#this was so

[gaybuckybarnesss]

NOSFERATU (2024) Dir. Robert Eggers

[housewifebuck]

4x05 -> 4x14

[vibinginthedreamlands]

Sign of Four Part 10 spoilers

Hey Y'all. Hey y'all. Hey y'all. What the fuck. What do you mean Mary Morstan is dead? What the fuuuuuuuuuck. The fact that she was stabbed and they did the dramatic conversation where they told her everything was going to be fine and they worried and laughed but she made it to the hospital. And then we heard John recording the end of the intro for episode one of the Sign (going full circle) but then it kept going. And it. It was complications. Mary Morstan survived a war, a hostage situation, a whole Sherlock adventure, made it to the hospital and started recovering. And it was complications.

[chappellrroan]

how government asks for public's opinions:

[dianthe715]

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don’t suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive

[jak-ey]

Ya’ll THIS… was a kdrama 🙌🙌🙌

[cupcraft]

"I am burger you are bird" -Tommyinnit, a horror film

[ableedingheartdove]

Just finished Hannibal.

This is the most brilliant shit i've ever seen in my entire life wtf

[ofhope]

When Naoto walked into the fabric and crafts store, she immediately understood how Tatsumi must have felt when he entered. Even though hopelessly out of place, she took a deep breath, steeled her nerves and began browsing. 

Not in the fabrics aisle, though.

Tatsumi lived in a textile store, and he’d know what kind of fabric would suit his projects first and foremost. The last thing she wanted to do was give him something useless. Although, anything from here was most likely useless. He must have had dozens of them at home.

In spite of her desire to bolt, Naoto remained in the store, trying to find the perfect hopefully-decent-or-okay gift. 

There were project books, but she had no idea if he had bought them all before, giving a duplicate would embarrass her. Magazines fell under the same reasoning. Needles and sewing pencils were something he could acquire on his own, and he knew his favored brands.

She wandered into the aisle containing needle minders, all sorts of designs and shapes on display. For this, she reasoned with herself, certainly fell under the it’s the thought that counts category and if it wasn’t useful, it was cute.

After much consideration, Naoto walked away with an orange tabby cat holding a heart, a hedgehog with a bandana, and a penguin with earmuffs, all neatly bundled together in a little box the cashier had given her.

At the Christmas party, she shyly handed the box over, and hoped that if he were disappointed, he’d give her the small mercy of doing it when she wasn’t around. “I thought you might find these useful in your projects. If not then, they’re... they’re cute to look at.”

Wasn't the first year Kanji'd been invited to one of these things, but it damn near felt like it. Long since had he grown used to stares, being the odd one in a group, but in a group of equally-deemed odd ones... was he really the sore thumb? Community, while treasured in such a rural place, wasn't on the foreground of his mind. Kanji was Tatsumi-san's odd boy, her ticking timebomb of a child. While not his intention, his reputation preceded him, and a lack of sales was the cost of his attitude.

Needless to say, anyone can say they're a community, but all too often he was on the outside of it.

This though, this wasn't some box Kanji'd had to tuck his knees in for. Narukami, Shirogane, Hanamura, Amagi, Kujikawa, Satonaka, Teddie... they made room for him. Gave him a corner whenever he needed it. Tugged on his cuff to draw him into a game, or asked his opinion whereas many took his quiet as his opinion. Kanji had never had a lonely Christmas, he always had his old woman beside him. Now, he and his Ma' were surrounded by lights, decorations, laughs...

It was a dumb cliche, he'd be the first to say it: he needed nothing else.

Whenever Naoto glided through the crowd, it was like she had done it before. She hadn't, not really, she preferred the shadow cast by the crowd. Moved with patience, thought, calculation. Even as she did so now, opposite as she had done before, it was with purpose - and rather than whip his head to the side, Kanji... looked, oversized Santa Claus hat dipping over the arch of his brow.

“Uh,” more aware, his eyes fixated on the gift instead, and less physically: her words, and the connection of physicality and incorporeal. “You... got me something?”

It wasn't the first Christmas they had spent together as a group, nor was it the first time they had exchanged gifts... but, surprise never faded from his mind. Kanji's never really gotten gifts, not from friends, not from classmates, and that 'deer in the headlights' look never really went away. More so: Naoto announcing that she, herself, had done so. Anonymous gifts were always under the communal tree, no from, only to. Or maybe Kanji had just missed the nametag. Or maybe it was for the best for them both, their added awkwardness creating a looming spectacle of a failure in understanding social eloquence.

Nervous fingers pry apart the fine bow up top, before flicking the lid off with a clatter.

Kanji's reaction was instantaneous: cheeks awash with color, muted hues overwhelmed by pupil.

“Holy shit, how'd you know I've been needing one of these?!” there's a technical term for it, but it slips from his mind and far, far off into a bottomless chasm. “And these are way cuter than the ones I had my eye on. Hell, I was just gonna' use an old soda can I had lying around. After, after I'd cleaned it out. Naoto, this...”

If Kanji thinks too hard on it, he can hear jeers, laughs, why are you getting all worked up over three hunks of metal?

It's more than that, though. It's her willingness to engage in a craft he once, stupidly, deemed shameful; her walking around some cramped store, in spite of the holiday crowds he knew, knew she didn't like; it's her thinking of him; it's...

“... It's not the finished product, 'n I didn't wrap it because it didn't feel like... enough,” Kanji dug around in his pocket, carefully regarding the goodie-filled box. “This'll go on the gift I'm makin' for you. I ran outta' yarn, and the holiday rush meant that we won't be getting any in stock 'till after New Year's. But... I wanna' give you this, for now.”

Holding out his palm, there stood a small gift in its center: azure shades, a crocheted interpretation, fixed with a pin at its back.

“It's supposed to go...”

Discarding the box onto the nearest surface, Kanji delicately lifted the cap from her head, situating the pin at the leftmost side; not the centerpiece. After patting it down, he took a glance at where the hat once sat. Had... he ever seen Naoto without her hat?

Before he could be too overcome by that realization, Kanji swiftly returned the cap back to its rightful owner, now fashioned with a new addition.

“I'll have to take it from you, but 'til that day comes, you... can wear it. Y-You don't have to, though.”

[cloudy-moth]

i have. a lot of feelings on that ending

[lieutenant-sarcastic]

Fuck moon’s taking poison damage

[jorisjurgen]

WHAT

[homunculus-argument]

This counts as vent art.

[archivegeo]

got a major pest problem this year actually

[redrook]

I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do

the bit was that I was "put in jail for having too big a heart" and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children's hospital or something)

now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that's terrible! that's awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I'm sooooooo close to making bail.

and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I'd thank them, and they'd walk away.

and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.

I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I'd threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we'd all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.

eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I'd need someone to brace me when I got out because I'd have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.

but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.

so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you're not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.

and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn't feel as bad, so I'd bring in less money.

the compromise was that they'd bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.

all this money went to charity. that's what the money was for. it's what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.

and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I'm going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I'd thank them and sip from my secret drink.

I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.

again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.

so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.