*points At Romance* What The HECK is That

god made me without the ability to write fanfic because he knew i would write so much omegaverse i would be unstoppable

when did you fornicate uncle palpy? when?

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(Source)

faramir

Dean Winchester I see you in both Regulus & Sirius, the sibling who stayed & the least loved son

Throwback to this absolutely heartbreaking banger

“Where is his cane? He can’t walk without his cane—“ Jayce babbles frantically as he rummages through the rubble. His fingers bleed, and his breath is uneven—he’s close to sobbing, and tears are, frankly, obscuring his vision, but he pays it no mind. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters—nothing but him, in that damned chamber.

Mel watches him, and her chest constricts. She places a gentle hand on Jayce’s shoulder, but it does little to nothing to snap him out of his single-minded pursuit.

“Jayce—“

“He— Oh god, when he wakes up, he will be so mad,” Jayce attempts a laugh, rubbing his eyes. They sting—from both the dust and tears. Mel keeps silent, not daring to interrupt. She can’t. Not when Jayce has that desperate, panicked look inched into his features.

“Yes!” Jayce exclaims finally, noticing the glare of the shiny tip of the cane. He has designed it, after all—he would recognize it anywhere. “I- God, I put it somewhere once—in the lab, and he—“ Jayce goes through the memories, not caring of the tears and sheer desperation that radiates off him. He grasps the cane, pulling it out of the rubble—it’s a little chipped, but nothing he can’t fix for Viktor.

Just like him - the thought flashes through his mind, and Jayce shudders.

I was still babbling when Boris said: “Potter.” Before I could answer him he put both hands on my face and kissed me on the mouth. And while I stood blinking — it was over almost before I knew what had happened <…> We stood looking at each other — me breathing hard, completely stunned. “Good luck,” said Boris. “I won’t forget you.”  Later — in the cab, and afterward — I would replay that moment, and marvel that I’d waved and walked away quite so casually. Why hadn’t I grabbed his arm and begged him one last time to get in the car, come on, fuck it Boris, just like skipping school, we’ll be eating breakfast over cornfields when the sun comes up? I knew him well enough to know that if you asked him the right way, at the right moment, he would do almost anything; and in the very act of turning away I knew he would have run after me and hopped in the car laughing if I’d asked one last time. But I didn’t. And, in truth, it was maybe better that I didn’t — I say that now, though it was something I regretted bitterly for a while. More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I’d stopped myself from blurting the thing on the edge of my tongue, the thing I’d never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying it out loud to him in the street — which was, of course,

                                                                      I LOVE YOU. 

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt // The Goldfinch (2019) dir. John Crowley

asking "hey is it fine if I smoke in here" and before you're able to answer I've already set up a full rack of salmon over a fire in your living room