#this is to cope in the meantime

[suitehearttts]

the fact that James Franco is the only version of Peter or Harry that we’ve gotten to see covered in scars is inhumane

[idliketobeatree]

[skitskatdacat63]

Okay now where's the Seb teddy bear so I can make them kiss each other!?

+

[kyouka-supremacy]

So no sskk?

[electronicfurbymusic]

Trying to convince myself that I don't need this (I do)

[leconcombrerit]

@themundanedumpling @bekkibluehair you know what Pheenon date + Pheejin chibis sounded like a powerful thing to combine, I couldn't help myself

Bonus, Keng got kicked out of existence before he could lay a filthy hand on Non, Jin divorced his shitty friends (and currently fights to have full custody of Fluke), Tee's uncle goes to jail and Phee can fall in love with Jin as he keeps hanging around them like the ghost of a sad kicked puppy.

Bonus x2 if he helps Jin get Non's attention too so they can be a happy polycule, thriller horror slasher ? Don't know her, I'm in comedy romcom heaven can't hear you

[cheemaws]

HYPMIC AHOGE HCS PART 1

this was made like, weeks ago but i just remembered this site existed so i hope you see my vision. also side notes, halo for the divinity motif for jakurai, the 7 being more prominent on dice for his number, a question mark for the mysterious gentaro yumeno (added wispy hair to fit more to his title) and moon motifs because. well jyushi, but its not as prominent as i expected (almost died drawing his hair)

[reitheist]

haven't quite started reading ahead in dungeon meshi like I promised yet but this new episode has cemented a deep affection for chilchuck in my brain.

he is just. such a little guy yanno.

[incandescent-mushroom]

the 14th Doctor agreeing Newton was hot then saying “oh, do I say things like that now?!” because he’s not used to openly expressing attraction (regardless of gender) and Donna was immediately like “YOU ARE GAY! A GAY LITTLE FRUIT! I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN THIS ABOUT YOU!!”

[cascadiiing]

My redacted self insert :3

[thethingything]

I'm absolutely determined to pay attention to all the seasonal changes and embrace them as much as possible this year and to try and romanaticise it. we've tried to do the same for the last couple of years too but I think we're getting better at it over time

[flowerboypoet]

back from the dead to wish everyone a

HAPPY SHIVERING SEASON DAY!!!!!

@mostremote

[novelconcepts]

Hi! I've almost finished Paper Girls and I'm curious why KJ didn't want to meet her future self. I know she mentioned earlier that she was afraid she'd become who her mother wanted her to be. But when that turned out not to be the case, she still chose to run away when she had that chance at the cinemas after talking to her future partner. Did I miss something?

I love KJ for this, actually, because her reasoning seems to change over the course of the season. Initially, she doesn’t want to meet her future self because she’s been told all her life who she’s going to be, who she SHOULD be, and she wants nothing to do with solidifying her mother’s wishes into reality. She knows who she is. She’s dark humor and helping people up and field hockey. She’s her. She doesn’t have any interest in some random woman telling her otherwise, the way Erin has had to deal with. She doesn’t want to find out there’s no way out of that box she’s been trying to break.

And then she sees herself, sees her girlfriend, sees her future of NYC and film school and being an amazing burgeoning director—and still wants nothing to do with it, because talking to that version is going to solidify something else. Something she isn’t quite ready to speak to, even if she knows in her heart it’s true. Something she has never once put into words, and even now that she’s fully aware it’s there, still eludes her. (“When did you know you were the kind of person who liked….movies?” “I think she might be…I think I might be…”) This isn’t a preteen in 2022; it’s 1988 and she’s in middle school, in Ohio, and already has her parents and antisemitism to deal with. She is reeling. Of course she is. Coming to terms won’t be automatic.

That’s why I love that she talks to Lauren, not future KJ about it—Lauren isn’t her. Lauren has the ability to say, “We all do this on our own time, there’s no rush. Do you want to talk more about it?” Adult!KJ, by virtue of being herself, wouldn’t be able to do that. She’s living proof of something KJ is just learning to sort out for the first time. Talking to her before she’s really been able to sit with it properly and figure out what it means would be doing the same thing she was avoiding at the start: telling her who she is. And while it might eventually be reassuring to find out she’s happy being who she is, it also must be so overwhelming. KJ needs to come out at her own pace—to herself, to others—and talking to her comfortably-gay adult self might feel less like being led out of the closet, and more like being shot from a cannon. Her running away from that feels like the last preservation of agency she has in coming to terms with it all on her own time. And it’s only after that moment—a comfortable adult queer person telling her it’ll be all right—that she can even begin to let it settle in.

[butshedidnotknow]

Ready To Fall

For @febuwhump 2024 Day 1: Helpless

Summary: Neil Josten returned to the Foxes in a body bag, and all of the proof Andrew has of foul play is a mysterious countdown on Neil's phone, ending the day he died. Andrew takes it badly.

---------------

One man stood alone on the edge of the rooftop, a silhouette against an already-dark sky. It was beginning to rain, gently now, but soon it would turn to a storm powerful enough to crush all of them and wash the entirety of South Carolina away with it. Despite that, the lone glow of a cigarette hung from the man’s lips, still ever so lonely. Nearly invisible against the night was the bottle of vodka that dangled from his fingers. 

“Ninety nine percent,” he muttered, staring at the parking lot down below. And then he laughed, sharp and harsh and as cutting as any of the blades that he kept pressed against his skin. “You hear that, bastard?” he shouted against the wind to no avail; it was beginning to pick up, and carried his words away with it. “Ninety fucking nine percent and I didn’t even get to kill you for it!”

Abram was dead, and they didn’t even know how. Oh, they had been given a body, and everything about it—about the familiar face, muddled and broken and bruised—had pointed to “Neil” being hit by a car in the parking lot, probably trying to escape the riots that had broken out after their game. But Andrew would never buy that, and no matter how much the other Foxes gave lip to the story, he knew that they refused to, either. It was more than a coincidence, more than an accident. The scars, the endless antagonizing of Riko and his Ravens, all of the secrets that Neil had never traded with him in their game—

Andrew dropped his cigarette off the roof and stared at it, watching its dim glow flicker out. From his pocket, he drew out a phone—old, a flip phone, far outdated, but still functional, and now without any owner for it. He gripped it tightly, almost trying to break it, and drew back his arm to throw it right next to that cigarette, now stifled by the rain.

At the last moment Andrew stopped and dropped the phone at his feet instead. There wasn’t much left of Neil: his exy gear, unused brown contact lenses, pages and pages of math work that Andrew couldn’t stand to look at, and his phone. 

He raised the bottle to his lips, took a very long drink, long enough that he was beginning to question what he was doing on the roof like this, with limbs so heavy and a pulse that threatened to leave his veins in shreds. His own scars throbbed, both old and still fresh from the riot. 

Abram is dead.

Is your spine the spine of the righteous?

If he knew who had done this, if he had any way of reaching out, Andrew would have torn them to pieces and not hesitated another second to get back at them for what they’d done to Neil. But there was nothing more to it than this: whoever it had been, they were the Ravens, or something to do with them, and with Neil gone, Andrew’s attention was wholly dedicated to Kevin. 

Andrew stared at the phone at his feet, and raised a foot to crush it beneath his boot.

Before he could, it rang once. 

Andrew stopped. He stared at it. Put his foot back on the ground. There was no one who would text Neil, not now that he was dead. The only numbers that the man had saved had belonged to the Foxes, and to whoever had sent that countdown. 

The countdown is over now, Abram, and you’re not here to see how mad I am. Do you know how much I want to kill you for that? You let them get to you first. You made me break a promise.

Not one, but two. Two promises: he’d hurt Kevin, and he’d failed to protect Neil. One of those he may be able to properly apologize for, in due time. The other—his breath was ragged and something stabbed through the side of his ribs as he thought it for the hundredth time—the other he was helpless to do anything about, no matter how hard he was to try.

Neil—Abram—Josten was dead.

And now someone was texting him.

Andrew bent down, picked up the phone on the ground, flicked it open. They still needed to cancel the phone plan. It had gotten lost in the string of things in the past week—there was so much to do that a cell phone was ranked at the bottom of the list. 

Except.

Except there was a text from a blocked number—a different one than the countdown—and when Andrew opened it, all it contained was a single word:

Wait.

And dread filled his stomach in the same way it had when Neil’s hand was yanked from him in the riot. 

He sent a reply, rash though he knew it was:

Who is this?

But there was no reply, and when he attempted to phone the mystery number back, he reached a message informing him that the number was out of service and he should hang up and try again.

Andrew buried a sob beneath a mouthful of vodka and a cigarette inhaled so quickly he felt nauseous. Who could he begin to ask for answers? A burner phone like this would be no use in trying to track down any further information, regardless of who had sent that text.

Another drink. Standing and taking tottering steps towards the door, more shakily than he would ever let himself be in front of anyone else again. 

He could not be helpless again. Not after all that he had lost.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

You ever write some shit where you're like 'oh yeah I'm totally just describing what this guy is doing in his free time nothing else im just setting the scene it's unnecessarily detailed for no particular reason' and then realize you are in fact just info dumping about some shit you are interested in actually

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

ghost files bts via watcher instagram story 4/17