#it hurts our heads

[bizarrelittlemew]

the saddest line in the trailer

at first I was too distracted by Stede's plunging neckline and gold earring to fully realize why this kept nagging at me but:

"I've been a failure my whole life."

and the way he says it:

as a matter of fact, because he fully believes it – it's an integrated part of his self-image

to comfort someone else (presumably), meaning that even though it is sort of similar to Ed's "I'm not a good person" from s1e6, this scene doesn't seem to be about Stede getting comforted – he is just throwing that line in there

with the follow-up line of "It's not so bad once you get used to it," because he is used to being called a failure by everyone around him, even when he was a kid, so much that he doesn't question it

and yeah, Stede fucks up a lot and can be a bit air-headed/naive and overestimates his abilities (Stede's super high confidence vs. shit self-esteem is a central part of his character), often to the detriment of himself and everyone around him, but his biggest "crime" growing up was simply that he was different and didn't live up to the norms of masculinity. and this is what caused him to be made to feel like a failure by the world around him.

(putting the rest under the cut because I have a lot to say apparently lmao ⬇️)

idk it is just so sad that after everything that happened at the end of season 1, he still echoes his father's and the Badmintons' words when talking about himself (and his own "I'm not a pirate, I'm an idiot" from s1e1). he still has a lot of growth to do.

and while it's good that he embraces his own shortcomings (and I hope he stays a loser in many ways <3) and the show reinforces that you don't have to be perfect to be worthy of love/that you are worthy of love just as you are, it is just. idk SO SAD to hear him say that about himself so earnestly

but do you know who doesn't let Stede self-deprecate?

THIS GUY, FROM THEIR VERY FIRST DAY TOGETHER

from telling Stede he isn't such a terrible pirate (at least he's alive), to not letting Stede call his own ideas stupid, Ed likes Stede for who he is WHILE not letting him talk bad about himself like that.

now we can't know who Stede is talking to in the scene in the trailer, just that it is someone with long dark hair:

and it could be someone else (to me it doesn't look quite like Ed's hair, but the quality/lighting makes it difficult to tell), but if it IS Ed, it has the potential for him to (once again) go against Stede's negative self-talk 😌

I am so interested to see how this scene plays out and I REALLY hope we get a scene mirroring the bathtub scene (even if it's not this one) but with the roles switched ✌️

[thekidsarentalright]

i’ve got all this ringing / jet pack blues

[frownyalfred]

anti shipping DNIs and lists in fics are so wild. it’s like going to an ice cream store and ordering strawberry and while the worker hands it to you they start going off about how gross chocolate is and how much they hate it.

“Hi could I have a little superbat—”

“DRACO/HARRY IS DISGUSTING!”

“…..uh, okay. can I….can I just have some superbat please?”

[girlbloggercrowley]

i am a believer in the s3 1941 kiss

[buff-muffin]

You guys ever think about how Sabo still held onto the like symbol of his family? The one he showed to the Ramen place so he and his brothers could get in a private room. And the same symbol that’s proudly postered on his belt buckle? I don’t mean to bully him but it seems kinda stupid to me that he was trying to avoid his family but wore their symbol for proudly…unless.

Do you think. That is was because he wanted to be found?

I’m not saying he wanted to be torn away from his brothers and ripped from the place he really considered home. But you gotta remember, Sabo and Ace had been building that treasure for five years. SINCE THEY WERE FIVE. Sabo was five years old when he ran away from home because he didn’t feel loved. That he didn’t feel seen.

Do you think he had hoped that they would form a search party and look for him back then? That they would see the symbol on his belt and scoop him up and tell him they were so worried and they missed him so much. That they actually did love him. Do you think it hurt at first when they didn’t. When he was just… alone. Having to learn by himself how to survive in the grey terminal by himself at the ripe age of FIVE YEARS OLD

Imagine how much more it would have hurt to see Stelly five years later. To know an act that he had originally hoped would finally get him the love he dreamed of. Got him replaced…

Because I think about that.

[archivistsammy]

undefined

How is that kid even vertical?

Sammy Gets Knocked Down (YouTube)

sam winchester ✘ chumbawamba “tubthumping”

[freyyzu]

FIVE

a kiss for every part of you i adore. the problem is, i adore every part of you.

a/n; i'm struggling so bad with the wedding fanfic. my best friend is just watching me descend into insanity rewriting the prologue for the fourth time. i just needed to make something short and cute to fix that o(╥﹏╥)o mild (??? bland???) nsfw on number 3. i've never written nsfw before, please go easy on me. post step 4.

update after finishing; this was not as short as i intended it to be.

5. EYES.

Black and white were considered Baxter's staple colors. From his clothes, to his phone case, to his car, you could list countless more items off the top of your head that all shared those monotone hues.

Really, it'd be easier to list the items he owned that weren't greyscale.

In particular, one comes to mind—two, to be more precise. Would saying he owned them be correct? You assume so. They were a part of his person, after all.

A dark brown—they shine as bright as embers from a fire burning too hot. If you stared at them long enough you would burn, but that was a risk you were willing to take. Anything, if it meant being able to get lost within them for even a moment longer.

"Good morning," you whisper, sweeping your hand across his bangs. The strands of hair fall back into place defiantly over his eyes, much to your dismay.

They're not in their signature side-swept look; they never are in the mornings. Locks of ashy grey stick out from all corners. It splays over the pillow in some sort of abstract art, a few of the longer pieces jutting outwards to tickle your cheek.

Baxter groans, rubbing at his eyes, though only one manages to beat the morning bleariness in order to look at you. Even through the dim glow of sunlight that sneaks through the cracks of the curtains, it shines.

"Good morning," he mumbles, barely audible and coherent.

You chuckle at the sound of his voice. He might be awake now, but he wasn't quite awake just yet. The clock had yet to even strike nine.

Once more, you reach up to his hair. Instead of sweeping away his bangs, this time you push it up past his forehead.

He hums at the feeling of your hand on his skin and smiles, opting to close the one eye he'd manage to pry open before.

Such a baby, you idly think before leaning forward to press your lips onto his eyelid. His hand on your waist tightens at the contact, and you move to give the other the same treatment.

This time, both pools of endless brown open to gaze directly at you. His smile grows wider by the second, and you think that maybe, just maybe, you've found a new, sure-fire method to waking him up.

4. EARS.

There's a quirk you've noticed about Baxter that you hadn't realized before.

No, that's not exactly right. You've noticed it. The problem is it just hadn't happen enough for your suspicions to be confirmed.

You recall seeing it once. The most notable occasion being the day of Jude and Scott's wedding; when the two of you had finally reunited, made your amends, and cleared the air of five years worth of regrets.

He was so happy then his cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of coral pink all the way to the tips of his ears. And as he couldn't believe what he was hearing, his ears had twitched. It reminded you much of a kitten.

For a long while, you wondered if you'd ever see that again, and by some form of pure luck, today you did.

It was still early in the morning, or at least what Baxter would consider early. Even though he didn't need to go to the office today for work, he still had some business to take care of. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keys of his laptop were the only noise to break through the silence of your shared apartment for the last half an hour.

In the meantime, you busied yourself in the kitchen to make breakfast (brunch is more accurate), having that morning free of any other duties.

"Baxter, breakfast is ready," you call, setting the last plate on the table.

The tapping continues.

You huff amusedly. It was one of those days again—where he got too caught up with his work and blocked out all other distractions. Usually you'd let him finish and bring the occasional cup of coffee or tea and snacks to get him through the load, but having a proper meal to start the day was important.

Cleaning your hands on a towel you amble your way over behind him on the couch, catching a peek of some e-mail exchanges. That wasn't what you were here for, though.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his neck you lean in and manage to push yourself forward enough to peck his ear.

The action apparently catches him completely off-guard, and you feel him straighten in your hold, face going completely red—it continues to travel up past his cheeks. You barely have enough time to catch the tweak of his ears before he shoots up a hand to cover the one you kissed and spins around to face you, eyes wide.

"Ah—" You raise both of your arms up in surrender, suppressing a giggle at his flustered reaction. "I'm sorry. I called you for breakfast, but you were too concentrated on your laptop to hear me."

"Oh," he breathes. At least he didn't seem angry.

Far from it.

You offer him an apologetic smile anyways. "Shall we eat?"

"Yeah," he answers, a little too quickly. His eyes dart away from yours to close his laptop. You get the feeling he didn't need to look away to do that, but just wanted an excuse not meet your eyes right now. "Let's eat."

3. NECK.

Its a cool night this evening in SoCal, but you felt as if you were sitting right next to an open flame.

Lithe arms wrap around your bare waist, pulling you in close. Without the restrictive fabric of clothing separating you from each other, you could feel Baxter's heartbeat more distinctly than ever.

It's steady, if not a little fast.

The gentle motions of your fingers massaging his scalp help it from becoming erratic, but you can feel the spike every time you tug on his hair—feel the way his breath hitches against your exposed shoulders as you pull a little harder the next time. And again on the next, and the time after that.

Lips that you're used to tracing with your own press open-mouth kisses against the side of your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more access.

"Baxter," his name leaves your mouth as a breathless whisper. You can barely stifle the moan that threatens to escape as his fingers tighten their hold on you.

When your grip on his hair tightens, you hear his groan right beside your ear. Unlike you, he doesn't try to suppress it—you're not sure if you're thankful for that or not.

When he begins to press his thigh deeper between your legs you can't restrain your voice anymore.

"Baxter," you say inbetween gulps of air. Your hands move from his head to his shoulders, gently pushing him back to lean against the couch. "Wait."

"Is there something wrong?" His eyebrows crease in worry.

You shake your head with an unsteady laugh and use this time to catch your breath. "No, nothing's wrong. It's— it felt nice, really nice. I was just wondering if I could...?"

Your hands begin to roam again, finding their new homes against the nape of his neck and the flush of his cheeks. The end of your sentence doesn't hear the light of day, but Baxter knows exactly what you're trying to ask when your eyes dart to the mole decorating his neck.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, frown morphing into a smirk. Even with his face bright red he would never miss a chance to tease you. Typical Baxter. "Please." He pulls you in by the shoulders until you can feel his breath once more against the lobe of your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine. "Be my guest."

And so you oblige, pressing feather-light kisses first on his shoulder before trailing further up to his adam's apple and giving it the same treatment. You can feel it bob as he takes a large breath of air, followed by a pleased sigh. His fingers find purchase tangled in your hair, and you're acutely aware of how the roles have been reversed.

Finally, you make it to the area where his mole resides. Your hands follow your lips, one curling around his neck again to twirl strands of grey inbetween its fingers while the other traced the curve of his spine. He shudders beneath your touch.

In contrast to the gentle grazes you've given him thus far, your lips this time, nuzzle against his most sensitive spot with open mouth kisses, biting hard enough for a mark to form, but not to hurt.

"Mmn—!" he moans. His thigh jolts at the unexpected sensation, once more making contact between your legs. His hand pulls at your hair reactively, and you understand then, why he likes it so much.

"Payback for teasing me." You back away, thoroughly admiring your work, drinking in the sight of him beneath you.

Cheeks and ears flushed red, hair in disarray, a cheeky grin that for sure spelt your doom, and a faint rim of crimson that accentuates his already eye-catching mole.

Thinking back on it, you're sure this mole was the only reason you recognized him that summer of 2016. With his growth-spurt and new look, and not to mention you only having the chance to meet once beforehand, you're not sure if you would've been able to tell who he was otherwise. Not that you had to, he recognized you first.

Mindlessly, your thumb brushes against the bloom that darkens with every second passed. It doesn't hurt, you're sure of it, but Baxter appreciates the gesture all the same. Though, apparently not enough to let you linger.

Familiar fingers dip underneath your shorts, rubbing wide archs against your thighs. "Shall we continue?"

Ah, right.

You had a long night ahead of you.

2. LIPS.

"If you're feeling up for it we could take a stroll down the shore after dinner. The beach is usually empty by that time, and I'd love nothing more than to soak in the sights of a beautiful evening with you." He adds after a pause, "If you're alright with that, of course."

"I'd love to, Baxter," you answer instantly, batting away any of his worries.

For how confident your boyfriend made himself out to be to the public, you knew he still had a new dilemmas to sort through that takes time. Making sure you were happy and not feeling insecure about his choices being one of them.

"Really?" His expression lights right back up at your quick response, lips curving up into a genuinely pleased smile. "That's wonderful. I'll have to remember to bring a towel so we can dry our feet once we get back to the car. It wouldn't do well for us to drag sand back into the apartment."

Cove Holden would vehemently disagree with that statement if he were around to hear it, and you were almost inclined to bring it up yourself—being a person of the sea and whatnot.

But you don't.

The only thing on your mind is how you love hearing him so happy, love listening to the sound of his voice as he animatedly talks about even the most mundane things. You love the way the corners of his lips quirk up into a shy smile every time you compliment him and you love the way they stretch into a knowing-grin whenever he finds something new to tease you about—the way he makes it up to you with a kiss that always lasts longer than intended, and the way he says sorry without meaning an ounce of it.

Before long, those idle listings that you're so fond of hearing him talk about no longer register.

Without much thought, your hands are reaching out to cup his cheeks. Your thumb tenderly traces the outline of his jaw. No words were needed to tell him exactly what you were thinking. You were already staring at him as if you were holding the entire world in your hands.

"I'm going to kiss you now," you warn.

He chuckles amusedly, his own hand coming up to map the outline of your bottom lip, as if trying to commit the shape to memory. "What are you waiting for then?"

Nothing, really.

You waste no time leaning in, your lips fitting like puzzle pieces that were carved just to lock with each other.

It starts out slow, wanting, as if afraid you would scare one another off if you went for something more. Eventually, thoses brief pecks spiral out of your reach into something more, it's no longer a want but a need.

Despite you taking initiative, Baxter takes the lead, pulling you closer until you're practically stradling him. Your hands have moved from his cheeks to his neck, securing your place on his lap.

When you finally pull away, you're both gasping for air, eyes lidded and lungs breathless. Had your need for oxygen not won out you would have been content to kiss him all day.

Something about the look in his eyes tells you he thought the same.

1. HANDS.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Spin, pull, and—dip.

The music player clicks, and the sounds of string instruments abruptly stops. The silence that follows signals the end of another song.

"You did amazing." Baxter doesn't hesitate to compliment you as soon as the dance ends. He pulls you up into a standing position, but makes no effort to let go of your clasped hands.

Even if there was no reason to hold you anymore, that didn't mean anything. You were his partner—in more ways than one—so unless you wished for him to let you go, he wasn't planning on doing so any time soon.

"It's because I have such an amazing teacher leading me," you quip back.

He narrows his eyes, smiling widely. "I don't think I can call myself your teacher anymore. At this point you've far outgrown my lessons, don't you think?"

"Not at all. There's always more to learn from a former professional. Maybe you're just holding back on me."

If it was a compliment battle you wanted, it was a compliment battle you were going to get. For the next however long, the two of you spend your downtime exchanging complimentary remarks inbetween gulps of water.

The whole time, Baxter doesn't once let go of your hand, even if it meant awkwardly untwisting the cap of his bottle between his legs. He got it eventually.

"I'm so glad my misfortune brings you joy," he jokes, setting the container down by his side.

"I offered to help," you remind him. "You're the one who denied it."

"It was a battle of pride." He pouts at you, and for a second you almost thought he was serious.

Rolling your eyes, you laugh at his childish attitude. No matter how profession he tries to make himself out to be, you knew better. Underneath all those stiff suits and fancy words he was—as Xavier once described—squishy.

You hold on tighter to his hand; they were squishy too. Or maybe soft would be a more apt description.

"Is something on your mind?" he asks, no doubt curious about the sudden pressure.

You hum, lifting your arm up until the limb was right in front of your—and his—face. Your fingers wriggle out of Baxter's grasp before entertwining with his own. He lets you do it, gladly. Your palms are both clammy from holding each other for so long, but neither of you seem to mind.

And then, as if you had done this a million times before, you bring his hand to your lips in gentle kiss, and there it remains.

The same hand that had been offered to you all those years ago at the Summer Soiree was the same hand that you're holding now.

The one that holds you close in the early mornings and refuses to let go. The one that tucks your hair behind your ear and rubs delicate circles along every part of your body. The one that cradles your cheek with so much warmth you fear that one day you're going to heat up and burn into ash all at the same time.

"I was thinking about how much I love you. All of you." Your lips brush against his skin with every word, as if hoping to physically convey the full brunt of your emotions through that one simple gesture.

"Oh."

In the time you've spent dating Baxter, there were very few instances in which you were able to catch him off-guard. This just so happen to be one of those moments.

He's at a loss for words.

Unfortunately, you don't get the opportunity to bask in it for long, and soon enough, with the same care as you gave him, Baxter kisses the back of your hand. His lips glide down to your pinkie before giving it the same treatment, and then doing the same for your other four fingers, giving them each the individual attention they deserve.

Finally, he switches his grasp to your wrist and presses one final kiss to the inside of your palm.

It tickles.

"It's funny, we were thinking of the same thing." He catches your eye, features glimmering with affection. "About how I love you. All of you."

[sunburstsky]

So in this last episode we had confirmed:

1. Indri, who 2/3rds of the party is infatuated with, is Big BAD Lady in a very real way and can call down the memories of stars, including the ones shining into her library

2. If you “flee” (and i just feel that the definition of that might be a little squishy in this specific scenario) *within a mile* of Grimore, you are as good as dead

oh this is DELICIOUS

[yardsards]

a tactic of abusive parents that i don't see brought up very often: convincing their victims that child protective services are evil and that foster parents would certainly be even more abusive than their current circumstances

[uncanny-tranny]

Part of the reason I think people are under the impression that punk and, by extension, anarchy is at the core just animalistic, primitive rebelling against everything is that so many people can't imagine a work without systems of power and even oppression. A "better world" can't exist without these systems of power, so any attempt to go against it will be seen as a fruitless endeavor... we already live in a wonderful system, you see, why would you rock the boat by suggesting that we could do better for others?

[zuble]

i really hate that i’m allergic to cannabis bwait hold on my phone just tried autocorrecting that to cannibalism. that’s so funny original post cancelled. imagine you eat a dude and it fucking eats you back.

[pewrri]

pspspsps.. come get your VoA weem content..

[madamescarlette]

don't you love when you're like, okay now I'm going to leave this sorrow in the old year so I don't turn into a crotchety bitter person over it, and then you walk on feeling all refreshed and bright no longer carrying it on your shoulders, but then the sorrow wanders after you like a child who was lost in the supermarket weeping its eyes out and it says to you where did you GO I was lost! I was lost and I missed you!!! and you can only sigh and take it by its hand and say to it very well. here's your seat. I'm sorry I left you behind, I promise it was with the best of intentions, but I want to do my best by you, so let's sit together and try to figure out what you're saying to me.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

listen. i do not ever want anything bad to happen to lena kelley. however i do want her to, at some point, be in so much distress that someone has to comfort her. do you understand.

[ananke-xiii]

I can't stop thinking about this scene...

Dean: Maybe you went too far. Cas: Maybe. Dean: I mean, he's been in lockdown for quite a while, you know? Maybe you just, uh, went too fast. What's he doing now? Cas: No idea. He was very distraught. Dean Yeah, but what exactly did he say? Cas: "Leave. Get out. I want you dead". We didn't bond.

[thelassoway]

Ted Lasso S02E08 Man City || Ted Lasso S03E06 Sunflowers