#when I say nothing is abandoned!!! i mean it!!!!

[verdenz]

franco /lando👏watching👏someone👏else 👏 make👏his👏gf👏 laugh

SEEING SOMEONE ELSE MAKING YOU LAUGH

FEATURING:⠀⠀Lando Norris, Franco Colapinto.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ⠀⠀Sorry for taking so long to write and post this! School is taking up my time.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀LANDO NORRIS

"Having fun?" he asked, arms crossed as he stared at you. You had been chatting amicably with Carlos, just seconds before he left for an interview.

You smiled at your boyfriend, not immediately noticing his bad mood. "Just talking while waiting for you." Your smile faded when he didn’t hug you back, keeping his arms crossed and what looked like a pout on his lips. You pinched his cheek. "Oh, come on, aren’t you too old to pout, Lando?"

He immediately bit his lip, looking away. "I’m not–"

"Are you jealous of Carlos? Carlos?" Lando took a deep breath and put an arm around your shoulder, using his other hand to mess up your hair as he pulled you to a more private spot; he wasn’t a big fan of cameras watching you two.

"No, I was just curious. You don’t laugh like that at my jokes." You squinted at his blatant lie, before he started laughing himself. "I’m going to pay someone to make a headline saying you abandoned me."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes. Lando leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

"See? You’re not laughing at my joke."

୨୧⠀⠀⠀FRANCO COLAPINTO

You were at a restaurant with some of his friends. It wasn’t anything special, just a casual dinner among acquaintances, though most of them were unfamiliar to you.

By the end of the night, on the way back home, Franco wasn’t talking much, which was unusual since he usually chatted a lot around you. You assumed he was just tired.

As soon as you stopped in front of the house, he pulled your hand away from the door, opened his own, and ran around to open yours himself. You had barely stepped out when you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his chin rest on your shoulder. "Who was that talking to you? You seemed like you were having fun."

"Wait, I thought you knew him." You said with a quiet laugh, pulling away to open the door to the house. He followed you inside, playing with your purse.

"Was he funnier than me?" He asked softly as he came in with you. You asked him to repeat because you hadn’t heard him clearly. "Nothing… it’s just, you guys were talking a lot, huh?"

You turned, taking off your coat. "He just asked me to get him some water and said something I thought was funny, that’s all." Franco frowned, hugging you again.

"I mean, from my point of view, it was flirting," he said. "You know, your body is made up of a lot of water." You laughed, incredulous at his logic. "But see? I know how to make you laugh better."

[annievrse]

that's not my name!

college!eren jaeger x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: eren refers to reader as 'my girl', she/her pronouns, established relationship, reader is shorter than eren.

"call me that one more time and see what happens."

you roll your lips between your teeth, a smile threatening to break across your face. "eren, eren, eren."

"baby!" he pouts. "you always call me baby. stop that."

you giggle into your hand, eren’s fallen expression causing you to burst. his eyes shift under his dark eyebrows, mischief swimming in his green irises.

then, eren abandons his protein drink and reaches over the table, placing his hands on your shoulders. "don't make me shake you."

"baby," you whisper, peering up at him. at the sound of his name, he visibly melts. his shoulders relax, and his expression morphs into relief.

"thank you," eren nods, rubbing your skin. "now, was that so hard?"

"i dont know, eren, you tell me."

"ugh," he rolls his eyes, sitting back down and taking a swig of his drink.

"can i try some?"

"no, because i know you're not gonna like it," eren deadpans. "then you're going to ask me how the hell i like it, and i don't want to listen to that right now."

"you're so mean."

"says the one purposefully messing up my name before."

"are we gonna stop them soon?" armin whispers to mikasa, the pair governing the other half of the picnic bench—you next to mikasa & armin beside eren.

the girl rolls her eyes and sighs. “we have to meet up with the others soon. are you done?"

you face her with a wince and give your best friend a sheepish smile. "sorry."

"she's lying," eren quips, winking at you across the table. he finishes his drink and shoves the cup into the side of his backpack.

"am not!" you say, throwing him a glare. you don't miss the anxious expression on armin's face. "and look! you're even stressing armin out."

armin's cheeks glow red at your comment. "i just don't want to be late."

eren grins and raises an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. a few loose strands from his bun fall in his eyes as he tilts his head. "you two can go on. we'll catch up with you later."

mikasa rolls her eyes and stands, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. she yanks armin up by his shirt collar. "don't be too late."

"when are we ever?" eren smirks, eyes never straying from yours.

armin scoffs, pushing his glasses up his noise. "do you really want us to answer that?"

"damn," eren pouts. "fine, we'll come with you right now then." he stands from his spot and rounds the table before you can do the same. eren plucks your bag from your side and heaves it onto his shoulder, slipping his arm through his own backpack seconds later.

you giggle as he urges you to hurry up, running ahead of mikasa and armin. "we're never late!"

mikasa nudges your shoulder when you fall into step beside her. "better get going. you don't want to be late."

you roll your eyes and quicken your steps to catch up to your boyfriend, who almost tackles you when he notices you approaching. "my girl."

"my baby," you laugh and shove your face into his shoulder. his strides are much longer than yours, so you half jog to keep up with him. giggles fall from eren's lips as he kisses your head.

"you're going the wrong way!"

"shit," eren mumbles, steering you across the grass to the path where your best friends walk.

with your hand in the crook of his elbow, you walk behind them, whispering about nothing and everything and sharing kisses between laughs.

[daryltwdixon]

Live-In Bodyguard

A requested one shot:

hi!! i was wondering if you could write a little story where y/n and daryl were paired to live together when they first arrived at Alexandria and now have been living together for a while. They’re not necessarily friends, and actually don't really like each other and one day daryl is out hunting when y/n spills something on her clothes, leaving her with nothing but one of daryls old t shirts. 🤭🤭🤭🤭 he comes home and catches her in the kitchen where she pulls the tshirt down to cover her underwear and keeps apologizing. Tyyyyy @dixon555

I did take a little bit of creative liberty on the situation in which he catches you in buttttt what can I say :)

Fluffy, protective Daryl

When Rick comes out to meet you and the rest of the group, explaining the rooming situation at the compound you've arrived to, you can tell he seems hesitant before breaking the news to you. 

“Y/N…” he says carefully, his hand rubbing at his growing beard, “you and…” he looks over to Daryl, his eyes searching his chosen brother’s face. 

“No way,” you say, suddenly understanding, “No way, Rick. I can’t live with this guy,” your thumb points over your shoulder.

“Like you’re such a ray of sunshine,” Daryl snaps back at you, “think I wanna share a place with you either?” 

You and Daryl were…I mean, obviously you had lived together the past however long it had been since the group had found you. It had actually been Daryl who found you in an abandoned house, covered in walker guts and dirt after hearing you screaming when there was a whole group coming into the cabin. But since then, you'd been living in close quarters with everyone. As much as you had appreciated him coming after you, the rest of the time you’ve known him he’s always been on you–how you can’t be trusted on your own, always needing protection, never allowing you out of his sight. You had started going crazy that this man would barely speak to you, but insisted on always having eyes on you at all times. 

Rick sighs, looking at the ground, his forefinger and thumb at the bridge of his nose, “Look, y’all need to figure something out, this is just what I was told. The house has two rooms, you won’t be in each other’s way–”

“Great, great. Thanks a lot,” you groan, heading toward the row of houses, “my own live-in bodyguard,”

“Be nice,” you hear Rick saying under his breath to Daryl.

“Always am,” Daryl replies. 

This was going to suck.

—------------

You’re drinking coffee at the small kitchen table in your house at Alexandria, finally starting to feel settled in the place. Daryl was out in the beginning days of your time here, he finally understood that the walls were enough to keep you safely out of harm’s way. You had tried to sneak out a few times, only to find him waiting for you at the exit, ready to stop you. It’s like he could read your damn mind. So, you gave up trying to work around his helicopter protection. You decided to focus on your house, making it a home for you. If Daryl was going to be out hunting most days anyway, you figured you would make it how you wanted it. You found a way to decorate the place, even if it wasn’t the easiest task. The walls had been freshly painted a couple weeks ago when you saw they were a nasty mustard yellow when you had first walked in.

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

“Oh god,” you had moaned.

Daryl paused, suddenly rushing to you. He came up to your side quickly, scanning the room. You could tell he was on high alert.

“No, no, it’s nothing,” you assured him, “Just…the walls,” 

“The…walls?” he had grunted out

“They’re ugly,” you said to him, simply.

“And you were hoping for…?”

“Maybe a nice blue or something, anything but this awful mustard,” you said, and began walking around to discover the rest of the place. 

Two days later you had found a note stuck to a pail on the kitchen counter, with a large roller brush on top. When you approached it, a small, traitorous smile had crossed your lips.

“For making the walls less ugly” 

You hardly had to guess who the terrible handwriting was from. 

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

You took the whole day to paint, excited for a new project that felt like making the house a home. Setting your lukewarm coffee down on the wooden floor to dip the paintbrush in a fresh coat of paint, you begin your task. You’re lifting the paintbrush up to the wall, gliding it gently along the seams where the corners meet. When you step back to view your work, you trip over your half empty coffee mug you left on the ground, causing you to flail your arms out for support, the paint brush in your hand splattering all over your shirt.

“Ah, shit,” you thought out loud, touching the bits of paint that were wet on your shirt now. There were blue splatters all down the front of your shirt and your sleeves. You sighed, and looked around. You might as well finish before going up to change. 

When all four walls of the downstairs were done, you head up the stairs. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t really had the chance to get out and scavenge for new clothes in Alexandria since you mostly stayed in the house, trying to acclimate the past couple of days. Daryl was out on a hunting trip today–surprise, surprise. He seemed so pent up since arriving. Every little thing pissed him off lately, his temper was so easily brought out of him. Not that he was very forthcoming on the reason he was so annoyed lately. But you would see him roll his eyes, scoff, and just overall pouting as soon as you arrived. You knew Daryl was most comfortable out in the woods–it was his happy place, oddly. As much as anyone else was terrified to be out in the woods alone, he cherished it. He barely talked to you in the past months you’ve known him but you were quietly getting to know him from afar. Or at least as far as he’d let you get from him. He was intriguing as much as he was annoying to you. 

So you’re up stairs, searching to see if any of your dresser drawers happen to have a fresh set of clothes, but it seems you’re out of luck. The drawers are barren, the dusty wooden bottoms seemed to be mocking you now. ‘Told you to get some clothes,’ they tell you as you open and clothes every single one to no avail. ‘Should've left the house for some when you had the chance–now look at you’. You shake your head– anthropomorphizing a dresser is weird. It’s a dresser. It doesn’t speak. But if this one could you know it would be chiding you for being such a recluse the past few days of arriving at the commune. A sudden thought occurs to you– you had seen Daryl walking in with a few things over his arm yesterday when he came in from being out in the woods again. He had grumbled something along the lines of getting called to the main house and being told off for looking like a forest creature with how ratty his clothes were looking. It had made you chuckle to see him embarrassed, holding a pile of crisp clothes that were such a stark contrast against him, but now you were suddenly grateful. Maybe you could take one of them and he wouldn’t even realize it was his, since he probably hadn’t worn any of them. Looking out into the hallway to make sure he hadn’t snuck in and was about to catch you, you quietly walk over to his room. You hold the doorknob in your palm for a long second, talking yourself into going in. It’ll be fine, it’s not weird–it's just Daryl. You close your eyes shut tight and open the door.

The room was pretty barren much like yours, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, really. As you look around you see signs of his presence though– his poncho hangs over the back of the chair at the desk, the keys to the motorcycle on the wooden chest at the bottom of his bed. 

You sneak over quietly to the chest of things, putting his keys to the side and opening it with delicacy. He could walk in here at any minute and find you snooping, and you’d be dead meat. But when you open the chest, none of the new clothes are there. It’s all his old stuff–the ratty sleeveless shirts, the angel wing vest he would wear, a big tee shirt with car or motorcycle oil stains… You stand and deliberate your best course of action. These options are still better than sitting in dry crusted paint all over you all day. They’re not necessarily dirty, since Carol had come over yesterday to take everyone’s things to be washed. Daryl had surprisingly neatly folded them up in the chest when he put them away–or maybe Carol had and he just left them like that. Gingerly, you pick up the large tee shirt with the faded oil stains, giving it a once over before deciding it was good enough. You take it and make your way to the shower, praying Daryl isn’t back til the evening when you could put it back before bed. 

You’re stepping out of the shower, wringing your hair out when you hear the door close out in the living room. Oh, shit. You were stupid enough to leave your paint splattered shirt in your bedroom along with your pants, only bringing in Daryl’s shirt and a pair of underwear to change into after your shower. You curse at yourself inwardly, figuring there was no way out but to face it. Hopefully Daryl would just stay downstairs while you made your way to your room to put your own clothes back on. You throw the tee shirt on, and it surprisingly makes its way past your butt, hiding everything just enough to be decent if he were to accidentally spot you running for it down the hallway. You collect yourself, wringing your hair out one more time before hanging your towel on the door and stepping out. Steam escapes the bathroom as the door swings open, and you’re looking around the door frame, making sure no one is there. You sigh in relief when you see no one on the landing–Daryl is still downstairs then. Or maybe he’s not even here and just had to grab something on his way out again. 

If only you were so lucky. 

You’re on the way to your room, padding over gently to your door, hand on the banister to keep yourself steady, when you catch in the corner of your eye coming up the stairs. You freeze on the top landing, directly in front of the staircase when he catches you trying to creep down the hall. 

His eyes linger on your face for a minute, and you watch his eyes suddenly scanning you from head to toe. You look down at yourself to assess how screwed your situation is– your wet hair is dripping on the shirt, making parts of it damp and see through. Of course where your hair meets your chest, the wetness is the worst, making the shirt cling to you like a second skin. Your eyes dart up to him as you take in your nearly drenched chest, your nipples hardening to the cold air now that they’re wet. His eyes are glued to you, still on your chest until they start to scan down to your bare legs, where the shirt just barely covers you decently. You squeeze your legs together, bringing the shirt past your underwear, a blush blazing across your face and neck. “Daryl, I'm sorry, I just--”

But suddenly he’s climbing up the stairs and grabbing you so quickly that the air escapes your lungs as he holds you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

[katyspersonal]

Someone really said we shouldn't take Messmer's last words ( when he cursed Marika) seriously because he was demonically possessed by the abyssal serpent ijbol

I do not think that it was the case either! My impression from his phase transition was more of him finally giving into his serpentine nature, and thus, finally allowing himself to feel his true feelings!

"Hatred that would be confined" here can mean both him hating himself (since fire is a hazard to the Erdtree, evidenced by Fire of Ruin and Destined Death, so why not his?) OR hating her for having forsaken him! Except... they are not mutually exclusive. He could have hated himself for existing as something that could inevitably bring ruin to everything she created and hated her for abandoning him!

Like other characters in the DLC, he is aware that we've been called by Grace of Gold, her creation, to become her new Lord! Nonetheless, he decides to still disrespect what counts as her wishes, which already gives something away, at least for me. It could be that him taking Crusade beyond just vengeance, to fascism level, WAS what split them apart, and he is still convinced he knew what was better for purity and life of her Order better than her (LOOOOVE this version because it makes him even scarier). It could be jealousy, because some nobody Tarnished would get the chance to fix things for her when he tried to do the same and yet she was not "grateful". It could be that this "purpose" he took up for her feels like the only thing still connecting them, since she is not coming back. It could be many things that I can keep listing!

Yet, at the same time, he asks her forgiveness before removing the seal! So, killing someone he (correctly) believes she is awaiting is a lesser crime than removing the seal she gave to him to keep Base Serpent away? I think it is very telling that the root of how much he hates his flame is her hatred of it.

( x ) Perhaps, by being deadset on killing everyone spurn of her grace, he sort of overcompensates for how much he hates himself for being graceless (in a way, 'shorn of light' is very blatant)... He can't fix his nature, nor can she, but he could remove her OTHER pains and grudges. He is compensating!.. like, for how much he wishes to never having been born, or something...

Damn this got weirdly sad And a simpler interpretation is that it was just a cry of pain, because he was dying and she was not there for him. Or maybe it was the horror of feeling like he was to fall into Abyss, since he removed the seal? Not that I ever died in my life yet, but I'd imagine that thoughts and emotions upon violent death would not be very rational!

I really want some help with Japanese description of this item, because this "but never again" feels like some sort of grudge. Like that she realised it was useless; not so much because what afflicted him was untreatable, but because she deemed him not worthy of any more chances! You see what I mean! Again, English choices of words should be taken with a grain of salt.

Messmer also was not "possessed" by Base Serpent, he became Base Serpent! Saying you will be taken in jaws by a serpent shorn of light, he means himself! He has a habit of addressing himself in third face already, saying that you will meet death in the embrace of "Messmer's" flame, not "his" flame! There is definitely some parallel with Malenia unleashing Scarlet Rot again just to not lose to us, but whereas Scarlet Rot is confirmed to eat away at people's personality and memories (Millicent's questline), nothing said it was the case for the Base Serpent!

(Images by Zlofsky as usual) All statues of Marika in the Lands Between are missing heads... except for one, depicting her as a mother holding a child, hidden in his chamber by a veil. I need to check it later, but in at least three cases it makes no sense to be this way: one in the Church of the Crusade where Queelign hangs out, another surrounded by his soldiers, and another in Shadow's Keep itself! UNLESS, he is the one responsible for crashing the images of her head...?

It feels like he has been very conflicted long before this dreadful moment of unleashing his serpentinge nature! He did not want to think of her because it hurt, but also still wished to be held by her again. Considering the statues, it feels like he hated her as a Goddess, but loved her as a mother. So, he hates her divine existence, her as an owner of the Erdtree, a "destined victim" of all fires, but also knows it can't be separated from her and follows her design. Perhaps, follows TOO much.

Basically it IS a reasonable assumption that upon his death, he's been feeling as though he did everything he could for her, but that was not enough for her to see beyond her fear! Worse yet: she did try to love him, but "never again"! Hatred of abandoned child is a very intense thing, but it is also not a true hatred. It is more akin to cry for being accepted, but distorted into insults, curses, pushing away and such!

^^^ If this doesn't look like Humanity running wild manifestation of someone's own repressed self-hatred, loneliness and suffering getting unleashed I don't know what does fdhfdhs I don't know, man... I just think there is more evidence for the fact that he's been suffering because of her.

[proshipconfessions]

I fucking hate antis. I used to be one, and I am still SURROUNDED by all this “liking fictional CSA means you’re icky and one of the bad victims and YOU WILL DO IT IRL!!!!” Bullshit.

People I admire and look up to end up saying it. My “friends” end up saying it. It’s everywhere. I often feel like I can’t trust anyone, not even my close friends who have already told me they don’t care what I’m into.

it’s terrifying. ive seen what antis have done to us, I’ve seen how easy it is for people like me to be exposed. I’ve seen how people will see you as nothing but the filth that soils everybody’s shoes; or the sick, drooling predators just waiting to strike. I’ve seen how people are isolated, abandoned, and even driven to kill themselves because Society just doesn’t fucking like freaks. And everybody on this app says that “most people are proship!!! It’s the normal opinion!! We’re the normal ones!!! ”

I CAN NEVER BELIEVE IT. where the fuck do you live??? People abhor my gayness. People abhor my true gender identity. People abhor the way I carry myself as an autistic person. PEOPLE HATE, SO FUCKING MUCH, and they hate what they think is weird. People don’t even get that Lolita isn’t endorsing what the main character does. if it’s so normal, then why is it so much MORE normal for people to react to the concept of lolicon with “oh, they must be nasty hairy pedophiles living in their mothers basements with tons of CP. it should be illegal!”? if it’s so normal, why is it more normal for self-righteous video essay YouTubers to treat “booktok girlies” like crass, pitiful zoo animals for liking taboo shit in their spice novels? Why do they always come to the conclusion that they’re all stupid old cunts who could never tell the difference between fictional abuse and real abuse?

if it’s so normal, then why is it more normal for people to make this fake binary of “proper, real sexual violence fiction” and “filthy, romanticizing sexual violence fiction?”

People in general Might understand you if you just say you make art about dark subjects. They might be “normal” about that.

But I know full and well that it would be a different story if I bring up fictional incest or CSA. It would be an especially different story if I mentioned that its not to cope with trauma, just to get off on.

…I probably have trust issues, and I have antis to thank for that. It’s getting so common in the media. I’m so sick of people telling me it’s commonly accepted. It is NOT. What I write is gross, triggering to most and seen as immoral to SO many people. Even people I love.

I make new friends, but I don’t let them get close. I’m always terrified/constantly thinking about them discovering that I’m a freak and leaving me— or worse, outing me to others. it’s actually why I’m too scared to start posting like I used to on tumblr. I know what I am. I don’t try to delude myself into thinking I’m “normal.” I am not, and maybe that’s okay.

I hate antis for what they’ve shaped me into. How their rhetoric that I clung to in fear for so long had shaped me into an uncaring, virtue-signaling asshole. I hate them for how I crumbled when I discovered I had become the very thing that my friends and role models swear to destroy. I hate their logic for getting into almost every fucking crevice of the internet and even my peers’ beliefs. This stuff ruined my mental state.

———

[discordiansamba]

shows up three years late with starbucks and an update. as one does.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Okay challenge mode. You are a therapist and Eridan Ampora from Homestuck has just walked right out of his intro page into your office. How do you fix him?

put him and karkat in a room with a pile of stuff and tell them they can't leave until they've jumped into it and talked about their feelings

[livesincerely]

The next week is filled with a fresh round of mandatory sexual harrassment and misconduct training for the entire staff. David spends most of it camped out in Conference Room 3 with not enough coffee, delivering the same spiel over and over again to glazed eyes and crossed arms, the clock on the wall mocking him with its glacial pace.

It’s Friday afternoon when the last group of employees are brought in. Except this time, when he steps up to the podium and introduces himself as David Jacobs from HR, he notices a man sitting near the back abruptly straighten in his seat, suddenly attentive. He’s, frankly, gorgeous, with deep brown eyes, a sharp jawline, full lips, and—

David’s gaze darts pointedly away, subtly adjusting his collar.

The session proceeds as usual, but this time there’s the tantalizing call of the weekend as the light at the end of the tunnel that makes them all a touch impatient. David wraps things up as quickly as he can, and doesn’t take it personally when the employees quickly file out the moment he’s finished speaking. He’s gathering up discarded information sheets to recycle and fantazing about cracking open a bottle of wine with dinner, when someone clears their throat behind him.

“So the sweater and slacks I knew to expect,” says an impossibly familiar voice. It’s the man from before, watching him from the doorway. “But after all this time, how did the glasses never rate a mention? ‘Cause that really feels like somethin’ I should’ve known about.”

And oh. Oh, so this is Jack Kelly.

David’s initial impression of gorgeous is even more accurate up close: dark hair and deeply tanned skin, broad shoulders and strong hands, and a smile that’s on the rakish side of charming.

“Mr. Kelly,” David greets, his heart pounding in his chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m honestly jus’ takin’ this in,” Jack says, looking him up and down, and if the smooth city-drawl of his voice was attractive over the phone, it’s nearly lethal in person. “My imagination is pretty good, Jacobs, but it don’t hold a candle to the real thing.” He tilts his head, a swoop of hair falling over his forehead, and he really is that handsome, isn’t he? No wonder Martha in Reception is willing to grant him so many favors. “And I’m an artist by trade, so I know beauty when I see it.”

“You know, if you were hoping to get out of training, it’s usually best to drop the pick up lines before the session, not after,” David answers, arching an eyebrow. “And perhaps choose a mark that isn’t so familiar with your methods.”

“Why’s it gotta be a line?” Jack says, his grin only growing. “It’s the truth, ain’t it? Just callin’ a spade a spade.”

“Did you actually need something?” David wonders, shuffling his papers to hide his flushing cheeks. “Because if not, I should head back downstairs.”

“Chasing’ me off already, Dave?” Jack asks, ambling closer. “Not very professional of ya.”

“And what would you know about professionalism?” David reflexively banters back. His stomach flutters furiously, nervously, like he’s teetering on a tightrope and can’t quite find his balance.

Jack laughs, low and warm.

“Not a damn thing,” he agrees. “But you like me anyway.”

And, god help him, he really, really does.

[charlotterenaissance]

baffling decision for season 2, episode 18 to end with lewis making a legit effort for charlotte, making a picnic of things she likes and hugging her and seeming really happy with her

only for episode 19 to trample all over that with him blowing her off after she mentions that she misses him and hasn't seen him for a while, then apparently forgetting he even has a girlfriend altogether and softly flirting with his ex while the narrative agrees that this is correct because, unlike charlotte, cleo always smiles when she first sees lewis. you know. unlike charlotte. who goes out of her way to try and make lewis happy and smiles literally every time she sees him. there's not even an episode between these!

[karinyosa]

i can't go into the tag rn bc i'll get spoilers but the other show i'm going insane about is blue eye samurai and oh my god. the scene where mizu has a flashback to the fight w taigen while watching a threesome. my god

[pois0ncandy]

i still miss you, i don’t know what else to say anymore. those words repeat throughout my head on loop all day. i miss you. i have nothing to say anymore, i have no desire to speak to anyone else. for nearly two years all i can think about is how much i miss you and how i wish you would just comeback and talk to me again. i just want to know you’re okay, i just want to know what happened. i want to apologize, i want to cry, i want to love you, i want you. there is nothing else i can say. i just miss you.

[strwbrymlkshake]

who up praying for downfalls 🤨

[astranauticus]

(trips and spills black hair/white hair ships all over your dash) ah shit ah fuck-

[toytulini]

act annoying on this post and ill block you ♡

everyone accusing black sails fans of Being Rude In The Notes owes me $10 for making me look in the notes (like. What. WHERE) and $10 more for subsequently making me witness the Stede fans also being unhinged petty assholes but it doesnt count when they do it, i guess?

at this point im saltier about Black Sails fans being repeatedly being called assholes but ofmd fans Not being called out for probably the same behavior or worse? and with what feels like very little. evidence? god damn

[psalmsofpsychosis]

i love waking up and being me because i be out there interacting with people in the most ordinary and uneventful way possible and still the most innocent well-intentioned remark could set me the fuck off. A stranger guy (very normal and non-threatening) come over to make conversation and told me "there's something very calm about you which kind of makes you pretty approachable," aaaaaaand boom. Now i'm in 89% defense mood and ready to snap your neck in half if you look at me a certain way.

[halfdeadwallfly]

guess who is so absolutely shit at everything that they are failing at school, won't have the gpa to keep their financial aid at the ridiculously expensive institution they attend, and is probably gonna have to move back home next semester