Getting emotional about headcanons and AUs like
"An off-duty cop from Boston caught in the wrong place at the right time."
Leverage; 4.17 - The Radio Job | Die Hard
#eliot you fucking dork you were having the time of your life #bet this is the most fun he’s ever had on a job #i bet he never had this good a time before #i bet the team dredged up something old and bitter and broken in him that he thought he’d lost #something childish and innocent so that he can find joy even when he’s working (via stardust-rain)
Jean has a rep for dying a lot, but I think she’s pretty par for the course when it comes to X-Men. They don’t have great survival rates, but at least it usually doesn’t stick.
ORORO THAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF COMFORTING
Badass, confident Inquisitors are great, but just consider:
- Inquisitor’s who are scared, looking around in the fade as they feel panic seep into their veins as they wonder if this is what death is like.
- Inquisitor’s that have to keep their hands covered, because looking at the burning glow of the scar makes their stomachs twist and the bile rise in their throat.
- Inquisitor’s that stare up at a breach and want to fall to their knees, all confidence in their ability to save this world lost as more destruction tears apart the world
- Inquisitor’s who wake up in the middle of the night, nightmares plaguing them, taunted by demons and as they run to the bathroom they know in their hearts the demons do not lie.
- Inquisitor’s who rely heavily on their companions because they cannot figure out how to do this alone.
- Inquisitors who want to follow, not lead.
my favorite dragon age origins party
aka ‘grey warden is now a babysitter’
the man who steps on to your life like he needs somewhere to wipe his feet? who writes indecipherable graffiti on the bones of your existence? treating your timeline as a real-world representation of the universe’s own built-in obsolescence.
you know who I’m talking about. yes, he’s a pretty, pretty boy, and yes, he arrives like a shiver in your life, with his goose-pimple eyes and heart-string lips. when you get close to him he smells of rice paper and rainy days. well, he did when I met him. by the time we parted, the smell was of orange groves, freshly printed books and an illegal backstreet autopsy. being delight wrapped up in velvet and having a dining room made of chocolate are no real substitutes for someone mundane that doesn’t leave behind a trail of wrecked planets and bad cases of heartbreak