#my boy just can’t win

[havecouraqe]

I can’t help but feel a little loss that Dae wasn’t the one for Kitty. Maybe it’s just me being biased but it seemed like one of those nice guys finish last tropes which I don’t always like. Dae is such a sweet, kind, and caring character. He never wanted to hurt Kitty but due to his financial situation, he felt like he had no choice but to go along with Yuri. You can see the pain in his eyes whenever Kitty was around them. He even slept on the floor outside her door just to make sure he wouldn’t miss her when she left.

His relationship with his family tells so much about who he is. As a son and as a big brother to Bora, you can see he loves his family a lot. The shock on his face when she tells him kids bully her anyway despite how her shoes look. He never wants anyone to be hurting. But then he saves enough money to surprise her with new shoes and buys the pears in remembrance of his mom. And then theres Kitty giving him her Mom’s necklace only a year into their relationship, it really shows how much she cares for him and knows how hard of time Dae was having with his loss because she can relate. I really wish we could have seen Kitty interact with his family because I’m sure there would have been cute moments but I know Kitty’s Korean isn’t good yet.

It also really sucks about Dae and Min Ho’s fallout because along with Q, they are such an amazing trio of friends. They support one another and protect each other, especially when they think Q is being cheated on. The death glare Min Ho gives Florian when they confront him is priceless. Dae never brings up to Min Ho about his suspicion that he might have a crush on Kitty because maybe he doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to believe his best friend would do that to him.

But then we get to the final episode and when I tell you I cried, I cried. Kitty looked so afraid when telling Dae about having feelings for somebody else. Not only does she have to deal with the almost fight between Dae and Min Ho but she’s also so scared coming out to Dae. They are all each other knows and to Dae, this is sudden even though Kitty has had some time to think about who she is and is still figuring things out herself. Could he have handled it better? Yes, majorly he could have.

If they do come out with season 2 who knows if Dae will appear since he lost his scholarship. Suppose this is the end of the chapter for Kitty and Dae, it’s the best first love because they were so freakin cute. I wish they would have made the scene longer with them at the love locks since that is where they first met. All I know is Kitty and Dae will always be my otp.

[whipbogard]

Tfw you spot your love rival

And you’re wearing the same shirt 😬

[funeralopolis666]

oh girls it might just be so entirely over that its the end for lil ol me

[fagbearentertainment]

[steelycunt]

living with boys when you are a girl is just like. everything is fine and fun but do not ever voice discomfort or ask someone to do something they should be doing anyway or remind someone of something that needs to be done because then you are a boring bossy nag and also irrational and unreasonable and hysterical and also kind of a bitch because it was never that deep in the first place and you need to relax and get off their backs and why are you so angry oh my god.

[strawberrycherriesncream]

Blackmore light character study but not- idk what the fuck this is to be called but it’s Blackmore and he’s in love with a cowboy and a suicidal gunslinger

Soooo

[1,963 words] Nothing bad happens besides a little implied fire damage

Also, ‘I Will Wait’ by Mumford & Sons, is what I’ve been listening to lately and it’s kinda named after it.

——————————————————————————

The days had grown tedious in the passing weeks. Redundant while serving as his employer’s silent hand that danced across the rain like he was a weightless feather amongst the darkened clouds. Each day was counted in their passing. Counted until they were harder to keep track of as months so he kept counting the days even as it stormed hard enough to wash out that old bridge on the other side of town and when the sun gazed down on the Earth with an intensity so bright it felt like it would melt your skin through the sweat.

Blackmore’s loyal. He always is. But that loyalty doesn’t stop his mind from drifting to a cowboy dressed in unique animal hide he could only stand when he wore it and no one else. No one else could ever hope to wear the dead and tanned skin like he does. Then his mind would skip like how he played and toyed with the rain he manipulated to his want and will to the gunslinger he only saw occasionally, if not rarer than the cowboy himself, despite being employed by the same man.

That house waiting in the orchard stared back. Stagnant and unmoving, forever stuck fumbling back through time, even as its owner sat out on the front porch carefully cleaning and oiling a 1874 Colt like a mother wiping the blood clean from her deceased child’s mouth. The handgun was always treated with the respect of a man devoted, a priest tending to the alter, like it would break the fragile sense of self if it became rusty and unusable. No longer able to stand as an unwavering ally in a death match meant to prove a sickly child wrong.

Another call drew Blackmore back to himself. It wasn’t the ringing of a telephone, but of Mike O. staring at him in disappointment all the while uttering where in this world his mind had drifted off to. Another apology slipped from his lips. The tenth of the night and they’ve only been present at this event for two hours and it’s supposed to last well into the night. Each time became more halfhearted than the last despite his utter devotion.

If Mr. Valentine noticed his sullen and distant behavior, he kept it close to his chest and did not comment. Blackmore would have died in embarrassment if he tried.

Instead, the night wore on and his mind never once tired of its repetitive slips. Drifting from one thought to the next. Some idle, and some fast. Never lingering on anything for too long before his head was filled with something else.

The inability to concentrate was driving him crazy but it’s been one hundred and twenty-seven days since he’s seen them, and it aches so much hurts to be so utterly devoted to three men and torn between his loyalty to protecting Mr. Valentine and never straying too far from his side less he need an able gun in a time of need. Comparing the three of them wasn’t fair but he’s long since learned life has never, and will never, be fair to anyone. Only Mr. Valentine can change that and that’s why he chooses to be at his beck and call.

Because why wouldn’t he want a world where misfortune is driven away? Why wouldn’t anyone want that? All the heartache and pain it would save was worth more than gold and silver. There was no greater pain than losing someone you loved.

The fire in Chicago raged day and night for almost forty-eight hours straight until it finally burned itself out in the early morning hours. Devastating families, businesses and livelihoods for thousands of people.

Fire was supposed to be a source of comfort and warmth. A light to guide you through the darkness and to warm your food. But a tamed beast is still a beast, only gentle until it’s given no more reason to be and snaps its jaws to bite you back. It became a raging beast that swallowed the city for everything that it was worth. Killing over three hundred people and scorching the ones that got stuck inside from the intensity of the heat and the awful stench of billowing smoke. It was easy to mistake the sounds of the flesh and bones of a human body popping as the sound of a crackling fire.

The sound and warmth of a fireplace had never felt the same since. Sometimes when he gazed into the flickering abyss that burned his eyes dry if Tim felt the same about his comrades he had no choice but to leave in the Devil’s Palm. The constant shifting sands likely ensured the corpses of both human and animal were buried despite their inability to return home. Hopefully they were at peace and no longer lost wandering a hellscape.

About halfway through the event, it started to downpour. Drenching the land where the earth begged to be quenched. Blackmore would always appreciate the rain for as long as he lived. It doused the Chicago Fire along with his childish nativity his ability to manipulate rain was anything other than to stop it from falling. He would have killed everyone, he did kill everyone, if he had tried, and he did. He tried so hard but nothing was working—

The walk back home was quiet and peaceful as thunder crackled along the sky, illuminating the clouds as thunder rolled ahead of it like an omen. Mr. Valentine hadn’t spoken a word about his performance when he dismissed him for the remainder of the night. With him you could never be too sure if you were in trouble with him or not unless he told you. Mr. Valentine kept his face impassive in a way that was either a natural one from birth or a mask he painted and put up to hide his true thoughts from the rest of the political world.

Either way, only his wife seemed to be able to read him. And she did, like he was a book written by an excitable child that never learned how to properly write.

He tried not to be jealous of her clear devotion and love for her husband. Tried not to imagine someone cared enough about him that they were always thinking of him and knew how he was feeling just from a glance. But they were a married couple, fundamentally different from who he desired. He’d never bring the men he called lovers home to anyone but himself. For there was no one left alive to meet, and even if there was, he’d never dare.

Time always appeared to pass oddly when it rained. Perhaps it was how at ease he felt walking down the street with the gentle pattering of rainwater splattering on the ground and atop his umbrella. The sound of running water rushing through rains reminded him of the river Tim once took them to. He had even picked them wildflowers before dragging them along with a grin that made his eyes crinkle and the age to show in his crows feet.

It’s no later than three in the morning by the time he arrived to his apartment. The metal stairs leading up to his front door were slick with water, a hazard he’s seen both Tim and Ringo slip on and slam their knees into the grating or simply trip face first and smack their chin into the stairs higher above the one they slipped on. Afterwards, it had been funny, but not in the moment.

The lock clicked open easily underneath the stress of a prodding key and he slipped inside without a word and dripped water all over the hardwood floor. The doormat was practically useless as the door was shut and locked once again. He got his outerwear off eventually. The water made his poncho heavy despite letting liquid roll off its surface like a repellent.

Below the floor, he can hear the old, wooden piano playing something he can’t name in the bar he lives above. The notes are perfect if slurred in some places from a night of one too many drinks. He’s ninety-nine percent positive the owners are making whiskey in the basement, but as long as they don’t blow anything up, he really doesn’t care. He’s pretty sure it’s not the son running it anyways like the two old ladies try convincing everyone when they ask why they haven’t seen the young man around and instead excuse his absence with one thing or another.

The two women are sweet regardless. Probably well into their late sixties and just kind people in general, bless their hearts. Interestingly enough, they wear the same shade of red lipstick he’s seen on Mrs. Valentine.

Lightning cracked in the sky, a whip in disguise its lover screamed behind it. Illuminating the vase of flowers he very much didn’t leave out on the table. The tightening in his chest at the realization someone had been inside his home without him present itched something fierce as his hand hovered over his gun. Awaiting for someone lying in the darkness that was only brightened by occasional flashes.

Blackmore waited, a hand on the doorknob, prepared to throw himself out into the mercy of the clouds if necessary. All the urgency drained out of him at the sound of an excited meow calling out for him and scarcely a second later was followed by a weight throwing herself against his calf in all the display of affection she could muster.

Curiously, he named her, Midnight, because her fur was as black as the night sky and her green eyes shown like stars. She was a very timid and shy girl that would hide from everyone but him. She was simply just like that. Her personality just a unique as a humans despite his parents telling them animals have no souls and don’t feel a thing. But he’s seen different, been proven time and time again that animals have feelings of their own.

Midnight meowed again, more persistent and loud and he knew no one was in his home. Scooping her up, she grunted in protest but purred like a steam train nonetheless. He loved this cat.

Gliding over towards the table, he set her down to examine the vase. Her tail curled up against his cheek and over his nose, a constant back and forth as she meowed and bumped her entire weight into his arm with her head. Absently stroking down her back, his fingers brushed along the soft petals of the flowers with the other.

Blackmore smiled despite himself. That jealousy from earlier washing away to be replaced by a warmth that made him feel all warm and floaty. How beautiful was it to be on someone else’s mind? Enough so that they went out of their way when they didn’t have to. Nothing made him feel more special, and made him feel like his utter devotion was shared.

Nestled beside the vase sat a cloth bag. Opening it revealed the pears grown in the orchard blanketing a home away from home he misses. So they were both in here while he was away.

Glancing around, nothing else looked out of place. They must’ve not lingered for long. Naturally as his nature as an assassin, he’s curious what called them into town. What business they have. Tim’s a bounty hunter that is a regular for the sheriffs and popular throughout the nation for it. Ringo could’ve been called in by Mr. Valentine, strange as it may be as he normally lets the gunslinger stay at home waiting for someone to wander into his home.

He’d track them down in the morning. Once the rain calms down.

[chasedeys]

bengals win today yes?

[lesbianjackkline]

supernatural was soooo sick for directly paralleling dean taking his grief for cas, out on jack, with john taking his grief for mary, out on sam and dean. like what the fuck was up with that??

[golden--doodler]

This is so random, but after seeing @dianadeadwing did a sketch of this moment, I have to analyze this scene right here:

This caught me so off-guard when I watched this episode for the first time, because I wasn’t expecting it, and it’s now become one of my favorite Gene moments. It happens so unexpectedly, and it just gives such a good insight into his character. It adds even more depth to his character!!

I feel so bad for him, because he just wanted to remember a victory he had, because he never has them when it comes to competitions in the family (and I don’t think he’s a competitive guy in general, so competition isn’t something he usually focuses on). It also says a lot that he feels bad for the stick man in hangman, just adding to the examples of him being the sweetest boy 😭

He also felt so bad about stealing the magazine and didn’t want to be a magazine thief and cause so much stress in the first place, but he was so desperate to remember this moment that he accomplished something. That he was more than he was before. More than the middle child. More than a person who can supposedly only play a few chords. He was a person who could actually say he came out on top, could say something was his strong suit.

I think this also is an example of why Gene might not think so highly of himself sometimes? He doesn’t win very often again his family at most things, so he probably has begun to equate that to his self worth. Not to mention that he tends to get distracted more than his family members and makes mistakes more frequently, so he’s even begun to believe he’s a screw-up. He doesn’t even think he can sing, as seen in Topsy, even though he’s sung on multiple occasions in the show, and I personally believe he has a lovely singing voice❣️

[ziraconarose]

Played Always Sometimes Monsters. Very fun! The plot needs to account for people truly didn’t give a shit about the ex or the book though, bc literally all I cared about was trying to make amends with Sam after realizing the PC has committed a Max Caulfield level friendship sin TWICE. Still, I got quite fond of my pathetic, sad, wet dog author of a protagonist. They hate to see a homeless Chinese gay trans boy on a friendship-redemption journey winning, yet here I am with a million dollars, a book deal, a cowboy uncle, and a clean conscience to go with the start.

[mossytrashcan]

He was hitting Sukuna(the villain) with straight HANDS the whole fight. Knocked him out, PUT A HOLE in this man MULTIPLE TIMES.

Then the chapter ends with GOJO WINS JUST FOR THIS FUCKER TO BE KILLED OFF SCREEN WHAT THE FUCK GEGE

Sorry for yelling but yeah we're coping hard rn. I'm about to perform a ritualistic sacrifice to bring this bitch back

Hooooly shit that’s so much worse than what I thought happened. Bro I would be communing w the dark forces to assure the author’s downfall, like that’s FUCKED

[maiteo]

no negative or hating ass loser!! can ever ever ever make me feel bad about my team and what they accomplished this season!!!

[drunk-poets-society]

Man, working with kids is so entertaining. This 8th grader I’m teaching is so enamoured by me and I just lie to him abt the most inconsequential shit lol.

[ovium-sheep]

😨

To me, the tragedy of Saiki Kusuo is that feels so responsible for saving the people around him, but will always try to justify that it was for his own benefit. It’s like the only way Saiki can accept that he can’t save or help everyone is by internalising that he’s “selfish” and “cares only about himself.”

Imagine being a kid with psychic powers, and you do so many little good deeds. Like you heal a classmate’s scraped knee (they get suspicious of you, so you mind control the world to make it normal.) You help your parents with doing chores (your family dehumanises you for it.) Your friend is getting bullied (you don’t remember the classroom blowing up.)

So you learn that you’re supposed to be kind and your powers can be used for good, but are simultaneously punished and belittled for using them.

You hear terrible thoughts all the time, and have seen the worst of humanity, long before you should even know what that means, and you can’t even save them. You can’t save every burning building, can’t correct your mistakes, can’t stop every disaster, but somehow you still feel this need to try anyway. You will fail.

So you don’t try. You are a selfish being who uses your powers only when it inconveniences you, specifically. You don’t need friends because they just create trouble for you. You’ll try to save them anyway.

[20000dollarnosebleed]

BOYS LIKE GIRLS OFFICIALLY ADDED TO WHEN WE WERE YOUNG FEST THIS WEEKEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭💜💜💜💜

this is the best fucking news of my life, the universe loves me thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you 🙏🏻 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

[shewantsitall]

Screaming and crying and throwing up bc they sort of kind of won 🎉🎉🎉