#ilu.

[ripk0l]

user @humanchewtoy, both loving and hating on me with that meme. guess it is a love/hate relationship kind of trope.

[crimeronan]

I ALSO STAND WITH NOVAS CANCELLED WIFE

well of course you do. you are ruby coded.....

[goldshadowsarchive]

@dereiserne / you like it, you get it

" can we add a tower to the mansion ? " yes, she wants to live out all her rapunzel dreams. she's this close to bringing a lizard home and naming it pascal. " it's for something very important. "

[destage]

DINOPUNCHING SENT:     YOU GET ME THROUGH EVERY DARK NIGHT.

celestial shades write poetry as they wrap around the outside of her body & he finds himself lost and thinking of sailors again,     thinking of ship’s logs where the only guiding light is the moon above & feels their words becoming music as they trap between the hollows of his ribs.     he understands.    he understands because he has been adrift in the expanse of his body for longer than even he knows,    & when she shines,    she pulls him back to his own ossein as if the tides are hers to command;     he thinks now he should call her galene for the way she calms every storm that threatens to form waves,    his own goddess who does not become ash under a sinners palms.     this is a temple where he can love her,     taste the starlight as it pools in the dip of her collarbone & surrender himself to a place where his hands do not only know blood;     it is love.    the words feel heavier now they are said,    now they have been kissed into every inch of her body & whispered into the softness of the night where old monsters are made easy work of beyond the walls of blankets that caress skin still shining with evidence of their affection.     they lay nose to nose,     create an endless cycle of breathing life back against one another as if they learn to sustain like this,    counting the clusters of freckles on her cheeks until his mind turns them to constellations.     there’s a weighted intensity to the silence until @dinopunching speaks,    & he wants to say there is nothing he has done,    that the ruin he brings cannot be anything other than sharp,    but the rawness washes over her cheeks & he finds himself biting his tongue.        ❛   well,    no one’s going to believe you if you tell them that.   ❜      self - depreciation falls with a huff of laughter,    a tease that slips easily and keeps them in the honey - thick space where horrors can be shared,    the world less between their palms.       ❛   i’m here danvers,     i’m always right here with you in it.   ❜

[teamroscoes]

oooooh them. who yall playing?

i hope you lose <3 (i love you still)

hungary.

[irlmaxxor]

@moodyblueships MOTHERFUCKER WE IN THE SAME TIMEZONE!!! YOU GET TO BED!!!

[jwhik]

[wemultitudinous]

@muddledmenagerie​ [ for elise ]

Alex peers down at her phone, hand cupped over it to keep the worst of the slanting rain from the screen. In the muddy light of the overcast afternoon, the soft glow of it is almost a comfort. The pulsing blue dot of the maps app is grounding, too: you have reached your destination, you are here, you exist.

God, she needs more sleep. She locks her phone, slips it into her pocket, and retrieves her recorder, clicking it on before she reaches up to knock on the door. It’s nondescript, an average door. There’s nothing creepy or weird or out-of-place about it. Alex wishes she found that comforting, these days. 

When the door opens, she fixes an open, friendly smile on her face.

    “—Elise Rainier? I’m Alex Reagan. I’m making a podcast and your name came up in my research, I was hoping I could speak to you for a few minutes?” I was hoping you could help me, she doesn’t say, because she’s recording, and Strand will listen to this later, and he already worries too much about her. “I’m recording, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a few questions about—your work?”

She hasn’t done her due diligence, she realises. A flush begins to creep up her cheeks as she shifts from foot to foot. This woman might have a perfectly normal job and perfectly normal hobbies, outside of what Alex has heard. She didn’t bother to check. There’s been too much unsettling her, too many bumps in the night, the dreams and—

       ⁠—she’d run here without even stopping to do some basic research. Without even telling Strand or her producer where she was going. Well, too late to go back now; she can worry about all that later.

“I mean—I was hoping you might be able to explain some things for me.”