#you're crying
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Who knew a brown duffel bag could be so personal?
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Twin Runes Epi 28 [ Deltarune Comic Dub ]
Had to share this here too cuz OOOOOOOOO BOI it made me emotional!
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lord forgive me but i'm gonna say it........... little chunky steambaby swaddled in that blue scarf :'^)
#that damn SCARF#GUYS WHAT WAS THAT#zutara#steambaby#i'm crying#you're crying#we're all crying#someone put a pudgy little baby in a beautiful blue scarf and just go goocheegoocheegoo#i am goocheegoocheegone#atla live action#atla spoilers#definitely will be drawing this dw
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It's the Ylfa and Gerard becoming the monsters they feared so others can be safe.
It's the Rosamund and Pinocchio accepting an imposed reality on them so others can choose their own.
It's the Mother Goose and Pib becoming the narrative fuel so others can jump to main characters.
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Of Figs and Angels
Love was a topic the Doctor seldom touched.
He had ideas of what it should be like. Knew what it could be like.
Gentle touches on warm days and impassioned gestured on cool nights.
Sweet whispered nothings during the gaps in-between.
Difficult truths. Trying secrets.
Responsibility. Acceptance. Resolution.
Loss.
Repeat.
(Was it something he could still have? Was it something he should?)
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First, it started with a hand placed on his chest.
(Really, it started long before that. Sinking into the mud with one arm less. Waking in a stiff cot, covered with only a thin sheet. The smell of clean cotton and sulfur, her first civil welcome to Eridia.)
He had said something silly, something daring. He was seated on his stool, a head shorter than her for once, and she so she too decided to try something silly, something daring.
With a hand on his chest, the smell of clean cotton and sulfuric on her, she leaned forward, whispering something silly that could make the most flirtatious flush.
But mid-sentence, he placed a hand over hers.
She looked down at their hands. His warm and gentle hand over hers, wrapped in ratty already discolored bandages.
Touch was something he was fond of yet gave sparingly to a select few.
Touch was something she craved yet feared.
Their faces inches apart.
She tried something daring.
A peck. A brush of the lips really.
The hand on her lower back, that urged her closer, told her it was ok.
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The second time, really there were many times before this, but this was the first on here.
It happened on the same stiff cot. A tangle of limbs. When the teasing was too much a choked ‘fuck you’ was answered with a humored ‘soon’.
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The third time, busy as they were, less times in-between than preferred, it was a rare occasion for her to stand by his side in that cotton smelling room with that stiff cot.
Rarer for her to have helped him. This wasn’t her trade. Hers was the more raucous, the visceral kind, but more time was wanted, and this is what was offered.
Dull was the work, but it was better than no time together.
Then he did something silly, something daring. It was small but it was enough.
She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down.
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The fourth time they were in his bed. This wasn’t the first nor even the second time but it was more than an in-between.
His bicep was her pillow. His elbow bent upwards; his fingers dangled above her face like a babe’s toy mobile. She pawed at them with her uncovered fingers. With her index and thumb, grabbing hold of a few she rolled them between hers. In deep thought, she squeezed them harder than expected.
He shifted beside her and asked “Are you alright?”
“Sorry, I just-“ She noticed the open book in his other hand. “Are you busy? You shouldn’t stay if-“
He closed it, revealing its cover. He was reading a trashy mystery novel, of course. Always silly when she needed him to be.
His warm gentle fingers squeezed her too tight ones. “What’s on your mind?” He asked.
“I think I love you.” She said, without warning.
He saw shock, regret, then resolution in her eyes.
She saw surprise, hesitation, but he smiled warmly.
He pulled his fingers from her grasp and brushed stray hairs from her eyes. “You are one of the most charming people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
She wrapped herself around him, his hand pet her hair.
But there something wavered in his eyes. The corners of his lips did not meet them.
The bed is cooling.
(Could she kindle something to keep it from freezing?)
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The last time, they were in bed again. There were more times between. They weren’t as busy, but the times were growing sparser.
He was reading another mystery novel and she was gripping too tightly to his fingers again.
“Do you love me?”
It was tersely silent. She can count on her fingers the number of times she’s stunned doctor’s to silence, but it was the first time his bed has ever felt frigid.
She sat up. “I’ll head out.”
He followed after her in bed, a lukewarm, firm hand on her waist. It stopped her, but she barely reacted. “You don’t have to… but if that’s what you prefer, where will you go?”
Her shoulders raised then slumped. “A room at the Wick, maybe?” The grip on her waist tightens. Warmth seeped past fabric touching skin.
“Maybe Vere or Ais have some suggestions.” His jaw tenses, fingers dig into her hip. It was a crawling heat, slow and spreading, but searing where finger press into flesh.
“Mhin might-“ The crackling sound of bending cardstock and crinkling paper echo bounce against the walls of the room. He sighs. From her side, she eyes hardcover bent inwards, divots developing in the cardstock from the mere pressure of his fingertips.
“I can arrange- recommend accommodations.” He amended. His broken book lays forgotten beside him. His freed hand brushed stray hair behind her ear. It ghosted her cheek. Perhaps to avoid trailing heat blisters on her face. “It’s storming out. You should stay.” He says.
For the first time that night, she hears thunder.
They laid down once more.
She, on her side, faced away from him. His bicep is no longer her pillow. His arm wrapped under her, his open palm almost greedily splayed and pressed against her stomach. His touch is almost scalding.
He, looked through loose patient documents, the broken mystery novel hidden from sight.
She played with his hair.
It was too warm, but she preferred it to the cold.
(She’d rather burn it all and roll in heat of the ashes.)
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Somewhat inspired by this post:
Also posted here:
#Wherein Kuras's all-encompassing guilt makes him an indecisive doof and desperate Reader!MC maliciously emotionally wrangles him#im not crying#you're crying#touchstaved game#touchstarved#touchstarved kuras#kuras x mc#red spring studio#angst#fluffy till it aint#sorry#crossing my fingers i hope there aren't typos#i'll have to hunt them down otherwise#kuras
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Jared tweeted the Walkerverse Mental Health commercial!
It's so amazing and heartwarming!
#I'm not crying#you're crying#walker#walker: independence#walkerverse#walkerverse mental health support#bringchange2mind.org
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Look at this man! The look of determination on his face. He has no hesitation in sacrafixing himself to make sure Ji-won is safe.
The way he looks direct at her so that she is the last person he sees before he dies? 🥺🥺🥺
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In every version of IT - book, movie and miniseries - Richie Tozier always tries to carry Eddie Kaspbrak out of the sewers.
He loves Eddie in every medium and he never wants to leave him behind.
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Having a small breakdown right now over realizing something about Crowley's favourite place to sit. It's right by Aziraphale's desk, and desk being a very intimate place, especially with Az having correspondence and such lying around openly. Just think about who you would let sit at your desk for a moment. Right? 😭
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Mingyu was surely on cloud nine having his crush by his side🗿
#I'm not crying#you're crying#In fact they look so good together🤌🏻#I demand collaboration with Zendaya now!!!#mingyu#svt#seventeen#kim mingyu
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One of the weirdest parts of owning a home that was never meant to be a home, is all of the insane history that comes with it. When we bought this place, the crazy lady who sold it to us said it had been a grocery store at some point. And that was it.
Seven years later, I finally got off my ass and started researching. And after a few weeks of internet sleuthing, rejoining Facebook to ask the boomers what they knew, and emailing random dudes about their genealogy websites; I did it.
I have names. I have dates. I have photographs. I have stories and anecdotes written by the men who started the business. I get to see the faces of the people that served my community, and hear how folks talk about them.
All because someone along the line thought these stories were important. Too important to lose to time. And they were generous enough to share that with me.
And I get to look at my house the way it looked 90 years ago. And that's amazing.
#im not crying#you're crying#not me being emotional about men i never knew who died 40 odd years ago#also taking a risk literally posting about my irl address#but guys i am so fucking excited about this shit
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FUCK EVERYONE THAT MADE ME THINK STRAY WAS A SUPER WHOLESOME CAT SIMULATION GAME OR SUM SHIT LIKE THAT.
I frickin hate hereee
Three words THE FUCKING ENDING
Why couldnt i just carry B12 with me .
#im not crying#i swear im not#you're crying#stray#stray game#pc#im throw hands with the developers#aahhh
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#hug your local barbarian#balgur's gate 3#bg2 karlach#karlach cliffgate#SHES STILL SCARED TO TOUCH YOU#I'M CRYING#YOU'RE CRYING#KARLACH IS CRYING BUT SHES SO HOT ITS JUST STEAM
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we love a good paralell, just look at them
#I'm not crying#you're crying#damiano with rose#where is thomas#someone give that boy a flower too#ethan torchio#damiano david#victoria de angelis
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"P.S. please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the bak yard."
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
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