#HOW DOES THIS WORK

[munchymunchkin]

[frutiflux]

No Fault, No Blame.

Invisible - Duran Duran

[og-seaweed]

One thing I find super interesting about orv is how when I imagine myself in its world, the ideal ending I dream of is one where I take Kim Dokja's place in the subway, so that he can be with his companions. Because, in our, the readers', eyes, what better fate could there be than to be able to spend the rest of eternity watching our beloved characters enjoy a happy ending? We have no place in their story.

And then you realise that Kim Dokja did exactly that.

[muscatjello]

It's Tuesday somewhere

[bklily]

stopping my crying for a moment just to wonder- did Gabriel not only digitize his son... but also his comatose wife??? my guy?? u good???

[the-mighty-e]

Drones are strange

If this is their vision

Then

HOW THE FUCK DO THEY KNOW OTHER COLORS????

YALL ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE OTHER COLORS

Edit: K rewatching ep 3 made me notice this in Doll's vision

Atp I think they can decide what kinda view they wanna have. This is the only moment in the entirety of the serie where a drone had a vision with a different color. Idk what to sayyyy 😭

[albaskies]

Tears ricochet

It occurs to her all at once, her nose buried in his chest, his arms tight around her shoulders. 

‘You’re alright,’ he whispers. ‘You’re alright.’

When she looks up to him, sees his eyes shut and his tense lips, she immediately knows he is not trying to reassure her. He is reassuring himself.

He’d found her in the Common Room, not long after he’d disappeared with Professor McGonagall behind the doors of the hospital wing. He’d walked straight to her as soon as he’d seen her, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s worried looks, and he’d held like he had not seen her since before he’d left the school with Dumbledore. He’d clung to her like he’d only just realised that they had been apart during a battle, that he’d been too far away to protect her, that he cannot be in two places at once. And it pains him, she can tell, it takes his breath away.

This must be it, she thinks - she knows. She clenches her fists, pressing her body onto his only for him to feel that she’s alive, she’s safe, she’s real. She won’t leave him, not until he’ll ask her to.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid and noble.

.

No, she understands. Really, she does. It must’ve been somewhere hidden in the  fine print on dating the Chosen One. Right under He will set off to top-secret missions with old wizards that end up dying, it’d say: He’ll push you away to keep you safe, and then: He’ll leave you behind, whatever that means. And finally: You must let him.

After all, her feelings are irrelevant in the bigger picture. There’s a war raging out there, for Merlin’s sake. Why would she even waste time fantasising about a boy she fancies when Dumbledore has died and her brother has been maimed? It’s only selfish to even fathom those silly feelings in a time like this, right? Right?

She forces her head back under the hot stream of the shower, lets the water flood her face and blur her vision, trying harder than herself to shut down that one intrusive thought she knows has now started creeping in the back of her mind. But she can’t. She can’t because she already knows, not so deep down, that he’s not just some boy she fancies, that her feelings aren’t silly, that what they share is there and it’s real, whatever it is.

Her mouth tastes bitter now. Ironic how Tom has ruined this for them, too. 

.

She tells Hermione the following morning, when the boys have run off to find some lunch for them to eat under a tree. She’s not sure what she expects to get out of her, but she takes a shot at it anyway.

‘He’s going to leave me.’

Hermione opens her mouth but nothing comes out, her eyes sombre. Ginny realises she has been holding her breath.

‘You all are.’

Still, the warm July sun bathes the castle grounds as if summer does not care, as if it is all some cruel joke.

.

When it finally happens, at least she is not caught off guard. She manages to hold back her tears, just as she promised herself on countless occasions, because he does not deserve any more pain. He does not deserve any of it. 

Funny how she is the one who is getting her heart broken, but she is still more concerned about his well being than anything else. Maybe this is what love is, she finally realises. It must be. 

She reckons this is not the best time to tell him. Wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to.

.

On the train ride back home, she’s finally alone and free to let out all those tears she’s so stubbornly managed to hold back until now. She’s only human, after all. 

She feels it all so distinctly now, the pain, the grief, the hurt, the hopelessness. But there is something almost peaceful about the deep-rooted, ever-present, plain old sense of acceptance that sits right on top of her stomach. 

She knows it too well that the time has come for the Chosen One to prevail over Harry. The Chosen One has things to do, riddles to solve (Really, Ginny?, she thinks, half-smiling despite herself), and Harry has to oblige, head down, feelings buried, a wasted adolescence. It must be hard to love the Chosen One, that self-sacrificing, reckless, stubborn, noble git. But loving Harry, the real Harry, is the easiest thing in the world. 

As for her - well, she knows she deeply cares for them both. Hell with that, she knows she loves them both. And, yes, she understands them both. She knows all too well what her role is, in all this mess. She really does know that the Chosen One had no choice but to break up with her before doing whatever he is set to do. She also knows that Harry never would have. 

This is the only thought that will keep her going even months from now, when she will be fighting her own resistance battle.

.

As soon as she sets foot into her home, the all-too-familiar smells flooding her senses, she just knows she won’t be able to sit through an entire dinner without giving away too much. She’s too tired to lie and pretend.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she mutters to nobody in particular. ‘I’m not hungry,’ and: ‘Yes, I’m fine, I’m just knackered.’

Her mother stiffens, ready to let out a protest, but she turns on her heels towards the stairs before anyone manages to say anything. She can feel Ron’s eyes on the back of her neck, just as she’s felt his silent and constant gaze since they got off the train not so long ago. And when she hears his heavy steps behind her, following hers, she’s not even surprised.

They stop on the first floor landing, just in front of her bedroom door.

‘I’m fine, Ron,’ she quickly tells him, suddenly worrying that he’ll jump right into one of those how dare my best friend hurt my sister kind of rants. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

But instead, when she looks at him she realises that he’s not going to do any of that. His expression is miserable, sure, but it doesn’t take long for her to learn that he understands, too.

‘I’m so sorry, Ginny,’ he blurts out, no need to add more.

And that’s when it hits her, again, but much stronger this time. Maybe it’s because it’s someone else who is putting it in front of her, making it more real, or maybe it’s because she’s back home and the void left by Harry's absence is slowly starting to burn a hole in her heart. Maybe both, or maybe neither. It doesn’t even matter, that's for sure.

‘I’m sorry, too.’

He must have felt that something has changed, her voice has shifted and her eyes have filled with tears. She can read it all over his face - the distress, the panic, the what do I do now. She reckons she hasn’t cried in front of him since that train ride on her way to school in her second year. Must be new for him, must feel weird.

But even if his expression doesn’t seem to have a clue, his body certainly does - he stretches out his arm towards her and she grabs it right away, as if they have never really got rid of the long forgone habit of holding each other. He engulfs her in a warm hug, the Big Brother Hug, crumbling the last piece of guard she has managed to hold up until now. And then she just cries - she cries ugly, sobs and snot and all that. She feels like she’s twelve all over again.

.

Later, in her childhood bedroom, she sinks deep into her bed, ready to doze off into what she hopes will be dreamless oblivion. In that dark, quiet stillness, she can’t stop her mind from wandering to a time (or a fantasy, she isn’t quite sure) when this will all be over. He will slip into the very same tiny bed, squeezed right next to her, his hands gripped on her waist, lips pressed onto hers, then on her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Or maybe - no, maybe she will rest her head on his chest, listening to the sound of him breathing, and he will gently stroke her hair as if he’s never really stopped. Or maybe (and here she can’t help but feel a soft blush tickling her cheeks), maybe their bodies and souls will find each other, bare, warm, breathless. 

‘I can’t believe I got this lucky,’ he’ll tell her, you know, after. ‘I can’t believe I get to live this life.’

‘Been dreaming of getting in my bed for long, now, have you,’ she’ll tease, her sardonic tone merely hiding her immense relief.

He’ll let out a small smile - small, yes, but finally light, free, and easy, so, so easy.

‘All those Veelas didn’t quite hit’, he’ll draw some imaginary quotation marks in the air and throw her a knowing look. ‘The spot, you know.’

She’ll snort a laughter in disbelief, and she’ll be so fucking glad, because as though everything will have changed, so much will have just stayed the same.

[radvelvetcakez]

Charlie: Fight me! Vaggie, standing behind her and holding a knife: *mouths* Do not.

[lost-foxian]

i just came here for the spn fandom and to post like fanarts

[evilbeetl3]

Uhhh ion how Tumblr works 💯🔥‼️

[braceletofteeth]

Oh, great! Problem sol-

wait what

[httpgrian]

etho slab!? where are the etho girls when i need them,, /j

[j3llyf1shdust]

not totally sure how making an “oc” or “fankid” works, mostly because i dont usually end up adoring them as much as I do dynamite.

[arachn11da]

First tumblr post ever wtf am i doing

[rivermaoo]

Johnny doodle because why not

[junkiiartist]

jadesprite!!!!