tutant meenage neetle teetles

Still thinking about how Grace was always treated as disposable. Kicked out of his passion field for his honesty—underpaid as a (very good) teacher, to the point he can’t afford a car—left alone in a room full of argon with a sample that might kill him, while all the indispensable guys who put him there stood on the other side of the glass and watched. Shoved screaming into a mission that would kill him. And then, then this bonkers little alien who just met him gladly trades years off his life (via extended return mission) to save him. Runs burning through deadly air to keep him from dying. Chooses finally to weave their lives together forever and recreate Grace’s best dreams of Earth to make him happy. No wonder Grace told Rocky he doesn’t have to get him a gift, he’s given him everything. To one little spider guy, Grace is irreplaceable. That’s love.

Y'know, I kinda feel like when you get to the point that the general reaction to hearing about a failed assassination attempt is "Ah man, missed again. Maybe next time." you might be overdue for an impeachment.

did u know u could just draw bad and nothing happens did u know that

harry is kind of like kim's manic pixie dream girl if you think about it. guy who's exactly your type shows up and tells you he's lost his memory and he hears voices in his head but also he's the best detective you've ever seen and he's just decided you're his new best friend. he keeps dragging you into wacky sidequests like starting a disco club in an abandoned church and hunting down an elusive cryptid but in the end succeeds in cracking the case wide open and changes your life so much in the span of roughly a week that you transfer precincts (by the way he works at THE legendary jamrock precinct) to keep being his partner. also he fucking adores you and looks at you like you hung the moon AND he's gay

Kim “there will be time for sitting on benches after we solve the murder” Kitsuragi sits on the swings with you for at least an hour without a single complaint, not rushing you, playing along with whatever silly conversation threads you start, waiting for you to realize on your own that the crashed motor carriage in front of you is your own. He gently leads you towards this profoundly upsetting information, the most damning evidence thus far of how completely fucked you are, just, like, as a human. Reckless, impulsive, suicidal. When you eventually piece it together, he comforts you with sincerity. This is the man who reminds you at every conversational tangent that you are on a deadline, who has to be cajoled into playing a board game with you for a couple hours. And yet he sits with you on the swings until the tide goes out, all so he can catch you when you start to fall apart.