#it runs so deep

[mossiestpiglet]

There is some connection between Ed saying he “took a man’s leg” (instead of Izzy’s leg) and the fact that he and Izzy haven’t interacted since he woke up but I’m not nearly clear headed enough to get it all out coherently right now

[flickerbit]

My adhd really is the source of everything huh

[lordandladywhistledown]

You can tell by the reaction people have to Penelope asking Colin to kiss her whether they ever experienced being a wallflower/insecure fat girl at a party or not.

Because you say it's pathetic, I say it's relatable, no matter how desperate it may sound. If you've never had your insecurity eat you up from the inside (but also the outside, as Portia literally told Penelope that she was delusional for thinking she was gonna find a husband in her third season out) to the point you genuinely, wholeheartedly believe no one will ever love you unless you physically change, then obviously the scene is off to you.

But Pen literally told Colin she felt stupid for thinking she's gonna find a husband (she just started believing what the ton and her mother said) and that she knows no one would want to kiss her. And for a romance girl like her, do you think the thought of never having a kiss, never experiencing that passion, would be easy to bear? I can so relate to being the most romantic of the bunch but also being the loneliest and aching for physical and emotional romantic love.

She is so vulnerable and so real in that moment but y'all gotta bitch about it because it doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense to me either because she's gorgeous, but that's the thing - no one ever told her she's gorgeous and actually meant it. And even if they did, there must be 10 more people who didn't that keep that insecurity in her, specifically her sisters and her mother.

Nicola said this one was for the wallflowers, and it truly is, so if you find scenes like this cringe, you just don't relate to the character enough to feel it and recall moments when you had the same thoughts as her.

[s-lycopersicum]

[gothwitchdream]

I'm having so many realizations about my comphet and damn

My therapist is gonna be put to WORK this week 💀

[artofdoubt]

[serafilms]

the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader, wc: 2k

author’s note: basically just a way less toxic (?) version of the movie with the reader inserted. they’re all still incredibly codependent and tashi/reader are very much in love and art/patrick are very much in love and art/tashi have their own kind of friendship/relationship and so do patrick/reader, but really patrick and tashi are one couple, art and reader are another couple, but like they would all live together and probably sleep in the same bed hypothetically. but in a healthy way. i like to imagine a world where they’re all codependent but skip all the “villain” allegations in their mess, and it’s just a beautiful unspoken symphony of love and four-way fidelity and infidelity. will probably write more in this universe.

part two here

“Tashi, stop it.”

Tashi stops and her eyes lock in on you, racket dropping to her side. “Stop what?”

You watch the way she bounces the ball a few times and don’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting to your hand.

“Stop analysing me.”

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and doesn’t break your gaze. “It’s my job to analyse the opponent so I know how to win the game.”

“Yeah, but you’re not looking at me like an opponent.” Your lips purse. “You’re looking at me like you’re trying to calculate how to get me back on the court.”

“You’re on the court right now, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean, Tashi.” Your racket falls to the court exasperatedly and you manage a step towards the net. “It’s over for me, I’m done playing tennis and I’m okay with that, but I’m not sure that you are.”

There’s just a tiny quiver in her eyes before her gaze steels itself again and she nods. “Fine. I get it.”

She tosses you the ball. “Just help me train.”

You watch as Tashi gets into position, and pick up your racket slowly. Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped at her. You so rarely do, but you’ve closed the door on that chapter of your life now, and you’re sick of her trying to pry it open. You don’t want possibilities of what you could have had. You don’t want to put in more years just to watch yourself fail at something you never really liked in the first place.

There’s a dull ache in your chest as you serve the ball.

Tashi Duncan has been your best friend for five years. For the life of you, you can’t remember the details of the tournament you were at, but you had a game against her. It was electrifying. You’d never played tennis like that before. It felt like you’d never known what it was like to breathe before Tashi Duncan. She basically crushed you, but you managed to get in a good few points, had the audience and line judges on the edge of their seats, and at the end of it, when you shook her hand, you felt like you’d just discovered a missing limb.

She found you afterwards in the stands and sat with you to spectate the next few matches. And hadn’t let you go since. You couldn’t imagine a life without Tashi. She was there for your first boyfriend, she was there when you broke up with him, she was there when you failed a class and your parents threatened to pull you out of tennis, and she was there when your wrist shattered and you quit.

Tashi never really understood why it was so easy for you to walk away. “You’re one of the best,” “You have so much potential,” “You can learn to play with your other hand.”

She never seemed to hear you when you said you didn’t want to play anymore. She’d look at you, with her piercing gaze then look away and move on. But the conversation was never over. It was like you didn’t exist to her without tennis, like it was your one achievement, and she couldn’t gauge who you were without it.

You suppose you were flattered, touched even, that she cared so much about you, in her own weird way.

Tashi looks at you questioningly when you lower your racket. You smile, “You should rest up. Your drills are perfect. You’re gonna crush her tomorrow.”

She takes a look at her watch, then nods. You can tell she wants to stay longer, but there’s really no reason to. Especially when you can feel her itching for a real match. That you can’t give her.

You bump her shoulder as the two of you walk out. “Wanna grab some donuts?”

The unimpressed face she gives you makes you laugh. “Come on, we can get you one of those healthy ones. The gluten-free, vegan bullshit.”

“Sounds delicious,” she drawls, but makes no further comments. You grin. A success.

She says nothing as you swing your borderline crippled arm over her shoulder, but you feel her muscles underneath relax just a little bit.

The following day brings a new round of pretentious young assholes on the court. Some of them eye you up as you make your way into the bleachers, whispering to each other. A girl comes up to you and asks for a picture. You’re a little surprised, and feel a little blindsided, but you suppose it’s only been a year since your injury. And well, considering where you are right now, it sure does seem to the rest of the world like you’re not fully done with tennis.

“Yeah, no problem,” you say with a smile.

The girl takes the picture, thanks you profusely then leaves, and you make your way up to the bleachers, and find a nice spot in the middle. Tashi liked you to be right in the middle of the game so you could watch her and her opponent. You wonder if she’s secretly preparing you to become an umpire.

There’s a flurry of whispers all too close to you, and then there’s a shadow blocking the sun to your left.

Two boys stand facing you, staring at you with their mouths slightly agape. You can’t help the amused smile that splits your face.

“Can I help you?”

The brunet snaps back into reality first. “Sorry, we were just— are you Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say, eyes flitting between the two. They’re cute. Really cute.

The blond shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and says, “Sorry, this is just the first time we’ve seen or heard about you since….you know.”

He winces, and his head ducks a little like a scolded puppy. “Sorry to hear about that, by the way.”

You let out a laugh that seems to catch his attention again. His friend jabs him in the side with his elbow. “Oh, don’t worry about it, seriously. It’s been a year, I’m over it.”

“Huh,” he says, nodding a little absently. He glances to the brunet, who’s just grinning at him. “Um, by the way, we’re—“

“Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, right?”

The blond, Art, looks a little speechless.

Patrick chimes in. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“I watched your game just before. That was quite some victory celebration.”

The way Art’s ears turn red makes you happier than you’d like to admit. There’s a little flip in your stomach as he fumbles, “Yeah, well…”

There’s a flurry of movement as Patrick puts his arm around Art’s neck and pulls him impossibly close in a one armed hug. “Social conduct’s not gonna get in the way of me celebrating with my boy.”

The blond leans away and fights to get Patrick off him, and you smile as you watch. “Don’t worry, it was cute. Plus, I get it. We’re sort of the same way sometimes when it comes to victories. I mean, not the same, but you know.”

That seems to catch Patrick’s attention. “By we, do you mean you and—“

“Tashi Duncan!”

The announcement rings loud and clear through the speakers as she walks onto the court.

It’s almost comical the way Patrick’s jaw goes slack and he slumps onto the seat behind him.

You watch as Tashi waves at her screaming fans, shoots her winning smiles and makes her way to her side. She catches your gaze for a moment and you nod. She looks away and begins to stretch, but you’re not bothered. She knows you’re here, and that’s all you need. Can’t try and take Tashi Duncan out of the zone.

As you sit down, you’re a little surprised to find Art mirroring the action, still looking at you. “So, you’re best friends with Tashi Duncan?”

You nod. “Since we were like, thirteen.”

“Oh wow,” his eyes widen and you can’t help but think how impossibly cute he looks, “that’s almost how long Patrick and I have been friends.”

“Really? Oh, wow.” There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for you to catch each other’s eye and look away with awkward giggles.

Luckily, that’s when the match starts. And your focus locks in.

“COME ON!” Tashi’s scream is palpable in the air.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. You’ve heard it a million times before, but it never fails to strike you.

There’s something akin to awe in Patrick’s eyes. Art looks like he’s in disbelief.

You can’t help but agree with their faces.

“So, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

Patrick’s eyes flit away from Tashi’s to look at you. “Yeah, we were just talking about earlier. Art was saying how excited he was. He just loves parties.”

You can’t quite decipher the smirk on his face, but he looks like the kind of guy who’s never up to any good, so you turn to Art expectantly.

His eyes meet yours and your stomach does another little flip as he says, “Yeah, I’ll— we’ll be there.”

“Cool,” you reply. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”

You manage one quick glance back as you walk away, and see Patrick grinning and shaking Art’s shoulders. A smile plays at the corner of your lips and you leave.

Tashi finds you at your agreed-upon meeting spot, and wastes no time in grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

“Don’t you need to take pictures with your trophy?”

“Got a few, they’ll take more at the Adidas party. We’ve got to get ready.”

There’s a warm feeling like sunlight dancing in your chest as you let her drag you away.

The party is in full swing by the time you finally spot Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig lurking in the corner of the yard.

You’d just stepped off the dance floor for a moment, telling Tashi you were going to get another drink. The two boys seem to be arguing about something, but as you close the distance, you can see that they’re grinning too.

“Hey,” you greet the two. Their heads turn towards you in unison and they both stand up straight.

“Hi,” they chorus.

You take a sip of your drink as your eyes flit between the two. “So….what are you guys doing all the way over here?”

“You know,” Art says dryly. “Just enjoying the ambience.”

(Cute and funny. Man, you’re screwed).

“It’s a lot less creepy if you actually talk to her instead of just staring at her.” Your words are directed at Patrick, whose eyebrows shoot up. A smirk falls on his face. His charm instantly covers up the awkwardness.

Art barks out a laugh. (It’s a sound you wish you could inscribe in your mind).

“What makes you think I’m here for her?” Patrick smirks, looking you up and down. It’s so clearly a deflection, but it feels so natural that you can’t help but smile, and you feel your cheeks warm just a tad.

You glance back at the dance floor, and see Tashi excuse herself, glancing at you as she goes for her drink. You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

As you turn on your heel and walk towards Tashi, you hear a slap behind you and an, “Ow!”

“Tashi!” The smile in your voice is audible as she looks up.

“Hey,” she smiles back.

Then, her head tilts to the side and she looks at the boys. “Hi.”

“Hi,” they both say.

There’s a quiet moment in which you all exchange looks, a twinkle in each of your eyes. You can almost feel a spark of something in the air, and suddenly you’re thirteen years old again, meeting Tashi for the first time. Like another puzzle piece has finally fallen into place.

You feel your chest warm. If only you knew what your life was about to become.

[driaswrld]

it's raining outside, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor.

the soft pit-patter of raindrops coupled with his dancing fingertips against the exposed skin of your waist is a song you haven't quite learnt the tune to yet — he lays on his side, hair tousled and damp, dark strands curling over his forehead, sleeves rolled up and tie forgotten somewhere in the doorway.

admittedly, you're in no better shape. your cheeks are cold, skin of your calves wet with rainwater from running across the busy streets with him, armful of whatever ingredients you two picked out for dinner, his suit jacket held above your head and the occasional chorus of laughter when either of you stomp a puddle and splash the other.

it's raining, and higuruma thinks he falls in love with you every single day, like it's born anew.

he falls in love with the girl he wakes up next to, mouth open and cheek smooshed into the pillows. he falls in love with the girl who doesn't know a thing about law, but argues better than him in the heat of the moment. he falls in love with the girl who kicked her boots through puddles of rain, ruining his pants — the girl who made him laugh about something so mundane.

it's raining, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor, oddly paired with his formal white shirt and a pair of pajamas, his dress pants draped over the washer — the dryer broke a few days ago, he forgot — he holds you close as he watches the water droplets race against the glass window.

he loves you.

“do you like the rain?” you ask him, head tucked into his neck, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, the question is lost on him for a moment.

“i like you.”

you don't respond yet, and higuruma opens one of his eyes, only to find you staring at him. “more than you like the rain?” he almost laughs at that, almost, and he pulls you impossibly closer.

“a lot more than i like the rain, i’m sure.”

it's raining outside, and higuruma never really liked when it rained, not at all.

he proposed to you in spring. married you in summer.

but now he hopes it rains tomorrow, he hopes you still want him then, and he hopes you'll splash him with another puddle.

[taxinealkaloids]

i love the tower princes. i love that there’s absolutely no way in hell that this friendship is even remotely good for either of them. love that they assuredly are making each other SO much worse with every second they spend together. 

[bumblydumbly]

i think that if kabru saw that “laios meeting falin for the first time” strip he’d be sobbing uncontrollably

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[melverie]

Just remembered that Satan in the "A World of Our Very Own" devilgram says that he believes he was "born in order to meet MC" and it always sounded incredibly cheesy to me but then I thought about it a little more and--

Originally, Satan was just a small glimmer inside Lucifer's consciousness until Lucifer's wrath reached its peak with Lilith's death which, in turn, resulted in Satan's birth

MC is a direct descendant of Lilith after she was reborn as human

If it weren't for Lilith's death, neither of them would be here

Both of their existences are directly intertwined with one another, so in a way Satan's right

They have always been destined to be a part of each other's lives

[mobius-m-mobius]

-Julio Cortázar, from "Bolero" (trans. John Joseph Lyons)

Loki S2 Anniversary x Episode 2 - “Breaking Brad”

[kunikiiida-kuuun]

Those who haven't read Dazai's entrance exam LN don't even know that Fukuzawa literally entrusted the exam to Kunikida alone and Kunikida himself approved him and Fukuzawa took his word for it without any questions.

Dazai wouldn't even have been in the agency if it wasn't for Kunikida's trust in Dazai.

[aimless-dubs]

dilf detected!

wonderful comic made by @cuppajj !! oughhh he/she spice is so real

[i sincerely apologize for every burning spice enjoyer ever i BUTCHERED his voice even though he said TWO WORDS. deep male voices hate me, gender ambiguous voices want me]

[a-most-beloved-fool]

there are many neat reptilian characteristics that one can give Cardassians. I've seen shedding scales, tails and claws, scent marking, and people making them ectothermic.

but consider:

Color changing ridges. Just for funsies. We already tend to headcanon that the ridges and spoons (chula, if you prefer) turn blue when aroused, mimicking the make up they wear in canon, but it would be a bit interesting if the ridges were Fully color changing, a la chameleons. Especially if they changed color based on emotions.

Because their culture is very focused on the Good of the State, it would probably be taboo to have your emotions plainly visible (too much risk of your colors giving away the fact that you aren't 100% content blindly serving the state). I think it would be typical to wear make up to cover up the color changing scales, or to wear paint in 'positive' colors.

Soldiers and the Obsidian Order might even find a way to chemically neutralize the color changing, either temporarily or permanently - it could be far too much of a liability, if someone got captured and interrogated.

Most non-Cardassians would be entirely unaware that this was a normal part of Cardassian physiology. Novels might have oblique references to the colors when describing emotions, but any book that spoke too clearly of them would be almost sure to get banned. Bashir would be slowly taking notes about which colors in novels seemed to correspond to which emotions, but he'd have no idea that it was because Cardassians could Literally Turn Those Colors. He'd just assume their color theory was different, and that they were Really into color metaphors for some reason.

Could be interesting to explore the cultural implications and see what kinds of new mischief happens on the station due to it.