#devastating blow to my ego

[keevan-girlboss]

very confidently stated i have never written hannibal fanfiction almost a month ago and am only just now forced to realize That Was A Fucking Lie, Apparently

[planarbindings]

you would think. it would be difficult to be considered profoundly uncool in academia where many of us have built careers on the fact that we are uncool. but let me tell you that i managed this today. i was getting ready to leave the office and my colleague went “are you on your way home to kiss your vampire boyfriend in that video game” i will never recover from this social assassination

[missusfantastic]

my followers are clocking my shit and BULLYING me. assigned sub bottom Dog. who's gonna buy me a fucking clicker

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

road signs

[thrassisfras]

I love being able to slip a pun under the radar, but having a pun go unacknowledged just isn't as fun as doing massive psychic damage with a truly awful pun.

[towasdandelion]

Leaving them on read after they upset you - Frostheim and Mortkranken ghouls

This is actually not easy to write they're all my babies (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) someone get me tissuessss I'm getting too emotionally invested in this

Jin is not the kind of person that would just sit and wait. He wants it sorted out here and now. Even if it means he's going to be the only one talking. He hates seeing you upset, and he hates that he was the one who caused this in the first place. A thought of using his stigma to make you listen crosses his mind but he instantly berates himself for it, telling himself to never even think about that again.

Tohma is a patient man. He'd love to resolve the issue at once, but only if you feel like talking to him. After all, forcing yourself on a lady is not very gentleman-like, even if the lady in question is the love of your life (we're looking at you Jin). So he's going to wait, silently hoping for any kind of message soon.

Luca... (Who is cutting onions in here?) feels horrible for making you upset, even if it was unintentional. He hates to see you like this and he really wants to fix things sooner than later. But even so he's going to respect it if you need time, only reminding you how much he loves and cares for you.

Kaito is devastated, just how could this happen? He upset you and now even worse, you don't want to talk to him. It's like a nightmare come true. He might try to blow up your phone as much as possible in hopes of even a single emoji as a reply? He just wants to apologize and promise it won't happen again, poor guy!

Jiro. Hmmm I feel like this could go two ways, but I decided for the one where he just sets on resolving the matter immediately. Something inside him (his heart) is aching, not letting him focus on anything else unless things between you two are good again. So he's going to do his best to explain the situation if you do decide to let him inside. (Please don't send him back I beg you)

Yuri is a proud man, I think we can all agree on that. But that doesn't mean he won't admit his faults. (he will only if it comes to you tho) He wants to do everything in his power to make things good again, even if it means throwing his pride and ego out of the window. He just wants to see your beautiful smile again.

[thestarsarewinning]

so many thoughts after my second viewing of conclave. i cannot even hope to organise them and i fear when i walked out of the cinema with my friend i was even more incoherent

- yes, he is an insufferable and hypocritical fascist but. tedesco and his vape serve so much cunt. critical levels of cunt.

- sister agnes also serves cunt. this is an oversimplification of how her character is used to put a spotlight on the presence of women in the catholic church but. the photocopier scene. her willingness to stand between a scared woman and the most senior cardinal at conclave. the curtsy after she ends a man’s life political aspirations. frankly everything

- forgive me for this comparison but. i feel like cardinal lawrence has the same perception issues as tony stark in the mcu. as the audience, we see the tony stark that is a mess of self loathing, anxiety and other issues that he masks by using ego as a crutch - spider man homecoming shows us the first outside perspective of tony stark as actually cool and suave and together, with no behind the curtain look at the man himself. we know that thomas is on the brink, anxious, screaming in the shower to hold it together. but in one of the first scenes of him among others, as close to an outside pov that we see, he’s joking and confident: the ‘don’t be blasphemous, ray. hell is when the cardinals arrive’ and the comments before tedesco arrives - day one of conclave - and his meetings with vincent - he is successfully coming across as poised, sincere, a firm guiding hand, right up until their third meeting together alone, in vincent’s rooms - this is where an outsider finally sees his facade crack. it’s no wonder his homily is seen by some as a campaign speech because whilst it might be known that he purports to want to resign, thomas likely comes across as far less of a scotch-taped mess of doubts and anxiety

- the scene of bellini being told he doesn’t have the guts to be pope. devastating. if my oldest friend and believer issued me a blow that deep, i would never ever show my face again.

- so much of the behind the scenes knowledge adds to this film. the costume department having to faithfully create vestments but also. improve them - which they fucking do. iconic. thomas’ health issues really shed a different light on the subtle worries about vincent - he tried to resign on health grounds but he’s fine. it was a clinic. a clinic?

- god steering the conclave when the pope’s machinations can’t. the first explosion after adeyemi takes the lead in the voting. the chapel being hit and nearly crushing lawrence when thomas overcorrects. the bird song and breeze; fresh air blowing into the church as the cardinals are called to vote for benitez. god’s presence is felt, and it validates thomas’ actions in steering this conclave and the late pope’s machinations. this is god’s will

- i could easily make a dozen separate posts about thomas and vincent and they’d read like a lot of the other posts already made about these two. vincent can’t get dressed, can’t take the final step until he can be sure that thomas believes in him after knowing the full picture. ‘nevertheless you have it’ - this is a declaration of love. thomas, doubting thomas, and the man who voted for him in every ballot. i will be inconsolable about these two.

- many more thoughts.

[sofa-king-lame]

Buddie Drabble just because

idk you guys this one came to me in the shower like two hours ago and here it is:

--

Carrying two drinks, typically, is an easy enough task. Carrying two drinks through a crowded club is a slightly more challenging task, but one Buck prides himself on excelling at (because how shitty of a bartender would he have been if he hadn’t been able to manage that?). Carrying two drinks once he notices Eddie rolling his hips in time with the bass-heavy beat of the music as sweat drips down his neck, is fucking impossible. Buck walks directly into someone who wasn’t even in the way, spilling his drinks all over both of them.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he hisses, grabbing napkins from a nearby table and thrusting a handful at the stranger.

“It’s okay,” they laugh, before gesturing to Eddie. “He’s one hell of a distraction.”

“Yeah,” Buck replies, eyes narrowing and a hot flash of jealousy washing over him. “Pretty sure he’s not here looking for anything, though.”

“Moving like that? No ring on his finger? You’re full of shit,” the stranger scoffs. Buck straightens himself up and rolls his shoulders back, forgetting about the sticky liquid soaking into his own shirt. “Twenty bucks says he comes home with me.”

“I’m not taking that bet,” Buck sighs. “He’s -”

“What, you don’t think you could get him? You scared it’d crush your little ego?”

“No, I think you’d be left emotionally devastated as you watch me lead him out the door,” Buck smirks.

“Forty bucks,” the moron offers. “And you can go shoot your pathetic little shot first.”

“Make it fifty,” Buck counters. “Ten seconds to shoot your shot. You go first.”

“You’re an idiot. Get ready to lose your money and your dignity,” they laugh, weaving through the crowd to approach Eddie. Buck watches as they walk up to Eddie, sliding their hand down his arm. He feels vindicated as Eddie immediately shrugs them off and steps away from them. Buck can see the dickhead trying to whisper in Eddie’s ear and absolutely cackles as Eddie physically pushes them away. Defeated, the loser makes their way back towards Buck scowling.

“Guy’s an asshole,” they complain. “Who the fuck comes to a club and dances like that if they don’t want anyone to even fucking talk to them?”

“Normal people? Who the fuck comes to a club and thinks they have the right to touch people without their consent?” Buck all but yells. “Sorry not sorry you lost, though. Get that fifty out for me, will you?”

“Yeah good luck,” the bitch mocks as Buck weaves through the crowd. Eddie has stepped off the dancefloor and is scanning the crowd, presumably trying to find out where the fuck Buck is with their drinks.

“Hey,” Buck shouts to him over the music. “This place kind of sucks, you want to get out of here?”

“God yes,” Eddie replies. “I’m starving, let’s swing through a drive-thru?”

“Sounds good,” Buck grins as Eddie settles his hand on the small of Buck’s back and starts guiding him to the exit, right past Buck’s new nemesis who is begrudgingly holding the money out.

“How the fuck -” they huff as Buck snatches the fifty dollar bill out of their hand.

“I was hoping for a little more devastation on your face, but this crisp fifty is going to pay for our Uber back to my place. Good enough for me,” Buck smirks, blowing a kiss to the person he hopes to never see again as Eddie takes his hand and tugs him towards the exit.

“The fuck was all that about?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, they bet me fifty bucks they could get you to go home with them,” Buck tells Eddie as they step into the cool night air. Eddie stops dead in his tracks and levels Buck with an exasperated look.

“Buck, we’re married,” he groans, eyes fond and warm.

“They didn’t know that,” Buck shrugs with a gleeful grin as the tugs the chain holding Eddie's St. Christopher medal and wedding ring out from underneath his shirt, then pulls out his own. “And now they've paid for our dinner.”

“You’re a fucking crazy person,” Eddie snorts, pulling Buck in for an absolutely filthy kiss.

“I’m your fucking crazy person,” Buck murmurs into Eddie’s mouth.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eddie sighs, pressing one last kiss to Buck’s lips as they head for the car.

--

Tags under the cut. Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from my tag list.

@playinginthunderstorms @inbucksbusiness @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @sonofatoasterwaffle 

@wrongfulruffian @crose84 @carolinahope @heartsfromeden @shealwaysreads 

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@oddgreyhound @namesnamesandmorenames @sassay-fox

[nanaluvsyouu]

Moral of the story (Part 2) - Angst, Comfort

Tag: @iloveerenyearger8850

The words were a physical blow, stripping the air from her lungs. Untouchable. Easy. A bet. She didn’t wait for another word, didn't want to see the smirk that would surely follow. She just ran.

She burst through the heavy gym doors, the loud music fading to a muffled throb. Tears pricked her eyes, then streamed, blurring the fluorescent lights of the deserted hallway. She found herself in an unused chemistry lab, the cool air smelling faintly of forgotten experiments, and slid down the wall, burying her face in her knees as raw, gut-wrenching sobs racked her body. Every whispered compliment, every shared laugh, every stolen kiss – all a lie. A game.

A few minutes – or an eternity – later, a soft voice cut through her despair. "Are you okay?"

Y/N flinched, looking up through a tear-streaked veil of hair. A boy stood a few feet away, holding a half-empty water bottle. He had kind eyes, framed by dark hair, and a gentle, concerned expression. It was Jungwon, from her history class – quiet, observant, always with a stack of books.

He didn't move closer, didn't ask what was wrong. He just extended a fresh, unopened packet of tissues. "It looks like you could use these more than I could use my notes."

Y/N took them, a shaky laugh escaping her. "Thanks." She blew her nose, attempting to regain some semblance of dignity.

Jungwon sat down against the opposite wall, giving her space. "The dance can be… overwhelming sometimes."

It was an open invitation to talk, or not. Y/N found herself spilling, not detailing the bet, but the feeling. "Someone just… shattered everything I thought was real."

Jungwon listened, his gaze steady and empathetic. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," he murmured when she finished, not offering empty platitudes, but genuine understanding. "You didn't deserve that."

He stayed with her, talking about nothing and everything, until the last students from the dance started to trickle out. He walked her to her bus stop, making sure she was okay. Before she left, he quietly said, "If you ever need someone to just… listen without judgment, my offer still stands. And you really don't deserve to cry like that." He gave her his number.

The next few weeks were a blur of healing and gentle discovery. Jungwon texted her, not relentlessly, but consistently. He asked about her day, sent her funny memes, and eventually, invited her out for coffee. Y/N, still wary, agreed.

Coffee became study sessions in the library, which turned into walks through the local park, then quiet dinners at a small, cozy restaurant Jungwon knew. He was everything Ni-ki wasn't – patient, kind, attentive without being smothering. He remembered small details she'd mentioned, listened intently, and made her laugh about things she hadn't thought funny in years. He didn't rush anything. He simply existed, a quiet, reassuring presence, allowing her bruised heart to slowly, tentatively, open.

One crisp autumn evening, after a movie, Jungwon stopped her at her doorstep, his hand gently finding hers. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft but firm, "I think… I'd really like to take you on a proper date. If you're ready."

And for the first time since the dance, a genuine, unfettered smile bloomed on Y/N's face. "I'd like that very much, Jungwon."

Ni-ki had, of course, seen her at school. At first, he’d smirked, expecting her to be devastated, to seek him out. He’d even tried to 'apologize' once, a half-hearted mumble in the hallway he clearly didn't mean, just to salve his own ego. Y/N had merely looked at him, a cold, empty gaze that cut him deeper than any anger. "Don't bother, Ni-ki. You've already shown me who you are." And walked away.

He saw her with Jungwon, too. At first, he’d scoffed. Jungwon? The quiet, nerdy kid? Not a threat. Just a rebound. She’d come running back.

But days turned into weeks. He saw them in the cafeteria, Jungwon leaning in, whispering something that made Y/N throw her head back and laugh, a clear, joyous sound Ni-ki hadn't heard from her in a long time. He saw Jungwon’s hand linger on the small of her back as they navigated crowded hallways. He saw the way Jungwon’s eyes softened when he looked at Y/N, a silent devotion that Ni-ki himself had only ever faked.

Then came the day it truly hit him.

It was during the school's annual charity fair. Ni-ki was with his friends, trying to act cool, trying to laugh louder than everyone, ignoring the dull ache that had started in his chest whenever Y/N walked past. He spotted her near the book stall, her hair catching the sunlight, and for a split second, he felt the familiar pull, the urge to go to her, to charm her back.

But then Jungwon appeared, stepping out from behind the stall. He wasn't just standing near her, he was with her. He reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Y/N's face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his, a universe of trust and affection passing between them. Her smile was soft, genuine, utterly content. It wasn't the sparkling, excited smile she used to give Ni-ki when they were pretending. This was a smile of peace, of deep, quiet happiness. And then, Jungwon’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer, and Y/N instinctively rested her head on his shoulder, perfectly at ease.

The casual intimacy, the undeniable comfort they shared, hit Ni-ki like a punch to the gut. It wasn't a rebound. It wasn't temporary. She was gone.

He watched them walk away, hand-in-hand, her laughter echoing softly. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He remembered the bet, the high of the chase, the hollow victory. He’d dismissed her feelings, dismissed her worth, because it was just a game. But somewhere along the line, without him even realizing it, Y/N had stopped being a pawn in his game. She had become something real. Something he cherished. He had loved her. A slow, agonizing realization dawned on him: he had truly loved her, not as a conquest, but as a person. He loved her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, her quiet kindness, her fierce loyalty. All the things he’d pretended to like, he had actually fallen for.

And he had broken her. He had thrown it all away for a pathetic moment of bravado. Now, he saw her, healed and whole, in the arms of someone who clearly treasured her. Someone who deserved her.

Ni-ki turned away, the loud chatter of the fair fading to a distant hum. The girl he had effortlessly charmed, then carelessly discarded, was gone. Lost. And the crushing weight of that loss, a pain deeper than any physical blow, settled in his chest, a stark reminder that he had truly, irrevocably, lost the girl he had started to love. And there was no bet, no dare, no charm that could ever bring her back.

[sunllghtt]

Hi are you up for a messy scene analysis thing

Ofc it's this scene who do you think I am

I've been wanting to do this for God knows how long but I never had the balls and neither the words to (still don't) but I wanna try to properly talk about this scene. My primal instinct is to sit here and tell you how much this 30 second scene changed the trajectory of these characters in the next movies, how it made their friendship grow and develop and how much of a storytelling lesson it is (oh the so so deep understanding you need to have of your characters to have them say things so vaguely and still express exactly what they mean). I could also go down the emotional and subjective road and ramble about how much it means to me and how I resonate with it, but I've done that at least 837382 times and I think everyone knows it by now 😭 so!!! Let's get to the real thing

(I'm trying to keep it as analytical and straightforward as possible but please note that this is my favorite scene that's ever existed so neutrality is not really a possibility)

Rocket is a brat. He's restless, he's loud, he's always puffing up his chest and yelling at someone and picking fights with the wind cuz it was blowing in a way he didn't like and he's just an overall bastard. In this scene, though, we see him inside out. His head is low, his shoulders are slumped, he has his tail between his knees and he looks tired. He speaks quietly (curiously like he doesn't want anybody else to hear him), he's not deliberately insulting anyone and he's just..... defeated??

Up until that point I don't think we ever got to see Rocket like that. From what the movies have shown us he'd never had to. But in the past few days that led to this, Rocket had stolen batteries for no apparent reason (which we'll later learn why💀), ruined their ship, got literally kidnapped by Ravagers, blew up a creepy planet-guy-thing and oh my god attended his friend's dad's funeral. At least half of these things were directly or indirectly his fault and he knows it.

I don't think he ever doubted it was (we see it earlier in the movie when the Guardians leave to "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and Rocket scowls and winces like he either stepped in a pile of shit or got hit in the face by regret), but he still argued with Peter even knowing he was in the wrong just to keep up apparences or hold on to a little thread of pride when he was already feeling ashamed for being caught red-handed stealing shit he didn't need AND destroying their ship etc etc, and he just kinda fucked up big time. And I think that's (besides the general exhaustion of parenting a tree and fighting a planet and Yondu's death) is what got him so devastated in that scene.

Ofc Yondu played an extremely important role in that. He was the one to open Rocket's eyes, to give him some sort of reality check and show him the only thing isolation is ever gonna bring him is regret and bitterness (or, in other words, Yondu). Rocket is most of all hopeless and tired and just sad like that because he knows he hurt his friends. He knows he's chasing them away, that he yells at them, that he's always mean and that he steals batteries he doesn't need. He knows he's not awesome to put up with and seeing what happened to Yondu and his former friends probably made him terrified it'd happen to him and the Guardians too. He's stuck in this cycle of pushing them away with everything he can (and we could get into all his trauma regarding betrayal and death and literally endless other things but it's all very clear at this point) and he knows patience doesn't last forever. He's just scared, he feels bad and he's tired.

Now on the other hand we have Quill. He's also destroyed, he lost two fathers (3 if you count what Ego could've been, what he wanted him to be), basically relived his mother's death and had to watch literally every single one of them die. He's also scared and tired, yes, but all he has left is this unstable family of weird idiots who are learning how to show care and he's... pretty much fine with it. He wants it.

And when what Rocket's saying clicks, when he realizes who he's talking about, Quill, who's usually all smirks and teasing and bickering and name-calling, looks at his best friend like this,

because

(From vol 2 script!! Won't even try to comment on that last part before Quill's last line but I also really like that Peter just "shakes his head" over and over like he's just barely listening until he realizes what Rocket really means cuz it also shows a lot about his character. He's naturally a little slow and downright stupid when it comes to this kind of hidden emotional thing and he's also exhausted and depressed from everything that happened and STILL he stops and just. Sees Rocket, and sees Yondu.)

He's not doing well. He's probably sore and hurt and sad and miserable and yet he takes his sweet time to look down at Rocket, let go of his resentment from before and see right through him. In order to understand this scene it's important to remember he most likely doesn't know what Yondu told Rocket at all, he doesn't know anything they said to each other and how Yondu showed him they're mirrors. He doesn't know any of that. He just knows his best friend and his father and how much they resemble each other. He puts up with Rocket's bullshit because he knows how to deal with Yondu.

He could've just ignored him or pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. He could've made Rocket swallow his pride and "teach him a lesson" by making him say what he means without hiding behind metaphors and vague self-deprecation, because Rocket was probably vulnerable and defeated enough to be honest in that moment. And yet, he just looks at his friend, who's usually a loud and mean and restless brat, and is now staring at the floor with his ears droopy and his tail between his knees, and just says, as a form of reassurance and tenderness that's just as subtle and shy as Rocket's insecurities, "Well, of course not."

(The kind and soft and sweet DETERMINATION on his face tho like no!!! No we're not ditching you even though you suck I'm!!! Serious!!!!)

[wildfloweronwheels]

A pit of nausea is boiling in my stomach today. It’s fury and fear and a sadness that sears to the bone. It swept in suddenly as I opened my phone to the news that three of Taylor Swift’s shows in Vienna, Austria have been cancelled by police due to the thwarting of a terrorist attack. Reading that sentence, I’m back in 2017, chest burning with horror and grief at the bomb that went off as young women danced and sang their hearts out with Ariana Grande. We know what attacks like this look like, we’ve felt them before, their echoes held in the minds and hearts of every live music fan across the world even now.

So, there is also relief swimming in the sick, that the police got to this in time. That they made the call that means thousands of people quite literally live to see another day. My head is spinning thinking about what could’ve been. Feeling for the fans, musicians and Taylor herself whose lives have orbited at least a little around the glittery nights they were promised. The friendship bracelets.  The cowboy boots. The glorious high of screaming ‘Fuck the patriarchy’ in a sold out stadium. The expectant hush that falls over things before the opening chords of a surprise song. The putting together of pieces in the mashups that follow. I know it’s just a concert; there’ll be more of them, we hope, but it’s also not…

It's yet more proof that we didn’t need, of an ugly truth, splashed in oozing neon. It rears its head all over the world in millions of foul devastating ways every single day and yet it still hurts every single time. The thing that most frightens men and boys is a woman succeeding. A woman living. A woman thriving. A woman feeling joy. Women gathering together in a communion of emotion that borders on the sacred, because it’s so rare in its safety and warmth.

 That’s how I would describe the nights I was privileged enough to spend at the Eras Tour earlier this year. A singular celebration of all a woman has made through her own blood, sweat and tears. A visual and musical experience underpinned by one of my favourite quotes ever from the glorious Carrie Fisher, “Take your broken heart, make it into art.” If you’re anything like me, it’s soundtracked your own.

We’ve watched that heart break and heal again and again. Blows dealt by men loitering in a girlhood they had no place in. By ill-fated romance, snuffed out because egos couldn’t bear the load or because two people just weren’t the right fit.  By calculated campaigns designed to distort an image, dismantle a reputation and lay ruin to a legacy. And yet she’s here. And so are we. Women, I mean. Again and again we resist. We persist. We insist.

Our joy is not yours to steal. Our lives are not yours to threaten. We will keep finding it. Rising. Screaming. Teaching the boys and men around us to be better. Defying. Demanding. Deciding. I’m not interested in what you think about Taylor Swift’s music or her privilege, a financial sheen that I remind you protects from no bullet or harm being done to you or innoc ent people, in your name.  In fact, it invites it. Over and over again. But I am interested in how you talk about this moment. Right now. The one that almost happened but didn’t. It’s a sliding door so what are we going to make sure waits on the other side of it?

[otp-after-dark]

“You are so fucking selfish.” —Nick Blaine, 3x01

Welcome to Season 3: Where love doesn't look like soft glances and whispered promises anymore — It looks like anger. It looks like devastation. It looks like survival clawing its way through the ashes.

And it starts here. With a reckoning.

We open with June’s first real collision with Commander Lawrence — The architect of Gilead’s horrors, and now her unlikely, chaotic new ally. He takes her to see Hannah. June makes it all the way to Hannah’s new home. She slips through the night, through the gardens, into the bedroom just to see her daughter sleeping safely. Just for one stolen glimpse.

But she’s caught. By the woman who now raises Hannah. The woman who, maybe, even loves her a little. And she says it — cold, certain, devastating:

"You know all this ends with you dying on the ground in front of her."

And it’s not cruel. It’s not a threat. It’s the clearest truth anyone’s spoken to June in a long time.

Not exactly warm welcome to Season 3 energy, but necessary. Because every choice June makes from here on out comes with blood already baked into it.

Meanwhile, back at the Waterfords, Fred sits in June’s empty room — staring at the walls like he can still control her through sheer rage and ego. The old rebellion still burned into the wood:

Nolite Te Bastardes Carborundorum.

And outside, Nick — believing the love of his life is gone — shares a cigarette with Serena. Smokes away the grief. Because he thinks June is lost forever. And he still has to live with it.

(Season 3 is a Nick Blaine slow-burn breakdown, and this is just the first spark.)

When June is inevitably caught — because Gilead catches almost everyone — they drag her back. Dump her at the Waterfords' doorstep like property returned.

Nick is there. Nick sees her. Nick, who helped build the escape, who risked everything, who was ready to blow up his own life for her —and the look on his face isn’t relief. It’s rage. It’s heartbreak. It’s betrayal.

And he says it — no sugar-coating, no soft landing:

“You are so fucking selfish. There won’t be another chance.... You’re never getting out. And you are gonna fucking die here.”

And god — he’s right. You feel every ounce of his terror under the anger. Because this isn’t about pride. It’s about fear. It’s about love. It's about Nick knowing that June’s choices — however brave, however righteous — are going to get her killed. And he can’t save her this time.

And June knows he’s right too. But she also knows she couldn’t leave Hannah behind. And he knows she couldn’t either.

That’s the heartbreak. That’s what’s tearing them apart before they even have time to heal. They love each other, but they love differently. And in Gilead, that’s almost as dangerous as loving at all.

And then — The Waterford house burns. (“burn, motherfucker, burn” — forever iconic)

June steps out of the wreckage. And there, through the haze — Nick. Waiting. Watching. Burning too, in his own way.

He just says:

“Hey. Take care.”

Simple. Raw. Devastating.

And the way they look at each other — It’s not goodbye. It’s we’ll see each other again. It’s I still believe in you. It’s I still love you, even if I can’t save you anymore.

And it becomes the theme for the rest of the series: Separated by duty, by survival, by everything — but still, always, tethered to each other.

Elsewhere, on the lighter (but still gut-wrenching) side:

Luke and Moira meet Emily — and meet Holly/Nichole for the first time. Emily tells Luke: “Your wife saved my life.” Which is a direct knife to the heart if you’re Luke. (And if you’re June, wherever you are, you’re still fighting for it all.)

June ends the episode thrown into a new posting: Commander Lawrence's house. (HELLO CHAOS.)

“You’re not going to be any trouble, are you?”

Sir. Sir. Have you met June Osborne?

[native-mex]

Lost

part 2

I huffed as I was now hovering over the city, away from the damn robot or whatever it was. Tucking some hair behind my ear and out of my eyes as I slowly started to land in a covered area of the town, searching through my bag to pull out a pair of glasses for some form of disguise. Before stepping away from the shadows, strutting down the pavement.

Wanting to look more casual, my hands fiddle with my shirt and shorts before tossing my hair. With each step in the town, my eyes wander and move, taking in the sight of the quiet town before raising an eyebrow. There is no evidence of Justice League merchandise, just dull, outdated technology and boring-looking buildings. 

“This doesn't feel right. No, I'm not on the same earth,” I muttered to myself, hoping I didn't look like a lunatic as I walked further into the small town's wasteland. My figure slows down to a complete stop in the middle of the street as I see an ad for a flip phone.

“Yeah, different earth,” a sigh left my lips. I just stood there, closing my eyes, taking in the silence as I tried to think of what to do next. The quiet was almost calm, relaxing even. 

Until a beautiful Cherry red Auston Martin rams into my back, almost causing me to trip.

“AUGH!” I grunted, my right foot moving forward, stomping down on the pigment, a decent dent in the pavement, catching my fall as I looked back and saw the car was wrecked, the hood dented and damaged, the glass cracked and shattered under the sheer force of the collision.

The owner would be lucky if the engine wasn't obliterated.

Rage and annoyance rushed through my veins as my face twisted, lips forming to yell, only to see that there was no driver, only the loud, obnoxious sound of the car engine revving as if the vehicle itself was alive and pissed off.

I watched as the car drove back slightly. Its metallic form started to shift and move in unnatural ways. It didn't take long for him to stand tall and proud, but his ego was crushed.

Now, in his robotic form, claw-like talons trimble, hovering over his devastated chest plates. 

“Well shit”

“Look at what you did! Do you know how long it will take to fix this? " he shouted out, his voice deep yet preppy. 

I didn't want to deal with this nor get in a fight in the middle of the town as I watched him pull out an electric spear. I quickly jumped out of the way as the loud crash of the spear hit the cement. I'm giving myself the green light to fly out of the situation.

Now, I tossed my glasses several feet in the air, watching them fall. Completely giving up the half-assed Disguise idea as I watched the bot throw a hissy fit on the earth before Transforming and driving away. 

Taking a deep breath, I let the wind blow through my hair and around my body, playing with the clouds as I move around in the sky with a soft smile on my face. It's been a while since I actually flew. I embrace myself like I don't have to hide anymore.

Flying a little closer to the earth, floating over a school without giving it a spare glance before flying into the wooded area.

I was completely oblivious to the pink flip phone taking pictures and slightly grainy pixel videos of a flying person in the sky.

“Everyone's gonna freak when I show them!” Explain excitedly as her hot pink highlighted hair was tied up slightly into two pom pom bobs.

She hears a honk emanating from a dark green military-style car, followed by a Camaro and a sleek motorcycle.

[tothegravemen]

What the hell, sure. Meet my Eidolon character: Dr. Jaime "Jaybird" Sawyer (no one calls him Jaybird), head doctor on a futuristic space liner and undercover time traveler from the year 2019, sent by the time agency to ensure the death of everyone on board. He fumbled the bag on an Olympic level and got turned into an obelisk, but not before causing the 9/11 attacks- a devastating blow to his ego as a certified MCR hater.

[missacidburn928]

My brain did that dialogue driven thing again...

I am choosing to leave the characters up to you. Whoever you feel fits the role is who is should be. I'll leave who I'm feeling after the dialogue driven words my brain wouldn't shut up about until I wrote it out.

----

"Come on, baby. Hear me out. It's been 2 weeks already. You know she meant nothing to me. It was a stupid bet. I couldn't let him try and punk me like that by refusing."

The idiot has stopped me in my escape by placing his ridiculous frame in my path. Forcing me to confront him after I made my declaration of the end of our relationship and my intentions of never gracing him with my presence again.

As much as I do not want to. No matter how much I want to turn and just run away from the pain seeing his stupidly handsome will give me. I need him to get the message that we are well and truly over. Which is going to require some bravery on my part as I look him in the eye.

"You know what hurts the most? That you weren't even the one to realize how good you had it once it left you. No your little jesters had to point it out for you before it even registered in that thick skull of yours. God, I'm so pathetic to have given myself to such an asshole. Wait, no that gives assholes a bad name and some of my favorite people are assholes. You're just a vapid narcissist fool who can't see past his own ego to save himself. I am so thankful your carelessness and lack of self restraint pulled the e brake on your twisted carnival ride. Allowing me to walk away with my self esteem still intact. So please just go away. I meant what I said when I told you I never wanted to willingly lay eyes on you again. The sugar sweet apologies still perched in the back of your throat. I hope they turn to ash and poison. Slowly suffocating you in your delusions until self preservation takes over and you finally. Leave. Me. Alone."

I give myself a moment to catch my breath as my words sink in. I can already tell they are barely penetrating his thick skin. Movement to my left catches my eye. A body frame and gait I know all too well walking my way. With one quick look in their eyes I know my escape is not only imminent but will leave a devastating blow.

"There's my favorite human."

My shaking hand is quickly engulfed in warmth. Easing the tremors and replacing them with a sense of safety and ease as I am pulled away from my waste of space ex, into the embrace of my best friend.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, sweet face. You know how chatty my boss can be."

A kiss is placed upon my forehead. Extinguishing any remaining anxiety like a xanax to the bloodstream.

"Not at all. As always your timing was impeccable."

A throat is cleared beside us.

"Can I help you man? Me and the lady were just on our way home. Cozy date night ya know."

Eyes filled with barely restrained rage and hurt stare daggers into me.

"Him. That's whose bed you're warming now. Should have figured he was more than a friend this whole time. You know what, fuck you. You'll never have all of this again."

"So you can listen."

He steps forward.

"Fucking bitch."

I am smoothly pulled behind my black knight.

"I know that most of your brain cells are located in your biceps but I'm gonna need you to take a step back from my girl before I have to do something rather ungentlemanly."

"You against me? I don't care how big you think you are you couldn't land a punch on me if i gave you a free-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the sense as well as his consciousness is knocked out of him by a firm fist to the jaw. As soon as he hits the cold ground I am scooped up and carried valiantly over the limp body of my ex.

"Now what did you have in mind for dinner? I'm suddenly feeling rather ravenous and I'm not quite sure if food will be sufficient enough."

---

The pairs of men my brain came up with: (Let Me Know Yours)

Ex!Ransom & Bestfriend!Jax

Ex!Billy Hargrove & Bestfriend!Eddie

Ex!August Walker & Bestfriend!Will Shaw

[detective-shirogane124]

Canto 7 Pt. 3 Sobbing

Not this goddamn, gatcha game making me sob my fucking eyes out.

Don "Sancho" Quixote, I will forever love you my dear sweet baby girl. Damn right we're a family of 13, technically 15. I'll happily light the path to your dream sweetie.

Now that I can see through my tears.

I love her, your honor.

Alcor?? Why are you here?

God, I love a good circular narrative. Having Sinclair be the one to break through to Sancho is just so perfect.

Hey, I hate everything about this.

Crying starts here and ends 3 days later.

Sancho, honey, I need you to give into the feminine urge to kill your father.

In short:

There isn't a single moment when this game doesn't blow me away with its quality. From Canto 3 to Canto 7 and everything in between. Combined with the visible character growth, the story telling has really gone far beyond what one could expect from a gatcha game (But just right for a Project Moon game.)

I've genuinely been waiting for Donnie's Canto since season 1 when I noticed the base egos tell their backstories. I feel so validated with how amazing Canto 7 was. Hong Lu's is going to be absolutely devastating.