#rightly

[glbtrx]

Yes, Galby is a dramatic whore but at least he didn't welcome Eragon into his palace by clapping his hands and showering rose petals from the fucking ceiling.

Right, Islanzadì?

[buckstops]

@rightly /// Valentine’s Day starter.

DAFFODILS, respect, new beginnings, unrequited love. CEDAR, everlasting friendship. FERN, magic, sincerity, enchantment. IVY, endurance, dependability, faithfulness. SWEET BRIAR, a wound to heal. TICKWEED, love at first sight. The frankly hideous bouquet of wildflowers and foraged botanicals has been sitting in the passenger seat of Harry’s SUV for several hours, wilting and GETTING UGLIER. To anyone else, a sloppy failed attempt at flower arranging. To Harry S. Truman, it is the magnum opus of romantic overtures.

He has a tenuous grasp on the typical courtship rituals between men but Cooper is NOT a greasy biker in the back of the Roadhouse, NOT deserving of a few lascivious words and a quick self-loathing filled fuck. He will not be glad to see him go. He is playing for keeps. He has FALLEN IN LOVE with Dale Cooper. In love with him in a way that is COMFORTABLE and HONEST and unlike any of the other CATACLYSMIC LOVES of Harry’s life, both completely foreign to him and yet COMPLETELY NATURAL.

He had tried to express it in a number of ways, hoping that Cooper, EMOTIONAL BAROMETER that he is, would catch on and RECIPROCATE or REJECT him. Little touches, light, chaste, a guiding hand on his shoulder or a lingering brush of their fingers. Little gifts, an abundance of jelly donuts, cups of coffee, slices of pie, all manner of small objects he thinks may amuse him. Little smiles. Little glances. Harry is almost COMPLETELY INCAPABLE of verbalizing his emotions but his heart remains on his sleeve.

For a number of reasons, Harry isn’t afraid to try his luck. He isn’t afraid Cooper will DO WHAT HANK DID when he made a pass at him back in high school. He knows his heart, he’s seen it. The rejection will be gentle but firm. Cooper will accept him for WHAT HE IS, a desperately lonely man rapidly approaching middle age looking for love in ALL THE WRONG PLACES. Harry will swallow his embarrassment and they’ll still be FRIENDS. He wants Cooper to know that, they’ll always be friends regardless of the outcome of this.

He needed to find a way to COMMUNICATE that, to tell Cooper everything without the words he cannot summon. He decides to meet Cooper on his level and give him a little mystery to decode, something of INTRIGUE and BEAUTY, something in the spirit of the holiday. He’d poured over his mother’s old tomes on horticulture and etiquette last night and constructed A POEM IN PLANTS, somehow fitting for them. He’d felt alright about it yesterday but this morning he feels UTTERLY JUVENILE.

It takes several hours for Harry to swallow that feeling and find the nerve to THROW DOWN THE GAUNTLET. Finally, around eleven, he dashes out to the parking lot, secrets the bouquet in the inside pocket of his jacket so Lucy won’t see. Cooper is still BLESSEDLY ALONE in the conference room when he returns. Harry shuts the door behind himself, crosses the room and mashes down the microphone button on the phone to prevent eavesdropping. Just in case. He thinks he has been casual enough not to pique office interest but better safe than sorry.

❝ Gotcha something. ❞ Without further ado, he sets the wilted, sunbaked and now mashed bouquet down on the table. He slides it towards Cooper hesitantly, expectantly, HOPEFULLY.

[wiirocku]

Psalm 50:23 (ESV) - The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies Me;    to one who orders his way rightly    I will show the salvation of God!”

[guttersniper]

@rightly

" i’m known to locate certain things from time to time. "

[batfall-moved]

                                  STREETS   glisten   with   the    aftermath   of   rain,   a   BAPTISM   of   sorts  ;   for   GOTHAM   was   not   a   chosen   favorite.   pain   ,   and    BLOOD    are   the   very   BUILDING   blocks   of   city  ,   and   the  batman   is   PRAYING   for   something   to   change.           

                               [   ‘  a new friend of yours?  ’  /    @rightly​  ]         

question   asked   𝚊𝚜    𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚋𝚊𝚝    𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜   𝚝𝚘   𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔   𝚞𝚙   𝚊   𝚄𝚂𝙱   𝙳𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙴   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗   𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢   𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝   𝚑𝚒𝚜   𝚠𝚊𝚢.    ‘   i’m   starting   to   get   SICK   of   new   friends  ’   muttered   lowly   as   he  then   goes   to   take  a   DEEP   inhale.   the  riddler   was   ONLY   the   beginning  ,  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂   𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚝𝚘  𝚋𝚎   𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜.   those   who   perhaps   were   INSPIRED   by  what  the  riddler   accomplished  ,   and   in   his  OWN  way     the   bat    understands.   not   that   he   CONDONES   the   killing    of   innocents,  and  the   EXECUTION   that   the   riddler   put   out   on    VARIOUS   streams.   ‘   copycats   . . .   𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐    𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙴   𝚝𝚘   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛  ’   then   goes   to   look   at   the   AGENT   ,    a    somewhat   FITTING   ornament  to   GOTHAM.   ‘   you   know   the   case   don’t   you   agent   cooper  . . .   now  ,    tell   me    what   EXACTLY   is   the    FBI   going   to   do?  ’   tone   CURIOUS   albit   skeptical  ,   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝙶𝙲𝙿𝙳    𝚑𝚊𝚜   𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎   𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎   𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜  𝚒𝚗   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝙸𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   𝚘𝚏   𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.    𝚒𝚝   𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜   𝚊𝚜   𝚒𝚏    𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙸𝙽   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙴   i𝚗𝚝𝚘   𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗   𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍   𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑   𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙴.                              

[gelwaz]

*     @rightly​     …     “your voice is putting me to sleep.”

it’s  funny,  really,  how  people  react  differently  to  things.  harlow’s  morning  starts  with  a  three-forty-five  alarm,  &  a  four-ten  shuffle  into  the  dark  &  empty  bakery.  whilst  it  often  means  he’s  stumbling  to  bed  around  nine  at  night  (  still  too  late  !  his  mother  often  chides  ),  it  does  mean  that  he  gets  a  few  hours  of  alone  time  to  set  up  &  prep  for  the  day  ahead.  he  likes  these  few  hours  of  a  morning  :  when  the  world  is  quieter  &  everything  seems  far  less  urgent.  this  has,  however,  lead  to  harlow  developing  some  rather  hard-to-kick  habits  ----  namely  humming  as  he  works.  it’s  less  noticeable  in  the  world-waking  hours  when  the  speakers  are  on  &  the  dulcet  tones  of  simon  &  garfunkle’s  bridge  over  troubled  water  drift  through  the  crowded  bakery,  but  it’s  rather  obvious  at  FIVE  IN  THE  MORNING  when  all  else  is  closed  &  most  are  at  best  just  waking  up.

harlow  glances  up  from  his  work  behind  the  bench,  rings  neatly  stacked  beside  the  cash  register  so  as  not  to  get  coated  in  dough  later,  apologetic.  usually,  if  someone’s  up  as  early  as  he  (  or  still  up,  perhaps  ),  he’ll  open  up  &  give  them  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee  ;  maybe  even  a  taste-test  of  that  morning’s  batch  of  danishes  ---  but  it’s  not  particularly  often  it  ends  up  being  anyone  other  than  brian  the  milkman.  harlow’s  not  sure  whether  dale’s  up  early  or  up  late,  but  regardless,  the  outcome  is  the  same.  sitting  in  the  bakery  as  the  sun  slowly  starts  to  rise,  &  harlow  busies  himself  with  the  PUMPKIN  SOURDOUGHS  he’d  started  two  days  prior.  ❛     sorry,  bad  habit.    ❜  oven  door  closes  with  a  snap,  &  he  turns  around  to  face  dale  properly.  ❛     i  can  put  on  some  tunes  if  it’d  help  ?  though  they  might  be  just  as  lulling,  actually.    ❜

[selenophilerose]

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

[rvexillology]

Chicagoians love their flag, and rightly so!

from /r/vexillology Top comment: And I love their popcorn mix! A little too much, sometimes...