Timothée Chalamet In Bones And All (2022) dir. Luca Guadagnino

cigarettes after sex is so marauders coded you cant tell me otherwise

missing this era of him

cuts & bruises EATSSSS every song is SO good

The Gallows (Hangman x Fem!reader)

Summary: They call you Angel, sometimes you wonder if “of death” was too long. When tasked to join the best of the best, you are forced to confront your past.

Warning’s: descriptions of injuries (reader is a medic), mentions of sexual content, semi-steamy?,cursing, mentions of sibling death, ptsd (the reader and Hangman both have shared trauma), alcohol consumption

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“Call sign: Angel”

It sounded like a nails of a cat clinging to a chalkboard, slowly, painstakingly trailing down the black slate, dragging each syllable out like a taunt. An-gel. 

The office felt stuffy, like one of those old silver-screen detective films your grandma would make you watch whenever you visited for Christmas, though there was nothing comforting or warm about it. 

Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson is across from you, flipping through your entire naval career in a package of papers. “Quite an impressive portfolio you have here.”

“Admiral Kazansky vouched quite heavily for you. I don’t know if that should delight or terrify me.” he sighs, scanning through the pages without so much as looking up at you. “You’ll be working under the command of Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, I’m sure you’ve heard about him.”

Slapping the folder down, Cyclone rises from his seat with the the sound of leather creasing and wheels rolling against the linoleum. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the debriefing room, maybe you’ll be good at keeping Maverick…grounded.”

Keep reading

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

everything is blue

human too

“Do you miss being alive?” His feet swung, water rippling around his ankles. I dipped my toes into the hotel pool, the water refracting blue shimmering light over my bare legs.

“What does that mean?” I kicked a leg out to watch the rushing white bubbles.

He huffed, using his foot to send a splash of water against my thigh. I swiped off the droplets with my hand, laughing.

“Lately that’s been echoing in my head,” water lapped at the bottom of his knees, “I miss being alive. I miss being human.” His voice carried over the water easily, reaching every hollow corner of the room.

“You’re thinking too hard, then,” I said, twirling my ankle as I spoke, “Being alive is breathing. Being human is feeling.”

“I’m not feeling lately,” he watched the bubbles forming behind my ankle, “Not breathing.” His head dipped at the admission.

I held out my hand, and he looked at me quizzically. I beckoned for his hand, and he placed his wrist in my palm. I set his hand on my chest, my skin prickling at his freezing fingers. I watched his mouth as I took a deep breath, his lips parting as my chest rose.

“I’ll breathe for you,” I exhaled, his eyes honey at my offer. “I feel enough for the two of us.”

“You always do this,” a rim of tears was forming under his irises. He looked away when he caught me staring, “You’re so kind.”

“It’s easy to be kind to someone like you,” I pressed his hand more firmly to my sternum.

“No, I know it’s not,” he pulled his hand away, clasping his hands together tightly, “I’m hard to love.”

“You think?” the chlorine in the air was choking me with nostalgia, “You can’t imagine the people I have loved before you.”

He laughed, without humour.

“I have loved men who berated me, who had no respect for me, who treated me like a maid,” I shook my head, “Men who had no love to give.”

“Not a very high bar for me, is it?” his fingers twisted around each other, picking at his cuticles.

“I’m trying to tell you,” I sighed, “You reciprocate everything. You meet me where I am. If I’m excited, you’re excited. If I’m sad, you’re crawling into bed with me. You bring me what I need.”

“I’m insufferable, most of the time,” he met my eyes, mouth pulled to the side as he bit his cheek.

“Some of the time,” I gave him a sheepish grin, sending a ripple of water against his leg. “But I love you all the time.” His bottom lip shook briefly, and he wrapped me in a hug, pressing my dewy skin to his.

“Thank you,” he said into my shoulder, voice aching, “I’ll try not to forget.”

“I’ll remind you,” I whispered, “As much as you want.” He gave me a tight squeeze, kissing the top of my head.

“My angel,” his fingers circled the bumps in my spine, “I’ll love you forever.”

//

matty healy that’s it