um every time I think about Trimberly going to Prom all I imagine is Kimberly, for once, actually being excited to go to a school event
Kimberly doesn’t care, she wears this bright yellow suit to prom, and Trini wears a pink one
They have pocket squares of their own colors
Trini parents are upset at first, but Trini’s dad supports it whenever Trini’s mom isn’t around
Kimberly thinks Limo’s are overrated, so Trini takes that as picking her up by sitting in the back of Jason’s trunk with a sign saying, “Kimberly is my most favorite person ever”
The boys all switch up each others colors, and Zack sneaks in some vodka
Before Trimberly show up they take pictures in front of Kim’s house, and more than half of the pictures are either blurry because Kim’s dad can’t seem to work the phone, or the boys are photobombing it
There is this really cute one of Kimberly kissing Trini’s forehead and it immediately joins one of the many pictures in Kim’s room, and it’s one of her favorites
Trini gets it and puts it in her wallet and her locker
Everyone is jealous of how good the Rangers look when they show up
Zack gets drunk and goes on stage and grabs a microphone, “This speech is for my mom, who’s the coolest mom ever, and for my best friend who looks like a little bird that will kill you.”
Everyone knows he’s talking about Trini, and when one of the lights find her, she’s in the corner making out with Kimberly
Kimberly has to stop Trini from killing Zack
Billy doesn’t understand what exactly happened, so Jason tried to explain to him, but kept laughing
When Zack finally gets kicked out they drive him to sonic to get him his favorite milkshake
rose or peony? lip balm or lip gloss? highlight or contour? strawberries or cherries? red lipstick or nude lipstick? velvet or silk? gold or rose gold? rose quartz or amethyst? bathrobes or towels? diamond or pearl? lavender or rosemary? sunrise or sunset? electronic books or paper copies? fiction or nonfiction?
Every teenager should show SKAM to their adults... because I may think they need it more than we do.
I endorse this message as more than just about age. We should all be watching and reading works that humanize and illuminate people who aren’t like us. We should all think about the messages we’re taking in and the messages we’re sending back out.
im gonna shower you with prompts for my two boys now omg im sorry “You promised me you weren’t going to be reckless! You promised!”
His hands were shaking. Dorian Pavus’ treacherous hands were shaking. With a snarl, he clenched them into fists and tried to will them to be still. He had to look at least somewhat put together. He had to have some air of stability. He had been a port in a storm in the past, a place of rest and care amidst a screaming and chaotic world, a temporary source of respite. He could be that again. If Theros needed him to be that right now, Dorian could be that again, must be that again.
He took a moment to draw breath as he faced the door. The guards that Cullen had ordered posted outside did not so much as glance in his direction, but he imagined he could still hear their mocking, pitying thoughts. What a sad man. Is that the Inquisitor’s Tevinter toy? Surely he could do better.
Dorian quirked himself and shrugged his shoulders. Chin up and smile on, Theros needed him to be strong right now. Dorian could be strong.
With a hand that he had cowed into obedient stillness, he reached for the handle of the door and sashayed inside the room. Plastering a smile on his face, he struck a confident pose and proceeded to casually kick the door shut behind him.
The room was lit by muted sunlight, as the white curtains had been drawn across the windows to allow for some privacy. A woman was standing in front of a bed to the side of the room, obscuring Dorian’s view of the person who occupied it, but he had enough of an idea to continue making his way forward, doggedly keeping his smile up.
The woman looked up at him, and he recognized the lead doctor of the Inquisition and gave her a small nod. She did not return the gesture, only opened her mouth as though to say something, but was interrupted by a soft and achingly familiar voice.
There was Theros, lying stretched out on the bed, looking pale and exhausted. Wrapped in the soft blue clothing of a patient, Dorian imagined he looked thinner than he usually did. There was a bandage tied around his left arm…no, there was a bandage tied around the stump that remained of his left arm.
Dorian’s smile broke, and he stopped dead in his tracks to gape in horror.
“Altus Pavus…” The doctor began, but Dorian interrupted her.
“You promised me you weren’t going to be reckless! You promised!”
His voice cracked around the edges, and he sounded pathetic, but it was his Amatus lying there, pale and brutally injured, and Dorian thought the sudden rush of pain in his chest might kill him.
Theros looked stunned, eyes shining with fear and hurt. The doctor frowned.
“I think I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” she announced, stalking off towards the door. Dorian paid her no mind until she grabbed his arm and leaned in close to his ear. “Do not cause him any more distress,” she ordered in an intense whisper. “That is the last thing he needs right now.” She bit her lip and looked down at the floor, breathing out a sigh. “Just…sit down and talk to him, alright?”
Dorian had half a mind to turn on her in sheer misplaced rage, but he had to regain his composure. He nodded thickly, let her squeeze his arm as a comfort before he made his way over to the side of Theros’ bed and sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Theros stared intently at the corner of the room, his chest rising and falling beneath the blankets as though it took great focus to continue to breathe rhythmically.
A long silence filled the aching cracks between them.
Dorian closed his eyes. “Oh, Amatus…”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Theros interrupted. “Really. It’s a relief to be rid of it.”
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
“I heard a rumor that you stopped the Qunari invasion,” Dorian tried, with a light attempt at humor. “Very impressive, but of course I’d expect no less from the dread Inquisitor. I…”
Theros wasn’t listening. He was glaring off into the distance with a tensed jaw, wrinkles of stress gathering about the edges of his eyes. His shoulders twitched, pulling at what remained of his left arm, a motion which caused his face to contort into a scowl. He was warm, practically radiating heat, and the anger came rolling off of him in waves.
Don’t cause him any more distress, the doctor had said.
Dorian reached out a hand across Theros’ body and caught at the grasping fingers of Theros’ right hand. Theros tried to snatch his hand back, but Dorian held on, starring the elf down with an intense glare.
“I don’t need this, Dorian,” Theros snapped. “I don’t need sympathy or worry or pity, It’s just…” His voice trailed off, and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as though to ward off a cluster of unhelpful thoughts. “It’s just my arm, after all. People have survived worse.”
“People have certainly survived worse, but I have it on good authority that they were all at least slightly miffed about having to do it.”
In spite of himself, Theros grinned. There was a heavy dosage of bitterness in his expression, but it was still a grin. “That’s not exactly comforting, Vhenan.”
“I can assure you, Theros–” He leaned forward and stroked his lover’s cheek with a little smile–”I have much better plans for comforting later. For now…I think we are in need of a little pathetic whimpering.”
“I lost an arm. Why do you think you get to whimper with me?”
Dorian repositioned Theros’ bandaged arm so that it would be more comfortable and secure, then laid his head down across Theros’ chest, still clinging awkwardly to his right hand. “I almost lost you.” He mumbled into Theros’ chest. “You’re tacky and have appalling tastes in wine, but I rather think I’d miss you if I lost you.”
Theros sighed, and Dorian felt the rise and fall of his chest as the breath made its way out of his lungs. “Well, you lost a part of me, but most of me made it back to you.”