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HAPPY DPS DAY

If there’s one thing Casey McQuiston can do is write extra, post-canon, chapters

“God, she's happy. The weather is glorious, people are good, her motorcycle is sexy. It's one of those days when she is just explosively thankful to be alive and in love and gay in New York City.”

“Jane likes Wes a lot. He reminds her of the moody Bushwick boys she used to see at the quieter bars, the ones who only smoked cloves and complained they' d been born a few years too late to be a beatnik. It's the scowl, she thinks, and the air of perpetual malaise. And the mysterious gift for landing the hottest drag queens in the scene.”

“Jane has known she liked girls for a long, long time. Even when she forgot everything else about herself, she remembered English, Cantonese, and being a lesbian. It's never been worth fighting, not for anyone else's sake, but she did sometimes wish things were different. When she watched her dad trudge up the stairs at the end of a long day and into her mom's arms, she'd wished it was posible for her to know that feeling one day, to have a good woman waiting at home.

August is a good woman.”

“She'd always felt happiest and most loved when she was part of something bigger,”

“That night was the first time she ever slept with a woman. She remembers how revelatory it felt, like searching for a word in one language and realizing it only exists in another. Like her whole life she’d had this perfect thing inside her, this thing that had an exact purpose, that would make sense of everything, and she'd been looking for it wrong until that moment.

She wrote: I was on top of her, figuring out how many ways I could make her feel good, and I thought, "I like girls," which is pretty fucking far from groundbreaking for me, but my next thought was, "I love liking girls," and that was a thought i've never had before. I might have fallen a little bit in love with Ann then, the way I think you should fall in love with your first for at least one night. But I completely and permanently fell in love with the way it feels to make love to a woman.”

“The broader she tries to go, the less it's going to feel true. All these small, specific moments, this patchwork of a million faces and voices and hands and street corners and plates of food and songs and fleeting connections—she keeps trying to zoom out of them, but that's where she loses the details. Love is the meal, and love is the ingredients, and love is the whisk and the fire and the order in the window and the reason it came. She can't separate any part from the whole.”

“Life in the future isn't perfect by a longshot, especially not for people like her. There's so much that's still wrong with the world and so many reasons to look over her shoulder every time she walks down the street. But tonight, she's thankful for this. The scrabble forward, the good changes, and always, even now, a basement full of people who'll take her as she came.”

“But the longer she knew August, the longer she loved her, the more she understoad why those girls could never have been for her. Every one of them had only a piece of what she was looking for. A surly disposition here, a pair of glasses there—every girl she’d ever loved for a night or a week or a month had a shadow of August in her.”

“I was standing on a street that felt like home, she wrote, but I didn't have to hide my haircut or change my clothes to save my family from the gossip. It didn’t even matter if any of those aunties had something to say about me. Mom would never know. I loved it.”

“She wants to have the right words, the right attitude, the right gravity to be worthy of what people see in her, but some days she just wants to pick a stupid fight in the grocery store, and some days she wants to do nothing but learn to make a chocolate tart. She's only ever been one person doing what she had to do to survive. Just Biyu, just Jane.”

“Before the Q, Jane never thought she'd be part of any institution recognized by the state, least of all a wedding. Sure, she attended commitment ceremonies in basements and backyards, manned the patio grill while two boys from down the street slow danced under a magnolia tree and the washed-up hippie officiant burned incense to bless their union. Every time, the experience sang hot and sweet in her veins for days after, the way defiant acts of love between her friends always did. But every time, something told her this would never be hers. Probably, she figured, because she never allowed herself to stay with the same girl for more than a month.”

"You started saving for a ring—?"

"Right after I moved in, yeah.”

"If you ask Myla to explain electrical energy." Jane says, winking at the gleam that appears in Myla's eye, "the first thing she'll tell you is that it can't be created or destroyed. Love is like that too. It can be reshaped a million different ways. It can be as big and as impossible to understand as the universe, and it can be as simple as sitting on the other end of the same telephone line, not even saying anything. But in my experience, it'll never be small, and it'll never be short, and it sure as hell won't ever leave you. All it does is find a new place inside you to live, or a new channel to broadcast out of you. It carries you out when the house is falling down. It's the reason why anything good happens, and it's all those good things put together, the picture they make when you step back and really look. Love makes sense of everything. Love makes you real.”

absolutely insane that mike literally p a n i c k e d when will was like "well what about us?" because will wasn't even really making things gay he was honest to god just inquiring about the state of their estranged friendship and wondering why mike didn't make time to talk to him when they're supposed to be best friends but MIKE was the one having an aneurysm like "🏳️‍🌈⁉️ W H AT!!"

“WE'RE FRIENDS” “i know mike” “WE'RE!!! F R I E N D S!!” “right so why don't you call me — ” “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND” “… that in no way answers my question"

frank is destined to die by his firewood burning out, so what about other methods of death? the logical (and probably canon) answer to this would be that if he dies by something else, then the firewood also spontaneously burns up.

but okay. look. listen. what if. frank could survive anything that would otherwise kill him, but every time he heals it burns his firewood more and more. what if he could shapeshift back lost limbs and organs but at the cost of his life energy, sapping him bit by bit. what if he destroyed himself in the pursuit of duty.

Graphic design is my passion. I think I’ve made the best vaporwave infographic of the first Punic war ever

Non Spanish people will never understand how iconic Samantha Hudson is

Ahahaha

super inconsequential detail but i just realized lisa and taffy were synced up

Just noticed that Lisa sewed Creature's new dick on with rainbow thread oh my god I love her

so very normal about them

I’ve seen a few people talk about the importance of the axe, but I wanted to put my take on it out there too.

Lisa watched her mom get axe murdered, and then her life was uprooted. She had nobody there for her (except taffy but she was misguided). And this person comes along, one who knows her better than anyone, and uses an axe to kill someone right in front of her.

Only this time, the axe is used to protect her. Something that destroyed her entire life is now being wielded by the one person she’s beginning to trust and feel seen and heard by.

And I don’t think it’s wrong for her to be thrilled and morbidly infatuated by this!!! Reclaiming and healing from trauma isn’t always pretty like everyone wants it to be, especially for young women and girls.

The axe becomes something to protect her and get revenge on those who hurt her. People who were supposed to be good to her, that she THOUGHT were good to her, but betrayed her.

The axe is something that she now wields.

She gets to reclaim it. She gets to trust someone again. She gets to feel loved, seen, and heard.

This movie is about reclaiming trauma as much as it is about a zombie love story!!!

"he would not fucking say that" but about injuries. he would not fucking recover that quickly. those scars would not fucking heal like that. he would not be fucking able bodied after that. he would not be fully lucid after that.

We all love the “becoming the very thing you sought to destroy,” trope. but I have a growing fondness for “destroying the very thing you sought to become”

saw this today

truly nothing about house md prepares you for wilson. he's fucking insane. he's been divorced three times. he's the only person who can scheme just as well as house. he gives a patient his own liver bc he felt bad for him - a patient who didn't even know wilson's name. btw. he noticed a patient had depression bc he never mentioned his grandkids. he starred in a porno. he dosed house with antidepressants for several weeks. he allowed his boybestie and his gf to share custody of him and didn't even try to stop it. house told him to buy a piece of furniture that represented who he was, and he bought a $4000+ organ for house. he was gonna torpedo his career to talk abt euthanasia bc one of his patients suffered longer than he had to. he let house move into his 1 bed apartment bc his therapist thought it'd be a good idea. this man would do anything for anybody if they let him. he'd fucking quit his job to save a snail off the sidewalk. bro is not normal in the slightest

Briseis 🌸🌾