#making their ‘screaming crying throwing up’ posts

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[biblical-chronicles]

More than enough

___________________________________________________

where Liam reassures the reader that she's perfect just the way she is.

___________________________________________________

The apartment hummed with a peculiar kind of stillness, the kind that crept in when Liam wasn’t around. This morning, he’d been his usual whirlwind self—grabbing a jacket, tossing a half-empty mug into the sink, and muttering, “Won’t be long, love,” before pressing a quick kiss to your temple and rushing out the door.

It was hours ago. And though you were used to Liam’s unpredictable sense of time, the minutes seemed to stretch endlessly in his absence. The flat felt quieter, smaller, almost achingly so.

To distract yourself, you’d taken up little tasks—things you normally ignored or left half-finished. The dishes were washed and dried, the laundry folded neatly, and the cushions on the couch had been fluffed within an inch of their lives. Still, the gnawing ache of missing him lingered, making you hyperaware of the empty space around you.

By the door, you spotted the morning’s post: a stack of glossy magazines that had been slid through the letterbox earlier. Most were tabloid nonsense, full of ridiculous gossip and scandal. Normally, you’d toss them straight into the recycling bin without a second glance, but today, you figured they’d give you something to do.

With the stack balanced under one arm, you opened the door to take the rubbish out first, the late afternoon sun warming your skin as you stepped outside. The quiet hum of passing cars and distant chatter filled the air, but none of it eased the growing restlessness in your chest.

Back inside, you set the magazines down on the coffee table and started sorting through them. Most were exactly what you expected: pages upon pages of vapid celebrity rumors and cheap exaggerated headlines. You were halfway through the pile when a familiar face caught your eye.

Liam.

He stared back at you from the cover, his eyes piercing even in print, his trademark smirk tugging at his lips. The headline screamed, “Rock’s Last Great Rebel: Liam Gallagher Speaks Out.” You couldn’t help but smile at its ridiculousness.

You picked up the magazine, flipping quickly to the spread with your boyfriend on it. The photos stopped you in your tracks. They’d captured him perfectly: the effortless confidence in his posture, the fire in his gaze, the slight curl of his lips that made it impossible to look away. Every inch of him radiated the charisma that made him who he was, and you felt a rush of pride.

That was your boyfriend.

But as you lingered on the glossy images, an uneasy feeling began to unfurl in the pit of your stomach. You glanced at the surrounding pages, full of beautiful people with sculpted features and following all of the impossible beauty standards. Even the advertisements seemed to mock you, featuring models with flawless skin, toned bodies, and expensive clothes.

Your gaze dropped to yourself—bare feet tucked under you, dressed in a soft, oversized shirt and shorts. Comfortable, sure. But glamorous? Hardly.

The thoughts crept in, unwelcome and persistent. Liam was magnetic, a man who could have anyone he wanted; women with perfect hair and perfect bodies; women who didn’t have stretch marks or a soft stomach; women who looked like they belonged on magazine covers beside him, not curled up on his couch in lounge wear.

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the doubts. Liam loved you, didn’t he? He told you so constantly, in words and actions alike. Still, the voice in the back of your mind whispered cruelly: What if you’re not enough?

The magazine slid from your hands, landing on the coffee table with a dull thud. You stared at it for a moment before leaning back against the couch, your chest tightening. It felt silly to cry about something so irrational, but the tears came anyway, hot and unrelenting. You clutched a throw pillow to your chest, burying your face into it as quiet sobs wracked your body.

Time passed in a blur, the exhaustion of crying soon caught up with you, and your breathing slowed as sleep claimed you. Curled up on the couch, the soft light from the setting sun cast a warm glow across the room, the magazine lying forgotten on the table.

The sound of keys jingling broke the stillness of the apartment as Liam pushed the door open, his presence filling the space almost immediately. His boots clattered against the floor as he kicked them off, the casual chaos of his arrival unmistakably him. Tossing his jacket over the back of a chair without care, he called out, his Mancunian drawl echoing through the quiet.

“Darling? Where are you?”

He paused, expecting the usual shuffle of your footsteps or the warm sound of your greeting. But the flat remained eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Where’s me girl, then?” he muttered to himself, his tone lighter, but his brows furrowing ever so slightly as he wandered further into the flat.

The living room came into view, and there you were, curled up on the couch. His steps slowed, his posture softening as he took you in. A fond smile tugged at his lips. You looked peaceful, your head resting against a throw pillow, one arm draped protectively around it like it was the key to your dreams. The golden hues of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over you, illuminating the delicate curve of your cheek and the soft rise and fall of your chest.

For a moment, he simply watched, his heart swelling. He always marveled at how you could look so effortlessly beautiful, even in the middle of a nap.

“Proper angel, you are,” he whispered to himself.

But as he was starting to turn to let you rest, something caught his eye—faint, dark smudges under your eyes, thin trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks. His stomach twisted and his carefree grin faded, replaced by worry.

“Oi, love,” he murmured sitting carefully on the edge of the couch. He leaned closer, brushing a few loose strands of hair from your face with featherlight touches. “What’s all this, then?”

The gentleness of his voice pulled you from the haze of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his. For a brief moment, there was only confusion as you registered the world around you. Then, your gaze landed on him, his face filled with concern.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice thick and heavy with sleep.

“Hey, yerself,” he replied, his brow knitting as he studied you. “Why’ve you been skrikin’, eh? What’s goin’ on?”

“I wasn’t,” you lied, your voice shaky as you quickly wiped at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence.

Liam gave you a look—a mixture of disbelief and gentle reproach, the kind that said, I know you too well for that. His eyes flicked to the coffee table, where the magazine lay open, its glossy pages splayed out like a beacon. He picked it up, swiftly flipping through the pages until he saw himself staring back.

A grin tugged at his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing for a moment. “Bloody hell,” he said, holding the page up for you to see. “You been skrikin’ over these pictures of me? Can’t blame ya, really. Look at this face. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Despite yourself, a shaky laugh escaped your lips, but it quickly dissolved into a fresh wave of tears. Before Liam could tease you further, you leaned into him, your face burying itself in the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, his arms wrapping around you instinctively. His hand rested against the back of your head, his other arm snug around your waist. “What’s all this about? You’re gonna drown me at this rate, love.”

You shook your head against his chest, your sobs muffled but still audible. It took a moment for you to compose yourself, your words barely above a whisper as you finally choked out, “What if I’m not enough for you?”

Liam stiffened slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears as his brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“Not enough?” he repeated, his voice soft but incredulous. “Are you mad? Where’s all this comin’ from?”

You gestured vaguely toward the magazine, your voice cracking. “Just look at them. All those girls… they’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”

His gaze followed your gesture to the magazine before snapping back to you. He stared for a moment, his expression unreadable, then let out a low, incredulous chuckle.

“Right,” he said, grabbing the magazine and flipping through it with exaggerated flair. “Let’s have a look, then.”

“Liam—” you began, but he cut you off.

“No, no. We’re sortin’ this right now.” He jabbed a finger at the interview section. “Here. Read this.”

“I don’t want to,” you mumbled, your eyes glistening again.

“Love,” he said, his tone softening as he nudged the magazine toward you. “Trust me, yeah? Just give it a read.”

Reluctantly, you took it, your eyes scanning the lines where he’d pointed. You froze as the words sunk in.

“Me missus? She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Beautiful inside and out, proper angel. Dunno where I’d be without her, probably long gone in a ditch somewhere”

Tears welled up again, but they were different this time—warmer, fuller. You set the magazine aside, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes.

“See?” he said, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves. “Don’t be thinkin’ daft stuff like that, yeah? You’re it for me, love. No one else comes close, in any department”

Unable to hold back, you surged forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts gratitude and love. He kissed you back just as fiercely, his hands resting on your waist as if grounding you to him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured against his lips.

“Nowt to be sorry about,” he replied, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Just don’t forget how bloody amazing you are. Not quite as amazing as me, mind,” he added with a cheeky grin, “but close.”

“Liam!” you laughed, smacking him lightly with a pillow before he could say more.

“Oi, careful,” he teased, pulling you back into his arms. “Don’t ruin the moment, love.”

Liam wasn’t about to let you out of his sight for the rest of the evening, he quickly planted another reassuring kiss on your temple, and pulled you onto his lap, his arms locking you securely in place.

“Right,” he said, grinning up at you, “you’re stayin’ here, missy. No more of this ‘not enough’ nonsense, yeah?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I've got much choice. Seems like I’m stuck now.”

“Good,” he quipped, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “That’s exactly where I want ya.”

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, each gentle motion like a silent vow to keep you grounded and adored. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then another to your nose, before smirking.

“You’re lucky I’m generous,” he teased, “doin’ all this work, showerin’ ya with affection.”

“Oh, is that what this is? Work?” you shot back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He gasped in mock offense. “You doubt my dedication? Do you know how many lasses out there would kill for this treatment? Top-tier, it is.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Oh, I’m sure they would.”

“‘Course they would,” he said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke. “But I’m here, ain’t I? With you. The only one worth me time.”

Your cheeks flushed, and before you could respond, he started peppering your face with kisses—light, playful, and entirely relentless.

“Liam!” you squealed, squirming as his stubble tickled your skin.

“Oi, quit wigglin’. I’m tryin’ to make a point!” he protested, his voice full of laughter as he tightened his hold on you. “This is serious business, this. Proper love declaration.”

“Serious, is it?” you said, breathless from laughter.

“Dead serious,” he replied, his tone dipping into something softer as he pressed his lips to your temple. “Love you, darlin'. Properly.”

Your heart swelled, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you too, Liam,” you murmured, the words coming out so naturally they felt like breathing.

He tilted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. “Well, I should hope so, after all this effort I’m puttin’ in.”

You playfully smacked his shoulder, and he feigned a wince. “Oi, you’re brutal. I’m just tryin’ to sweet-talk ya, and here you are, roughin’ me up.”

“Oh, poor you,” you teased, leaning back slightly to look at him.

“Yeah, poor me,” he echoed dramatically, pulling you even closer. “Guess I’ll just have to keep kissin’ ya till you make it up to me.”

And he did, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, the kind that made time seem irrelevant. His fingers continued their gentle patterns on your arm, grounding you in the moment, as if to say, I’m here. You’re mine.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin softening into something more earnest. “You’re stuck with me, y’know,” he said. “Forever, if I’ve got anything to do with it.”

“Forever sounds good,” you replied, your voice a quiet promise.

___________________________________________________

There y’go, another request done and dusted—proper miracle worker, me, aren’t I? Hope you lot liked this sweet little Liam number, yeah? xx

And to anyone in me inbox with requests, I see ya, don’t worry. Gonna tackle this batch first, but I’ll sort you all out soon. Keep ’em comin’, honestly—stick anything in there, I'm always buzzin to hear summat from all me girlies. Mad love for ya x

[seoulmatez]

i quite often think about rin and i as underwear models. a little duo campaign with tastefully sexy photos of us laying on each other and what not

[terrorbeauty]

[ylangelegy]

seokmin, who is widely regarded to have the most boyfriend material-like photos in the group, has a little secret. if he looks like a boyfriend in his photos— well, it's because he is.

seokmin, who will shyly smile at you when you're out on dates. you already know what he needs before he asks.

seokmin is never any less embarrassed about making this request. when you take his phone and unlock it, you're at least comforted by the fact that his home screen is a photo of the two of you.

seokmin will tell you everything from "you know all my best angles" to "you have an eye for lighting." you might think he's flattering you, but he's dead serious. his favorite photos of himself have been captured by you.

seokmin never questions your creative direction. if you instruct him to take a sip of his drink, he'll happily oblige. if you tell him to look away from the camera, he'll snap his neck around. ask him to jump and he'll say "how high?"

seokmin, who is generous with his affection and his compliments. he'll prop his chin over your shoulder and hug you from behind as the two of you assess the photos. "you got my good side here," he'll point out about one picture. "i like how you framed that," he'll say of another.

seokmin understands, however, that some things are sacred. like this: when you're reviewing pictures, and there's one that you really like? all you have to say is off-limits, and seokmin knows what that means.

seokmin doesn't care if it's the best photo he's ever taken. he doesn't care if it will feed in to the delusions of his many fans, if it's likely to make the internet go wild. if you call a photo off-limits, then he won't post it. it's yours. wholly yours.

seokmin, who, after all this time, still falls for your one favorite tricks. when you're trying to get him smile a certain way? sometimes, instead of saying cheese, you'll say i love you!

seokmin, whose grin is bright and wide in those photos. and, sometimes, if you squint just enough— you'll notice that he's actually looking at the person behind the camera.

[memoldy]

They are so in love that I’m in love with their love

[myk444]

Every time

[denszuu]

a burning hill // mitski

[coffee-cait]

((oops i thought i posted these in the summer but i forgor))

mata and mint i made into stickers bc i wanted to give to them at otakuthon this year but ended up being table trapped💦💦

but im glad in the end they managed to get them😭

[sajra-savera]

In desi families, you can't go crying to them and expect them to comfort you. No. Instead, you'll sit there trying to hold back your tears while they list all the reasons that make crying your biggest weakness.

[sparklejumpropequeen1949]

[butterscotchbea]

when a friend is trying to learn about f1 and you talk about brocedes a lot so they ask you to explain it

so you write a full blown 12 page dissertation on brocedes complete with photos, videos, tiktoks, and telemetry to paint the full picture

turns out they loved it and you loved writing it so now you’ll write about any f1 related thing they ask for

[jasonisaacs]

Jason Isaacs photographed by Jack Alexander (2023)

[spacedlexi]

maybe if i just put these screenshots together youll understand why i think their relationship just Works so well as it pertains to the characters and themes of S4 in general

neither of them know what theyre doing, but theyre figuring it out Together. the old ways are dead. and together theyll build a new future thats worth fighting for

[sydicidal]

How I’ve been feeling lately

[buwheal]

a quick scribble of a scene from chapter 20 in this fic by @manofthepipis

(i really hope the colors are as bright to you guys as they are on my monitor lmao)

I NEED NEED NEED TO GUSH ABOUT THIS FIC RIHGT NOW HOLY SHIT

Never before have i actually sat down to read a REAL fanfic until yesterday (And today! I stopped at chapter 6 and read the rest today ^_^). I saw it in the tags of a spamton blog's art and decided to check it out since i had read a really short one without chapters on the site before but MAN was i not ready for this one!!! HOW COME NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT FANFICS????? I had always heard not so great things about fanfiction (and ive seen that most are ship based and I'm not really into ships with my favorite characters*) so I never really bothered to look, especially since I was usually more into the whole media rather than a specific character. (WHO LET ME GET AWAY WITH THIS??) I used to tease my friend for having 700+ videos saved on tiktok for their favorite actor, (but I TOTALLY GET IT NOW, I WOULD SO DO THAT IF I HAD TIKTOK) Until almost exactly a month ago I developed a hyperfixation on Spamton after learning who he was and watching Jerma's playthrough, and MAN it is SO FUN reading all the theories, headcanons, and peoples analyses of Spamton and his character/story I am totally hooked and I am SO SO SO SO glad this was the first real fanfiction ive read beacause IT IS GREAT!!!! AND I MEAN IT!!! THE CHARACTERIZATION IS SO GOOD AND I LOVE THE VIVID DISCRIPTIONS, I WAS SO SO SO EXCITED WHILE READING THIS ONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT IF YOU HAVENT!!!!! I LOVE THE WAY THE CHARACTERS INTERACT AND OF COURSE I ABSOLUTELY LOVE SEEING THE HEADCANONS SPEWN THROUGHOUT!!! AAARGH EXPLODES EVERWHERE!!!! thank you SO SO SO SO much for writing this fic and i am SO going to read [[Data Recovering]]!!!

Link to the fanfiction :-)