[ cw: violence mention / death mention / ]
Will never stop thinking about how Leo, all alone in an endless void and being beaten again and again and again by the only other living thing around, still finds comfort in that space. The situation he was in was completely hopeless, and in any other circumstances he would not have escaped, at least not fast enough to save him from permanent (or even fatal) damage, be it physical or mental.
And yet, despite the bleakness of his situation, despite the agony and helplessness, all he needs is one glance at a crumbled photograph, one glance to remember his family, and that’s enough of a reason for him to smile.
Maybe that’s why his powers center around manipulating space - because no matter how much space is between them, no matter how dire his own situation may be, just the thought of his family, alive and okay, is enough to give Leo hope.
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Dream of whoever you love, but don’t cry because you can’t have them, smile because they exist.
@soulinkpoetry
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“haven’t you seen the news about that?”
me who works 11 hours a day anxious 24/7 about not being able to afford a place to live deciding to read and write little fiction stories to get a tiny dopamine instead of keeping up with everything wrong in the world
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my brain is currently in a roll the dice to see who fronts during therapy mood
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Merry Christmas everyone! May this haunt you until Halloween!
And in case anyone was still unsure after the Doctor Robert vid that the yellow one is Paul, just look at him leading this song. You can’t look away, can you? I mean, you want to, but you can’t.
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thinking about how tori sets an alarm to remind herself to take charlie to therapy when nick can’t, indicating nick usually does, and how he babysits oliver when the rest of the springs want to go with charlie instead, and how even when he makes a few mistakes tori never doubts he’ll ‘redeem himself’ because ‘he cares about charlie. a lot’ and how it can really just be that simple, even when nothing about it is simple
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thank god tomorrow’s my day off so I can spend all of it being sad and not talking to anyone <3
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Actually…
I can :)
So long fellow nerd, and Rest In Peace you anthropomorphic pig of a hero, rest well and vanquish the governments of Heaven and Hell for us will ya? We better see you on the throne when we get there, cause we definitely won’t accept it if you’re not!
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People: *talking about going to do something after school stuff together, legit one asking another to join*
Brain: They didn’t ask you.
Me: …
Brain: You’re friends with one of them aren’t you? They didn’t ask you.
Me: We’re more acquaintances now-
Brain: So they don’t like you- What’s that?
Little headmate who’s come to give me a phantom hug:
Me: A hug
Brain: … It’s …. It’s not a real hug- And you’re still sad-
Little headmate: *hugs more*
Me: Yeah but I can be sad. I still get the hug.
Gummy: *walks into co-con with a bat* Fuck off you bastard-
Me: *puts on We Are by Keke Palmer and thinks of my headmates to feel better*
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you cannot convince me that Lochley and Sheridan weren’t having an all-out prank war amidst the chaos of the IA on B5. yeah yeah diplomacy and all that, but Sheridan knows all the good hiding spots in Lochley’s office.
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The concept of “fame in the fandom” is so whacky and deranged idek. Only this fandom? Or others too?
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listening to i lied with headphones is so much fun i love to focus on a different instrument it’s like hearing it for the first time
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She didn’t drink to forget. All her life she’d heard of people drinking to suppress memories, forget people’s faces, forget their own names… but that’s not what she wanted.
Lynn drank to remember. Lynn drank because the bottle in her hand reminded her how it looked in her mother’s. Reminded her of how her mother sang sweetly to her when she was tipsy; the sweetest songs Lynn ever heard. The burning of her throat was a small sacrifice to remember the touch of her mother’s hand upon her cheek.
A smile grew on her face, one she hadn’t worn in a long time, as she remembered how her mother would dance in the kitchen with Lynn on her hip. I miss her so much.
And a tear welled in Lynn’s eye, because she knew she’d never feel her mother’s soft kiss on her forehead, or her warm arms wrapping around her in protection ever again.
Lynn didn’t drink to forget; she drank to remember.
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