murdcrofcrows

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this is still my favourite tweet

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Mike Faist photographed by Jack Pierson for AnOther Magazine

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the way his face flushed so fast was hard to blame on the alcohol he didn’t even have in hand yet. that didn’t mean jonah wouldn’t try if it was pointed out, because lord forbid a man be flattered in 2125. cole had a way of getting him all tongue twisted and making his face warm whenever she was around, it was the type of thing you love to hate or hate to love, he couldn’t remember the way it went. “aye, you’re an angel for putin’ up with all these heathens, me included.” he laughed, knowing full well she was just as ( if not more so sometimes ) feral as the rest of them. truly anyone who hung around the fishers had to have had rabies at one point, whether theoretical or actual. don’t make him tell you the story of the time a bat got into the airstream and both twins got bit, forcing them to get a series of painful rabies shots.

“don’t go sayin’ that now, you know he’d do it in a heartbeat and i ain’t sure he hasn’t tried. he was actin’ all cattywampus yesterday.” jonah laughed glancing down a moment then back up again to meet her gaze. fuck, why did she look at him like that? “uh,” alcohol, drink, she’s asking what you want jonah. you know this answer, speak up you idiot. “well life is shit normally so maybe like life is normal but normal is happy. like if this cool chick named cole was comin’ to hang out with you all the time and your brother wasn’t actively trying to give you a migraine everyday.” a laugh followed and he shook his head as if he was kidding but he really wasn’t. “think that’s possible, oh, cocktail witch?”

cole had a sixth sense when it came to jonah fisher. whenever he was within a ten-foot radius, her skin prickled with trillions of little goosebumps to indicate that he was nearby. sometimes the sensation made her feel pathetic, like maybe she was growing too attached to him when she shouldn't be. and yet jonah fisher was always the one cole wandered back to after a long day, so maybe being attached to him wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

"hi, handsome," she greeted easily, falling to sit in the chair beside him, their legs pressed together. cole didn't know what personal space was, but it was worse whenever jonah was around; people were just lucky she didn't plant herself directly in his lap. "we seem to be holding up around here, but i know that's more than can be said for some people." with a sigh, cole reached forward, her knuckles gently brushing across jonah's cheek before she rested her chin in her palm. her gaze was soft, her smile still evident despite the more serious shift in conversation. "sounds to me like judah needs to experience it himself so he can stuff it," she teased, jutting her chin towards the bar. "what do you want? i know you said strong, but do you want me to knock you on your ass or do you want to just pretend life is normal? gimme some ideas."

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@insainted

my daddy's got a gun, you better run!

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PEDRO PASCAL  dancing on the set of THE LAST OF US

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he said it before and he'll say it again, it's the little things in life that truly mean the most. the soft hum of appreciation from his husband was one of the sweetest sounds santiago has ever had the pleasure of hearing and he will safely say that it was a noise he'd never tire of. nor would he get sick of seeing his other, much more handsome and fit half, in nothing but his birthday suit. what a lucky man he was to get access to this gorgeous sculpture of a man everyday, to be the one to put that smile on his face, that sparkle in those baby blue eyes. oh he was saying something to him, wasn't he? suppose he should participate in the conversation he started.

"a bit early, si. i didn't want to wake you, mi amor." which he felt like he'd do even though lindsay often slept like the dead, only roused by very distinct sounds. santiago could relate at one point in his life, could sleep through movement and most sound unless it was some alert of danger or an alarm or his name. nowadays sleep seemed to allude him more and more and became lighter and lighter. "thank you for your forgiveness, next time I'll be sure to wake you up for a cuddle when our sleep schedules unalign." he chuckled quietly, the bright, though tired, smile mirroring lindsay's playfulness.

at the beckon to the bed, santiago abandoned his own, almost finished, mug of incredibly strong coffee on the night stand. "if you're going to twist my arm," he leaned down to brush lips against his before sitting down on the other side of him. "i'm glad you slept well, my apologies for not being beside you when you woke up." he rested a hand on his thigh, leaned in and close to the love of his life. truly, in that moment, he wasn't plagued with the worry that had him up so early. no, he was basking in the warmth of the love and sentiment trapped in that intimate bubble they were in. "te amo, mi media naranja." he looked at him with adoringly soft eyes, a loving smile cracking his sometimes rough exterior.

consciousness comes to him slowly with a languid stretch and a jaw-cracking yawn as the first columns of daylight filter through the cracks in the curtains and warm bare, freckled shoulders ; he wakes from a blessedly dreamless sleep and rolls over in the sheets to reach out blindly for the warm body next to him and pull him close, but a tired eye peeks open when his palms are met with nothing but the cool cotton of rumpled sheets. santiago is already awake. for as regimented as he can be about some things ― his morning routine among them ― lindsay can often be coaxed into spending a few extra moments in bed when his honey-lipped husband is the one doing the convincing. without him there, it takes only a few seconds for lindsay to push himself up from the mattress and shuffle over to the bathroom.

though his showers are short and utilitarian by anyone's standards, with a certain sense of stability comes small luxuries ; he may only spend six minutes under the stream of hot water, but he no longer shuts it off while he's lathering soap or shampooing his hair. simple pleasures, he thinks. and who could have ever imagined that his life might be blessed with such an abundance of them? certaily not lindsay. goosebumps appear across damp skin the moment he does turn off the water, however, but he has not even a second to shiver before there's a towel being draped over his shoulders. there's his santi. for a short, blissful moment, lindsay allows his eyes to shut and he leans back into the strong and comforting touch. ❝ mmh, ❞ he hums softly in agreement as lips press to his temple and there's a rare smile lifting his own at the small, intimate gesture. ❝ a braw mornin' now, aye, mo chuisle, ❞

lindsay takes the opportunity to finish drying himself off when santiago takes a step back, toweling off dripping curls before moving down to his legs. ❝ a sight better than ye, i suspect, ❞ he answers honestly, glancing over toward santiago with a curious glint in his sharp blue gaze. ❝ up quite early this mornin', weren' ye? i missed ye in bed. ❞ the mention of tea has lindsay lifting a brow, affection offering a rare, playful softness to his expression. ❝ but i suppose ye can be forgiven fer bein' sae sweet. it's no' quite a fair trade, but i'll take it. ❞

he pulls on the pair of clean briefs he'd left on the bathroom counter before hanging up the towel and striding into the bedroom and directly over to the steaming mug, enveloping the warm ceramic in two large hands. this, he thinks, might also warrant a brief pause in his otherwise timely routine. lindsay sits down on the edge of the bed and takes a sip of the tea ― it's good, something from the market or even perhaps from delia, but surely not one of his own bitter, unbalanced attempts at a blend and oh, how grateful he is for this man! ― before looking back toward santiago and gesturing with a half-nod toward the bed. ❝ c'mere, let me thank ye proper. ❞

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It's always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo / Taylor Jenkins Reid

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a ‘hmpf’ of a sound responded and odette crossed her arms over her chest. “dot did not leave, it was here fighting brain battles with duck. there’s lots wrong with its head, things are scrambled eggs and fuses blow out from too much muchness.” that didn’t explain it right but dot couldn’t figure out exactly how to explain it. duck was much better making the words happen in order with less nonsensical integrations attached. but, duck wasn’t there and dot was sleepy still and seeing gg in person was a tad overwhelming, so many emotions to process. the only thing it could be grateful for is that he wasn’t throwing so many emotions back at it to absorb, leaving it room to work through its own much quicker. all while gg converses with himself but also it, she lets out a quick giggle, she likes how he talks.

“gg asks questions that have long answers and will give him nightmares if it answers them truthfully. odette only just found him, it would be sad if it scared him away so quickly.” it wasn’t an answer, no it was a thought spoken out loud. dot hadn’t decided if she should actually tell him all of it or not. he’d already heard bits and pieces but there was many dark, shady parts that she’d kept hidden from anyone and everyone, minus felix. too many people left her, she was used to them all leaving now but if she didn’t tell them all the whats and whys, they might stay longer. gray is important. he made her heart go— “whoosh.” she let out another watery giggle. perhaps she ought not to say that yet either, he probably wouldn’t like that.

“duck, i’m here because duck is here and he is all i have in the world— he hasn’t left me and he is trying to fix odette’s problems even though he says its perfect, its not perfect because it talks in curvy loop-de-loops and people don’t understand what it means.” it paused to worry at its lower lip, stealing a glance at him to see if he was scared yet. “then there’s the nightmares but they happen when its eyes are open and during the day sometimes and things can, um, it just gets bad sometimes and it takes awhile to go away.” she stepped back and moved her arms from her chest to her middle, suddenly feeling like she’d said too much and none of it made sense at the same time. teeth chomped into its lip again and it paused to look up at him.

“sorry.” but the thought crossed its mind among the chaos that it didn’t know what he was doing there either. “why is gg here? and why is he in duck’s office making chaos of his things? duck doesn’t like mess he likes things in their proper homes and clean and not on fire, usually.”

It's odd to finally get to put a physical representation to a voice that has haunted his subconscious for almost a decade now, and it's odder still to have someone so eagerly invade his space like it's doing. Their foreheads connect and Gray feels a shiver run down his spine, goosebumps toward and across limbs, like a simultaneously delightful and chilling balm. Even with this closeness, Gray keeps his eyes on her, something swimming in his stomach that he hasn't felt in a long time, something he can't put a name to but he knows is entirely related to her.

It's that feeling that has his heart caught in his throat as it launches questions at him, assumptions that are only half right. He had disappeared into the wild, making the trek from the place he loathed to where his heart was located. Or that's what his pings told him anyway. But it was towards her, never away from her. He never meant to not be heard from again.

"I..." Thoughts pass through his head like hummingbirds, any time he tries to touch one to give to it, the thought flies away, to be replaced with another one, buzzing all around his head. It's loud and fast and a lot, the frown sliding a knife into his throat and the sniffle tearing it open. "Wait." Once upon a time, Gray would've delighted at making it cry. That had been his whole purpose for continuing to interact with it. Make it cry, make it hurt, make it frustrated until it stopped giggling and stopped killing him and pissing him off and making him feel worse. But that was years ago, and now the idea of it, of it hurting or crying or being upset in any way, it's like sand in the eyes of his mind, a gritty grinding, and the fact that he's the cause of it now...

He'd squeezed his eyes shut against the torrent of anger—not at her, but himself—and doesn't realise until he opens them again. "I didn't leave." Yes, you did. "Yes, I did," he relents to the counter-argument almost immediately. "But I left because you left. Because you left for too long." That's not it's fault, though, is it? "No, I know, but I, it's, I came to look for you. You were here, I knew you were. And then..."

Yes. Then. "But you're here." She's here and so are you, but eventually she will have to leave and you can't leave, can you? And that begs the question. "Wait, why are you here?"

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@eatabug

The Summer I Turned Pretty || 2.03

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the sewing room was one of odette’s favorite places in the whole world. ever since it first walked through the doors, it felt like it was in a safe space. lucky for it, the owner was nice and let it work there. even taught it things and encouraged it to be creative in downtime. not everyone was so understanding when it came to dot’s… quirks. it’s brain didn’t do the same brain things that others did or it did but it did them backwards and upside down and looped around. that didn’t mean it couldn’t *do things* though, it just meant it couldn’t do things in the same ways and had a schedule that differed from normal. 

“that’s an ollie oxenfree.” it declared without yet turning around, still finishing a row of stitches before it could properly greet its friend. as soon as the fabric was properly pushed all the way through it snipped the excess thread and turned around, immediately popping up to its feet to close the gap between them. “ollie is never a bother to odd! holes to be patched are odd’s specialty, you’ve come to the best place.” it tried to think about its words a little harder when it was speaking, sometimes it had to correct the meaning but it was a good habit to get into. “what happened?” it held small hands out for the item. “and what adventures has ollie been on?”

location: the sewing room

closed starter for: @murdcrofcrows (odd)

ollie had a different approach for everyone they came across, and when it came to odette winters, they were extra gentle. there was something about her that gave them pause, and ollie didn't know if they wanted to protect her or if they wanted to pick her brain. either way, something about odd always had ollie coming back for more, and when they'd found a rip in their favorite shirt that morning, they knew just who to go see. it wasn't that ollie was brave enough to think that they were friends with odd, but rather they wanted to be, hence the excuses to beg them for a service.

"hello odd," ollie greeted gently, stepping into the sewing room and pulling the door closed behind them. they always did their best to not feel so awkward around others, but most of the time ollie felt like a bull in a glass shop, and they went with their instinct to pull their arms in closer to themselves. "i don't mean to bother you, but i require your assistance again. i wish i could tell you that the hole wasn't from an unfortunate incident, but we both know better. if you're busy, i can come back when you have the time."

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where: over the river and through the woods closed starter for @insainted ( dante )

that’s right baby, come home to mama.

the trees were swaying. odette had not intended to go into the woods, especially not at night and by the time she realized what she’d done she was already lost. red eyes kept showing up in its peripheral and whenever it stopped long enough to peer into the darkness. a squeak sounded as panic weighed down on her chest, making it tight and shortening her breath. it felt like it was being held under water, drowning on dry land. stupid moths. stupid dust. stupid mother. she pressed herself against a tree and slid down it to close her eyes. an attempt was being made to calm down, shake past the voices and fog swirling around in her head.

“shut up, shut up, shut up,” it mumbled the words under its breath and rocked back and forth. you have to get out of the woods, odette. it’s not safe. there was several more moments sat there, rocking, trying to chase away the storm that wouldn’t go away because that woman had poisoned it again.

it’s okay, dottie, we’re just going to go look at the water.

“no!” dot shot up on her feet and started to run back toward the city, or at least what way she thought the city was. she could swear she heard severina trailing behind her. the red eyes watching to see where she went, reporting back and tempting her away from the light. dot glanced back as she neared the clearing, where the trees thinned and one of the gates to the city could be seen. all at once there was a collision and dot was on her ass. trees, she must’ve run into one, rubbing her head she looked up to see a person instead. a man, but it was hard to be sure in such dim light. “it should look where it’s going, odd knows. can-can you help? the eyes keep flashing in the dark and that woman is following me. it’s not safe for odette here. i-i need to go back to the city or, or the compound. where duck is.” it tugged on the sleeve of the vaguely familiar frame, hoping they were safe and not one of her children.

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the remnants of the vision dust were still lingering behind odette’s eyes. supposedly duck had gone to go find some miracle solution in the hospital wing of the compound. however, odette was enjoying the effects now that it knew it was in a safe place. not many places felt very safe when its mind was the thing that caused the most consistent damage to it but fefe always made odd feel protected. almost like her father had, but not exactly the same. she wished she could see him again, even for a second. it had been so long she wondered if they'd recognize each other if their paths were to ever cross, it had been so long. the knock at the door of fefe’s office broke it from its thoughts and they crawled out from under the desk where they’d been lying.

dot wasn’t sure who she expected to find on the other side of the door but nelle had not been it. “you’re not duck or dad, you’re a you.” it hummed and moved a few steps back so the new visitor could come in if she so wished. odd shook its head to the question posed, but looked around just in case it missed the triumphant return of the duck. but he wasn’t there, still out doing what he does. “duck went to get medicine type things for odd’s unfortunate moth dust consumption. but he should be back soon if you want to—” it paused when the papers fell and moved to go help her pick them up. “what is this?” it held up one of the sheets, not making much sense of anything at surface value despite its nearly two decades in close proximity to dr. estrada. it only absorbed some things and all that was auditory, it hardly knew how to read a lab report or test results.

Closed Starter: Nelle Garnett and Odette Winters (@murdcrofcrows)

The pile of papers in Nelle's arms was probably excessive, that she knew, but no one had ever accused her of being concise. Dr. Estrada had asked for a readout on the blood samples and, after another two days of the same readings, Nelle was more confident in bringing him her findings, even if she had seen fit to bring every readout she could muster. Of course, it was late...again, but if anyone tended to work late it was Dr. Estrada and Nelle didn't think he'd mind, hoped he wouldn't mind. She made her way up to his office with her pile of papers in hand and knocked on the door only to see a somewhat familiar face open the door and peek out. Nelle had seen them before, but always in the company of Dr. Estrada, but she had no idea what their name was and why they were there. They were a test subject, she assumed.

"I'm sorry to bother, but is Dr. Estrada in. I just had some readouts on a blood sample that he asked for a couple nights ago," Nelle said, her smile warm as she took in the figure. It had wild eyes, but they glimmered with something Nelle couldn't put her fingers on. As she thought, the pile of papers shifted before eventually tumbling to the ground. "Shit," Nelle murmured, ducking down to grab all the sheets. "What a mess."

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PEDRO PASCAL as JOEL MILLER

2003 -> 2010 -> 2023 -> 2028

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BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER | 4.08

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@dixieclary asked: 💛 our muses’ relationship