#even though he warned me

[bearmageddon]

Cake pic! Because I’m proud of that slice.

The cake itself is a bit dry bc I cooked it in a rice cooker (our new oven needs a new part) and bc I halved the syrup as to not use up all my dads cherry liqueur and then didn’t fully make up the difference with luxardo syrup. But it’s still good!! I definitely needed an extra cup of whipped cream for my sanity tho.

…It looks like some scp from a letsplay I saw 15 years ago

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

with Luo Qingyang and Lou Binghe having the same last name I got start thinking of an au: like what if lbh was her little brother

tho what's funnier lbh in the mdzs universe or that means tlj is lou qingyangs dad in that au

I wanted to give this a genuine answer but I kept getting distracted by Lou Binghe...so...yeah.

[ruporas]

asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)

[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.

The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.

Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."

A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]

[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Lilia reading freshly thirteen year old, completely innocent and oblivious William Kaplan’s future and being like:

Okayyyyy lemme just un-know that real quick so it doesn’t haunt me forever🥲

I can’t properly express how much I love her

[tiarnanabhfainni]

i loved the part of the book where piranesi resolves to take better care of himself while he's rediscovering his own history. he just has so much compassion for himself! the journal upsets him so he takes a week off and does things he enjoys and then he settles into a safe place when he wants to tackle the subject again. and he doesn't believe The Other when he's told about his amnesia! he values his own insights and his own knowledge of the House even when fucking ketterley is actively trying to undermine his sense of self. piranesi's gentle treatment of himself and the person he used to be is genuinely so moving.

[neonhellscape]

Him..............

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Togami Time! Byakuya Time works too but I like the alliteration of the first. Spoilers ahead of course!

For Byakuya's casual attire, I gave him that very standard rich man polo. I did spice it up a bit with a black, fairly slick turtleneck underneath that hugs his body. I decided to also have his polo tucked in for extra style points along with the addition of the belt. I like giving this man belts after all. Unless he's in his fancy pajamas, he's wearing a belt the majority of the time! And, of course, his clothes, though a bit basic in a way, cost a lot of money. Sorta honed slight bits from his bad ending attire oddly enough. It wasn't much but just that sorta sporty look in a way. I dunno what the jacket he wore would be called but it gives me slight sporty vibes. Thus, Byakuya's giving off some flamboyant golfer energy which, to be fair, he probably knows how to golf for the most part. For his business attire, I initially drew a more elaborate design (no worries. it'll be seen at some point!!) though I toned it down a lot more for work. He may be fashionable but he's also a man of practicality in many regards. Thus, he's got a pocket watch and a basic suit with some flairs. Specifically, I gave him some emerald colored brooches in his hair and on his tie, hinting back to how he likes the Scarab Brooch in game. After all, with age, I feel the main facets of his interests wouldn't change. The guy is still into those dark academia type stuff. Also, the gold elbow pads are just cus. I dunno. They might be a bit much but I felt a bit bad for just putting him in a suit at the same time! Some other bits I wish to mention about his business attire is that, though he does wear this for work, for my future AU, I see him working a lot at home as well! He's still quite involved with the Togami Conglomerate, but he's found a nice balance where he only needs to travel to other countries sometimes, not the majority. Byakuya deserves a break after all the stuff he went through both pre-tragedy, during the tragedy, and the clean up post-tragedy. That clean up is still occurring still (it's about a decade after dr3/the anime) so there's still work to be done. Byakuya has a bit less to do with the whole "helping to rebuild the economy thing" though since I like to think that, with his influence, he helps with that. Back to his work though, he mostly does this in a designated office area in his condo. He also does this in his mansion sometimes though crashes out into some of the other's places to work as well or just because he can. Speaking of that, though he does live in his condo, he likes to roam a lot and sometimes ends up staying over with the others. It started out as a one time deal before it slowly became the thing he does. His primary targets are Kyoko and Makoto in their apartment and Toko and Komaru in theirs. He does go to Hiro's place as well though to "make sure the idiot isn't causing trouble" and he also goes to Hina's too though less than Hiro's. He'd mostly just be in Toko and Komaru's place if he wanted to check up on Hina cus, though they are friends, the two still like to butt heads. Plus, in this AU, Hina doesn't even live that far away from Toko and Komaru anyway. I headcanon that they all live fairly close from one another cus they all still like spending time together. Thus, thems the rules in this AU. However, despite this man's resilience to not stay at his own damn condo, he's not mooching off of any of them... for the most part. He makes sure to repay anything, sometimes to an annoying degree like him making himself coffee in the morning and then just chucking money in their face before they can say anything. Either that or the man just goes and orders a fancy ass dinner while saying that he "ordered too much" which is just his weird way of showing that he cares for them all. That's not to say that he does that all the time. He understands fully that none of his friends are here for his money. The man can sometimes do it anyway out of habit though he's less bad with this than he was years ago.

For his body type, it's fairly basic, perhaps a little average. A little squishy in some areas which ironically makes him kinda huggable despite him still being aloof in nature. His slight squishy qualities are practically hidden to those who don't know him though. Besides, though he is squishy, that is not to say he should, by any means, be underestimated. He shares this quality with my Kyoko design in some ways (gotta love the togiri parallels) Basically, though he's not super muscular, he could still kick ass. Besides, I feel he wouldn't be one to try and get super buff and all anyway. He probably COULD gain some very good muscle though. He probably just doesn't want to. Additionally, I have him in slightly different glasses. For one, they are to differentiate him much more from his canon design. I also thought the chains would be cool and that the rounded frames would be a nice contrast to all the spikes I gave him in his hair. It also compliments his slightly softer appearance as well, being an older man as well pushing 30. Gives him more of a sense that he's got a bit of fallibility. That he's still a human at the end of the day! He also is a bit nicer with age as well though still Byakuya Togami of course!

Out of all the elements I changed about my favorite guy, I think my favorite aspect is his hair. So many cute tufts! Plus, I am a sucker for him having long hair. I also feel I made a good balance between making him look like he could totally pull off the Polaris thing again and having him still look like a guy. But also, he's a bit androgynous as well! Hope you all enjoy this loser's design! The next design will be very soon! (1) | (4)

[flowercrowngods]

making a real post for @rvspecter pls bear with me

anyway harvey hurt fic where after mike is busted and given a second chance at life (or a third, really) and pearson specter litt seizes the chance to instate a pro bono department mike is heading because he wants to get it right this time and harvey will do just about anything to keep him, these two men finally mention this Thing between them and decide to give it a try. and it’s good. it’s fragile and it’s tentative and it’s gentle and it’s the same as it’s always been but with more tenderness, more honesty, more vulnerability (and more sex of course) and it’s good. against all odds, it’s so good.

but then one day, long after hours, donna approaches harvey in his office and her eyes are shining, but it’s not a glow harvey is used to — he never wants to get used to donna’s eyes filled with tears so he asks her what’s wrong, but he’s not ready for the answer. because she tells him she can’t work for him anymore. she tells him she’s leaving him — to work for louis at first, maybe to quit altogether. the fact do the matter is she can’t be the Donna to his Harvey anymore because she’s in love with him and she thought she had it under control but she doesn’t, okay, she doesn’t and it hurts and she wants to be happy for him and mike because they’re so good but all this time she’d never thought that harvey would ever find someone real, and now that he has, well. she can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t tear her up inside and she doesn’t want to put that on any of them so she’s doing the mature thing and leaving. to heal. to get over him. to come back stronger.

and she’s so, so sorry.

they listen to gordon one last time, they toast to thirteen years one last time — her words, not his, but they drive a knife into his heart nonetheless because harvey doesn’t do one last-anything and yet here sits his best friend and asks for one last night together and who is he but to give her everything she wants and more. she’s his donna — still, tonight; one last night. she is.

he doesn’t tell mike that night. couldn’t, even if he wanted to; because he doesn’t have the words. but in the secure hold of mike’s arms, he says “donna won’t be working for me anymore, starting tomorrow.” and he doesn’t mention how that means that donna went to jessica and louis first, he doesn’t mention that he was the last to know, he doesn’t explain how he wasn’t given a chance to fix this — not this time. “donna quit?” mike asks, and harvey swallows, shakes his head, shrugs. “just me,” he says. “just me.” and when mike pulls him closer and holds him tighter and tells him “i’m so sorry, harvey,” it’s the first i’m sorry that night that he believes.

unfortunately, sorry never fixed anything.

especially when soon after, mike finds out just why donna left. and he gets all up in his head about it, he allows himself to spiral because he’s so ready to succumb to tunnel vision and obsessing over solutions to problems that aren’t his to fix. and so he tells harvey that he can’t be the thing that comes between him and donna. they’re soulmates after all, mike can’t bear to be the one to sever their bond. harvey doesn’t understand. he’s the one who’s supposed to lose his mind over having lost his best friend and pretend like everything is okay, what right does mike have to make that about himself, to take it upon himself to fix everything when harvey’s the fixer, harvey is the one who solves problems and protects people. but mike won’t hear any of that and tells harvey that he can’t do it like this if it means hurting donna because she’s his best friend, too, and he wants to get it right this time. he doesn’t want to build this new life on decisions that hurt his people — not again. he’s hurt enough people, he can’t keep doing it.

harvey wants to ask him why he’s always so ready to protect everyone at his expense. isn’t this thing between them, their relationship, isn’t it meant to stop them from hurting each other? why is it okay to hurt harvey, but not to hurt donna?

he doesn’t ask any of that, only tells him that they’re not in high school, and that they’re either doing this or not, but he refuses to base their relationship on whether or not his best friend is okay with seeing him happy or not. “you’re either in this with me, mike, or you’re out. that hasn’t changed, and it won’t, because donna will get over it and everything will be back to normal before you know it.”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes i do, because we’re grown-ups and we get over things.”

famous last words, it turns out, because mike just slowly shakes his head, agonising over this and not thinking, clearly not thinking when he says, “i’m sorry, harvey. i can’t to this; not like this.”

and all he can do is watch mike’s back as he all but runs from him, dragging his heart behind him, through the dirt, uncaring as bits and pieces of it chip off with every step mike takes, with every second that passes and allows the words i can’t and i’m sorry, harvey echo in the hollow of his chest.

we’re grown-ups. we get over things. well, tough fucking luck.

and this is how harvey loses the two most important people in his life in the matter of a week. before he knows it, he’s alone, left to fend for himself and hollowed out. his walls are broken down, deconstructed piece by piece by carefully, gentle hands to reveal what’s underneath — only for the hands to retreat, letting in the icy cold and accepting what’s inside to wither and die.

there’s a reason harvey specter makes his own luck; the universe isn’t very forthcoming otherwise. a fact that is proven when he finds a stranger outside his building when all he wants is to curl up and breathe through the cracks of his broken hearts that have pierced his lungs, they must have, surely they must have, because he can’t breathe. and he doesn’t learn how to breathe again when the woman — a kid, really, merely twenty-five — reveals that she’s his half sister. because it turns out the reason lily specter was so ready to up and leave all those years ago; the reason she didn’t fight for her family and instead blamed it all on harvey, was because she was pregnant. and she lied about it — for twenty-six years.

amelia selene specter is the little sister harvey has always wished for — but cancer is a curse that rests on the specter family, and while marcus got lucky twice, selene isn’t. she didn’t have the money for medical resources, and it’s eating harvey alive that he didn’t know, that there was no way for him to help her and that there’s no way now.

but there is. because selene has two kids, seven and four, and she needs his help because they can’t get lost in the system, they can’t live with total strangers or be separated because the system doesn’t actually care about children, they only care about not feeling guilty. and she won’t ask lily. these two angels must be kept from her at all costs because she ruined two families already, she won’t ruin this one.

and harvey is obsessed with the thought of more family, he needs to take care of and be there for someone and he’s ready to take on the world to protect his niece and nephew — but he’s not warm, he’s not available, he’s not even at home most of the time, nor is his place suitable for kids.

he agrees to take them in and find a solution though. he promises selene that he��ll be there for them. he’ll always be there. and when he gets to meet them — a few days before his sister dies way too young, way too alive for something like death to not rip him apart entirely — he gets attached instantly and vows to himself and to selene that nothing will happen to them as long as he’s there.

even though harvey just lost his family — the one he chose, the one he was born into, and the one he never got to meet. even though harvey’s entire world was deconstructed with no one around to put it back together. even though he doesn’t know how, because evidently he got it wrong every single time, harvey gets to build a new family with these kids. and though it tears him up inside, it heals something inside him too — and sometimes they balance each other out, and he can breathe again for just a little while as he reads to charlotte because she’s feisty and afraid of nightmares and not listening when he says she’ll be tired in the morning because “i’m tired in the morning anyway, but now i wanna read” and he trades her going to bed for a bedtime story, and she falls asleep with her face pressed into his side.

it’s so frail, though, so fragile, this little family, and he knows what it’s like when everything breaks. he knows what it’s like to lose one’s family — over and over and over again. and he’s terrified that he’s building himself back up the wrong way. he’s terrified because there’s no one keeping him together but both his hands are occupied holding these children that cry for their mama.

he’s terrified because he’s not supposed to be doing this alone. but everyone else has made their choice and he, as always, is just there to bear the consequences and try to turn it into a win.

one day, he will. he has to. and one day, he’s not alone anymore.

[heteromerous-rhyming]

guys, can - can we stop saying that percy jackson is an unreliable narrator who thinks he's an idiot? bc like. rereading the books.

he's doesn't??? think he's an idiot????

like sure he'll say things like "echidna.... isn't that a type of anteater?" but he doesn't think that he's himself an idiot for that.

let me quote you the book: "Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady’s shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes."

HE doesn't think he's an idiot, but he does assume that YOU, THE READER, will think that. and that's true to his life experience, true to his school experience, true to anyone with a learning disability like his.

[solplease]

OH WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK

[tacogoats]

Thinking about a Durge who has rejected Bhaal, and whatever person they used to be, but still secretly longs for their lost memories. A Durge that, despite the answers the man could give them, would never re-ignite that strange passion they were shown they once had for Gortash. A Durge that has, for all purposes to the others in their party, moved on. A Durge that, six months after that day atop the Netherbrain, at a party celebrating their new life, receives a strange letter with an even stranger gadget hidden inside.

The meeting at the inauguration was a strange one. Despite Gortash's very obvious elation at seeing what he'd called his 'dearest friend', the man had no hesitation very proudly detailing the Dark Urge's grand scheme; their grand design for the world to be.

In front of all their friends and 'new' lover, of course.

They were furious, and rightly so. Gortash must have known what he was doing. To isolate them, to bring them back to him. The person who accepted them for all they were, all they are, and all they could be - together.

It wasn't enough to win the Dark Urge back to him, and although they'd tentatively teamed up in the end - he had died. Not by the Urge's hand, but in some ways, his own. The group had left Gortash's body within the Prism, and simply moved on. There were bigger problems, and no one really was sad to see him go. Right?

The Urge remembers a letter found in Moonrise Towers. Gortash liked gadgets, according to Ketheric. Evidence was abundant enough with the Steel Watchers, among other things. The item is strangely shaped, entirely too small, and with a simple touch, comes to life.

It reminds them of the strange picture they had seen at the Iron Throne. Gortash's visage shone through a glass, moving, talking - warning them to leave. Answering them, praising them for listening.

What a strange contraption, they'd thought all those months ago.

And then, now, there he was again. A picture, in their hand. A moving picture. Speaking with his voice, wearing his weary face - so, so weary - but not the same as before.

This had passed already. The voice did not answer them this time. It was simply impossible - the man was dead, but not quite gone in this moment.

He speaks of the inauguration like it had just happened. His joy at seeing his favourite 'assassin' again, which he says with a sad smile and a moment of silence. A heavy sigh follows, rubbing at his eyes - which they can see are so much darker than they last remember.

He is tired.

Gortash speaks of their time together, before Orin - and how Orin torments him day and night now that they had both confirmed the Urge's return. She appears with their face, taunting him some days. Other days she sends assassins that wear the same, and he simply cannot let his guard down anymore. But he knew it was them that day.

They can see the exhaustion that pulls down his features, makes his words heavier. This is not the Archduke speaking to him in this moment - it is a tired, broken down man that has just seen a ghost.

Yet they cling to every word anyway, because even though this is a broken down man who is terrified of the ghost - the man still hopes the ghost will remember him, too.

They don't. But he doesn't know that, not this little picture of him, anyway.

The picture says that if they are seeing this recording, it means he is already dead - and although he had planned to sway them back to his side, he may not have been given the chance, and refuses to allow the opportunity to share what the two of them once had slip away.

He would gift unto them the memories that he could, even beyond death. The bloody ones, the happy ones, the painful ones.

And he talks, he smiles, he even cries.

And so do they.

[the-holy-ghosted]

I’ve seen that you like herons. I recently saw one (I think it’s a heron?) in a tree

OOOHOHO YEAH BABY thats a birdee... hard to say what kind that is from the angle im definitely not a bird expert but it looks like a juvinile great blue heron . . . if i had 2 take a guess. what a lovely fellow thank you

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

When I watched rebels and ahsoka I couldn’t have cared less about thrawn

I am now reading his book and I care about him and eli SO MUCH

[shannonsketches]

YeLLS

I always imagined geets had to have been a bit more chill (although still on the quiet/distant side) in the future timeline after Goku was permadead, but I love this dialogue for patting my little headcanon on top of the head

[synonymroll648]

from a vibes perspective, i totally understand why so many people look at keefe and go ‘this guy would be the male equivalent of a wine aunt when he’s older’. 

but. but. 

taking lore into consideration, in my heart, he’s terrified of alcohol (even if he tries really hard to hide it). because. like. his first exposure is almost guaranteed to be through cassius, and cassius canonically threw a glass extremely close to him at least once when he was, like, 8. maybe cassius wasn’t always extra nasty when he was drunk, but there’s gotta be a correlation in keefe’s brain between risking getting seriously hurt (emotionally or physically) and alcohol consumption that’s really hard for him to shake.