Let’s talk about how Maggie has short hair and a ball cap like Glenn. How Rick is going to her, talking to her as his lieutenant. How strangers care for her (homedude who told Old Man Pissant to give her his apple) so quickly.
Maggie Rhee is going to make it to the end and we can fight about this.
we all know nursey’s ‘chill’aesthetic is fake, is entirely fabricated, and is in fact carefully curated and the very antithesis of chill, because soft gentle nerd derek malik nurse has the true heart of a poet and actually feels everything very deeply. it’s a protective mechanism. he’s from a world of class and pretension and he refuses to accept the system in his little queer mixed heart and he’s always riotously angry. but there’s feeling it and then there’s showing it, in a macho bro culture sport and a greater society that likes to chew up and spit out anyone that’s different. he’d rather just bottle it up inside himself, let it age like a fine wine, and use it to inspire His Art ™.
he is whole heartedly committed to being cool and calm and collected. until anyone starts on dex. then, nursey will go from 0 to 60 and unashamedly abandon all attempts at chill on the roadside.
“dude it just seems like everyone on the sports teams is a dick” “haha np man”
“no offence, like, you’re cool, but a lot of players just seem really uptight” “yeah yeah cool cool i get it”
“the basketball girls are stuck up, and those lax bros, urgh. the redhead you play with-” “whAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOU JSUT SAY TO ME”
I’ve been obsessed with this stupid fact ever since it came out, and since I’m currently overdosing on Potter, here’s a short excerpt from a much longer fic I’m working on (i will never admit that the google docs title is “weird sad sirius black is hot mess fic,” nope, no way):
They are ten days into the first go, which is approximately thirteen days into the start of fifth year, when James, in attempting to answer a question in Charms, chokes inexplicably on his own tongue, and coughs the Mandrake leaf out onto his desk in the process of trying not to die.
“NO,” Peter howls, “LEAF! NO.” And in the ensuing commotion when he spits his leaf out onto the floor in frustration, no one seems to notice Sirius grabbing his own hair and hissing through his own leaf: “You utter pissant we were on a bloody schedule!”
Remus looks, understandably, very confused, and then subsequently incredibly hacked off when he receives detention along with the rest of them.
“It’s an experiment, mate,” whispers James, lamely, across Sirius’s desk.
“In what?” hisses Remus, on the other side of Sirius, head bent fastidiously to his lines. “Choking on plants?”
“Saliva retention,” mutters Sirius, at the same time that Peter whispers: “Herbology project.”
“Mr Lupin!” says Flitwick, from the front of the classroom. “I’d thank you to move your hand, and not your lips, please.”
By Sirius’s shoulder, Remus makes a sound like an angry dying animal, and grips his quill so hard it snaps in two.
Three weeks later, in the dormitories, Sirius is pacing. He is saying things like get your arses in line! and are you men, or mice!? and this isn’t your grandmother’s game, gents! James and Peter are lined up on James’s bed and are looking at him like he’s grown a third arm out of his chest. He feels possessed.
“ - and I swear to god, Potter, if you spit this stupid leaf out again — three times now! Three times are you made of glass — I swear to god if you do it again I’m stringing you up by your big toes and letting the Slytherins have at you with bludger bats!”
James has the audacity to grin. “Steady on.”
“You steady on,” Sirius snaps, rounding on him. “Meanwhile, our mate’s got to spend yet another night tearing himself to meat ribbons because your tongue tastes bad, I’ll thank you. We were supposed to have done it by now!”
Peter looks properly chastised; James just looks uncomfortable with a leaf in his mouth. “He’s going to find out,” Peter says. “We’re really, really pants at this. Maybe we should just tell him?”
“We’ve agreed!” Sirius hisses, grabbing Peter by the shoulders and shaking him, once. “The pact. Surprise or nothing. Pettigrew, this is going to be the single greatest thing you will ever do in your life. I’m not telling him over pudding like it’s the weather report, you dumb fuck.”
“Yeah, but then what if I end up as a walrus, or summat?” cringes Peter.
Sirius shakes him again. “You won’t be a walrus!”
“Who’s a walrus?” comes Remus’s tired voice, from the doorway.
“Not me!” jumps Peter.
“John Lennon!” Sirius whirls around, wild-eyed.
“What?” Remus is staring at them with an expression that Sirius will later recall as somewhere between exhaustion, heartbreak, and murderous rage.
“Goo goo g’joob,” hums James helpfully around his leaf, and Remus — growling something that sounds like a loose combination of wankers and bloody mental— throws his Potions textbook at them before slumping heavily into his bed, snapping the curtains closed, and refusing to speak for the rest of the night.
A - Age: 17 B - Biggest fear: being forgotten C - Current time: 8:07 pm D - Drink you last had: water E - Every day starts with: fuck + browsing tumblr F - Favourite song: i have too many. naming 3 off the top of my head: everglow, madness, blue G - Ghosts are they real: oh yeah I - In love with: fuckin bed. and shiro K - Killed someone: mostly bugs. specifically roaches and spiders <- same, except i’m a fucking pissant with cockroaches L - Last time you cried: uh. i don’t usually remember M - Middle name: dumb N - Number of siblings: 0 O - One wish: no more hatred <- agreed P - Person you last called/texted: friend Q - Questions you are always asked: i… don’t really know, probably ‘are you ok’ R - Reasons to smile: all the beautiful human beings on my dash, ily all S - Song last sang: everglow haha T - Time you woke up: like… 9 U - Underwear colour: like this cyan color V - Vacation destination: right here at home W - Worst habit: m o v i n g. i can’t stay still enough so i just move. it’s distracting really X - X-Rays you’ve had: none that i recall Y - Your favourite food: sushi… haha Z - Zodiac sign: aries
if you send someone hate on anon and try to justifie it by saying it gives you a *satisfaction~* then guess what thats not satisfaction thats the feeling of you being alone and dying alone becuase you dont know how to fucking interact with people becuase your noting but a pissant in the universe. go. fuck. your. self