#but so much finally makes sense now

[aztrosist666]

the youtube playlist i used to watch moral orel left out 2x3 (satan) for some reason and i only noticed it bc i was watching it w her during lunch and so i watched it for the first time IN PUBLIC!!!!! WITH LOTS OF PEOPLE!!!!! COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!!!!!!!!!!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Wardrobe Woes

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[flowerakatsuka]

" just know that i'm always here for you, okay? "

i'm finally finishing up my s2 rewatch and getting to the 24th episode awoke a beast in me. so i wanted to make a fake screenshot based on some of their lore that takes place during that episode. i think they'd end up having a heart-to-heart moment since kuroba went through similar struggles after their grandfather's own hospitalization...

also have a bonus doodle bc i need to even out the balance between serious & goofy with these two.

[pineappical]

would calling this something like "the sun to his earth" be a little bit too cliche? maybe...

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys (part 3) <3

(light nsfw)

part 1 part 2

“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s decent enough, so it’ll have to do,” James says, and Regulus it’s too busy trying to keep his breathing under control to be bothered by the other man’s words. “Relax your shoulders a little, love.” 

“Don’t,” Regulus hisses, even though he isn’t sure himself if that response is because of the nickname, or James’ touch, or James’ closeness, or something else entirely. 

“Don’t what?” James asks, sneaking a hand up and massaging one of his shoulders until both of them sag. 

“You know what.” 

“I don’t even think you know.” 

Regulus huffs loudly, and hates that he can’t argue back. 

“Show me how you do a jab,” James requests, his hands returning to Regulus’ waist after one last press on his shoulder. 

Regulus clears his throat slightly, feeling a bit flustered all of a sudden while he raises his right arm and gets ready to do what James asked. He only hesitates for a couple of seconds before doing the punch, not as confident as he’d usually be after having James criticise him so much. 

He knows he’s no expert. He isn’t even that athletic to begin with. But he still has a boxer brother, which means he’s definitely not as clueless as James is making him out to be. 

Maybe if it were someone else, Regulus would find it in himself to fight back, defend his knowledge and Sirius’ teachings. But, as it turns out, having a professional boxer watching you try to punch is an incredibly humbling experience. Especially one as mind-blowingly good as James. 

Not like Regulus would ever tell him that.

James hums. “Not bad,” he says, and really, it shouldn’t satisfy Regulus as much as it does. “It’s a bit too slow, though.” 

Regulus tilts his head back, in an attempt to look at the other man, but he barely lasts a second after realising how fucking close both of his faces are. 

His heart beats wildly in his chest. He can only hope James doesn’t notice. 

“How so?” Regulus wonders, so relieved to hear his voice sounds completely normal. 

“Jabs focus on speed over strength,” James explains calmly. “It’s a matter of overwhelming your opponent, rather than properly hurting. The punch has to be quick, and once the arm returns, it’s gotta go up, protect your face. Like this.”

He grabs one of Regulus’ arms gently, moving it forward and then back very slowly, to demonstrate how to do it, and then fast, jostling Regulus’ whole body with it. 

“See?” James murmurs, and he could swear that his tone has gone lower. “You don’t have to worry about being strong enough. It’s all about speed.”

“Okay,” Regulus replies with a tiny nod, doing his best to concentrate on what James is seeing, and not on all of the points where they’re touching. Or on how close James is. Or how nice he smells, despite all the sweat—maybe even because of it. “I think I get it.” 

“Yeah? Wanna try again on your own?”

Part of Regulus wants to snark back, argue that it’s only a stupid jab and James is just being picky because he’s a professional boxer and it’s not like there’s an actual science to throwing a punch. But having James holding onto his waist must be clouding his mind, because he just gives another nod, and does his best to replicate James’ movement and speed. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” James breathes out, and Regulus can almost hear his smile. “Very good, love. You’re a natural.”

“Oh, I’m a natural now?” Regulus huffs out, but it comes out more teasing than irritated. 

“Or maybe you just have a great teacher,” James adds playfully, accompanied by a squeeze on his hips. 

“You’re right, Sirius is pretty great,” Regulus responds with a shrug, relishing in the way James clicks his tongue. 

“But I’m better.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

“Wait, what happened to ‘James’?”

Regulus feels heat rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

James chuckles way too close to Regulus’ ear, and his breath hits the side of his neck, goosebumps breaking all over his skin. Regulus has to swallow a very embarrassing and very needy sound before it makes it past his lips.

“C’mon, love, we were getting along so nicely. Don’t try to ruin it now.”

“You’ve finally lost it,” Regulus states, trying to laugh the whole thing off. It probably doesn’t work, though, considering how unstable he sounds. “There’s not a single universe in which you and I get along, Potter.”

“Liar,” James whispers. “I’m growing on you.”

“Whatever gave me away?” Regulus grumbles, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“The fact that you’re letting me touch you,” James murmurs, voice smooth and silky, feeling like a caress. “How you keep leaning against my contact, and catching yourself at the last second.”

Regulus’ breath hitches. “That’s—” 

“The way you’re not even arguing with me anymore. Not really,” James continues, unrelenting, his lips grazing Regulus’ earlobe and making his eyes flutter shut. “If anything, I’d even dare to say you’re flirting.”

“You’re delusional,” Regulus spits, too breathless to sound as furious as he’d like to. “The fucking audacity—”

“And,” James cuts him off, tone so frustratingly smug, “I bet you’re aching between those pretty legs of yours.” 

Regulus lets out an embarrassed noise, barely suppressing the urge to press his thighs together. 

“No,” he croaks out, shaking his head a little and face burning. 

“No?” James mocks him, pressing his smirk behind Regulus’ ear. “Shall we check?” 

One of James’ hands moves slowly, sliding from its place on Regulus’ waist to rest under his navel, fingers playfully caressing his waistband. 

Regulus hates how that mere touch is enough to turn his mind into static. To make his heart stutter in his chest, and the mess in his underwear almost unbearable.

“Potter—”

“No.”

Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up, and before he has the chance to ask, he feels James’ teeth at the side of his neck, nipping teasingly and dragging a fucking whimper out of him.

“What—?!” he begins, completely red in the face and attempting to move away from the other man for the first time since he allowed his touch.

James holds him tighter, bites down harder. “Behave, Regulus, or I’ll fucking make you.” 

Regulus doesn’t listen, despite how the tone of James’ voice makes him tremble like a leaf. He keeps resisting, an outraged sound leaving his mouth while his body betrays him and becomes even wetter. 

“Oh, you don’t get to play the clueless card on me,” James murmurs, his teeth giving way to a devilish tongue that turns Regulus soft and pliant, his attempts at freeing himself growing sloppy, lazy. “I always do my best to be patient, to respect your boundaries and control myself, but you’ve been a damn tease all afternoon, and I’m fucking done.” 

“What the fuck are you even—” 

“Enough,” James growls back, and it’s so commanding Regulus’ mouth snaps shut with a clack. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then James is laughing under his breath. “Good boy.”

It’s filled with mockery, bordering on mean, and yet, it still makes Regulus moan like a fucking bitch in heat, eyes rolling to the back of his skull and body going completely boneless. 

“Fuck,” James whispers, a mix between awed and devastated. “I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. Is that what does it for you, baby? You wanna be my good boy?”

Baby. 

Baby. 

Baby. 

Regulus moans again, even though it’s weaker this time, but he still shakes his head, or tries to at least, holding onto the last traces of sanity and refusing to let James win whatever twisted game they’re playing. 

“C’mon, you were doing so well,” James mumbles, tongue licking up the side of his neck. “And you can’t fool me anymore. Not like you ever did, but still. I know you wanna be good for me, baby. Know you wanna please me, let me use you in whatever way I see fit.”

He tries to shake his head once more, but somehow, his brain gets the order wrong and Regulus ends up nodding instead. 

“That’s right,” James coos, dropping a kiss on his skin, long and lingering. “Now, say my name, Regulus.” 

“James,” he gasps almost against his will, mouth moving before his mind can catch up. 

The other man groans and then attaches his lips to his throat immediately after, tongue pressing down as he sucks, the sting feeling absolutely heavenly. 

Regulus tilts his head to the side to give James more space, eyes hooded and limbs heavy, back coming to rest against James’ chest. 

“James,” he says again, without being prompted this time and the word almost sounding like a whine. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” James hisses against his neck, peppering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue and teeth mapping out Regulus’ skin. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been dying to do this.”

Regulus whimpers, hands moving on their own volition and reaching behind him until they bury themselves into James’ messy locks. He pulls, a bit harsher than intended, but before Regulus can manage to apologise, James is moaning loudly, the vibrations on his skin making him shiver. 

He pulls again, and James bites down on his throat hard enough to leave a mark. Regulus doesn’t have it in himself to reprimand him, or to tell him to stop. His brain is unable to focus on anything that isn’t James’ mouth working down his neck. 

“We could’ve been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so fucking stubborn,” James sighs, lips caressing his exposed shoulder and dragging another obscene noise out of Regulus. “I knew you wanted it. I knew you wanted me.”

“James—” Regulus pants, apparently unable to speak anything else apart from the other man’s name. 

It’s kind of embarrassing, how pliant a couple of kisses and a few dirty comments can make him. Regulus isn’t usually this easy, especially not in bed; he likes having a modicum of control, always ready to remind his partner that he doesn’t enjoy being bossed around. But, and as much as he hates to admit it, James knows what he’s doing. 

Although, maybe it’s not even a matter of skills. Maybe it’s simply that it’s James, and despite how much he’s tried to deny it, he’s been desperate for him almost since the moment he laid eyes on him. 

“God, baby, you taste divine,” James grunts, sucking on his collarbone almost at the same time that his fingers dip into Regulus’ waistband. They don’t get very far, and it’s more of a playful contact than anything else, but his breath still hitches. “Can’t wait to put my mouth between your legs.”

Regulus makes a keening sound, hips twitching, and James chuckles cruelly against his shoulder.

“You’d let me, right, baby?” James goes on, the hand that had slipped inside the basketball shorts changing its course and travelling up up up, until they’re caressing Regulus’ chest, following the shape of his scars. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not fucking gagging for it at this point. Just look at you. Look at you. I bet you could come from this. From me marking you up while I whisper in your ear.”

“N-no,” Regulus huffs, blinking furiously and doing his best to break out of his daze. “You’re too—too full of yourself. This isn’t enough, it could never be, and I—”

“Not enough?” James questions, stopping his ministrations. Regulus bites his tongue to stop the protest at the tip of his tongue. “Is this your way of asking for more, baby? Because you’re gonna have to do better than that. I don’t listen to brats.” 

Regulus wishes he could scoff, elbow James in the stomach so his touches stop clouding his mind and tell him to fuck off. Maybe even show him how well he can throw a stupid punch. 

But his body isn’t listening to his mind. It doesn’t care about what Regulus truly wants. Or what he’s been telling himself he wants, at least.

That’s why when he parts his lips, none of the curses he’s been preparing come out. Instead, there’s only need and lust. “Please,” he whimpers, closing his eyes tight momentarily. “Please, James, I—I just—”

James shushes him gently while circling a nipple, Regulus’ toes curling inside his toes and cunt clenching around nothing. “Oh, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you so well. Give you exactly what you need.”

“Yeah,” Regulus exhales, hands spasming around James’ curls. “Please.” 

“Gonna let me fuck you, baby? Let me finger you nice and open, so you can get ready for my cock?” 

Regulus moans and nods and thrashes around, one of his hands slipping from James’ hair just so he can grab one of James' by its wrist, pushing his arm downwards and hoping to get some relief where he truly needs it. 

James stops right before he reaches his waistband, a cocky grin curving against Regulus’ skin. 

“Well, well,” James breathes. “Aren’t you a needy little thing.” 

“C’mon,” Regulus complains, uncaring of how childish he sounds. He feels too fucking drunk on everything James to be able to think about anything else apart from getting off.

James laughs again, because he’s mean like that, and Regulus can already feel some tears prickling at his eyes out of frustration.

“You have to tell me what you want, Regulus,” James says, and his voice is so damn casual it actually hurts. “This won’t work otherwise.” 

There’s no this, Regulus wants to snap back, but then James is pressing nearer, until Regulus can feel the outline of his hard cock against his ass. It makes him gasp and push back against it, really pleased by the little hiss James lets out at the pressure.

“See what you do to me, baby?” James whispers, dragging his lips over his shoulders, the side of his throat, behind his ear. “We barely did anything, and yet I’m so fucking hard it’s actually painful. You’ve no idea of how many times I’ve jerked myself off to the thought of you. Wishing it was your hand instead. Your mouth. The inside of your cunt.” 

Regulus’ knees shake, a mewl escaping his parted lips, and James’ grip on him turns even stronger. 

“I bet you’ll feel all tight and warm around me,” James goes on, tone husky, words dripping with so much desire it makes Regulus light-headed. “Make the sweetest sounds, too. I used to think you were too uptight and that I needed to fuck the stubborness out of you, but it turns out that you’re real fucking dirty, baby. Grinding back against my cock and opening your legs the moment I praised you a little. Oh, if they could see you now, baby. Big bad scary Regulus Black. Reduced to a pathetic, whimpering mess.”

“Shut up,” Regulus grits out, but he doesn’t stop rubbing his ass on James’ cock, or pulling at James’ wrist insistently, in an attempt to get his hand inside his pants. “You’re all bark and no bite. Spent all these months telling me everything you wanted to do to me, and now that I finally give you a chance, you’re only teasing and babbling in my ear.” 

“Good try, baby, but you should know by now that that attitude of yours only turns me on.” 

“Yeah? Then how come you’re not fucking me yet, huh?” 

James’ other hand, the one that hasn’t stopped gripping Regulus’ waist for a single second, lets go and climbs up, taking a hold of Regulus’ chin. James uses it to tilt his head back, forcing their gazes to meet, and Regulus despises how he feels himself get slicker at the flash of danger on James’ gaze, the sharpness of his smirk. 

“God, the mouth you have on you, baby.” James cocks his head to the side, considering, and he grips his chin even tighter. “So fucking filthy. And so pretty when you beg.” 

“I don’t beg,” Regulus murmurs back, aware that it’s a lie. He still narrows his eyes when James barks out a laugh. 

“Yes, you do. You already have. And you will do so again, if you want to come.” 

“I don’t need you for that. I can just—just walk out of here, leave you hanging and get off all by myself—”

“No, you can’t. I’m sure you’ve also jerked off while thinking of me, right, baby? All that tension, all that repression, I know it took its toll. Did you finger yourself slow and deep as soon as you got home after our interviews? Came with my name in your mouth?”

Regulus only glares at him, not even trying to defend himself. What’s the point, when James can see right through him? Lying won’t do him any favours. 

“You did,” James states, ridiculously pleased with himself. “You’re not gonna go and waste this chance over your wounded pride, baby. Argue all you want, but we both know you’re not going anywhere. Not when you’re practically drooling at the thought of taking my cock.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want it as much, if not more, than I do,” Regulus grumbles. 

James shrugs, leaning forward and forcing Regulus to do the same. Until their noses are grazing each other, breaths intermingling. 

“Never said otherwise,” he retorts with ease. 

“Then what the fuck are you playing at?”

“Nothing, really. Just waiting for you to tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, baby, I swear. You just gotta ask.” 

Regulus purses his lips, but James does sound sincere, and at this point, it’s not like he has anything else to lose. It’s too late to try and save face, and his dignity, or whatever was left of it, took its leave the moment he allowed James to get this close. 

Besides, he wants this. He wants James. Has done so for a while, probably since the very beginning, and not even he has this much self-restraint.

“Fuck me,” Regulus says in a soft exhale, watching the way James’ pupils eat at his irises. “Please, James, fuck me. I need you inside me, it’s—fucking unbearable, really, and I’m gonna lose it if you don’t—”

“Yes,” James gasps out, nodding fast, moves turning erratic as he finally slips his hand under the shorts, under Regulus’ briefs. “Yes. Of course, baby, anything you want, I’m—shit, you’re so—let me just—”

His fingers rub at his clit playfully, pulling a moan out of Regulus, before they continue their path down, until they’re running through slick curls, teasing at his entrance and marvelling at the wetness they find there. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking dripping,” James whispers in wonder. Regulus can only whimper, pushing against his eager hand. “And it’s for me. All for me. Fucking hell, just—come here—”

It’s when James tilts his head up, clearly wanting to kiss him, that Regulus finally manages to go back to himself. That Regulus remembers where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with. 

Reality hits him with such harshness that the ground seems to tilt under his feet, leaving him breathless, and dizzy, and having to swallow down a wave of nausea. 

What the actual fuck is wrong with him? 

“Wait,” he squeals, James’ mouth already touching his. “Wait.” 

To the other man’s credit, he does stop immediately at Regulus’ words, pulling back and fingers freezing where they were exploring at his cunt’s entrance. 

Regulus takes a gulp of air, heart rumbling loudly inside his head, his brain screaming at him to get a fucking grip. 

“Reg?” James calls him, a worried frown twisting his features while his eyes roam all over his face. “Baby, you okay?”

“Don’t—” Regulus wheezes out, clawing at James’ arm until he gets the hint and takes it out of his pants. He can’t think with those thick, calloused fingers resting on his cunt. “We can’t do this. It’s—no, James, just—no.”

Something pained flashes in James’ gaze, before it disappears, being substituted by a harshness Regulus has to look away from. “Regulus—”

“No,” he repeats, a lot firmer this time. “I’m not—I can’t, James. I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t.”

Regulus doesn’t stick around to hear James’ response, or watch his reaction. He moves away from him, legs shaky but still managing to support his weight, and he exits the ring without daring to glance back.

[sneeb-canons]

Headcanon #500:

Mind is afraid that when he distances himself from or above the others, that he will be too far gone to come back down. That when his paranoia gets the best of him, he'll shut everyone else out and then be completely alone with no way back to where he was before.

Heart is afraid that if Mind is right, with the idea that what he does isn't genuine, that he's being manipulative without realizing it. Then therefore being Whole without himself there is the better option. That he'd be thrown out because his ideas would then be "not worth it" or even "vile"

Soul is afraid that no matter what he does or how good things will be, they'll always eventually split up again or even end up worse. Even then he has no clue what he's supposed to do or be during everything, and so because of that he'll never be whole. Or worse that he'll never really "feel" whole.

[marigraphia]

Hey remember when Kory was a Justice League member with a bangin' costume

[dariusaurs]

i think dinostar is such an interesting ship right now even if i've kind of turned away from it after this season. the problem is that it's complicated, and fandoms historically don't like nuanced situations or takes. i don't think it's fair to say darius is putting brooklynn on a pedestal, since from his perspective, she hasn't done anything wrong, and kenji has been framed as this unfair partner to her. it does feel like his feelings are very immature and more of an infatuation right now ("if he loved you half as much.."/"unless?"), especially when you compare them to kenji's own feelings for brooklynn - his girlfriend who he's loved for 6 years - but that isn't a horrible thing, it's just different. i do completely understand if people dislike the ship right now, and even criticize darius' way of handling the accidental confession, but i just think people have been way too harsh on all three of them without being willing to see that all of their perspectives are different

[inke-ri]

So I couldn't help but browse the THG tag bc those books own my whole heart. I actually check it now and again, and it's been interesting see how opinions have changed over the years, especially in regards to Gale and Peeta. Going through the evolution of them as just potential love interests to being far more complex than I could have expected has been a wild ride. Crazy how this reads different than from when I was a preteen.

That said, I wanted to give my unsolicited two cents on my boys, because though I have been enjoying the discussion on Peeta and Gale and what they mean to the story, I also feel like reducing them to Peeta = peace and Gale = war is far too simplistic... and oftentimes unfair to one or both of them.

See, I don't think Peeta and Gale are peace and war/destruction. They're compassion and indignation.

Peeta worries about the other tributes, or their families, or how to repay people like Rue and Thresh for what they did.

Gale is indignation at how the Capitol treats its citizens, it's anger at the injustice of inequality and brutality.

Both are needed in a story like THG. You can't have people like even Peeta not say something like "maybe we're wrong about keeping things quiet in the districts", you can't have him not drop the baby bomb, you can't start a revolution without Gale's indignation at the status quo. At deserving a better life but being denied it, at having your kids be mercilessly killed for literal sport.

However, if you start a rebellion and loose sight of your compassion, you end up no better than the people you're fighting against. Gale wasn't a bad person, imo. His heart was in the right place. He was flawed, yes, but so is everyone in this series. Gale, most importantly, lost sight of the line between fighting for the people he cared about and fighting against the people who hurt him.

Reducing Gale's indignation to just revenge and hatred ignores so much of what he stands for. Who hasn't seen laws passed that dehumanize people, who hasn't been angry and furious when someone is elected who fundamentally hates everything you are, who doesn't think some people need to pay for the atrocities they committed? There's a little bit of Gale in every single one of us - and it's important that it's there, because that's what gives us strength to challenge the status quo and make life better for the future generations.

But. You can't let it take over. You can't loose sight of your compassion or your empathy.

That's where Peeta comes in. Peeta is the voice in your head that worries about how many good lives will be lost when they give themselves up for this cause. Peeta is the worry about the people caught in the crossfire. Peeta is rebuilding when it's over and believing that the next generation will have a better life than your own. Peeta is being kind, even to people who may not deserve it.

And Gale... Gale looses sight of his compassion, and he doesn't realize it until it smacks him in the face when the bombs go off and Prim is gone and he's too far gone. Meanwhile, Peeta advocates for the end of the war even though it means the status quo remains - and regardless of what he believes himself, I don't think Suzanne chose him to say those lines by chance. It means both mindsets have their flaws: too kind and things that shouldn't remain will never be challenged and changed, too angry and you may loose sight of what you're fighting for.

And that's just how Suzanne uses her characters, both of them, all of them. Just look at who is with Katniss depending on the situation:

- Katniss chooses to "rebel" after Gale is brutally whipped. She kisses him.

- Katniss realizes that in order for D12 to rebel, everyone would need to be in on it, and she realizes most of them are not like her, that they're scared and she understands, emphasises with them. Peeta walks by her side.

- Katniss finally does it though, shoots the arrow at the force field, and Peeta is taken from her, it's now Gale by her side.

(You can't start a rebellion without indignation, and sometimes you HAVE to do it or things will never change, regardless of the inevitable pain that will come along.)

- Katniss is righteously angry at the Capitol bombing a hospital full of innocents to make a point. Gale remains there.

- Coin twists people's compassion into an army to fight for her own personal gain. Peeta is hijacked and looses his sense of self.

- Katniss and Gale go to District 2 and even though she tries to be like Peeta, she's still shot- reinforcing Gale's views, the person who was with her during that sequence.

- Katniss is angry at Snow, Katniss goes to the Capitol to kill him. Gale is there.

- Katniss gets in way over her head and realizes she is responsible for the death of most of her squad. She shares the lamb stew with Peeta, and later cleans his wounds.

- Finnick dies and she's at her lowest up until that point and all she wants to do is give up and give in to the anger. She kisses Peeta and begs him to stay with her.

... Claiming that Gale is destruction ignores the fact that he's with Katniss through her own moments of strength. Her desire to change things, to fight back, is as important as her compassion. Mockingjay just brutally shows you what war does to your indignation, to your compassion. How easy it is to cross a line between righteous anger and revenge, or how your sense of empathy and compassion can be manipulated into something monstrous by others, or by all the terrible, brutal, painful things you see.

How easy it is to loose yourself- and that goes for both of them.

Peeta and Gale aren't static characters, they go from representations of sentiments regarding an injust government to what happens to those feelings when an extreme situation such as war breaks out. All of that, by the way, while dealing with this duality themselves, because they are still characters who think and feel and struggle and have flaws of their own- and while I love what they stand for, I've seen too many comments that pin everything into what they mean, that they forget that Peeta and Gale are still people, they aren't perfect metaphors. They're human.

Ultimately, Katniss doesn't really choose peace. She wants peace, yes. But what she chooses is compassion. empathy. hope. There's a time and place for anger at injustice. There's a time when fighting back is the right thing to do. There are even times when you wanna give in to your despair and lash out. But if you want peace, then you have to choose Peeta, because Peeta represents what you need to focus on to achieve that peace. You have to let go of the anger or you won't ever rest. So Gale leaves, and does not come back... And yet, Katniss still has her moments of indignation, of making a stand, even as he goes - she still casts her vote at that meeting, she still shoots Coin. Katniss does not abandon that part of who she is. It's just not her main drive anymore.

So then she goes on to make the choice, every single day, to be compassionate to others. To have hope. To rebuild. Of course she chooses Peeta.

... Idk, man. These boys are so much more than what I see them so often reduced to. They're in all of us. There will be times to stand and fight, and times to show mercy and be kind. We just need to find that balance, as Katniss eventually did.

[fairylando]

don't ask me why, but me and my friend were talking about how carlos is going to be free from fraudrrari in less than 20 days and we ended up comparing him to the virgin mary (i swear it will make sense and we both grew up in christian italian families as atheists) and... how her given festivities actually add up with some of his important dates ??? buckle up!

‧˚

⭒ "Festa dell'Assunzione di Maria" — august 15 she was raised to eternal life without bodily death, and very close to it carlos announced he signed with williams.

⭒ "La Natività della Beata Vergine Maria" — she was born on september 8th, he was born on september 1st (BOTH VIRGOS)!

⭒ "L'Immacolata Concezione" — december 8th, "from the first moment of her conception, the Blessed Virgin Mary was, by the singular grace and privilege of Almighty God, and in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, Savior of Mankind, kept free from all stain of original sin."... and what happens on december 8th? his last race in fraudrrari, exactly.

she was the lightly brushed by melancholy blue print after all!

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[starmist]

I genuinely believe Naksu haunts the narrative. Her actions and existence as Naksu heavily impact the entire story. Her past, the life she lived and the shadow of it in Mudeok. But we don't actually know any of it because Naksu is not in the story.

Like. What she lost as Cho Yeong is something that we are never allowed to forget, the loss of her body, her powers, her freedom, and her impending death as a soul shifter hangs over Mudeok's head like guillotine.

All the while we don't actually know the Shadow Assassin Naksu, she died in the first episode, as soon as the story began. Other than training and killing (soul shifters) what kind of person was she when she didn't have to rely on another person else or hide or live as someone else? We don't know and we don't ever learn any of that.

Still, her absence is the plot, yet her former existence as Naksu influences everything; Yul's actions and what she was to him, Jang Uk's goal of returning her powers, the revelation of soul shifters to Park Jin, Jang Gang's departure, Jin Mu's accomplishments, the King's Star even.

Everything is about her existence but she doesn't actually exist at all anymore.

[tariah23]

King of the Cavern Monte Cristo (5* Avenger) ascensions are gorgeous!!!