#i’m never forgiving him

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

VAISRA YOU LITTLE BITCH I HOPE SHE FLAMBÉS YOUR TRAITOROUS HEART AND EATS IT. AND NEZHA WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!!

the cike🥲

[potato-lord-but-not]

what do you pray to?

or alternatively: Oscar sees John for the person he is and John gets to be forgiven

[were-wolverine]

things in DC canon i’ll literally never get over

1. dick finds out batman replaced him as robin (without asking him) from the NEWSPAPER and simultaneously finds out bruce adopted a new kid without telling him (to make things worse: bruce didn’t even adopt dick)

2. dick finds out jason died from the newspaper (AGAIN? REALLY BRUCE?) and bruce had the fucking funeral WITHOUT HIM while he was still in space

[panties-on-boys]

the quote “everything i’ve ever let go of has claw marks in it” but it’s richie breaking down outside of neibolt screaming eddie we have to help him he’s still in there eddie eddie eddie

[cloudbobbypin]

I was about to type ‘get you a man as devoted to you as Rook is to Vil’ and then I realised that NO, ACTUALLY, that’s kinda a horrible idea

[mrsroryhuntzberger]

I have consumed so much Agatha all along today I wasn’t expecting this. Also Disney + can pry “teen is Agatha’s son” from my cold dead hands

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Help! I’ve fallen for a rarepair from a show that ended 6 years 1 month and 7 days ago!

And by rarepair I mean there is one singular fic about them where they’re not a side ship or in a collection of smut drabbles

[divorceblogger]

2.02 / 2.04 / 2.04 / 2.06 / 2.06 / 2.08 / 1.04 / the queen of the damned

[hopelessromantic5]

I thought it would be fitting to post a sick-fic snippet, considering the upper-respiratory infection I’ve had for the past week has been kicking my ass.

So this is a little Bucky taking care of sick Buck fic.

Thank you for reading.

Gale went to sleep at Thorpe Abbots.

When his eyes shot open, he was in complete darkness. The only sounds in the room were the soft even breaths of his fellow officers.

Something was balled up in Gale’s stomach. This must’ve been what woke him.

God he hadn’t felt real nausea like this since he was a kid.

It’s alright. He tells himself. Just lie still and it will go away. Just calm down. Breathe, in and out. Calm yourself. It’s fine. It’ll go away.

Another roll of pain and discomfort had him up on his feet and bolting out the door before he could think twice.

He just made it outside behind the building before the contents of his stomach emptied into the grass.

Gale leaned against the bricks, heaving, tears streaming down his face.

God, how he hated it. The lack of control, the inability to stop it. Forced to endure until it’s over.

He felt himself drop to the ground, curling into his own body, trying to slow his breathing. Trying to get rid of that awful scratchy feeling in the back of his throat.

He blindly wiped at his face with the bottom of his tshirt, hoping he hadn’t been loud or interrupted anyone’s sleep.

It reminded him too much of the terrible nights of his childhood, fresh bruises already blackening around his cheek, under his ribs, the pain swirling behind his eyelids causing the sickness before little Gale could get it under control.

“Buck?” A voice called out, whispering, but still too loud for the dead of night.

Gale didn’t have the energy to respond.

Footsteps grew near.

“Buck! Hey,” a body crouched near him, gentle hands settling on his shoulders, like a blanket.

When Gale didn’t lift his head immediately, Bucky, softly, barely touching him, placed his rough hand on Gale’s cheek, calling the other man to meet his eyes.

When John felt the wetness of tears under his palm, his brows furrowed further in concern, if that were possible.

“Hey, doll, what’s the matter?” He whispered.

Gale must’ve been really really tired. The term of endearment didn’t seem out of place, it didn’t jolt his system the way it would in any other instance, it just seemed right.

As if he were expecting John to call him that.

A second hand moved, so Buck’s face was effectively caged in by John’s grasp. It was only then he realized the heat Gale’s skin was radiating.

“You’re burning up, Gale. We need to get you back into bed.”

Gale finally lifted himself from his hiding place, meeting John’s eyes. He’d never seen that kind of worry there before.

“You called me Gale.” He mumbled before he could think about it.

John huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“Because I knew it would get you to pay attention.” He stands, and gently places one of Buck’s arms around his own broad shoulders.

“I can walk.” He mumbled, yet disproving his own point when he practically slumped into John with all his body weight, tucking his face into his neck. Gale huffed, wanting to be embarrassed, but finding he was rather annoyed at relying on John for yet another thing. Relying on anyone for anything is bad enough, but John doesn’t need a burden like him. He should be free, like a bird.

Gale is beginning to think, in the only rational part of his mind left, that there may be something wrong with him.

Maybe he’d been poisoned.

A snort followed his poor attempt at being right,

“Sure, doll. If you say so.”

Bucky practically carried him all the way back inside, he smelled like fresh air and lucky strikes with just a hint of something simply titled ‘John’, it could never be recreated, Buck knows.

Once settled under his blankets, warm and content, John smiles softly at him.

“Get some rest, Gale.”

“Thank you, John.” He whispered, watching the silhouette of the other man freeze and the continue his journey back to his bunk, without looking back.

A sad, pathetic sigh escaped him before he drifted off into an awful, fitful sleep.

When he woke again, he was sweating, and it was bright enough in the room to blind him when his eyes creaked opened.

Then he caught onto the silence of his surroundings. No quiet murmurs of morning. No shuffling feet.

Daylight.

Silence.

Oh God, the meeting, the mission.

“Oh, fuck.” He says before he can remember he isn’t supposed to.

He’s up and getting dressed before he can even breathe.

He’s late. He’s so incredibly late, the captain is going to have his ass.

Oh, no.

“Whoa, whoa.” A hand on his chest settles his rushed movements. “Slow your roll there, cowboy.” Bucky just walked through the door, holding, what looks like, soup in a cup?

“Bucky, I’m late. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping Curt with flight check?” Gale is confused as to why either one of them are still here talking, and why no one woke him up.

A small smile appeared on John’s face, stilling Gale once again.

“What’s with the face?”

Bucky shook his head,

“Leave it to you to be deathly ill and still be worried about flight check.”

Gale looks at him like he’s crazy, which makes it even funnier.

“I’m not sick, John.”

“Tell that to your hundred and four degree fever.”

“What-how do you-“ Buck stopped, huffing in a breath. He probably looks ridiculous, one pant leg on and no shirt, with a sock halfway rolled up his foot. “Why are you here, then? If I’m sick, you could catch it. I shouldn’t even be in here, I should stay in the med tent.” He’s babbling.

Bucky has been watching him with wide eyes. He’s never seen Gale so ruffled, and stuttering.

He’s never seen him so not put-together.

He loves it. He’s drinking up the sight like water, though he does feel a pinch of guilt and hurt that Gale had to be sick in order for him to see this side of him.

“It’s a cold, Buck. Your body just needs some rest and it’s forcing you to get it, the only way it knows how.” Bucky turned back to something that he had discarded on his bed.

“You are not late, so you can stop having a panic attack and lay back down. I already told the Captain that you were sick. It’s not contagious. And I’m not leaving you here, sick and alone.”

For once, Gale went without a fuss.

He was exhausted.

“I brought you some pills. Doc said they should help.” John said, offhand.

The words send Gale spinning into a future he’d never imagined before. One where he and Bucky are living in a nice humble house with a few acres out back. John brings home the paper from town and they gossip about the neighbors while they drink coffee in the morning, huddled together on the porch swing. Maybe a good hound at their feet.

“Buck?” That warm hand returned to his face, this time feeling his forehead.

“Jesus, Buck, I’ve never felt skin this hot.”

“Careful,” Gale huffed a laugh. “You’re gonna give a fella an ego too big for his boots.”

John seemed to think this was funny too. Fond amusement colored his eyes, clear skies on a moonlit night.

“Maybe you could use a little ego, Saint Cleven. You’re too humble.” The hand that had previously taken his temperature by touch, carded its fingers through Gale’s hair. Sweaty blond locks that had fallen over his forehead were pushed back, cool air on his face more prevalent. It felt good while at the same time, sent shivers down his spine.

[seveneyesoup]

ngl i’m still worried. like i Do have complete faith in ncuti gatwa but what i Don’t have is much faith at all in rtd’s writing about race

[shuttlescoob]

i hate him (real)

[theinternetarchivist]

And if I said Varian was entirely justified in his revenge against the king specifically? And if I said I wish he would’ve done more? What then

[sanasanakun]

Gortash acting as an enabler for The Dark Urge is so interesting imo. I can easily see redeemed DU feeling extremely betrayed and angry by it given that they now have a chance to contemplate their past self’s situation. They easily could accuse him like “you say you were my ‘nearest and dearest’ but you never saw how much I suffered? Or did you just not care because my misery advanced your (our) goals? You never wanted to help me? You could have stopped me.” At this point in the story, DU’s come to understand friendship in a way his past self never could have and Gortash’s previous inaction is a betrayal of those values. If he never helped them, then Gortash never truly saw the real them nor understood them.

In my personal headcanon (and somewhat supported by canon imo), I think Gortash tried to helped DU in his own “Gort” way. Aka promising that they’d one day rule as “Gods” which is essentially a promise to DU that they’ll rise above Bhaal or be free of his influence (as others have previously pointed out). However, I don’t believe Gortash has the emotional capacity to help DU in the way they needed. He doesn’t understand it or he might even be afraid to hit that particular nerve. He liked the routine they fell into, so why change it? It is also definitely pragmatic. The Dark Urge’s condition advances their plans. Gortash puts progress and the plan above all else even if it hurts loved ones. He rationalizes his inaction with cold logic, weighing the pros and cons of his intervention. Therefore, I don’t believe it’s necessarily malicious enabling. Gortash acts with the idea of pursuing whatever is more “comfortable” for him personally and their joint plan.

From my personal experience, this type of enabling is pretty common (at least in my irl situations). They don’t know how to act and are afraid to confront their loved one, so they do nothing. It’s “easier” to do nothing. Definitely would like to write something for it at some point because I feel like this would be a key tension point in their post-tadpole relationship (or lack of). Maybe even pre-tadpole where the Dark Urge just quietly endured but desperately hoped Enver would say or do something to save them, but he never did.

[thepersonperson]

To think that most of the tragedies in Jujutsu Kaisen could’ve been avoided if Geto Suguru read The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx before deciding mass murder of civilians was the appropriate solution to child labor violations.

[bikananjarrus]

thought too long about ezra in wild space and having a minor breakdown about it. like. him fighting to find his way back home and believing that his family is out there looking for him too, working to bring him back. and even though he knows they’re out there and he knows they’ll all find each other again one day, he’s still alone and he’s lonely and he’s still fighting but it’s hard as the years stretch on. just thinking about ‘i can’t wait to come home’ and how long that wait has been

[antaripirate]

holland checking his doorbell camera after telling the small ginger antari that he doesn’t want to be friends for the 392828th time: