskirts of my town.

i snatch his keys, and i see his leather jacket hanging off the broken barstool we’ve fixed eight times now. i search the pockets for my new belongings: a pack of cigs, a wallet filled with receipts, his ID, cards, and 200 dollars cash. i know that if i look in the interior hidden walls of the jacket I’ll find a small stash of powdery serotonin—a save for a time when I’ll need it later. i keep the paper funds and toss his wallet aside—mom’s gonna have to pay for this debt. i decide i like the jacket because it matches my bag and take it too. 

I know I’m heading west—like those cowboys looking for land and whatever trouble that would follow. 

i sneak out the door, careful to not let the screen slam behind me as it usually does, and find my newest ride. i know he probably stole this shit too, and so I decide my new name is karma and to be that bitch. 

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i’ve driven out of the state, this much i know from the welcoming signs and for an upcoming rest stop. i know they won’t come this far, both because this motorcycle was already stolen and the hassle to reclaim it wouldn’t be worth it, and second because by now the weariness of their killed high has settled and they’re fixing for another hit. 

i think about rest, my eyes weary from the long journey but settle on another few hours before finding a place to lay my head … that was until halfway through my unknown destination I see the smoke of a car, and curiosity beats my will to drive past and abandon the figure.  

i brake my cycle in front of him, jade optics scanning over him. he didn’t look much older than me. a foot falls on ground, and i nod my head towards the vehicle. “is it fixable?” i ask him, deciding in that moment to engage with the stranger; perhaps he’d have an idea of where a decent meal existed nearby in exchange for a ride; besides — i had nothing better to do and absolutely no fuckin’ clue where to go next. 

this was life waiting to happen.