him waiting by her bedside til she wakes up. him stressing over if she’ll wake up or not. the immediate hope in his eyes when she stirs. “Hunter?” “hey, kid.” the combing his fingers through her hair as she wakes up. her trying to sit up and his hand moves to hers as his other goes behind her neck to support her. how he gently lowers her back down when AZ enters the room. his hand going behind her neck again to support her as she sits up. her recalling what she could last remember and getting emotional and him comforting her. him draping his arm over her shoulder to comfort her crying. him telling her they’d like to settle down in Pabu and asking her if that’s what she wants; her nodding in response and him saying “that’s what we’ll do.” hemlock commenting on how “parental” clones are. “We are going to get her back. And we won’t stop searching until we do.”

is this anything.

[ID: two screenshots of lyrics.

The first screenshot contains lyrics from the song “How Marvin Eats His Breakfast” from In Trousers and reads, “[All] Life is lonely / Life is rotten [Marvin] And thankfully short / Thankfully short / Thankfully short”

The second screenshot contains lyrics from the song “What Would I Do?” from Falsettos and reads, “[Marvin] Yes, I’d beg or steal or borrow / if I could hold you for / one hour more [Whizzer] One hour more [Marvin] One hour more [Both] One hour, one hour more” [/end]

i am a being capable of immeasurable love and whimsy

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

Have a meme because I have no self control

Lucifer just seems like the kinda guy who’d lose his mind over ppl being too hot (our bi short king)

I spent way too much effort on this pls like it ily 🙏

Bonus (radioapple) doodles as always (edit: I. I just realised I forgot Al’s monocle in both doodles. I am dying inside. Why did no one tell me.):

have you heard of that new hot spot in ba sing se 🍵

harry du bois steps up to the lectern in front of the crowd. "as a lesbian...." he pauses, looks at kim questioningly. kim shakes his head imperceptibly. harry looks back at the audience "...supporter"

i think one of my favourite parts about the "Jason has an army of kids in Crime Alley that will do anything to protect their protector" HC is that they absolutely would inherit all of his 'little shit' traits. they'd throw the other Bats off course on purpose. Dick, trying to find Jay: Have you seen Hood, by any chance? Kid: Sure I did. 'e's gone to the ice-cream store down in th'Narrows. He buys us ice-cream, sometimes. Dick: okay, thanks kid! (backflips away) Dick: Dick: there's no ice-cream store near the Narrows. Tim, just walking by Crime Alley: The kids, throwing rocks at him while Jason watches in amusement:

disney when they spend exactly $2 promoting their new movie and release it during a busy weekend and then it flops

absolutely love reading such a well-written story and falling a bit in love with the author based solely on the way they write. like baby the way you italicize words makes my heartbeat quicken.

looks at the ethics board with my big wide autistic eyes and they say fineee you can do human experiments and i say YAYYY :3 !!!!!!!

i'm sorry but this is 1 of the funniest spam texts i've gotten

in honor of ace week id like to shoutout every asexual who first thought they were bi/pan because they looked at all the genders and felt no difference and zero is equal to zero so they said "huh. must be bisexual" and then shoved their sexuality back under the rug for 3-5 years

he won

bonus:

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

musing over a priest or something like that