#I don't even go here anymore

[abrieftasteoflove]

[nikkiruncks]

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong? It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

can people make more discourse abt the newsies musical. i'm bored.

[synesindri]

the allure of writing more posts trying to clarify why my spn takes are the way they are is so strong but so pointless. i know that all it will do is piss me off </3

[wesleyaccola]

Habits (1.7k words)

One of the many things he finds interesting in this new found not-friendship they develop is how quickly they fall into small habits.

He always buys the popcorn and puts too much butter "My fingers are always greasy after, Humphrey. You're disgusting."

"No one is forcing you to eat the thing, Waldorf."

They always seem to find their way to his loft after every movie, engrossed in discussion and he swears he's never seem Blair Waldorf walk the streets of Wiliamsburg so freely.

He's not even sure she notices it.

xxx

If movie night happens to be at the loft (in which they never schedule but ends up being religiously on Thursdays) they always order pizza and she's tasked with the toppings. He notices he's eating a lot more of gourmet lately, or whatever the hell gourmet is. He's not sure, but he'll be dead before he asks her.

It tastes phenomenal.

xxx

They get the habit of always telling the truth.

"You shouldn't let Chuck Bass define what your life should be, Blair."

"And you shouldn't let Serena Van Der Woodsen snap her fingers and you're there with your tail wagging."

Her tone is sharper than his, but he starts to notice is not meant to hurt anymore. It borders on exasperation, actually.

As if she knew he could do better.

He was certain that she could. What he didn't know still was when he started caring about her happiness so much.

xxx

He writes and she reads.

It doesn't even begin as a request, once he gets his groove back and golden hair no longer clouds his thoughts and judgment, his mind grants him access to deeper things once more.

The first he sends on an e-mail at 2AM, needing to at least have her receive it as soon as he had finished it. He was surprised when the reply came at 2:30AM.

"You still ramble way too much Humphrey, but this is passable. It's thoughtful and insightful. But you did not hear that from me. What was the inspiration for this?"

In the back of his mind he feels like he knows he got it after a road trip and a reality check inside his father's car ("You're a writer! When was the last time you wrote something?").

He doesn't tell her that.

He replies that it's natural talent and Dan practically imagines the scoff that comes out as soon as she reads it.

She doesn't reply that night.

He won.

xxx

He has two tickets for a Fellini marathon on a Saturday afternoon at the Walter Reade. 'La Strada', 'Nights of Cabiria' and 'La Dolce Vita' are on queue.

On Thursday night she says yes, agrees to pay for the popcorn this time. He says that it doesn't even begin to cover for the money he had spent on her ticket or all the times he bought the popcorn before. He doesn't realize the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he types this. She ignores him.

On Saturday morning he wakes up with a text "Something came up. Can't make it. Sorry."

The smile from two days prior turns into a frown. He says "yeah, no problem." But something nags at him in the back of his head. He doesn't go to the screenings but he keeps her ticket. The nagging turns to concern after it's Tuesday and he hasn't heard anything from her in three days.

He makes a decision.

Dan arrives at the penthouse in the early evening, Dorota gives him a pointed look and he heads upstairs.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone doesn't bite. It's soft, low. She's behind her covers, silk velvet robe covering her shoulders and arms. Dan looks at her and has no idea that this would be the last time he would not say anything about Blair's red, swollen eyes. He sighs. Three days of this, at least.

They need to change that.

"I've come bearing gifts."

He lifts his arms up, one bag in each hand.

"Good ones?" She asks.

He chuckles "If you don't go to Fellini, Fellini comes to you."

Dan approaches her bed, notices how her big brown eyes follow his steps. He puts the bags down, pulls out three DVDs from one of them. His personal collection, containing the movies they were gonna watch it on Saturday. They could easily watch them on Netflix, but it's not nearly as special.

Her smile begins to reach her eyes, and Dan breathes again. He also pulls out a copy of the current issue of the' 'New Yorker', his latest piece published. He leaves it at her nightstand, doesn't say anything else.

From the other bag there's macaronis of at least five different colors. He shakes his head and tries to hide his grin when her eyes light up. He takes out one last item "Mind if I use your microwave?" He shows the popcorn to her and she makes a point to roll her eyes "If you must."

Dan goes downstairs and Dorota helps him fetch a large enough bowl for two to eat it from. He doesn't want to dwell too much in what he thinks it's an appreciative expression from Dorota when she says "Have nice night, Mr. Humphrey."

Once he's back in her bedroom, Blair has already put Nights of Cabiria on and was back in bed, remote in one hand and macaroni in the other.

"What time did you leave Brooklyn? Isn't traffic supposed to be hellish at this hour?" Blair questions, takes a bite of her sweet, but Dan can see her sniffing the popcorn. He takes off his shoes and scoots next to her, over the covers.

"I took the subway."

"Ew."

Dan laughs "Just play the movie, Waldorf."

Their shoulders touch and Dan briefly ponders how much this is a far cry from the Blair-imposed two seat rule from a few months prior.

He doesn't mind it.

The opening credits aren't even over yet and she's already reaching for the popcorn, eyes on the screen. He leans the bowl to her side a bit.

"Dorota didn't have butter, sorry."

"You should be relieved. I'm sure your writer's earnings are still not enough to pay for these sheets if you were to ever grease them, Humphrey. You'd probably have to sell that loft of yours. Popcorn is fine this way."

He catches the habit of just shaking his head and laugh silently to himself at these types of antics now.

xxx

Dan is not sure when it starts, but he hears a light whimper by his side when Cabiria pleads to the Virgin Mary for a better life, surrounded by devouts and her non-believers friends.

He looks down and something tugs inside when he sees tears quietly streaking down her face. It's a ridiculous statement that he has known since he first saw her, before she even knew he existed, but Blair is beautiful.

There hasn't been a moment since then he has wavered on that thought. Even when they hated each other, schemed together and against one another, or when Blair "exiled" his sister, that sentiment was still there.

Blair is beautiful.

Now, at her most vulnerable, Dan finds her enchanting. Seeing a mask fall and break as if it made of porcelain, right beside him, brings up conflicting thoughts. For one he's glad she seems comfortable enough to lean against him and continue to let the tears fall; it could be just about the movie.

He finds it hard to believe that last part.

On the other hand, he wants to make this stop. Her hurt to cease. He dares touch her hand as Giulietta Massina explodes with charisma on screen "Hey."

He feels her stiffen under his touch, her skin cold. She doesn't look up at him "Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

She answers but doesn't make a move to remove his hand from hers. He chooses to leave it there. The movie ends and he gets up to change it. Once he returns she takes the initiative and leans against his shoulder.

Dan swallows, focus on the screen in front.

By the time the third movie ends, there's no discussion of plot or Fellini's cultural relevance in the 50's and today.

They sleep.

xxx

It's about 3AM when he wakes, neck cranked in a position not fit for a human body. The lights are still on, as is the TV.

Blair is curled to the other side, duvet up to her eyes.

Dan really needs to pee.

He reaches the joint bathroom and does his business, eyes still heavy with sleep. Upon his return he moves the bags and the bowl from the bed to a nearby table, turns off the TV and lights. Only a small lamp by Blair's side remains on, dim.

He spends a few minutes by the side of the bed, overthinking his next step. He could easily pass through the bathroom and sleep on Serena's room, but he remembers Blair mentioning that it's kept closed if Serena is not there.

As much as Blair loves calling him a pauper and/or labrador, he doesn't find it enticing the prospect of sleeping on the floor. Her bed is big enough. Big enough to fit at least three Blairs, he rationalizes. So it fits at least one of him.

He slides on top of the duvet, rests his head on a pillow and closes his eyes. Seconds later there's a shift on the bed and the weight of an arm across his stomach, as Blair turns and snuggles closer, head near his torso.

Dan forgets how to breathe for a moment.

The minutes pass and his attention are on Blair's light motions as she sleeps, the tiny twitches of her eyes, a low snore.

He hopes she's not having nightmares.

When he starts to drift off as well, he feels the smell of coconut shampoo and when he's gone, he dreams of palm trees, long brown hair and doe eyes.

xxx

[starkfish]

Imagine leaving a snitty, snarky comment on a fic written over a decade ago by someone you've never interacted with because you didn't like the way they tagged it, like just imagine the audacity lmao.

[biocrafthero]

Guys help I've started watching videos about MLP

[go-to-two]

It's always when I try to convince non-LA folks that the city isn't that weird that I get three texts and a link alerting me to a celebration of life being held for a beloved community mountain lion. It is what it is at this point.

[nadja-antipaxos]

imagine laying all that ground work for a black actor to be a huge part of the next phase of your franchise and instead of recasting, you rehire the white guy you built the franchise on.

i don't ??? there was every reason to fire him but there are other actors that exist! or give dr. doom to a relatively unknown actor like you did with thor!

[deerntheheadlights]

Guess who wrote fic?

[gregorycddie]

the first person to kiss the ninth doctor was jack bffr

[rivereddies]

you don't understand. i Need cecil to win.

[nikkiruncks]

The way you sold me for parts

As you sunk your teeth into me, oh

[starcurtain]

Hear me out. I know it's unlikely that Ratio would ever have been foolish enough to directly get taken in by a scam, but considering that we know:

One of the groups specifically tricked by Kakavasha before he joined the IPC was the Intelligentsia Guild

What he tricked them about was Tayzzyronth's Swarm remnants, the exact same thing we see Ratio investigating in his very first appearance in the game, and

The researchers were described as "extremely cautious"

I am surprised that "Ratio was at least somehow connected to the Intelligentsia Guild team fooled by Kakavasha before he was ever even a Stoneheart" isn't more popular with the Ratio and Aventurine fandom.

Like imagine being Dr. Ratio. You tell your colleagues, "This seems like a scam. Are you sure you should trust this 'local guide' you've made contact with? Tell me about him. A picture? Does this even look like an Egyhazan native to you? I won't save you fools from making idiotic decisions." (You end up having to clean up the aftermath of their idiotic decisions anyway. There is sand in places on your body you didn't even know existed before this. How mortifying for the Guild. For you, by association.)

Then, next thing you know, you get a mission briefing slid across your desk from your IPC connections. They want you to work with their new Stoneheart. You open the packet to see... that little bastard with the enthralling eyes who had your moronic colleagues scrambling in the dirt on a backwater planet for months. Apparently he's made a career out of fooling you your supposedly competent guildmates.

You run off to confront him. You never met him personally back then, but you deserve compensation for the idiocy you were subjected to nonetheless. He deserves to know how much of a pain in the ass he's been in your life already without ever having met your eyes--

He proceeds to shove a gun into your hands and tries to make you an accomplice to a suicide. Apparently, this is normal behavior for the man now called Aventurine. Somehow, it's supposed to prove to you that he is a sane and reliable individual.

Absolutely nothing in your life has been normal since Egyhazo.

You would like to have mundane problems, sometimes.

How do you keep ending up in this beautiful manic clever conman's orbit, and why, like binary stars, can you not escape the gravitational pull?

[sincerelybubbles]

i just think that james would make the best boyfriend. and i know it's not a new thought or even an uncommon one, everyone knows james loves fast and he loves deep, but i cannot help but imagine how healthy your relationship would be with him.

like, yes, when he picks you he's fiercely protective and obsessed with you beyond belief. he's always touching you, skin to skin, pouting when you're holding his hand because you're wearing gloves and he wants to feel you ("I'll put your hand in my pocket," he whines when you explain that your hand is just cold. you give him a fake glare but three minutes later, tops, you're holding his hand, no gloves, in his hoodie pocket and he's walking around with the biggest grin on his face, all white teeth on display). he compliments you every time you turn a corner for everything you do, he drops anything and everything for you the second you even breathe like you might need something. his professions of love are as breathtaking as they are frequent ("i just love the way you exist," he whispers in the morning, smoothing your hair out of your face, "i mean, it's 7 in the morning and usually i'm struggling to open my eyes but your hair is frizzy and i know where all of your freckles are and i can't wait to count them, you know?").

but i think beyond that, there's a sort of solidness that comes from healing together. from finding the flaws in your relationships, testing them until the cracks widen enough for you two to patch together, and relishing in the firmness of what used to be weak. james overwork himself. he used to spend restless hours finishing work at home, dejectedly pushing you off in fear of letting down his coworkers. working at the gym until his muscles screamed, unable to even lift his fork for dinner without his pecs screaming at him. planning dates and activities on your days off together to the point where you felt like you couldn't breathe. everything done with the lacing of care, tinged with the effort he put into every moment of life. it felt wrong for you to comment on at first. he tries so hard all of the time to do everything for everyone -- be everything for everyone, even himself. good things, at their core, that you didn't want to rub the shine out of by getting your fingerprints on. but you watched him fracture and put him back together when the effort became too much and crumpled his facade. you taught him self-restraint, reminded him to allow you to take some of the burden, showed him the simple pleasure of taking up space together without thinking of how every moment could be maximized. in turn, he helped you with sleep. self-confidence. how to talk through hurt feelings instead of lashing out.

james wouldn't let comments turn into fights. ("what do you mean when you say that?" he asks instead, sitting beside you and ducking his head to meet your eye, be at your level. his fingertips rest on your forearm, skin-to-skin like always. eyes open, alert, lips pressed together to tell you he's confused, doesn't agree, but posture telling you he's willing to listen more than he's willing to escalate). and when fights happen, of course they happen, you've taught him it's okay to walk away. it's not defeat. neither of you leave the flat, only to separate rooms, but it usually only takes 20 minutes before you're reaching out again, missing his warm fingers settling on the soft place behind your ear as he messes with your hair while you talk, and you're whispering your way through the problem. untangling to the root like it's a tangled group of threads, working through it together,

so, yeah, i can't stop thinking about how james would be such a good boyfriend. for the obvious reasons, always, but for the ones deeper from the surface. for the reasons that would cause issues first and how ready he would be to dive in and make the faults strengths of their own as well.

not edited, not proof read, i'm so sorry it's 1am and i can't stop thinking about him

[conjuring-ghouls]

Papa's speech in São Paulo, Brasil, 20/09/2023 video by douglaskurt on ig