#i made myself cry with this guys

[isezrahomeyet]

OUR BOY IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lostreverb]

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS / HEADCANONS ABOUT MAX COOPERMAN

just realized that aside from jake, most of max's relationships with people were either superficial or transactional which he probably just thought was normal growing up as a rich kid who was a "loser" learning that ppl only liked him when he had something to give them.

of course, when he was younger everyone loved to go to his birthday parties b/c his parents were loaded and they always planned something extravagant to try and make up for the fact they were never really around but, as he got older his parents stopped really caring to put on those parties. after that, no one bothered to give max any attention or befriend him unless they saw his wealth as something useful, or just brought him around so he could be the butt of the joke. and the second they got what they wanted from him they discarded him. being the kind-hearted and naive boy he is, he doesn't really fully grasp it until after ryan beats him to a pulp. he brushes off what happens but it honestly profoundly affects him from then on.

he thought ryan was a friend but turns out he was just being taken advantage of, his parents didn't care to come see him in the hospital despite how serious his condition was, and jake, the only genuine friend he ever had, ends up leaving (prolly bc college) and max later refers to him in passing as "a guy i brought up back in the day" which hints that they likely don't talk anymore.

so college starts. a fresh slate. max guards himself with this macho (with a very small hint of being an asshole) persona. he's got a leadership position as the RA of his floor, got two nerdy "friends" that are very reminiscent of ryan and his guys (remember when they snicker along with him at mike?), and a semi-famous reputation online. he loses weight the summer before college and decides to stop fighting (probably caused by the trauma from ryan) but we see he uses hand grips so even he definitely wants to keep himself strong for his physique and to protect himself. though max is still fairly lean which is likely an insecurity for him. the last thing he ever wants to be seen as is a dork.

let's not even talk about how being conditioned like this affects his views on women and relationships. first off in highschool he only gets attention from baja's friends b/c of his association with jake, then in college he gets all this attention because he's "attractive" now and has this cool car, dorm and fame due to the fighting videos + promotions. he's (mostly) only ever made out with drunk women at parties or events that just throw themselves at him but it never goes further than that.

he likely has made himself believe that he should think of women as prizes (again as awful as ryan was max kind of molds his new self with his influences subconsciously. he had the kind of attention, the girls, the intimidation factor max aspires to have), but if a girl were to ever genuinely like him it would fry his brain. he wouldn't understand the idea of someone wanting to spend time with him, even if he wasn't really doing anything. to intently listen to him and partake in his interests. or how much happier you'd look after just going on a walk around campus with him vs. when he bought you jewelry or flowers.

it left him with a feeling he only experienced once before when jake saved him, and went after ryan.

it just clicks for him like-

oh. this is how it feels to be genuinely cared for.

it's not soon after he realizes that you tell him you love him for the first time, while cuddling in bed (he's sure his mother used to say it to him when he was younger but he honestly can't really remember anymore-- the most communication he has with his parents now is the deposits into his bank account).

once the door closes, and you've left for your classes.. he feels the lingering heat of your lips, your words echoing in his head and the way you looked at him...

and he cries.

[sleepanonymous]

I wanted to post this here because it's very important to signal boost things like this, no matter how small of a gesture they seem.

[not-equippedforthis]

shout out to the very distinct feeling of 'oh god i'm going to become at least mildly annoying about this aren't i'. binging ds9 season 1 and i outright giggled at a very small mannerism julian did. got hyped when o'brien showed up. grinned widely at kira just Being There. felt the urge to yell and cheer and scream at the slightest hint of whump. the character dynamics and friendships are beginning to interweave like strings in a tapestry and i almost detonated upon realising this. uh oh.

[acediaedeus]

I like it when ppl write Ichigo kissing/touching Grimmjow’s mask, bc that’s such an undeniably Hollow part of him, it’s sharp and dangerous, even scary to some, but Ichigo still loves and cherishes it, for him it’s comforting to touch the jawbone, trace the teeth, bc it means Grimmjow is there, right under his fingertips.

and it’d be comforting for Grimmjow too, bc if he ever doubts that Ichigo really wants this, if any thought of Ichigo closing his eyes and pretending that he’s just another shinigami/human and not a soul-devouring monster creeps into his mind, it is all destroyed with gentle hands, light fingertips and soft lips, bc Ichigo loves Grimmjow, all of him, for who he is, not despite.

[melit0n]

Give me five whole minutes.

Credits: Me

[leosgreyfringe]

happy birthday, leo! look how far you’ve come!!

[laylakeating]

You gotta step into the daylight and let it go.

[thedeafprophet]

Till The Fever Broke

"The sickness struck like a viper, curled around in its vice grip, teeth sinking deep into all who crossed its path. Not even the girl had been spared in its path, brutal and unyielding. What other way could nature be?" Memory's a fickle beast; So too is illness. Both will pull you under, if given the chance

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem/Original Fallen London Character(s), Past Original Character & Original Character

Tags: Illnesses, Fever, Nightmares, Flashbacks, Past Child Death, Period typical child death, Period Typical Illness, Survivor Guilt, Grief/Mourning

Also On Ao3

Illness arrives like an unwanted solicitor, tracking you down on an otherwise fine day. By the time you get the warning knock at the door, it is already far too late. For one author, this warning spell came all too often, a familiar, damning arrival that inspired unease and upset whenever it deigned to make its appearance.

Jamie knew all too well that they were doomed, that evening when they felt an all too familiar scratch at the back of their throat. They'd kept up a futile hope it'd just been a matter of one too many speeches hailing in their doom.

The morning brought a pounding headache and far too much mucus- they knew they could never be so lucky. 

When they at last forced open their eyes from where they lay in bed, Jamie could see the edge of their reflection in the mirror across the room, looking almost worse than they felt. Already their hair was starting to slick with sweat, that faint sheen of pink of flushed skin making the heat of sickness all apparent. They would be blaming the bags under their eyes on this matter too. 

Jamie groaned and hid their head under the covers, when Mary-Anne arrived to rouse them, the one person in this house who paid clear mind to schedule. Jamie had already decided on their plan, informing her that they would take no need of her assistance today, and to send word of cancellation to the next few days' endeavours. 

There was simply no way they would be seen in public like this.

It seemed their dismissal was paid no mind, when Mary-Anne returned in a matter of minutes, the housekeeper arriving with tea, and a bowl of light soup that ‘Edith had already set about and prepared, and wouldn't it be a right shame to waste it?'

Now wasn’t that just typical. Jamie pouted slightly over their cup of tea as they drank, the warmth in their chest surely either the tea itself, or the dangerous rising heat of the illness.

They still tried to work after that, of course, as much as they could manage. Ignore the dizziness and sort through an unedited draft. Trick the mind into thinking it was fine - no worse than working with a nagging hangover, headache and all. 

It lasted only so long, before weakness and exhaustion dragged them back to bed. Jamie glared at the lamp in their bedroom, feeling much themself like a light trying to burn with no fuel. They felt as if they were covered in a cold flame, the surface of their skin a raging fire even as they shivered. 

But it was not the weakness - or the heat, the cold,the cough beginning to rear its ugly head - that gave Jamie pause. Their pulse ran quick from more than just exertion. They fidgetted from more than just boredom, more than just the discomfort that hounded every toss and turn.

Illness was a familiar beast, a stalking predator that Jamie knew all too well. Apprehension shook through their very core, a fear primal and deep within them, bringing forth all their worries from oh so long ago. With nothing to distract them, their thoughts ran wild, and there is nothing more dangerous than an artist alone with their mind. 

When sleep finally arrived, in fits and moments of feverish tosses and turns, it was not without its teeth.

For when sleep comes, so too does dreams.

-

Sunlight - real, true sunlight, oh so very long ago - filtered in through a crack in the curtains. It was early, the calling bell of morning barely rung, as the little girl blinked blearily at what had woken her. 

The girl's friend giggled quietly from where she sat, nudging her awake. “C’mon, you said you’d show me what y’found in the woods! If we don’t go now we’ll miss our chance.”

Confusion. Bewilliderment. How-

“Where are we going?” Grass, brilliant and green underfoot, as the two girls ventured beneath the trees, lit by light filtered through their leaves. The dirt here would stain the orphanage clothes, and they would receive more than just an earful for it, but some ventures were worth the consequences. 

The friend giggled “I don’t know! You were the one who said you found something out here.” She swept her foot at a pebble, before jumping up onto a fallen log. 

That’s right, the girl had found something, long ago when she had ventured off on her own, hidden away from prying eyes that rarely looked towards her.  

A hidden cache of wild strawberries, a harbinger of the season to come, dotted along the forest’s clearing. What a treasure! What a find! It was not often that fruit so fresh was acquired, and none that had to be shared.

But perhaps, just this once, the girl would be willing. For as rare as the fruit was, so too was a friend. 

Fruit crushed between small, gentle hands, shared without an ounce of expectation.

Red can be sweet, remember? Red can mean something gentle, something innocent.  

Not just blood, not just-

The little girl hissed in pain as a piece of cloth was pressed gently against the scrape. She pouted at her friend, a path of tears still clear.

“Y’sure are clumsy Jam,” her friend had said, and the girl had pouted more, proclaiming that it was hardly her fault the branch had gotten underfoot. 

They must venture out once more, she declared with great force, and gain vengeance against the evil branch that had made a most fierce enemy this day!

Her friend had broken into a fit of giggles at the proclamation, and the next adventure planning set far into motion.

They should have set out sooner.

She was too young, then, to know. For one to understand that time is always ticking towards an end, first, time must be lost.

The sickness struck like a viper, curled around in its vice grip, teeth sinking deep into all who crossed its path. Not even the girl had been spared in its path, brutal and unyielding.

 What other way could nature be?

The world became as if through cotton, the pain and pulsing pressure far more prominent than the symptoms of the illness by itself. 

All mattered not to the girl, as she sat her silent vigil at the bedside. She hoped everyday would be the day the tide would turn, that breathing would get stronger, and the cough would end.

Every day, she hoped, through her own aches and pains, and the growing silence that would never truly fade. 

Every day, until the waiting stopped.

A gentle tug at her sleeve, a pulling of attention, the little girl having to lean in close to hear. Her friend's voice was barely above a creaking whisper, eyes red with tears, with so much left unseen. 

One last time, one last chance. The forest laid unbidden with so many secrets left untold. The night was dark, the air warm, and the sun would break through the leaves once more. 

“Just wait, okay Molly? Please, just-”

With every effort, every muscle, every cough and sniffle suppressed, the little girl hauled both herself and her friend as far as she could manage, there among the grass and leaves.

It was there the little girl sat, clutching her friend's hand, waiting for a dawn that would never come. 

-

Waking from the dream was like being dragged to the ocean’s surface after the water had already filled your lungs, still feeling the cling of waves that threatened to pull you under, soaked to the bone by the danger lurking below you, waiting yet again to strike.  

It was not the crush of salt water that clung to them however: it was sweat, clinging to their forehead and their body and surely ruining their nightgown, beyond being a downright disgust to deal with. Sleep had given them no respite from the illness that clung to their being, mind and body alike. 

In the moments between waking and dreaming, Jamie struggled to tell which was which. The past was an undercurrent always around them, and they had never been the best swimmer. Everything felt hazy, the heat of fever and the heat of a past summer's day entirely indistinct. 

Jamie startled only slightly when they felt a hand press against their forehead, leather cool and relieving against their skin. It should have frightened them more, but all they did was lean into the touch. 

It wasn't entirely a surprise after all. 

"My, a rough night, is it? Such a loud, screaming thing the mind can be."

His hand moved down to wipe tears from their eyes, as Jamie blinked up at him through blurry vision. Even here, the red of his coat seemed to merge into the decor of their room. Typical of him, to fit in wherever they go, not even their own home exempt from his inclusion. 

"I-" They try to speak, but the gravel in their throat sounds even worse than earlier, as they find themself leaning into a coughing fit. 

They're helped manoeuvred into a sitting position, a hand moving to run soothing circles into their back through to the end of their coughing. Jamie's throat feels all the worse for wear, as if they'd gone a week of full performances without break. It happened once, when they'd scheduled poorly in the earlier days, desperate for any sort of attention they could get, even at the expense of what they hold most dear-

A glass of water being pressed toward them distracts Jamie from their rambling thoughts, the liquid cool and relieving against their throat. 

When that is deemed satisfactory, Jamie looks up at The Manager with a somewhat less sleep-addled mind, squinting at him.

"Why are you here?" Their dreams were certainly not unique tonight, hardly seemed worthwhile to the matter. Not to mention how gross their current status was, hardly a fit to be seen in. 

“How could I not be? Sorrows are terribly loud things, my dear.” His smile didn't waver.“ To ignore a wound is to leave it to fester.” 

Anguish clawed at Jamie's throat, a deep wounded sob threatening to break the surface. So many years had passed, that memory itself all but a faded page in a long discarded book. Why did it still haunt them? Why did it still hurt?

"Time does not heal what was never fully tended to.” Jamie looks up through eyes red rimmed from tears, as The Manager reaches to brush a fallen lock of hair behind their ear. “The layers of bandages make no difference."

"Is that our burden to bear?" Jamie speaks past the strain, for who are they without their words? "To push against the tides, while all those behind us are left to drown?"

They received no answer from him. For that moment, once again, The Manager was just an old man, sitting with them in the silence.  

Still, Jamie felt the need to fill the silent void, ever encroaching upon them. As if, if they didn't speak now, the curtains would close, and words would never breach the silence again. 

"It's not fair." Barely spoken above a whisper. They couldn’t help but feel like a petulant child, ever dissuading their own grief. So many people had died, but it was this one, and this one only, that captured their mind? How shameful. How selfish. 

The Manager continued to rest a gentle hand against their cheek. "Ah, but ‘fair’ is hardly the nature of things. A pity, that.” 

"I wonder, sometimes.” They felt as if they spoke from a distance, voicing thoughts that had long been unspoken. “About who that girl could have been, if she had gotten the chance to grow." Pages of adventures, of romance, of mystery, all had been penned by their hand. Who's to say, where inspiration struck. If one is captured in words, in that way, do they live on? "She would have become something better, I'm sure. Far more deserving of the chance. I should have di-"

"No."

Jamie's rambling was all at once interrupted, a gloved hand firmly gripping their chin as their gaze was moved, sharp bronze eyes meeting brown. It seems his contentment to listen to their words had shifted all at once, his smile dropped. 

He did not loosen his grip as he spoke, his words as firm as his hold. 

“Do not speak in such a manner. The disvalue of your life serves no purpose here.” 

Jamie couldn't help but feel, perhaps, that he was being hypocritical. But there were better times to press the issue. 

They nodded slowly, as much as they could with his grip. 

"Splendid!" The usual cheery smile returned. "Now, onto other matters, shall we? You are quite in need of some rest, and I am ever so inclined to help." 

He let go of them so suddenly that Jamie startled back, falling less than gracefully back into the many pillows adorning their bed, and certainly not with an embarrassing yelp. 

Fear gripped them with a sudden surge at the concept of returning the slumber, the emotion of the dream not yet faded. A futile apprehension, but it shook them nonetheless. The fevers grip had lessened but not rescinded, and they feared so too would the memories cling the same. 

His hand stroked back their sweat clung hair once more, before resting gently on their forehead, still cool and inviting. 

“Ever so fretful are we? Worry not, I can assure that no more shall your slumber be interrupted tonight.” He gives them a wink.

What happened after that was hardly more than a blur. They recall a cool, faintly herbal smelling cloth placed upon their head, the blankets adjusted and returned to them once more, and that sleep, surely, must have returned.

What they do know for certain is that when they woke once more, the fever had lifted, and though exhaustion hounded them still, their pains were nothing more than a faint ache. 

Perhaps so too was that ache of the past - abetted yet again, for another time being. 

Memory can be fickle after all. 

[ardenrabbit]

Due to a half-hour traffic slowdown with Kesha's "Praying" on repeat, I truly have no idea how long ALASR is gonna be in the end but it's gonna be a fucking masterpiece

[marlenacantswim]

hey gang, do we all agree that ten's massive ego and god complex (or rather those traits being especially prominent in his regeneration) were a direct result of what happened in Parting of the Ways?

"marlena what the fuck do you mean" okay well think about it; ninth doctor. fresh off the time war. thinks himself unlovable, unworthy of love. just did a double genocide, including against his own people. he's returning to his old ways of lallygagging around helping humans in a more-than-desperate attempt to repress his feelings and try to mimic the person he was before the war. he's so vulnerable.

enter rose tyler. to him? she's the most amazing person in the universe. he loves her, full stop. she makes him feel like maybe he's still capable of love, but does he really trust her love for him? after all, she doesn't really know him, does she?

all that comes to a head when rose tyler becomes the bad wolf. in that moment, she sees everything. everything everything. the doctor's past, and the doctor's future. every horrible thing they did and will do.

and in that moment, with all this truth streaming constantly into her brain, most amazing person in the universe rose tyler looks at him and goes "i want to save you. you are worth saving."

bro no fucking shit ten has a motherfucking god complex, jesus christ i would too!!!

now personally i think nine would have rationalized it and been relatively Normal 'bout all that noise had he survived onwards, but unfortunately he didn't, and so when the doctor's subconscious and the universe were holding hands deciding what their new little guy should be like... well, we're already making him just for her, and she loves him.

rose tyler loves me. she loved me even when she knew me.

i'm just saying, that "Bad Wolf chose to save me" to "the laws of time are mine to command" pipeline is a straight vertical drop only a few feet long.

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[emberglowfox]

i kind of knew in theory that all my hobbies involved my hands but i kind of just ignored it n was like oh well im sure id manage

top ten pics taken seconds before disaster

[fairdale]

made myself incredibly sad thinking about magnus being alone. maybe not completely alone, because he would have max, tessa, catarina and ragnor. but lonely, i think he would feel loneliness like he never had before.

because those young annoying shadowhunters that interrupted one of his parties and dragged him along would be gone. because even though he tried to act like they didn't mean much to him, they did. because he got used to their presences in his life and now he can't remember what it was like without them.

because that man he had seen become a silent brother and come back as a shadowhunter, would be gone. after living a life full of love, yes, but he would be gone, just as the ones before him.

because he would know what losing a son feels like. and the pain in his heart would be unbearable.

because it would mean he lost the love of his life. because it would mean that, maybe, just as tessa, he would end up forgetting the blue of his eyes that he loved so much, the sound of his voice, his laugh, his mannerisms, the things that made him, him.

because the parts of his life that were filled with alec, rafael and friends would suddenly be empty, he would be empty.

because he would feel like his heart is being ripped apart every time, but he would choose it over being a shell with no feelings. because that would mean he may forget.

and he would never, ever, want to forget his reason to live.

(even if it was gone forever.)

[frog-chemicals]

Watching one of those 3 hour “surviving 100 days in [Modded Minecraft Scenario]” with Dramatic Narration and honestly? Willing to bet that a lot of videos in this genre are a lot better than the movie will be

[gladiatorcunt]

han solo wants what atton rand has