#I fr thought marvel was making a cartoon

[amagicdoctor]

Not Disney making Dr. Strange’s Iberian brother 😭👋🏽

[haileymorelikestupid]

The Joy of Loving with Marcus Pike

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader

Summary: Working late on a Friday night is hardly Marcus Pike’s favorite thing in the world, but if it means he gets to come home to see you soundtracked by the soft sounds of a paintbrush on canvas and even softer life advice, he thinks it might not always be bad.

Warnings/Tags: fluff like fr so much fluff, some language, no use of Y/N, mentions of marriage, not a lot of dialogue tbh just a lot of background and introspection

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: me, falling asleep last night with the joy of painting with bob ross playing to soothe me to sleep: oh marcus pike would LOVE this (this is actually what happened i came up with this idea as i was falling asleep and then it became 3000 words longer than i thought it would HA n e ways enjoy!)

Marcus wouldn’t go so far as to say that Bob Ross was his biggest inspiration when he chose a career path, but he sure loved him.

He was just a kid the first time he saw the painter with the big hair and bigger heart. It was a sick day for Marcus, an unfortunate bout of whatever had been going around his school finally making it to him. He wasn’t a kid that got sick often and he didn’t like missing school, but he supposed it was kind of nice to get to lay on the couch and watch TV while his mom occasionally kissed his forehead and made him soup. What sucked, though, was the lack of good cartoons on in the middle of the day.

There was no way he was going to spend his precious extra TV time watching boring soap operas, and he didn’t have the energy to focus on something with an actual plotline. His mom knew this somehow, without asking, in that way that moms seem to know things, especially about their sick kids. So she flipped through until she stopped on a channel where there was a man holding a palette and speaking softly to the camera as he brushed paint onto the canvas with an elegant but sure hand.

Marcus’s mom hummed in approval under her breath before running a hand through his hair and offering a gentle, “See how you like this one, baby.” He just blinked slowly at the comfort of her touch and kept his eyes on the screen as she walked out of the living room.

Up to that point, Marcus’s interest in art hadn’t been much more than what could be expected of a kid his age. He thought painting was fun when his art teacher let his class do it, and he was no stranger to sitting at the kitchen table with a coloring sheet, swinging his legs as he colored in a picture that would probably end up on the fridge when he gave it to his mom later.

But this. Well, this was a new level of interest and intrigue and peace all at the same time. Marcus was entranced by the way the man knew exactly how to angle his brush and the movements to make to add life to the painting. The man’s voice seemed to caress Marcus the way his mom’s hand just had, soft and full of love, and he couldn’t help but giggle with the man when he cleaned his brush off with the instruction to “beat the devil out of it.”

He made it through the episode, marveling in quiet awe at the finished painting, and was pleased to see a new episode start immediately after. His mom walked over to him on the couch as the intro music started, bending over to set a cup of water down on the coffee table in front of him and press another kiss to his forehead. She hummed again as she stood straight and asked, “Did you like it, baby?”

He nodded, the movement slightly hindered by her hand running through his hair again. He was so at peace from the gentle affection and the cozy feeling watching the man paint gave him that he drifted to sleep five minutes into the new episode.

Marcus’s love for Bob Ross never diminished over the years. In fact, the show was something that both comforted him when he needed it and led him to explore. Just like before, his mom somehow knew, and he beamed when he unwrapped the beginner’s paint set she bought him for the first birthday he had since watching that first episode. She even occasionally helped him set up in front of the TV so he could try to paint along with the episode. It admittedly never turned out quite the way he hoped it would, but his mom always helped him lay it out to dry, and the next morning he would find it on the fridge.

When he got older and was able to choose the classes he took at school, he always made sure he had room for art class. He wouldn’t say he was an absolute natural, but he loved putting in the effort to create something new. Projects where he could paint were always the ones he looked forward to the most, and he was even able to repeat his childhood and paint along with an episode for part of a senior project.

As he headed into college, Marcus knew that he wasn’t ready to let go of art entirely, but he knew he didn’t really want to turn it into his profession. He knew that art would feel a lot different if it was the thing he had to do to survive rather than the thing that made life worth living. The day he could figure out a steady job that involved art in some way, though maybe not directly, would be his lucky day. Until then, he thought, he would figure out what he could see himself doing for the rest of his life.

He was fortunate enough to find another interest in the field of criminal justice. One introductory class was all it took to pique his interest, and soon enough he knew the kind of path he wanted to take. He took enough art and art history classes for a minor, though, even if he wasn’t sure it would ever prove particularly helpful to him. He just found it all far too interesting to let go of.

Honestly, Marcus doesn’t quite remember how he found out about the art crimes unit, but he remembers the total elation that filled him, the sense of rightness that came with finding the intersection of his interests, his knowledge, his talents. He was beyond excited about it, dedicated to achieving this new dream, but he couldn’t keep the nerves out of his tone when he told his parents about it for the first time.

Not that he had a reason to be nervous. He tried to downplay how badly he wanted it, but his mom just knew, like she always has. “That sounds perfect for you, honey,” she said, and his dad even nodded along in instant agreement. Once he had that approval, he threw himself headfirst into figuring out his path to the art crimes unit of the FBI.

It was a long journey, and not exactly the easiest, but he cried tears of pure joy when he got the call that the job was his for the taking. That night, he was still buzzing but trying to wind down so that he could actually fall asleep. He turned on the TV, flipped through the channels, and couldn’t help but laugh when he found a rerun of The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. Admittedly, the laugh turned into more tears when he discovered that it was the exact episode he watched on his sick day all those years ago.

All of these things come rushing to his mind when he walks through the front door and sees you.

He knew he’d be working late tonight and had told you as much apologetically both last night and this morning. As he always did when he had to work late, he told you not to wait up for him, that he was sorry he would miss dinner with you, that he’d make it up to you over the course of the weekend.

And as you always did, you answered with a simple okay with every intention of doing the exact opposite. You stayed up for him more often than you didn’t, honestly, even though he always told you not to, and you always, always waited when he had to work late on a Friday. He’d come home to see you curled up on the couch, and he would always sigh in fond exasperation if only to cover up how warm it always made him feel.

One part of Marcus wanted you to go to bed without him those nights, if only to ensure that you got proper rest in your comfortable bed. The other part of him was endlessly pleased at your thoughtfulness and want to be right there when he walked in the door. He was never disappointed on the nights he walked in to discover that you actually had gone to bed before he got home, but he always high tailed it down the hall to your bedroom on those occasions, wanting to be near you as quickly as he could manage.

Most of the time when you waited up, you were awake when he got home. You would turn your head at the sound of his keys in the door and beam as soon as you made eye contact, a soft but excited greeting pouring off your lips and stretching across the empty space between you.

Sometimes, though, when you’d had a long day or he got home particularly late, he’d find you asleep on the couch. Those nights, there was usually some indication that you really had tried to stay awake but just couldn’t – a book spread across your chest beneath your hands, the TV on a rerun of some sitcom or another. He could never help the deep sigh that puffed his chest before it passed through his lips, totally content to watch the love of his life sleep for a moment before he woke you. He’d stroke his hand over the side of your face or lean down to press a kiss to your head, and you’d stir, his name leaving your mouth in a whisper before you’d even opened your eyes. He’d lead you down the hall and tuck you into bed before doing his nightly routine and joining you there.

This Friday night was one of the latter of these two nights. He came in the door, fully expecting to find you on the couch, and was unsurprised to see you lying there. You didn’t tend to fall asleep on Fridays, though, insisting that you had Saturday to sleep in so you could handle staying up for him. He figures you must have had a busier day than usual or something like that and toes his shoes off before making his way over to you in his familiar song and dance.

He stops short, though, when he catches a glimpse of the TV. There’s a familiar slapping sound followed by a laugh-laced voice uttering, “Beat the devil out of it.”

Marcus is standing by the side of the couch, mouth slightly agape in wonder as the same painting from his childhood sick day and the day his dream job called fills the screen.

It hits him in the chest then. He is going to spend the rest of his life loving you.

He’s known this, of course. But this relationship is the slowest he’s ever gone, and for good reason. He didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. You were special, so special, and he’d be damned if he went too fast and lost you.

The two of you had been neighbors from the moment he arrived in D.C., you having moved in a mere three months before he did. Just neighbors were all you were to each other, for a while. You seemed kind and friendly, but when Teresa never arrived in D.C., he couldn’t do anything but put his head down and work. He survived off take out and whatever shitty meals he could throw together with minimal effort, volunteered to work extra hours that needed to be worked but that no one else wanted, told himself that he would eventually find ways to enjoy himself in this new city.

He occasionally saw you coming out of your door as he went through his or vice versa and always exchanged at least a small smile, but that was the extent of your interaction. But then, in the middle of November, there was a knock on his door and he was too tired to worry much about who it could possibly be.

He opened it and found you twisting your fingers around each other. He probably could have been more polite about it in hindsight, but he was so exhausted and confused that the only thing he could muster up was, “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” you breathed, a nervous grin accompanying it, before your next words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry this is so weird but I’m having this Friendsgiving thing and I decided I needed to practice making what I’m bringing but now I have way too much food for just me to eat and do you want some dinner?”

“Do I want some dinner?”

“I’m sorry, I know I sound like some psycho because we’re just neighbors but I seriously have way too much food and I also want someone else’s input on whether it even tastes good and oh my gosh you can say no this is so awkward I’m sorry.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it, you were just so nervous to be offering him a literal homecooked meal and it was so sweet and he was still so startled and he didn’t know what else to do. He just laughed.

You seemed to get more flustered even as you giggled along with him. When his laughter died down a little, you decided to speak once more. “Sorry, I just panicked when I realized I definitely do not have enough Tupperware to keep it all as leftovers and then I thought of you and I rushed over here and now I’m embarrassed because I’m not sure you even remember my name, much less trust me enough to eat food I cooked.”

His answer was to say your name to you, having remembered it from the time you introduced yourself to him the day after he moved in. You lit up at that, and your smile was as clear in your voice as it was on your face when you said, “So, what do you say, Marcus? Dinner?”

That had been the beginning of your friendship. You were friends for a while; he was still healing, trying to work through his heartache rather than ignoring its existence. You understood, especially once he actually worked up the courage to tell you the whole sad story. Through it all, you were just… there, and somewhere along the way, you became all that there was for him.

But he was terrified. He couldn’t jump back in, couldn’t risk not only the heartache of screwing up another relationship, but screwing up a relationship with you. He let himself pine for far too long, but he’s not even sure that he would have acted sooner even if he’d known that you were pining, too.

And then it happened. You started a glorious relationship, communicated beautifully about boundaries and expectations and wants and fears. He was beyond relieved when you admitted that you didn’t want to go too fast either, that it scared you just the same, even if your relationship history didn’t look like his. You worked through it, and you worked through it together.

After a year together, your lease was coming to an end and it just felt right to ask you to move in with him. It’s been another year since, and it’s been magnificent. He knows that you’re it for him, knows that he’s it for you, but he’s held back from thinking too much about that next big step.

But now, seeing you curled up on the couch after falling asleep while waiting for him to come home and watching not only the show that has always radiated kindness and comfort and love and affection for him, but the specific episode that has seen some of the biggest turning points of Marcus Pike’s life?

He’s never felt like this before. Not with his ex-wife, not with Teresa, hadn’t even been able to imagine this kind of love when he pictured a nameless, faceless partner when he had no one to picture in their place. You are the rest of his life. He knows it the way he knows his own name, the way he knew that you would be waiting here for him tonight, the way he knows that his name will come in a whisper from your lips when you wake up to him there.

He squats down in front of you and just takes you in for a moment. He can feel his eyes tearing up, unable and unwilling to quash the well of emotion sitting in his chest, heavy yet somehow also lighter than air. He breathes in a sigh as you exhale one of your own before moving his hand to stroke down your cheek.

As his hand smooths over your temple and down your cheek to rest in a slight grasp at your chin, the end credits of the episode roll behind him, and the change in volume due to the end music along with the warmth of his hand causes you to stir.

Your eyelids flutter, and you whisper it before they even open. “Marcus.”

The tears bead at the corners of his eyes when he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving his lips there when he answers, “Hi, my love.”

His lips trail over your face, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead, temple, cheeks, nose, chin, the corners of your mouth, and by the time he makes it to your lips, you’re awake enough to return it in full. When you pull away from each other, you catch it immediately. Maybe you see the glassiness through your sleep-bleary gaze, or maybe you hear it in his voice, or maybe you just know, because you furrow your brows a little and ask, “You okay, baby?”

You are the rest of my life. Marry me. “You watched Bob Ross without me?” he teases.

“Missed you. Reminds me of you. Comforts me.”

Marry me.

He hums, kisses your forehead again as he smooths his palm over your shoulder and responds, “Missed you, too, sweetheart. Ready for bed?”

You hum an affirmative response and let him help you sit up straight, then you both rise to your feet together, hands intertwined. He lets go only to wrap his arms around you, drawing you into his chest. Your own arms slide around his waist like they belong there because they do.

It’s not an abnormal show of affection from Marcus, but it is slightly rare for nights he wakes you from the couch. He’d normally have you down the hall by now, on his way to tuck you into bed and give you a few more kisses before he hustles through his routine to join you. It makes you ask once more, “You okay?”

He won’t ask right now. He wants to, it’s practically begging to come out of his mouth, but he wants to think of a special plan just for you and have a ring when he actually asks, so he won’t yet. He will give you something, though. “Gonna love you for the rest of my life. My love. My life. My everything.”

He doesn’t say it outright, but you know. In that way of yours, you just know. And you look up at him, a shimmer matching his reflecting in your eyes, the love of a thousand lifetimes filling his very being with light as you answer, “Gonna love you all my life, Marcus. All my life.”

[died-but-not-dead-propaganda]

Optimus Prime Propaganda

optimus prime (one) pretty infamously died in "Transformers: The Movie" and spent a solid season or so of the show afterwards dead. like. passed on his soul to another guy dead. Then he gets rebuilt and somehow this works? It really shouldn't. He gets his soul back though. it also feels relevant to say that due to shenanigans in his reconstruction he's one of like two people immune to some virus spreading around at the time that makes anyone infected with it go a bit crazy with anger. this is half the reason they brought the guy back to life. they could have done this any time i think??

optimus prime the second dies in like the second episode of the show and is promptly revived with some kid's portable version of the thing that gives his entire species life and thought. i could also put Animated Starscream in here for similar reasons but i find it silly to clump the optimi together. important to note, to me, that he well and truly greyed out like all dead in that show are shown to. he was GONE FOR GOOD in any ordinary setting.

optimus primal is a *slightly* funky case in that his soul wasn't entirely gone when his second in command went venturing into the afterlife to find it after his original body got blown up in an escape pod and fake moon based incident. the fake moon may have actually come later. at any rate he was Solidly Disembodied, then Rhinox went and found where he was and yanked him back into the physical plane.

He’s died and come back like 20+ times in the last 40 years of the franchises existence. Crazy fr

God, the amount of times Optimus Prime has died and come back in different universes. It's so common place in the franchise now that if he dies, it's WEIRD if he doesn't come back. Off the top of my head, he's died in: the G1 cartoon,  the Armada cartoon, the live action movies, the TFP cartoon, the Cyberverse cartoon, the IDW comics, the Marvel comics, etc. There's a whole ass wiki page for his deaths https://tfwiki.net/wiki/The_many_deaths_of_Optimus_Prime To quote a character from one of the comics "Optimus will be back. He always comes back."

i am legally obligated to submit him as a tf fan. (if you want specifics since this is such a sprawling franchise, G1 Optimus for the og death and wait-we-still-want-to-sell-toys-of-him-it-turns-out)

He dies in every continuity at least once. Sometimes more than once. Once they killed him in the pilot episode and brought him back in under 90 seconds. This robot does not stay dead.

[oosteven-universe]

Street Fighter Necro & Effie #1

Street Fighter Necro & Effie #1 Udon Entertainment 2019 Written by Ken Siu-Chong Illustrated by Hanzo Steinback Lettered by Marshall Dillon     Meet Necro and Effie, the screws-loose, madly-in-love mutant couple of the Street Fighter universe! On the run from Urien, Kolin, Nash, and the whole Secret Society, this pair of lunatic lovebirds will need to jump through heaps of harrowing hoops to stay alive!     This is one of the great things about comics. Ken takes this unlikely pairing and gives them their own adventure which makes them absolutely adorable and charming. I have never been quite sure where these two fit into the franchise and I have always thought of them as being on team bad-guy but after this story while they may be out for themselves Ken makes me want to see more. I’d love a four to six issue limited series featuring these two exploring their past and present and possibly what the future holds. After all we also get a fair bit of information about Effie’s possible future already so there’s a perfect basis for a full arc.     I am not a video game guy and I do remember the big machines in the arcade where you pick who you wanted to be and fight others. Yes I am aware of the crossover games with Marvel and over the year last number of years I have been reading the adventures that Udon has been putting out. I love the franchise nowadays because they have become characters and people who lead interesting lives and occasionally fight. Of course fight scenes are the bread and butter right in video games and in comics as the confrontations help us define who we end liking and rooting for.     The way that this is structured is extremely well done. Ken takes us on a journey, one that starts and finishes almost as ambiguously as it begins. I do also like that the events of this issue stem out of the Darkstalkers mini-series yet you don’t need to have read that to know what’s happening within these pages. This one-shot is completely new reader friendly and it’s kind of a great gateway fr someone to join the comics franchise without worrying about feeling lost. The way we see the story & plot development work with the pacing to create this beautiful ebb & flow showcases Ken’s extraordinary skill, talent and ability to write.     The interior artwork here is pretty spectacular as well. While I feel it has that computer generated feel to it which almost gives off this animation cel appearance. I love it too because it takes the best of the Saturday morning cartoons and old school comics and makes it something to fall in love with. There are some utterly spectacular moments in this book and while they are performing and we see the crowd in the backgrounds blurred out but identifiable yeah that’s among them. Now if this is computer generated artwork then there needs to be more utilisation of backgrounds here as well more colour gradation effects instead of straight up colour blocking. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a very solid eye for storytelling. Again I am a fan of the blurred versus in focus moments as it’s a great technique to have at your disposal. ​     With the story & plot development and pacing being so strong it’s no wonder that the character development is as well. I think by focusing on such few of the denizens of this Street Fighter universe we get a chance to get to know some of those we might not normally have a chance to. I am still in the dark as to how old Effie is but I do want to find out and then there’s Necro and that face with that nose and his stretch armstrong trick. All of it piques the curiosity and imagination of the reader making us want to see more.

[notatypicaldimension]

Tagged!

Thanks for tagging me @theragamuffininitiative ! 

I tag @hurtbyintensejourneys @thylovelylionheart @falconhawk9​ 

— what was your last…

1. drink: tea!

2. phone call: my mom.

3. text message: to a group chat with friends 

4. song you listened to: “Meltdown” by Lorde, Q-Tip, Push, HAIM, Stromae

5. time you cried: uuuhhh I think it was a couple of days ago, when I was just trying to get out of some pretty bad states and actually felt OK enough to cry so it was a good thing! 

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: No.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: No.

8. been cheated on: No.

9. lost someone special: Sorta....if the term is used quite broadly.

10. been depressed: Haha. Yes. Ofc. 

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Niet. 

— fave colours

12. Purple, or gray/black scale probably. 

13. I actually quite like brown....so maybe that? 

14. Hm. Probably a deep navy? Like a sailor outfit blue? 

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: Yes. Absolutely. 

16. fallen out of love: No. 

17. laughed until you cried: lol yes (thank you to theinsanereader for your book wedding video)

18. found out someone was talking about you: Yes! 

19. met someone who changed you: Hahahahah...yeeeesss. Helped me a lot tbh. 

20. found out who your friends are: In a way. Like it’s not that I didn’t know before, it’s more like now I understand it better in terms of human leanings etc. 

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: Uuuhhhhh....no, not on the lips.

— general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl: Nearly everyone, there are a few I only know via the internet somehow, but I still know them from everyday things, or I have already met them.

23. do you have any pets: Nope!

24. do you want to change your name: No. 

25. what did you do for your last birthday: Oh boy. It was a weird day but good. I spent time with a cute lil kiddo, went on a walk and saw lots of flowers, watched an episode of doctor who, went out for starbucks with a friend, and got to hold a baby amongst some other more ritualistic things. 

26. what time did you wake up today: like, 10:30 or so. 

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Probably just listening to music and...um...maybe writing down in my diary or something?? idek.

28. what is something you can’t wait for: Hmm...this is gonna sound lame but fr I have very little social life so seeing a couple of friends once their schooltime frees up a bit more or whatever....oh! and also my little sister is competing this weekend o I can’t wait to go and watch her and her team :)

30. what are you listening to right now: Static, for the most part, and in the muffled background, my family just doing everyday things (lil screeches, telling offs, whAT?! etc.) lol. 

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: For sure. 

32. something that’s getting on your nerves: HA. The government, and some approaches that the American Evangelical Church seems to be oblivious to or non-sympathetic smh. 

33. most visited website: “Youtube and Tumblr are probably about equal.” (lol same)

34. hair colour: Brown. 

35. long or short hair: Long..

36. do you have a crush on someone: No... at least I don’t think so. Idek if I get crushes or whatever idek it’s confusing moving on

37. what do you like about yourself: Ooh. I like that the single most re-occuring obstacle in my life is that I’m so confusing to both myself (im still learning its ok to be me) and the entire world that it’s very, VERY conflicting in odd ways and that that is what makes everything mean things to me.....it’s like my essence etc. and I now know my main passion etc......tl;dr I like that I’ve figured out what the single epitome of most of what I am is and how its path has severely been distraught, and that though it’s going to take a lot of work to get back, it’s also just going to be the most incredible thing. 

38. want any piercings: nope.

39. blood type: sis, if y’all think I’m gonna put out vip information like that on this already crackhead-justice owned website by same-type  company like yahoo, y’all are w r o n g.  

40. nicknames: Uuuuhhhh. idk. @hurtbyintensejourneys​ , you should give me one. 

41. relationship status: Single. And probably most definitely not ready to mingle (but it’s ok! I’ll be someday, sometime soon...ish)

42. sign: Taurus. But I don’t follow horoscopes. 

43. pronouns: she/her

44. fave tv show: Idek anymore....I love Lie to me, and like rags said, Fringe (tho I am still on like s2 aahh), and maybe Doctor who? I actually love Granite flats and GMW/BMW as well tho. 

45. tattoos: Nope.

46. right or left handed: Right-handed. 

47. ever had surgery: Nope. 

48. piercings: No.

49. sport: Alrighty; look, I will watch just about anything even though I’m bad at it....I think it has something to do with an interest in developing my recognizing of stuff/talent???? also it’s v cool. 

50. vacation: uuuhhh????? Probably my last “”vacation”” was in California? idek. 

51. trainers: I think they’re Nike. 

— more general

52. eating: I just want some sushi right now. The good stuff tho. NOt the *shudders* doobly-tasting kind. I love Asian food that’s not spicy tho. That’s some real bod-foodspiration right there for me.

53. drinking: Water, tea, juice that’s actually juice...... fresh smoothies. 

54. I’m about to watch: probably just safe-feeling trailers for me, so like, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl or something. 

55. waiting for: My mental health/processing desire to buffen up a little so I can actually start doing things again maybe (that’d be nice). Perseverance, basically, I guess.

56. want: Soundproof area maybe, to record //things//? A small local group of friends. 

57. get married: At some point, maybe. I’d not be surprised if I end up single tho. BUt I feel like I won’t which is....honestly.....sorta scarier for me rn dfhbjdhsbjdf

58. career: lol. idk. God’s plan? 

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: hugs

60. lips or eyes: eyes, I think.

61. shorter or taller: taller

62. older or younger: depends

63. nice arms or stomach: niCe ArmS oR SToMacH? (bruh idk)

64. hookup or relationships: relationships is the only way to go, and not only in romance my friends. 

65. troublemaker or hesitant: Uuuhhh....hesitant. but you know what...imma pretend I come off as, like, a fine brand so. Hésitante. 

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: No lol. 

67. drank hard liquor: No. Thank GOD. 

68. turned someone down: Only one (1) time. Sorta. 

69. sex on first date: N o. 

70: broken someone’s heart: I actually don’t know. I don’t think so. I hope not. 

71. had your heart broken: Not like that, but also yes. At least a little. It’s sorta like having to go back and unstitch a stitch of yourself that’s all messed up; you thought you’d be ok with moving on from it, except ways further along you realise that you can’t and then having to go undo everything and start back up but even then your thread is all folded up and a little extra rugged. 

72. been arrested: No. 

73. cried when someone died: I want to say yes. But I actually am not sure. For sure, in fictional chracters so....(dad from my big fat greek wedding voice) there you go

74. fallen for a friend: No....I don’t think so. 

— do you believe in

75. yourself: Sorta. But inherently? yes. 

76. miracles: !!!! yes! If y’all knew some of the stories I’ve known....I love God so much I can’t even. It’s so marvelous. I just....Ah!

77. love at first sight: Yes, but only because I think it’s like some weird intuitive thing that’s legitimate for some people. Or maybe even a spiritual thing sometimes? 

78. santa claus: “He exists in every way that counts.” 😂 looolll

79. angels: Yes. Again, if y’all knew...

— misc

80. eye colour: brown

81. best friend’s name: I don’t have a best friend rn. 

82. favourite movie: Idk. 

83. favourite actor: Idk!

84. favourite cartoon: *Idk intensifies*

85. favourite teacher’s name: Not gonna say any specific names, but probably my German teacher in middle school, or 5th grade teacher. Also, non-official teacher friend man who taught me abstract concepts way beyond my grade level. I love them so much and they continue to have a very important impact in my life voyage.