#they love me they've told me

[warpedpuppeteer]

Thinking about Buck after the ladder truck crushing his leg, in pain, unbalanced and depressed, but still getting Maddie to come help him cut the leg of his uniform pants so that it can fit over his cast, just so he can go to Eddie's helmet shield ceremony. Thinking about Maddie telling him he needs to rest and heal and Buck saying "this is more important". 'This' being Eddie because that's his best friend finishing his probation and he can't even imagine not being there. Thinking about him hobbling towards Eddie and enveloping him in a big warm Buckley hug because he wouldn't have missed it for the world 🥹

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[mettywiththenotes]

Future Tomura visiting UA one day (he has a pass with him dw, Izuku invited him for a lesson) and just hanging out in the staff room while Izuku is getting some work together before break ends. He's sat there curled up, shoes on the chair, playing on his nintendo ds

One of the kids from Izuku's class comes in like "Hi sensei I was just wondering wha- IS THAT SHIGARAKI TOMURA, THE NUMBER ONE VILLAIN FROM 8 YEARS AGO???"

Tomura just throws up a peace sign and goes "Hey" while Izuku's like "Well, he's not a villain anymore, but yeah that's him. What were you gonna ask me?"

[poisonousquinzel]

thinking about just how likely it is that Batman was the only person Harley told about having suicidal thoughts whilst in Arkham in Detective Comics #831

"I was seriously considering hanging sheets from the light in my cell and doing the maximum checkout when I heard this voice..."

Detective Comics #831

and how he knew when she strapped that bomb to herself in Batman (2016) #100 that he had to go after her because she was going let herself die in an attempt to end Joker's rampage for good but that she refused to physically do it because he didn't want to her Kill him and he told her that so she's found a middle ground

"We don't need to end it this way. He needs to be locked back up."

that she'd rather die than keep living with his presence in the world haunting her, haunting Them.

That if he did choose Joker, she wasn't going to disarm the bomb herself.

"Honey. You're talking to the wrong girl if you think he's not dangerous locked up in Arkham. It's like I said. That's not good enough for me. Not anymore."

the way he yells for her as she leaves.

"You're only going to get to one of us in time, Bats. Who's it going to be?"

"Harley!"

the way the two men stare at each other in the way they have so many times before, in those moments when Joker stayed or prioritized their fight over her. the way he knew Joker loved the thrill of it all and thought it was funny, thought there was No way Batman would leave him and that this game had to end as according to the rules. And that Batman would do so, he would follow the rules and save him. The way he immediately assumed Batman would choose him, choose his life and choose to stay and disarm the bomb.

And how Batman didn't do that. How Batman walked away from him, leaving him to die or escape or whatever, because He was choosing Harley and her safety and prioritizing her life over him.

The way he stared him in the eyes before choosing the woman Joker had always left to die over him. The way that it was always Him, it was never a question if he would choose Batman over her, but when faced with that type of scenario, Joker is the one that gets left behind to die.

The way she literally woke up in the hospital instead of them having a scene just outside after he removed it. because she didn't intend to live in one of the two options. the way the bomb probably did go off to some capacity because you don't just end up in the hospital knocked out for a week.

Him saying that he's glad she's okay, after everything they've been through, this war and Everything else. and the way he didn't brush off her concern

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Are you?"

"I had to bury my father again today. I did it with my family."

i just, i can't,,,,, i cant

[dreamlogic]

aye can i get a fuckin uuuhhhh

break. on my burger

[abluehappyface]

That feeling of knowing that if she could replace you with a neurotypical child instead of being forced to have deal with you that she absolutely would 🫠

[cherryjuicegf]

They won't sleep tonight.

They couldn't even if they wanted. Not after everything, standing before nothing, their sides digged up and empty and lost and all that remains close being each other, crumbled and less than half of themselves, trying to form something less than a whole.

But Jaskier insisted, faint as it sounded, because she was stumbling on her feet and her shoulders were dragged by the earth and her eyes hadn't gone a second without flooding throughout the day. So much that he knew he had to save some of his tears to give her, in case hers ever dried up. Not letting her hurt bereft of tears, at least he could give her that.

The bed is fit for two whole people. Broken, hidden from her, a smile.

They won't sleep tonight.

They will say it's only for a few moments of rest, if rest could ever be so agonizing. They will say it's no use to roam the continent now, in the dark of the night, holding themselves from collapsing onto each other only for the sake of the names constantly hanging from their lips, now by so weak a string they almost let them drop. They will say it's only for rest.

And this is what it is.

This, and also the way he takes off his coat and his vest and suddenly his shoulders appear so shrunk under the worn-out shirt that she rests her hands on them without thinking, because they look like hurting. She caresses more than rubs them, and hopes it's enough. It's love, she won't say. It should be enough.

This, and also his hands coming up to unlace her shirt and help her peel it off her body, and then her skirt, and then, she stands still in her undergarment, and waits for him to also strip to his shirt. And then they face each other, hands on their sides, tired and empty, and they stare.

He affords a smile, faint. She smiles back. It's all they can afford.

This, as they slip under the thin blanket and they haven't done it for quite a while, but it feels so familiar now, like slipping back into their older broken molds, only they don't fit quite right anymore. This is a different kind of broken.

How gentle, then, how kind, to crumble again together.

His arms are open, forever open and waiting, and she thinks none of it as she crawls inside and wraps her body around his, clings tight and brusing. He happily welcomes the bruising. It's proof she's still here.

Her nose nuzzles into his shoulder and he buries his face in her hair, and breathes in the ashes and the exhaustion and the pain and the lilac and everything that makes her. Deep breaths, nonstopping. So that he memorizes the scent.

He only pulls back just a little, just to take a look at her eyes. Swollen and cut and bloodshot, and he suspects his are not much different as they're mirrored. But there's comfort, too. There, pooling between the crinkles along with the tears, carved between her eyebrows.

At least, at least.

He knows he's not much. At least, just enough. Enough to find the faint wave of hope between the flood of her eyes. Enough to mold a little dimple on her cheek where his thumb strokes, and make her eyes flutter close.

Less than whole. But holding her, just enough.

They will not sleep tonight.

Only, in a moment of despair, similar to so many other moments, she will kiss his lips. And he, he will kiss her too. Softly, barely there, for reassurance. He will kiss her lips, and then he will kiss the side of her neck. And then her shoulder, bare and slumped, and she will cling tighter on him because she has to cling somewhere, even just for a little bit. Just for tonight.

Only, in a moment of love, similar to so many other moments, she will bare her lungs in sighs and he will find shelter there, inside her as though to replace the lost warmth, or try to.

Alright, everything will be alright. I love you, everything will be alright.

Just for tonight, just for their lips to whisper each other's names too, the ones they so discreetly cover up in daylight. As though they could ever hide.

They will not sleep.

Not tonight, not for many other nights afterwards.

Instead, he will place one last kiss on her lips, and then rest into the crook of her neck, as she rests into his chest, and the gaping holes by their sides may prevent it from being whole, but for now, it's just enough.

It could never be more than that, anyway.

And if the lullaby he mutters and the soft vibration of his chest makes her eyes droop after a while, she will never admit it. If her lips tremble on his skin moments before her lashes do, to slowly fade his voice in a dreamless sleep, later, he will speak none of it.

Later, they will say they did not sleep that night.

It's love, they won't say. It's just enough.

[anuntitledpng]

*sees episode title and loses my mind*

[theinfinitedivides]

me literally every time Ki Cheol and Jun Mo are less than three feet away from each other/interact in any way shape or form:

[townofcrosshollow]

Got a new, extremely serious, life changing diagnosis yesterday and when I got home my dad was like "You know what that means? DISABILITY TAX CREDIT!" and y'know what he's right and he should say it

[pynkhues]

It is interesting with Antoinette. I could see it being that Lestat genuinely had affection for her, even if he would certainly have killed her had Louis personally asked him to -- or it could be that she was just familiar, and he wanted the closest thing to intimacy he could get, so someone who knew him was better than someone who didn't. And the whole possibility that she reminded him of Gabrielle in some ways...

(x)

Yeah, I totally agree, anon.

I actually unfortunately suspect that Antoinette isn't a character the show will really come back to, and I think I'm one of three people that cares about that, haha, but where I tend to land on her relationship with Lestat is the fact that neither Lestat nor Louis actually have any friends.

That's not to say that I think Lestat and Antoinette were just friends, I don't, they obviously fucked a lot (which like, also comes down to the fact that Lestat doesn't know how to have friends he doesn't fuck, haha), but I do think the reality is that Lestat and Louis have very different racial and cultural contexts, hobbies and areas of interest which aren't things they can easily share with each other, especially not in early-1900s America, and I think that's a bigger factor in their relationship breakdown than either will admit to.

It's why Louis' able to reconnect with Jonah so quickly - they might be leading different lives, but they have more overlapping factors than they don't, whereas he and Lestat have less than they do - and for Lestat as a white theatre kid, he needs to be around other performers. I think with Antoinette, she's obviously a talented vocalist and an ambitious artist, and I can see that genuinely just being company that Lestat wants to be close with. They probably talk shit about crap theatre they've seen and do vocal runs together and fuck, and honestly for a part of Lestat, that would lowkey be a dream relationship, haha. Do I think they have a deep emotional connection? No, but given even Louis' willing to admit she's talented, and his own complex relationship with not succeeding as an artist, I wonder how much that factors in to his portrayal of her and his insecurities around their relationship (to say nothing of the fact that she's both white and a woman).

This feels like it's going on a hundred tangents, haha, but my point is maybe they'd step out on each other less or descend into unforessen levels of chaos and destruction if they both had a few friends they could talk about their identities and niche interests with!!

[wilsonpussyindulgence]

absolutely hilarious thing when i was looking at my tags for all the cr campaigns

[alrightbuckaroo]

home is wherever i'm with you

Oh, it's a day that ends in 'Y' so that must be Ada is cross posting yet another story from ao3. Anyways, if you stop to read this, I hope you enjoy <3

There’s one place that I call home and that’s because you’re there.

         - The Birdcage (1996) dir. Mike Nichols

May 2021

Carlos says, “I love you” in so many different ways, and TK loves each and every one of them.

There’s the standard, “I love you,”; that’s the one that fills TK with so much warmth; it could help him survive a cold winter's night.

He’s particularly fond of “I made your favorite for dinner,”; that’s one that TK could hear Carlos say every single night, and he would never get sick of it.

He’s even more fond of, “This song made me think of you,”; that’s the one that makes TK realize just how lucky he is. Carlos hears a story of love and finds a way to find TK in it.

Then, there’s his favorite,“Call me when you get home.” Maybe it’s a cop-out; seeing as it might be the one TK hears him say the most.

He first heard Carlos say it the first night they met. At first, TK found it a little strange. He thought it was overkill, in a way; the night had meant nothing. They had meant nothing; nothing more than a good time and a distraction.

Regardless, TK called Carlos and told him he made it home. TK could hear the smile in Carlos’ voice when he said, “Good, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

And TK, well TK didn’t really know how to respond to that. All his life, he felt like he was the one who was meant to take care of other people. Take care of them, watch over them, make sure they were, well, safe. Even if they never felt that way about him.

Having someone feel that same way about him was foreign. TK hated it, he loved it, and he hated that he loved it.

He tried to suppress that part of him that didn’t want to fall prey to this same old story, time and time again. He tried to fight it.

Eventually, he lost that fight; and every time Carlos told him to call him when he got home, he’s so glad that did.

Even after they made it official, walk hand and hand and throw around the term boyfriend like a weightless force; Carlos never stops saying it.

When he leaves, and heads back to a bed that doesn’t seem nearly as warm, Carlos will kiss him goodnight and say, “I love you, call me when you get home.”

TK feels like he was being loved twice as much.

December 2021

Carlos stares at the dinner table; set for just one. He tries not to think too much about the break-up; but he’s found that he’s made TK’s favorite for dinner once again. He looks at his front door, like he’s waiting for TK to walk through it.

He lies in bed that night; just wanting to know if TK’s safe, if he made it home. Even if that home isn’t with him.

January 2022

Carlos is convinced his heartbeat has started to fall in sync to beeping sound of TK’s heart monitor. He’s exhausted, fatigued, irritable and he knows that he’s not going anywhere. Not until he’s sure TK is safe.

—

When TK wakes up, Carlos is the first person he sees and he thinks he might be dreaming. When Carlos places a hand on his cheek, TK can’t help himself. He pulls Carlos in closer, grasping onto his shirt; a way to ensure that Carlos is there. He’s still there.

In Carlos’ arms, TK feels safe. He feels like he’s home.

February 2022

Carlos is getting ready for bed, he’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth and thinking about the fact it’s no longer his home; but their home. He still has yet to exhale at the thought of it; as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He hears the front door open, and waits for TK to greet him with his usual, “Hi babe.” Instead, there’s a beat of silence followed by his phone ringing. It’s TK’s favorite song.

He walks out to the bedroom and grabs his phone off the night stand. He picks it up, the caller ID reading TK Strand with a bright red heart next to it. “Babe?” He questions, knowing TK’s already in the apartment.

“Hey babe,” TK peeks his head in the bedroom doorway, the phone still next to his ear. “I made it home.”

[heybaetae]

.

[ratbastarddotfuck]

oh they didn't even BOTHER inviting me to aunty Net's funeral. I really am estranged.

[alexjcrowley]

Sooooo one of my mutuls reminded me that I love The Talented Mr. Ripley so much and I am 100% not normal about it and I just to say that the last time I rewatched it (a few months ago) I hadn't watched that movie for a long time and my only thought was "they want you to think Tom Ripley is the dangerous character but it's actually Dickie Greenleaf. Nothing can destroy your life like the nonchalance a charming person picks you up and puts you down with". And I was 100% sure of that. And then I rewatched the movie and I was like "Okay maybe Tom Ripley was the problem" but you need to understand that everytime I watch that movie it fucks with my brain and my past friendships so hard after a while I always find myself thinking "if Dickie just knew how to love Tom in the right way, none of this would have happened. It's Dickie's fault." And it's not! Tom is deeply fucked up for several reasons! But this movie fucks so hard with me pegs my brain gaslights me like an abusive boyfriend that I always end up thinking "Tom did nothing wrong. Tom did nothing wrong, if Dickie just loved him the right way. It's Dickie's fault."

I just think that people like Dickie Greenleaf can make anyone insane. I think I'd rather never knew the joy of bashing in Dickie's attention that living through the desperation of being derived of it.