The thing they don't tell you about fried egg runny yolk is that if you put it in a sandwich it will be the best most delicious thing and you can mop up the egg with the bread, but in exchange you Will get so so messy and covered in egg yolk
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"They don't know you're awake yet. Stay down." (Clint)
im having such fun with memes right now, send me some!!!
What?
Clint's hand was heavy on TK's shoulder, a warning to stay put, and for that reason alone TK did as he was asked, terrible at faking it (his brows drew a little, a fractional pull that was not the face of a relaxed, sleeping human) but at least trying. Who were 'they'? Why was them not knowing something they were taking advantage of? The ground beneath him felt wet. Dirt, not concrete or proper flooring. He was cold all over, which surprised him, 'cause he'd been out like a light just a second ago and he usually couldn't sleep in the cold.
A consequence of TK lying in this position was that his neck was stretched out, throat vulnerable to the sky. He swallowed, once, and felt the way it bobbed in his throat.
The light behind his eyelids changed. Brighter than it had been before, with the swing of a door, then.. metal scraping? Like someone fumbling with a metallic doorjam, before another change in the light. The room - the air - felt suddenly fresh; suddenly open, or more open than it had been a second ago. The noise quality changed. Maybe he was making that up. Clint's hand left his shoulder.
Asleep asleep asleep. TK fought to relax his face, even his breathing. Don't move.
"Aw, Prince Charming's still asleep," someone said - gruff voice. Male. Pressure appeared on his cheek, the one turned up to the sky, the texture of hard rubber: the man turned TK's head with the bottom of his shoe. TK forced himself to let his head flop to the side. No reaction, peacefully unaware. Clint was not touching him anymore. Why?
Where had he gone? Or was he not meant to be able to touch him at all? Was he deliberately not, trying not to draw attention to him? Why not?
Where was he?
The smell of alcohol. TK was still forcing his breaths steady and he realised, now, that the man who had stepped on him now was crouched beside him, getting a good look at him in the light. Not awake not awake not awake. Clint was gonna give him a GOOD explanation after this.
The man's fingers laid ever-so-gently across the skin of his neck, and tap-tap-tapped against his jugular.
His heartbeat was too fast.
breathing aside, his heartbeat was giving him away, the rapid, scared, butterfly heartbeat that thrummed desperate in his throat. Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.
"Or is he?" said the man.
Shit.
TK swallowed, involuntary, because of the way these fingers stroked his throat.
The man's grip changed in an instant: no longer just touching him, but now pressing down. Hard.
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‘Love is the one thing that we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.’
“Eulogy from a Physicist” by Aaron Freeman, with quotes from Interstellar by Christopher Nolan, and images from NASA, Interstellar, Getty, Petrichara, and Reuters.
1- NASA: GOODS-South.
2- NASA: NGC 1850.
3- NASA: Iberian Peninsula.
4- Christopher Nolan: Interstellar.
5- NASA: From the Earth to the Moon.
6- Hannah La Folette Ryan: Subway Hands.
7- Adams Evans: Heart Nebula.
8- NASA: Exploring the Antennae.
9- NASA: Crescent Moon from the International Space Station.
10- Petrichara.
11- Getty Images.
12- NASA: SMACS 0723.
13- Reuters
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Every day I wake up and think:
“At some point Izzy realised how out of control things had gotten, and started putting himself in between Ed and the crew, as much as he could. Especially when Ed was too drunk/high to even know what he was doing. Cause Izzy doesn’t want the others to suffer more for his mistakes.”
“They are all bonded through shared trauma now.”
And every day I cry like a baby.
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the way that one line from the new epilogue in an astarion romance is going to HAUNT me
just. what a profoundly intense thing to confess to someone.
like, just these six months of newfound happiness with you exerts a force on his heart equal and in direct opposition to two centuries of endless torment, the gnawing hunger and exploitation. this flashbulb-bright fraction of his long life holds the same gravity to him as years upon years of darkness and suffering.
in all likelihood, he hasn’t even known his lover for as long as his worst memory lasted, that year sealed away to go mad from starvation and sensory deprivation, yet he still tells them this brief time has been so fundamentally and powerfully important that the weight of even that unimaginable hell is vanishingly small compared to this present he has now and the future ahead of them both.
how am i supposed to act normal about this.
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honestly no wonder harrow forced ianthe to lobotomize her so she could save gideon. listen…LISTEN…if i was a secret-war-crime cult nunlet princess worshipped by my entire planet and the only person that (barely) kept me in check was my childhood nemesis—a butch a year older than me, towering over me in stature and physical prowess, and so hot it made my teeth hurt from how hard my jaw clenched in her presence, who wielded a two-handed seven-foot sword and had irritatingly huge biceps and told very lewd stupid jokes and also learned how to wield an entirely new weapon and be my bodyguard with startling accuracy in three months—only to have us finally learn to trust each other because we got invited to a magic murder mystery and then before the bubble burst i spilled the worst secret about myself that i was born because my parents murdered an entire generation and tried to Kill Her along with them and she just wouldnt die, and i told her this expecting a swift death i believed i deserved, only for her to fucking cradle me in her big butch arms and kiss me on my forehead with her soft butch mouth and just. forgive me for a shameful weight ive carried my entire life and then MAKE AN ACTUAL NECRO/CAV VOW with me despite every evil thing i have done to her……to have her tell me, in the end, bleeding and broken after putting up the most beautiful and glorious fight of her life, that she understands purpose and she understands duty and she knows loyalty more fiercely than ever now, that she knows who she is to me, that there is no her without me….to have her backed into a corner and make the ultimate sacrifice…..for me…..to recite scriptural wedding vows of eternity to me in her last wisps of soul-consciousness…..if i thought there was even a snowflake’s chance in the pyre that i could save her by turning myself into her very own locked tomb, i’d be begging ianthe tridentweirdius to crack my skull open and turn me to mush too, goddamn. i understand you harrowhark girl you don’t have to explain a thing to me. god said you couldn’t undo the lyctor’s bond bc it’d kill you. you told god and his angels that not even a lyctor’s bond could outshine the power of female spite and lesbianism and they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe you. but i heard you loud and clear and i was 17 and hormonal and hopelessly romantic not too long ago unlike those fucking dinosaurs and i’m saying it’s valid it’s what i would have done and really everyone should be thanking you for not being worse and more wretched about it, all things considered
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