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#I'm paranoid.
tubbytarchia · 2 months
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Missed drawing these two too
Bonuses
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hg-aneh · 1 year
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I think it was about time I introduced tumblr to my book Crowley... who eventually became a walking love letter to Latino culture lmao
(You can think of him as a Book Crowley who spent way too much time in south america)
Language wise, he's an amalgamation of all latin american spanish dialects (+pt-br) so,, have fun translating some of the things he's saying
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gummi-ships · 1 year
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alisaint · 5 months
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absolutely obsessed with the fact that coriolanus is always .00002 seconds from strangling sejanus (who's oblivious to this and thinks coryo's the best ever) homer simpson style
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People will really say "Jonathan Sims is a good guy!" or "Jonathan Sims is a bad person!" as if a prominent message of his character arc wasn't that no matter who you are, what you do, or how you behave your actions can cause harm or good without intention, and baselessly assigning morals to people who aren't deliberately causing harm is pointless because our view of them is more about how they affect us than how they actually are.
For better or worse, everyone is just a person. We're all both not at fault and entirely to blame.
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retrievablememories · 4 months
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one of these nights | dpr ian
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word count: 1.1k warnings: kissing. and some suggestiveness/sexual tension. a/n: finally conjured something up. hooray for me breaking a nearly 10 year dry streak of never completing a single fic of this guy?
i'm finding that i'm in no mood to write anything explicit lately (cherry bomb wore me out ok), so this will probably not be what a lot of folks are looking for, but… this was written more for my own self-indulgence than anything else. 🤓 please don’t jump me about a part 2, i don't know whether there will be one or not
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"i'm tired," you say, crossing your arms and leaning your weight against the brick wall behind you. you blink slowly, trying to placate some of your exhaustion and rest your eyes. it's not the most comfortable resting spot, but it's all you have for now until you're back in your heated apartment and in your own bed.
"it should only take him a minute to find his wallet," christian reassures you as he settles himself on the wall opposite to you, knowing how eager you are to get back home. he can't blame you, as the long night is beginning to catch up to him, too.
"i can't believe he lost it in the first place; who the hell does that?" your friend had dashed back in the direction of the restaurant once you all had gotten halfway down the block and he realized he didn't have his wallet. now you are just waiting for him to find it and come back, having ducked into this alleyway to try to get some shelter away from the winter breeze. you wouldn't have gone anywhere near this dim, narrow alley if you were with anyone else, but you trust christian to keep you safe if anything happens. it feels unusual but comforting to be able to trust someone in that way.
christian chuckles lightly and shakes his head. "y'know, i think he was a little too preoccupied flirting with the waitress to keep track of it."
despite your tiredness, you break into giggles at the remembrance of your friend's corny attempts at flirting with lines that seemed to come straight from a poorly-rated romcom.
even after your laughter dies down, your insides pleasantly warmed by the amusement, christian's eyes stay on you—intently watching. when you realize this, you meet his gaze again with a question beginning to form on your lips.
your eyes only have seconds to remain interlocked with each other's before christian is stepping forward in one long stride, his body heat filling your space and his lips capturing yours.
it's completely unexpected. what's more unexpected is the flash of scalding heat that it sends through your body, and the quiet, surprised moan it pulls from you. his lips are warm and unaffected by the cold of the outdoors. strands of his hair tickle your face, and his nose presses against your cheek, the solid metal of his nose ring disrupting the soft touch of his skin on yours.
there are the ghosts of his hands—one at your hip and the other somewhere between the nape of your neck and the side of your jaw—but neither one fully makes contact with your body, just brushing by like he's decided he can't touch you or it might overwhelm him. his mouth parts, and there is the tip of his tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. you are just about to invite him inside, but then there is nothing more.
the kiss ends before you can fully get your bearings within it. christian separates from you and a trail of spit is the only thing left connecting you both, which breaks when he backs away.
"maybe i shouldn't have done that," he says, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "i'm sorry." you don't know what to say to that.
the unruly breeze is back, changing directions and flooding into the narrow alley, and it makes your lips even colder than they'd otherwise be from the new moisture on them. your entire nervous system feels like it's vibrating within your body—trembling with the desire for more. you want to cross those few feet of space and go to him, meld your bodies together, crush your lips against his, scratch your nails across his back over the smooth leather of his jacket.
you might even like it if he picked you up and pressed your back against that rough brick wall—if you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed his slender waist between your thighs—if you felt his fingertips sink into the flesh of your thighs while his tongue sunk into your mouth.
but your feet stay planted right where they are.
"sorry? you don't have to be sorry. but why did you do it?"
"i just wanted to—for a while now. that's pretty selfish of me, but...fuck." he flips a hand through his hair like he always does; he does it so frequently that sometimes it distracts you from the conversation at hand. in those moments, all you can really think about is the softness of his hair as it slides through your fingers, the few times you’ve touched it before.
now, all you can think about is grasping it more firmly and controlling his movements, bringing his mouth back to yours so you can taste him again.
lost in his thoughts, he bites his lip. the vibrating of your nerves intensifies.
"well, do it again. you could be selfish with me, christian."
there's an expectant pause as you both size each other up, a mutual understanding and desire developing in the silence. christian approaches you again, but slower this time, like he's trying to gauge if you're serious. in seconds, he's right in front of you and breathing your air and staring at you like he is hungry for something only you could give him.
quietly, you reiterate: “take whatever it is that you want. i want you to do that.”
“darling...” his voice sounds deceptively gentle, teasing even though he doesn’t mean for it to be. he whispers to you as if you’re a glass figurine that could disintegrate if he speaks too loudly, even as his tattooed hand presses against the brick beside your head, already enveloping you. leaning in, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and staying there, he says: “do you really want me to—”
"hey! i found it."
you abruptly turn away from christian, looking at your friend who's standing at the entrance of the alleyway and holding his wallet up with triumph. "what are you two doing?" your friend looks at you cluelessly, though realization immediately dawns on him with an embarrassed smile he tries to tamp down.
the moment is shattered; christian's expression breaks into an awkward smile that matches your friend's, and once again the space between you is wider than you'd like for it to be, his arm back at his side. "dude..."
you give a heavy sigh and roll your eyes, suddenly remembering how tired you are. "...nothing. let's go home."
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pigeon-princess · 1 year
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Viktor is a horrible person and Silas wants to be his friend so bad it makes him look stupid.
[Curse of Strahd Spoiler version of Viktor’s crimes under the Keep reading]
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uncanny-tranny · 6 months
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I think people are too normal about just how much goes into making things.
I've gone through nearly sixty-six yards of yarn on my project so far. If I stacked myself up, it would take thirty-five mes just to equal that. And that's only after ribbing and two and a half rows of normal single crochet on a project that will be done in five pieces.
There is so much that goes into art. There are so many hours, material, blood, sweat, and tears that go into even the most simple of projects. Once you start realizing this, you start to truly appreciate everything about art.
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tizeline · 19 days
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Idk if you already answered an ask like this already but does Splinter and Donnie have a good father and son relationship? 🤔
For the most part, yeah it's good. Splinter still has his flaws of course, as much as he loves Donnie he isn't always very good at showing it, and he's still dealing with some pretty intense depression.
That being said, taking care of one mutant turtle child, while still hard, is significantly easier than care of four. Because of that, Splinter in this AU is able to dedicate a lot more time to Donnie. On the flipside, because Donnie doesn't have any siblings to entertain him, he seeks out Splinter for company a lot more, and Splinter isn't always able to give all of the attention that he needs. But overall, I'd say they are closer in the AU than they are in canon, considering they've mostly only been able to rely on each other for so long.
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poetrysmackdown · 9 months
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hi hiii i wanted to say that your account is so refreshing to see, esp with the passion you have for the arts. as someone who's been meaning to read (and write) more poetry, do you have any recommendations? some classics that everyone and their mothers know? perhaps some underrated pieces that changed you? or even just authors you like, I'm very open to suggestions :]]
Hi! Thank you so much for this kind ask :) So exciting that you’re looking to delve deeper into reading and writing! I had to take a little time to answer this because my thoughts were all over the place lol.
For a review of notable/classic poems/poets, I honestly just recommend looking at lists online or, hell, just binging Wikipedia pages for different countries’ poetry if that’s something you’re into, just to get a sense of the chronology. I read one of those little Oxford Very Short Introductions on American Poetry and thought it was pretty good, but online is quicker if you’re just searching for poets or movements to hone in on. Poetry Foundation also has lots of resources, in addition to all the poems in their database. I guess my one big classic recommendation would have to be Emily Dickinson (<3), but really the best move is just to find a poet you already enjoy and then look around to see who their peers were/are, who they were inspired by, who they’ve maybe translated here and there, etc. and follow it down the line as far as you can.
For some personal recs, here are some collections I’ve really enjoyed over the past two years or so. Bolded favorites, and linking where select poems from the book have been published online. But also, if you want a preview of a couple poems from another of the books to see if they interest you, DM me and I can send them over! You can also feel free to pilfer through my poetry tag for more stuff lol
Autobiography of Death by Kim Hyesoon trans. Don Mee Choi
Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings by Joy Harjo
DMZ Colony by Don Mee Choi
Hardly War by Don Mee Choi
Whereas by Layli Long Soldier
Geography III by Elizabeth Bishop
Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha
Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine
Mouth: Eats Color—Sagawa Chika Translations, Anti-Translations, & Originals by Sawako Nakayasu
The Selected Poems of Osip Mandelstam trans. W.S. Merwin and Clarence Brown
The Branch Will Not Break by James Wright
This Journey by James Wright
God’s Silence by Franz Wright
Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke (the translation I read was by Alfred Corn—I thought it was great, but idk if there are better ones out there!)
DMZ Colony, Hardly War, Dictee, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, and partially Whereas are all book-length poems with some prose poetry and varying levels of weirdness/denseness/multilingualism—if you were to pick one to start with, I’d say do Don’t Let Me Be Lonely or Whereas. Mouth: Eats Color is some experimental translations of Japanese modernist poet Chika Sagawa, with other translations and some of Nakayasu’s original stuff mixed in—it's definitely a bit disorienting but ultimately I remember having such fun with it, as much fun as Nakayasu probably had making it. It’s a book that emphasizes co-creation and a spirit of play, and completely changed my attitude towards translation.
If you’re less interested in that kind of formal fuckery stuff though (I get it), can’t go wrong with the other books! Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings is the one I read most recently, and it’s great—Harjo also featured in Round 1! Franz Wright also featured, and God's Silence is the collection which "Night Walk" comes from. James Wright (father of Franz) is one of my favorite poets of all time, though his poetry isn’t perfect. Even so, I’m honestly surprised he’s not doing numbers on Tumblr—Mary Oliver was a big fan of his, even wrote her "Three Poems for James Wright" after his death.
I mentioned in another post that one of my favorite poets is Paul Celan, so I’ll also recommend him here. I read Memory Rose into Threshold Speech which is a translated collection of his earlier poems, but it’s quite long if you’re just getting to know him as a poet—fortunately, both Poetry Foundation and Poets.org have a ton of his poems in their collections. There’s also an article by Ilya Kaminsky about him titled “Of Strangeness That Wakes Us” (!!!!!) that’s a great place to start, and is honestly kind of my whole mission statement when I’m reading and writing poetry. Looking at the books I’ve recommended above, a lot of them share feelings of separateness or alienation—from others, from oneself, from one’s country, from language—that breed strange, private modes of expression. That tends to be what I’m drawn to personally, and that’s some of what Kaminsky talks about.
Sorry of the length of this—I hope it's useful as a jumping-off point! And if you or anyone ends up exploring any of these poets, let me know what you think! If folks wanna reply with recommendations themselves too that'd be great :)
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runningfromevil-mp3 · 3 months
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One of my favourite parts of Slay the Princess is hearing Voice of the Paranoid in the save menu. I don't usually notice if music is playing in pause menus, I'm sure it probably is playing on the menu in this game too, but it just stuck with me and I had to sit there for a few minutes just... thinking about it. The fact that Voice of the Paranoid is keeping you alive in the menu. That you're still there. You've not escaped. That his actions to keep you grounded and calm are just part of the environment... I can't word it well enough but it just stuck with me. There was something so uniquely personal in that moment for me.
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newwavesylviaplath · 25 days
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me staring longingly at the two mutuals i have that im convinced hate me and see me as annoying and desperate:
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zhongrin · 6 months
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✼ー hello, my dear patrons.
i have an important announcement to make.
for my own mental health and reinforcing my boundaries, i will be implementing changes on how i interact in this blog. the general rules (shop etiquette) and taglist rules (membership) have been updated to reflect this.
to give a short summary of the changes, moving forward, i will fully cease interactions with minors or ageless blogs. the same goes for my taglist, which i have purged. more details can be found in the two links above. feel free to drop by my askbox if you need any clarifications.
i'm sorry to my mutuals / friends / followers, who are minors / uncomfortable in disclosing their age, but have been following the rules and respecting my boundaries. i'm truly sorry it had to come to this, but i have had enough. the nature of my content will stay the same but if these changes doesn't sit well with you, please feel free to unfollow or block.
lastly, if you have been following my rules, genuinely, thank you so, so much for respecting the human being behind the handle name 'zhongrin'. you are a blessing to humanity and i hope good things will come your way soon.
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ps. i will be reblogging this post for about a week or so, just so people can see it.
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thesweetnessofspring · 10 months
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HG fans have been lovingly teasing Katniss for how she read Peeta through about the first 2/3 of THG, but I have to say, if you take off your "I'm reading a YA novel" glasses and instead look at it from Katniss's perspective...she's actually going with the most logical explanation for his behavior. What's more likely: a boy who was kind to you once but has never spoken to you is willing to die for you, or that boy is working every angle he can (including you, since you owe him your life already) to survive a death match?
The games have been designed to turn people into killers, even people who ordinarily are very kind (see Mags, Finnick, and Lucy Gray for starters). The very existence of the games turns people from the same district against one another, for allies to break their bonds, for the strong to go after the weak, for children to do whatever they can to defend themselves from death. Deception for the sake of survival is part of the game. Katniss has seen it play out this way her entire life.
The fact that Katniss misread Peeta speaks not to her having a significant lack perception, because otherwise she reads people at least as well as an average person (some wrong, but quite a bit right). Instead, Peeta's strategy to play the game highlights his strength of character and rejects Gaul's assertions that people are inherently evil, which the games are designed to illustrate. Even when faced with certain death, Peeta chose to actively help Katniss and fight for her, something that likely no other tribute in the arena had done before, at least not to the length and extent that Peeta did.
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Shoutout to a bunch of voices crushing on the Razor
Voice of the Broken: She doesn't want us. Voice of the Contrarian: You're just saying that because you want her to be into you. Voice of the Broken: I know. I thought I was being obvious.
Voice of the Paranoid: Maybe it'll work! Maybe it'll throw her off. I know I'd be thrown off if she started flirting with us. Voice of the Contrarian: Yeah, because you'd be into it. Voice of the Paranoid: No comment.
Voice of the Stubborn: I'm into it. Voice of the Cheated: I can't say I mind either. If it weren't for all the cheating, I'd say she's pretty cute.
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Bonus:
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Hero doesn't know if he's into the Razor
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paellegere · 3 months
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there's something so deeply erotic about this exchange. dean bites out a snarky comment, and sam immediately tenses up, waiting for his brother's disapproval. he expects it, he's waiting for it, because he's never good enough and he never does anything right.
but it doesn't come. dean tells him he's done good, he offers him whiskey in celebration, even, and it gives sam pause—he hesitates, like he doesn't know what to do, looks up at dean for confirmation, then accepts the offering. like he's proud of himself for gaining dean's approval, but he hardly knows what to do with it. how long has he been waiting for this anyway? how many years has he been trying and failing to get this simple, no-strings-attached praise out of him?
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