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tutorgirlcommissions · 1 year

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hey , lovelies . i’m sorry it’s taken me so long not only to get this update out but also the delay on orders . i haven't had the time to even think lately . but i promised y’all an update and i’m here to give it . this will probably end up longer than i anticipated but i have a lot to cover , as i’m using this post for updates blogwide and not just the updates about my father . to make this easier to go through , i will separate this into parts and label it where needed . i , also , apologize if this doesn't make any sense or is maybe all over the place . my brain is completely fried and just as all over the place lately but if you have any confusion or questions at all , please , feel free to ask me . now , onto the important stuff . . .

the update regarding my father . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : amputation , infection , death , injury / wounds , surgery , health , hospitals

he's still in the hospital . has been since valentine's day . he's a disabled diabetic so his cuts either take longer to heal or never heal at all and has been struggling for years with various doctors and nurses in regards to maintaining his health and seeing that those wounds don't get any worse . but the past few years it has gotten worse . and it got to a point where he was screaming and crying out 24/7 in pain , even into the nights . ( cue my not sleeping because of it and why i had been on the slower side of things where commissions were involved ; my brain was fried . ) but because of these things not showing up in blood tests , his doctor didn't know what was going on .

on valentine's day , it got to a point where the pain was so severe that even my stubborn father , who avoids hospitals at all costs , let us call an ambulance for him . it's bad . he has a bacterial infection that ate his flesh and then worked its way into his bones . he had surgery last friday to remove dead skin , a procedure that was ( false hope on the doctor's part to give my father ) in hopes supposed to give the bones a chance to heal . but his surgeon told my dad that while the bones are supposed to be rock hard , his were like styrofoam and completely crumbled to the touch . the bones are dead , there's no saving them .

he has to have both of his legs amputated and if he doesn't have the surgery , the infection will make its way into his blood stream and he'll be dead in days . they currently have him on the strongest antibiotics they can provide for him and they're waiting on the swelling to go down from the last surgery , so that could be six weeks alone before he can have the surgery; where they'll have to do one amputation at a time because it'll be too much on his heart to do at once .

how long my father will be in this hospital and what him being in the hospital means for myself and my family . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : financial struggles , amputation

according to his doctors , it may be six months to a year before he's allowed to come home . but with all the different timelines we're getting thrown at us from different doctors and nurses , my mom seems to think it'll be more towards two years with multiple surgeries and recovery times . and that's if he ever gets to . we live on the second floor , so there's a heavy chance he might not get to come home again . though , we have an unscheduled visit with someone from the hospital to determine if our apartment is suitable for him to come home to . fingers crossed .

they're currently in plans to send him to a rehabilitation center for eight weeks to watch and make sure the infection doesn't spread while they give him his antibiotics and wait for the swelling of the previous surgery to subside . after that , he'll be sent back to the hospital for the first amputation and give it some time to heal before he's sent back to the rehabilitation center until he's physically strong enough for the second amputation . after both amputations , he'll be set yet again back to rehabilitation for months until he heals and relearns everything in a new way . i have no idea why the back and forth has to happen but it's stressing us out .

what this means for my family ? with my dad in the hospital and rehabilitation centers , we lose 80% of our rent income , with no way to get it back . easily put : me , my mom , and sister will be homeless with no family or friends to stay with , no food , you get the gist .

my situation in general has changed and so have my prices ( not by much ) . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : financial struggles

i used to be able to get by with saving my money for myself , to get out of here but i can't avoid it anymore . i have to start giving commission funds towards rent , bills , food , etc . . . especially since , with everything going on , we're already really behind on rent and bills / can't make up the difference of what was lost .

given the fact that not only my family's but also my situation has changed , i had to raise my prices by a little bit . ( also because n.etflix changed their password sharing policies and i now have to pay for my own account in order to continue those commissions ) they didn't go up by much ; i was originally going to do them up by five but i couldn't see myself raising them that much , so i didn't do that . even the littlest bit adds up .

if you're currently one of my commission slots , you get the old pricing . any new commission orders received will be under the new pricing as of today 2/26/2023 .

all pricing changes were made to the pricing page , listed on my blog .

commissions . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : none

i am accepting commissions orders now more than ever and probably won't cap them for the time being . i just , please , ask for your patience as i work through them . if you're not placing an order in fear that i'll become overwhelmed , don't even worry about that . feel free to place it .

requests . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : none

i usually don't do this but i am taking base icon requests to add to my payhip and ko-fi shops for sale . if you have any requests for me to add to my shop , please drop them in my inbox over at @tutorgirlrph so that i don't get them confused with the commissions here , thank you !

donations . . .

trigger warnings regarding this section : financial struggles

my friend once told me that he knows it's hard to ask for help but sometimes we need to let people in , suck up our pride , and ask for help . because sometimes it is okay to ask for help and to let people help . so i guess , for once , this is me saying i really need the help . i'm going to link my friend's paypal ( funds go directly to me from there ) and my ko-fi account below in hopes that if someone sees this and is in a position where they can help me and my family out , they can . if you aren't in a position where you can help , please don't worry . spreading the word can help a lot more than you think .

paypal : paypal.me/natashac93 ko-fi : https://ko-fi.com/haydennoelle

thank you in advance to those who help in any possible way .

— hayden .

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the-rainbow-overflow · 1 year

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Drabble title: Surgery for a songbird Characters: Viroxa Galrix(picture), Unnamed bronze Summery: A brief peak into the work of a cerulean doctor and one of his many “patients”.

Very dark themes ahead, check the tags, I attempted to tag everything I could think of.If you think of others that should be here, let me know

Disclaimer: Fully aware this guy is fucked up. I don't condone any of his actions (obviously). This is a fictional character, and does horrendous fictional deeds. Read at your own discretion.

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Dark...

Cold... It's... cold.

“Ah, there we are. Welcome back to the waking world moonlight. Have a nice rest?”

Voice... Bad... Voice.

“Ah ah ah, no. You know the rules, no thrashing. We don’t want you hurting yourself do we? Well... not that you could feel it if you did. Still nice and numb from the medicine I hope.”

Force... Moving... Pushed... Down... Laying... No... Bad

"Today's the day, you are going to make the hopes and dreams of a young bronzie come true."

No...

“... You’d think this gets easier with each of these appointments. Sadly that rarely seems to be the case. Most of my donors get cold feet like you do. Every time... "

Escape... Move... Escape... Help.

"..."

"... Moonlight, please. I told you to stop thrashing... You're going to make this much harder for everyone involved. We go over this so frequently..."

No... No!

"Sigh... I had hoped the removal of your legs would have prompted a little more cooperation from you. I had assumed by the third neural vivisection you'd have dropped these pre-op anxieties, dear... Perhaps I expect too much, but really my dear, this is getting a bit old..."

"Alright, that's enough..."

Still... Be still.... No... Be still. Shh. Still... Escape!

Honestly I hate to raise my abilities to you moonlight, really you know I do, but really you give me no choice. All that movement could cause my scalpel to slip... There were go. Nice and still. Now stay just as you are while I get my tools, please. Removal of the vocal cords is a very tedious task. Soon enough though, you'll be helping a most lovely young lady sing to her heart's content for the first time in sweeps. Tragic life that one has lived, but you, you're going to give her her happy ending. I hear from a credible source your voice is quite heavenly. She'll be happy to carry its torch to an audience."

Still. Stop... Be still... Please... Still... Please stop.. Shh

"... Aw. Now now, don't give me the waterworks. This is a good thing, moonlight. Such a songbird's voice wasting away in the streets. It was only a matter of time before the drones came for you, you know. If the circus didn't scoop you up for their own entertainment. A barbaric lot that bunch can be... A homeless bronze blood, blood of your lussus still staining your clothes. I'd have given you a day if not hours. All that potential that would have gone to such a waste. To leave you out there would be to leave you for death. And we simply couldn't have that, could we?"

Death...Shh.. Die... Die... You're ok... please... Everything is fine... I don't...

"I envy you a little, honestly. A bit of you is going to reach the masses someday. A translator for that troll's hopes and dreams. An honorable position a piece of you will hold. Just as your legs helped that kind young man walk again. What was his name again. Was it-... Hm .. no that's not it..."

Name... What... Name... My... Name... Did I... Have? I... Hive... want...Go hive...

"Here we are. Everything nice and ready here. Now we can begin the operation. This'll be over in just a moment just hold still..."

Stop. Shh. Stop. Stop. Calm.. STOP

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In the quiet of a lab, the sound of a man at work are all a mind can hear. The quick, precise snipping of a surgical scalpel and scissors against wet skin every few moments. He's accompanied by the hum of machinery, it's many wires and tubes that run to and fro. Through these artificial veins pumped the false blood that kept his patient's body operational.

He could be like this for days if given the chance. The rush of adrenaline his line of work gave him was matched only by the knowledge of how much joy it brought his clients. Repurposing these old parts, rescuing them from their wasteful end, that's what this was all about. Efficiency, and the extended life of those who'd soon have had theirs torn from them. But until every part had found its purpose, he'd need to keep them fresh, usable. Alive.

A challenging task, for sure. He was more than willing to accept such a task, however. The fusing of metal and flesh, such a wonderfully interesting concept. To extend the time of the temporary, with the cold, hard exterior of eternity.

It's exciting, is it not? When the removal of his chosen parts was complete, he's quick to set it aside, iced and prepared for transplantation. Now comes the next phase of the procedure, he thinks to himself as he lifts his drill from the table.

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A lone mind sits in darkness.

It has not been able to see for some time now.

It can not count the days, nor nights.

Its mind screams to move, but its body lacks the strength, the will nor range to move from its confinements. So often it has tried to scream, but found no jaw to move. No tongue to form words.

Blind eyes weep tears of bronze down metal cheeks as it is pushed back into its container. It can sense this. The moving air over its numbed face one of the few senses it has been left with, if faded and distant.

It has stopped again.

Consciousness would soon cease again. It always did.

It is scared.

How much did he take this time.

How much will he take next?

Is it... Even a troll, anymore?

Will the next one be the last?

It doesn't know. It wants to leave. It wants to see again. It wants to feel grass upon its skin, rain upon its head.

The form lay strapped to a surgical table. It's body a mix of contorted flesh, carved away in places then wrapped in bandages. What wasn't wrapped was capped or welded shut with shiny grey metal, aside from its chest currently. The cavity pulled open and back to display what few organs remained like a frog on a lab student's table. Its most vitals long since having begun the pilfering and replacement process; ticking gears were a heart once beat, bloated sacks where its lungs once breathed. It's blood, once a vibrant bronze now diluted with artificial replacers, heavy in sedative drugs. Perhaps the only thing keeping the agony from this butchered existence at bay. What was likely a blessing at first now a curse as it longs for the feeling of anything at all, even pain, discomfort, something. It's thoughts have become lesser with each day of dismemberment. Its name lost, its identity, if it had one before, now lost in the wind. It remembers being called she once. But even that feels like an eternity ago, far from reach and lost in obscurity. It was only a matter of time before that too was taken.

It can feel itself slipping away again as it joins the others in storage. Back into unconsciousness. Back into the long dark before the repeat. Just like the times before, it's thoughts are few of words but consistent. A plea. A cry.

Kill... Me...

#gore ment tw #body horrow cw #dismemberment mention cw #doctor cw #medical malpractice cw #torture cw #mind control cw #manipulation cw #idek what other tags to put #Viroxa Galrix #long post #amputation mention cw

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yellowrcses · 2 years

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// anonymous asked: They're not getting through to him. You might have to make a prosthetic out of something.

<><><><><><>

--> “A prosthetic isn’t the main issue here. Plus I can’t just make a prosthetic, chat. That shit is hard.” No, the main issue is the fact he got fucking drugged, and Dream will likely beat the shit out of him, again, if he tries shit just yet.

#{ i thought that fighting with meant fighting for -- dsmp }#{ voices won't go away -- chat // asks }#amputation ment.#drugging tw #abuse ment.

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zekkopunks · 2 years

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im so sad I got into amphibia so late I literally cannot think of anything else rn

#spoilers in tags ->#also #suicide ment #banger show please trust the process if you decide to watch through season 1 #its the perfect mix of dark intense and funny goofy #im thinking about it and how the hell did they get away with so much #one of the characters attempting suicide in the season 1 finale and then one of the other ones LITERALLY getting stabbed and reanimated #oh and someones arm getting amputated #my favorite kids show #its not afraid to get dark and im thriving off that so hard #hell who even knows what they’ll pull on the last episode

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mymreaderlibrary · 5 months

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Hey buddy, gotta say, fucking LOVE your old man yaoi post with price and reader. It's also one of my favorite things and shit if you'd like could you write more about them? Like I need these two old men to finally own up and kiss damnit 😭

I wanted to get this out way earlier but ANYWAYS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT AAAAGHHGH I honestly wanted to write about it a lil more but I wasn’t sure. I hope this is good, no beta cause I’m a looney toons of a writer who’s stubborn as hell.

[old friends to lovers, slight angst, injury ment, laswell is so fuckin annoyed by being the only smart person, use of y/n though they’re kinda treated more like an oc sorry, the ramblings continue]

[length: 1324 words]

They didn't speak of the night before, but they honestly didn't have to. Y/n and Price could tell their feelings were mutual, or at least stronger than a typical friendship, but instead they chose to be stopped by an invisible road block.

For y/n it was the feeling of lost time. They weren't young anymore, they didn't have the energy nor time for things like relationships and... well he wasn't sure if Price would want to be stuck with an old fart like himself. Price aged in a way that'd make any man jealous meanwhile y/n? Not so much. He was greying, his bones ached more often than not, he spent half of his time drinking shitty liquor that made his teeth reek, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's just not handsome anymore. Price deserved to be with someone who still had life to them. Maybe a spunky military gal who could keep him on his toes or private operative with an infinite list of missions to complete. What he didn't need, however, was someone who already had their chance and wasted it. Y/n should've told him just how much Price meant to him, how much he envied the people who got to stay by his side. He should've searched for him, got on his hands and knees and begged to come with. Convince whoever had them separated to change their mind. He didn't care if he still went through the same pain he did when he was alone, if he had to amputate his own damn leg again, or deal with the loss of his parents one more time. As long as he could've done it by Price's side he would've been happy or at the very least satisfied. But that was the past and the current y/n could never catch up to the man Price had become.

However for Price it was guilt. He remembered the days that y/n and him felt invincible. Like every little thing was just a stepping stone in their grand journey to glory. No matter the pain they persevered, found solutions where others would've given up, made names for themselves amongst crowds of soldiers all baring the same purpose. Too bad those names couldn't stop them from being split up, from losing their friends, their families, from being sent all across the world with no way of knowing if the other was even alive. Those names couldn't stop y/n from losing his entire calf... (Price hated that he only knew of his friends injury due a rumor involved with y/n's discharge). Y/n shouldn't even be here, his time in the military was over, he paid his penance, he should be at home watching tv on a leather couch with a beer in hand. Nothing on the mind but whatever sore loser couldn't figure out tonight's Jeopardy categories. But no, Price had to go and drag him out from retirement, right back onto the front lines. Straight back into trouble. Even if he wasn't on the field that didn't mean he was away from risk. His mere association with the 141 planted a target on his back that wouldn’t be removed by simply walking away. Price didn't feel he deserved y/n's affection not when all he ever did was put him in danger.

So they both stayed like that, infinitely stubborn, hellishly avoidant, and not nearly as sly as they thought. The 141 didn't have a full understanding of what was going on between the two, but they could tell there was some unfinished business. Gaz thought maybe one of them slighted the other and neither have taken the step to apologize for it. Soap thought y/n perhaps betrayed Price and that's why he's missing part of his leg. Ghost had... almost the right idea, thinking there was a strange tinge of romantic tension between the two though he assumed it was from something like a love triangle. Maybe y/n and Price loved the same woman and had some unfinished rivalry? Regardless, it was not his problem so much as it didn’t effect the mission.

Laswell however, she knew. She wouldn't have the position she did if information like this just flew past her radar. She knew of their history, she saw how they reacted to one another. Laswell wasn't blind for god's sake, in fact she felt like the only one with eyes at the moment. She wasn't so crass as to demand them to make up and get it over with, but having no one to complain to was definitely testing her patience. Instead she stuck to subtly, casually chatting with Price about y/n and dropping questions in regards to their past missions together and how close they were, hoping to make some wheels turn in his rusted head. She wasn't gonna do more than that however, they were two grown men and if they couldn’t figure it out that was their problem. Could they just be a little more subtle though?

It took until a, quite literally, explosive scenario for them to finally get it together. A bullet had gotten lodged into Price's shoulder after an enemy made a lucky shot. It was far from the worst thing the Captain had faced but it still wasn't great, hurt like a bitch for one. And secondly it seemed to send y/n into a spiral. He was practically fuming when Price got back, going on some sort of rant about hygiene and wound care. Y/n demanded to be the one to dress Price's shoulder with a tone that had the others knowing they were not invited to watch unless they wanted to join in on the incoming lecture. And lecture he did, through the whole process Price could barely get a word in. Y/n paced and raved, threw his arms in the air and even knocked over supplies on accident. He was a complete mess and it wasn't until y/n was literally out breath that the Captain could finally speak.

An explanation of what happened was given, it was just luck (bad luck in regards to Price) that he got hit. This wasn’t overly common and the team knew how to deal with these wounds. Everything was okay, it was going to be fine. This just came with the job, risks were inevitable.

They were quiet, looking at each other and letting the silence permeate the room. Price reached his hand out to touch y/n’s but was caught off guard as the other man suddenly leaned it. Knocking his head against Price’s good shoulder and breathing heavily, y/n shuddered a silent cry. A plead for Price to be safe. Whatever false version of safety he could promise, just please don’t die out there.

The Captain raised his outstretched hand to cup the back of y/n’s head, running a thumb over the stubbled hair. Letting his hand slide to his face and pushing him back just an inch.

Another moment of silence. Hearts beating like rabbits.

“You gonna actually do something or do I-“

Price shut him up as quickly as he could. It was clumsy, a bit shaky, and definitely desperate, but the moment their lips touched it felt like pure ecstatic relief. Relief that this was finally happening, relief that the invisible barrier they built around each other was so weak, but mostly relief that those moments, all those touches and lingering stares weren’t for nothing.

They breathed in each others scent, something they’ve come to know so well and yet in this moment it felt brand new, and infinitely stronger. The spice of a cigar, the sting of sweat, and- oh right, sterile wipes. Price was left to chuckle awkwardly and y/n backed away. Any childish excitement felt would have to wait but at the very least they had this.

#sorry was stuffing my mouth with turkey today so I didn’t finish it when I wanted to #insert video of dude fuckin up that dry ass chicken sandwich #didn’t know if I wanted to add this but was listening to drunk drivers/ killer whales by carseatheadrest for a lot of this #my writing #mw #male reader #x male reader #john price #john price x male reader #probably ooc 😭😭😭😭😭 AURHHFJGNFJFN #im so shy about this help #cod #cod x male reader #price cod #ramblings #old man yaoi

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whumpinthepot · 1 year

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Grime: what has been their lowest point?

Grit: what's the most painful thing they've endured?

For whoever you want! :)

From this ask game thx!

Cw: pet whump, BBU adjacent, munchousen by proxy, horn amputation, death, murder, broken bones ment, sickness, poisoning

I’m going to choose Clarence baby… Oop these are both the same answer practically

Grime: what has been their lowest point

Their lowest point mentally was when they lived with Haa after their Master was killed by him. They were scared and depressed and spent most of their time hiding in the house somewhere. They were convinced that Haa was going to kill them too.

They were also veeeerrryyyyy upset about promising to be Abby’s pet instead of Mouse’s. It’s against the rules, possibly illegal and could get them mind wiped if the pet trainers found out. Not to mention they love Mouse the most out of anyone and they don’t want to be Abby’s pet because she’s an evil serial killer 😧

Grit: what’s the most painful thing they’ve endured

Im going to have to say psychologically, it was seeing their old master, Bob, be assassinated in front of them and then being snatched by the same assassin (Haa) who they just watched murder their Master…

Physically let me think mhh… Honestly it either happened with their old Master Bob, or with the pet trainers before Clarence was given to Mouse. Probably with Bob though unfortunately.

I do like to daydream about their horns being cut off but I just can’t. I can’t do it, I haven’t done it in canon because their horns are just so cute and that would traumatize them so badly…

With Bob it was probably broken bones, or being poisoned and almost dying from how sick it made them. They were poisoned a LOT, so much they thought it was a chronic illness that couldn’t be cured.

#whump ask game #oc ask game #breezy’s post #rats race #clarence #clarences story #bob #haa #mouse #abby #whump #pet whump #boxboy #boxboy universe #breezy answers

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veritasexhumus · 1 year

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No puedo describir mejor la experiencia black metal que con la sola palabra, “derrota”. El punto culminante en donde se termina por ceder la diestra a la sociedad y a la desolación la persona, a vivir del diablo, que vive de la cuña que le quita al mundo y a terminar como un peregrino sin nombre hacia los confines infernales. Ser uno de los que se obnubila de ver al Dante pasar en su comedia, enredado en sus propias torturas. Existe el cliché que dice, que parte de la misiva artística es producto de enfermedades mentales, convengamos que ahondar en una discografía de algunas bandas más importantes, exige mantener la mente abierta. Porque en cualquier juicio basado en una reacción de primera escucha, eleva las posibilidades de emitir una opinión sesgada de rechazo, viciada por la estéril apreciación inmediata. Aquel que no sea afluente de comunidades metaleras, tiene altísimas chances de condenar a un compositor u autor. Es tal el impacto, que en el oído desconocedor puede obstruir la razón objetiva, la de adaptarse o de considerar el trabajo mediado en la obra. Sobra decir, y hagámoslo valer, que las fuentes o el marco que permite la creación, son turbulencias o inspiraciones iracundas.

Pongamos por caso a Olve Eikemo, más conocido por el seudónimo Abbath. Tipo que se inició en el mismo círculo de jóvenes artistas que se fogueaban en Bergen a fines de la década del ochenta. Sus primeros pasos los dio en Amputation, compartió banda con el mismo Varg Vikernes de Burzum y luego iniciaría una larga y dilatada carrera en Immortal primero y como solista a partir de 2015. En el año 2002 (5), un entrevistador norteamericano, le preguntó a un ebrio Abbath, por qué en el BM, se pintan la cara (corpse paint). Al responder, se atrevió a decir que se trata de una celebración de los demonios internos de cada uno. Parte de la crítica al género, también reside en afirmar que el estilo de corpse paint blanco y negro es una copia robada del estilo creado por Paul Stanley y Gene Simmons de KISS, en la década de los setenta. A favor de Abbath, cualquier sensato puede diferenciar una estrategia marketinera de un grupo que compone hits de masas de otro que objetiva el acto como ceremonioso y a su música, de culto. Solo entendida por una determinada minoría.

Nos queda el amargo sabor, a los argentinos en aquel día de 2019 en el contexto de la gira Outstrider. Abbath canceló su show y el resto de la gira por no poder disponerse sobre el escenario.

El caso puntual de Eikemo, es derivativo de su sentir, de hecho su obra está repleta de estridencias de esta índole. Incluso la portada de su último disco Dread Reaver, se lo ve usando una máscara demoníaca, qué de intencionado o chambergo demagogo, conlleva a comercializarse usando al diablo como primera estampa. Nada, nada de nada, Abbath y su equipo de producción aprendieron finalmente a explotar una idea, una imagen funcional al mercado de bandas, valga decirlo.

De lo que uno escucha al dar play al reproductor, rebosa la apostilla necesaria y es que no falta material audiovisual en Youtube, en donde Olve admite ser esquizofrénico(6). Su ser abierto, sobre sus condicionamientos, debido a sus adicciones, en lo personal insisto en que si un trabajador cumple en condiciones posibles y el artista colma las expectativas puestas en él, tanto contractuales como morales y profesionales, el hecho de ser apuntado por su estado mental, como le ocurre igual que a otros, como es caso de Niklas Kvarforth de Shining, que se corta a sí mismo con navajas o cualquier medio corto punzante, es propio de artistas que extreman la capacidad de explotar determinada impronta para llegar a una audiencia que siempre es pasajera y se utilizan distintas estrategias que impacten. No son ejemplos de nada. Al menos como vendedores, como artistas su música los legitima, no voy a enumerar casos de malogrados que utilizan convicciones para hacerse propaganda e incidir en el público y su fidelidad en el mercado. Doy por sentado que los músicos de BM, la mayoría (o el 90%), estriban la idea de no comercializar este tipo de actos (aunque es muy común verlos escupir fuego en los escenarios) o mantener la sobriedad estilística que protege a la furibunda connotación de una obra plagada de oscurantismos, macabros, ruindad, malevolencia, etcétera. No es razón para huir despavoridos si en la música pop también encontramos estereotipos determinados. El amor platónico adolescente, el amor fallido, la alegría efímera, pueril, absurda, etc. En el Power metal lo son las águilas, los arcoíris, las batallas ganadas, los dragones, los héroes de leyenda. Mi pregunta a usted, que ha tenido la paciencia de llegar a este punto, ¿qué puede esperar de una banda de BM? Algo seguro que no, la contraparte del metal cristiano. Black Metal es otra cosa, vaya y descúbralo, le sugiero, hay maravillosas melodías y mensajes valiosísimos, diversos y distintos.

(5) Que usted puede ubicar en el buscador de youtube, “Interview Abbath Reality Check”.

(6) Entrevista realizada por Fernando Bonenfant para Metal Wani, subida a youtube el 7 de Febrero de 2016.

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hergracesinnamon · 2 years

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.　　　　　　　　♡　　ᴛᴏʀɴᴇᴏ Qᴜᴀᴛᴛʀᴏɢᴇᴍᴍᴇ 　　　　　　　　　　ㅤꜱɪᴇᴘɪ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴᴇ 　　　　　　　　　　ㅤ14.07.2025　⌵ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 　　Il percorso muta con evidenza e, purtroppo, di frequente. Sentieri che apparivano sicuri, inesplorati, s'ingarbugliano e diventa necessario tracciare un nuovo percorso, segnare con una x di magica fattura nuovi arbusti, nuove pareti rocciose. Il punto di svolta per la soffocante sensazione di smarrimento si rivela essere l’apparizione di un territorio di certo non incontrato in precedenza, una rigogliosa zona erbosa, finemente curata, che ha la capacità addirittura d’aumentare in lei il buon umore. È un toccasana per il fisico e per la mente già soltanto scorgerla in lontananza, figurarsi se la tassorosso possa attendere e ponderare bene, prima di modulare i passi per raggiungerla. Grease striscia alle sue spalle, emette qualche lamentela a cui Grace non fa molto caso e che prova a calmare con paroline lasciate qua e là - “fidatevi di me”, “dai, che ho altri premi” -, qualche petalo svolazza e si posa su Sandy, la testa centrale. Non hanno il tempo di scherzarci su troppo, perché un brusio sempre più insistente si fa spazio nel cervello della campionessa, la cadenza è agitata, pare roba seria. Il vialetto viene allora abbandonato a favore del prato che non avrebbe mai calpestato se non per necessità, un cespuglio di fiordaliso viola s’agita più della restante vegetazione. 　　« State bene? » domanda, l’occhio attento che scruta le singole corolle, peduncoli e foglie, convinto che si tratti d’una richiesta d’aiuto. Le dita non s’azzardano a sfiorare, c’è un certo galateo da rispettare con le piante. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰 è il mormorio che si fa ancora più chiaro, aumentando la confusione della strega, dissipata da una singola voce fuori dal coro, piccina. 𝘊𝘪 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘦𝘱𝘪 𝘎𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘦, dice, 𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦. Un ringraziamento è sussurrato in risposta, non manca un ulteriore controllo che rivela una salute impeccabile del cespo, poi l’allontanamento lento, cauto. 　　« Tu resta qui, per favore » ordina alla creatura, inutile metterla a rischio quando sa di potersela cavare da sola, forte del suggerimento appena ricevuto. 　　Esplora la zona sicura, ben lontana dai cinghiali verdi individuati - dodici metri come minimo - alla ricerca di un sassetto sufficientemente grande da essere trasfigurato in un paio di imponenti e taglienti cesoie da giardiniere, una delle poche armi utili contro tale sistema di protezione. Trovatolo, muove la bacchetta di faggio a croce, dall'alto verso il basso e poi da sinistra a destra, al fine di castare l’incantesimo - 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰, appena affiorato dalle labbra - che trasfigura oggetti in altri oggetti, cambiandone sia la forma che il materiale. Certa dell’efficienza dello strumento appena creato dopo accurata analisi, si appropinqua al campo di battaglia: come da copione, appena varcata la soglia dell’area calda, un suino in foglie e radici parte alla carica, fisso sullo scopo di non rendere accessibile la via alle proprie spalle. Lei s’arma di tutto il coraggio stipato in corpo e tuttavia il primo tentativo di potatura si rivela fallimentare. Deve osservarne con più cura i movimenti, non avere la presunzione di poter risolvere tutto e subito. Non funziona così, non è un gioco. Non è un pomeriggio passato a chiacchierare con le sue piante di fiducia, a scambiarsi confidenze e a darsi forza a vicenda. La realizzazione ultima dà avvio a una lotta all’ultimo respiro, cadute e ferite scongiurate per un soffio; poi, le zanne amputate, arma principale dell’avversario, che, eliminate, lasciano spazio a una vittoria preannunciata. 　　Nella gioia della vittoria, un unico desiderio viaggia per la testa: ricordarsi di chiedere a Marsden se sappia già ricreare le siepi guardiane, ché un piccolo zoo, in quanto frutto dell'unione delle loro attitudini più profonde, starebbe proprio bene a custodia della futura villa di famiglia.

#torneo quattrogemme

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torchtour · 4 days

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I'm not sure if anyone else asked this before, but what if the gun arm wound heals? Does the arm re-open the wound or is it physically unable to heal due to the gun arm?

good question! the "arteries" (“gun tubes” sounds a bit too unserious, but they’re the blue lines in the drawing) that feed blood into the chamber for firing are valved/can open and close in place of a scab, so essentially the wound is always partially open but blocked by a mechanism within the barrel to regulate flow. the rest of the wound that isn’t feeding the arteries got cauterized by the heat of the gun – although, the arm closed around the arteries so the wound would need to be reopened if the gun was to be removed. hope that made at least a little sense!

+ bonus gordo :]

#art #myart #fanart #hlvr #hlvrai #gordon hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #gordon feetman #half life vr but the ai is self aware #ask #tw blood #amputation ment

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nonbinaryezrabridger · 2 years

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Going through dis/bility tags is really frustrating because so many posts are working off the assumption that “typical” dis/bled people (whe/lchair users, amput/es, and I’ve even seen someone say people with disfigur/ment??? ) are privileged in some way. And that is just not in any way true

#i squawk

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dyketubbo · 3 years

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im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

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