#but they don't. so it only feels shitty. (thanks.)

[reactionimagesdaily]

Reaction images aside, how are you holding up?

Aww, thanks for asking. :P

To be honest, I'm probably doing better than most. I'm a healthy cishet white man who lives in the UK, so I don't have nearly as much to worry about as I know a lot of people do. (Also hey, I'm enjoying the new Dragon Age game, so that's been nice.) But I also know what kind of ramifications this election is bound to have, both inside the US and beyond.

(I mean, the world's biggest democracy is getting overtly more hostile and authoriarian in real time (y'know. again), and I know on this side of the pond we've got some real brain donors who'd love to see something similar happen here. I'm worried about what Trump could do once he's back in charge, and I'm worried about what might happen to my own country, with it's 'special relationship' to the US, as a result. And I'm not alone in that.

All this on a fuckin' Wednesday...)

Anyway, I had a longer thing written out here about the concept of orthopraxis (just while I was trying to get my thoughts in order, lmao) but the core of what I want to say is this:

I think we're about to see an uptick in people being shitty

I'm going to counter that by doing un-shitty things

What do I mean by un-shitty things? Well, I've been meaning to participate in Amnesty International's 'Write For Rights' campaign for months - I just fired off my first email today. I've already donated to causes supporting Gaza in the past, but now I'm also planning to write to my local MP about how annoyed I am that my country is still culpable in genocide. Make my voice heard, you know? I also want to keep making art that people enjoy, because I think that's important. And I'm going to buy another commission from an artist I like, because they could probably use something good in their life right now. And... to be honest, I'm not sure what else I'll do yet. When I figure it out, though, I'll try and actually do it.

Maybe for you, un-shitty things mean something smaller scale. Hugging your loved ones for longer, or giving that loose change you always carry around to the next homeless person you see. That's good too. Maybe it's something larger in scale, and that's awesome! But to anyone who's reading this, I'd definitely recommend doing something that not only feels good, but is also TANGIBLE. Not only does doing feel good, but it means that you're improving someone else's life, in however small a way. Which, y'know. Net positive, innit.

(Yes, I'm aware this is basically the 'when you see someone being so mean it inspires you to be kinder meme', lmao. No, I don't really care.)

You asked me how I'm holding up? Well, the first thing I'd like to do is respond to your question in kind: how are you holding up? In a general sense? In specific ways? Hopes, anxieties, plans?

And the next thing I'm going to do is tell you that I'm more than holding up.

I'm locking in.

[buddiebeginz]

I'm really happy that Buck and Tommy are finally over (thank god) but there was so much I didn't like about this episode. Not only does Tommy have a history of racism, homophobia, misogyny, etc but he was simply not a good boyfriend. And like not just not a good boyfriend to Buck (which he was that) but like not a good boyfriend in general. Like look at how he talked about Abby (and I'm no fan of hers).

I know some of the stuff with Tommy was probably due to Lou's terrible acting but some of it was definitely writing choices. I don't get the point of writing a character to be a lackluster love interest at best and dismissive patronizing jerk of a boyfriend at worst if it's not leading somewhere in the story. It just feels like bad writing. A lot of the stuff with Tommy does. It's why I'm still amazed at how much that fandom acts like they're the greatest romance of all time.

There's also all that stuff that happened in 7x04 that I fear is never going to get brought back up again. I mean it might when Buddie goes canon (which I still believe will happen) but it might not just because if Tommy's gone they might not feel the need to address it again. But it was clearly Eddie's attention that Buck wanted in that ep (I wrote a whole thing about it here). You also have the fact that Tommy was showering Eddie was all this attention and gifts and the only time we saw him do anything remotely like that for Buck was in tonight's ep on their anniversary and it was tickets for a game Buck didn't even like so clearly Tommy wasn't that invested.

It's just this show has a habit of Buck staying in these relationships where he's not happy. Not knowing his worth and not speaking up to people who hurt him all so he can feel like he's loved. And I know a lot of that goes back to the stuff he dealt with as a kid but I'm just really sad they did this to him again. I get that Tim probably wanted Buck's first relationship with a guy to end on a positive note but then like I said why write Tommy the way they did since s7? If you take Buck and Tommy's relationship just as it played out on screen then Buck definitely should have been the one to break up with Tommy.

They wouldn't have even needed it to turn into a fight or this bitter angry thing it could have been a matter of Buck realizing that him and Tommy were just too different. That Tommy didn't really get him as a person and that could have been further made clear by having a moment where Buck calls Tommy out on always calling him Evan. I also don't get why they decided to have Tommy call him Buck in the breakup scene but then never address it any other time. Like they never really explained why he only ever called Evan and then didn't explain why he switched it up.

Like I said I'm happy they broke up but I just feel like in some ways I can't enjoy it. In both this ep and 805 there was scenes like at the graveyard where Buck acts like Tommy is this amazing important person in his life and I get that some of that is Buck trying to make his relationship with Tommy into something more than that is. And really connecting his excitement and newness of coming out with Tommy. But it still hurt to see him asking Tommy about moving in when I know Buck deserves so much better. He deserves a partner who will love him and see him for exactly who he is.

Connected to all of this I didn't like the scene with Josh, Maddie, and Buck either. I know some of that was probably the shows way of trying to make us think about Eddie and his coming out in the future but they were also talking about Tommy. Tommy doesn't get a pass for being a misogynist or racist or a homophobe just because he was in the closet. Also whatever happened with him and Abby in the past he was still talking shitty about her when he was on the date with Buck (in present day) so clearly his attitudes towards women haven't changed.

I like a lot about Josh as a character and he doesn't even know Tommy or about his past so I feel like he was just trying to educate Buck on some queer history. I don't entirely blame him for that speech he gave. I do blame Tim and the writers though. If they wanted Tommy to be seen as a guy who made mistakes in the past and had grown they should have put the work in to show him as such. The couldn't be bothered to do that even in his relationship with Buck. Truly hoping this is the last we'll see of him and also that not much time is spent having Buck mourn that awful relationship.

[deadpresidents]

Thanks for being real today.

I get people wanting to be hopeful.

But I can't with "it will be okay" and "we will survive this."

It was not okay for Heather Heyer, Joseph Rosenbaum, Anthony Huber, Joyce Fienberg, Richard Gottfried, Rose Mallinger, Jerry Rabinowitz, Cecil & David Rosenthal, Bernice & Sylvan Simon, Daniel Stein, Melvin Wax, Irving Younger, Andre Anchondo, Jordan Anchondo, Arturo Benavides, Leonardo Campos, Angie Englisbee, Maria Flores, Raul Flores, Guillermo "Memo" Garcia, Jorge Calvillo García, Adolfo Cerros Hernández, Alexander Gerhard Hoffman, David Johnson, Luis Alfonzo Juarez, Maria Eugenia Legarreta Rothe, Maribel (Campos) Loya, Ivan Filiberto Manzano, Elsa Mendoza Marquez, Gloria Irma Márquez, Margie Reckard, Sara Esther Regalado Moriel, Javier Rodriguez, Teresa Sanchez, Juan Velazquez, or any of the other people killed by white supremacists whose actions were aided and abetted by the Trump presidency. These people did not survive. Not to mention all the people who haven't survived COVID, but might have if the Trump administration had taken timely action. Or the women who have died after being refused appropriate medical care because of the rapist and his buddies that Trump appointed decided with some weird pastor in the 1600 said was more important than the lives of actual living, breathing, human beings. Or the school children who would not have been shot to death if we had actual gun control laws in this country, a thing that would have been possible to achieve if Trump had lost in 2016.

Yeah, sure, the majority of us in the United States will probably survive. That's how statistics work. And if that's what somebody needs to hear in order to move forward, then I guess saying such things has a purpose. But it's looking pretty shitty for anybody living in Ukraine and to me, it comes across as disrespectful to the people whose lives have been lost in no small part thanks to what goes down in US elections.

I needed somebody today who would say not only that this is not okay, but this is *really* not okay.

Thanks for being that voice.

Thank you for this. I can't help but write what I feel, even if some of it hasn't been the most optimistic message to send. There is a reality that we need to come to terms with in order to find some way forward. I'm pissed off and I'm disgusted with this country, so I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing because it is therapeutic for me right now and I'm too old to go around punching and kicking people.

I do want to say that I'm also cognizant of the fact that some people just need some time to allow this reality to settle. I certainly don't want to add to the stress or darkness that some of us are feeling right now. There is no denying that this is fucking terrible, but we will regroup and find a way through it. It won't be easy and we're going to have to fight, but I don't want anybody to think that there is genuinely no hope. There's always something that we can do, even if it seems bleak.

If I'm writing something or somebody else is saying something that you're not ready to hear, it's okay to do what you need to do to remain healthy. These posts are going to be here whenever you might feel like reading them. You can and should step away from this if you just need a fucking break. It doesn't mean you're any less ready or willing to fight this battle than anybody else. Even if Trump and the rotten MAGA cult takes control of every lever of power, you can gain a personal victory by not allowing them to completely crush your faith in the future. You can be depressed and despair, but do not give up. Do not give them that power over you. We will find a way. We will get through this. We will figure out what it is that we need to do and who we need to back and how we need to attack, but taking care of your personal health and well-being is more immediately important than the bigger political battle or the next step in the resistance. Take care of yourselves first and we'll still be here and ready to eventually harness this anger and frustration and fucking disgust to defeat the MAGA movement and Trump's Christian nationalist personality cult.

The main thing, though, is that if you're really having a tough time in the immediate future, step away, take some time, go for a walk, read something that has absolutely nothing to do with Donald Trump or American politics (if you need suggestions, I always have book recommendations!), and regroup. Again, we'll get through this, and as goofy and weird and ridiculous as Tumblr can be at times, there's always a community of people on this site willing to listen and help each other when we're struggling. So, if you are having trouble getting to tomorrow, reach out because there are scores of people here who will help get there with you.

[bjornshouldvelivedddd]

18+caged

A/n: obviously NONE of the stuff in this fic is good to do, this is inspired from the movie fresh completely so if you haven't watched fresh don't read this maybe, I’m bringing Tyler into this so just for some verification Bjorns the one who sells the body parts and eats them(maybe just sometimes) but Tyler only sells them because he needs money or just because he’s trying to be a supportive cousin😭 I don’t like this at all so I might delete it and re do it

Tags: @spikedfearn thank you for helping me come up with the Tyler idea🙏 also thank you for matching my freak with this

Pairings: Tyler Harrison x fem!reader x Bjorn

Warnings: cannibalism mentioned, mocking, reader being held in a prison cell, cannionbalistic Tyler and Bjorn, manipulation, false hope, corrupted!Tyler, degrading and praising , dub con, oral f!receiving, lying, Tyler being desperate to just touch a girl in general, orgasm denial, p in v, non protected sex

You’ve been there for at least two weeks, of course you have no way of tracking time but it feels fitting, two weeks of being stuck in a cage with cold hard floors, you also have a small shitty mattress and a thin blanket but it doesn’t help much when it’s night time and freezing cold, the only upside to this is you still have all your limbs also Bjorn brings you food down every day, you shouldn’t really trust the food he brings you but it really does taste good and you also negotiated with him to get the chains of your ankles, another good thing.

You’ve notice that Bjorn isn’t always there, you assume he goes out to the city for groceries or something, but you don’t know.

Your laying on the mattress that hurts your back, just staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs which immediately makes you sit up, you heard Bjorns car leaving a hour ago which means he wouldn’t be back so who is that?

A fairly tall man comes down the stairs, you can’t see him front on but from the back he has short brunette hair and he’s well built, he walks over to the door of the cell and looks at you, now that you can see him front on he looks the same as he does from the back except now that your looking at him front on you notice he he has brown eyes “So your the new girl my cousin has down ere’, Bjorn wasn’t kidding when he said yer’ a pretty thing”Tyler says he smirks slightly, eyes roaming over your form before he leans against the cage.

"Don't worry, I don’t usually come down ‘ere" He says "just wanted to check you out, see if tha’ dick head cousin of mine was telling the truth" He mutters, you just look at him, your even more confused now, is this some kind of fucked up family business? “What do you want.”You ask bluntly, Tyler chuckles “No need to snap a’ me luv, it’s jus’ such a shame, a pretty girl like you down here all by yer’self..”He trails off, noticing how scared you look "ya' gonna keep looking at me like that luv’?.. You look terrified..." he chuckles softly "I could make ya' a deal" he offers, noticing the way your eyes light up with what seems like hope “how bout’ ya’ let me touch and and I’ll let ya’ walk straight outta’ ere’?”he asks, tilting his head to the side “c’mon I’m sure you wanna’ be touched, hm? It must get lonely down ere’..”he mocks, taking keys out of his pocket and opening the cell door and stepping inside, walking over to you.

“I can distract you for a bit, take your mind of all this.”He mutters, placing a hand on your chin and pushing it up so your looking at him “and I’ll get something outta’ it too of course, but so will you and tha’ will be gettin’ outta’ ere’, so?..”He asks, you clench your jaw, if you say no you stay in here for who knows how long, if you say yes you’ll get out of there, it’s a no brainer really. “Fine.”You huff out stubbornly, just like that and he’s kissing you, tongue probing at your bottom lip asking for access, left hand sliding up your shirt to lightly grope at your breast through your bra, other hand is busy sliding down your shorts, thumb pushing your panties to the side so he can sink two fingers knuckle deep into your wet core, you moan quietly and buck your hips against his hand, he moves his fingers in and out of you at a torturous pace.

Tyler presses kisses down your neck, stopping on a certain spot to lightly bite at it, he continues kissing down your body until he gets to your thighs, he pulls your panties down and he pulls his fingers out of you just as you were on the edge of orgasm, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and maintains eye contact as he sucks them clean “taste so sweet, so good..”He mutters before leaning down, his warm mouth wrapping around your core, your hand immediately going to his hair, fisting at it slightly to bring him closer. He’s eating you out like he’s been craving to eat someone out, his jaw is flexing as his tongue works over your slit, going from little licks to gentle sucks “Mh, Bjorn was right, such pathetic noises comin’ from ya’, you we’re jus’ sittin’ ere’ beggin’ ta’ be touched, pathetic almost..”He hums against your core, sending jolts of pleasure through your body “taste so sweet though, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted thats f’sure..”He sucks on your clit, your on the brink of orgasm once again, just like before Tyler pulls away from you, licking his lips, you think he’s gonna just walk out now but instead he undoes his belt and thrusts into you, no warning at all for you, he rocks his hips eagerly against you, his rock hard cock aching for release inside of you. “Feel s’ good too, fuck Bjorn wasn’t lying bout’ how tight you are..”He groans. You whimper under him, clenching around him tightly. Tyler burys his face into your neck as he cums inside you, the head of his cock pressing against your insides, your about to cum around him but before you have the chance he pulls out, it’s just cruel at this point. Tyler smirks at you before standing up “well-“he tucks himself back into his pants and does his belt up along with brushing his clothing off “a deals a deal.”he motions to the door, walking out of the cage himself.

you quickly pull your underwear and shorts on, your so relieved you can finally leave, as soon as your about to walk out Tyler slams the door on your face. “C’mon, you really thought you were gonna’ get out tha’ easily?”He mocks, smirking at the anger on your face “sorry luv. Can’t let ya’ out, ma’ cousin clearly has ya’ in ere’ for business reasons.”he says casually before locking the door again and walking back upstairs.

[beef-brisket]

Adam: Well, don't get too excited. It'll only get worse. You're going to hate this bitch.

Lucifer followed Adam as he walked further into the house. He actually felt at home here if it wasn't for the feeling of being watched.

He looked around in draws and cabinets for bullets and supplies.

Lucifer: So. Dare I ask for the story of Velvette?

Adam: She's not that interesting. Fucking mental. Always thought she was ugly, then the parasite grew out of her head, and fucked up half her face. Which made her shit even worse.

Lucifer: ...So she's nuts because she thinks she's ugly?

Adam: In a way. She shares her parasite with a doll. Who unbelievably is also nuts.

Lucifer scoffs: Great story.

Adam: Thanks. Didn't make it up. Just- don't trust anything here. Especially yourself.

Lucifer: Should I trust you?

Adam smirks: You don't have much of a choice, do you?

Lucifer glares. Smart ass.

They find a shitty looking elevator and head down. Lucifer feels extremely nervous. First Eve and now whatever the fuck is going on down here.

They walk into a fake medical room. The lights suddenly shut off, and Lucifer feels tiny hands claw at him. That's when a voice speaks.

Voice: Look who's in my home! I didn't send you an invite! But I don't mind guests! Hello Adam! It's been a while~.

Adam: Hey, Val. Still a creepy fuck, I see.

Val: And you're still... whatever the fuck you are~.

Lucifer winced as the lights suddenly turn on: It took my fucking gun!

Adam: Yeah. He does that.

Val: No guns inside~.

Lucifer looks around, but he freezes as he sees a giant, life-size doll on an autopsy table. It looks like Eve.

Lucifer: W-What is this?

Adam: Another one of Velvette's games. Just- hurry up and find the flask so we can get out of here. You're going to be effected by the flower until we get far away from here.

Lucifer: You're not affected?

Adam: No, no one with the parasite is. Count yourself lucky.

Lucifer doesn't feel lucky. He feels extremely unlucky.

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

[my-current-obsession]

FE Engage: makes it very difficult to use and level every character since the bonus battles meant for grinding scale to be above or on par with your strongest units, and also the entire map immediately charges and dogpiles you.

ALSO FE Engage: shames you by having characters you haven’t used for a while notice and ASK to be used.

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[flownwrong]

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

read on ao3

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots. 

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

[ant-diary]

I think I have maybe decided to tell someone I no longer want to be friends with them, but I'm wondering if I should give it a few more days before I commit to it

[dmagedgoods]

Dear Sal - why white? I'm sure you could make a statement and would look great in other colours as well. Is there anything that could make you break from this style?

“Don’t make a mistake. There are many colors I enjoy. – At the right place, moment, or on the right person. But in the end, isn’t white the true statement?”

He stays serious, almost solemn.

“You can hardly deny its sophisticated, classy elegance, the striking effect it provokes or the impression  of clean perfection it causes. It stands for some of my ideals, traits I expect myself to embody.

But even more importantly, it’s a symbol of hope and light, radiant and immaculate.

Not only do I prefer white in terms of fashion, I also enjoy surrounding myself with white objects, materials and designs – merged with hints of gold or shades of dark green. It helps me to think clearly and to feel inspired and at home.

At times, you’ll see me make an exception, out of a mood, or if a special occasion calls for it. I enjoy wearing grey every once in a while, turquoise, dark green, or blue and black. For the last masquerade, I chose a vibrant ensemble of violet and gold.

I still won’t ever break from my style of white elegance. – Not as long as I live up to it.

Well, but you are by no means wrong in your assumption that I would be able to convince wearing color too. A while back I got dared to try on a yellow suit. I claimed that it is hardly a challenge for me to look fashionable in this chosen ensemble and I had to offer proof. But go ahead and decide for yourself. I attached the picture for you.”

[silasbug]

reminder: stop asking SO their opinion on my art.

spoiler: it's always disappointing.

[brainfullofbees]

.

[elytrafemme]

you know i oscillate between appreciating and resenting this fact about me (which is VERY maretypical tbh) b/c of how complicated it makes things but in this moment i must step back from my emotions and say. holy SHIT i am so glad i do not possess a drop of impulsivity in me holy fucking shit oh my God.

[ducks-love-peas]

kind nonny who sent me this ask - thank you so so much! <3 I didn't want to answer it with the link bc I didn't want to send traffic there and now the post is gone.

I haven't had a lot of free time lately (as evidenced by my absence from my blogs over here T_T) but I actually started working on some new gifs two days ago, and this makes me want to just... not. I spent literal hours capturing and coloring and painstakingly tweaking those gifs - not to mention fighting the stupid new editor to get them arranged properly in a set - and having them reposted is an honestly terrible feeling. people, please don't do this. the reblog button is RIGHT THERE.

[disdaidal]

I don’t know how I actually played RE3 Remake 3 times 3 years ago (3x heh) on Standard/Normal difficulty and actually survived the part where Carlos defends Jill and Tyrell at the hospital because--

The loser me now is trying to play it on Assisted aka Easy Mode and fuck that.

[beechicory]

Argh.