#i just made myself cry a little

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[ricksmarlene]

I'm a father. He's the one thing I don't want to fail. I am. But maybe you can call me dad.

[thunder-point]

Phumpeem au

hello have we all considered any kind of phumpeem soulmates au because, of course, i think the "once i become of age, everything i scribble on my skin appears on my soulmate's body as well" trope fits them so well.

just imagine: they become of age the same year, but phum is first. and for those months that separates them, peem is helplessly hit with little messages that make him want to rip his hair out, blow after blow. because the first time his soulmate writes to him, it's on his palm. letters small, unsure and so wobbly peem can barely make out the words. but he does. he does and he can't breathe for a few minutes after.

it reads "find me whenever you want, but please just like me. like me like me like me" his soulmate doesn't write often. but when they do, it's not 'hello', it's not 'i guess you're still not of age yet because you're not responding', it's not 'what's your name' or 'tell me things about yourself'

it's just every heart-wrecking piece of vocabulary ever created.

it's 'it hurts. i hope i'm the only one hurting so often. please take care of yourself'

it's 'i hope someone told you you're loved today. you deserve it. you deserve it even when i feel like i don't. even if we share this same soul.'

it's 'i'm sorry for hurting you. i feel like i'm hurting you sometimes. i just want to talk to you but i don't know how.'

it's 'are you reading me? can you see me? sometimes i feel like not many people can see me on this earth.'

it's 'i hope you like hugs. i hope you'll hug me until i can't breathe. please. please.'

and mostly it's just 'please like me. please don't find me lacking. not you.'

his soulmate writes them at the darkest of hours, and they're always wobbly, always without steady contour. and peem has understood from the first ever message that the ache in his gut is not his. not really. it's his soulmate's. it's the half that seems to tremble every time they seeks peem so ruthlessly.

when he becomes of age. he doesn't know what to do. his soulmate hasn't said a thing in two weeks. no more shattering messages that are whispered on peem's skin like a plead. peem can't find words to answer to everything ever revealed to him. to a pain he can't understand but can feel.

so he draws. he only draws. the first ever doodle he paints on his skin is a chibi version of himself hugging a shaded figure tightly to his chest. right in the center of his palm, where his soulmate chose to begin everything.

hours later, when he looks down at his palm, he stars quivering from within. because the paint is smeared. but it's not because of sweat. it has droplets peppered all over, as if someone cried over it freely. not peem's tears.

right under it, the same wobbly writing appears 'you are so talented. I'm sorry for ruining it. please don't stop.'

peem's tears join right after. q finds him sobbing into his elbow in a corner of their art classroom.

he never stops. he never fucking stops. he draws everyday. every morning, even if he's late for his first year of university, he opens his paints and doodles the most trivial of things on his palm, always in the middle of his palm. he mostly doodles himself, because he wants his soulmate to know him more and more. he doodles himself drinking coffee, because he loves coffee. he draws himself painting. draws himself bickering with q's chibi version, the bubbly letters 'this is my annoying best friend, you'll like him. he's the most caring person I've ever met.' right above it. he doodles peem's friend's sleeping on top of each other on his bed, and writes 'i hope you'll join the pile one day.'

he doodles the cats he sees on the streets 'i like them. what animals do you like?' he doodles characters from his favorite shows and books and bands. his soulmate answers them all hesitantly, after hours. like he doesn't know if he should, if he can.

but he never stops saying 'pretty.', 'talented.' never stops scribbling little, trembling 'thank yous' around peem's drawings.

most of all, peem just draws himself hugging the vague figure of his soulmate. because he likes hugs, he adores hugs and he'll give his soulmate hugs in every shape and form.

then one day, peem draws an annoyed version of his chibi's face, along with the words 'i met the most annoying person today.'

he didn't think much of phum at first. phum is annoying and cocky and nothing like his soulmate's meek writing, the ache that follows it. he and his deal get on peem's nerves. but also he seems like he can't escape phum. he can't stop seeing layers and layers of the guy. can't stop his initial annoyance from dissolving, watering down.

one time, he scoffs, mostly as a joke, as a taunt. 'i bet your other half is as much a handful as you are.'

but phum didn't rise to the bait, like he always does. his whole face mellowed, instead, voice the shiest it's ever been as he curls his palm to his chest and whispers, 'my soulmate is the most gentle soul I've ever met, even if he's my half.'

and peem is. he's shattered. mouth dry and shocked and strangely shattered. because what do you mean even if he's my half, what do you mean phum's so besotted it drips off his face like liquid paint.

weeks pass, time goes by and peem finds himself hurting for more reasons than one. because he's starting to yearn differently than before. because he feels no longer halved, but pulled in three different directions. he still draws for his soulmate daily, still feels warmth right in the middle of his chest when he receives his soulmate's words, no long so full of desolation, but mostly reactions to peem's doodles.

but there's a heat that engulfs him whenever phum is around. consuming and maddening and most of all, confusing. peem should not feel like this for someone who doesn't have the right to leave ink on his skin. he shouldn't. he should stop his heart from beating so desperately. he shouldn't because the first words his soulmate ever said were 'please like me like me like me' and peem can't go and break that unspoken promise of liking his other half until they both fade away.

yet his feelings are growing and glaring, and he finds himself grasping at delusions that do him no good.

peem finds himself trying to sneak looks at phum's palms, just for a glance, for an ounce of hope that perhaps the yearning is not so unfounded. that phum's moments of undiluted softness, so unexpected but somewhat familiar, are a sign from fate for peem to look, search, discover.

it's ridiculously hard to look at this man's palms, and that shouldn't give him such expectations but it does. because phum wears oversized stuff like he has something to hide beneath his sleeves. he keeps his hands curled nearly all the time, like he's protecting something.

[to be continued]

YEA WELL. I'm writing this one for ao3 so I'll stop here because it's already a very long post of me rambling. Many questions to be answered. Does Phum know before Peem does? For how long? How does Peem find out? Hmm.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

“hold on to your heart” // do me a favour live at forest hills stadium new york 08/09/23 ♡

[buwheal]

OH!!!!! HAVE YOU CHECKED THE CYBER CAFÉ DUMPSTER by any chance? there HAS to be some leftover cake there!!!! i heard there was an event recently!!

[not-equippedforthis]

shout out to the very distinct feeling of 'oh god i'm going to become at least mildly annoying about this aren't i'. binging ds9 season 1 and i outright giggled at a very small mannerism julian did. got hyped when o'brien showed up. grinned widely at kira just Being There. felt the urge to yell and cheer and scream at the slightest hint of whump. the character dynamics and friendships are beginning to interweave like strings in a tapestry and i almost detonated upon realising this. uh oh.

[almondpants]

ive talked about this on twt but imma talk about it again here bc i want ANGST and a reminder of how sweet dante is :((

so do yall remember the letter that morrison gives nero at the start of the game where he recounts dante's backstory? well, I like to think that the reason why morrison did that is because dante feels like the whole qliphot incident is his last and wants nero to know more about his life before he dies.

like dante is a very private person, and morrison isn't the type to air out someone's whole backstory unless dante told him to...also the idea of dante leaving a will to nero is probably another thing dante has set up for nero and it just makes me so sad that dante think this is last fight and hes leaving nero everything he has kept for decades i just...the amount of trust he has for nero is so sweet...

[chloecherrysip]

"I hope you told your brother how much you loved him, because you're probably never gonna see him again."

"..."

"Was that too dark?"

"YES!"

"Sorry."

[fairdale]

made myself incredibly sad thinking about magnus being alone. maybe not completely alone, because he would have max, tessa, catarina and ragnor. but lonely, i think he would feel loneliness like he never had before.

because those young annoying shadowhunters that interrupted one of his parties and dragged him along would be gone. because even though he tried to act like they didn't mean much to him, they did. because he got used to their presences in his life and now he can't remember what it was like without them.

because that man he had seen become a silent brother and come back as a shadowhunter, would be gone. after living a life full of love, yes, but he would be gone, just as the ones before him.

because he would know what losing a son feels like. and the pain in his heart would be unbearable.

because it would mean he lost the love of his life. because it would mean that, maybe, just as tessa, he would end up forgetting the blue of his eyes that he loved so much, the sound of his voice, his laugh, his mannerisms, the things that made him, him.

because the parts of his life that were filled with alec, rafael and friends would suddenly be empty, he would be empty.

because he would feel like his heart is being ripped apart every time, but he would choose it over being a shell with no feelings. because that would mean he may forget.

and he would never, ever, want to forget his reason to live.

(even if it was gone forever.)

[coconut530]

[goldkirk]

past me squirreled away so many little bread crumbs over the years to lead me back to information and records and things that I kept that I didn’t consciously allow myself to understand I might need someday again

[piningpercussionist]

idk why I thought of this cute drawing crossover idea for pride month but fuck it ! and it’s understandable if you can’t do it but pls take care of ya self !

Kim Pine swimming underwater in a blue aquatic doodle background alongside the Bull Shark Pup aka the shark protagonist from the game Maneater and Kim be casually normally petting its snout while sneakily finding it cute as it nuzzles intelligently back with its snout.

and the Bull Shark Pup has cute waterproof lgbt lesbian flag blanket wrapped around its dorsal fin

and be equally nuzzling it’s snout against Ramona Flower while she was scuba diving allowing her to gently feel the bull shark pup’s. damaged scarred dorsal fin and sneakily use a underwater camera to take picture of its cute unknown existence.

Details: the ref images I sent were to help show what Kim Pine and Ramona Flowers wear while underwater and the in game design of the Bull Shark Pup.

Kim Pine be casually holding her breath underwater cause she can and secretly skilled at it. While wearing a green teal style long sleeved zip swimsuit and red diving mask on her face with a snorkel mouthpiece attached to it. and wearing pair of black red diving flippers.

Ramona Flowers would also secretly dye her hair in the Bull Shark Pup’s unique red blue colour pattern after finding out about its existence and it surviving in a public swimming pool due to Kim Pine discovering it first normally.

While Ramona be wearing a black blue short sleeved zip wetsuit diving flippers and diving mask on her face with a scuba tank on her back

while Ramona breaths from the scuba regulator oxygen mouthpiece in her mouth while holding gently onto a underwater waterproof camera.

i still don’t know why I came up with this and sorry for bothering with this cute idea but pls remember to take care of yourself and have safe day or night !🦈🤿🪸🏳️‍🌈🫧🎸

wow you came prepared

Yeah, bit too much detail/elaboration for me to really do- especially given I haven't played or seen much gameplay for Maneater just yet- BUT! I did do some sketches based on/around what you've given me here!

+bonus Scott doodle because that's genuinely how I think he'd react to the hair colors shfkshdkfhe

(And here's just the shark, in case anyone wants it- although I will note that it's blown up to fit the canvas, so sorry if that nerfed the quality.)

[artificial-absinthe]

So... how seriously should we consider the "Ask Megatron " little skits? Because those would be kind of enlightening about his character aside from the evident... Obviously, most of all are jokes only, but it would at least reflect that he's got a quite witty and sarcastic (no surprise there) sense of humor.

Then again, how to discern sarcastic jokes from true, when everything was done in that spirit?

No surprise on him being witty since he's been described as charismatic and sometimes (rarely) has that kind of attitude on screen. But how true could it be that he likes to do watercolors? He's of course a dissident and has always come across to me as a... very dark, visceral, irate decadent artist* at Spark, then this would enforce and match the conception. Just as much as the... thing about The Bridges of Madison County.

[blubujollyrancher]

that relatable moment when you assumed the girl you used to care for perished in a tragic lab ablaze incident and only realized she still lived when you stumble upon her years later after you've erased yourself from everyone's memories and now she no longer remembers you

[thebirdandhersong]

I think the problem. the problem is that I have always been afraid of not being invited into the inner circle. and am always wanting to be part of the inner circle. inner circle being the circle of love and companionship and communion. of course being a TCK and a bit of a sheltered homeschooled oddball child has nudged this further along over the years. but I didn't realise how STRONG that desire still burned. to actually be wanted.

[suddenly-frankenstein]

all i want is nothing more

to hear you knocking at my door

'cause if i could see your face once more

i could die as a happy man i'm sure

— (kodaline – all i want)

who knew that it was their last farewell?