jake LOVES everything about fall—the leaves, the weather, the spices— and he's going to make it everyone else’s (javy's) problem.

for the top gun trick or treat exchange on ao3! my giftee is the lovely ropememory.

Shiv Roy // Letter to His Father, Franz Kafka

Shiv (v1), Roman (v1, v2), Kendall (v1, v2)

so weird how in english some words are really just used in expressions and not otherwise… like has anyone said “havoc” when not using it in the phrase “wreaking havoc”? same goes for “wreaking” actually…

reply with more, i’m fascinated

these are called fossil words! here's a whole list

KILL ME IF IT'S WORTH IT; ON FLESH.

silas denver melvin // ethel cain // george bataille // blythe baird // margaret atwood // nicole homer // emily palermo.

If you stay up late enough you discover a new type of being horny that doesn't have anything to do with sex but is unmistakably still the same emotion as horniness... this is a kind of horny you generally only feel abt god, unconsumated psychosexual rivalries, the idea of being fed grapes while reclining, etc. and then this knowledge vanishes again as the sun rises. like the morning dew

Chloé Zhao, who just won an Oscar for best director, writes fanfiction.

That's the kind of validation I needed in my life. Thank you, ma'am.

To all those that think there is an age limit to fanfiction or you “have to be this” to write fanfiction — fuck off.

Small Things

He tells me, don't forget to pick up some milk on your way home. I don't ever forget, and I make him a cup of tea when I get in, and with each stir of the spoon I tell him silently, you matter. 

He buys a vase in Trastevere, on our first trip away together. It's meant to be for Molly, but when we get home he puts it beside the bed, and I keep it filled with fresh flowers all year round. Sometimes when he wakes he looks at it silently, and then he always smiles and says, remember when we bought that? And I tell him that I do, I remember, and he knows I mean that I remember him—will always remember him—on the Via San Francesco Ripa with his eyes creased against the sun, and the taste of granita al limone, and the feel of his smiling mouth eager under mine.

Sometimes he gets too drunk, and when I undress him and put him to bed, he leans into me like he thinks I'm going to leave, and the defensive curl of his spine is a long cool line under my soothing hand. He says, I can't forget their faces. He says, I couldn't save them. 

I know he's talking about all the dead ones, and I know he's right—he can't forget them, and he couldn't save them. I say, remember all the people you helped. I say, remember you saved the world that time. I say, remember you died too. 

I don't say, you are so, so good. But he knows exactly what I mean.

Read it on AO3

I wrote this for a drabble challenge (prompt "Remember when...", word count 272) but then I wrote a different one to submit for the challenge. But waste not, want not. Words are words! So I didn't want to just chuck this one, and thought I'd post it here instead.

Dracula love ballad is not how I expected this chonker of an episode to end, but it was amazing

matt's insta stories that show amelia's love for do i wanna know

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kendall roy / bojack horseman ( it's you 3x10 )

Succession 4.10, "With Open Eyes"; John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Average succession fan

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