#my millennial is showing

[jules-writes-stories]

Inspired by @secret-third-thing ‘s commentary about ACOTAR clothing: “well it could be a JC Penney ad or something else...”

Scene: Feyre wants to show the Night Court that the Inner Circle is just a “normal, everyday family” and insists they get family portraits taken at JC Penney, Velaris. That’s what normal families do, right?

Inner Circle reactions:

Amren hates this.

Nesta also hates this.

Cassian is wild with excitement and buys himself and Nesta matching sweaters. He also brings a duffle bag with a change of clothes that include coordinating shirts for himself, Rhys, and Az. Did I mention Cass is pumped?

Mor shows up drunk. She looks surprisingly put together (but has lipstick on her teeth).

Azriel is low key excited, and researches ways to smile naturally, for 14 hours straight. When he finally attempts to smile, he over thinks it and looks like a serial killer.

They run into Eris, who is currently getting pet portraits done with his 12 hounds. He takes great joy in not telling Mor she has lipstick on her teeth. Azriel smiles at him. Eris is unwell and confused.

Nesta still hates this.

Amren still hates this, but is into the small combs. She steals 37 of them, simply because she can.

Rhys threatens to “break into each of their minds if they don’t start smiling with their g_ds damned eyes.”

Elain and Lucien show up, smile, and then make a quick exit. They get bubble teas at the food court and Elain asks Lucien to ride the carousel with her.

3 hours later: Feyre decides that it’s easier to just paint everyone’s portrait. “Never mind” she says breezily… “let’s go to Cinnabon instead.”

Cassian is once again wild with excitement.

[caitlikescoffee]

I DO NOT MISS THIS!

having to start and pause a video before school (and hope the family doesn't fuck with it) just so I could watch it when I got home is so insane to think about now. and if the video sucked, it was pretty much a days worth of buffer gone T_T

I miss the days when, no matter how slow your internet was, if you paused any video and let it buffer long enough, you could watch it uninterrupted

[brooke-beaches]

Nothin chillin at the Anderson Inn

[morallygraytea]

My husband keeps telling me we have Odysseus at home

The Odysseus at home:

[kuraagins]

I was soooo Adaine Abernant coded at the Dimension 20 Manchester show tonight 🤭 (I had an anxiety attack)

[trashmouth-richie]

the way i’d do anything for him?

what’s that? nobody asked for skater!eddie? well, that’s awkward cos he just showed up…

one thing about me? when I have writer’s block… I’m gonna make a moodboard. not gonna lie, it’s a sickness.

[thephouseplants]

Dan and Phil cosplay when?1!!1!1

(I'm not expanding this. No)

(i realize these two are twins. but they played gorilla brothers. they can make it work. we'll ignore the implcations.)

[pemguims]

also ive been so spoilt w hrpf fic...why is 911 fic all so absolutely diabolical

[wildlyfreemoon]

s4 of twd... the governor is back... my enemy

[vibinsane]

If you're a millennial, how old are you?

[zayne voice] somewhere between 28 and 43

[acrochetedgundam]

apologies in advance for this torokatober drabble spam; i'm trying to catch up!

torokatober2024 day 1/31 - wind

Dark clouds gather, swirling ominously in the sky. A flash of lightning illuminates Trowa’s still form on the lawn, his hair and jacket whipping wildly in the wind. A low, resonant boom of thunder follows, so deep that Quatre feels it in his chest before he hears it. Trowa stays unmoving, even as the trees creak and sway under the gale. He’d call for him to come in, but knows his voice would be lost amidst the gathering storm. Knows how much Trowa likes to watch them come in.

So he waits, standing at the door, as Trowa lets the fierceness of the storm wash over him, watching in equal parts awe and concern.

“There’s something about storms,” Trowa had said once. “Something that just feels…like home.”

Lightning flashes again, close enough that the world burns a bright white, a sharp crack of thunder following before the light even seems to fade. For a moment, it reminds him of ZERO, and the air is sucked out of his lungs, into the wind. The distance between them is too far. He couldn’t get to him before. Then.

The first raindrops fall, soft, distant splatters. Without thinking, he takes a step forward, the wind licking at his own clothes, random raindrops crashing into his skin as he leaves the shelter of the porch. Spellbound, he keeps moving forward, toward Trowa, his feet squishing into the soft, wet earth. He has to get to him. Once, he wasn’t able to…

Trowa’s name is on the tip of his tongue when the other man turns, looking wild and fierce, like he’s a part of the storm. But when his eyes land on Quatre, he quickens his pace, breaking into a jog to reach him.

The rain grows heavier, pattering against the rooftop and the pavement. Quatre feels his steps hasten, too, running toward Trowa until he practically leaps into his arms, takes his face into his hands, and kisses him because he can. Kisses him because he made it this time, because Trowa’s arms are around him, his body is firm against his own.

They pull apart at the next low peel of thunder, further away this time. He laughs, soft and breathlessly, laughs with relief. With gratitude.

Trowa must feel it, because he keeps holding onto him, because he pushes some of the wet hair from his eyes. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, but concern in his eyes.  The wind picks up around them, and Quatre shivers. “Let’s get you inside,” Trowa murmurs, his voice a rumble right next to his ear.

(on ao3)

[agentsnickers]

can we talk about how eddie diaz is too young to have a landline in his house

[blackjacktheboss]

seeing that they changed the claiming scene is all the confirmation that I needed to remain at peace amen 🙏🏾

[morallygraytea]

My genz ass that was born in 2001: hey how was Charlie able to get drugs onto a plane that’s unrealistic I couldn’t even take a legal edible from one state to the other.

My husband born in the late 1900s: honey he put it in his shoe back in the olden days you could keep your shoes on

[mydaysaresmall]

Portrait of Tiny

[einsteinsugly]

Young Reginald "Red" Albert Forman (born December 7, 1927), in black and white.

War. War never changes.